Disclaimer: All rights and characters belong to J.K. Rowling, no copyright infringement intended.

Pairings: Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione

Summary: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy meet again three years after war and nothing has changed, or has it? [Set after The Deathly Hallows, ignores the Epilogue.]

My first fanfiction published and the first I ever really continued to write. Please don't judge too harshly, constructive criticism is appreciated though! I have no beta for this story, so if anyone wants to do that please email me (yuritamiya[at]yahoo . de). Thank you!

First Meeting: Hatred

Harry hadn't been at Diagon Alley for such a long time. Too many people would line up to catch a glimpse of him, get his autograph or take a picture with him. And he couldn't handle it, it was all too much. He still hadn't recovered from the battle at Hogwarts, dying and then confronting Voldemort and defeating him. Nor has he gotten over the loss of many of his friends, who he hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye to.

The pressure that was still put on him by the wizarding world dragged him down into a deep depression, one even his best friends weren't able to help him out of. But Harry knew if he maybe let them in and told them what he really felt, maybe, just maybe, he would feel better but he couldn't do it. His friends led a happy marriage now, with their first baby on its way and he just couldn't lay this burden on them. He longed for them to be happy, as god knows they haven't had much happiness in their life in the years of Voldemort's rise to power.

When he visited his friends he felt like an intruder who didn't belong there and it made it all the much harder to cope with the events from a few years ago. Hermione caught him in a really bad state months ago and urged Harry to see a psychiatrist about his problems. Unsurprisingly he didn't go. Thoughts of what the other wizards would think of him sprang to mind and plagued him until deep into the night, taking away hours of his much needed sleep.

How could he, Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, fall into depression, when he had defeated The Dark Lord, with expectations of the wizarding world weighing heavy on his shoulders? Impossible.

He had lived on as best as he could, trying to conceal the emotions that swirled deep within him, trying to break free, to show themselves to the world. But emotions couldn't scare Harry anymore as he numbed himself to them as much as he could. It was the only way of fighting to stay alive he knew.

Now he stood in Diagon Alley, looking like a little boy lost, trying to find his place in a world that felt alien to him. Everything looked different, so alive, probing a stark contrast against him. Of course the war had been over for three years now but he was still surprised how fast everyone seemed to get the many victims death claimed for himself. Diagon Alley has been repaired and rebuilt within a few weeks, proving that business will never be put on hold, not even for loss, death, sadness, grief.

No one paid attention to Harry as he walked along the shops (as he had cast a spell to distract people from him), searching for something he needed. He didn't know yet what it was that he was looking for but when he strolled past the Potions shop it hit him. Maybe he just needed a little bit of luck in his life. What damage could that do? Life couldn't get any worse for him, at least he doubted it.

But boy was he wrong.

As soon as he stepped into the Potions store he immediately regretted it. Not far from him stood Draco Malfoy, his previous arch enemy. It was a childish reaction to hold onto the hate that now surged through him; knowing full well that he had helped Malfoy walk free from Azkaban, doing the noble thing he always did. He had thought he moved on with his life and stopped harboring unnecessary dislike for the people he didn't have to converse with anymore. It was too exhausting. But yet, with Malfoy the hatred returned in full force, seeing him there picking out potions and looking like the happiest man on earth.

This is not fair!, Harry thought, How can this terrible git be happy with his life, be filled with joy and I'm sitting at home, straddling to come to the surface of the darkness in my thoughts, to not be drowned by it?

Harry's gaze lingered on Malfoy, shooting angry looks at his back, cursing him in his mind. He was about to turn around and leave when all of a sudden Malfoy turned to him sporting his smirk as if mocking Harry, letting him know that he was aware of his presence and then turning his back on him once again, getting back to ignoring Harry. This made him furious, how dare he ignore him after all he had done for him.

Though Harry was completely aware of his surroundings and wasn't really up to cause a scene and draw attention to himself he couldn't help it and opened his mouth:

"How dare you Malfoy, how dare you!" he spit through gritted teeth.

Malfoy went on to pay for the potions he picked out and threw a glance at Harry. "I don't know what your problem is Potter. Are we having a hissy fit again, like a little child begging for ice cream?"

He raised his eyebrows as Harry's face turned into a slight shade of pink, looked down to Harry's hands which had shaped into fists.

"If you are as intelligent as you make yourself out to be I suggest you walk out of here now Potter or let me walk out of here." Malfoy said out loud but lowered his voice to a whisper only Harry could hear, "Before it gets really ugly."

Too stunned to say anything and too furious about his own behavior Harry let Malfoy pass by him without uttering another word.

Why, why did he have to be here, just on the day I wanted to take part in the world again? Is this a sign, for me to stay in my house, to never let the world see me again?

Harry stared outside the window, watching Malfoy pass by the shops and then vanishing out of sight.

He's going to pay. That fucking bastard.