Title: Even When Things Change
Author: 
miz_thang88
Team: Team Canon
Prompt: The World
Wordcount: 5261
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None.
Summary: Disappointment or completion? The choice is yours, according to The World.
Author's Note The World can mean coming full circle, having everything fall into place, but if you flip it, you get the opposite—a resistance to change, disappointment.
It was as Albus trailed behind James and Rose onto the train, when Harry's attention had finally started to drift from the present, that he spotted Malfoy a few feet away as he stood beside his wife. Most likely, he was doing the same as Harry, watching his son board the train. As he focused on his old school nemesis, he thought about the changes he could see compared to nineteen years ago—other than age. As he stood beside his wife, watching other parents, he didn't seem to be looking down on any of the other families as they saw their children off, though he did give a few families an odd luck. Harry knew, he could tell just from watching, that it didn't have much to do with blood purity at all.
Which just went to show how much had changed in the past two decades since the war had ended. Not only were people different, reacting different, but the entire world, community, had changed. For the better, in his opinion. Harry could even admit that he'd noticed a change in Malfoy, accepted the fact that he didn't know everything about him or his family, years ago. Nothing had proved that more than the year before the war finally ended, and the actions of Malfoy himself, let alone his family. For all their mutual hate, Malfoy had proved that what Dumbledore had said about him was true; he was not a killer.
After a nudge from Ron, he returned to the present, leaving behind memories of all the work that had been needed to be done in order to get the wizarding world to the point it was at now, watching as Malfoy waved at the train. Another nudge from Ron and Harry dragged his gaze away finally, elbowing Ron in response before searching for his own son on the train.
-
"Harry, get the owl, would you?"
At the sound of Ginny's voice, Harry looked up, just in time to see Albus' owl, Nirvana, fly through the window, landing on the coffee table before Harry. She gave a cheerful hoot in his direction, and he beckoned the owl to him, untying the letter from her leg and unfolding the parchment. Most of it was the general information on his classes, professors, the mention that he'd been sorted into Gryffindor (to Albus' palpable relief) and, lastly, the mention that he'd made a friend in one of his classes.
"What does it say?" Ginny asked, appearing behind him and trying to read over his shoulder.
"He made a friend. Best mate material, apparently." Harry replied distractedly, still reading the letter.
"Does it say who?"
"...Yeah." Harry lowered the letter and turned to face his wife. "Scorpius Malfoy."
Ginny's face conveyed perfectly how he felt. Of all children in his year, let alone in his own house, he befriended Scorpius Malfoy? And, not only that, but he wanted to invite the boy to spend some of the Christmas holiday with them.
-
Harry looked up as the door to his office opened, none too surprised to see Malfoy standing there. Truthfully, he'd been expecting the other man to appear at some point, ever since he and Ginny received the owl from Albus telling them that he'd made a friend—close to a best mate, in fact—in Scorpius Malfoy.
The blond didn't look too excited to be there and Harry wasn't exactly all that excited to see him, so it worked out in that sense. They'd been treading the thin line between actual tolerance and remaining uninvited in each others' lives for nearly twenty years now, their relationship not exactly fitting into one side or another—no matter how many times the Daily Prophet liked to say otherwise.
"My son actually befriended yours." That was the first thing out of Malfoy's mouth, said as if it were the worst thing he'd imagined happening when he got his son ready for Hogwarts (it probably was). No "hello," no "good afternoon," no "we have some things to discuss." Straight to the point in all its rudeness, that was Draco Malfoy.
It was a bit funny how the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Malfoy wasn't the same boy he'd known, but he was still, somehow, very distinctively Malfoy.
"I already know." Harry replies, then eyeing Malfoy. "Do you have a problem with that?" It was a genuine question, but it was still a challenge. He was challenging Malfoy to say that Albus wasn't good enough to be friends with Scorpius, or something along those lines. Maybe to prove that things really didn't change all that much.
"I have no interest in controlling who Scorpius decides to consider a friend."
"Good," Harry said with a nod. "I feel the same about Al."
"Then, I guess..." Malfoy paused, seeming reluctant and almost pained to continue. Overreacting, in Harry's opinion, though that was nothing new. "We can be civil."
Harry waited a moment for the typical last minute retort Malfoy would have given two decades ago. Something along the lines of, "You do know what that means, right, Potter?"
Only it didn't come, and Harry realised he actually needed to say something when Malfoy raised an eyebrow in his direction. Probably being impatient.
"We can." Harry agreed, causing Malfoy to nod his head in acceptance of that.
There was a moment after, where Harry could tell that they both felt uncomfortable with the silence, and Malfoy was first to break it. Harry attributed it to a complicated mix between his obvious need to ruin silence and talk, and his old (possibly never-ending) habit of wanting attention.
"I expect you to treat my son the way you want yours to be treated should he ever visit my home."
"I feel the same way, Malfoy."
"Then I see no reason for why they shouldn't be allowed to visit each other. Either myself, or my wife will bring Scorpius to your home the day after Christmas."
Harry ignored the part of him that felt slightly put off by the fact that he wasn't having the overwhelming urge to hit the blond before him as he'd been so used to in his teenage years. "I'll tell Ginny the first chance I get."
"You do that." Malfoy murmured, mostly under his breath, though Harry caught it, giving Malfoy a sharp look. Just as quickly as Harry eyed him, Malfoy looked in another direction, seemingly settling on the paperwork on Harry's desk.
Harry wasn't about the let the comment slip through the cracks and pretend it hadn't been said. Malfoy had to know this, then, because before Harry could open his mouth to utter one syllable, he said, "As this issue is settled for now, and I've things I'd much rather be doing..."
Just as with his entrance, there were no salutations, just his exit, and Harry's unasked question of what that statement had meant was set on the backburner for another time.
-
Harry realised, once he opened his door to find Malfoy on his porch with his son, that the glimpse he'd received of Scorpius at King's Cross was nothing compared to seeing him up close, standing beside Malfoy. All the similarities between father and son were obvious (as had been between Malfoy and his own father)—the eyes, the hair, the nose, the tilt of the mouth. But then, there was something less hard about Scorpius' posture and the air around him that Harry attributed to the way he was raised.
Maybe it was concrete proof that Malfoy had changed? If he could raise his son differently than he himself had been raised, then what else could he have matured about?
"Al!"
"Scorp!"
At the exchange of the ridiculous nicknames (followed by Scorpius ducking under Harry's arm to greet his friend as Albus ran the rest of the way down the stairs), Draco gave an almost annoyed roll of his eyes, like the behaviour, at least on Scorpius' part, was nothing new to him.
Maybe Scorpius was more like his mother despite his physical resemblance to his father, Harry thought to himself. Maybe he had a habit of doing things Malfoy didn't particularly like and this was just another instance he'd complain about to his wife later on as she smiled good-naturedly in the patient way a woman would have to have if she'd agree to marry him.
"Potter, anyone home?"
Malfoy was waving a hand before his face when Harry returned to the present, and there was as slightly annoyed look on his face. Distantly, he could head James tell the two boys that they were gits, only for them to laugh when Ginny reproached James for using the word.
"Yeah?" He answered finally, waving the hand away to the slight sneer of Malfoy as he pulled his hand back.
"Civilised, right?" Malfoy asked, almost as if he was trying to make sure one last time that this was a good idea.
"Yeah, of course."
Malfoy nodded, pulling Scorpius' shrunken trunk from his robe pocket and handing it to Harry, who took it without hesitation, and realised that it was becoming quite the pattern for Malfoy to leave without saying good-bye.
He only remembered after the other man had Apparated about the question he still had yet to ask.
-
The next time Harry was graced with Malfoy's presence, it was after the Christmas holiday had ended and the children had returned to Hogwarts, giving Scorpius a few days to owl his parents and tell them about the time he spent with Harry's family.
Malfoy didn't say anything for a long momentarily closing the door behind himself and standing in front of Harry's desk. Harry glanced at him, noticing almost instantly that he seemed uncomfortable, just as Harry was becoming a bit impatient with him.
"What is it?"
Malfoy sighed, rolling his eyes. "I came by to..." he trailed off, looking even more put out if it was possible. "...thank you. For treating Scorpius well."
"We agreed to be civilised, Malfoy." Harry replied. "I wasn't lying."
The unsaid "were you?" was there, hanging between them and Harry saw Malfoy purse his lips before giving a response.
"Neither was I."
To be quite honest, Harry hadn't been expecting a different answer from the other man; after all, at some point you had to grow up and realise that school was school. Never mind the fact that Harry was almost sure that Draco cared about his son's happiness, and would want to not ruin things like possible longstanding friendships, just because he was Harry's son.
"Then if Albus was to visit your home, he'd receive the same welcome treatment?"
"Without a doubt," Draco answered immediately, as if he were completely sure of that fact.
Harry could accept, seeing what could only be sincerity on Malfoy's face, that he had grown and changed with time, though not too much. And he could accept that he saw the blond in a different light, had seen him in a different light for years, and that over the years—what with their sons insisting on being friends—it would continue to do so. What he wasn't sure if he could accept just yet, was this new...tolerance (or at least bordering on it) that was forming between the two of them.
-
"Potter."
"Malfoy."
A part of Harry was seriously starting to believe that, because their sons were becoming friends at Hogwarts, they were destined to randomly cross paths. All right, so the three previous times hadn't been much in the way of run-ins, but it didn't change the fact that Harry had seen more of Malfoy in this past year, than he really had in the nineteen before. Never mind the fact that this time, near the entrance to Diagon Alley most definitely counted as crossing paths unintentionally.
He'd been on his way out, just as Malfoy seemed to be on his way in, and the blond stopped short upon seeing Harry, an unknown emotion in his eyes for a moment before it flickered away, just as quickly as it had appeared.
"So." Harry started, feeling the odd need to make conversation; mostly, it stemmed from the fact that Scorpius was friends with his son and that it would only make sense to make the times when they ran into each other more pleasant by actually getting along. "Watch a game of Quidditch recently?"
Draco gave him a look that said that he knew exactly what Harry was intending to do; just under that was a look that told Harry that he thought it was a stupid question, considering. Even so, he still answered. "Puddlmere United crushing the Montrose Magpies."
"I took my sons to see that one. Their new seeker is pretty unstoppable."
"He's all right." Not that Harry expected anything else from Malfoy, but it was almost...nice to have him deliver the line anyway. He was probably still holding onto the opinion that he was better.
A silence fell between them. If he'd been talking to anyone else, he'd have made a joke after a comment like that. But Malfoy wasn't Ron (or Seamus, or Dean, or Neville), and they weren't friends, which made that completely out of the question. Which left silence. And not the comfortable sort; it was the sort that said that there wasn't much between them to talk about.
"I should..." Harry made a gesture at the way back towards the entrance of the Three Broomsticks, not finishing the sentence as he hinted at a need to go.
"Right." Malfoy nodded, turning to walk away after that and Harry slowly made his way out of Diagon Alley, mulling over the conversation with Malfoy.
"Potter!"
Harry stopped at the sudden yell and turned back to find Malfoy having stopped on his way into Diagon Alley and seeming just slightly uncomfortable. "Have a minute for a pint?"
Malfoy had an eyebrow raised to accompany his question, which, overall, he seemed serious about. No matter how sudden it really had been.
"...Yeah," Harry found himself saying after a moment, surprising even himself with his answer. Somehow, that hadn't really been what he'd expected of himself.
"All right," Draco said, seeming just as surprised at the current situation as Harry, both making their way back into the bar to take a booth in the corner.
A waitress came to take their drink orders, each of them only settling for firewhiskey, and as they waited for the alcohol to arrive, another slightly uncomfortable moment passed between the two. Harry figured, though, that he couldn't go wrong with talking about their sons, and asked (partly because he really did want to know), "How's Scorpius?"
Malfoy treated him to a raised eyebrow, before he seemed to shrug. "Completely awful at Potions, he mentioned in his latest owl. Other than that, he's already entertaining notions of having Albus over at some point during the summer."
Their drinks arrived and they each took a sip sip, and Malfoy seemed to hesitate for a moment before finally saying, "And Albus?"
"According to his cousin Rose, all he and Scorpius ever do are talk to each other when they're together. James just complains about them." Harry couldn't have kept the amused note out of his voice if he'd even tried. There was something amusing about the fact that their children were becoming best friends where they were enemies. Or, well, had been enemies, he supposed. They weren't so much anymore.
Malfoy gave something that was close to a laugh (thinking on it more, Harry considered the possibility that he may have choked) as he reached for his drink. "Is he planning on playing Quidditch?"
Harry shook his head. "He's more a fan of being in the stands. What about Scorpius?"
"Already plans on trying for Seeker. Or a Beater position. He can't actually pick. Greengrass —Daphne—keeps saying he'll try out for Beater because it's in his blood and that 'he actually has a chance.'" Malfoy rolled his eyes in a show of what he actually thought about that statement.
It took a moment for Harry to realise that Malfoy's wife was the younger sister of Daphne Greengrass, who had played Beater for the Holyhead Harpies for years alongside Ginny.
He also didn't realise how friendly this entire meeting was until one pint became two became three and he found that his need to leave had vanished. He chalked it up to their agreement to be civilised, but deep down, it felt different. Somehow.
- For the third time in the past four minutes (four and a half if you wanted to be technical), Harry let out an aggravated sigh, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for the house elf to return and lead him to Malfoy. It was all Ginny's fault that he was even there to begin with, anyway.
"Harry, can you take this to Malfoy?" Ginny asked as she entered the room, causing Harry to look away from the television set he'd insisted they have at least one of (surprisingly, it continued to survive visits from Ginny's family) to turn to her.
"Take what?" he asked, then noticing the parchment in her hand.
"A list."
"Why does Malfoy need a list?"
"In case Albus visits them during the summer holiday." She replied easily. "I know you have some sort of agreement, but I just...can you get it to him? I'd go, but I might say something I won't regret and I don't want to be the reason Al lost a friend."
He'd seen the look on her face, the one that told him that this was important to her and that it would give her peace of mind, and he'd agreed.
"Master Malfoy ready to sees you now. Dot takes you to him."
Harry focused his attention on the house elf and nodded, before following her down the hallway. As they walked, he took in the intricate details of the wood trim, the rich paint of the wall, and the art. Even if it wasn't Malfoy Manor, it definitely hadn't been a downgrade.
Dot stopped at a door near the end of the hall and pushed it open slowly, leaving Harry to step inside of what was obviously the study. Or maybe only one of many, Harry thought to himself as he closed the door behind him, waiting for Malfoy to acknowledge his presence.
"What brings you by, Potter?" Draco asked after a moment from the desk he sat at, looking up from the parchment in front of him to focus on his unexpected guest.
"Ginny gave me a list. For you." Harry replied, pulling said list out of his pocket.
Draco raised an eyebrow at that. "...For?"
"If Albus visits."
"Doesn't trust my word?" Draco asked, rhetorically Harry assumed. "I'm not entirely surprised."
Harry shrugged in response to that, handing over the folded list. Malfoy took it, unfolding and scanning the parchment, scoffing whenever he came across something he obviously found ridiculous. Harry spent the short period of time getting a better look at the room. Malfoy's study could only be described as antique, in terms of the furniture—from the desk he sat at, to the fireplace with its carvings and its hardwood mantle. The floor was carpeted, burgundy, and before the fireplace was a matching sofa. Windows, however, were scarce (only two), but there was a set of glass pane double doors that seemed to lead to a balcony. For a moment, Harry entertained the thought and wondered who decorated—Malfoy, or his wife?
"Potter." Draco said sharply, drawing Harry's attention back. He was standing now, the list in his hand before he set it down on his desk.
"What?"
"You should tell your wife to have better faith." Malfoy said in reply, taking a few steps towards Harry. There was a slightly annoyed look on his face and Harry wondered for a moment if Ginny's list and lack of faith was actually bothering him.
"I can't blame her for why she doesn't."
Thing change, Potter; tell her to get over it."
Harry glared slightly. "You can't just get over someone trying to kill you."
"Funny," Draco retorted, "I feel the same way."
That forced Harry to give him a look, one he met face on. There was a stretch of silence during which they seemed to be trying to decide who'd look away first, before Harry shook his head.
"Just forget the list. We have an agreement, right?"
"We do." Draco agreed. "And remind your wife that I'm not my father." The smile that accompanied the words was fake, Harry knew.
"Brilliant how you can still be a prick sometimes."
Malfoy took that as some sort of challenge, taking a few steps into Harry's personal space as he said, "When you deserve it, you deserve it."
For a split moment, Harry forgot the past twenty years, feeling as though time had reversed, and once again they were two teenagers who couldn't get along. Enemies, even. Back then, their hate had been serious, important, maybe as important as the war. Now, though, it made Harry want to take a step back.
There was a look in Malfoy's eyes again, that same look he'd seen for a split second at Diagon Alley, and he leaned just a bit closer to Harry, leaving barely an inch of space between them.
"Some things never change."
Draco exhaled when Harry said that, the corner of his mouth lifting. He stared for a moment, unblinking, and then he closed the space between the two of them, seizing the collar or Harry's jumper to pull him closer.
Harry froze initially as he made the connection from his mouth to his brain that he was currently being kissed by Malfoy, who he'd never suspected in a million years would ever do that (let alone want to), and his arms lifted, but he wasn't quite sure whether he wanted to shove Malfoy away, or hold him closer.
Which was complete and utter bollocks, because there was no reason for him to ever consider the notion. Malfoy had been an enemy in school, maybe not a Death Eater, but he'd still been an arse, and he wasn't all too different as an adult. Besides, he had a wife, and a family—they both did, and he didn't have a thing for blokes—and that was the thought that made the decision for him.
He pushed away from Malfoy, just about to ask him what the hell that was, quickly followed by asking him what he was thinking, but he found that he couldn't get the words out—mostly for a lack of breath. It felt a bit surreal, the entire moment, as if it was happening to someone else. If he'd been in the right state, he'd have hit Malfoy right about now, he was sure. Or, he was moderately, maybe somewhat, sure he'd have. Even if not sure though, he'd like to think he'd have.
Malfoy didn't seem quite ready to say anything that would explain what had just happened himself, his cheeks slightly flushed, and something close to, but not quite, a glassy look in his eyes.
They were still extremely close to each other, breathing-the-same-air close, too close for Harry to be comfortable at the moment, and he took a step back as he tried to catch his breath, but stopped when Malfoy grabbed his arm. He looked down, feeling oddly, inexplicably, hot where Malfoy's skin was on his, quickly raising his eyes to meet Malfoy's, and, almost as if he was accepting it to be an invitation, Malfoy kissed him again, differently this time. It was less...less doing something crazy in the middle of a moment, more coaxing. Almost like he was trying to get Harry to want it, to kiss him back.
Inwardly, Harry was reeling as he tried to remind himself of three things (he was married, with a family, and liked women), but he found that there was something in Malfoy's kiss, in the way he wanted Harry to respond, kiss him back, that—it—somehow, for a moment, Harry forgot. He could almost feel Malfoy smirk when Harry pulled him closer, and he took a few steps forward, forcing Malfoy back until he hit the desk, pressing him against it.
The moment ended suddenly, like crashing to earth from a twenty story building (it's nice and feels okay, but what's awaiting at the end is the complete opposite), and Harry jerked away, not even daring to look at Malfoy before he attempted to put as much distance between them as possible.
-
The problem, Harry was finding, with attempting to avoid a person, was that if other people didn't know you were trying to avoid the pinpointed person, they might do something you find stupid. Like set a dinner date.
Though Harry couldn't blame Ginny. Not for sending him to Malfoy where he'd actually kissed the other man back for a split second, and not for this dinner she'd just told him she wanted to set up with the Malfoy family.
"I don't know, Gin," He said, trying to sound as if he was actually giving it some thought. "There are a lot of ways this could go wrong."
"I know," Ginny gave a quick reply, then grinning at Harry. "Astoria and I have been talking about it, though, and we think—"
"Astoria?" Harry asked suddenly, cutting Ginny off. The idea that Ginny could be talking to Malfoy's wife felt strange to him.
"Yeah. Astoria. As in Scorpius' mother. Malfoy's wife. We had a run in at Gringotts, talked a bit. I like her." She saw the look Harry still wore on his face and sighed. "You didn't think I'd let you talk to Malfoy all the time, did you? Anyway, Astoria and I thought it was a perfect idea, a few days before Al's birthday. And then he could spend a week with them."
Harry could see a lost cause when it happened, and there, without Ginny even knowing it, he lost a disagreement she didn't even know they were having.
-
Knowing that it was coming didn't make Harry feel any less bitter about it. Even two hours into dinner, after desert had been shared and the kids had asked to be excused, with Astoria and Ginny going...somewhere, possibly the sitting room to talk about Quidditch and motherhood. As far as Harry was concerned, the fact that they had got along so easily was weird.
The entire night, Harry had felt slightly unhinged; every time he'd looked in Malfoy's direction, he'd imagined the man pressed against the antique desk in his study as they kissed. On the other hand, though, Malfoy looked as if nothing had ever happened, stoic almost, barely speaking unless his input was necessary (and somewhere in the back of his mind was a barb about that being one thing that changed with Malfoy).
He hadn't thought his behaviour was noticeable until Ginny had gone to get desert and called him to come with her to "help."
"Harry," Ginny started almost the minute they entered the room, leaving the dining room behind. "What's with you and Malfoy?"
"What?" Harry asked with a frown, though he felt just a tad bit more nervous as she turned to face him. "Nothing. What do you mean?"
"Well, I mean, I thought the two of you were on slightly friendly terms, if nothing else. Yet, you've barely spoken two words to each other."
"Slightly friendly terms" made Harry think about the kiss. Inwardly he cringed, but he attempted to not let it show on his face as he shrugged nonchalantly. "Malfoy's probably in one of his 'I can still be an arse' moods."
Ginny paused a moment before shrugging herself, accepting it as an answer as she went to retrieve desert. Harry considered it a crisis averted.
Back to the present, the only people still at the table were Malfoy and himself, and the other man seemed content to sit in silence and ignore his presence, but Harry wasn't really all that inclined to let an opportunity to ask Malfoy just what he'd been thinking.
As if he knew, Malfoy looked over at him and Harry met his gaze. They remained silent for a moment, before Harry decided to get what would be the conversation from hell out of the way.
"Malfoy—"
"Forget about it, Potter."
"...What?" Harry frowned.
"What happened in the study? Forget about it." Malfoy said, repeating himself as if he thought Harry needed it stated again. Maybe he did, because he didn't see how it was possible to just forget about it, and pretend like it never happened.
"I can't just forget about it, and neither can you." Harry replied, feeling the slightest twinge of anger.
"I can if I want to, Potter. It was obviously a mistake anyway, a passing moment of insanity."
Harry could hear the words, see them coming from Malfoy's mouth. But there was something about the look in his eyes that made Harry feel as if he was lying about the entire situation. He probably was, Harry realised.
"That's not true. You did it twice."
"And you kissed me back." Malfoy quickly retorted, almost glaring at Harry until he looked away.
Harry took a breath before raising his eyes once more. "Even still—"
"What does it matter, Potter?" Malfoy cut him off, finally seeming fed up. "It happened, it won't ever again, you've got your wife, I've got mine, so why does it matter?"
Harry wondered for a moment if Malfoy got some sort of joy (he probably did) out of the fact that Harry couldn't answer him. The prick.
- It was that time of the year again, bringing Harry and Ginny to the Hogwarts Express. Almost immediately, Albus had run off to find Scorpius, which should have been expected what with the way he'd spent the last week talking about the week he'd spent with the Malfoys in such detail.
Accidentally, he caught sight of Malfoy in the crowd, but the blond looked away just as their gazes met. Harry though, he couldn't look away. After the non-conversation they had about the kiss, he'd thought about it more, mainly of Malfoy's intentions, on if he was actually happy with his wife, wondering what that kiss had really mean to him, because Harry called bullshit on it meaning nothing. Little thoughts that distracted him every once in a while.
Harry continued to watch as Malfoy took his wife's hand, and turned to leave. The train hadn't even started to pull off yet as Harry trailed them through the crowd. He had a weird moment then, as he watched them, Malfoy, where he felt a bit as if his throat was closing up and his stomach dropped simultaneously almost, and he felt slightly...jealous, was it? Maybe disappointed. The scarier part was that he didn't even know why, or how.
Just before leaving, Malfoy stopped, turning back as his wife disappeared through the wall. Their eyes met once again, though Malfoy didn't look away as quickly had before, and Harry knew without a doubt that change had come, and that things were definitely different than they'd been twenty years ago. But it wasn't over yet, wasn't complete. He and Malfoy, whatever this was starting; it wasn't over yet. He knew that. And here he was, right back where he'd admitted that they had before, on platform nine and three quarters.
They weren't friends, and they probably wouldn't ever be; it just didn't seem to be in the cards. But they weren't enemies. Even when things changed, they were still the same.