The night had fallen when Draco Malfoy entered the Hog's Head, walking silently to the farthest table of the place, on a dark corner, where he could not be disturbed. Tom the bartender glanced at him, and he muttered "Same as always" to the old man, getting a nod from his head.
The butterbeer had just been placed on the blonde's table when the door opened again, and a familiar figure entered the bar. Harry potter was tall, slim and the same boy he knew since he was 11, just a bit older. Hands on his pockets, he reached the bartender and greeted him. As polite as always, that potter.
His eyes lingered a little too long on the brunette's figure, and when he gazed away, sipping on his butterbeer, he felt him –rather than see him- walk to his table. Draco's heart started thumping madly.
"Malfoy" he said, his usual tone, the same look.
"Potter" Draco replied, not even looking up to the newcomer. Slowly he placed thee beer back on the table; he didn't think his hand would be able to maintain the weight of it anymore.
The black-haired attempted to sit down, movements cautious, as if waiting for approval. It never came. Draco kept of glancing sideways, ignoring him.
"Didn't know you would be here." He said, and the blond almost, almost laughed. Of course he didn't know. How could he know his life was a mess? "It's been a while…" and there was a hint of longing in his voice that the Malloy decided to ignore.
"Yeah. Last time I saw you, Potter, you were with your family at kings cross" he couldn't resist a bit of bitterness on the tone he used; hoping Potter would not note it.
The brunette raised an eyebrow, finally sitting on the chair in front of his ex-schoolmate. "Last time I saw you, you had a golden band on your finger." He pointed to the blonde's left hand, a knowing smile on his lips. Draco frowned.
"It does not concern you," he said coldly, and it seemed like ages since the last time he had spoken in that tone of voice.
"I guess not." And they both fell silent. They were the only two at the bar, except for Tom, who was cleaning some glasses.
Every minute he looked at the black-haired, a feeling he had long suppressed arouse within him. It hurt. It hurt a lot, because there had not been any time to talk, to explain, to try and understand. They said good-bye and never spoke again. And now he was here, matter-of-factly, as if 10 years hadn't passed, as if time had cleared all the missing pieces, the stupid casualties, the puzzled feelings.
"I lied" said Harry, looking somewhat troubled. Draco looked curiously. "Somehow I knew you were here." And he palmed the inside of his jacket, drawing a wand seconds later, and placing it on the table. As gray eyes fell on the object, he recognized it as the wand he used when he was a teenager.
"Are you here to return my wand?" the blond almost joked, fighting the lump on his throat. Harry nodded, looking serious.
There was a moment when Draco felt like standing up, taking the wand and leaving the place as soon as possible. Or maybe gather all his courage, allowing himself to lose control, and shout to his face. Shout that he was a hypocrite, that he was damn fake. He wanted to say he was responsible for the mess his life had become.
But most of all, he wanted to shout right in front of this man, that he might have hated him for a while, despise him maybe, but there was a second, a mere second when he loved him. There was that moment, when he thought the curse that had slashed his skin making him blood profusely had killed him, that he loved Draco, and he regretted what he had done, and he wished time could go back, so things could be different.
Harry was in deep thought when the blond stood up, took his wand in one hand, and stared at him. Green eyes met gray eyes, and two hearts skipped a beat.
"Good-bye, Harry." And he was gone, not caring what the other might think after hearing him say his name for the first time. Not caring whether it was right or wrong. It had all ended, at last. It had ended, and is heart would be fine, it would heal, and everything was going to be fine.
--
"Father, is it true then that Harry Potter has your old wand?"
He nodded.
"And do you think he will hand it back?"
There was a brief moment of silence. Then he answered, a hint of care in his voice.
"I hope not, Scorpius"