The war had come and gone. Like everything else, it passed but it was not forgotten. It was in the history books and in the psyche of all that were affected by it. Harry Potter, to everyone's surprise, did not become a Auror, Professional Quidditch player or become a permanent staff at Hogwarts. No, he moved to the muggle world and opened a bakery. He discovered during and after the war after making four batches of cupcakes during sleepwalking, that he could bake quite well and came up with new recipes that were out of the norm. Hermione and Ron were frequenters of his bakery.
"Can I have a large mocha coffee and three lemon tarts?" A quite familiar voice said with quite a boring tone.
"Yes, sir." Harry went about making the mocha coffee, making sure there was enough chocolate. "Whipped cream?"
"No. Can't stand the stuff." The customer replied with an arrogant air. Must be a pureblood.
It was not rare that a wizard came into his shop. After all, he was Harry Bloody Potter. Harry then placed the coffee down on the counter and grabbed a small pastry box that had Harry's written in green cursive writing. He did admit it wasn't the most creative but his bakery was booming. He placed three lemon tarts in the box and shut it closed, placing a sticker on the box so it would not open during transport.
"Malfoy?" Harry could not believe his eyes.
"Potter?" And apparently Draco couldn't either.
But this is where our story begins.