A/N: I know I've been MIA lately, I'm back now though. Haven't done HP in a while so bear with me and let me know what you think! Sorry for the time-jumping, I tried to keep it to a minimum

Chapter 1:

Harry watched the flames dance for a few seconds longer before catching Rose's eyes. Focusing on the fire he flicked his hand and felt the answering surge of magic. He laughed as he was rewarded with a squeal of delight from the little girl before she bundled into his arms.

"Again Uncle Harry!" she cried, pointing at the golden phoenix that was hovering above the fire, crackling and shifting its wings. "Make another one!"

Still laughing, Harry freed one of his hands and concentrated on the flames again. This time he made them grow and when he flicked his wrist they let out a roar, which was soon accompanied by a gasp from the girl poised on his lap.

"Mom! Look!" she yelled over Harry's shoulder, right by his ear. He winced. "Uncle Harry made a dragon!"

Sure enough, the dragon took that moment to let out another fiery roar and stretch out its wings. If he didn't know any better Harry might even have said it was preening. It swung its tail at them lazily a few times before rising, beating its golden wings and sending a gust of wind and sparks through the living room. One of the picture frames sitting on the coffee table next to him fell forward with a smack.

"Oops," said Rose belatedly, peeking up at her mom.

Harry looked up as well, catching Hermione's eye as well and gave her a guilty smile. She just returned it with that fond exasperated look that he had learned meant she would have laughed if she weren't trying to set a good example for her daughter.

"Alright, Rose," she said instead, turning to her daughter. "Time for bed."

Harry sighed. He'd caught that look on Hermione's face the moment he'd stepped through the fireplace earlier in the evening. It was that determined look that meant she wanted to talk. He'd considered walking straight back out again but there was no guarantee Hermione or Ron wouldn't follow. Besides, if it wasn't tonight it was going to happen the next time. As much as he'd like to try, Harry couldn't avoid his best friends forever.

He gave Rose a kiss on the forehead even as Ron wandered back into the living room. "'Mione, we need to tire him out more," he said to his wife before collapsing onto the couch closest to the fire. "I had to sing to him. Twice,"

"I think it might actually be the singing that's keeping him up, mate," Harry suggested mildly. He couldn't actually picture Ron singing and to be perfectly honest he didn't want to try. He should probably look up if that constituted child abuse though. Poor Hugo may need his help.

Ron grunted in his general direction and Harry was sure he would have flipped him the bird if his daughter hadn't been in the room.

"You should read to him, Daddy," Rose told him matter-of-factly. "That always helps me sleep."

"Maybe you could help me next time, love," Ron said, giving her a hug and whispering goodnight.

She bounded out of the room with Hermione close behind, leaving Harry at Ron's mercy.

There was a squeak as Ron shifted on the couch and from the corner of his eye Harry could see the other man staring at him. He shut his eyes and waited for the inevitable onslaught.

Ron cleared his throat but it was only followed by silence. Cracking an eye open, Harry craned his neck a little so he could see his friend. Ron was playing with his hands. He looked up when he caught Harry's eye, opening his mouth like he was going to say something but then closing it again abruptly.

"Are you going to wait for Hermione?" Harry asked at last, putting him out of his misery.

Ron shrugged. "She's better at this kind of thing," he said sheepishly.

"Well, I'll save you the trouble then." Harry swung around so that he was facing his friend. "I'm fine. I'm happy with my job and that new mind healer has been worked wonders, I hardly have nightmares anymore."

"Dreamless sleep?"

"I haven't used in years, Ron."

"I know, I know. Just need to be thorough. Auror habits and all." Harry understood but he didn't say anything. "You've been looking better ever since we stopped working the death eater cases," Ron mused, studying Harry's face carefully.

Harry nodded grimly. "Robards keeps me in to do paperwork instead now. If I have to sign off on another case outline I might just blow the place apart. Or quit."

Ron's head flew up and he looked entirely too hopeful look. "You're thinking about leaving?"

"I miss the field, Ron. I didn't sign up for spending all day in the office signing off on cases that you get to investigate." He knew he sounded bitter but he couldn't help it. It had got to the point where he had practically begged Robards to let him take a case. Even then he'd only been allowed to sit in on a meeting with the Minister and the head of International Affairs on the extradition of the master in some potion smuggling ring Harry vaguely remembered signing the case outline for.

"You know he's just training you to take over for him, mate," Ron told him like that was supposed to make him feel better. It didn't.

He sighed. "Have you guys found a babysitter for pub night?" he asked ignoring Ron's raised brows at the blatant change in subject.

"I'll be staying home with them this week," Hermione said from behind him. She patted Ron's legs and he obediently lifted them so she could squeeze into the space beside him. "My paperwork has been piling up, I think a night in will do me some good." She nudged Ron, "You two go ahead. Ginny insisted, remember?

Ron nodded. "Big news apparently. I'm sort of worried to be honest. Last time she called us in it was because she was moving to America."

Harry snorted. That had been a memorable meeting. A drunken, red-faced Ron had been yelling furiously at anyone who would listen about all the ways those bloody yanks would mess up his sister. He'd even tried to blame Neville for letting his wife make such a drastic decision at which point Ginny had stormed over to remind her brother that she was perfectly capable of making her own decisions thank you very much, Ronald.

"She missed England too much last time," said Harry. "Besides didn't Neville say they were looking at houses? I think they want to settle down."

"Hmmm," muttered Hermione noncommittally and Harry knew immediately that he'd made a terrible mistake. "Speaking of settling down…" Harry tried not to squirm under her gaze. "How did it go with Euan?"

"Worse than Lana, believe it or not," Harry told her, wrinkling his nose.

Hermione sighed and the disappointment clear on her face probably shouldn't have hurt as much as it did. It wasn't his fault his dates never seemed to work out. It was hard enough to find someone who wouldn't just sit there and fawn over him for being the Savior let alone someone who made him feel that spark of desire that he never knew he had lost.

He'd had one-night stands of course. Those were fairly regular. He had long since discovered the joys of muggle clubs and the blissful anonymity they brought. But the fact remained that he couldn't make anyone stay. If he was being honest with himself, he didn't want any of them to stay.

Surprisingly it was Ron who spoke up. "He's moved on, mate," he said, looking to Hermione for support. She nodded, giving her husband the smallest hint of a smile and tightened the grip on his shoulder. "It's only fair that you get to do the same."

Harry swallowed. Since when had Ron become so good at hitting the nail on the head? Living with Hermione for 10 years had probably rubbed off on him. "I can't help it," he shrugged. Euan, Lana and the epic string of failed dates before them, not one of them had been him.

He couldn't help the comparisons. Lana had been breathtakingly gorgeous with corn-silk hair and stunning blue eyes but all Harry could think when she looked shyly up at him through her lashes was how much he'd rather they were grey.

He had worked with Euan on the Potions smuggling case and his wit and the sharp comments he'd whispered slyly into Harry's ear during meetings had been the only thing keeping him awake. Harry had broken up with him because-because well he just didn't feel right. The guilt he'd felt when he'd run into the man in one of the Ministry elevators was staggering. It wasn't worth it.

"I think you should see him," Hermione said softly. Ron frowned at her but held his tongue. "It might help you figure out what you want."

"He didn't just leave me, Hermione he left the bloody country!" That stung to admit.

"I forget you don't read the Prophet," sighed Hermione. Ron shifted beside her and to his surprise, Harry saw his best friend was also watching him carefully, like he was a wild animal that may spook and run off at any second. "Do you remember that book 'Forget me not' that I was talking about a while back?"

Harry nodded his head feeling his insides hollowing out. He thought he knew where this was going. No one in the auror department from Kara at the desk, hell even Robards had brought it up at one point or another.

"Well, it's been named the book of the decade by everyone from the Prophet to the Quibbler. It's- it was published anonymously to protect the author-he was-is a reformed Death Eater you see and I guess his publisher didn't think it would help sales if he-"

"Draco wrote it," Harry found himself saying. His voice didn't even crack when he said the name. Hermione nodded, worrying at her bottom lip as she watched him. Harry made a noise that could have been a strangled laugh or maybe he was actually choking. Of course he bloody wrote it. Because Draco couldn't just be a shitty writer, no he had to be brilliant. He had to write a fucking masterpiece and make half the Wizarding World fall in love with him.

Well, Harry had been in love with Draco Malfoy and look where that had gotten him.

His face must have given him away because if the twin looks of concern on the faces of his best friends was anything to go by.

"Harry-" Ron began.

Harry cut him off. "Is he… back?"

"He's signing copies all of this week at Flourish and Blotts," said Hermione, pushing Ron away from where he had his head in her lap.

She rose at the same time as Harry did, making for the bookshelf in the far corner of the living room while he stepped towards the fireplace.

"I'm really tired," he began, running a hand through his hair. "Work has been-"

Hermione was by his side in an instant, wrapping him up in her arms. Sighing deeply, he let himself sink into it. Soon he could feel the warm pressure of Ron's hand around his shoulders as well and he squeezed his eyes shut. When they let go of him, Hermione pressed something cool and hard into his hands.

"Read it," she whispered before finally stepping back.

Harry barely managed to stumble out of the fireplace and to his couch before he collapsed, the book in his hands landing on the floor somewhere.

7 years ago

The fights began about a year after Draco had moved in.

It had been a rough year as well. Auror training had traditionally been three years of intensive physical and mental exercises followed by a year of fieldwork closely observed by their superiors. The sheer number of Aurors lost during the war had meant the department was running the training over just two years with a built in field component.

After spending everyday at training with Ron, Harry's only comfort had been to go home to a cup of tea and quite surprisingly Draco's company. They would talk some nights for hours or even play Uno which for some reason the blonde man seemed to prefer over exploding snap. When Draco had come over one night when they had first begun their tentative relationship he had taught him the game as a joke. Of course Draco, as unpredictable as ever had latched on to it, insisting on rematch after rematch until he had finally mastered it.

They had moved on to Connect Four and Monopoly, Pictionary and even Snakes and Ladders on one occasion.

(When Harry had inadvertently sworn at one of the snakes in parsel tongue he felt Draco stiffen beside him, the fingers that had been ghosting over his thigh stilled abruptly, nails digging in unconsciously. He didn't think the soft whimper the other man let out when the snake hissed back and flicked its tail was deliberate. Harry leaned into Draco, holding his hand, firm and gentle until the blonde returned the pressure and his breathing stopped coming out in ragged bursts.)

It had been those easy nights, Harry realized that had made him fall for the Draco Malfoy. Their spite from school had turned into playful banter and the conversation flowed easily from one to another. Sometimes it was by the fire, curled into each other on their favourite couch or in bed with their limbs tangled together, sated and sometimes still sticky before Draco inevitably hauled him to the shower.

Their childhoods had been immensely different and while he had held back at first, the fury lighting Draco's eyes as Harry told him about the cupboard under the stairs somehow made it easier to talk and talk and spill all the rest of his secrets.

He was equally as eager to hear about Draco's life. His wanted to hear about Draco's first pet (a white peacock of course, in true Malfoy style) and the time when his father had taught him how to fly. He listened intently as Draco with a wistful expression told Harry how it was the first and only time his father had looked truly proud of him and perhaps that was why it had made him so mad that Harry Potter had landed himself a spot on the Quidditch team in first year.

The only thing they didn't talk about was the war and yet Harry had been content back then because he dealt with enough dark magic during auror training that by the time he came home he just wanted to forget.

But then he had been tasked with hunting down the last of the death eaters; the ones that had fled the battle and it had all gone to shit.

It was Robards who suggested it. By then his relationship with Draco was common knowledge and while it seemed like just about everyone had weighed in on it with their opinions the news had soon blown over. If they went out to Diagon Alley now they barely made the fifth page and even then the article was likely to be miniscule.

"Auror Potter," Robards had begun once Harry had taken a seat in his office, eyeing him carefully. "It may be mutually beneficial for us to work with Mr. Malfoy on these cases, perhaps you could talk to him about meeting with me."

"I believe Draco has given us all the information he has, Sir," Harry told him, knowing too well how this offer would go down with Draco.

"We will find other areas he is knowledgeable in," said Robards, and Harry heard the direct order in his tone. "Dark artifacts perhaps. I understand he was able to single-handedly fix a vanishing cupboard in his sixth year at Hogwarts."

Harry nodded slowly.

Draco took it just as badly as Harry thought he would.

"Think about it, this could be good for you," Harry had tried to reason after Draco had flat out refused the offer. "I know you don't like talking about what happened but this would be a chance to do something about it."

Draco sighed. "I don't like talking about the war because I'm trying to move on from it, Harry."

"How are you supposed to move on if you keep avoiding it?" Harry demanded. "You're going to have to stop hiding at some point."

"I'm not-"

"You're locking yourself away all day to write children's books and Prophet articles, Draco!" Harry cried. Somewhere at the back of his head a voice was telling him that this wasn't fair on Draco but they had been having similar arguments for a while now. "You won't even put your name to them!"

"What do you want me to do, Harry?" Draco didn't raise his voice but that didn't make his words any less biting. "I'm not you. I'm not cut out to be an auror. I'm not a fighter. I never was."

The raw honesty caught Harry off guard and he found himself softening. "I'm not either, you know. A fighter I mean." He ignored Draco's huff. "At least I never wanted to be. But now putting the rest of them back in Azkaban it just feels like closure. That's why I became an auror you know."

Draco opened his mouth like he wanted to protest but quickly closed it again, jaw set tightly.

"I just want that for you, Draco. If we just talk through it-"

"You honestly think that talking about this is somehow going to magically fix everything? You talked at my trial Harry, look how well that turned out."

"Well for one thing, you're not in Azkaban so I'd say it worked out pretty well" Harry tried to move towards him but Draco took a step back, shaking his head.

"You don't get it, Harry," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Try me."

"I can't even go out to the shops without people trying to off me on the street!" Harry had known Draco had a flair for the dramatic but this was ridiculous. Sure they got a few suspicious looks but no one had tried to outright hex them in the street in two years. "I can't sign my name to my books because my publisher knows she'd go bankrupt if the public found out she was associating with a Death Eater." He silenced Harry's protest with a pointed glare at his left forearm. "My father's rotting away in Azkaban and my mother won't leave her room. Ted is the only family I have, Harry and if I can make him happy by writing these books I will!"

Harry didn't even know where to start so he let it be. Draco let him slip his hands around his waist. Tugging him close, Harry worked on pressing their lips together, slipping his tongue across pliable lips until they opened up to him. Draco moaned into his mouth as he deepened the kiss, argument forgotten in their rush for more contact and more skin. All Draco seemed to want was more and everywhere. Harry was only too happy to oblige.

The next time Harry brought up the job offer it had ended in a shouting match. Draco had stormed out, apparating home drunk at 1am. He half stumbled and half crawled into the space beside Harry on the couch. If they'd both woken up tangled together on the floor, neither of them bothered to bring it up.

A/N: Let me know what you think!