Title: Old Friend

Characters: Draco, Blaise

Rating: K+

Summary: Draco and Blaise catch up some time after the war.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling and publishers. No offense is meant by this fan fiction and this is made purely for fun.

A/N: It's a one-shot but it's sort of related to Scars of His Past. You don't need to read the other to understand this though.

"I missed you," Blaise said, after the elves had brought the tea. Draco was still under house arrest so they had to meet in the Manor. He was at a point where stepping into a room would not remind him of how it used to look or what had happened there in the past.

"I missed you too," Draco returned, a smile playing across his lips.

"You've been well," the dark skinned man said, as he took in Draco's appearance.

"Better than you last saw me," said Draco.

"I would say so. You don't have that pallor anymore," said Blaise, his fingers twitching slightly. Draco was glad he knew well enough not to try and reach out to him right now. He did not quite like anyone other than his parents coming into contact with him. "And you're on your way back to a healthy weight."

"I can't say the same about you, Blaise. You've thinned down a bit," Draco said, as he glanced at the man's wrist. There was more bone visible than he last recalled seeing.

Blaise locked eyes with him for a moment before looking away. "It's nothing really."

"You forget how well I know you," he said. He would not push for information.

"Ha, as if I could," he replied, sipping his tea. Than man looked away before he spoke, "Mother's ill."

"Apologies."

"No need," Blaise said, waving a hand dismissively before leaning his head on it. "She's getting better. It's just... stressful, is all."

"I can imagine. Especially since purebloods are now on the receiving end of prejudice now. I've heard that some of the Healer's-"

"Don't look like that."

Draco blinked and looked at Blaise questioningly, "Like what?"

"Like it's your own fault."

Draco shifted in his seat. "I helped them, did I not?"

"Unwillingly."

"I still did it."

"Without choice."

"There's always a choice."

"Even if it's the death of those you love?"

"Blaise..."

"He would have killed your family. He would have killed you."

"Sometimes I wish he had. Killed me."

"Don't say that!"

"Don't touch me!" Draco wrenched his hand away and Blaise stared at him with his eyes burning with anger, much like the Fiendfyre Potter saved him from.

"People other than your parents still care about you, Draco. Don't forsake them."

"Hmph, like who, Blaise? You?" Draco sneered. Part of him knew he would regret the words later but he just needed to vent and he did not quite care how.

"Yes," Blaise replied, getting up and making his way around the table. "Me. And Pansy, and Gregory, fool that he is, Millicent and Daphne even. And you and I both know that Theo doesn't care for anyone other than himself so he isn't even worth the consideration." Draco felt his body tense the moment Blaise was behind him, but the man must have noticed because he took a few steps back and retracted the hand he had lifted towards Draco's shoulder. "We miss you, Draco. And shallow as most our friendships are I guarantee you that Pansy and I, at the very least, would be more than genuinely upset to see you die. Mournful even."

"You've become sentimental, Blaise." Draco did not know what else to say to such blatant displays of emotion. He had never been used to them for people other than his parents, especially since the end of the war.

"You need it."

"You realize I won't get back together with you simply because you have a way with words?"

"I do." Blaise went back to his seat with a slight smile on his face. "I also think too much has happened for us to go back to what we were. And if we were to try again that's what we would strive for."

Draco nodded in affirmation and sipped his tea. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Understanding me. More so than my parents."

"Ha ha. Now, what do you plan to do once you're able to move about?"