Well, I've ignored this for long enough. Thank you to those who have already reviewed, and thank you to any who do so in the future. I love you all :D

Harry blinked once and stood up slowly. He stood for a minute, looking down at Draco through a mop of unruly black hair before turning and walking over to the range. He took a dented black kettle off its shelf before pausing for a minute and putting it back.

"No tea after all, then?"

"I don't have any tea bags. I ran out last week."

"Transfigure something."

"I can't." Harry's voice was clipped, fraught with lingering regret and sorrow. "I haven't used magic since…since…you know when. Since the day they decided I deserved that statue you told me about."

He laughed a hollow chuckle. "I have a statue. And I never even knew about it. You know, I haven't even spoken to my friends since then. I made new ones, of course, but they can't compare. There's always something missing. I have to sift through everything I say before I say it, lest something unintended slip out."

Draco watched as the other man walked back to the table, sat down, and began to pick at the scored wood.

"I can't say I understand you. What's a little public adoration? You could be rich, powerful, loved by everyone. I would kill for my old power. I very nearly did. But I suppose you know all about that."

"I don't, actually. I fell behind on Wizarding World news a few years ago, as you might imagine. Having owls flying into and out of my window would attract the neighbours' attention, I'm afraid."

"Well quite simply they accused me of following Voldemort. Apparently a neutral stance wasn't good enough for them and I was their natural scapegoat, son of a Death Eater and all." He sniffed haughtily. "They took everything. Well, nearly. I came out of it intact, after all, which was more than some of them would have wished."

His elegant features wrinkled in open disgust. "Now I work with Muggles," he spat angrily. "They couldn't find somewhere lower to put me, so I'm in Muggle relations. Muggle Relations. Dear daddy would be proud."

Harry chewed his lower lip for a minute, unsure of what to say. His forehead creased as he frowned momentarily before bursting into laughter.

"I fail to find my plight entertaining."

"It's not yours, it's ours."

"What?'

"We were always so different. I hated you, you hated me, and we lived on fine like that. I was the poster boy of the light and you were everything they told me to hate. You were pompous and snotty, rich and spoiled. I suppose I was, too. I just didn't realize it at the time.

"Now we're both here, in my ratty old apartment. We're both poor, cut off from family funds, both lacking Wizarding acceptance, living and working among muggles, and both bloody miserable about it, too. Or am I wrong?"

"The only difference is that you chose your little hell-hole, Potter."

Harry jumped to his feet angrily. "What else was I supposed to do?" He shouted? "Stay there and pose for pictures in the streets? They didn't want me, they wanted their saviour. They wanted me to sit politely in a corner until they needed photos, maybe write a book, sign some autographs. Half of them didn't trust me, anyway. They thought I was set to be the next Voldemort, a power-crazed teenager only suitable for locking away in a dark room somewhere to be forgotten until the glory faded and I got over myself."

"It's not going to fade, though. Not even now that you're," he hesitated for a moment, "for all intents and purposes dead. The Daily Prophet has a monthly column about you. It's full of sightings. Some batty witch in Edinburgh claimed she spoke with you last month."

"She probably did."

"Yet you don't care. I suppose it's a good thing for you that most people dismiss that all as nonsense. I did, too.

They're going to figure it out sooner or later, you know. Eventually someone like me is going to come along and expose you. Someone who doesn't care. Someone who wants to use you to get back everything they lost in that godforsaken war."

"Why don't you? You haven't told me that."

"Why don't I? I don't know. Maybe I will after all. Then precious Potter would get back his fan club and his fortune and I would regain…something. Why don't you? You're miserable here, and you claim you would be miserable there. What's it to you one way or another?"

Harry stood up abruptly. "Nothing." He laughed, but sincerely this time, the subtle lines on his face creasing the corners of his eyes. "It's nothing to me. I'm going to Gringotts. I might as well make a reappearance there. Are you coming?"