Riptide

Draco knocked back another drink, beginning to wish he hadn't picked this particular pub to stop in after work. Granted, he needed a place to wind down before going home to Astoria and her latest charity project, but he hadn't realised that this particular establishment had become a karaoke bar since his last visit, years ago. Karaoke. A particularly heinous Muggle custom that he really wished hadn't come into the wizarding world.

Although the karaoke itself wasn't nearly as bad as he'd thought it would be. The three people who had gone up to sing since Draco had arrived had been passable, though the second one's voice was a shade too soft and kept getting lost in the accompaniment. Not that Draco cared; all he wanted was a nice, relatively quiet place to have a drink or two, maybe think over his day and work out his agenda for tomorrow. Take a bit of time for himself between the demands of work and home.

He flipped through today's report from the Leprechaun Committee, skimming it disinterestedly.

"All right, next up," the witch was saying, and Draco paused his reading and looked up at the stage.

Harry Potter was climbing onto the stage. What the hell?

Draco watched him curiously. Hadn't seen him in... how long? Potter was head of the Aurors, but although he and Draco both worked at the Ministry they didn't tend to run into each other much. When was the last time?

Draco thought for a moment. Probably last September, dropping their kids off at King's Cross. Not June; Astoria had picked up Scorpius a few weeks ago, when school had finished.

Potter got up on stage and took the microphone, looking at it with a slightly puzzled air, and then the music began. Lyrics floated in the air in front of him, and he started to sing.

Draco sat up, stunned. Potter was singing. He was singing. And it was... utterly breathtaking.

Breathtakingly bad.

Draco reminded himself to close his mouth as one by one the patrons of the pub hushed, all attention focusing on the man on the stage as he took them, note by excruciatingly wrongly-placed note, through A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love. A hideous oldie that Draco had never thought he could ever feel nostalgic about, but right now the thought of Celestina Warbeck crooning its insipid words was bringing tears to his eyes as Potter thoroughly and absolutely slaughtered the song past redemption.

Draco was going to have to Obliviate himself. It was that bad.

He shook himself impatiently. No it wasn't. Draco was just over-reacting because this was Harry Potter up there making a complete and utter arse of himself. And Draco's feelings for him re-defined the word "ambivalence," so of course this kind of self-induced public humiliation pushed all of Draco's buttons, as his brain struggled to decide whether to be highly gleeful, or painfully sympathetic.

Right?

He looked around. Apparently not. From the half-open mouths around the pub, gaping in frozen horror, he was not alone in his opinion of Potter's talent. Or rather, his stunning lack thereof.

And... oh God. He was even singing the extra verse, the one that the radio hadn't normally played but was on Celestina's Love's Charming Potion album. That dreadful album that Pansy's mother played every single time the Malfoys visited the Parkinsons, probably in hopes of putting Draco in the mood to ask for Pansy's hand in marriage.

And Potter was still singing. So badly that Draco was actually slipping into fond nostalgia for Pansy, for Merlin's sake, just to avoid thinking of what was happening onstage.

Draco ordered another Firewhisky, rather irate that he had to shout to get the bar man's attention, since the man was also gaping with morbid fascination at Potter's dreadful singing. This was a man who worked at a karaoke pub, who had surely seen more than his fair share of drunken, tone-deaf performances, and even he was stunned by this travesty. Draco downed his Firewhisky, hoping to dull his senses.

Finally. Thank God, finally, the anguish was over, and Potter was bowing, and the audience was evidently too traumatised to do anything other than clap mechanically in response to his bow. Or possibly in gratitude that he was finally done.

"All right, Al, now come on up here," Potter said, grinning down at a black-haired boy sitting open-mouthed at one of the front tables. The boy in question started, then shook his head in alarm. "Everybody, this is my son Al, and he's going to sing for you too. I've taught him everything I know about music," he said proudly, and an audible groan of dismay rose from the room. "And lucky for all of you, he's ignored me at every turn. Come on, Al!"

The boy was still looking horrified, as the other teenagers at his table clapped and cheered. Draco looked at him more closely - yes, he did look familiar. Al Potter, one of Scorpius' classmates.

"Yeah, Al, go on up!" shouted a young girl with fiery red hair.

"No!"

"You can't not go, mate!" said a dark young boy. "Not after your dad set you up like that!" He and the girl stood and started trying to pull him up, as the others at their tables roared with laughter.

"Lily! No--" Al struggled to keep his seat. "Freddie, geroff--" he pushed back at the other boy, "I don't want to--"

"You will get your arse up here!" shouted a redheaded boy, joining the other two gleefully dragging Al out of his chair. "Dad just sang, you berk. You cannot let that be the last impression people have of our family at this pub!"

Finally he was up on stage, and Potter gave him an affectionate clout on the back, leaning forward to say something into his ear. The boy chuckled and ran a hand nervously through his dark hair.

He took a deep breath, then spoke into the microphone. "All right, I suppose I have to do something to make up for that." The audience laughed. "Dad, please, next time, just threaten to take away my broom, all right?"

Potter laughed, sitting back comfortably with the kids at the front table and grabbing a beer.

Al took a deep breath, and started to sing. Something Draco didn't recognise, though it sounded vaguely familiar. Probably something Scorpius listened to when he was at home. And thank Merlin, Potter's son had a passable voice. Actually, a very nice voice, though hardly professional calibre. Of course, it was hard to tell. After the auditory torture of Potter's 'singing,' a screech-owl probably would've sounded musically pleasing. Draco glanced at Potter, sitting at the table, looking up at his son. Chuckling and nodding at something the redheaded boy said to him, glancing around the pub at the patrons now giving his son their rapt attention. His eyes stopped as he spotted Draco alone at the bar, then he gave Draco a grin and a silent toast with his bottle before turning back to the young girl with red hair as she talked excitedly into his ear.

ooo000ooo

The Daily Prophet, September 14th: The Fairytale Is Over?

It's true. This paper has now confirmed the shocking rumours that have been circulating in the wizarding community for several weeks: Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Man Who Reorganised the Auror Office, close confidant of former Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Ginny Potter, née Weasley, formerly of the Holyhead Harpies and sports writer for this newspaper, have ended their marriage.

"It's a shock, a complete shock," said close Weasley confidante Susan Bones. "We always thought those two were destined to be together forever."

"And the way it happened, too, it's just horrible," said Pansy Parkinson-Bletchley, a close friend of Potter. "She just walked out. After everything he did for her and her family, and for all of us, she just upped and left him. She's broken his heart. He'll never get over her."

Close sources are mum as to the reason behind the famous couple's split, but readers can rest assured that this reporter will get to the bottom of the story.

ooo000ooo

"Nah, c'mon, Hannah, jus' one more!"

Draco turned around, eyes widening at the sight. Good lord. Harry Potter, barely upright, shamelessly begging the proprietor of the Leaky Cauldron for one more drink.

"Harry, please," sighed Hannah Longbottom. "You've had more than enough."

"Have not. 'Sides, 'm getting a drink for my friends here, Tim an'... erm..."

"Catherine," said the dark witch standing next to Potter, with a highly amused smirk.

"Cathy, here. She's really smart, didyou know?" He gave Catherine a beaming smile. "Smart is sexy," he said earnestly, apparently catching the way her smile faltered slightly.

"Ah." Catherine rolled her eyes. "Of course. Sexy." Beside her, Tim sniggered.

"Hey, 's sloshed sexy?" Potter asked.

Catherine giggled. "Darling, if it were, you'd be a PlayWitch centrefold right now."

Draco couldn't help but agree as he took in Potter's slightly bloodshot eyes, stubbled cheeks, gently swaying posture.

How the mighty had fallen.

Potter laughed. "D'you know they asked me a couple of times? Take my kit off an' pose for that thing?"

Catherine giggled.

"No, 'm serious, 'n they pestered me til I told 'em I'd been horribly disfigured by Basilisk venom."

"You didn't!" said Tim, and Draco noted that he and the woman, though far more sober than Potter, had also very obviously been drinking as well.

"An' the only person I let see me was my darling 'n very understandin' wife. May've said somethin' about our kids bein' the product 'f some fancy spellwork too."

"Did that put 'em off?" asked Tim.

"Buggered if it didn'! They actually said some people had a kink fer that kind of thing!"

They laughed together, and Draco caught the witch's quick glance downwards.

Evidently, so did Potter. "Wanna know if it's true?" he asked, grinning.

"No!" She blushed a bit, then laughed. "All right, yes."

"Not gonna tell you," Potter said smugly. "'Nless you keep drinkin' with me an' Tim."

"Harry, come on, dear, you've had enough," said Hannah chidingly, glancing around the pub. "What would your children say?"

"They'd say, 'Dad, please don't tell the story about PlayWitch, 's soo embarrassing!'"

The three drunks shared a laugh and Hannah shook her head but relented, pouring them another round. Draco saw her surreptitiously water Potter's down.

Funny though, thought Draco. Potter didn't look like the tortured soul he'd seemed on the front page of the Prophet, his heart broken by his heartless Harpy of a wife.

Probably hiding it under a flood of alcohol. One of Potter's most annoying traits at school had always been his complete inability to look properly hangdog when life was tearing him down. And he still had it. Thank God Draco had grown up enough since then to be able to witness it without bitter resentment.

"Now, d'you promise you'll show me after we've had our drinks?" Catherine asked.

Potter... there was no other word for it. He giggled. "Nope. Sorry."

"Then why should I drink with you?"

"'Cause it's fun!"

"Aren't you worried that the Prophet'll get wind of this?" asked Tim. "Specially right now?"

"Nope! There's a spell on this place. Th'same as the spell on Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

"What spell?"

"What happens at th' Leaky, stays at th' Leaky. Right, Hannah?"

"Within reason," Hannah told Potter's drinking companions. "If it's a crime, or completely innocent in every way, you can tell other people. Otherwise, you can't. Standard at some pubs, actually."

"That's interesting," the dark-haired woman said. "I didn't know that."

"Well, it's not general knowledge."

"You haveta know somebody who owns a pub. They'll tell you. 'S good to know people who own pubs," said Potter. "I know lotsof people."

Draco gazed at him pityingly. Pathetic. He decided to leave, tossed a few coins onto the bar and had his glass halfway to his mouth to drain it when a heavy weight knocked him forward, spilling the contents of his glass down his shirt front. He swore and turned around to find Potter, leaning on the bar top, mouth slightly open and looking surprised and apologetic.

"Malfoy?" Potter said, glasses askew. "Malfoy. What're you doin' here?"

"Drinking," Draco said, brushing the front of his shirt. "Or rather, spilling."

Potter's mouth quirked in a small smile. "Lemme get you another one. 'S prob'ly my fault it spilled all over you."

"Yes it was," Draco said with distaste. "It's all right, Potter, you don't have to. I was leaving anyway."

"Then let me get rid o' th' spill at least." He took out his wand and Draco stepped back in alarm.

"You're drunk."

Potter's eyebrows went up. "So?"

"Never drink and charm."

Potter sniggered. "Y'sound like a public service announcement. "Friends don't let friends drink 'n Apparate,'" Potter said. "Lissen, don' worry, I've got plenty of practice banishing spilled drinks."

Draco nodded. Rather sad, actually. Potter was probably drunk on a daily basis these days. "You're here often, then?"

"Here? No, not really," Potter said distractedly, focusing on the spill. "Here, hold still. Seco," he said, and Draco's chest felt slightly warm. He ran his hand over the cloth, noting it was nicely dry and a bit softer than before.

"Thanks. Erm. Right. I'll just... go, then."

"Right. Nice seeing you, Malfoy," Potter said, and stumbled off to the toilet. Draco made his way to the exit, turning as Potter's voice rang out.

"Oi!" he shouted. "Who made this the ladies'?!"

Draco turned around in time to see a couple of young women exiting the women's toilet giggling. He rolled his eyes and left.

ooo000ooo

The Daily Prophet, October 11th: So Soon? Can It Be?

Despite rumours that celebrity couple Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley have been working on repairing the rift between them, the Prophet has now heard that lawyers are being called in, and a formal petition for divorce is in the works.

This comes as a shock to many, including most of the couple's closest friends, who appeared as stunned as the rest of us as the two very publicly ended their relationship.

The situation must be particularly difficult because not only do Potter and Weasley have three young children, but the ties between Potter and his in-laws has always been close. Ron Weasley, Potter's brother-in-law, has been his closest friend since their childhood, and his wife, Hermione Granger, has been Ginny Weasley's closest friend as well. Not only that, but Potter, Ron Weasley and Granger all worked together to bring down Voldemort 22 years ago, and Ron Weasley and Potter have been working together at the Auror Office since shortly after the war ended.

"That's a lot of history," commented Susie Dawlish, one of Potter's fellow Aurors. "A lot of closeness. To see it all end like this, it's just sad."

While Ginny Weasley has been notoriously absent from public view, Harry Potter has instead been seen drinking and carousing in public quite frequently. Without knowing the reasons behind the couple's split, who can say whether he is nursing a broken heart, or guilt?

ooo000ooo

Draco idly twirled the wine at the bottom of his second glass, turning it different colours. A spell Astoria had taught him during their first years together. She'd tried to teach it to Scorpius too, but somehow he always seemed to make liquids fizz instead of change colours. It wasn't that difficult, really... Scorpius just always had a difficult time with more delicate control over his Charms. Which had begun to interfere with his grades, according to his last letter home.

Maybe he needed a tutor. It wouldn't have mattered to Draco at that age - although he'd always been fairly good at Charms, so it wasn't an issue - but Scorpius was a Ravenclaw, and struggling for grades was as deadly in that House as having one's family fall out of favour socially was in Slytherin.

"C'mon. 'Mnot jokin'. Try it, you'll like it."

"It's 'sploding."

Draco turned around at the familiar voice, and rolled his eyes.

Potter. Sloshed. Again. How charming.

"Won' esplode when you swallow it. Jus' tingles." The disgracefully drunk witch with him was apparently trying to get him to imbibe something luridly purple and alarming, and Potter was apparently not drunk enough to take her up on it. Fascinating.

Draco turned back to his drink and his ruminations. It wasn't as though Scorpius were truly struggling; merely getting "Acceptable" on his course work, which apparently was an unforgivable sin in his House. Once more he wondered why Scorpius had Sorted there; mostly he was pleased, in that distancing themselves from Slytherin was probably a good thing for the Malfoy family, but it did make some school issues rather baffling to deal with.

"Fuck!"

Draco turned around and rolled his eyes again. Apparently Potter had foolishly decided to believe the woman, who was now almost urinating herself laughing as he tried to put out a fire inside his mouth.

What was this, now? Three times this year that Draco had run into Potter at a pub?

"Yer on fire for me," the witch slurred, and happily Potter apparently could not muster a more definite answer than a gurgle and hiss. "Wan' me to kiss'n make it better?"

Draco grimaced. Ugh, drunk pick-ups. He supposed it would be natural for Potter to start dating other people now that his own marriage was so publicly deceased, but doing it like this, drunk at a bar... somehow Draco would've expected better from him.

Potter was still coughing, smoke pouring from his mouth.

"You - lied!" he choked out, apparently trying to look outraged but it was hard to do so when you looked like a speccy hearth doused with alcohol.

"Should I try putting that flame a littlebit lower?"

"Fer what?"

"To set you on fire," the woman said, evidently trying to be coy, and Draco's eyes were beginning to hurt from the rolling. He turned away from them firmly, going back to changing the colour of his wine and just allowing the hum of the half-empty pub to wash over him and take away the various small dissatisfactions and annoyances of his day. It was that or go home, where Astoria was happily organising a benefit for Muggle-born artists or... whatever incomprehensible worthy project she'd latched on to these days. Orphaned Pixies? Troll Control? Here was better.

Although it was a bit annoying, trying to get himself into a relaxed and relatively content frame of mind when the soothing pub-hum kept being interrupted by Potter and his lady friend's increasingly stupid snippets of conversation.

"'Zat a wand in yer pocket or areya jus' happy t' see me?" slurred the witch, and Potter laughed.

"Tha's a good one," he slurred back. "Hang on, wha's another one... Oh! I know! 'F I said you had a beaudiful body, would y'hold it agains' me?"

Draco looked over at them, half annoyed, half curious. Potter was laughing, the witch giggling but looking a bit annoyed, as Potter evidently completely missed the subtle signs she was attempting to send his way.

He smirked in sympathy - either with the woman or Potter, he wasn't sure. She had a bit of a Bulstrode air about her. Not completely unappealing, but hatchet-faced, sturdy, and probably much better suited to throwing Potter over her shoulder and carrying him off to her lair than trying to play coy and simpering. Maybe Potter would like that. Or at least notice it.

"'F I tell you somethin', will you still respec' me in the mornin'?" she asked hopefully.

I certainly won't, Draco thought, but then, I don't respect you now, so...

"Depens what you tell me," said Potter.

Oh come, Potter, she's in heat, Draco thought impatiently. Take her to bed before her sensible panties catch on fire.

Ugh, bad image, that. Draco turned back to his drink. To thoughts of Scorpius and his probable need for a tutor, and the letter that they'd received from him the other day.

It didn't matter that Scorpius pretty much only ever talked about his lessons in his letters. Fifteen-year-old boys didn't write about their hopes or dreams, insecurities or disappointments. Draco certainly hadn't at that age. Hadn't had much to write about along those lines. Except for sixth and seventh year, when he would've died rather than share how he felt with his parents, even if it had been possible to do so.

Scorpius didn't have anything like that going on in his life. And that was a good thing.

And Astoria didn't seem to mind how superficial their son's letters were. Then again, Astoria didn't mind much, as long as she had her social events and benefits going on, filling their home with her busy, chatty, and somewhat vacant friends. Draco checked his watch, trying to decide how likely it was that his home was still infested, or whether he could chance going back.

One more drink, maybe. He signalled the bar and nodded his thanks as another glass came floating towards him, and took an appreciative sip, closing his eyes. Fairly good vintage, for a pub--

He opened his eyes in annoyance as his enjoyment of the wine was interrupted by a sort of squeak from the direction of Potter and his determined lady friend, and looked over at them.

Draco's eyebrows went up. The woman had now apparently decided to grasp the bull by its horns - ugh, delete that mental phrase - and had pulled Potter into an embrace that managed, somehow, to bring their mouths within slobbering distance.

Which appeared to hit Potter as completely unexpected. He was actually drawing back from her and for a moment Draco almost expected him to shriek in outraged modesty.

Then the part of him that evidently hadn't yet been totally drowned by alcohol caught up with him and, with a look of total bemusement, he leaned forward again, and they kissed.

Badly.

Draco couldn't help but snigger as their kiss continued. A for effort, C for technique, D for hotness. And seriously, if they couldn't get him hot after... how long since he and Astoria had had sex? They needed a manual.

For a brief instant he considered offering technical assistance. For which of them, he wasn't entirely sure.

Would that even out the years-old debt? Potter saving Draco's life twice and keeping him out of Azkaban, balanced against some timely advice on how to get the best out of bedding a sodden, besotted witch?

Amused and only slightly intrigued at the mental image, he tossed down a few Galleons and headed for home.

ooo000ooo

The Daily Prophet, November 7th: Together Again?

It's true. This paper has confirmed rumours that celebrity couple Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley have been seen together again, spotted at a Magpies-Cannons game last night. Witnesses say the two didn't seem to pay much attention to the game, talking together for most of the hour it lasted. Could this be reconciliation?

Close family friend Natasha Spinner asserts, "They are more in love than ever before. They're together all the time. They just haven't been seen together before now."

"He's forgiven her," she adds. "For breaking his heart and humiliating him in public. He's just said that's water under the bridge, and has welcomed her back with open arms."

But who can tell if - or when - the woman who broke Harry Potter's heart once will break it again?

ooo000ooo

"Malfoy? What are you doing here?"

Draco turned around, suppressing a sigh. Bugger it all, could he not go three days without running into Potter these days?

"Getting lunch," he said shortly, and realised as Potter's eyebrow went up that his tone had been a bit rude. "Sorry, it's been a long morning."

Potter nodded. "Yeah, for me too." They looked around the pub, almost bursting with the lunch crowd. Probably overflow from some sort of celebrity signing event at Flourish and Blotts next door.

"Oh this is going to take forever," Potter said, glancing at his watch.

"Are you in a hurry?"

"Yeah, disciplinary hearing in an hour." He glanced around. "Really don't have time for this..." he muttered under his breath.

"Disciplinary hearing?" Draco repeated. Good lord, for a department head? What the hell had Potter been up to lately?

None of my business, really, Draco reminded himself sternly. Potter's public devolution might be sucking half the wizarding world in to gape at the spectacle, poor sod; Draco certainly didn't have to join in.

Even if he was sort of tempted to.

"Yeah, it's going to be a bloody mess." Potter blew out his breath grimly. "Have you been waiting long?"

"About ten minutes. There's somebody else behind me, too, she's just gone to the ladies'."

There was a brief silence.

"Erm, do you come here a lot?" Potter asked politely.

"No, not that often."

Another silence.

"Ah, there we go," Draco said, relieved to see the head waiter coming to get him. "My table's free," he said, nodding a goodbye at Potter, who nodded back, checked his watch, and started to do up his outer robes again, obviously deciding not to wait for a table any longer.

"Potter," Draco said before he could stop himself. Potter looked back. "You can share my table, if you're in that much of a hurry."

Potter looked surprised, then gave him a relieved smile. "You don't mind?"

"Not at all," Draco said, and Potter followed him. "They are generally fairly fast here," he pointed out, not entirely sure why he hadn't just let Potter be on his way.

Curiosity? Charity?

"Yeah, it's good food too," Potter said. "Going to need it before the hearing."

"A formal hearing?" he asked, feigning disinterest, and they paused to allow the waitress to take their orders.

"Yeah," said Potter as she left. "It's hard enough fighting the baddies, but it's even harder fighting your own colleagues. Worst part of the job, really." Potter wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"I can imagine. What kind of thing gets a formal hearing?"

Potter shrugged. "One of the trainees that qualified last month has been fucking up with enormous frequency. Got blind drunk the other day and almost got her partner killed."

Draco whistled.

"Yeah, it's depressing," Potter said distractedly, as the waitress brought them their sandwiches. "We're not sure what's going on with the training department." He suddenly looked up. "Oh shit, and I probably shouldn't have said even that much. Forget everything I said."

"Is it confidential?"

"Well, no, not officially confidential. If it was, I wouldn't've said anything. But I am supposed to 'lead by example' and all that rubbish, and not talk out of shop." He took a bite of his sandwich, swallowed it. "So... what are you up to these days?"

"Still working at the Department of Magical Creatures," Draco said, noting with a bit of surprise that whatever sense of inferiority or resentment he might've once felt concerning the humdrum nature of his job and the glamour of Potter's was entirely absent.

"Right, I remember," Potter said. "Fourth level. Funny we never run into each other, working at the same place."

"I do seem to run into you everywhere else."

Potter nodded. "Yeah, I'm out a lot more these days than I used to be. Haven't seen you much..."

"You were... a bit under the weather the last time I saw you."

Potter frowned, then his face cleared and he grinned sheepishly. "Ah. Yeah, now I remember - I spilled your drink, didn't I?"

Draco nodded, deciding to be kind and not bring up the night he'd seen Potter and his pitifully persistent female companion.

"Sorry about that," Potter said, and chuckled. "I really went on a bender that night. Ron nearly went mental trying to hide me from Hermione when we went home."

"Weasley was there? I didn't see him."

Potter frowned. "At the Pony?"

"No, this was at the Leaky."

"Ah. Oh, right, I remember - Wednesday was the Leaky, right." Potter shrugged carelessly and tucked into his sandwich, and Draco winced inwardly. That was at least four nights in quick succession that he'd been making a pathetic idiot of himself in public - the karaoke bar, the incident at the Leaky, the inebriated public mating dance, and whatever had happened at the Pony that was bad enough that Ron Weasley had wanted to hide him from Granger's sight.

Poor sod. His liver was probably trying to work out how to ditch him for a more responsible host.

Well, Potter's loss was his gain, Draco supposed. Draco's own life might lack a little lustre these days, but thanks to Potter he could at least take comfort from the fact that his marriage wasn't crumbling on the front pages of all the wizarding papers, and his liver was still firmly in place, and grateful for its location.

ooo000ooo

The Inquisitor, December 22nd: Resigned? Off the Deep End?

Shocking rumours surrounding the personal and professional life of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, have been proven right. Harry Potter has indeed handed in his resignation to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, sources confirmed today.

Harry Potter first joined the Auror Office at the tender age of seventeen, without even having finished Hogwarts, and became Head of the department at the shockingly young age of twenty-seven, the second youngest Head ever appointed in the history of the department. (The youngest, Spenser "Spotty" Sinks, was fifteen when appointed and sixteen when demoted and imprisoned, after it was confirmed that he had used the Imperius curse on the Minister for Magic to obtain both the appointment, and the Floo address of a girl he fancied.)

"He says he's retiring," says a source close to Potter. "He told me he's tired of chasing criminals and spending all his time trying to save the wizarding world. Says he wants to do something more fun."

"Tired of being messed around by that wife of his, more like it," says close friend Neville Longbottom. "His performance as an Auror and head of department had deteriorated quite markedly of late. Probably didn't want to put anybody in danger."

Asked whether it was true his wife and he were reconciling?

"No, not at all. They hate each other. The reconciliation rumour was a complete farce. And I don't know how Harry's going to afford the divorce settlement now."

Stay tuned.

ooo000ooo

"All right then, goodbye, Scorpius," Draco said, shaking Scorpius's hand. He stepped back as Scorpius and two of his friends took hold of the Portkey and disappeared, and suppressed a sigh. He looked around, seeing that only a few groups of kids were left.

"Don't forget to write!" said a mother to her daughter and her daughter nodded before disappearing in a flash.

"I expect better marks from you this term," said another father sternly, and his daughter wrapped her Ravenclaw scarf a little tighter and nodded, taking hold of her Portkey and vanishing away.

He turned at the sound of a familiar voice, and was not surprised that Potter was here too, as the wizarding world appeared to have recently shrunk to the approximate size of an owl cage, with him and Potter inhabiting the same spot of real estate under the water dish.

"...and Lily, I can't believe I'm saying this but for God's sake, Quidditch is not the only thing in life. Better marks in Potions this term, or I'll tell Aunt Hermione and you'll get a Howler."

The girl nodded. "All right, Dad," she said quietly, then she grabbed her Portkey and spun away, along with her brothers.

Potter stood for a moment, looking a bit bereft, then turned to leave and noticed Draco.

"Malfoy," he said, and nodded pleasantly.

"Potter," Draco nodded back. They headed for the Portkey station exit and were stopped short by the security guard.

"Hold on everybody, there's going to be a bit of a delay."

"Why?"

"We'll let you know when it's safe to exit."

Draco and Potter stood, glanced at each other.

"Wonder what's going on," Potter said.

"Probably a busload of Muggles," Draco said. "Isn't the exit point near Trafalgar Square?"

"Yeah."

"Bloody stupid place to put it," Draco commented.

"Too right. Give me King's Cross any day. Who decided it's cheaper to do it this way at Christmas anyway?"

Draco shrugged, and silence descended again.

"Had a good holiday?" Potter asked.

"Yeah, fairly good. You?"

"Yeah, it's always nice to see the kids. I can't believe how big they are. When you don't see them for months it's like they shoot up overnight."

"I know. And Scorpius is acquiring the most appalling vocabulary." He considered commenting on the fact that apparently Scorpius was acquiring it from one of Potter's nieces, then decided against it. Not without knowing whether Potter was still speaking to his in-laws or not.

"Yeah, same with Albus," Potter said, smiling slightly. "And James - that's my eldest - is studying for his NEWTs, and going out with a Slytherin. Time flies."

They fell back into silence. Draco glanced at his watch.

"Do you have to be somewhere?" Potter asked.

Draco nodded. "Departmental meeting."

"What is it you do, anyway?" Potter asked. "I know you work for the Department of Magical Creatures, but what do you do there?"

"Deal with magical creatures."

"Yeah thanks, I worked that part out. But what do you do? Do you have a lot of contact with magical creatures?"

"No, not really. We have representatives out in the field, talking to magical creatures, making sure they're treated fairly, finding out their concerns. They bring their findings to us and we deal with them. You know, making sure nobody trespasses onto centaur lands, keeping Muggle ships out of merfolk waters, dealing with complaints of abuse to elves. Mostly involves a lot of meetings and Floo calls. A lot of paperwork."

Potter nodded. "Sounds like Auror work, then. Most people assumed I was out hunting Dark wizards all the time. Scary stuff. Usually involved a lot of highly dangerous meetings and memos." Potter smiled. "Which is why I quit. You're a better man than I, if you can deal with that kind of thing for a living."

Draco blinked. "I thought you left because..." you're slowly disintegrating in public.

Potter laughed. "Because my personal life was a mess?"

Draco shrugged uncomfortably. "I suppose so."

"Not really, I just got tired of the hassle."

"Not terribly fulfilling?"

"It was, for a long time. But things change. I realised I wasn't sure why I was there any more."

"Paid the bills, I suppose," Draco said.

"Yeah, there is that." He shrugged. "Money isn't everything."

Draco frowned. "Well, take my advice and invest in a good solicitor, Potter. It's amazing how many ex-spouses suddenly find the need to bleed their former partner dry."

"Ginny's not like that."

"If you say so. But it wouldn't do any harm to keep your eye on how much maintenance you're paying out every week."

"What?" Potter frowned, puzzled. "I'm not paying maintenance."

"Really?"

"We're not divorcing."

Draco stared at him.

"Besides, she's got plenty of her own money. She was with the Harpies for an awfully long time."

"But..."

"Oh good," Potter said, as the security guard popped back in and started letting parents back out. "Might not be late for work after all."

"I thought you retired."

"From the Aurors' Office, yeah," he said, and grinned. "New job now. Much more fulfilling."

"Where are you working?"

"Man has to keep some secrets. It's fun. Dunno how long I'll be there. We'll see. Anyway, see you, Malfoy."

"See you."

Draco watched him go, considering the empty space inside himself where his hatred of the man used to thrive. It seemed to have been drowned by hundreds of gallons of water under the bridge, and by everything Potter had done for him. He had swung uncomfortably between gratitude and resentment for a long time before finally accepting the hand fate had dealt him and moving on to focus on other things. Sometimes you had to grow up, even if you didn't want to, even if you wanted to hold on to your childhood grudges, stamp your bratty little feet with impotent rage and plot revenge.

Well, life was doing that enough to Potter, stamping all over him. If Draco had ever wanted revenge, Potter's current situation probably went beyond what he could've asked for. Although he couldn't help but notice that Potter didn't seem, outwardly at least, to be crushed under the weight of his losses. Even as a loser, he was losing it in style.

And no, that didn't make Draco resent him. Or admire him. Not at all.

ooo000ooo

The Quibbler, March 5th: Disappeared?

Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world and on-again, off-again jilted husband of Ginny Weasley, has disappeared.

Is foul play suspected?

"It's hard to tell, at this point," says an unnamed source from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "He's just been so erratic for so long, it's difficult to predict what's going to happen next."

And what about his family? Do they know anything?

"No idea," says George Weasley, brother-in-law of Potter and proprietor of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, where Potter has often been seen of late. "As far as I know, he's just on holiday. Now unless you want to buy a Farting Frisbee, shove off."

That kind of cavalier attitude is almost certainly not appreciated by his children, who must be worried that their father has vanished without a trace. Then again, it is highly possible that they have joined the rest of the Weasley family in turning their backs on Potter, after his split from Ginny Weasley.

Will he ever come back? How long will he be missing before his so-called family and friends get worried? Considering Potter was an Auror, and then headed the Auror Office for many years, and has made more than a few serious enemies, his disappearance should probably not be taken lightly.

ooo000ooo

Draco looked up from the report he was reading, annoyed at the sudden influx of noise from a large crowd that had just shown up at the pub. And oh, wonderful, it looked like they were settling into a set of tables close to his, where he'd be able to hear every word they shouted and probably have to give up on the report he was determinedly slogging through. Might even have to go home if they got too loud.

He frowned, realising as the crowd settled that some of them looked familiar. No, couldn't be...

He blew out his breath in slight irritation. That was definitely Ginny Weasley, sharing flirtatious looks with a handsome but rather stupid looking young blond man. An assortment of people were sitting down with them, but, no surprise, Potter wasn't among them. Draco recognised Luna Lovegood, and a Weasley-looking man Draco was almost sure was Percy Weasley, former Hogwarts Head Boy. There was also a man and a woman Draco didn't recognise, and an assortment of predominantly redheaded older children and teens, some of whom Draco was sure he recognised from King's Cross and the karaoke bar Potter had tortured last summer.

"...why don't unicorns like boys?" one of the youngsters was asking.

"Because boys smell," the youngest redheaded girl said promptly.

"Lucy," said Ginny Weasley reprovingly.

"They do," said Lucy, and a spirited discussion sprang up among the kids. Draco turned away, not particularly interested in eavesdropping on conversations among people who weren't even Potter. He went back to his reading.

Not that he needed to eavesdrop on Potter's conversations either.

He looked up as his drink arrived, glancing at the rowdy table again. The unicorn discussion appeared to have ended with no casualties, though it seemed the general theme of the night was magical creatures.

"... Thestrals look like, then?" asked one of the boys.

"Ugly," said the woman sitting next to Percy Weasley. "Ugly horse skeletons."

"You can see them?" asked another boy.

"Yes," she said tersely.

"Mum can see them too," said another girl. "And Uncle Percy and Aunt Luna too."

"Who did you see die?" asked Ginny's blond companion, and she gave him an annoyed and slightly disbelieving glance before pursing her lips and answering.

"Too many people," she said curtly. "But Sirius Black first."

"And you?" the man asked Lovegood.

"My mum," said Lovegood serenely. "And then a lot of others."

"My brother Fred, first," said Percy shortly as the man looked at him.

"Thestrals sound so cool!" he said enviously. "Wish I could see them!"

"No, you don't," Percy said coldly. "I certainly wish I couldn't."

"And we can probably lose this topic any moment now," Ginny said, equally coldly. Her companion gave her a puzzled glance, which she returned icily.

Draco gazed at their table thoughtfully as the conversation carried on. Other than the slight chill between Potter's ex and the blond man next to her, the rest of them seemed to be enjoying themselves, now that they weren't talking about Thestrals. Certainly Potter's children didn't seem to be missing him, though he wondered where the other son was, the one who'd sung onstage at the karaoke bar. Maybe with Potter?

Maybe not. Nobody seemed worried. Strange; Potter seemed to have loved his kids a great deal. Maybe he had told them where he was going. It was difficult to say.

And it wasn't any of his business, really. No matter that it made him actually feel for Potter, in a way that even the semi-entertaining drunken encounters had done. This wasn't amusing at all.

He checked his watch; nine o'clock, probably late enough. He closed his report, paid for his drink and went home, finding Astoria in the parlour, playing the piano.

"Oh you're home early," she said, giving him a warm smile and continuing her song.

"Thought you were hosting the Mermish Outreach Alliance tonight?" he said.

"Oh no dear, that was last week." She smiled at him again, frowning slightly as she reached a difficult passage in her piece. He nodded. Excellent; Mermish Alliance meetings always filled the house with weird ululating cries, and he'd gone to the pub tonight to avoid it.

He kissed her cheek and went upstairs to finish his reading, still musing on the large family he'd seen at the pub, the way they seemed to get along despite their huge numbers. He'd never had that. Never really wanted it. Small was better; far less noise and conflict, certainly. Most of the time he and Astoria didn't even need to talk. Not that she would have had much to tell him, if she did.

He went into the study, finding a note from Astoria on his desk. Dear, I asked Gitchi to make you some of that pudding you liked so much last week. Tap on the parchment when you want it and she'll pop in.

He smiled and tapped on the parchment, cheered by the small pudding. So typical of Astoria. Eternally cheerful and thoughtful and sunny. Idly he wondered what it might be like to be so satisfied with one's life, so serene. He'd certainly never know.

Ginny Weasley certainly didn't seem serene; not only was her marriage on the rocks, but the pretty dolt she'd been with at the pub hardly seemed like he was keeping her happy, judging from the cold, contemptuous look she'd given him. Draco had never seen Astoria look like that. Didn't think she was capable of it.

Granted, the dolt had been acting quite the prat. He looked somewhat younger than the other adults at the table, but even schoolchildren knew about the Second Voldemort Rising and would probably know enough to understand that it wasn't a topic to be bandied about lightly. Asking "who did you see die?" as guilelessly as a child might ask it. Wishing he could see Thestrals. Even Astoria wouldn't be that clueless.

Draco settled himself comfortably in his chair, took a small bite of custard tart, and commenced reading once more.

ooo000ooo

The Inquisitor, May 5th: Reconciled?

Can it be? Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, who has been in a severe downward spiral for months as his marriage with former Harpies Chaser Ginny Weasley dissolved and who completely dropped out of sight for over two months, prompting fears for his safety, has been seen around town lately with none other than his estranged wife. Though not the first reconciliation we have seen, this one seems serious. And the question we're all asking is, When will they make up their minds? And can anything be saved of this once fairytale marriage? What with persistent rumours of adultery, alcohol abuse, bizarre public behaviour and a worrisome and a months-long - and as yet unexplained - disappearance, it's doubtful that any but the most skilled Seers could predict how this particular story will end.

ooo000ooo

What the--

Harry Potter was back.

... sort of. Harry Potter with dark skin, more than a few days' worth of stubble, hair cut so brutally short it looked like a layer of black fuzz, a gold hoop in one ear, and tattoos on the tanned arm that he was extending to the bar.

Harry Potter, Pirate Lord of the British Isles.

Facial hair did not flatter him at all, Draco decided. Nor did the crew cut. He looked very... healthy, though, and larger than life somehow. For a slight man, he certainly had a lot of presence. Animal magnetism.

Draco immediately winced. Animal magnetism? Where did that come from? Memo to self: hands off the trashy romance novels Astoria left in a stack in the bathroom.

Animal magnetism or no, once again, Potter was feeling no pain. Draco wondered if he'd spent the entire time he was missing in a drunken haze.

And now he was approaching Draco, because apparently life didn't hate Draco enough at this point in time. It had to present Potter to him in a way that suddenly made Draco remember that he had sometimes batted for the other team, and then send him, tanned and scruffy and almost radiant, straight in Draco's direction.

Draco scooted back on his bar stool, looking down and avoiding eye contact, as Potter came to the bar and ordered something, his voice lost in the loudness of the bar. He reached out to get his order - two beers, looked like - and Draco squinted, getting a look at his forearm. A stag, a doe, and two wolves darted around his arm, and a phoenix dove down among them.

"Malfoy?"

Bugger.

"Potter, hello. You're back."

"Yeah, I'm back. How are you?"

"Fine, thanks. Yourself?"

"Good, good," Potter said, popping open his bottle and taking a long drink.

"I heard you were away," Draco said, to cover the awkwardness that Potter didn't seem to feel.

"Yeah, I was travelling for a bit."

"Nobody knew where you'd gone?"

Potter laughed. "Oh did you read that? My kids had a great time with that, sending me clippings of their 'mysteriously missing' Dad."

Draco blinked. "What? Was that some sort of hoax?"

"Was what a hoax - oh you mean did they tell the paper I'd disappeared? Oh God no. At least I hope not." He frowned briefly. "Should probably ask James about that, now that I think about it. No, as far as I know they just read it in the papers same as everyone else. 'Cept that they knew where I'd gone. Or rather, no, they didn't know, but they knew I was all right."

"And they sent you owls of the papers?"

"Yeah, it was fun." He grinned. "I wouldn't be surprised now, come to think of it, if James helped that along on purpose, feeding the papers bits and pieces. Or maybe deliberately made my situation sound more dire than it was. I can just see him now, 'No, we don't know where our dad's gone... if you find out, could you tell us? We're just about going mental...' which was true, actually. I didn't tell them, they were going spare."

"Why didn't you tell them?"

"Wanted it to be a surprise. They didn't know till they followed the Portkey I sent them."

"Wait. What?"

"Oh, I went on holiday," said Potter cheerfully. "Sort of bounced around South America and Asia for a few weeks, sending them hints about where I was. Then when I found a nice spot, I sent for them. They were there with me for the last week. Marvellous time." He laughed. "They weren't so pleased when they first got there, though. I'd hinted that I was somewhere cold, so they got there all bundled up, only to find we were in São Gwydion. Heart of the Amazon rainforest."

Draco nodded, picturing a group of children dressed up in layers of Weasley-style cast-off clothes. It wasn't a pretty image.

"Great wizarding community," Potter said, not seeming bothered by the fact that Draco wasn't contributing to the conversation at all.

"Harry?" a tall man appeared at Potter's side. "Where's my order?"

"Oh! Phil, here, sorry, forgot." Potter flashed the other man a smile and handed over a bottle. The other man took it, glancing sharply at Draco.

"Phil, this is Draco; Draco, Phil," Potter said. "The boys loved it. They even found a magical tattoo parlour, pestered me till I got some done. Like them?" He held out his arm and Draco nodded politely, noting that one of the wolves was in fact a dog. A large, black dog, drawn so realistically it wouldn't've surprised Draco in the least to hear him bark.

"I like them too," said Phil, and casually slung an arm over Potter's shoulder. Draco glanced from him to Potter, whose smile had become a bit strained.

"Phil, I'll be back in a minute, yeah?" he said easily, and Phil gave Draco another glance before practically lunging at Potter and snogging him deeply. He turned away with a smirk, giving Potter what was probably meant to be a coy wink before heading off.

Draco suppressed a gag with great effort, and looked at Potter. Potter's expression was a toss-up between irritated and amused. As he met Draco's eyes, amused won out, and he laughed.

"I'm sorry, that was... that's Phil. He's a bit possessive."

"You're... erm... involved? With him?"

Potter tilted his head to the side. "Ah. Well. Erm." He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "'Yes' doesn't sound right, somehow. 'I don't know' makes me sound like a right prat. Going into an explanation would probably require me to share waay too much information for both of us. So I'm gonna say 'No,' and hope Phil doesn't hear, or he's gonna hex my balls off." He took a long swig from his bottle, then nodded to himself. "Right. And that's not a good sign. I think I've just talked myself into a solid 'No,' for real."

Draco blinked. What the... "Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm not drunk," Potter said laughing. "I may look like a refugee from a Muggle pirate flick, and be deciding the fate of a romantic relationship based on a conversation with you, of all people, but I'm actually not drunk, believe it or not." He pushed off the edge of the bar. "Nice seeing you, Malfoy. And, erm... thanks for helping me decide the Phil question. If you read in the papers that I'm bollocks-less, you'll know it's because I dared to break up with one of the neediest blokes I've ever met. Who's also barking-at-trees insane on occasion."

Draco couldn't help laughing with him as he headed off. Speaking of barking-at-trees insane...