Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Alright,” Hermione says, as she settles into the armchair right next to Harry, who sits on her and Ron’s cozy little sofa. The Weasley-Granger residence is always warm and welcoming, and it quickly became one of Harry’s favourite places to be. “Ron is putting Rose down for the night. It shouldn’t be long,” she says with a fond chuckle, “she’s exhausted from spending the evening playing with her wonderful Uncle Harry.”

Harry smiles. He’d had a perfect evening with Rose, as he had been doing more and more these days, while Hermione was busy finishing a big trial at the Ministry. Ron had also been promoted to Head Auror last month, which meant that their schedules were completely bonkers. So whenever Harry could, and he made sure it was as often as possible, he would offer to help out. 

“So, how are you?” Hermione asks. “I feel like we’ve been seeing so much of each other in such small moments recently.”

“I’m good,” Harry answers because he does feel good, generally speaking. There were still a few times throughout the past couple of years when he felt that darkness from the war seep through again. Harry had struggled most out of all of them with accepting that he needed help in the first place. Ron and Hermione had been there with him through it all, though. 

They had always been patient with Harry, who likely will always struggle with being honest about how he’s doing and how he feels. He tends to overthink, keep things to himself, and then they often come out in confusing and awkward ways. Communicating openly was something they all had a hard time doing after the war. Opening up to each other, and being honest about how lost and traumatized they’d been. But no one knew Harry better than his two best friends, and so as soon as Harry answers, she narrows her eyes faintly, in the way that Hermione does when she’s thinking about something or just about to figure something out.

“That’s good,” Hermione says, though Harry knows it’s not the end of that conversation, and then looks over as Ron walks in the room and plops down on the sofa next to Harry.

“She’s out,” Ron says with a fond laugh, and that look on his face that he gets when he’s thinking or talking about his daughter. “She was mid-sentence about her best night ever with Uncle Harry and her eyes just kept closing.” 

“She loves you so much, Harry,” Hermione says, giving him a smile. “Thank you so much for all the help recently.”

“You don’t need to thank me for that,” Harry says, “I adore her just as much.”

There’s a small silence that settles between them then, and it’s as if they’re all thinking the same thing, but no one is willing to talk about it. The letter they likely all received yesterday. Ron is the one who breaks the silence. 

“Did you get the invitation too, Harry?” Ron asks, and Harry feels a strange weight on his chest as he thinks of it. The Ministry had sent out invitations for the War Memorial that would take place for its tenth anniversary. Even all these years later, that day was still incredibly hard and sad for most of them. 

Harry nods. “Yeah, I got it.” 

“Ten bloody years,” Ron says, shaking his head in disbelief. “I swear, sometimes it still feels like it was yesterday.”

Harry watches as Ron and Hermione look at each other fondly, as if they’re thinking about everything that’s happened in the past ten years and how far they’ve come since that day. 

“I’m proud of you,” Harry blurts out suddenly. “I don’t think I’ve ever really told you that,” he says, “but I am.” 

Both of them look back at Harry then, and Ron places his hand on his shoulder for a light squeeze in thanks. Harry decides to continue his train of thought, though he’s not sure where it’s leading him. “Seriously. Everything you’ve managed to do together since the war, and how far you’ve come. You’ve created this whole family together, and you’re both basically taking over the Ministry, and it’s so nice to see the war hasn’t taken any of this from you and that ten years later you’re both together and so happy. We all struggled so much after, and we still do, sometimes… and I’m just… I’m just happy you get to have this. You deserve it.” 

“That’s very sweet, Harry,” Hermione says, “but I have to ask… you say you’re glad the war hasn’t taken this from us, do you… do you feel like the war has taken this possibility away from you?” 

Harry looks down then, realizing that he should have known that they would notice he’d said that. Though half the time, when he’s blurting out how he feels, he hardly realizes he says it in the first place. While he’s sure they both know he’s entirely genuine in his statement about them, they wouldn’t have missed the hidden thoughts that Harry wasn’t even sure he understood himself. 

“I did at first, I think. But then I realized I could finally make my own decisions and do what I wanted to do. I like my life,” Harry says. “I love my job, and I’m proud of the choices I’ve made, too. I had many things to work through, since the war… but I think… I’m happy.” 

“You don’t have to be happy all the time, you know,” she says, “it’s okay if you still need help to figure things out sometimes.”

“I’ve been fine, though,” Harry says, finally looking up at her. “I haven’t really needed anything and not because I’ve been hiding anything, but I think I was just enjoying things the way they were. I work in the shop on my own, so it’s incredibly busy, but I really do think I’m happy. I feel happy. I don’t understand why it all came back.”

“What came back?” Ron asks. 

Harry closes his eyes, and breathes in deeply. “I had a nightmare,” Harry admits. “I saw Voldemort’s face again. It was… it was in the Forest. I hadn’t felt that fear in a long time. I thought I was done with that.”

“Harry,” she says, leaning forward in her chair calmly. “You might never completely be done with that. There’s no timeline on these things, and it doesn’t mean you’re not still moving forward and healing.”

“I was just having a normal day at the shop, and then I got that fucking invitation, and it just hit me,” Harry explains. “So I just started thinking of everything, and it just brought everything back, and even after the war… the way the Ministry dealt with all the trials and the releases ten years ago was awful, and I hated it.”

Harry sighs, and runs a hand through his hair. “It’s been almost ten years and people are still so angry, and it feels like we’ll never completely move on. People are still all over me, wanting pictures and telling me I’m a bloody hero. The Prophet won’t leave me alone, and I’ve just spent the past years locked up in my shop because it’s easier. I hadn’t even realized how long it’s been until I saw the invitation. And it just made me realize that my life has been the same for the past few years and nothing’s changed.”

“It’s normal to have this sort of reaction, especially when big anniversary dates get closer. You’ve always had strong opinions about what is right and wrong, and the Ministry’s been an issue for as long as you’ve known it existed,” Hermione says rationally.

“You’re saying that’s why I had the nightmare?” Harry asks, looking up at her. 

“It could be. Some of the biggest emotions you struggled with after the war were anger and grief, Harry.”

“I’m not… I didn’t think I was still angry, though,” Harry says, his eyebrows furrowing as he thinks. 

“Perhaps not,” Hermione says, “but thinking and talking about a difficult time, a traumatizing time, can bring back those emotions. I think your mind might have just been a little confused, and it brought you back to a moment when you felt those same emotions.” 

Harry clenches his jaw, closing his eyes and seeing himself in the Forest again. At the time, it was fear and determination that had taken over. After the war, he’d been so angry. He’d been so fucking angry at everything that he had learned, everything he didn’t know, everything he was meant to do. It makes sense now, as he opens his eyes and looks over at Ron and Hermione, who are just patiently waiting as Harry works through his thoughts. He sighs heavily, and tries to let the sudden heaviness on his chest dissipate. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, letting his shoulder slump. “I didn’t mean to make this all about me. I don’t even understand what the fuck I’m feeling or thinking, I’m sure it’s coming out all wrong.”

“It’s fine, mate. Nothing’s come out wrong at all, and I get it,” Ron says. “Remember when I switched to Head Auror a month ago, and I started realizing exactly how messed up the Ministry was? I had nightmares too, mate. The things I saw would just stay with me.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, thinking back on many conversations where Ron was struggling with everything he was realizing and learning, and Harry had been by his side in every way that he could. “I remember.” 

“I think those parts of the war will always be with us,” Ron says, “and the nightmares have a way of sneaking up on us.”

“And as for your life, Harry,” Hermione says, “you’ve got so much to be proud of, too.”

“I know,” Harry says, “and I am… but…”

“But what?” Hermione asks.

Harry shrugs. “I’m lonely, sometimes. Which is strange because no matter where I go people always say hello, or want to thank me, even if I don’t feel like I deserve any more thanks than anyone else who fought in the war. I’ve accepted that it’s part of my life, it’s been that way since I was eleven and thrown into this world. I can’t even find anyone to work in the shop with me that’s not there for a chance to work with Harry Potter, and once they realize how completely boring I am, they leave, or I have to fire them because they know absolutely nothing about brooms.”

Neither one of them says anything then, and they just watch Harry as he works through the thoughts in his mind. Thoughts that he can tell from their faces they had been worried Harry was feeling, and had tried to talk to him about before.

“It didn’t always bother me so much, all the attention. I hated it, but I would just ignore it, and I was hopeful, you know? That maybe someday something different would come along. I had a few dates and I thought it didn’t matter if nothing serious ever happened because there was no rush, and it was fun,” Harry says, and then he sighs, hating how honest he is being because it makes him feel so fucking vulnerable, and he always feels like it bothers them even though he knows it never does. “I was fine, before I realized it had been ten years, last night. But now I feel like I haven’t even seen those years fly by. It’s been ten years, and I’m alone because I’m Harry Potter and that’s all they care about.”

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione says, moving to sit next to him, squishing him completely between his two best friends. “I know it’s been difficult for you to connect with people because of all of this.”

“It always will be, won’t it?” Harry asks, his tone turning bitter and sad. “People only find me or talk to me when they need something from me. How can I possibly live up to the person they see me as?”

“You don’t owe them anything, Harry,” Ron says. “There are so many great things ahead for you, I’m sure of it.”

“Didn’t you have a date a few months ago?” Hermione asked. 

“I didn’t go,” Harry admits. “I just end up disappointed, and I think after all these years that hurts more than being on my own.”

“At some point, though, the right person will show up. There’s this man in my department, Simon. He’s lovely and very kind. I can set you up if you'd like,” Hermione offers, and slides her arm through his, leaning her head on his shoulder. “It might be another bust, but you’ll never know if you don’t try.”

“I know,” Harry says, “but it took a lot of time for me to be happy, after the war, to feel like I could open up to people I love and feel safe with my own thoughts. When I was finally ready, I just went out there, and realized that people weren’t really interested in learning about those parts of me… the parts that make me me. I just wish it wasn’t easier for me to be alone than to find someone that might want or need me for me.”

“There’s someone out there that will see you for you, Harry,” Ron says. “I know it sucks to hear, but… you just have to be patient, and someday you’ll find him too, and he will be so lucky to have you.” 

“Well, whenever that happens, you can officiate the wedding ceremony,” Harry jokes, a half-smile on his face as he does. 

Ron snorts. “I look forward to it.”

“Thank you,” Harry says. “I love you both.” 

“We love you too, Harry,” Hermione says, looking back up at him. 

“Who knew a simple fucking invitation could cause all of that?” Harry says, chuckling lightly, breaking the silence that had settled around them. Ron and Hermione both laugh along with him, and Ron pats his shoulder twice before they all finally stand up and Harry gets his things to head home. 

“Are you going to accept the invitation?” Hermione asks and then rolls her eyes. “We work for the Ministry, so it’s not like we have much choice.” 

“We’re only in March,” Harry says with a soft snort. “I’ve got time to think about it.” 

“Don’t think about it too much, Harry,” she says. “Sometimes the best decisions are made on instinct, you know that more than most.”

Harry smiles at her as he walks into the Floo to leave, nodding at her final statement. That thought lingers with Harry as he suddenly finds himself walking into his own living room. 

It had taken him a while to realize he needed help, after the war. Harry had no idea which direction to take, when he was faced with decisions about what was next. Everything had always been so decided for him that all he did was follow the path that Voldemort ensured he’d have to take the day he killed his parents. Ron and Hermione had both started seeing Mind Healers after the war, and it was seeing how much it had helped them that made Harry wish he could feel better too.

Then Ron went on to become an incredible Auror, and Harry couldn’t be any more proud of him. A month ago, he’d been promoted to Head Auror, and it was like the job was made for Ron. It had created a lot of buzz in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, as he was replacing Robards who had been in charge for several years. Ron was keen on justice, and doing things the right way. Not everyone liked that, but he made it to the position he’s in now because he managed to get people on his side, and those people were ready to follow Ron anywhere. 

Harry is also quite certain that most people who’d been working for years at the Ministry regret the day they hired Hermione because she’s changed and done so much. She’s managed to surround herself with a team of people just like her, who follow her unquestionably in her revolution of Magical Law. Ron is adored and respected by most of the Aurors, and Harry isn’t surprised at all. There were countless things changing in the DMLE, and a lot of it was thanks to the power team that was Ron and Hermione.

So Hermione went on to work in Magical Law, defending any creature or person who needed it and fought for their rights. She fought so that each person in need of legal counsel was given a just and quality solicitor so that their rights were respected and considered. After the Death Eater trials, the three of them had struggled with the Ministry’s decisions and the way they worked. As soon as Ron and Hermione had set foot inside the Ministry, along with other people their age that had gone through the war, it was easy to see how much needed to change within the Ministry. The only problem was not everyone wanted to accept or agreed with that change. 

It meant that for the past month, Ron’s work hours were completely bonkers, and Hermione had been nose deep in an important and public trial regarding a family that hadn’t been respecting the House Elf Charter of Rights and Freedoms (created by Hermione, of course). Harry was all too happy to take care of Rose when he could. It was one of his favourite things to do, spending time with his wonderful little goddaughter. It also meant that he would see his best friends when they came home too, and Harry loved helping out his best friends who had always been there to help him.

Ron has been completely overwhelmed recently with all the things he’s learning about the DMLE. Harry knew that there were things going on with ex-Death Eaters, and that there were people who were trying to take the law into their own hands. He also knew the Ministry tended to shove those stories into secrecy, or use them to their advantage if they could. Ten years after the war meant that some Death Eaters who were convicted in Azkaban were free now after serving their time, and not everyone was happy about that. Those trials had been awful. 

Harry had been present for a lot of that, after the war. There were certain people he wanted to help, he wanted to speak for. He tried to, but the Ministry had their own agenda, and Harry isn’t sure what difference he made in the end. The Ministry was glad to use Harry for his influence and his name, but when it came to things that mattered, they simply listened to him and pretended they were interested. It was difficult, in the end because it was at that moment that Harry had started feeling useless. It was also at that time that Harry felt like a failure, and started feeling angry again, as he attended funeral after funeral, the guilt eating him up inside with every breath he took. 

His first appointment with Mind Healer Dawson was the best thing that could have happened to him at that time. He had met with a few others, but he didn’t trust them and it just didn’t click. Harry expected it to be quick and easy, when he’d started his healing process. Turns out there were plenty of things to work through, and Harry had reached a pretty dark place before he finally let himself be taken out of it. He owes a lot of that to Ron and Hermione, who stood by him while he spiralled and lost himself a little.

Once he’d started feeling like himself again and started actually learning who he was outside the whole Boy Who Lived persona he’d been forced into, Harry realized he had absolutely no idea what to do with his life. 

At first, he lived at Grimmauld Place, and he was quite motivated to try to clean it up and make it feel like a home. But it became clear quickly that Grimmauld simply held too many memories for Harry, too much grief and sadness. It was when he stood in Sirius’ room for almost two days, crying, and Ron found him, that Harry realized he couldn’t stay there.

So Harry found himself a wonderful house, with an enormous land and yard that he’s been neglecting for far too long. There were six rooms in the house, and Ron, George and Hermione lived there together for a while after the war. There was a lot of work to be done inside, and so they all started working on it together, and it became a way for them to heal too as they worked and laughed. Sometimes even Seamus, Ginny, Dean, Luna, and Neville would come by and help too. 

George moved out first, and found himself a place. Then Ron and Hermione decided to buy themselves a cozy little house, and start a family. He’d thought about opening it up for anyone else who needed a place to stay, but quickly dismissed the idea when he realized he didn’t know if he could trust anyone with his privacy. 

He’d dated a few guys who were all too happy to run off to the Prophet and tell them what Harry Potter was like. He hated it. That’s why in the past year, Harry’s just focused on being on his own, in a house he loves and with a job that makes him happy. 

It was walking down Diagon Alley, one day, that changed his life. He was aimless, really, at that time. But then he saw the help-wanted sign on the door of a Quidditch Supplies and Broom Repairs shop, and he didn’t even hesitate when he walked in. The owner, Mr. Wright, was visibly quite excited at the prospect of hiring Harry, but emphasized quite sternly that if Harry didn’t do his end of the work or had no idea how to fix and repair brooms, then he had no business here, and he wouldn’t keep him on. Little did he know, those conditions were what made Harry want to work that much harder, and Harry loved it. 

Harry immersed himself in his work, and he became so talented and passionate about the brooms that Mr. Wright entrusted him with almost all the repairs. Working in the back of the shop, fixing someone’s broom and working with the magic of something that made Harry smile every time he kicked off into the air was everything he needed. It was quiet, it was challenging, and it was perfect. 

Mr. Wright had been quite old when Harry had arrived at the shop, and he had no one else in his life, so when he got too sick to work he decided to leave the shop to Harry. It had surprised him, and touched him in a way that Harry will always appreciate. Quidditch had always had a special place in Harry’s heart, and the shop had become like a second home to him, he loved it in every way possible, and he was proud of doing something that made him happy. 

And so Hermione’s words linger with him as he walks home, letting the fresh air ease his worries and thoughts as he does. Harry had let himself follow his instinct for most of his life, and he’d done it again when he decided to walk into the shop. Perhaps she was right, that maybe he needed to stop overthinking it, and just let things happen the way they did and deal with it when it comes. 

He’s not quite sure what made all of this hit him the way that it did, apart from just being freaked out at how fast the past ten years had gone by. The nightmare had troubled him a little, since he hadn’t had a dream like that about Voldemort or the war for a long time. Even when he did, it was often distant and the fear that once had him in a chokehold had lessened since he started seeing Mind Healer Dawson. The truth is, Harry had just felt lonely, all of a sudden.

But he does feel good, with who he is and how his life has turned out. He loves cooking a nice warm meal in the evenings, sitting on his couch and reading when he feels like it, occasionally spending some nights in the shop, working on some repair orders. It was quite a handful, being the only one working there, but it never felt much like work to him anyway. 

That night, he goes to bed feeling considerably less heavy from the thoughts swirling inside his head. He tells himself that perhaps it's time for him to seize an opportunity for himself again. So he falls asleep, thinking of endless possibilities and the three repairs he has to work on tomorrow if he wants to make his deadline. One of the brooms in particular, a Cleansweep that had been cracked at the core, was giving him quite a lot of trouble. He’d been tempted to tell the owner to accept that it wouldn’t be fixed, but Harry didn’t want to give up just yet. So he sets an alarm to wake up early, and he can’t wait to get back to the shop. 

***

About a week after all those emotions overwhelmed Harry so suddenly, he wakes up one morning, and barely stops long enough to take a bite of his toast. Things were starting to feel okay again, and he was clinging onto his routine and normalcy. He wants to get into the shop early this morning, knowing he won’t be able to stay late this evening because he’s going over to Ron and Hermione’s. It had been a while since either of them were available for their long-standing Friday tradition, but now that Hermione had officially finished her case, he was thrilled to spend an entire evening with them. 

Before he knows it, he’s stepping into his Floo at his house, and walking right into the back of the shop. It was genius, having a Floo Network right in the shop. Although, Ron teased him often about it being a trap because it was too easy for Harry to stay working in the shop. He had a point. 

The shop isn’t set to open for another two hours, so Harry just sits in his chair and stares at the small rack of broken brooms that he needs to fix. It’s a little overwhelming at times, managing the shop and repairing the brooms. But once he gets focused, it all just disappears. 

Harry grabs the stubborn Cleansweep from the rack and places it on his working table.

“Alright,” Harry says, brushing his fingers on the cracked wood and grabbing his tool kit and settles down into his seat. “Let’s see if we can get you sorted out today, yeah?” 

Harry works for the next two hours, and finally figures out the issue with the wood. It fills him with such a rush, every time he feels the wood mending with his magic. He deactivated all the charms embedded in the wood this time, and repaired each splinter carefully. He still has quite some work to do on it, but he’s definitely more confident about it than he was before. 

As soon as he goes to open the shop, he settles in to the space behind the counter, since he can’t stay in the back of the store. He brought the Cleansweep with him, and moves around some paperwork and supplies trailing on the counter space. There are some days that are busier than others, but he’s come to learn that it’s quite unpredictable. Some days he’ll have no customers, and other days he won’t catch a break. Harry’s deep in focus every time the bell rings, signalling that someone has entered. 

A man just walked in, asking Harry if he can repair his daughter’s broom before her next Quidditch match in two weeks. A quick glance at it and Harry is quite sure he’ll manage, he always finds a way to make it work. 

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Potter!” The man says, filling out the form with his contact information and with Harry’s usual contract information and fees. “She’s been quite panicked ever since it started acting up, she doesn’t want to lose her spot in the Ravenclaw team.”

“No worries, it shouldn’t take too long,” Harry says, taking the form from his hands and giving him a smile, pushing up his glasses as he glances at the form. Harry breaks off a part of the form, and hands it to the man. “Hang onto this ticket, Mr. Everton, and it’ll let you know when it’s ready.” 

“Really?” Mr. Everton says, raising his eyebrows, impressed. “How convenient! How did you manage that?”

“Oh, er — I needed a faster way to get in touch that didn’t involve tons of owls being sent back and forth all the time,” Harry smiles at the man politely, “and so it just made sense to find a simpler way to contact customers and all I really needed were a few clever charms. ” 

Provided thanks to Hermione, of course, he adds to himself. 

“Brilliant!” Mr. Everton says. “Have a wonderful day, then, Mr. Potter!”

As he walks out of the shop, Harry leans the broom he was working on against the wall behind the counter, and looks back at the form Mr. Everton filled out. Harry sits down, and takes out his quill, examining the broom quickly to complete his part of diagnostics. As he’s writing down the information, he hears the bell ring again and footsteps walking into the shop. Harry doesn’t look up yet, but stops writing as soon as he hears them speak. 

“Aunt Pansy!” A little voice speaks in a barely contained whisper, and Harry’s eyes lift upwards instantly at the familiar name. Harry then stares at the little hand belonging to what looks like a miniature Malfoy, tugging on Pansy Parkinson’s sleeve repeatedly. 

“What?” Pansy asks, and the little boy gestures for her to come closer, as if he wants to tell her a secret. She lowers her head a little, and then he whispers, quite loudly. 

“That’s Harry Potter!” 

“It is, indeed,” Pansy says, as she glances quickly at Harry, who’s still standing behind the counter, watching the scene unfold with so many questions. Then Pansy’s eyebrows furrow, and she looks back at the quite adorable child holding her sleeve. “Hang on. You know who he —” she starts, before stopping as a smirk grows on her lips. “Of course you do.” 

“Can I help you?” Harry finally asks, very confused at what’s going on and trying very hard to process who appears to be standing in his shop. 

“Are you the only one working here?” Pansy asks, stepping forward with the child still holding on to her sleeve with one hand and his broom in the other, staring wide-eyed at Harry as they advance near the counter. 

“Yeah, for about three years now,” Harry answers, looking away from the child and then back up at Pansy, who he realizes is staring at him intently, too. 

“Well then, we do, in fact, need your help,” Pansy says, turning backwards to gesture to the little boy who didn’t follow and seems stuck in his spot to come with her at the counter. “Don’t we, Scorpius?” 

The little boy, Scorpius, walks forward slowly and nods his head, his eyes still wide and fixed on Harry. He goes right to Pansy’s side, almost hiding behind her. Harry can hardly believe what he’s seeing, his mind swimming with questions. Harry isn’t sure what to say, or who will speak next, and he can sense the slight awkwardness from having Pansy Parkinson standing in front of him, but then his eyes move to Scorpius who seems to be clutching something in his hand close to his chest. 

“Is that yours?” Harry asks, gesturing to the small broom he’s holding. 

Scorpius looks down following Harry’s gesture, and his hands tighten on the broom, and he looks back at Harry, a small smile appearing on his face as he nods eagerly. 

“Is he…?” Harry starts, awkwardly as he grabs the form for Pansy to complete, watching Scorpius look around the shop in awe. 

“What?” Pansy asks. 

“I mean… I didn’t know you and Malfoy —” Harry starts. 

Pansy snorts. “Did you miss the part he called me Aunt Pansy, Potter?”

“Right,” Harry says, feeling like an idiot. “I mean I didn’t know Malfoy had a son.” 

“I’d ask why you assume he’s Draco’s, but I guess the resemblance is quite obvious,” Pansy says, and Harry feels a strange feeling as he hears his name spoken so casually after so long. “They don’t come around here often.”

Harry nods, not really knowing what to say.

“Can you fix it, Mr. Potter?” Scorpius asks suddenly, causing both Harry and Pansy to glance at the little face now standing near the edge of the counter and eyeing his broom in Harry’s hands. 

“Let’s take a look,” Harry says, giving him a small smile before he looks at the small broom. 

“Father tried to fix it, but it just keeps breaking again, and now it won’t even fly at all,” Scorpius says, as he watches Harry look at the broom. “But you’ll fix it, Mr. Potter, I’m really sure of it.” 

“Are you?” Harry asks, raising an amused eyebrow at this little boy’s confidence in him despite having just met him. 

Scorpius nods keenly. “Yes! Father says you —”

“Perhaps we should let Mr. Potter examine the broom quietly so he can tell you what he thinks,” Pansy cuts in, a softness to her voice as she addresses Scorpius, but the hint of amusement in her tone doesn’t go unnoticed by Harry. 

Before he can think about it more, Harry finds himself watching Scorpius as he tightens his lips as if to force himself to keep quiet and places his chin on the counter between his small hands, waiting to watch Harry work. Harry almost smiles at the sight. 

“Well?” Pansy asks, snapping Harry out of his thoughts.  

“Right,” Harry says, ignoring the small smirk that might as well be a permanent expression on Pansy’s face now that he thinks about it. “It seems to be an issue with the built-in charms, actually. Did Malfo —” Harry stops himself, unsure of how to refer to him with both Pansy and Scorpius’ staring. “Er, your father — do you know if he tried anything about that?”

Scorpius nods, his chin resting on the counter he barely reaches, his lips still tightly shut. 

“It’s okay, you can answer me,” Harry says, letting out a small laugh. 

“Oh,” Scorpius says. “Then yes, Mr. Potter, he did. But… it didn’t work very well. Magic doesn’t work very well sometimes.”

“I see,” Harry says, furrowing his eyebrows and his eyes flicking over to Pansy as she clears her throat, and Harry chooses not to inquire further. “Well, then I’ll just —”

“You know him, don’t you? My Father?” Scorpius asks suddenly, his eyes still focused on Harry intently, a serious and proud expression forming on his small face. “His name is Draco Malfoy.” 

Harry can see that Pansy smiles at that, and Harry’s lips twitch slightly too before he nods. 

“Yeah, I do,” Harry answers. “Well, I did. I haven’t actually seen him in a very, very long time, though.” 

“That’s okay, he still remembers you,” Scorpius says. “He tells me everything, you know. He says you helped him once —”

“Scorpius —” Pansy starts, but Harry shakes his head and stops her.

“It’s alright,” Harry says, and then he looks over at Scorpius, who suddenly doesn’t look so sure about what he’s been saying. “I still remember him too, even if it’s been so long. But even then, I didn’t really know him very well, but he’s right, I suppose. I did try to help him a long time ago, and he helped me, too.”

Scorpius doesn’t answer then, but his eyes widen slightly as he listens to Harry speak. Harry looks back at Pansy, who’s looking at him with a thoughtful and almost analytical look that makes him look away and focus on the broom again. 

“So,” Harry says, clearing his throat, feeling suddenly very observed, and hands Pansy the form. “You need to fill this out, and I’ll do another thorough examination, but I’m quite sure I can get it back to you guys by the end of next week.”

“Really?” Pansy asks, her eyebrows raising in surprise as she starts completing the form. “You’ll contact this address when it’s ready, then?” 

“Actually, I’ll be giving you a piece of the form, it’ll alert you when it’s ready. Then all you have to do is come by to pick it up,” Harry explains. “But I do need an address in case there are any other issues.”

“Lovely,” Pansy says, as she signs her name elaborately on the bottom of the form. 

Harry grabs it, checking it over to make sure there’s no missing information, and removes the part needed for the pick-up. He can’t help the thousand questions he has that pop into his mind. He ignores them, though, still hardly believing he’s had any part in this interaction at all. 

“Here you go,” Harry says, handing her the small piece of enchanted parchment, and glances over to Scorpius who is still watching Harry. “I look forward to seeing you again, Scorpius.”

Scorpius’ little eyes widen, and his face breaks into a shy smile. 

“Really?” he asks, and then turns to Pansy. “Do you think I can come back next time too, Aunt Pansy?” 

“Well, that depends on many things, Scorpius,” she says, placing her hand on his head and then letting it fall on his shoulder softly, “but I’ll see what I can do.”

Scorpius smiles widely, a hopeful look in his eye.

“Thank you, Potter,” Pansy says, guiding Scorpius towards the exit. He turns and waves his small hand at Harry, who waves back gladly. 

“Aunt Pansy thank you for bringing me!” Scorpius says, as he grabs hold of her hand while they walk to the door. “Mr. Potter will fix my broom and then when it’s ready, we have to come back, and we can even see him again!” 

“You’d like that, would you?” Pansy asks, opening the door and glancing back at Harry for a small second. 

“Yes, he’s very nice —” Scorpius says, his voice fading as he exits the shop with Pansy, Harry doesn’t catch the end of the sentence as the door closes. 

Harry has no idea how long he stands there, holding Scorpius’ little damaged broom in his hands. All he can think about is the little boy’s face, how familiar it seemed, and he’s suddenly filled with so many distant memories of his childhood it almost feels overwhelming. 

Still, as Harry sits back on his stool, he finds himself wanting to fix the broom as quickly as possible, realizing he wouldn’t mind at all seeing Scorpius again soon, too. 

***

“What a bloody mess of a day, mate,” Ron says, plopping himself down on the sofa after putting Rose down for the night. 

“What happened?” Harry asks. 

“Some Aurors are angry about the things happening now. Every day I learn something new that I just can’t believe,” Ron says, running a hand through his hair. “Robards was a shit person, and a shit Head Auror.”

“We already knew that, though,” Harry says and Ron snorts in agreement, “but I take it, it’s worse than you expected?”

“Yeah,” Ron says. “I guess I had a little hope that some of the people who are in charge and supposed to work for our safety and rights were relatively good people. It’s just hard to see how bad it actually is, and to see everything I’m going to have to deal with. I’ve barely scratched the surface, too.”

“It’s horrible, isn’t it?” Harry asks. “How can it possibly be that bad, after everything we’ve all been through?”

“Honestly, mate,” Ron sighs, “I think that’s the problem. Some people think that for us to never go through something like that again, you have to shove out all your humanity. It’s how people like Robards got away with everything he did, and why it’s so hard to get anything done at the Ministry. ”

“Where are you going to start, then?” Harry asks.

“Well,” Ron starts, “I’d actually love your opinion on this because I know it’s going to make many people angry or surprised. I’ve already started working through the Aurors themselves, to make sure they’re on board.”

“Are they?”

“Most of them, but some of them are doing everything they can to work against me.”

Harry rolls his eyes.

“Exactly,” Ron agrees. “There are more and more ex-Death Eaters that are being released, since it’s been ten years now. Most of them are there for life, but ten years was the other most popular sentence, as I’m sure you remember.”

Harry nods, listening intently. 

“Anyway, I started going through some files Robards left. Harry, I think… I think there’s something going on.”

Harry frowns. “What?”

“In the past year, I found two reports of ex-Death Eaters who were attacked. Robards signed them off as solved, but one of them is dead now. Then I found more reports, and I haven’t looked into all of it yet, but there are no names, or they’re crossed off, and there’s no information about what the DMLE did, just that it was taken care of.” 

“You think Robards covered it up?” 

“I think he buried it, considering who it concerns. No one really cares or has any sympathy for anyone who served time after the war,” Ron explains. “Robards and Kingsley made sure there was a clause in any place related to the Ministry, where they can refuse or make their own decision about whether to help someone.”

“You’re joking,” Harry says, in disbelief. 

“Hermione’s done with her other case now, so our departments are going to work together to figure this out. There’s something there, Harry. I’m sure of it. All these cases when I was in training and when I became an Auror, that would just disappear, or we would have no information. Something is wrong here.”

“I think you’re right, Ron,” Harry says. “I think you need to trust your gut.”

“Hermione agrees too,” Ron adds, “she’s been thinking of a plan already and her case barely just finished.”

Harry smiles at the fond look on Ron’s face as he mentions Hermione.

“I know some of these people were Death Eaters, and there are some who deserved to serve time in Azkaban, but once that time is served then… they deserve a chance,” Ron says. “Honestly, I don’t even think it’s only about Death Eaters that are being released. I think there were things purposefully ignored or buried, and I want to make it right.”

Harry looks at Ron then, and it hits him suddenly how far he’s come. Of course, Harry has seen Ron go from an eleven-year-old to now, and he’s noticed it before. But right now, it feels bigger and more prominent. Ron has continued to grow into such an incredible person, and an incredible father, and now he’s going to be a remarkable Head Auror. Harry’s heart swells with love and pride for his best friends, who are planning and working together to make things right. 

“What?” Ron asks, obviously noticing Harry’s look. 

“Nothing,” Harry says, letting a small smile slide onto his face as he watches his best friend. “It’s just… you’re going to be an incredible Head Auror, Ron.”

“I hope you’re right, mate,” Ron says, and then smiles, his cheeks slightly pink from the compliment, “but thanks.” 

“Of course I’m right,” Harry shrugs. “I always am.” 

“Oh, bugger off,” Ron says with a laugh, and then struggles to stop it from turning into a large yawn. 

“You should get some rest, Ron,” Harry says, snorting at Ron’s attempt at hiding his yawn. 

Ron waves him off, “Hermione will be here soon and —”

As if Ron had timed it himself, the Floo flares up and Hermione walks through, smiling as soon as she sees them. She walks over to Ron, sitting down next to him automatically and his arm wraps around her shoulder as they lean in for a kiss. 

“Hey, Harry,” Hermione greets, and leans into Ron. Harry smiles back at her, and then at them. 

“You finished later than expected,” Ron says. 

Hermione sighs. “Yes, well, apparently the opposing side couldn’t quite accept that they’d lost. It was a mess, but it’s over now. Finally. All the documents are signed, and it’s all settled.”

“I’m proud of you, love,” Ron says, pulling her in closer and kissing her temple as Hermione smiles.

“How are you, Harry?” Hermione asks.

“I’m great,” Harry replies, and then notices them both waiting expectantly. “The shop’s been incredibly busy today but… I think I’m finally starting to get that Cleansweep.”

“Really?” Ron asks, his excitement matching Harry’s. “I was beginning to think it was going to be your first defeat, mate.”

“Me too,” Harry says with a laugh. “But I’ve still got about twelve other brooms waiting for their turn, now.” 

“You really need to find someone to work with you, Harry,” Hermione says. 

“I’m not sure that it’s worth the trouble,” Harry says. “If I place a help wanted ad, I’ll end up with multiple people who are there for the wrong reasons, and it’ll just set me back further behind. It’s the same problem as my dating life, Hermione. I’m much better off this way.”

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione says. “Don’t say that. There will be someone, I’m sure of it. You just have to keep your mind open to it, and I know it’s hard considering the last ones have been…”

“Absolute pillocks,” Ron completes, and Harry snorts. 

Hermione nudges Ron and then sighs. “Well, yes,” she says, and then her look changes and Harry knows she’s going to redirect the conversation. “The offer still stands you know, for Simon. The man who works in my department.”

Harry sighs.

“I know you’re sick of starting over, but he’s really great, and he’s brilliant,” Hermione explains. “If you want to give it a shot, just let me know and —”

“Fine,” Harry says, remembering Hermione’s own words to not think things through too much, and that he’ll never know if he doesn’t try. 

“Really?” Hermione and Ron say at the same time. 

“Yes, really,” Harry crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. “Now stop talking about it before I change my mind.”

Hermione and Ron both laugh, and Harry doesn’t miss the pleased look in their eyes, as if they’d finally gotten the answer they were hoping for. Harry snorts, “I hate you both.”

“No, you don’t.” Ron says, letting out a laugh.

“I’ll have him owl you, Harry,” Hermione says. “Alright, now we can talk about something else.”

“Like that Cleansweep, mate,” Ron says, and Harry is pleased with the change of topic, “what makes you think you finally got it?” 

Harry launches into an explanation and Ron listens, completely interested and invested in everything Harry did. He loves talking about his job, about the moment when a broom finally works as it’s supposed to. “I still have a few things to figure out, though. I had a few customers after that, and I kind of got distracted.”

“Distracted?” Hermione asks, suddenly more interested in the conversation. 

“Yeah. Did you know Malfoy has a son?” Harry asks, looking back up at his friends and watching their eyebrows raise. 

Harry lets out a laugh. “Yeah, I didn’t either. He came in today with his Aunt Pansy, if you can believe it. His name is Scorpius.”

“You sure he’s Malfoy’s kid?” Ron asks.

Harry nods. “No doubt. He’s like a smaller version of Malfoy… only polite and extremely adorable.”

Ron snorts. “Hard to imagine.”

“Got me thinking though…” Harry says. “Do you have any idea what he’s been up to for the past ten years?”

“I don’t think so. Not since he was released,” Ron says. “Even then, though, we weren’t the ones in charge of all of that. So I don’t really know what he’s been doing.”

Harry sighs, rubbing his hands over his face, trying to stop his mind from flashing back to that time. “I still can’t fucking believe he went to Azkaban.” 

“They all did,” Ron says. “All the marked Death Eaters did, regardless of what anyone said. It’s not like they didn’t deserve it, though.”

“He didn’t, though,” Harry says. 

Ron sighs, and looks over at Harry. “No, he didn’t. He made plenty of mistakes but… the git didn’t deserve to go through that for two years.” 

“I can’t believe he has a son,” Hermione says, a look on her face that means her mind currently working at full speed. “I think I remember reading about a marriage agreement, though, in the year he was released.”

“To the Greengrass family!” Ron says, suddenly remembering. 

“Yes!” Hermione answers, relieved at having the information. “I don’t recall hearing or reading anything else about him since then though, or his family for that matter.”

“I was just curious,” Harry says. “Good for him, though. If he’s found his way out of all of that, and he’s made a life for himself.”

“Remember at the trials?” Hermione says, knowing they all do. “Right before they read his sentence when he asked to meet with us after you spoke for him. I’ll never forget the way he looked and spoke when he apologized, so tired and dirty and shackled. He was terrible at school, and he made awful choices, but… it was so wrong to see him like that. We were all just kids, and to send him to Azkaban…”

“We tried, Mione,” Ron says. “We tried to speak for him, and his mother.”

“No one cared, did they?” Harry asks, not expecting an answer. “No one cared that through all their fucking horrible choices and trauma they went through they still tried, in the end.”

“I never thought I’d ever see such… regret and shame on Malfoy’s face until that day,” Hermione says. 

“He deserved some kind of punishment for the things he did, but not that. Not two years in Azkaban,” Ron adds. “I bloody hated the git for seven years and I can admit that.” 

Harry sighs, feeling an odd feeling in his chest as he thinks of Malfoy’s face at the trials, of the emptiness and the fear. He remembers Narcissa’s face too, worried only for her son, like she was that day in the forest. The end of the war put so many things in perspective for Harry, and they’d had so many conversations about all of this, and now it all comes rushing back. 

“Scorpius looked really happy and healthy, and he was just so… polite and sweet,” Harry says, recalling his small and bright face looking up at him. “Seems like he got one thing right, at least.” 

“It’s weird isn’t it?” Ron asks. “First we get these blasted invitations for an event because it’s been ten years since the war, and now it’s all coming back to us in different ways.” 

Hermione places a hand on Ron’s thigh comfortingly, and gives them both a small smile. “I don’t think it’ll ever really go away.” 

Harry can’t help but agree, even if it makes him kind of sad to think they’ll always have the dark shadow of the war following them around. 

“I should go,” Harry says, moving to get up. “It’s getting pretty late.” 

“Harry,” Hermione says, standing up with Ron as well, and Harry turns to her as she comes up to him and places her hands on his and holds them, looking into his eyes. “You know we’re always here when you need us, right?”

Harry smiles and nods, “of course I do.” 

Hermione moves to hug him as she speaks. “We love you, Harry. I’ll give Simon your Floo address at work, and I’m sure he’ll send you a message soon enough.”

“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry says, “and don’t worry about me, alright? I’m okay, truly. It’s just all this talk of the war, of the trials, and that it’s been ten years already is just… a little overwhelming.” 

“We get it, mate,” Ron says, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I love my job, but all of this got to me too, if I’m being honest. We don’t have to talk about all of —”

“No,” Harry says, shaking his head. “I love talking and listening to you guys, about anything, including the harder things, and I’m always here for either one of you too. I’m okay, really.”

“I think it all just kind of crept up on us, didn’t it?” Ron says. “Ten years.” 

Hermione nods, agreeing and sighing as Ron wraps his arm around her. “Ten years,” she repeats. 

Out of pure impulse, Harry takes a step forward then and wraps his arms around his two best friends, his family. All the things he has swimming through his mind, all the old and new feelings that have been rooting themselves in Harry for the past few weeks, quiet down at that moment. And that’s when he knows that this is what he needed right now, and what he’s always been so lucky to have. 

***

The next week goes by like a blur, and Harry has so many things going on at the same time, that he doesn’t even think about the war at all. The ache in his chest, the small feeling that he can’t quite identify is still there, but he works through it, and he tries to focus on everything he has instead of the things he doesn’t. 

A few days after Scorpius brought in his broom, Harry managed to fix it completely. He could tell someone had tried to fix it before, but the spells weren’t used correctly, and there was a time when Harry wondered if it had just made things worse. It was easy enough, once he figured out where the damage was. He loved working in the core of the broom, working in its magic and feeling it come back to life. He’d never seen this particular brand before, and wondered where Malfoy got it. It seemed quite old, and it made Harry want to dive into research to try to figure it out. He promised himself he would never admit his momentary desire to research to Hermione, or he’d never hear the end of it. 

Still, the fact that the broom was quite old meant that there were some standard features that were missing. Harry decided he would amend that, free of charge, hoping that it would make Scorpius happy and for some reason he also kind of enjoyed the idea of doing something nice for Malfoy after failing to help him at the trials, and considering what he’d been through back then. 

So Harry added some safety features, since Scorpius was quite small, and Harry hated the image of him falling off his broom or losing control of it. Most brooms for children under the age of eleven had these safety features now, which prevented them from going too fast or flying too high. Harry also worked on adding ways to help the broom be more steady, and included a parental feature that made it so that Malfoy could actually control it if he wanted to. 

It took him two days to finish it, and Harry hadn’t even thought about all the other brooms waiting to be fixed, including the Cleansweep that needed finishing up. As he glances over at the notice that should have alerted Malfoy, or Pansy, or whoever had it, that Scorpius’ broom was ready, Harry tries not to think too much about why Scorpius’ broom took over his mind so much and why no one had come by in a few days to get it… and instead trying to mentally prepare himself for the date with Simon he agreed to that would take place next week. 

Thankfully, his thoughts are thoroughly interrupted as the little bell at his door rings faintly. 

“Harry!” A familiar voice speaks, and Harry smiles and feels his heart swell as soon as he lifts his head and sees Teddy running towards him.

Harry moves quickly, and Teddy rams into him, his arms wrapping around Harry tightly. “Hey, buddy.” 

“I’ve missed you!” Teddy says, still holding him tightly.

“Hi, Harry,” Andromeda says, smiling as she watches him with Teddy. “I hope you don’t mind us stopping by.”

“Of course not, it’s always wonderful to see you,” Harry says, and Teddy lets him go, his attention going towards the brooms on his wall instead. “How are you?”

“I’m alright, dear,” she says, smiling kindly at him, “but there is something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Andromeda glances over at Teddy, whose attention has now been completely captivated by the Quidditch supplies in the store. “He can’t wait to go to Hogwarts next year, it’s all he talks about already.” 

“I can imagine,” Harry says fondly. 

“It’s hard to believe he’s going to be ten in about a month,” she says. 

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, “I don’t think any of us realized how quickly time had passed.” 

Andromeda nods quietly, and Harry frowns. “Is everything alright, Andy?” 

“It’s fine,” she says, “I think I’m simply quite tired. Ted’s mother is ill, and I think it’s affecting me a lot more than I expected, caring for her while Teddy’s at school and then taking care of him. I love them both, and they’re family, but —”

“Andy,” Harry says softly, “what can I do?”

“Oh, Harry,” Andromeda says, “I would rather not disturb your —”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Harry chides with a chuckle. “He can stay with me more often, if that would help.”

“He loves staying with you,” she says, looking at Harry fondly, “but I can’t ask that of you, Harry.”

“Andy,” Harry says, “I love having him. I’ve told you endlessly how much I love having him, and I would be so happy to help you out.”

“What’s going on?” Teddy asks, his voice causing both Harry and Andromeda’s head to snap towards him, not having realized he was standing closer to them now.

“Well,” Andromeda starts, “I’ve been thinking perhaps, you could spend some more time with Harry, at least until the summer.”

“Really?” Teddy’s face lights up with a broad smile in a way that makes Harry’s heart surge.

“Really,” Andromeda confirms, and then looks over to Harry. “How do weekends sound?” 

Harry smiles broadly now too, matching Teddy’s expression. “Weekends sound perfect,” he says, turning to Teddy, “what do you think, Teddy?”

Teddy’s smile fills Harry’s heart, and they spend the next two hours talking and planning different things they can do together while Andromeda leaves them with a fond and exasperated smile, to do some shopping around Diagon Alley. 

Harry loves watching Teddy try to work out the job, eventually having to help him out, especially with more complicated transactions. But Teddy manages to finish up with the customer buying a new set of gloves, and once he walks away, Andromeda is standing there watching them both with a smile on her face. 

“You seem to be doing a wonderful job, Teddy,” she says, walking forward. “You better watch out, Harry, or you’ll be out of a job.”

Harry laughs lightly.

“Oh no,” Teddy says, with an excited twinkle in his eye, “I’m going to be a Quidditch player!” 

“Are you now?” Andromeda says, and her eyes glance over on the counter as she deposits a few bags she was carrying. Harry moves some papers aside to make some room for her things and for the lunch she brought them, but his eyes narrow as he sees her expression change slightly. 

“What?” Harry asks, as Teddy opens up the bag of food. 

“Nothing, I —” she says, her eyebrows furrowing and looking up at Harry. “Well, I thought I just saw the name Malfoy, but I must have imagined —”

“Oh,” Harry says, grabbing the notice that was on top of the pile and holding it up, “you saw right.” 

“Malfoy?” Andromeda asks again, her eyes focusing on the name.

“Yeah,” Harry says, sitting down and smiling in thanks at Teddy to hands him his soup. “Draco Malfoy’s son dropped in a broom to fix the other day with his aunt, which turned out to be someone else I went to school with too.”

“Draco,” Andromeda says in an almost whisper. “Narcissa’s son?”

Harry freezes for a moment, realizing why she was acting this way. “Oh,” he says, “right. I’m sorry, I should have realized.”

“No, no. Don’t apologize, Harry. I just… I didn’t even think he was still in England,” Andromeda says. 

“So you haven’t seen him since the war?” Harry asks.

“Seen who?” Teddy asks, and Harry wonders how much he knows about the Malfoy and the Black families, but as Andromeda explains who she was talking about, he realizes that she had been very honest and fair in what she had chosen to tell Teddy.

“So he’s sort of like my cousin?” Teddy asks, and Andromeda nods. “Cool. Why don’t I know him?”

“Well, as I mentioned, I have a very complicated relationship with the Black family, my family, which includes his mother, Narcissa,” Andromeda says. “I tried to reach out to her, and to him, after the war, after everything you told me about them, Harry. But with the trials… I never got anything in return.” 

“Oh,” Teddy says, taking a bite of his buttered bread. 

“You reached out to them?” Harry asks.

“It was a very difficult time, for everyone. I think I just wanted to hear it from her, and see if there was… if there was anything I could do,” she explains. “I have a very complicated and painful relationship with my family, but… it’s still my family.” 

Harry nods, and understands how confusing and conflicting it was after the war, to start to question everything that was considered good or bad and right or wrong. So many people had lost loved ones and family, that it made everything else seem so much smaller. 

“Well,” Harry says, pointing over to Scorpius’ broom, “that’s his son’s broom. He seemed well when he came in. I’m not sure why no one’s come to pick it up yet.” 

“The broom is really cool,” Teddy says, looking at it. “Why don’t I have one like that?”

“The one you have is good enough,” Andromeda says, sternly. “If it were up to you, you’d always be in the sky and have twenty brooms.”

“Exactly!” Teddy says. “Which is why I need a broom like that one! Look how fast it must go!”

“It’s actually quite old,” Harry says, “but yeah, it’s pretty fast.”

“Thanks, Harry,” Andromeda says, with a discouraged chuckle. 

“Well then,” Teddy says with a determined grin, “I know what I’m asking for for my birthday.”

Harry smiles, looking over at Andromeda, who meets his eyes with a knowing glint in hers. Little does Teddy know, there’s a broom in his back store already waiting for him for when he turns ten next month. Harry worked on it himself. 

***

A week later, Harry still can’t help but look over at Scorpius’ broom that’s waiting for someone to come and pick it up. He’s used to holding on to brooms for two or three days after alerting the notice, but something tells him there’s a reason no one has come, and he can’t stop the nagging thought from popping up in his head. 

Harry sighs, as he glances down at his watch. Simon should be here in about fifteen minutes to pick him up for their date. They were going to a restaurant, near Diagon Alley, and Harry tried not to think of all the people who would glance his way once he sat down with someone new. He hadn’t really been out in public much in the past year, after being endlessly discouraged. Still, he tried to keep an open mind and kept thinking about Hermione and Ron’s words of encouragement that were still ringing in his head since they had dinner together and talked.

Tomorrow, Hermione was coming to meet him at the shop to discuss how the date went, and she had promised to bring him a nice cup of warm coffee from the café he loved along with a surprise pastry. He thinks it was her way of motivating him to get through this, and to try to stop overthinking things. It was working. 

A sudden tapping at the window of his shop gets his attention, and he frowns as he sees an owl there, holding a letter. He walks over to the door, wondering who was writing to him or the shop. He walks over to the owl, and takes the letter, swearing when it nips his fingers as he does. Scowling at the owl, Harry looks down and notices it’s addressed to him and his shop and as he opens it, his eyebrows raising in surprise as he sees it’s from Pansy. 

Hello Potter,

I’ve received the alert on the notice, and even I have to admit it’s a quite clever and brilliant little function. I’m unfortunately away for work for a while, and I’m not sure when I’ll have time to pick it up for Scorpius. Is it a terrible inconvenience for you to keep it a little while longer in your shop? I only ask because the notice won’t stop alerting every single day that the broom is ready, and I’m quite frankly considering if I wouldn’t prefer to simply sue you for gross disturbance. 

Please notify me as soon as you can so that I can reassure a very impatient and worried Scorpius that his broom remains in good Gryffindor hands until I return. 

Pansy Parkinson

Harry snorts as he finishes the letter, rolling his eyes at the ridiculousness of some statements and yet amused by her dramatics at the same time. He walks back into the store, grabbing a quill and adding to the letter so that he can send it before Simon arrives. He’s still not quite sure why Malfoy himself won’t come and pick up his son’s broom, or anyone else for that matter, but the mention of an impatient and worried little Scorpius is what has him writing down his reply without hesitation. 

Pansy, 

Sorry about the alerts. I’ll deactivate it. I wouldn’t want anyone to overreact and sue the shop for something so easily fixable. 

As for the broom, it’s definitely safe here, and I can keep it for as long as you need. However, to ensure good service to my customers, I sometimes offer a drop-off option. I have an address on the notice, and I’d be happy to drop it off there within the next few days. 

Let me know,

Harry

Harry hurries back outside, placing the letter back in its envelope and being careful about giving it back to the owl, who looks extremely keen on snapping at his fingers again. Once the owl has it, he watches it spread its wings and head back to wherever Pansy sent it from. 

“Harry?” An unknown voice speaks tentatively from behind him, and Harry turns instantly at the sound of his name. The man is tall, wearing a dark grey jacket with a blue scarf. His hair is dark brown, almost black, and Harry can’t deny he’s quite handsome. Harry swallows nervously, as he realizes this must be Simon.

“Simon?” Harry asks, and the man smiles and nods.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Simon says, then looking over to his right where the door to Harry’s shop is. “This is your shop?”

“It is,” Harry says. “I just have to lock up, and we can head out.” 

“Great,” Simon replies, smiling sweetly at him, and it only makes Harry that much more nervous.

Simon waits patiently as Harry locks up his shop, and Harry tries desperately to ignore the panic rising inside of him as he realizes what he’s doing. He’s going on a date, with a gorgeous man, who seems nice enough, and all he wants to do is run back to his shop and hide. He doesn’t think he can stand the disappointment again. 

As they make their way to the restaurant, they start to talk, and that’s what finally allows Harry to relax. Simon admits he’s nervous too, after everything Hermione’s told him about her best friend, and Harry laughs along with him, suddenly feeling less alone. The restaurant is packed with people, who turn and whisper as Harry walks by as they make their way to the table, but Simon says nothing about it, and he’s grateful. 

Once they’re seated, the conversation starts up again, and Harry realizes well into his meal that he’s actually having a good time. Simon asks him interesting questions, and Harry learns about him easily. Simon was two years above Harry at Hogwarts, and he was a Ravenclaw. Even though he tried, he couldn’t remember ever seeing him around. Now he works with Hermione in her Department, and Harry can tell how passionate he is about his work. 

In the end, Simon insists on walking Harry back to his shop and would like to see where he works, since Harry had gone on about how much he loves it and how proud he is of what he’s accomplished there. 

They walk in, and Harry charms the lights on, and Simon smiles as he looks at the rack of brooms behind his counter. “Are those all the brooms you need to fix?”

Harry lets out a laugh and nods. “Some of them are fixed and just waiting to go back to their owner,” he says, glancing over at Scorpius’ broom for a second, “there are more in the back.”

“Impressive,” Simon says. “I don’t know the first thing about brooms.”

“No?” Harry asks.

Simon lets out a laugh and shakes his head, “I hated flying. I never even went to the Quidditch games at school, I didn’t understand a thing. Not that I ever tried.”

Harry doesn’t really quite know what to say to that, so he settles for honesty. “I love flying. Playing Quidditch are some of my best memories from Hogwarts.”

Simon turns to him then, his face wincing lightly. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m still extremely nervous, and I just realized I said I basically hate something you’re so clearly passionate about.”

Harry shakes his head with a smile. “It’s fine. Besides, it’s my job, not yours,” he says, “you wouldn’t find me in a courtroom willingly if my life depended on it.” 

Simon laughs, and walks closer to Harry. “I suppose that’s a good point.”

Harry watches as Simon looks around the shop, and continues to walk closer to Harry until he’s standing right in front of him. “I don’t know how you do it, you know. All those people whispering and watching you.”

“Oh, you noticed that,” Harry says, feeling the familiar disappointment grow. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize, I guess it comes with being Harry Potter,” Simon replies, “and it was hard not to notice. But it didn’t bother me, if that’s what you’re wondering. I much preferred paying attention to you, anyway.”

“Really?” Harry asks, feeling a little ridiculous at how surprised he is. 

Simon smiles, placing his hand on Harry’s cheek gently as he nods. “Really,” he says, brushing his cheek softly, “I had a wonderful evening with you, Harry.”

“Oh,” Harry says, swallowing thickly out of nervousness and anticipation, “I — er — me too.” 

“I would very much like to kiss you goodnight, Harry,” Simon says, his hand falling from his cheek, “if that’s alright with you.”

For a moment, Harry freezes, not knowing how to think or move anymore. But then he remembers, the words he’s been trying to focus on this evening, and he looks at Simon who is waiting patiently. He was so kind, and he enjoyed himself, and then he hears the words again. 

Don’t overthink things, Harry. 

So Harry nods, and Simon smiles at him sweetly and starts leaning in. It’s a simple brush of the lips, Simon's pressing against Harry’s gently, and it doesn’t feel strange or awkward, it feels nice and gentle. It doesn’t go any further than a small kiss, and Harry smiles back at Simon as they pull away. 

“Perhaps we could do this again soon?” Simon asks, hopeful. 

“Yeah,” Harry says, and he means it, “I’d like that.” 

Simon leaves soon after that, with plans to meet again and to owl him for a second date. As soon as the door closes, Harry turns and locks it and makes his way to the back of the store where his Floo is, suddenly feeling like he just wants to go home. 

Once he walks into his home, he feels the pressure and the stress ease off him instantly, and he closes his eyes, discouraged at himself. He had a good night, he really and truly did. Why did he feel like this?

Harry takes his shower, and heads off to bed, his mind spinning quickly with thoughts of the evening he spent with Simon and how easy it was at the moment to enjoy the company and to talk to him. Why couldn’t it just be that simple? Harry closes his eyes, telling himself to stop fucking overthinking everything again and to just let things happen for once in his life. He reminds himself that tomorrow Hermione will be there with a pastry and coffee, and she’ll be able to help him make sense of himself. 

***

“Hey Harry!” Hermione greets, smiling widely as she walks into the shop. Harry lifts his head from the broom he’s fixing, and he smiles at the sight of her, holding a bag and what he hopes are two cups of coffee. “I’ve got pastries, as promised,” she says, and smirks, “and yes, this is coffee.” 

“I adore you,” Harry says, grabbing another stool and setting it beside him so she can sit with him.

“How’s all this going, then?” Hermione asks, gesturing to the many brooms and pile of paperwork on his counter and sits beside him.

“Pretty good —” Harry starts to answer, his mouth full of a delicious croissant, earning a frown from Hermione, who very likely didn’t understand a word he said. “Sorry,” he swallows, “it’s pretty good, but I still have so many things to take care of.”

“I’ll say it again, Harry, you need to hire someone to help you out.”

“Yes, well,” Harry replies, “that’s easier said than done. Most people who come around here to interview are just looking to spend the day gaping at me or just want to flirt. They don’t know anything about brooms or care about what needs to be done.”

“I’m sure someone will come around at some point, Harry,” Hermione says, and Harry knows the double meaning to that sentence. “Speaking of which…”

Harry rolls his eyes and chuckles.

“How did it go?” Hermione asks, her eyes bright with curiosity. 

“It was good,” Harry says, and Hermione’s brow raises. “You were right, he’s very nice, very handsome, very kind. He asked if we could see each other again.”

“And?” Hermione asks.

“I said I’d like that,” Harry says, with a small shrug, and then adds, “and he kissed me.”

Hermione places her hand on Harry’s and squeezes it and says nothing else, and he loves her for it, waiting for him to continue as he takes a sip of the warm coffee. 

“I had fun, honestly, and I felt comfortable enough around him, which surprised me,” Harry explains. “I just can’t help but think about how last time with Ian, and all the others, things were good too at the beginning.”

“Harry,” Hermione says, squeezing his hand again, “you can’t think about the ending when you haven’t even let it begin yet.” 

“I know,” Harry says, “and I’m not. I just… I don’t know how much we’ll have in common, once we go beyond the first conversations, and the kiss… well, it was nice but…”

“Not life changing?” 

Harry snorts. “No.”

“It was the first date though, and you barely know him,” Hermione says, “but Harry, if you would rather not see him again, that’s okay too, you know. Listen to yourself, but just don’t overanalyze things. Don’t stop yourself from trying because you’re afraid of being hurt.”

“I know,” he says, “you’re right, and I did really have a nice time talking to him —”

Harry stops talking and startles suddenly, seeing the door open and someone who looks very much like Pansy walk in, but as he stands up quickly, nearly knocking over Hermione, he realizes it’s not her at all. It’s the fifth time this happened to him since Scorpius brought his broom two weeks ago. Sometimes he thinks it's Pansy, sometimes Scorpius, and sometimes he even imagines Draco Malfoy walking in himself, even if Harry has absolutely no idea how to even picture him now. 

Harry’s shoulders slump slightly, and he smiles politely at the woman who walked in and goes straight for the broom cleaning kits and supplies. 

“What on Earth was that about?” Hermione asks, with a small laugh, as he sits back down.

“What?” Harry asks, frowning slightly.

“You nearly leapt right out of your seat and almost made me drop my coffee. Do you know her?”

Harry shakes his head and clears his throat, feeling slightly embarrassed. “No.”

Of course, Hermione remains completely silent and Harry knows as soon as he turns around to look at her, she’ll be giving him that look. The one who always gets him and Ron to spill their fucking guts out. Harry sighs, and reluctantly moves his head towards her, his eyes dragging slowly before they finally land on her. Fuck, he thinks, there it is. 

“Fine,” Harry groans lightly, and he chooses to ignore the well-known satisfied look on her face. “You know how Scorpius Malfoy brought in his broom?”

Hermione’s lips twitch upwards slightly, and Harry chooses to ignore that too. “Yes, you’ve mentioned it once or twice.”

“Right,” Harry says. “Well, no one’s come to pick it up yet.”

“And you thought she was coming to do that?” 

“Yes. I mean, no,” Harry answers. “I thought it was Pansy. She’s the one who came to drop it off with Scorpius that day. But as I’m saying it now, I’m realizing it couldn’t have been her because she owled me yesterday to say she’d be unable to come for a while.” 

“Yeah, she’s a journalist, I’ve worked with her only a handful of times when the Ministry had some big press releases, but now she’s often international or off on location for days and even weeks,” Hermione explains, taking another sip of her coffee.

Harry stares for a moment, trying to digest the information. “You know Pansy Parkinson?” 

Hermione rolls her eyes. “I hardly know her, Harry. I just worked with her a few times.”

“You never mentioned.”

“I didn’t think it was worth mentioning,” Hermione says with a small shrug. “How long has it been since they dropped off the broom?”

“Two weeks. She wrote to me yesterday to ask if it was okay if I kept it for a while longer. I wrote back right before Simon arrived.”

“So you’re going to go drop it off, then?” Hermione asks. 

“Er — what?” Harry asks.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione says, “you frequently do drop off’s because you’re too nice and always end up offering. I’d be willing to bet my entire income on the fact that you likely offered to drop it off in your reply to Pansy.” 

“How do you know everything?”

“It’s annoying isn’t it?” Hermione says, a teasing smile pulling at her lips. “You should talk to Ron about it. I’m sure he’d have lots to say.”

Harry laughs. 

“Seriously though, has she replied?” 

Harry shakes his head, “not yet.” 

“Well, when she does, assuming she accepts, you should go and drop it off,” Hermione says. 

“At Malfoy’s house,” Harry deadpans.

“We both know you’re curious about what he’s up to, and you’d love to see Scorpius receive his broom,” she says.

“What makes you think that?” Harry asks defensively.

“You won’t stop talking about it, and with good reason. You did a wonderful job and with all the conversations and things going on recently, it makes sense for you to be curious. Scorpius left an impression on you, Harry, and we both know how hard it is for you to forget something that manages to sneak up inside your wonderful mind,” she says. 

“I’ll wait for her reply,” Harry says, “but I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go over there, especially since she wouldn’t even be there.”

“Well, I think you should go. Think about it,” Hermione says, picking up her bag and getting up off the stool, “if it’ll make you stop jumping out of your seat like I just witnessed then it’s worth it.” 

“I didn’t jump out of my —” Harry starts defensively, only making Hermione’s smile grow wider. “Fine. I’ll think about it. But I haven’t even gotten a reply yet, so thankfully there’s no reason to think about anything.” 

Hermione leans forward and gives Harry a small kiss on the cheek. “Not yet.” 

Harry rolls his eyes, unable to keep the small smile on his face as she grins at him. 

“See you soon, Harry,” she says, and makes her way towards the door leaving to go and start what he expects will be a busy day, leaving the lingering thoughts of the possibility of going over to what he presumes is Malfoy’s house, and seeing him again after all these years. Though, Hermione is right, the idea of seeing Scorpius light up when he gets his broom back is quite tempting. 

Harry spends the rest of day lost in the chaos of the shop. One customer after another, needing help and advice and bringing in new brooms and asking questions. He hadn’t even had ten minutes to sit and repair something, which was starting to make him panic considering the number of brooms that were starting to pile up. At some point in the day, when he handed a customer back his broom he’d come by to pick up, he realized that there was no one else in the shop. 

Harry slumps down on his stool, and lets his face fall into his hands as he lets out a breath. He checks his watch, looking at the time in disbelief that he is already thirty minutes to closing time. He really needed to find someone to work here. 

Before he even had time to do anything else, he hears the familiar tapping at his window. His head shoots up instantly, and he hurries over to the door to go and see the owl. He manages to avoid the nip to his finger and opens the letter outside, even though it is bloody cold.

Potter, 

That would be lovely. 

Feel free to drop by at any moment. 

If you can’t, then I appreciate you holding on to it until I return. 

Pansy

So Harry stands there, holding the letter in his hands for a moment, and realizes that he is now going to have to think about whether he is going to go drop off Scorpius’ broom or wait until Pansy returns. If it were anyone else, he would probably go drop it off right this instant, but there’s something that stops him, a possibility of something that makes him hesitate. 

Harry does think about it, for about two more days. He feels slightly ridiculous. There wasn’t really an explanation for why he couldn’t stop thinking about that damn broom. He had a dozen other brooms in his shop waiting to be picked up, but every time someone came by and got theirs, he couldn’t help but look over at Scorpius’ broom and wonder if he was thinking about it too. A child, a small polite and adorable child he’d spoken to for about ten minutes, had worked himself right into Harry’s brain.

He discusses it with Ron one night, after frustratingly admitting to being annoyed at his mind. Harry’d gotten so much better at letting himself admit things now, and it had helped, as it always did, when he talked to Ron. They discuss how things relating to Malfoy always have a way of getting to them, especially Harry, and those things have a way of working their way into his thoughts. Harry couldn’t disagree, considering the many memories they all had of their childhood, but it’s been ten years now. Harry hadn’t thought of Malfoy in ages, and he didn’t particularly feel like thinking about him now either. 

So he decides that he is going to go drop off the broom, and then he can finally stop thinking about it because it wouldn’t be staring at him in the face every time he walks in to work. Scorpius would have his broom back, and he would be happy and smile like he did when Harry told him he could fix it. Then Harry could get back to work, and go back to thinking about other things.

***

Harry holds Scorpius’ shrunken broom in his hands as he looks up at the small building in front of him. He had noticed the address was in a Muggle area, and he didn’t exactly think someone walking down the street holding a big broom was going to be considered normal. 

He looks around, noting how run down the building is. There’s a little bookshop right next to the door of the building, that has a large window at the front that’s been repaired with what looks like tape. 

Harry almost questions whether he has the right address, but he had looked at it so many times that he’s sure he got it right. He just hopes someone’s home. As soon as his shop closed, he made his way here. He was surprised how close it was, only a short thirty-minute walk. Of course, he always loved walking whenever he could, it helped clear his mind. 

He walks up to the front door of the building, and tries to open it, half expecting it to be locked and having to call in to be admitted. However, the door swings open and he walks in easily. He walks up to the second floor, and stops in front of the door that says 2B. Harry clenches his jaw nervously, not really knowing what to expect, and then he raises his hand and knocks. 

Soon enough, Harry hears footsteps walking closer to the door and stop. Harry suddenly feels very self-conscious, figuring whoever is there is probably looking through the peephole. For a second, he thinks the person won’t open the door.

But then the handle twists and the door moves open and there he is, Malfoy, standing there with his eyes narrowed slightly and an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Potter.” 

Harry feels himself swallow, as the sight before him takes him completely off guard. No matter how he’d imagined Malfoy, he was nowhere near the same old pointy git he’d known at school. His hair is still short and pale as it always was, but it’s styled almost… naturally, slight waves working through them. He’s tall, as he’d always been but he’s definitely grown and — 

“Potter,” Malfoy repeats in a slightly, or rather, significantly more annoyed tone, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. “Is there a reason you’re standing at my doorstep?”

Harry frowns, momentarily forgetting why he’s there in the first place, and realizes he’s holding the shrunken broom in his hands. 

“Right!” Harry exclaims, removing the charm that made the broom small and revealing Scorpius’ broom in its normal size.

“Ah,” Malfoy says, eyeing the broom. “I assume that’s —”

“My broom!” A small voice exclaims from behind Malfoy, and it takes only about a second until Scorpius’ small face is appearing next to Malfoy peeking through. Malfoy’s hand goes automatically on his son’s shoulder, as Scorpius gazes up at his father and at Harry shyly. “Hi Mr. Potter.”

Harry smiles. “Hey, Scorpius. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Did you fix it, sir?” Scorpius asks, and Harry’s eyes look up towards Malfoy for a second, only to see he’s already looking at him. Harry looks back at Scorpius, who’s almost hiding into Malfoy’s side. 

“I did,” Harry says, “and I even added something special in there for you. You’ll have to ask your father when you want to use it, though. Other than that, it should work perfectly.”

“Really?” Scorpius asks, his eyes widening and his smile making Harry feel like he definitely made the right decision to drop off the broom. “What did you add?” 

“Just a few charms that will help you fly a little better, though I’m sure you’re already a great flyer,” Harry explains, and then looks up at Malfoy. “I made it so that you control some things he can do with his broom, it’s pretty standard now with child brooms, it won’t activate unless you use your wand to do it. I also noticed there were some safety features missing and —”

“I thought your job was just to fix the thing, Potter,” Malfoy says, cutting him off, his jaw tight. “Pansy said —”

“It is,” Harry says. “I just thought — I’m sorry. I should’ve asked. Here, take it,” he says, holding out the broom to Malfoy, who doesn’t take it, “I can take it all off, though, if you prefer.” 

“Scorp,” Malfoy says, his voice turning soft and kind as he speaks to his son, and Scorpius raises his eyes to look at his father. “Can you go inside for a moment? I need to speak with Po — with Mr. Potter.” 

Scorpius nods, and obeys him immediately, glancing between them once and disappearing behind Malfoy into their flat. 

“Look, Malfoy —” Harry begins.

“I can’t take it, Potter,” Malfoy says, “I can’t take the broom back.”

Harry frowns, “why not?”

“I can’t…” Malfoy says, sighing and his fingers moving to rub the bridge of his nose, as if he’s struggling to find the words to say next. Eventually, his arm falls back to his side, and Harry doesn’t miss the slight wince of pain at the movement, but he doesn’t have time to wonder before Malfoy speaks again. “I can’t pay for all those… things you did. I can barely pay for the repair as it is, so if you could have just done your —”

“I wasn’t planning on charging you for any of those things, Malfoy,” Harry says, and Malfoy’s grey eyes snap right towards his. “I was just trying… I just wanted to be nice.” 

“Why?” Malfoy asks, his gaze turning suspicious and guarded. 

“Why not?” Harry replies, with a slight shrug, and Malfoy doesn’t answer, instead keeps looking at Harry as if he’s analyzing him. “Look, I can take it back if you want and take off all those things I added. But Scorpius was really sweet, and he seemed to love this broom so much, and I just wanted to make it safe and better for him to use. I can show you how it all works, it’s really quite simple, or I’m sure you can figure it all out —”

“Why did you bring it here?” Malfoy asks. “I don’t recall Pansy saying she had selected the drop-off option.”

“There isn’t a drop-off option, actually,” Harry explains, “I offer it sometimes to help."

“Alright, so then my questions still stands, doesn’t it?” Malfoy says. “Why did you bring it here?”

“My earlier answer still stands too, Malfoy,” Harry says. “I just wanted to be nice.” 

There’s a silence that settles between them immediately, mostly because Harry doesn’t know what else to say or do. Malfoy is just staring at him, and then suddenly he looks down and closes his eyes, taking in a small breath before turning back and looking at something behind him. When he turns back to Harry, he opens the door wider. “I suppose you should come in, then.”

Harry just stares, not expecting the offer in the slightest. 

Malfoy rolls his eyes. “I’m certain Scorpius would be very grateful if you could show him his broom and explain everything. He hasn’t stopped talking about it and you ever since Pansy walked into your bloody shop.” 

“Er —” Harry says, clearing his throat, “are you sure?”

Malfoy sighs. “If you don’t enter within the next second, Potter, I will close the door.”

“Right,” Harry says, and makes his way through the opened door, his mouth drawn into a thin line, feeling extremely aware that he is walking into Draco Malfoy’s home. 

Scorpius is sitting on the small sofa, that looks like it's been set up as a makeshift bed. Harry can tell he’s been waiting patiently, a small hopeful look on his face that morphs into joy when he sees Harry walk in with his broom. Scorpius looks over at Malfoy, who simply nods at his son as he chuckles, which launches Scorpius right at Harry. 

“It’s all fixed now?” Scorpius asks, and Harry kneels so he’s closer to Scorpius’ height. 

“It is,” Harry says, and then Harry starts explaining the different things he added to the broom and the things he fixed. Scorpius listens attentively, though Harry is sure there are some things he doesn’t understand. There are some things he directs at Malfoy, who is standing against a small counter and listening too. 

“It should be quite simple to use, and if there are ever any issues then just come by the —” Harry says, but stops mid-sentence and both his and Scorpius’ heads turn towards Malfoy who just let out a hiss of pain as he moved, his face wincing again like it did earlier. Harry’s eyebrows knit together as he watches Malfoy seemingly try to hide what just happened. 

“Are you okay Father?” Scorpius asks, his voice slightly worried, and his body’s movements frozen as if he’s waiting for the reply to see what to do next. Harry’s attention is then brought to the small table on Malfoy’s left, which Harry assumes is their dining table. There are potion bottles, and Harry stands automatically as he sees the bloodied bandage that is visible despite the bad attempt at hiding it. 

“I’m fine, Scorp,” Malfoy says, giving Scorpius a reassuring smile but moving in front of the table to hide what’s there as he notices Harry looking. 

“Are you sure?” Scorpius asks, turning to Harry, and then back at Malfoy, “because this morning you —”

“Scorpius,” Malfoy says, cutting off his son, his voice stern, “why don’t you focus on the broom? I’m sure Mr. Potter has many other things to do.”

“Malfoy —” Harry says, his face still in a concerned frown and wondering what he’s missing. 

“Or were you done, Potter?” Malfoy snaps, cutting him off, and Harry knows then he needs to drop it. This clearly not being a conversation Malfoy wants to have with Harry, and in front of Scorpius. Malfoy’s face changes when he sees his son’s worried face, and he moves forwards, forgetting what he was trying to hide, and kneels in front of him. Harry looks back at the table, trying to understand what it is that Malfoy is trying to hide, but then he’s distracted by the conversation between father and son. 

“I’m okay, Scorp,” Malfoy says softly, brushing his son’s face with his hand lovingly. “I promise.” 

“Okay,” Scorpius says, nodding his head and smiling at his father, and giving him a small hug. Malfoy’s eyes close as soon as his son’s arms wrap around him, and Harry never thought he would ever see something so wholesome from Malfoy. 

Malfoy looks up at Harry then, and clears his throat gently, and repeats his question, only this time slightly softer. “Were you done, Potter?”

“Yeah,” Harry answers, and although everything in him is screaming at him to run over to the table and see what’s there, he simply looks over at Scorpius. “Did you have any questions?”

Scorpius shakes his head, and walks over to Harry and wraps his arms around him tightly. “Thank you so much Mr. Potter, for fixing my broom and bringing it back to me.” 

Harry places his hand on Scorpius’ back gently, and looks up at Malfoy who seems about as shocked as Harry is that Scorpius chose to hug him. “You’re welcome, Scorpius. I’m always happy to help.” 

Scorpius beams up at him. 

“Alright, Scorp,” Malfoy says, “why don’t you go wash up like you were supposed to before Mr. Potter showed up?” 

Scorpius nods at his father, and then waves at Harry a last time before disappearing down the small hallway and through a door. Harry stands there for a moment, his eyes flicking over to the table, but then Malfoy is walking towards the front door and opening it. 

Harry turns back before walking through it. “Thank you for inviting me in, Malfoy. I’m sorry for just showing up here like that, Pansy said —”

“It’s fine,” Malfoy says, curtly, his hand still holding the door. 

Harry nods, and looks around one last time. The small sofa that looks like someone’s using it to sleep, the table with one chair, the walls that almost look like they’re rotting in some places and the table filled with potions and paper and bloody bandages, Malfoy wincing out in pain twice in the span of twenty minutes… all the knowledge he has, while simultaneously having no knowledge at all about any of it… it all starts shouting out at Harry at the same time.

“It’s nothing illegal, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Malfoy sneers, speaking angrily through his teeth as he assumes what Harry is thinking. 

Harry looks back at Malfoy. “I wasn’t,” he says, “but I —”

“Goodbye, Potter,” Malfoy says.

“Malfoy,” Harry says, turning back and stopping the door from closing. “If there’s something going on here and —”

“We’re fine, Potter,” Malfoy replies, his tone angry and guarded and impatient. “We’ve always been fine. There’s nothing going on here. Just… just go.” 

He doesn’t say it, but Harry can almost hear the please that goes unspoken. His eyes are different from his tone, almost desperate for Harry to just turn around and disappear. 

Harry nods, and takes a step back, no longer holding back the door as it closes quickly.

Harry walks down to the front door of the building, walking out and feeling the cold air hit his face as soon as he steps outside. He decides to walk back to his shop, needing the time to think about everything that he’d just seen, everything that had happened. 

It’s been ten years, since he’s seen Malfoy. The last time he saw him, he was sitting in the court room shackled up and terrified while the Wizengamot read his verdict that he would be going to Azkaban for two years. Now, here he is. Ten years later, with a son, and living in the smallest flat Harry has ever seen. 

It made Harry so happy to see how excited and thankful Scorpius was that his broom was fixed, and Harry loved explaining it all to him and listening to his little questions and squeals of joy. Harry could see that there was something beautiful between Malfoy and his son, the way they looked at each other and talked to each other and reassured one another, it was almost heartbreaking.

There was a time when Harry would be suspicious of Malfoy, determined to figure out what he’s up to. Now though, all he thinks about is Scorpius’ worried face, Malfoy’s wince, the bloodied bandage and the potion bottles laying on the table and Harry can’t help but feel worried. Though he had assumed, after meeting Scorpius the first time and seeing Pansy along with him, that things must have been going pretty good for Malfoy… now, he can’t help but feel like he was mistaken.