I do believe I was promised cupcakes...

Cupcakes aside, thank you to all reviewers thus far, though I would appreciate a few more. It's such a satisfying feeling just to know that someone read this, whether you hated it or loved it or some ambivalent feeling in between the two. So please, drop just a few words in the review box. I'll love you forever. Promise.

Harry stood up, brushing black hair out of his eyes. "Wait for me a minute," he called as he disappeared into another room. A few flakes of white paint fluttered to the ground as the door closed behind him.

Draco sat on his chair, motionless, listening to the rummaging sounds and thinking to himself. Did I just...is he coming back because of me-

Harry burst back into the main room with a bounce in his step that had not been there before. He still wore his faded jeans and plain tee shirt but he carried his wand with its phoenix feather core. He smiled proudly and said, "I haven't so much as looked at this in months. I used to take it out quite often, just to look at it and convince myself it wasn't all in my imagination."

He swished it and watched the varicoloured sparks that shot out from its tip. "I suppose it wasn't all a dream, then."

Draco watched him walk purposefully out of the small apartment and sat there for a minute, collecting his thoughts before jumping up and chasing after him. Draco caught him just as he was leaving the building.

"Rash as always, I see." He managed his signature drawl despite having to walk at a near-run to keep up. "Not that I care, but what are you planning on doing?"

Harry stopped abruptly, setting Draco a few paces ahead before he noticed. "I don't quite know, to be honest." He started walking again. "I don't care, either. But I want a butterbeer, so I suppose I'm headed to The Leaky Cauldron after I pick up some money."

"One more question."

"What?"

"Why in Merlin's name are we walking?"

"Oh. Right. Meet you at Gringotts." Harry looked around for a second, ducked into an alley, and disapparated with a loud crack. Draco, newly irritated, moved to do the same but noticed just in time the curious stares he was getting from passerby and decided it would be best to find another, less obtrusive alley.

The next chance he got was in the bathroom of a bar. It reeked of stale vomit and badly aimed urine. There was someone already in the place, a large, burly bear of a man who, it seemed, had taken refuge in the bar to escape the earlier rain and decided not to leave. Draco stared at his back until he left, obviously discomfited.

Finally the blonde disapparated to Diagon Alley, landing just under the statue. He glared up at it for a moment and then turned only to see a crowd of people around the Leaky Cauldron. Apparently their returning saviour had already made his trip to Gringotts. He probably hadn't missed anything anyway, he mused. It was remarkably hard to make a goblin show any kind of emotion other than vague distaste.

He approached the throng warily, listening to snippets of their conversations. "Did you hear? It's Harry-", "He's back!", "It's just a rumour.", "Bad for business, all this tumult-"

Growing tired of their jabbering, he pushed through the mass of confused witches and wizards to the front where he saw Harry sitting calmly on a wooden bar stool sipping at a frothing mug. "Potter!"

Harry turned and saw Draco standing a few feet away at the very edge of the clear circle that surrounded him. He grinned wryly. "Here, sit down. I saved you a seat."

"What are you doing, Potter?"

"Making headlines, Malfoy. Other than that, I'm having a drink and vaguely wishing that either the drink was stronger or that everyone here," he gestured vaguely, "would shove off and let me have it in peace."

A few people murmured embarrassedly and made their way through the crowd back to their own worries but most were too drawn in by the spell of seeing someone they had thought dead. They whispered to each other, private suspicions confirmed and new speculations being created.

One man pushed himself through and launched himself at Harry. "Mr. Potter, if I could have just a moment of your time," he didn't wait for a reply. "My name is Attulus Smith; I work for the Wizarding Voice, an up and coming alternative Wizarding World newspaper. Would you please answer a few questions? The entire populace is already buzzing about your return."

"Well, you see, the thing is-"

"Mr. Potter will answer your questions later in an exclusive interview. If you spread the word to the other reporters to stay away, that is. See what you can do about this crowd, as well, though I don't have high hopes for that one. Now go. You will be contacted later, Mr. Smith."

Attulus scurried off, stopping to talk to another man with a camera around his neck on the way. The second one glared at him resentfully but turned and pushed his way back through the crowd.

"What was that?"

"Oh, no, not a problem at all, Potter. I'm happy you help you out any day since you obviously can't handle this by yourself. On that note, buy me a drink and we can work out my fees."

"What!"

"You didn't think I'd help you for free, did you. Oh, youthful naiveté."