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The Day Draco Smiled: Epilogue
Morning sunlight spilled through the thin curtains, painting soft golden lines across the bedroom walls. Harry stirred beneath the blankets, reluctant to leave the warmth wrapped around him. The other side of the bed had already cooled, the sheets slightly rumpled where Draco had been only moments before.
Normally, Harry would have reached out instinctively, expecting to find him still asleep beside him.
Instead, he heard something far more familiar.
A quiet laugh drifted upstairs.
Not loud.
Not forced.
Just... effortless.
Harry couldn't help but smile before he had even opened his eyes.
He lay there for another moment, listening.
The clatter of dishes echoed faintly from downstairs, followed by a muffled curse.
"...bloody recipe..."
Another laugh.
Harry chuckled to himself as he finally climbed out of bed, pulling on an old grey jumper that had once belonged to Ron before it had somehow found its permanent home in Harry's wardrobe. He ran a hand through his messy hair and made his way downstairs, guided by the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and something sweet baking in the oven.
Their cottage wasn't large.
Just two bedrooms, a cosy sitting room with shelves overflowing with books, and a kitchen that always seemed to become the heart of the house. Ivy climbed the stone walls outside, and every spring, wildflowers coloured the little garden Draco insisted he didn't care about, despite spending hours tending to it.
It wasn't grand.
It wasn't famous.
It was simply theirs.
Harry paused in the doorway.
Draco stood with his back to him, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, one hand whisking batter while the other held open a worn cookbook. His blond hair had grown a little longer over the years, just enough for a few loose strands to fall into his eyes whenever he looked down.
"You've made these pancakes every Sunday for five years," Harry said, leaning against the doorframe.
Draco didn't even flinch.
"I know."
"And you're still using the recipe."
"It has betrayed me before."
Harry laughed.
"The recipe betrayed you?"
"It conveniently forgot to mention that butter burns."
"I distinctly remember you wandering off to read while the pan was on the stove."
Draco glanced over his shoulder.
"It was an important chapter."
"It was a gardening magazine."
"It was a very important gardening magazine."
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"You've changed."
"I've diversified."
For a second, they simply looked at one another.
Then Draco smiled.
Small.
Natural.
Unthinking.
It appeared so easily now that Draco didn't even seem aware he'd done it.
Harry's chest tightened.
Not with sadness.
Not anymore.
With gratitude.
There had been a time when smiles like that were rare enough to stop Harry in his tracks. Back then, every tiny curve of Draco's lips had felt precious, earned after months of healing, forgiveness, and learning how to let himself exist without carrying the weight of the past on his shoulders.
Now...
Now they happened over burnt butter and terrible jokes.
Draco frowned slightly.
"What?"
Harry blinked.
"What?"
"You're staring."
"I am."
"You've been doing that rather a lot lately."
Harry pushed himself away from the doorway and crossed the kitchen until he stood beside him.
"I was just thinking."
"Dangerous."
Harry nudged his shoulder.
"I was thinking..."
He hesitated, a fond smile tugging at his lips.
"You smile a lot these days."
Draco looked genuinely puzzled.
"I do?"
"You do."
Draco considered that for a moment before glancing back at the bowl in front of him.
"I hadn't noticed."
"I know."
Harry's smile widened.
"That's the best part."
For a heartbeat, the only sounds in the room were the whisk scraping against the bowl and the soft birdsong drifting through the open kitchen window.
Outside, the garden swayed gently in the summer breeze.
Inside, everything felt wonderfully ordinary.
And somehow, Harry thought, ordinary had become the greatest gift either of them had ever been given.
-----
The pancakes turned out surprisingly well.
Harry made sure not to mention it.
Draco carried the plates to the small wooden table by the window, setting them down with exaggerated care.
"There," he said, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. "Proof that I am, in fact, capable of following simple instructions."
Harry cut into the stack with his fork.
"You've forgotten the syrup."
Draco stared at him.
"...I have."
Harry couldn't stop himself from laughing.
"I knew there had to be something."
"Oh, don't start."
"You've been making these for five years."
"And yet every single week, I manage to forget one ingredient."
"It's almost impressive."
Draco disappeared into the pantry with a muttered, "I'm choosing to hear that as a compliment."
"It wasn't."
"It is now."
When he returned, syrup in hand, Harry was already smiling into his coffee.
There had been a time when mornings had been silent.
Not uncomfortable.
Just... careful.
Both of them had spent so long learning where the other person's boundaries lay that conversations had once been measured, every joke tested before it was spoken.
Now they interrupted each other.
They stole food from each other's plates.
They argued over whose turn it was to water the plants.
They finished each other's sentences.
Somewhere along the way, comfort had quietly replaced caution.
After breakfast, Draco gathered the empty plates with a practiced flick of his wand.
"I'll wash up."
Harry snorted.
"You'll make the dishes wash themselves."
"I fail to see the problem."
"You never do."
Within moments, the kitchen had returned to its usual tidy state.
Draco slipped on a light summer coat before reaching for the small woven basket hanging by the back door.
Harry tilted his head.
"The basket?"
"We're out of tea."
"We're out of tea?"
"We are."
"I made tea yesterday."
"You made one cup yesterday."
Harry frowned thoughtfully.
"...That explains a lot."
Draco rolled his eyes, though the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth gave him away.
"The village market is on today."
"So that's your excuse."
"It isn't an excuse."
"It's an outing disguised as grocery shopping."
"It can be both."
Harry reached for his own jacket.
"I suppose I should come with you."
"I was rather hoping you would."
The walk into the village had become one of their favourite little rituals.
It wasn't far, just a winding footpath bordered by wildflowers and old stone walls that had stood longer than either of them cared to imagine.
The morning air carried the scent of freshly cut grass, and somewhere in the distance, church bells chimed the hour.
Harry slipped his hands into his pockets as they walked side by side.
Neither of them felt the need to fill every silence anymore.
Sometimes they talked for hours.
Sometimes they walked half the distance without saying a word.
Both felt equally natural.
As they reached the village square, it was already bustling with life.
Children chased one another between the market stalls while shopkeepers arranged baskets of fruit and fresh bread.
A golden retriever trotted happily after its owner, accepting enthusiastic pats from anyone willing to offer them.
Harry watched Draco pause beside a flower stall.
"You've stopped."
"I'm looking."
"At flowers."
"They're lavender."
"They're still flowers."
Draco crouched slightly, gently brushing two fingers over the purple blossoms.
"They'll do well in the garden."
Harry smiled to himself.
Five years ago, Draco Malfoy would never have admitted to caring about flowers.
Now he was discussing soil quality with an elderly witch who owned the stall.
Harry wasn't entirely sure when that transformation had happened.
Or perhaps it hadn't happened all at once.
Perhaps it had been built from hundreds of ordinary mornings just like this one.
One laugh.
One breakfast.
One walk.
One smile at a time.
Draco thanked the witch before turning back towards Harry.
"What?"
Harry realised he was staring again.
"You know..."
"What?"
"I think you've become terribly domestic."
Draco looked utterly offended.
"I was always domestic."
Harry let out an incredulous laugh.
"You once set tea on fire."
"That happened once."
"It happened twice."
"There were... unusual circumstances."
"The kettle was enchanted?"
"The kettle was uncooperative."
Harry laughed so hard he had to stop walking.
A few people glanced their way before continuing on without a second thought.
No whispers.
No curious stares.
No fearful looks.
Just two men laughing together on a sunny Saturday morning.
Draco watched Harry with quiet amusement until his laughter faded.
"What?"
Harry shook his head.
"Nothing."
But it wasn't nothing.
It never was.
There had been a time when Harry wondered if Draco would ever be able to live a life that felt... ordinary.
Now he was standing in the middle of a village market, pretending to argue with a flower vendor over the price of lavender.
Harry couldn't think of anything more extraordinary than that.
-----
They left the market with far more than they had intended to buy.
A loaf of fresh bread.
Two jars of homemade strawberry jam.
A bundle of lavender that Draco insisted had been "an absolute bargain."
And, somehow, a ginger cat that had decided Harry's lap was the perfect place for an afternoon nap while they sat on a bench overlooking the village green.
"It likes you," Draco observed.
Harry gently scratched behind the cat's ears.
"I think it likes the bread."
"It has excellent taste."
Harry laughed quietly.
Children ran across the green, their laughter carried on the warm summer breeze. Someone was playing a violin near the fountain, the melody drifting lazily through the square.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
They simply sat together.
Harry had learned long ago that silence with Draco wasn't empty.
It was comfortable.
The kind of silence that only existed between people who knew each other well enough that words were no longer necessary.
Eventually, Draco broke it.
"What are you thinking about?"
Harry looked out across the green.
"You."
Draco gave him a suspicious look.
"That usually means you're about to become sentimental."
"I wasn't planning on it."
"Liar."
Harry smiled.
"I was thinking about the first time I saw you smile."
Draco was quiet.
His gaze dropped to the bundle of lavender resting across his knees.
"...Which time?"
Harry blinked.
"You've smiled at me a lot over the years."
Harry chuckled.
"I suppose you have."
"But I assume you're talking about that day."
"I am."
Draco let out a slow breath, leaning back against the bench.
"I remember pieces of it."
"I remember every second."
"I'm not surprised."
Harry looked down at his hands.
"I don't think you ever realised what it meant."
Draco frowned slightly.
"I smiled."
"You did."
"People smile all the time."
"You didn't."
That earned a small, thoughtful silence.
Draco's expression softened.
"No," he admitted quietly.
"I didn't."
Harry turned towards him.
"Do you know what I remember most?"
"The smile?"
Harry shook his head.
"The way you looked afterwards."
Draco raised an eyebrow.
"I looked terrified."
"You looked... confused."
Harry smiled at the memory.
"Like you weren't quite sure how it had happened."
"I wasn't."
A quiet laugh escaped Draco.
"I spent years convincing myself I didn't deserve happiness."
Harry reached across the bench, his fingers finding Draco's almost instinctively.
"It wasn't that you couldn't smile."
Draco looked at him.
"You just forgot how."
Their fingers intertwined.
The gesture was so familiar now that neither of them thought about it.
Draco's thumb brushed absentmindedly across Harry's knuckles.
"I used to think that day changed because I smiled."
Harry tilted his head.
"And now?"
Draco watched a little girl run past, chasing bubbles that floated through the air.
"Now I think it changed because... for the first time, I stopped believing that my past was the only thing people would ever see."
Harry felt something tighten in his chest.
"You stopped punishing yourself."
"I started trying."
He smiled faintly.
"Turns out they're very different things."
Harry squeezed his hand.
"I wish the version of you from all those years ago could see you now."
Draco laughed softly.
"He'd think I've gone completely mad."
"He'd probably have a heart attack if he saw you arguing over lavender."
"He'd definitely have questions about the gardening."
"The pancakes."
"The knitted blankets."
"The fact that I voluntarily attend Weasley family dinners."
Harry grinned.
"He'd never believe it."
"No."
Draco looked at Harry, warmth filling his grey eyes.
"But... I think he'd be relieved."
Harry held his gaze.
"So am I."
Neither of them noticed the cat stretching lazily before hopping down from the bench and wandering off in search of its next unsuspecting admirer.
For a long moment, the world seemed to grow wonderfully quiet.
The village carried on around them.
Children laughed.
The violinist began another tune.
Somewhere nearby, a church bell rang.
And beside Harry, Draco smiled again.
This time, neither of them mentioned it.
He didn't have to.
It had become as natural as breathing.
-----
By the time they made it back to the cottage, the afternoon sun had settled low enough to cast long shadows across the garden.
Harry nudged the gate open with his shoulder while Draco balanced the basket against his hip.
"I still think we bought too much."
"We bought exactly what we needed."
"We did not need homemade fudge."
Draco looked at him with complete sincerity.
"I disagree."
"Of course you do."
Harry laughed, following him up the little stone path.
The lavender was placed carefully on the kitchen counter, the bread tucked away, and the jars of jam found a home in the pantry beside a growing collection that Molly insisted on replenishing every few months.
The cottage quickly returned to its familiar rhythm.
Harry opened the windows to let the warm summer breeze drift inside.
Draco wandered into the garden to find a place for the lavender.
Watching him through the kitchen window, Harry smiled to himself.
Years ago, he never would have imagined this life.
Not because it was impossible.
Because it was so wonderfully... ordinary.
No battles.
No impossible choices.
No prophecy hanging over either of them.
Just Draco kneeling in the garden, quietly debating whether the lavender would get enough sunlight beside the rosemary.
Harry stepped outside, carrying two mugs of tea.
"I thought we were out."
Draco looked up, amusement dancing in his eyes.
"We were."
"So?"
"I bought more."
"You made tea immediately?"
"I have priorities."
Harry handed him one of the mugs before sitting beside him on the old wooden bench that overlooked the flowerbeds.
For a while, they simply watched the breeze ripple through the garden.
Draco took a slow sip of his tea.
"It's peaceful."
Harry nodded.
"It is."
"I used to think peace would feel... strange."
"And does it?"
Draco considered the question.
"No."
A small smile touched his lips.
"It feels like home."
Harry looked at him.
Really looked at him.
The lines of tension that had once settled permanently between Draco's brows had long since disappeared.
His shoulders no longer carried the weight of a war that had ended years ago.
The guarded expression Harry had spent so long trying to break through had been replaced by something softer.
Something lighter.
Something that looked remarkably like happiness.
Harry reached over, quietly intertwining their fingers.
Draco glanced down before looking back at him.
"What?"
Harry smiled.
"Nothing."
"You've said that three times today."
"I know."
"And every time, it clearly wasn't nothing."
Harry let out a quiet laugh.
"I was just thinking..."
He paused, searching for the right words.
"I used to think that day was important because it was the first time I saw you smile."
Draco listened without interrupting.
"But I was wrong."
"You were?"
Harry nodded.
"It wasn't important because it happened once."
He squeezed Draco's hand gently.
"It was important because... it never stopped."
Draco's expression softened.
For a moment, he didn't say anything.
Then, with the same quiet ease that had become so much a part of him, he smiled.
Harry smiled back.
There it was again.
Not rare anymore.
Not fragile.
Just real.
Just Draco.
As the evening settled around their little cottage, Harry rested his head lightly against Draco's shoulder.
Neither of them felt the need to fill the silence.
They simply sat together, watching the last rays of sunlight disappear beyond the hills.
Years ago, Harry had wondered if there would ever come a day when Draco smiled without thinking.
Now, he couldn't remember the last day he hadn't.
And somehow, that was even more beautiful than the first.
The day Draco smiled had never been the end of his story.
It had simply been the beginning of a life filled with reasons to keep smiling.