The pub Astoria had chosen was loud when they arrived. Not just normal levels of loud, either, but the kind that made you want to find a secluded corner somewhere way off so that you could finally breathe a little bit.
They'd spent a while drinking as one big group, but then Ginny had pulled Lee up to the bar with her for some food and Ron had followed Astoria when she saw some friends she wanted to talk to.
Which just left Malfoy.
The energy had died down a little bit, so they didn't have to yell to hear each other anymore. Malfoy was picking at a basket of chips, laughing a little at Harry.
"I still can't believe you root for Puddle U."
"Of course I do! They're the best."
"According to what metric? The Bats have been in the lead for a good while now, Potter. Get with the program."
Harry laughed and Malfoy gave him a funny look.
"What?"
"Nothing, you just sounded so—" Harry waved a hand around vaguely— "so muggle. Like the Americans on the telly."
"Must be where I picked it up from."
"You're joking."
"Pardon?"
"You actually watch television?"
"Why not?"
"Well, I—" Harry sputtered. "I don't know. It just doesn't fit with the idea of you I've had since school."
Malfoy's gaze held weight, steely grey eyes reflecting the shifting colours of the light around the room, making them look purple, then blue, then red. "Lots has changed since school."
"Yeah. Yeah, no, I know. Sorry." Harry forced himself to look away. "Do you use a mobile too?"
Malfoy half-laughed. "Yeah, I've got one for work, but I get all kinds of nervous trying to use the bloody thing."
"What do you mean?"
He propped his chin up on his hand shaking his head. "Well, first of all, how the hell are you supposed to talk to someone without seeing them? I mean, at least with the floo I don't have to wonder what they're thinking the entire time. And I have to rehearse over and over before I call so I sound like an even moderately competent professional! I can rewrite an owl as many times as I please. The whole phone thing is a waste of time."
"I never took you for shy."
Malfoy whacked him on the arm. "That's because I'm not. It's the Muggle's fault for creating such an inane contraption, not mine for being uncomfortable using it."
"But TV you have no problem with?"
"It doesn't require me to make a nice first impression without using my natural charm and good looks."
Harry choked a bit on his drink, rolling his eyes. "You could use a phone to keep up with your friends, you know. It doesn't require a magical fireplace or anything, so it'd be worlds easier."
Malfoy's lips twisted to the side, thoughtful. "I suppose that might be nice."
"You could call Goyle."
He laughed, taking a long sip and clearing his throat. "What gives you the idea that Goyle's a great conversationalist?"
"I'm just saying. If I were you, I'd want to try it out."
"If you were me?"
"If any of my friends were halfway across the globe and didn't fire-call me."
"Ah."
"I know you care about them, Malfoy." Harry could tell he should drop it, but something made him keep pushing. "It's no different from how I feel about Luna or Dean. I'd miss them if they were away."
"No different." He said it really slowly, like he was turning the words over and examining them for flaws. "You think we have that much in common, that our relationships with people from Hogwarts are 'no different?'"
"I think there's plenty we have in common. Not just surviving the war, Malfoy. I'm talking about other stuff."
"Like caring about our friends? That's hardly the revelation of the century, most do."
"Not as many as you think. And there are other things."
"I know you want me to ask what they are, Potter. I'm not going to."
Harry snorted. "Yeah, fair enough." He struggled to think of anything. "We both went to Hogwarts, for one."
Malfoy gave an obnoxious fake gasp.
"Stop that. We're both, er... drinking lager."
"At a pub? Salazar, that can't be a coincidence."
"Shut up. We erm... fuck, I don't know. We're both into blokes!" he said triumphantly, only realising after he did how drunk he must be to admit that to Malfoy of all people.
Malfoy raised his brows, leaning back in his chair and not looking remotely impressed. "What are you trying to prove, again?"
"That you should try to contact Goyle."
"I can see how you got there but he's not really my type."
"Merlin, you're so frustrating. You know that's not what I mean!"
"Right. You mean that because we have things in common you somehow understand a fundamental part of my psyche or some rubbish and that means that I should try calling Goyle even though I haven't spoken directly to him in years and I hate the telephone."
"Yes!"
"Because if you were me you'd miss him."
"Yes!" Harry said again.
"Pfft."
"Pfft? Don't pfft me. I'm not saying anything that isn't true."
"Pfft. And I'd do it again. One of the things I'm most grateful for in this life is that I don't have to hang onto my past." He paused. "If that's what you want to do, Potter, I won't stop you. It just isn't for me. Goyle was... well, I wouldn't exactly call him a good friend, but he was there. And he would never have wronged me. I'm glad to know he's alive, but, frankly, that's all I need from him. No more contact necessary. Not everyone is you—not everyone wants to go back to their Hogwarts days."
Was that really all it was? Did Harry spend so much time trying to stay close to his friends—and, hell, keep open a shop when both owners couldn't help him—just because they reminded him of who he'd been at school? Was that why he was here with Malfoy, trying to find a connection where there was none?
"Fine. Whatever. But it's not like that with me. I still talk to my friends because I care about them."
"And why is that? Because a war bonded you together? Because you were in a giant castle away from home for the first time and you had to find some way to not feel lonely?"
Harry looked at Malfoy, noticing the careful way he was tracing the ring of water his glass had left on the table.
"Is that what it was like for you?"
"Don't be ridiculous. I made friends so I'd have allies."
"That's all that's important to you? Having allies? Lackeys?"
"What's important to you?"
"Having people to confide in! People to have fun with. People that feel like family."
Malfoy met his eyes again and Harry lost his train of thought for a second, stuck on the way he was finally close enough to see the pale blond of his eyelashes. Harry'd been this close before, hadn't he? Probably focused on other things, though, like how many punches he could throw before Filch came to break them up.
"I suppose when you're not getting affection from parents—sorry, shite. I didn't actually mean to sound like an arse there. I was just thinking out loud."
Harry had been too focused on staring to bother feeling offended.
"Er, no. That's... okay. I get it. You were close with your parents, then?"
Harry wasn't sure what had happened to them after the war. He knew Lucius had been put on trial for his crimes, but he hadn't paid any attention to the outcome. He felt almost guilty for it, now, because he wasn't sure how lightly to tread.
"Mm. Yes, I suppose you could say that. We weren't a warm family or anything, but we were close to one another. My mother in particular made it her business to keep track of every little thing going on in my life. She's still that way, actually."
They didn't speak for a long moment.
"I take it we're both feeling pretty uncomfortable right now," Harry said.
"Mm."
Harry tapped a finger lightly on the table, searching for words.
"I'm not opposed to feeling comfortable," Malfoy said, beating him to it.
"What?"
"Around you. Around anyone. But that's not the kind of connection I'm used to making. I've never tried the whole Gryffindor talking about your feelings thing before."
"And with me?"
"Yes, it'd be an odd place to start."
Harry looked around the pub, seeing Ginny and Lee still sitting at the bar, but long since finished with their meal. Ron and Astoria were on a sofa with some of her friends, laughing loudly about something or other.
"You're very honest, Malfoy. You always have been. I like that about you."
He looked almost offended. "Right, sure. When I was on an undercover mission to kill the headmaster, that was me being honest."
"Shove off. Even when you're trying to be rude or professional, you never hide what you're thinking. I'm just saying I like that about you."
"Stop, you'll make me blush," he deadpanned, taking another sip of his drink. Harry studied the way his throat bobbed, shaking himself out of his reverie when Malfoy raised a brow at him. Merlin, he was sloshed.
"You're too charming for your own good. Try turning it off some time just to see what happens."
Harry sputtered. "I wasn't trying to charm you!"
"I'm sure."
Harry jabbed him with his elbow. "Prat. Learn to take a fucking compliment."
"As soon as you learn to stop giving them. You're embarrassing yourself."
Harry found himself smiling, not entirely sure why.
"Hey, mate." Ron had approached their table without him noticing, looking more like himself than Harry had seen in a while, but dead tired all the same. "Ginny and I are gonna head back to Grimmauld. Lee's got somewhere to be early in the morning and Astoria decided to follow her friends off to a dance club." Ron shuddered exaggeratedly, quirking his lips. "You coming?
"Er..." Harry looked at Malfoy, who was busying himself with cleaning the mess off the table and stacking their glasses, not meeting his eyes. "Why don't you go on ahead?"
"You sure? The pub's closing in a bit."
Malfoy had paused mid-sweep of his hand, back still turned away from Harry.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll finish up here soon enough."
Ron nodded and shrugged, rushing over to steady Ginny as he saw her stumble out of her seat drunkenly, laughing with her as he supported her out the door. It closed behind them and Malfoy still hadn't spoken, but he turned slowly back to Harry.
They stared at each other, the pub much quieter now than it'd been the whole rest of the evening. It was almost possible to imagine that the people he could hear hooting and hollering outside were his friends, though he was sure they'd gone directly to the apparition point without much stalling.
"You could've—"
"Come back with me."
Malfoy blinked at him, startled. "What?"
Harry wondered why he'd said it. There hadn't been a lot of thought involved, except that he knew he didn't want this night with Malfoy to be over just yet. He wasn't ready to go through the stages of Malfoy warming up to him again, not now. He wanted this Malfoy—open and honest and talking to him like they could trust each other—for a little while longer.
"To, er, to Grimmauld Place."
"That's where you live?"
"Yeah."
Malfoy sniffed, tilting his head consideringly.
"What?" Harry was irrationally worried that he'd done something wrong and that now Malfoy would leave for sure.
"I've been there before, as a child. My great Aunt Walburga used to live there."
"She still kind of does."
Malfoy's eyes bugged out of his head just briefly. "You're kidding."
"No. Well, a bit. Her portrait is still hanging in one of the hallways. Nasty woman, always shouting insults and complaining. We've got her covered up with a curtain but she isn't pleased about that either."
Malfoy laughed this time. "I suspect not."
"So, will you come? I've got Butterbeer or Firewhiskey if you'd like. I mean, you don't have to, or anything. You shouldn't feel like you're obligated, because you're obviously not."
Malfoy nodded slowly. "You live with Ron and Ginny, right?"
Harry barely took stock of the fact that he'd said their actual names. "Yeah."
"You're sure they won't mind?"
"Yeah," he said, totally not sure.
"All right. I'll trust you."
Why did that sound so foreboding?
ϟϟϟ
The pop of apparition when they landed at Grimmauld Place echoed in the silence. Had Ron and Ginny already gone off to bed?
Harry looked around the empty sitting room—the brown sofa Hermione had told him was hideous but was more comfortable than his own mattress, the rows of pictures on the wall that Dennis Creevey had given him after going through Colin's camera, the old rug in the middle of the floor that Harry'd bought because it reminded him of the Gryffindor Common room—what was Malfoy seeing as he took it in? Was he thinking about how Harry was attached to the past again?
But Malfoy didn't look judgmental, just curious. Curious and a little tentative.
"Er... so would you like that firewhiskey or... I could also make tea if you'd rather."
"Ah, sure. Tea, please."
Harry nodded and started toward the kitchen, telling Malfoy to make himself comfortable. He was feeling more than a little bit out of his depth, but after defeating the worst wizard of their time, surely he could handle Draco Malfoy sitting in his house.
Oh, Merlin, Draco Malfoy was in his house.
Harry shook his head, stopping in his tracks when he made it to the kitchen and saw his housemates there, Ginny perched on one of the countertops, a box of savoury biscuits in her hand, and Ron stirring some eggs around on the hob.
They both turned to him, and Ron looked faintly amused.
"You brought Malfoy."
It wasn't a question, but it felt like one.
"I, er... yeah."
Ron shook his head, going back to the eggs. "I put the kettle on for you."
"Huh?"
He wiggled a finger at the tea kettle, steam just beginning to flow out of the spout.
"You mentioned tea."
Harry stared at him blankly.
"When you were talking to Malfoy," Ron continued.
"You can hear me in there?"
Ginny snorted, opening the cupboard beside her head to stuff the biscuit box back inside. "Only when you're being awkwardly loud."
"Honestly," said Ron, "you'd think he had spell damage or something the way you were speaking to him."
Harry said nothing, just stared at his friends in mild horror—wondering if they were going to embarrass him, or if Malfoy was going to embarrass him, or if he was going to embarrass himself, wondering why he cared—until the kettle began to whistle and Ron levitated it away from the stove towards their growing stack of collectables mugs.
How Hot Can You Get Harry? asked the one that changed colour when you put tea inside and had a large picture of his winking face on the front. Tea Time With the Trio, said the one beside it with caricatures of him, Ron, and Hermione sipping from fancy porcelain while a caricature of Voldemort died dramatically in the background. Don't talk to me until I've had my daily dose of Weasley, said another that had a moving drawing Ginny, Bill, and Charlie posing shirtless.
He silently cursed Seamus and dug through the stack for something that would be less mortifying, unearthing one with a Centaur on the front, poised to shoot an arrow, and another that was shaped like Rita Skeeter's grinning head. He wished he'd paid more attention in transfiguration.
The kettle began to whistle and he hurried through the process of making tea, feeling very watched as he did so.
"Are you guys going to be... coming into the sitting room at any point?"
Did that sound guilty? Did it make it seem like something would be happening that he didn't want them to see?
"Maybe, maybe not," said Ron.
"Yeah, best to keep you on your toes." Ginny grinned at him, wiggling her eyebrows, and as much as he kind of wanted to strangle her, he was also glad to see a little bit of her old spark back. He hadn't seen her eyes shine like this for at least a year now.
"Let the record show that I have done absolutely nothing deserving of your torture."
"Except bringing a Slytherin to Grimmauld." Ron was eating his eggs straight out of the frying pan with a fork, and he exchanged a knowing glance with Ginny.
"The place was made for Slytherins!" Harry protested.
"Exactly!" Ginny slapped the fork out of Ron's hand so she could steal a bite. "Walburga hasn't threatened him even once since he got here. It goes against tradition."
"I'll see if I can get him to wax poetic about his love for muggle TV; that might set her off."
Ron looked intrigued by this prospect, though Harry wasn't sure which part of it he was most interested in. He didn't stay to find out.
Malfoy was sitting on the sofa when he got back, his hands folded neatly in his lap, eyes landing on Harry immediately as he stepped in.
"It's not too late to tell me to leave," he said.
"Why would I do that?"
Malfoy blinked a couple of times, shifting in his seat. "Just, well, if your Weasley's weren't okay with my being here, I mean."
Harry set the tea tray carefully on the coffee table, hesitating before he finally chose to sit on the couch with Malfoy. There was an armchair nearby, but it would've made it hard to reach the tea. And it's not like he was sitting next to Malfoy, Harry reasoned. They were on opposite ends. Harry pulled up his knees underneath him so that they would be facing each other. At first, he felt a bit like a child with his legs crossed in such a way, but then Malfoy looked at him and it was forgotten.
"They don't hate you," Harry said.
"A ringing endorsement."
"No, I just mean... if you think they're going to scream at you to get out or something, they're not. They aren't like that. Maybe they used to be, but anger just doesn't seem to hold with them anymore. Not since Fred."
Malfoy nodded slowly, picking up the Rita mug and then shuddering, switching to the one with a centaur. "I'm never going to feel settled around them. I know you want me to, but I'm telling you it just isn't going to happen. You need to get used to the idea."
"Why?"
"Because your overwhelming sense of hope is stifling. I can feel it from here."
"Not why do I need to get used to it. Why is it true?"
Malfoy took a sip. "I don't know." He clearly did know. "I guess I'm always going to feel like I owe them something. For being on the side that killed their family... friends, classmates."
"But it's different with me?"
"I didn't say that."
Harry scooted a bit closer. "Isn't it?" He wanted it to be. And why, so that he and Malfoy were on even ground? What would that give him, with all the history still filling the air?
"Stop."
At first, Harry wasn't sure who'd said it. He didn't know if it was him or Malfoy or both of them at once. Maybe just a warning in his head.
"What?" he asked, feeling a little dazed.
"Stop moving, it's distracting." Malfoy's eyes trained on the tea in his hand, fingers thrumming on the handle.
"Answer the question."
"How am I supposed to do that if you're distracting me?"
Harry put out a hand, watching it land on Malfoy's like he wasn't the one controlling it, stilling the anxious movement of his fingers on the mug. Malfoy's head jerked up, eyes meeting Harry's like a cornered animal.
How had Hagrid taught them to deal with this again? It was slipping his mind at the moment. Harry tried to steady himself, but all he could do was freeze, hoping he wouldn't scare Malfoy away.
"That's not helping," Malfoy said, voice coming out dangerously low.
"But it's different with me?" Harry pressed.
Malfoy's throat worked, his eyes flashing.
When their eyes met, the stillness was broken, and Malfoy yanked away from his hand, tearing their gaze.
A creature tha feels threatened, Hagrid would have reminded him, doesn' respond well ter sudden movemen'.
Malfoy's nostrils flared, but he composed himself quickly, taking his wand out of his sleeve to clean up the tea he'd spilt on the rug, setting everything to rights and then folding his hands in his lap, looking away from Harry at the wall of photos like he was interested in what he saw.
"You don't feel like a victim," he said after a long moment. Harry sat back in his seat. "I never did anything to you I didn't pay dearly for in the end. I never hurt you so badly you couldn't return the favour. Somehow."
Harry didn't know what to say, so he was quiet for a long while until Malfoy said, "What's this?" gesturing to the parchment spread out everywhere with a list of things to do for the shop.
Harry let the charged moment go, trying to pretend he'd imagined it.
"Oh. Stuff for Wheezes." He waved a hand vaguely, willing himself to focus on the present. It didn't work. He replayed the moment over in his head. "A plan for the reopening and a couple of potential products we've thought about introducing."
Malfoy picked up a roll of parchment and scanned it over, his expression illegible. "You've put a lot of effort into this."
"Yeah. But unless you've got any product ideas, none of it will matter. I'm running out of time."
Today had been about getting his mind off things, and it'd worked, but it hadn't fixed his problem. He had to admit that he was in trouble. It did no good to dress up the shop and put a fancy ad out if he wouldn't have new things to sell.
Malfoy sighed. "I should probably go. I can't really remain impartial if we talk about your shop while I'm off-duty."
As much as Harry wanted to protest, he didn't. It was easier to just quit while he was ahead. Or while he wasn't as far behind as he might've been. He had the feeling that he'd royally screwed things up that evening, even if he didn't know exactly how.
Malfoy stood and nodded, stalking to the floo and disappearing into it resolutely. It felt too fast, too all-consuming. But the house was finally quiet enough for him to hear everything else.
"You can come out now!" He called.
Ron and Ginny stumbled into the room sheepishly, Ginny trying to stifle her giggles while Ron looked mostly apologetic.
He scratched at his head, giving Harry a grimace. "Rough luck, mate."
"I can't believe you haven't gotten any better at flirting yet!" Ginny crowed. "Should we sign you up for a class or something? Seriously. 'Oh Malfoy, let's talk about the war. Let's bring up our grief and trauma. That'll get me into your pants, won't it?'"
"I was not flirting." Right?
Harry buried his head in a cushion, knowing he was settling in for a few more hours of this taunting, at least. He tried to feel grateful that Ginny even had the spirit to laugh like this.
Mostly he just wanted Malfoy back, still sitting on the couch next to him, resuming that moment where Harry had almost felt like he'd been a different person. And what the hell was that kind of thought, anyway? It would be a long night.