A blistering heat bore down upon the Hogwarts grounds, where a large roofless pavilion had been erected for dueling practice. Students clustered around conjured water springs, drinking and occasionally bathing in them while duelists squared off on the dais. There had been a great deal of chatter until Harry Potter stepped up; then everything seemed to halt, even the wind.

Waves of heat washed over Harry; he shrugged off his sweat-soaked white button-up, unashamed about the many scars which adorned his body. His bare chest glistened in the sunlight, and he was conscious of all the eyes upon him as he awaited a challenger. He did not care.

At last a slender figure sauntered up onto the dais, with a head full of white-gold hair and an unreadable expression on his face. Harry could not recall ever seeing Malfoy out of robes before; his white dress shirt was buttoned up to his throat despite the heat, but there were no beads of sweat on his forehead that Harry could see. A small pink scar graced his lip where Ron had split it during the Battle of Hogwarts.

Harry tightened his grip on his holly wood wand until his knuckles whitened, but his features remained stoic. A whisper ran through the crowd. All gazed attentively at the two. Presumably the school remembered what had happened six years prior, the last time Potter and Malfoy had dueled in a public space.

"Mr. Draco Malfoy," squeaked the magically enhanced voice of Professor Flitwick, somewhat somberly, "challenges Mr. Harry Potter. You may begin at the count of three. Aim to disarm only, boys!"

Harry instinctively braced for taunts that did not come. A flurry of hexes burst from the tip of his wand at Flitwick's signal. The first couple shattered Malfoy's Shield Charm, and he dodged the third with an artful pirouette. Harry lashed at his opponent with a flaming lasso, but it was transfigured into steam before making contact. He brandished his wand numerous times at Malfoy, each curse nastier than the last; all were dodged or otherwise resisted, yet Malfoy made no effort to strike back.

Harry's blood boiled. The air around him warped with the power of his magic. The dais cracked at his feet. The duel seemed endless, frustration at his opponent's passivity getting the best of Harry. He felt his limbs grow dull with exhaustion as he launched his latest volley and Malfoy ducked smoothly out of their path.

Harry's foot caught on a crack on the dais and he stumbled forward.

"Expelliarmus!" Malfoy shouted. A kinetic jolt blasted Harry's wand out of his hand despite his firm grip.

The clatter of his wand upon the conjured floorboards broke the stunned silence over the pavilion.

"Draco Malfoy wins!" Flitwick declared moments later. "Duelists, respectfully bow to your opponent. Next up, please!"

Malfoy bowed elegantly. Harry bent his back stiffly and retrieved his wand from an awestruck first-year. He stalked off the grounds and made toward the castle, a cowed lion.

—

"Potter!" Harry, recognizing the silky voice, walked on and did not turn around. "Good joust back there."

"It would've been," Harry said icily, "had you actually jousted."

"I can see how that tactic might seem unsportsmanlike, but the last time we dueled you left me a bloody mess on a bathroom floor. I figured it was my best shot."

"Why are you here, Malfoy? Did lessons with Auntie Bella not cover the entirety of the seventh-year curriculum?"

"Could you look at me for a moment, Harry?"

Malfoy's use of his first name startled Harry, who acquiesced, turning to meet Malfoy's bright gray eyes. They fell on the scar Slytherin's locket had burned into Harry's chest, who then realized he had left his shirt at the pavilion. They stood on the cool shadow of the castle for a few moments before Malfoy spoke.

"I owe you an apology. Perhaps several."

"Apologize to Hermione for calling her a mudblood for six years."

"I already did."

"Is this a post-war ritual for your family?" Harry said, lacing his words with venom. "Making the rounds, apologizing for your war crimes, throwing your wealth around to stay out of Azkaban?"

"My mother saved your life. I didn't give you away at the manor. We defected before the war was over." He sounded almost as though he were pleading. It was wildly disarming in contrast to the Malfoy Harry had known for so long.

"So what do you want?"

Malfoy sighed. "I want to be your friend."

Harry nearly choked. "Forget it."

"You're a good person, Harry. I want to learn how to be one, too. Here."

Harry had not noticed the crumpled bundle in Malfoy's arms.

"Thanks," said Harry with some hesitation, taking the bundle. His shirt. "Don't quite know how to fold clothes properly without a house-elf, do we?"

"I do my best," Malfoy shrugged.

"You can't learn how to be a good person. You are or aren't."

"I hope that isn't true."

Harry slapped Malfoy across the face. Hard.

Malfoy blinked, putting a hand to his cheek. To his credit, he had not cried out.

"Why?"

"Hermione slapped you in our third year. Ron punched you at the Battle of Hogwarts. And now I've hit you, too. Consider this part one of your redemption arc. And you're getting off easy. You're lucky I don't give you another scar on your lip to match Ron's."

"Actually, Harry," said Malfoy, still massaging his cheek, "you punched me after a Quidditch match about five years ago. Deservedly. As I recall, I had invoked your mother's good name."

"Ah, yes, that's coming back to me," said Harry with a distant grin. "Well, this one was for good measure."

"Now that I think of it, you may have punched me again at my own house last year when you stole my wand. Speaking of which, if you would be so kind—"

"No idea what I've done with it."

"Ah well, if you should come across it…"

"I'll send my swiftest owl."

Malfoy smiled. Harry raised an eyebrow at him. He was not sure what to make of this drastic turnabout in his second greatest archnemesis's disposition. He thought of what Dumbledore had once said about Tom Riddle, how he might not have been as he was had he been loved. Harry did not doubt that Draco had been and was a beloved son, but he was also keenly aware of the poison at the heart of House Malfoy. Perhaps, with a benevolent influence, he could be who he wanted to be. But Harry felt himself broken, embittered. Was he still the person Malfoy seemed to believe he was?

"Er, well then," said Malfoy haltingly, "I guess I'll see you in class sometime, Harry."

In a twisted way, there was a comforting familiarity to Malfoy. Only Hermione had returned with Harry to Hogwarts to complete their seventh year, and she was so immersed in N.E.W.T.s preparation they had hardly spoken in the weeks since they had been back. He and Ginny had grown oddly distant. And he was so alone.

"Where are you going?"

Malfoy seemed taken aback by the query, but something like hope glimmered in his eye. "Just heading back to the dueling area."

"It's probably the last warm day of the year," Harry said after a while. "Let's go for a swim."

—

They lounged on the grass by the Black Lake while the sun dipped behind purple mountains. Long shadows stretched over them and lapping waves sprayed cool mist upon their faces, banishing the late summer heat. Harry lay in just his trousers, resting his head on his hands, his hair wet from swimming in the dark water. Malfoy had dried off and shivered a little without the sun's warmth, huddling just beside Harry. His sleek body was white as marble, with the soft musculature of a Seeker. Harry occasionally caught his gray eyes darting to the locket scar on his chest again.

"You can touch it if you're that curious," he said, closing his eyes.

Malfoy's long fingers were pleasantly warm. They traced the scar's oval rim multiple times, running through the mess of black hairs on Harry's chest. Harry's skin puckered. He hadn't been touched like that in a long time. It was nice.

"How did it happen?"

"Horcrux."

"Ah." Malfoy didn't lift his fingers from Harry's body as they dipped lower along his torso, stopping at the smaller red welts on his stomach.

"And these?" Malfoy's voice rang low in Harry's ears.

"Mementos from my visit to Aunt Bellatrix's Gringotts vault."

"Should I apologize for that, too?" Malfoy rested his palm in the space just above the line of his Harry's trousers.

"Yes," Harry whispered.

Malfoy's hand slid under Harry's waistband. Harry exhaled deeply, his hips thrusting up involuntarily. Malfoy's expert fist beat against his flesh in a gentle, quiet rhythm. Harry's nails dug into the earth as a familiar sensation crescendoed within him. Every muscle in his body twitched, aching for a release so near, so near.

He shoved Malfoy off him with a gale force before it came. He clambered onto his back, pinned his face to the grass, and held his throat powerfully against the crook of his elbow. Harry buried his face in Malfoy's neck and evened his breath. Malfoy panted, his body heaving against the weight of Harry's. He arched his back, pressing Harry into himself, and reached an arm up to grab a fistful of Harry's wet hair.

"Do it. Do it," came Malfoy's sultry moans. "Fuck me."

"For fuck's sake."

—

Cold moonlight lay upon the grounds when they reached the doors to the castle. A faint silver glow caught in Malfoy's hair as it rippled in the wind. There was a great deal of rose in his cheeks, and the hint of an impish smile on his red lips. Harry looked away. A lump had formed in his throat. He felt very tingly.

"So many years..." Malfoy said distantly, "wasted."

"Yeah," said Harry," you were a real dick."

Their laughter carried in the night breeze, echoing in the dark. Malfoy turned to look at Harry. He leaned in. Harry held him at bay with a hand to his chest.

"This was a fun afternoon, Malfoy," Harry said in a low voice. "That's all."

Malfoy laughed again. "If I'd known your friendship came with that perk, Harry, I might never have become a Death Eater. No wonder Weasley's stuck around for so long."

"Shut up," chuckled Harry. "I hope the memory keeps you warm, because it's never happening again."

"We'll see," Malfoy crooned. They said their goodbyes when they reached the Entrance Hall, Malfoy heading for the dungeons, Harry for Gryffindor Tower. At the foot of the spiral staircase leading to the depths of Hogwarts, Malfoy stopped.

"And Harry," he said. "Call me Draco."