A very grateful obsidiancurrents here with the latest installment of this tale, which is planned to span approximately ten chapters of varying lengths. Enjoy!


Chapter Three: Old Faces

Astoria smiled into the mirror like a schoolgirl with a delightful secret, turning to the side as she examined the dark green ribbon tied into her chestnut locks and smoothed her dress (dark green with gold trim - the official colors of the Holyhead Harpies). A glance at the clock made her purse her lips. She lifted her wand from the vanity table, touched the tip to her throat, and cast an Amplifying Charm.

"Draco, unstick yourself from your books and come upstairs, please. It's nearly time to leave." Her sonorous voice echoed through the Manor, reaching Draco's study.

Astoria sat in front of her vanity mirror and began adjusting her hair ribbon with delicate fingers, soon perceiving what sounded like stomping on the stairwell. Shortly the bedroom door swung open, announcing her husband's arrival. She coolly examined his disgruntled-looking pointed face, noting depressions on the bridge of his nose where his reading glasses had rested.

"Astoria," Draco sighed with a long-suffering look. "I really have quite a lot of work to do. If you didn't insist on positively dragging me to this outing with the Potters and the - " - he paused for dramatic effect - " - and the Weasleys, there's a chance I may possibly finish it - "

"Oh, come off it, Draco." Astoria swiveled back around to face the mirror, mentally waving away her husband's protestations. "It won't kill you, right? And you adore Quidditch... Did you know Ginny Potter is a retired Harpy herself?" she added, using her wand to remove a stray brow hair.

"Yes, of course I know that," Draco grumbled, dragging himself over to her chair and meeting her eyes in the mirror. As she started applying a bit of rouge, Draco's eyelids lowered suspiciously. "Hang on - you don't adore Quidditch. I've never seen you this enthusiastic about a Quidditch game."

"Oh, Draco," Astoria sighed, carrying on with her cosmetic activities. "What do you want me to say? Our pure-blood friends are dull - there. If I don't get more interesting company soon, I'm going to die of boredom."

Perturbed wrinkles rippled Draco's forehead. Astoria turned to him, reminding herself to be patient.

"If you're not going to be civil to Albus's family for your son, do so for me, yes? Ginny and Harry are charming - don't give me that look, you know they are - and I'm quite keen to meet Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley as well. Besides, I won't allow you to stay holed up in that study any longer. Come to think of it, you have been spending more time in there over the past few days - is anything the matter?"

Draco was averting his gaze and shifting his weight uncomfortably when Scorpius materialized in the doorway. "We ready to go?" he asked cheerfully. "Albus and the Potters are already on their way."

Draco sighed in frustration, shooting Scorpius with a look reminiscent of a caged animal. "Why?" he groaned. "Why did you have to choose Albus Potter? Of all people!"

Scorpius decided to ignore the possibility that this was a rhetorical question. Instead he rubbed his chin and gazed pensively into space before seriously answering: "I suppose I have a sort of grudging curiosity - admiration, even - towards someone who, despite all of the greed and hatefulness in the world, nevertheless strives to do the right thing always. Besides," he laughed, shaking himself from his reverie. "With those exquisite green eyes, who could resist?" But his chuckling withered and died when he noticed Draco's expression, which was that of a man who'd just been informed that his son was pregnant with the spawn of Lord Voldemort.

"All right then," Astoria piped up cheerfully. "Ready."


Albus craned his neck as his abovementioned exquisite green eyes scanned the boisterous crowd looming behind him in the Harpies section of the Quidditch stands, searching for a head of white-blond hair. He and his siblings, parents, aunt, uncle, and cousins were seated in the front two rows, excitedly chattering amongst themselves in anticipation of the game. Considering Ginny's status as an ex-Harpy turned Daily Prophet Quidditch reporter (not to mention the high proportion of war heroes comprising the group), they could have requested the Top Box, but Ginny wanted to be near enough to communicate with the Harpies coach throughout the match. In fact, she was animatedly interviewing her on the sidelines of the grassy pitch right now, her enchanted quill furiously jotting notes on a floating parchment.

"Al..."

Albus spun around to face his uncle Ron, raven eyebrows elevated. Ron's daughter Rose had briefed Albus about Ron's reaction to the news that he and Scorpius were an item; apparently he'd just sort of gone white in the face and sputtered nonsense. "But don't worry," she'd assured Albus. "His relief that I'm not the one snogging a Malfoy outweighed the shock. You know how daffy he went that time I let slip that I was even friendly with Scorpius. He thought me a traitor!"

"Uh..." Ron continued, anxiously rubbing his scarlet beard with a freckled hand. "So...you're really with this Scorpius lad? And his parents - they are in fact - on their way here? Rosie told me that, but she may have been joking...ha. In fact, never you mind. I'm certain she was joking..."

"No, Uncle Ron. I really am with Scorpius, and his family is coming," Albus said with as much confidence as he could summon, but his cheeks were flaming.

Crimson rushed to Ron's face as well. "I - uh - ah - "

"There's the sputtering again," Rose whispered to Albus, mouth shielded from Ron's view by her cupped hand.

Hermione, Harry, Lily, and Hugo had glanced up from their respective chats to follow this exchange. Hermione presently sighed and touched Ron's hand with her own.

"We haven't seen Draco Malfoy in years, Ronald. He's surely lost some of his bite. Although from Harry's recount of that dinner party, perhaps not much..."

"Draco Malfoy will never change," Ron said darkly, memory after memory springing into his thoughts. "He'll always be a right bloody - "

Hermione shushed him, but Albus had already returned his attention to the crowd. At long last, he found what he'd been searching for: Scorpius and his parents were carefully navigating the stands, making their way to where the Potters and Weasleys were seated. Scorpius glanced up and made eye contact; Albus cursed himself that his boyfriend's sudden gaze could make his breath catch like that. When the Malfoys drew near enough, Albus stood and clasped Scorpius into an embrace, smiling shyly up at his boyfriend's parents, one dressed in Harpies colors and the other dressed all in black. In protest? he wondered bitterly. Astoria smiled back at him before glancing around cheerfully at the other members of the group; Draco directed a stiff nod his way, but his attention was apparently caught by something over Albus's shoulder.

Slowly, Albus felt tension constrict the air around him as he broke away from Scorpius and examined the reactions on each face. Lily, Hugo, and Rose stared at the Malfoys quizzically; James's eyes leisurely glanced around and he drank in everyone's expressions with an amused air; Hermione gazed at the Malfoys with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension; and Ron - well, Ron's cheeks and ears were glowing like a red-hot iron brand as he glared directly into Malfoy's icey grey eyes with such a look of deep, compounded hatred that some bystanders even rubbernecked.

Draco looked unsure at first, then straightened and defiantly held Ron's gaze, his face working. He seemed to be fighting against himself. "Hello, Weasley," he finally drawled.

The tension stretched tight, threatening to snap. A soft cough was heard; Hermione settled her hand on Ron's shoulder as she addressed Draco, voice strained with the attempt at self-possession. "Hello, Draco," she said levelly, pointedly using Draco's first name. "It's been - a long time." Her bright brown eyes returned to her husband's contemptuous face. "Right, Ronald? Quite a long time."

And with that she reached past Harry, who had been watching the scene unfold with a morbid curiosity, and offered Draco her outstretched hand. After a bout of uncontrollable blinking, Draco took it weakly in a handshake. "Yes - hello..." He appeared to be struggling.

Hermione ignored Draco's apparent hesitation to say her first name and turned her attention to Astoria. "Pleasure to meet you. You must be Draco's wife."

Astoria wore a disarming smile as she took Hermione's hand. "Astoria Malfoy. Actually," she added demurely, "I'm an avid admirer of your work at the Ministry, namely the house-elf legislation you managed to push through."

Relieved that the tension was beginning to evaporate, Hermione beamed at her gratefully. She turned to the two teenagers sitting in front of her, both with bushy hair and cerulean eyes. "These are our children, Hugo and Rose. Rose is in Scorpius's year."

As Astoria and Draco were introduced to James and Lily as well, Albus began to breathe easily again, exchanging a relieved chuckle with Scorpius. The rage on Ron's face gradually melted into brooding as he sat heavily back against his seat with tightly crossed arms.

During the introductions and reintroductions, Harry couldn't help noticing that Draco hadn't cast one glance in Harry's direction. "Hello, Draco," he finally said with just a touch of irritation. Draco met Harry's eye and nodded at him curtly. Harry slowly nodded back. Draco then settled into his seat, facing forward with a grave expression. His lips tightened as he glimpsed the joining of Scorpius's and Albus's hands as they seated themselves in front of him.

"All right there, mate?" James called to Scorpius from a few seats over. "Not getting Albus into trouble with any nasty Slytherin schemes, are you?"

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it, James," Scorpius replied with mock innocence, batting his pale eyelashes. He laughed as he reached over to shake James's hand. "Haven't seen you in a while, mate."

Draco, thoroughly befuddled, furtively watched (but failed to process) this exchange. What happened to good old-fashioned House rivalry? Well, perhaps Scorpius was merely being polite to Harry's other children, but surely he wasn't friends with the Weasley-haired Hermione look-alike -

"How've you been, Scorpius?" Rose pushed her flyaway scarlet hair from her eyes as she knocked Scorpius lightly on the shoulder, grinning. "Still reeling from your sound defeat during finals?"

Scorpius laughed villainously. "Oh, Weasley, I'd say that's a bit unfair; you only beat me by one Outstanding mark. More of a draw if you ask me. But I wager I'll earn more O's on my N.E.W.T.s next year than you."

Ron gaped at this horrifying banter between his beloved daughter and the boy who was supposed to have been her bitter enemy. "Rosie," he started, speaking for the first time since the Malfoys had arrived. "You're the best in your year, aren't you?"

"Oh yes, in most of my subjects," she informed her father, twisting in her seat to look indifferently back at him. "But Scorpius's attempts to overthrow me are relentless." She turned back to Scorpius just in time to miss the rapid return of Ron's blush and lowered her voice. "But seriously, I can't stand the fact that you're better than me in D.A.D.A. - will you give me lessons over the summer? And I'll continue to tutor you in Potions, of course."

Scorpius winced, index finger flying to his lips and eyes darting sideways toward his father. But it was no use; Draco had caught every word, and his already rather disturbed look deepened as he cleared his throat and stared straight ahead at the Quidditch pitch. Scorpius felt his face warm.

Rose realized her mistake and opened her mouth to speak, but they were interrupted by a sudden booming melody that signaled the beginning of the match.


At sunset, fans spilled out of the stands and into the green fields surrounding the stadium, Disapparating or looking around for Portkeys. It had been a lengthy game, finally ending with the Harpies seeker's brilliant capture of the snitch almost directly from the Falcons seeker's fingers, and Harpies fans were in high spirits to say the least.

Draco felt dazed. He'd found it difficult to concentrate on the match; he'd been repeatedly distracted by observations of his son getting on so well with the Potter and Weasley progeny. It was unfathomable: Scorpius and his would-be rivals had been laughing and joking around like - like - like mates. He had also been surprised by the tender care visible on Scorpius's face when Lily had vomited on James's lap toward the end of the game - presumably from stuffing herself too full of stadium snacks - prompting James to take her home early. Shaking his head in disbelief, he accidentally made eye contact with Harry for the first time since the Malfoys had arrived at their seats; he had refused to turn his head a mere centimeter in Harry's direction during the entire match. He broke from Harry's quizzical gaze almost as soon as he'd caught it. Harry rolled his eyes before returning his attention to the rest of the group as they strolled away from the stadium.

Draco was lost in a silent analysis of every nuance of this nightmare until he vaguely heard Astoria say something like, "...such fun! We really must thank you for inviting us along. I insist that you allow Draco and I to treat you all to dinner."

Draco snapped his chin up to gawk at his wife, lips parting in astonishment. He attempted to plead with her with his eyes, but she was blissfully unaware of his anguish (by chance or by choice, he didn't know).

Hermione exchanged a glance with her husband; Ron was looking dangerously wild-eyed. "Er - thank you very much, Astoria, but we have to be getting home. We and the children have a - family function in the morning."

"Well, it was so lovely to meet you," Astoria said gracefully, shaking Hermione's and Ron's hands in turn. "And Rose and Hugo," she added, taking their hands as well.

When Hermione leveled a cautious gaze at Draco, Astoria gave Draco an expectant look, but he was still reeling from the absolute insanity of his wife's actions too badly to notice. Hermione filled the brief silence with her own goodbyes, although when her back was turned as she embraced Harry, Ron cast Draco the most menacing of glares, blue eyes narrowed into slits. Draco answered it with what he hoped was an unaffected expression, one eyebrow arched, but he was secretly relieved that the savage was being removed from his vicinity before he hauled off and broke Draco's nose.

"Well, see you, mate." Harry registered the animosity in the air before pulling Ron into an affectionate half-handshake, half-hug, with much patting on the back. "I'll firecall you about that case at work tomorrow - I think it's close to being cracked." Draco smoothed his robes with calculated nonchalance as he watched Ron return Harry's hug and mutter a goodbye.

The Weasleys having Disapparated, Ginny whipped around with a winning smile, still full of energy from witnessing the closest Harpies victory to date. "I'm in. How about it, Harry?"

"Sure." It was next to impossible for Draco to decipher Harry's feelings about this unexpected outing; his face was set, expressionless and soldier-like.

"Great!" Astoria turned to Albus. "And Albus, you're welcome too, of course."

"Actually, Mum," Scorpius blurted, seizing Albus's hand. "Albus and I have plans for tonight, but you four go right along. Have a jolly time." He looped his arm around Albus's and turned his confused boyfriend around, marching him away from their parents. "We're off to..." he whispered something into Albus's ear as they walked, to which Albus replied in a reproving tone, "For God's sakes, Scorpius, my father's an Auror…"

After watching the pair speed off, the Potters and the Malfoys were left to gaze at one another. Astoria smiled happily between the Potters. Ginny's mind was still on the last few seconds of the game, and she could barely contain her elation. Harry looked mildly uncomfortable, but as good-natured as he could muster. Draco inwardly screamed.


Grindelwald's Downfall, a tavern near the Quidditch stadium, was packed with clamorous Harpies fans happily celebrating their victory with greasy grub and cold beer. Ginny, Astoria, Harry, and Draco huddled around a small round table in the center of the bustling room, having just polished off dinner and ordered more drinks (at the ladies' behest). Ginny and Astoria conversed in rapid meter, imbibing and guffawing about one thing or another. To Draco, it was bizarre to see his normally so sophisticated wife merrily knocking pints in a toast, a faint pink glow on her cheeks. He held his own glass tightly as he lifted it to his lips, drumming his fingers against the tabletop. After taking a swig, he decided that perhaps he'd had too much to drink, because he finally dared a glance at Harry.

Harry was following Astoria's and Ginny's banter with a faint smile. The dim lighting of the tavern softened his eyes into green velvet; his inky thickets of haphazard hair partially curtained the characteristically jagged scar on his forehead, a few shades paler than his skin. His chin was cradled in his right palm, fingers resting against his cheek, and his left hand loosely encircled the pint sitting in front of him, middle finger making little shapes on the glass. Draco didn't realize he was staring until Harry lazily peeped over and caught Draco's eye. Draco felt his body warm as he pretended to suddenly be distracted by two ruffians at the table over, rowdily playing a drinking game.

"Fancy that, Harry." Ginny poked Harry in the ribs with her elbow.

"Wh-what?" Harry grunted, blinking away from Draco and eyeing his wife.

"Astoria just said she gives private piano lessons. Haven't I been saying I ought to learn piano?"

"I would be glad to teach you without charge," Astoria declared excitedly. Ginny took both of her hands and giggled.

Draco raised his eyebrows in utter disbelief at how very casually Astoria was behaving. She must be more inebriated than I thought.

"All right, you two?" Ginny inquired as she glanced between the two men. "You've hardly spoken."

"Draco's probably pondering the most discreet nonverbal hex to use on your husband, so as not to alert us to his attack," Astoria giggled, covering her mouth with the fingertips of one hand and holding Ginny's fingers with the other.

Ginny sniggered along, ignoring Draco's incredulous expression. "And Harry's probably scanning your husband's person for Dark magic contraband."

The two ladies laughed conspiratorially. Harry bristled and opened his mouth to speak some defense or other when Astoria, flicking a tear from her eye with her little finger, gasped, "Ginny, dear, would you accompany me to the ladies' room?"

"I will, Astoria, darling," Ginny returned in Astoria's posh accent, rising and hooking arms with the other lady. As they sauntered off toward the loo, Ginny whispered something like, "Should we really leave those two alone together? Perhaps they'll duel," to which Astoria replied, "It's a risk I'm willing to take..." Harry and Draco gaped after them as they cackled all the way to the lavatory door and disappeared behind it.

Draco continued to stare at the door, feeling Harry's eyes on him. His back was suddenly stiff at the notion of facing Harry alone. Before long, he heard a little cough, and he reluctantly turned to stare down his enemy.

"They're certainly having a good time," Harry offered before taking a quick gulp of his beer.

Draco told himself not to notice Harry's bared throat and followed his lead, sipping his own beer, but he already felt rather fuzzy. "Mmm, indeed," he concurred.

After some long moments of almost painful silence, Harry made a riskier attempt at conversation. "It seems that both our sons and our wives are really getting on. Perhaps it'd be best if we...you know…"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I said we could have a truce, Potter, not that I'm dying to be friends with you."

Harry scowled and bit back a retort as he took another swig. Draco hesitated, then did the same. Potter wasn't going to out-drink him.

More silence. Harry's eyes began to wander around the sea of green and gold in desperate search for a conversation starter. The atmosphere was exuberant, Harpies fans laughing drunkenly and patting each other on the backs. Two witches across the room were whispering excitedly to each other, eyes occasionally darting towards Harry. Draco looked up at the same time that Harry caught their gazes; they quickly turned their backs to him, beside themselves with covert giggling. When one of them dared another look, Harry flushed red and turned away to stare at the table, shielding his face with one hand.

Annoyance flared across Draco's features as he set his jaw and glared at Harry. "I bet that never gets old for you, Potter."

Harry glowered back up at him and snapped, "Actually, it does. It gets extremely old."

A quick "ha" of disbelief escaped Draco's lips as he crossed his arms and leaned back loftily. "Oh, I believe you. It must be so hard being the Wizarding World's favorite war hero. Forgive me, O Chosen One."

Harry gripped the edge of the table and lowered his chin like a bull about to charge, eyes flashing dangerously at Draco. Draco bit his lip, his mind a foggy confusion of pure hatred, bitter jealousy, and...something else.

"Merlin knows you'd love it, being such a narcissistic prick," Harry snarled. "Others aren't so megalomaniacal to enjoy being relentlessly dogged and scrutinized. And really, I'm sure you receive enough attention as a former bloody Death Eater, thank you very much, so there's really no need to nurse this ridiculous envy."

All of Draco's conflicting emotions ebbed and flowed in his brain, his anger alternately subsiding and rearing its ugly head, interspersed with some intense feeling that licked his skin like fire. Whereas it'd been relatively easy to keep his eyes off of Harry just a few moments ago, right now it was impossible not to look at Harry's face, magnificent in anger, jaw clenched, nostrils flared, and eyes glinting like blades. Beyond his control, Draco's gaze lingered on lips surrounding slightly bared teeth before rising to a pair of eyes that suddenly made him feel as if he were plunging into a pensieve filled with emeralds and shattered obsidian. His son's earlier words scurried across the forefront of his hazy mind: "With those exquisite green eyes, who could resist?" They echoed as he almost imperceptibly leaned towards Harry, wondering if he'd gone mad, wondering what would happen if…

Just as he'd begun to notice Harry's angry features morphing into a picture of perfect bafflement, the approaching sound of their wives' tinkling laughter broke the connection, burned up the invisible cords that had attached grey eyes to green. Harry looked confusedly at Ginny, watching her sit down, feeling her quick kiss on his cheek. "You blokes refrain from blasting each other into oblivion?"

Draco felt Astoria seat herself unsteadily beside him, but the world surrounding him seemed lost in a funny blur. He stared at his long white hands clasped on the table, a mixture of disbelief and panic welling up inside of him.

"Er - " he interrupted the conversation that Astoria and Ginny had just struck up anew, striving to convey desperation as his eyes bore into Astoria's. "Astoria, darling, I think we should be going. I'm not feeling so well - I may have had too much to drink."

Astoria blinked at Draco, concern shining through the veil of her drunken state. "Of course, Draco. I'll take you home." Draco's shoulders relaxed a bit, and he attempted to give his wife a grateful smile.

"We should be going as well," Ginny agreed. "It was so nice of you to invite us out. We should do this again soon."

Draco was vaguely aware of Astoria and himself standing up, thanking the Potters, making future plans. He shook Ginny's hand for a bit too long, stalling as much as he could before finally forcing himself to turn and quickly shake Harry's with averted eyes. When they walked out, Draco felt nearly catatonic except for his legs; he was grateful those weren't betraying him, at least.