Time for an admission.. As I said, I settled down to write this chapter, the chapter I promised would be the last one and... Well, it's not. What can I say? I got carried away a little! I have written most of the next chapter now and, I can safely promise this time, that chapter nine will be the final chapter with an epilogue attached. I hope none of you will mind that this story is lasting longer than I planned and are all still enjoying it! I promise not to tease you any longer - the next chapter is definitely the last and, as I am now on a break from work for Christmas, I promise to write and post it as soon as possible! :)
Once again, thank you for all the wonderful reviews, thank you for every staying faithful to this story throughout, and a special hello to those who have just discovered it! Thank you; Diddleymaz, phobos13, Lmb111514, Caraline Fisher , CaelynAilene, SlytherinIceFaery and Ern Estine 13624.

Chapter Eight

A Chance

It was only when Mrs Weasley's head rose in Harry's fireplace he realised he had been sitting, blankly staring into space, for the full – he checked the time with a brief glance at the old, ornately carved grandfather clock in the corner of the room – almost three hours since Draco's pop of disapparation.

"Harry?" Mrs Weasley's voice called out, alerting him to her presence.

He ran a hand through his messy hair and dragged it slowly down his face, snapping himself from his stupor. He hardly had time to process the thoughts he'd been lost in before he dragged himself over to the fireplace. As soon as his head came into view Mrs Weasley smiled warmly; or, as warmly as any woman who had lost a son could smile.

"Ah, Harry. Teddy's woken up and he's asking for you. Do you want to pop through for him?" She asked, her features slowly turning over into the caring, mother hen expression Harry had been the subject of countless times before. "Are you ok, dear? I know it's a long day for you, today. I can keep him if you'd like, it's no trouble."

Harry shook his head, trying to force his bedraggled, downcast expression into a vain attempt at a believable smile. He wanted the distraction that Teddy would bring. "No, it's fine, I'll come through for him." Harry said, pausing as he saw the concerned expression on Mrs Weasley's face had not faded away; his fake smile had clearly done little to reassure her. "In all honesty, I'd like the distraction." He told her and told her the truth. Of course it wasn't about what she assumed it would be – to distract his thoughts from the memory of the end of the war, his defeat of Voldemort and the lives they lost – but about Draco. He reasoned that allowing Mrs Weasley to assume what she wanted wasn't lying so, indeed, his words still classed as the truth.

Truthful or not his words seemed to convince Mrs Weasley, who nodded at him with a sadly understanding smile and stepped back from the flames. As Harry stood to gather his Floo powder for the journey, thoughts of Fred danced over his mind and he only then realised the welcome distraction Teddy must have already played for Mrs Weasley today.

"The Burrow!" He called as he stepped into the whirling green flames and felt himself tugged into the familiar whirlpool of Floo travel. As he stumbled into The Burrow's kitchen – he'd never got the hang of Floo travel, not really – he dusted the soot from the formal robes he still wore, almost cast off balance again as Teddy collided with his leg in a forceful hug.

"Uncle Harry!" He called cheerily as Harry leant down to brush a hand through his hair.

"Hey," Harry greeted, bending down to sweep Teddy into his arms. As the young boys arms locked around his shoulders Harry took a moment to bury his head in his hair, breathing in the scent of pumpkin juice and dirt and all things Teddy so strongly it almost brought tears to his eyes. He lifted his head again to find Hermione had, thankfully, departed from the kitchen she'd occupied before. "Let's get you home, yeah?"

Teddy nodded against Harry's shoulder, apparently as content to cuddle against him as Harry was to hold him. He nodded over to Mrs Weasley in farewell as he edged back towards the fireplace, moving Teddy over onto his hip to free a hand to fill with Floo powder.

The moment they landed back in the familiar fireplace of Grimmauld Place Teddy was wriggling in Harry's arms as he strained to get to the ground.

"Lots of energy after your afternoon nap!" Harry chuckled as he lowered Teddy dutifully to the floor.

"I just want to see Draco!" Teddy called as he bounded happily across the room, making Harry's heart sink like a stone. "Where is he?" The young boy called back over his shoulder.

Harry's insides seem to freeze, shrivel up and disappear all in one breath. He was all too painfully reminded of the similar moment months ago when Draco had returned to France. Teddy had been just as excited to see him and would likely be just as devastated to find him gone. But, Harry told himself firmly, things since then had changed. First and foremost Harry's feelings toward Draco had changed; he knew, deep down, he'd reacted hot headedly to Draco's words and he only had himself to blame for the mess he was in and because of that he knew he could also be the one to fix it. For that reason he knew that this time he didn't have to lie when he told Teddy;

"He had to go back to France, but he'll be back to see you soon. I promise. He said goodbye." Harry conjured the best reassuring smile his tired features could manage and waited as Teddy paused for a moment, his head softly dropped to one side as he took in the news.

Harry sagged with relief as Teddy nodded, his expression suddenly brightening as he exclaimed "I hope he brings me some of those sweeties! I told him I miss them. Can I go and play?" Harry nodded, wearily allowing his fake smile to fade away as his godson flew from the room, thankful that his forced smile could convince Teddy much more than it could Mrs Weasley.

When the sounds of Teddy playing in his room above reached Harry he strode toward the stairs with determination, taking them two at a time with the force of his purpose. He soon reached the study and swung the door open, pulling open the drawer of the desk as he sank down into the old, worn leather chair beside it. Soon enough he had found himself a quill, parchment and ink and, with the nib of his quill dibbed into the wet of the ink, was poised to write his letter.

That night, however, the only thing to wet the parchment was the fat, wet, soundless tears which dripped, rolling from his eyes and over his cheeks into puddles on the creamy page below.

The days passed, three of them, in much the same way. Harry would fill his days with work, his evenings with Teddy and his nights with staring at an empty, taunting piece of parchment and a shaking quill, never finding the words he needed to transfer to the page.

One evening after Harry had just finished drying Teddy's hair after his bath – a task Harry preffered to do by hand rather than magically, when time allowed, to feel the close comfort of Teddy under his hands - Harry felt, rather than heard, a pop of apparition and a faint knock against the front door. For the briefest moment, every part of Harry froze. Who was it? Ron, Hermione and the other Weasley's could, of course, apparate of Floo directly inside. Not only did the wards on number 12 prevent anyone else from apparating inside the walls of Harry's home, he had also chosen to keep the placement of number 12 protected by continuing the Secret Keeper's charms laid on the property during the war – it had helped Harry avoid the brunt of obnoxious reporters and desperate fans.

Of course, Harry was overlooking one more person who had been allowed addition to the wards of Harry's home.

Malfoy.

He raced down several flights of stairs to the door with a speed that could only be rivalled by a child running down to a sack of presents on Christmas morning and with an enormous, churning feeling of apprehension in his stomach. He knew his eagerness to reach the door would be betrayed in his shortness of breath and, most obviously, in the features he knew his facial muscles had no hope of controlling. As he reached the old, ornately carved front door he leant forward and pulled it open to reveal the visitor on his doorstep.

There, of course, stood Draco. He looked almost unearthly, his pale, flawless skin and golden hair shining out against the dark night sky behind him, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon and the brighter muggle street lamps behind him. He was dressed in a thick, heavy travelling cloak which hid most of his body from Harrys gaze. His face was set, impassive toward any emotion, his grey eyes staring straight, almost blankly ahead.

"Potter." He nodded briefly, his voice as worryingly empty as his expression. "I wish to visit with Teddy. May I come in?"

Harry could do nothing but nod dumbfounded in return and stepped back to allow Draco – or, given the blondes cool address, should it be Malfoy now? – into the house. Harry watched as the man stepped graciously past him, the heavy billows of material from his cloak following behind him. Draco then looked up the stairs – as Harry knew he would always now be Draco to him, no matter what Harry became to him – and turned to face him with nothing more than a slightly questioning glance betraying his controlled expression.

"He's just had his bath. He'll be getting a book and no doubt be down in a few minutes for his drink and story, anyway." Harry said softly, knowing the question was for Teddy's presence, yet wishing he could take it as a chance to explain away his previous, shameful actions.

"Very good, as it happens, it would probably be better to speak with you first." Draco said, his voice still remaining eerily detached, as if making polite small talk with a stranger. Harry felt the breath in his throat catch, hoping for a chance to speak, to explain, to apologise. Harry knew that his facial expressions were less schooled than Draco's and knew his hope had been betrayed by his expression when Draco raised a single, still hand which halted the words in Harry's mind more effectively than a silencing charm. "My home and business in France have been securely tied off." He paused, dropping the hand he once held to silence Harry and returning it to his robes. Harry waited in silence, unable to stop the blossom of hope building in his belly. He knew if he could just push past the cool exterior Draco was showing him, if he could just explain and apologise, that he could save whatever it was they had, or were beginning to have. When the hand reappeared from his robes it held a small, folded square of parchment out for Harry to take. Then, his words crumbled Harry's heart and squashed every inch of his hope. "The address of a property I have taken in London, not too far from here. When you have carried out any tests on the wards you may wish to undertake, I would like Teddy to visit. Of course it will be better for Teddy to remain living here, where he has begun to feel safe, although I would like him to stay with me too, at times. I have plans to re-open my potions store just outside of Diagon Alley and I have managed to convince one of my finest assistants to move over from France to make it possible. I do not feel the need to arrange for any formal arrangements of how we will share Teddy's guardianship as I believe you to be fair enough to allow me equal access. Of course, if you are not, I shall feel no hesitation in returning to the Ministry." Malfoy's eyes glittered with promise as he spoke his final sentence, the only trace of emotion he had allowed in either his tone or his expression since his monologue began. Harry stood and stared without words, unable to allow himself from wallowing in despair. The determined tone and pace of Draco's words had made it clear his decision had been made, that Harry was too late and that an apology would do no good. He did not trust himself to speak as opening his mouth may betray his devestation. Instead he stalled for time by lifting his hand to meet Draco's and take the offered parchment. He tried, yet failed, to ignore the feeling when his skin brushed Draco's. The sparks of feeling the simple touch invoked were enough to make Harry falter, tears had sprung to dampen his eyes and he readied himself to look up at Draco, to force an apology on him if it would do good or not –

"Draco!" Teddy's excitable voice rang out from the staircase behind, soon followed by the eager thudding of young footsteps. Of course, as Harry had predicted, Teddy had come to seek out Harry for his bedtime story.

"Teddy." Draco replied. Harry lifted his gaze in time to see that the cold, absent expression had disappeared from Draco's face to be replaced with a smile so bright it almost blinded him. Of course, Harry knew that such a statement was ridiculous, but it felt as though it would, if Draco would just turn that smile to him.

Of course he didn't. Instead he swept Teddy up into a hug, cradling him tightly before letting him go with a ruffle of his hair.

"Did you get me a present?" He asked eagerly bouncing before his cousin, making Draco chuckle and chipping another piece from Harry's thumping heart.

"Of course," he replied, sweeping his hand back inside the thick travelling cloak he wore and producing an elegantly wrapped bag at the sight of which Teddy's eyes widened immediately.

"Yes!" He declared with a joyful woop as he clutched the bag tightly in his small hand. "I told Uncle Harry I wanted them. Are you back now?"

Harry watched as Draco crouched down to Teddy's level and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I'm back in England, yes. But I'm not back here with you. This isn't my home, I only lived here with you for a while until I found my own place." He explained carefully as the young boys expression turned from excitement to sorrow. "Of course you will come and visit me, if you want to; I've got a bedroom just waiting for you." Harry knew that now Draco was talking to Teddy his emotions were out in full force and, although the blonde had his back to Harry as he faced Teddy, he didn't need to see his face to know the uncertainty and hope held there as he could clearly hear it wavering the words he spoke.

The look of sorrow which had momentarily troubled Teddy's features was gone and he smiled brightly. His nods were so exuberant Harry thought his head may rock right off his shoulders before he flung himself at Draco's legs for another hug. Harry looked down at the carpet below his feet, unable to watch anymore of the scene. His heart and head hurt too much, it was far too painful to so closely watch a scene he wanted to be part of.

"Uncle Harry was going to read my bedtime story, but you can before you go, can't you?" The hope in Teddy's voice was undeniable and Harry swallowed thickly. It was no longer that he thought Teddy preferred Draco to him, he knew he loved them equally, but the desire he had to lift his head and offer they both read the story to Teddy then retire for a drink or two and talk softly together as they once had.

"That depends what your Uncle Harry says, this is his house." Draco replied and Harry knew that he would have to straighten his face and look back over. He tried to ignore the painful twist in his stomach and the instinct to say 'it's your house too'. Still feeling that words may betray him he simply lifted his gaze, smiled at Teddy and nodded, pointing his head toward the stairs. After a long, deep swallow and an internal deep breathe to steady his emotions he allowed himself to say. "Of course, I trust you know the way."

Draco nodded in return, taking Teddy's hand in his as they started toward the stairs. "I'll see myself out." He said before turning up the stairs, leaving Harry standing in the corridor, alone in every way.

That night Harry had retreated to the living room, poured himself a glass of Firewhiskey and had taken solace in the burning amber liquid. He had poured himself his third glass when he heard the soft footfalls he had come to instinctively know as Draco's pad down the stairs and held his breath as the front door creaked open, closed and a faint pop of apparition told him that he had gone. He had then hurled the full glass at the far wall, watching the glass smash and the liquid spray out across the tapestry which hung on it, from then on choosing to drink from the bottle instead.

After that, almost a year had passed in much the same way.

Harry had conversed with Draco only in short, formal owls where he discussed nothing more than Teddy's welfare and the times which Teddy would spend with him.

He had returned to work, throwing himself into his job like never before and climbing the ranks of the Auror's with a determination he had never known he had before. At the same time he saw Draco build his career and respect in his own right. His shop did well and soon became well respected - from what Harry read in the Prophet at least – and Harry had found himself with a pride he wished he could share with the man he held it for.

He had also, most importantly, returned to his friendships. He had visited Ron and Hermione as soon as their daughter Rose was born and apologised sincerely for the way he had kept them at distance over the years. Hermione had become tearful and hugged him tightly and Ron had blinked back his emotions and clapped Harry roughly on the back and had called him a bloody prat. Hermione had immediately scolded him for using such words around their daughter – only a few days old – and Harry and Ron had exchanged that look, the one they had so often when they found themselves against the force of Hermione in Hogwarts and knew they would lose. Just like that, their slowly drifting bonds were repaired and Harry felt, for the first time since Draco had left, that he had something but Teddy that was positive in his life.

Time passed more quickly than Harry would have believed possible. Soon enough he found himself awakening of the 1st of April, anxious at the thought of Teddy's birthday a few weeks away as he remembered the promise he had made to himself almost a year ago; that he would make Teddy's next birthday a happy one. Harry had the day off, yet had dropped Teddy off at Draco's that morning. To ward of his loneliness, and to seek help in planning a birthday party for his godson, he sought out his friends, as glad as ever that he had found his way back to them. Ron had gone back to work yet Hermione remained at home to care for Rose and she warmly invited him inside.

Motherhood suited her well and Harry enjoyed sitting back, watching her cradle Rose as he drank the tea she always offered. They sat in the cosy living room - which Harry knew would be much larger if Hermione hadn't lined almost every wall with bookshelves - talking about when Hermione might return to work when Rose began to cry.

"Oh dear." Hermione said softly, lifting Rose's face to meet hers and giving her baby a mothers knowing look. "I think someone needs changing. You'll be ok, won't you Harry?"

Harry smiled and nodded, wrinkling his nose with fake disgust. "Of course I will, as long as you don't do it near me!" He laughed watching Hermione as she took her daughter from the room, softly soothing her cries. He stretched back on the sofa, seeing a copy of the Daily Prophet on the table before him. He frowned to himself, suddenly realising he hadn't had his own copy that morning. He made a mental note to ask Kreacher about it and pulled the paper toward him. The headline which blazed across the front was something of little interest to Harry – a conspiracy story which the Prophet had been running for some time about the Goblin's and their control over the gold in Gringott's – so he quickly flipped the cover open and moved onto the next page.

He found himself, quite instantly, wishing he hadn't.

Blazoned on the second page was a headline which read; MIXING BUSINESS WITH PLEASURE? MALFOYS MIXTURES BREWS MORE THAN BUSINESS. Under the bold words was a picture of Malfoy and the man Harry had soon found out from the coverage the Prophet gave the store as it gained prestige was the 'finest assistant' Malfoy had spoken of moving from France to restart his business in England with him. The picture itself was grainy at best, but Harry could clearly pick out Malfoy's blonde head in the door of his shop, pulling his assistant through over the threshold and into a tight embrace before the door swung closed and that photograph replayed.

"Oh, Harry." Hermione's soft voice startled Harry when she re-entered the room with Rose cradled quietly against her once more. "You shouldn't have seen that."

Harry looked up and had thrown the paper away without interest in what the words beneath the image had to say. A picture, as the muggle saying went, could speak a thousand words. Harry had often wondered to himself how muggles could have a saying which was far truer in wizarding culture, but that wasn't what he wondered in that moment. He looked up at Hermione, seeing her sadly shake her head as she put Rose down into her cot and sat beside Harry on the sofa.

"I saw what you were like when he left. I know you never said anything to me but, well, after our conversation after the anniversary of the battle…" Hermione trailed off with a pause and a knowing look which Harry accepted with a nod; in all honesty he felt relieved to finally be able to share his feelings with someone. "So I, as a precaution, asked Kreacher to get rid of your copy of the Prophet when I saw that this morning. I should have thought to get rid of mine too."

His friend sounded so annoyed with herself with her last words Harry shook his head and said firmly to her; "this isn't your fault. It isn't his, either. It's mine. He has every right to be with whoever he wants. I had my chance and I buggered it up spectacularly." He frowned, looking down at the paper he had cast away. As it to mock him it had fallen open at the page he had thrown it to avoid and Harry could see the replaying image of Draco embracing his assistant.

"The only thing that is at fault with you is your attitude." Hermione said firmly, taking Harry by surprise with her sudden statement. "I've watched you mope around for almost a year now Harry and I've had enough. I've wanted to help you, but you never said anything and I didn't want to interfere, although I've always had my suspicions." She looked over to Harry and saw where his gaze was direct and sighed, vanishing the paper with a silent flick of her wand. "Now I see I was right." She said, her voice suddenly softening. "You haven't tried, Harry. I don't know what went on between you, but I can see it in your eyes. You haven't had this chance you speak of, because you haven't told him how you feel, have you?"

Harry shook his head, now casting his gaze down to the empty tea cup in his hands. Hermione gently reached out, took the cup from his grasp and placed her hand in his. The gentle squeeze she gave him was enough to make Harry's eyes glimmer with tears which he blink furiously away before he looked up to meet her gaze. "I ruined my chance to do that." He muttered, thinking back to the painful night when Draco had retuned and Harry had been convinced he had missed the chance to apologise forever.

"Then you need to make a chance." Hermione told him. Her voice was gentle yet decisive, and her eyes were open and compassionate. "I can't pretend to understand why, but he made you happy. More notably, he's made you sad. I'm not the only one who's noticed, Ron has too." Harry cursed himself inwardly; until that moment he'd been convinced he had done a good job of masking his loneliness from his friends.

"How do I make a chance then?" He asked, already knowing his friend wouldn't have an answer. How could she when Harry had spent months searching for one of his own? "He won't speak to me. He only owls me when it's about Teddy and I only see him when I drop him off."

"Teddy's birthday of course." She said, offering him a smile as if the suggestion were the most obvious thing in the world. "You say you only speak when it regards Teddy; well he'd have to come to his birthday party, wouldn't he? Then you could find a chance to speak to him." Harry knew his expression betrayed how uncertain he felt and Hermione shook her head softly in response to it. "At least you could try. Even if he doesn't listen to you, you will have the chance to say what you're feeling. If he doesn't listen, well… He's a bigger fool than I ever thought."

"The ferret's always been an idiot, Hermione." Ron's voice startled them both. Harry snapped his head up, seeing Ron standing in the doorway of the living room. How long he had been there, Harry had no idea, although it was clearly long enough to have heard most of their conversation.

Harry felt his insides twist. It was one thing admitting his feelings to Hermione; after their conversation before Draco left for France, he had always suspected she knew the feelings he harboured. But Ron…

"Mate, like Hermione says… I don't bloody get it; he was always a right git. But she's right, if he's going to make you happy, you should try." His best friends words melted away all the apprehension he had held and he felt his body sag with the force of his relieved sigh.

"Any ideas for this party then?" Harry asked, eager to turn the conversation away from Draco as soon as possible, hardly daring to allow himself the seed of hope which had blossomed in the pit of his stomach.

"Not a clue mate." Ron said, throwing himself down into one of the armchairs opposite the sofa Harry and Hermione occupied. "Mum's the one you need for that, she didn't raise seven kids without throwing a party or two."

Harry, for the first time in a long time, gave a true smile. Even if he denied the dangerous feelings of hope which had begun to claw at him from inside, he knew he would always have his friends.