Work Text:
A quick breeze wrapped around them. Spring had come late this year, highly anticipated by magic folk and Muggles alike. The season’s blessing of life had turned the park’s grounds green, unabashedly defying the dark and lingering strain of winter. Fountains erupted water high into the sky where the wind forced it astray, wisping into a fine mist. Passersby filtered past the fountain, urgent to get here or there. Muggle or not, it was hard to tell these days.
Two elderly wizards sat close together on a bench, delicately holding hands. They had both been tall once, but no spell of preservation was enough to challenge nature’s effect of aging. One had a thin build, sharp features that had only lengthened with the years. He had grey eyes and short, bright white hair. The other had become a bit round over time, but still carried a strength, earned from a lifetime of hard work. His hair had greyed, but remained the disheveled mess he had worn his entire life. Round-framed spectacles sat upon a nose that had seen its share of breaks; behind them the most green eyes. Just then the wind kicked up again, pushing up his bangs to reveal a faint line in the shape of a lightning bolt on his forehead. Each was wearing dashing dress robes that had been fitted by masterful Wizard tailors.
“A bit windy today, don’t you think Potter?” posed the thin man.
“I like it,” the man in glasses answered, “reminds me of playing Quidditch.” A smile creeped onto his face. It must have been thirty years since he had mounted a broom.
“Don’t think of that, you’ll only get upset when you remember how much better a Seeker I was than you.”
“Watch it, Malfoy, I might just have to put a curse on you, turn you into a frog perhaps?”
“Oh, bother. You didn’t even finish school, you old man. To even attempt such advanced Transfiguration would probably send you straight to St. Mungo’s!”
They sat there, having their usual back and forth for a few more minutes, one always eagerly awaiting the other’s retort. The man with glasses looked down at his watch, “We should get up if we’re going to be on time.”
“After you, darling. Although I can’t believe you’ve talked me into going to another Weasley wedding. This must be the hundredth one we’ve attended.”
“Well, love, who knows how many more we’ll get to see.”
They sat for a few more moments. Malfoy grabbed Potter’s hand tight and said, “There’s something I want to say to you. Scared, Potter?” resting his head on his partner’s shoulder.
“You wish,” and they looked into each other’s eyes.
“We did it… we grew old together.”