6. The End

Harry waited the next day for The Prophet tell-all to run, but it didn't happen. It didn't happen the next day either. Instead Harry received a package. There was a selection of business cards so simple they could only be very, very expensive. They didn't say what they were for, exactly, but he thought he could guess. There was also a book. On the cover, the Coliseum was continuously built and left to ruin. Harry set it aside. That was all.

A few days later, Harry finally opened the book. A note fell out and Harry grabbed it. His hands were suddenly sweaty but when he opened it there was only one line in Malfoy's neat flowing script.

I would appreciate it if you would recommend a recent Muggle history of this time period.

So Harry did. He wrapped up a favorite and walked it to the owlery in town and didn't think too hard about where he was sending it.

When he got back home, he shuffled the business cards and flooed the first address in the stack. He talked to a very polite, very discrete secretary who didn't seem to care at all that he was Harry Potter, and booked three months worth of appointments right off the bat.

Then he slept, and moped, and thought about Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, who he'd hated, and liked, but mostly hated.

Andromeda and Narcissa had tea. It went… well enough, Harry supposed because they did it again. Andromeda was furious after that one, but when she calmed down she told Harry she was going to introduce Teddy to her sister and she wanted him to be there.

He spent the next week worrying about whether Draco would be there but being too scared to ask.

He wasn't there. He probably hadn't been invited. It was only Narcissa, Andromeda, Teddy, and Harry, for a painfully stiff hour at Andromeda's house. Harry found he was rather disappointed at Draco's absence. He didn't know what he wanted to say but they needed to talk, didn't they?

That thought stuck, and two days later, Harry apparated to the manor. He didn't think about the last time he'd been here, he didn't think about how the house elf who answered the door wasn't Dobby, he didn't think about what a horrible idea this was and what was he thinking, really, while he sat and waited in a newly renovated parlor. He drank tea that was brewed absolutely perfectly and mused on how hilarious it was that he'd prefer it to be a bit over brewed. Hilarious. Absolutely. The laugh lodged in the back of his throat was not hysteria.

Draco didn't know what to expect. Potter had sent him a book, so he might not hate his guts, but they hadn't communicated past that. Narcissa hadn't said anything about seeing the Boy Wonder at Aunt Andromeda's and Draco hadn't asked because he still hadn't told his mother where he'd disappeared to except to reassure her it had been perfectly legal. His mother's nightmares were of him in Azkaban. She didn't have to say it for him to know it was true.

Draco stood in the doorway and watched Potter fiddle with a teacup as if it held the secrets of the universe. "You know Divination is a load of griffin dung, don't you?" he sneered. His voice shook more than he would've liked.

Potter's head popped up. His mouth flopped open but no words came out. Draco sat carefully across from him. "Well?"

Potter shook his head. "I don't really know. I just thought we should… talk."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Did someone tell you that?" It seemed the sort of thing his therapist would say, at least.

"No." Potter shrugged. "Only we're gonna meet again eventually and maybe we don't want to talk about you being an owl in front of other people."

Potter talked about meeting again so casually. Draco hadn't realized he was concerned Potter would avoid him for the rest of their lives until the weight lifted.

"I'm a registered animagus," he shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

Potter raised an eyebrow. "Only, you ate owl treats and that seems like the sort of thing you wouldn't want me to bring up."

Draco grimaced. "Like you're one to talk."

Potter tightened his grip on the chair. "It would be decent of you to keep all that to yourself but there's nothing I said that I'm actually ashamed of."

Draco stiffened. "I rather meant you eating the owl treat."

"Oh." Potter blushed. "Well. You shouldn't feed something anything you wouldn't eat. Also…"

Draco stopped him. "Also I know the distinction between having a crush at fourteen and still liking someone now."

"Er. Well. Good." Potter looked up at Draco earnestly. His eyes really were very green. "I don't hate you anymore. I think that's important to clarify, too. I don't really know what I feel about you, but it's not hate."

Draco pursed his lips. "My feelings about you are… also complicated."

Potter nodded enthusiastically, as if they'd just agreed on a favorite quidditch team. "Well, er. Good talk, Malfoy. I'll see you around?"

Draco nodded dumbly and watched Potter flee the room.

...

The next time Draco saw Potter was at Potter's house. It was the first time Draco would officially meet Teddy. He greeted Andromeda politely and when his mother insisted Potter call her Narcissa he supposed he had to give his given name, too. It was tense, and awkward, but Draco got to hold Teddy and the toddler turned his hair white blond before he bounced over to the sofa and switched to blue. The sofa really did look nice, and the curtains were a soft yellow.

"You know owls are color blind," he said to Harry as they watched Teddy do his best to break his neck.

The black-haired wizard blinked. "Really?!"

Draco laughed and Harry shook his head ruefully. "I can't believe your sense of style is still better when you can't see color."

Draco stilled. "Was that… was that a compliment?"

Harry muttered something noncommittal and scooped his godson out of the air.

Harry pulled a platter of egg salad sandwiches out of the fridge and Draco raised an eyebrow.

"It's the only thing I can cook." Harry protested as he elbowed Draco, but it had no force. He then backed away to the opposite end of the kitchen. Draco understood. He didn't know what Potter had been thinking with the physical contact either.

After they'd all settled at the table and completely exhausted the topic of the weather, Andromeda looked around for other conversation starters. "Whatever happened to your owl?"

"Er." Harry glanced at Draco, "It was… temporary. He's gone now."

"Really," Narcissa drawled, and Harry and Draco both cringed. "What kind of owl was this?"

Harry tried to answer vaguely but Andromeda frowned at him. "It was a barn owl. They're very distinctive, Harry."

Harry mumbled something about growing up with Muggles and Draco resigned himself to a long round of questioning when he and his mother returned home.

...

Draco's mother did not, in fact, corner and interrogate him. It was worse. She didn't bring it up, no, but she politely shot down every other topic of conversation until Draco was nearly crawling out of his skin and he brought it up.

"I told you I was attacked by a thestral and didn't have a wand so it took me a few days to get better and come home?"

Narcissa Malfoy hummed an affirmation. Her eyes did not leave her novel. Draco sighed. "I actually crash landed in Potter's yard."

"Did you now?" Draco's mother looked up, but she didn't reach for her bookmark.

"Yes. And he was very nice to me on account of thinking I was an owl." His mother didn't say anything. Draco gritted his teeth. "And that was very nice, actually."

"It sounds like it was a positive experience."

"Yes. Except then Granger went and realized I couldn't be an owl and-" he paused. "Actually did you know you and I are on the cleared list of people who can send Potter mail?" Draco didn't know where that fit into Harry's complicated feelings.

"He did testify at our trials," Draco's mother reminded him.

"Yes," Draco agreed, "but-". He wasn't sure what the difference between not wanting someone to go to prison for life and wanting them to send you mail was but he rather thought there was one. It wasn't really important, though, compared to other revelations. He sucked in a deep breath. "And he thought I was fit when we were fourteen."

Draco's mother smoothed down her page. She raised a perfect eyebrow in what would look like confusion if you didn't know Narcissa Malfoy very well. "Well, yes. You've always been a handsome boy. Was he jealous?"

"No, he wanted to snog me." Draco was rather putting words into Harry's mouth but he'd wanted to snog Harry at fourteen so the spirit of it was more or less true.

"Well does he still want to?" Narcissa did not ask if Draco wanted to snog Harry. It wasn't really necessary. She'd always been horribly good at reading her son.

Draco's negative was too obviously sad. "He hates me. Not completely, but enough that he doesn't like me. He preferred when I was an owl."

Narcissa did not argue even though Draco found he desperately wanted her to. "Why did he like you as an owl?"

"I was nice," Draco answered morosely.

Narcissa raised an eyebrow.

Draco huffed. "Well mostly. He thought I was prissy and difficult, but he liked it because I hadn't ever… done anything bad," he finished softly. There were some things one didn't say to one's mother. Even if she'd been there, too.

...

Draco showed up on Harry's doorstep clutching the Muggle history book like a lifeline. "I finished this. It was alright," he sneered half-heartedly.

Harry blinked. "Would you… would you like another one?"

Draco nodded and Harry motioned him inside. He shuffled a few stacks and pulled out two books.

"You should get a bookshelf," Draco blurted.

Harry smiled softly. "You'll have to help me pick it out then."

Draco could feel himself blushing, which only made him blush harder. Owls didn't blush, he thought furiously. "I didn't even know what color you'd made the curtains. But. I would still be willing to help." Draco stared determinedly at Harry's left ear. Then he remembered that he'd bit that ear what in the world had he been thinking and instead fixed on the books in Harry's hands. He reached for them, ready to run, but Harry pulled the books back. "Um. You can take both. Or you can stay for a bit and decide which you like best."

Draco thought that was a very silly idea because he'd end up reading both eventually, but he also thought it was absolutely brilliant.

"I do need to try your couch, I suppose."

Harry grinned. "I can make lunch."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Chicken? Or egg salad?"

"I'll have you know I bought sliced turkey."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Ask Andromeda or Molly to teach you how to cook."

"Can you cook?"

Draco huffed. "No. But I don't try to, either."

Harry shrugged. "I'll learn eventually. For now, I'm pretty good at ordering take-out."

Draco sank into the couch, not entirely sure if he'd ever make it back out. Harry hummed and made sandwiches. He didn't say anything else, not even when he set a plate on the couch next to Draco and wandered outside with his own, but when Draco picked his sandwich up it was cut into a crown.

Draco nibbled a corner, then set his book aside and followed Harry outside. The black-haired wizard was sat at a rickety metal table. Draco leaned against the door frame.

"You should try growing flowers."

Harry looked up in surprise. "You move like a cat."

"Owl actually. They're also quite silent."

Harry smiled. "I'll update my similes, then."

Malfoy nodded. "Flowers, though." He gestured at the bare patio and the sad patch of mud Harry seemed to be calling a garden. Harry looked around and grimaced. "I thought herbs and vegetables would be… practical."

"For all the cooking you do?" Draco let the disbelief show on his face.

Harry ran his hand through his hair. "I want to cook more," he mumbled soft enough Draco had trouble hearing him.

Draco shrugged. "Alright then. Doesn't mean you can't have a nice outdoor area to eat in. You could put a few pots of begonias out here. Trellis some clematis on the shed. Foxglove by the side of the house. This is south facing so I think it'd be fine."

Harry was watching him ramble. Draco blushed. The gardens had always been his favorite part of the manor, and the part least tarnished by the stay of the Dark Lord. They'd still been trashed by rampaging werewolves, of course, but Draco had thrown himself into their restoration with an enthusiasm he hadn't been able to summon for the house itself.

Harry leaned forward, a strange light in his eyes. "What's your favorite flower?"

Draco thought a moment. "Tulips, I suppose. I rather think you'd prefer peonies, though."

Harry nodded decisively. "I'll plant both."

Draco stood up straight, startled. "What? Why?"

Harry shrugged and grinned. "Because I want to."

Draco frowned. "Harry," he said gently, "what are we doing?"

Harry's eyes shuttered. He shrugged mulishly. "Planning my garden, I guess."

Draco refused to fidget as he stared Harry down. The black-haired wizard toyed with the cuff of his shirt as he avoided Draco's gaze.

"I thought," Harry finally lifted his bright green eyes, "I thought we could be friends." Draco did not ask if Harry would also be planting Granger and Weasley's favorite flowers. He didn't particularly want to give him the idea. Draco winced internally. Jealousy was never a good idea, and it certainly wasn't friendly.

"We were never particularly good at being friends," Draco reminded the other wizard.

"We could be," Harry insisted stubbornly. "We could be friends."

"Even after-" Draco's chest hurt. He didn't want to remind Harry of this, either, but he rather doubted he'd forgotten. Draco hadn't. "Even after- everything?"

Harry pushed back his chair and stood. The movement put him closer to Draco than he'd apparently planned and he started to move back, then stopped. His jaw was firm. "Yes," he insisted. "Yes. Everything. Voldemort. And Dumbledore. And… And everything."

Draco looked into those blazing green eyes. Harry was shorter than him, but he didn't seem it.

"You can't just make it go away." Potter was so bloody stubborn.

Harry's face softened. "No. We can talk about it. We will. We can go to couple's therapy, even. But it doesn't matter."

Draco's throat seized up. "Cou-couple's therapy?"

"Oh, uh," Harry finally took a step back, running his hand through his hair and blushing, "I mean, I'm sure it's a thing for friends, too."

"Yes," Draco agreed faintly. He narrowed his eyes. "But you don't actually want to be friends."

Harry straightened. "Yes, I do!" He sounded affronted.

Draco shook his head. "No you don't. Because you thought I was attractive in fourth year and you still do."

Harry grimaced. "I… I do want to be friends though. I won't… I won't make you uncomfortable."

Draco felt a small smile growing. "I'm sure a little discomfort would be worth it," he leered, then frowned. "Too much, too fast, wasn't it?"

A wide-eyed Harry nodded in agreement. They shifted awkwardly for a few moments before Harry's head shot up. "You just hit on me! Badly, but-"

Draco resisted the urge to apparate away. He thought the crippling shame might be worth waiting for the end of Harry's thought process to work itself out.

"You did mean that, right?" Harry was right up in his space again.

Draco's face was in flames. Harry didn't need to plant bloody tomatoes, he thought bitterly. "Not as… worded, exactly. But the sentiment that I also find you attractive is correct," he said tensely. Harry's eyes were slightly glazed. Draco resisted the urge to shake him. "I find you attractive. Now. Not in fourth year." He paused and amended, "Not solely in fourth year."

Harry's lips were parted slightly. Draco couldn't tear his eyes away. It was like facing down a bloody gorgon.

"When you get all formal…" Harry breathed. "It's kinda hot."

And then he kissed him. Draco squeaked and Harry drew back immediately.

"Sorry! Sorry!" He cursed. "I completely misread that. I'm so sorry. And I just said I wouldn't make you feel uncomfortable."

Draco grabbed his arm and pulled his face up to look at him. "You, uh, didn't misread that," he said stiffly. "I was surprised."

Harry leaned in again with a soppy smile and Draco held him back by the shoulders with both physical and emotional difficulty. He wasn't quite sure why he was preventing Harry Potter from kissing him, but… "I still need to know what this is."

Harry frowned. "Snogging?"

"Yes. No." Draco gestured between their chests. There wasn't much room. "Us. Do you… do you just like the way I look?" It came out more pleading than Draco was comfortable with and he looked stubbornly to the side. Harry pulled his chin back, eyes serious.

"We don't know each other very well yet, but, er, you were a good owl and I think you're a good person, too, and I'd, er, like to get to know you better. All of you. Not just…" He blushed. "Not just the extremely good-looking packaging." Harry took a deep breath and pressed a closed mouth kiss to the edge of Draco's mouth, then stepped back.

"Draco Malfoy, I'd like to date you."

Harry's tone was so business-like Draco automatically stuck a hand out. He started to pull it back, but Harry caught it with a grin.

"Deal?"

"Deal."

They stood there for a minute, holding hands, before Harry started shifting. Draco raised an eyebrow. He did not let go of Harry's hand.

"We should go on a date," Harry said firmly.

Draco shrugged nonchalantly, as if he had not put an inordinate amount of time fantasizing about Muggle films or one-on-one quidditch games. Something Potter had said earlier trumped his previous plans, however. They would keep, he hoped.

"I suppose we could try to cook something. And order take-out when it's inevitably a failure."

Harry grinned. "That sounds brilliant."

It was.