Work Text:
Harry felt his eyes drooping even as he flipped through the alchemy text in front of him. It was meant to be a comprehensive book of arrays, but the ones Harry had found at the scene did not appear to be explained in its pages.
“You still here, boss?” a new auror, Finkle if Harry remembered right, popped his head into his office, “There’s a woman here to see you.” Harry stood up and stretched, joints popping audibly as they were tugged in various directions.
“Who is it?” Harry asked with a groan, adjusting his auror robes so they didn’t show quite so many wrinkles. He half-expected it to be Ginny, come to drag him home or bringing him some left-overs for dinner.
A snort brought his attention to the door again as Hermione pushed past the young auror, “The person you owled at 10 o’clock at night to ask for help.” She was wearing a jacket over a night dress and Harry had to stifle a laugh at how extra-crazy her hair was, “I was just about to go to bed when your bloody bird started pecking at my window.”
Harry pursed his lips and dismissed the now nervous-looking Finkle. When the door closed Harry met her narrowed gaze, “You sounded like Ron just now.” The letter she’d brought with her was quickly flung at his head, having been crushed into a ball somewhere along the way.
“Where are these alchemic symbols you mentioned?” Hermione came up to his desk, hands on her hips and an expectant look on her face. Rose called it her ‘Grandma Weasley impersonation,’ but Harry suspected Rose would change the name when she met Professor McGonagall in September.
It proved effective regardless.
Harry shuffled some of his papers around to find the original photographs the other aurors had taken, “I didn’t think it smart to copy them down on to paper or anything else till we knew what they were for.” He handed the pictures over and Hermione examined them with a pinched expression.
“I don’t recognize them,” Hermione said with a sigh, “But I know someone who might.” Harry raised an eyebrow. Not a lot of people knew more than Hermione about anything. She dropped the photos back on his desk. “Astoria mentioned alchemic reseaech as one of her husband’s hobbies.”
“Astoria?” Harry knew that name. She was one of the chapter presidents of SPEW. One Hermione mentioned fairly regularly.
Wait. Harry narrowed his eyes on her as the memories clicked into place.
Hermione rolled her eyes, “Really, Harry, he’s probably the closest thing to an expert you’re going to find on this side of the channel.”
“It’s Malfoy,” Harry grumbled, arms crossing in front of his chest. His chin rose up. "I can't go to him."
It wasn’t that Harry minded asking for help when he needed it. But this was Malfoy. He'd managed nearly two decades without having to talk with Draco. Two very hard won decades at that because Draco’s wife seemed to be involved in every cause possible and Harry had nervously sat a table or two away at more than a few banquets and benefits over the years.
“Well, good luck then,” Hermione shrugged turned on her heels, “I’m going back to bed, Hugo wants to go to the park tomorrow and I will not be tired.” Harry let her go, throwing a half-hearted thank you after her as he sank back into his chair.
“Malfoy,” Harry mumbled under his breath, tracing his fingers over the alchemic symbols in the photographs. He spent another hour flipping through books before he caved.
It took him three tries and half an ink-pot to get the wording right, but just after midnight the owl was off. There was no taking it back now.
So Harry did what he had to do. He pushed it out of his head and went home, managing a good six hours of sleep before his alarm went off. By then, he'd almost forgotten his midnight correspondence to the archnemesis of his youth.
When Harry stumbled out of the bedroom and into the kitchen Ginny had the radio on. She was singing off key to a Weird Sisters’ song as she made breakfast. Eggs and bacon jumping from skillets to plates while orange juice pouring itself at the table.
James looked almost drunk, head lulling back against his chair. Lily was failing to hide the cat in her lap, which Albus kept giving sidelong looks. Not that Harry blamed him after the whole hairy ball incident.
A smile spread across his face. Chest buzzing with warmth as he took it all in. His family all together. A quiet, simple moment, just them.
“You got a letter,” Ginny pointed to the window by the door, where an owl still sat on the sill.
His smile faltered as he caught sight of his name. The familiar handwriting. Neat, with more flourish than necessary on the ends of every letter.
Ginny narrowed her eyes on him as she flicked her wand, the food and orange juice settled on the table, “Not good news?”
Harry shook his head, taking the letter from the owl before taking a seat at the table, “Just work stuff.”
He still recognized Draco’s handwriting. That fact alone garnered its own anxiety, but he also had to open it. The letter, Draco's response.
Was it good or bad that it had come so quickly? Would Draco want to meet at Harry's office? Swing by the house? What if he'd refused? Or wanted something in exchange? It *was* Malfoy after all.
Once breakfast was over Ginny not-so-subtly sent the kids to play in another room as Harry opened the letter. He held his breath as he read over the short note.
Draco had agreed to see him. Harry exhaled. His eyes flew over the page, drinking in every detail. The steady words. The well practiced calligraphy.
The address. Draco had written his address down, had said that Harry could pop in 'at any time.' Draco would be home for the foreseeable future.
“I’m going to see Draco Malfoy today,” Harry said it aloud. He startled, surprised by his own voice really, and then looked up at Ginny with a blush.
His wife arched a brow. She tilted her head, suintinf at him. Harry swallowed at held up the letter.
“For work," Harry rubbed at his neck as he explained, "Malfoy's apparently quite knowledgeable about alchemy and I need help identifying some arrays from a crime scene.” Ginny smirked and Harry furrlwed his brow, “What?”
“So you still have that crush on him I see,” Ginny drawled, leaning against the table, obviously amused as Harry started to stutter. “You only ever mention interviews to me if you find the person attractive," Ginny cut him off, grinning, "Like when you had to talk to the host of the Witching Hour last year.”
Harry’s mouth hung open. Once Ginny came up to snap it shut he managed to speak, “That is not the case here.” Ginny only laughed at his denial.
“Please,” she rolled her eyes, waving a hand at him dismissively, “You had a thing for him in school, don’t even try to deny it.” Ginny snorted, “Actually, if it weren’t for that time you dated Cho Chang I would have thought you were gay.”
Harry started sputtering again, “Wha- Why would you think that?!” At that, Ginny grinned.
“The sexual tension,” Ginny started ticking things off immediately. "You kept tabs on him constantly." Her fingers started wiggling as she held them up, “The entirely unnecessary quidditch rivalry. You kept glaring at Pansy Parkinson at the Yule Ball. Ron said you talked about him constantly, always making assumptions-”
“I get it,” Harry threw his hands in the air, “But that still has nothing to do with my bringing up this meeting. It's entirely professional!”
“Sure~” Ginny drew out the word far longer than necessary. And then she winked at him, “Just try not to jump him, okay?" She shrugged, clicking her tongue, "Not that I’d mind, but I doubt his wife would be as understanding.” She patted his shoulder as she left the room, a smug grin on her face.
Harry groaned and rested his head on the table. Thankfully the dishes had been whisked over to the sink earlier. The letter in his hand seemed heavier, somehow, but Harry kept clutching it anyway. He groaned, eyes squeezing shut.
It was going to be a long day.
An hour later, with a shower and a quick stop by the ministry behind him, Harry stood in front of the Malfoy home. He’d been thankful when he realized it wasn’t Malfoy Manner – far too many bad memories there already in his opinion – but it wasn’t exactly a downgrade either. It was a large home, not far from the center of London, with a good-size yard.
When he arrived Harry realized why Draco had written the address – several spells concealed the location. At least one tingling at his finger tips like the spells on Grimmauld Place. The path up to the door was flanked by a bicycle and a small garden. Neither of which he expected. Though he didn't recognize any of the plants, Harry expected they weren't rosemary or thyme. Astoria didn't do kitchen witchery anymorr than Draco did, from what Hermione had told him.
“Hello,” a young boy answered the door when Harry knocked. For a split second he thought he’d been transported through time, the boy had the same cunning face and blond hair as Draco had worn when Harry first met him in Diagon Alley.
But the eyes were wrong – a gentle blue, rather than steel grey – and the hair was a little wild – probably as far from Draco’s signature slick look as possible. His son, Harry supposed, ignoring the odd twinge in his heart at the idea.
“I’m here to see Draco,” Harry smiled at the kid, who nodded his head and opened the door wider.
“I’m Scorpius,” the boy informed him as he closed the door behind Harry, “You can wait here while I get dad.” Before Harry could say another word the boy had shot off through the living room and up some stairs. Harry lingered in the entry way, eyes wandering the walls.
He'd been left in a large living room with big chairs and lots of photographs. Cozy. Lived in. A far cry from his memories of Malfoy Manor. A whole wall documented the life of young Scorpius – including drawings and a few awards from a primary school in London. A Muggle school. Odd.
“Potter,” a familiar drawl drew Harry’s attention to the stairs, to a man with slicked by hair and a sharp chin. Draco gestured for Harry to come up, beckoning him forward, deeper into the house.
Little had changed, at least not in the way Draco stood or walked. Impeccable posture and gliding footsteps. He wore muggles clothes now though. Well-tailored slacks which Harry found himself appreciating as he followed Draco to a small study.
Head snapping up, Harry focused on the room, rather than the man strolling throught. Light and airy, Draco had decorated his personal space with even more photos of Scorpius. The young boy's smiles competing for wall space with a few... questionably labeled, artifacts. Well contained behind glass, Harry decided to ignore them, for now.
“So, what did you need me to look at?” Draco sat on the edge of his desk with a huff. Arms and ankles crossed, chin raised, and eyes focused intently on the wall. No eye contact.
Harry smirked to himself, a little proud he could still make Malfoy nervous. He pulled the photos from the file he’d brought with him, “These arrays were found in the basement of a house we were searching. No one on my team can make heads or tails of any of them.”
Draco stood, snatching the photographs with a hum. He poured over each of the arrays, dropping into his desk chair, eyes intent and focused upon his task. Harry swallowed and bit his lip. Draco’s gaze brightened with interest and, even focused on something else, it sent his nerves running just as it had in school. Unfortunately, Harry couldn’t run off to the quidditch pitch as he had then.
“Was there any blood found at the scene?” Draco asked, head rising. Eyes sharp and brow pinched. Harry nodded and Draco's eyebrow quirked up, lips a thin line, “Human or animal?”
“Both,” Harry said, moving closer, “Why?” He stepped behind the desk. A blush rose up Draco’s neck as he glanced over the man's shoulder. Harry tried to ignore it, to focus on the large array on the top picture.
A smirk twisted at Draco's lips and Harry’s stomach dropped. He glanced up, gaze dark and amused as he pointed to some scribbles at the center of the alchemic circle. “Because the base arrays look like those used for the transmutation of living things, specifically animals.” Draco stood then, moving from his desk to the bookshelves behind it.
Harry stepped back, but he remained by the desk, putting distance between them again. “I thought alchemy was for turning lead into gold and that sort of thing.” Harry frowned as he watched Draco’s back, the twitch of his muscles. “Don’t roll our eyes at me, I’ve read maybe two books on the subject.”
“Obviously not very informative books,” Draco tossed over his shoulder as he finally found whatever book he was looking for, “You’re not wholly wrong though.” Draco turned back, sighing, “Transmutation of living things was outlawed centuries ago.”
Their eyes met. Green and grey. It was hard to look away, especially with the curiosity he was all too familiar with flaring up. The faint tremble as the stood in silence, just for a beat. Draco ducked his head, clearing his throat as he flippled through the book he’d taken from the shelf.
“People still do it, of course, mostly on small animals – squirrels and rats are very popular,” Draco started rambling as he looked through the book. He shrugged, waving one hand dismissively, “The fine is high if you’re caught, but for some it’s worth it.”
“And the human blood?” Harry focused back on the work. It was better that way. Less distracting. He rolled his shoulders back and approached Malfoy, watching over his shoulder as long fingers trailed over an old tome. The pages an odd shade of brown.
“Blood is necessary for many types of transmutations,” Draco still didn’t look up, even as he returned to his desk, “But given the changes made to the circle I would guess that whatever alchemist drew them was attempting to transmute something much bigger than a rat.”
Harry startled, lashes fluttering as his eyes widened. “We didn’t find anything that would suggest a large animal had been there.” It slipped out before he could bite it back. Harry cringed. He shouldn’t have said that, shouldn't have shared anything unnecessary about an active investigation.
“Then perhaps the creation survived,” Draco clicked his tongue and, finally, looked up. Their faces inches apart as he met Harry's gaze. He tapped at his book and Harry tore his eyes from storm grey to ink with a reddish tinge.
He understood all of one line at the top of the page – Theories on Human Transmutation.
“May I ask why you were searching the house?” Draco asked, eyebrows arching high.
Harry fidgeted, it was one thing to say what they hadn’t found, it was a whole other thing to talk about what they had. He avoided Draco's gaze entirely and bit into his bottom lip to keep himself quiet.
“Nevermind,” Draco huffed, standing abruptly. Harry jumped back as Draco stalked back to his bookshelves, “I don’t need to know.”
Harry rolled his eyes. It was a typical Draco move, brushing everything off like he didn’t care, like it didn't matter to him. Even when he did.
As if Draco Malfoy was above such silly things as pranks or jokes or basic human curipsity. A growl rose in Harry's throat and he swallowed it back. This tactic had infuriated Harry the most in school, more so than the attempts to degrade as a means of deflection.
“This is awkward,” Draco sighed, turned around again and leaning back against his book shelf. His shoulders slumped and his nose wrinkled. “It’s not just me is it?”
“No,” Harry exhaled. His heart raced and an insistent voice inside his head started screaming at the obvious emotional reveal. The voice sounded a lot like Ginny and Harry couldn't help but chuckle, head shaking as he ran a hand through his hair, “But I doubt we’re going to fix that.”
Draco nodded, head quirking to the side, “True.” He smiled, softly, and Harry’s heart went right to his throat.
He’d forgotten how much he liked it when Draco smiled – he’d done it so rarely when they were young. That slight tilt to his lips. The way his eyes lightened, almost warm. Stormy grey becoming molten silver as a faint pink blush rose on pald cheeks.
“Hypothetically,” Harry started, drawing Draco’s interest as he rocked back on his heels, “If sixth year had gone a different direction...” Draco’s face darkened, but Harry pushed forward anyway, “Do you think we –”
“Probably not,” Draco interrupted, eyes focused on his shoes. A glare, Harry expectrd, but when the man looked up again, he almost laughed, “I’m worse with my feelings than Weasley. Better at denying them too, if what I heard about him and Lavender’s break up that year were true."
Harry attempted to keep a straight face, but his lips twitched, “Ron’s much better at sharing than he use to be.” A snort and a rather pointed arch of both eyebrows told him Draco wasn’t buying it. Harry shrugged, “At least comparatively.”
“Comparatively,” Draco repeated, voice low. A dedp timber that had Harry's skin pebbling, especially aa Draco chuckled, “Children tend to have that effect. Wives even more so.”
Harry agreed, nodding towards the walls, “Scorpius seems like a good kid. Polite.”
“He is,” Draco smiled, full on, with teeth. Harry had never seen him do that and the air in his lungs seemed to burn as Draco brought a hand up to tug at his collar. A whine slipped from slim lips, “It’ll be difficult to adjust, when he goes off to Hogwarts in Septemeber.”
“So... you're sending him to Hogwarts then?” Harry arched his own brow this time. Draco frowned and he quickly explained, ruffling his hair again, “I’d heard a lot of the old families were picking Durmstrang lately.”
Draco scoffed, eyes rolling, "Yes, well, that aside, Scorpius wants to go to Hogwarts." Hands shoved in his pocket, Draco drawled, "He wants to be a Gryffindor in fact." Through gritted teeth, Draco deadpanned, "He’s very excited to meet Longbottom.”
“Neville?” Harry choked out. He dropped into a chair in front of the desk, mouth hanging open as he gasped? “Why would he want to meet him?”
“He wrote a book on herbology a few years back,” Draco grumbled, shuffling his feet.
Harry scrunched up his face in concentration, but the title of the book in question did not appear, though he knew exactly where it sat on their bookshelf at home, “Intro to Herbology?”
“Herbology for Beginners: How to Start Your Own Greenhouse or Garden at Home,” Draco recited the name from memory. His lips pursed tight, Draco rubbed at his temple, “It’s a favorite. Scorpius wants to be just like Longbottom now.”
“Bet your dad loves that,” Harry drawled, grinning at the face he imagined Lucious Malfoy making as his grandson went on and on about Neville Longbottom.
Draco laughed, the smile full of teeth returned as his head bobbed in a short nod, "It certainly makes the visits a bit more interesting."
Harry smiled ar the sight of it, at the warmth bubbling in his chest. This was nice. Or at least not as bad as he had imagined. Not bad at all really.
When he got back to his house that night after finding the alchemist – who had apparently been trying to make himself a wife – he found Ron and Hermione at the table with Ginny. The three of them chattering over a round of butterbeers.
Ginny grinned at Harry bas he ducked down to kiss her cheek. Her eyebrows wiggling and eyes burning as she asked, "How was Malfoy’s?”
“So you did go see him then?” Hermione perked up.
Harry shrugged, clearing his throat as he tugged off his cloak, “It was fine. His son starts Hogwarts in the fall with Albus and Rose actually.” Now it was Ron’s turn to perk up.
“Really?” Ron's shoulders tensed and his eyes narrowed, “Why would he send him there?”
With his own grin tugging at his lips, Harry chuckled, “Because Scorpius wants to be Neville Longbottom when he grows up.”
The room went silent as the four adults traded looks, and then swiftly erupted into laughter so loud it drew the attention of the five children playing upstairs.