He didn't know how he ended up here, in the Leaky Cauldron, nursing a bottle of butterbeer with Harry Potter of all people. But as luck would have it, he was now sitting across the Savior, hero of the Wizarding World. Of course, the last time he had seen him was quite a while ago, when he had returned his wand.
But now, Harry had changed a lot; his hair was longer and his face a little less war-weary. A little.
It had been four years after all. But four years can't erase a lifetime's worth of war.
The man across him broke the tense silence.
"What exactly have you been up to these days... Draco?" He spoke the name carefully, unsure. Draco blinked in surprise before responding.
"I'm a Potions Master. If my apothecary is successful, then I might open a chain. If it's not, then I will expand into the Muggle world: a pharmacy, perhaps." It was Harry's turn to look surprised.
"The muggle world? But I thought you were... Y'know..." Draco glared at him and was pleased to know that the other wizard had the decency to blush.
"Things change with war, Potter; as much as I loathe to admit, Granger is certainly the brightest of our generation." Harry only glanced at him quizzically, but he ignored it and took another sip of his butterbeer. "And what of you?"
"I'm in Auror training. They wanted me to just skip it and just jump on ahead to the real stuff. It took me quite awhile to convince them. And in a few month's time, I'll be marrying Ginny..."
Draco scoffed. "Of course. She was enamored with you from her first year, when you saved her from... whatever."
An awkward silence fell upon them again.
"When I was being sorted, the Sorting Hat wanted me in Slytherin. It was rather adamant about it, too."
Draco stared at him disbelievingly. "You're... You have got to be shitting me. You are, aren't you?" He knew that Harry most certainly had the rash, hot-tempered mindset of a Gryffindor - but the cunning of a Slytherin? Not likely. He was positive. " A Potter. In Slytherin."
"Of course, I begged to be in Gryffindor because... Well-"
"Because of me."
"Yeah." They both basked in the silence that did not make them uncomfortable, but rather made them hyper-aware of each other. Another heartbeat and Harry spoke again. "If I had been sorted into Slytherin... Do you think we might have been friends?"
"In all honesty?" Harry nodded. "... I don't think we would have. After all, you rejected me on the train, and I don't think the eleven-year old me would have taken that very well. Me, the 'Ice Prince', son of a Death Eater versus you, 'Savior of the Wizarding World'." Draco smiled bitterly at that. "Our Quidditch team would have been amazing, though."
"But if we were to be friends now?"
Draco jerked at the bluntness of the question. The corners of his mouth turned down slightly, and the area between his eyebrows furrowed into deep creases. His eyes closed for a moment before opening.
"No. I don't think we could ever be friends: not now, not ever. Acquaintances, maybe. Business partners, maybe. but nothing more." Draco swirled the bottle of butterbeer and watched the contents slosh around inside. "We just have too much bad history. Seven years' worth, in fact. I don't think a simple handshake would erase the memories of war." His voice was strained, pained even. Draco chanced a glance at Harry and was surprised to see his face calm and collected.
"Then shall we get to know each other? It's similar to 3 truths and a lie. But we'll make it 99 truths and a lie. However, whatever the lie is, we'll just keep to ourselves. I know how... secretive Slytherins can be." He stared directly into the blonde wizard's eyes, and Draco could not find an inkling of deception no matter how hard he tried.
"Fine. We'll meet here, same time, same place, once a week. Ten questions each week for ten weeks. We will not attempt to contact at anytime after this is over – unless for a purely business reason."
"Or at King's Cross Station." Harry's eyes stared back at Draco's defiantly, the stubbornness from his boyhood shining through.
"... Or at King's Cross Station." He reluctantly agreed.
So, for the weeks after that, they traded truths.
"Seven; my favorite color is actually light blue."
"Oh? A snake that doesn't like green or silver?"
"Shut up, Potter. It's your turn."
"Fine, fine. Eight..."
It was impersonal at first...
"Twenty-three; I would hate to have my hair as long as my father's. How do women keep that long and neat, anyways?"
"Well, you're going to become bald, anyways, thanks to the ever-so-famous Malfoy receding hairline."
"Rats could live in that nest you call hair and you'd never notice it!"
"Ferret."
"Potty."
… But slowly...
"Thirty-four; I used to live in a cupboard under the stairs until I was eleven."
"What? That would have been around the time you would have gotten your Hogwarts acceptance letter..."
"Hagrid was the one who told me about witches and witches. How my parents died at the hands of Voldemort." There was a clenched fist and an involuntary twitch.
… It became a myriad of confessions.
"Sixty-nine; In our sixth year, I realized I... That I fancied you."
"What? But that was when..."
"If I had realized sooner, maybe everything would have been different. The old man would still be alive." He gripped his left arm. "And Severus..."
"Snape would have lived. He is - was - your godfather, right?"
"Yes, and my father would have rotted in Azkaban instead of fleeing the country." He closed his eyes tightly, willing away the pain and uncertainty. "And still... The part of me that had to grow up so fast... Some part of me still wants to make him proud. For him to hug me and say, 'Everything is alright,' even though I know it isn't."
"Do you... Do you still feel that way about me?"
"Seventy; I don't fancy you anymore."
"Wait, what? No! Now I have to say two..."
It wasn't a lie. It was just half the truth. But Harry would never need to know that.
It wasn't just a schoolboy crush, anymore.
What is was, though, he would rather not know.
"One hundred; I never fancied you like you did for me."
It could have been his imagination, but was there a slight hesitation, a dip in his voice?
"... I see."
He would deny it to himself later that he saw it: a flicker of guilt, pain, and regret that flitted across Harry's eyes.
"I'm sorry."
He mentally berated himself; was he so desperate as to read whatever that was not there?
"No need."
But what was he kidding.
"Oh, before I forget: if you want, you're invited to me and Ginny's wedding this winter. Here's an invitation, in fact."
Who could love someone like him?
"... Draco?"
"It's Malfoy to you."
"Only when you walk out the door." Draco got up, clutching his coat.
"Then as for your wedding..." He pushed the invitation back to the dark haired wizard. "... If it's not for business, I'm not going. It's not like I would be welcomed."
"... Just tell me if you change your mind."
"Goodbye, Harry." He turned and left, fighting the urge to look back. He wanted to know what Potter's lie was, but he guessed it wasn't his cause to know.
September 1, 2017
"Scorpius! Slow down! We know you're excited, but don't forget about the people around y- Scorpius!" Astoria crossed her arms and shook her head. "That boy will soon be the death of me..." Draco, who stood beside her, let out a small chuckle.
"I would have liked to have a childhood like we have given him. I'm glad, though. He is such a bright child."
"Slytherin?"
"Ravenclaw."
"How about Hufflepuff?"
"... Anything but, Astoria."
She giggled and grasped his arm, "And... Gryffindor?"
"I will disown him."
Astoria glared at her husband. "Draco..."
"... If he gets into trouble."
"Well, with the Potter-Weasley clan..."
Draco groaned loudly. "Please, don't remind me..."
It was then that Scorpius came back with the Zabini twins close behind him. "Mum, Dad, I'm going." He hugged his mother tight and stood in front of his father for the awaited goodbye. Draco waved the twins away with the task of finding a compartment. After a silent look exchanged with Astoria, they were left alone.
He leaned down to face his son.
"Scorpius... When I was young, I made so many mistakes and regretted them. I wanted to be perfect, like I thought my father was. I had so many regrets... Everything could have ended differently for us, and I could have had the one person I loved. Our family name would not have been shamed."
"Does that mean you regret... Having me?"
"Never, Scorpius, never." His heart hurt, and he could feel his stomach twisting in a knot. Why oh why, did he have to word it like that? He pulled the eleven year old into a hug, burying his nose into his son's hair. When he was a child, Lucius would have sneered at the affection – but that was all in the past, now.
"Promise me, son." His throat was choked with tears. "Promise me you won't make the same mistakes I did." Draco pulled away from his soon, slowly schooling his features. Around him, he could feel the stares and hear the incredulous whispers.
"I promise, Dad," His son whispered. Scorpius touched his father's left forearm lightly. "I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you, too."
Astoria was hugging their son again, murmuring words of encouragement, when he felt eyes on him. He turned to see the former Golden Trio staring at him quite obviously. His eyes lingered on Harry for a moment and he allowed a brief nod. The pierce of longing in his chest stayed for a much, much longer time. If things had gone differently, he might have been at the arm of Harry Potter.
March 30th, 2024
Father,
How are you? I must get back to studying for N.E.W.T.s, but I just needed to write you quickly.
I have come into a realization.
I think I'm in love. I still remember what you told me before I boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time – to love who I want to love. And I want to thank you for that. We will visit you come summer, alright?
Love,
S.H.M.
"A-Astoria! Come here! We have a dilemma! Our little boy is growing up!"