分卷阅读7（1 / 2）

“Well good, maybe we’ll keep her,” Draco said from behind him. He smiled when Harry turned to face him. “You’ll be happy to know I’ve repaired the hole in the wards you ripped when you apparated from the bedroom this morning. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Something I’m very much used to, believe me.”

Together they entered their bedroom and got undressed, sliding in under the covers. Draco wasted no time in positioning Harry exactly how he wanted him, using his chest as a pillow and hitching his knee over Harry’s thighs. “We’ll have to think of something nice to buy Ginny as a thank you present,” he said, pulling at Harry’s wrist until he began playing with his hair. “I think our little monster really ran her ragged today. Not that that’s unusual, she’s far too much like you.”

“Hey,” Harry pulled his hair, affronted.

“It’s probably because you carried her; she learned to be reckless and to jump before she looks before she was even born.” Draco drew circles on the skin of Harry’s chest as he spoke, his shoulders tensing slightly. “Maybe next time, it should be me.”

Harry’s heart beat wildly in his chest. “Next time?”

Draco shrugged, but Harry could tell that he was nervous. “We don’t have to. But it might be nice for Lissa to have a sibling.”

The image unfolded before Harry’s eyes, and they burned with unshed tears. In this future, he had everything he’d ever dreamed of, a partner, a home, a family, and he wanted it all so goddamned much it hurt.

“I think that would be nice,” he said eventually, when he thought he could keep his voice even.

Draco raised his head to look at him, his grey eyes hopeful. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Harry kissed him, putting all the words he couldn’t say into the kiss; how much he wanted this, how sorry it was that this wasn’t real, how he would give anything to be able to stay and make this his. When they parted, Draco snuggled back down onto Harry’s chest, and Harry let the sound of Draco’s even breathing send him off to sleep, wishing with all his heart that he could do it every night.

The first thing Harry became aware of was the smell; disinfectant and lemons. Then he heard the tell-tale subtle beeping and he knew exactly where he was. He’d been hurt on the job many times only to awaken again to the sounds of medical observation charms and the scent of freshly scrubbed rooms in St Mungos.

He didn’t open his eyes straight away—he wanted to stay in the dream he’d been having for as long as he could. Eventually though, he knew he’d have to face reality and he slowly blinked his eyes open, taking in the familiar view of a hospital room ceiling above him. He swallowed his disappointment and lifted his right hand to scrub at his face—his left was encased in something warm, and he wondered if he’d done enough damage to warrant a stronger healing charm on it. He didn’t look; he knew he’d be okay eventually, and he didn’t need to see whatever had been done to him.

“Harry, thank goodness you’re finally awake!”

Harry turned to find Hermione sitting on his right, holding his glasses out to him. He took them, and she came further into focus. Her hair was longer again, pulled back in a messy plait, and she looked tired. Books and parchment covered her lap, tucked down the sides of her chair and spread across the bottom of his bed.

“What are you doing here, you’re meant to be on honeymoon.”

She snorted quietly. “Please, you’ve been unconscious for a week, did you really think Ron and I wouldn’t come back to be with you?”

“A week?”

Hermione nodded. “Ron and I got a message from Kingsley four days ago. I’ve been researching ever since, but we couldn’t find a way to wake you.” She frowned. “I actually haven’t been of much use, to be honest.”