July 31st, 2001

It's your birthday, Harry. You're twenty-one; It's been a while. What have you been doing? No, I'm not good with small talk…

So, there is a reason as to why I'm writing to you, though you'll never read this. I'm wasting my time, but I need to get this off of my chest.

Over the past few months – oh, who am I kidding? – since you found out the truth in sixth year, I've been thinking about the beginning of Hogwarts. I've been thinking about us. We were the best of friends, Harry. What went wrong?

I'll tell you what; and I'll explain myself, too. I know I've tried. Merlin, I've tried and I've tried and I've tried. But you won't read this anyway, so I can pour my heart out to you.

We were the best of friends, weren't we? Nigh on inseparable. We went everywhere together; Hogsmeade, classes, Festive balls. You came to the Manor and Mother fretted over how thin you had become over the summer break. Father was civil and we had the time of our lives. It was wonderful.

But then I had to go and fuck it up, didn't I?

I'm sorry, Harry. I really, truly am. From the depths of my pitiful being I wish I had not gone through with it.

But I had to listen to my father. I had to. I had no choice. You have no idea what he could be like; he would've killed me, if the Dark Lord hadn't. But of course, the Dark Lord would've, had I not accepted the mark. So either way, I was a dead man. I knew I would hurt everyone – especially you – but I didn't know I would lose you! I didn't realize what a cock I was being. I was naïve then, Harry. But I can see now. I can see, and I can see what a ridiculous and stupid and fucking selfish person I was. I never wanted to hurt you; I never wanted to hurt anyone, truthfully. I was a spiteful child and didn't know when to bite my tongue, but I didn't want to hurt anyone!

I don't blame you for hating me. I don't. I would hate me too. In fact, I do hate me. But Harry, you're the most trusting, kind, selfless being I know; I don't deserve a second chance, I didn't deserve a first, but you were – no, you still are- my best friend. I may not be yours right now, I may never be again, but I will never stop thinking of you as my friend. I could depend on you and I could trust you and I threw that to the dogs.

But I always knew you could do it. I knew you could destroy the Dark Lord. I knew you had the strength. All of your pain wasn't for nothing, Harry. You made the world a much greater place. Always did like being one step on top, didn't you? No, I know you didn't. You hated the attention. You probably still do. But it's been - what? - almost four years since then.

Oh, Harry. I don't know what else to say but sorry. I've tried explaining myself, I've grovelled and pleaded. I just wish someone could Obliviate me, so I could forget about all my fuck ups and forget about what a terrible mess I've made. It's not like you think of me anymore, anyway.

I'm sorry.

Happy birthday.

Love,

-Draco

Harry read the letter over and over, tears streaming from his eyes. He was sat alone in a far corner of the Leaky Cauldron, reading and crying and drinking Fire-whiskey on Christmas eve, aged thirty.

He'd received the letter a matter of hours ago, and the tears had not stopped since. He hadn't seen Draco in around twelve years, and every day had been like hell. Not a day had gone by that he hadn't thought about his former best friend. What was he doing? How was he holding up? Was he married? Was he even alive? Did he think of Harry half as much as Harry thought of him?

There hadn't been anything going on in the shadows; no secret love affairs. They were just best friends. But when one of you is a Death Eater and the other is trying to destroy your kind, you know the relationship has hit the rocks.

But still Harry mourned for his friend, still he cried. And this letter was the cherry on top of a perfect heartbreak cake.

It's not like you think of me anyway.

Oh, how Draco was wrong. If he could just see Harry now, face embarrassingly red, eyes blotchy and cheeks tear stained.

Harry took another long pull of his whiskey and sighed raggedly.

It was then he heard the door fly open and a child – no older than eleven – came storming through the pub. 'Come on, Father! I want to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies and look at the new Firebolt! Father! Come on! Hurry up!'

Harry stood up when he saw the shock of white blond hair atop the small child's head; behind him stood a man with matching hair. His gray eyes glittered with amusement at his son's exuberance. With a swift glance about the room, his eyes landed on Harry, stood up, face puffy, eyes wide with shock.

'Harry?' the blond man asked, ignoring his son, of whom was tugging on his cloak sleeve. 'H-Harry, is it you?' The man's face seemed torn between absolute delightedness and complete guilt. He had sent the letter he'd written from twelve years ago, hoping that Harry would tear it up without even opening it. But here the man was, tears staining his face, looking like the epitome of broken.

'Draco…' Harry whispered, not believing his eyes. He took a step forwards, and then faltered. Everyone was staring at the pair and the child with bewilderment.

'Father! That's Harry Potter!' the blond child – Draco's child – whispered frantically.

Draco nodded. 'Harry Potter. My … my…' He had not looked away from Harry, of who had not moved since his last step.

After staring at Draco for what seemed like hours, and taking the child as a fact that Draco had pulled himself together as a good sign, he took the final steps towards his best friend, fresh tears pouring, and wrapped his arms around the older blond man.

The rest of the pub gasped, along with the two Malfoy's.

'Father!' the boy hissed. 'Father, don't just stand there. Hex him or something!'

Harry realized what he was doing and leaped away as if he had been burned.

'Yes, Draco. Are you not going to hex me?' Harry asked, face sullen.

Ignoring his remark, Draco said, 'Merlin, Harry. I've missed you.'

Harry looked into the man's gray eyes, searching for something. He must've found what he was looking for, because he whispered, 'I've missed you, too, Draco. Like you wouldn't believe.'

Draco nodded. 'You received me letter,' he stated more than asked. Harry nodded in answer.

'How could you think I don't think of you? You walked away from me! You left me with only my thoughts of you. You left me to go consorting with the enemy!' Twelve years' worth of anger and sadness and betrayed feelings came pouring out in that outburst. Again, and again the tears fell. He didn't know how he ended up in Draco's embrace, but he beat his fists against the man's chest weakly in anger.

Draco stood with his eyes closed, shaking. It is uncouth of a Malfoy to cry.

'Father…' the small boy whispered.

'Scorpius, please. Go and get yourself a Butterbeer or something. I'll be over in a minute.' Draco said pointedly. His son nodded reluctantly and left.

Dragging Harry over to the corner table, Draco unpicked himself from Harry and sat him down opposite him. 'Harry I-'

'No,' Harry croaked, 'Don't you dare say you're sorry. I've read your letter. Merlin, I've memorized it. I know you have nothing left to say…' He trailed off, pausing, collecting his thoughts.

'Twelve years, Draco. It's been twelve years since I've seen you. You were… You are my best friend. But I haven't seen hair nor hide from you for twelve fucking years. You could've written! Merlin, you could've popped by for a duel or something! At least I would've known you were alive!'

Harry gazed at the Malfoy, wondering what he was thinking. After a long while, he finally spoke up.

'Harry, I know I've hurt you! I know! You have to understand that I had no choice! No, don't, let me finish. I had no choice whether I accepted the Mark, but I had every choice whether to tell you or not, and I decided to lie, to pretend everything was fine. It was the biggest mistake I have ever made, and will regret till the day I die.

'When I saw you lying in Hagrid's arms, presumably dead, I knew how much I had fucked things up. I thought I had lost you – for good, this time – and I didn't want to live. I was fully prepared to go up against the Dark Lord myself in the hopes that I would die, and I could see you again! You are my best fucking friend, Harry Potter. How do you expect me to live without you? So when you jumped out of the old oaf's arms and defeated the … defeated Voldemort… I thought my chest would burst. But the look you gave me, the look of disgust… I couldn't take it.' Draco choked back a sob, trying to compose himself before continuing.

'I ran with my mother. We left Lucius and we ran. We went to France and we hid. We led new lives. No one knew us there; it was perfect. But you kept haunting my every move. A few months later, I ran into Astoria Greengrass, another person from my past, and I couldn't stay away. I had lost my best friend, I wasn't going to lose the girl I loved, too. She told me she had been looking for me, and a year later we were wed and had a child.' He looked over to Scorpius with a sad smile on his face.

'I'm glad this war is over for him. Thought I doubt it will ever be over for our generation. We will always be living in those dark times, remembering…' he sighed deeply, looking back at Harry. During Draco's speech, Harry had been speculating.

'You were going to kill yourself for me?' Harry asked, his voice weak, but the tears had stopped.

'Harry!' Draco sounded mildly insulted. 'You're my best friend. My only friend. I wasn't prepared to go it alone.'

'But what about your mother?'

Draco blinked, not knowing how to answer. 'You weren't dead…' he said instead.

'No, I'm not. Draco, Voldemort is dead and I am more than willing to forgive you – fuck knows I miss you – but I just need to know why you didn't even write…' Harry frowned. This was all too bizarre.

'Harry, I had majorly betrayed you… I thought you had forgotten all about me. I thought-'

Harry cut him off. 'I couldn't forget you. Even if I hated you, which I do not, I could never forget you. Now, I think your son is dying to go to the Quidditch store. I could do with going to Flourish and Blotts… Do you mind if I come with you? We can talk more later.' Harry stood. Draco looked at him with a look that said, 'I was just pouring my heart out to you, bastard. Let me finish' but stood up anyway.

'Of course not; I think we need a catch up.'

With a small smile on the faces of both men, and a large grin – and a look of pure bafflement – on the face of Scorpius, they headed into the courtyard, and on into Diagon Alley.

END.