For all the looking down on muggle contraptions Draco and his family had done, the damn things were remarkably difficult to use. Not only was it incredibly awkward for the goblin at Gringotts to loudly ask if a Malfoy was truly exchanging his gold for muggle money, but it was significantly more so asking Harry to help him figure out a pay phone. The combination of sorting out all the coins, different in size and thickness but for some reason all the same fucking color, needing only so many to insert into a specific slot on the machine, then punching the numbered buttons in a certain order, all just to make sure one dialed the correct person.

What an exhausting way to communicate.

But, for all the trouble he had endured for it, Draco was finally at least adept in phoning Ainsley whenever he chose. Not that he called her too often. Succeeding in the task no more than twice, Draco only used the pay phone for when he unexpectedly found himself with time to spare and sought the muggle girl's company.

"Hello?" Ainsley's voice sounded very different emitting from the grimy receiver of the telephone, something that Draco physically recoiled from each time.

"Hello, it's Draco."

"Oh, I quite figured. It's not often I get calls from random pay phones." Her tone was teasing, a joke that Draco didn't understand, some muggle nonsense that he hated he wished he understood better.

"Yes, well. I find myself free of commitment this evening and thought I'd seek your company."

Unfamiliar laughter crackled over the line. "You're weird. Just ask to hang out, will you?"

"Ah...are you available to hang out tonight?"

"We'll work on it. But yes, please! Do come over! I've nowhere to be and have a project you can help me with!"

"What sort of project?"

"Do you remember where I live?"

"Yes?" Draco answered, confused. It must be a muggle thing, not being able to remember where places were after having been there once before.

"Excellent! When should I expect you?"

Draco could have slapped himself. That was why Ainsley asked if he remembered. Harry had to explain to Draco, rather embarrassingly, that muggles can't Apparate, meaning that they were required to recall multiple pathways to a single destination in some cases for every place they went. Everything about muggles was exhausting, but at least Draco was beginning to learn how to swim within the huge information pool of their methods.

Draco glanced at his watch, finding it to be two minutes before five. "Let's say...half an hour?"

"I'll see you then!"

The receiver clanked loudly when Draco set it into the pay phone's cradle. Of the entire telephone call experience, he disliked the conclusion the most. With letters, one signed their name in farewell. In person, there were nods, handshakes, waves, hugs. Over the artificial line of a telephone, there were but words. Awkward. And Draco had been raised to exceed social unpleasantries.

After aimlessly wandering the streets of London for his allotted half hour, Draco Apparated to Ainsley's flat. It was on the second floor of a French-esque complex, stacked almost haphazardly to achieve individuality. Lush vines covered the faded red brick, iron railings were twisted to resemble elegant design, pathways were cobblestone. Every flat's balcony was shaped differently, every door was a unique color. Yet, for all its chaos, the complex did not exude the cheapness for which Ainsley claimed it was known. Draco might have even thought it quaint.

Ainsley answered her door almost the instant he knocked. Her hair was wild even pulled back, eyes alight with energy as she greeted him.

"Draco! On time as ever!" She beamed at him, stepping aside to allow him past. Her shirt was rather large on her small frame, almost completely obscuring the frighteningly short shorts she wore. Draco made a slight berth around her. He froze as he heard the door shut behind him, however.

The flat was ransacked. Surely Ainsley had just been ruthlessly robbed, he thought, except that it seemed the culprits didn't steal anything, instead opting to simply tear everything the woman owned from its place and toss it all about the flat. Furniture was even moved from where Draco recalled it being the last time he had visited, cluttering the already small space exponentially.

"What...ah...what happened?" he asked when Ainsley came to his side.

She put her hands on her hips, beaming with excitement. "I'm rearranging!"

"Rearranging? Why?"

"Oh, I just like to mix it up every six months or so. And since I live all on my lonesome, I can!"

She tugged at the sleeve on Draco's jacket, borrowed from Harry as it wasn't quite cold enough to justify a wizard's cloak. The fabric was thin but warm, a muggle purchase that Harry said he kept around for outings with Weasley and Granger. After listening to Harry choke back a laugh at his formal blazer, Draco had snatched the garment from him on his way out the door. It smelled like detergent and chocolate, and after seeing the casual state of Ainsley's attire, Draco was reluctantly glad he had worn the blasted thing.

"Come on," Ainsley said, dragging Draco amid her scattered possessions. "You get to help!"

'Getting' to help a muggle rearrange her entire flat was not exactly what Draco had imagined when he sought company. Without magic, the entire ordeal was going to require a great deal of physical labor.

"So what are Harry and Teddy up to?" Ainsley asked. "Mind grabbing that end of the sofa?"

He did, finding it much lighter than it looked. "Oh, they're..." He paused, thinking. How to properly convey? He settled for simplicity. "They're at Harry's parents' for his father's birthday."

"That hesitation sounds like a lie, Draco."

"No, it's just...a bit more complicated than that."

"Oh?"

Draco nodded as they set down the sofa, blocking the front door. At least they had a large chunk of free space to work with in the living area for it. "Harry's biological parents were killed when he was a baby. His aunt and uncle took him in, but they were pretty horrible to him. He made a friend at school that has a large family that more or less took Harry in as their own. I don't believe he ever lived there, but the Weasleys are his family now."

"Oh. That's...well, that's awful about his parents and aunt and uncle. But it's good he found people that truly love him. Are-the Weasleys, you say? Are they the family that Teddy's parents were close to, then?"

Draco blinked, frowned. "Sorry?"

"Well, when we came over the other day-"

"Ainsley, that was a week ago."

"-you mentioned that Harry's parents were close to Teddy's? Did you mean the Weasleys?"

"No, actually." Draco's hands drew together subconsciously for him to fidget. "It's a little complicated."

When he didn't continue, Ainsley cleared her throat pointedly. "If you're not uncomfortable talking about it, we do have the time, and it's just us. No Nosey George this time."

Huffing a soft laugh, Draco nodded. "Well, the school we attended just made everything sort of intertwined. Being a boarding school and all, the student body naturally becomes rather close, for better or for worse."

"Was it, per chance, a school for...complicated kids?"

"Oh, shut it."

Ainsley stuck out her tongue then, overemphasizing her youth despite being two years Draco's senior. With a flourish, she skipped into the space freed by her couch. "Help me reshelve these books while we talk, will you?"

"Into what shelf?" Draco asked, looking about the mess.

"Just behind those lamps there."

"...could we move the lamps?"

Ainsley blushed, mouth turning down sheepishly. "Oh, I suppose." They made quick work of it, and Draco was picking up the first of the piled paperbacks when Ainsley began speaking again. "So, you never answered, although I suppose I technically didn't directly ask, but...who were Teddy's parents?"

"Mm," Draco hummed. "Well, Harry's real father was close friends with Teddy's. Teddy's father also taught at our school one year, and he and Harry grew pretty close. I don't think Harry had met him before then if I'm remembering right. But a few years later, Teddy's father met my cousin, they married, and they had Teddy shortly after." And then joined in the front lines of a war with Draco on the opposing side and died, leaving Teddy an orphan. But that needn't be mentioned.

Ainsley, thank Merlin, apparently sensed that. She nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense, then, that Teddy's dad would name Harry his godfather. If they hadn't anyone else to ask, I bet being able to ask his late friend's son meant a lot to him." Sliding a few more books onto the shelf, Ainsley added, "I'm impressed, though, with you and Harry. Being so ready and willing to take in a kid like that at our age...I mean, I'm technically Darwin and Madeline's godmother, but there's a stipulation in Harvey and George's will that I be 25 or older to be granted guardianship. Otherwise, they'd go to our parents. But even at 25...I can't imagine becoming a mother overnight."

"I think it was harder on Harry, to be honest. The fool's hardly more than a child himself."

With an upward twist of her lips, Ainsley threw one of her hips out to bump Draco's thigh. "Bet you enjoy that youthful spunk, though, hm?"

"What in the world is that supposed to mean?"

"I didn't take you to be such a prude," Ainsley said with a giggle.

"A prude? I fail to see-oh." Heat that had absolutely no reason to fill his neck and ears did. "Harry and I aren't..." One involuntary laugh escaped him. "We're just flatmates. We're barely even friends."

Ainsley's eyes burst open, threatening to drop the very organs from her skull. "Oh no, I am so-oh, thank god I didn't say something when we were over, how embarrassing that would've been-"

Something extremely distressing clawed its way up Draco's spine, spreading over his shoulder like a cold shudder. The acids of his stomach churned like an active volcano, and his heart had a single beat that was just high the line of too hard. Ainsley being so blatant in both his and Harry's presence would have been...unpleasant.

"-I know you two had mentioned that Harry was sleeping on the couch," Ainsley continued to ramble. "But the way he said it, like he was trying to find a way to make sure we knew you guys weren't sharing a room, I thought maybe you or him or both of you were trying to, I don't know, hide your relationship from us. I know not everyone is accepting of gay couples yet, but my family and I are." Ainsley slowed down then, visibly taking a breath and seeming to exhale her nervous energy. Though much shorter than Draco, she managed to pin him in place when she turned her gaze on him more directly, expression softening in the blink of an eye. "I know we haven't known each other long, Draco, but we're friends, right? You can be honest with me, but it's okay if it's at your pace and not mine."

Tenderness Draco wasn't familiar with was there, pulsating off of Ainsley and stabbing him sporadically as her gentle words crashed down like tidal waves over him. It wasn't as though Draco didn't know kindness; his mother and to some extent his father loved him in their own way, Teddy adored him, even Andromeda had shown Draco a certain amount of familial goodwill. But to be offered such openness from one not bound to him by blood Draco hadn't the experience. Snape had come close, especially in his first few years at Hogwarts; Pansy had attempted it. Even with Harry, with whom Draco was mature enough to admit he was closest, there wasn't such a rawness as was in Ainsley's eyes at that moment.

It wasn't that Draco disliked it. It was just horribly strange, how naked he felt.

"Look, there's nothing to hide from you there," he said finally. His voice was a bit stilted, but Draco managed a small smile. "While we may not hate each other anymore, I'm certainly not mad enough to actually try and date the Boy Who Lived."

Ainsley snorted. "Oh my goodness, what did you call him?"

Perhaps being friends with muggles always included slip-ups, Draco thought with an internal groan. "It was just a stupid title he had bestowed upon him at our school. He claims to hate it, so it's as natural as breathing to use it as a weapon."

Her laughter was lighter than Draco felt. "Well, we all thought you two made a great couple, if it's any consolation."

"How would it be a consolation, considering that we aren't?"

"Maybe it'll give you the courage to pursue it." Ainsley winked.

"If I wanted to pursue such a foolish choice, I have the courage, believe me," Draco muttered, ears warm again. If only she knew the half of his history with bad decisions.

"Then I look forward to when you tell me you and Harry are finally knocking boots," Ainsley said cheekily.

Draco shuddered at the strange metaphor, swallowing with some difficulty as he forced away involuntary images. "Are these all where you'd like them?" he asked, gesturing to the books lining the newly filled shelves. "Why don't we get the rest of your flat figured out so we can relax, hm?"

It was hours later, after doing enough manual labor to render his muscles to jelly that would be quite sore the following day, that Draco was able to sit and enjoy a warm cup of tea with Ainsley. Time with her reminded Draco much of his time with school friends in many respects; she was eager to listen to what he had to say, eyes intent as she listened and usually sparkling with a bit of awe even at the most mundane of things. But most unlike Draco's former friends, Ainsley contributed to conversation with enthusiasm that pre-war Draco would have found obnoxiously ingratiating. She was as ready to open herself to Draco as she was to learn about him, an equal exchange that was rather satisfying if foreign.

But once the tea was gone, the antique cuckoo clock Ainsley proudly bore above her television set began chiming, singing, and cuckoo-ing. It was nearing midnight, and although Draco didn't need to wake for work anymore, Teddy was an early riser. Yawns peppering their short goodbyes, Ainsley closed her door on Draco, who then Apparated home.

Groaning filled the dark living room.

"Harry?"

More groaning. "You're back late."

"Is that why you sound like a dying merfolk?"

"No, that's because I feel like fucking garbage, thanks for asking."

Draco paused in removing the jacket he had borrowed, squinting at the lump on the couch. "Oh?"

"Yeah, Draco, 'oh,'" Harry shifted under his thick blanket. "So unless you care to watch me projectile vomit all over you-"

"Oh, fuck, have you been?" Draco asked, dropping the jacket on the floor in his haste to take several steps back.

More groans. "Not yet, but with how I'm feeling, I'm surprised I haven't."

"Did you eat something foul?"

"No."

"Maybe you brought a virus home." There wasn't an answer, but Draco could hear slightly ragged breathing in the darkness. "It doesn't matter. Do you...need anything?"

Harry grunted. "I don't know," he said, voice weaker and more tired suddenly. "Probably just need to sleep it off...er, thanks, though."

"Right."

"Right."

Why was there such an abrupt awkwardness? It coated the flat and pressed against Draco's chest with talons, urging him to cut the silence. But with what, he didn't know.

x-x-x

After watching Harry avoid solid food and refusing to stand except for one shower the entire weekend, Draco had been relieved that there had been no vomiting. Not that he was a sympathetic vomiter, or much of a sympathetic anything, but such acidic sick had to be the most tedious thing to try and contain. And so Draco had spent the entirety of that Monday feeling confident that Harry having been able to keep down the previous night's dinner as a sure sign that the dangers of any stomach illness was past.

Teddy emptied the entire contents of his stomach all over the table that evening. Draco had felt the defeat like a wave of sickness himself, sighing as he drew his wand to clear the mess. Harry had gagged and all but Disapparated from the smell of regurgitated chicken with a shirtless Teddy in tow.

It had been the beginning of Teddy's first real stomach bug. The boy spent two straight days throwing up his entire system after every attempt at food and in between for good measure, sobbing into the toilet bowl while Draco rubbed at his back and held a cool cloth to his head. Teddy's hair and eyes changed to match Harry in those moments, crying for his godfather as the toilet bowl only continued to fill. Once upon a time, Draco might have taken offense. But Draco had simply held Teddy tighter those times and assured him that Harry would be home soon.

It was torture, watching Teddy endure the virus without much aide. But both Teddy's pediatric healer and Mrs. Weasley had discouraged the use of potions in order to bolster the boy's immune system. Quite likely every child was given the same treatment. It didn't make the whole event any easier.

At the end of the second day, Teddy's stomach retained the handful of crackers that Harry somehow convinced him to eat, a real victory that was tainted by how awful Teddy still felt. By bathtime, though, he was asking for toast, and when he managed to keep that down as well, Harry had tentatively mused that perhaps the worst was over.

Draco, while agreeing, had dread deep in his belly that swirled distastefully alongside his own dinner. Lightheadedness had tickled at his consciousness all that afternoon, increasing to the point that Draco needed to pause while cleaning the kitchen and lean against the wall while Harry readied Teddy for bed. Draco had taken every precaution he could have; he had been washing his hands obsessively ever since first hearing of Harry's nausea, he had avoided all unnecessary contact with both victims, he ate bland foods himself in case he did catch the bug in hopes of staying ahead. But it seemed that the virus was stronger.

It was almost exactly midnight when Draco woke up shivering and covered in sweat, barely stomaching a single breath before retching all over the carpet beside his bed.

x-x-x

"Dwaco, I don' yike frow up," Teddy whined.

Heaving into the overused toilet bowl, Draco gritted, "I know, Teddy. That's why I keep telling you not to watch." More vomit splashed against the porcelain.

"Dwaco, I don'-"

"I know, Teddy!"

Teddy began to cry quietly, and when Draco was able to glance over his shoulder, the boy had Harry's hair and eyes again. "I don' yike frow up," he whimpered, tears glittering against emerald.

Guilt filtered through Draco's frustration and exhaustion. "I know."

Doing his best to clean up with limbs and a voice that quivered, Draco stumbled to his feet a moment later and found the doorway empty. He could hear Teddy digging through his toys in his bedroom, a true godsend that he wasn't requesting Draco's assistance or company for the first time all day. Draco dissolved into the armchair, closing his eyes as he took shuddering shallow breaths. He felt like a ghost. There wasn't hardly any substance to him anymore after spending much of the day hunched over the toilet. If a moderately strong breeze were to come through the flat, it could probably grab the whole of Draco and carry him away.

A loud crack announced Harry's arrival. "Oh, shit, what's happened?"

Draco opened his eyes, the lids impossibly heavy. Indeed, the flat was a bit of a wreck. Not that Draco kept the place spotless with a wild toddler, but the absolute explosion of toys, paper, quills, paints, snack wrappers, at least three different cups, and general odor of sick was a touch extreme. Draco found Harry already looking at him, those bright green eyes that Teddy had worn most of the day wide with concern.

"Whatever the fuck you brought home," Draco said, a rasp more than the growl he was going for, "is getting stronger each time it passes."

"Er, I don't think that's how viruses work."

"Don't they?" Draco heaved again, stomach clenching painfully. "Fuck." And with a lunge across the flat that was worthy of a medal in his condition, Draco returned to the bathroom. He resurfaced several minutes later, hands shaking as he clung to the wall. Teddy grinned toothily at him from the couch.

"Dwaco!" he squealed, hair and eyes back to normal. "Dwaco, Hawee home to-to-to-tomowow!"

"No he's not, Teddy," Draco grumbled as he sank back into the armchair. "It's only-" He gulp, heaved minutely. "It's only Thursday. We have one more day until he's home for the weekend."

"Actually, I just sent an owl that I won't be there tomorrow," Harry said.

"Can you even do that, fancy Auror training and all?"

"Each trainee is allowed up to five no-questions-asked sort of absences over the entire training. I've only used two, when I first got Teddy."

Weak as Draco's body was, it was still able to flush with uncertainty. What did he really care that Harry took a day off? But still, Draco found himself saying, "You didn't have to do that. Your-" He paused as nausea swelled, abated. "Your savior complex knows no bounds."

"Fuck, Draco , just look at you. It's not even saving you, it's just making sure you don't die while you're alone with Teddy."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"Come on," Harry said, voice softer as Draco realized that his eyes had fallen shut at some point. He opened them just as Harry gently pulled him to his feet by the wrist. "Don't waste all your energy being a prat. Drink some water, go lie down, whatever. I doubt Teddy let you rest much today."

"Wouldn't you like to know."

Harry smiled at the pathetic attempt to sneer. "Go on."

And admittedly, it was nice to be able to crash into his bed and not move for a couple hours. The sleep wasn't terribly restful. Draco's half-dreams were outshined by the sounds of Harry and Teddy going about cleaning the flat, arguing over baked fish, the echoing splashes of bathtime, reading bedtime stories. Teddy climbed into Draco's bed at that point, forcing a tight hug and slobbering kiss onto him in the dark, whisper-shouting a goodnight as Draco sluggishly tried to return the gestures. Draco watched Harry as though through thick glass set a cup of water on his nightstand. And then they were gone, the silence in their wake making it hard for Draco to close his eyes. His stomach still churned sorely.

"You ought to shower," Harry said, seeming to pop into existence at Draco's bedside.

"I think I'd rather just die."

"It'll help you feel better. Go on."

With both hands encircling Draco's wrists, Harry hauled him to his feet. The room swirled dangerously around Draco, but hands grabbed at his shoulders to steady him.

"Alright?" Harry asked. The spinning slowed, and Draco nodded. "Alright. Go shower. And in the morning, I'll take Teddy and we'll get you some medicine once the shops open up."

That did sound heavenly. To only have the choking down of a potion stand between him and the absence of nausea...pushing off Harry's firm grip, Draco drifted his way to the bathroom once more.


Harry had only ever been in Draco's bedroom about three times. Each time had been with Draco and in the light of day. Suddenly alone in the space with no light peeking between the curtains, Harry fought against the sensation that something bad was about to happen. He heard the water switch on in the bathroom and began to move.

Household cleaning spells weren't quite his strong suit, mostly due to not caring to remember them. Having grown up doing all such tasks by hand, he had always found the spells that replaced the physical work almost pointless unless he was in a hurry. And while he likely had the time, Harry waved his wand around Draco's room, changing the sheets clumsily and having the disinfectant spray over the whole of the space. Satisfied, he left for the kitchen to find something Draco might be able to eat.

Hot soup in hand, Harry returned several minutes later to find Draco face down on his bed wearing only a pair of shorts.

"Uh...feeling any better?" Harry asked as he set the bowl on the bedside table.

"Marginally," Draco croaked. He cleared his throat and continued, voice stronger. "Thank you. For the sheets. But...I must ask...did you drop a bomb in here? I can taste disinfectant."

"Oh, er," Harry chuckled sheepishly. "With how sick you and Teddy have been, more seemed better."

"Well, you're not technically wrong, I suppose." Infirm laughter quaked Draco's shoulders as he struggled into a sitting position.

The scars struck Harry like lightning.

Sixth year was so long ago, nearing on four years, but in that moment Harry was sixteen again, startled by finding a crying Draco Malfoy in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Sectumsempra had slashed through Draco everywhere. White marks just barely paler than the skin they blemished centered over Draco's sternum and branched across to his underarms and sides, down to his ribs and stomach.

"Must I eat this?" Draco's question came from a significant distance.

Harry blinked several times. "What-oh, er, yes. You've...you've been losing nutrients all day and need to replace them."

Draco looked up at Harry fully then, bemusement in his drawn brows. Following Harry's betraying gaze to his own chest, he sighed heavily. "It's fine." There was resignation there, but without bite.

"No it isn't. I could've killed you."

Draco huffed a single, humorless laugh. "I doubt it'd have been much of an issue."

Harry's throat constricted uncomfortably as he watched Draco begin slithering into his bed, determinedly not looking at him. "It would have," Harry insisted. "Been an issue. Mattered."

"Well, sure, you can say that now, now that the war is over and I'm not a Death Eater and we're friendly and have Teddy-"

"It would've mattered then, too," Harry interrupted firmly. "I...I hadn't known what that spell would do when I used it. I never...I never wanted that. It was awful, watching you bleed like that...even back then, I...I didn't want you to die."

An anxious sort of smirk lifted Draco's lips slightly, as though he was uncertain how to respond. With a valiant attempt at humor, he teased, "What sort of wizard uses a spell they know nothing about?"

"Apparently I do."

The miserable response brought in its wake a silence that only encouraged Harry's darkening resentment at himself and the replaying of the memory that bolstered it; Draco's face darting from hopeless despair to furious rage and then the horrified shock of what Harry had done to him, the slight tremor in Snape's hand as he worked his magic to prevent yet another student death in that bathroom, the stark shade of white Draco became in such a short amount of time, Harry's own rigid fear and pounding heart thankfully blocking out much of the whimpering he knew echoed off the stone walls. Harry forced out a breath through his nose and offered the bowl of soup to Draco, who took it.

"You really ought to eat."

"Harry-"

"I'm going to shower and clean a bit more. Need anything else?"

Letting his mouth fall closed on whatever he had tried to say, Draco just shook his head and Harry left, his skin crawling and head storming.