Muggle London
There were only three bedrooms in the house: one for Teddy, another for the recently deceased Andromeda, and the third for Draco. Harry wasn't going to invade Andromeda's room, much less Draco's, and he was reluctant to wake up Teddy, so he opted to sleep on the couch. It left him sore the next day, but it hardly counted as sleep anyway. He had only managed to nap for three hours after the sun had already risen, which barely made a dent in his exhaustion. That was, until Teddy woke up and jumped on him, making the tiredness unbearable.
The day had started well in Draco's opinion. Teddy didn’t cry, had gone to sleep right after his 5 o'clock bottle, and didn’t stir until 8, which for Draco was later than usual. For Harry, however, it was too early on a Saturday. Still, he didn’t complain. He was woken up with a burst of excitement and a wide grin from the little blue-haired boy.
"What do we do before we eat, Teddy?" Draco asked sleepily, though he tried to muster some enthusiasm. He wasn’t fully awake yet, but he did his best to pretend otherwise.
" Hand. Wash hands!" Teddy replied, as always, ready for his morning routine.
" That’s right. Can you open the tap for me?" Draco lifted the little boy into his lap so he could reach the kitchen sink.
When Teddy managed to open the tap, too much water came rushing out. Startled, he tried to cover it, but this only caused a splash that hit him directly. In a moment of panic, Draco pushed him away, but because he was holding Teddy with both hands, he was left unable to defend himself from the water now soaking him.
" Aaah, stop, Teddy! Let go! My hair is wet!" Draco’s surprised shout only made Teddy laugh harder, his innocent giggles ringing through the room.
Draco held him tightly with one arm and quickly turned off the tap with the other, then placed Teddy back on the floor. He pulled off his black pajama top, already used to getting soaked or losing clothes in the process. Stripping in front of Teddy was no big deal, but as he turned around, he was met with an unexpected sight.
Harry Potter was standing there, frozen in place, watching.
" Potter," Draco mumbled, still processing what had just happened, his voice low and guarded.
" Malfoy," Harry said, equally surprised and still not fully awake, unsure how to react.
" Teddy!" The little boy’s laughter only grew louder, clearly entertained by the antics of the adults.
...
After that moment of awkwardness, Draco quickly retreated to the shower to avoid any more embarrassment, leaving Harry to prepare breakfast for Teddy. By the time Draco returned, the little boy was almost finished, but he asked for juice.
" Which cup do you want your juice in, Teddy?" Harry asked, searching through the cabinet filled with mugs and glasses.
" Kitty! Kitty!" Teddy pointed at one with bright eyes.
" Oh, this one?" Harry was taken aback by the pink cup with little flowers, unsure how to feel about it. He was almost certain that Hello Kitty was a Muggle toy for girls.
" Yes!" Teddy confirmed, nodding vigorously, and Harry could only shrug in resignation.
"Looks like a girl mug," he muttered, mostly to himself.
"No, Ted's mug. Ted is boy," Teddy explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Harry blinked in surprise, unsure how to respond, but Draco had just entered the kitchen, now dressed in long sleeves and shorts. Harry couldn’t help but notice how oddly mismatched his outfit was. Was Draco wearing a hoodie in mild weather just to avoid showing the Dark Mark? The hoodie still fit him perfectly, of course. Draco always had clothes that seemed made for him.
"My muuug," Teddy declared with exaggerated enthusiasm, oblivious to the sharp look Draco shot at Harry. " Like, Hawwy?"
"That’s a pretty mug, Teddy," Harry said, forcing a smile, suddenly feeling awkward under Draco’s glare.
The two exchanged a few quiet looks, Draco's expression a clear warning: "Say something and I’ll kill you." Harry wisely chose to remain silent.
The rest of the morning passed with an unusual level of peace. Harry and Draco didn’t interact unless absolutely necessary. They silently settled into an agreement, taking turns playing with Teddy. Sometimes, one would forget their turn, or simply ignore it, and the other would subtly try to pull Teddy’s attention away from them. This inevitably forced the little boy to choose sides, but he mostly alternated between them or simply went to whoever had the cooler toy.
They were still the same competitive kids from rival Hogwarts houses.
For lunch, Harry surprised Draco with his cooking skills. Draco had never expected the Boy Who Lived to be capable in the kitchen. After all, Harry had lived a life of privilege, constantly recognized for his heroic act as a baby. He was genuinely stunned.
"You were obligated to cook? But... you’re the Boy Who Lived!" Draco exclaimed, his disbelief clear.
"Actually, my uncles didn’t really like magic, so I didn’t know about wizards, or that I was one," Harry replied, his voice quiet, eyes fixed on his plate. He fidgeted uncomfortably with his hands.
Draco’s surprise faded as he realized that Harry didn’t have the life he had imagined. It made him feel somewhat guilty for his earlier outrage.
"I didn’t know some people didn’t like magic. That must’ve been... rough," Draco muttered, trying to smile but not quite managing it. " You were like an elf, but one who didn’t even want to be. That sucks."
"It’s not a big deal," It was, actually, a big deal. Harry never told this to anyone besides his closest friends, his family. Why was he telling Malfoy? "Besides, I once turned my aunt into a balloon. That was enough of a revenge for me."
Draco laughed, sounded as an approve. "That’s very Slytherin of you."
"Well, I was supposed to be a Slytherin, so I guess we have something in common," Harry added, almost absentmindedly.
"What?" Draco nearly spat his drink in surprise. "You, a Slytherin? But you’re like... the most Gryffindor person I’ve ever met."
Draco seemed to sink into thought. "You’d be literally the heir to Slytherin."
Harry, who hadn’t intended to share that much about his past, was surprised at how easy it had felt. Words that usually lodged themselves deep inside him had spilled out, unbidden and unguarded. Maybe it was Draco’s smile—or the way he seemed so carefree in this fleeting moment—that made it easier to talk.
It was strange. They’d known each other for so many years, yet Harry realized that this was the first time they’d truly talked . Not traded barbs, not shouted accusations, not exchanged hexes in a fit of rage, but talked .
For years, their interactions had been defined by sharp words and clenched fists, a constant battle of sarcasm and bitterness. It was almost funny, in a way. All those years of animosity, and now they were sitting here, casually unraveling pieces of their lives like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Harry’s gaze flicked toward Draco, who was now distracted by Teddy babbling about something at the table. His platinum hair caught the light, and his face, free from the scowls Harry had once been so accustomed to, seemed softer.
It felt oddly disarming.
When did this happen? Harry wondered. When did Draco Malfoy—his childhood rival, his sworn enemy—become someone he could speak to without walls up? Without anger bristling between them like a live wire?
Perhaps it was Teddy. The little boy had a way of making the most complicated things feel simple, his presence softening even Draco’s sharpest edges. Or maybe it was the war—the way it had left them both battered and changed, no longer able to cling to the same petty grievances that had once felt so monumental.
Whatever it was, Harry couldn’t deny that the space between them now felt... different. Tentative, maybe. Fragile, definitely. But it wasn’t hostile. And that, in itself, felt like a small miracle.
For the first time in a long time, Harry allowed himself to wonder what might happen if they kept talking. If, instead of insults and punches, they exchanged stories. If they peeled back the layers of who they had been and started to see each other for who they were now.
It was a risky thought. Dangerous, even. But as Harry watched Draco laugh quietly at something Teddy said, he couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—it was worth the risk.
"Dwaco look sad," Teddy said, his voice clear and growing more confident with every word. His vocabulary was expanding, and Draco couldn’t help but marvel at how intelligent the little boy was.
"You’re really smart, kid," Harry said, gently holding Teddy’s sticky hand.
"If you're done eating, let’s wash those hands," Draco said, eager to break the awkward tension. "Come on, Teddy."
"Be careful he doesn’t get you wet again," Harry teased.
“I got this.” He tried to sound confident, but was kinda afraid too.
"You think it’s going to be difficult, huh? I mean, Monday... with the guard," Harry said, a bit more serious.
"Well, they’ll make it hard for me, but there’s no need to tease you. Changing the subject, how about we go for a walk? Teddy loves Muggle London, but he’s only going to wear his magic hat and not take it off. Right, Teddy?"
"Muggles would find a little boy with blue hair... unusual, to say the least," Harry added.
"We went on Wednesday, and Teddy was having so much fun changing his hair colors for the ice creams. I completely forgot where we were and had to use a confundus charm—thankfully, only a couple of Muggles saw," Draco recalled, a hint of guilt in his voice.
We’re confessing felonies now... cute , Harry thought but kept it to himself.
"So now Draco Malfoy mixes with Muggles?" He tilted his head, his grin laced with mocking, surprised yet teasing.
"My aunt spoiled Teddy too much. He kept asking me to take him," Draco muttered defensively.
The trip to Muggle London was much more interesting than last time. It had been Draco’s first visit, and back then, he hadn’t known what to do. Teddy wanted to go to a playground—whatever that meant—but Draco couldn’t find the place, and they nearly got lost. This time, though, Harry knew all the cool spots. He always went to Muggle London when he could, and it was nice to blend in with the crowd without being recognized.
Draco freaked out at every outfit Harry suggested. Always leaning toward the expensive, Draco was persistent, and Potter had to dip into his fortune to pay, but it was worth it.
"Teddy, don’t you like this one?"
A yellow T-shirt with jeans. It wasn’t as fun as the printed animal shirt Draco had picked earlier, but Harry liked its simplicity. The fabric felt soft, and he was all about comfort. His closet was filled with plain, basic clothes. What mattered to him was that everything was comfortable.
"Don't you dare, Potter. I won't let the boy be dressed up as a peasant."
" What's wrong with being basic?"
"It's basic, I don't like it. It's soulless. Will you let your godson have no personality?"
Harry rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help smiling. He'd known that Draco would care about this. It wasn’t just the clothes, it was the way they made a statement. Draco had always been like that—always aware of appearances, of what people saw. Harry, on the other hand, had always leaned toward comfort over style. He’d never given much thought to how he dressed, never worried too much about fashion. But he couldn’t deny that Draco had an eye for it.
He had already realized it, but it still struck him every time—since school, Draco had always cared about his appearance. Harry used to see it as vanity, something he found superficial, but now? Now, he couldn’t help but appreciate it. When it came to picking clothes, Draco knew what he was doing. Teddy loved every piece Draco chose for him. Even though Harry didn’t understand much about fashion, Teddy looked adorable in everything. Draco, with his careful selections, made Harry realize that clothes could be more than just fabric. They could have personality.
Was Draco always this pretty? Harry thought as his gaze flickered over to the blonde.
Draco sat beside him, the ice cream cone in his hand, his fingers lightly grazing the edge of the cone as he watched Teddy swing, the little boy's blue hair bouncing with each push Harry gave. The shopping bags were scattered on the ground around them.
"Dwaco!" Teddy's voice rang out, full of joy. Draco turned, a smile spreading across his face, and waved back at him. As he did, his gaze inevitably shifted to Harry, meeting his eyes for a brief moment. Harry felt something stir in his chest, but he quickly masked it with a forced smile.
"Dwaco, next time we should buy Muggle toys for Teddy." Harry said, trying to get a reaction, maybe a little amusement, but secretly, he was trying to push Draco’s buttons. However, to his surprise, Draco only smiled as if it were a joke. There was something in the way he responded that didn’t sit quite right with Harry.
"The real urgency here is to renew your closet," Draco said, his voice light, but there was a small, contemplative edge to his words. He shifted his focus, though, almost imperceptibly, on Harry’s “next time” comment. It made Draco wonder... if there would be a next time.
"Well, maybe I will let you give me some opinions," Harry said with a relaxed, almost teasing smile. It was a smile that didn’t match the burden of his past.
Harry’s smile stood out like a flicker of warmth in the chill that surrounded them. It was disarming, almost out of place—not the smile of someone who had spent years in battle, endured losses that reshaped his soul, or carried the weight of a world that demanded too much. Draco’s sharp gaze caught on it, puzzled by its incongruity.
The way Harry smiled made Draco’s chest ache in a way he couldn’t fully articulate. It wasn’t forced, not the polite tight-lipped curve of someone putting on a face for others’ comfort. And yet, it wasn’t quite unburdened, either. It was a smile that sat at the threshold between peace and pretense, like it didn’t quite know where to belong.
Draco understood that. He’d worn those kinds of smiles before—ones that didn’t fit the pain in his chest or the memories crowding his mind. In the quiet moments when no one was watching, he’d seen his own reflection sneer back at him, accusing him of trying too hard to seem okay.
And yet, watching Harry now, Draco couldn’t muster his usual cynicism. There was something else there, something that made him hesitate before letting his thoughts spiral. A faint warmth stirred in him—annoying, uninvited, and too dangerous to entertain for long.
Maybe Harry’s smile wasn’t about pretending at all. Maybe it was about finding something small, something momentary, to hold onto despite the weight they both carried. Draco hated the thought that he might envy that. He told himself not to dwell on it. Harry’s peace—real or not—wasn’t his to decipher. Yet, against his better judgment, Draco found himself drawn to it, even as his instincts urged him to turn away before the fragility of it could crack and demand something from him that he didn’t know how to give.
What Draco didn’t know was that Harry himself didn’t fully understand why he smiled so easily now. He wasn’t sure if it was the simplicity of moments like this—the mundane and the everyday—or the small comforts he’d found in a life that had once been so uncertain. Maybe it was the familiarity of it all: Teddy’s laugh, Draco’s usual sharp commentary, the way the world felt a little bit more normal with each passing day. Maybe it was even the way he could just... be . No one expected anything from him here, not like they used to. There was no hero’s weight on his shoulders, no prophecy to live up to.
But still, despite everything, Harry couldn’t forget the years that had come before this, couldn’t forget the scars that lingered, even if they weren’t visible.
However, for reasons he didn’t quite understand, this... this moment, with Draco at his side and Teddy’s innocent joy in the background, made him believe that life could still be good. That maybe... maybe it was worth it.
But even the most peaceful moments had their shadows. The night would eventually come, as it did for everyone. And for Harry and Draco, the night was always followed by nightmares.
As the sun set behind the city skyline, the weight of the day faded into the quiet stillness of the evening. Teddy was already asleep, and Harry and Draco found themselves sitting in a comfortable silence, the dim light from the streetlights filtering through the window. Harry was eating some sweets while Draco seemed to be studying some papers.
"I hate feeling like I owe you something," Draco murmured, breaking the silence. His voice had softened, as though the confession was something fragile he wasn’t sure he wanted to hand over. He looked away, his hands gripping the fabric of his trousers. "So, just to be equal, should I tell you a secret?"
Harry glanced at him, startled by the shift in tone. "You don’t have to feel obligated," he replied, his voice gentle.
Draco hesitated, his throat working as if he were swallowing back the words. But then he sighed, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. "Wednesday was the first time I went to Muggle London," he admitted quietly, his gray eyes fixed on the far wall as if the memory lived there. "My family never let me go. Said it was too dangerous, full of... unpredictable people."
He gave a dry, humorless laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I never thought much about it growing up. Why would I? If Father said it wasn’t worth my time, then it wasn’t worth my time. But being there now, seeing it for myself..." He trailed off, biting his lip before continuing, softer now. "It surprised me. They weren’t at all what I imagined."
Draco shifted in his seat, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. His next words were quieter, tinged with something Harry couldn’t quite place—fear, shame, maybe both. "Still, I was afraid today. Afraid someone would figure it out—what I am. That I don’t belong there."
He hesitated again, his jaw tightening before he forced himself to go on. "My father used to say... He told me that if Muggles found out you were a wizard, they’d burn you. I even read some books about it." He let out a shaky breath and looked down at his hands, his voice barely a whisper now. "I know it sounds ridiculous. Childish. They had to be lying, right? But today... I couldn’t stop thinking about it."
Harry didn’t answer immediately. He wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t even realize Draco was having a hard time, for him it was just a nice walk.
The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until Draco looked up, forcing himself to meet Harry’s gaze. "I feel like a fool even saying it," he admitted, his voice brittle. "I’m supposed to be above all that, aren’t I? The perfect pure-blood heir, unshaken, untouchable." His laugh was bitter, self-deprecating. "And yet, there I was, in broad daylight, terrified of people buying their groceries."
Harry’s expression softened as he watched Draco struggle with his words. "You’re not a fool," he said at last, his voice steady. "Your father is cruel."
Draco blinked, startled by the firmness in Harry’s tone.
"Muggles don’t burn wizards," Harry continued, his green eyes locked on Draco’s. "Well, they actually did, but it was a long time ago. So not anymore. Most of them wouldn’t even believe in magic if you told them. Your father... He used fear to control you, Draco. To keep you from questioning things. It’s what people like him do."
Draco looked away again, his jaw clenching. "Maybe. But knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to shake off years of conditioning."
"No," Harry agreed quietly. "It doesn’t. But you’re here now. You’re trying."
The sincerity in his voice made Draco glance back at him, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his face before he quickly masked it. "Well," he said, his voice sharper now, as if trying to regain some control of the conversation, "don’t think this means I’m about to become some sort of Muggle enthusiast. I still think half of their contraptions are utterly nonsensical."
Harry’s lips twitched in amusement, but he didn’t press. He could see that Draco was deflecting, retreating back to safer ground. "But you like their fashion style,” he said lightly. "Maybe next time, you’ll let me show you more. It doesn’t have to be scary."
Draco didn’t answer right away. He stared at Harry for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he nodded once. "Maybe," he said quietly.
It wasn’t much, but it was enough for now.