Draco Malfoy has a Christmas choir competition to win, and Harry Potter has an orphanage that needs funding. When Luna Lovegood intervenes, they agree to help each other out: Harry will join the choir if Draco chooses to sponsor his charity.
No Archive Warnings ApplyDraco Malfoy/Harry PotterDraco Malfoy Harry Potter Lavender Brown Parvati Patil Luna Lovegood Ginny Weasley Hermione Granger Ron Weasley Andromeda Black Tonks Teddy Lupin Hannah Abbott Justin Finch-Fletchley Susan Bones Narcissa Black MalfoyHarry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE Healer Draco Malfoy Anxious Harry Potter harry has an orphanage Music Early Bird 25 Days of Harry and Draco 2021 Hurt/Comfort Mental Health Issues Eventual Fluff Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley Minor Lavender Brown/Parvati Patil Minor Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley Lavender and Draco are BFFs seriously the ultimate wlw/mlm solidarity Harry Needs a Hug the christmas choir is a bit chaotic but they have lots of enthusiasm! Protective Draco Malfoy Smitten Draco Malfoy Smitten Harry Potter seriously they’re so in love Gentle Dom/Sub Dynamics Smut Switching All kinds of sex sex positivity Praise Kink Slow Burn Unresolved Sexual Tension Resolved Sexual Tension it just takes them a while but it’s worth it i promise Christmas
Draco Malfoy has a Christmas choir competition to win, and Harry Potter has an orphanage that needs funding. When Luna Lovegood intervenes, they agree to help each other out: Harry will join the choir if Draco chooses to sponsor his charity.But agreeing to work together also means getting to know each other again – in new and unexpected ways.Ft. a chaotic festive choir, scheming friends, a healthy dose of mental health issues, one very irritating ex, and boys learning how to love and be loved.
This fic would have been impossible without the wondrous Bee, Lou and Ali: thank you so much for making this story somewhat coherent and hyping me up endlessly. I owe you each about a million hugs.Thank you so much to the mods for making this fest happen and choosing such wonderful prompts.There is a playlist for this fic here.Come say hi on Tumblr! This fic is part of the 25 Days of Draco and Harry 2021 fest, and will post every day until Christmas. If you would like to follow the daily updates you can subscribe, or read it all at the end x,Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.),Notes:
comments & kudos are so appreciated <3
Draco doesn’t get angry much, anymore. Anger is a past Draco emotion, born out of spite and bigotry and revenge, and present Draco deals with his emotions in mature, balanced ways, like ignoring them. But he is currently so furious that ignoring it is not an option.He marches down the hallways of St Mungo’s, lime green robes billowing around him, throws open the door to Lavender Brown’s office, and hurls the newspaper at her. ‘The arsehole.’ Draco sinks into one of her absurdly comfortable armchairs.‘What’s happened?’ Lavender gazes at him with her big brown eyes.‘Look!’ He gestures wildly at the newspaper, which is crumpled and torn from where Draco may or may not have stamped on it. ‘He’s going to do it. He’s going to compete.’‘Compete in wha—oh.’ Lavender winces as she looks at the huge photo of Draco’s ex-boyfriend on page four of the Prophet, his perfectly sculpted body sandwiched between two centaurs. The headline reads, ITALIAN QUIDDITCH STAR MARCO TESSARI TO RAISE MONEY FOR CENTAUR LAND RIGHTS.‘Oh,’ Lavender says again, her beautiful face scrunching up as she skims the article. Lavender Glamoured her scars for the first few years after the war, but nowadays she wears them like a crown, and sees her patients with them on full display. ‘It’s important,’ she once told Draco, ‘that my patients know I’m not ashamed of who I am.’ Lavender works with werewolves and their families as a liaison officer for St Mungo’s, organising their treatments and advocating for them with the Healers. Draco can’t quite remember how they became friends, only that everyone else in the hospital is dead boring and she always has the best gossip. Friendship came naturally.‘I can’t believe him!’ Draco cries, tipping his head over the back of the seat and huffing. ‘The one thing I had to myself, and he has to go and take that too.’‘He’s a fucking dickhead. Want a biscuit?’ Lavender holds out a round tin. She always knows how to make him feel better.‘Yeah, thank you.’ Draco takes one and bites into it moodily. ‘What am I going to do?’‘What do you mean?’ ‘About the competition! Nearly everyone I was planning on asking to be in my group has already joined his, the traitors.’‘Hmm.’ Lavender purses her lips, full and red against her dark skin, and considers the article again. ‘Well, I suppose you just have to deal with it.’Draco shoots her a glare. ‘Very useful.’‘And,’ she says, ‘we have to find good people now. Because you have to win.’‘It’s mid-November already.’‘We’ll just unearth some hidden talents.’ Lavender taps the photo of Marco with her nails. ‘He won’t ruin this for you, Draco.’Draco started competing in the National Wizarding Choral Christmas Festival five years ago, as a way of “expanding his interests” and “making friends” (thank you Jennifer, world’s most annoying therapist). But it had been the highlight of every December since, competing with whatever eclectic group of people Sara – the director – managed to pull together. But Sara had moved to be with her family in New Zealand this year, and Draco had decided that he was going to start his own choir. He had a few people from the other group who he’d asked early, but he still needed at least five more people. Lavender was more or less tone-deaf, but she’d persuaded Parvati to sign up. ‘We need four more people. Who can sing?’‘Dunno.’ Lavender rests her chin in the palm of her hand. ‘Parv sees a lot of people in the tea shop.’‘Your wife is already doing enough for me,’ Draco sighs and squeezes his eyes closed. ‘Maybe Luna?’‘Can she sing?’‘No idea. But she’s creative, so maybe?’‘She might know people.’Draco’s eyes spring open. ‘No more Gryffindors.’‘No, of course not,’ Lavender says, patting his hand. ‘Want another biscuit?’ It had been six months, two weeks, and four days since Draco walked in on his boyfriend balls deep in the Italian Keeper. He’d brought flowers into the changing rooms after the match; it had been a huge win for Italy against Russia, with Marco scoring seven goals. Draco had been so bloody proud of him. They’d been together for a year, after Draco did Healer placement with the Italian Quidditch team, and Draco was – well, he thought they were both happy. Marco did travel a lot, but Draco worked a lot, and they saw each other most weekends. It was good, or as good as Draco imagined he’d ever get: Marco wasn’t involved in the war, he spoiled Draco rotten, and he had a massive cock.Draco groans as he walks home, furious that he is thinking, yet again, about his ex-boyfriend’s cock. To be fair, he’s mostly thinking about how he’d like to brutally disfigure and dissect it, but it’s nonetheless an arousing image. He berates himself for the violent thought and instead sends an owl to Luna.
I hope you’re well. Haven’t seen you in a while – let’s get coffee soon?
Also, is there any chance you sing?
Her reply comes in less than half an hour.
I don’t drink coffee, but I am assuming that you meant coffee in the ‘hangout’ sense and not in the ‘we have to drink coffee’ sense. We should get coffee in the ‘hangout’ sense.
Everyone should sing. It’s a lovely way to express emotions.
Luna <3333 Draco supposes that’s a yes. Three more to go. … Andy is giving Harry her concerned-pursed-lips look more than usual tonight.‘How’s the centre coming along?’ She pours him another cup of tea and pats his hand as she hands it over.‘S’alright. Usual business, I suppose.’ He smiles as Teddy crawls underneath the Christmas tree, already dressed up in the corner of the living room, moonlight spilling over his turquoise hair. Harry loves being here. ‘Tara and Vee just had their eighth birthday. We took the kids out to the zoo.’‘Muggle zoo?’Harry smiles fondly. ‘They all went nuts over the elephants.’Harry’s centre was never meant to be an orphanage. He’d opened it a couple of years after the war, when Teddy was a toddler and still not showing any signs of magic, and St Mungo’s researchers confirmed that children traumatised or orphaned by the war were more likely to be Squibs. Harry had just started with Teddy, learning as he went along, getting a qualification in early childhood development and gently coaxing his magic out through games and activities. Luna had joined him about six months in, when Harry got Tara and Vee, the twins whose single, Muggleborn mother had been killed by Snatchers. The idea was that he’d temporarily accommodate them while they found a foster family. But the girls were traumatised and difficult, and drove six different families to despair until Harry decided to keep them in a stable environment at the centre for a while. He brought Luna on full time during the day, and Susan and Hannah looked after the kids at night. Once word got out, Louis, Ronan, and Saoirse showed up almost immediately; dropped on the doorstep by exasperated relatives or tired Muggle family members. Since then, Harry has more or less adopted ten children and brought on five more staff members, though he never stops trying to find suitable foster homes. What he really needs is a training programme for wizarding families, something that would prepare them for what it means to raise a traumatised child, but after five years of feeding and clothing the kids and paying his staff, the money Harry set aside for the centre is running out.He’s talked to potential sponsors, of course, but none of them were right - they always want publicity shots of the kids, or for Harry to do a campaign for them, or simply owe them a favour. And Harry wouldn’t do anything that would put his kids in danger, or risk their privacy. He’d grown up as an orphan whose personal details were constantly splashed across the news. He won’t let the same thing happen again. ‘Any news on funding?’ Andy asks, settling her wide grey eyes on Harry again. Teddy’s hair ripples through different colours as he manages to push his truck all the way across the room, and he lets out a delighted whoop. Andy looks pointedly at Teddy, then back at Harry. ‘You singlehandedly restored that boy’s magic and no one will give you money?’‘I’m crap at media stuff.’ Harry sighs into his tea. ‘I wish I’d gotten to it earlier, but I was always so busy, and I didn’t think about...needing financial security for myself, or whatever.’Andy eyes him. ‘You know, you could take back the Black--’‘No,’ Harry cuts her off. ‘That money’s yours. And Teddy’s.’ Harry had given half the Black fortune to Andy after the war, and the other half to the Weasleys. He’d had to lie a bit for the Weasleys to accept; he said his parents told him to do it when he raised their ghosts in the Forbidden Forest, which, if he’s honest, is probably slightly fucked up. However, he did die to save the world, so he figures gently manipulating Arthur and Molly Weasley into taking his money is hardly sending him to hell.‘I’d donate it to the centre in a heartbeat.’‘It’s just not sustainable,’ Harry shakes his head. ‘I need more than one sponsor. And I need something that will also raise awareness. People need to want these kids, not just pay for overworked Hufflepuffs to raise them.’Andy snorts and pours them each another cup of tea. ‘Bloody typical do-gooders.’‘Oi. No shit-talking my employees.’ They exchange amused grins as Teddy runs to the table and motions for Harry to pick him up. He wraps his strong little arms around Harry’s neck and buries his head into the crook of Harry’s shoulder. Harry rubs circles on his back. ‘You tired, Tedward?’‘M’not,’ Teddy says, yawning. ‘Just need a hug.’‘Okay then,’ Harry grins, giving the top of his head a kiss. ‘So,’ Andy says, ‘what you need is a donor base. And someone to do your advertising and PR work for you.’ Harry winces at “PR”. ‘If you want to keep those kids living like goddamn royalty, Harry Potter, you need donations.’Harry snorts. ‘They each get their own bedroom and bathroom. Hardly royalty.’‘Hmm,’ Andy purses her lips in a wry smile. ‘Well. Let me see if any of my contacts will get us started, alright?’‘Just…’ Harry sighs. ‘We can’t involve the kids. They’re not show ponies. Neither am I.’‘I know,’ Andy murmurs. She stands up, and motions for Teddy, who is softly snoring in Harry’s arms. ‘You’re a good person, Harry. See you.’‘See you.’ Harry gives her a cheek kiss and Floos back to Grimmauld. He should just go to bed - Justin, Persephone, and Hannah are on duty tonight, and more than capable of taking care of the kids. He can’t remember the last time he got more than an hour of alone time. He should do something for himself.But he can’t, and feels guilty for not being on top of his stupid finances, and feels guilty for giving these kids anything less than a perfect, loving family to grow up with, and feels guilty that their magic is suffering because the world was so fucked up when they were born. So he pads down the stairs, down the hallway, and pokes his head into the living area, where Hannah is being tackled to the ground by Zadie and Ronan. Tara, Vee, Isla and Louis are playing dress up, and the older kids - Jordan, Quinn, Victor - are crowded together over a board game. Saoirse runs over from her corner and tugs on Harry’s hand. She’s the youngest out of them all - only a month old when her parents died in Ministry custody, just a month before the Final Battle. She barely talks, and her magic hasn’t shown any signs yet. Harry’s positive it’ll arrive.‘Harry,’ she whispers, her sweet brown eyes wide and sincere. ‘Story?’‘Sure thing,’ he smiles, smoothing down her hair. ‘Babbity Rabbity?’Harry falls asleep that night next to Saoirse’s bed, her little hand in his, her breathing evening out after what her grandparents used to call “temper tantrums”. They’re autistic meltdowns, Harry has since discovered, but unfortunately an autistic, traumatised child is not a responsibility anyone seems to want. Yet another thing Harry feels guilty about. He squeezes her hand and makes a silent promise that he’ll fix this. He will. He’ll make it all okay.