Title: A Day Out In Diagon

Disclaimer: I like bribing J. 's characters over to the dark side with cookies. Doesn't make them mine. I'm just a kidnapper.

Rating: T or PG

Pairing: Draco/Harry

Warnings: Uhm, one guy checks out another guy's arse? Seriously, it's tame.

Summary: Draco Malfoy is out with his two year old son, Scorpius, shopping in Diagon Alley. He runs into none other than Harry Potter, out with his sons. Just a fluffy fic showing them catching up, and making eyes at each other.

A/N: This was a request by Elena Gilbert, which was difficult to do in the limited length I had allotted to it. I hope she likes it! :) Please read and review!

Draco gazed in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies and frowned. He debated going into the store to look for a starter broom for Scorpius, but shouldn't such a thing wait until Scorpius was not with him? Granted, at two years old Scorpius was undoubtedly too young to understand, but it was the principle of the thing.

He shifted, moving Scorpius to his other arm. They were dressed in matching robes of a midnight blue, with silver trousers and black dragonhide boots and thick black cloaks trimmed with silver Nundu fur. Scorpius looked like a miniature version of himself, with perfectly placed blond hair, mercurial grey eyes, and finely chiseled features. Pointy, some might say, but that was just being uncharitable. He thought about the upcoming Holiday and decided that he needed to make Christmas this year extra special.

Merlin knew he wanted to be as different as possible from Astoria. After she ran off to be with her French paramour she'd effectively dropped out of Scorpius' life, involved only to the extent of sending him birthday and Christmas presents by mail that were as thoughtless as they were age-inappropriate. This year she'd sent him a new broom – one made for a wizard twice his age and size.

Scorpius tugged at his hair, and he frowned again, muttering, "Ouch!" Scorpius just laughed and patted his cheeks, and Draco's gaze softened, his expression curving into a rare smile. Well, not so rare these days. Scorpius made sure of that. He was the light of Draco's life.

"Do you want hot chocolate, Scorpius?" he asked, smiling indulgently as the little boy shrieked his approval.

He turned to leave for Fortesque's, only to bump into a small someone else who was running along, and nearly knock them both over into a snowbank. He righted himself, and scowled.

"Watch where you're going! Can't you see I'm holding a child?" He turned round to glare at whoever had bumped into him.

"I'm sorry," came a familiar voice. "I've got two of my own, you see, and James is just a little too rowdy. Apologize to the man, James."

"'M sorry," said the tyke who'd nearly knocked him over. He gave Draco a winning smile. "I was just e'cited cause we're gonna get me a new broom!" He jumped up and down in place, looking delighted. "My old one's too small now!" Everything he said seemed to be shouted excitedly. But Draco barely noticed.

"Potter?" he asked, a trifle disbelieving.

Potter gave him a sheepish smile. He was wearing a glamour, but once Draco recognized his voice and looked closer, he could see right through it. He was holding a small boy who appeared to be every bit his doppelganger, from what Draco could tell, just as Scorpius was his. "Hullo, Malfoy," he offered with a grin.

He was incredibly fit, Draco noticed absently. His dark hair was as unruly as ever, but it had that just-shagged quality to it that made it sexy rather than disorderly. His eyes were a luminous green, and piercing. He was taller than he'd been the last time Draco saw him, though he stood a good half a foot below Draco's height of just over six feet. He was muscular, more so than Draco, and since he was dressed in muggle clothes, the lines of his body were more apparent than they would be hidden under robes. Despite the snow, he was dressed in a simple hunter green jumper and washed out blue jeans, with a cloak draped half-on, half-off his solid form. The jeans showed off Potter's arse to great advantage, Draco couldn't help noticing.

Fortunately his children were dressed better for the weather, wearing muggle coats, hats, and gloves. Their noses and cheeks were brilliantly red.

Draco was disconcerted. Potter was smiling at him. Smiling. As if they were friends. It had been ten years since the war, but still. They had never been friends. Sure, Draco had refused to identify him that time in the Manor, and Potter had saved him from Fiendfyre, returned his wand, testified at his trial and kept him out of prison; but that didn't make them friends. Or did it? They had parted on friendly enough terms, after a rather pleasant conversation when Potter returned his wand. But they hadn't spoken in ten years; did most people not speak to friends for ten years?

"I see your children are as unruly as you yourself were when you were young," he sneered, falling back on his old habits for comfort's sake.

Potter narrowed his eyes and the smile disappeared. "Right, well, we'd better get going. We're going to buy James a new broom, since he doesn't fit on his old one anymore."

"Wait, Potter," Draco was already regretting his sneer at his old nemesis. He put a hand on Potter's arm, stopping him. Potter gave him an impatient sigh.

"What is it, Malfoy?"

"I have a broom you could use. Brand new; top of the line. Scorpius' mother sent it for him, but it's made for a four year old, about your older boy's age," he gestured. "So Scorpius can't use it. And it would do no good keeping it for him; it'll be horribly outdated in a couple of years and I might as well just buy him a new one then. What do you say, Potter?"

Potter's eyes opened wide in surprise, then narrowed in suspicion. "Why would you do that, Malfoy?"

Draco sighed. "Because the broom does no one any good if I keep it, and I can't return it. Besides, Potter, I owe you." That admission stung, but Draco made it anyway. For some reason, he didn't want Potter to leave.

Potter hesitated. "At least let me pay you for the broom," he offered.

Draco shook his head. "Bring your boys over to fly with Scorpius sometime and we'll call it even," he suggested. "He could use a friend his age."

Potter grinned again. "Why Malfoy," he said teasingly. "Are you suggesting a Malfoy should be friends with a Potter?"

"I wasn't the one who refused to accept a hand offered in friendship," pointed out Draco. The old wound still stung, a little. Potter flinched.

"Well, you reminded me of my cousin Dudley when we met in Madam Malkin's," he said and Draco flinched.
Rita Skeeter had done an expose' on Potter a few years back, digging up all the sordid details of his childhood and the abuse he suffered. The Prophet ran the saga for a week, then recycled the facts for months, as did every other published magazine or newspaper in the country – with the notable exception of the Quibbler, which only ran an interview with Potter giving his statement about the whole affair.

Draco, and the wizarding world at large, had been shocked and outraged to discover the details of the childhood home life of their hero, and the conditions he'd grown up under. There was much speculation that there was more that even Skeeter hadn't been able to unearth. Being compared to Harry's cousin stung.

"Then on the train," continued Potter, "You were mean to Ron, who was only the second friend I'd ever made. So I decided I didn't like you." He shrugged. "I've often wondered what would have happened if I had handled that a little more diplomatically."
Draco stared. The idea that Potter might feel any kind of regret about refusing his hand had never occurred to him. He found it warmed him, considerably.

"I was just about to take Scorpius out to Fortesque's for some hot chocolate," he said. "Care to join us?"

Potter smiled broadly. "What do you think, boys? Should we go and get hot chocolate with Mr. Malfoy and Scorpius?" The boys chorused their approval and the men laughed.

Potter looked good when he laughed, Draco thought. Pity he was straight… "No, stop that," Draco chided himself. "Straight or not, he's the bloody Saviour of the Wizarding World. He'd have no interest in you, not even if he were bent as an owl's claw."

They headed off to Fortesque's, and the men talked about Quidditch and compared notes on their sons. James continued to rampage around, Harry barely keeping him under control, and Draco could understand how his cloak came to be so haphazard. He stifled a grin. He contented himself with watching Harry's arse the whole way, unbeknownst to Harry.

When they were seated with their hot chocolate, the boys were cheerful, enjoying the special treat. Potter treated them all to fudge, as well, so Draco covered the hot chocolates. They chatted for a while, enjoying one another's company and occasionally tossing a few light-hearted barbs back and forth. It had all the fun but none of the sting of their exchanges at Hogwarts, and Draco enjoyed it far more than he should have done.

Afterwards they Apperated to the Manor, Harry and his boys Apperating outside the wards while Draco keyed them to let them in. Draco noticed when the coats and hats came off that James was a redhead, while Albus had inherited his father's untidy mop. He pulled out the new broom Astoria had sent and Jame's eyes grew as big as saucers.

The boys raced off to play, and Draco and Potter settled in to talk some more. Draco enjoyed regaling Harry with tales of being a Medi-Wizard, while Potter told a few harrowing stories about his work as an Auror. They each agreed that their respective careers suited them.

It was then, relaxed and feeling almost giddy with happiness that he and Harry – for Potter had insisted that he call him "Harry", and he'd insisted back that Harry calling him "Draco" – were finally getting on, that he made a faux pas.

"Where's the Weaselette, these days?" he asked casually, burning to know if Harry was usually on his own with their boys or if he had just lucked out.

Harry's face closed up. "She's on her honeymoon," he said. "She married Dean Thomas last week."

"Oh," said Draco awkwardly. He hadn't even remembered reading anywhere that the two had gotten divorced. Potter had done a good job of keeping it hushed up. "I'm sorry I didn't know…"

"It's alright."

"I'm divorced, too," put in Draco.

"What happened?" asked Harry, looking curious, then he flushed.

"It's alright," said Draco, correctly interpreting the flush. He shrugged. "I prefer the company of men," he glanced at Harry to gauge his reaction, but there was none. "It was an arranged marriage, so she was free to take up lovers, as was I, once we'd produced an heir. However, she fell in love with one of her suitors and left us."

Harry laughed, then explained hastily as Draco looked affronted. "That's nearly the same situation as me." Draco raised a brow. "Well, except for the bit about us taking lovers." He frowned. "At least, I didn't have any. But I like men. I like women too, I just… I also like men. And Ginny didn't approve. She was always accusing me of cheating on her. Even though I swore I never would – and I never did – but she was unfaithful, and used my being somewhat bent to justify it. She was also the one who was behind that whole mess with Skeeter and my past a few years ago." He shrugged. "It's all in the past, now."

Draco sympathized. It couldn't have been easy for Harry, who had married for love, unlike Draco. He felt a sort of admiration for the man sitting across from him, that he could speak so easily about something that must have been so painful to live through.

"Would you like to have dinner with me, Friday?" Harry asked casually.

Draco started. "Dinner?" he squeaked in a most un-Malfoyish manner. "With you?"

"Yes, dinner. With me." Harry looked amused. "I couldn't help noticing you checking out my arse the whole way to Fortesque's."

Draco blushed furiously, and tried to stammer an apology. Harry laughed. "I'm asking you on a date, Malfoy," he said, slowly. "Wanna have dinner with me?"

Draco recovered some of his composure. "Yes, Harry," he replied. "I think I'd like that very much."

Harry just smiled, and his eyes crinkled in the corners.