I usually got a drink (or three) with Draco Malfoy on Thursday evenings. This Thursday was no exception. We were in a quiet pub in Muggle London, on the grounds that witches and wizards who hated him were less likely to find him there, and for once, I hadn't even tried to instigate a fight.

Draco Malfoy had genuinely become one of my friends - which was particularly noteworthy because I didn't really have very many friends these days - but he'd still been on the wrong side. Picking fights with him made me feel better about being friends with a former Death Eater, especially since he usually said the right things even when I pushed him. I'd spent five months waiting for the mask to slip; in that time, he'd occasionally tried to make excuses for himself, but he hadn't said anything to imply that he still thought of Muggleborns as scum or could have been tempted away from his job helping my brother track down dark witches and wizards at the Ministry.

That was probably as good as I could have expected, and I didn't think it was just an act. He struck me as a good liar, but he'd also gotten very drunk around me, and when I'd needled him then, he hadn't broken down and started being the pureblood supremacy prat he'd been in school.

I still didn't entirely trust him, not yet, but I was adjusting to the idea that he might not be a morally bankrupt asshole anymore.

"Do you want another, or are you ready to call it a night?" he asked after he'd drained the rest of his glass.

I looked down at my empty cup. It had been my second. He'd just finished his third. "Don't you have work tomorrow?" He shrugged. "If you can stick around a little longer, sure."

He grinned and grabbed my glass. I pushed the money for my drinks across the table and watched him lean on the bar while the bartender refilled our glasses. She said something to him as she set them down in front of him, and he threw back his head and laughed. When he'd turned around to start back toward me, she caught my eye and winked.

"What'd she say?" I asked. This wasn't our first time in this particular pub, and I liked this bartender - when she'd discovered that Draco was not, in fact, my boyfriend, she'd told me that he wanted to be and then started flirting with me herself. If I hadn't been so disillusioned with romance, I might have flirted back. Instead, I'd just told her that I had no idea why my parents had named me Astoria but that I liked her pixie haircut.

Draco's skin was fair enough that even though it was the middle of August and the pub was fairly dimly lit, the sudden glow in his cheeks was noticeable. "Nothing," he said, sliding into his seat and putting one of the glasses down in front of me. I was about to press him when he blurted out, "Your birthday is this weekend."

I stared at him. That was the last thing I'd expected him to say. "Yeah, I know it is. How did you know?"

"Your brother mentioned it."

"Oh."

He gulped down part of his beer and then shoved a hand into his bag. "I - look, it's not a big deal or anything, I was just in Diagon Alley the other day and…" He yanked out a package and handed it to me. "It's not a big deal," he repeated. "I just - I saw it and it made me think of you, I guess. So happy birthday."

I took it from him. I wasn't quite sure what to say - he'd even actually wrapped it.

Before I could gather my wits, he added, "Don't open it now - like I said, it's not a big deal. I just didn't want to forget to give it to you." He glanced down at the money. "It's fine," he said, shoving it back toward me. I opened my mouth, and he added, "Look, just call it part of your birthday present."

I could feel my face starting to get hot. I never minded drinking his beer when I was at his flat, but somehow, there was something in me that still balked a little at the idea of him buying me anything in public. It somehow felt different than raiding his fridge. "Thanks."

He shook his head. "It's not a big deal," he said for the fourth time.

"So you've said."

He snorted and picked up his glass. I did the same.

By the time we finished that round, I was genuinely drunk. It was also nearing 11:30pm, so I also knew that he probably couldn't stay out much later, which was unfortunate, because I wasn't quite ready to head home.

"You don't have time for another, do you?" I asked anyway. He twisted around to examine the clock. When he turned back to me, I could see the answer on his face. "It's fine," I said quickly. "Don't worry about it."

"No," he said quickly. "No, I just - I shouldn't have another, I have to be up at 7:30. If you want another, though, I'm good to sit here with you."

The right answer would have been that it was time to call it a night, because I really didn't need to drink any more than I already had and he had work the next day. I knew that.

"Okay," I said anyway. The smart response could go fuck itself. "But I'm paying for my drink."

He rolled his eyes, but he didn't object when I grabbed my glass off the table and made my way up to the bar. "Hey, Kate," I said. "Can I have another?"

She took my glass and started to refill it. "Just one?"

"Yeah. He has work tomorrow." I hesitated for a moment, and then asked, "What did you say to him before? He was smiling."

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows drew together in thought. "Oh," she said after a minute, taking the money I was handing over. "I was just teasing him about whether he's asked you out yet. He's easy to get a rise out of."

Three years ago, the idea that I would be sitting in a Muggle pub with Draco Malfoy while the bartender teased him for being "easy to get a rise out of" would have boggled my mind more than Voldemort really being gone had.

But there it was.

"I'm glad you're my friend," I told him as soon as I got back to the table. He jerked his head up to stare at me - he seemed genuinely startled. "I wish you hadn't been a Death Eater -"

"There it is," he muttered, though he didn't look away from me.

"- but I know you're trying to be a good person now, even though people keep trying to kill you for it, and - and I don't know. I keep waiting you to slip up and be an awful person again, but you keep - you keep not slipping up, not really." He had the strangest look on his face now, but I kept going. "And I really do know that it's been hard, but you keep doing it anyway, so you probably are a good person now, and I'm glad that you're my friend."

It took him a minute to respond, and when he did, he sounded vaguely like he had a cold. "I'm glad you're my friend, too, Astoria." I took a sip of my cider, and he shook his head. "Oh, fuck it - can I have half of that?" I poured some of my cider into his empty glass, and he grinned at me. "Cheers."

We didn't end up leaving until well after midnight. To my surprise, he didn't duck down the quiet side street the way he usually did; when I cocked my head to the side, he gave a good-natured shrug. "I should sober up a little before I try to Apparate. I'll walk you home."

"It's more than twenty blocks. Don't you have to be up in seven hours?"

He shrugged again. "I'll be fine. You probably shouldn't be walking alone, anyway - you can barely walk in a straight line."

He was exaggerating, but he wasn't exaggerating by enough for me to feel like arguing with him would be at all productive, so I let him fall into step with me without any further objection.

I'd just locked my door behind me when I heard the loud crack outside. I picked my way around the clutter on my floor to collapse onto my couch. Before I could open the package he'd given me, though, I heard a soft knock at the door adjoining my basement flat with the rest of my brother's house. I set the package aside and took the stairs two at a time.

When I opened the door, my brother Brendon was sitting at his kitchen table. He was wearing his pyjamas, but his eyes were as alert as ever. "Hey," he said softly. "I heard someone Apparate outside, and I just wanted to make sure that you were okay." When I slumped into the chair across from him, he let out a snort and pointed his wand toward the cabinet. "Drink this," he said, shoving a glass of water across the table.

I made a face at him. "Is it that obvious?"

"Mm. Tell me you weren't Apparating like this."

I shook my head. "No, it was my - it was just Draco. He walked me home." My brother's eyebrows rose, just a bit, and I sighed. He knew that Draco and I were at least sort of friends, and they clearly talked about me at least occasionally if my birthday had come up, but it still felt odd to admit to my war hero brother that I was friends with a former Death Eater.

True to form, though, Brendon didn't comment on my choice of company. Instead, he glanced at the clock and said, "He's got a meeting with me in about eight hours. If he's late because he was out drinking with my sister until one, I'm going to give him so much shit."

He went back upstairs a few minutes later, and I retreated back downstairs. This time, I kicked my shoes off before collapsing onto my couch and grabbing the unexpected present. When I tore the wrapping paper off, I found a book titled, Don't Look Under the Bed: A Witch's Memoir of Dust Bunnies and Ghouls.

When I opened it, an envelope fell out. Inside, there was a blank piece of parchment and a note.

Astoria -

The parchment is charmed - if you write something on it, it'll go to me. (I charmed it myself, so don't get tense, nobody else is going to intercept it.) I got the idea from something Potter said a few days ago. It's fine if you never want to use it - I just thought I'd give it to you in case you did, since neither of us has an owl right now.

Happy birthday. I hope you like the book.

- Draco

I sat back and rubbed my face with my hands. I was both genuinely touched and extremely confused. Rather than try to untangle that web of emotions, I picked the book up and flipped it open.

The first chapter was about the author's sincere childhood belief that dust bunnies turned into kneazles when the clock struck 11:32pm and her attempts to gather them together without being caught by her parents. It was witty and engaging and exactly the sort of book that I would never be able to read in public, because people would wonder why I kept laughing.

After I finished the first chapter, I put the book down and leaned over to rest the parchment on the table.

I like the book a lot - I can't stop laughing. Thanks.

I folded the parchment back up, expecting that he'd already be asleep. To my surprise, it glowed a minute later, and when I looked at it, he'd written something back. I thought you would. Like I said, it made me think of you.

Shouldn't you be asleep? We could've gotten another round if you were going to be up anyway.

I didn't bother to pick the book back up, and as I'd expected, more words appeared on the page almost immediately. Yeah, I probably should be. That was quickly followed by, I meant to ask - I'm sure you have stuff with your family on your birthday, but if you wanted to get breakfast or drinks or whatever. I was about to point out that that wasn't a complete sentence when he added, You're probably busy, and we were out late tonight anyway. It's fine.

My heart was suddenly hammering. I'd mostly ignored Kate both times she'd mentioned that he wanted to ask me out, but between a random birthday present and offering to spend part of my birthday with me, I was starting to think that she might have a point. I considered clarifying the point with him, and then realized that I wasn't sure what I wanted to clarify, because kissing him seemed like something that could be interesting to do at some point.

After a couple minutes, I decided to write back, That would be nice, actually, as long as you don't mind if it's late.

Late is fine. Just let me know.

I put the parchment aside and picked the book back up. My heart was still racing, but I wasn't entirely sure that it was a bad thing.

A/N: yeah okay draco it's "no big deal" (reviews always appreciated)