#'it will confuse them'??? the aunt who still hasnt fucking apologized???

[lightningfilledsaber]

Girl I fucking hate christmas

[fallingoverharrypotter]

Last right off Diagon

Inspired by prompt Curiosity for @drarrymicrofic , and written for a laugh.

It's an ugly little hole in the wall, Draco thinks. Peeling paint, done the muggle way, and dirty windows that probably wouldn't let in the mere amounts of light that this area of Diagon is privy to. Especially with the amount of crap blocking Dracos view inside.

So he can't see the proprietor. He can't see whether theres anyone else inside. Shit. He wants to turn back, give up. Take the bag hanging at his side and toss it into the Thames right fucking now.

He's hyperventilating. He can't believe he's actually standing in front of this stupid store with a bag filled with. Curios. And he's actually hyperventilating.

"Um-"

And Draco jerks, hard, right into the window.

His nose stings, and he can feel the beginnings of blood dripping atop his cupid's bow and down his chin. He's not hyperventilating now: thank Merlin for small mercy's. He turns to direct his swearing at the person who startled a man in the middle of a panic attack, blood flooding down his face, and sees a wand directed right at his nose.

Draco, ex-convict, is unfortunately used to this reaction to his presence. He doesn't waste his precious sanity on worrying about it anymore, but at this point he's feeling a little fragile all in all. So when his panic attack picks right up from where it started, and his head starts to get a little woozy from the lack of oxygen and the continued expelling of blood from his nostrils, he doesn't blame himself much.

"Fuck- fuck, Sir I'm really sorry. Let me. Can I just fix- oh. Wait," and then there's a hand on Dracos shoulder, and the picture in front of his face clears a little now that theres an anchoring to his woozy drifting: he sees a young man, bright pink hair, yellow amber eyes, and looking scared to shit. Alarm bells ring momentarily, before the kid says: "... Mr. Malfoy?"

And of course that's the Black nose. Draco's nose. And this is Aunt Andromeda's ward - grandkid - the metamorph. And that's still 12 inches of Cherry directed right at his bleeding nose, and Draco has a split second out of body experience where he remembers that time he broke this kid's godfathers' nose when he was about the same age.

"I'm Teddy... Lupin. Um. Andromeda Tonks' grandson? Can I episky your nose? It looks pretty bad."

Draco must shrug in acceptance, because the next second the kid applies what seems like quite an expert episky charm right at the break, plugging the flow of blood. A modified scourgify collects all the blood from Dracos face and his clothes too, and now he looks just as he'd intended. Patrician and handsome, collected and unbothered. No blood. No panic attack in sight any longer, like it was siphoned away too.

Draco still hasnt said a word since he stopped muttering foul language at the sight of the wand. This 17 year old seems too quietly confident to be even the requisite amount of mad required for a Black. As Draco thought though, the nose is right, and the chin. It makes him... kind of fond for the kid he hasn't seen since he was 5. Especially when Teddy is looking up at him like hes worried beyond belief for a silent man in the middle of Diagon who's a bit too fragile for his own good.

"Ted?" Comes a call in a hauntingly familiar voice, then. Teddy turns towards it, the figure walking out of the door of the dirty old antiques shop, and Draco can't do anything but twitch a little when the bag on his shoulder looses whatever traction it kept, and goes clattering to the cobbles beneath his feet. The clang of burnished silver goblets, Lucius Malfoys old wizarding table clock, and whatever else Draco was able to scrounge up from the Manor to justify this trip to seeing Harry after 10 years away - after 10 years of running from the inevitable - that clang echoes like it's heralding Draco's imminent demise.

When Harry's eyes meet Dracos, all 3 meters of space and a 17 year old kid between them, Draco feels like hes 24 again. When Harry's eyes go wide with shock, that must be 20. When his eyes narrow, then that's 18 (post trial). And then when Harry pulls his wand and points it at Draco, well, that's years 11 all the way through to 17.

A levitation charm, and Dracos bag settles back on his shoulder. Teddy mumbles something about getting back to the till, and goes rushing back through the door his godfather is still kind of blocking. Harry has to walk forward - towards Draco - to let the kid around him, and then they're only 2 and a half meters away from each other.

Which shortens to 1 meter when Harry crosses the distance. "What you got there?"

Draco's a little stumped. Has been for far too long now, so he has to fake some courage. "Curios."

"Right," says Harry, eyebrows pushed under his fringe. "Ten years, inconsistent letters, and you turn up at my shop to bring me-" incredulousness "-curios?"

"You've named the shop Curiosity's Curios, Harry. You can't blame me for trying to adhere to tradition."

Harry scoffs. "Leave off. No smoke screens, please. From what I've heard you're out of Level 9 - don't bring it here."

Draco deflates. He has a moment to think about whether this is going to help matters or make them worse. But he does know that it'll make Harry laugh.

He drops the bag on purpose this time, clanging echoing once again. And then his knees follow, until hes folded up in front of Harry on the cobbles at the far end of Diagon Alley.

"Harry James Potter."

"Good god, Draco."

"I hereby apologize for that time when I stomped on your nose on the Train that one time and covered you with your stupid invisibility cloak, and then wished you dead when you still turned back up at dinner later that night."

"Come on, get up. Just because theres no one here now doesnt mean someone wont turn up and see you debasing yourself on the street."

"Dont interrupt, or I'll sonorous myself."

"Merlins sake, then hurry it up."

"Harry, honestly, you're an idiot if you think people are wandering all the way down here to buy dirty old antiques at lunch time on a Monday. We are well and truly alone."

"This is the weirdest grovelling I've ever heard."

"I've seen the error of my ways. Truly. Your godson all but pushed my head into your dirty glass windows and broke my nose. It's almost poetic, really."

And that got it, because Harry laughs. Loud and booming, echoing across the cobbles and the stone walls. "And you think he has no Black madness!"

"He doesn't," Draco counters, rising up on his knees. "What he does have is the strange Potter-nurtured ability to turn up when is most inconvenient!"

"Well," and Harry leans over so that his face is closer to Draco's. "Someone should have thought about the severe consequences of letting the last Black stew amongst the riffraff when he went off undercover for 10 years, shouldn't they have."

Draco sighs mournfully. "And I see you've protested my absence admirably by refusing to clean your shop windows for a decade. Truly, Harry, I admire your dedication to the cause."

"Oh!" Exclaims Harry, reaching out a hand to touch Draco's nose. "That's why theres this grime all over your face-"

"Oh god stop!" And Draco flicks his wrist with a quick scourgify of his own to get at- "Don't mess with me like that, Harry."

Draco is pouting and Harry is laughing again.

Draco gets up eventually, with Harry's hand in his own helping him. They walk into Harry's shop, and they settle down so that Draco can write a few letters of greeting to his loved ones. Hes sure that within the hour the stacks of cups and saucers and clocks and trinkets and curios that Harry has been collecting for years will be shuddering at the force of the howlers that'll just force their way through the wards Draco could put up, so he doesnt bother with them. Will let them come. His feet are resting in Harry's lap, and Harry has a firm grip around an ankle. Teddy is looking back at them from the till in confusion and boredom, annoyed that his sly questioning glances haven't brought forth any answers.

Harry and Draco are both 34 year old men who have been very content for the last 10 years to just accept whatever is happening. The last owl flies off announcing Draco's return to the surface, and then Harry is pushing off from his chair and announcing that if Draco really is going to be sticking around, he better make himself useful. Draco counters by saying that his nose has only just been broken, and he can feel the remnants of his panic attack in the depths of his bones. Harry laughs loudly, and Teddy seems to snort - without remorse - but all the same Draco hops up and makes three cups of tea. Makes himself useful.