How to get where you're going

It was just there one day, curled up on the spare pillow on the other side of the bed. Of course, once she was awake enough to understand what she was seeing, Linda screamed.

The ferret jumped and darted between the pillow and the headboard. The edge of the pillow quivered for a moment, went still, and resumed quivering as the ferret poked its head out underneath to glare at her. After a few minutes' staring contest the ferret left the shelter of the pillow and approached her.

It nudged her hand where it lay on the bed and she moved to stroke the soft white fur. When the ferret began nibbling at her fingers she carefully picked it up and carried it to the kitchen, stopping only to retrieve her slippers, and fed the ferret dry cereal.

She had some tea and a slice of toast with raspberry jam, and called the local vet (who, incidentally, lived across the street) to make an appointment while the ferret dozed on the sofa cushions.

A week later the ferret (male, according to the vet) had been pronounced healthy, and relatively young, and therefore perfect for breeding if Linda so wished. She did not wish.

What she wanted was a companion who wouldn't try to make awkward conversation, or any conversation, really. A pet required food and water and a home and love. That was all she could give.

Linda spent some time learning how to care for her pet, and became used to his presence at her side (he followed her everywhere unless she locked him in the cage, and most of the time she didn't have the heart for it) without even noticing.

It wasn't until the ferret fell asleep in the living room one November evening and Linda carried him back to bed, that she realized she had grown accustomed to the ferret sleeping on the spare pillow on the other side of the bed, curled in a small white ball of fur.


"Please!"

Harry tried hard to ignore Albus' expression. It was one that had more than once brought Ginny's wrath down on both of them, when Albus had wanted something and Harry had been unable to resist. It was never anything big, (such as the many times Albus had begged Harry to give James up for adoption wearing that same expression) just little things, like an extra chocolate frog or being allowed to stay up for a few minutes longer on school nights.

Either way, this time Harry would not give in. A pet wasn't a small thing like the chocolate frogs, after all. A mouse (or a hamster, or a rabbit, etc.) needed to be fed and watered, and it needed a clean cage and toys to keep it entertained (though Harry wasn't quite clear what that entailed beyond hamster wheels).

An owl would be much easier to care for, but Albus (unlike his siblings in nearly every way) was fond of neither birds nor flying. He liked Quidditch well enough (the only family member who continued to deliberately engage his uncle Ron in strategy discussions), but in the way most people liked dragons – from a safe distance.

Albus tugged on his sleeve once more. "Daddy, please?"

Harry swallowed and, with an effort, shook his head. "I'm sorry, Al."

The already huge green eyes widened even further and filled with moisture as the pouting bottom lip wobbled dangerously.

Harry sighed. If nothing else, being married to Ginny and being Hermione's friend had taught him to recognize and admit defeat.

They went home an hour later with several bags of food and litter, a large cage, several boxes containing food and water dishes, and toys, and a white ferret with an attitude.

As Albus chattered about building an enclosure in the backyard, Harry consoled himself with the thought that this couldn't truly be considered a spontaneous decision. Albus had been consistently begging his parents (and grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins) for a pet for the last three years. He'd gone to the trouble of reading all the books he could find on pet care. In an attempt to prove himself responsible – which quickly became a successful business venture – he had made himself available for pet-sitting (excluding owls) whenever a family member or neighbour required such services. In exchange for a small fee of course.


The months passed and in September they were all standing on Platform 9¾ to see James off to his first year at Hogwarts. Lily was horribly jealous but Albus was quick to point out that this only meant he wasn't there to prank them all the time.

Another year went by far too quickly and Harry was somewhat surprised to find it was December 23. The next morning was the beginning of the worst days in his life.

He wasn't sure whether or not to be relieved when he wasn't the one who found her. The neighbour's scream was what woke him, and when he found the bed beside him empty a horrible feeling settled into his stomach.

When he opened the front door he nearly tripped over her. Ginny was lying on the porch, pale and still, not breathing. Her eyes were open.

There was the sound of small feet behind Harry and he turned his back on Ginny and closed the door behind him. He still stood there, back against the door, when Lily ran at him, throwing her arms around his waist, closely followed by her brothers.

Once he was a bit more composed he sent all three of them upstairs and began making Floo-calls. Several people were openly surprised at his calmness, and Harry wanted to punch them. He wasn't calm. He was angry and in pain and part of him was numb and that meant more pain later and most of all he wanted to go to sleep and wake up with Ginny warm in his arms. But the things he wanted to do weren't on the list of things he icould/i do, just then.

It was late afternoon when Harry and his children were let go (this was due mostly to paperwork), and they went to stay at the Burrow for the night. That was as much for Harry as for the Weasleys.


Somehow Harry survived. It occurred to him one sleepless night in February that, as long as he ignored the fact that his wife had been murdered, things were actually going well. James had begun writing letters home again, Albus had broken the silence he had maintained for nearly a month after Ginny's death and Lily had stopped bursting into tears quite so often.

The rest of the family had calmed as well, and even George, who had been hit the hardest after Harry, was eating and sleeping normally again, according to Angelina.

A creak startled Harry from his thoughts. Someone was in the house.

He left his room silently, wand in hand, and followed the sounds.

He found the intruder in the kitchen, a bag in one hand, a wand in the other.

Harry disarmed and bound the man, glad that those were among the few spells he could perform silently. Then he turned on the light and had to work to keep his jaw from dropping.

"Malfoy? I thought you were dead."

Malfoy glared at him. "And I would have been happy to let you live with that misconception. Now, let me go, I was just leaving."

Harry ignored him and squatted down to have a look at the contents of Malfoy's bag. "You were stealing our food. What is wrong with you?"

He looked at Malfoy, only to see him shrinking, twisting, changing. What was left was a familiar white ferret which wasted no time in running past Harry and toward the front door.

He followed immediately, as silently as he could manage, since Albus and Lily were asleep upstairs.

Harry caught up with Malfoy-the-ferret (and didn't that sound familiar) at the front door where Malfoy had to stop and transform back. Forgoing his wand, Harry bodily pinned Malfoy to the door.

"Now, tell me what you were doing in my kitchen. And why your Animagus form looks so much like Albus' pet ferret."

Malfoy kept up his silent struggle for a minute or two, then went limp. Harry slowly let him go, but kept him at wandpoint as they returned to the kitchen.

Once they were sitting at the kitchen table (Malfoy bound to his chair) Harry repeated his questions and Malfoy answered with obvious reluctance.

"After Mother's death I had no reason remain among people who wouldn't spit on me if I were on fire. So I became an Animagus and left. I found some old Muggle woman who took me in, lived with her until she died. Got sent to the pet-shop where you found me. And I would have been long gone, but this is the first time your son left the cage open. Now let me go and I won't be bothering you again."

Harry shook his head. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just take you to the Ministry right now."

Malfoy's eyes darted around the kitchen, maybe looking for a way to escape, but he didn't say a word.

Harry sighed, getting up. He aimed his wand to undo the ropes on Malfoy enough to allow him to get up from his chair.

"NO! No, don't. I- My mother, the last thing she said to me was that I should try to mend things with you. She was dead when I came home. Let me try."

Harry stared at Malfoy. He didn't think the git was lying. I am an idiot.

He released the ropes.


"Da-ad, you've forgotten to sign the Hogsmeade form!"

"Have you seen my ties, Dad?"

"Why can't I go, Daddy?"

"QUIET!"

The pre-departure rushing and shouting suddenly stopped and the house was quiet for the first time since the beginning of July.

Harry took a deep breath and looked at each of his children in turn; Lily sulking on the sofa to his right, Albus in the doorway to his left, James in front of him, form and quill in hand.

"Lily, we've discussed this over and over. If you want to repeat the conversation, wait until your brothers are gone. Albus, your ties are in your trunk with the rest of your school uniforms, where we put them last week. James… Hand it over." As Harry signed the form his two younger children returned to sulking and panicking respectively. He gave James the signed parchment and watched his son take the stairs two at a time in his hurry to get his trunk.

Harry had been through this twice before, but today was the first time Albus was going along with James. It certainly didn't help that Ginny had only been gone for a few months. He shook his head free of the memory as James and his trunk preceded Albus down the stairs.

The family arrived at Platform 9¾ with two minutes to spare, said their rather hasty goodbyes and then Harry stood alone on the platform, Lily clutching his hand.

He looked down at her. "It's just us now."


Another two years later Lily was gone, too, and for the very first time since Harry and Ginny had moved here sixteen years ago, the house was left empty.

Harry threw himself into his job, arriving early and leaving late, working more and more dangerous cases. His friends worried and even his children's letters mentioned the change, but it was only when he was severely injured in late February that he began to listen.

The curse hit him from behind, breaking his hip and damaging his spine. Someone found him and sent for help, though there was no one with him when the Healers arrived.

When he regained consciousness two weeks later it was to another hand in his. To his great astonishment the hand belonged to a man that Harry's sluggish brain identified, after a few moments' thought, as Draco Malfoy.

Harry fell back asleep before he could do anything, and when he woke again it was Hermione sitting in the chair beside his bed, knitting something that might have been a jumper.

He tried to focus on the dream-memory of pale fingers laced through his, but then Hermione abandoned her knitting project with a shout and the room filled with Healers and Harry forgot all about strange dreams.


The next time Harry thought about Malfoy (as opposed to healing and recovery and the fact that he'd have to re-learn walking) was a month and a half after he woke up, occasioned by a letter.

It consisted of

Potter

I suppose we're even now, since I saved your life in February.

D. Malfoy

and two flowers twined together.

Harry replied with

Malfoy

Why did you help me? Why were you there? Why did you leave?

Where have you been for the last three years?

HP

PS: What's with the flowers?

He didn't receive an answer for nearly a year.


The letter was on Harry's bedside table one cold January morning, though he didn't discover it until he knocked a glass of water over on top of it.

Fortunately, the contents survived and were legible, if slightly damaged.

Potter

I was coming to speak to you and witnessed the attack. And someone had to make sure the Boy-Who-Lived didn't lose his title.
Besides, if you die how am I going to talk to you?
I left because you never did anything to correct the assumption that I died. Obviously.

D. Malfoy

PS: Since you Aurors seem to be completely incompetent, I'll tell you now that it was Pettigrew's mother who cursed you.

PPS: The flowers are a lily and a narcissus. Surely the meaning is clear.

Harry wasn't at all certain the meaning was clear, and the letter certainly revealed more questions than answers, but it was a start.


Due to James making trouble (well, bigger trouble than usual) at school, and intensive questioning by fellow Aurors concerning the 'anonymous note' containing the identity of the person who'd attacked Harry, he didn't write a reply for several weeks, at which point he was in the middle of a bout of depression. The letter he wrote was accordingly sarcastic, frustrated and angry.

Malfoy was remarkably cheerful in his reply two days later, and somehow that was all the prompting Harry needed to pick himself up and keep going.

They continued their strange correspondence until summer, and then the children were home and Harry was finally allowed to join them there (though a mediwitch stayed in the guestroom – for emergencies, the Healers said, but Harry suspected she was there to ensure he didn't do any of the things he'd been banned from doing until further notice).


The next letter arrived early in the morning on September 1st and, instead of parchment, the envelope contained four photographs, sun-faded but well-preserved. The couple in the first picture was familiar, though the photo itself wasn't. James and Lily Potter stood in front of a cottage, arms around each other, waving at the camera. On the back Malfoy had written

We died to save our son's life. We were not alone.

Harry stared at the writing for a while, then shook his head and picked up the second photograph. The couple, both blond and long-haired, stood in front of a huge white house. They were side by side but only their elbows touched. On the back Malfoy had written

I endangered my family by misjudging one man. I died alone. L

I would have killed to save my son. I died without regret. N

The third photograph showed a tall man with dark hair and eyes, embracing a short brunette woman from behind. Unlike the other photos there was no movement in this one, the couple's smiles frozen in time. On the back Malfoy had written

My husband died to save a small boy from a burning house. I lived alone, but I was not lonely. He was still in my heart. Linda

The third one showed Harry and Ginny, on the day they had moved into the house Harry and his children still lived in. Photo-Harry was levitating a bookshelf through the front door when photo-Ginny kissed him. His attention diverted, the bookshelf crashed to the floor just inside the door and the couple in the photograph jumped. On the back Malfoy had written

One is gone, the other barely here.

Perhaps the role of saviour and the one in need have been exchanged.

Harry put down the photographs and went to send his children off to school. He did not reply.


The next letter arrived on December 20th late in the afternoon, but Harry didn't get the chance to open it until lunch the next day.

Dear Harry,

It began.

How have you been? I hear you are recovering nicely from the curse you took nearly two years ago, but I'd like to hear it from you.

I hope the photographs I sent in September did not offend you and that you wish to continue our correspondence. If that is not the case, I would like to speak to you in person sometime.

Draco

Harry sat staring at the letter for long minutes, until Ron poked his head into the room to invite Harry over for supper.


Christmas was loud and cheerful; the women exclaimed over Teddy and Victoire's newborn daughter, the men shared alcohol and laughter, and the children spent quite a lot of time running around.

New Year's Eve was almost exactly identical, but without presents and even louder and brighter (George's fireworks were unparalleled).

That night (though morning would probably be more accurate since he had gone to sleep at four am) Harry dreamed of Ginny; her smile, her laughter…her kisses. Then she said, still smiling, "Goodbye, Harry." and he woke up with a gasp that sounded far too loud in Harry's empty bedroom.

Once the children had gone back to Hogwarts Harry sent Malfoy a note.

Malfoy

Would you like to meet me for tea sometime?

HP


Harry

Is Friday convenient for you?

Draco


Harry arrived half an hour early and was already on his third cup of tea when Malfoy walked into the café. He waited until Malfoy was looking in his direction, then lifted a hand and gave a little wave. He made his mouth smile, in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind of way, and Malfoy nodded and smiled too, much more openly.

They shook hands before Malfoy sat down and nodded at each other. "Malfoy."

"Harry." And then the waiter arrived.

They waited in awkward silence for Malfoy's tea, then they sat sipping.

Finally Harry leaned forward, putting his empty cup down. "Where did you go after I caught you? Why didn't you come back?"

Malfoy cradled his tea cup, staring into it as thought it held the answers to all his questions. "I didn't expect you to simply let me go after I'd invaded your home. It seemed too good to be true. So I disappeared for a while, somewhere you wouldn't find me. And the longer I stayed away the harder it became to convince myself to return. Two years ago I was on my way to see you. I mentioned that in one of my letters, I think."

"Yes, you did. But why did you wait until this Christmas to ask to meet again? And what exactly did you want to talk to me about?"

"Well, we were doing just fine writing letters. And I only returned to England a few months ago."

"I don't suppose you'll tell me where you were before that?" He made it a question, even though he was fairly certain he wouldn't receive an answer.

This theory was proven correct when Malfoy smiled at him briefly before lifting his cup to his lips again.

"You know, we found the witch who cursed me. Liviana Greene, she confessed when we caught her. How did you know it was her?"

"Pettigrew carried a photograph of her around with him. I saw him take it out to stare often enough. She's different, but recognizable." Malfoy put down his empty cup. "I'm glad you got her, Harry."

"Why do you call me by my given name?"

"Do you not want me to?"

Harry was silent. So was Malfoy. The waiter came by their table again and Malfoy ordered another cup of tea and a slice of chocolate cake.

"So." Malfoy said once he'd swallowed the first bite of cake. "How have you been?"

"That's an odd question. What exactly would you like to know?"

"Must you always answer questions with questions?" He held up his hand when Harry opened his mouth to reply. "No, don't answer that. It is your job after all."

Harry snorted. "Not really. I'm Head Auror and I'm even working again but it's a desk job. I teach an introductory class for the new trainees and I assign who gets to do what. That's the extent of it. Since I got hit with that curse I can't run for longer than a few minutes at most, I'm not as flexible as I used to be, I get tired more easily and I can predict the weather by the way my hip aches. The only thing that hasn't changed is my reflexes and even those are useless when my body can't respond as fast as it needs to. I feel old."

"Well, if you're old, then so am I." quipped Malfoy. "And so are your best friends, and all our old classmates. I somehow doubt the term 'old' quite applies, Potter."

Harry laughed a bit at the thought of Ron or Hermione being old (though he fully expected them to grow old together, squabbling all the while). And Malfoy- "You look nearly the same. Though I suppose with that hair white would be nearly invisible and your age therefore less obvious. Grey is very obvious in my hair. Hermione says it suits me, but she also says Rose looks cute in pink."

They smiled at each other until Harry's watch started beeping loudly, drawing quite a few annoyed looks from neighbouring tables. He turned off the alarm, red-faced in a way he hadn't been in years and finished his tea quickly. "Sorry, Malfoy. I've got to get going. Perhaps we could do this again?"

"Certainly. What do you say we meet here again, same time next week."

Harry grimaced, getting up. "Can't. I'm meeting Ron and Hermione for lunch before we go to the Burrow for the evening. Would next Saturday be alright instead?"

Malfoy nodded and smiled. "That will be just fine, Harry. See you then."

They shook hands and Harry left.


They met for tea the next Saturday, and the next and the next and every Saturday until the end of February, at which point they changed the time to lunch. Harry slipped into calling Malfoy by his given name halfway through April and two weeks later they met for dinner and a concert.

Throughout the evening Harry found himself watching Draco, noticing little gestures and expressions, and told himself there was nothing to it.

He did his level best to ignore the fact that the way they went out for a drink and Draco walked home with him later certainly made it seem like a proper date (in fact, Harry had been on several similar dates with Ginny before they'd moved in together, but he'd never been on the receiving end of the walking home).

Their contact was reduced to letters for the rest of the month and most of May, since magical criminals seemed to have decided May was a good month to make as much trouble as possible and the Auror Office was swamped with cases.

Harry and Draco next saw each other on June 5th, which was a Sunday that year.

Harry was a bit late and when he arrived at the restaurant Draco was already there, and there was a young woman sitting in the chair intended for Harry.

She was talking to Draco, smiling and leaning forward in an obvious effort to get Draco to pay her a whole lot more attention than she deserved, in Harry's opinion.

He drew himself up short, then shrugged and decided he might as well admit that he wanted Draco and that what he was feeling was a mixture of possessiveness, protectiveness and jealousy. Harry remembered the dream he'd had on New Year's and thought this might actually be a good thing, and continued walking towards the table.

Draco was facing away from him, but the woman saw him coming though she didn't acknowledge him until he stopped beside the table.

"Hello, Draco. I'm sorry I'm late. And who might you be?" He added, showing his teeth in a shark's grin.

Her answering smile looked remarkably similar, if a tad shaky. "I'm Jill. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Potter." She offered her hand, standing and moving away from the chair.

Harry shook her hand, because it would be too rude not to, but did not give the standard answer to her greeting. Instead he sat down and asked Draco, "Have you ordered yet?"

Sensing the clear dismissal, Jill waited for Draco to reply with a negative and said, "Well, it was very nice talking with you, Mr. Malfoy. Perhaps we can meet for coffee sometime?"

Draco seemed to be hiding a smile as he declined and went on to ask Harry about his day.

Jill left as Harry was telling Draco about the woman who'd reported her son missing. Harry had sent a pair of Aurors to start the search at the house. Half an hour later they'd come back, shaking their heads. Apparently the child had been playing hide-and-seek and had fallen asleep inside one of the lower kitchen cupboards.

The rest of the evening was very enjoyable, and when they said goodbye at Harry's front door he was suddenly filled with the wish that Draco would kiss him. He didn't, of course, but the smile he gave Harry nearly made up for it.


That night Harry dreamed of Draco for the first time. They were dancing very closely, never quite touching, never more than a few inches apart. Draco smiled at him and Harry smiled back. At one point there was an obnoxious beeping, but then Draco leaned forward to whisper in Harry's ear and the beeping faded.

Harry blinked a few times, sat up and reached for his glasses. He took a look at the alarm clock, thinking he might take the time to actually eat something for breakfast instead of gulping a cup of too-hot coffee. Then he exploded into motion.

It was almost ten thirty and Monday, and he should have been at the Ministry hours ago.

By the time he was dressed (which took longer when he was in a hurry, of course) and ready to leave, it was nearly eleven. At the door he remembered that he'd left the water in the bath running, and before he could Apparate he found that he'd somehow managed to forget his wand. This was especially disconcerting as he hadn't put it down for anything but sleep, and even then kept it on his nightstand, since he'd turned seventeen.

As he was walking back to the door he was startled to realize that nearly twenty-five years had passed since then. Twenty-five years since he'd left Privet Drive, since Hedwig and Moody had died, since he'd become a man. (Harry suspected Hermione would disagree, that it had taken much longer for him to learn maturity but there was a difference between becoming a man and being mature.)

It was a blessedly quiet day at the office, and the rest of the week followed Monday's example.

Draco cancelled their lunch date so Harry spent Saturday cleaning the house and catching up on correspondence.

The next week passed much the same way, except for the panicked letter Lily sent Tuesday morning, which begged him to come to Hogwarts immediately. Concerned, Harry went, and was tempted to slam his head (and maybe Lily's) against the nearest wall when the emergency turned out to be one of her dorm-mates stealing her diary as revenge for a careless comment.

He spent much of that day rubbing his eyes and pressing his fingers against his temples. The letter Draco sent to cancel their plans for Saturday did nothing to improve his mood, and he went to bed early and grumpy that evening.

Finally on Sunday things got better, when Teddy asked Harry to watch baby Dora so Teddy could take his wife out for a romantic dinner.

Harry was feeding the baby with a bottle when someone knocked on the door. Without removing the bottle he went to answer, and found himself in a bit of a dilemma, since his hands were both occupied and Dora would scream the house down if Harry took away the bottle. Instead he said "It's open." just loud enough for whoever it was to hear him through the door.

It was Draco.

Had he been able Harry would have slammed the door in his face, but as it was the prat went right past him and directly into the living room, after a brief glance at the baby.

Harry kicked the door shut and followed, fully prepared to cut Draco down to size and kick him out.

As if on cue Dora let go of the bottle with a pop and started babbling and waving her arms. Harry put down the bottle, checked to make to sure the cloth on his shoulder was still in place, lifted the baby so she was looking over his shoulder and patted her back until she burped loudly and spit out some milk. He absently handed the baby to Draco, noting out of the corner of his eye the terrified wonder with which he looked at Dora and the curiosity she returned, and set to cleaning up. Dora had a tendency to be rather greedy with her food and consequently spit half of it right back out when she was finished.

Clean and with a fresh cloth on his shoulder Harry took Dora back and sat down on the couch. He gestured for Draco to sit as well and lifted the baby to stand on his thighs where she began walking in place, fist in her mouth.

"So, why are you here?"

Draco shifted in his armchair but his voice was cool. "I am visiting a friend."

"Why didn't you meet me yesterday? And last Saturday?"

"Something had happened and I needed time alone to think about it. I have come to a decision but I need to speak to you first."

Dora tried to walk off his thighs, so Harry sat her on the floor by his feet and handed her one of the less noisy toys. Then he looked at Draco and waited.

He might have been imagining it, but Draco's cheeks went slightly pink as he looked away.

"I would like to re-enter Wizarding society. And I would like to request your help."

Harry nodded. "Well, tell me what I can do."

"You see, I was declared dead nearly twenty years ago. I can't simply walk into the Ministry and demand for my possessions to be returned to me. Although it would be amusing to see their faces when they recognize me." He stared upwards for a few moments before visibly shaking himself. "I need your help to correct that…"

And they sat there, planning, until Dora demanded attention.


They continued to meet on for lunch on Saturdays as if there had been no interruption. Harry attempted to find out what had happened to make Draco ignore two Saturday lunches, but his friend had built solid walls around that subject. Instead they spoke of Harry's children, of Harry's job, of Draco's mother, of places they wanted to travel, of Draco's return to the wizarding world. Sometimes Harry and Draco simply sat in silence, sipping tea.

The day Harry picked his children up from King's Cross was a hot Wednesday at the beginning of July. Lily took an astoundingly long time saying goodbye to her friends; when Harry asked his sons about it Albus flushed bright pink and James' smirk lent him a remarkable resemblance to his mother, but neither said a word.

They went home by Floo; the children first, each followed by a trunk and then Harry. While the children settled in Harry began to prepare supper, happy the house was filled with noise once more (though he had to admit the children were much quieter than they'd been ten years ago).

They all sat down to eat, chattering over each other until their mouths were otherwise occupied. As if on cue there was a knock on the front door. Harry went to get it, pretending he didn't notice his children sneaking after him.

"Good evening, Harry. I hope I'm not too late?"

"No, no. You're fine. We started without you, I'm afraid, but waiting would have tipped the kids off."

Draco laughed. "Well, let's surprise them."

Harry began to turn, deliberately slower than usual, and had to suppress a laugh at the mad scrambling that broke out behind him at the movement. Draco grinned with him.

Five minutes later Harry was putting another plate on the table while the children pretended not to stare at their guest. "Children, this is Draco Malfoy, an old friend of mine. He'll be staying with us for the summer. Draco, these are my children; James, Albus and Lily. Now, let's eat." And there was silence for fifteen minutes.

Lily was the first to speak. "So, Mr. Malfoy, how did you become friends with my dad?"

"We went to school together, but he and I weren't friends then. We met again in January and we get along much better now."

"Oh, you're the one Uncle Ron's always telling stories about! You know he told Rosie, if there's someone named Malfoy, she mustn't make friends with him." She told Harry, as if Ron had not mentioned that very fear to Harry every day for two weeks when Rose had first gone to Hogwarts.

"Yes, that's him, Lily. But he's grown up a bit since then."

"Well, a war and two decades with nothing to do but think will do that to you. You're as much of a prat as ever, my friend." Draco laughed.

Harry smiled.


Draco meeting Teddy, Victoire, Dora and Andromeda went quite well, and most of his Slytherin friends welcomed him back with open arms. The Weasleys, once they met him, were less than happy, but no one tried to hex him. (Especially when Lily threatened revenge, with her brothers standing behind her, looking menacing. Harry found the whole scene, and Ron's pale face, hilarious and Draco gave her an extra large box of chocolates later.)

The Wizarding world at large didn't seem to notice, or at least Draco's reappearance didn't make the newspapers.

Harry's children seemed to like Draco quite a lot. In fact, James spent hours questioning Draco on the best methods of how to annoy Harry. Albus was quiet and rarely did anything more than watch (which was a bit disconcerting to Harry who was used to fifteen-year-olds who always had something to say and no compunction about keeping quiet just because someone else might not like what they said). Lily exhibited some fangirlish tendencies but Harry wasn't especially worried since she always treated new people like that.

Somehow the summer passed rather faster than Harry expected, and he felt like it had barely begun when it was already the end of August. Albus and Lily returned to Hogwarts, James went travelling, and Harry and Draco were alone in the house.


Over the months until Christmas, without noticing, Harry worked considerably less. For the first time in years he wasn't always the first one at the office, nor the last to leave, and he was far more cheerful in general.

All three Potter children returned for the holidays and James brought a friend which made for rather close quarters, seeing as there was only one guest room. Draco was all set to leave, until Harry transfigured his own double bed into a bunk bed and offered to share his room until James and his friend left on January 2. (Later he wondered why he hadn't simply done that same thing to James' bed and made ihim/i share, but Lily, of all people, reminded him that gender had never deterred James. That always made Draco laugh until he cried.)

On Christmas Eve the ever-growing Weasley family (including the Potters, Draco and James' friend) gathered at the Burrow to celebrate. The newest addition was Percy's first granddaughter Alexandra. Her parents Molly and Felix looked tired more than anything else, but also extremely happy, both of which Harry could absolutely sympathize with. There would be another baby born in March, and Victoire and Teddy were mercilessly teased for their apparent inability to keep their hands off each other even with a baby in the house.

Sharing a room was strange, but the nights weren't too bad since Draco seemed to prefer sleeping in his ferret form. Nothing at all happened until New Year's Eve when Harry drank quite a bit more than he meant to, and when the countdown ended he found himself standing beside Draco and kissed him. Draco, every bit as drunk as Harry, kissed back passionately and they stood there in the garden of the Burrow, snogging until Albus found them and he and his siblings brought them back home.

On January 1, Harry was too preoccupied with his very painful hangover to think much about what had happened the night before. Draco seemed to have no such problem, going by the way he walked around with a red face and avoided catching Harry's eyes all day.

The next day was much better, since James and his friend were leaving, and Draco moved back into the guest room. Their conversations were awkward and stilted for the rest of the holidays and they avoided being alone together as much as possible.


One day in the middle of February Harry came home to find Draco packed and ready to go. "I was just waiting for you to come home to say goodbye. I've found a house in Hogsmeade. A job, too."

"But… You could get to your job by Floo or you could Apparate or even fly if the mood takes you and you have enough time on your hands. And there's no reason you couldn't stay here."

"I know. But we're not comfortable around each other any more. I thought it might go away, given time but we've barely spoken since New Year's. I think we need some distance if we don't want to ruin our friendship."

Draco was determinedly not looking at Harry.

He took off his glasses to rub his eyes. He was tired and felt somehow empty, which was stupid. This wasn't the end of the world, it was just a friend standing on his own two feet.

Except, it wasn't. "What if…" said Harry. "What if I asked you to stay? What if I kissed you again? Without alcohol this time." Draco stared at him.

"Why don't we find out?"


Luna Scamander interviewing Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy on the twenty-second of June 2026

LS: So, how are you two?

HP: A bit stressed, what with Albus getting married in a few weeks.

DM: Yes, never mind that we've been designated babysitters.

LS: (laughs) I can see how that would be a tad stressful. But let me ask you, Harry, how do you feel about your son's wedding?

HP: Well, I love him, of course, and Shannon's really nice. I worry, for both of them, because marriage isn't something you should rush into. But it seems to me they know what they're doing better than I do and I'm very happy for them.

LS: And you, Draco? What do you think about Albus, and his siblings James and Lily?

DM: Albus is the sneakiest Hufflepuff I have ever known. His only fault is that he doesn't like to play Quidditch but his siblings' enthusiasm more than makes up for his lack. And Shannon is very sweet. They're good together. James resembles his uncle George more than his father, personality-wise. But Harry tells me that I taught him a thing or two about plotting. Lily… I think she's a lot like her mother. Of course, I'm told Ginevra was a very neat person. Lily seems to have inherited her father's lack of skill for organization.

LS: And that brings me directly to my next question. How do you feel about Ginevra? Both of you?

HP: I loved Ginny, I still love her and I don't think I'll ever stop. And the pain of her death won't ever go away. But my wounds are healed now. And I have Draco and my children and the whole extended Weasley family, so I'm not lacking anything.

DM: I regret her death for the pain it caused Harry and their children, and I'm sorry that her death was so painful. But every good thing and every bad thing that happened brought us here. Together. And I'm unbelievably grateful this is the place we were heading.

LS: One more question, then I'll let you get back to babysitting. How long have the two of you been together.

HP & DM: (in unison) Three years, five months and four days.

LS: (laughs) That's it, then. Thank you for the interview. I'll see you at the wedding.

HP: Thank you. You're my favourite reporter.

DM: I agree. Thank you, Luna.


There was a loud crack and two men appeared in the dark living room.

"Lumos." said one, and light flooded the room. "Ouch! You are standing on my foot."

"Sorry, sorry." said the second one, stepping away. "I wouldn't have been standing on your foot if you'd warned me before you Apparated. Really, Draco, Side-Along is dangerous when you're not ready for it."

"Well, I certainly was ready. My feet hurt, since you are not the only person with two left feet there, Harry, and the newlyweds have been gone for over an hour. I'm tired and I just wanted to go home and shag and get some sleep before we're invaded tomorrow. Again."

Harry grabbed Draco by the front of his robes and hauled him into a hard kiss, which turned into a snog and then they started pulling each other's clothes off.

"Bed." mumbled Harry. "You are not fucking me on the couch again."

Luckily their bedroom was on the ground floor, right across the hall, and they made it there without major bruising. (The minor bruising was mostly due to their inability to disconnect their lips.)

Then they were finally naked and connected, so close neither knew where one ended and the other began and one of them cried out and the other answered and they were moving in perfect harmony.

Later, sweaty and nearly asleep, Harry murmured something.

"What was that?"

"The way you make me feel. That's what I said. You make me feel young, like I've got my whole life still ahead of me. That's quite an accomplishment, since we both know it's only a matter of time before I become a grandfather, especially with Albus and Shannon married. But when I'm with you I have endless opportunities ahead of me and all I have to do is reach out and grab hold." He turned his head to look at Draco. "You make me happy. I love you."

Draco smiled and shifted impossibly closer. "I love you, too."


AN: Title comes from a half-remembered Alice in Wonderland quote.