It might have been unfair that the Auror office accepted Harry and Ron in without them even finishing their education in Hogwarts. It might have been unfair and wrong. But Harry didn't honestly care. They had presented him with the opportunity right after the war and he had grasped it with both hands. Just to get something to do, to get out of his own head in a way of speaking. In his mind the ministry had tried their best to push rubbish on him during his growing years that they kind of owed him a favour.

The months that he'd been working already had been tiring, but in a completely different way. He had a flat in London now. Just a small place, out of the way, in muggle London if he was being honest. It was unlikely that any wizarding reporter would find their way into Nothing Hill and Harry liked it that way. He worked, he came home, he worked again, came home, sometimes he'd have a pint with Ron and Hermione, on weekends they might go to the Burrow and Molly cooked for them.

Of course work wasn't quite as simple as he made it sound like. But in half a year, he hadn't manage to get himself sacked at least. The war was over, yet it didn't go away. Not that Harry wanted it to go away. He wanted everything to change because of it. And so little had. Almost like his mother and father, Remus and Sirius, Tonks, they hall had died for nothing. Reporters wanted to hear about heroics. They wanted neat endings, conclusions, bad versus good and how the brave won and the life went back to normal, the good and the perfect normal.

Harry mostly kept to himself. They had soon learned in the auror office not to get on his way and things would go smoothly like that. He would run down the villains and capture the Death Eaters still loose on the country side but he really didn't feel like talking about it. Twice in the past half a yearh he had been in the Prophet. Raving lunatic and Harry Potter Strikes Again. Nothing very flattering all in all. But they had caught him at a wrong time and he had given them exactly what they wanted. A story.

Returning Draco his wand is something Harry doesn't know what he thinks about. Maybe it's a way to close a door to that life finally. Maybe it's to see Malfoy and how he's changed ever since the last days of the war.

Whatever it is, he is in the Three Broomsticks around eleven like promised, dressed in a pair of worn out jeans and flannel shirt, no robes, just sneakers and his wild mop of a hair. He bustles into the tavern with a smile greets the old people on the counter and orders a pint and something for lunch. Then he's looking around in the room and finally spots a shock of white hair in the corner. Pint in hand, he weaves his way through the room and to the table, taking a seat across Malfoy.

"Hello."

Draco Malfoy. A boy who had been the centre of Harry's life so many times. Once Harry had tried to explain it to Hermione with the help of at least half a bottle of rum and a night of no masks and lies. (Needless to say she hadn't understood.) Draco had made sure that Harry disliked everything about old pureblood families before he even learned what they were. Draco had made sure that Harry wanted nothing to do with Slytherin. Draco had also lit up his world in a way that Harry had realised that he had a voice to speak with, he had an opinion and he could speak it. Draco had been in stark focus in his life for seven years. He had been more interested in Draco Malfoy than he had been interested about Voldemort for six of those years. Draco also had made him realise that not all of the bad people were so bad in the end. Draco had made him regret his own actions, had shown him a face of Harry Potter that he couldn't look at from the mirror. Draco had taught him anger, irritation, downright hatred, but he had also taught him to look deeper, to realise that it wasn't all that he was seeing.

Single handedly just by existing, Draco Malfoy had been probably one of the most influential people in Harry's life.

It wasn't surprising to Harry anymore that they could use the same wand. Or that Draco's mother had been the very reason why Harry wasn't truly dead today.

Draco Malfoy was still a git, an irritating arsehole that Harry didn't know how to get along with. But even if he couldn't get along with him, he still didn't seem to want to leave Draco alone completely.

"You didn't order any lunch?" he asked instead of answering Draco's question, looking him straight in the eyes calmly. Draco looked like he was ready to bolt. "We can share. I got fish and chips."