Author's Note: This is the "origin" story, if you will, of my series That's Life Together, following Harry and Draco through their relationship and lives together. If you've not read the rest of the series, that's perfect, as you're starting in the right place. If you don't want to read further than this story, that's fine, too, as this story will also work as a standalone and all the major points will be resolved. However, you'll miss out on their wedding and baby, so... to each his own, I guess. :D

I almost never post my stories before they are complete, but this time I'm making an exception. I plan on posting one-two chapters a week and expect the story to be approximately ten chapters in total. I'm already finished with chapter six, so have no fear, it will be complete.

Summary: "Conversation is a meeting of minds with different memories and habits. When minds meet, they don't just exchange facts: they transform them, reshape them, draw different implications from them, engage in new trains of thought. Conversation doesn't just reshuffle the cards: it creates new cards."-Theodore Zeldin

Five years after the war, Andromeda Tonks becomes ill and needs someone to take care of Teddy for a while, forcing Harry and Draco to come together and try to make the best of the situation. It's time for Harry and Draco to talk. EWE, Draco/Harry, Fluff, Eventual Smut. First in series, That's Life Together, takes place Winter 2003-04.

Conversational Intelligence

Conversational Intelligence is the hardwired ability in all humans to connect, engage and navigate with others… Conversational Intelligence is about closing the gaps between your reality and mine. — Judith Glaser

Chapter 1

Draco sat stiffly down at the table with the mediocre cup of tea offered in St Mungo's tearoom and glanced at Potter across the room, still ordering his drink. He was distinctly uncomfortable with the situation, but he'd spent four years in France earning his Potions Mastery, and he'd be damned if he'd be intimidated by the bloody Gryffindor he was currently stuck dealing with for the foreseeable future.

Said Gryffindor finally arrived and flopped down into the chair like a heathen and brushed his hair back out of his face. He leaned forward and took a delicate sip of his tea that seemed at odds with his other erratic movements.

Draco scowled. "You know, they do make a thing called a hairbrush. One would think that even if they hadn't taught you about those as a child, you might have picked up on it at the Auror academy.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Look, Malfoy, this is as uncomfortable for me as it is for you, but we're both here for Andromeda and Teddy, right? So let's do our best to make nice and get through this without any loss of life or limb?"

Andromeda. Merlin, it made him sick just to think about it. Breast cancer was uncommon in witches, but not unheard of. The Healers still weren't sure if she was going to recover, and his mother was spending most of her days with her sister. After his father passed, his mother and aunt had reunited and in the nearly three years since, they'd once again become close. He was happy for both women, but he was afraid of what it would do to his mother if she lost her only remaining sister again so soon. As it was, Andromeda would be confined to the hospital for at least the next four weeks as she underwent intensive treatment, and that didn't include the weeks of recovery to follow.

"Fine. I'll refrain from pointing out the ways you could improve, and you'll refrain from being insufferable, yes?" He smirked, but took a parchment and quill, drawing up a chart of the week. "So let's figure this out. Mother said she could watch Teddy through the days on Tuesdays and Wednesdays until I finish work here at St Mungo's. The Potions Lab rarely needs me to stay late, so I should be able to care for Teddy in the evenings those days. We're making him up a room in the Manor and will keep him overnight."

He looked at Harry expectantly, then nodded to the parchment. The man simply stared at him like a simpleton.

"Er-yeah. Sorry." He shook his head like a dog. "My schedule isn't usually static, but I've talked to my superior, and he's made arrangements to keep me on lighter assignments that don't require after-hours work while Andromeda is ill. I'll pay for it later with all the shite jobs when this is over, I'm sure, but for now, I shouldn't have to worry about getting called away nights and weekends."

Draco raised an eyebrow and gestured for him to continue.

"So yeah, I'm available pretty much any night. Molly can take him on the weekdays when your mother can't. She's already watching Fleur's daughter periodically, and she swears two children are easier to keep occupied than one."

Draco wrote down M Weasley next to the Monday, Thursday, and Friday daytime slots, and Potter next to the evenings.

"So I suppose we should alternate weekends, so you can keep up with your fabulous social calendar," he said with a sneer, thinking, with a stab of envy, about all the fabulous parties he was sure the man attended.

Potter rolled his eyes. "Hardly. I can take the weekends—unless you have something special you'd like to do with him then."

Draco cocked an eyebrow. Surely Potter wasn't willing to give up his entire weekend, every weekend, to take care of a child, even if it was his godson. "I can't have you playing the martyr, Potter, honestly. Why don't I pick him up from the Weasleys'"—he was quite proud of himself for not wrinkling his nose as he said that— "on Fridays after work, and you can take him Saturday at lunch. We can meet here, if you like, and give him a chance to see Andromeda, then switch off."

Potter nodded. "That sounds reasonable."

Reasonable, indeed. Of course, it was reasonable. Draco held in a sneer, as that would hardly be productive. "Mother has indicated she'd like to have him to herself for an evening, likely Sunday, so we'll take him back early evening Sundays, giving you and me both a chance to have some quiet before the new work week."

Potter smiled. "That's kind of her." He hesitated, clearly trying to figure out what he wanted to say. "It's kind of you both, Malfoy. You don't have to do this, and the fact you are, for someone you hardly know—"

"She's family, Potter."

Oddly enough, that response seemed to placate the man, as he gave him a huge smile. Draco's breathing hitched. He'd never seen Potter smile like that, where it reached his eyes with no mocking or sarcasm. It looked good on him.

"Yeah, she is." Potter paused, appearing to think about something, then visibly nodded, but his voice sounded unsure. "Malfoy, if we're going to be working together on this, do you think you could call me Harry? I think it might help separate us from who were to each other before."

Draco thought about it. He did feel his hackles rise every time he heard 'Malfoy' in that grating voice. It sounded like lost snitches, hippogriff scratches, and sneers in the Great Hall. "All right," he hated the sound of hesitation in his own voice and cleared his throat, "I guess I could try that, Harry. But it's only fair if it goes both ways." He took a deep breath, then plunged forward. "Please call me Draco, if you like."

There was that smile again, and Draco wondered how he was supposed to look away. The man's smiling eyes were fucking annoyingly magnetic.

"Hold on." Draco felt he needed to interrupt this love-fest before it got out of hand. "There's no reason to go all Hufflepuff on me. It's a bloody name. Don't go embroidering it on cushions or anything."

And instead of getting annoyed, Potter—no, Harry—laughed, throwing his head back a bit and exposing his Adam's apple to Draco's attention. The man couldn't even laugh discreetly. Honestly.

"I'll try to control myself, I promise," Potter finally got out as he finished laughing.

Draco took a sip of the tea that had now gone completely cold and restrained himself from spitting it out. Pushing it away, he took his watch out of his pocket to check the time. The Healers had asked for another twenty minutes before they returned.

Harry seemed to have come to the same conclusion. "So, the Potions Lab at St Mungo's, huh? That's a great job. Congratulations."

Draco tried to keep himself from preening at the praise, but it was a great job. Those positions were hard to get, and with his background, it was amazing he'd gotten hired. It only showed how hard he'd worked and what kind of name he was already making for himself in the field. He'd even had his first paper published last month on the new dragon pox treatment he'd helped create. At only twenty-three years old, it was an accomplishment to be proud of.

He realised he'd sat in silence too long, as Harry looked ready to apologise. "Thank you, Harry. Yes, I'm very proud of it, and I like the challenge of creating something quickly when the need arises."

Harry nodded.

"And I really like knowing what I brew helps someone." Draco shut his mouth in surprise, wondering where the hell that had come from. It was true, but not something he'd usually go around sharing.

However, this time it brought that blinding smile back, making him feel like a puppy who made his master pleased. He wanted to punch Potter for making him feel that way, but it felt too good.

"Yeah, that's the favourite part of my job, too. I like doing what I'm good at, don't get me wrong, and I'm damned good."

And there was the cocky bastard Draco recognised. But for some reason, instead of annoying him, it made him want to laugh.

"But it doesn't feel good unless I'm able to help someone." Harry hesitated, then met Draco's eyes. "And I like to feel good."

Draco sat up and narrowed his eyes. "Are you flirting with me?"

"Nah, just playing with you," Harry said with a laugh. "I prefer my dates to be lower maintenance."

Draco glared but didn't argue. He wasn't high maintenance, per se; he just knew how to take care of himself. There was nothing wrong with that. "So Neanderthals. Got it."

This time Harry's laugh sounded like a bark and had people turning their way. "Touché, Mal—er, Draco. Though I will say I've always had a thing for blonds, both men and women; so, you know—" And then the man had the audacity to wink at him.

"Oh, fuck you, Potter," he said with a laugh. They grinned at each other and he looked around, suddenly realising he was sitting down and having (questionable) tea with Harry Potter, and he was beginning to enjoy himself. He looked up into the deep green twinkling eyes and couldn't stop the next words out of his mouth. "What happened to your glasses?"

Harry flickered his eyelashes like an arse and gave him a ridiculous smile that made Draco's stomach flutter. "Aww, Draco, I'm touched you noticed. Muggle contact lenses are what happened. They make being an Auror so much easier." He looked at his watch. "I think it's probably time now. I need to tell Andromeda we have everything worked out, then go and get Teddy. Since it's already Thursday, I'll take him to Molly's tomorrow, and you'll pick him up from there after work, as planned?"

"Correct," Draco said with a nod. "Go on, then, and I'll be down in a few minutes. I'm sure you'd like a few minutes alone with her."

Harry smiled. "I would, thank you. I reckon I'll see you on Saturday then." He stood up and offered his hand. "It's been nice, Draco."

Draco took the hand in front of him and considered. "Yes. See you Saturday."

Harry turned and left, and Draco stared after him. It felt like a major shift in his life had just occurred, and he wasn't sure how.

"I'm sorry to hear about your aunt, Draco. What exactly is breast cancer, anyway?"

Draco looked up at his oldest friend and shrugged off the attempted sympathy. It wasn't Pansy's strong point, and he didn't expect it from her. "It's much more common amongst Muggles, evidently. The Healers say they usually have ways of vanishing the tumours that are basically attacking her body, but it's too far spread in Aunt Andromeda for them to do that in this case. Instead, they have to do a series of spells that shrink them over a period of time before they can vanish them, and she needs constant observation. It's serious, but if she were Muggle and it was this far spread, they said she'd not even have a chance to recover, like she does now."

"And so you're stuck playing pass the Quaffle with Harry Potter for the next eight weeks caring for her grandson?" Pansy sat back thoughtfully. "Are you going to befriend him? It could be useful to your plans for moving upward in your department." She smiled. "He's political gold, you know."

He wondered at the flare of annoyance he felt at the suggestion and shrugged it off. It was a perfectly reasonable consideration. "I think that's hardly a possibility, Pansy. This is Potter we're talking about. We'll likely end up killing each other before it's over, and poor little Teddy will be caught in the middle." He rubbed at his left forearm distractedly. "There's too much standing between us," he muttered, then looked up. "Doesn't matter, though, really. We've agreed to at least try to get along for Teddy's sake, and we likely won't see each other often, as we'll both be picking him up most days from whoever is watching him while we work. Mother is looking forward to the opportunity to have a small child to play with, I think."

Pansy shrugged. "I suppose. So, how is it going with Bertram? Are you going to bring him around for tea soon?"

The change of subject should have settled Draco, but instead it just disgusted him to think about that arse he'd been dating. "Hardly. I've told him it's better if we don't continue our relationship any further."

She raised her brows in encouragement for him to continue.

"Let us just say he was more interested in dating my Mark than dating me."

This time, the surprise in Pansy's face was real. "Real-ly? That's…ah…hmm…"

"Quite." Draco gave a little sigh. "People seem to want to date me because of who I was—either because of the thrill of it, or because they still believe in those asinine ideals—or they don't even want to give me the time of day."

"Draco—"

"No, Pansy. I'm done for now. If it's going to happen, it'll happen in its own time. I'm tired of looking for something more when it's not there to be found."

Pansy stifled a scoff. "I still don't understand your insistence that you find some kind of romance in a relationship. It should be a business transaction and nothing more. Make sure you can stomach them, that they have something to add to your life, then settle the logistics. You have plenty of friends to fill the rest of your time, and if you find someone you fall in love with later— well, there's no saying you can't have both. For now, you need someone that'll be your partner in helping you grow your career, and will appear on your arm when you go to parties."

He looked at Pansy fondly, and stopped himself from reaching out to tuck her short black hair behind her ear. She was so practical and logical, but that meant she was correct in this instance; she just didn't understand. She couldn't understand. He wanted more. He'd seen what practical and logical and reasonable looked like in a marriage. He would not live like his parents had. He'd have more. He'd have something extraordinary, or he'd have nothing at all. So for now, he was settling on the 'nothing'.

"Don't worry about it, Pansy." He decided to change the subject. "Now, I will have Teddy here tomorrow evening and plan on teaching him how to properly pick flowers and herbs for potions. Would you like to come help?"

She looked horrified. "With a five-year-old child? Circe, no. Good luck to you, though. I'm sure it sounds lovely."

He laughed, as she looked like she thought it'd be anything but lovely. They spent some more time chatting about friends, discussing world events, and generally enjoying each other's company. This, he thought. This is what I'm looking for. I want a lover who's also decent company. Someone who can be my friend and isn't insufferable to be around, like Bertram was. But also someone who makes everything feel different. He'd just have to wait patiently, he supposed. It was a pity patience had never been one of his strong suits, he mused.