October 31st 1951
They stood, side by side, collars turned up against the freezing wind that bit into their skin. The cottage was exactly as he remembered it, although the walls they had painted white several years ago were now weathered cream around the edges. Harry rather liked that though, he felt it made the place seem loved.
The set of keys were cold in his hand, even through the woollen gloves he wore. He rolled them in his fingers, making them clink.
"Should we go inside?" Draco suggested quietly. He also clutched a number of keys in his hand, held together on a sturdy silver ring, although his collection were to locks of many sorts.
One was for the ignition of the car that stood in the driveway behind them, gleaming black in the fading wintery sunlight. Another was to its boot that was packed to the brim with a mismatching assortment of suitcases, no doubt becoming chilled now the engine had cooled after their long drive down from London. A small silver key was currently responsible for the captivity of two aging, grousing cats mewling on the back seat, unaware as they were that they had in fact returned home.
There was a brass key for Number 7 Godric's Hollow Way, and a pair of gold ones for the front and back of Malfoy Manor on Wiltshire Drive. There was an extra key that had been added recently, one that enabled the top floor of the Manor to be locked from the inside when necessary. The Malfoys often had guests, and they did not need to know why this floor had only one bedroom, a living room and a bathroom, almost as if there were a couple living there.
Harry had his own set of keys that matched Draco's exactly, but they were currently hidden away at the bottom of one of the bags, unnecessary whilst they travelled together. He looked down at the much simpler set in his own hand; a front door and a back door key only. They would need to get copies made of these too.
"It looks the same," he said in lieu of an actual response to Draco's question.
He caught his partner's smile out of the corner of his eye. "Really?" he said. "I think it looks smaller."
By silent agreement they made their way down the path. The garden was bare, autumn already having taken its toll on the flowerbeds and shrubbery, but Harry preferred to see it like that. When they had last visited at the end of summer, they had done what they could to maintain its upkeep, but he felt he would rather see it barren than neglected as it inevitably would be.
The key turned with no fuss, and in a single moment Harry felt like a small boy again, stepping through the front door for the first time with a sense of trepidation in his heart.
The house was dark and cold, but as Harry's eyes grew accustomed to the gloom he saw everything was as he remembered. The once plump sofa and chairs with the worn-down arm rests, the china ornaments sitting atop of the doilies, and the oblong and rectangular photo frames standing along the mantle. This time though, Harry recognised several of himself amongst the black and white images, and smiled.
He had not felt Draco leave his side, but he felt him return as he deposited the cat basket on the floor by his feet, and unlocked the little door that had kept their two pets confined. "There you go," Draco said softly to them as they bound free.
"Shall we light a fire?" Harry suggested.
"Let's," Draco agreed.
With light and warmth one more filling the cottage, Harry began to feel the knot in his chest unwinding slowly. It had been a long day, and a tiring one, and he was relieved to finally feel some calm.
Before he removed his winter coat, he traipsed back out to the car, Draco's keys in hand in order to start ferrying in the many suitcases they had squeezed into such a small space out of the car and into the house. He smiled at the accomplishment, thinking of both Mrs Malfoy and Mrs Potter's doubtful faces as their sons had loaded the car that morning by the side of the road.
"You'll never make it all the way there with all that," Harry's mother had fretted. "The axle will fall off before you reach Woking."
"As a now fully qualified engineer," Harry had teased her back before kissing her cheek. "I can assure you it will not."
"What are you smiling about?" Draco asked back in the present, coming out to lend a hand with the last of the bags.
"Mother," Harry said simply, and Draco smiled too.
"Come on," he said, once the front door was firmly shut. "I've got something to show you."
They kicked their shoes off and hung their coats and black jackets from their suits carefully on the rack, before Draco took Harry's hand and lead him into the kitchen. A single letter sat on the table, in an envelope addressed to "Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy" written in a familiar, though somewhat shaking handwriting. Holding it in place in case of any wayward breeze was an equally familiar pot of Mrs Figg's finest blackberry jam.