A/N: The last chapter! Finally! I'm so sorry for the immensely long wait to put this one out. Suffice it to say I have reasons, but I'll keep them to myself. Believe it or not, this was always intended to be the last chapter; I'm sorry if it feels inconclusive, but I kind of like the possibility of some things not quite resolved.
Enjoy the chapter, and hope to see you next time!

Chapter 19

THE MYSTERY OF HARRY POTTER

For twelve months, the question 'what became of Harry Potter?' has embraced the Wizarding world. Following the release of the infamous articles The Real Life of Harry Potter, the execution of which remains one of the most controversial in modern media, Potter was last seen in the company of his manager and attendant, Dorothea Picard and Von el Margot.

"Harry's whereabouts are his business and no one else's," Picard states when questioned. "If he chooses to tell the world then you'll know."

El Margot remains just as tight lipped on the matter, while Potter's friends claim…

"You know, I feel kind of bad. I didn't mean for them to all bear the brunt of it like this."

At Draco's distracted hum, Harry glanced up from the Daily Prophet, turning towards him. Rather than reading over Harry's shoulder as he had been moments before, Draco was staring to their left down the road, eyeing a cluster of onlookers that bore frowns and narrowed eyes. Eyes that widened as Harry glanced their way before they crowding inward upon one another, heads ducking and whispering loud enough that Harry swore ducked he could hear from half a street away.

The city was a riot of crowded roads and crowded footpaths. Of beeping horns, the puttering of engines, the shouts of pedestrians and the laughter of a clutch of school children idling around a bus stop. The street in the centre of London, diverging into a network of branching roads, was the hub of the city. It was vibrant and loud and, compared to so many vastly different cities and quaint little townships that Harry had encountered in the past months, it was almost a shock. A fondly exasperating shock.

Along that road, newsstands cropped up more frequently than was logically necessary, but each one made their business in droves of exchanged coins and pilfered papers. The Wizarding newsstand was about the only one of its kind outside of Diagon Alley. Harry had paused alongside it at the sight of the Daily Prophet, glaringly obvious at the front of the stand but likely magically hidden from wandering Muggle eyes. It was a little hard not to notice when his own face was staring back at him; after seeing little enough of his published pictures of late, the picture was a shock in itself. That there was an actual article of him…

The world really did need to move on. Harry's absence in the past year more than proved that they were capable of surviving without him.

At the sight of the crowd of whispering onlookers, however, a growing crowd that rapidly began pointing and exclaiming aloud more than whispering, Harry knew his anonymous return to London rapidly dissolve before the weight of recognition. Slipping the newspaper back onto its stand, he leaned towards where Draco had very deliberately planted himself between him and the crowd.

"Let's go," he murmured, his own voice barely audible over the particularly loud honk of a passing car. "There's an Apparition point only a couple of blocks away we can head to."

Draco turned towards him, mouth opening to reply, but any words he might have uttered were overridden by the newsstand attendant overrode his with an unnecessarily loud exclamation. "Hey! Hey, you – aren't you Harry Potter?"

Harry glanced towards him, unconsciously nudging his glasses a little higher up his nose but otherwise barely acknowledging the urge to cringe away from being noticed. The man had a finger pointed at him, his brow furrowed, only for his jaw to flop limply a moment later as the entire façade slackened. "You are! You are, you're – and you," he switched his finger towards Draco, "Draco soddin' Malfoy, aren't you? Well, I'll be damned."

"You will be," Draco said flatly.

The shop attendant barely seemed to hear him. His finger switched back to Harry, his eyes drawn alongside it. "You – you up and disappeared," he said. "You just vanished, just like that, and no one knew –"

"I did," Harry said, pasting a smile on his face. "But I'm back now, so…" He shrugged. There was no reason to hide it. Maybe Dot might have wanted to ride upon the mania of it, but Harry didn't really care. If one thing had changed over the past year it was his resignation to pandering to the media. Being out of the limelight had certainly adjusted his outlook to it.

Liberation was an addictive pursuit.

The attendant continued. He said something else, demanded something more, but Harry didn't listen. Slipping his hand into Draco's, he turned and tugged him after him as he wove through the bustling morning crowd of businessmen and women, school children, and the lucky souls who weren't yet afflicted by work that day. Draco followed after him, though his frown and defined pout suggested he wasn't happy about the encounter.

London hadn't changed. Not really. And yet, as Harry trekked the distance through the streets, it felt different. He wasn't oblivious enough to overlook the reason for that; he knew he'd changed since he'd last set foot in the city, for better or worse. It no longer seemed quite so big as it once had. Not quite so overwhelmingly important, either.

The papers ultimately didn't matter, because today's paper was tomorrow's kindling. The whispers and the gossip could and often did sting, but the sting wasn't lasting, and Harry could move past it. The demands made, the rules laid, the obligations heaped upon him – all of it was attended to only as much as Harry desired. He'd never really considered turning a blind eye to those requests before, but now…

Liberation really was addictive. Not only to Harry, either. He didn't have to look far to see what such freedom from a choking leash could enable. Only to the hand clasped in his own, in fact.

Draco glared at a man talking on his phone as he bumped into his shoulder, watching him retreat before muttering about idiots who didn't look where they were going. As they paused at a crossing, he carded a gloved hand through his hair and ruffling it artfully before straightening and setting his shoulders with the kind of cool confidence that he'd had as a child but not quite so much in later years. Crossing the road, passing down the adjacent street, following in step with Harry as Harry led the way through their fellow pedestrians, Draco didn't keep his eyes lowered. He didn't duck from a woman who paused mid-step, the name 'Malfoy' visibly forming on her lips. He was… different. More the boy he'd once been than he'd truly been in years.

Except that when he caught Harry watching him sidelong, he flashed him a smile that was warm, familiar, and overflowing with affection that Harry was all too familiar with these days. Familiar to the point of expecting it from a glance, from a hand squeezed, a kiss on the cheek or the way Draco would tip his head backwards when Harry walked behind him, grazing his hand through the slight kinks of curls in his blond hair.

Draco was different but still the same, and in Harry's opinion, it was the best version of himself that he'd ever been. He could only hope that he'd changed half as perfectly.

"To Dot's?" Draco said as they turned a final corner to a street as identical to those around it as any other.

Harry nodded, tugging Draco after him as he headed towards the little niche scooped like a divot out of the side of an office building. It was unremarkable to the passing glance, but when Harry stepped into the shadow of it, he felt magic ripple over his skin and the concealing effect of a Disillusionment Charm settle. A moment later and he was drawing Draco alongside him into a spin of Apparition.

The building of Estrallas en Ascenso was unchanged from when Harry had last seen it. He didn't know if he'd expected it to be different, didn't know how it would have possibly changed, but somehow he was surprised. With all that had happened, even in just a year, he felt like the world should have changed alongside himself.

But it was the same. Just the same. As surprising as that was, it was a little comforting at the same time.

Harry climbed the short flight of stairs to the door, still pulling Draco after him, and didn't bother to press the buzzer and announce his arrival. It wasn't as though he had an appointment, and even if months away did make him feel a little like an intruder when he stepped into the workplace, his arrival was less of a work-related visit than it could have been. Than it probably should have been, too.

The foyer was empty, as it so often was. Empty but for the wide desk with its familiar wheelie chair-bound receptionist seated behind it. Even as Harry stepped through the door, Draco muttering something about 'having a doorbell for a reason', she had her head bowed and hand whizzing across the open appointment diary, ticking and crossing and notating.

"Good morning," she said, glancing up. "How can I -?"

Her hand paused mid word as she caught sight of Harry. Her eyes widened, and the pen dropped from her fingers as she abruptly jerked to her feet. "Harry! Goodness, is that – ? Is it really -?"

Harry smiled, raising a hand in a vague wave. Meghan beamed back at him, skirting around her desk and trotting across the room in her short heels – only to stutter to a stop when she evidently realised who stood alongside him.

"And… Malfoy?" Meghan blinked, eyes still wide, her mouth opening and closing like a hand-held puppet. Her gaze flickered between Harry and Draco, then back again in mounting bemusement.

Harry squeezed Draco's hand before adjusting his arm so it hooked into the crook of Draco's elbow instead. His smile widened as he glanced up at Draco, caught his eye and the pointedly raised eyebrow that very clearly asked "so this is how you want to do this?" before turning back to Meghan. He didn't miss that she'd dropped her gaze to stare at their linked arms with eyes only widening further.

Not that he cared. He probably would have a couple of years ago, even only one year ago, but now? Not anymore. Not really. There were more important things to care about.

"I was hoping to see Dot, actually," Harry said, sparing a glance for the hallway leading from the reception. The familiar hallway that he'd taken himself down without needing to ask so many times before but now felt almost like foreign territory. "Is she free at all?"

"Oh – oh, Dot?" Meghan visibly shook herself, wrenching her gaze Harry and Draco's arms. A moment of staring passed before she shook herself again, and just like that, the professional efficiency she so often exhibited reinstated itself. Turning on her heel, she trotted back towards her desk and flipped through the diary. "Won't be a moment."

Harry hadn't known what he'd been expecting. Maybe a part of him had been concerned – about what Estallas and its employees would think, about what Dot would say, about how the world would view him and his relationship with Draco. But the larger part found that, when he really considered it, he didn't care. He didn't care that the Wizarding world would be horrified that Harry had taken up with Draco Malfoy of all people, especially after the outrage arising from his position as Harry's photographer the previous year. He didn't care either that the rampant homophobia in the Muggle world would instantly reflect badly upon him, crippling his job opportunities and the positivity that lingered from before he'd 'disappeared'.

Harry would have cared. Once, he would have cared a whole lot. It was almost funny how a whole year of sightseeing and peering into the lives of those so vastly different to his own could change that. Now, glancing at Draco sidelong where he stood in almost bored company, tracing his eyes over the lines of his face, his blond hair bleached to nearly white from their most recent visit to the Greek Islands on the way back to Britain, Harry didn't care. There were more important things, after all.

"She's had a lot less on her plate these days since you've been gone," Meghan said, recapturing Harry's attention. "She's picked up a few other pet projects, but both of the models are…" She trailed off as she scanned the page. She nodded decisively a second later, glancing back up to Harry. "She's got an opening until nine-thirty. Shall I…?"

Pointing at the phone on her desk, Meghan trailed off once more. Harry shook his head. "No, it's fine," he said. He grinned. "I'll surprise her."

Meghan stared at him for a beat before chuckling. "Surprise Dorothea? Good luck with that, Harry. She'll chew you up and spit you out before ever showing it."

Harry nodded, shrugged, and started towards the hallway, his hand instinctively slipping into Draco's to pull him along behind him once more. He half expected Dot to 'chew him out' anyway. Why not give her a proper reason to?

Blessedly, Harry and Draco didn't bump into any more of the staff before they reached Dot's door. Harry knew it would happen eventually, that there would be surprise and possibly gushing excitement. That there would most likely reprimand and even the possibility of being fired on the table. But that could all be dealt with later. He and Draco had arrived back in London two days before, but they had barely stepped outside since. Post-holiday weariness had struck Harry more intensely than he'd anticipated.

But they were back, and that meant there would be outcry. Good or bad – though most likely bad – it would have to be dealt with. Given that Harry had both faith in Dot and evidence that she and the rest of the few others who had known his whereabouts had remained silent on the matter, he would need to come out and explain himself.

He'd expected that, but it didn't mean he didn't still have a whole lot of planning to do.

Knocking on Dot's door, Harry paused long enough to hear Dot's murmured query from within. Smiling to himself – how long had it been exactly since he'd seen her? – he opened the door and led the way inside.

Familiar bookshelves. Familiar filing cabinets and a familiar desk. Nothing had changed in Harry's absence and least of all the woman sitting behind the desk, a phone pressed to her ear and her hand curled in a death grip around the cord as Harry had long ago noticed she habitually did.

Dot was still rail-thin. She still wore her hair in its topknot, severely tight. Her rectangular glasses, the high neck of her modest dress, the short, filed lines of her fingernails – it was all the same. Even the way she glanced towards the door with a frown already forming at the interruption to her phone conversation was so typically Dot.

"- don't care for such exchanges, Herbert, so long as…" Her words died as her gaze locked onto Harry. "I'll call you back," she said abruptly and, without waiting for a reply, slapped the phone down in its cradle.

Dot was on her feet and rounding her desk in an instant. She had always been short, but Harry had almost forgotten just how diminutive she was. Not that it really affected her presence; the way she planted herself before him, eyeing him up and down, held the weight of someone three times her size.

"Hi, Dorothea," Harry said, smiling with real fondness.

For a long pause, Dot didn't speak. Her expression was flat, her stare unwavering, and her lips slightly downturned. When she eventually met Harry's gaze once more, nothing but the slightest twitch of her eyebrow shifted in her flat expression.

"I do hope you didn't happen upon any reporters or photographers on your way here," she said. "Not before you've been properly cleaned up."

It was as much of a welcome as Harry had expected, and he couldn't help but grin. His good-humour felt unshakable that day. "No," he said simply before raising his and Draco's held hand. "Just the one."

"Yes, I can see that." Dot eyed Draco with the same blunt assessment she'd trained upon Harry. Draco, to his credit, didn't even twitch. "I'd thought so, from your calls. I take it I don't need to tell you both the mess that will inevitably erupt from whatever is going on between the two of you?

Whatever is going on. How insufficient an explanation for what existed between Harry and Draco. Turning towards him, Harry met Draco's eyes and tipped his head slightly in a silent question. Not that it really needed to be asked at all. 'Being prepared for that inevitability' was something Harry thought he'd been gradually perfecting for months. Years, perhaps. Maybe even before he'd first kissed Draco on a cobbled street in Lucerne.

Harry didn't need to ask, and certainly not aloud. Draco's lips tugged briefly to the side before he spoke, as much to Harry as to Dot. "It won't be a problem. Not to us. It's nothing we can't handle." He squeezed Harry's hand slightly, warmly, before adding a dry, "besides, I'm not so easily cowed as to not fight for what I want."

Harry tucked his chin but didn't think it did much to hide his smile. Draco had been defiant his whole life; it was just that his defiance had been forced to bend before it broke when the world and everyone in it turned against him. That didn't mean it had disappeared. Not in the least. Rather, Harry thought it more appropriate to consider that it had been biding its time for the right moment to rear its head once more.

Draco was doing a whole lot of rearing of late. Harry hadn't realised he'd actually missed that boyish overconfidence until it resurfaced in the best possible way.

Whatever Dot heard in Draco's words seemed to satisfy her. Nodding shortly, she shifted her attention back to Harry. She seemed to almost struggle with words for a moment before her lips thinned and she turned back to her desk. "Alright. It's settled then. Welcome back, I suppose."

That was as close to a real welcome as Dot ever came. Begrudging, almost chiding, but genuine nonetheless. Harry had never had the sort of relationship with Dot that it would be allowed, but he abruptly felt the need to hug her.

Maybe he was just getting spoiled. For all of his ramrod stoicism at work, Draco had proved to be a very proficient hugger.

"Then we'll dive right into it," Dot continued, planting herself behind her desk with her hands laid flatly on top of it. "I've got a consultation in less than an hour but give it to me now anyway. The bare bones of what you've got planned and what you've come up with. Tell me how you want to handle this and I'll see what I can do."

It was so like Dot. Efficient, more than capable of setting aside any personal feelings for the most pressing matters. Harry had mentioned nearly three weeks before in a sporadic phone call that he and Draco were considering making their way home, but it had been far from definite. Yet despite that spontaneity, Dot had risen to the play as she always did.

People had asked Harry countless times in the past why he stayed with Estallas when he'd become something so much bigger than the small agency. He didn't have to look any further than Dot.

In short order, Harry found himself in one of the two seats across from Dot's desk, Draco at his side and sitting as casually yet notably attentive as only he could quite pull off, and outlining his intentions. Dot listened with close-lipped consideration, nodding slightly at times, frowning at others, but otherwise holding her tongue until he finished his explanation.

"Hm," was all she replied at first.

"Exactly my response," Draco said, the top foot of his crossed legs shifting slightly to poke Harry in the knee. "See? I'm not alone in my scepticism."

Harry rolled his eyes. "There's nothing wrong with my ideas."

"That's a narrow-minded way of looking at it," Draco muttered.

"Just because I'm deciding to take a stance in the support of something other than what you'd have preferred –"

"I'm not saying there's anything wrong with the direction of your decision. Just that you should focus on issues closer to home first if you wanted to publicly kick up a fuss."

"I'm not kicking up a fuss. I'm aiming to remain totally unbiased and informative."

Draco snorted, dropping his elbow onto the arm of his chair and his chin onto the top of his knuckles. "Right. Informative. If you were really informative, you'd go the obvious direction."

"Being?" Dot asked, sliding into their exchange and momentarily distracting Harry.

"The rampant sexual assault in the modelling industry, for one," Draco said almost offhandedly. He didn't seem to notice Dot's eyebrows inch upwards, or if he did he disregarded it. "Or the poor working conditions. Or the absolutely ridiculous requirements you have to follow in order to 'maintain peak condition' –"

"Every job has its requirements, Draco," Harry said, sighing with what he would admit was a little bit dramatic. How many times had they had this conversation?

"You're allowed to take a break sometimes," Draco said, jabbing a finger in his direction.

"I do. I did."

"Getting up at five in the morning to go for a run on a fucking beach in Hawaii –"

"Is reasonable."

"- or dragging me along to that goddamn yoga retreat –"

"It was good, and you know it was."

"I can still feel my stomach muscles protesting," Draco grumbled. "And that's saying nothing of the fact that you still never have more than three drinks when we go out because of the calories."

Harry shrugged. None of Draco's accusations were new. It was all water off a duck's back at this point. "You have your priorities when it comes to work. I have mine."

"Yes, and I also have priorities when it comes to your work," Draco said. He turned deliberately in Dot's direction, fixing her with a faintly accusing glance. "Like making sure your photographers aren't fucking rapists."

"Draco, shut the hell up," Harry said with another sigh. Despite what Harry might think of his questionable past relationships, he didn't really expect Draco to drop the subject. His stubbornness had definitely returned with his confidence, and it would be easier in the long run to simply get the matter sorted. Harry wasn't sure just how seriously damaged Sammy would walk out of any kind of confrontation that might arise, but he'd rather he could still actually walk out of it at all.

"Talk to me later," Dot said, ignoring Harry entirely and pointing her pen at Draco. "I'm not utterly oblivious, but even so."

Draco nodded shortly. Too right you will, Harry heard, even if Draco didn't say it aloud.

"Can we move along, please?" Harry asked, glancing between the both of them before pointedly eyeing the clock. "What else do you need to know, Dot? What I'm trying for – it's feasible, isn't it?"

"Taking such a vocal stance on controversial subjects?" Dot glanced down at the page of notes she'd been taking throughout their conversation. She grunted before nodding in a way that was more considering than agreeing. "Considering the subjects at hand, I think the majority of exposure articles will have to be kept from the Muggle world but… I'll work on it. You'll have to scrub up your public face, too – and scrub up everything else, for that matter – but I don't think it will be impossible."

Harry smiled, wide and heartfelt. He couldn't help himself. He flashed a glance towards Draco, who rolled his eyes but couldn't quite keep his own smile from surfacing. It was a wonderful smile, that slight, almost reluctant curve of his lips, and Harry didn't think he'd ever get tired of seeing it.

"See?" Harry said. "What did I say? Dot has faith in me."

Draco shook his head, his smile twitching a little wider. "You and your bloody hero complex."

"I don't see what my idea has to do with that."

"Oh no, of course not. You're only hoping to save the world one step at a time."

Harry shrugged. Draco wasn't wrong in his assessment of Harry's intentions. After all, Harry might want to live for himself a little more, a fact that the joys of travel had certainly nourished within him, but he couldn't change who he was. Not really. He would just do it his own way this time, how and where he wanted.

"Merlin help us all," Dot muttered, jotting down a final note on the page before her. Then she swept it to the side, placed her pen precisely on the desk beside it, and folded her hands before her. "Alright, then. You've intruded upon my time enough today as it is and it's nearly nine-thirty."

Harry nodded, immediately rising from his seat. "Of course. Thanks, Dot."

Predictably, Dot's eyebrow twitched at the use of her unfavoured nickname. Less predictably, however, she didn't scold him for using it. "I'll call you later this afternoon," she said instead.

"Right."

"Make sure you pick up your phone."

"Don't I always? I have Ginny Weasley as a friend. Her habits sort of wear off on you."

Dot nodded her acceptance before shooing him and Draco both towards the door. "Off with you, then. And make sure you see Von on your way out. He'll be a menace to be in the same building with for the rest of the day if he hears you stopped by and didn't see him."

Harry glanced over his shoulder towards her and couldn't help but laugh. That sounded so typical of Von. He was immediately enthused by the prospect. "I will."

"See if he can fix you up a little, too. I don't like to think of what he'll do when he sees your hair, Harry. Merlin help us all, he'll go on a rampage."

Harry grinned, shrugged, and opened the door, stepping aside to allow Draco to pass before him. "From experience, Dot, Von can make a dress out of a potato sack. I think we'll be fine."

"We can only hope so," Dot muttered. Shaking her head, she glanced at her note paper. "Honestly… why in God's name do you incessantly feel the need to utilise the skills of Pansy Parkinson?"

Draco snorted, dissolving into unrestrained snickers at her words, and Harry wasn't far behind him. "Really, Dot? How could I not?" At Dot's flat glance, he grinned even wider and stepped through the doorway. "Good luck with everything."

"We'll certainly need it," Dot said, a hint of resignation to her tone, but Harry didn't miss the touch of a smile that shadowed across her lips just before he closed the door behind him.

"… had the world in uproar about your disappearance. I believe that many considered you were simply lying low, but now you're telling me that you went travelling practically everywhere?"

"Just about."

"For an entire year you simply travelled?"

"Yeah, pretty much. I've never travelled before, so now seemed as good a time as any."

"Indeed. Did you have a favourite location? You seemed to mention barely a glimpse into any for particularly long in your once-over."

"A favourite? God, I don't think so. There were so many places, and all of them incredible for different reasons."

"Then is there a standout?"

"Just one?"

"The most standout."

"Well… I guess one of the most different simply because there weren't really people there was when we hopped from Argentina to Antarctica, which was bloody freezing but –"

"Sorry, Antarctica?"

"Yeah. Didn't I say before?"

"No. We must have brushed over that part."

"Oh. Well, yeah, Antarctica was pretty different. We went for a trip around the Peninsular, and it definitely pays to be a wizard 'cause there would have been so much we would have missed if we hadn't Apparated."

"Yes, I can imagine. But you're back now? Is it only briefly, or…?"

"No, not briefly. I'm not saying that more travel in the future isn't on the table, because I'd love it to be, but sticking around for a while seems like the best option."

"I see. And your plans entailed with 'sticking around'? You'll return to modelling, won't you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, probably. I'd like to branch out a bit though, you know? Work for a cause and all that. The opportunities are really endless, so I can basically head in whatever direction I want to."

"And you've decided upon a direction?"

"Well, I wouldn't say decided. That's a bit of a final word."

"But you've considered? May I ask for specifics?"

"I want to pursue what feels important to me. That might be selfish of me, but…"

"Selfish, or mutually beneficial?"

"Maybe a bit of both? Really, what I'd like to do is step out of the fashion industry a little and touch on some issues that I feel have been seriously overlooked. If I can help people become more aware of certain issues simply by speaking about them then I want to stand for what I feel is important."

"Such as?"

"Such as the impact of the war, and the grimy parts that no one likes to look at, let alone talk about. Such as the fact that families of Death Eaters are still being unjustly accused, convicted, and shunned even years after when we should – and do – know better."

"That's…"

"I want to put out there the real story of Tom Riddle and how he got to be who he was. It was a problem, a real problem of both the Wizarding world and the Muggle one, that a kid was mistreated and grew into something that was barely human because of neglect, and misjudgement, and sometimes outright cruelty. I'm not saying that's the only reason he did what he did, but it was a big part of it."

"You seem to know a fair bit on the subject."

"Not a lot, but more than most. Kids, especially kids of Muggle or magic-hating families, face huge challenges every day simply because of who they are. We can't have another Tom Riddle, and I want to do my best to make people aware of that and to stand up for the kids – for the people – who can't defend themselves."

"You seem very committed."

"I'm passionate about that. I've realised that much after really thinking about it. It's what I want to do, and I have people I care about who are being impacted, so…"

"Any names in particular?"

"Are you by any chance prying, Pansy?"

"Of course, Harry. It's my job, after all."

"I suppose it is."

"So? Names?"

"You mean other than my fiancé and the people that he cares about in turn? Yeah, I'd say those are pretty influential contributors."

"Do I mean…? Wait, so – wait, what?"

"It extends beyond that, of course. The families impacted by the war, the kids who lost their parents, and my godson for starters, but also kids who have to struggle through domestic abuse and neglect, because I feel like they get little enough –"

"Wait, wait, wait. Did you just say…?"

"Did I say what?"

"Your fiancé, you – you mean you… Draco, you son of a bitch."

"Oh. Yes, that."

"Son of a bitch."

"I take it he didn't tell you?"

"Draco, get your arse over here you –"

"That's a no, then."

"Shut up for a second, Harry. You – Draco, you –"

"This doesn't seem like very standard interview procedure…"

"Draco. Draco! I can see you smirking at me from behind your camera, you bastard!"

"Yes, Pansy, dear, very observant of you."

"You fucking piece of shit, I can't believe you didn't tell me!"

"Is it really any of your business?"

"Bastard! You bastard, how could you not -?"

"I don't know if she can say this on camera."

"I assure you, Pansy, it's none of your business if I –"

"Shut up. Just – shut up, the both of you. My god."

"Are you alright?"

"Am I all -? God. Un. Fucking. Believable."

"We've only only been back for a few weeks. Don't worry about it; we'll get around to it."

Glancing over his shoulder, Draco took a moment to stare at Harry where he sat in the little alcove seat of the window. Phone pressed to his ear, his knees drawn up before him and fiddling absently with the hem of his slacks, he looked utterly comfortable. Utterly at home.

Which he was, Draco supposed. More at home than he'd been in a whole year.

"I don't mind," Harry said. "Dinner, maybe? I can pick something up if you'd like and drop by."

Draco turned back to the wall he was working on. He glanced up at the mosaic spread he'd mounted already, each picture-fragment precisely positioned. They all had their place, after all. It wouldn't do to stick any old picture anywhere willy-nilly.

"Well, Hermione said she's still working on Saturdays when I talked to her earlier, so… Sunday, then?"

Sparing a glance down at the stack of Polaroids in his hands, Draco flicked through them briefly before pausing upon one in particular. Costa Rica had been an experience, and beautiful at that, but the part that stood out to Draco the most was the way Harry had thrown a glance over his shoulder, grinning so widely he seemed to shine like his own personal sun. That picture, the spray of the waterfall out of view but his hair bedraggled, clothes sodden, and caught in pure joy, was one of Draco's favourite pictures.

Front and centre would make a very good spot for it. Definitely. Polaroids weren't Draco's preference once upon a time, but the sheer spontaneity of that image had certainly changed his opinion.

"Yeah, that works for me. Hold on a second, I'll just ask Draco. Draco?"

Holding the picture up against the space of white wall, Draco pinned it with his thumb, adjusted it, and moved it slightly to the left. "Hm?"

"I'm having Ron, Hermione, and Ginny around on Sunday. Did you want to be here for it?"

Swallowing a sigh that was only half genuine, Draco glanced over his shoulder once more. Harry had lowered his phone from his ear, pressing the speaker to his chest, and regarded Draco with his head tipped and expression open and questioning. With his long hair half falling from its tie, his glasses on, the neck of his baggy t-shirt pulled to the side, he looked incredibly young. Even more nostalgic still for the accidental parting of his fringe around his scar, left unveiled and open as he'd taken to doing more and more often of late.

Draco couldn't stop the tingle of warmth that swept through him at the sight. Would he ever not be affected? Would the feeling ever lessen? Draco didn't know. He didn't think so. He doubted he'd ever want it to.

Feigning nonchalance, Draco shrugged. He glanced briefly down at the stack of pictures in his hands. "That depends."

"On?" Harry asked, the beginnings of a smile touching his lips.

"On whether I can realistically avoid being in the same room with your friends for the rest of our lives."

Harry snorted, shaking his head, but his smile grew wider. "You're going to have to get over this eventually."

"Oh, I am, am I?"

"Yes, you are. Besides, I'm on good terms with Pansy, so –"

"Pansy's one person."

Harry snorted again. "Don't let her hear you say that. She's worth at least three given how terrifying she is."

Draco considered for a moment before nodding obligingly. That much was true. Very true. When he really thought about it, he'd much rather face Harry's trio of friends than an opponent like Pansy, especially since she'd been on his back ever since their first interview session for the new series the day before. But still…

Letting his sigh out in a dramatic gush this time, Draco turned back to the wall. His wall, as he'd decided it was, and as Harry had all but verbally agreed to. "If I must," he said.

Harry laughed behind him, and even if Draco really had objected to the inevitable meeting, that simple outburst of amusement would have been enough to soothe his disgruntlement. Draco would do just about anything to make Harry laugh.

"Yeah, that's fine," Harry said, returning to the conversation on his phone. "Draco says he's fine with it. Because he'll be here. Well, because it's his apartment too now. No, I told you, he's already got his bond back from his landlord, so he's…"

Only half listening to what appeared to be Harry's attempt to break the news to Ron, Draco returned to flicking through his pictures. A handful from South Africa. The trip to Brazil right in time for the Mardi Gras. The Billiwig keepers they'd visited in Australia with the stupid protective gear they'd been forced to wear. With each glimpse of the pictures, Draco was drawn back to the highs and lows of their travels and found himself smiling in spite of the disgruntlement he was supposed to be feeling.

Travelling with Harry had been an experience as close to perfect as possible. So close, and that even accounted for their stopover in Hawaii that had unexpectedly resulted in one of the biggest arguments they'd ever had. A day of stalemated silence that followed had invariably been the lowest point of the entire year, but afterwards? Making up and struggling through an apology, and then resolving to never, ever tempt fate again by challenging one another to a flirt-off with strangers at a club had bridged the momentary rift almost immediately.

But in spite of the wonders experienced, the isolation of one another's company only sporadically interrupted by friendly strangers, it was good to be back. Good to be in England. Good to be on home ground, even if Draco knew it was only a matter of time before his past caught up with him again and the world demanded Harry resume his place as their personal poster child. It didn't seem quite so daunting this time around. Not when Draco had someone he was properly standing alongside this time.

Which he was. Would be. Would hopefully be for a long, long time. Cancelling his lease was the first step in sealing that deal, and though an unexpected twinge of sadness had welled within Draco as he'd handed over the keys to his old flat, the doors that opened as the others closed were worth the pain a hundred times over.

Besides, Harry's apartment was beautiful. And big. And far cleaner than Draco's, which was something Draco had learned was more a product of Harry's unexpected cleanliness than the Spartan, open-plan layout of the living space.

"Yeah, okay. Alright, then. Yeah, that sounds good. I'll catch you later."

The sound of Harry ending his phone call caught the half of Draco's attention he'd reserved for absent thought as the other half concentrated upon his mosaic wall of pictures. He heard as Harry rose from his alcove, crossed the room in a nearly silent shuffle of steps, and pulled a chair out from the dining table just behind him. He settled himself, fidgeted for a moment, but fell quiet as Draco held up another picture against the wall, positioning it just so.

For a moment. there was nothing but comfortable silence permeating the room. It was a silence that hadn't always been so easy. It hadn't always been just as precious as exchanged words or gentle kisses. Draco had learned a lot in a single year, however, and the value of comfortable silence was one of them.

Except that Harry interrupted it after an extended pause. He hummed an approving sound before speaking. "I like it."

Draco smiled to himself but didn't turn. "Of course you do," he said, edging back a step and drawing his gaze across the dozens of pictures he'd already affixed to the wall. "I'm the one who's creating it."

"Your humility is astounding," Harry said with a laugh.

"I'm the epitome of modesty. Haven't you heard?"

"Well, I've definitely seen." Another pause settled between them as Draco adjusted the position of a picture slightly. New York, right under the ball in the mania of New Year's Eve in Times' square. The memory fizzled to the surface in Draco's mind alongside a fierce, hungry kiss as they welcomed the next year.

"I've noticed," Harry said after another moment, "that there appears to be a pretty distinct lack of pictures of you."

Draco folded his lips to hide a smirk. He shrugged, glancing down at the stack of pictures folded like a deck of cards in his hands. "You're the model of the two of us."

"Which I've told you is a pity for the modelling world. You should join me sometime."

"I prefer being on the other side of the camera."

"Which is pretty obvious too. Still, I think I could help manage to scratch at the surface of our issue a little bit."

Glancing over his shoulder once more, Draco turned towards Harry. He was seated much as he had been in the alcove, his knees drawn up before him and propped against the table. Except that instead of his phone in his hands, he'd picked up Draco's favourite camera from the table.

Draco didn't tell him to put it down. Once upon a time, he might have. Once, the thought of someone touching his things would have raised his hackles and set his teeth on edge. Maybe it still would have if it were anyone else, but this was Harry. Draco was fairly sure that he'd happily share just about anything with Harry, especially when the simple act of holding Draco's camera drew such a contented little smile on his face.

"Just because you look good through a camera lens doesn't mean you know how to use one yourself," Draco said, just as he had a number of times before. After all, it was hardly the first time Harry had picked up Draco's camera. He'd even plucked it directly from Draco's hands a number of times.

Harry's smile widened a little, though he didn't raise his gaze. "Maybe not. But there's a whole lot of wall space, and I'm happy to learn."

Lifting the camera before him, Harry cocked his head, raised an eyebrow, and deliberately snapped a picture in Draco's direction. Draco didn't protest. Once, he might have, and even had on a number of occasion – he was a photographer, not the one to be photographed – but not anymore. Not when the idea of his own picture pinned alongside Harry's presented such a favourable image.

When Harry lowered the camera, he met Draco's watchful gaze. The expression he wore, so calmly content, so quietly happy, wasn't that of the Harry Draco had known from in childhood. He wasn't even the Harry who'd fought in the war, or the worn, world-wearing Harry he'd encountered years later in the glamourous throes of a modelling career.

This was Draco's Harry. His Harry that the world didn't see, with his messy hair and glasses, his scar showing and his oversized clothes that somehow actually looked good on him, his cheeks still a little flushed from sleep despite rising nearly an hour before. Draco's Harry wasn't as sleek and groomed as a model, but he was perfect in every other way. Definitely perfect enough for Draco's lens. His fingers itched to reach for his camera.

"Do you think you've taken it yet?"

Draco blinked back from his distraction. "Taken what?" he asked, absently flicking the stack of pictures in his hands.

"The perfect picture," Harry said, almost as though he'd read the direction of Draco's thoughts. He tipped his chin in the direction of the wall, fingers tapping along the camera in his hands. "You told me months ago that looking for it was what maintained your passion photography. So, have you taken it yet? Am I going to get the chance to see it on our wall?"

Draco cast a glance over his shoulder. Their wall. The wall for both of them, of both of them. Gaze drifting over the images – mostly of Harry, some few of himself, and a scattering of them both when Draco had charmed the camera to take it of them – Draco smiled.

Turning back towards Harry, he crossed the room to the table. He placed the stack of pictures on the table, skirting it to the side of Harry's chair and, before Harry could do more than hum a wordless query, he captured his head in a cradling hold and caught his lips in a kiss. Harry was warm, tasted of coffee, and responded instantly with a readiness that wasn't compulsive or simply obliging. It was as wanting in return as Draco's was of him.

"No," Draco murmured, pulling away just far enough that their lips brushed together when he spoke. "But I think I'm closer than I've ever been before."

Harry smiled, and it was a sight far more perfect than any picture Draco had ever seen.

A/N: It's over! Thank you so much for reading, and thank you especially to those lovely people who left reviews! I hope you enjoyed it, and I'd love to hear your thoughts if you have a second or two. Thanks!