Sirius' PoV.:

Afterwards, Sirius would curse himself. Hadn't been quick enough in his decision to follow, not fast enough at running and too distracted by the wounded. He should have been more focused on his godson who was weaponless and his great cousin who was basically useless against dementors. He had known. And yet, he'd been distracted by the fires and the pain of the war.

"REMUS! HURRY!" Sirius shouted as loud as he could, running through thick bushes and being hit by branches and leaves, hoping Remus would reach them soon. Or at all. Sirius had left him behind to check up on the other survivors. Especially Ginny was in dire need of medical treatment. Yet, Sirius hoped that Remus would be done soon. The forest was still thick, his way blocked and blinded by his own protective patronus as he followed the path Harry and Draco had used in their haste.

His teeth were clattering at the cold of the dementors and the winter frost, despite the white glowing dog guiding his way. Deep down, he knew it was too late. And then he found them and his worst nightmare came true right in front of his eyes.

Both boys had fallen to their knees, their souls sucked out of them. He'd seen this a few times at Azkaban, the view sent terror down his spine. The dementors were hanging low over the boy's heads, a small glowing orb just inches from their own black hole of a mouth. And then, as Sirius' patronus shooed the monsters away, the glowing orbs vanished from the air. They did not return to their bodies. Sirius heart sank. He'd been too late.

For the second time tonight, he'd been a second too late. A literal, fucking second.

But a part of him didn't want to accept it, couldn't accept it. This kind of death seemed so pointless, so ridiculous, compared to all the other ways it could have ended. Neither of them had stepped a foot onto the battlefield, neither of them was supposed to have died. And he'd called it death because it sounded kinder than what would be left of their bodies once they'd wake up.

Perhaps that was why he repressed the idea, decided to hope. Perhaps that's why when he came closer, he imagined them both to be breathing more than the shallow breaths dementor victims usually left behind. That perhaps, Remus would arrive soon and then they would get some chocolate and be better again. Deep down, he should know better, and he did, but he was trying to protect himself from the inevitable outcome.

When Sirius shook Harry's shoulder and the boy blinked a couple times, eyes barely seeing as he sat up, saying: "Where am I?" Sirius nearly died from relief.

He had spoken! HE HAD SPOKEN! Sirius cried a quiet sob. Dementor victims forgot how to speak, Harry could speak! "Harry, you're alive!"

Harry was reaching for his pockets, confused to not find his wand. "Where is my wand? I had it on me. Is this a forest? Why are we in a forest?"

A loud coughing sound interrupted them, and finally, Draco's body moved as well. "What the –" He blinked and held his head. "Wasn't I inside? When did I –" When his eyes met Sirius', Sirius knew something was very off. Because as soon as their eyes met, Draco scrambled to his feet, holding on to his wand as if afraid of him, backing further back into the tree. "Black? Potter? What the hell are you doing here?!" He paused. When Sirius tried to move towards him, Draco's hand twitched. "DON'T COME CLOSER! I will call the ministry! You can't use me as a hostage!" Whatever was going on inside his mind, it was far detached from reality, Sirius realized with fascinated surprise.

Sirius stared at him. Gone was the silent sadness in Draco's eyes, the usual horror portrayed there. This was – "Draco?" He asked gently, swallowing slightly, the reason behind their wake dawning on him slowly. "How old are you?"

Draco blinked. "What kind of stupid question is that?!"

"Just answer the question!" Sirius replied and watched Harry blink at Draco with wide eyes, then back at Sirius.

"Fifteen." Draco snapped.

"What?" That was Harry's voice. He turned to Sirius. "Hold on... is the other Draco ... gone?"

"What other Draco?" Draco was looking from one wizard to another, panic stricken and sweating. He chanced a quick glance around and shivered. "Why are there dementors? Potter, what did you do?"

"Oh my god." Harry got to his wobbly feet. "We were at the ministry. We were – We were fighting Voldemort. What... what is going on?"

Sirius's jaw dropped just a little. Thankfully he was finally saved by Remus who just now reached them, just slightly out of breath and not panting and sweating like the stay-at-home criminal Sirius was. Stupid Werewolf stamina. (Oh well, perhaps not too stupid, Sirius had to admit.)

"Sirius, where are they? Are they safe?" Remus' glance fell to the children, and he shook his head. "Whatever. If you two are done fighting, we have to get back. Ginny is deeply wounded and we need to get her back to Madame Pomfrey as soon as possible."

"Ginny?" Harry straightened up. "What is with her? Will she be okay?"

"She's likely going to lose her arm, but she'll live." Remus answered, trying to reassure him, but only managing to do the opposite.

"Remus." Sirius interrupted him, as he saw Harry's face ashen, his lips morphing around the word 'arm'. "Those are not the Harry and Draco from the Future. The dementors sucked out their souls, I think. Those are the children they were before."

Remus turned to him, eyes widening. "What?"

Draco mimicked him. "WHAT?" The boy had completely frozen up, shoulders tense and his eyes full of fear. The grip on his wand tightened.

It was Harry who turned to him. This Harry had met the older Draco, knew him a little better, was a little older than this version of Draco Malfoy. He spoke with a familiarity that was entirely too optimistic for the boy who still saw him as his rival. "Draco, I'm sure they can explain everything to us, but we should follow them now. We can talk once we're in Hogwarts."

"And why should I listen to you?!" Draco snapped, wand turning to him, deep terror washing his face ashen. "A werewolf, a criminal and POTTER? Where is my father?!"

"In Azkaban." Sirius deadpanned, watching Draco's mouth fall open. He looked like he wanted to accuse Sirius of lying but decided not to. He somehow caught himself, a little shocked but less surprised than a fifteen year old should be. Then again, his father was Lucius Malfoy. "Then I want my mother." He pushed his chin forward in an attempt to sound authoritative.

Sirius and Remus exchanged a painful glance. "I'm afraid that ... this will be a shock." Sirius swallowed. "But you have to trust us."

"I would never trust the likes of you!"

"Your mother is dead, Draco." A soft voice, raw with emotion interrupted their conversation and appeared in the form of Pansy Parkinson. She looked ruffled and shaken. She was supposed to stay with Theo, but apparently, she had left him behind. But the way she looked at Draco was a mix of pain and relief. She had just lost another friend and the loss was evident in her eyes, but her best friend, her Draco, had returned. Sirius could see the hope in her eyes as well as the pain. Sirius could imagine too well what it was like, to find your friend, a friend you'd thought you lost, suddenly standing in front of you, unaware of all the pain you'd been through. "Please." She said, watching Draco's eyes widen in horror at her words, rather than the hidden story behind her eyes. "We'll get you to Hogwarts. We'll explain everything. I promise."

"Pansy." Draco slightly lowered his wand. "I don't – What do you mean. Are they – are they speaking the truth?" His eyes were begging her to say it were a lie.

She bit her lip but nodded at him. "You should come." Her voice was quivering. "Theo is – he's not doing well. And the others ... I think Blaise got hurt. And –" She paused, closing her eyes. "Please, if you don't trust them, trust me."

Draco hesitated, but then he stepped away from the three people he hated and feared the most, moving between them like he expected to be attacked any second, towards Pansy who promptly hugged him in a tight embrace that seemed to surprise even him. She clutched at his frame, desperate to have someone to help her too. "I'm so sorry." She cried. "I was supposed to help, but I couldn't do anything!"

"What?" Draco's cheeks turned a little pink from embarrassment. "Pansy, you're a Slytherin, don't cry, you look ridiculous." But he didn't push her away.

"Shut up." She scolded him and sobbed into his chest. "I'm so glad you're home." She said through the tears as Draco awkwardly put his arms around her.

Then, suddenly, she put her hands to his face. "I know this will be a lot," she said wetly. "There is so much you lost. But we're here. All your friends, we're here. And we will help you, we will help each other get through this. I promise. Your older self taught us how."

Draco blinked, but his trust in Pansy must have been greater than Sirius could ever understand, because Draco nodded slowly. She grabbed his hand, despite his confusion. "Trust me," she said, reading his irritation correctly. "You will need it." She glanced at their intertwined hands. Draco took one look back at the three wizards behind them, his eyes lingering on Harry for only a second longer than everyone else, then they walked out of the forest towards the still burning ruins of the Manor.

-

It would be too hard to explain everything that was still happening at the manor at that moment. The DA members who could still fight were busy taking down the Death Eaters one by one. It would take until the evening before Dumbledore would manage to reach ministry members to help clean up the mess, put out the final fires, and round up the escaped dementors.

And then there was the other mess, by which he meant Luna Lovegood. Luna had apparently gone absolutely manic, because the Order members had to round her up to keep her from killing more of Voldemort's followers that had already been captured. She was screaming a lot, and it took McGonagall, Sprout and Flitwick's combined spell work to keep her down. She was later brought to St. Mungo's, after Madame Pomfrey had knocked her out with a tincture. Luna's kill count, for as many witnessed could confirm, counted only a little less than two dozen Death eaters. Among them Yaxley, Greyback and both of the Carrows.

The surviving children were brought back to Hogwarts to regroup and be patched up again. Sirius and Remus had been part of the group who were tasked with that mission to return them safely to the castle. Dumbledore was organizing everything, as usual and therefore as inactive as usual. The ring of resurrection was still stuck to his finger, and he would later explain to Sirius that the stone had been the necessary artifact to keep Voldemort's soul trapped in the manor. It had something to do with souls and ghosts and how to return them to the living. Dumbledore had apparently spent the past year trying to modify the ring to be prepared for the final battle. He could have told them that sooner, the asshole. Sirius had already thought Dumbledore had just been going with the flow of Harry's plan and only pretended to have his own.

The dead were bared up in the Great Hall, for friends and family to have a chance at closure and not go insane with the fear of what had happened to them. They would later be buried on Hogwarts' grounds. Each one given an individual burial and ceremony. Neville would be the first and he would be given the biggest memorial of all, because of how he'd taken on the most dangerous of the missions. His courage would be praised, but it wouldn't change that he'd died. And the person to mourn him the most was no longer in this world. Apart from Luna, who would spend the next couple of years supervised at St. Mungo's and later transferred to a facility more specialized on mental health issues. It would take years before she'd get the chance at proper treatment.

The hospital wing was flooded with patients and volunteers who were helping Pomfrey. It was a flurry of change. Quick to heal wounded would stay for a couple minutes and then return to their jobs, others would stay longer and occupy the beds for the night.

Ronald Weasley was forced to give a testimony to both Dumbledore and the minister of magic about how he'd saved the wizarding world. Like he didn't have other things on his mind, like be with his sister at the hospital wing when she needed him. Ginny did end up losing her arm. Her brothers Fred and George were trying to hold her down during the amputation she'd initially refused. Ginny had somehow believed that her arm could be fixed with magic but then Pomfrey announced that Werewolf scratches would likely leave more than just a stump where her right arm should have been, that the recovery time would already last forever. She broke down sobbing. Her dream of becoming a famous Quidditch player – gone – just like that. But Greyback hadn't scratched her during the full moon, so her taste would soon change to raw flesh rather than properly cooked meals. When her spirit had been broken enough to leave her emotionally drained, Harry helped her get some fluids down.

Sirius only noted how Pomfrey scolded her crying far less than he remembered her doing whenever he had needed to get patched up as a student. Instead, the woman closed her eyes for a moment, as if finally seeing the other, the mental wound this procedure had left behind, and moved on to the next bed.

It suddenly dawned on Sirius, who was walking between the beds to check where he could help, that the older Harry had been right. Now, after the war, they needed the older Draco's help more than ever. The students were wounded in more than one sense and just expected to take it. Once he'd finished his round, he walked by the bed closest to the entrance hall. There lay another evidence of his conclusion.

Theodore Nott had been placed there upon Sirius' request. The boy was clutching his legs, the trauma so evident in his eyes that no one seemed to dare look at him for too long, except for his friends. Blaise Zabini had nearly had a heart attack when he'd found his friend alive. Completely ignoring his own broken arm, he'd left his bed to be by his side. He apologized over and over for not having helped him, for thinking he'd died, for making him trust in Dumbledore's plan. When they'd finally gotten some of the story out of Theo, of how he'd been tortured at the manor, he'd cried so hard that it echoed through the filled hospital wing, rendering many of the other victims quiet.

It was Pansy Parkinson who came over to Sirius now that he'd walked over to tug at his sleeve with a begging expression. "Can you please call Professor Lupin? We need his help."

Sirius had done as asked, not daring to brush her off as he saw the pure and utter misery in her expression. He suspected something terrible. And then Remus and him had approached the bed, charming the Muffliato around them to give them some privacy and Remus had sat down on the bed and asked. "What is it?"

Theo had not answered, his eyes as glassy and unseeing as the older Draco's had been sometimes. This look was not old, though. His was closed off, fresh and raw. Theo didn't ever open his mouth to answer, but Pansy did. "He was bitten." She'd clipped, holding Theo's hand from the other side of the bed to help him through the conversation. She didn't need to say more than that, they both knew what she meant and who she was referring to.

Remus expression turned grim and quiet. "There was no full moon during the war." He said.

"No. But on the day he was abducted." Pansy said and squeezed his hand.

Remus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Okay, I understand. Listen, Theo." Theo didn't move, but Pansy and Blaise were listening for him. "Lycantrophy is a condition, and you can learn to live with it. We have medication now, medication we didn't have when I was a kid. I know this is hard, believe me. But you're not alone."

"My parents are dead." Were the first words Theo spoke. "Everyone is." He was mute for days after that. Sirius could only imagine how much Theo must hate the older Draco. For leaving him behind in so many ways. For disappearing right when he needed him. For being the reason Theo had been involved with the plan in the first place. Sirius could imagine it, and yet he saw no hatred or malice in this boys eyes. Perhaps, Sirius was projecting. Because he wished they had someone who could help, and the older Draco had been their only option.

A part of him began to hate the wizarding world even more than he used to. All of this could have been prevented. This entire war could have been stopped had lost wizards not sought leadership. Had teachers been taught how to care for children properly, Had they had the time to allow them to be kids instead of leaving them to fend for themselves. And now, that they needed the help, Sirius cursed the healers who'd been too arrogant to understand that their tinctures couldn't help the wounds that torture and abuse inflicted on the mind. The soldiers of this war were slowly crumbling and he could see it all condensed in this one child who had taken the brunt of it all.

Perhaps Sirius had made his decision then, or perhaps Remus and him both had. But it would take a couple of months for everything to be settled and decided.

-

It was two weeks after this conversation that Remus confronted Sirius about it first. "I've thought about this for a while, and I know we haven't been together for that long," he'd said, sounding a little conflicted. "But I think we should adopt Theo."

Sirius felt the immediate urge to kiss him on the spot, and so he did. He'd had the same idea before but not been sure how to address it. Sirius was sure that Harry would love to have a brother anyway. (Like hell would Sirius sent Harry back to his aunt and uncle, no matter how much Dumbledore insisted.)

What happened to Draco after was similar. The boy, two years younger in his mind than in body, had wandered the hallways of Hogwarts, wondering at every change and reminder his older self had left behind. His arrogance and perhaps his fear hadn't allowed him to stay with his friends for much longer, perhaps Theo's fits had pushed him away a little, and his own loss isolating him from time to time. Theo's fate had cut him deep, the loss of his mother even deeper and Sirius had already noticed Draco's habit to forsaken food to start anew.

That was why Sirius decided to talk to him.

Sirius found him in the Queer Club, trailing the soft cloth of the rainbow flags on the wall that Sirius had never taken down. Classes had been cancelled, but the students remained anyway, trying to help each other with the help of the teachers and the few notes they had found in the Gryffindor dorms where the older Draco had stayed.

The younger one had returned to his friends in the Slytherin room, that's why they'd gone through his older self's stuff. Future Draco had apparently been researching on some things for after the war and taken notes for the few mental health classes he'd meant to hold after the last one. It was little more than a ten step plan, highlighting on the importance of the five stages of grief, and the need to communicate and the reminder that every experience was valid, no matter how ridiculous they might sound. They all tried to take on their burdens, without comparing their pain to one another. It was difficult, but it seemed to work.

Sirius watched the younger Draco, two years too young for his age, for a while. He had probably noticed Sirius but decided to ignore him. The boy flipped through a pamphlet his older self had written, explaining different sexualities to him. Telling him that it was okay who he was. Draco stopped at one description, biting his lip in what was a mix of revelation and pain.

Sirius remembered how in the beginning, he had wondered what all this had to do with mental health. But then he'd lead this club and watched people crying in relief that they hadn't been alone all along. That they weren't weird, just different. And he now watched the same epiphany happening to Draco as well. His hands clutched around the paper so hard that the material gave way, breaking slightly. Now it seemed obvious.

The issues many people had were only a symptom of something deeper. Often, it had to do with identity, the denial of it, the lack of understanding, the fear of who you are. Accepting that this was nothing you could change was the first step to heal. Because it was the repression, the mutilation of identity, that often lay at the root of the pain. Treating only the symptoms was like cutting off vines that were wrapped tight around you. They would grow back. Cutting the roots didn't make the vines disappear, but it let them wither and die on their own, allowing you to remove them one by one.

The younger Draco Malfoy was suffocating in a way that Sirius hadn't quite expected. With the older Draco's wounds of the war, it had been easy to forget, easy to ignore, that there had been something else underneath.

"I know you're standing there." Draco said, sounding angry as he wiped off a tear. "This is your club, isn't it? It's stupid. Who even cares."

"You seem to." Somehow, Sirius was not surprised to find Draco denying his feelings.

"If my father knew about this –" He was pale, shaking.

"I think he does." Sirius commented apologetically. "Your older self was very open about his own attraction to men."

"Yeah, I've been informed." Draco clipped. Him and Harry had been given a brief summary of everything that had happened. Dumbledore had been very patient and answered any of Potter's questions. Draco hadn't asked any at all. "He was dating Potter." He made a face that was both disgusted and conflicted, stressing around the name like it were acid.

"You don't sound too surprised."

"Shut up already." Draco closed his eyes. Then, his lips quivered. "Did my mother –"

"Narzissa wouldn't have cared." Sirius assured him. "She loved you. She died in this war, fighting to protect you."

"I think my father will kill me." Draco said and hiccupped. "It won't matter that I'm not him. He destroyed our house, he put my father in Azkaban, he left my mother to die. I'm not him, but I will have to pay the price." He was shaking all over, as if terrified of the consequences of someone else's actions. Of his own secret exposed to the world before he'd managed to identify it himself.

It was then, for the first time, that Sirius realized that this Draco truly was a kid. Just a kid who was scared of his father, traumatized long before he'd lost everything. Long before he'd grown to be the man who'd faced Voldemort on his own and barely survived. The boy clutched at the Dark Mark on his arm. He'd been told what this mark truly stood for, by Dumbledore. It wasn't a sign of loyalty to a man this boy truly worshipped because of his father's raising. It was a symbol of defiance. A symbol of devotion to a better future. A chance to grow. But to this Draco, it must stand for something else, although Sirius couldn't fathom what it was precisely.

"No child, no matter what age, should be afraid of their parents." Sirius said, aching for the pain of this boy he barely knew.

Draco scoffed, looking up. "And you would know that how?"

"Because I was terrified of mine." Sirius told him. "And so was my brother. I didn't know how much he feared them. He worked against Voldemort too, you know? He was a lot like the older you." Sirius felt something clutching at his throat, making it harder to speak. "Your other self told me about him. How he'd been a hero. So were you."

"And how do I stop being afraid?" Draco asked, still not daring to look at him. "How can I stop being afraid of my father?" He'd taken Sirius words and misinterpreted them. As if he thought it was his mistake for being afraid in the first place.

Sirius gnawed on his lip. "That is not your responsibility. It's his. Your father should be the one to make you feel safe, he –" And it was at that moment, that something clicked. "Oh."

"What, oh?"

Sirius shook his head. "I've been an idiot."

"No shit." Draco responded and wiped off a stray tear, oddly confused by Sirius' sudden distraction. He hesitated. "What do you mean?"

"I think I should work at the ministry."

"The ministry?" Draco raised both his brows, still irritated. "Why?"

"I think I will start the first child protection service of the magical community." Sirius was too deep in his mind to remember that he'd been trying to help Draco. But he was no therapist, he was barely a teacher, and that had always been more Remus' dream anyway. In fact, Sirius had never truly stopped to think about what he'd wanted to become one day. If he'd ever wanted to do something meaningful, instead of repairing his motorcycle and annoying his parents who were long dead anyway.

Sirius had been a muggle fanatic, even as a teen. He remembered hearing of child protection services in school, how some children had lost their parents and been adopted by total strangers because of it. One of his classmates, he remembered, McKinnley was her name, had been taken from her mom because she couldn't deal with having a witch for a daughter. She'd taken drugs and the Muggles had deemed her insane. She hadn't had a father and so she'd been saved. Sirius remembered dreaming that someone would come and take him away.

But that had never happened, because such a service had never existed in the wizarding world.

Draco stared at him. "What?"

"We need to get you out of your father's clutches. If he's hurting you, then we need to protect you. Put you in a loving family." Sirius said, offhandedly.

"What?" Draco sounded terrified, if not aghast. "I love my father, I don't want to leave him alone –"

"No one said you can't keep loving him." Sirius said quietly, reliving his own grief. "You can love them from a distance."

Draco's lips were quivering again, suspicious and doubtful. "And where should I go? I already have to repeat two years at this godforsaken school. Who would –", he stopped himself. '-want me,' he didn't say, his voice had broken off already.

"I think, for a start, I should call my cousin Andromeda."

"The muggle-lover?" Draco stared at him.

"Yes." Sirius nearly laughed. Somehow, he wasn't too worried. Eventually, Draco would learn. His best friend Parkinson had promised to help him. Theodore Nott was now a Werewolf, and even Zabini had come around. It reminded Sirius oddly of his own childhood. Who knew? Maybe one day the three of them would become animagi too, to support their friend. "You will be safe there." He paused. "And your father is still in Azkaban. You will need a place to stay anyway."

"And why can't I stay with you? You're practically starting an orphanage!" Draco said, probably thinking of Theo. He was still confused and overwhelmed and perhaps would remain that way for a while.

Sirius grinned. "Because you might end up dating Harry again and I don't want to be put in a situation where two of my sons marry each other." It was meant as a tease, but Draco's face splotched with an ugly pink, causing him to look away.

"As if that would ever happen."

"Again, you mean."

"Shut the fuck up already!"

Yeah. Things would be fine. Sirius didn't know what gave him that impression, not really. But something told him that he'd just took the first step to make this world a better place.

-

Ten years later 

"Draco, hurry up!" Harry Potter's black mob of a hair dragged Draco up the stairs of the stadium. On one of his fingers glistened a golden ring, designed almost like a snitch with similar qualities. Draco had his matching ring covered by his sleeve, silver, not golden.

"Stop dragging me, Potter!" Draco snarled back at him. "I can walk perfectly fine!" He'd never stopped calling Harry by his last name. Sometimes, when Harry was being petty, he would call Draco 'Potter' too, making Draco regret having taken on his name.

"Yes, Yes, but you've already taken forever with washing up. We're missing the start!"

They pushed through rows and rows of excited wizards and witches. Not as much as during the world cup, not by far, but filled to the brim non the less.

From high up, they could already see the Quidditch players lining up at their brooms. Ginny Weasley's red hair stuck out in the row like a beacon. She was grinning brightly, her left arm holding on to the broom, the remains of her right arm hidden by the cloth of her uniform.

"It's Para-Quidditch, Potter. It's not that serious." Draco rolled his eyes, hiding the fact that he was, in fact, proud of Ginny Weasley. For goodness sake, he hung out too much with Weasleys nowadays. They might as well have adopted Harry and him and made him all mushy inside.

And there they were, their group of friends, raking their heads over the tribune from high up. They had their own special lodge, to not be disrupted. Too many heads looked over to them, all of them renowned for something or another.

Hermione was engaged in a long discussion about Quidditch facts and maneuvers with Pansy Parkinson, who had done their very best to corrupt Granger in every which way they could. Pansy's hair was cut short and colored violet now, their pronouns changed to they/them. Apparently, visiting Draco at Andromeda's had exposed them too much to Tonks. And Pansy had immediately decided to follow Tonks' example and no longer give a fuck about pureblood rules. Draco was happy for them, he was. He just sucked at saying as much out loud. Sometimes he called them 'Punky Parkinson' in his head. It sounded a bit too cute, so he rarely used it. It was enough that Harry teased him with it, his best friend didn't need to know about it.

With them was also Granger's husband and the Hero of the wizarding world: Ronald Weasley, whose final act in the war had given him such a huge compensation from the ministry that he was now the main financier of the para-quidditch his sister had called to life. He'd left just enough of a gap so Fred and George could help out as well.

"Fucking finally! You guys took forever!" Theodore Lupin patted the place beside himself, a bright smile on his face. He looked a little ashen, he had a couple scratches on his shoulders and neck, but otherwise he seemed to be having a good day. He had changed his last name about five years ago to get away from his parent's fascist history.

"Yeah? Where is Blaise then?" Asked Draco, searching the rows for the other friend they were supposed to meet up here. "Getting snacks." Theo smiled. "And probably flirting with the cashier. Pretty girl, awful manners. Just his type." He laughed.

"Draco, Harry!" Hermione had finally noticed them and interrupted her rant. "How are you guys?"

"Awesome. The new place is great." Harry announced with a beaming smile. "So much closer to the ministry and also to St. Mungo's." They had never moved in to Grimmauld place, after Sirius had announced to make it an actual orphanage for wizarding children. He said it was for a good cause, but Draco knew it was mostly out of revenge.

"I still can't believe you're a healer." Ronald rolled his eyes.

Draco gave him a pointed look. "I don't have to be exactly like the other me, you know? I have my own life."

"Yes." Ron rolled his eyes. "Like you didn't secretly love Harry, or how you having gay thoughts was 'a phase' and how you're not secretly trying to help Neville's parents –"

"I wasn't even friends with Longbottom!" Draco cut back. "That was all him." Him, the other him. Draco still referred to him by that word alone. His friends knew as much by now. It was the best way to differentiate himself from him.

Draco had also wanted to help Luna Lovegood, quiet honestly, since she'd never managed to become fully sane again. But a couple weeks ago, she had fallen into a mysterious coma. One of the mental health specialists was taking care of her with some muggle technology to keep her alive, but there was nothing Draco could do besides ask Dr. Wilburth for updates on Luna's state from time to time.

"But you still think it's your responsibility." Ron grinned at him. "I saw the psychology books when I last visited you guys. You can't fool me."

Draco flushed angrily. "Oh, shut up, Weasley."

"Is that how you talk to the savior of the wizarding world?" Asked Ron, his grin widening.

"Come on, Ron." Harry laughed back at his friend and finally pulled Draco to sit down beside him. "You can't keep pulling that card every time you want to win an argument."

"Of course I can." Ron smiled. "You're just jealous you're not the hero this time!"

"Fuck off, Ron." Harry laughed, Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Harry, how is Sirius doing? Theo couldn't tell me much. The full moon only ended yesterday."

"Oh, that." Harry smiled fondly. "A lot busier than you would think. I think he's starting to regret calling that service into life."

Draco twitched a smile. "You really think so?"

Harry pretended to think for a moment. "No. Not really." He'd truly changed a lot of lives after that. And with the protection service, he had something to do while his husband was teaching at Hogwarts, continuing the work Sirius and the older Draco had started. Although once, he'd even visited Dumbledore at Hogwarts, almost arresting him for keeping dangerous monsters in Hogwarts, by which he meant floors with threeheaded dogs students weren't supposed to enter for fear of painful death, secret chambers of secrets, dementors at Hogwart's entrances that no one had under control and holding the Triwizard tournament that one year without proper precautions. It were less about teaching them to deal with monsters, and more about how careless they sometimes were about it. Hogwarts had changed a little after that and Sirius returned monthly to check up on the new procedures. And to visit his husband, of course.

Lupin didn't sleep in Hogwarts. Sirius and him had bought the howling hut shortly after the war and renovated the place to have a home for Theo and Harry that wasn't filled with Sirius' dark memories and one that made Lupin feel like he had something to provide as well. And close enough to Hogwarts, of course, so Theo could always come home during the full moon and spent the time with his adoptive father like a true pack. Not that Sirius and Harry had to leave during that time. Sirius had helped Harry become an animagus and got them both registered, so neither of them had to be scared in their own home. Harry would later teach Draco to do the same, so he could visit Theo whenever he wanted.

Harry had still laughed when Draco first managed to turn into a ferret. Then Draco had bitten him and Harry had profusely apologized. Ferrets were, after all, predators.

It was at that moment that the Quidditch referee finally whistled and the wizards and witches shot up into the sky. A wave of cheers cut through their conversation, shutting them down for the reminder of the game.

Draco would have asked where Cho Chang was, but he knew that she was busy working at the ministry. She had a normal office job. But from time to time she would stand up for Queer rights. Not that she had to do that for much longer, since Hermione had begun her job as prime minister of magic. Chang worked only a door over where Theo was fighting for anti-discrimination laws for Werewolves and other creatures. Hermione herself had offered them the leading position and Draco suspected that there might be more going on between them because of their shared experiences and similar work environment. They also spent a lot of time together and when Draco learned that Cho Chang had learned to turn into a swan, Draco had basically put one and one together. They weren't official or anything and perhaps it was all rumors, but it wasn't that weird to imagine.

A lot had changed.

There was now a whole section in the ministry, researching mental health issues, and some trauma centers had been erected. They were working closely with St. Mungo's officials and as far as Draco knew, even Severus Snape took regular therapy sessions now. Must have given the therapist a scare, Draco mused.

Draco and his father were slowly recollecting as well, taking some therapy sessions together to reconcile after losing Narzissa and their house and everything they'd possessed, except for the money, of course. It had gone better than Draco had feared. They met up regularly now and Lucius had only given him a pointed glance when Draco introduced Harry as his boyfriend the first time around. The look had said: "Really? Potter? Again?" And that had been it.

Draco didn't know all that much about his older self and he sometimes wondered where he had gone. If the dementors had truly eaten him or if he was simply dead. Sometimes, he wondered and hoped, the man had gotten back to his own time, living happily ever after, just like Draco did. His husband had once, a long time ago, looked into the other Draco's mind and told him everything that he knew. Mostly, Draco was just glad that he wasn't him after all, even if he'd been better liked.

"GOAL!" Lee Jordan's voice cut through to them, fireworks alá Fred and George exploding around the goal posts. Even the world cup couldn't miss their spectacular inventions nowadays. "Ginny Weasley got them, only five minutes into the game! This must be a personal record! I have honestly no idea how she does it, I can't even hold myself on the broom with both hands, let alone scoring a goal."

"Mr. Jordan!" Someone interrupted him from the side and the group above the tribunes laughed at that. Jodan hadn't ever changed, had he? They knew Ginny was laughing too. As if to taunt him, she'd jumped onto her broom, riding it while standing on it with ease and raising her arm to receive the praise like a true champion.

"Look? Not even you can do that." Draco teased his husband, but Harry only laughed.

"I only lack the training," he said. "Cause you're a handful and won't let me!"

"Like you have any time for it when you're away on your secret missions, asshole." Draco rolled his eyes. Harry was already so busy as an auror, like hell Draco would allow him to stay away even longer.

Can you two stop flirting and cheer for my sister?!" Ron interrupted them.

Yeah. Draco would have have said 'All was well' but that was a ridiculous stupid statement, given all the work the wizarding world still had left to do.

In the end, nothing and no one was perfect. But they were getting by. Making the best of it and enjoying their lives. And they made the world a better place wherever they could. One by one, step by step.

And finally, Draco was glad that he was alive, that he'd grown to be part of this. And he didn't regret a thing.

THE END