Indian Summer

The train began to move and Harry walked alongside it, watching his son's thin face, already ablaze with excitement. Harry kept smiling and waving, even though it was like a little bereavement, watching his son glide away from him...

The last trace of steam evaporated in the autumn air. The train rounded a corner. Harry's hand was still raised in farewell.

"He'll be alright," murmured Ginny.

As Harry looked at her, he lowered his hand absent-mindedly and touched the lightning scar on his forehead.

"I know he will."

The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well.

All was well.

Except that he couldn't stop worrying about Al. Maybe it was seeing Malfoy after all these years, but as he followed Ginny and Lily from the station, Harry couldn't help dwelling on his own first journey to Hogwarts. He had met Ron of course, he smiled to himself at that memory, but there had also been that rather less pleasant encounter with Malfoy. And there was a Malfoy on the train today too. Harry sighed. He'll be fine, he told himself again, as they reached the car.

Lily was sulking because Ginny had insisted she hold her hand to cross the busy streets. She suffered Harry's goodbye kiss with bad grace and then scrambled in to the car, pointedly looking out of the far window. Harry sighed again.

"Oh don't worry about madam," Ginny said.

"I'm not. Really," Harry assured her.

"And don't worry about Al, either," she admonished.

Harry pulled a face. "I can't help it, I just, well, what if he doesn't like it?"

"Harry, he'll be fine. James'll look out for him."

"That worries me most of all," he said.

Ginny laughed. "Go to work," she said, "and think about something else. Tomorrow, or the next day, we'll have an owl from him saying how fantastic it all is. You wait."

Harry tried to look as though he believed this.

"You know I'm right," Ginny said, getting into the car.

"Yeah, all right," Harry agreed. He managed a watery smile, wincing slightly as Ginny crashed the gears, and waved as the car pulled away. He set off up the street, looking out for somewhere he could Disapparate unnoticed by passing Muggles.

The area around King's Cross station had changed a lot in recent years. It seemed to Harry that every other building was being knocked down or redeveloped. Like other run down areas of London before it, King's Cross had been gentrified. As he walked, Harry mentally reviewed the work waiting for him at the Ministry. There was an unpleasant internal wrangle, that had ended up on his desk because no one else wanted to make a decision, and the final security arrangements for the visit of the American Mage in Chief needed to be hammered out. Harry felt a headache begin behind one eye. Both of these tasks would need a level of concentration and finesse that he felt unable to muster in his current frame of mind. What he really needed, Harry realised, was a beer. He looked over his shoulder, ducked behind a convenient wheelie bin, and Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron.

The Leaky was packed and stuffy and Harry drank his first pint standing at the bar. It barely touched the sides and he bought another without thinking. He wasn't used to drinking during the day and it occurred to him, half way down his second, that two pints on an empty stomach wasn't such a good idea, so he ordered some food.

"Where are you sitting?" the bar maid asked. Harry looked around the crowded pub, there didn't seem to be any spare tables. Finally he spotted an empty chair. The table was occupied - a figure was hidden by a newspaper - but with luck they were alone and wouldn't object to sharing. Harry pointed it out to the barmaid and hurried across the room to claim his seat. He cleared his throat. "Is this seat taken? I've already ordered you see and there's nowhere else free, so I was just wondering..." The words dried in his mouth as the newspaper was lowered to reveal the pointed chin and high forehead of Draco Malfoy.

"Oh," Harry said, as Malfoy regarded him wordlessly. "I didn't realise it was you. Erm, I mean, are you on your own? Your wife isn't with you?"

"Oh do sit down, if you're going to," Malfoy snapped. "You're giving me a crick in my neck."

Harry glared but sat down. He stared around the crowded pub, picking at his cuticles. The silence hanging between he and Malfoy seemed particularly marked in contrast to the chatter all around them. He glanced at Malfoy and realised he had put the paper aside.

"Anything interesting?" Harry asked, grasping at the first thing that entered his head.

"No idea. I don't read Italian. Somebody had left it behind."

"Oh. Then why were you..? Oh." Malfoy must have felt conspicuous on his own, Harry realised. In fact, even after all these years, there was probably a reason this had been the only seat in the place.

"Eloquent as ever, I see, Potter," Malfoy sneered. "Ah, finally," he added as a waitress paused at their table.

"Steak and kidney pie?" Harry said, surprised. " I'd have thought you'd have gone for something more..." He paused, searching for a way to say poncy without being insulting. "...sophisticated."

Malfoy glanced around the pub. "I don't think they do sophisticated. Besides, I wanted comfort food."

Harry stared at him. "Comfort food?"

Malfoy looked up and seemed to weigh what to say next. "Scorpius leaving this morning," he admitted.

Harry's food arrived then and they ate in silence. Harry mulled over Malfoy's words. At last he said, "I hated saying goodbye to Albus too. I don't know why, but it was much worse than seeing James off for the first time, last year."

"You called your son Albus? Of course you did. Last year he was still at home with you I suppose."

"Albus Severus," Harry said, watching Malfoy's expression soften. "I don't think that that can be it though. Lily's still going to be at home with us now. I think it's just that James has always been so much more confident and outgoing. I didn't worry about him settling in so much. Al, well, Al worries about things and doesn't make friends so easily."

Malfoy swallowed his last mouthful and carefully put his knife and fork together before looking up. "Who knows, maybe he and Scorpius will be friends."

"Maybe," Harry agreed. He tried not to sound as unenthusiastic as he felt about this. After all he didn't know anything about Scorpius, so he shouldn't judge him just because of who his father was. Enough people would do that, he imagined. "Probably only if they're in the same house."

"And you think that that won't happen?"

"No idea. Actually, I've no idea where Al will be sorted," he said, thinking of their conversation at the station.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Gryffindor not a certainty?" he asked.

"Scorpius will naturally be in Slytherin, will he?" Harry countered.

"I doubt it. They'd probably eat him alive. I've a horrible feeling he's a natural Hufflepuff."

Harry laughed at Malfoy's expression, a strange mixture of fondness and incomprehension. "Wouldn't you expect him to leave if he were?" he said, even after so many years, the memory of the lead up to his own sorting still clear in his mind.

"What? Why?" Malfoy obviously didn't recall the time quite so vividly.

"I just remember you saying that when we were sorted," Harry said.

Malfoy shook his head. "Oh don't remind me what a prat I was then." He smiled ruefully and Harry couldn't help returning it.

The waitress took their plates and offered them the dessert menu, which they both declined. Harry's heart sank at the thought of going to the Ministry. Shit, he thought, I'd even rather spend the afternoon with Malfoy. He looked at Malfoy, who was checking his bill, and unexpectedly felt in sympathy with him. Maybe that wasn't such a terrible idea. If taking leave of Scorpius had left Malfoy half as forlorn as Harry had been feeling, then he could probably use some cheering up too. Well, they'd always had one interest in common.

"I'm going to walk down to Quality Quidditch for a browse. Do you want to come?" he asked.

Malfoy, deep in the business of calculating the correct tip to leave, glanced up at Harry questioningly, realised what he had said, and froze in astonishment.

Harry laughed. "You couldn't look more astonished if you tried," he said. "Go on. We've managed..." He checked his watch. "...forty minutes sitting here together and not hexed each other, shall we try for the whole hour?"

"Don't you have a job to go to?" Malfoy asked. "All those evil dark wizards won't catch themselves."

"They won't miss me this afternoon. These days there are rather more nose biting teacups and fewer homicidal megalomaniacs."

"You sound almost sorry."

"God, no! But it can be a bit dull. Same old same old, you know. Still, dull is good in this context."

Draco considered Harry for a long moment, then shrugged. "Okay," he said, as he stood up.

They left the Leaky Cauldron by the rear entrance and wandered down Diagon Alley. As they paused outside Quality Quidditch Supplies Draco said, "I haven't been in here for years. Still, I suppose I should keep an eye on what the opposition are doing."

"The opposition?" Harry said, pushing open the door.

"Well, not really. These mass produced brooms..." Draco waved a hand airily at the racks of Comets, Nimbuses and Firebolts. "...are aimed at a totally different market."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, still no clearer.

"Goodness, Potter, you need to get your intelligence wizards to brush up their act. Or maybe I'm just not worth spying on anymore. How times change." Malfoy fished in his pocket and handed Harry a business card.

"Starburst Broomsticks," Harry read. "Handmade elite and bespoke brooms. D.L.Malfoy proprietor."

He looked at Malfoy in amazement. "You own Starburst Broomsticks?"

"Well, strictly speaking I am Starburst Broomsticks. There is only me, though I keep thinking I should take on an apprentice because the volume of work has become quite ridiculous."

"But how on earth did you manage that?" Harry asked, trying not to show how impressed he felt.

"Rehabilitation of offenders." Draco clearly thought this should be sufficient explanation of how he had single-handedly created the most sought after brooms in the wizarding world. When Harry's expression made it clear that this was not so, he rolled his eyes and continued. "When you've done a stint in Azkaban, the ministry tries to fit you for life as a worthy citizen, to stop you going back to your former wicked ways. Surely you should at least be aware of this? Anyway, for some reason they thought carpentry would suit my unique combination of talents, and sent me on a course. Only I found making table legs and tall boys somewhat unfulfilling. I made myself a broom, and then Blaise asked me to make one for him. Then, of course, his stepfather met an untimely end flying it, which resulted in quite a lot of publicity and so on and so forth. Serendipity really."

Harry frowned. "I remember that case. I wouldn't call being an accessory to a suspected murder serendipity," he said. But if Malfoy were being honest with him, then for Starburst to have the reputation it did, he must also have put in a lot of hard work and be a rather more talented wizard than Harry had previously given him credit for.

"I wasn't an accessory. The broom was entirely vindicated, in spite of all the Ministry's attempts to implicate me."

Harry decided to move the conversation to safer ground. "So," he said, "these 'mass produced' brooms then, which is the best do you think?"

"Depends what you want it to do. That's the whole thing about brooms, what's best for each person is as unique as they are. So, so should the broom be." Malfoy moved over to the racks of brooms and picked one up. Harry watched as he ran his hand over it, gave a slight shake of his head, and then replaced it.

"That's just your sales pitch," Harry said, amused.

"Well, yes, I suppose it is. But that doesn't stop it from being true."

"Okay. But if you can't afford one of yours, which of these brooms would be best?"

"Are you thinking of buying one?" Draco said, surprised.

"Well, no, probably not. But say I were. Or for the boys maybe."

"Weeell." Draco walked along the racks, sizing up the brooms. "Do you do much flying these days?" he asked.

"Actually no, not really. I go out with the kids sometimes. The boys, anyway. Lily won't have anything to do with it." He laughed. "Ginny says she must be a changeling. They've only got training brooms though - slow and basic. James is keen, but reckless with it. I think Al just shows an interest to keep me and Ginny happy, but I reckon he could be really good if he tried. And had the right broom."

"He looks like you doesn't he?"

"Yeah, he does. The most of the three of them. What's that got to do with anything?"

"I expect he gets told he's just like you a lot of the time. Maybe he doesn't want to be too good at Quidditch because..." Draco let the end of the sentence hang.

"Because everyone will say he's like me? I got told I was just like my father a lot. I liked it."

"You're quite a lot to have to live up to though, after all," Malfoy said, peering closely at another broom. Harry stared at him. Had Malfoy really said that?

"Scorpius takes after you a lot doesn't he?" he ventured. Malfoy's head snapped up and he looked at Harry suspiciously.

"He looks like me. With a bit of luck, that's where the similarity ends." He gave a wry smile. "Especially at Quidditch. Maybe then he'll have a chance of winning. Still got your Firebolt?"

"What? Oh, yes."

"Save your money then. None of these are any better than that for what you're doing. I'd get the reckless one the Comet Seven Fifty. Their self-righter's the best you'll get for this kind of money and I'm told it feels faster than it is. If you really think that..." He paused.

"Albus," Harry supplied.

"...Albus..." Malfoy grinned, and once again Harry couldn't help grinning back.

"...might really be some good, the Powerglide has the best combination of speed and handling. It's well balanced too." He hefted it in his hand and then held it out to Harry, who shook his head.

"No. Like I said, it's me that's keen for him. It'd feel like I was pushing him, if I got him that. He'd think that too. And anyway, even if the Comet or whatever would suit James better, I'd have to get them both the same, or there'd be hell to pay."

Draco shrugged, and put the broom back in its stand. "Far be it from me to sell other people's brooms for them. I could do with some new gloves though, now I'm here," he said, as he moved off down the aisle. Harry gave a lingering glance at the Powerglide and then followed Malfoy to the back of the shop.

---

That night Harry woke with a start, his heart pounding. It took him a few seconds to realise where he was, the dream had been so vivid. He lay still, listening to the comforting familiarity of Ginny's slight snoring, as his pulse quieted and his own breathing returned to normal. He had been back in the Room of Requirement, with the Fiendfyre all around. These days he didn't often dream about that time, but every now and then, something would trigger a nightmare. Oddly, it was still very clear in his mind. He had been rescuing Malfoy, who now he thought about it, had been whinging about the mass produced broom! Harry smiled at the ceiling; that explained what had brought this one on, then. Although it was odd that they were both naked. Harry had had sufficient anxiety dreams involving inappropriate nudity that he wasn't perturbed by this detail, but previously he had been the only one without clothes. He turned on his side, putting Malfoy and his surprisingly fine body firmly from his mind. In a minute he was sound asleep again.

Two nights later he dreamed about refusing Malfoy's first offer of his hand in friendship, and a week after that, fighting him at Malfoy manor. It was odd, Harry mused, as he sat in a long, dull meeting about the American delegation's impending visit, that in each of these dreams, he and Malfoy had been their current age and always without a stitch on. He wondered if Malfoy really looked as good as his subconscious had painted him. Harry tried to concentrate on the matter at hand, this was an important discussion. And yet, as they had done increasingly over the last two weeks, his thoughts kept drifting back to the Malfoy in his dreams.

It had taken Harry a long time to accept that the way he looked at attractive young men was not purely aesthetic appreciation. He had kept this rather uncomfortable self-knowledge strictly to himself. After all, he was happily married, so it was never going to matter if he occasionally noticed a well toned arse. Ron was forever drooling about random witches' breasts, but Harry was quite sure he'd have an absolute fit if the opportunity to cheat on Hermione ever really presented itself. Malfoy hadn't grown fat or become especially lined, though he was losing his hair, of course. And he probably still flew a lot as well, so he must be quite fit. Did he really look that good under his clothes? It was a very beguiling fantasy.

The meeting dragged on, and Harry did his best to follow what was going on. Luckily, the Aurors' role in the American visit had been first on the agenda, and he wasn't expected to contribute much to the rest of the discussion. He hoped the minutes would be detailed enough for him to pick up what he had missed. Finally, Kingsley said, "Well, I think that covers as much as we can at the moment. Alyssia I'll wait to hear from you about the menus, and Harry? I'll need to go over those rosters with you ASAP. Thank you, everyone, that's all."

Harry sighed with relief as he got to his feet. Around him, his fellow committee members were stretching and muttering. He shuffled out of the door with the others and made his way to the lifts. Amarinta Hetherington was talking to him about the appalling cost of the security the Americans were insisting on. Harry made small noises of agreement, when he thought it appropriate, but wasn't really paying attention. A sudden flash of white-blond hair in his peripheral vision made Harry turn his head sharply. But it was nothing. Of course it wasn't Malfoy, Harry told himself crossly. What would Malfoy be doing at the Ministry? Harry was glad to realise that the lift was full, and he waved it away, saying he'd take the next one. This had got to stop. He had daydreamed through a vital meeting - God alone knew what he had agreed to - and now he was imagining Malfoy even here.

This was not the first time in the last few days that he had done this; imagined that some random stranger was Malfoy. It happened all over the place. In the street, even when he was at the pub with Ron. Now it was happening here, at the Ministry. Harry sighed. It was utterly ridiculous and he was annoyed with himself for being so foolish. He'd not given Malfoy a thought, pretty much from the end of his trial until that day in the Leaky Cauldron, two weeks ago. He was pretty certain that Malfoy wasn't obsessing about him. Right, he thought, as a mercifully empty lift took him back to his floor, enough is enough.

He walked briskly along the corridor, full of fresh resolve. True, he had been behaving like an idiot, he thought, as he strode along. Almost as though he were sixteen again, God forbid. But no harm had been done. He would put Malfoy out of his mind and concentrate on more important things. Like those rosters Kingsley wanted, and that disciplinary report on Lowell that he had been ignoring. Yes, that was better. What on earth had come over him? He discarded the half-formed idea that Malfoy had hexed him. Ministry security scans would have shown that up. Whatever it was, he had put it behind him now. He grinned to himself. As a wizard, he was still a bit too young to be having a mid-life crisis.

As Harry breezed past his assistant's desk, on the way into his office, she waved a sheaf of carefully sorted letters at him.

"Afternoon post," she said. "Nothing very earth shattering."

"Thanks, Linda," Harry acknowledged, taking them from her.

"Oh, and there's an owl waiting on your desk. It wouldn't let me have whatever it's got for you." She turned over her hand and Harry saw a red wheal that was obviously a freshly healed owl peck.

"Ouch," Harry winced sympathetically.

"I don't recognise it," Linda continued, "but it's come through security, and I've scanned it as well, so it must be okay. Just something very personal." She gave Harry a knowing look and to his great irritation he began to blush, even though he had no idea what the message could be, or who it was from.

He went through to his office and set his papers on the desk. A small, brown owl blinked at him and then held out its leg. Harry didn't recognise it either, but it let him have the letter without fuss. Nor did he recognise the writing on the envelope, which said simply, "Harry Potter".

He opened it and glanced at the signature, then sat down very suddenly. His heart was pounding so loudly he almost thought Linda would hear it in the outer office. He looked back at the letter and noticed his hands were shaking. With an effort, he took a deep breath and pulled himself together. It was only a letter. Then he read it, first all in a rush and then again, more slowly.

"Potter," it said, "the Wagga Wagga Umphtimuffs have commissioned me to build a broom, for a former star player who is returning to top flight Quidditch after a long lay off. I need someone to test it for me. Someone like you, who used to be good but hasn't done much flying lately. If you're interested, meet me at the Diagon Alley Floo at two p.m. tomorrow. D.L.Malfoy."

Harry carefully folded the letter and put it in his inside pocket, then got up, walked to the door and looked around it. "Linda," he said as casually as possible, "whatever's in my diary tomorrow afternoon, can you reschedule it please? I'll be out." He closed the door and leant against it, letting out a long sigh.

---

At five to two, Harry was sitting in the waiting room of the Diagon Alley public Floo, trying not to stare at the clock. He drummed his fingers nervously on the table in front of him. He had spent the morning pacing his office and then forced down some lunch, which he was now regretting. His stomach was churning alarmingly. That'd go down well, Harry thought, if I throw up all over Malfoy. Compulsively he checked the clock again - two minutes to.

Exactly on the stroke of two o'clock, Draco stepped out of one of the fireplaces and looked around. Harry raised his hand and Draco made his way over. "Got your ticket?" he asked.

"Ticket?" Harry asked, confused.

"For the Floo."

"Aren't we Apparating?"

"You think I told you to meet me at the Floo so we could Apparate?" Draco's tone revealed what he thought of that.

"I just thought it was somewhere central to meet," Harry said defensively. "Surely Apparating's easier and quicker?"

Draco looked exasperated. "I can't Apparate, Potter," he said, in a voice that clearly implied Harry should have known this.

"What, you never got your licence?"

"Actually, no, but..." He gave Harry an incredulous look. "Are you really Chief Auror, Potter, or is there some other poor sod, who looks a bit like you, doing all the work, while you swan around basking in the glory?"

"Piss off, Malfoy! I work bloody hard."

"And yet, you don't seem to be aware that former Death Eaters are banned from Apparating."

"What?" Harry faltered. "Of course I know that. You were never convicted of being a Death Eater."

"Guilt by association then. Whatever the reason, the terms of my licence are quite explicit - no Apparating. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to entrap me."

"Oh, get over yourself, Malfoy."

For a moment Draco looked as though he was going to make another scathing retort, but then he let out a long breath. "Just buy a ticket and let's go," he said. "It's Starburst Brooms," he called over his shoulder, as he walked back to the hearth and Flooed out.

Flooing was never going to be Harry's favourite mode of transport, but he'd had enough practice, over the years, that he stepped out of the fireplace at Starburst Brooms if not entirely smoothly, then at least on his feet and soot free. He looked around with interest, his irritation with Draco forgotten. He was in a long, low, stone outbuilding. At one end were neat stacks of the raw materials of broom making, branches and twigs of varying sizes and woods. Opposite the fireplace was a half-open stable door and the remainder of the room was edged with workbenches. Harry could see that they held a variety of carpentry tools and two brooms which were obviously part way through construction.

Draco had collected something from the far corner and was now walking back towards Harry, holding it out to him. It was the most beautiful broom Harry thought he'd ever seen. Made of some pale wood he didn't recognise, it was polished to a high sheen. When he took it from Draco, Harry realised that it must have been charmed with an anti-slip grip. He held it reverently, gazing at it until Draco spoke. "It's a broom, Potter, not your first born," he said, unable to disguise his pleasure at Harry's reaction. "Are you going to stare at it all day, or tell me how it flies?"

"Haven't you tried it yourself?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Of course I have. But I fly high spec brooms all the time. I need to know that it won't kill this star chaser of the Umphtimuffs', whoever he is."

"I'd been wondering why you'd asked me to do this, and now I know," Harry joked, "there's a chance I'll be killed."

Draco's face showed no trace of amusement. "I asked you, Potter, because I thought you'd give me an honest appraisal," he said, as he turned and walked outside. Harry, thoroughly discomposed, hurried after him.

"I didn't mean... I was... It was only a joke," he huffed.

"Just tell me what you think of the broom," Draco said wearily.

Still feeling somewhat abashed, Harry obediently swung his leg over the shaft and settled himself. Taking a deep breath, he kicked off and the broom shot into the sky. Harry let out a whoop - he couldn't help it, it just bubbled out of him. This broom was unlike anything Harry had flown before. It was fantastic! It handled like a dream, answering to his slightest touch, and was breathtakingly fast. He tried a few fancy manoeuvres and then, feeling confident, he decided to have a go at a Wronski Feint. He turned and dived back towards the workshop. At the last minute he realised that he had misjudged the angle slightly, forgot how unforgiving the handling was, overcompensated and hit the ground hard, ending in an undignified heap.

He heard Draco scuffling through the leaves towards him and sat up, grinning.

"I hope you haven't damaged the broom," Draco drawled, as he reached down to help him up.

"I'm fine, thank you," Harry replied acidly. As he went to take his hand, Harry had a sudden, vivid flashback of his dream of Draco, naked, offering his hand just as he was doing now. He blinked away the unsettling image as he got to his feet, but stumbled slightly and clutched at Draco to regain his balance. He saw the realisation of his closeness register on Draco's face, and for a split-second before it happened, he knew that Draco was going to kiss him.

It was so long since Harry had shared a kiss as fierce and passionate as this one, and Draco's lean, hard body pressed against him was so different to Ginny's soft fleshiness. He felt Draco's hand nudge under his jumper and shivered pleasurably at the touch. Draco tugged at his waistband, unfastening the buttons. Harry felt a sliver of doubt. He shouldn't be doing this. It was wrong, it was unfair to Ginny, he should stop it. He gasped as Draco's fingers ghosted over his cock. It was too late; Harry knew he wouldn't stop this if he could. He fumbled with Draco's fly, desire driving out all other thought.

Harry couldn't remember the last time he had come so quickly, and would have been embarrassed if Draco hadn't lasted no more than a moment or so longer. They clung together, each somehow holding the other up. Draco gave an exaggerated shiver and pulled away. "Brr. I'm cold. It's not really the weather to be standing around in the open with your cock out, is it?" he said. He made to tuck himself away, but then as Harry watched in astonishment, his face flaming, Draco stuck out his tongue and cat-like, licked Harry's come from his fingers. Ginny had always made a terrible fuss about the taste, but Malfoy was behaving as though it were golden syrup! Draco looked up and grinned at Harry unashamedly. With a wave of his hand he banished the mess where he had come on Harry's jumper. "Come on, Potter, get dressed! Let's go and have a cup of tea and..." He leered dramatically."...you can tell me what you thought of my broom!" Harry couldn't help laughing at that, and feeling somewhat less awkward, he did up his trousers and followed Draco back into the workshop.

- - -

Over the next few weeks, Harry spent as much time as he could with Draco. He went into the Ministry early, worked through his lunch break and took reams of paperwork home to complete each evening, so that he could spend a few precious hours with Draco, every now and then.

He knew he should feel ashamed of himself. He had always utterly despised anyone who cheated on their husband or wife, and now he was that man. He considered making a clean breast of it to Ginny, but he knew that this would be almost as selfish as sleeping with Draco in the first place. It would hurt Ginny terribly and serve no purpose except to relieve his guilt. And, if he was honest, Harry's conscience pricked him surprisingly little. He should feel wretched, but the truth was, that when he was with Draco he was happier than he could ever remember being.

One grey afternoon they were lying, naked, in front of the fire, on a pile of blankets transfigured from tarpaulins. Draco was on his back with his eyes closed and Harry, by his side, was propped on one elbow, drawing patterns on Draco's belly with a fingertip.

"You're very skinny," he said.

"Because I don't sit on my arse behind a desk all day," Draco replied, turning to face Harry.

"I'm not fat!" Harry protested, stung.

"No, you're not," Draco agreed, pushing Harry onto his back and sliding on top. "But that's because you keep missing lunch to come and shag me instead." He rolled his hips and Harry moaned with pleasure, tipping his head back. Draco obligingly began to kiss his neck, but stopped abruptly. "Speaking of lunch..." he said, lifting his head.

"What?" Harry had been wondering what Draco would say if he asked to be tied down and was thrown rather by this turn in the conversation.

"The Umphtimuphs have finally given me a date for the handover. I'm meeting them at Jellicho's, at eleven o'clock on the third."

"Jellicho's? That's posh."

"It's got an indoor Quidditch pitch apparently. They want me to demo the broom and let this new signing have a go on it while I'm there. Anyway, I thought you could meet me at about one o'clock and we could have lunch there, to celebrate. What about it? Are you busy on the third? Lunch at Jellicho's is an unindulged, childhood fantasy of mine."

Harry tried to remember what his commitments were for the next week or so. "Yeah, I'm sure I can meet you then," he said.

"Good. Now, where were we?" Draco murmured, as he slithered down Harry's body to flick his tongue over a nipple. Harry sucked in his breath. "Draco," he said tentatively, "about unindulged fantasies..."

- - -

Harry was buoyed up and excited, as he always was by the prospect of seeing Draco, as he bounced into the elegant foyer of Jellicho's Hotel. He could see Draco standing with a group of people who were all wearing maroon robes. As he made his way over, he realised that somebody else, somebody very familiar, was also part of the group.

"Ginny?" he said, astonished.

"Harry? What are you doing here?" she replied, clearly taken aback to see him.

"I'm meeting Malfoy for lunch," he said, as if this should be obvious.

"You're meeting Malfoy for lunch? Since when have you two been lunch dates?"

"Imagine my surprise, Potter," Draco burst in, "the Umphtimuffs' returning star is Mrs Potter here. We've been working on the broom for her." He turned to Ginny. "I bumped into your husband a few weeks ago, and he's been test flying the broom for me. Astonishing coincidence, don't you think?"

Harry felt stunned. He stared at Ginny. "What I think is astonishing," he said angrily, "is that you must have been planning this for weeks. Why didn't you tell me? And my God! They're Australian! You surely weren't going to move to Australia without discussing it with me!" He was shouting now, his face red.

"Stop it, Harry!" Ginny hissed. "People are staring at you." She smiled at the agitated looking receptionist.

"People always stare at me," he replied, but more quietly. Ginny ignored this.

"We'll talk about this tonight. I'll explain everything. I didn't tell you in case it all fell through. I knew how you'd be, and there didn't seem any point getting your back up for nothing. It's an incredible opportunity for me. Lily'll be going to Hogwarts soon, what did you think I'd do? Sit around at home all day?"

Harry said nothing. Ginny shrugged impatiently. "I've got to go, I've got a robe fitting. We'll talk tonight."

She turned back to the rest of the group, who were trying to appear as if they hadn't been listening. She shook hands all round. "Thank you so much, I'm so thrilled. I'll be in touch," she gushed. She briefly took Draco's hand. "Malfoy. Amazing broom," she said, before turning back to Harry. "Enjoy your lunch. I'll see you tonight," she said, then Disapparated with a sharp crack.

The embarrassed Umphtimuffs made noises of appreciation and farewell to Draco, and finally he and Harry were left alone in the middle of the foyer.

"I can't believe she didn't tell me she was planning this! How could she?" Harry huffed.

"Look Harry, I've got a Gringotts draught for an insanely large number of Galleons burning a hole in my pocket. Do you want to help me blow some of it on the most extravagant lunch possible, with, I think two, yes, two bottles of champagne, or do you want to spend all afternoon sulking because your wife doesn't share her every passing thought and deed with you? On which score, incidentally, I think that, recently at least, she probably has more to complain of than you."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Harry asked crossly.

"Not particularly. Oh, come on, you miserable sod," Draco said. "I need lobster, now!" He took Harry's arm and dragged him towards the dining room.

Draco was in very high spirits and kept cracking the most ridiculous jokes.

"What do you get if you cross a donkey with a law enforcement wizard?" he asked, barely able to contain his laughter.

"Arrested?" Harry hazarded.

"An eeawror!" Draco crowed.

Harry scowled, but by his second glass of champagne he was giggling helplessly. As they ate, Draco switched to making waspish asides about the other diners, who were doing their best to ignore the drunks in the corner. These made Harry howl with laughter. They lingered over their coffee, sobering up slightly.

"It's a shame the rooms here are so ruinously expensive," Draco remarked, "or we could have gone upstairs and celebrated some more."

"Are they?" Harry asked. "Expensive I mean. Even for someone who's just sold a broom for an obscene amount of money?" He thought for a moment. "We could always go halves."

Draco laughed. "It's not terribly discrete though, is it? 'My extremely well known companion and I would like to rent a room for the afternoon,' hm?"

"Oh all right. What then?"

"Don't know. I just felt in the mood for something less Spartan than the workshop floor, and it's such a pain to keep transfiguring the tarps."

"I know!" Harry exclaimed. "The flat above the Wheezes."

"The what?"

"There's a flat at the top of the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes' building. Nobody ever uses it - it'd be perfect," Harry explained.

"Are you sure? Isn't it a bit close to home for you?"

"Honestly, nobody ever goes up there anymore. I'm keyed into the wards so I can just Apparate us in. I can't believe I didn't think of it before."

Draco still didn't look entirely convinced. "Are you sure you're in a fit state to be Apparating?" he asked. "I know they charge an arm and a leg here, but I doubt they'd be thrilled if we actually left body parts behind."

Harry snorted into his coffee.

"I can't take you anywhere, can I?" Draco said, with a shake of his head. He signalled for the bill. "Take me to this cobwebby palace of yours, then."

They finished their coffee and Draco settled the bill, refusing to let Harry see how much it was for. As they were being helped into their cloaks, a loud female voice hailed them.

"Draco, it is you! I knew it was."

They turned, to see two rather overdressed women approaching. "Daphne, Pansy," Draco greeted them, smiling broadly.

"I told Pansy it was you," Daphne gushed, "but she wouldn't have it. She said it couldn't possibly be you, having such a very good time with Harry Potter. Champagne at lunchtime! I hope you treat 'Ria this well," she added archly.

"You remember my sister-in-law, Potter," Draco said smoothly, his smile if anything even wider. "And Pansy of course." Harry shook hands with the two witches as Draco carried on talking.

"Potter, here, has just helped me to secure a very lucrative deal with the Quidditch team his wife has signed to for next season," he said.

"Goodness!" Daphne exclaimed, her tone heavy with irony. "Ministry salaries must be even worse than I imagined, if even the Chief Auror has to moonlight as a broom salesman!" She gave a high-pitched laugh. "Are you heading home now, Draco? I can take you if you like - Pansy and I were thinking of dropping in on 'Ria." Pansy's expression showed that this was news to her, but she held her tongue.

"No, I'm afraid not," Draco replied. "Some loose ends to tie up elsewhere, I'm afraid. If you do go to the Manor, you could let 'Ria know I may be a little late this evening." He turned back to Harry, "Come on, Potter, your solicitor is expecting us, I think you said?"

"What?" said Harry, temporarily caught napping. Draco rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, that's right. We'd better be going. Goodbye, er, ladies." As Draco also said his farewells, Harry took his arm, and concentrating as hard as he could, Apparated them away.

Draco looked around the rather dusty living room. "So this is how the other half live," he said, as he took off his gloves and unbuttoned his cloak.

Harry gave him a quelling look, but ignored the obvious bait. "It's a lot less draughty than your workshop," he replied. "And through here..." He clasped Draco's wrist and tugged him across the room. "...through here is a very large, very comfortable bed." He opened the door theatrically and pulled Draco into the bedroom.

"Well, when you put it like that," Draco said. He wrapped his arms around Harry, who pressed against him, eagerly. They kissed clumsily as they hurriedly fumbled out of their clothes. Draco insinuated his leg between Harry's and ground their hips together. Harry groaned, and moved to return the pressure, but impatiently Draco pushed him onto the bed.

Harry wasn't completely asleep, but he was feeling sufficiently warm and sated and dopey, that he didn't react at first when he heard George calling, "Who's there?"

When it finally penetrated the fog in his brain, he leapt up so fast it made him dizzy. "Shit! Draco wake up! It's George! Draco!" he hissed, as loudly as he dared.

"Wha..? What is it?" Draco frowned at Harry, blearily

"I know you're up here, whoever you are," George called again.

"Get up!" Harry hissed again, urgently, as he pulled on some clothes. "It's George. You've got to leave. Now!"

"You said he didn't come up here!" Draco said accusingly, as he struggled awake.

"Well he has. He mustn't find us here like this. I'll go and talk to him, you..."

"You'd better come out, before I call the Aurors."

"It's me, George," Harry shouted back. "I'll be right out."

He pulled Draco into a hug and kissed him hurriedly. "I'm sorry about this. I'll meet you in the Leaky, now you've got to go."

"How am I supposed to do that? I can't Floo, the fireplace is out there," Draco whispered.

"Shit! Well..." Harry considered trying to get Draco to Apparate but knew it was pointless. He looked around the room helplessly, then realised there was only one way for Draco to leave. "Out the window. You'll have to 'Leviosa yourself," he said. Draco didn't look as if he thought very much of this idea, but Harry had no time to think of a better one. He snatched another kiss, ignoring the dubious look on Draco's face, and went out into the living room.

George was standing at the other end of the room. "I didn't realise you ever came here anymore, Harry," he said stiffly.

"I don't, not usually. It's just I needed somewhere..." Harry stopped, as he realised that George was staring at a pair of black leather gloves lying on the arm of the sofa. Draco's gloves. He looked at George, whose face had become very still. They both knew that these were not Harry's gloves. Anyone in any way related to Molly Weasley had brightly coloured knitted gloves, not expensive black calfskin.

"George, look I can explain..."

"No, really no, there's no need," George interrupted. "I quite understand. No doubt you were interrogating an informant who was unwilling to be seen at the Ministry. Of course, this would be the perfect spot." He picked up the gloves and handed them to Harry. "You'd better give him these next time you meet, I think that noise must be him escaping out of the window." He looked pointedly at Harry's bare feet and then said, "I won't mention this to Ginny. No need to worry her over nothing. I'm sure you won't be taking such a risk again, will you?"

"I know what you're thinking, George, and honestly it isn't..." Harry tried desperatly, but George carried on as if he hadn't spoken.

"I think I'll change the wards on this place," he said. " For security. I'll be downstairs when you're ready to leave." He turned and left the flat.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Harry said to himself, sinking onto the sofa. He wondered what George had heard, to make him come upstairs. Harry didn't doubt that he had a very good idea of what had been going on. At least he had said he wouldn't tell Ginny. Harry thumped the sofa in irritation. A bloody fantastic afternoon spoiled. He hoped Draco would wait for him at the Leaky. With a sigh, he went to finish dressing.

George had been coldly angry. He had avoided meeting Harry's eye and cut him off every time Harry tried to speak. The door slammed hard after him as Harry left, but he barely registered it as he focused on the Leaky Cauldron.

At first, he couldn't see Draco, and began to think he'd gone home in disgust. Finally, he spotted him in a dark corner, nursing a pint. Harry got himself a drink and went over. He sat down and took a long pull on his beer. Neither of them spoke. Harry pulled Draco's gloves from his pocket and slapped them on the table. "You left these," he said. "On the sofa. George saw them."

"What did he say? Shouldn't you be home smoothing things over with your wife?"

Harry cast Muffliato. "He said he wouldn't tell her. This time."

"You know we've got to end this, don't you?" Draco said.

"End it?"

"Harry, we've been caught out three times today alone. You said it yourself, he won't tell her this time. If we carry on, then we are bound to be found out. 'Ria'll be fed up enough as it is, that I've given Daphne this much to gloat over. Are you really willing to risk your marriage?"

Yes, Harry thought. But he knew it wasn't true. If it had just been Ginny... But there were the kids. He couldn't give up his family. But giving up Draco was unthinkable too. "We could be more careful. The flat was a stupid idea, but there are other places. And what can Daphne really say? That we had lunch together? What's the big deal about that?"

"A boisterous lunch with lobster and champagne. Believe me, she's successfully made mischief with much less to go on. A master of innuendo, my sister-in-law. Your own wife obviously thought it very strange that I was going to celebrate with you. It wouldn't take too many more oddities like that, to add up to a suspicion. Besides, you'll be off to Oz won't you?"

Harry felt as though a lead weight had settled in his belly. These few short weeks with Draco, he'd felt more alive than he could ever remember. He couldn't just walk away and pretend it had all meant nothing, that Draco meant nothing to him.

"Draco," he began, "I..." But he couldn't say it. Draco was right. Why make it worse?

"I know," Draco said softly. "I wish I could say it wouldn't matter if we were found out, but real life isn't like that." He reached over and fleetingly covered Harry's hand with his own. "Walk me to the Floo?"

There was a loud clap of thunder as they left the Leaky Cauldron and they hurried along Diagon Alley through the pouring rain, dashing Harry's hopes of spinning out their time together with one last, long, leisurely stroll.

To Harry's surprise the Floo office was packed, and he struggled to find seats in the waiting area, while Draco queued for his ticket. Just as he thought they'd have to stand, a table right by him emptied and Harry claimed it unapologetically as Draco joined him.

"What number are you?" Harry asked.

"Four-oh-five."

"What are they up to?" Before Draco could answer, the attendant shouted for ticket numbers two-nine-five to three hundred. "Oh," Harry acknowledged. "We've a while then." He looked at the refreshment counter. "Do you want a cup of tea?"

Draco shook his head.

"Chocolate?"

"I don't think even that would help."

Harry nodded and they lapsed into silence. Under the table he reached out and put his hand on Draco's. Draco managed a small smile in response, but Harry could see the misery he felt reflected in Draco's face.

As if from a long way off, he heard someone hailing him.

"Harry! Harry! And Malfoy. Gracious, you did have a long lunch didn't you? Is there room for me? Oh yes! Thank goodness! I've been shopping all afternoon and my feet are killing me!"

Ginny! Dear God, was there anyone he wanted to see less, Harry thought. Here, now, trampling all over his last precious moments with Draco. He did his best to return her smile and half-stood to kiss her proffered cheek as she flopped into a chair next to him. "Hello, love," he managed to say.

"You're not still sulking about the Umphtimuffs, are you?" she asked, peering at him. Harry shook his head, what did any of that matter now?

"Good. I'll tell you all about it at home." She looked around. "Goodness, the Floo is busy tonight. People don't like to Apparate in the thunder I suppose. Nonsense, I'm sure, but then, why risk finding out it's not?" She smiled at Harry. "Would you get me a cuppa, darling? My mouth is like sandpaper." She chattered on, mercifully oblivious, as Harry gave Draco a despairing look and went to the counter. As he returned with the tea, more numbers were being called.

"That's me," Draco said in a flat voice, picking up his cloak. He stood, and he and Harry exchanged one last look. His number was called again. "I'd better go," he said, and Harry nodded, unable to speak. "Goodbye, Mrs Potter. Good luck with the 'Muffs." He squeezed Harry's hand and then moved away through the crowd. Ginny had barely noticed him leave.

Harry sat down heavily. He felt strangely separate from everyone around him, as if he were looking at them from a great distance. Ginny was talking at him, but he watched her mouth moving without registering a word she said. He looked at her and tried to remember why he had loved her. He had loved her, he knew he had. But somehow, that love had changed and faded, until all that remained in its place was familiarity and habit. Would that happen to his feelings for Draco too, he wondered. When he'd told Ginny he was going away with Ron and Hermione, all those years ago, he hadn't felt this awful rending pain at the thought that he might never see her again, had he? He'd been more focused on the task ahead of him, he supposed.

Wrapped in his own thoughts, Harry had, even so, been straining to hear Draco's voice calling his destination, to know that he had really gone. He still hadn't heard it. I can't do this, he thought wildly. I can't just let him walk away. Harry leapt up, his heart pounding madly. Suddenly nothing mattered except telling Draco how he felt. He forced his way through the crowded waiting room, using his elbows as much as excuse me, ignoring Ginny's perplexed voice calling after him.

He finally got through to the hearth, but Draco had gone. There was only an irritated queue of unfamiliar travellers, waiting impatiently while an elderly witch wrestled a rather snappy dog in to the fireplace with her. He felt somebody touch his arm and turned, irrationally hopeful. It was Ginny, with a concerned frown on her face.

"Are you all right, Harry?" she asked.

"Yes," he lied. "Yes. I just... I mean, there was something I wanted to tell Draco. But it doesn't matter now." He looked down at her and tried to muster some affection. "Come on," he said. "I can't bear all these people. Let's get out of here."

-----

Two years later

It was typical, Harry thought, as he shepherded his children and their trolley full of luggage towards platform nine and three-quarters, that although it had rained seemingly every day that summer, September first was as bright and sunny a day as you could wish for. They were early and the platform was nearly empty.

"Mum's not here yet!" Lily said crossly. "I bet she's forgotten."

"Don't be silly, Lil," Harry admonished. "Your mum wouldn't forget something this important. She's been sending me owls at least twice a day, reminding me of all the things you need to take. And besides, Uncle Ron is bringing her."

"Huh," said Lily mutinously. "If she'd been here, she could have got me my things herself."

"I thought we had quite a good time, you and me, choosing Freddie..." Harry nodded at the lizard poking its head out of Lily's pocket. "...and getting your books and things. And we had Dutch pancakes." That brought a smile to Lily's grumpy face.

"Yeah, that was good. James and Al were so jealous when I told them. Granny had made them eat cabbage!"

Harry couldn't think what the appropriate parental response to this should be, so ignored it. He peered around the rapidly filling platform, nodding at various people, trying to see where James and Al had got to. He looked back down at Lily, who was cooing at Freddie. He didn't know what Ginny would say about the lizard, but as he glanced up again, he realised he was probably about to find out. He nudged Lily. "I told you your mum would be here. Look! There she is." Harry did his best to keep his tone neutral, but he could feel his insides knotting as the Weasleys approached. Ron and Hermione looked slightly shabby beside Ginny, who was dressed to within an inch of her life.

"Hello," Harry said to all three. Hermione drew him into a hug and Ron greeted him with a nod. Ginny regarded him coolly. "Harry," she replied at last.

"Mum!" James yelled, suddenly reappearing and throwing his arms around Ginny.

Thank goodness, Harry thought, as Al turned up too to be fussed over. Lily was sulking again and had to be prompted to allow a kiss.

"How've you been?" Hermione asked Harry, as she always did, even though it had only been a few days since she'd last seen him.

"I'm fine. We've been fine," Harry replied, trying not to show his irritation. Ginny was flapping around the children, asking them if they'd packed this or that. He ground his teeth. He was perfectly capable of taking care of his children for a week and getting them ready for school.

"Don't you think you should get your trunks on the train?" he said loudly. "You don't want all the good seats to have gone." This caused a flurry of activity as James and Al manhandled the Potter and Weasley trunks, whilst Rose Weasley did her best to direct them. Harry grinned at her bossiness.

"Just like her mother," Ron said in a low tone. Harry laughed, but sobered when Hermione and Ginny both frowned darkly.

The trunks were loaded and the train was getting up steam. It was time for final goodbyes. Harry hugged Al and then looked at James, who scowled back. "I suppose you're a bit old for a hug," he said. "Shake hands?"

James hesitated, then shook Harry's hand. "Bye Dad," he said quite warmly, then rushed to the train.

Harry gave Lily a final kiss as she climbed aboard. "Be good," he said. "Write soon."

"Work hard," Ginny added, from beside him.

The train pulled out, as all over the station parents waved madly.

"Take care, Harry," Hermione admonished, giving his arm a squeeze.

"Yeah, see you mate," Ron added.

"Bye," Harry replied. "Bye Gin." But she had already Disapparated.

Harry took a deep breath and prepared to Apparate himself, when a soft voice spoke almost in his ear, "Hello Harry."

Harry jumped a mile and turned to berate whoever it was, "Fucking Hell! Do you want me to splinch myself or something!" He stopped with his mouth open. "Draco."

"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you," Draco said, sounding more amused than apologetic. "Long time no see."

"Yeah," Harry agreed dazedly.

"Mrs Potter looked in the pink," Draco said, as he began to walk towards the exit.

"She doesn't call herself that anymore," Harry corrected him.

"Ah yes, I read about your divorce."

"Yeah," Harry said again, falling into step beside him, "you and the rest of the world." He sighed. "It just got too difficult with her in Australia and me here. I was going to take a sabbatical and go out there too, but by the time I'd arranged it we'd realised there was no point."

"The physical distance revealed the emotional gap that already existed between you?"

Harry looked at Draco quizzically. "Was that in Witch Weekly?" he asked.

"Probably," Draco nodded. "'Ria gets all those rags. Witch Weekly, Witch's Own, Hasbeen Celebrity Slapper Witches."

Harry laughed. "I don't think I've seen that one."

"Oh, I'm sure you must have, though maybe I haven't quite got the title right."

They walked through the station in silence. Harry thought how great Draco still looked. He'd cut his hair very short, and though Harry rather regretted the floppy, aristocratic fringe, he could see that the new look suited Draco. He gave himself a mental shake - all that was in the past now. He'd done the right thing and put his family first. It was utterly pointless yearning for what might have been. In any case, from what he'd heard, Draco hadn't wasted anytime pining over him. He took a deep breath. "Congratulations on the new baby," he said.

"What?" said Draco, standing still and frowning. "What baby?"

"Erm, well, I thought Al told me Scorpius had a new sister."

"Oh!" Draco laughed. "Yes of course. Scorpius does have a new sister, but she's nothing to do with me."

"What?"

"It turns out 'Ria has been shagging some Ministry wonk since I don't know when. I doubt I'd ever have realised, if Julianna hadn't brought it to my attention."

"Julianna?" Harry asked, not quite following.

"The new baby. I haven't slept with 'Ria since, well for years," he said, clearly changing what he had been going to say. "So when she found she was pregnant, the cat was out of the bag."

Harry's mouth had become very dry. He cleared his throat. "So, you and 'Ria aren't together anymore, then?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"Not really, I've moved into the Dower House. 'Ria and I are still on reasonably good terms. Really, we make much better friends than spouses, and to my surprise Scorpius dotes on his little sister. I felt sure he'd be horribly jealous. That was my one concern. But there you are, I'll never understand Hufflepuffs."

"I thought he was in Ravenclaw, with Al," Harry said, as they started walking again.

"Technically, yes. But I think the hat was having an off day. What about you? Back to being the wizarding world's most eligible bachelor?"

Harry grimaced. Draco laughed, and carried on in the same joky tone, "Or are you off the market again, already?"

"I, erm, I'm still single," Harry admitted.

"There's still a chance for me then," Draco said. "Though I don't suppose you'd be interested in a sad git who lives with his mother?"

Harry felt as though all the breath had been pushed out of him. He's only joking, he told himself firmly. He needed to be certain. Harry put a hand on Draco's arm to stop him. "Are you being serious?" he asked nervously.

"Do you want me to be?"

"Yes," Harry said. "Very much."

Draco smiled and took a step closer to Harry. "I can't tell you how much I hoped you'd say that." Heedless of the rest of the world scurrying past, he took Harry in his arms and they kissed.

The End.

Author's notes This fic is based entirely on 'Brief Encounter' the 1945 film written and produced by Noel Coward and directed by David Lean. Obviously I've changed quite a lot, including adding a happy ending and writing it from the opposite point of view - Harry here is Alec (Trevor Howard) and Draco, Laura (Celia Johnson).

The piece in italics at the very start is from the Epilogue of 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows'

If you got this far then thank you very much for persevering. Any and all polite thoughts are welcome.