The tinkling of a bell warned Harry that he had a customer and he called out "Be right with you!" as he quickly finished the paragraph he was reading. Slipping a bookmark between the pages, he stood up and wandered towards the front of the shop.
One look at the sleek white-blond hair and he knew who his customer was. Or rather, who his customers were, as there happened to be two heads of sleek white-blond hair milling about the store.
"Good morning, young Mr. Malfoy," he said, smiling at the shorter of the heads, his smile turning into a smirk as he looked at the taller head. "Lord Malfoy."
"Potter!"
Seeing the astonishment in those silver-gray eyes was well worth the interruption of his book, Harry thought as he nodded. "The one and only."
"But. . . what are you doing here?"
Harry looked around at the thousands of boxes lining the walls and bit back a grin. "I don't know what you'd call it, but it looks to me like I'm selling wands."
"This can't be right." Draco glanced around him as if half expecting flobberworms to start falling from the ceiling. "Maybe we should leave and come in again."
"Go right ahead, but I should warn you, I'll still be here."
"Dad, what's wrong?" the youngest Malfoy asked, gazing with concern up at his father, and Draco smiled.
"Nothing, son," he answered, eyes slowly traveling back up to Harry. "I just wasn't expecting to find the famous Harry Potter selling wands in Diagon Alley."
"Harry Potter? As in THE Harry Potter?" the boy asked, jaw nearly dropping to the floor. "But. . . but you're the greatest seeker in Quidditch history! You can't be selling wands!"
"And yet I am," Harry said with a gentle smile. "I take it you're a fan?"
"Oh, yeah! I've studied you ever since my father taught me how to fly. We've been to all of your games! We were even there at that one when the bludger smashed your hand and split your head open and there was blood gushing everywhere and even though it was clear you were barely able to keep your broom in the air, you still caught the Snitch! Dad said it was the single most magnificent and idiotic thing he'd ever seen! You should have been there when you fell--I mean, I know you were there, but should have been with us--Dad nearly cursed the whole stadium trying to reach you."
Harry arched an eyebrow as Draco quickly wrapped a hand over his son's mouth. "The whole stadium?"
A slight flush crept up the pale skin. "Just the ones in my way. I was. . . concerned. I didn't want my son's hero to expire right before his eyes."
"I've survived worse things than a determined bludger."
For a moment, the gray eyes grew shadowed. "I know," he said softly and Harry shook his head, quickly clearing the air.
"That's another story for another time. Never, to be precise. Tell me, young Mr. Malfoy—"
"James," the blond-haired boy interrupted. "My name is James."
Harry's eyes flicked to Draco, who was staring resolutely at the wall of wands. "James, then. And you may call me Harry."
James's face lit up at the idea of being on a first-name basis with his idol. "Harry," he grinned.
"Excellent. Now tell me, what is it you're here for?"
"I don't know what you'd call it, but it looks to me like we're trying to buy a wand," Draco said dryly, echoing Harry's earlier words and was rewarded with a chuckle.
"I suppose I deserved that. But as I recall, James already has a wand."
"Had," the elder Malfoy said, frowning at his former rival. "And how did you know?"
Harry tapped the side of his head. "Ollivander. It was the strangest thing. I was taking a trip down memory lane and decided to pay him a visit. The instant I stepped inside, it was like he was expecting me. He welcomed me in, and tapped me three times on my temple, saying the first was an inventory of past purchases, the second an inventory of current stock, and the third everything else I would need to know about the store. He then wished me luck, grabbed his suitcase, and I haven't seen him since."
"Odd way to inherit a shop," Draco grinned, and Harry laughed.
"You're telling me, but I rather like it here," he said, glancing around the store. "It's peaceful, out of the way without being reclusive, and it gives me plenty of time to catch up on my reading. Did you know that 'Hogwarts: A History' is actually one of the best books I've ever encountered?"
"Let me guess," Draco said with a roll of his eyes, "a gift from Granger."
"Good guess. But don't tell her I said that--I'll never hear the end of it."
"You don't have to worry about that," Draco chuckled. "I don't see her as much as I used to. I quit my job at the Ministry after James's mother passed so I could spend more time with him. However, now that James is about to head off to school, I'm hoping I can start working again."
The green eyes darkened as Harry spotted the well-hidden sorrow in Draco's words. "I was sorry to hear about your wife," he said softly. "I met her a couple of times, and she was a lovely woman, always so warm and light-hearted."
"Yes," the widower nodded, his hand on his son's shoulder. "She is greatly missed, but I think we've been able to manage pretty well on our own. Right, James?" Draco sent the boy a heartening smile, and it was returned with enthusiasm.
"Yeah, so long as you don't try to cook," the boy said, a traditional Malfoy sneer crossing his face, and Harry had to laugh at the thought of his arch nemesis standing over a stove.
"Don't worry," Draco chuckled balefully. "I've learned my lesson. Rebuilding the kitchen once was more than enough."
"James," Harry said, winking conspiratorially at the boy, "I think you and I need to have a little talk. I'm trying to picture your father doing household chores, and somehow, I just can't quite see it."
"Too bad we don't have the time," Draco quickly said before James could get started, and his son nodded.
"We've got a lot of shopping to do. I'm starting at Hogwarts this year and we're picking up all my supplies," James said.
"Are you now?" Harry said, crouching in front of the boy. "Your father and I were at Hogwarts together and if you're anything like we were, I think you'll like it. Are you excited?"
"Oh, yeah! I can't wait to get sorted. I want to be a Gryffindor, just like you!" Draco cleared his throat at this and James rolled his eyes. "Dad doesn't approve. He thinks I should be in Slytherin like the rest of the family."
"I'm sure you'd do well in both Houses," Harry said diplomatically, then leaned forward to whisper loudly in the boy's ear, "but between you and me, I think you're definitely Gryffindor material."
"Stop trying to corrupt my son, Potter," Draco growled, but there was a twinkle in his eyes that took the sting out of his words.
"Just trying to set the boy on the right path, Malfoy," Harry said, his face a mask of pure innocence.
"Considering James's destructive inclination, I'd say he's already heading that way."
"I'm a bit of a klutz," James said without any hint of shame. "Just like my mum, or so dad tells me."
"And thus the need for a new wand," Draco nodded.
"What happened to your old one?" Harry asked, and the boy turned red as he stared down at his feet, shuffling them slightly in his embarrassment.
"I sort of went flying without permission and it totally wasn't my fault, but this wind blew up and I couldn't keep my balance and my wand broke when I fell."
"You've kind of lost me there, James. How, exactly, is that not your fault?" Harry asked, trying to keep the amusement from his voice.
"Clearly if the wind hadn't caused me to fall, I wouldn't need a new wand!"
"And if you hadn't been flying without permission," Draco said darkly, "there wouldn't have been any wind to worry about in the first place."
"I know, sir. I'm sorry." The young man looked up at his father, his bright blue eyes shimmering with guilt, and Draco sighed, hand squeezing his son's shoulder. Harry smiled at the pair, his heart warming at the sight of them. He couldn't help thinking that if his father had lived, he'd have wanted him to be just like Draco--a thought that would have knocked him over flat ten years ago.
"I know you are," Draco said, "and you're forgiven. Now, about your wand. . ."
"James, I have just the wand for you." Standing up, Harry surveyed the inventory with a critical eye, then beckoned towards the box he was looking for with his finger. The box slid out of place and floated gently down to the waiting men.
"Cool!" James said, wide-eyed at Harry's use of wandless magic, and even Draco seemed impressed.
"Side-effect," Harry shrugged, the look he gave Draco informing him exactly what this was a side-effect of, and the blond nodded. Harry opened the box and held out the contents for James. "Tell me what you think of this one."
The boy lifted out a nine-inch wand made of Aspen, and a smile spread across his face.
"I feel like it knows me!" he said, looking excitedly from Harry to his father.
"That's a good sign," Harry nodded. "The wand's core consists of the feather from a griffin and the sliver of a scale from a basilisk. I can already tell it suits you."
"Basilisk scale?" Draco asked, arching an eyebrow. "Isn't that a little. . . unusual? And of course, by unusual, I mean dangerous."
"It isn't dangerous, Dad," James said with a hint of awe in his voice as he examined his new wand. "It's perfect."
"Why don't you give it a try?" Harry said while mentally shielding the merchandise. He'd learned from his very first visit to Ollivander's what kind of damage the wrong wand could do, and didn't want to risk having to spend the rest of the afternoon cleaning up the mess. "Just flick it a little and see what happens."
James flicked the wand as he was told and a shower of sparks erupted from the tip, filling the room with a silver glow. "Bloody hell, Dad! Did you see that?"
"Watch your language," Draco said, though he was smiling as he looked at his son. "And yes, I saw that. I think we've just found your new wand. Excellent choice, Potter."
"I haven't gotten one wrong yet," Harry said with a hint of pride.
"You've got a knack for reading people. You always did," Draco said as he handed over the galleons for the wand and, startled, Harry met his eyes.
"Was that a compliment, Malfoy?"
"Call it what you will," he said indifferently, but his gaze was warm as he looked at Harry.
Sensing something about the way the two were staring at each other, James grabbed onto his father's hand. "Dad, we should take Harry to lunch with us!"
"Yes, Potter, do join us," Draco said, willing Harry to say yes with his eyes, which darkened in disappointment as Harry shook his head.
"I'm afraid I can't. With school starting, there are too many students needing to purchase a new wand, and I like to keep the shop available to them."
"I understand," Draco said, James's face falling at his father's acquiescence to Harry's refusal. "So we'll pick you up here at eight. If you won't join us for lunch, you can at least join us for dinner."
James's face brightened, and facing down not one, but two insistent Malfoys, Harry found he couldn't say no to the invitation.
"I would be delighted to join you for dinner," Harry smiled and was rewarded with a matching set of grins from both father and son.
"Cool! I can't wait to tell everyone I'm having dinner with Harry Potter!" James said, nearly bouncing with excitement. "Starting with Longbottom! Hey, Niles!" Spotting his friend through the window, James ran out into the street to start spreading the good news.
"You've just made his day," Draco said as the two men watched the enthusiastic exchange between the young men.
"Happy to oblige."
"Mine, too," Draco said, still keeping both eyes on his son, and Harry looked at him, studying the regal profile. "I was hoping I'd run into you, one day. I had a whole speech planned, but now that the time has come, I can't remember a word of it."
"You had a speech planned?"
"Rehearsed it every night before I fell asleep. Lot of good that did me."
"I've never actually been one for speeches," Harry said, eyes still on Draco's face. "Speeches require thinking, and you know me. I always act before I have time to think."
"Yes, I know." Slowly, Draco turned his head till he was facing Harry. "It's one of the qualities I've always admired about you." There was silence for a moment as the two men grew reacquainted with each other's presence, trying to see the person they remembered hidden beyond the trials of adulthood. "You're looking well, Potter."
"As are you," Harry nodded.
"The bludger did less damage than I thought," he said, lifting a finger to trace the scar along the right side of Harry's face.
"I'll let you be the one to get hit next time, and then we can talk about damage," Harry joked to hide the shiver that ran through his body at Draco's touch.
"I'll pass, thank you. Scars seem to become you. They'd look hideous on me."
"Wouldn't want to mar that perfect beauty?"
"Precisely," Draco said with the hint of a smile. "You're really coming tonight?"
"I said I would."
"Will you stay?"
"Draco—"
"Not just for the night. . ."
"Draco, I—"
"But forever?"
"Yes."
Both men were startled by the suddenness of his answer and looked away, embarrassed by the unexpected feeling of intimacy his response had created between them.
"I. . . I should go, grab James before he tells all of Diagon Alley," Draco said, looking again towards the window. "But I'll see you tonight?"
"Draco," Harry said, and the other man sharply drew in his breath at the sound of his name, turning to face the dark-haired wizard.
"Harry," he whispered, stepping forward until their mouths met in the sweetest of kisses, sending silver sparks through their veins directly to their hearts.
"Tonight," Harry smiled as they parted, and Draco nodded.
"Tonight."
"And every night thereafter."
His entire being flushing with pleasure, Draco stole one more quick kiss before leaving the shop to collect his son. Harry watched until both Malfoys vanished from his sight, then returned to the back of the shop. Sitting down in front of 'Hogwarts: A History', he opened it to the page where he'd left off, but didn't read a single word. From the glow in his eyes and the smile on his face, it was clear Harry's thoughts were with the boy who'd once been the plague of his youth but grew into the man who had become the joy of his future.
Completed June 22, 2004