"And can someone please tell me what the danger of a Hinkypunk is?"

Harry leaned back on his desk, looking out at excited faces, and knowing full well their excitement wasn't for him. The third-years wiggled in their seat, another weekend at Hogsmeade coming up, and their anticipation seemed unrivaled. He sighed, looking at everyone pleadingly.

Oh, to be the last professor they had on that day.

Harry watched his son look around, his hair falling into his face, as ever unmanageable as his own had been, and then rolled his eyes, volunteering himself.

Happily, he chose James to answer the question.

"They're little creatures who lead wizards and muggles into bogs or fog with a lantern that they're attached to."

"Correct, thank you, James! Yes, Hinkypunks are small creatures made up of a wispy smoke, and only have one leg. However, they are not attached to the lantern, they merely carry it with them.... Now can anyone tell me what happens when you illuminate them?"

Dead silence, besides excited shuffling, and a few students actually attempting to pay attention sifting through their notes.

"The faster you answer, the faster you get to go to Hogsmeade!" He exclaimed, attempting to get someone besides his son to answer. The boy pleaded with him as he shoved his hand in the air, the rest of the class looking at him and hoping he'd finally let James answer all the questions.

"James isn't going to take the exam for everyone, what is it?"

He made sure to note to McGonagall to never let the Third Years be put this late on his time table ever again. Though she may have done this as a slight challenge against him and his almost spectacular results as a professor.

A Ravenclaw girl seemed inclined after long enough of him merely ignoring his son, and Harry excitedly chose the blonde.

"They solidify?"

"Don't make it a question next time, Miss Kemp, but you are very right. Now, I want a very brief introduction paragraph written on these little wisps come the next time I see you, and you are all dismissed," Harry yelled over the packing up and chattering, amused by the young wizards' energy.

It was a pleasant surprise to have James walk up to his desk as Harry tidied up the assignments he'd collected from them that day.

"Hey, dad."

"Hey, son. Is everything okay?"

The boy nodded, coming around the desk and nodding. He hopped up and sat on it, but Harry still wasn't convinced that everything was going alright. However, he wouldn't press. Sitting in his chair, and starting on his grading, Harry waited until James was inclined to tell him what was plaguing him.

"Am I allowed to miss Mum?"

Looking up, Harry saw his normally composed and brave son was not such in that moment.

"Of course you are," he assured him, "Why would you think you can't?"

Harry stood up and encompassed his son in a hug, and despite its awkwardness, he hugged back.

"I don't know," came the muffled reply, "I've just been hearing how my mates all talk about their parents, and then about how sad it was that you're alone... well, that's other people, not my friends, but still. I hate hearing you pitied because you fought hard for us to be a proper family, like you never had, and then it was taken from you... from us."

"Yeah," Harry mumbled, stroking the boy's unruly hair, "I know. I'm trying to make the best of it, though, and while I might not be able to find someone to help us add to our little family, at least there's us. And I will never leave you. I mean, at this point, I think if Avada Kedavra can't kill me, then I don't know what can."

He earned a laugh, and the tenseness in Harry's shoulders relaxed. He didn't know what he would have said if he hadn't been able to help his own son feel better. Never did a parent want to see their child like this, but the emotions were healthy, and Harry was always glad to help his son, no matter the circumstance.

"You can let go, dad."

"Right," Harry laughed at the mumbled request, then stepped back, finding a much happier James Potter.

"Sorry about all the emotions, it's been an interesting week. I let Emily convince me into studying for Divination, but I'm just bollocks at it, so who knows. Going into Hogsmeade tonight, dad?"

Harry only laughed at the quick and manly way James attempted to pretend their previous conversation didn't happen.

"No, probably not."

His eyebrows went screwy, and now Professor Potter knew he was in for a whole new boatload of questions.

"What's holding you back? I thought you were trying to get back out there? Are you scared you might run into your son?"

"If I find you in Madame Rosmerta's on a Friday night, I will skin your hide, James Sirius, I don't want to hear another word. I just don't feel like festivities today, is all."

"Is it because of how things went with the American witch?" James inquired innocently, but he struck a chord in his dad when the reply came quickly.

"Not really." It wasn't angry, moreover thoughtful and completely confused. "A lot has been on my mind, and I want to take the night to myself. Butterbeer can wait till tomorrow."

James laughed, shaking his head as he slung his bag over his shoulder and shoved his wand in his pocket haphazardly.

"See ya, dad."

"See you later, son."

James ran off, and Harry went back to his grading, getting a few sheets done before yet another interruption.

A familiar owl had landed on his desk, perched with pride and a cocky air to him.

The letter from Malfoy was dropped unceremoniously on his desk, and Harry sighed, wondering what on earth the man could want from him.

The owl hooted contemptuously until Harry gave the blasted beast a treat, then was left alone to consume the contents of his letter.

Harry,

Meet me at the Three Broomsticks tonight? Just needed a friend.

Draco.

PS, Seven.

Chuckling, Harry tucked the letter into his desk. Looks like he was headed to Hogsmeade that evening after all.

-

Sat at a booth in the corner, just to make sure no one else saw him and reported into James, Harry waited for Draco. He was a bit early, but he wanted to get a drink in before the wizard came, just to make sure he calmed his nerves a bit.

Harry felt a little shaken knowing how Harley had viewed them as a pair. Sure, they certainly wouldn't be, nor would he even consider them an item, but Harry had that idea planted in his head now and found it amusing. He'd hate to just think of the idea and then burst out laughing while Draco was talking about Astoria or something of the likes.

So, he had a quick drink, then ordered two more.

When Draco finally found him, Harry had to squint and make sure his glasses were on properly.

The blond was wearing a muggle suit, one of expensive quality if he truly could see properly, and it fit him. Now, Harry had never looked at a man like he was looking at Draco right now, but surely he needn't have come in a three-piece muggle suit? This was the Three Broomsticks for Merlin's sake, couldn't the bloody tosser just wear jeans like everyone else? Regardless, his kept hair and illuminated skin seemed to pop out against the dusty-black suit, and Harry wondered briefly if Harley had slipped him something to make him feel like this.

So what, Draco looked good? He'd spruced up before, particularly at his wedding, where even Hermione had said he looked very handsome and attractive. That was a feat for her too, as they thought of one-another as siblings.

Harry brushed it off, hoping not too much time had passed and threw out his hand saying, "Hey."

"Hey," Draco replied, shaking his hand, then taking it and immediately ruining his perfectly placed hair. It looked better like that, but Harry stopped trying to be the judge.

Harley must have poisoned him.

"Sorry about the get-up, I was doing a muggle deal today, multi-millions were involved, so I had to look the part," he gestured to his suit coat then promptly took it right off. showing a crisp white shirt and same colored vest that was perfectly snug.

Regardless of how Harry was viewing Draco, it didn't matter. He had no inclination like that for blokes, and it certainly wasn't going to start in the middle of his life.

"It looks good, I'm sure they were impressed," he found himself saying anyways.

"Thanks, Potter, I wanted to rip it off all day, but it got me a nice look from the man's secretary," he said with a wiggle of his brows, "Good looking bloke if I've ever seen one."

"So you do a lot of these deals?"

"I would go stir crazy if I didn't. Since Scorp has gone to school, though, I've done a bit more than I ever have. I have so much time on my hands, it's positively insane. I almost wish I had a job, but then again, I don't need it. Do you... like working?"

Harry chuckled. What would have kept him there all those years if he hadn't?

"Obviously."

"Prat," Draco said as he threw back the whole of his tonic and let out a shaky breath, "Another round?"

"Please," Harry said and finished his off, too.

"Right," Draco said, getting up from the table and walking over to the bar. It was starting to get mildly crowded now, and Harry felt his face heat up.

What would people think if they saw them here in this booth, so close and secluded?

Nothing, his common sense told him, but Harry had never been the one to listen to common sense. His impulse control was poor, and he made way to squeeze them into the last two seats at the bar so people wouldn't be too suspicious, but before he could, someone had taken them, and Draco was on his way back with two, foaming pints.

Harry thought he looked rather out of place against all of the wizards in his overly muggle attire.

Shoving the thoughts back, he accepted the glass and took a large gulp.

"Thanks, Draco."

"Sure, Harry. So, how is my son doing in your class?'

"Just as amazing as everyone else is," Harry told him with a glare, "It's not like he hasn't told you about the O he just got on the first paper I assigned."

Draco grinned, "He's good at everything, just like I was," the proud father boasted.

"And yet Hermione still beat you under the table when she graduated finally."

A roll of grey eyes later, and Draco was defending his case quite vehemently.

"Sorry I was working for a dark wizard against my will, maybe next time I'll do better," he said lightheartedly, and Harry laughed.

It was an unadulterated, pure laugh, and he felt like he hadn't shared anything like it in quite a long time.

"When did you decide you were ready to get back into dating?" Draco suddenly asked, over his drink that was nearly finished. Harry wasn't sure when he'd accomplished that, but he felt like he needed to catch up in fear of punishment.

He gulped his drink down before answering the heady question. With his comments earlier Harry had imagined that the blond would have already been seeing people, but it seemed that that might not be the case.

"Regardless of having a child... the nights are lonely. I can't make James five again and scared of thunder, wanting to cuddle with me in bed, and I haven't been one for animals that can't go out and hunt their own food. I haven't been much for pets since Hedwig, and well, I'm lonely, I suppose. Not ridiculously, or anything like that, but the kind of partner lonely that you only experience in having been through something so detrimental. I know if I was in Ginny's place, I'd want her to have moved on ages ago. It's been eleven years..."

Harry only realized how pathetic he sounded after the words left his mouth.

"Wow, I never realized the famous Potter wasn't a dog person."

That wasn't exactly the response he imagined, but it was far better than he could have asked for. Malfoy had had the opportunity right in front of him to jab hard, and really the whole question in a whole could have been used against him, but Draco hadn't. That meant a lot to Harry, which scared him, as he offered to get them more drinks.

"Your hatred against cute, fuzzy, puppies is not lost on me by your generosity!" The blond chirped in reply, laughter smooth and natural from the both of them.

When Harry returned with a pitcher and two full pints, Draco's eyes widened.

"Do you think I can handle all that? Or did you buy for only yourself because of my puppy comment?"

"I love dogs, I just don't want to own one. And don't you dare get the idea in James' head. I got the pitcher for both of us, I don't care for all this getting up and down. This means I also paid more," Harry argued, winking in the man's direction.

It was probably just the lighting that made him think it had elicited a response from the man.

Harry really did need to get his eyes checked.

"I know I can move on from Astoria, it's just hard to think of forming that same bond with someone else. I feel sometimes... that no one will be good enough to do so. Like, I'm not supposed to find that again ever, not even remotely close. I just think the life of a widower is good enough for me."

Harry looked to his left quizzically, feeling like a kid again, sitting in Hogsmeade, sharing a drink with his mate. This time, as the alcohol got into his system and he refilled his cup, it was easy to distinguish the difference. Especially since it was Draco next to him... and he kind of felt weird around him.

That aside, Harry answered quickly, "You shouldn't try to replace Astoria, Draco. You're allowed whatever you want, especially considering how rare your type of relationship was. You don't want to fabricate what you had before, that's not worth it, but finding something new is."

Draco looked over at him, making worrisome eye-contact.

"You haven't even found someone yet, Harry, how do you know all this?"

"Lot's of lectures from Hermione," he explained bemusedly.

That earned a small chuckle, which had Harry very much proud of himself.

He liked Draco, and while he was sure it was not in the fancying sort of way, he was certainly glad Merlin had put him back into his life. It was good to make friends, and he hadn't had the chance in a long time, due to all of his fame and publicity.

The night went on, and they finished off the pitcher Harry had brought over, Draco drunk before it was gone, and Harry right there with him when he chugged the rest of the beer.

Maybe it was the surroundings of the late-night pub, or maybe it was the idea that had been planted into his head for a whole week now... or maybe it was simply because he wanted to, but with low lights and an intoxicated smile, Harry leaned in, looking Draco dead in the eye until he was close enough to touch. Their lips met, and his eyes closed at the feeling of a kiss, which he hadn't experienced in over eleven years.

Harry's inebriated brain was asunder, feeling everything from trepidation to sheer delight, which was utterly surprising to him, but he didn't want it to stop.

Which, of course, was why it was heartbreaking when Draco pushed away and excused himself, not to be seen again for the rest of the night.