Author's Notes: For the slythindor100 advent challenge. Takes place just days after the end of DH (sans epilogue). TBH, it's barely even pre-slash, but the thought's there.
Harry leaned heavily back against the guardrail of Westminster Bridge, watching as a hundred or more Muggles strolled past him across as if they hadn't a care in the world; tourists even paused and turned to take badly-focused photographs of themselves with Big Ben looming in the background.
No one would ever suspect, based on this more or less idyllic image, that only a few miles away the offices of an entirely system of government was currently in utter shambles; one of many broken leftover of a tyrannical regime.
Harry supposed he should have just been grateful to finally be able to come here and watch people getting on with everyday things, and especially without the constant apprehension that any day now the Death Eaters might swoop down on them and murder their children or steal their friends off to be tortured just for fun. However, it rankled a little how they were all ignorant of how many lives were required to buy this freedom for them.
When he showed up, Malfoy looked even more appalled by the abundance of carefree Muggles wandering around their 'neutral meeting ground' (though if Harry were feeling uncharitable, he'd conclude Malfoy's reasons were probably very different).
"Do you want your wand back or what?" Harry asked, thrusting the item in question out at Malfoy without waiting for an answer. It was why they'd both come, after all. Considering everything he'd gained by snatching that wand, and given that he'd done so straight after Malfoy had refused to give him up to the Dark Lord (well, sort of), Harry figured he could spare a few minutes of his time to set things straight.
Draco's fingers closed around the hawthorn handle, brushing Harry's fingers briefly as they did. Then he let go. "You know what, Potter? Keep it. It probably wouldn't work for me anymore, anyway. It chose you."
The lack of spite in Malfoy's voice struck Harry as odd, as did the way Malfoy stared at him for a good half a minute, as if he was working up the nerve to say something further, before turning on his heel and sweeping off without another word.
Harry watched him go, frowning.
As if it wasn't enough that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter had just had a conversation (albeit a short one) that didn't devolve into childish taunts and the swinging of fists, all the evidence seemed to actually suggest that Malfoy had asked Harry there more as an excuse than because he'd had any real intention of reclaiming his wand.
A year ago Harry would have laughed at the thought, but, of course, things had changed. He'd changed so much, and he knew Malfoy had as well. How could he not, given everything Harry had witnessed through Voldemort's eyes?
They weren't the petty rivals they once were. Harry didn't know exactly where that left them.
Even if the Muggles clearly didn't know it, it was a brave new world they'd all suddenly found themselves in.
~FIN~