A/N: Honestly a bit fucked up I never published this chapter or the next one. I've had chapter five finished since 2019. Don't expect too many updates, I'm busy with school and stuff, but I'm still working on this, I swear.

"Hey, thanks for coming," Harry said as he sat down at the table. "And for getting me this Butterbeer. Although I might need something stronger."

"It's fine," Ginny waved in his direction, dismissing his apologetic tone. "We have the week off anyway."

"Really? How's the season going?" Harry sipped his Butterbeer. He would definitely need something stronger, at the very least later in the evening. "I saw you did well last weekend, but honestly, I've been too busy to keep up properly. And you," he said accusatively, "haven't been sending me any owls at all."

"I'm busy too, you know," Ginny said. "The season's going… fine. More wins than losses, but honestly, we've lost too many of our star players this year. Miller transferred to the Cannons, of all teams, Esse retired, Green is coaching another team now… It's frustrating. But I'm not here to talk about the Harpies' season. So." She shot him a meaningful look. "Why am I here?"

"Well," Harry admitted, "you're one of the few people I'm close to that I can't predict. Ron would say to my situation that I should just leave it alone, let it develop by itself. Hermione would say that I should confront it head on. And I guess I just… well, it's been a while."

"It has," Ginny said, smiling softly. "I missed you."

"Me too," Harry said, smiling back. He grabbed her hand. "I'm glad we can still talk. I don't know what I would do if we couldn't."

"Neither do I," Ginny admitted. "But this isn't what you wanted to talk about either."

"No, it isn't," Harry said. "I'm just… It's a little awkward to admit."

Ginny squinted in his direction, clearly reading him, and probably seeing right through him. "This is about Malfoy, isn't it?"

Harry nodded. "I see him all the time. And he's hard to get off my mind. And I have the feeling he's just… ignoring me. Like he can't stand to look at me."

"Well," Ginny said carefully. "The last time you saw him regularly was at his trial. That's gotta be a big change. You're his colleague, but you have all this unpleasant history. Seven years of hating each other aren't just going to go away."

"Right, and I know that, objectively," Harry said. "But I can't help but feel like there's something more here. And I also can't help but obsess over it."

"Careful, Harry. You don't want to fall into old habits," Ginny warned.

"You mean…"

"I mean," Ginny sighed. "You remember how you got with Malfoy in my fifth year – your sixth. It wasn't healthy!"

"Yeah, but also, I was right!" Harry argued. "Nobody believed me, but I was absolutely right!"

"I know that," Ginny said. "But the problem was never the fact that other people didn't believe you. It's how you let that… obsession take over your life. You considered missing Quidditch games, Harry! Just promise me you won't let him do that to you again."

"I promise," Harry said earnestly. "I won't become obsessed with Malfoy, and I won't let him take over my life. I just want to know why he acts so skittish around me. And before you say anything," Harry added quickly, "I genuinely don't think it's because of the trial, or our school years. He used to be so much more confrontational. You remember."

"I do," Ginny admitted. "I just… I worry about you."

"I know. But… I'm better now. Hogwarts has been good for me."

Ginny smiled. Despite the fact that they were broken up, Harry did still love her, although he wasn't in love with her anymore, and it made him happy to see such a genuinely joyful expression on her face. "I know. I can see it. But the War left its mark on all of us, y'know? I can't help but worry."

"Hey, don't, because then I'll have to worry about you, too," Harry joked. Ginny smacked his arm. "Ow! Not fair, you've been training nonstop for the past half a decade!"

Ginny smirked. "I know. You coming home for Christmas?"

"Of course," Harry replied. "I'm terrified of what your mother would do to me if I didn't."

"Good boy," Ginny said.

Draco had taken the night off and Apparated to Theodore Nott's house. One of the few Slytherins in his year not to die or get sent to Azkaban, along with himself, Daphne, and Pansy Parkinson, they spent quite a lot of time together. Mostly, they got high or drunk and tried to forget how horrible life is, and since Draco didn't have to teach in the morning, he elected to do just that tonight as well. Daphne joined them, as well as Blaise Zabini, who had recently been released from Azkaban, not having the fortune of Harry Potter testifying on his behalf during his trial. By the time Draco was fully on his way to blessed forgetfulness, the event had somehow turned into an actual party; it seemed Zabini invited a few people, who in turn invited a few people, and so on and so forth. Draco was mostly surprised that anybody would want to come to a party with ex-Death Eaters, but felt more and more detached from the emotion as time went by.

Despite what people thought, debauchery was never one of his flaws, not until after the War, after the trials, after the majority of his family's assets were confiscated, after all that trouble he went to try and integrate into Wizarding society, after failing miserably. He hated his life, even now, as a Hogwarts teacher; he should say, he hated his life more and more. To be confronted with the success stories that were Potter and Longbottom, every day – it was torture.

"Hey," Daphne said gently, finding him sitting on the floor in a secluded corner of the house. She was holding a cup, which she gave to Draco, who tasted it, only to discover that it was water. "Drink that. You need to sober up," she chided. "You can't show up to Hogwarts tomorrow with a hangover and expect McGonagall to ignore it."

"I didn't drink," Draco said. "I took a pill."

"Merlin," Daphne sighed. "What was it?"

"No idea," Draco said honestly. "Zabini gave it to me. I took it. I feel… floaty."

"Hey, listen," Daphne said. "I know a spell that'll sober you up. But it's not a pleasant feeling."

Draco waved in her direction. "I trust you."

"That's sweet," Daphne said. Before she performed the spell, she Summoned a bucket, which appeared in his lap. The next moment, Draco was throwing up violently.

"What the fuck, Daphne," he said once he was done, wiping his mouth. "What. The. Fuck."

"I told you it was unpleasant."

"Ugh."

"C'mon, I'll take you home."

"Can't. It's Warded. We'll have to Apparate on the doorstep."

"Obviously it's Warded," Daphne said, sounding confused. "You live at Hogwarts."

"No," Draco said. He didn't want to go back to Hogwarts. He couldn't. "If you insist on Apparating with me, we're going to my apartment."

Daphne sighed. "Fine. C'mon, get up."

With great difficulty – his muscles felt incredibly weak after Daphne's spell – Draco did just that. He held on tightly to Daphne's arms. He felt the choking feeling associated with Apparition, and next thing he knew, he was just outside his apartment.

"Let me in," Daphne was saying. "I'll make you tea."

Draco put his palm on the door, and it swung open.

"Impressive," Daphne said. "Are you the only person who can open it?"

"No," Draco said, but didn't elaborate. "The tea's in the second drawer next to the sink."

"Great. Go ahead, sit down," Daphne said. Draco took offense to the fact that he was being told what to do in his own house, but he had also just spent several minutes throwing up, and he thought it was probably in his best interests to do just that. He made his way to the couch, which was just long enough to stretch his entire length on by lying down, and he did just that. He'd spent many night sleeping on this very couch over the past four years. Out of habit, he nearly nodded off right there, but Daphne was making such a racket in the kitchen making him a simple cup of tea he found it impossible to do so.

It's possible she was being so unnecessarily noisy for that very purpose, but that was ludicrous. How would Daphne even know about his sleeping arrangements? She'd never been here before.

Suddenly, a cup of tea appeared before him, and, blinking, he took it from Daphne. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"You're very welcome," Daphne said. "Wouldn't want Harry Potter think you were drinking to forget him."

"First thing, I wasn't drunk, I was high," Draco pointed out. "Secondly, fuck you."

Daphne raised her arms in surrender. "Hey, you're the one sending me owl mail in the middle of the night about the man."

"I can't afford him as a distraction," Draco said. "And he's…"

"Very, very distracting," Daphne agreed. "I've seen pictures of him in the Daily Prophet. Honestly, I wouldn't be able to keep my pants on around him."

"You – " Draco sighed. "You know what? It doesn't matter. Even if – it doesn't matter. Because people don't just get over the War. Potter sure hasn't."

"How do you know?"

"I can feel him… glaring at me. All the time. His eyes are going to burn a hole in my skull." Draco took a sip of the tea and groaned in bliss. "Perfect."

"I know," Daphne said, sounding rather satisfied.

"Anyway," Draco downed the majority of his tea, grabbed a coaster from the pile he kept on his coffee table at all times, and put down his drink. He then sank back into the cushioned seat, rested his head, and closed his eyes. "He doesn't trust me. He probably even hates me. The other day… I forgot your letter in the staff room. He was there making himself some tea, and… he stared at me… the entire time I was doing it. He doesn't trust me! He doesn't. I bet – " Draco yawned. "I bet as we speak he's investigating me again."

Daphne snorted. "I'm pretty sure he's too busy for that. Didn't you tell me that you barely have any time for yourself now?"

"I made time to go to… fuckin… Theodore Nott's party, didn't I?"

"C'mon, Draco," Daphne said softly. She took his hand. "You know he isn't following you around, or spying on you. Why are you trying so hard to convince himself he is?"

Draco squeezed her hand. "I'm so tired, Daphne."

"I know, hon. C'mon." Draco and she shifted, and he rested his head on her stomach. "Get some sleep. I'll be here in the morning."

Draco's sleep was as dreamless as one induced by a potion.

Endnotes: Reviews give me life and motivate me more than anything else. A favorite goes a long way, too.