To end the war between the Alteans and the Galra, the princess of Altea and the prince of the Galra Empire must be wed. There's just one teeny..tiny....problem. The prince may be...just a little bit...... g-a-y.

The Golden Trio have returned for their eighth year at Hogwarts in order to make up for the seventh year lost to the war. Old grudges are being reassessed, friendships are becoming tighter than ever. Harry is looking forward to this year, hoping that it will be different from the rest and free of danger. All he wants is a normal year at school. The war has thrown everything off track for Draco. New feelings have arisen within him, feelings he has kept locked away deep inside for years, feelings he'd hoped would go away and has only just begun to let in. His life has been destroyed by the events of the past few years of his life. What will he do in this final year? He never planned to survive the war, or to return to Hogwarts ever again. He is conflicted, torn between following the wishes of the parents who've all but abandoned him, or making his own path and doing as he wants for the first time in his life. Various headcanons will be integrated into this, you have been warned! Credit to JK Rowling. I do not own Harry Potter.

Link to original story: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/1837793/1/Black-Truth And, with bated breath, Draco traced the silver line down one more step in the family tree. Draco Lucius Malfoy... the third full blooded Veriae in the Malfoy family... and future life mate of Harry Potter. HD SLASH No HBP

I was aiming at the frog and shouted: "subtraxerim utilium!" Everything went in slow motion. Ron pushed Malfoy, who caught himself from falling right in front of my wand. At the horror of everyone, my spell hit him and he disappeared, his black robes in a pile on the ground. Professor McGonagall was the first to react after a shocked silence. "I warned you about NOT hitting any students! Where is Mr. Malfoy, Potter?" She was looking worried and I slowly made my way to the Slytherin's robes. I stopped myself when a little blond headed boy, not older than 2, stood up, clothes way too big around him, making him stumble forwards before he caught himself and asked in a confused tone: "Hawwy?"