Most would believe the story begins with the birth of one Harry James Potter; some, with a tad more intellect, would think it begins with the birth of one Draco Lucius Malfoy.

Both would be wrong; this tale begins with death, the death of a Dark Lord.

Grindelwald.

Though our story begins and ends with a lover's death, eighteen-year-old Harry is blissfully unaware. Unaware of love- not the warm, brotherly kind, but the one that sparks in him, burning through him like fire. Unaware of longing -of people that would soon turn to memories, of a childhood that could never be.

Nonetheless, it does not do to start a tale at the end, and so this tale shall go, as all tales go, with the sacred phrase-

Once upon a time…

Harry, after defeating Voldemort two years ago, after starting and ending his Auror-career a year ago, after starting out as a Thestral breeder a few months ago, was finally doing what he had always wanted to do. Daydreaming.

Harry felt he had earned the warmth and peace surrounding him, figuratively at least. Literally, he was surrounded by dense woods, a sturdy house, pieces of raw meat, and a herd of thestrals eating the said pieces of raw meat. In his mind, it was perfect, and what a large part of him thought he deserved. All those who had seen his childhood would agree; they would also fail to recognise him.

Though Harry had the same green eyes and skinny limbs, his mop of hair had grown into an unruly bun, with more hair out of it than in. The clothes were still just as baggy, but this time- it looked like it had been bought with him in mind. With his peaceful face, he looked like he completely belonged in the forest.

Along with the cool breeze, a crash resounded in the woods. Harry's restful face turned into a scowl. As he leaped over the fallen branches, heading towards the site of the sound, the resigned air about him hinted it wasn't the first time. Nor was it the second, third, or fourth.

A creature was surrounded by fallen tree branches; it was a baby Thestral- a foal whose wings were small enough it looked like a flying dog rather than a horse.

"Bucky, I understand you're at the stage where you test out your wings— ", Harry carefully inspected the wings and legs, "—But remember not to venture into this side."

Bucky's neigh was as good as a no. He would have to set aside the branches later today. Thestrals had the natural self-preservation instinct, a trait he had found completely lacking in Bucky. Fortunately, Bucky wasn't seriously hurt – though it would be a good idea to visit St. Mungo's.

Wrapping Bucky in a blanket, Harry picked him up. Bucky was small enough that it looked like Harry was carrying a large barrel with a head and a tail.

After securing the remaining of the herd, he swiftly arrived at St. Mungo's. He made his way to the kiosk, carefully carrying Bucky with him.

As soon as the desk-lady (after the first time, Harry took care not to blurt it out) saw him, she waved her arm to the right, "Healer Potts is free right now."

The first time Desk-lady had seen him, he had been panicking over Bucky's birth. That had stripped off the awe 'Harry Potter' held. Perhaps it also had something to do with his attire- it contrasted with a hero's image so much that all eyes slid over him, ignoring his presence completely.

After entering the same dingy room he had visited twice before, he felt comfortable enough in the routine to leave Bucky at the hands of the trusty Healer and go off to pay the fee.

The bare hallway held only a few healers, St. Mungo's wasn't at peak- After all, Hogwarts was still in session. As he walked past a turning, he heard a frantic shout of 'Catch the toe! Don't let it get away!'. Harry muffled a laugh, perhaps they meant 'toad'?

He stumbled into a Healer, and sent all the files flying to the floor. He shouldn't have focused so much on that shout! Embarrassed, eyes set at the ground; he handed a few files to the Healer.

"I'm sorr-Malfoy?!", Harry couldn't believe what he saw.

'It's Malfoy in Healer robes, the strips on the sleeve mark him as a high-ranking healer', his eyes insisted. His brain, on the other hand, was stuck on 'It's Malfoy.'

"You…work here?", Malfoy was waving his wand around- getting the files to organise themselves; acting as if Harry wasn't standing there, with his outstretched hand holding a bundle of files.

"What?", he said, making a show of turning around. While his tone wasn't friendly, it wasn't hostile either.

"Nothing, never mind- "Harry handed over the files,"—here."

Malfoy silently accepted them, continuing to organise the files. He had changed too. With his hair in a loose ponytail, the few blond strands framing his face were the only things that prevented his resemblance to his father from becoming uncanny. That, his earring and the way he held himself.

Okay, Harry admitted, it suited Malfoy. The last time he'd seen Malfoy, both of them had been haggard, that had been immediately after the War. Malfoy now looked perfectly put-together, if tired. He looked like a weight had been lifted off his head and placed on his shoulders.

"-Hat?", Malfoy asked.

"Huh?", a hat wouldn't suit this Malfoy.

"What?", Malfoy asked again.

"What what?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes and turned away; all of his files were floating. Wait, when had he taken the files from his hand? Evidently, Harry had been lost in thought. Both of them were heading in the same direction. He willed his embarrassment away. He had no obligation to talk. He wished Malfoy would take his eyes off him.

"Yes, I work here- Mental Health Executive.", Malfoy hummed. Both his platinum earring and hair glinted as they rounded a corner.

"Ah. Congratulations.", Harry had no idea what that was.

"You have no idea what that is."

"Uh, psychology? Maybe?", Why was Harry even bothering? This was bound to offend Malfoy.

Malfoy puffed out a surprised huff, it slightly loosened his posture.

"No, no, definitely not psychology-", Malfoy smirked, "-you're here for your thestrals?"

"Yes."

That didn't feel like the proper reply, Harry wondered if the walk to the desk had always been so long.

"Since he is a foal, he flies clumsily.", he continued.

Malfoy let out another puff, a single blond strand framed his cheek.

"Does he take after you-", his peculiarly courteous tone was at odds with the insult. This wasn't as shocking as what he said next, "—want to see?"

What.

Malfoy had turned around to face him. In complete contrast to his almost glowing earring, his eyes were lifeless. Annoyance sparked in him when he realised it was a joke.

"Sure, today itself?"

This time, Malfoy fumbled, dropping the files.

"Why not now?" said Malfoy, recovering quickly.

When they picked up the files again, perhaps it was a trick of light, but Malfoy's face looked brighter.

Of course, neither of them knew it then- but this marked the beginning of a phenomenal friendship. One that would last beyond time, and save the world of many. One, that could, perhaps, evolve into love.

Harry set out the pans, debating which one could face the harshest treatment. Because, undoubtedly, the food would burn today.

After meeting Malfoy in St. Mungo's a couple of months ago, Harry found it hard to explain how it had evolved to this.

Most days, Malfoy would drop in and bring ingredients with him. On a whim, they would enter the muggle world, or, the international wizarding world. As a rule, they avoided places where they would be recognised, so Magical Britain was a no go.

So far, they had snuck into a theatre, an amusement park, the fashion market of Paris (Harry shuddered), various supermarkets and malls, Spain's –

Someone was standing behind the door.

"Come on, you beast, don't eat it the bag!"

Ah, Malfoy's voice. Harry opened the door and completely ignored the drama. All of Malfoy's extravagance was rubbing onto Bucky, there was no other explanation for the spectacle before him.

(There was, but thinking about it would mean Malfoy wasn't the sole cause of his troubles.)

Currently, Malfoy was attempting to pull a cloth bag from Bucky's jaws, and Bucky had a bread loaf as a cap and…

Harry lost his composure.

"Why does Bucky have antlers?!"

"He always had antlers!"

"What? No! He never had antlers!"

"What an idiot Potter, how can you even see through these.", said Malfoy, snatching away his spectacles, "Oh wait, you can't."

Snatching his spectacles back after Malfoy wiped them, Harry donned them just in time to see Bucky's antlers transfigure into a pair of chopsticks atop his ears.

"I can see well enough," Harry continued before Malfoy could interrupt, "Don't cast spells on Bucky, Malfoy!'

"I didn't, Mother.", Malfoy grinned," Your hysteria is hilarious."

"You're rubbing off me.", Harry grumbled, "-why do we even have chopsticks?"

"Why, thank you— ", Malfoy spread his arms wide, "—I'm flattered to know I'm your role mod- "

Harry shut the door.

"-del.", Malfoy finished, having apparated inside.

They set up the noodles to boil (Bucky's jaws had had no effect on them), and wandered back into the living room.

"So, tell me why these sticks— ", Malfoy held them as wands, "—are called 'chop' sticks, again? They aren't sharp enough to chop anything!"

Grinning, Harry seized a chopstick and poked Malfoy in the back, "Are you sure? You look soft enough to chop."

Malfoy abruptly became serious. "Potter, is this a declaration of war I see?"

And that was how, half an hour later, they found themselves dousing out a fire and ordering take-out.

"You know, these chopsticks are chopping my pride to bits.", said Harry as he dropped another 'chop-ful' of the noodles they'd ordered.

"Forks?", asked Malfoy.

"Forks.", Harry agreed.

Malfoy walked away to get a pair of forks. Just then, an owl came swooping in. The owl dashed away as soon as Harry managed to untie the envelope.

"That was a Hogwarts owl, who is it from?", Malfoy was leaning against the doorway, expression no longer relaxed.

He turned the envelope over: with the Hogwarts Insignia was McGonagall's writing, it read

'To Harry Potter,

From Dumbledore.'

And it was here, eighteen-year-old blissfully unaware Harry started becoming aware of what the future held for him.