Part 3/3; there might be an epilogue
Starts with POV Harry
I couldn't pull my eyes away from the spot you disapparated. There's a knot in the wood of the floor board. Dust danced merrily above it in the fading light. Long after you were gone, long after the wisps of dust you sent twirling have settled back down. You might as well have never been here. That made it seem so easy- burst of light from a supernova snuffed off as a candle, or a flick of an electric switch. Dust settled, memories continued stirring.
I would have gone home then. Not before becoming aware of a tickling sensation- a piece of parchment- against my palms, adorned by your slanting script. I couldn't help frowning at it, when did it even get here-
I'll see you again. In ten years.
Harry had gone home then. Home to Ginny, that is. The small perfect square of parchment tucked away in his inner robe pocket, for frankly he didn't have the energy to work out what it means- typical Malfoy cryptics, he thought. Though cryptic is barely what he would associate with Draco nowadays. He'd been so open and plain, soft smiles and warm companionship, that it jars so horribly with the cold sneers under black cloaks- sixth year, wasn't it? Ten years ago?
When he opened the door- as quietly as he can, it's just still napping time- Ginny was at the kitchen table, Albus, who was barely over one, was dozing against her shoulder, where the milkish drool darkened a patch of cloth. The Prophet was held in front of her:
"Commotion at King's Cross
Weasley Wheezes spur chaos as children return to school"
It's September first today. He hadn't realised...
When Ginny finally caught sight of him, she threw a small earnest smile, and the entire of Harry's insides are clenching horribly. Guilt was overwhelming. Suddenly he just wanted to walk away, perhaps to some desolate island or the middle of a desert, where there could be nothing like this to think about.
And from the page of the Prophet, happy families smiled up at him. It's cruel, watching other parents, arm in arm, some joining the grand chase with their children, some standing serenely on the side of bursting happy chaos.
He chanced a glance at Albus. He's one; ten years to go till we join the fray.
Ten years.
Oh.
Harry kept the note in his desk drawer.
It felt significant. It's a promise, an agreement, something that needed to be kept. It seemed to be an acknowledgement that Draco's still here, in existence, passing the years as Harry did. Surreal, it seemed, that time shall be universal, that two worlds-different paths are running parallel along one another.
He continued to live. As the the ten years was approaching an end, he was promoted to Head of Magical Law Enforcement. After he left Kingsley's office, there wasn't ecstasy, or any strong sense of satisfaction, or even nervousness and anxiety. He simply sat in the office soon not to be his, and stared dumbly at a knot in the wood on the table. Dust danced in the fading light. After a long time, there was finally something- an acknowledgement, or rather, an acceptance, that this is how his life had played out, he wouldn't and couldn't change it now.
Ten. What a perfectly round number. It's so complete, yet imperfectly so. It's a turn to a new chapter of a book, but familiar themes continue coming back and passing by.
It's the eve of September first, and between the wand-magic mishaps of Albus, begging for please could we wait another year to give James the cloak, and a miserable Lily being comforted by Ginny, Harry found something else crawling to his mind. A very old note.
Well, I do have a promise to keep- he thought, and a small smile tugged at his lips.
Honestly, I don't know what happened either.