A/N: This is a story I've been writing on the side. It's not done and it won't be overly long, so updates are going to be VERY slow and sporadic. This gets my attention when other stories can't keep it.

Warnings: There will be minor character bashing, this is m/m slash, and there will be explicit sex scenes between men. Do not read and leave negative reviews if you couldn't be bothered to read these warnings and understand them.

If you read, I hope you enjoy. If you do, feel free to leave a review.

Chapter 1

"I'm sorry, I must be drunk or not drunk enough," Harry said, blinking across the table at Kingsley. "I'm not sure I heard you correctly. Mind repeating that?"

Kingsley rolled his eyes. "It was your idea, kid."

"No. I just wanted the right people to get their reward," Harry retorted. "I never said anything about a gala."

"When else were we meant to award these Orders of Merlin?" Kingsley asked.

"I don't recall that being my problem, Minister," Harry sniped.

"You made it your problem when you started fighting publicly with the Ministry three years ago," Kingsley told him.

Harry looked pleadingly at the others around the table. "Come on, someone help me out here." He glared when he just got smirks or dodging eyes behind glasses. "Traitors, all of you."

"C'mon, mate, the Ministry throws this gala every year," Seamus said after a large swig of beer.

"I haven't had to go every year," Harry argued.

"You're supposed to," Kingsley pointed out.

Harry huffed. "Why would I willingly subject myself—and Draco, by the way—" he pointed at the blonde, "to the institution that, very publicly, hates us?"

Kingsley sighed. "Because, despite all of that, you are still the man that saved Britain's wizarding world."

"Because of everyone else," Harry shot back. "Which is why the gala should be about them, not me."

"What about your Order of Merlin?" Kingsley asked.

"Owl it," Harry said shortly.

"What about Draco's?" Kingsley raised an eyebrow.

Harry hesitated for the first time, looking at Draco beside him. The former Slytherin raised the hand not holding his wine and shook his head.

"Hey, leave me out of this," he said. "I never wanted or cared about the bloody thing."

Harry rolled his eyes while the rest of the table snickered and Kingsley glared. The Minister moved his eyes back to Harry where challenge set into the green eyes.

"What about Severus'?" Kingsley said and the expected hush fell over the table while Harry's eyes narrowed.

He dropped his gaze to his rum and Coke with a shot of Firewhiskey, his fingers tightening around the glass. Four years and he still couldn't handle any unexpected mention of Severus Snape, his single biggest regret. There honestly wasn't much he regretted or even felt guilty about anymore from the war and final battle. He accepted that losses were inevitable, as was horrific injury. Except Severus…his loss meant something else entirely and he wasn't sure he would ever fully accept it. There were a lot of 'could haves' and 'ifs' surrounding the man, his death, and their relationship.

For Kingsley to bring him up was a low blow and the Minster knew that.

"Someone has to accept the posthumous awards or they will sit in a cupboard forever," Kingsley continued, his tone gentling. "You should be the one to accept his since you're the one that went to war with the Ministry for it."

Harry tapped a finger against his glass, contemplating. "If you make me do this, you will not like what I end up saying."

Kingsley grinned. "Because you've held back all these years?"

"Oh, you have no idea, good sir," Harry said with his own smirk as the lightness that usually permeated these get togethers returned.

"I look forward to it," Kingsley said, raising his glass at Harry.

Harry raised his own, his eyes flashing. "Careful what you wish for, Shacklebolt."

The rest of the evening passed far smoother as they caught up on the last month of each other's lives and shared gossip over those less inclined to join the monthly gatherings.

Neville had had three second years faint when working with the mandrakes, much the same as himself in their own mandrake lesson, to the amusement of those that had been there. Luna would be travelling to Slovakia for a couple of weeks to investigate a story about secret dragon fighting rings, and Charlie would be accompanying her as his compound had interest in breaking up the rings and rescuing the dragons if possible. Seamus and Dean had a wedding reception booked that was filling the entire restaurant and they were hoping to rope some of the others into providing extra hands. Fleur had a bill regarding werewolves going before the Wizengamot in a few weeks and Bill was off to Palestine to help with a cursed synagogue. Victoire was displaying more and more magic by the day, absolutely tormenting her daycare. Fred and George were in the middle of a new product as well as scouting a location in Bristol for a third shop.

As for Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, there weren't many new developments. Ron was apparently involved in the Triwizard Tournament being arranged at Castelobruxo and was working on convincing McGonagall to send students from Hogwarts. Hermione was applying for an open position on the Wizengamot. Ginny was currently out of the country though the Kenmare Kestrals were not having a good season. They, apparently, still enjoyed throwing out their usual jabs about Harry and his choices and actions of the last four years.

It was of no surprise or consequence to him. The minute he involved himself in the War Trials and Death Eater Trials and started fighting the Ministry instead of joining it with them, they suddenly decided they didn't much fancy the person he'd become.

When he fought to exonerate Draco, they were unimpressed. When, as part of Draco's probation, he willingly lived with Draco and opened a business with him, they were angry. When he fought to exonerate Severus, they damn near lost their minds. To this day, he really only saw them on holidays, and really only because Molly, Arthur, and the other Weasley children forced them to allow Harry and Draco's attendance.

They weren't unlike the whole of the wizarding world in Britain. It seemed the majority did not agree with his defence of such people either and, despite his role in saving them all, he was a fairly prominent pariah everywhere he went. He was actually kicked out of establishments for his association with Death Eaters. Yet, it still didn't stop the Daily Prophet from trying to make him front page news every week despite his extremely unexciting life. He honestly didn't care; he loved his unexciting life. It was all he'd wanted for eighteen years and he finally got it.

After a few more hours, plenty of food, and, possibly, a few too many drinks for some of them, they called it a night. They hugged, kissed, and bid goodbye and safe travels, both home and for respective upcoming trips. Harry grabbed Draco's arm and Apparated them home to their little country cottage. He deposited Draco on his bed, leaving the drunk, but not too drunk man to take care of himself, bidding his friend goodnight on his way out.

Harry hummed to the music coming from the record player as he opened, read, and organized the pile of owl orders and other post that had arrived that morning. Many were repeat customers, some new; nothing unusual. While they were certainly not the only bookshop or apothecary in London, let alone Britain, they were the only one in Diagon Alley and the best in Britain, despite the world's personal feelings towards him and Draco. It certainly helped that world-renowned potioneer Simon Steel raved about the place as his only source of quality ingredients, potions, and literature in Potions Monthly, the Daily Prophet, Britain's Top, and Magical Stops & Shops.

"Speaking of," he mumbled to himself as he found an envelope with very familiar writing. A small smile on his lips, he ripped the envelope open and pulled out several pieces of parchment: two extensive owl orders, an inventory request form, and two letters. He sent the appropriate owl order, the inventory request, and the letter addressed to Draco to the pile for the apothecary half of the shop, Draco's half. He scanned the order list for the bookshop, his half, before turning to the letter.

Harry,

I trust your get together with your friends this weekend was enjoyable and you did not get as drunk as last month. Moderation, my friend.

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes, but silently conceded. Last month, they had all met on St. Patrick's Day and Seamus had taken the lead, not satisfied until they were all on the verge of blacking out. Somehow, he had managed not to Splinch himself or Draco on their way home. It had not been a good several days.

I myself attended the potions conference in Moscow this weekend. Dreadfully dull affair as it usually is and not enough alcohol to speak of. Ironic considering it is Russia. Aspiring potioneers, masters, and shopkeepers were the focus of the second day. I will send along a copy of Potions Monthly in the coming days so you and Draco might enjoy my scathing reviews. As such, you can be assured that there will be no replacement for your establishment anytime soon.

Do enjoy your day.

Also, do not concern yourself with fulfilling my orders quickly. There is no rush.

Adieu, my friend.

Simon

"Simon, I take it?"

Harry looked up at Draco leaning in the office doorway, hands in his trouser pockets. He nodded and levitated the papers from Simon to Draco.

"Apparently, we can expect a copy of Potions Monthly this week," Harry told him, putting his letter down and picking up his pile of orders. "Bad day of prospective additions to the field."

Draco hummed as he read his own letter and scanned Simon's apothecary order. "Merlin, what's the man making?"

Harry chuckled and shrugged a shoulder. "He's got a list of about ten texts too. Fairly certain I'll have to special order some of them."

"Must be working on a trial or something," Draco mused before finally looking up. "Much else for me?"

Harry nodded and sent the pile to the man. "Busy day."

"Just because we were closed this weekend," Draco replied, flipping through the dozen or so orders.

"True," Harry agreed. "Do we need more of Simon's stock?"

"Some of it," Draco said, moving over to the other desk pushed against Harry's. "Nearly out of the Hangover Cure, the Nerve Agent Cure, and the Wolfsbane."

"Hangover Cure?" Harry repeated, surprised. "Did we use that much of it last month?"

"Apparently," Draco said and they both winced, remembering the night, at least, what they could of it.

Harry watched as Draco filled out Simon's inventory request, letting the man know what they needed. It had been a business partnership between them for about a year and a half. Simon had several personally created and patented potions, but no trusted business to sell them through, limiting his customer base. Harry had been the one to suggest that Parchments & Potions sell them and that Simon could receive a discount on the entire shop in return. Simon had accepted the partnership, but adamantly refused the discount, stating that he would pay no less than what top supplies were worth. Thus, a partnership had been added to their established professional relationship and quickly growing friendship.

The bell over the front door jingled and Harry heaved himself out of his chair. He headed out to greet the new customer, only to be pleasantly surprised by a familiar face.

"Simon, what are you doing here?" Harry asked, walking up to the front counter where Simon was patiently waiting. "We only just got your orders. Draco's working on the inventory request right now."

"Yes, I am aware," Simon replied. "However, I miscounted and discovered I am low on powdered root of asphodel of which I am in need of. As such, here I am."

"I see." Harry smiled. "Well, you know perfectly well where it is."

Simon arched an eyebrow with a smirk and turned, disappearing into the huge shop's numerous shelves and cabinets and passing through the archway that split the apothecary from the bookshop. Harry leaned his forearms on the counter and clasped his hands together, watching the man. He felt completely mad around Simon sometimes. The man had striking similarities to Severus, both physically and in mannerisms. Simon was tall with long, shoulder-length hair, though his was a dark brown and usually tied back. He had dark eyes though they were clearly a dark hazel rather than the near black Severus' eyes had been. His nose was angular and he was overall quite slender. The face shape was different, though, not as long and thin. His eye shape was different, as was his mouth, and his skin was fairly tan. He frequently wore more Muggle-like clothes, typically an Oxford, waistcoat, and trousers under a casual robe that was far more like a Muggle long coat than a wizard's robe.

He had the arching eyebrow, scathing wit, and sarcasm that seemed taken straight from Severus. Except, Simon smiled, laughed, and had a lightness about him that he'd never had the pleasure of seeing in Severus. Simon, while very private, was fairly open and kind and delightful company, despite the shadows Harry could see in the man. Simon didn't speak of the war, only that it had had a serious and tragic impact on his life, and he was lucky to have survived. Harry didn't push. He knew better than anyone the impact of war and the desire to leave it behind.

If he were honest, even just with himself—which he tried not to be on this particular matter—he held a closely guarded attraction for the man. He tried not to think about it too much, unsure if it was Simon he was attracted to or the fact that he resembled Severus. He didn't want to indulge anything without knowing; it wouldn't be fair to Simon if the only reason he was attracted to the man was because he reminded Harry of someone else. Not to mention, he refused to risk his friendship with Simon; it was far too precious, particularly after all his losses throughout his life.

He was pulled from his thoughts as a couple of boxes, a few jars, and a book were placed on the counter beside his arms. He glanced at them and up at Simon.

"You seemed far away," Simon observed.

"Just thinking about an old, well, not friend…" Harry said, standing up straight. "An old…someone."

Simon just hummed and waited as Harry completed the transaction, accepting the galleons he was handed as payment. As Harry was wrapping up the items, Draco emerged from the office.

"Since you're here," Draco said, handing Simon what Harry knew was the inventory request.

"Hangover Cure?" Simon read, smirking at the both of them and raising an eyebrow again in that way that reminded Harry so much of Severus.

"Finnigan never gets to control the night again," Draco grumbled.

"I highly doubt he held his wand to you and forced you to drink," Simon replied.

"Basically," Harry muttered, scowling down at the book he was wrapping.

Simon laughed, making Harry roll his eyes and Draco glare.

"You are a sadist," Draco griped.

"Ah, but I am not the one who chose to celebrate St. Patrick's Day with a very proud Irishman," Simon said, taking his packages as Harry stacked them. "I will send along stock this week. Thank you, Harry. Cheers."

"Bastard," Draco called after him, earning a hum from Harry and another laugh from Simon as he exited the shop.

Harry leaned back against the tabletop of the picnic table, sipping his lemonade and observing the festive gathering that was Victoire's second birthday party at the Burrow. The amount of people virtually filled the Weasleys' property and Harry was glad to have slipped to the side for a moment.

While such gatherings were fun and he still treasured them, they were always marred with tension as Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were not thrilled with his or Draco's presence. It didn't bother him, at least, not anymore. Once it did, in the beginning, when he took on the guilt and anger and hurt and shame of not only himself, but everyone in the war's aftermath. Ron had been separated from his family for a year and nearly died several times, including helping save Draco from the Fiendfyre. George had lost an ear, Bill was mauled by Fenrir Greyback, Fred lost a leg, Charlie had nerve damage, and Percy died. Hermione had been tortured and lost her parents. Ginny spent that horrible year at Hogwarts while it was under the Death Eaters' control. So many others had died or had irreversible damage. For a long time, he readily took their blame, simply adding it to the multitude he already had for himself.

Then, he'd talked to them, those that survived, and all the trials started. Any blame he had for himself disappeared as he learned and explored everyone's stories and reasons, whether to help them heal or exonerate them or send them to Azkaban. There had been a lot of each and each one given the path they deserved helped ease his pain and guilt. There were things from the war that were his fault, but none of those things included what Ron, Hermione, and Ginny held against him.

They were able to be friendly, though Ginny struggled with even that, but things between them were no longer what they used to be. He gazed across the yard at Draco who was with several of those that had been at their night out a couple weeks earlier. Somehow, it hadn't been too difficult to accept the shifts with Ron and Hermione.

He took a drink of his lemonade and sighed quietly when Ginny sat next to him.

"Ginny," he greeted simply, keeping his eyes on everyone else.

"I'm in town for a while," she told him. "Did you want to go out?"

"No," Harry said shortly, sick of having the same conversation with Ginny anytime they were around each other.

"Harry—"

He turned to her, his face stern. Another thing he had learned post-war; to stand up for himself and say no. "No, and you know why. I am gay and we will never happen, not anymore."

"But what about all those stories in the Prophet, all the girls you and Malfoy bring home?" Ginny demanded, frowning.

"The girls have all been Draco," Harry replied, choosing not to clarify that he had brought just as many people home, just of the male variety. "Don't act like this is something new. You've known, you just don't want to accept it, but I'm telling you to. It's been five years since we were together. You need to move on."

"But, Harry—"

"Just stop, Gin."

Harry looked up at Ron, raising an eyebrow. He watched the siblings stare at each other before Ginny huffed and walked off. Ron took her spot and they sat quietly. Harry shook his glass, letting the ice clink against the side, as he watched Teddy pull at Draco's pant leg until the blonde picked him up, settling him on a hip as he continued chatting with Neville, his girlfriend Chelsea, and the twins.

"So, you having fun?" Ron asked.

"Always do," Harry said, taking a drink. "How's work? Convince McGonagall yet?"

"No, and don't think I'm going to," Ron said, sighing. "She's unwilling to forget the last one."

Harry gave him a sidelong glance. "She's got good reason."

"Things were different then," Ron argued. "There was—"

"A madman willing to do anything to get a Hogwarts student?" Harry offered.

"I don't mean it like that," Ron said with a frown. "I just mean things are safer now."

"So, that means bring back a deadly tournament for teenagers," Harry mused, draining his glass. "Interesting."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron snapped.

Harry just shrugged, swirling the ice in his glass absently. He said nothing as Ron huffed and left the picnic table, joining Hermione, Fleur, and Molly. He shook his head, but found himself smiling as Draco approached with Teddy, the boy's hair a bright turquoise.

"Take this monster, Potter," Draco said, twisting his face into a look of annoyance that Harry knew was completely fake.

Harry put his glass down and took his four-year-old godson while Draco sat beside him.

"Having fun, Teddy?" Harry asked the boy.

"Uh huh!" Teddy exclaimed, nodding aggressively as he went on a ramble of which Harry only managed to catch and understand every few words with the speed.

"Hermione brought up my probation contract," Draco said, letting Teddy grasp his hand and shake for no apparent reason while the child-speak continued unperturbed by the adult conversation.

"Why?" Harry asked, looking at him. He frowned at the tightness in the blonde's face.

"Brought up how it ends next year," Draco told him. "Wanted to know where I'd be going."

"Where does she think you're going?" Harry asked, wincing slightly as Teddy bounced particularly hard on his legs.

Draco shrugged. "Away, I guess, since I won't be tethered to you anymore."

Harry couldn't help the small glare he sent in Hermione's direction even though she didn't see it. He knew what she was doing, saying such things.

"I never said you would have to leave," Harry pointed out.

"Should I?" Draco replied quietly and Harry turned to look at his friend.

"No, not unless you want to," Harry said firmly. "I figured we'd live together until one of us gets a steady partner, if that happens, or wants to leave the shop and Britain."

"Well, that's certainly not going to happen. I love the shop," Draco said, wrestling his hand out of Teddy's grip when the boy started getting rough.

"So, whenever you decide to stop sleeping your way through London then," Harry said, grinning at Draco's affronted expression.

"Like you haven't been doing the same thing with the cocks of London," Draco retorted.

Harry laughed and shrugged a shoulder. "I needed a reward for going out with you so often."

"Right," Draco said with a snort. "So, I can stay? Your friends—"

"You're my friend and the crew are my friends. They are people I was friends with, but just know now," Harry impressed. "You stay as long as you want. I honestly can't imagine you leaving anytime soon anyway. I like the way things are."

"Time for presents!" Molly yelled.

"Presents!" Teddy cried and wiggled until Harry placed him on his feet, dashing across the grass as fast as he could. "Presents for Vicky!"

Harry chuckled and, grabbing his empty glass, left the table. He started walking, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He turned to Draco curiously.

"Thank you," Draco said quietly.

Harry smiled and just draped his arm around Draco's neck, walking with him to all the others.