Disclaimer: As much as it pains me to say it, I am not JK Rowling. And as sad as it is, the only characters I can claim in this fic are Jean, and a house-elf. This is very depressing.
There hadn't been a colder day in months, and the entire Wizarding World noticed. No one ventured out of doors, but preferred to stay in the warmth of their own houses. A harsh, biting breeze whipped through the small town of Scampers Lodge, but only one person, a 23 year old man, was outside to notice. Harry Potter, although wearing 4 layers, shuddered. The cold weather was doing nothing to improve his mood, or how he felt about where he was.
Duty. In acting purely on what he was duty-bound to do, Harry was an expert. But that did not mean that he felt any better about it. As he walked past rows of dull, stone houses, he felt nothing but dread about this reconciliation. Harry read the numbers on each letter-box as he passed them.
"12, 14, 16… 18," he muttered as he stopped in front of number 18. Looking up at the house, Harry had to stifle a laugh. Only Draco Malfoy could live in a place like this.
A low hedge shaped like a winding snake made its way up the path, and ending at the front door. The house itself, although obviously well-cared for, looked slightly absent and uncomfortable. Harry smirked, reminding himself that this was Draco Malfoy's house, and asking himself if he had really expected it to look warm and cosy? Shaking himself slightly, Harry made his way up the winding, snake-adorned path and knocked on the dark, oak door. It was opened almost immediately by a House-Elf wearing a crisp, white pillow-case. Apparently Draco hadn't forgotten Dobby.
"Welcome to Malfoy Lodge, what can Lokky do f…." the house-elf, who looked rather young compared to most elfs, stopped talking when she saw Harry. Her round, blue eyes went immediately to the lightning bolt scar. Harry, who was of course used to this by now, smiled down at her.
"Hello there," he said, and Lokky's eyes snapped back to his own. She shook herself slightly and went back to her official state.
"What can Lokky do for you, Mr Potter?" she asked. Harry looked hesitantly behind him, then replied.
"I wish to speak to Master Draco. Is he home?" Lokky nodded and motioned for Harry to follow her. Harry obliged, and entered Malfoy Lodge.
Malfoy Lodge was as inviting inside as it was uninviting outside. Polished floorboards lay under a plush, green rug, and the Living Room in which they were standing was clean and comfortable-looking.
"Lokky shall fetch Master Draco. Please make yourself at home," said Lokky from Harry's side, and she totted out of the room. Harry raised his eyebrows. Who would have guessed that Malfoy could live in a room like this? A voice from behind Harry made him jump slightly.
"Potty." Harry spun around immediately, and smirked.
"Ferret," he replied, almost politely. Draco Malfoy walked forwards, his hands in his pockets. He looked barely different then when he sat with his family in the Great Hall, 6 years ago. The grey eyes however, were less cold. Something had changed somehow.
Draco sat down in one of the plush couches, so Harry supposed that he should do the same. Draco looked at him for a moment, then spoke.
"So, what are you doing here, Potter?" Harry smiled slightly. Draco's blunt rudeness had not changed an ounce.
"Not into school-boy reunions then, Malfoy?" he said to Draco's scowling face, "I came to give you this." Harry handed him the gold envelope. Draco took it and immediately ripped it open. His grey eyes scanned the pale gold parchment within.
"A wedding invitation," He looked up at Harry, who nodded, "why on earth are you inviting me to your wedding?" Harry shrugged.
"Ginny's idea; she wants to invite everyone significant from our past. No idea why."
Draco's face broke into a rare grin, and he began to laugh.
"What? She wants to invite the toe-rag who tortured both of you for seven years?!" he said, still laughing. Harry gave a reluctant smile.
"Again, I have no idea why. You don't want to know who she's sent me to visit next," he said. Draco looked as though he wanted to ask, but asking questions might give the impression that he was interested in Potter's life, and he wouldn't want that.
Someone cleared their throat behind them, and they turned around. A good-looking woman with shoulder-length light brown hair stood there wearing an apron and smiling.
"Oh, yeah. Potter, my wife Jean." Jean rolled her eyes at Draco and smiled at Harry.
"Nice of you to remember. Your mother wants a word, Draco, her head's in the kitchen."
"In more ways than one," muttered Draco, and stood up, "back in a minute." He left the living room. Jean chuckled, crossed the room and took Draco's vacated seat.
"So, Harry Potter. I'm rather surprised to meet you, to tell you the truth." Harry raised his eyebrows.
"Oh yeah? Why is that?" he asked. Jean looked incredulously back at him.
"Well, seeing as you and my husband loathe each other on principle, I doubted there'd be many social calls between the two of you." Harry laughed.
"Too true. Funny old world, isn't it?" he said, and Jean laughed with him. Draco entered the room again, and so Jean stood up, waved to Harry and left the living room.
"So, how's dear Mummy?" asked Harry, smirking. Draco scowled, but not at Harry, for once.
"Hasn't changed a bit. Can't get over the fact that I married a Muggle-Born." Harry looked surprised.
"Jean's Muggle-Born?" he asked, and Draco nodded, "Blimey, Malfoy, what happened to you?" Draco laughed, and Harry stood up.
"Anyway, I'd better leave you to it. I've got a few other social calls to make." Draco stood up also, and walked behind Harry to the door. Harry, not entirely sure how to say goodbye, nodded.
"Ferret-boy."
"Potty."
Harry walked down the winding path to the edge of the street, where he chuckled. Well, that was…interesting, he thought as he disapparated.
Author's Note: Hey there readers! This is just something that came to mind when I was helping make a friends wedding invitations. Like it? Hate it? Let me know!
Cheers, hippolina xoxo