It’s NaNoWriMo! I’m not sure if I have it in me to write an entire novel this month, but I’m gonna give it a go. Follow along, if you’d like ❤️
Chapter One
Harry was in his garden when the ward he’d set up around the perimeter of his property sounded. He froze, hands covered in dirt, knees aching from the extended kneeling (even with a cushioning charm), and he let his own magic drift out reaching toward the intruder.
Asha perked her head up, emerald scales catching and glinting in the light, her tail practically wagging at the prospect of a guest.
Don’t he hissed at her.
She tilted her head at him, flat nose lifting as her nostrils flared ears wiggling as she listened for the person who’d crossed the ward.
Don’t he warned again.
But she’d never been a terribly good listener, frightfully independent terror that she was, and she took off, shimmering wings extending and catching her body as she leapt off the bench she’d been curled up on.
Her tail defied gravity, flicking behind her and sending her speeding through the back garden and straight to the gate, which she conveniently flew right over.
“Damn,” Harry cursed, pressing up off the ground, wincing at the pins and needles in his knees, brushing his hands on his trousers as he ran after her. “Asha!”
He jumped over the fence, feeling momentarily quite proud of himself, before he skirted around the corner and came to a dead stop.
Asha had curled her tail around the intruder’s legs but sat perched on her hind legs to receive scratches under her chin and behind her ears. He stroked a hand down the row of silver spiky scales that made up her dorsal crest.
The man she was curled around brought Harry back six and a half years.
He’s hardly changed at all, blonde hair still kept short on the sides, long and floppy on the top. He still wore those scarlet auror robes tight as a second skin; stretched across his chest and tailored in at the waist.
The smile he wore for Asha was one that Harry had seen a thousand times after hours, when the two of them were laughing over dinner, or walking home, or-
“What in Morgana’s name is this enchanting creature?” Draco asked.
Harry cleared his throat, “Why are you here, Malfoy?”
Draco looked up at him, raising an eyebrow and affecting a pout. Harry hadn’t been able to resist that look all those years ago. But time had passed, “Oh, come now, Harry,” he said.
And perhaps it had only been six minutes instead of years for all Harry’s body knew. He could feel it in his toes, the way that his name sounded on Draco’s lips. It was heady and Harry almost forgot himself.
Almost.
“Why are you here?” he repeated.
“I’m the one who should be mad,” he said offhandedly, still stroking Asha.
He just stared at him, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Come on,” he cajoled, “just tell me about her, then I’ll tell you why I’m here. Indulge me just a bit.”
He huffed, “If it will get you to leave faster.”
A hand flew up to cover Draco’s heart, “Why, if I didn’t know any better, I might say this was personal.”
Harry ignored that jab, “She’s a cross between a Welch Green Dragon and an Emerald Tree Boa Constrictor.” He tried to call her to his side, hissing, Asha, come. But she was having none of it. Traitor.
She rubbed against Draco’s belly, ignoring Harry completely, knocking her snout against Draco. Delighted he cupped her face in his hands, “You are just the most gorgeous girl, aren’t you?” he cooed at her.
“So why are you here?”
“I’ve got a case,” he replied nonchalantly.
Harry turned and headed toward his front door, “Not interested.”
He’d opened the door and was about to step through when Draco called, “It’s to do with Hogwarts. Minerva sent me.”
Harry paused, hand resting on the doorframe. He so badly wanted to simply walk through and close the door, just shut out the world the way he had the past six and a half years. He’d been happy on his own.
Well.
Not happy, exactly, but content. “Professor McGonagall knows I’m not an auror anymore.”
“She does,” Draco affirmed, voice closer than it had been before, so close that Harry felt the hairs on his neck rise. “It’s cute,” Draco said.
Harry stepped forward, away from Draco and into his cottage, which Draco apparently took as permission to let himself in behind Harry. Asha slipped in behind him and went straight to her customary cushion by the fireplace. “What is?”
“That you still call her Professor McGonagall,” he replied. “You’re a 38 year old man,” he added.
Harry went to the sink in the kitchen to wash his hands and glanced over at Draco to see him wandering around the cottage, taking everything in. Harry tried not to think about whatever Draco was learning about him in his wandering.
“This is nice,” he said, gesturing to the space around him as Harry started drying off his hands.
“Thank you,” he said. “You don’t need to sound surprised.”
Draco sat down at the dining room table, running his hands over the smooth oak. “Was this hand crafted?”
Harry grunted, “Yes. Took bloody ages.”
If Draco was surprised that Harry had made the table himself, he didn’t give Harry the satisfaction of showing it. “Could you make me a cup of tea?”
He flicked a wrist and the fire lit under the burner, kettle scuttling across the stove top to sit atop it.
“Sexy,” Draco said winking at him.
“Don’t,” he growled.
Holding up his hands in surrender, Draco said, “My, you’re touchy.”
Rolling his eyes, Harry pulled down a pair of mugs and tossed in two tea bags; one cinnamon and one earl grey. When the kettle whistled he filled both cups with water before spooning in a teaspoon of sugar and a teaspoon of honey into the earl grey.
He sat down across from Draco, passing him the earl grey.
“I’m flattered that you remember,” he said, taking a sip.
“Why are you here?”
Draco’s eyes narrowed, “You don’t want to catch up at all? No, hi Draco, I’ve missed you? No how’ve your cases been since I left? No are you seeing anyone, Draco?”
“I wasn’t under the impression that this was a social call,” he said, taking a sip of his own tea to stop his traitorous mouth from asking any of those things.
“Would you have let me in if it had been?” Draco countered.
Harry didn’t answer that, “There is one thing I’m curious about.”
“Oh?” Draco asked, crossing one leg over the other and waiting.
“How did you find me?”
He smiled, that soft, sad sort of smile that speaks of too many things long past, too many secrets, too much distance. “You’re not the only one of us who remembers things about the other,” he said softly.
Harry wasn’t sure what to say to that but Draco took care of it for him.
“Alright,” he said, straightening his shoulders, “Would you like to hear about the case that you’ll absolutely be taking with me?”
Chapter 2