Riptide

The Inquisitor, May 17th: Adultery?

Could it be? The Inquisitor has learned that at the heart of the estrangement between Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and his wife Ginny Weasley, there may be nothing less than adultery. Specifically, Weasley, of Harpies fame, has been spotted out and about town with Joseph (Joey) Kinnel, the current Puddlemere Keeper.

"They're a little too chummy," says close Weasley friend and WWN Anchor Lee Jordan. "I've always thought there was something awfully strange about that friendship. Everybody knew that she stayed in his hotel room a few times, while they were playing. Which nobody wanted to talk about at the time, of course. It's a shame that this has come up; we all thought Ginny and Harry's marriage was getting back in shape, and now this is sure to ring the death knell on it."

There are of course two sides to every story, this reporter would like to point out. After all, sometimes a wife who goes behind her husband's back only does so because he has neglected her. Could this be the case with Mr. Potter?

ooo000ooo

Draco squinted at the items on the bottom shelf. Of all the things for Scorpius to have asked him to do...

He had really hoped that once his son had got over the Weasley crush he'd had last year that they'd heard the last of that bloody family. Then again, he'd also hoped that since Molly Weasley was a Ravenclaw like Scorpius, a year older than Scorpius, and the daughter of Percy Weasley, she wouldn't be of the same mould as the rest of her clan. No such luck. The girl had been impulsive, stubborn, and had a mouth like a sailor. And a knack for impotence charms when crossed, apparently, though Scorpius had maintained that she'd hexed him with spots. Draco had only found out about the impotence because Tracey Davis, Madam Pomfrey's replacement, had once been in Slytherin, and thought to inform Draco of his son's business.

Next Scorpius had moved on to one of the Weasley boys, this one a year younger and a Gryffindor to boot. Hadn't lasted as a romance, but the two had somehow remained good friends afterwards anyway. And now Scorpius was apparently again going out with another fellow Ravenclaw, Granger's daughter Rose. And had asked Draco to go to his chum's dad's shop to pick out a WonderWitch product for her.

Really, he and Astoria should've waited another ten years before reproducing, rather than doing so in the midst of an epidemic of Weasleys. Scorpius appeared to be working his way through the ranks of Weasleys, and Mother sometimes had to bite her lip raw and bloody to not say anything about it at family dinners. Draco had had to remind her several times that it wasn't as though Scorpius had much of a choice in the matter; if he didn't date Weasleys, he'd probably be celibate.

Which didn't seem like such a bad plan, at the present moment in time.

No. At the present moment in time, this particular Weasley girl was going to have to like whatever Draco picked. Though perhaps he should tell Scorpius that if he wanted to impress his girl with a joke gift, he'd bloody well have to not get a detention next time there was a Hogsmeade weekend.

Perhaps he should tell Scorpius nothing of the sort. Scorpius so rarely turned to him for anything, so rarely let him in on what was going on in his life, other than the bare facts of what subjects he was taking and the name of whoever he was going out with. His son had asked Draco to help him out and by Merlin, he was going to.

He was gazing at the small flask he'd picked thoughtfully when a voice behind him startled him.

"Did you find what you wanted?"

He turned around and... of course. Who else?

"Potter," he said, rubbing the spot between his eyes which had suddenly begun to twitch.

"Malfoy. I won't ask what you're doing here," Potter grinned.

"Thanks."

"Did you find what you wanted?"

Draco frowned at him. "Yes, I suppose so. You?"

Potter tilted his head to the side, amused, and Draco noticed his attire. Merlin. What an atrocious colour of --

He blinked. No. Couldn't be. But there it was, in lurid goldenrod-on-fuchsia, WWW emblazoned across Potter's chest.

"This. Is your new job."

Potter nodded cheerfully. "Four months now."

Draco just gaped. "You were Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. And now you work at a joke shop."

"Brilliant, isn't it?"

Brilliant. "You're a stock boy? Cleaner?"

"Nope! Sales assistant, and I help George with inventions. He's going more into sports pranks, so I've been helping to develop some new brooms. No idea yet how big they'll be, but the nice thing about George's business is, it does well enough that he can afford to research the most bizarre ideas in the world. And if they fail, it doesn't matter."

Draco realised he was still blinking stupidly. "You're a sales assistant. Here. How..."

"Is that what you wanted?" Potter said, indicating the bottle.

"What? Oh. Yes. I think so, anyway." Draco looked back at the small bottle. "To tell you the truth, I'm not really sure. My son wanted it for... erm... for a girl he's interested in."

"He's going to give a Wheezes product to a girl he likes? That's brave. Or foolish."

"Probably both. A... friend of his suggested it."

Potter tilted his head to the side. "This girl wouldn't be Rose, would it? Rose Weasley?"

Draco's eyebrows went up.

"You do know my son Al's in their year, right? He told me he thought those two might be... erm."

They looked at each other uncertainly for a moment, then Draco blew out his breath.

"Yes. Rose Weasley, God help us."

Potter laughed. "She's a good girl. Though she's not much like either of her parents. And she really likes Scorpius, too." He cleared his throat. "So does Al, by the way. He's had nothing but good things to say about him. Says he's very bright."

Draco nodded, highly surprised and inexplicably quite pleased.

"So," Potter said, looking at the shelves of WonderWitch Daydream products with a businesslike air. "If it's Rose he wants to impress, don't go for this one. Rose doesn't much like flower gardens; forests are more her thing. This one," he picked up a different bottle, "even has a unicorn in it. Very realistic."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah, it's a big hit. She might want to share it with her friends, too, make her even more popular. I think she'll like it."

Draco followed Potter to the till and waited for Potter to ring his purchase through and hand him his package. He took it, nodded thanks, hesitated, then found himself speaking before he could stop himself. "What else has your son said about - no, it's none of my business." He felt his face grow warm, and hoped Potter couldn't see it.

"About Scorpius?"

Draco nodded, feeling foolish. Stupid, he knew, to care what his classmates thought of him, but Scorpius was such a mystery to him...

"Let's see... clever, funny, good Chaser, abysmal taste in Weasley cousins..."

Draco laughed unexpectedly. "Really?"

"You do know he was seeing Molly for a while?"

"Yes," Draco said, striving for a neutral tone of voice. "And Fred."

Potter chuckled. "Yeah, Freddie's not bad, but I'd cringe a bit if one of my boys took up with Molly too," he said. "Though she does have a good sense of humour. Worked here a few summers. George had to let her go after she got shirty with one too many customers." He glanced at his watch. "Speaking of working here, it's my lunch break." He started to unbutton his work robe. "George?" he yelled towards the back of the shop.

"Yeah!" came back a faint voice.

"Going for lunch!"

"No problem!"

He hung up his work robe and headed for the door, motioning Draco ahead of him through the front door. "Have you met Rose yet?" he asked. "Other than at the station twice a year?"

"No, not really. Scorpius hasn't told me much about her."

"She's wonderful. Really. She likes Scorpius very much, too. Did even before they started going out."

Draco nodded, nonplussed, wondering if Potter somehow knew more about Draco's son than Draco did himself. Potter stopped at the Prancing Pony, his hand on the door, and Draco wasn't going to ask him what else she'd said about him. Wasn't going to ask him what he knew about Scorpius and how Scorpius was really doing at school, what he was really like...

Potter looked at him curiously. "Have you had lunch yet?"

"What? No."

"D'you want to join me?"

Draco considered it for a moment. He supposed it was only polite; he had, in a way, invited Potter to lunch with him once, a few months ago; turning him down now, when he'd just said he hadn't had lunch yet, would be rude. "All right, yeah."

"They're fairly quick here," Potter said, leading Draco to a small table at the back. "I usually stop by for lunch on my Saturday shift. The menu's not huge, but it's good food. Hello, Taryn." Potter smiled as a petite waitress appeared next to their table and rattled off the day's specials to them, taking their orders with a friendly smile.

"So... it's a regular thing, then, this job?" Draco asked after she left.

"You mean, am I on the rota and everything?" Potter grinned. "Yeah. It's been great so far. Pretty stress-free, as long as you don't mind being Transfigured into a footstool on a regular basis. Not that George doesn't take his business seriously, but it's not like the Ministry. If things go wrong it's hardly a disaster. And it's great being responsible only for myself, and not a score of other people waiting for me to mess up."

Draco realised he was staring, and tried to stop.

"What?" Potter looked down at himself. "Do I look odd in some way?"

"What? No."

Potter didn't seem convinced, and checked himself over again. "Occupational hazard of working at Wheezes. Yesterday George sent me home with my face lime green with flourescent yellow polka dots. Didn't notice till I got home." He quickly ran a hand over his hair. "Think it was revenge for last Monday; I made a procession of pink ducks follow him home. Everybody could see them but him." He cast another quick look over himself, then looked back at Draco. "So what is it?"

Draco shook his head, telling himself it was really none of his business... but to hell with it. He cleared his throat. "You just seem very... erm. I would've thought, with everything in the papers..."

Potter laughed. "You'd thought I was some kind of nutter who'd gone off the deep end since my wife ditched me and started spreading her, um, charms, around the entire Quidditch world?"

Draco made himself not gape, startled again by Potter's disorienting ease with the topic of his marital woes and front-page fodder status. "Something like that, yes," he said cautiously. They paused as their waitress came back with their orders, and Draco was pleased to note that Potter was right. The food was rather good.

"You really shouldn't believe everything you read, you know," Potter said, taking a bite of his curry. "It's usually about one third right, one third warped, and one third completely made up." He hesitated for a moment, then leaned a bit closer, his face growing serious. "See, what actually happened was the wife realised she was a dyke."

"What?!"

"Well, not technically, not right away; she just said she really wanted to try women. Thought I was the luckiest bloke alive for a while, until she told me she didn't want me watching any more."

Draco gaped.

"Then she said that her girlfriend wanted to get serious."

"So she... left you for a woman?"

"And not just any woman." Potter shook his head sadly. "Someone I could never compete with."

"Who?"

"Minerva McGonagall."

Draco choked. "What?!"

Potter's mournful look disappeared and he burst out laughing. "Good God, Malfoy, I'm joking."

"What?"

"My God, can you imagine, McGonagall?" He chuckled some more. "It was nothing like that. Nothing that interesting, anyway."

"The papers seem to think differently."

"I know," Harry said, shaking his head. "Ridiculous, aren't they? The fact is, we're just taking a break from each other. We're not actually divorcing - not yet, anyway - and I don't think she's thrown any chandeliers at me, like the Inquisitor claimed. Or hexed my nostrils closed or jinxed my privates off, like the Quibbler said. Really think I'd've noticed that last one. Although to be honest, she is pretty good with Obliviate spells; says they all used them on their mum when they'd been really bad. Although by 'all' I think she means herself and the twins."

"So you don't hate each other then," Draco said, bringing Potter back to the topic.

"You're not working for the Prophet, are you?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Give me some credit."

"Right. No, we don't hate each other. We're just seeing if we still want the same things. We realised we'd been together on and off since we were fifteen and sixteen, and that's a long time. And with the kids away at school, the house was pretty empty, and you know, empty nest syndrome or something. It wasn't working. So we decided to take a break. 'Re-evaluating our priorities,' she called it. Think she got that one from Hermione." He smiled. "Plus she said she didn't want to be one of those pathetic people who does the mid-life crisis thing, so we should get to it before it could be called that." He took a bite of his rice. "Then while we were at it I realised that I also wasn't that interested in being an Auror any more. We've both always just done what was expected of us, you know? I've been fighting baddies my entire life, and it was getting ridiculous. And the crimes I was dealing with... sorry, I'm not Percy Weasley, who's devoted his entire life to defending the wizarding world against overly thin cauldrons and contraband flying carpets. You know? I got an image of myself twenty years from now, with a beer belly and nothing to talk about but tales of glory from my younger days, fiddling away the rest of my life organising departmental meetings and teambuilding workshops. Decided life's too short for that crap."

"So you quit your job, but you're still married, then? No plans to end that?"

"I love her, a lot," Potter said thoughtfully, ignoring his question. "And I don't regret the twenty-odd years we've had. But we're not the same people we were when we got together, and we both needed to know. If we were meant to stay together."

"And are you?"

"Dunno yet."

Draco took a sip of his drink. "It all sounds so civilised."

Harry blinked at him, then burst out laughing. "You have obviously never met my wife," he choked out. "Let's just say that the... civilisation," he sniggered, "you see today wasn't exactly built overnight."

"And this 'exploring' now involves both of you sleeping with other people as well, I gather?"

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, sometimes."

"And she's all right with that?"

Harry narrowed his eyes a bit. "She's all right with it, yeah. Like I said, she's the one who suggested it. To be honest I wasn't terribly thrilled at first. Had this sort of... chest-monster thing going, actually."

"A what?"

"Never mind, bad metaphor. I mean I was jealous."

Draco blinked. Who on earth described jealousy as a chest monster? Chest monster sounded like heartburn. Jealousy burned in the gut. Like envy. At least, how he imagined it felt like, because although he'd had plenty of opportunities to feel envy, he'd never felt jealousy. The idea of Astoria ever cheating was too laughable to take seriously.

Which was a good thing.

"You wife was fairly... popular back in school, wasn't she?" he said carefully.

"Popular?" Potter smirked. "I'm sure you Slytherins had a more colourful description, didn't you?"

Draco wasn't sure whether to share it or not. Not the done thing, to refer to a fellow's wife - or even ex-wife - as a slut.

"She wasn't, you know. Whatever you all called her. She was pretty, and a few blokes asked her out, but she went out with a grand total of three in seven years. Bewildering, the reputation you can get doing that." He took a bite of his curry. "Anyway. We finally worked it out, came to an agreement about how we were going to spend the next few years. And it's been good so far."

"So you're exploring."

"With other people, with a new job in my case, travelling... oh and Ginny's taken up art." He sniggered. "She's pants at it, though. Made a sculpture of poor Al that looked like a bad day at the morgue. Anyway, that's all that's going on. It's worked out pretty well for us. Mostly. We still get together fairly often, though we try to do it away from the public most of the time. The stories in the papers are funny, but they do get a bit annoying eventually. Not to mention my friends are getting tired of being mentioned in there all the time." He shook his head ruefully. "George and Ron and I almost had to tie Lee Jordan down to stop him blowing up Skeeter's house the day she quoted him, and Neville," he laughed, shaking his head. "Ah, poor bloke."

"You mean he hadn't spoken to the papers?"

"Are you joking? Neville? The bit they 'quoted' didn't even sound anything like him. He says Bertha Buggles grabbed him coming out of Honeydukes and fired off a load of questions and by the time he'd worked out what she was on about, her Quick-Quote Quill had taken down about a paragraph from him. Says the most he got out was, 'Wha? Harry? Oh yeah, he's a--' and then he tripped over his robe and said a few things that weren't printable, and then the last thing he actually said was 'Bugger, don't write that down!'"

Classic Longbottom. Even professorship couldn't gift him with coherence.

"So we try to get together in private these days. Actually, we're trying to be a bit more discreet about a lot of things. Bloody annoying, but you get used to it. And it's not always so bad. Take this alcove we're sitting in, for example. It's got a privacy spell built in, you only pay a little extra for it, and it happens to be the best seat in the house."

"So how long is this exploring going to continue?"

"James leaves Hogwarts this year, then he's going to travel for a year. Then he'll be back home for good - well, for a few years anyway, hopefully - and Albus'll also be done with school that year, and Lily two years after that. We've given ourselves until two years from now to work it all out."

Draco nodded, forcing his face into impassivity. He was, frankly, a bit repelled. Just up and abandoning one's marriage, one's life, all of one's responsibilities, out of... what? Boredom? Thinking nothing of appearing in the papers, not caring what it might do to one's children to have their parents gossiped about. Not much caring what it did to one's friends to also be front-page fodder, and all for the sake of... a need for adventure? Selfishness?

"Well. It all sounds very... interesting," he said, struggling to keep his disapproval from his face.

"I'd highly recommend it, actually," said Potter. "To anybody who's wondering where they are in their life. Wondering if what they're doing is right for them." He glanced over at Draco consideringly. "You're at a pretty good age for it."

Draco frowned, suddenly a bit uneasy. For a moment he wondered if he had something in his hair - why was Potter looking at him with...

With nothing. Whatever it was, he'd just imagined it.

He brought his attention back to the conversation. "You'd recommend it to me, would you?" he said, a bit snidely. "Without knowing how it would turn out? Without knowing if I'd lose what I have right now?"

"Without knowing what you have right now," Potter said slowly, and this time Draco was fairly sure he wasn't misinterpreting the look in Potter's eyes, "I'd recommend you at least evaluate it." He paused, took a drink. "Just a suggestion," he said casually.

"Yeah. Thanks." He cleared his throat, a bit disturbed. And a bit... and nothing else. He grabbed for a topic changer. "Scorpius has told me your elder son is quite good at Quidditch. Does he know what he's going to be doing - after he comes back from travelling, that is?"

ooo000ooo

The Daily Prophet, July 13th: Wedding Bells?

Could it be? Ginevra Weasley, former Harpies Chaser and soon-to-be ex-wife of Harry Potter, appears to have found true love. Rumours circulated this weekend that the former Harpy has been seriously seeing, and indeed may be tying the knot with, Felix Anderssen, the Danish Dragonpipe sensation. Sources have been frustratingly close-mouthed, but all indications point to a possible elopement some time in the next month.

ooo000ooo

He probably shouldn't be here, Draco thought. As he did every Saturday that he came here for lunch.

Which wasn't every week. And Potter wasn't here some of the times that Draco was. So it wasn't as though they had a standing arrangement, or anything. It was just lunch together, once in a while. And not even that often, not lately - the last three weeks he'd shown up, Potter hadn't. Which didn't bother Draco. At all.

He closed his eyes. It didn't bother him. None of what he wasn't thinking about bothered him. Not the nature of the semi-friendship he and Potter were building (first-name basis, even), not the envy he increasingly felt at the life Potter - erm, Harry - was leading, not the way he felt flustered around Harry, or dissatisfied with his own life. Not the article he'd just finished reading about Harry's wife moving on.

Not the way Harry sometimes looked at him. Or the way he sometimes wanted to look back at Harry.

"Draco. It's been a while," Harry's voice almost made Draco jump. Harry sat down next to him. "How've you been?"

"Good. Yourself?"

"Good."

"Where've you been?" Draco asked, not sounding like he cared.

"The Alps, with the kids."

"The entire time?"

"Yeah, for a few weeks, with Ginny. Why? Did you miss me?" Harry asked, smirking. Draco rolled his eyes. "You did, didn't you?"

"No."

"I missed you," Harry said lightly.

"Really."

"No, really. It was interesting. Found I missed our chats at lunch time."

Draco nodded, suddenly feeling a bit uneasy. Something was off. Harry was too... focused.

He glanced at the open paper. Harry's eyes followed his gaze and the corner of his mouth quirked a bit.

"We're still making headlines, I see," he said lightly, and turned the paper face down.

"No truth to it, as usual?"

Harry's eyes were hooded as he shrugged. "The Prophet is bound to report the truth occasionally, if only accidentally," he said with a small inward smile, then waved his wand at the paper and it disappeared. He turned back to Draco.

"What about you? How did you spend your summer?"

"I went to Venice with Scorpius."

"Not your wife?"

"She was organising a benefit for wrongfully freed house-elves."

Harry nodded. "Does that happen a lot?"

"What?"

"That you do things without her."

"Sometimes. We're not joined at the hip."

Harry smirked slightly. "I'd say."

Draco frowned at him. "Why?"

"You hardly ever talk about her."

"Why would I?"

Harry shrugged. "Because she's your wife. Part of your life."

"That doesn't mean I need to talk about her," Draco said, and heard the defensive note in his voice, hating it immediately. "Not all of us need to talk about our spouses. Not all of us have spouses so exciting that everybody wants to talk about them."

Harry's eyes narrowed and Draco could tell he'd scored a hit. "So your wife's not that exciting, is she?" Harry said casually, and there was something dark in his voice. Something a bit threatening, and challenging.

Draco's pulse inexplicably sped up. "She's perfectly exciting. She's just not..."

Harry's gaze was too direct for comfort. He glanced around, and Draco did too, noting that the place was almost empty. And they were in the private alcove. Draco swallowed hard as Harry looked back at him.

He'd told himself, in a rare moment of self-honesty, that he knew perfectly well what was going on, where Harry was likely to try to take their unexpected friendship. And that he would be able to handle it, if it came to that. He was better than Harry. He didn't need to scratch every idle itch of curiosity. He didn't need a pathetic mid-life crisis. He certainly didn't need to become part of Harry's pathetic mid-life crisis, and he'd told himself that if anything... interesting... happened, that he wasn't going to... let Harry... come closer...

He swallowed hard as Harry entered his personal space, and wondered why he wasn't drawing back.

Wondered why he didn't want to.

Wondered when his feelings of ambivalence and resentment and grudging sympathy had turned to curiosity. When that curiosity had become interest.

When that interest had planted its lips upon his, without him actually noticing.

He breathed in, and Harry's lips on his were soft and warm, but the kiss, for all its tentativeness, held very little emotion.

Because Harry didn't really want this, Draco's brain helpfully informed him through the shivers racing through him. Harry didn't want anything other than new experiences, on his road to finding himself. Harry was finding himself; Draco had known who he was for a long, long time. And yet he wasn't pulling away...

Harry broke the kiss and smiled, then cupped Draco's cheek and leaned close for another kiss, evidently having decided that perhaps Draco's failure to pull away was good enough, seeing if there would be a response this time.

And Draco wanted there to be. He tentatively opened his lips and felt Harry smile.

Yes...

This was wrong. So bloody wrong. Not wrong like being forced to go along with the Death Eaters had been wrong. This was wrong for no good reason, it was adultery, Astoria didn't deserve this... and he was still doing it.

Harry and his wife were exploring themselves and the world around them. Because they'd always just done what was expected, Harry said. They needed to know if what was expected was what they really wanted out of life.

Whereas Draco and his wife had also done what was expected and he was perfectly aware that it wasn't what he'd wanted out of life, but it wasn't as if anybody had asked what he wanted.

Astoria was a good, kind woman, a perfect mother, a devoted wife. She'd never made Draco's pulse thrum with excitement the way Harry did - and had, for longer than he cared to admit. Then again, she'd never made him feel as insignificant, as dull, as Harry did either.

Harry drew back a bit and smiled. "This isn't so bad," he said, and Draco rolled his eyes, brought back to reality with a resounding crunch.

"Oh please." He drew back, his lip curling in to a sneer. "Spare me. I'm not going to be yet another experiment in your pitiful mid-life crisis."

"Are you saying you didn't like it?" Harry smirked. "Because that little moan at the end and the thing you just did with your-"

Draco ran a hand over his hair. "I once had sex with a Ravenclaw and it was just like this. She almost took notes."

Harry sniggered. "I'm not taking notes. Why, are we going to have sex?"

Draco glared at him. "Not today," he said, getting up.

Harry stared at him, a bit taken aback, and Draco was rather proud of himself for having been able to do that to him. Then Harry looked away, bringing back the poise he'd probably honed to a fine art in twenty years of working as an Auror, and shrugged casually. "Well, you know where I am, if you want to pursue this."

"Yeah," Draco said shortly. "I know where you are."

ooo000ooo

The Inquisitor, July 20th: Potter Children In Peril

The Inquisitor has learned that although the children of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley have been bravely dealing with the fallout as their parents' lives have rapidly spiralled out of control, there are ominous signs that their façade of happiness is starting to crack. Amidst rumours of their mother's possible remarriage, the eldest and youngest of the three are struggling to cope with the chaos.

"James Potter's a great bloke, but he was drinking like a fish near the end of term and it's not a good thing," says a classmate, who asked not to be identified. "He's always been really cheerful; now he gets angry at the smallest things."

"He was missing from school, for days - he even took a swing at a professor," adds another classmate. "It was frightening. I don't know if he got any of his NEWTs. He was a mess."

Little Lily Potter, barely twelve, has almost become a wild child, landing herself in detention over and over again, and being seen in the company of boys far older than she.

"Getting a bit of a reputation, she is," says Philomena Philips, a classmate. "It's sad, really. I think she needs affection in her life because she's not getting it from her parents; they're too busy having fun and behaving like prats."

In contrast to his siblings, Albus Potter seems to have channelled his distress into artistic expression, becoming involved in musical performance at Hogwarts and attracting the attention of music critics outside of school.

"He's brilliant, really," enthused music critic Cornelia Higgins. "Had a bit of a problem with shyness, just wouldn't sing in public for anything. He's got a lot more relaxed lately. Says it's his dad's doing; I think he's trying to show his dad that somebody in the family can make something of themselves and behave decently in public."

And what does the rest of the family have to say about this sad state of affairs of the other two children? They have been less than forthcoming, and have even threatened violence when questioned.

"I don't care what you say about my sister or Harry," said Percy Weasley, older brother of Ginny Weasley and Assistant Head of the Department of Magical Excuses. "But you write one word about those kids and I will hex your large intestine with Burrowing Boils."

Why such violent over-protectiveness? Perhaps he has become used to the idea that somebody must look after these children, since their own parents don't seem to care to do so?

In any case, isn't it time somebody actually did something to protect them? Won't somebody, please, think of the children?

ooo000ooo

"Hello, Draco," Harry said, dropping onto the bar stool beside him, utterly casual, as though he hadn't made a failed pass at Draco less than a week ago.

Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry, annoyed. This wasn't their usual - Harry's usual Saturday afternoon pub, usual Saturday afternoon standing date. This was Friday at the Leaky, for one thing, and for another thing, Draco had been drinking - not a lot, but enough, and this just wasn't on. And it was rather irritating that Draco couldn't tell whether he was more annoyed at Harry for showing up unexpectedly, or at himself for not getting up and leaving straight away.

He waited while Harry got himself a drink, then took a sip of his own Firewhisky. "Saw your kids in the papers yesterday," he said casually.

Harry's eyes hardened and he flushed. "I am going to kill that fucking reporter," he said, his voice low and full of hatred, and downed his entire glass in one go, almost slamming it back on the bar before wiping his mouth.

Draco's eyebrows went up. "Misquoting again? Must admit, that bit didn't sound much like Percy Weasley."

Harry's smile was grim as he signalled for another shot. "She got his job wrong and cleaned up his language a bit, but actually, that was him. One of the only things she got right in the entire piece of filth."

Draco blinked.

"Fucking bitch. I'll kill her if I ever get my hands on her. Selling newspapers with that kind of drivel is fine when it's dealing with grown men and women, but kids? Fuck, they haven't done anything wrong."

"Any truth to it?"

"Don't be stupid," Harry snapped angrily. "If there was anything wrong with them, I would know, wouldn't I? We were honest with them - we didn't tell them details, but they know what's going on, they've been fine with it. And no, it's not a 'façade of happiness,'" he sneered. "The bitch who wrote that has no idea what Lily's like, she's not fucking well barely twelve and she couldn't put on a façade if her life depended on it. Takes after her mother that way."

"Right."

"Anyway." He downed another shot. "Who wants to talk about reporters. Blasted vultures."

Draco swallowed. Harry was vibrating with anger, almost breathless, and the magic around him shimmered a bit.

And then something changed, and Draco didn't know what it was, but there was a different tinge to everything. Harry looked at him and Draco felt like an insect caught in amber, somehow arrested by this man who kept doing things that made Draco feel so... that made Draco feel.

This man who appeared to be feeling quite a bit today, as well. The other day there had been something dark about him, possibly having to do with his wife's rumoured remarriage, but he'd still been distressingly suave and in control. Today, though...

The darkness was still there. But there wasn't much control.

And they'd both had a bit to drink. It probably didn't make that big a difference to Harry, with the amount he seemed to put away on a regular basis, but Draco was on his fourth and while he wasn't slurring, this was... this was not good.

"I'm sorry about the other day," Harry said, his voice quiet. "Not sorry that I came on to you, just sorry I came on so strong. Was feeling a bit off."

"It's all right," Draco said automatically, though it wasn't.

"Can I start again?"

"I told you, I--"

"You're married. I know. But you also don't seem terribly happy with that marriage."

Draco looked away. This was where he was supposed to say Of course I am, have you ever actually looked at my wife, she's beautiful... but the words wouldn't come.

"Are you drunk?" Harry asked.

"No," Draco spoke automatically again. "No, haven't had that much."

Harry nodded. "Did you regret that, the other night? Because you seemed to enjoy it. At first."

"I... I did," Draco said. And immediately wanted to hex himself.

"Good." Harry smiled. "Would you mind if I did it again?"

They were both drunk. Or at least, impaired. "No," Draco said, and bloody hell, Harry's eyes widened slightly and he probably thought Draco meant No, he didn't mind, but that wasn't... really... what he...

Harry murmured something and Draco felt the caress of magic, probably a privacy spell, and then Harry drew closer and kissed him again, and it was like the other day, but better. Passionate. Not clinically curious; real feeling behind it. Draco pulled him closer, only identifying the groan he heard as his own after he'd made it, but too breathless to care. He carded his fingers through Harry's soft hair, his pulse hammering wildly. God, passion, sensation, intense awareness of their bodies, heat and alcohol and silk, like waking up, like feeling alive, finally...

Harry pulled back and smiled a bit. "Where we take this is up to you," he murmured, and what a thing to say after a kiss like that, what a thing to say when his face was flushed, his eyes bright, his whole being luminous, the way it got when he was talking about Wheezes or his children or Quidditch. What a thing to say when his body was so close to Draco's, making his heart race and making every nerve sing.

Draco hesitated, then felt himself draw closer and tentatively touch their lips together again. Harry tasted like strawberries. Some potent drink with a strawberry aftertaste, who knew what it was - and Draco's pulse quickened as Harry's lips parted and their tongues met, warm and exciting. His reservations were melting away as he pulled Harry close and kissed him, and Harry responded enthusiastically.

This is a really really really bad idea, Draco's brain tried to force itself into the foreground again while the rest of him shooed it away.

I've wanted this for so long, though, he thought. I've been doing what's right and expected and boring for so long. And I'm drunk, really, I can't be held responsible...

Drunk, my arse. You're not too drunk to forget a few important facts. You're married, he's married, he's Harry Potter, he's a complete fuckup, you're married, he's a thrill-seeker, he's famous, and, erm, in case you weren't listening the first two times, you're married.

Shut up. He's here and we've actually become friends in the last little while and he's amazingly fit and he's doing - what the hell is he doing with his tongue? Whatever it is, it's amazing. So shut up and go away.

Draco's rational mind threw in the towel in disgust and left the building.

"Come up to my room," murmured Harry between kisses.

Draco pulled back breathlessly, trying to grasp on to his principles and self-respect with failing fingers. Because no, a room, just No. Kisses were one thing, but that was going too far. There was Astoria and responsibility and commitment and yes, love, to think about.

And there was Harry, his green eyes serious, knowing exactly what he was asking.

"I won't make you do a damn thing," Harry said softly. "I'm not responsible for your conscience. I'm going up to my room, 411, and if you don't want to join me, stay here. Or go home to your wife. You decide."

Draco nodded dumbly. Harry pushed back his stool and stood up, making his way upstairs.

Draco put his forehead on his hands, trembling, wondering what the hell he'd ever done to deserve this and heading that thought off because really, that was just asking for trouble.

He pushed his own bar stool back, stood up unsteadily, and headed home to Astoria. Took a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the Floo, calling out "Malfoy Manor!"

He stepped out of the Floo, and had to wait a moment for his head to stop spinning. Took another handful of powder as soon as it did, calling out "Leaky Cauldron" as he stepped back into the Floo.

I'm doing this, he thought numbly, and then didn't think any more as he made his way upstairs.

Harry's door opened and Harry looked out at Draco, meeting his eyes seriously.

"You're sure?"

"No," said Draco. "But I'm... I'm here."

"Good enough for me," said Harry gently. "Come in." He touched Draco's arm and Draco followed him into the room, noting the sparseness, the clean comfort of it, the little touches of home that Hannah Longbottom apparently gave her inn's rooms. Harry's children smiled from one small picture frame, his parents from another.

He drew Harry close, brought their lips together, tasting him again, surrendering and firmly ignoring the part of him that asked what the hell he was doing, what was he going to tell Astoria, what was he going to tell himself after they were done...

Because none of that was as important as his need to do this, to be where Harry seemed to live so effortlessly, this land of doing wrong, going against the rules, and not failing at it. Not like Draco, who had tried to cheat against Harry at Quidditch and failed, tried to be a Death Eater and failed, tried to do so many wrong things and failed, until he was too scared to do anything but keep his head down and just do whatever was expected of him, whether he liked it or not.

He wanted to be here, needed to be here, feeling urgency and a wild longing for more, a desperate yearning to just get this over with, but Harry was taking his own sweet time about it. Soothing Draco's shivers, murmuring things that sounded comforting but that Draco couldn't hear over the rush of blood. Nothing but kisses and gentle caresses, running fingers through his hair, gently pushing his face to the side so he could nip at Draco's neck. Draco gasped as Harry's fingers finally moved to his shirt buttons, undoing them, one at a time, and it was driving Draco wild because this was supposed to be grabbing on to sin and plunging into it, but instead Harry was being gentle and tender and evidently meant to prolong this.

"I'm not in any hurry," Harry finally murmured into the hollow of his neck, still steadily undoing buttons. "If you are, then please go away and come back when you're willing to do this properly."

"Why?" Draco asked, impatient and a little angry. A little scared.

"Because if this is the only time I'll get to sleep with you, I'd like to remember it. Vividly."

"This is just another one of your many new experiences, isn't it?"

Harry tilted his head to the side. "You know it is," he said evenly. "But I hope you know it's more than that as well."

Draco drew back, his belt undone and his shirt unbuttoned, and wondered how it was that Harry could stand there with his shirt hanging open and trousers and pants half-undone, and look perfectly at ease. He should've looked ridiculous, prick hanging out and cheeks flushed; instead, he was literally making Draco's mouth water. Bastard.

"What am I doing here," Draco muttered. "Merlin, what the hell am I doing here."

Not that he was actually wondering, because it was pretty fucking obvious. He was going against the rules. Just like Harry. And hoping that he could come out as unscathed as Harry.

Which he wouldn't, he knew that. Harry put a gentle hand on his shoulder, waiting patiently, and Draco closed his eyes. This had gone too far. He couldn't leave now. He didn't want to. Damn the consequences.

He turned back to Harry and gasped as Harry took his lips in a kiss, peeling away his clothes with reverent hands. Every touch whispering along his skin and drawing shivers, wild and uncontrollable, and urging him to so much more. Like rain on parched earth, clichéd but so true, his body soaking up Harry's touch with frightening gratitude and hunger. Pulling Harry closer, darkness and sweetness and dishonesty and sincerity and danger and tenderness wound together so tightly he couldn't pull the strands apart. Nothing like his real life. Nothing like anything he was used to.

And then Harry laid him down and they melted into each other, and he banished all thought of expectations and responsibilities and rules for a blessedly long time.

ooo000ooo

The Inquisitor, August 13th: 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 Cannons-Puddlemere 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 a reconciliation?

Close family friend Cecilia Adams 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 over and over again and humiliating him in public. He's just said that's all 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

Don't ask. Don't. Ask. Don't ask.

Draco had been able to obey the voice in his head the entire time he'd been here. Meeting with Harry, for the third time, a third time that had made his heart race and his blood sing, as Harry once again became the embodiment of everything that Astoria wasn't, everything Draco wanted. The last thing he wanted to do right now was screw this up by asking.

"Are the rumours true?"

Harry looked up at him questioningly, his eyes a bit unfocussed without his glasses.

"That you're getting back together with your wife?" Draco elaborated.

Harry sat up, ran a hand through his short, spiky hair, tugged on his earring. "You read the article in the Inquisitor, I take it." Draco stared at him impassively. "It wasn't even a new article," Harry said calmly. "We weren't at that game. One of the kids said they remembered an article that was almost word for word the same, printed last autumn. I think the new reporter for that column had to fill the slot with whatever she could find; apparently the old writer's at St. Mungo's Intestinal Curses Wing."

"Is it true?"

"That we're getting back together?"

Draco nodded, turning away as Harry opened his mouth, then closed it, hesitating.

"Well. That's marvellous." He got up, grabbing his trousers. "And good luck with that. I'll be going, now."

"Wait, don't go--" Harry reached out for him, and Draco shrugged his hand off his arm.

"No. This is... this is wrong. Even if you're not going back to your wife, I have a responsibility to mine. And to my son. I can't do this."

"Does that responsibility make you happy?" Harry asked quietly.

"That's not the point. It doesn't make me unhappy. I'm not miserable, I don't hate my wife, I'm not trapped in a..." loveless marriage.

No, not loveless. Pointless, maybe.

"But you're not happy with your life. Would you spend so much time in pubs if you were? When was the last time you actually talked to her?"

"That doesn't matter," said Draco. Never, his mind supplied helpfully.

"You're still young. You don't have to go through life like this, married to somebody you don't know, doing a job that doesn't mean anything. You're yawning through your life."

"I'm doing what I'm supposed to do," he said tightly, pulling on his shirt.

Harry got out of bed, approached him cautiously. "It doesn't have to be like that, Draco. You know that. You can work out who you are, and what you're meant to be or do. Make a journey of it."

"You might be able to do that and end up still married to the same wonderful woman who's your soulmate. I can't."

"Still? You mean you're married to a wonderful woman who's your soulmate?"

"She's a good woman. She does her duties well."

"That sounds about as exciting and life-affirming as watching Flobberworms grow."

"We can't all live charmed lives," Draco said bitterly. He sat back down on the bed, putting on his socks and shoes, wondering how Harry could remain nude while he got fully dressed and still look so much more at ease than Draco felt.

"You think my life is charmed?"

"Your wife cheerfully let you go gallivanting around the world, sowing your wild oats--"

"You don't know her terribly well," Harry said evenly. "There was nothing cheerful about how we got here. It was painful and ugly and I didn't know how our friendship would survive, let alone our marriage."

"And yet they both did."

"Yeah, they did. Or at least, they have so far."

"So, you've had your little flings. You discovered that although you like cock, you love your wife more. Your wife, lucky for you, decided the same thing, because life worships you like some sick little groupie. You're now back with her and your perfect little family, and--"

"It's not that simple, it hasn't been without cost, and we haven't decided completely," Harry said quietly. "And what about you? What about your perfect little family?"

Draco looked away.

"Draco, stay with me," Harry said suddenly. "Or at least, don't go back to your wife. She doesn't make you happy and you don't make her happy. Come on, don't do this to yourself. You've only got one life, Draco. Don't live it like this."

"Piss off," Draco said, angry now. He stood up, glaring down at Harry. "You have no idea what makes my wife happy. You and your wife... you two have no idea. You have no idea what the real world is like, you have no idea what living up to your responsibilities is like, what real commitment means, you--"

"Don't we?" Harry glared back at him. "Commitment means waiting for somebody for a bloody year while he's off doing God knows what and you don't know if he'll ever come back. Commitment means waiting while the one you love is out training or playing everywhere but home, and the only times you see her are when her team's home for a day or so, and you're a very junior Auror and you get put on duty whenever, so you miss half her visits home. Commitment means raising three kids together and loving them and staying together through a lot of shit you know nothing about. Commitment means trying to be honest with each other, and with our kids, even if it means we might get hurt."

He paused, breathing hard.

"Commitment doesn't have to mean staying with that person forever," he said more calmly. "Not if the marriage isn't working any more. That's what we've been trying to work out."

"But you want to go back to her," Draco said.

"I want to go back to her if it works for both of us. I want it to be good again. I want to feel like we both want to be there - not that we're still there out of inertia."

Inertia.

"Were you ever in love with Astoria?"

"She's the best mother Scorpius could've ever had. She's been good for both of us - for my whole family."

"You haven't answered my question."

"You don't understand what it was like for us after the war," Draco said angrily, glaring at Harry. "My father may have managed to keep us all out of Azkaban, and you and Granger and Weasley spoke on my behalf, but nobody wanted to have anything to do with us. We went from being powerful and respected to being social pariahs. And it didn't matter how much money my father donated to the right causes; we were nothing." He took a deep breath. "Astoria changed all of that. She was from a good family, almost all of them Slytherins, but she was cheerful and friendly and didn't have a Slytherin bone in her body. People loved her. They invited her to all sorts of places they would never have invited us, mostly out of pity for her because she'd been forced into this terrible marriage. She got us back into places nobody else would've allowed us to go."

"And you're grateful to her for that."

"Of course I am."

"And that's enough for you, is it?"

"It has to be."

"No it doesn't. You're not happy. You're bored. Leave. Be true to yourself."

"Astoria deserves more from me than that."

"What about what you deserve?"

"I..." Draco stopped, unable to meet Harry's eyes any more, unable to stand the pity on his face.

"And what about Astoria?" Harry asked quietly. "D'you think maybe she deserves a marriage that's based on more than gratitude?"

Draco swallowed hard. "She deserves my respect. She deserves to not have her life turned upside down because I--"

"Does she make you happy?"

Yes, of course she does, Draco started to say, but "Why should that matter?" came out instead.

"Do you want to leave her?"

Draco blew out his breath, closed his eyes. "Yes," he finally said quietly, and it felt like losing, giving in to a pull he'd fought for so long, and he didn't even know when he'd started to fight it. "But--"

"Doesn't that say something to you?"

"It says this is wrong, Harry!"

"Don't you think it says something about your marriage, that you want to do this anyway?"

"No." He turned away. "It says something about you, that you're willing to put somebody else's marriage in jeopardy just to satisfy your curiosity, or for cheap thrills--"

"It's not just curiosity and it's not a cheap thrill."

"Really," Draco said snidely.

"I've thought you were attractive for a very long time, Draco."

Draco lifted an eyebrow. "That's truly uplifting. My wife adores me. You... have thought I was attractive for a very long time."

"I think there could be something here," Potter said quietly, and Draco forced himself to not even try to read anything into the intensity of his gaze.

"And you're pushing me to gamble on my marriage to see what that is? Not all of us have wise and understanding spouses waiting for us to come back from exploring, you know."

"I don't honestly know if I do want to come back to Ginny," Harry said bluntly. "And she doesn't know if she wants to come back to me."

"I don't want to lose what I have."

"Draco, you can't live a life that's only half there. She may be wonderful but she's not it for you. My God, Ginny's intelligent, has a great sense of humour, strong - she's a lot of things Astoria isn't. And I still don't want to be with her if being with her is just... settling."

"You don't understand family," Draco sneered. "You only understand your own selfishness."

Harry stepped back. "You know, you're right. This isn't fair to you. I've wanted to get to know you better for a very, very long time. I've wanted to - and I don't care if that puts what I've got with Ginny in danger, because our friendship will survive, whatever happens, and that's the most important thing to me. But you're not the same, and I'm being selfish, and I'll leave you now."

He quickly pulled on his clothing and turned to go, pausing at the door. "If you change your mind, let me know," he said, and walked out.

ooo000ooo

The Daily Prophet, August 22nd: His Own Name

It seems Albus Potter is finding fame of his own, although he credits his famous father for helping him to reach for it. "It's not that he pushed me; it's just that he's not afraid of taking chances. He made me see that I didn't have to be afraid of trying for something I really wanted."

And what is it he really wants?

"I took up singing for a while, I've got a pretty good voice, but it's nothing special and I realised I'm not actually that interested in music. It's more acting that I'm curious about. So I tried out for the Avon Wizarding Theatre's programme this summer, and I had a great time."

Not only that, but the young man had an extremely warm reception by audiences at the summer's end performance. His portrayal of Macbeth in Double Double Toil and Trouble was hailed as 'striking' and 'richly textured' by critics.

"It was brilliant, being up there onstage. Really, really cool. I'm really hoping to get into the Apprentice Programme next year, after I leave Hogwarts."

And what about favouritism? Isn't he worried that people will say he only got in because of his name?

Potter smiles. "They're blind auditions. The judges don't know your name or anything about you. They started doing it that way after the Second Voldemort Rising, so that nobody could accuse them of discriminating against Muggleborns. But it's been good for all kinds of people, that they're given a fair chance to try out."

And what about his dashing - and eerily familiar - good looks?

"Well, thanks for that," the young Potter says, laughing. "I do look a bit like my dad, I know. I'll take Polyjuice before the audition. Polyjuice is like a traditional drink in our family," he says seriously. "And it's used a lot in acting, so I may as well get used to it, yeah?"

ooo000ooo

It was a foggy day and the steam from the Express was dense, making it exceedingly difficult to see a bloody thing. Draco and Scorpius had been able to get his things onto the train mostly by instinct and memory, and had been lucky to find their way back to Astoria. And now she was giving their son some last-minute advice, her lovely blue eyes a bit reddish as they prepared to lose him for yet another year. His last. So little time left, so few years before he became an adult and probably moved out for good, and they had to miss ten more months of his childhood.

Draco tapped his foot, not particularly wanting to prolong their goodbyes. The end of the school year at King's Cross was mostly a joyous time; parents getting their children back, younger children overjoyed to see their families again, older children a bit sad at parting from their friends, but looking forward to no school for a few weeks. The beginning of the school year was exciting too, but there were often tears as well, and many parents looked quite lost after the train pulled out. It should be easier, the older they got. It wasn't.

Scorpius finished nodding at his mother, gave her a hug, and turned to Draco.

"See you at Christmas, then, Scorpius," Draco said, and shook his hand. Scorpius grinned and turned away, running to the Express as the whistle blew.

"Al! Wait up!" he shouted, catching up to Albus Potter and a few other boys Draco didn't recognise. He jumped on board, quickly appearing at one of the windows and leaning out to wave at Draco and Astoria. The steam and fog were thicker now, almost instantly hiding the train as it sped up, taking Scorpius and all the others away.

Astoria sniffled quietly, brushing her eyes. Draco turned to leave, looking back as Astoria made a soft sound of distress.

"What is it?"

"My purse, I can't find it," she said, peering at the ground. Draco sighed, hoping the steam would clear up a bit, because right now the chances of finding Astoria's small silver purse were slim at best.

"Does it still have that faulty security charm on it?" he asked her, and she nodded. "So much for Summoning it, then?"

She nodded again, peering through the fog. And as the crowd thinned and the fog did the same, Draco heard familiar voices close by. Through a disappearing tendril of steam he caught sight of Ginny Weasley, hugging Harry close, and quickly schooled his own face into impassivity.

"He'll be all right," Ginny was saying.

"As long as he remembers to study for NEWTs and doesn't spend all his time on this acting business."

Ginny laughed. "This acting business that you inspired him to pursue."

"Don't remind me."

"How did it go?" She smirked at Harry. "He made me see that I didn't have to be afraid of trying for something I really wanted."

Harry sighed. "You know, he quoted that bit enough at me. Not sure I want to hear it from you too."

Ginny laughed. "You know we only say it because we love you."

"Lucky, lucky me. Bloody well too much love, I'd say," said Harry, and Draco fought to keep his breakfast down. Merlin, that was low. Though it probably wouldn't occur to Harry that it was a little insensitive to say something like that near his ex-... whatever they had been.

"I do love you, you know. You're the best friend I could've ever wanted," Ginny said, laying her head on Harry's shoulder.

"You too," he chuckled.

Oh for the ability to hex him with slugs, though Draco bitterly. Or perhaps he should look up Molly Weasley's impotence curse.

"Too bad you're such a dismal husband," said Ginny, and Harry laughed, and Draco realised with a slight shock that Harry probably hadn't seen Draco yet. He wasn't being insensitive. For once.

"You'd think it would get easier to see them go every year," Ginny said, gazing where the train had gone. "But in some ways it's harder, isn't it?"

He brushed her hair off her forehead and kissed her. "Yeah," he said softly.

"C'mon, mate, stop molesting our sister and let's go," said Ron Weasley.

"Yeah," said another Weasley brother, Draco had no idea which one. "No molesting till you've made an honest woman of her again."

"Oi," said Harry, "she's the one who won't let me, not yet. I'm the scorned one here, remember?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "We gave ourselves two more years, there's no rush. And I'm sorry, Harry, I'll need a bit of time to decide if I want to go back to putting up with your fondness for cock again. Don't much care for Polyjuice being part of our sex life, you know?"

Ron tripped and one of the other Weasleys choked.

"Merlin's y-fronts, I'm joking!" Ginny said, laughing.

Two more years. Two more years for Harry to decide the shape of his foreseeable future. Draco's gaze rested on Astoria, her blue eyes clear and guileless. As lovely as a cloudless sky, and every bit as empty. Kind, and sweet, and as exciting as watching Flobberworms grow.

"Oh, Draco, I found it!" Astoria said happily picking up her purse, and Harry looked back, startled to see Draco so close.

Draco nodded at Harry and his family stiffly, then looked away again. Not sure how to read the complex expression in Harry's eyes. Glanced at the guards as they nodded at the families, letting them pass through the magical barrier in pairs and groups of three.

Harry passed through the barrier with his family.

Harry was still on his journey, finding himself. He'd found a job he liked, would probably find his way back to his wife, his own happily ever after, plus or minus a wrinkle or two. Find his way, leaving Draco feeling run over by his journey.

She doesn't make you happy...

It doesn't have to be like that, Draco...

What about what you deserve?

I think there could be something here...

If you change your mind, let me know...

Make a journey of it.

He swallowed hard. There was really only one choice to make. At the end of the day, he was the one who had to live with the consequences of his actions. And not just the consequences for the people around him, but the consequences for himself as well.

He took Astoria's hand in his gently, looking away guiltily from her surprised, pleased expression, and took a deep breath as he led her through the barrier and they headed for home.

- End.

ooo000ooo

Post-It Note 1: Thanks also to owensmom for the Epidemic of Weasleys, and the title :)

Post-It Note 2: So, yeah, like I said, not everybody liked this; mostly because of the ending, but for a bunch of other reasons as well. Which was cool - the comments at the fest provided lots of food for thought. I even wrote a self-indulgent little Author's Commentary thingy on it, believe it or not :)

You can find the interpretations of the card The Fool that were used for this fic (both the Upright and Ill-Dignified readings)

www.bellaonline.com/articles/art24632.asp

(See Thirteen's Observations)

www.aeclectic.net/tarot/basics/fool.shtml

(See the Fool Card in a Reading)