"Malfoy!" he said.

"Potter," Draco said with a small nod.

"What are you doing here?" Harry said.

"The same as you, Potter. Attending the festivities. I would've thought that was obvious."

Still the same superior git, I see. Though I must say he's grown into rather a handsome git, Harry thought, as he sat back and regarded his companion with some interest.

"Well, considering that I have never seen you 'attending the festivities' as you put it, it's a bit of a surprise, that's all."

"It's been a few years since I was in England."

"Yes, I'd heard that you'd moved to France. What brings you back?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"No reason. Just curious."

"You always were, weren't you? It's one of your defining characteristics. But I don't understand why you're curious about me."

"I don't understand it either," Harry muttered. "Sorry I asked. I was just trying to make conversation."

Draco sighed. He knew that Harry hadn't meant any harm, but he was just so used to having his guard up that he tended to get unnecessarily defensive.

"I know. Sorry," he said. "It's just...a bit strange to be having a normal conversation with you."

"It's strange for me too, Malfoy, but we've all grown up. I don't see why we can't put the past behind us and be civil to each other at the very least."

Draco huffed. Harry was right. It was just that he hadn't expected the man to be nice to him. He was too used to being glared at and sneered at to expect anything else.

"I suppose you know that the Ministry seized all our assets after the trial."

"Yeah..."

"Having sat on it all these years, they finally decided to give me back my home and some of my money. So I figured that it was time to come back."

"They took seven years to give you back your home? That's ridiculous!"

"They were 'investigating' apparently."

"Humph...that's the Auror department for you."

"Is that why you left?" Draco said, looking curiously at the man beside him.

"I'm surprised you know about that."

"It's hard not to know what you're up to, Potter. You get the Prophet in France too, you know."

"I'm surprised you read that rag."

"I don't. Mother does, though and for some reason she seems to be fascinated with everything you do. To the extent that that she insists on telling me about it."

"So is the rest of the wizarding world apparently," Harry grumbled.

"What's the matter, Potter? Don't like your fame?"

"I know you won't believe me Malfoy, but I never did. I never wanted it," Harry said indignantly.

"Relax, Potter, I was just trying to get a rise out of you...old habits and all that. I used to think that you were an attention seeking prat who wanted nothing more than to be famous, but I'm really not that stupid now. And honestly, it's shameful, the way the Prophet has been treating you. But it is not entirely their fault that even after all this time, people just can't get enough of you...pity that."

Harry was completely taken aback. That was the last thing that he'd expected to hear from Draco. He had no idea how to respond, though. So he didn't say anything.

"You didn't answer my question," Draco said, after a couple of minutes. "Why did you quit the Aurors?"

Harry sighed. "Because I realised that it wasn't what I wanted. I think I went into Auror training because that was what was expected of me...and I really didn't know what else to do with my life at that point. But I knew just a few months in that I didn't want to deal with danger anymore and that I'd had enough excitement to last me a lifetime, so I quit."

"You got tired of playing the hero huh?"

"Basically."

"So what do you do these days, Potter?"

"Surely the Prophet told you that as well..."

"The Prophet says that you do charity work, that you run an institution for war orphans..."

"And you don't believe that?"

"Of course I believe it. You're a do-gooder, Potter, always have been. And this is a cause that is obviously close to your heart. What I have trouble believing, however, is that this is all you do. It is hardly strenuous or challenging work and you're the kind of person who cannot be happy unless he has a challenge. So...?" Draco said as he arched an eyebrow in question.

"You're right. This isn't all I do, but that's all I'm going to say on the subject, so you might as well stop asking."

"Suit yourself," Draco said and turned away. Prat, he thought.

Harry sighed. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to be rude. I'm just tired of people prying into my life...And there are some things that I really want to keep to myself, you know."

"It's okay. I know the feeling," Draco said without looking up. It took a bit of effort, though, the not looking up.

He'd been having a bit of trouble keeping his eyes off Harry, pretty much from the moment he'd spotted him sitting at the bar. Draco had always found Harry attractive. Even when they were at school...He'd hated his guts and he'd thought that Harry had no style or class and yet he'd felt drawn to him, even when Harry was nothing more than a scrawny, clumsy, messy haired kid. So to see him again after all these years, as a man who had grown rather well into his body and his looks, was a bit disconcerting.

"So...um, how come you're here alone?" Harry said after a few minutes.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Because I don't have a date," he said.

"I know that, you prat! Why don't you have a date?"

"Because I stopped dating a long time ago," Draco said. He sounded weary.

"Why?"

Draco sighed. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"No."

"Fine. It's not like a big secret or anything. I stopped dating because I got married..."

Harry felt a pang of...what? Envy? He couldn't identify the feeling, but he did know that he did not at all like the idea of Draco being married. But wait...he's not wearing a ring. Does that mean?

"...and then I got divorced."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Harry said, though he didn't actually feel sorry. It was just the polite thing to say.

"I'm not," Draco said. "I knew it wouldn't last. I mean, what wife is going to stay with a gay husband?"

"You're gay?"

"Don't tell me you didn't know that, Potter. Everyone at Hogwarts knew."

"Well, I didn't. So why did you marry a woman if you're gay?"

"It's a pure-blood thing, Potter. I wanted an heir. You won't understand."

"You don't have to marry to a woman to have a kid, Malfoy. You could just adopt."

"I know that, but let's just say Mother wanted a grandchild the traditional way and I couldn't say no..."

"Hmmm...So you have a kid," Harry said. And there was that pang again...definitely envy this time.

"Yeah, he's just a year old."

"And he lives with you?"

"Of course...His mother isn't particularly interested in being a part of his life."

"Oh! So, how do you manage? Isn't it too much work for one person?"

"I work from home, so I'm with him most of the time. And I have a house-elf to watch him when I can't and Mother helps out whenever she can, so we're okay."

"Does he look like you?" Harry said.

"Yes," Draco said with a smile that had a hint of pride in it and Harry found himself imagining what Draco would've looked like as a one year old and he realised that with that perfect skin and that silky blond hair and those ridiculously pink lips...he would've been very very cute.

"What's his name?"

"Scorpius," Draco said...and then he started talking about his son, the way parents tend to do, given a chance and Harry found himself surprised by the tenderness in Draco's voice as he talked about his son. It was obvious that he was a doting father, a fact that made him even more attractive to Harry than his looks that had already drawn his attention several times in the course of their conversation.

"I envy you," Harry said after a bit. "I wish I had a kid." And I wish I was with someone, he thought. He didn't say it, but Draco heard it anyway.

He sounds so wistful, he thought. He knew all about Harry's failed relationships, of course and he couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the man. It's such a pity, he thought. He may be a bit of a prat sometimes, but he's a good man and he'll make a good father. And a loving partner too, I'll bet.

Harry for his part, was thinking glumly about his life and wondering if he would ever have the life he wanted. He hated being alone. I never thought I'd see the day when I would be envious of Malfoy. He's alone too, but at least he has a kid, he thought as he stared into his glass. It was empty, but that didn't matter, because he didn't feel like drinking anymore.

Harry was pulled out of his thoughts rather abruptly when Romilda made her way to the bar and pounced on him with, "There you are! I was wondering where you'd got to. Why aren't you dancing? Come dance with me," she said, and she stood there fluttering her eyelashes and looking expectantly at him. Harry was acutely uncomfortable. If this was a man, he would've turned him down coolly. He would've known how to turn him down politely while making his disinterest perfectly obvious.

Harry knew how to deal with a bloke, but he still hadn't learnt how to deal with a woman, particularly one as persistent as Romilda who seemed to have made it her mission in life to hit on him every chance she got. He noticed Draco watching him with an amused smile on his face and he had an idea. It was crazy and reckless, like his ideas usually were, and it had the potential to blow up quite spectacularly in his face, but something told him that it wouldn't.

So he put on his nicest smile and said, "I'm sorry, Romilda, but I've just asked Malfoy to dance with me, so I'll see you on the dance floor, yeah?"

And then he turned to Draco and held out his hand...