Harry was grading papers in his office when James came through the door, holding a recognizable sheet of paper in his hands. It was late, Monday afternoon, and dinner was to be soon.

"My father forgot to sign this, Professor, would you mind?"

"Bloody smart-arse, give it here," Harry muttered, taking the sheet from his third-year, hiding his grin when he discovered what it was. "Oh," Harry pretended to let his face fall, "This must be signed by a parent or guardian. I am afraid since he forgot, you shall not be attending Hogsmeade."

"Dad," James whined causing his father to laugh joyously, "Just sign it!"

"Manners?"

"Please?" The boy returned, exhausted at his father's antics.

Scribbling across the sheet with hand-writing he wouldn't have to try to read, Harry handed back the parchment to his son with a question, "How did I not remember to sign it at all this summer?"

"No idea," James said, "Must have been your sudden overhaul of the curriculum."

"That was the ministry, not me, James."

"Or was it attempting to impress the parents of the first-years?"

"What are you on about?" Harry questioned his son guardedly, leaning back in his chair as James sat on the edge of his desk.

"There's a rumor--"

"James..." The professor in him came out in that warning word.

"That you had drinks with Malfoy Senior."

"That sounds odd, we used to call Scoprius' grandfather that, not Malfoy himself."

James made an odd face at him, wondering exactly why his father had so casually interrupted.

"It was true then? That you're getting on with Malfoy? I think it's great and all, equality or what have you, but why didn't you tell me? We had lunch yesterday," James Potter demanded.

"You're only thirteen, you know that, yes?" Harry asked him pleasantly, not at all bothered by the accusing tone his son took.

"Yeah, Dad, but--"

"Who I associate with isn't your business just yet, James. Besides, we hated one-another for years, we only just became friends a few nights ago because I sat down next to the prat."

James looked quite defeated as he screwed his courage to the sticking place.

"I guess even though we live in the same building, I don't see you that often. I just want to know if you're okay, I reckon. I don't really remember mum much, but I know you miss her," James tapered off as he hopped from the desk looking all the frightened thirteen years of age he should.

"Hey," Harry said and stood up quickly, taking the boy in his arms and holding him close,"Don't you worry over me. I already have Hagrid and Neville doing it. I just need you to be my son."

"Sure, Dad," he replied with an equally tight embrace for his father.

"Now, go back to whatever it is you were doing and send Rose my love."

"Ew, Dad, no."

"Go," Harry commanded, watching James nearly sprint from the room laughing.

"Kids," he muttered, turning back to his papers and settling in to grade them without interruption.

-

Potter,

It seems that I enjoyed our little chat Saturday night, and I am abashedly hoping that you shall concede to another such occurrence. Scorp tells me that he very much enjoys your instruction, by the way.

Meet me at The Three Broomsticks on Friday night if you're willing to oblige my request. 

Malfoy

-

Harry sat at another stool, looking about the pub with wonder. He assumed seven since the blond wizard hadn't given him a specific time to meet. Seven simply seemed like the right time, but he was lacking the sighting of anyone matching Malfoy's description, there wasn't even a blonde in the entire place.

"Date didn't show?"

Harry looked up at the woman twirling her wand and smiling at him. It seemed a blonde had finally stumbled in, though it wasn't the one he'd been awaiting.

"Er, I was waiting for an old friend, actually."

"Oh, right. Granger or Weasley?"

Harry shook his head and sighed rather heavily, "You know who I am, then?"

The witch smiled.

"No offense, but it's hard not to know who Harry Potter is." She then sat down and held out her hand, "Sorry. You proabably hate hearing it."

Harry shrugged, grasping her hand and shaking it politely.

"Well, it does get old."

The witch smiled, her blonde hair in a pile on her head, the curls loose in several places.

"Crap, my name. Uh, I'm Harley Smith."

"American?"

"As if my lack of accent didn't give it away," She replied to Harry's quick question.

He was sipping at a drink the bartender had put in front of him, and Harry was listening intently as she babbled just a bit.

"You went to... Ilvermorny is it?" Harry wondered.

"Yep!" She grinned.

Her upturned lips were certainly infectious, and the witch was no less than beautiful, but Harry had to suspect that she was younger than him with such youth.

"What brings you to Britain... let alone the Three Broomsticks?" He already hated himself for getting into a further conversation when awaiting Malfoy.

Her blue eyes were trained on his green ones, a smile still stuck to her pale face.

"Well, I was meeting with an investor this week for a couple things, and this is the only completely magical village in Britain, so... here I am! I've heard great things about the Butter Beer around these parts."

Harry laughed in response at her comment, sipping at her indicated drink. He had wanted to be the farthest thing from drunk in speaking with Malfoy so that way he avoided any quips of such that would go against his favor. He didn't want his new and infantile friendship with Draco to suddenly vanish before it could develop.

"What are you gathering investors for?"

"I'm a wand-maker in America. Family business and such, but I want to expand it to Canada so that way families in North America aren't applying so often for Port-Keys to the few wand-shops on the northern border."

Blinking in surprise, Harry stared on at the new acquaintance.

"You've got this whole thing planned out, haven't you?" He inquired.

"I need to convince investors somehow. I can't only go on my good looks, you know?"

Harry grinned, "I think you could."

Giggling, she tried to straighten her face, but failed.

"I'll use that as my back up. Luckily enough, though, I did get him to invest."

"Good for you," Harry said with a smile, glancing at his watch. It was fifteen after seven, maybe he could owl Malfoy?

"You're still waiting on your friend, huh?"

"Yes."

"I'm being annoying aren't I?"

He looked at her carefully, regarding the witch who seemed to not know much about him at all.

"No, distracting me really, which I reckon I need right about now."

Harley smiled, sipping at her own drink that was placed in front of her, delicate lips capturing his eyes from looking at the entryway.

"Is he or she late?"

"We didn't really have a set time. He rather gave me a general invite, and for all I know he could have meant midnight."

The entertaining comment went no further as the blonde seemed to look back and realize something.

"That's my investor!" She indicated towards the newcomer excitedly.

Harry, however, knew exactly who the man was, but certainly he hadn't been expecting him to have been an investor.

"Draco?"

"Don't tell me that's who you were waiting for!"

Narrowing green eyes, Harry let out a shaky breath and nodded.

"That's exactly who I was waiting on."

"Harry!" The familiar voice came, his expression excited until he saw Harley in which his pale cheeks stretched even further, if at all possible. "You've met my investment then! I didn't think you two would run into each other!"

"Well, mate, you were proved wrong."

Draco simply grinned as he pushed between Harry and the blonde to grab the bartender for a drink. He then looked pointedly at the woman and asked her to move over a seat. As if in a throne, Malfoy sat happily in Harley's chair and made to make conversation with Harry.

"I take it you got my rather vague letter."

"I reckon so; if I'm here."

"Potter," Draco warned, "I think I meant to write a time down, but I forgot and sent it before remembering."

"I see."

Harry sat back and looked at Harley who had finished off her drink and made to leave the pub, setting down a few sickles and knuts to cover her costs. She caught his gaze as Malfoy leaned forward to receive his own drink, and her smile earned her one back.

"Have a nice night, Harry."

"Night," he replied, standing up to shake her hand once again, "And owl me if you need anymore investors."

"Will do!"

The blonde flounced off as the other one simply looked after her, turning back to Harry who was getting comfortable upon his still again. They sat for a minute before either one carried out conversational details.

"So, you invest now?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Yes," Malfoy replied, smacking his lips, "I have for a while, really. Muggle and Magical depending only on how sound the investment seems. Her idea was brilliant."

"I thought so too."

"She told you of it?" Draco asked, stunned almost like he'd just heard Harry speak parseltongue.

"Yeah, we talked for a bit in your absence," Harry nudged purposefully. Maybe making Malfoy feel guilty for the misconception about the times so early in friendship was bad and immature, but it was all in good fun really.

"Funny Potter."

"I fancy myself a comical man."

"What does your son think?"

"James thinks otherwise. What about Scorpius? He's gotten less... quiet over the days. I think Rose is doing well for him."

Draco glared.

"Damnable Weasley's."

"Granger-Weasley's."

"Oh, come off it, Harry."

They both laughed that time, though one man less than the other.

"She might do him well, you know? Besides, wouldn't you love to have a Weasley as your daughter-in-law?"

If looks could kill, Harry was assured that his wand wouldn't have helped him a bit in that situation.

"You know, she's a bright and wonderful young witch, your prejudice against my friends is ridiculous--"

"It's not prejudice, Potter, it's not," Draco insisted, "I just have to get used to this whole being mates with the entire wizarding population thing."

"Sure..." Harry agreed, patting him on the shoulder before finishing off his pint.

"I feel like this is one of those parent-teacher conferences those infernal muggle schools that Scorp went to for primary made me go to. I felt like an imbecile before the muggle instructors."

"I don't have any concerns about him, or what you do, so this definitely isn't a parent-teacher conference," Harry laughed at the mere prospect of approaching Malfoy about his son or concerns of Scorpius. It scared him half-wit just to think about having to set up a meeting like that.

"What did you think about Harley?" Draco asked, not looking towards Harry much, but squaring his shoulders.

"She's very outgoing... very American."

"Funny, Potter."

"I thought we went over this already? I'm a funny wizard."

"Mhm," Malfoy replied contemptuously.

"How long is she staying, do you know?" Harry wondered suddenly, swiping a hand through his hair and looking directly at Draco.

"Dunno," Draco said cautiously, "She has her investment, so I don't imagine long."

"Ah," Harry muttered in some type of disappointment.

He had truthfully not minded the young witch, the bright blonde from Ilvermorny. She was pleasing on the eyes, but if she was leaving soon, then it didn't really mean much; his attraction.

"Does Potter fancy my investment?"

"Bollocks," Harry encountered, "You sound like it's actually her you're investing in. You're investing in her wand-making shoppes."

"Wrong. I'm not giving the money to a shop, I'm giving it to the witch."

"If you insist, Malfoy."

"How's James doing... you know, without his mother?"

"How's Scorpius doing?" Harry countered.

"Right," Draco said, "It's as well as he can be. Though, James didn't really know Mrs. Potter that well, did he?"

"He was two," Harry confirmed, "I wasn't expecting it, but no one really was."

"No one expects someone to die, Harry, unless we're talking about you-know-who."

Not caring to dwell on such a prospect as that he'd decided to bring up, Harry laughed.

"Right... do you miss Astoria a lot?"

With a rude, gray, glare, the boy who lived had received part of his answer.

"There's some days I like to think that she is going to walk right through the door of the manor when I least expect it, run into my arms, and kiss me like she never left. There are other days when I understand her death, and don't expect anything of her, I just try to be happy. Do you know the difference on those days?" Draco asked Harry curiously, sipping at his drink, licking his lips most unnecessarily.

To Harry they'd looked like they hadn't gotten even a drop of his pint on them.

"No, I want Ginny to come in through the doors every second... sometimes every moment," Harry replied unsure, "Except, I dunno, when I'm talking with my mates or--"

"Exactly! When you're with people you care about, you realize that the hurt isn't forever. Eventually it dulls. Certainly doesn't feel like it did when she died, does it?"

Shaking the mop of black hair on his head, Harry Potter realized what Malfoy was saying.

"You mean like right now?"

Drawing back slightly, Draco seemed to take in what his friend had said with bug-eyes.

"You think of me that highly?"

"Well, yeah, I mean..."

"It's fine, Potter, I feel the same way. You make me forget."

"You make me forget. Just like Ron and Hermione."

"Wow, I'm in the same category as the Weasels, who'd have thought?" Draco retorted pompously, though it didn't go any further than his lips, the lies he spit out for just Harry to hear.

"It's the very highest honor."

"I'm sure some see it as that, Potter, you know: just those two."

"Thanks for that."

"I just insulted you?" Draco replied curiously, looking at him with insanity.

"Not really, you said something no one else dared to... that I'm not important. And you're right, Neville would have done just as well being the chosen one."

Hearing something so real from Harry made Malfoy smile instead of be uncomfortable, and if that wasn't proof they were friends, then nothing was.

-

The castle was quiet that night as Harry did his patrols, looking for the stray student or two, though no one seemed to dare as he walked the floors, father to James Potter and Order of Merlin, First Class. Not that that mattered to school children, really. He nearly avoided running into Peeves, then did happen to find a studnet by some struck of luck... or bad luck seeing as it was James.

"Do you want me to give you detention? Remember the last time?"

"No, I just wanted to know how your date-- day was," James seemed way too flustered for the words he'd said, but he showed it by turning on his heels and attempting to skitter away.

"Ah, ah, ah, I don't think so. I will hex you, you are my son after all."

The boy turned back with a bright smile.

"What do you mean by date?"

"I heard you met a girl, is all, dad. Nothing atrocious, what did you think I meant by it?" The boy wondered, genuine in the things he said. Harry knew his son well, after all.

To be completely honest with himself, Harry had thought the boy meant that he was dating Malfoy, which would be quite the scandal, let alone utterly wrong. They were both widowers, and neither was gay, so it really didn't matter. Still, that's what he thought his son had insinuated at first.

He wasn't telling him that though, not ever.

"She was American, pretty, but she's leaving, so go back to bed. Stop believing rumors."

"I have a trusty informative, though."

"Who?" Harry asked, befuddled.

"Teddy."

And before Harry could take away house points, James was gone.