Handshake
Written by xmystorytime
Full Summary: One-shot. '"Come on Dad, he's not that bad," James muttered in an attempt to try and save his brother. "He's kind of quirky, actually..."' Life has a funny way of biting you in the arse. Harry and Draco knew that all too well, starting with Madam Malkins and finishing with their sons.
Warnings: None.
Ships: None.
Disclaimer: Under the apple tree, there waits for me, a Potter for my shiny home. Alas t'was not to be, instead you'll see, I have to claim that this is not my own.
Life had a funny way of screwing you over.
Harry Potter would attest to that. In fact, this was one of those moments. Sure, they'd grown more common as his children started to grow up and go to Hogwarts, but he had a feeling this one really put all the others to shame. He didn't even bother to hide his bewilderment whenever the topic came up in conversation, much to the amusement of the rest of the (extended) family. Ginny just sighed and hit him over the head.
Sat on the patio in the early morning light, he watched his children and tried to work out exactly what moment brought him here.
The blur, once known as James Potter, swooped around the clearing. Harry knew full well he was taking advantage of his mother's absence to do some of his more reckless moves (it had been Hermione's... delicate suggestion after she brought Ginny back from St Mungos for the fifth time).
While Harry's heart also shook at the dangerous antics, he understood all too well the thrill of flying – just for the love of flying - much more than Ginny ever had, and trusted his eldest son's judgement in what he could and couldn't do. And, to be honest, it was better if he practiced those moves and worked out his limits now, with no pressure and someone well versed in first aid on hand in case anything went wrong.
Besides, how could he say no to those trembling eyes?
The memory of the lumpy sofa came to mind and he wondered if Ginny would find out about the fact he hadn't gone and stopped James' antics. However, he was much too comfortable to move, so he convinced himself that his kid could have a few more minutes and turned his face towards the warm sun.
Out the corner of his eye, he could see his only daughter looked much happier just whacking the bludger in any way she could (much to James' disgust when he had to break off a stunt or five) rather than doing tricks. She didn't look like much now, but Harry would never be fooled again by her tiny stance. He still hadn't recovered the memories of her seventh and ninth birthday parties.
Sometimes, he feared Lily more than he feared the dark wizards he chased every day... or Ginny, for that matter.
However, while he kept an eye on the two terrors (experience teaching him to never let them out of his sight unless he wanted the sofa for a week and to turn grey before forty), most of his attention was centred on the duo sat beneath an oak tree, heads bent over parchment and books spread out in front of them.
Supposedly they were doing homework, but they looked like they were having far too much fun. However, he couldn't find it in himself to care. They were the reason he felt life loved to screw around with him.
Nothing had prepared the family for the news that, moments after joining Slytherin, Albus had struck up conversation and, later, become best friends with Scorpius Malfoy. Name issues aside (and there were a lot of issues there), the living room had a tea stain on the wall that refused to move itself and Ginny wouldn't shut up about it.
Well, there were also several scorch marks on the ceiling and one broken light because it had been the place Ron found out the news. It had taken the combined efforts of Harry, George and Charlie to stop him from storming over to Malfoy's place and demanding he remove the spell. Really, Malfoy had no idea how close he'd come to losing his life that day.
Watching the two and how happy they looked, he thought back to that fateful evening in the Entrance Hall, when magic still awed him and Hogwarts still glittered in glory. What would have happened if he'd accepted Malfoy's hand that day? Would they be as close friends as these two?
No, he admitted as Albus reached over to ruffle Scorpius' hair. That was a different time, a different world. Even if they had been friends, too many outside forces would have eventually pulled them apart.
"Our living room lost several pieces of furniture when Scorpius revealed the news," Harry had sensed the blonde's arrival the moment he came through the floo, so he didn't react. "We almost sued you," Draco Malfoy waited but, when Harry refused to entertain, sat down on the other empty chair. Only when he had settled did Harry turn and give him a fleeting smile.
"Those scorch marks are new too," he commiserated, looking back at his children. It should have been odd that he knew exactly what the other meant, but it didn't feel it at all. "I think it was a shock to everyone.
"That's an understatement," Malfoy muttered, in a voice that didn't intend on being heard. Harry shrugged, not really caring. He'd become the Master of Understatements when he'd heard his seventh niece was born and the realisation that he would, at one point, have to watch over a total of fourteen children with only Ron to help out. Understating had become his way of coping.
The one-time Gryffindor picked up his glass of juice and took a sip. Like clockwork, his inner voice that had, at some point, taken on Ginny's voice reminded him he should be courteous to his guest. He offered the blond a drink, guessing by his rumpled clothes that he'd just arrived from work, but after a long pause Malfoy held up a glass filled with clear water.
"I helped myself," he elaborated, and if Harry didn't know better he'd sat the man looked sheepish. He threw his head back and laughed, the deep, rich sound floating through the garden and snagging the attention of the children. He could sense their curiosity but ignored Albus and Scorpius' approach, instead matching Malfoy's smirk with his own softer one.
"Father," Scorpius greeted with an incline of his head. "Is it time to leave already?" Harry heard the faintest hint of disappointment and, when he looked at the boy, the pleading look tugged on his heart strings. A moment more wouldn't hurt, would it?
Malfoy remained silence, implying he had yet to make a decision, so to kill time Harry studied the young Scorpius. Much to his dismay, the child looked the splitting image of Malfoy at eleven years old and not for the first time he had to squash the urge to punch his face. To be fair, though, it had always been that smug face which ruined things for him and his friends during Hogwarts.
A glance back at the elder Malfoy showed how time and experience had altered his snobbish features, but as they hadn't had much contact in that time the memory of how they looked as children remained the picture their emotions were attached to. Maybe Malfoy got the same feelings when he looked at Albus, almost the splitting image of Harry at eleven.
Except this one didn't have a scar, hand-me-down clothes too big for his skinny frame and the look in his eyes of someone who had seen more than they should have at that age.
No, actually, Albus didn't look much like his father at all.
"Don't worry kids, you've got a bit more time before I kick you out," he winked when Malfoy still didn't reply and hid his smile behind his glass. "Why don't you to go back to your homework while us old farts talk for a bit, hm?"
As expected, little Albus – not so little anymore – leapt to his beloved father's defence.
"You're not an old fart dad! You've only got five grey hairs!" he declared with a firm nod and all warm feelings for his son fizzled out. He ignored the snickering Malfoy, until he realised he could use what Albus had not said.
"So, that makes M-Draco here an old fart, does it?" he teased, taking immense delight in the way Malfoy's amusement cut out instantly. The blond sat up slowly and gave him one of the best disdainful looks Harry had ever seen, but it didn't affect Harry like it once had. Instead of anger and frustration, he only felt amusement.
Albus' eyes widened and he hurriedly apologised to Malfoy, who stared at the boy as if he'd never seen him before. He hadn't spent much time with him during the moments Scorpius had invited Albus over, then. Obviously uncomfortable with the continuous apologising, Malfoy gestured with his hand and instructed the kids to return to what they'd been doing. The comment sounded so grown up Harry couldn't resist.
"You know..."
"Say one word, Potter, and you will not enjoy what happens next," Malfoy glowered and Harry gave him a toothy smile, knowing with an odd certainty he wouldn't follow through on it. Maybe he'd spent too much time chasing real monsters, or maybe he'd just grown up, but either way Draco didn't rub Harry like he once had.
That didn't mean he didn't hate him. Nothing could erase the past, and neither could forget the actions each had took against each other. However, they had the power to change the future, and it appeared it would start by being civil.
Hermione would be proud.
"Whatever you say," he replied, placing his drink back on the table and relaxing in his seat. He pulled down his hat, shielding his eyes from the sun. "I'll keep my mouth shut then."
"You're so kind," Malfoy's lips twisted upwards slightly. "Look, Potter, don't think this changes anything. I'm only here for my son," Harry nodded, rolling his eyes safe in the knowledge Malfoy couldn't see. Of course they wouldn't be here willingly, but they could make it more pleasant by not hashing up the past. Aside from possibly causing tension between their sons, what was done was done.
Really, the Weasleys would have a fit if they saw this scene. Truthfully, Harry half-wondered if he'd been drugged but he had a feeling that the peculiarity of this meeting had something to do with not over-reacting. The hysterical laughter bubbling in his chest probably had something to do with it too.
He'd never imagined drinking next to Malfoy watching their sons play, ever.
His younger self, the one angry and bitter and lost after the war, wouldn't have allowed it. His current self, the one who'd matured and learned and knew, couldn't see anything else.
"So, how's work?" he asked, shifting his legs to remove the stiffness. He was getting old. "Your article the other day caught my eye. I have to say, I'd never thought about it that way before," he grinned, realising that although the children had pretended to go back to enjoying the summer's day, they couldn't resist the innate curiosity to listen in on the conversation. Malfoy saw this too, if his raised eyebrow was any indication.
"Business is booming," Malfoy replied, shrugging one shoulder. "Many have owled us a response to that article, but my staff has not cracked under the pressure," he tilted his head back at an angle, ever so slightly. "If you were so interested, you should have sent your opinion."
"Why should I?" Harry shrugged. "It would only cause my family more trouble in the long run. The press only just stopped hounding us after that last article, the one about you and me -" he broke off, unable to say it, but was relieved to see Malfoy shudder too. Obviously he knew exactly which one he was talking about. He should do, seeing as it had involved them both rather... painfully.
"The editor and writer were fired for that," the blond muttered, his breath ghosting over the glass. "The very idea that we -"
"Don't say it! Don't! Just – stop!" Harry grimaced. "I still have nightmares, and Ron still hasn't forgiven me," he suspected that no one who knew the both of them would ever get over it. Not even Ginny's soft touch took away the thought of Malfoy doing that to – to –
Even the thought made him nauseous.
Malfoy eyed Harry with disdain, "I'd hoped you'd got past needing a serviette Potter, please don't prove me wrong now." Harry grimaced. Some things never changed, then.
He got to his feet and picked up his empty glass. He motioned to Draco's own, silently asking if he wanted a refill, and after a moment Malfoy handed him the glass and stood, managing to look extremely graceful in doing so. Harry narrowed his eyes, having seen Scorpius do something similar. How did they do it?
Side by side, never ahead or behind for the memories of betrayal still stung deep, they left the garden and comforting noises for the cooler and quieter kitchen. Malfoy cast a look around the room, focusing on the washing machine, toaster and microwave, but didn't say a word.
As he rinsed and poured new drinks, Harry mused about the changed in his childhood nemesis. His tact had improved, but that didn't say much when Harry's had done the same. Would his opinions have changed too?
He handed the water to Malfoy and leant against the counter, watching a droplet of water fall off Draco's finger before realising the man looked as though the drink held all the answers of the universe.
"I find firewhiskey much better for things like that," he murmured, recognising the look on his face from the mirror. Malfoy caught the reference, surprising the black-haired male with a crooked smile that made him look younger and more innocent. He looked... nice. It just would never be enough to erase the face stained with tears in a bathroom over things out of his control.
"You caught Dolohov the other day," Malfoy broke the silence, looking back at his glass. Harry rubbed his shoulder, feeling the raised skin from the wound that had yet to fully heal. It had been a cursed weapon, like so many others, that refused to heal the magic way.
"You were close?" he kept his voice the perfect pitch of nonchalance. Draco shook his head and Harry sighed in relief.
"Just wanted to congratulate you," Harry sensed what would come next. "How does it feel, being responsible for catching almost all of the remaining Death Eaters and sending them to prison? The way everyone glorifies your name?" he refused to rise to the jab and instead reached over and plucked a grape from the bowl nearby.
He popped it in his mouth and savoured the sharp taste, feeling his thirst quench in a way a drink never would. Malfoy watched him with barely hidden impatience. "Well?" he asked, his voice full of bitterness.
Harry sighed, shutting his eyes. The world did not take kindly to people who'd once followed Voldemort and then tried to redeem themselves. The Dark Lord left a stain on their reputation, their integrity, which meant that they would always be treated harshly or unfairly wherever they went. Whereas Harry, one could say, lived 'the dream life'.
Their worlds were too different, even now, to really get along.
"What do you want me to say?" he asked. He could talk about his elation, knowing he'd delivered justice for all the innocents in the war, or he could talk about his frustration of letting some slip through his fingers without a trace.
"You tell me," Malfoy studied him. "Are you not our saviour?"
For some reason, that stung the most. He scowled and spun around, glaring at his reflection in the window. He bit his tongue to stop himself from saying anything he'd regret, and intended to focus on his children out back until his temper was under control. It was only then he realised he could no longer see them.
"Some saviour," he muttered, having a suspicion of their whereabouts in the corner of his mind. "I can't even save the ones I love..." Malfoy stepped beside him and copied his position, gazing out the window. Harry knew the instant he'd realised the children were gone by the slight irritation across the pointy face before a mischievous smile replaced it.
Maybe Al had worked his magic after all.
"I don't know, you've come this far," Malfoy had also perfected nonchalance. "From my records, you have the Auror team with the least amount of deaths. That can garner a lot of respect," he raised a hand and waggled a finger at the closed door. Harry grinned, realising what he wanted to do, and nodded whilst easily keeping up appearances.
"Do you respect me?" the ex-Slytherin shot him the most incredulous look he'd ever seen as he made his way over to the door.
"Don't be ridiculous," he sniffed, "I'm offended you'd even suggest something like that."
They stared at each other. Harry broke the silence first with a snicker, causing the corner of Malfoy's mouth to twitch. That made Harry laugh out loud and, almost cautiously, Malfoy gave a small chuckle. The thought of loosening up with the blonde git only made the Auror laugh harder, and soon the hysterical laughter that had been waiting patiently bubbled free.
He slumped against the counter, unable to support himself. Eventually regaining control of his limbs, he clutched his stomach as it ached, but nodded to the other dithering in front of the door. With a dramatic flourish, the blond turned the knob and yanked it open.
Crashing, shrieking and cursing filled the kitchen as four children hit the ground. Harry winced at James' face-plant, but couldn't help but feel his kids should have learnt by now. Not even Scorpius had remained unscathed, turning out to be Lily's landing place. The red-head beamed up at him, unaware of the gasping teen beneath her.
"Just what do you think you're doing?" Malfoy demanded, raising an eyebrow. "Do you have any idea how undignified you look right now?" the kids groaned. Harry smiled.
"I'd get used to it M-Draco, you'll find dignity goes out the window when you spend time with this family," he strode forward and helped them to their feet, automatically brushing them down and checking for injuries. "Sorry about that," but he was too amused to be sincerely sorry and, being a smart git, Malfoy figured that out.
"If you put it like that..." he gave his son a withering look, "really Scorpius, a Potter?" Scorpius blushed. Harry's heart fluttered, nervous that this would be the moment their hesitant truce would be broken, but when he looked at Malfoy he realised the guy didn't care as much as he was acting, he just wanted to make Scorpius uncomfortable. He shot Harry a wink, as if daring him to take up this challenge.
Well, Harry had never been able to refuse when Malfoy asked so nicely.
"Really Albus, a Malfoy?" he mimicked, removing his hand from the rapidly forming bruise on James' chin and looking at the quietest of his kids. Albus didn't meet his gaze, staring at the floor guiltily, and James and Lily shared a nervous look.
"Come on dad, he's not that bad," James mumbled, obviously reluctant but feeling some sort of brotherly need to defend Al. "I mean, he's kind of quirky actually..."
Quirky.
His son had just called a Malfoy quirky.
Keeping a straight face when he turned to the elder Malfoy turned out to be the hardest thing he'd ever done. He refused to crack up, knowing it would end this whatever-it-was with Malfoy, and had to go get a grape. He kept his back to the children so they wouldn't see his grin, so wide his cheeks hurt, but Malfoy did and his fingers twitched.
"Come on Scorpius, before they infect you with their Gryffindor stupidity," Malfoy sneered. "You never know what diseases you can catch from rabble like this," Harry put more grapes in his mouth, not really concerned with the way his children staggered back, offended, or Scorpius shot Albus an apologetic look before following his dad.
Instead, he let Malfoy get all the way to the door linking the kitchen and living room before casually striking up conversation again.
"Diseases, you say?" he buffed his nails on his chest. "A disease like... dragon pox?" he took immense pleasure in the way Malfoy tensed and slowly turned around. Harry gave him a cocky smile. He hadn't been in Gryffindor for nothing. The children looked back and forth between them. They knew about dragon pox, but couldn't understand Malfoy's reaction
Harry could.
He put another grape in his mouth, sucking on it a bit longer before swallowing, and gave the other all the time he needed to find words without alerting the children. Dragon pox was akin to the disease Malfoy had caught several years ago but not as embarrassing.
"I'm surprised you heard about that," the blond finally regained his cool and his eyes flashed. All of a sudden, Harry remembered there was a reason why he'd been called the Slytherin Prince. "Weren't you down with something similar to Wizarding Flu around the same time?" Oh yes, he definitely should have known better to try and win a verbal contest with the guy.
To be fair, he'd never really expected to win. He crossed his arms over his chest and inclined his head, a sign of respect and conceding.
"I guess certain things you can't help but hear, Ferret," he answered, and watched Malfoy blink in surprise and watch him wearily, as if expecting Harry to attack him at any moment. The auror remained perfectly still, keeping his open expression on his face.
"It would appear so, Scarhead," he smirked and Harry snorted at their childish nicknames. Had they really resorted to this?
"I don't get it," Lily announced, hopping from one foot to the other with all the impatience of a girl her age. James turned to her and patted her head.
"Lily, take it from someone who knows," he said, trying to keep his voice a whisper and failing. "Adults like to think they know more than us, but we know better. They're just being stupid, okay?" Lily watched him for all of two seconds before nodding. Mind you, she'd always taken his word as gold.
"I don't want to be an adult then," she declared, stomping her foot, and if Harry hadn't lost his heart to her on the day she was born he would have then.
Unfortunately, the family interaction turned out to be too much for Draco to bear. He sniffed, attracting everyone's attention, and clasped Scorpius' shoulder. Harry nodded to him and gestured for Albus to follow them through and see them off. He certainly didn't feel like doing it.
"I'll see you around," he said, hesitating slightly before doing something he'd wanted to do for a very long time. He held out his hand.
The room seemed to get heavier. The two locked eyes, the past and present and future, blood and tears and death, but most of all Albus and Scorpius, surrounded and consumed them, like a wave crashing against rocks. They'd been thrown back in time, and although the circumstances were now different, so much still hung on one single handshake.
And then the blond seemed to find what he looked for. This time, they would change things. Make them better. For the both of them.
Draco shook Harry's hand.
A/N: I actually hated the sixth and seventh books, but the sixth movie managed to make me love Draco a little bit more. That, and a video I watched on Youtube. Combined with reading various stories about the next generation, I found myself with the desire for a one-shot between Harry and Draco. I wanted humour with believable characters. I failed, like always, with the humour, but hopefully the duo weren't too OOC.
Let me know what you think, and if anyone would be interested in me writing a longer story featuring one of Harry's missions that goes disastrously wrong. Since the movie, I've been in a Potter kind of mood. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed!