Authors Note: This story is undergoing some major construction following some comments that reccomended it and pointed out some flaws in the structure. I looked into both of my stories following some reviews and when I reread I discovered that I uploaded the wrong versions of a couple of the chapters and totally skipped adding two that would have explained what happened in my latest chapter. I think the problem is because I combined this story with two other ones I was working on seperately and not all of my changes were saved, so for anyone reading this story I'm really sorry for all of that, I'm doing my best to fix it and am going to reupload my other chapters once I fix them. Thank you so much for all of your love and reviews! I appreciate everything, even if it's criticism! Please let me know if you find any more flaws with my work and I can address it while I re-write and edit. Thank you so much!

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Harry woke the next morning with a pounding headache and a severe case of memory loss as the sun streamed through his open front window to blind him. All he remembered was that there had been a Quidditch match, and that he had spent time with Malfoy after the game, which didn't make a lick of sense to his reeling mind. Everything else about the previous day was fuzzy, and his ears were ringing so terribly it made his eyes water. It took him three whole minutes to realize that it wasn't actually his ears ringing, but his alarm, and he rolled over onto his stomach to clap a hand over it, successfully silencing it. It helped his headache marginally.

He took his time in the shower, enjoying the spray of hot water on his back, so soothing it nearly put him back to sleep before he remembered that he was supposed to be getting ready for work at the ministry. He didn't have field work, which he was grateful for, as he was sure he couldn't get through it in the state he was in, but he wasn't looking forward to the paperwork that was likely piled on his desk.

He made it to work only five minutes late, which he thought wasn't so bad considering his headache, but then he realized he had left his auror robes on the bed and had to apparate back to his apartment to pick them up. The auror department had really started to crack down on employees who didn't wear their uniforms during all hours in the ministry, whether they were doing paperwork or not. Harry knew he would probably get away with only his jeans and tee shirt, being who he was, but he didn't want to use his name to get what he wanted, and he didn't feel like having his coworkers resenting him. By the time he was back he was fifteen minutes late, and Ron was sat at his desk, moaning into his arms and nudging a cup of coffee away from himself.

"I forgot Mion'e bag." Harry said as he sat heavily, and tried to ignore how much the bright lights of the office hurt his head.

"She'll thank you for it. She's worse off than I am; she has no business reading any of the books she's got in it." Ron mumbled, then looked up to squint at Harry, frowning deeply to ask, "Did you brush your hair this morning at all?"

Harry shrugged, honestly not able to draw enough focus to try and remember, then touched the corner of his mouth to tell Ron groggily, "You've got toothpaste, just there."

"Oh." Ron said, blinking and not moving to scrub it off, "I didn't know I brushed my teeth this morning. Good for me."

Harry would have wondered if he had himself, but he could still taste the mint of his mouthwash at the back of his throat, and the question answered itself. He looked around the office they were in, and, as they were the only two in it, asked, "Want to lock the door and nap till lunch?"

"Thank Merlin." Ron sighed, and stood up, moving to the door and practically slamming it closed, twisting the lock into place. "I took a headache potion, but it hasn't helped a bit."

They managed to fall asleep at their desks until noon, when Hermione knocked on their door and startled them awake, Rons arms flailing as he sat up and shouted, "We're working on a case!"

"Ronald, it's me." Hermione called, "We all know you two are sleeping in there, we can hear you snoring. Come on, I've got hangover potions from the fourth floor, but you've got to eat something before you take them."

Harry and Ron exchanged relieved glances with one another and quickly marched out of the office, following Hermione down to the canteen, where they bought sandwiches and water (Hermione had slapped Harrys arm when he tried to go for a soda, telling him that it would do the opposite of help him). Harry's hangover had already started to fade, but once he downed the potion he felt particularly more awake, and far less miserable. It wasn't nearly as bright as he had thought. Ron had a smile so wide he was at a risk for his face to get stuck that way. Hermione merely sighed and said, "I imagine Ginny is doing terrible. She flooed back over to Romania to go to a practice for her team."

"With how much she drank last night?" Ron asked in awe, "I don't know how she does it."

"She's resilient."Hermione sighed, then shook her curls out of her face and asked Harry with a frown, "How were things with Malfoy last night? Did you two find what you were looking for?"

Hearing Malfoy's name triggered an avalanche of memories his sore head had previously omitted, and Harry jerked upright, blurting before he could stop himself, "Malfoy flashed McGonagall!"

Hermione spat her water across the table, choking, and Ron pounded her back until she was able to settle herself enough to ask hoarsely, eyes watering, "Malfoy did what, Harry?"

Ron had a gobsmacked expression on his face, but he didn't say a word, so Harry explained sheepishly, "His bare arse. He showed his bare arse to McGonagall."

"Why the bloody hell did he do that?"

"Well, because she asked him to, I imagine." Harry said, making certain Hermione didn't have a mouth full of water that time. She was mopping up what she had spit out with napkins, and froze at what Harry said. He went through the scenario rather quickly after that, feeling second-hand embarrassment from the memory, and by the time he had finished, Ron had decided that they needed to get Malfoy drunk more often, if that was the type of story it produced.

"He wasn't drunk, though." hermione frowned, "He kept foisting his drinks off on me and Gin. How else do you think we got drunk twice as fast as the two of you?"

"Don't you try to tell me that he pulled that stunt while sober." Ron scolded, crossing his arms and shaking his head as he sat back in his chair. "Malfoy isn't that brave."

"Perhaps he's changed." Hermione shrugged thoughtfully, "Or maybe we've misjudged him."

"Hardly." Ron snorted, "One night of drinking with the bloke doesn't make us friends. He's still a prat-a loony prat, apparently, but a prat nonetheless."

"Well, we'll just have to see next week, then, won't we?" Hermione said, crossing her arms uncomfortably and staring at the table with her lips pursed.

"What do you mean next week? There isn't a Quidditch game next week." Ron frowned, but Harry caught her eye and his stomach flipped.

"You don't mean dinner at the burrow, do you?"

There was a second of silence, but that was all he and Ron needed as confirmation to Harry's fears.

"Mione, you invited him to the burrow?!" Ron shrieked, his face white with horror, "Mum and dad will never allow it!"

"I didn't invite him, Ginny did! She thought we should play Quidditch again, for old times sake." Hermione winced, "Besides, he evens the teams. Now George doesn't have to sit out if Malfoy plays on the team with me and Gin."

"You couldn't have asked me first?" Ron groaned, putting his head down on the table in a show of distaste. "Feed a stray dog and you'll never be rid of him, haven't you ever heard that before?"

"First off, I didn't invite him. Second, he is hardly a stray dog, Ronald."

"Yeah?" Ron argued, lifting his head again, one of Hermione's damp napkins stuck to his forehead, "Explain why he's such a bitch, then?"

Harry pretended to cough into his elbow to hide his laugh, and Hermione thinned her lips to snatch the napkin off of her husbands head before she growled, "You'll play nicely, Ron, and no name calling. I'm sure everything will go just fine."

Harry was nearly in agreement with that, but couldn't help wondering when Malfoy and Ginny had gotten so close.

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Harry nervously anticipated the Weasleys bi-weekly dinner for four days before it happened, and the day of he changed his clothes twice, worried about what Malfoy would think of his outfit choice. Should he go casual, like he always did? Should he use a spell to keep his hair down? Maybe he ought to wear dress pants, but that wouldn't be practical if they were going to play Quidditch after dinner, would it? What was Malfoy going to wear?

Eventually he realized he was running late when his watch chirped its alarm, and he apparated onto the front steps of the burrow in a tee shirt and jeans, hoping he wasn't underdressed. Molly Weasley was just closing the door after Ginny when he arrived, and jumped back in surprise at his sudden arrival with a cry of, "Oh! Harry, you startled me, dear!"

"Sorry, Molly." He said sheepishly, and bent himself down into her hug, while scanning over her shoulder for Malfoy. He almost thought he hadn't arrived yet, but he knew Malfoy had a thing about being early, and finally spotted him through the kitchen, chatting with Arthur, who seemed tense but not all around unhappy to have the blond there. Molly pulled away from him, and followed his gaze, her smile looking a little more forced as the corners of her eyes crinkled and she said, "Ginny told you that she invited Malfoy, didn't she?"

"Yeah, I knew he'd come." Harry said, "He's going to play on hers and hermione's Quidditch team; even them up a bit so George can play."

"Oh, wonderful." Molly said, relaxing a fraction, "I knew you could let go of past rivalries, Harry. You'll be careful, won't you? You won't fight with him?"

"We've gotten on alright lately, actually." Harry said sheepishly, wondering why Ginny or Ron hadn't told her as much, or Malfoy himself.

"I know that, dear, it's just that you've got that famous temper of yours, and I know how the Malfoy boy used to rile you up. I've already spoken with my children about that, since they aren't much better."

"If anyone throws punches, Misses Weasley, it will be Ron." Harry winked, and chuckled when her hands clapped together in worry. "What are Malfoy and Arthur doing, anyways?"

"Oh, Arthur is just showing him his collection of wires." Molly said, with a meaningful look to Harry. He knew immediately what it meant. he hadn't looked it, but Arthur was trying to bait Malfoy into saying something rude about muggles so that he would show his old prejudice and be asked to leave. Harry quickly moved into the kitchen, intent on stopping them, but rather than arguing they appeared to be having quiet conversation, heads bent close over an old plug.

"Everything going all right?" harry asked them, suspicion not quite fading.

"Hmm?" Arthur asked distractedly, then looked up at him, "Oh, yes, wonderful! I'm telling Malfoy about where I found this last week! Someone charmed it to spark all hours of the night, but I corrected it."

"You shouldn't keep things from work, Arthur." Molly scolded, coming up behind Harry and moving to the table, pushing aside the wires that were sprawled across its top, sighing, "Dear, we are about to eat, can't you please put these back in their box now?"

"Alright, alright." Arthur told her, pulling away from Malfoy to clear up his things. Harry exchanged a nervous look with the blond, who was in a button-down top and jeans, just a tad more formally dressed than Harry.

"Err, welcome to the burrow." Harry said stupidly, not knowing what he should say.

"Thanks, Potter." Malfoy grinned, "Did you apparate here? Your glasses are crooked."

"Oh." Harry said, and righted them quickly. He hadn't realized, and felt his face heating despite the fact that he knew he shouldn't be embarrassed over something so minor. "Have you seen George yet?"

"Ronald?" Harry frowned.

"Yes, it makes his ears go red when I call him that." Malfoy smirked, "So I don't think I'll stop quite yet."

"Look," Harry whispered, stepping up closer to Malfoy so Molly wouldn't overhear as she pulled trays from the oven, "This is important, alright? Don't try and cause a fight."

"I wouldn't of dream of it." Malfoy said, and put his hand over his chest in mock offense. He smirked at Harry and said, "I'm just trying to throw him off his game so we'll win at Quidditch. He doesn't play as well when he's angry."

"Still have to resort to cheap tricks to win, eh Malfoy?" Ron asked loudly, strolling into the kitchen with an arm around Hermione.

"It's the Slytherin way, Weasel." Malfoy said, his nose angled towards the ceiling pompously, "But I could still beat you if I had my arms tied behind my back, no tricks necessary."

"Maybe, but only because you've got Ginny on your team. A professional player against all us normal blokes? Hardly seems fair to me." Harry said with a smirk, his gut unknotting as he took in the friendly edge to their bantering. "She could destroy all of us even on her own."

"Damn straight." Ginny said, and brushed past Harry, with George at her side, to take a seat at the table. Molly settled six trays on the table and immediately everyone was pulling up chairs to sit and eat. Arthur headed the table at one end, and Molly took the other, leaving Hermione and Ron sat at one end with Percy (who Harry hadn't noticed until right then) and Malfoy between George and Harry on the other.

There was silence besides the sound of spoons and forks clacking on plates and dishes being passed once they all got settled, and finally it got to be enough that Harry asked Hermione with a loud swallow, "How is Rosie doing in school?"

"Oh, she's a champ, really. Head of her class just after Scorpius. You should be very proud, Malfoy."

Harry knew she was turning the conversation to him on purpose, and Malfoy seemed increasingly uncomfortable as all eyes swiveled to him, but he cleared his throat to say softly, "He's a good kid, I couldn't ask for one better."

"You know what sort of career he wants?" Molly asked encouragingly, smiling at him politely.

"He changes his mind so often it's hard to tell. Right now he wants to be an artist, but he always seems to come back to wanting to be a baker, so who knows, really, what he'll decide."

"Rose said something about his cupcakes in a letter just last week." Hermione said with a grin, "They've been going to the kitchens on the weekends to cook with the house elves."

"Ha!" Arthur snorted, before he could stop himself, probably thinking along the same vein of thought that Harry was. If Lucius Malfoy could only see his grandson in the kitchens with the house elves. Arthur coughed quickly to cover it, sensing Molly's glare from across the table, and said sheepishly, "Sorry, uh, lamb in the throat."

"It's cleared, then, isn't it?" She asked sharply.

"Yepp-uh- Yes, dear, it's gone now."

"Good. There had better not be anything else getting stuck, now." She warned, and turned back to Malfoy kindly, saying excitedly, "Does he get it from his mother, that talent he's got in the kitchen?"

"Actually, no." Malfoy said, looking awkward and toying with his fork on his plate, "He, uh, learned it from me."

"You?!" Arthur and Ron burst out in synch, as George bypassed questions to lean back in his chair in a fit of laughter. Harry was glad to see that Malfoy only barely winced.

"George Weasley you will be polite or you will leave this table!" Molly snapped at her son, eyes narrowing, and George bit his lip and forced himself to shrink his laughs down to giggles, which he concealed unconvincingly as coughs, like his father had. Molly pursed her lips and said stiffly, "Lamb seems to be getting caught in everyone's throats today."

George snorted, but Molly didn't catch it, and Harry said quickly, "I didn't know you baked, Malfoy."

"I don't, really." Malfoy said, and it didn't take an expert to see he was uncomfortable, but Molly Weasley had trouble discerning it anyways.

"Oh?" She asked, tipping her head to the side, "How did it come about then?"

There was a pause before Malfoy admitted quietly, in a way that made Harrys heart clench, "I only started experimenting with it after Astoria died. I remembered that she had always wanted to teach him, because her mother used to bake with her when she was young, but she never got the opportunity before she passed. I didn't want Scorp to lose that experience, though, so I learned how to do it, and then I taught him. If she had lived long enough, I think she would have been proud of him."

"I'm so sorry, dear." Molly said, and Harry knew that if Malfoy was sitting in his place she would have put a hand over his. George wasn't laughing anymore, and looked rather embarrassed, and Ron didn't have a word to say. Arthur was looking pointedly away from his wife.

Malfoy shook himself and said with a slight smile, "It was years ago, I'm fine."

"I'm sure you miss her, though." Hermione said softly, her eyes round and glistening, "If I were to lose Ron..."

she had to stop herself at the thought to take a steadying breath then continued, "It must be hard, is all I'm saying. I can see that you loved her."

"She was my best friend." Malfoy said, and Harry pretended not to notice that he blinked rather hard to lose the shine in his eyes, "We were married because our parents wanted us to be, and that was it, but it's hard not to love someone like her, you know? Even if it wasn't ever romantic, she was my favorite person in the world, and waking up next to her was something I never thought I would miss, but I always do. I just-she was my best friend."

"I'm sorry, Draco." Hermione said, her face creasing with sadness. Ron shifted uncomfortably next to her, and Molly was blinking back tears as she stared at her husband and then at George, then to the clock that was missing a hand with his twins picture. Harry knew they were thinking of Fred. He was thinking of his own parents, and all that he had missed from not growing up with them. Would they have taught him how to bake too?

"How is Scorpius taking it?" Harry asked before he could think through his question. He couldn't tell if he was being insensitive or not, too caught up with trying to find similarities to himself in the child.

"He's doing better. She passed when he was two, so he doesn't remember much about her, but he's doing great. When it first happened, all he would do was ask for her, and look for her, and there were nights that he wouldn't stop crying for her, but I was the only one there and he just didn't want me. I didn't think it would ever stop; didn't think he would ever stop looking for his mom, but one day he just seemed to understand it that she was gone, and he's been okay ever since. That's not to say it's not hard, or that we don't miss her, because we do, and that will never go away completely, it's just that it's gotten easier to bear her absence."

"I can't imagine." Hermione whispered, "If Ron were to die tomorrow-"

"How would I die tomorrow, all I'm doing is paperwork in the office?" Ron scoffed, and blinked quickly, "Can we stop with the depressing conversations now and try to smile a little? Merlin, you're all about to burst out crying on your dinners. Lets talk about something different-something positive-lets make fun of Malfoy's ugly jacket, at least, just stop with the sad stuff. You know I can't play Quidditch if I'm depressed."

"It's not an ugly jacket." Malfoy frowned, and Harry turned to look where a paisley purple jacket was hanging by the front door.

"It's hideous, mate." Ron snorted, finally beginning to relax. "You couldn't say anything to make me think otherwise."

"It was the last gift Astoria ever gave to me." Draco said, and Ron's face completely drained of color. Molly dropped her spoon into her soup, and Arthur Weasley's jaw unhinged itself to drop open. There was nothing but silence as they stared with wide eyes at Malfoy, and Harry was just about to groan when Malfoy's lips twitched and he said casually, "Just kidding."

"YOU ARE SUCH A BASTARD, MALFOY!" Ron shouted, but the relief was flooding his face as the table erupted in laughter, tension fizzling out as lighthearted conversation made its way around the table. Harry's heart was still beating in his chest wildly at the scare of thinking Ron had offended the blond, and the red-heads hands kept shaking with how relieved he was, so Harry knew he felt it too. Harry was ready to annihilate Malfoy at Quidditch for the joke, just to get the satisfied look off his pointed face-which he had really grown into since their days at Hogwarts, not that Harry was paying any attention.

Malfoy was a great conversationalist once they got him into softer topics, and Harry was surprised at how easily Malfoy could rattle off facts about old jazz singers to Molly, which was a talent that was as impressive as it was useless. Malfoy didn't seem to care, though, and soon they were all out in the backyard holding brooms (Malfoy was borrowing Bill's old one, and Harry took Charlies) and shaking hands, ready for a fierce game.

They played four rounds with little incident, Malfoy's team tied with Harry's, and only because Malfoy cheated on the last round and pulled Harrys broom to secure the snitch, telling him innocently, "We never decided to play by the rules, Potter."

Ginny had slapped him on the back with a smile, her eyes alight with pride, and Ron told her grumpily, "We never considered to play against cheaters."

"Why don't you complain to the ref, then, Weasel?" Malfoy asked with wide, innocent eyes. Harry felt the old urge to punch him surfacing. He wasn't sure how Malfoy could change from being friendly to being obnoxious so quickly, but the blond certainly seemed to have a knack for it.

"Alright, fine." George said, his face hardening, "If Malfoy's team doesn't have to play by the rules, neither does ours. No rules; whoever wins this round are the ultimate Quidditch champions-until the next time we play, at least. Ready?"

"Born ready." Harry and Malfoy said at once, glaring at one another. Harry couldn't tell if it was aggressive or not, but he did notice that Malfoy looked rather fetching when he was trying to be threatening, and then he immediately pretended he had never thought that at all and looked instead at the grass.

They took off into the air, wind whipping around Harry's head and stinging his face with the cold. He and Malfoy searched avidly for the snitch, while looking back at each other every few seconds to make sure the other wasn't in reaching distance. Harry decided to get into the spirit a few minutes in, stealing the quaffle (They were only playing with one, and there were no bludgers; instead, Percy lounged in the grass and shot an occasional curse at one of them in its place. Harry was sure he had a bruise from a stinging charm that had hit his thigh in the first game.) away from Ginny to score on Hermione, who still hated being on a broom, but was getting more comfortable with the idea the more they played. Malfoy saw him the third time he did it and shouted angrily, "You're a seeker, Potter, not a chaser!"

"I thought we weren't playing by the rules, Malfoy?" Harry called back at him with a smirk, and the blond glared in his direction before he dodged a curse from Percy, who had now joined the game thanks to Ron's coercion, and was apparently firing hexes for Harry's team, claiming that he was "a bludger gone rogue". Harry admired his creativity and laughed uproariously when a mispronounced hex hit Malfoy to turn his hair pink. It only stayed for a second before Malfoy fixed it and hit Percy with a body bind and levitated him back into the grass. It was then that Harry went back to looking for the snitch, and tried to keep from focussing on the antics of the other players.

Malfoy saw it first, a glint of gold in the line of trees along the yard, but Harry was hot on his tail as they raced for it, arms outstretched. Harry kicked the back of Malfoy's broom, and soon they were completely parallel, shoving and kicking to get ahead unsuccessfully. Harry hissed when Malfoy's knee jabbed the bruise from Percy's hex, and he retaliated by reaching over to grab the handle of Malfoy's broom, shaking it to try and throw him off course. Malfoy shoved him away, and snarled competitively, "Move, Potter, I was here first!"

"You move!" Harry challenged, and tried to shake Malfoy's broom again.

"Have a habit of grabbing other mens brooms, Potter, or am I just special?" Malfoy sneered, and Harry's face heated at the implication. The competitive edge was back in his gut, curling in a way that bordered unpleasantness.

"Do you have a habit of riding other men's brooms, or was that something you only did with Krum?" Harry fired back, and sped ahead before he could feel guilty about it. He wasn't sure if he was allowed to know about that, much less talk about it.

Malfoy was back at his side in no time, and Harry was surprised to see how determined the blond had become, a hard look on his face that almost startled Harry, who realized very quickly that, no, he shouldn't have brought that up in what was supposed to be a friendly game. He considered letting Malfoy win, just to smooth it over, but suddenly wondered if the blond was just toying with him again, and sped up as much as he could-not that it helped, since Malfoy was just as fast as he was. He felt his fingers graze the snitch, but couldn't close a hand on it. Malfoy's thumb skimmed a wing. They both lurched forward for it, eyes locked, and it looked as if they both might secure it, but then the snitch zipped in the opposite direction, following Hermione's shrill cry of, "Accio snitch!"

Harry and Draco both pulled to a stop, breathing hard, as George complained about how catching the snitch that way wasn't fair, whether there were rules or not. Harry sighed, and turned to Malfoy, who he knew was still fuming, and said through his panting, "I shouldn't have said that about Krum. That wasn't fair."

"No," Malfoy agreed, his eyes narrowing, "It wasn't."

"Look, don't do that. Don't get all huffy and mad, you know I didn't mean it."

"You didn't mean it?" Malfoy snorted, "I find that hard to believe. You haven't liked that I'm gay since you found out last year in McGonagall's office!"

"What? What are you talking about? Malfoy, I was surprised, not grossed out!" Harry rolled his eyes, barely able to contain the urge to laugh at the Slytherins ridiculousness, "Learn to read body language you humungous git! I only said that thing about Krum because you made the joke about brooms! I wouldn't have said it if I thought it would piss you off!"

"Alright, fine, thats fair." Malfoy huffed after a moment of thought, then glanced sideways at Harry to ask with a pink face, "You don't care I'm gay, then? You can tell me if you do."

Harry groaned, his stomach doing an odd flipping motion beneath his ribs at how Malfoy struggled to look casual, and he said with a sigh, "If you were that worried about what I thought you could have asked me outright, Malfoy. You haven't got to go goad me into getting angry with you in order to find out what I think. I say stupid things when I'm mad, it will never lead you anywhere good to rile me up. If you're going to be friends with me, that's something you ought to know."

"We're friends?" Malfoy asked, and this time he seemed surprised, and not unpleasantly. Harrys heart warmed. And then, unexpectedly, so did his groin, but he tried not to concentrate on that. They had only just become friends, and he didn't know exactly how he felt about the blond yet-much less how the blond felt about him.

"Do you think I would invite a stranger to play Quidditch and eat dinner at the burrow?"

"You didn't. Ginny did."

"Point is, I don't hate you." Harry said loudly, before Malfoy could say anything else. Why does he have to make everything so difficult?

"Oh." Malfoy said, but it was clear he wanted Harry to say more, if only to stroke his ego.

Harry closed his eyes and counted to ten mentally before he said, "You're an infuriating git, but I don't hate you, and I wouldn't completely despise it if we were friends."

"You wouldn't?" Malfoy asked skeptically.

"No, I would." Harry said with a sly smile, "But I would only despise it a little. Chances are I would probably enjoy it most of the time, being your friend."

"Well..." Malfoy said thoughtfully, his bottom lip being worried over between a row of shiny white teeth, "Scorpius is friends with your son, so I guess I'll have no choice but to continue seeing you in the future, and I suppose being friends with you won't kill me."

"Thanks for that, Malfoy." Harry shook his head in amusement. He didn't know quite what he should say next, and cleared his throat to offer in a forced casual tone, "Should we fly in now before George starts a fist fight with his sister?"