Doing a Double Take

"And what do you see today, Mr. Potter?"

Harry ran a hand through his tousled hair, clearing his mind before gazing into the modified Mirror of Erised. "I, erm-" he mumbled, leaning closer. "I see myself with a family. Some man with his head on my shoulder and a baby in his arms."

Dr. Emilia nodded, keeping her gaze leveled to his face. "Still not a specific man?"

He sighed. "I still haven't met anyone who feels right," he admitted. "I go on all these dates, muggle and magical, and nothing ever lasts more than a few weeks. The men are nice enough, it's just that it feels like I can't relate to them."

Emilia leaned forwards. "That makes sense, Harry. While I still don't fully know all there is to know about Wizarding wars, what I do understand is that you've faced an immense amount of trauma. There's going to be a gap that is just hard to surpass. Have you considered that maybe you should try to only date people who have been aware of the Wizarding community for more than a few years?"

"I mean, that feels kind of wrong," he admitted, wincing. "Logically, I know I'm going to relate more to a wizard, but considering how heavily I pushed for the integration legislation, it doesn't feel right to only look at wizards. Makes me wonder what I fought for."

"It's okay to admit that you need something specific. While I will obviously agree that the Wizarding and non-wizarding combination truly benefited both societies, I will also say that it's okay to relate more to one group than the other. You never experienced true joy in the muggle world, and that's subconsciously going to follow you. Even though you don't have to hide an aspect of yourself on a date with a muggle, it's not as though he would fully understand."

A timer dinged at her left, and she glanced over at the clock. "Today passed quick. I'm looking forward to seeing you again next week. Send me an email if you feel like you need to see me before then. And-" she threw a pointed look at him, "-please consider signing up for an appointment with a Wizarding psychology consult to do boggart exposure therapy. I really think it would do you some good."

They both stood, and Dr. Emilia pulled him into a hug. "Good luck, Harry," she whispered in his ear, patting his back before letting him go.

Once outside of the office, Harry let his shoulders slouch and made his way to the apparition booth on the corner. A few wizards in the line in front of him (and some better-read muggles who passed on the street) glanced at him for a second too long. He ignored the general curiosity, simply waiting his turn to go home. Dr. Emilia had told him that he could control his own response, not their interest, and he repeated these words in his head as he stepped into the booth.

"Welcome to your designated apparition point, soundproofed thanks to Magical and Muggle Muffling Inc," a pleasant voice said through a speaker. "Please say your destination."

"Godric's Hollow," Harry monotoned.

"Thank you," the voice replied. "There are two apparators ahead of you. Please wait to proceed."

Harry snorted. He always found that announcement needless, considering the anti-apparition wards that were in place and would not drop until his turn had been reached. Despite the slight wait, he had to admit that the new apparition boxes were quite nice, allowing for wixen to travel without risk of landing on anyone.

"It is now your turn," the voice called. "You have thirty seconds to apparate."

He turned on the spot, landing neatly in the booth centralized in Godric's Hollow. Despite the wait, there were no wixen nearby the booth. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he could return home without having to struggle through an awkward conversation with any of his neighbors today.

He walked to his family's home, which had been restored quite nicely and quickly after the war was over. Harry had poured many galleons into the repair, hiring experts in magical building restoration, and he was very happy with the results. He smiled warmly every time he saw the burgundy front door, especially now that a floral wreath hung serenely near the top.

Once inside, Harry had planned to take a bath and a nap, but that changed when he heard rustling from the kitchen. Ron stuck his head out from behind the wall, a grin on his face. "How's Emilia?" He asked earnestly. "Had anything to say about me?"

Harry snorted. Once, a year ago, she had commented on how lovely it was that he had such supportive friends as Ron and Hermione. He had never let Harry forget the comment since. "Nothing about you. She reckons I should stop trying to date muggles, though."

"You know, she's right," Hermione piped up, walking out of the kitchen with a mug of tea for him. Harry grinned at the mug: a gaudy cauldron with the words "Salem was Right" slapped across it in messy font. He took it appreciatively and took a sip.

"There's wizard dating apps now, you know," she persisted. "Ever since the Department of Mysteries figured out how to combined magic and muggle technology, there's really been so many strides in entertainment of all sorts. I know there's just about every dating app out there that you could try."

Harry groaned. Every so often, Hermione tried to get him to download 2Wands, the leading gay dating app. He had always been hesitant, considering the amount of muggles that slipped in with dreams of very naughty spells and hexes. "I'm good for now 'Mione, thank you though."

"You do need to get out more though, mate," Ron stated. "And don't get started on your schedule! Luna and Neville on Tuesdays, Seamus and Dean on Wednesdays for whatever show it is you watch, your muggle teacher friends on Friday nights, us on Saturday after therapy, and family dinner on Sundays. First of all, you're very busy for a man who doesn't have a life. Second of all, besides your muggle work friends, you're a bit stunted in your friends, aren't you? Not that we don't love you! But you've known all of us since you were 11. Maybe branch out a bit."

Harry bit his lip. Ron was right, of course. He went out of his way to not go out of his way. Hell, the only reason why he had any muggle friends was because of Daisy, a fellow educator who had marched up to him, announced "I'm glad I'm not the only gay one around anymore", and demanded he take her to the best pub he knew of. Naturally they had a great time together, leading him to introduce her to Ginny. The two were married now, Harry as best man, and Daisy always made sure he got out at least once a week.

"You may have a point," he began, "but I just can't do it right now. I don't really have that much time."

Hermione, always perceptive, cleared her throat. "So, where for dinner tonight?"

They argued about the best place for takeout, as they always did, allowing Harry's love life to drift to the background.

When the food got there (Hermione's win- the local jambalaya place), they sat down with forks and takeout boxes in the living room. Harry's kneazle, Daisy (the human insisted that he name his pet after his best friend), inspected their containers before curling against Harry's side. They ate in silence for a while before Ron cleared his throat. "The new ploddle league is doing well."

Ploddle was a new game to the world, one that Ron helped to coach. It was a combined wizarding and muggle sport, with wizards on brooms and muggles on foot, passing the plodball between them to travel to the goal at the end. Of course, wizards could only pass to muggles and vice versa, and scoring on foot was much more profitable than on a broom. While Quidditch had initially proven to be popular in muggle communities, they soon grew annoyed by the concept of the snitch, which led to the creation of a coed sport. Ploddle was beginning to attract crowds, and Ron was decently excited for his team's odds that season.

"That's good, Ron!" Harry said somewhat distractedly. He was looking down at his phone. Ron and Hermione exchanged a look, lowering their food.

"You know, Harry, we've talked about active participation before," Hermione said gently. "And we kind of wanted to give you some news, which is hard to do when you're deflecting."

Harry sighed. He had problems with constantly using his phone, something Emilia had told him was an unhealthy coping mechanism. He didn't even really do anything on it, just scrolling mindlessly or playing simple games to keep himself from thinking. Thinking was his enemy. Nonetheless, he put it down and slapped on a smile. "I'm sorry, what did you want to tell me?"

Ron smiled gently. "Well, me and Hermione, we're expecting."

Harry rose. Sure, this made sense, and he tried to tell that to his racing heart. They were in their early thirties, his best friends had been married for five years now, and they were in a good place in life. It was the perfect time for them to have a child, with Ron pulling a solid income coaching ploddle and Hermione leading the charge on muggle and magic cross-disciplinary medicinal research. They were adults, they were set in life, they were-

"Harry? Harry!"

He hadn't realized he closed his eyes. He opened them to see Hermione and Ron's concerned faces. "That's great!" He croaked, trying to mean it. "Oh, look at the time. It's getting late."

He stood up, his friends bewildered. "Harry, you didn't even check the time," Ron blurted. "It's not even 6 yet."

"I'm just so tired and maybe I'm sick, who knows," he rambled. "You guys better leave, and I don't think I'll make it to dinner tomorrow."

He pulled them up by the elbows and led them to his door. "It's just that I'm so ill-" he faked a cough, "-and I'd rather not get you sick. Not with the, you know. So yeah."

He pushed them outside, mumbled a feable "see you next week", and slammed the door, before sinking to the ground and crying his heart out.

~•~

The Sirius School for All Students stood inside of Grimmauld place, entirely repurposed from its muggle-hating days. It was bright and cheerful on the outside, visible to anyone who passed it on the streets. The bedrooms had been converted to classrooms, the ballroom to a cafeteria, and all remaining rooms to various magical and muggle purposes. Harry had been proud of the neighborhood school, happy that he could help update the magical and muggle education systems. While Sirius's was the first to pop up, it certainly was not the last. Hundreds of these school stood across Great Britain, each one educating students until age 18. The curriculums allowed wizarding students to learn what they would have at Hogwarts, but also let them learn typical subjects such as math and sciences. Muggle students got the benefits of certain magical classes (such as limited potion brewing), while also learning magical history and modern contributions. The schools helped ease the transition as muggles learned about wizards, and it helped magical students to gain better tolerance for their fellow humans.

Harry had jumped at the opportunity to teach at the school. Sure, he had spent his first years out of Hogwarts playing Quidditch professionally, but once the official combination of magical and muggle societies took place, he knew he could do good as a teacher. And once he had demonstrated its effectiveness, they became commonplace. So much so, since parents were seeing the benefits of having their kids nearby, that Hogwarts was transitioned into being the first magical all-subjects university, with magical majors and specialties being offered. The transition was still fresh, seeing as the wizarding community had only been exposed for seven years, but the smoothness of it all could not be argued.

Harry felt this pride of the combination every time he went to work, and today was no exception. He got to the building early, setting up for his practical lesson in Magical Creature Defense, a mixed course he taught in muggle and magical solutions against common creatures. As he was arranging the boxes of magical gnomes, he heard a knock on his door. "Hey, asshole," a dainty voice grunted.

He turned, a smile on his face. Daisy stood in the doorframe, all four and a half feet of her looking menacing in her bomber jacket and dark trousers. She was frowning at him, her cropped hair falling close to her eyes. "You missed dinner again."

Harry rolled his eyes, "I was sick," he protested.

"Sick with the bullshit disease? Is that what we're calling it when you're jealous of your friends but don't want them to know?"

He groaned. "Not from you, too. I'm fine."

Daisy snatched his phone from his desk and casually entered in his passcode. "How do you know that?" He yelped.

Daisy shrugged. "Maybe don't pick something as obvious as darklordkiller. Honestly, mate, get a new personality trait."

She fumbled around on it, then grinned with triumph. "I just made you a 2Wands account. I'm glad you don't take nudes because that would have made me going through your photos very awkward."

He grimaced and snatched the phone back. "Absolutely not. I don't need this."

Daisy smirked. "Yeah, okay. Just keep it through lunch and we'll go through some profiles during break. Anyways, students get here soon. Can't be caught with your phone out!"

With a moan of protest, Harry slipped his phone away. "You're truly a menace. You know that, right?"

Daisy winked. "I thrive on it. See you at lunch!"

When lunchtime did roll around, Harry made his way to the table that Daisy and their third friend, Carter, were sitting at. Carter, the final queer employee at the school, taught art classes to the younger students. He was never caught without a pair of strange earrings dangling from his lobes (today was stop signs), and he had got along famously with Luna when they were introduced to each other. Carter threw an arm around Harry's shoulders when he sat down, and cheerfully said, "So, I hear you've decided to stop being such a lonely bitch."

Harry shrugged the arm off. "More like Daisy decided I'm going to stop being a lonely bitch."

Carter snorted. "Bring out your phone then. I want to see what type of gay wizards are out there."

Harry sighed and pulled out the phone from his pocket, where it had stubbornly sat since that morning. He had to admit, he was a bit curious. The Wizarding population of London had definitely grown since the immersion, with plenty of "muggles" suddenly learning why weird things happened around them. And now with some wizarding night schools being built, these muggles could hone their magical skills while staying in their typical jobs. Harry had met a few of these wizards, even dated some, and now from what he had heard, they filled the dating apps. It was nice to see the population bouncing back from the wizarding wars, but Harry also found the new strangers a bit overwhelming. He was never good with new people anyways.

He tapped on the app and glanced at his own profile with a wince. He had never truly like his appearance past his hair and eyes. He had finally found a good length for his hair, and he liked the way it curled to his jaw. His eyes almost glowed against his new wooden frames, ones that Ginny had picked out for him before her wedding. Besides that, he hated his own appearance. Stunted by the neglect and abuse he faced at the Dursley's, he was stick thin and less than five and a half feet tall. He couldn't grow facial hair, and his jawline was permanently soft. Despite being 32, he looked like a perpetual teenager. His profile reflected that, and the maturity of the other people in the group pictures only seemed to emphasize that. Daisy noticed the grimace on his face and snatched the phone. "You're gorgeous," she said firmly, "and I bet everyone else will agree."

She tapped to view various profiles and flipped through the first one. "No, he's not cute enough for you. I'm sure he's nice-" she added, glancing at Harry's frown, "-but his first picture is awful! Oh, and it says no gold-diggers. Way to be full of yourself, mate."

Harry snorted. "That doesn't seem like a good way to sell yourself."

"It really isn't," Carter agreed. "But I guess that this is better proof than anything that both wizards and muggles are the same."

Daisy nodded and continued flipping through profiles, occasionally showing Harry one she thought was nice, but nothing felt right to him. In fact, they were nearing the end of their lunch break when she seemed to swoon. "I may be gay," she gasped, "but look at this one!"

Carter nodded in agreement, and when Harry saw who was on the screen, he felt like he could have fainted. Draco Malfoy was smiling into a mug of tea (one that said "Equali-TEA"!), his shoulder length hair curling around small braids and flowers. His cheeks were flushed, and Harry could see athe tip of a tattoo on the back of his hands, partially covered by his oversized sweater. He looked like a daydream, and Harry could feel a blush coming onto his cheeks.

"Oh, this one seems like a winner!" Daisy laughed. "He your type?"

"He, uh-" Harry coughed, trying to clear his mind. "He and I went to school together. We didn't really get along, but we saved each other's lives a few times. Merlin, I haven't seen him since I spoke at his trial."

"Trial?" Carter simpered. "Are we dealing with a bad boy? That just made him so much more attractive."

Harry shuddered. "He was on the wrong side of the war. Of course that's because his parents were and he didn't really have a choice, but he did some bad things. Got some good people killed. But I don't think that was ever really him."

"Well," Daisy reasoned. "He seems hot. His mug taste is the same as yours. Clearly a perfect match. You should consider messaging him."

Harry shook his head. "Too much bad blood, I think. I'll just have to leave this one alone."

Harry, as it turned out, could not just leave that one alone. When he went home after work, he immediately dialed up Hermione.

"Harry?" She asked cautiously. "How are you doing?"

"I'm, well, you know. Is there any way you and Ron can come through? I just, I don't know. I need you see you guys."

"Of course, Harry," she said quickly. "Just give us a minute to get organized. Get your floo open for us."

They said goodbye, and Harry proceeded to pace restlessly in front of his floo until Hermione walked out, closely followed by Ron. Ron frowned at him, clearly seeing the distress on his face. "What's wrong?"

Harry sighed and fell back dramatically onto his sofa. "Daisy made me download 2Wands," he admitted, morose.

Ron chortled. "Of course she did," he gasped between laughs. "Find any good ones yet?"

Harry paused before pulling out his phone. He opened the app and tossed it to his friend before dropping his head back. Ron glanced at the profile before doing a double take. "Malfoy?"

Hermione snatched the phone and looked at the profile quietly. It was a full minute before she said, "I must say, he's gotten quite attractive."

Ron jabbed her in the ribs. "This is Malfoy we're talking about! Muggle hating, would-be-murderer Malfoy! So what if the bloke is fit? There's way too much history there for that."

Hermione peered at Harry before responding carefully. "I think he's come around a bit. He was a big supporter of the integration legislation, and he campaigned for complete equality when the negotiations were taking place. I'm not sure what he's up to now, but I can't imagine it isn't somewhere on that trajectory."

"I just can't help it," Harry mumbled. "It's Malfoy. I see his face and I immediately need to know if he's up to something."

"I'd say he's up to men," Ron laughed. "But you know, it's also okay if you do try something. I don't think it'll end well, but I'll always support your shitty ideas."

"This one's particularly bad, isn't it?"

"Well, yes," Hermione agreed, "but at least it might get you some action."

With a couple more pats on the shoulders and good lucks, the couple left through the floo. Harry remained on the couch for a few more minutes, just gazing at Malfoy's profile. Besides the first picture, which was still unreasonably attractive, he seemed witty and charming. His profile indicated that he worked at a tea shop, enjoyed playing ploddle on the weekends, and was looking for something serious. He had a few more solo shots and a picture of himself between Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini, all of them looking so deliriously happy that it was blinding. When he saw that look on Malfoy's face, that peaceful joy so evident, he knew he had made up his mind. He was going to find him and at least try to be friends.