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Harry could feel Malfoy bearing down on his shoulder. They were both hot on the trail of one bastard of a Snitch that had eluded capture for over two hours. They were closing in and neither of them was going to let up until one of them had that little bugger clutched tightly in their leather glove: his leather glove.

The recreational Quidditch league had been formed the year after the war. People needed something to distract them from an endless string of funerals and memorial services, rebuilding, and efforts to reconnect lost loved ones. It was a period of mourning and grief and simply doing what must be done to go on with life. The Ministry, in a rare show of intelligence, decided to create the British Amateur Ministry-Sponsored Quidditch League, which was quickly nicknamed BAM-Q.

The BAM-Q League took off like a Snitch. Harry only played Malfoy's team once a season, and it was always a heated battle, if not the game of the year.

As Harry twisted and turned above the pitch, Malfoy challenged his every move, always neck and neck with him chasing down the win.

"Potter, you fly like a Pixie," Malfoy yelled above the whoosh of their brooms. "Time for a new broom?"

"Then why are you eating my bristles?"

Malfoy had the latest Nimbus 3000, and while fast, Harry didn't think the handling was even remotely as good as his Firebolt 2.

A hard fought fight with the Quaffle raged on, while Harry and Malfoy kept one eye on the game and one eye out for the Snitch. Golden wings fluttered past Harry for the first time all morning and he immediately launched after it. Naturally, Malfoy was right on his tail and saw it too.

They flew at top speeds weaving in and out of the path of the Bludgers and other players. The Snitch winged past the goals at the south end of the pitch and Harry and Malfoy followed in hot pursuit. Harry's heart pounded as if a troll were stomping in his chest. He was shoulder to shoulder with Malfoy, and every so often they would bump and tussle for an edge. The summer sun high in the sky scorched against the back of his neck. Flattening his chest across the front of his broom to gain as much speed as possible, he kept one hand outstretched in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Malfoy was doing the same.

This was it! It was as satisfying as shipping a Dark wizard off to Azkaban. For this feeling, he suffered through his tedious week of paperwork and reading. He sat through meetings that would've put Professor Binns to sleep. He changed nappies at two o'clock in the morning. He did the unglamorous legwork of real Aurors that no one told you about. You look around. You cast detection spells on rocks and tree stumps. You interview inbred slobs who have no idea how to wipe their own arses, never mind notice Dark magic or strange occurrences.

Harry loved his job and he loved his children, so he endured the endless reconnaissance missions that yielded absolutely zero and the going on five years without a solid night's sleep from crying, wet, and restless children and savored his few hours a week of freedom. Freedom was flying faster than his broom had ever been designed for after a tiny flying golden walnut.

They continued their chase into the trees past the Muggle Repelling Charms that enchanted the clearing around the stadium. Harry had known a Snitch or two to leave the pitch when pursued, but he'd never seen one go this far out of bounds. Suddenly he was in the shadow of the trees, and his eyes struggled to adjust to the change from the glaring summer sun. Malfoy was still at his side. They had to dodge through the trees as the Snitch pressed deeper into the forest.

Malfoy surged ahead and cut in front of him. His cape waved in front of Harry's face, blocking his sight. Harry reached out and grabbed a fistful of the black cloth and yanked hard. In an instant they were both tumbling backward with their brooms still between their thighs. Harry caught a glimpse of the Snitch looping around and heading back towards the pitch. He tried to right himself, but it was no use. Malfoy slammed into him and they were falling backward to the ground. Harry braced himself for the impact.

Strangely, he never hit the ground. They were still falling. It was as if they had passed right through the ground. Everything went dark as they continued in freefall. Malfoy was screaming and it took a split second for Harry to realize that he was screaming as well. The fall ended abruptly when Harry hit the bottom. For sure it had to have been enchanted with some sort of cushioning charm. Malfoy landed next to him gasping for breath.

"Great Merlin's ghost, what was that?" Malfoy exclaimed in between his heavy pants.

"I have no idea." Harry drew his wand from his boot. "Lumos."

His wand lit up, but all it revealed was blackness: black walls, a black floor, and absolutely no sight of anything above them. Harry struggled to his feet and slowly walked forward with his free hand stretched out in front of him. In three steps he was touching a wall that had a similar magically cushioned feel as the floor. He kept one hand on the wall and walked the perimeter.

"It’s a circle. About ten feet in diameter with no exit and no other tunnels. Lovely. Obviously it's some sort of magical chamber," Harry said.

"Thank you for your brilliant deduction," Malfoy snapped.

"Piss off." Harry picked up his broom and mounted it. "I'm going to see what's up top."

Slowly, he ascended with his wand outstretched in one hand and the other tightly gripping his broom. At only ten feet over Malfoy's head, Harry's back hit up against the same magically cushioned barrier as the wall and the floor. He balanced on his broom and pressed against it with both hands.

"Fucking great," Harry cursed.

"What is it?" Malfoy called.

"Some sort of barrier."

"We fell much farther than that. We must've fallen at least 100 feet."

"You get up here then."

Malfoy joined him at the ceiling of the chamber and they both inspected every inch of it for any sign of a way to open it. They tried a few simple spells like Alohomora and quickly worked up to the Reductor Curse. They tried every spell they could think of that might break through the barrier. Nothing worked. They descended to the bottom utterly baffled.

"You ever seen anything like this?" Harry asked.

"No. You're the trained Auror. Aren't you supposed to know about stuff like this?"

"You'd know Dark magic just as much as me. Maybe more."

"Yes, that's what you'd like to believe."

"If I find out that you had anything to do with this…"

"Oh, yes, that's my grand plan to be trapped in a hole with Harry sodding Potter."

"Listen, I don't give a Nargle's arse about your grand plans."

"What the hell is a Nargle?" Malfoy asked, sounding as if he wanted to blast Harry's head off.

"Never mind. Just know that I'll—"

"You'll what? It seems were both stuck here, and the most your overrated mind can come up with is to try and bombard what is obviously a complex magical barrier with OWL spells."

"I'm going to try to Apparate out."

"By all means splinch yourself." Malfoy waved his hand in dismissal.

Harry snarled at Malfoy before taking a deep breath to steady himself. He focused on the pitch and then turned to spin. Nothing. "Bugger."

"Now what?"

"Well they're obviously going to come looking for us."

"Obviously," Malfoy drawled.

"I'll see if I can send my Patronus to them." Harry closed his eyes and thought of the day he married Ginny. She was beautiful that day and he was so happy, so optimistic about the future. "Expecto Patronum!"

The silver stag erupted from Harry's wand and ran in a circle around Harry and Malfoy. "Go tell Ron where we are. Tell him we're in a secret underground chamber and need help. Go." Harry waved his wand upward and the stag galloped toward the ceiling; he'd never known his Patronus to fail him. When the stag hit the barrier it evaporated into a puff of smoke.

"Did it go through?" Malfoy asked.

"I don't think so." Completely deflated, Harry sank to the ground.

"Finite Incantatem," Malfoy said. He waited a moment then pressed his hands against the walls. "Well, it was worth a try."

"They're going to find us."

"Of course they are." Malfoy as if placating a small child and then sat down on the floor next to Harry. "Lumos."

They both sat in silence staring at the lighted tip of Malfoy's wand.

"This is all your fault," Harry said and then yawned loudly.

"How is this my fault?" Malfoy's voice was soft and had lost the challenge that Harry had heard only minutes earlier.

"You cut in front of me."

"It's not my fault that you fly like a pregnant goose."

"You're such an arse."

"Pithy retort, Potter. I can see why the world hangs on your every word."

"Enough already. We're stuck here together, and frankly, I'd rather not waste my breath on you." Harry drew in a deep breath and then yawned again.

As if contagious, Malfoy yawned as well and then leaned back against the wall. "I'm suddenly so tired."

"Me too."

"I think it's the chamber."

"Yes, something is happening. I can't keep my eyes open."

"I can't stay awake. I have to sleep," Malfoy said in the barest whisper.

"Try to fight it," Harry whispered back. "They're going to find us."

"Of course they are." Malfoy slid downward against the ground. He laid his head against his arms. The light from his wand slowly faded.

"Fight it." Harry thought about Ginny and the kids. He closed his eyes and saw them sitting together in front of the fireplace. She was reading them a bedtime story. Lily was on her lap. James and Albus were huddled together under a blanket listening intently. The sound of her voice echoed in his head, but he couldn't recognize any words.

Everything went dark.

"Wake up, Potter. Wake up."

It felt as if the ground was moving and it took a minute for Harry to realize that it was Malfoy shaking him.

"Wake up, you useless git. Wake up!"

Harry groggily opened one eye to Malfoy's angry face. "I'm up," he croaked.

"Thank Merlin," Malfoy said with a sigh of relief.

"How long were we out?" Harry asked as he pushed himself up to a sitting position.

"Not sure. At least the rest of the day. Look." Malfoy pointed up.

There was an opening as wide as the chamber revealing the night sky. The moon was half full and the constellations shone brightly.

"When did it open?"

"I have no idea. I woke just a few minutes before you did."

Harry found both his wand and broom beside him. "Are you okay?"

"Your concern is touching," Malfoy drawled, "but I'd prefer to get the hell out of here than to stay for what I'm sure would be useless conversation. I'd have left you to be eaten by worms, except the world would probably blame me. I didn't survive the Dark Lord and avoid Azkaban only to spend my life rotting in prison because you couldn't wake from a Sleeping Spell."

Ignoring Malfoy's comment, Harry stood and dusted off his Quidditch uniform. "I don't feel like anything's wrong. It looks like the magical barrier's gone. Let's see if we can fly out of here."

They mounted their brooms and exited the pit without any resistance. "It's awfully quiet," Harry said. Malfoy was hovering next to him. "Let's head to the pitch."

It took a few minutes to make their way through the trees and get their bearings, but once they found the clearing they raced to the pitch in under 30 seconds.

With the exception of the moonlight the pitch was dark. Harry expected a gathering of some sort. He figured there'd be wizards searching and lanterns or wandlight. There was nothing but an eerie stillness. They landed in the center of the pitch and stared at each other in disbelief.

"I don't get it," Harry said.

"I guess you're not as popular as you thought."

"It doesn't make sense. They'd be looking for us, wouldn't they?"

"Maybe they think you got rid of me and they're out at the pub celebrating?"

"Very droll." Harry cast a Lumos and walked towards the locker where they kept the balls and spare brooms. It was open and empty. He walked toward the main entrance. "Hello," he called out. "Hello?"

There was no reply, only the chirping of crickets off in the distance.

Malfoy stared up at the constellations. "Something's off."

"What do you mean?"

"I— I'm not sure."

"I guess we should Apparate home. Maybe they're waiting for us," Harry said, still not quite believing that no one was at the pitch or in the vicinity.

"First bright idea you've had all day."

"Are you okay to Apparate?"

"I'm fine, Potter. Don't trouble yourself."

"Good. You go first."

"Fine. Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight," Harry said. It felt horribly awkward.

Malfoy held up his wand and vanished with a faint pop. With one last look at the lonely pitch, Harry spun and Apparated to his living room.

It was dark. Once again, Harry was baffled by the lack of reception. He expected at least Ginny, Ron, and Hermione to be gathered, if not more friends and family. He checked the clock on the wall. It was five after two o'clock. Perhaps, Ginny was waiting in the bedroom. Nothing made sense.

He left his gear and broom in the hall and quietly climbed the stairs, not wanting to wake the children. The door to his and Ginny's bedroom was open a crack. It squeaked as he pushed it open. He made a mental note to take care of that tomorrow.

"Gin?" he whispered into the darkness.

"Mmm?" came a faint reply. She must have fallen asleep waiting for him.

"I'm home."

"Huh?" she whispered.

"I'm home. I'm not sure what Ron might have— actually I'm really confused, but we can talk about it in the morning if you—"

"STUPEFY!"

The curse missed Harry by a hairsbreadth. "Ginny, it's me!"

"STUPEFY!"

Harry dove for the floor and the curse sailed over his head. Suddenly, someone, and it was most definitely not Ginny, jumped on top of him and wrestled his wand from his hand.

"It's all right. I've got his wand."

"Neville?"

The room flooded with light as Ginny spelled all the candles and lamps. Harry squinted to see. Ginny gasped as her eyes met his.

"Ginny, what's going on?"

Ginny knelt down and pressed her wand to his throat. Harry's mind reeled as he tried to come up with an explanation for what in seven hells was going on.

"Who are you?" she asked, jabbing the wand against his neck.

"It's me," he answered frantically.

"Did you find an old sample of hair? Are you Polyjuiced?"

"What?" Harry stammered.

"How dare you," she spat. "Incarcerous!"

Neville's weight lifted as ropes secured Harry's hands and feet. Harry strained his neck to look up at Ginny. Something wasn't right. She looked different. When Neville stepped into his view, Harry realized what it was. They looked older. Panic seized his body and found that he couldn't quite speak. The words simply wouldn't form in his mind. Ginny snarled at him with disgust.

A baby began to cry, startling Harry back into the moment.

"Is that Lily?" he asked.

"What?" Ginny looked at him as if he had sprouted a second head.

"Do you want to go to her first, and then we can clear this all up," Harry said, trying to remain calm and keep his wits about him.

The baby continued to wail. Neville and Ginny seemed torn over what to do.

"It's me. I swear. I don't know what's happened, but it's me, Harry."

"Shut it!" Ginny snapped. "One more word and I'll—"

"I can prove it," Harry said quickly. "Look at the wand. Neville, look at my wand."

Neville held out the wand in his palm and both Ginny and he stared it.

"Where did you get this?" Ginny asked.

"It's mine. Ask me anything. It's me, your husband, father to James, Albus, and Lily."

"STOP! STOP! STOP!" Ginny said with tears streaming down her cheeks.

Neville's jaw was clenched and his eyes were dark and narrowed. Harry had never seen him so angry, which Harry thought rather odd considering Neville was the one sleeping with his wife.

"Ask me something that only I'd know. Ask me," Harry urged.

"STOP IT!" Her wand dug deeper into his skin.

The baby wailed even louder. It sent shivers down Harry's spine.

"Go settle Lily. I'm all tied up. You have my wand. I can't do anything."

"Lily is twenty-two years old!" Ginny screamed.

Harry's heart sank. It must have showed in his face, because Ginny looked at him with curiosity rather than fury.

"Keep your wand on him," she said to Neville and then pulled her wand back. She slowly backed out of the room.

Neville stared at him blankly. Harry could hear Ginny shushing the baby, whoever it was, down the hall.

"It's me, Nev."

"Don't," Neville said curtly.

"The Battle of Hogwarts. I asked you to kill Nagini. I told you that the snake had to be killed and that if you—"

"Everyone knows I killed Nagini."

"Who knows that I asked you to do it? Who knows that I surprised you under my Invisibility Cloak? My Cloak. I keep it locked in a false bottom of my top dresser drawer. Who would know that?"

Neville's face softened, but he didn't lower his wand. "What else?"

"I keep a trunk of Sirius' things in the attic. I… I… Kreacher! If I'm not dead then I still own Kreacher. Kreacher!" Harry called out.

"Kreacher is dead."

"When?"

"Five years, no, seven years ago."

"Oh." Harry felt a little guilty that the reason he minded that the old house-elf had finally died was that he wasn't available to prove his story.

"The baby's back to sleep," Ginny said as she reappeared in the doorway. "We should call the Aurors."

"Firecall Ron and Hermione. We'll sort this out. I know something has happened and I'm just as confused as you," Harry pleaded.

Ginny's lip curled up in disgust.

"I think he's telling the truth," Neville said carefully.

"Surely, you're not—"

"Tell her what you told me," Neville said. "Tell her where you kept your Invisibility Cloak."

"I keep it locked in a false bottom of my top dresser drawer. The password is Norbert."

"How did you know that?"

"It's me, Gin. My Patronus is a stag. Give me my wand and I'll show you."

"Right, we're just going to hand you a wand."

"Keep both your wands on me. Keep my feet tied. Just… when we were married… right after the ceremony, you said that my pain was over. You said that I'd never be alone again. You said—"

"Stop it, you're killing me," she sobbed. Tears streamed down both her cheeks. She turned to Neville. "Hand him the wand."

Ginny stared down Harry. "Cast it with your hands tied. If I hear anything, but Expecto Patronum out of your mouth, I'll slice you open on the spot."

Harry knew with unfailing certainty that she would. He nodded and struggled up to his knees. Neville put Harry's wand in his hands. He could see in Neville's eyes that he already believed.

For a moment his heart was so heavy that he didn't think he'd be able to cast the spell. Harry concentrated on the memory of James being born—the moment that he realized he was a father. "Expecto Patronum!"

The stag leapt from his wand tip and Ginny gasped. It galloped around the room and then faded into the air.

Falling to her knees, Ginny broke down and began to cry with deep convulsions. Neville sank beside her and tried to comfort her.

Harry cast a non-verbal spell to remove the ropes. He sat quietly on the floor and waited for Neville or Ginny to say something.

"Where have you been?" Ginny choked out through tears.

Harry felt his own eyes well up. He wanted to go to her, but couldn't move. "I was with Malfoy in some sort of magical chamber. We thought… we fell asleep and when we woke, we thought it had been only a day, maybe two."

"Malfoy?" Ginny asked. "Where is he?"

"He Apparated home."

"Oh! Neville. Lily and Scorpius might not…"

"I'll go," Neville said, and rose to his feet and grabbed his dressing gown from a chair next to the bed. He gave Harry a pleading look, "I…"

"Go, Neville. We'll wait downstairs for you," Harry said. Neville nodded and left Harry and Ginny to gape at each other.

They made their way to the kitchen in silence. Ginny lit the candles and put on the kettle.

"It's going to be a long night. We'll need tea."

Harry approached her, but she quickly stepped back.

"I'm sorry. I…" she said.

"It's okay." Harry wasn't sure what to do. He saw an owl on a perch in the corner. "Maybe send a note to Ron and Hermione? Tell them to come here?"

"Yes. Good idea." Ginny hastily scribbled a note and sent the bird off with instructions to peck the window until they woke up.

She poured two cups of tea and they sat at the table.

Harry looked around the room. "You changed the paint. It's green now."

"Oh… yes. It's been a few colors, actually."

"Ginny?"

"Yes?"

"How long have I been gone?"

"Twenty years, Harry. You've been gone twenty years. The anniversary was a few weeks ago."

Harry couldn't grasp the number. It seemed so unimaginable.

"Um, you sent Neville to…"

"Lily married Scorpius Malfoy. They live at the Manor."

"You're kidding."

"No. Believe me, it caused quite a stir. They dated secretly at Hogwarts and announced their engagement the day they finished their NEWTs. Ron took it the hardest. Dad was probably second. It's got better the past few years."

"Oh?"

"Grandkids will do that."

Harry tried to process the concept that he was a grandfather. The sound of two people Apparating into the other room startled Harry from his stupor.

"Ginny?" Hermione called.

"In the kitchen," Ginny said evenly.

Donned in dressing gowns with their wands drawn, Ron and Hermione froze as if Stunned in the doorway.

"It's really Harry. I didn't think so at first, but it's really him," Ginny explained.

"No, it can't be," Hermione said.

Ron stared with his mouth open.

"It's me," Harry said quietly.

Ron looked like he put on a couple stone over the years and his hair had grayed around the temples. As his best friend took a step forward, Harry stood to greet him face to face.

"What was in the locket?" Ron asked. His voice wavered slightly, but his eyes looked hopeful. It was their secret question since Auror training. It had always been their safeguard against imposters. They'd only had to use it twice before.

"Me and Hermione," Harry replied.

Ron let out a choked sob as he wrapped his arms around Harry. Hermione began to cry as well, and she flung herself around both of them. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Ginny watching with the saddest expression that made him feel like he was being ripped in two.

At the sound of the fireplace roaring to life with people flooing into the sitting room, Ron and Hermione let Harry go.

"Ginny?" Neville called. "I didn't know what to do, so I brought them here."

Standing in the sitting room and dusting themselves off were Draco, Narcissa Malfoy, and two young people who could only be Scorpius and an extremely pregnant Lily.

Harry's attention immediately focused on Lily. She reminded him of Ginny when she was expecting, which for Harry wasn't a distant memory. Her red hair fell over her shoulders and she had that maternal glow about her.

Scorpius had his arm around her shoulders, looking every bit her protector. The young Malfoy was as blond as Draco and had similar chiseled features. They looked like brothers.

It hit Harry like a Bludger at close range. He and Draco were the same age as Scorpius and Albus.

"Um. When are you due?" Harry asked, breaking the silence.

"Any day now." She looked so uncertain, even lost. Harry couldn't blame her.

"You should sit down, darling," Scorpius said, as he helped her to a chair.

"Dad, could you get me some water?" Lily asked.

For a moment Harry thought she was talking to him, but then saw Neville nod and go to the kitchen. Something twisted in Harry's gut, sharp and painful.

"Why don't we all sit, and then we can finally get the full story," Narcissa said with the calm and charm of an experienced diplomat. Of all the people in the room, with the exception of Draco, she was the most unchanged. Everyone had aged, but she looked the same as the last time Harry had seen her at Gringotts a few weeks earlier. Harry surmised that she was a master at Beauty Potions and Age Creams.

"Um, what have you told them so far?" Harry asked Malfoy.

"Not much. Longbottom burst in and woke up the whole house. I'd actually made it to my bed without waking anyone."

"Oh." Being held at wandpoint by Neville and Ginny flashed through his mind. It seemed Malfoy had got off rather easy.

Neville interrupted, "I let everyone know that he was the real Draco Malfoy."

"I knew immediately," Narcissa stated. "He never would have made it through the wards."

"How did you make it through the wards?" Malfoy asked Neville.

"Father-in-law," Neville said simply.

For several painful seconds Harry heard each tick echo from the wall clock as everyone in the room gaped at Draco and him.

Hermione brought them back to the most important point, "Harry, tell us what happened to you."

Harry told the story of chasing the Snitch into the woods and how they fell into the pit. He described the magical barrier, all the spells they tried, and how they eventually succumbed to sleep.

"I woke up first," Draco explained. "It felt like I'd only slept a few hours, yet I had this strange feeling that something was off."

"The magical barrier was gone and we could see the stars in the night sky," Harry said.

"The stars," Draco said. "That's what was off. The constellations weren't quite right. I'd been showing the constellations to Scorpius the night before."

"We should go and inspect the chamber," Hermione said. "We'll need to gather what information we can."

Harry could see that she was already hot on the case to figure out what had happened to them.

"Can it wait a day or two?" Draco asked. "I need to get in touch with Astoria."

"Yeah," Ron agreed with Draco Malfoy for probably the first time in his life. "We need to tell the family."

"Yes, of course," Hermione said. "Family first."

"Please excuse me, but I'd like to miss the Weasley invasion," Draco said, rising to his feet.

"Dad!" said Scorpius.

"Sorry, dear," said Narcissa smoothly, "but you're father is right. We should give them their privacy and we have much to discuss at home."

"I… I'd like to stay here," said Lily.

"You need to rest," Scorpius said.

"I will. Jeannie's upstairs. I'll stay with her for the day and you can send the carriage for us later. I really shouldn't have even taken the Floo."

Ginny turned to her daughter. "Lily, the whole point was for us to take Jeannie so you could get some rest before the baby comes."

"I know, Mum, but it doesn't look like that's going to happen. I'll take Jeannie home with me."

It dawned on Harry that the baby upstairs was Lily's child. He wasn't just a grandfather to be, he was a grandfather. Suddenly he found himself wondering if Ginny and Neville had children.

Scorpius seemed torn, but eventually gave in. He kissed his wife goodbye and the Malfoys Disapparated with a promise not to tell the Ministry until all the family was notified.

Neville offered to go and fetch James, while Ron went to the Burrow, and Hermione went to Shell Cottage. Ginny went to the kitchen to send an owl off to Charlie and Albus in Romania. Apparently his youngest son had decided to follow in his uncle's dragon-hide boot footprints.

All this flurry of activity left Harry alone with Lily. Yesterday she was a toddler, while today she was a grown married woman carrying a child. The morning before, James had complained that she tossed her milk at him and it spilled all over his newest Chocolate Frog Card. Luckily, James already had two Paracelsus.

"So… you married Scorpius Malfoy," Harry said, feeling like a complete idiot.

She nodded. "It's rather ironic now that when we first met at Hogwarts, we bonded over how we lost our fathers so strangely."

Harry nodded. "You live at the Manor?"

"Yes, with his grandmother. Narcissa's been very good to me."

"What about Lucius Malfoy?"

"He died the year before we were married. I hate to admit this but it's just as well. Mum swore that if he had been alive, that she would have Obliviated me before she allowed me to live under the same roof with him. To be honest though, he wasn't much of a threat those last few years. Scorpius said that Azkaban and the war had pretty much broken him."

Harry took some solace that the Weasleys never had to contend with Lucius regarding Lily and Scorpius. "And Astoria?"

"She lives in Spain with her second husband. She remarried a few years after Draco's death. Oh. Disappearance."

"That's okay. I suspect we'll be getting a lot of that."

She smiled at him, but her eyes were wistful. "You have a grandchild, you know. She's upstairs. Actually you have three."

"I do?"

"Yeah, James and his wife Beatrice have two little boys."

"Wow. And…" Harry was frightened to hear the answer, but he had to ask. "Do Neville and your Mum have kids?"

"Yeah. I have a little brother, Augustus. He just started his second year at Hogwarts."

Harry did some quick mental math and felt somewhat reassured that perhaps Ginny had waited.

"There are photos on the mantel," she said.

Nervously, Harry approached the vivid moving photographs. He barely recognized James. He could have been any Weasley and his wife and children were total strangers. Albus was more recognizable. He looked a lot like Harry, but without the glasses and a bit sturdier. There was a photograph of the entire family from Lily and Scorpius's wedding. He watched all the Weasleys and their children laughing and teasing each other in front of the camera. Everyone had aged. They all looked so happy, and his heart ached that he had missed it. He'd missed everything. They'd grown up and gone on with their lives without him. He found himself wondering if he could ever get it all back.

As he examined the photograph more closely, he saw Neville holding Ginny close and kissing her on the cheek. He was as jealous as confused. Despite the fact that photographs showed everyone so settled, to Harry, everything felt horribly wrong.

It was a good thing that Harry had slept for twenty years, because for twenty-four hours there was nothing but an endless stream of reunions and a flurry of Weasley family activity. Molly and Arthur were first to arrive and she nearly crushed him to death with the force of her hug. They looked much older, but were still spry and full of life. After she was satisfied that Harry wasn't moving from the sitting room, Molly set to work in the kitchen.

By dawn the house was filled. James and his family, Bill and Fleur, George and Angelina, and even Victoire and Teddy – Harry imagined that Remus would have been quite proud – were gathered, and Harry could only listen to their life stories in wild wonder. Percy, Rose, Hugo, and Luna joined them by lunch with all of their respective families in tow. It was Christmas in September, only in the back of Harry's mind dwelled the knowledge that he'd eventually have to go to sleep, and the bed upstairs was no longer his.

Charlie and Albus arrived by Portkey just in time for dinner. It was at least ten times more chaotic than any previous Weasley assemblage he had ever experienced, including his wedding to Ginny.

Every talked and told anecdotes into the wee hours of the morning, while Hermione was curled up next to a stack of books on the floor, frantically reading to glean any information that might be related to Harry and Draco's experience. At least some things hadn't changed.

As the sun rose on the second day, Harry could feel his body begin to give into the need for sleep. Other people had taken turns sneaking away to catch a nap and rest, but Harry had been unable to tear himself away. Hermione noticed him fading, and suggested that he stay with her and Ron, at least for a little while. It made the most sense, and while Molly wanted him to stay at the Burrow, she relented when everyone agreed to meet there for dinner that night.

Before alerting the media and the Ministry, Hermione insisted that they investigate the magical pit on their own. She feared that once people heard about their story, the site would be crawling with gawkers and any information would be lost.

On their fourth day home, Harry and Malfoy returned to woods. Ron, Hermione, Bill, and Scorpius accompanied them and just as they had told Hermione, there wasn't a shred of magic to be found.

"I think I might know what it was," she said, obviously her mind already working on the problem.

"But we didn't find anything," said Malfoy.

"Exactly," she replied.

Harry shrugged knowing that if anyone could get to the bottom of things, it was Hermione. "You'll figure it out. I know you will."

Malfoy shot him a strange look that he couldn't decipher.

"What?" Harry asked.

"You haven't accepted it yet," said Malfoy. "You think we're going back."

"Oh, Harry," said Hermione. "You don't think that, do you?"

"Um…" Harry didn't know what to say. Perhaps Malfoy was right. Maybe deep down he didn't think any of this was permanent. "I don't know."

"Harry," she said solemnly, "You can't go back."

"But what if you found a way to reverse—"

"You can't meddle with time like that," she said.

Harry felt the heat of Bill, Scorpius, and Ron staring at him. "But in third year, we—"

Hermione stopped him. "That was a few hours, and we were careful. Well, as careful as you can be, but Harry, what you're talking about – it's simply not possible."

"We came here, didn't we?" Harry protested.

Bill put a friendly arm around Harry's shoulder. "Harry, you were in some sort of stasis. The rest of the world has gone on twenty years. Even if it were possible, think of all the lives that would be affected, the lives that might not exist."

When Bill put it like that, it hit home. He was here permanently. All was lost. He wanted to punch something, Malfoy seemed like a good candidate, but Harry knew it wouldn't help. Instead he pushed his anger down deep and turned away from his friends.

That night, Lily went into labor, and by the next morning, Harry was a grandfather four times over. Everyone gathered at Malfoy Manor to welcome Erik Malfoy into the world. Harry stood back and watched the family take turns holding the baby and giving their best wishes to Scorpius and Lily. He felt like the ghosts of Hogwarts, watching the students live their lives, but eternally stuck in their previous existence.

Andromeda Tonks came with Teddy and Victoire. Apparently Lucius' death and Lily's marriage to Scorpius had helped to pave the way to reconciliation with her sister, Narcissa. It was proof that time heals all wounds, but Harry was certain that his predicament also proved that time was a spiteful and vindictive bitch.

As the day wore on, Harry kept feeling his attention drift to Draco and Astoria. They were huddled close and smiling, whispering little secrets in each other's ear whenever someone acted like a complete fool over the baby. They seemed so at ease, even with Astoria's new husband watching from across the room. Meanwhile, Ginny had avoided Harry the entire time and Neville had a perpetual look of panic in his eyes as if he were in Potions with Snape.

Draco held Erik with such pride and wonder. He seemed comfortable with Jeannie as well. Harry couldn't fathom how Malfoy could possibly be falling into this new life so easily. Harry was a wreck. Malfoy looked as if he had never left but had simply somehow created a youth spell or potion to stop his aging. It had to be an act. Maybe Malfoy was up to something.

Lily broke him out of his stupor. "Dad?" she said hesitantly.

"Oh. Hi. Shouldn't you be lying down or something?"

"I needed to walk around for a bit. Stretch my legs," she answered with a smile and a glance across the room. She was probably making sure that Ginny or Molly weren't around to see her out of bed.

"He's beautiful," Harry stated. "You're beautiful."

"Thanks." She blushed and tears pooled in the corner of her eyes. She looked like she was struggling to speak.

"Whatever you want to tell me, go right ahead."

She nodded and wiped her fingers over the corner of her eye. "I don't remember you. I was always so jealous that Albus and James had memories of you, however faint, and I didn't. I saw photos and I was taught to love you, and I did love you. You were a part of me."

Harry's heart was breaking all over again. He lost count of how many times over the course of the past few days he felt like he wouldn't be able to take anymore.

"Neville…" she trailed off.

"I know he's your dad. I'm glad that you had someone. I'm glad your mum had someone." Harry nearly choked on the last few words.

Lily nodded and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm glad you're here. I hope that…"

"I want to get to know you to, but Neville will always be your dad. I understand that. I wouldn't want to change that."

She smiled at him. "I think I'll go and feed the baby now."

"I'm so proud of you," Harry said simply, and watched her walk over to Astoria and easily take Erik from her arms.

Hermione arranged for a private appointment in the Office of the British Magical Populace Registrar. Harry was relieved to hear that Susan Bones was the head of the department. To avoid a scene, Harry and Malfoy hid under Harry's Invisibility Cloak and followed Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Astoria and Narcissa to Susan's office. At first Harry couldn't imagine that anyone seeing that group of people walking together wouldn't be alarmed, but the remembered that Lily and Scorpius' new baby might provide a simple explanation. Although Harry couldn't imagine why anyone would believe it took five people to fill out birth paperwork.

Walking the halls of the Ministry with Malfoy was strange to say the least, but Harry couldn't lie to himself about the kinship he was feeling with Malfoy. Like it or not, they were in this together. Having Malfoy next to him gave Harry confidence to face whatever craziness would come with the publicity of their return to the world of the living.

Susan gasped when Harry pulled off the cloak.

"Hi, Susan," Harry said with what he knew must be a stupid grin.

"It can't be," Susan said. Confusion clouded her face.

"It is," stated Narcissa. "Completely verified."

"But how?" Susan asked.

Harry and Malfoy repeated their story for what felt like the hundredth time and certainly not the last. Hermione interjected that she was investigating the matter and was certain that she would find an explanation.

It only took an hour to fill out the necessary paperwork to have Harry and Malfoy declared alive. They each also signed a retroactive Disollution of Marriage. It made Harry's bones ache to sign it, but the last thing Harry wanted was for Ginny to be a bigamist or for her son with Neville to be illegitimate. Twenty years lost and pardoned away in one hour. Malfoy acted as if he were signing a simple note to the bank rather than dismissing the last twenty years. Astoria gave him a quaint little smile as he signed.

Harry pushed down the anger and resentment for the sake of Ginny. Her eyes were on the verge of spilling tears and her hand shook as she signed the documents. She pulled out a key and handed it to him.

"It's the key to your Gringott's vault. I never… only for the kids, and even then, not… Neville had…" Hermione wrapped her arms around Ginny as she sobbed quietly.

Harry thought he might be sick. "Oh, Gin." He wanted to find someplace for them to be alone and talk. He wanted to hold her, comfort her, and somehow find solace. Only they had another urgent appointment to keep.

Luna had taken over the Quibbler for her father and was as thrilled to break the story for them as she was thrilled by Harry's return. She did a quick interview to get their story, but the truth was that there wasn't much to it at all. They fell into a magical chamber of some sort and slept for 20 years. One short sentence told their story, while it took endless hours of conversations with their friends and family to bring them up to date on their lives.

The day the story broke, owls flooded the skies almost as full as after the defeat of Voldemort. The sound of their hooting could be heard for miles, and Harry wondered if the Ministry might have to deal with Muggle reports.

Harry holed up at the Burrow with the Weasleys, and everyone took turns collecting letters and dispensing owl treats.

"I found it!" Hermione exclaimed holding up a large tome.

"What?" Ron asked.

"I knew I'd read about it before. It all sounded so familiar," she replied with effervescent pride.

Instinctively, the family gathered around and waited quietly for Hermione to continue.

"It's right here in Odd Occurrences and Omens of the 20th Century. I'd read it back when we were in Hogwarts looking for information on the Chamber of Secrets."

"Well, out with it," George said. Molly cuffed him on the back of the head. Apparently you were never too old to be put in your place by your mother.

"Gregor Bowtruckle."

"Who?" asked Ron.

"Gregor Bowtruckle was a wizard who went to the Ministry of Magic in 1980 claiming that he had fallen into a hole in 1940, fell asleep, and woke up to find the world had changed. Sound familiar? Well, the Department of Mysteries investigation concluded Bowtruckle must have fallen into an unused Escape Portation Chamber."

"A what?" Harry asked. The rest of the family looked as lost as he was.

"Yes, it goes on to explain. During the late 15th and possibly through the 17th centuries, many wizarding families created Escape Portation Chambers. It was very old magic and no one today knows how they did it, but there are historical records of them being used. Persecution of witchcraft and wizardry was rampant in those days. Many families devised the chambers as a means of escape if they feared for their lives. There was no place that was safe, so they decided to travel 10, 20, or even 50 years into the future. They hoped that they would be able to live freely and perhaps times would be better, or at least the people accusing them would have forgotten them or have died."

"But I didn't—" Harry began, but Hermione cut him off.

"You don't have to do anything. They set them up to be an emergency escape, so all you need to do is enter, or fall into the chamber like you did. It is believed that all the chambers were either used or later destroyed, however, there have been several accounts of wizards or even Muggles falling into them by accident. Bowtruckle was the only one of our time and the Ministry kept it rather quiet. He was running through the woods during the Nazi bombings and he fell into one the rare unused chambers. It was theorized that the magic was so powerful that it hadn't deteriorated over time."

"What about Bowtruckle?" Harry asked.

"There's not much here other than he was forty-five at the time. He could still be alive. I could check the Ministry records." Hermione handed the book over to Harry. There wasn't much more information than she had just told them.

"Well at least now we know," Ron said.

Harry nodded, but could only think that knowing how wasn't making him feel any better in the least.

Since his awakening twenty years in the future, Harry hadn't been sleeping well. The stress and anxiety was wearing on him, but he also couldn't seem to get comfortable sleeping in Hugo's old room.

The noise of the door creaking open woke him from his light sleep. It was completely dark but he could see the shadow of a person.

"Hermione?" Harry asked.

"No, it's me. Ginny."

Harry sat up, and felt the bed dip as she sat down next to him. "Are you okay?"

"No," she said. "I couldn't sleep. I had to come and talk to you."

He knew that tremor in her voice quite well. She was on the verge of tears, much like the time when they had to take Albus to St. Mungo's after he'd contracted a horrible case of Dragon Pox at six months old. Or maybe it was more like the time Harry and Ron had to travel to Lithuania to help the Aurors there apprehend a rising Dark Wizard and they didn't know when they would return. He'd never known what to say or do, so he'd always held still and let her tell him.

"I waited, Harry. I waited. I want you to know that I waited." She hiccoughed and wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve.

Harry was grateful that he couldn't see her face, because he knew deep in his soul that he would not be able to handle it.

"I know," he whispered.

"I did. Everyone searched and searched for weeks, but… but Ron, Hermione, and me… we didn't give up. But then a year had gone by…"

Harry reached out and covered one of her hands with his. She recoiled as if burned.

"I'm sorry," she said through her tears.

"It's all right. I'm sorry."

"I didn't believe you were really gone. I held out hope even after the funeral. We held one a year after you disappeared. Mum made me do it. She told me… it doesn't matter."

"Ginny, I don't blame you for moving on."

"It was almost three years later. Neville had always been such a good friend—to both of us. It just happened. One day, it just…"

"You don't have to explain."

"I have to. I have to make you see. I love Neville, but I never stopped loving you. Never."

"Ginny, it's okay."

"How is it okay? How is it ever going to be okay?"

"I… I don't know." He wished he knew.

"It's so unfair. You're here. You're back."

"I am, but… it's not the same."

"It's not." She hiccoughed again and took a long deep breath. "I'm so sorry, Harry. Of all the people in the world, you didn't deserve this. It's all so horribly unfair."

"Thanks, Gin."

"Can you ever forgive me?"

Harry's throat constricted as he forced out his reply. "There's nothing to forgive. I'm glad you had Neville. I'm glad you weren't alone. I'd be lying if I didn't say that it's killing me a little bit, but I wouldn't have wanted to come home and find out that you'd been alone for twenty years."

"I can't go back."

It was a strange statement, but Harry knew what she meant.

The door creaked open further and the light from a single candle bathed the room in a faint light. Hermione poked her head in. "Everything okay in here?

"We're just crying over the unfairness of life. Care to join us?" Harry said through the tears.

Hermione nodded then burst into tears. Immediately, she joined them on the bed for what was undoubtedly the first communal cry of Harry's life. Silently he prayed that they wouldn't wake up Ron.

The following three weeks, Harry continued to sleep at Ron and Hermione's, while taking turns spending days and meals getting to know his family. Hermione took him around the Ministry and updated him on the latest politics and current events. Fleur took him shopping, which turned out to be a good thing, because he was starting to feel uncomfortable wearing James and Albus' old clothes. He received a daily package of sweets from Molly and a fair dose of fan mail congratulating him on his return. He visited Hogwarts and was relieved to find Hagrid alive and in good spirits, but was saddened to hear of the loss of Professor McGonagall.

Everyone took turns entertaining him as if he were some distant cousin twice removed from Estonia who was visiting Britain for the summer holidays. All his interactions had a strange surreal quality to them, and an odd numbness began to emerge. It was like meeting a stranger in a bar and they told you their life story over Firewhiskey and ale. His own children were so foreign to him, and his oldest and dearest friends were a generation removed.

Occasionally Harry spent an evening at Malfoy Manor and continued to be surprised by how comfortable all the Malfoys were with Draco's return.

It weighed on Harry's mind so much so, that over a Firewhiskey with Malfoy one evening he blurted out, "Doesn't any of this bother you?"

"What do you mean?" Malfoy took a casual sip of his drink as if Harry had inquired about the weather.

"This! Coming home twenty years in the future. Your wife is remarried. Doesn't it bother you? Doesn't it bother her? You all seem like one big happy— ah, sod it." Harry tossed his glass into the fireplace and stormed off down the hall. He needed air, desperately. The Manor was so stuffy and every corner was filled with not-so-distant painful memories that he could hardly breathe.

"Wait up, Potter, you gigantic prat," Malfoy called after him.

"Sorry," Harry said as he opened the enormous mahogany entrance doors. "Give my regards to Lily and Scorpius. I have to go."

"Wait!"

Harry stood in the open doorway. A cold night breeze heralded autumn in full swing.

Malfoy looked like he was at war with himself. Harry couldn't imagine just what he might possibly have to say, but whatever it was, he wanted to hear it.

"Let's go for a walk outside," Malfoy suggested.

Harry acquiesced and they made their way through the front gardens. The entire place was overrun with albino peacocks, but the darkness had lulled them.

"Potter, I…"

"What?"

"I'm sorry," Malfoy stated with what was obviously great effort.

"I don't blame you," Harry said, and he honestly didn't. It wasn't anyone's fault.

"I didn't think you did. I'm sorry that this is hard for you. There, I said it."

"Thanks," Harry replied slowly, not quite understanding what Malfoy was getting at.

"You're right. This is easier for me."

"Why? Why is it so easy for you?"

Malfoy sat down on a marble bench surrounded by rose bushes. Harry joined him and was surprised to find that the marble wasn't cold against his bottom.

Catching Harry's surprised look, Malfoy said, "All the benches are equipped with weather dependent Warming Charms."

"Oh."

"Look, Potter, it is strange to be in this together with you, but like it or not, we are. Lily and Scorpius connect us now. I see that. Surely, you must."

Harry nodded.

"I'd love to go on the rest of my life thinking that you're an enormous prat, but I can't, not anymore."

"Am I supposed to be flattered?" Harry said, trying to cut the tension.

"Yes, be flattered. The point I'm trying to get to is that I always wanted to see you fall flat on your arse. I wanted to beat you in Quidditch. I wanted the rest of the world to see you as I did. You had everything. You were the darling of the wizarding world. You were the golden one, perfect, could do no wrong, but now that you've actually lost everything, I find that I'm not enjoying seeing you fall apart, not at all."

"But why isn't it hard for you too? How aren't you falling apart? You and Astoria seem so friendly. Ginny looks like she'll burst into tears anytime she looks at me."

"Because Astoria and I didn't have that kind of marriage."

"I don't—"

"In pureblood tradition, we were arranged. It was expected that we'd produce an heir, but that was it."

"You don't love each other?"

"I love her a great deal. We became very close, but we also led our own lives. We allowed each other certain freedoms."

"You had affairs?"

"Not exactly. Look, Potter, I know this must be hard for you to understand, but Astoria never minded. She became a Malfoy and was afforded a lifestyle that she'd always wanted."

"And she looked the other way when you took up with other women?"

"Men."

"What?"

"Potter, surely you heard the rumors. It wasn't exactly a well kept secret."

"I don't follow."

"Slow as ever on the uptake, aren't you, Potter. I'm a homosexual."

"Huh?"

"You know what homose—"

"Yes, I know what a... I just didn't know you..." Things began to make a lot more sense.

"My disappearing for twenty years is possibly the best thing that ever happened to me, to my family."

"How can you say that?" Even for Malfoy, it was still rather shocking.

"Because, it has given me freedom that I never could have dreamed of having. I wasn't the nappies and birthday party type. I loved Scorpius as a baby, but I couldn't wait for him to grow up and go off to Hogwarts. I bypassed all the messy stuff and now have a perfectly turned out son who's making a family of his own. I had to be extremely discreet in my affairs, as did Astoria. Now she's been able to remarry with absolutely no stigma and I'm free to do as I please. I don't need to worry about what it means to the future of the family. That's all sorted."

"How convenient." A spark of jealousy flashed inside of Harry. Jealous of Malfoy? Nothing was beyond change in this new world.

"It is. I have a clean slate. I'm free of the burdens of my father, my family responsibilities, even the memories of the war. People have moved on, and Scorpius has secured the Malfoy line and brought honor and respect to the name."

"So you're not upset that he married a Weasley?"

"Not in the sense that you mean. Do I value the Manor and old wizarding traditions? Yes. Do I value fine living? Yes. Will I ever see eye to eye with the Weasleys on most things? Probably not. But when it comes to Scorpius, Lily, Jeannie, and Erik, I am absolutely delighted. I wouldn't have thought so before our last Quidditch match, but now I see that it's for the best."

"For the best? You were affected by the time travel."

"Of course, you twit, and I admit it's different for me, but if you don't man up, you're going to keep being miserable and you're going to make everyone around you miserable. I won't have it."

"Have what?"

"Spreading your sullen mood around my home and family like a disease. Yes, Lily's your daughter, but I won't have you upsetting her because you can't accept that life went on without you. You can't change this, Potter. There's no way to Expelliarmus your way out of this one. Accept it or at least pretend you have, otherwise you'll make everyone suffer with you."

Slack jawed Harry stared at Malfoy. Was the pompous arse right? Leave it to Malfoy to give him the straight story. Harry took out his wand and prepared to Apparate.

"Goodnight, Malfoy," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"Think about what I said." Malfoy didn't need to remind him. Harry thought about his words all night long.

The Romanian Longhorn skewered its prey on one of its long golden horns. Lunch was a deer from the reservation herd. The deer were raised and maintained to keep the reservation dragons well fed as well as to keep them from migrating out of their territory. The Longhorn let out a ferocious growl and then a wall of fire erupted from its snout.

Harry watched in awe as the mighty dragon roasted his meal. It was a lot more interesting to watch from a safe distance than to be a target. The heat was intense, even a hundred yards away. Wiping his brow, he looked over at Albus, who gave him a friendly smile.

Albus and Charlie had invited Harry out to Romania, and at first, Harry had been hesitant to leave the rest of the family, but Hermione and Ron urged him to take the trip. They said it would do him some good. More specifically, Hermione told him that perhaps he needed a little distance to put things in perspective. Harry wasn't sure what kind of perspective one could have about being accidentally thrust twenty years forward through time, but seeing first-hand what Albus was doing with his life sounded like a good idea.

The dragon reserve was amazing. It was a trip that Harry never would have taken. He wouldn't have been able to leave Ginny with the little ones or leave the Aurors for any extended time.

What was supposed to be a one-week visit turned into three weeks at the reserve. After a few days of watching, Harry had to get his hands dirty and get in on the action. He could see the appeal that it had to Albus and Charlie, although it wasn't something he fancied himself doing for the rest of his life. Not like Charlie, who was now the Senior Dragon Wrangler and responsible for staffing and training.

On the day before Harry was set to return to Britain, Charlie led him on a long broom ride over the main ridge and to one of the most remote areas of the reserve. They crouched on a hill and looked down into a small valley. There a Norwegian Ridgeback with its tell tale jet-black ridges was hunting along the valley floor.

"You'll never guess who that is," Charlie said with a cryptic smile.

"No," Harry replied. "That isn't…?"

"I present Norberta."

"Unbelievable."

"I'd had everyone out scouting for her since you arrived. She's been quite elusive. They finally spotted her yesterday."

"Amazing." Harry remembered the day Norbert, now Norberta, was born in Hagrid's hut as well as Charlie and his friends coming in the dead of night to sneak a dragon out of Howarts. It was a lifetime ago.

"She's the matriarch now. She's bore fourteen Ridgebacks here at the reserve. Hagrid likes to say that he's a grandpappy."

Harry laughed and he could imagine Hagrid, with a tear in his eye, saying just that. "I bet he's right proud."

"He is, and you should be too, Harry."

Harry looked at Charlie and tried to decipher what he meant.

"Albus," Charlie clarified. "He's great, and an absolute natural with the dragons. Actually, all your kids are great."

"Not that I had anything to do with it," Harry replied ruefully.

"Of course you did."

"I wasn't there."

"Were your parents there for you?"

The remark was so cutting that Harry wasn't sure what to make of it, but after a minute, Harry let go of the anger and realized what Charlie had probably meant. His parents had been there. Just the knowledge of their existence had allowed their spirits and everything they stood for to help him whenever he needed them most. Harry chewed on his bottom lip and could only nod at Charlie. There were no words to adequately express the complex and tangled web that was his emotions at that moment.

Harry returned to Ron and Hermione's house feeling grateful for the trip, but uncertain if it had given him any newfound clarity. In his absence, the story of Gregor Bowtruckle had resurfaced thanks to his and Malfoy's story being consistent fodder for The Daily Prophet. Apparently the old wizard lived just outside of Hogsmeade. Hermione suggested that Harry pay the man a visit. Harry sent an owl off to Bowtruckle and one to Malfoy. Harry figured he might as well take Malfoy along, but the truth was that he was more curious about how Malfoy was doing than the old wizard.

Bowtruckle replied immediately, writing that he had hoped with all the recent publicity that Harry might seek him out. It had been decades since anyone had wanted to hear his story and now so many were seeking him out to hear the tales of a lonely old man, but he was most excited to meet the famous Harry Potter, whose life Mr. Bowtruckle had followed through the years.

Malfoy's missive was less enthusiastic. Fine, Potter. Tell me when, and I'll meet you in Hogsmeade.

After a terse greeting, they walked the half of a mile from the main square of Hogsmeade to Bowtruckle's home without speaking. Harry wondered why Malfoy had bothered to come.

The home of Gregor Bowtruckle reminded Harry of the Burrow. It was a hodgepodge of wood and stone that looked as it had been haphazardly thrown together and fixed or expanded over and over through the years. The front garden was overrun with gnomes and looked as if it hadn't been tended to in years.

The old wizard greeted them at the door with a wide smile. "Come in. Come in. I've made tea."

The inside matched the outside perfectly. It was filled to the brim with magical knickknacks and mismatched furniture. Stacks of magazines and newspapers littered the floor and old quilts were strewn about the room. Harry didn't need to look at Malfoy's face to know that his nose was in the air as he stepped carefully through the sitting room trying not to get his freshly pressed robes dusty.

Politely, Harry sipped at his tea and nibbled at a biscuit. Malfoy sat stoically and looked to be waiting for it all to be over. Mr. Bowtruckle told them his story and how he had been running from Muggle flying machines and fell into what he thought was a ditch. The description of his chamber and its magical barriers matched Harry and Draco's experience exactly. Bowtruckle woke to find himself forty years in the future. His wife had passed on and his son was older than he was as well as a grandfather of four.

"So what did you do?" Harry asked. Pins and needles tingled in his feet. Someone else had gone through what he was going though now.

"Started over, my boy. What else was there to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"I found a new job. I found a new wife, Clarice, she's gone now, too, but the point is that I was able to have a second life."

"How?" Harry couldn't grasp the idea of starting over.

"How? I would guess that of all wizards, you could understand. I've followed you, my boy. I may have been put into my predicament because of a Muggle war, but I witnessed far more frightening things during You-Know-Who's reign and you, Harry Potter, are a shining example of how to pick up your wand and carry on."

Harry chanced a quick look over at Malfoy, who was dramatically acting bored.

"Look, sir," Harry began.

"Gregor, please."

Harry nodded. "I know what you're saying, but I just can't break from my family, even if they are all grown."

"You don't have to." Malfoy spoke for the first time since they entered Gregor's home.

"What?" Harry asked.

"You don't have to break completely," Malfoy reiterated. "There's no reason you can't remain close with your family and still move on with a new life."

"Mr. Malfoy is quite right," Gregor added. "I remained close with my son, but was able to begin something new. Life is amazing. You simply need to live it."

For a moment, the old wizard reminded Harry of Professor Dumbledore. There was a familiar twinkle in the man's blue eyes and a soft smile that made Harry believe that anything was possible.

Harry walked down Mr. Bowtruckle's front path feeling more confused than ever. He looked over at Malfoy, who seemed self-assured and more relaxed now that the visit was over. "I think I'll take a walk to Hogsmeade and stop by Honeydukes. I heard it's still there. You can Apparate home from here if you want to."

"I'll join you, if you don't mind."

"No, I don't mind, but why did you come today? You were completely rude to him."

"I was not!" Malfoy snapped.

"Yes, you were. Why did you even bother coming?"

"You asked," Malfoy said simply.

It was a strange moment, and Harry felt immediately uncomfortable. They had always been adversaries and the idea that Malfoy could possibly have done something out of… Harry didn't know what to call it… a friendly obligation? Harry wasn't sure he'd ever get used to this new connection to Malfoy.

They walk towards Hogsmeade in silence until they reached the Shrieking Shack.

"Amazing," Harry said staring off at the run down shack. "It's still here."

"Still the most haunted house in Britain, I suppose."

"There were never any ghosts."

"And how would you know this?"

"Remus Lupin used to transform there when he was a student at Hogwarts."

"He was a werewolf when he was at Hogwarts?" Malfoy said, as if it was the most shocking information he'd heard in his life.

"Yeah, Dumbledore planted the Whomping Willow to block the passage to keep the students away."

"He allowed a werewolf to attend Hogwarts?"

"Need I remind you that you let a werewolf into Hogwarts," Harry shot back.

"I didn't know, and that's hardly the same as inviting one to be a student."

"Greyback turned Remus as a boy. Did you know that?"

Malfoy blanched for the briefest moment and then replied, "Still, it was a total disregard for the safety of the students."

"That's rich coming from you."

"How dare you!" Malfoy's face turned red and his arm moved as if to reach for his wand but then was forcibly stopped.

"Dare what? You self-righteous—"

"Me? Me, self-righteous?"

Harry was so angry that he didn't know what to do. He hadn't been this worked up since his return. Finding the world turned upside down, he had continually forced his emotions deep down, but now they were boiling beyond control. He wanted to reach for his wand, but knew that it would only lead to disaster, so he did the next best thing. Squatting down, he picked up a large handful of mud.

"Don't you dare!" Malfoy growled.

Harry flung the mud as hard as he could, and it hit him in the chest. Malfoy looked down at the mess on the front of his robes and fumed.

"Just like old times," Harry said with a wide grin and felt the thirteen-year-old boy stir inside him. "You going to cry and run home?"

Malfoy stared at him strangely and then his expression showed that he'd made the connection. "That was you?"

"Yup." Harry grabbed another fistful of mud and tossed it at Malfoy.

This time, Malfoy reached for his wand and cast a Shield Charm. The mud splattered against it and some if it splashed back on Harry's face.

"Grow up," Malfoy said, turning to walk away.

Harry flung another handful of mud into the air. It hit Malfoy on the left shoulder. Seeing the mud drip off the luxurious fabric helped to wash away the rest of his anger. It was an ancient argument and not one where he and Malfoy were likely to meet in the middle. What was the point? If Harry needed to start a new life, he had to try and put his past battles behind him.

Slowly, with a look of pure loathing, Malfoy turned to Harry. "These are brand new robes."

Harry couldn't help himself. He laughed, and laughed quite loudly. "Don't know any cleaning charms?"

With the wave of his wand Malfoy sent a wall of mud showering over Harry. His glasses were practically covered and he could barely make out Malfoy's smug stare.

"Do you feel better?" asked Harry through laughter, as he wiped his glasses off with his shirt. He couldn't imagine anything more absurd than having a mud fight with Malfoy in the middle of Hogsmeade. Harry clutched his side, which was beginning to ache from all the hard laughter, but it was a good ache.

"Maybe. You know you're completely mad."

"Maybe, but I'll buy you a drink." The shocked look on Malfoy's was worth the peace offering.

Harry pulled out his wand causing Malfoy to take a step back. "Relax. May I?" Harry gestured to Malfoy's robes.

Malfoy nodded and stood stoically as Harry cast a Cleaning Charm.

Inspecting the robes, Malfoy sniffed with derision. "They're still stained, and these buttons are antiques." Malfoy pulled out a handkerchief and began to wipe each of the bejeweled buttons reverently.

"Loosen up a little." Harry cast a quick Cleaning Charm over his own mud-streaked clothes.

"The same could be said of you." Malfoy looked oddly at Harry.

"What?"

"Your hair, although perhaps it's an improvement."

"Shut it." Harry shook his head wildly and flecks of mud flew into the air.

"Just like a dog," Malfoy said, but in a lighter and teasing tone. He cast a Cleaning Charm at Harry's hair.

"Am I acceptable?"

"Not really, but it'll have to do. That drink? I could use one. I had to listen to that old codger go on and on like he was the head of the Harry Potter fan club."

"Ah, sheer torture."

"Indeed. The Three Broomsticks?"

It was a surprising suggestion. "You go there?" Harry asked.

"Not that you should know this, but after… after the war, I went to Madam Rosmerta and attempted to…"

"Apologize?"

"Make amends. I'm not sure you can truly apologize for an Unforgivable, but I tried. She was a kind enough soul not to slam the door in my face. The pub was damaged and a complete mess, so I offered to give her the capital to fix it up."

"You're a part owner?"

"No. I called it reparations. She could have the money no strings attached. Rosmerta was proud and didn't want to take it at first, so I told her she could serve me free drinks for life. I imagine when I disappeared she thought she made out on that deal. I stopped in a few weeks ago and told her that she wasn't off the hook."

Harry smiled. He'd never thought about how Rosmerta had been able to completely renovate after the war. "The Three Broomsticks it is."

The years had been kind to Rosmerta. She had aged, but had a healthy and happy glow about her. She was married and had two children at Hogwarts. She also still served incredible mead that was so smooth going down that you never knew what hit you until you tried to stand only to realize that the alcohol had gone straight to your knees.

"You okay there, Potter?" Malfoy asked, as Harry wobbled over and grabbed onto their table for support.

"A trip to the loo should set me right." Actually what Harry needed was his bed and twelve undisturbed hours. He'd drunk far too much and all he'd eaten was a few chips. They should've ordered dinner.

Harry righted himself and staggered off to the restroom. He took his time and splashed cold water on his face in an attempt to wake up. When he returned, he found Malfoy staring at some young wizard sitting at the bar.

"Who's that?" Harry asked as he slid into his chair.

"No idea, but I'm going to find out," Malfoy said with confidence.

"How do you know that?"

"The look."

"The look?"

"You know, the look."

"Sorry, I don't follow."

Malfoy sighed. "Come on, Potter, you know that look that someone gives you. They look at you. You look back at them, and you know."

"Know what?"

"They're interested. Surely after the war, throngs of witches chose a night with The Chosen One."

"There was only Ginny." Harry wasn't quite sure why that sentence had been so painful, but it felt like he'd been hit with a Stinging Hex.

"You're joking."

"Nope."

"That's pathetic."

"Shut it."

"You really never… Didn't you want to?"

"Not really. I don't think I ever thought about it. Now does it make more sense why this is so hard for me? It was always Ginny." As soon as the words left his mouth, Harry knew that had he been sober, he wouldn't have said them.

"That's depressing."

"I know. And now I'm living at Hermione and Ron's. It's like I'm their child. I've gotta get out. Hey, will you come look at a flat with me tomorrow?"

"What?"

"Hermione's been encouraging me to get a place of my own. She set me up with this real estate witch. She's going to show me a flat in a brand new building tomorrow. Ginny found our house. I've never… I have no idea what to look for."

It was ironic to want Malfoy's company, but Harry had to admit that he felt an odd kinship with him. Yes, their reactions were different, but only Draco Malfoy knew what it was like to experience what Harry was going through.

"I will come, but only because you are the most pathetic sod I've ever met."

"Thanks," Harry said with a forced smile. "I think I'll go now and leave you to your look." Harry tilted his head toward the bar. The young wizard was still there and staring at Malfoy. The man was handsome with dark brown hair and dark eyes. It made Harry wonder just what sort of bloke was Malfoy's type. And if that wasn't a sign that he'd had far too much to drink, he didn't know what else could it possibly be.

"Take the Floo. You'll Splinch yourself for sure if you try and Apparate," Malfoy said, when Harry staggered awkwardly to his feet.

"Right. Meet me in front of Gringott's at one?"

"All right."

"G'night, Malfoy."

"Good night, Potter."

Lying in bed, Harry thought about the fact that he hadn't had sex since he returned. He hadn't even masturbated. He hadn't even thought about sex. But now, lying in bed and remembering the look that the young wizard had given Malfoy, he felt something stir inside him for the first time since his return. Malfoy was probably having sex at that moment. Why should that awaken his libido?

Tentatively, Harry reached into his pyjama bottoms and touched the hot skin of his forming erection. He imagined Ginny when they were first married. They had sex all the time and in every room of the house. Oddly, those thoughts began to make his erection wilt. They'd always worked for him in the past. He'd come home from work late to find her asleep. He'd be so full of tension, but he couldn't find it in his heart to wake her. It was easy for Harry to rub one out while thinking of them having sex in the kitchen while she slept beside him.

Maybe he felt guilty. Harry changed tactics and imagined one of the sexy young witches who played for the Holyhead Harpies. They had a full spread in this past month's Go Quidditch magazine. The woman was blonde and lean with full lips and bright blue eyes. Nothing. Somehow, his body had lost interest. Harry opened his eyes and looked around at the Quidditch posters, student textbooks, and photos of the Weasleys that filled Hugo's old room. Hermione and Ron were sleeping just on the other side of wall next to the bed. There was no way he was going to get any relief in this room. He needed to move out if he had hopes of ever having sex again.

"And over there is the oversized marble fireplace, connected to the Floo Network with your standard Security and Privacy Spells, of course," said Margo Hastings, who was apparently THE real estate witch in London. Her son worked for Hermione, and the mere mention of Harry's name had the woman salivating and begging Hermione to send Harry to her. Just completed, the twelve-story high-rise building was in a small wizarding neighborhood adjacent to Diagon Alley. It was part of an expansion project begun after Gringott's had managed to acquire some Muggle-owned land that had fallen into a state of neglect due to the poor Muggle economy.

"As you can see, no expense was spared when it came to the mouldings and woodwork. The craftsmanship is excellent," Margo rambled on.

The three-bedroom penthouse was incredible, but far bigger than Harry needed or even wanted. Maybe he'd ask her to show him one of the smaller flats on the lower floors. Still, it wouldn't hurt to look around.

"The master bedroom is quite large, but can be magically expanded if needed. The master bath has a sunken Roman tub furnished with hot, cold, and potions taps."

Harry peeked into the bathroom and was reminded of the Prefect's bath. There was even a stained-glass window. Only the design was of the sun rising above a waterfall. Harry followed Margo back through the flat and into the enormous sitting room.

"It's brilliant, really, I just don't know that I need something so…"

"Elegant? Classy?" Malfoy said with a snide grin.

"Big," Harry said.

"You're an idiot. If you don't take this place, I will." Malfoy turned to Margo. "Draw up the papers."

"I didn't say that I didn't want it," Harry said, feeling the familiar spark of competitiveness that always flared when it came to Malfoy.

"You most certainly did," replied Malfoy.

"Why do you even need a place?" Harry challenged. He may not have needed the place, but the idea of losing it to Malfoy niggled at his pride.

"The Manor is Scorpius and Lily's home now. With the children, and my mother, not to mention Astoria nonstop Portkey-ing in from Spain without notice, there isn't a corner of privacy."

"So? It's enormous."

"Not enough. That bloke yesterday didn't live alone either. If I ever intend to get laid again, I'm going to have to get my own place," said Malfoy, and in his head, Harry could hear the words echo in his own voice.

"Pardon me," Malfoy said to Margo, when he noticed her blush.

"Don't worry, Mr. Malfoy, I've heard it all. Well, gentlemen, you're both in luck," Margo said, smiling as if it were raining Galleons. "There are two penthouses."

She walked out the front door and waved her wand at a door across the hall, which Harry hadn't noticed when they came off the lift. She opened the door and gestured for them to follow.

"It's the identical flat, mirror image, actually," she said with a professional smile.

"Well, Potter, I suppose I can stomach having you for a neighbor, but can you afford the building?" said Malfoy with a hint of challenge in his voice.

"I'll take it." Harry knew it was impulsive and even excessive, but he could afford it, so why not indulge himself for once.

Moving into the penthouse flat was quite strange. Harry thought he'd have instant quiet and solitude, but instead a deluge of visitors came one after the other that first week. Strangely enough, the only person he didn't see was Malfoy.

Teddy brought a couch and chair from Grimmauld Place. He teased Harry that Andromeda had been after him to get rid of it for the longest time. Hermione and Ron, James, Bill, and George also helped out with furnishings. Molly set up the kitchen. Other old friends dropped by and without exception everyone brought cast offs for him, which given that this flat screamed money was amusing on one level, but annoying on another because they were treating him like he was some charity case.

It was Neville who dropped by with some of Harry's actual belongings.

"Hi," Harry said, surprised to see Neville outside his door holding Harry's school trunk.

"Hullo." Neville shifted his weight from foot to foot awkwardly trying to balance the trunk.

"Sorry, come in," Harry said, when he finally collected his wits.

"Um. This was in the attic," Neville said, placing the trunk in the middle of the sitting room. "And these." Neville pulled out two boxes from his pocket. His wand shook as he enlarged them.

"Oh. What's in them?"

"Ginny saved a lot. Um. She gave some things to the kids, but held on to most of your… um…"

Harry opened the first box. "Photographs."

"Right. Photographs and…"

Opening the second box, Harry scanned the contents. "Books."

"Right." Neville looked around like he didn't know whether to stay or to go.

"Have a seat," Harry said, as he opened his trunk. He hadn't been in a room alone with Neville, since his return, and now that they were alone, Harry knew why they had both avoided it. It was uncomfortable to the point of physical pain, his stomach clenched tightly that Harry was grateful for not having eaten much that day.

The trunk contained most of his most treasured possessions, including his Invisibility Cloak.

"Thanks for bringing all this by, Nev," Harry said, holding the shimmering cloak in his arms. He'd last worn it a few months earlier, well twenty years and a few months earlier, on a case in Muggle London. His cloak had always been such an important part of his life. In some ways it was an extension of him.

"No problem. I…" Neville fidgeted.

"What?"

Neville looked at the cloak. "Ginny wanted to give the cloak to James when he went off to Hogwarts, but I said he'd get into too much trouble."

Harry nodded. "Probably the right decision."

"Harry, I…"

"I'm glad you were there for them."

"Harry, look—" Neville began

Harry held up the palm of his hand to stop him. "I understand, Neville. I do. We don't have to—"

"I feel like I owe you an apology."

"You don't."

"But it feels like I do. Can we be friends again?" Neville asked. His eyes looked up hopefully at Harry.

"We never stopped."

Neville smiled, and Harry let his jealousy go for just a minute to enjoy Neville's friendship.

While everyone else brought furniture, household items or food (enough to keep Harry fed for the next few weeks), Luna showed up at his front door with a cat.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"It's a cat, silly."

"No, I mean, why do you have it with you?"

Luna held out the cat. Its fur was mostly white with large gray splotches. With Luna practically dropping it on top of Harry, he reluctantly grabbed it around its middle. "Harry, this is Igor. He's for you."

"Oh." Harry shut the door behind Luna and put the cat down. Immediately, Igor began walking around the flat. He sniffed curiously and then proceeded to rub up against everything.

Luna watched Igor go about his business with a satisfied smile. "I've had him for six months now and he's done nothing but fight with our other cats and bully our Kneazle. I think he needs to be in a one-cat home."

"I've never owned a cat before," Harry admitted; he wasn't sure he wanted to start now.

"That's why I thought it would be perfect."

Harry had known Luna long enough to know that there was no point in arguing with her. Somehow in Luna logic, that made sense. She had brought along cat food and then showed Harry how to work the litter box charms. She didn't even stay for tea, but told Harry to stop by for dinner sometime.

The cat meandered around the furniture and scratched at the unpacked boxes of books and old clothes. Igor settled into a corner with a haughty stare for Harry that reminded him of Malfoy. The place wasn't much to look at. It was a hodgepodge of cast offs and old things that everyone was probably trying to get rid of. The only thing Harry bought was a bed. It was a mahogany four-poster that reminded him of his bed from Gryffindor, only larger.

Harry was up early for a change making tea. Most mornings he'd been sleeping in since he hadn't been sleeping well at night. At first it was all the stress and anxiety over sleeping away twenty years of his life, but as the weeks went on, he realized that it had been years since he'd slept alone. With only a few rare exceptions, he'd had Ginny sleeping beside him. Sleeping alone was incredibly lonely, and waking up in the middle of the night and not finding her there, hearing her breathe, or being able to curl against the soft curve of her warm body, had been enough to keep Harry from falling back to sleep.

Two nights earlier, Igor had jumped into the bed and curled up next to Harry. His first instinct had been to kick the cat across the room, but then feeling the warmth and hearing the soft purr, Harry decided to give Igor a trial run as a bedmate. Both nights, Harry slept all the way through to find Igor still nestled against his stomach in the morning.

Without any obligations, Harry hadn't gone out much and spent most of his time the first few weeks in the new flat listening to the wireless or reading old Daily Prophets and still not sure what to make of the new world out there. Ron wanted Harry to return to the Aurors. Only Harry couldn't imagine going back to work, at least not right then. Ron had twenty years to work up through the ranks to second in command at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. They had been a team, but now Ron would be his superior.

All of his peers had moved on without him. Their careers flourished. Their children had grown into the next generation of witches and wizards. The time of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had faded into a history lesson, and Harry had become a classic tale for the ages with no present. Thinking about the future was unfathomable.

Harry heard a meow and found the stupid cat sitting by the front door. Igor meowed again with more force now that his human was nearby. For some strange reason, Harry believed that Igor thought himself the master of their relationship. Why people loved cats was beyond Harry's comprehension, other than being efficient bed warmers, of course.

Walking over to the door Harry said, "You're an indoor cat now. Get over it."

Igor stuck his tail straight up and rubbed against Harry's legs, proceeding to deposit tiny white hairs all over his blue pyjamas. Harry pulled his wand out from his dressing gown pocket and was unsuccessful in banishing the hairs. Igor continued to rub against him.

"Thanks, ever so." As Harry bent down to shoo Igor off, he heard Malfoy's door open and voices in the hall. It was rather early for visitors.

Listening at the door, Harry could hear them speaking but couldn't quite make out what they were saying. However, Harry could tell that it was definitely a second male voice. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't resist casting a quick charm on the door so that he could see and hear the conversation. It was a handy little charm that he learned his first year with the Aurors. The only drawback was that if anyone was looking for it, it was easily detected, but most people were rather oblivious when it came to noticing if they were being watched.

Malfoy was wearing nothing but a black silk dressing gown. He casually leaned against the doorframe with one leg poised slightly forward, revealing nothing but the inside of a creamy thigh underneath. He was barefoot, and Harry tried to remember if he'd ever seen Malfoy's feet before. He didn't think he had. Harry could also see the outline of Malfoy's body beneath the soft silk material. He had a slim build but a firm chest and well set shoulders.

The other wizard was leaning in, resting his hand on the doorframe just above Malfoy's shoulder and was obviously taking in the view as well. The man looked to be about their age and wore finely tailored modern robes. He had brown hair and eyes and was slightly taller than Malfoy with broader shoulders. The size difference didn't seem to intimidate Malfoy at all. He had a confident spark in his eyes that made him seem clearly in control of the encounter.

"All right," said the other wizard, "for now."

Malfoy held his chin up and replied, "It'll have to be."

The man leaned over and captured Malfoy's lips in a kiss. Harry had never seen two men kiss before, at least not like that. He'd known a few blokes from the Ministry who leaned that way, but never witnessed more than a causal hug or peck on the cheek hello. This was a deep and passionate kiss. It looked like a 'let's do this again kiss', and Malfoy responded with zeal. The scene was somewhat arousing, which he initially found a little shocking, but then Harry chalked it up to the fact that he'd gone months without sex. He suspected watching garden gnomes go at it could've turned him on.

The wizard left with a quick wave as Malfoy stood still in the doorway and watched the doors close on the lift. Malfoy turned to go back inside, but suddenly froze. Slowly he turned and with a tilted head he studied Harry's front door.

"I know you're there, Potter," he said softly, and took two steps across the hall.

Harry held his breath. Malfoy looked more curious than sure. Igor meowed loudly. "Shh," Harry whispered to the cat.

Malfoy took another step towards Harry's flat and stared at the door through narrowly squinted eyes. Reaching into the pocket of his dressing gown, he pulled out his wand.

"Bugger," Harry muttered under his breath, and then ended the spell. He opened the door and forced a wide grin. "Hey, Malfoy." Igor bolted through his legs and into the hall.

"A little early for spying?" Malfoy said without any anger. He could've been asking if Harry was going out for a walk. It wasn't what Harry had expected.

"No, not at all. Igor, my cat," Harry clarified, "was whining and I was just—"

"Spying," Malfoy said with a smug smirk.

Sensing that Malfoy truly didn't care, Harry capitulated. "Sorry. I heard voices."

"Hmm."

Not knowing what else to say or do, Harry suggested, "Coffee?" It seemed only fair that he make a peace offering for eavesdropping, besides he was going to have to get used to living next to Malfoy at some point.

Malfoy contemplated for a moment, then replied, "Tea." He shut his front door and cast a Locking Charm on it. Igor took this action as a reason to rub against his ankles.

"Nice cat," Malfoy said without looking down.

Harry was uncertain if he was being sincere. "He was a gift. Luna."

"Why am I not surprised? Mother gave me her Louis XIV chaise that I've had my eye on for years, but to each their own."

It was hard to get a reading on Malfoy. His voice didn't have his typical high and pureblood attitude. He sounded almost conversational. Neighborly even. It made Harry acutely aware of how un-neighborly he'd been.

"Come in, please," Harry said, gesturing to his front door. It was the first time he'd invited Malfoy over, but then again, Malfoy had never invited him over either, so he wasn't about to feel too guilty about it. Igor followed at Malfoy's heels.

Malfoy crossed the threshold and abruptly halted. He scanned the bare walls, mismatched old furniture, and stacked boxes. "I thought you moved in when I did."

"I did," Harry replied, feeling a rush of embarrassment.

"How do you live like this?"

Harry shrugged. "I bought a bed."

"Well, that's something, but again, I ask, Potter, how can you live like this?"

"It's not so bad," Harry said, but that was a lie. It was horrible. He was young man, yet was holed up in his flat with a cat like some ninety-year-old hag. After the initial deluge of visitors to help him settle in, no one had come by. They returned to their busy lives— lives that Harry hadn't been a part of in twenty years. They didn't know where he fit in anymore than he did.

Harry walked into the kitchen and Malfoy followed.

"What you've done to this gorgeous piece of real estate is appalling. You're lowering my property value by the second."

Putting the kettle on, Harry rolled his eyes at Malfoy's drama. He grabbed two mismatched teacups and set them on the table.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at the one on the left with the slight chip in the rim. "Forget the tea. We're going shopping. Give me thirty minutes to shower and dress. I expect you'll be ready to go."

"You're taking me shopping?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Someone has to." Malfoy turned on his heel, and Igor meowed at him as he walked to the front door.

"Don't you think it a tad cliché?"

"That the only person you know with any taste or sense of style is your gay neighbor? Yes. It's simply indicative of how pathetic your life is, but I'm in a charitable mood this morning."

Harry had no idea that Malfoy had a sense of humor, or if that was humor. He convinced himself that it was Malfoy's wit making him smile and not the curve of his arse covered in silk as he sashayed out the door.

Having nothing better to do, Harry went along with Malfoy's antics as they visited every shop in Diagon Alley. Malfoy would point and say things like 'buy that', 'buy two of those', 'buy a dozen of those', and 'yes, you need red and white wine glasses – they're different.'

Answering all commands with an exaggerated nod, Harry decided it was best to appease Malfoy. His flat was rather depressing, and if he hadn't been so depressed he would have realized it.

"Once everything is delivered, you send all those worn out relics and kindling back to where they came from," Malfoy instructed him.

"Fine. Fine. Can we eat yet? I'm starved."

"Shop first. Eat later. Let's go to Miranda's. She always has something out of the ordinary."

Miranda's was known for magical antiques. In fact, Harry remembered Ginny making several purchases there over the years. The store was filled to the brim with everything: furniture, jewelry, paintings, tapestries, cookware, and even magical plumbing fixtures. Harry meandered through the shop, while Malfoy seemed to take a more tactical approach of surveying specific areas and pulling out a quill and parchment to jot down notes.

A small writing desk with intricate carvings along the top and sides caught Harry's eye. He ran his hand over the wood, which he guessed from the feel and color was cherry. It had ornate bronze handles on two side drawers. As Harry examined the carvings, he recognized that they were quills and owls.

"It's exquisite," Malfoy said over Harry's shoulder.

"I like it." Harry pulled one of the draws open and was surprised to find the wood slid smoothly.

"You should get it."

"Don't really need it."

"It's the first thing you've picked out that was worthy of your flat."

"You wouldn't let me pick out anything."

"Exactly."

Harry pulled up the price tag and gasped just as Miranda joined them.

"Ah, I see you've found the Owl Desk. I found it last week at an estate sale up in Leeds. It's at least four hundred years old. Sadly all of the charms have worn off, but the wood and hardware are in impeccable condition." Miranda looked over at Malfoy. "But I'm sure Mr. Malfoy could help you with any magical additions you might require. I'm practically selling it at a loss."

"Miranda, we're old friends. Please do not take advantage of Mr. Potter's naiveté," Malfoy told her.

"I have no idea what you mean, Draco," she drawled.

"This desk is so overpriced that even the Goblins are shocked by your boldness."

"I'll take off ten percent, but honestly, I can't do any better than that."

"Throw in those two pewter wall sconces over there, and he'll consider." Malfoy pointed off in the distance. Harry didn't remember looking at any sconces.

"I have a Bottomless Trunk that I'm having difficulty repairing. You'll take care of it?"

"Done."

"Excellent."

Apparently without saying a single word, Harry had purchased an obscenely expensive antique writing desk. "Um, Malfoy?"

"If you could excuse us a moment," Malfoy said to Miranda.

"Of course," she replied, and gave them some privacy.

"Look, Malfoy, I appreciate that you were trying to get me a deal, but I don't really need the desk. I don't do much writing and if I have to send an owl, the kitchen table is fine."

"Potter, it's the first thing that you smiled at all day."

"Really?"

"Not everything is about need. Could you please pretend that you are not terminally middle class?"

"But—"

"There's nothing wrong with having something beautiful to enjoy simply for the pleasure of it."

"But it's so expensive."

"You can afford it."

"I know, but—"

"One more 'but' and I'm charging you a commission. It's a stunning piece and utilitarian as well. You may not need a writing desk, but you'll use it, and years from now you'll laugh at how you almost didn't buy it."

Arguing with Malfoy wasn’t worth it. He should just give in. Harry nodded. "Okay."

"There's hope for you yet."

Lunch was at an elegant French restaurant not far from Gringott's that had opened during the blackout years, which was Malfoy's clever little term for the years they had lost. For being such a good sport about the shopping, Malfoy offered to buy Harry lunch. Sitting amicably with Malfoy, sharing a bottle of Chardonnay, and enjoying crepes wasn't something Harry had ever imagined, but somehow it lightened Harry's mood in a way he hadn't felt since he'd come home to find it twenty years in the future. With Malfoy he was able to talk about all the changes to Diagon Alley, to the Ministry, to the Quidditch leagues, and it felt like a fresh discussion. His comments weren't met with a pitying stare, but with interest and thoughtfulness.

"Thanks, Malfoy, for everything," Harry said earnestly as they exited the restaurant.

Malfoy stopped in his tracks and turned to Harry with a startled expression. He started to say something, but stopped and his face changed into its more recognizable look of cool and controlled. "Wait until you get the bills," he quipped.

They walked home side by side talking about nothing in particular but making easy conversation. The cool autumn air helped to clear the fuzziness of the wine.

"Oh, I meant to ask, what did Miranda mean about you helping her repair something?" Harry asked at a lull in the conversation.

"I used to do a fair bit of work for Miranda. It's time I started up again, anyway."

"I'm sorry. What?" Harry was lost, as he was often finding himself when it came to Malfoy since the blackout.

"Work. It's what people do."

"Yes, I know most of us peasants have to work for a living; I just didn't figure you did. I kind of always pictured you sitting at home counting your gold."

Malfoy didn't look even remotely insulted. "I don't work for livelihood. I work because I enjoy it and it gives me something to do."

"Do what?"

"Repairing magical objects."

"Really?"

"Really, and I'm rather talented."

Harry remembered the Vanishing Cabinet and Malfoy's anguish and desperate attempts to murder Dumbledore. He'd never thought of Malfoy as having magical talent. He had always assumed that he had used his father as leverage to get good grades, but now that Harry thought about it, he didn't know much about Malfoy's grades at Hogwarts. Perhaps he had underestimated him.

"How did you get into it?" asked Harry, wanting to find out more.

They reached the foyer of their building and entered the lift.

"You really want to know?" Malfoy asked.

"Yeah. Does that surprise you?"

"Yes."

The chime signaled the penthouse floor, and they exited the lift into their hallway.

"Well?" asked Harry.

Malfoy leaned against the doorjamb, running a calculating eye up and down, sizing him up. After a tense moment, Malfoy unlocked his front door. "Come in and I'll show you."

Upon entering Malfoy's flat, Harry immediately saw why Malfoy had been so horrified by his. The place was impeccable. Even the purchases that Harry had made that day paled in comparison to the grand design of Malfoy's flat. Fine carpets and tapestries lined the entry way into the sitting room. It had a wizarding feel, but not the darkness of Grimmauld place or the opulence of Malfoy Manor. The sitting room was filled with French Provincial furniture, and he could say that, having learned about French Provincial just that morning. It was bright and cheerful, yet refined and polished at the same time. Every wall was decorated with brilliant paintings of landscapes and portraits. The side tables were adorned with decorative lamps, vases, and small sculptures. Harry wondered if Malfoy had decorated it himself.

"Wow," Harry said, as he stepped into the center of the room.

"I'll take that as a compliment. Have a seat, and I'll be back in a moment."

Carefully, Harry took a seat on one of the couches, and found that it was far more comfortable than he had anticipated.

Malfoy returned and set an ornately carved wooden box on the coffee table. "This is what I've been working on this week. I finished it yesterday."

"A jewelry box?" Harry asked.

Malfoy nodded. "Open it."

Upon opening the lid, a soft Baroque melody emanated from the inside. The interior was lined with velvet and was divided into small compartments. "It's lovely."

"I found it in the Manor attic and cleaned it up as a gift for Jeannie."

Sentimental wasn't a word that Harry would have ever used to describe Malfoy, but as Malfoy stared proudly at the jewelry box, Harry could see the intense pride in his eyes.

"It's hard for me to remember that she's our shared granddaughter," Harry said, feeling the words catch in his throat.

"I sometimes wake up and forget where I am. It still feels like a dream."

"Me too," Harry confessed. The gravity of the moment weighed on him heavily and he found it hard to breathe. He quickly changed the subject. "So what did you need to repair? The wood?"

"No, no, the Music Charm. The wood simply needed a quick polish. Sometimes there's physical repair to be done, but mostly I… I like to fix or enhance the magic."

Harry had fallen in love with magic since the first moment he'd found out he was a wizard. Magic held endless possibility and hope, and he never tired of discovering new charms or enchantments. "You've been doing this for how long?"

"Since the end of the war, I suppose. The Manor was in a horrendous state. I started there, but…"

Harry could sense Malfoy holding back. "What?"

"It took me about a year to set the Manor straight. After that, I wanted to do more, so I offered my services to Professor McGonagall. I had read in the paper that Hogwarts was mostly repaired but there were still odds and ends that needed looking after. I asked her if she had any projects for me, and to my surprise she said that she did. I didn't think she would trust me. I didn't think that anyone would ever trust me again."

"She was a great witch."

"I didn't appreciate her when I was at school."

"Well, at least you could later."

"I did a lot of work for her. Some of it was simple things like magicking cupboards and teaching materials, but some of it was the most challenging work I'd ever done."

"Like what?"

"I reanimated a suit of armor. That took weeks."

"That's amazing. What other things?" It was hard to imagine the Malfoy he'd known from Hogwarts even remotely interested in anything as mundane as household spells and trinkets.

"I fixed a whole crate of Sneakoscopes, repaired an insane amount of automatic-lighting candelabras, all sorts of things. Professor McGonagall introduced me to Miranda. Most of the jobs that I did for her were furniture enhancements like Privacy Spells or Hidden Compartments. A lot of it was removing residual magic and re-casting spells. Sometimes Miranda would send clients, who needed personal affects in need of repair to me."

"I'd love to be able to do things like that. I sort of focused on defense, you know?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm aware."

"Could you show me?"

"Show you what?"

"Let me work on your projects with you. I'd love to learn."

"You're joking?"

"No, I'm not. And it would help me to fix up my flat," Harry added, hoping that it would appeal to Malfoy's sense of wizarding style.

"All right," Malfoy said, but Harry could hear the apprehension in his voice. They had never trusted each other or worked together, but now their lives had intersected, so perhaps it was worth the effort.

"Brilliant."

"We'll start with setting up your flat when the deliveries come tomorrow." Malfoy stood, and walked over to a bookcase on the far wall. He scanned several shelves then levitated two books over to Harry. "Start with these."

Harry read the titles: Charming for Champions and Wizarding Traditions in the Home. "Thanks," he said, and felt the smile tug at his lips. He now had something to do that evening.

A week later, Harry got up the confidence to invite Hermione and Ron over for dinner to show off his newly redecorated flat and his new cookware. Malfoy had helped him to charm it so that it would cook to perfection then automatically switch to a preservation state. He decided to see if he could make a roast and not burn it.

As Harry was setting the dining room table (with red wine glasses), the knock on the door was right on time. Apparently over the years, Hermione had succeeded in making even Ron punctual.

Hermione had one of her stifling hugs all ready for Harry the moment he opened the door.

Squeezing past the hug, Ron entered first and let out long low whistle. "When you said 'fixed up the place' I wasn't expecting this."

Releasing Harry from her crushing embrace, Hermione followed Ron into the sitting room. She looked around and was obviously trying to absorb all the changes. "It's gorgeous. You did this?"

"You sound surprised," Harry said with a laugh.

"I am. I am." She ran her fingers over the furniture and had an utterly gobsmacked look on her face.

"Well, I didn't do any of it… except that writing desk over there." Harry pointed to the owl desk, which was now paired with an antique chair that Malfoy had given Harry as a gift. "Malfoy helped me."

"Malfoy?" Ron asked.

"We are neighbors, and I suppose even family."

"Malfoy helped you?" Hermione repeated Ron's exact tone.

"Yeah, he's got a rather keen eye for this sort of thing."

"You went shopping together?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide in surprise.

"Yes, he helped me pick all this stuff out and then we had lunch. In fact, we've spent most of the week together. Here look," Harry walked over to the owl desk. "He taught me to charm the drawers to be bottomless. Remember that handbag you charmed? I never knew the spells that you used, but now I can do it myself. Clever, huh?"

As Hermione inspected the drawer, Harry handed her one of the standing lamps. "Here, try this."

Slowly she lowered the base of the lamp into the center desk drawer. It was as if the four-inch tall drawer was swallowing the six-foot bronze lamp.

"Impressive," Hermione said, pulling the lamp back out. "Here, help me. It's heavy."

Harry helped her pull the lamp back out and returned it to its place. After a fully detailed discussion of the sitting room, Harry gave them a tour of the rest of the flat. Hermione continued to be impressed, and it gave Harry a boost to his confidence that even Ron thought the place looked nice.

"You cooked all this?" Ron asked, when Harry laid the spread of food on the table.

"I figured that if I was going to be a bachelor, I'd have to learn to fend for myself. Also, the cookware is all charmed so I can't burn anything."

"Handy that," Ron said, and then stuffed a forkful of potatoes into his mouth. "T'sgood."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," admonished Hermione. "Everything looks wonderful. Did Malfoy help you with the cooking too?"

"Nah, it's from a cookbook that Molly gave me. I don't think Malfoy's much into cooking."

"What is he into?" Ron asked with his eyebrow raised in suspicion.

"Ron!" Hermione smacked Ron on the shoulder.

"Just being careful," Ron said. "It's the Auror in me. Harry comes back after twenty years, and suddenly they're mates?"

Twenty years ago, Harry would have been suspicious of Malfoy as well, but now, well now things had changed. "Ron, Malfoy was trapped in the time chamber with me. Lily and Scorpius are married. There's nothing to worry about."

"Hmmph." Ron didn't look satisfied but took another large bite of potatoes.

"Honestly, Ron. I think Harry of all people would know if Malfoy were up to something." Hermione smiled at Harry. "The roast is very good."

Harry thought so too and took another bite.

"So have you given any thought to when you'll return to the Aurors?" Ron asked.

After a sip of wine for courage, Harry replied, "I have. I don't think I'm going back."

Ron looked more surprised than Hermione. "You mean, right now, but—"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. I need a fresh start."

"What will you do?" asked Hermione.

"Not sure, but to be honest, I've enjoyed the past few days working with Malfoy."

"You're taking the piss," said Ron.

"No, really. It's been fun learning all this magic that I never took the time to learn. I'm reminded of how much I love magic in the first place."

"Good for you, Harry," said Hermione.

"Not you too?" Ron was clearly displeased. "Carrying on with Malfoy. Can you imagine what people would say?"

"Compared to what people have said about me over the course of my lifetime, I doubt it'll be that bad."

"Harry," Ron paused to make sure he had Harry's full attention, "we still need you."

"That's nice to hear, but—"

"You'd rather charm tea cosies with Malfoy?" Ron had a familiar wounded and left out feeling sound in his voice.

"It's more than that. Maybe it's not forever. Maybe I'll be bored of it after a month, but it's what I want to do, and frankly it's the first time since I woke up in the future I've wanted something," Harry said, perhaps a little too forcefully but bugger Ron. He should try sleeping for twenty years and then waking up.

Twenty years more experienced at playing peacekeeper, Hermione quickly changed the subject to Hugo's latest girlfriend. Hermione and Ron stayed late into the evening and helped Harry to finish two bottles of wine. By the end of the evening, things had smoothed over and for Harry it was an amalgam of feeling like old times and getting to know two new friends. So much of their lives had changed and like it or not, Harry's was changing too.

It was sheer coincidence that the lift doors opened as Harry walked Hermione and Ron out into the hallway. Out tumbled Malfoy in awkward embrace with a tall and very handsome wizard. It was not the same man from the previous week.

"Oi, watch it, Malfoy!" Ron said, as the couple almost knocked him over.

Malfoy's cheeks were flush and his lips full and red as if he had been kissing. His eyes had the slightly glazed look of the effect of several Firewhiskeys. Deep down inside, Harry felt something foreign spark in his gut and he found that he couldn't take his eyes off of Malfoy's face.

"Oops, you have company," said the other wizard with a snicker, startling Harry out of his trance.

"They are not my company," Malfoy said as he tugged the other wizard by the hand over to his door. Malfoy fumbled with his wand and manage to open it. "Good night, Potter. Weasleys. Adieu."

The door shut and Harry heard laughter on the other side for a moment; then all was quiet.

"Rude prat," said Ron.

"He was obviously…" Harry chose his next word cautiously. "Busy."

Hermione's eyes bored into Harry's as if she were conducting a brain scan. "It doesn't bother you?" she asked.

"What?"

"That Malfoy dates men. Lily told me. Apparently he and Astoria had always had—"

"I don't care," Harry replied too quickly, eliciting a quizzical stare from Hermione. "He's getting on with his life and that's what I plan to do with mine."

"Yeah, but he doesn't need to act like such pretentious twat," said Ron. "Thinks he owns the world. I wouldn't put up with it."

"You don't have to," said Hermione. "Come on, luv, let's let Harry get to bed. Goodnight. Let's have lunch this week."

"Okay," Harry replied, and enjoyed the warmth of her embrace goodbye.

Ron clapped him on the back. "Gnight, mate. Owl me if Malfoy gets out of hand."

"You'll be the last," Harry half-joked.

"Ha, ha," Ron said, as he stepped into the lift and waved. "Goodnight."

As Harry cleaned up the dishes, he found himself wondering about Malfoy and his visitor. He told himself that it was only because of his newfound working relationship with Malfoy. He was only beginning to get to know him on a more personal level, so naturally he was curious.

That night Harry went to bed with a very natural erection and naturally masturbated before he went to sleep.

Working alongside Malfoy was educational to say the least. It was amazing to hear the numerous spells that rolled so easily off Malfoy's tongue. He had an uncanny memory that left Harry in awe.

One day they were creating a series of spells on a wardrobe so that it would automatically press any clothes hanging inside. As a joke, Harry asked Malfoy if he could make it so the wardrobe could fix any loose buttons or hems. He was certain he had stumped him, when he caught him seriously contemplating the request, but a few seconds later he was casting yet another spell that Harry had never heard before.

"Astoria is a huge fan of that spell," Malfoy said with a sly smile. "There's also a charm to alert you if you've been wearing something too often."

"I bet you think that's handy."

"Of course. I'm not like you. I can't wear the same thing everyday."

Harry didn't think he wore the same thing everyday. Hoping Malfoy wouldn't notice he sniffed at his shirt. It wasn't too bad.

Igor, who had taken to accompanying Harry across the hall to Malfoy's flat, jumped up onto Malfoy's lap, circled once around, and then curled up against Malfoy's stomach.

Malfoy pretended to be annoyed, but Harry knew that he was fond of Igor. He never pushed him away and was always quick to scratch behind the needy cat's ears. "However, I do need to find a charm to get rid of all this fur. Your cat sheds like mad."

"I'll check that last book you loaned me. There was a section on pets."

Many of the items that they worked on were household conveniences, but some dealt with security, and Harry was astonished that over the years he'd been with the Aurors, he hadn't come across them. A lot of it was 'Old Magic' as Malfoy would say. As pompous as the man could be, Harry couldn't help but admire the respect he had for his heritage.

They were working on an extremely intricate set of spells for a pair of matching letter openers. The charm required a drop of blood of the sender so that only the matching opener could open the seal on the letter. Malfoy wanted to test it using Harry's and his blood.

"It's just a drop. Why are you so squeamish?" Malfoy asked, when he saw Harry's visceral reaction to the request.

"Bad experience," replied Harry, not caring to elaborate.

"The Dark Lord?" Malfoy asked.

Harry nodded. Malfoy was as perceptive as he was smart.

"Not all blood magic is evil. In fact, it's quite common. Our blood is an important element of our magic. It will always be a part of who we are."

"I know that. I've used my blood since then. It just always brings up…"

"Painful memories?" Malfoy said it as if he were thinking of his own haunted past.

"Yes."

"I'll go first." Malfoy took a small blade and cut into his index finger. He squeezed a few drops onto one of the letter openers and then into a small flask of hot wax.

It wasn't the same as having his forearm sliced open, but even the idea of cutting into his own finger stirred up old feelings that would never die. Just like his blood and magic, they would always be a part of him. Harry took the blade from Malfoy and offered up his blood for the spell.

The letter openers worked perfectly.

Before Harry could even admire their handy work, Malfoy grabbed his hand and cast a Healing Charm. Apparently clever little object spells weren't Malfoy's only magical forte. Not only did the wound heal flawlessly, but also a magical tingle immediately spread up and over Harry's arm and across his chest. It was calming and gave Harry an overwhelming sense of security.

"Thanks," Harry said, acutely aware that Malfoy was not letting go. His hand was dry and warm and his fingernails were perfectly manicured.

"Is that your wedding ring?" Malfoy asked.

Harry looked down at the gold band that still adorned his finger. "Yeah, I haven't taken it off since the day we were married."

"I took mine off the day we signed the divorce papers. I gave it to Scorpius to keep. Perhaps one day Erik might like it."

"I'm not ready yet."

"When do you think you will be?"

As Malfoy let go of his hand, Harry immediately felt the loss. It was pathetic. He'd been so desperate for physical touch, any physical touch, that he was reduced to missing Malfoy holding his hand.

"I know I might be prying," Harry said, avoiding Malfoy's question, "but were you…"

"What?"

"I'm sorry. It's rather personal." This was new territory for them. They'd spent at least a few hours every day the past two weeks together. Harry had learned all sorts of spells and charms, but it had left him wanting to learn more about Malfoy.

"By all means, go right ahead."

"I know you and Astoria had more of a friendship marriage, but umm… were you seeing anyone before the time chamber?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"You said that it was easy for you. All this. I was just wondering if there had been anyone that you had to…" It wasn't the type of conversation that Harry would have had with anyone, except perhaps Ginny. He knew he wasn't able to articulate what he'd been going through, but he held out hope that maybe Malfoy might be going through the same.

"Sorry, no, I wasn't seeing anyone seriously. It would have been too difficult on our marriage. We both kept our outside relationships, well, casual."

"Oh."

"But that's not to say that I wouldn't be interested in something of more substance."

Harry felt the weight of Malfoy's gaze and for a brief moment, something more. "Are you dating anyone now?" The words left Harry's mouth before he had time to think about them.

"Not really, no."

"Oh, okay." Harry wanted to Apparate away on the spot.

"Lunch?" Malfoy asked, mercifully.

"Sounds good."

Igor trailed after them as they headed to the kitchen. Suddenly, Harry was very hungry, and Malfoy made a decent sandwich.

Diagon Alley was bustling with shoppers. It was strange for Harry to enjoy being out and about, but he felt carefree as he walked down the alley without anyone troubling him. The front window of Quality Quidditch Supplies caught his eye.

The new Firebolt Extreme was prominently displayed flanked by several hovering Snitches. The picture he'd seen in a magazine hadn't done it justice. As Harry pondered just how fast it could fly, it dawned on him that he hadn't flown since the day he fell into the pit. Excitement flared in his belly as he went inside the store. He could afford it, so why not? Harry laughed at himself at how he was beginning to sound a little like Malfoy.

Harry didn't even bother to go to his flat first. As soon as he exited the lift, he turned straight for Malfoy's and knocked on the door.

"Open up, Malfoy. It's me."

"Who's me?" Malfoy said from the other side of the door.

"Ha. Ha. You are so droll. I have a present and I'm not going to give it to you unless—"

The door swung open. "In that case, come—" Malfoy's mouth hung open as he gawked at Harry.

"I told you you'd want to open the door," Harry said, feeling smug. He held out one of the two Firebolts.

"Is that the—?"

"Yep."

Taking the broom from Harry's hand, Malfoy admired the craftsmanship. "You're giving this to me?"

"Yep."

"It's exquisite."

"I know. I bought two."

"Why?"

"I haven't flown since… well since. I saw it in the window and really wanted to fly it."

"Imagine twenty years of broom improvements."

"Exactly. Let's go."

"Now?" Malfoy asked surprised.

"Yes, now. Come on."

"I need to change. Give me ten minutes."

"Okay. I should probably go feed Igor."

"Actually he's here. Infernal thing kept meowing, so I had to take the frightful beast in and feed him. By the way, your security is horrendous. A simple Alohomora and I was in."

Right on cue, Igor emerged from Malfoy's flat and rubbed against Harry's ankles.

"Um, thanks, and I set the wards to allow you in. Come on, Igor. Let's let Malfoy change in peace. Meet you in ten."

"Better make it fifteen, and take better care of your cat."

As soon as Malfoy shut his door, Harry turned to Igor and said, "I bet he went looking for you, didn't he? He won't it admit it, but I think he likes having you around." Harry wondered if Malfoy felt the same way about him.

The sight of Malfoy emerging from his flat wearing a Quidditch practice uniform caused Harry to reevaluate the nature of the feelings he'd been having lately. Harry turned and pretended to be spelling his door locked, while he adjusted his stirring cock inside his jeans. He'd been deluding himself that his sexually charged reactions were due to his recent celibacy and general sense of longing. Seeing Malfoy in his Quidditch leathers sparked a reaction that was undeniable. He was attracted to Malfoy. He'd never been attracted to a man before, had he?

Imagining being trapped in a blizzard, Harry calmed himself down. He wasn't going to think about Malfoy in his tight fitting trousers. Not at that moment anyway.
Right then he wanted to fly, and that's what he was going to do.

They Apparated to the BAMQ pitch. They could have the entire place to themselves since it was only used on weekends.

"Ready?" Harry asked.

Malfoy didn't answer; he simply kicked off from the ground and was off like a shot.

"So that's how it's gonna be," Harry said, kicking off and rising above the pitch.

Winter was around the corner, and Harry could feel an icy chill on his face as he accelerated. Quickly, he caught up to Malfoy, who was waiting for him by the rings on the far side.

"Let's see what these brooms can do," said Malfoy, and immediately plunged into a steep dive.

Without hesitation, Harry followed. They dove, turned, accelerated, and twisted. Sometimes he'd follow Malfoy and sometimes he would take the lead. The broom handled brilliantly and was faster than any Harry had ever been on.

After what seemed like a successful breaking in, Harry pulled a Snitch out of his pocket. "Ready for some one on one?"

"I was born ready," Malfoy yelled as he hovered next to Harry.

Harry tossed the Snitch high above their heads. They gave it a few seconds head start, and then took off after it. The thrill of the chase was exhilarating. Malfoy was a fierce flyer, but Harry knew he could take him.

The Snitch swerved out of their grasp several times before racing towards the outer perimeter of the pitch. They chased it down jockeying for position.

"This is how we got into trouble in the first place," called Malfoy.

Harry wished he could laugh, but he just couldn't. He flattened himself across the broom and used his anger for an extra burst of speed. As he wrapped his fingers around the fluttering ball, he knew that the broom had been aptly named Extreme.

"Damn, Potter. Never mind the Aurors, the Quidditch leagues are going to be knocking down your door."

A blush crept over Harry from Malfoy's compliment. "Malfoy, I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Don't let it go to your head. As much as I'd love to keep flying, we should go. We have Scorpius's birthday dinner tonight. You're going, right?"

"Yeah, Lily insisted," Harry said.

Malfoy obviously heard Harry's lack of enthusiasm. "Cheer up, your ex-wife isn't coming. Scorpius insisted we not make it a huge party, so it's just you from Lily's side."

"Oh." A wave of relief washed over Harry.

"It shouldn't be too painful at all."

It was odd feeling that a house full of Malfoys would be easier to take than a house full of Weasleys, but Harry had to admit that he'd been dreading the dinner and now he found himself looking forward to it.

Wearing a new set of robes that Malfoy had helped him choose, Harry sat down to dinner with Lily, Scorpius, Narcissa, Astoria and her husband Alfonso, and Draco. The grandchildren (Harry cringed every time he heard the word in his head) were asleep with a nanny to look after them.

It was a formal yet comfortable evening. The Malfoys most certainly knew how to put out a spread. The food was incredible and the wine practically melted on Harry's tongue. After dinner Malfoy gifted Scorpius with the wardrobe that they had enhanced with a myriad of spells.

Dessert was a decadent chocolate soufflé, after which everyone except for Harry and Draco retired for the evening.

"I guess I should be going too," said Harry.

"You could join me for a nightcap," Malfoy suggested amicably.

Not wanting the evening to end, Harry agreed.

Malfoy escorted Harry to a small study off the east wing that he had never been in before. The décor reminded Harry of Malfoy's flat.

"It was mine before… well, I was thrilled to find that they had kept it as it was. I put a great deal of work into this room."

"It's fantastic." There was no reason for Harry to be nervous, but just the same, he was.

"Cognac?" Malfoy asked walking over to a small finely decorated cart that held a tray of several tall decanters and crystal goblets.

"I've never tried it," Harry admitted.

"Then you must, Potter. Live a little." Malfoy gave a generous pour into two goblets and held one out for Harry. "To our grandchildren. May their magic be powerful and their lives prosperous."

It wasn't the kind of toast Harry would make, but he clinked his glass against Malfoy's, and shot the drink. The cognac burned going down, but then a warm tingle spread across his chest and up his neck.

Harry looked over at Malfoy and saw that he'd only taken a sip. Malfoy smiled and then stifled a quiet laugh. "Here, let me pour you another, and sip it this time."

As Harry took the refilled goblet from Malfoy's hand, their fingers brushed. The spark from earlier made its return. He looked into Malfoy's eyes and was certain that Malfoy had felt it too.

Malfoy gently clinked his goblet against Harry's. The proximity was intoxicating. Harry could smell the alcohol on Malfoy's breath and see the detail of white flecks within the gray of Malfoy's irises. They drew him into the moment and the world faded away.

Licking his lips, Harry leaned into the space where Malfoy was about to place his goblet. Without further thought, Harry closed his eyes and kissed Malfoy. His lips were soft and tasted of the cognac. The smash of glass against the hardwood floor jolted Harry out of the moment.

Harry opened his eyes just as Malfoy shoved him away. "What in seven hells was that?"

"I…" Harry couldn't speak. He looked down at the smashed goblet on the floor and then at the full goblet in his own hand. Not looking at Malfoy, Harry lifted the goblet and drank the contents down in one go. Turning his back to Malfoy, he set the goblet on the table. This was a cock up of epic proportions.

Taking a second to gather himself, Harry turned to see Malfoy with his wand outstretched. Instinctively, Harry reached for his own wand, but stopped when he saw Malfoy banish the broken glass then stow his wand.

"What a waste of good cognac," Malfoy muttered. "Come up with your explanation yet?"

Harry shook his head as Malfoy's stare felt hotter than the breath of a Hungarian Horntail's.

"I'm not keen to be your homosexual experiment. I realize that you're lonely, but—"

"It's not because I'm lonely," Harry stammered. "I… fuck. This isn't an experiment. It's not 'hmm, I wonder if I like men?' I'm not interested in men. Well, other men."

"What is it then?" The edge of Malfoy's expression softened as he took a step closer.

"You. When I'm near you…"

The corner of Malfoy's mouth quirked up into a lopsided smile. He stepped even closer until they were chest to chest. "I?"

"You make me so…" Harry's heart pounded and he could feel his fingers trembling.

"What?"

"Hard," Harry said, followed by an audible gulp.

Malfoy's hand hovered over Harry's crotch. It took every last bit of Harry's strength not to push forward and force the contact, and he needed that contact, desperately. When the faint brush of Malfoy's fingertips finally came, it nearly brought Harry to his knees. He closed his eyes as he struggled to stay upright.

A ghost of Malfoy's breath drifted across Harry's face, as Malfoy pressed a flattened palm against the straining fabric of Harry's trousers. Harry whimpered at the touch.

"You're right. You are hard," Malfoy whispered, so close to Harry's ear that he felt Malfoy's lips brush against the sensitive skin.

"I thought you were against experimenting," Harry whispered back, practically choking on the words.

"I'm not experimenting. I know exactly what I'm doing," Malfoy replied. There was no mistaking the man's confidence. With the barest touch, Malfoy stroked Harry through his trousers. It was gentle to the point of torture.

"Please," Harry begged, so desperate with need that he didn't recognize his own voice.

"You want this?" Malfoy asked. It sounded like a dare more than a question.

"Yes. Yes." Harry thought he might explode with the want of it, and all that would remain would be bits and pieces of want and desire dripping from the chandelier and draperies.

It was no surprise to find that Malfoy did know exactly what he was doing. With one hand he released the top button and zip of Harry's trousers all the while continuing to stroke Harry to painful hardness. It was blessed relief mixed with unhinged excitement when Malfoy pushed his hand inside the waistband of Harry's pants.

Finding it difficult to breathe, Harry rested his forehead on Malfoy's shoulder. Finally having Malfoy touch him hammered home just how his life had changed. He was a new person, and this new Harry wanted nothing more than to come in Malfoy's hand. Harry clutched fistfuls of Malfoy's robes as he jerked his hips forward.

"Don't embarrass yourself, Potter," Malfoy whispered in Harry's ear. "You have an image to uphold."

"Fuck," Harry said, not caring one wit about image or anything else except the pressure building in his bollocks. He gasped for air as the only words he was able to speak were 'please', 'fuck', and 'Malfoy' in various combinations. Malfoy worked him over quickly. His grip was firm, and the filthy things that he whispered in Harry's ear made him lightheaded. With an unrestrained moan, Harry came bucking into Malfoy's fist. It was so glorious that Harry was afraid to open his eyes and break the spell.

With a soft nudge, Malfoy pushed Harry off of his shoulder. Harry finally looked at Malfoy, not knowing if he'd find desire or disgust. The last thing Harry expected to see was Malfoy raise his fist to his mouth and lick his come from the back of his hand. Harry could only whimper at the sight and feel the throb of his spent cock.

"I've never tasted a Gryffindor before," Malfoy said with a triumphant gleam in his eye.

For a brief moment, Harry panicked that he might have been played, that this had all been some game of Malfoy's. With a slow, long, wet kiss, Malfoy erased all suspicions and helped Harry summon the bravery to reach his hand forward through the part in Malfoy's robes. He pushed his palm against the hard outline of Malfoy's cock as Malfoy had done with him. Malfoy moaned his approval into the kiss.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Harry said in between hungry kisses.

"You're doing fine. Do what you do to yourself." Malfoy unbuckled his belt, undid the buttons of his fly, and then guided Harry's hand to his prick.

It was like a jolt of electricity touching Malfoy like that for the first time. Harry'd imagined what it would be like for Malfoy to touch him, but never once what it might be like to touch Malfoy. Now that he had Malfoy at his mercy, he wanted to make him beg and squirm, but most of all, he wanted to make him come. It was something that Harry had the power to do. It was possibly the one thing he had control over. As he stroked Malfoy, Harry savored every last whimper and gasp.

The end came without warning. Malfoy cried out, "Potter!" and then several other expletives as he spilled over Harry's fist.

"I wasn't expecting that," were Malfoy's first words after he tidied himself back up.

"Me neither." The climax had been so incredible, but the aftermath was suffocating. Harry didn't know what to do or say. His mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. "I guess I should go home."

"I was planning to spend the night here, but I could…"

"No, that's… you stay. I'm gonna…" Harry virtually sprinted from the room. He didn't stop moving until he was outside the main gate. His head was throbbing as if all the pent up tension that had been in his dick was now in his head.

It was a miracle that he made it back to his flat without Splinching himself. He crawled into bed and took small comfort from Igor as he curled up beside him. Harry questioned how he could possibly feel so euphoric one minute and so despondent the next. He had no idea how he would ever be able to face Malfoy again.

Despite Igor's perpetual kneading and incessant purring, Harry refused to get out of bed in the morning. Images of Malfoy awash with desire filled his head and fueled the confusion over why he ran away in the first place. What was he afraid of? Nothing made sense. Harry pulled the covers over his head and tried to lose himself in the darkness.

By noon, Harry decided that he needed to summon his Gryffindor courage and talk to Malfoy. He sucked down some tea and nibbled on some toast. There was no sense in facing whatever hexes Malfoy had planned on an empty stomach. Igor had more of an appetite and at least he seemed grateful that Harry had got to his feet.

Harry wasn't sure if Malfoy would open the front door when he knocked, but he did. His expression was controlled and revealed nothing. "Yes?" he asked as if Harry were selling magazines.

"I thought we should talk." Igor bounded past Harry and into Malfoy's flat. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"No," Malfoy replied void of emotion, and then shut the door on Harry's face. A split second later the door reopened and Malfoy gently tossed Igor into the hall. "And take your stupid cat with you."

He shut the door harder the second time.

"Sorry, Igor, you'll be safer inside," Harry said, picking up Igor, putting him back into his own flat, and closing the door behind him.

"Reducto!" Harry blasted Malfoy's front door off its hinges.

"You'll pay for that," Malfoy said, still controlled and without a shred of emotion.

"Fine. Just talk to me," Harry said as he crossed the threshold and walked to the sitting room.

"Now you want to talk?" Malfoy's voice revealed only a slightest hint of agitation.

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?"

Malfoy's parroting was irritating. Harry'd prepared himself for a fight and Malfoy wasn't giving it. "What do you want me to say?"

"Nothing. What do you want me to say?"

"Something. You're just sitting there."

"How about this," Malfoy said, rising to his feet, "I should have known better than to trust you. You are a complete and utter twat. I should Hex your prick with a case of Endless Itch."

"That's a start."

"You're such an arse."

"I needed to time to think."

"That's your problem. There's nothing to think about. You either want me or you don't."

"It's not that simple."

"Yes, it is."

"Maybe for you. "

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I lost EVERYTHING! EVERYTHING!" Harry shouted. His entire body tightened and he could feel all of the emotions that he had been burying for months swelling just beneath the surface of his skin. "Sorry to say, but I wasn't as thrilled about our twenty year nap as you were."

"Sure, blame me," Malfoy said, his voice rose to Harry's level.

"Why not you? I can't blame Ginny. I can't blame Neville. I can't even fucking blame Voldemort this time!"

Malfoy paled at the mention of Voldemort's name. Harry continued. "I didn't want a divorce and to miss my children growing up. I'm not happy to be single and free to fuck every man in every pub that I—"

"Shut the fuck up, Potter. You have no right to judge me."

"I have every right."

"No! You have no right to judge me. You have no right to be angry with me."

"Who should I be angry with? Ginny? Ron? Hermione? Maybe Lily or Albus or James? Who do I get to be angry with? Tell me! WHO!" Harry collapsed on the sofa and put his head in his hands. He took a steadying breath and looked up to see Malfoy staring at him with what could only be pity. Malfoy had been the one person that he could count on not to do that. Swallowing hard, Harry could only taste the bile.

In a defeated tone, Harry said, "I'm so… angry."

"I know," Malfoy said, softly, "but I'm not the one who ran away."

"But you're pushing me away now."

"You think you deserve more?" Malfoy asked. It sounded more like an accusation than a question.

"No, but I'm asking you anyway."

When Malfoy sat down next to him, Harry took it as a good sign. "You're right fucked up, Potter. You know that."

Harry nodded. "I want to be angry. I want to blame someone. I want…"

"Your old life back?"

"I thought I did, but now I don't know. It doesn't matter."

"It does to me."

"Sorry."

"That you are." Malfoy looked Harry straight in the eyes. "I want to know. If you could go back, would you?"

"It's rather moot. I can't go back."

"Let's say tomorrow someone finds a hole and it will send you twenty years back."

"That's impossible."

"You should know better than to say that something's impossible. It's magic. Anything is possible. Ha, most people would say we're impossible."

"I'm sure they would," Harry said and felt a wave of affection for Malfoy that he simply couldn't deny.

"Answer the question. There's a hole. Do you go in?"

"I can't answer that."

"Knowing what you know now about the future, this future. Do. You. Go. In?"

"I couldn't." Harry knew that he'd be tempted, but he wouldn't be able to go back, and just the fact that he was here, now, with Malfoy, provided him with the certainty that he didn't and he wouldn't.

Malfoy stood and held out his hand to Harry. "Come on."

Harry allowed himself to be lifted and for Malfoy to wrap an arm around him. When Malfoy pulled out his wand, Harry asked, "Where are we going?"

"You need to unleash of some of that anger, and I'd rather it not be all over my flat. The door is bad enough. Besides I have the perfect place."

Harry felt the pull of Apparition and the strong hold of Malfoy's arm around him. They reappeared in a field at the edge of a copse.

"Where are we?" Harry asked as soon as the fuzziness cleared from his head.

"Not far from the Manor. I used to come here after the war."

"And do what?"

"You'll see." Malfoy extended his wand and Summoned all sorts of fallen tree branches, dead grass and what looked like old abandoned furniture from the woods. "Come on, you try. Accio firewood."

"Firewood?"

"Yes, you're going to light some fires."

"Fire? That's a bit ironic."

"Maybe, but trust me. It feels fantastic."

"Why fire?"

"If you must know, I had a wee little problem with fire after our broom flight through the infernos of hell. I couldn't go near fire. None of my spells involving fire would work. I couldn't even bear the thought of using the Floo Network. I decided to master my fears."

"So you lit things on fire?"

"I set fires until Incendio became my bitch. In the process I also found it quite therapeutic."

"Setting fires?" Harry was skeptical.

"Think of the burning as a metaphor."

"A metaphorical fire?"

Malfoy looked at Harry as if he were wearing a fish on his head. "Real fire. Think metaphor. You can do it. Now help me arrange the wood."

They set up five large piles of wood and dried grass in the clearing.

"What if it gets out of control?" Harry asked.

"This time I know a counter spell."

Harry raised his eyebrows and Malfoy responded with an exaggerated eye roll.

"Okay, Potter. Give it your best Incendio."

With the whoosh of Harry's wand, the first pile of wood burst into flames.

"Not bad for a beginner." Malfoy aimed at the second woodpile. Incendio!."

Malfoy's pile exploded into a massive fireball before settling down to burn.

Not to be out done, Harry lit the remaining three fires with one spell.

"Feel better?" asked Malfoy.

Harry shrugged. "Dunno, maybe a little."

"Then think bigger." Malfoy Summoned more dead branches and added them to his fire. Flames licked the darkening sky as the sun dipped behind the trees.

"How about this?" Harry flicked his wand several times and all of the fires rose a few feet on the ground. He flicked again and the five fires converged and then the massive bonfire dropped to the ground. The impact sent a flood of sparks into the sky.

"Impressive. Better now?"

"Not yet." With a determined stride, Harry approached the fire. The wall of heat rose up and pushed back at him, but he moved in closer, despite the discomfort.

"What are you doing, Potter?" Malfoy called out. The concern in his voice was unmistakable.

"Something that needs doing," Harry yelled back over the roar of the fire.

"Ever the Gryffindor."

Closing his eyes, Harry felt the heat on his face and knew that it was now or never. He had to let go. With one swift motion, he twisted his wedding band from his finger. Gripping it tightly, he pressed his lips to his fist for one last kiss then tossed the ring up into air. Harry watched it fall into the center of the fire.

Slowly, Harry backed away and was met by Malfoy's waiting arms. "Now let's sit and watch it burn," Malfoy said in Harry's ear.

They sat side-by-side watching the blaze until the sun had set and the moon was bright in the sky.

"Better now?" Malfoy asked after a long yet companionable stretch of silence.

"Yeah. Thanks." Harry leaned his head on Malfoy's shoulder and looked up at the night sky. "Look, first star. Make a wish."

"I'm not sure wishes work if they're on a planet?"

"That's a planet?"

"It's Jupiter, troll for brains."

"Make a wish anyway," Harry said almost daring Malfoy to turn him down.

"Fine."

Malfoy closed his eyes. The fire crackled and cast a glow upon his face. He seemed so relaxed. When Malfoy opened his eyes a minute later, Harry swore there was something different about them.

"You know," said Harry, "sometimes I used to wish that I could know what it would be like not to have been the Chosen One, not to have had the life I did – how it would feel."

"What did you want it to feel like?" Malfoy asked, taking Harry's hand in his.

"Kind of like this."

The End