The year was 2019.
The whole Potter-Weasley clan was on its way to Diagon Alley, anxious for the start of the new school year. Hugo, James, and Al were running ahead, feeling big and proud—returning Hogwarts students. Even Hugo, who was only a second year, felt like a big-shot. James was now a fourth year, and enjoyed scaring the wits out of Al, a third year, who was anxiously beginning electives.
"I heard they make you fight fire-breathing salamander things in Care of Magical Creatures, Al!"
"Last year, we had to tend to these massive worms that eat whole heads of lettuce—they bit one girl's arm off! Madam Pomfrey had quite a time re-attaching it…"
"Professor Trelawney always ends up predicting death… and she's not a fake Seer either…"
Harry and Ginny had given up trying to curb James' frightening, and frighteningly untrue, tales. Hermione began to follow, but Ron put a hand on her shoulder, and she relaxed. They simply sighed, letting their boys stare at the newest broomstick models, ugliest bandy-legged cats, and most grotesque looking sweets.
Lily hung back with her parents, unsure of herself. It was, after all, her first year at Hogwarts, and she wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Being a bit more sensible than Al, she wised up enough to not put any stock in James' stories, but still… the thought of going off to a big school of witches and wizards and magic and danger, without her parents, and without the comfort of her own home? Well, even without fire-breathing salamander things and massive carnivorous worms and predictions of death, that was enough to make Lily perfectly frightened.
Rose was kind enough to stay back with her, but at any rate, she always felt a little unsure of herself around the swagger-filled trio of James, Hugo, and Al. She had always been quiet; never eager to join in the boys' thrill-seeking games and dares. She had always preferred a good book, or logic puzzle, or helping her father fix something. It didn't really surprise her when the Sorting Hat definitively announced "RAVENCLAW" after a mere second on Rose's frizzy red head, but her cousins were shocked into silence. Even Hugo's letter to her was surprised, and almost disappointed. Though no one resented Rose for her placement, she just didn't share the discussions about the cozy red common room or the jokes about Nearly Headless Nick on which that her parents couldn't help but join in. Despite her 2 year age gap with Lily, she much preferred the company of the similarly soft-spoken, but dangerously witty and clever Potter girl. Now, Rosie felt privileged to show her friend the ropes and be there when her wand chose her.
The big group had just exited Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, never failing to get a laugh from George and Lee. To the kids, the duo seemed endlessly energetic and youthfully full of hilarity, but Ron, Harry, and Hermione knew them… before. They knew that they would never again be full of the same laughter as when they were a trio, with a solid 2 ears apiece. Nevertheless, George and Lee put on an excellent show, entertaining and delighting the whole group with their gags.
As the family left, Rose dragged Lily along to Ollivander's, anxious for the biggest moment of an 11-year-old's summer—the warm breeze, the wave of peace and calm, the golden glow of the perfect wand. Harry and Ginny ran behind the girls, for they were not about to miss this momentous occasion for their youngest daughter. Just before they reached the old, rickety door of Ollivander's shop, Lily slowed to a stop and faded out of her laughter. Ginny tightened her grip on her husband's hand, and offered a terse nod and quick smile before steering away. Harry began to take deep breaths to calm himself, and averted his eyes.
Only Rose seemed unaffected by the sight of the pale-skinned, nearly white-haired boy that had just turned the corner. Well, she wasn't quite unaffected, for her grin actually widened, and she ran towards the boy, embracing him, before she remembered that she had neglected to mention her friendship with Scorpius Malfoy to her aunt and uncle, or her parents for that matter. She drew back quickly, and looked to her mom and dad. She retreated slowly, grabbed both her parents' hands, and offered a small smile.
"Um, you see, we were both sorted into Ravenclaw, and… well… he's in my year… and very smart… and we… well he's very nice… and I just didn't want to say because…. Well I know you and Mom and Dad didn't like Mr. Malfoy so much… but it's just that Scorpius is brilliant… and so we're friends?" She ended on a tone of doubt, fearing her parents' reply. They were relaxing.
"You don't need to choose your friends based on who we liked in our day," Ginny quickly assured Rose. "I'm sure your mother would say the same."
Feeling slightly better, but still unsure, Rose approached Scorpius again, who was just turning away from his parents, appearing to have just had a similar conversation.
The two children smiled at each other, laughing weakly. When Rosie looked back to her aunt and uncle, and Scorpius back to his parents, they realized that neither set of adults was looking at them anymore. Instead, they were locked in an uncomfortable wavering eye contact with Scorpius' father. Astoria, who had never liked Harry or Ginny, but had never really ever spoken to them either, decided it was time to break the ice. She took her husband's pale hand and took a few tentative steps towards the Potters. She smiled weakly when she saw Ginny's gaze begin to soften; her powerful Quidditch-playing frame reciprocated Astoria's movements. Both women had to drag their husband's along a bit, but by this point, neither looked quite so angry. They stopped a few feet apart from each other.
A few quiet seconds passed.
Ginny's gaze wavered between her husband and her indirect childhood enemy, wondering if perhaps this silence was the best possible outcome of this meeting.
Astoria's eyes flitted across the whole scene, never resting on a single face for more than a second. More than anything, Astoria simply felt awkward. She really didn't know these people, except by likely unfair reputation, and she knew the same was probably true for the Potters' knowledge of her. She was a year older than Draco and Harry in school, so they never shared classes; likely, Ginny and Harry had just heard of her as a snobby, rude Slytherin girl. They'd never met or talked in school, when her reputation wasn't far from true, but they'd certainly never met or talked once she had met Draco, and started to question her past ways, thoughts, and prejudices.
Harry's eyes never left Draco's, and Draco's eyes never left Harry's. Harry searched for a hint of remorse, a glint of love, a gleam of kindness. In the thirty seconds since laying eyes on the pale and pointed face he hated so much in his childhood, his mind had already turned over a thousand times all the times Malfoy had taunted him and his friends. He was replaying the scene of Malfoy on the Astronomy Tower, with his wand pointed at Dumbledore, prepared to murmur the Unforgivable Killing Curse… Harry thought again and again of the "Potter Stinks" badges that shone around the school from every angle during his fourth year; of the pain in his face and the numbness in his limbs after Malfoy had petrified him and stamped on his nose; of the cruel-looking face of Lucius as he tormented Dobby, slid a cursed diary into Ginny's books, dueled him and his friends as they sought to save the world in the Department of Mysteries…
Draco, too, searched Harry's eyes for remorse, for forgiveness, for understanding. He thought back to the first time he had ever felt rejection and disappointment, when that messy-haired boy in oversized Muggle clothes refused his handshake and offer of kind friendship in Madam Malkin's all those years ago. Draco thought of Ron and Harry's unsympathetic "He's dead" when Crabbe lay dead at Draco's feet. He replayed the emergence of the insufferably attention-hungry Harry Potter's name rising from the Goblet of Fire, giving him yet another chance for eternal glory. He felt again the shame he experienced when he learned of his father's incarceration in Azkaban all because of Potter and his illegal club of miscreants. "Yes," thought Draco, "I was probably a little too cruel to Potter and Granger and Weasley in school. But he had no idea… the pressure I was under… the guilt I felt… the hate I felt for myself…"
By this time, Diagon Alley had quieted. Many had been aware of the fame passing through their midst when the Boy Who Lived was buying school supplies for his children. Everyone, too, was aware of the rivalry between Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. When they saw the two meet, people had begun to circle up. Some anticipated an epic fist fight. Others a skilled and dangerous duel. Others hoped to experience a back-and-forth of witty repartees and insults. But what they saw was… silence.
Finally, the two men each decided that 21 years was too long a time to maintain a feud without a valid reason for reinstating hatred. Harry took a small, cautious step forward. Draco did the same. They both looked at the ground, and then tentatively met eyes again. They curtly nodded, and wordlessly stuck out their hands.
The handshake was tense, and the whole of Diagon Alley held its breath.
After Draco and Harry had broken their grip, and the two couples Astoria had been briefly introduced to the Potters with small smiles and short handshakes, the onlookers exhaled. Some were disappointed, others were relieved, but all were vaguely underwhelmed with the quietness of the interaction. At the sound of the collective exhale, Draco, Harry, Astoria, and Ginny all looked around, and shared a small laugh, before turning their heads away again. Astoria, determined to make peace, smiled again. "It's no wonder they were all watching—it's a legendary feud between you two. And no one even quite knows why…"
Harry and Draco got the hint. Draco glared at Astoria for pointing out the pointlessness of his rivalry with Potter, but he knew his wife was right. As much as they had done to each other, there was no reason why he shouldn't get along with, if not at least respect, Potter.
Draco finally acquiesced and uttered the first words. "It's… been a while, Potter."
"It has indeed."
"I believe Florean Fortescue's son reopened his shop? It's the best ice cream around."
Harry couldn't repress a laugh, remembering fondly the three weeks he spent in Diagon Alley the summer before his third year, in which Florean gave him free ice cream, not to mention free help with History of Magic essays, every day. He forced his smile away. I'm with Malfoy, he thought. You gotta be more resolute than this. But… why not try to make amends? What's the point of maintaining a senseless feud? Especially when my niece and his son are friends…
Fine, but no anecdotes. Too personal. I'll make amends, be genial, but he doesn't have to know my life's story.
Harry finally responded. "Not even Baskin Robbins can beat it."
With a bewildered laugh, Draco linked arms with his wife and motioned to his son, and headed towards the Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor. He sat down at a large table, pulling out Ginny's and Astoria's chair, with an awkward attempt at a comical bow while Lily, Rosie and Scorpius laughed and headed inside for ice cream.
A few more seconds of awkward silence passed, with some flitting of eyes, brief smiles, and hesitant glances to see when the children would be back to break the silence.
"So…" Draco finally broke the silence. "We both ended up with little Ravenclaws!"
Harry laughed. A real laugh this time, and one he decided not to try and restrain.
"Actually, Rosie is Ron and Hermione's daughter. Both my sons are Gryffindors, but I wouldn't be surprised if little Lily ends up with a blue tie too!"