They arrived at... the Burrow?

"Harry? Draco? Why are you holding hands?" Granger's incredulous voice broke the silence.

Harry, blushing as furiously as Draco knew he was, quickly let go. Draco felt like he'd been set adrift, and unconsciously drifted closer to Harry.

The Weaselette barged toward them, clearly on the warpath, but Mrs. Weasley bustled over and intercepted her before she could say more than a few words. "Harry. You'd better have a good reason for bringing them here."

He sighed. "Just hear me out, Molly. Then if you say they have to go, I'll go with them."

"Oh, Harry... fine. Let's hear it."

"Someone burned down their manor. With them inside. I found them on their way to the ministry to report it, being attacked by a group of bloody cowards who ran when I challenged them."

There were several gasps, and Draco realized that they'd attracted a crowd of Weasleys. He forcibly shoved down the sudden panic that threatened to overwhelm him when he found himself swarmed by gingers.

"Oh, you poor dears. Come in and let me get you some food." Molly bustled off toward the kitchen, tutting to herself about people being unable to let the past stay in the past.

The Weaselette rounded on Harry, but he'd had a moment to collect himself, and swiftly took the wind from her sails. "Congratulations, Gin," he gestured at Dean, who hovered at her elbow. "I hope he makes you happier than I could."

She visibly softened. "Oh, well, all right. Better come in then." She offered Draco a small smile, and he discovered that it was disturbingly easy to smile back.

---

They trailed after the Weaselette as she led them into the highly improbable structure that was home to the highly improbable Weasleys themselves. Harry captured Draco's hand again, just before they passed the threshold, and the warmth that rushed through Draco at Harry's touch gave him the courage to pass through the door with composure intact. Inside, it was surprisingly cheery, and though it couldn't have been less like the Manor in appearance, Draco was instantly reminded of home.

He realized that it wasn't the opulence or grandeur of the Manor he missed, but the comforting sense of home, of belonging, that wrapped him there. That he felt those same qualities here, in the maze-like warren of homely rooms, expanded wizard-space stuffed to bursting with clashing colors, oddments, curiosities, and off course, Weasleys – it eased the ache he hadn't realized he'd been carrying since the Manor burned. He suddenly realized that it was the house that had burned – not the home. The home was the heart and spirit of the house, embodying its walls and columns and arches, but not constrained by them. It could be re-created somewhere else. Not at the Burrow – he wouldn't go quite that far – but, perhaps, at Grimmauld Place. With Harry.

"Draco? You OK?"

He realized he'd been standing motionless in the entryway long enough that everyone else had moved on, leaving them alone. He allowed Harry to drag him further into the Burrow. "Yeah." He smiled, realizing it was true. "Yeah, I'm OK – good, actually."

Harry smiled back at him, looking slightly puzzled. "Care to tell me what that was about, back there?"

Draco considered. He did want to tell Harry – Merlin, that's a new one – but it could wait. "Nah. Tell you later." He echoed Harry's words from earlier back to him.

Harry smiled. "'Kay." He tugged Draco into the fray.

---

Draco had never seen anything quite like the ruckus of a Weasley family gathering. He was surprised to find that he rather enjoyed it. As he found himself, some time later, gesturing grandly with a chicken leg as he argued with Luna and Ginny, Harry caught his eye. He rolled his eyes at Harry's smirk, never breaking the thread of his argument. Harry could make fun of him later all he wanted. Draco was having fun – more fun than he'd had in a very long time – and he intended to enjoy every minute of it.

He wasn't sure exactly when he made the switch to calling the others by their first names, but when half the people in the room were Weasleys, anything else just got awkward. He was relieved to note, when he glanced at them later, that Mother and Father seemed to have adjusted to what would have, not so long ago, been an impossible situation with gratifying, if somewhat baffling, ease. Though, he supposed, Father had always been good at going where the winds of favor blew, and right now, the forecast seemed to be dominated by Hurricane Weasley.

Fred was mentioned at some point, after the drinks were brought out. Everyone froze as the spectre of the war reared its ugly head. Then George stood – only a trifle unsteadily – and raised his glass. "I'd like to propose a toast!" he called out. "To the Malfoys!"

Draco saw his unease and apprehension mirrored on nearly everyone's face, but no one moved to stop him. Draco hardly dared breathe as George stared into his glass, expression unreadable. After a tense moment, he looked up and smiled. "I know our two families have never gotten along," he started, with a nod to Draco and his parents. "Hell, we've been feuding for centuries, and we fought on opposing sides for most of the war. But. It was your actions, at the end, Draco, and yours, Narcissa, and, yes, even yours, Lucius, that helped Harry end the war – and the Dark Lord – for good. So, I think – and I know Fred would say the same, if he were here – that if there's anything we should take away from these last years of pain and war and loss, it's that we should bury our pointless feuding with our dead, and extend our hands in friendship. So, in memory of Fred, my twin, the other half of my soul, I'd like to offer you my thanks, for the aid you gave Harry, and my friendship." He walked toward Draco, hand extended.

Draco grasped it, shook it firmly, then gave in to impulse and hugged him. "I'm sorry for your loss," he whispered in George's ear. "Fred was a good man, and he didn't deserve to die like that. I would be honored to call you my friend." George was grinning at him when he pulled away, and Draco felt himself grinning stupidly back.

Mother clasped George's hand and whispered in his ear as well, startling a laugh from him. Father didn't smile quite so warmly as Draco and Mother had, but he shook George's offered hand without hesitation, and offered a few words as well. When George stepped back, he grinned around the room, and yelled, "The Malfoys!" before tossing back his drink.

Draco waited only long enough for him to refill it before he raised his own glass, shouting, "To Fred, who didn't deserve to die in that stupid war, and to George, whose offer of friendship proves him to be a bigger man than any of us."

Luna waggled her eyebrows at George as she drained her glass, and Draco nearly spit out his drink for laughing. Mother raised her own glass, staring into it thoughtfully. "To Harry, who has selflessly saved us all, time and again, and to the Weasleys, who have already proven themselves to be better friends than many of those I used to call by that name."

Everyone turned to Father, who smirked, and said, "To the burying of idiotic feuds that should have been buried generations ago."

And in the toasting and general merriment that followed, Draco felt the foundations of home being laid anew.

----

Later, someone suggested a friendly game of quidditch. The suggestion was met with cheers all around, and enough brooms and gear were quickly rounded up to outfit everyone who wished to play in a (mostly) full kit.

Even father was coaxed onto a broom to play chaser, to Draco's shock, though he quickly retreated to "sit with the aged and leave the young folks to their daredevil stunts."

When Draco looked down again, Father, Severus, and Arthur looked to be deep in discussion over some bizarre artifact that, knowing Arthur, was almost certainly muggle and probably dangerous. Father stuck out one pale, aristocratic finger and poked the thing. Draco winced, and then nearly fell off his broom when the thing spat sparks. Father did fall off his chair, trying to get away from it, and Severus nearly fell off his, laughing at him. Draco held his breath when Arthur reached out a hand to help Father up, but Father clasped it without hesitation, and clapped Arthur on the back once he'd been set back on his feet.

Mother, Aunt Andy (as she had instructed Draco to call her), Hermione, Luna, Fleur, and Molly were playing with Teddy and didn't seem to notice the mishap, though Draco did see Mother smile warmly at Father, pride shining in her eyes, once Arthur had disappeared into the house to fetch more drinks. Father smiled sheepishly back at her.

Harry nudged his broom against Draco's. "See?" he said, grin blinding in the falling dusk. "Nothing to worry about. Now, C'mon – last one to the snitch has to do anything the other says for the next week."

Draco grinned back. "Anything? Oh, you're on!" Together, they raced away, just two boys chasing the snitch, leaving the other players behind as they flew free through the air, egging one another on to wilder and more dangerous stunts, the thrill of friendly competition racing in their veins. Just as they'd always been meant to be.