Reunion

Chapter Two: Rolling in the grass; kissing.

Mehh, thought Drarry would be the first ship, but it's not, sorry. Should be coming up soonish. But finally! A chapter with romance! Especially cause that's what this is supposed to be!

Oh, Potter, Draco thought, always one for bringing out the tears. Manly tears, he corrected himself. Manly tears, indeed. Potter would always be able to hold it over his head, Dumbledore's death. They'd never be on equal ground again. And something about the situation made Draco feel wrong about teasing Potter. Like as if he was teasing a superior. And Draco always sucked up to his superiors. But not Potter. Potter would see right though that, having observed Draco doing it during all seven years at Hogwarts.

Draco had escaped hurriedly over to the punch bowl, not wanting to continue the conversation. But, a little voice inside his head whispered, no matter how much he pushed it back, you don't ever want to end it, either. Yeah, maybe I do, Draco countered. This is it between me and Potter. Never talking to him again. But he couldn't resist when Potter cried out "Wait!" to turn around, to see that familiar, hated, perfect face.

"Draco, thanks," Harry said quietly, like they were in a room by themselves. Draco smiled back, but why was "the Chosen One" thanking him? He had just been a bad influence all of Potter's miserable life, teasing him, trying to murder him and his loved ones, and only Potter had convinced his friends at the ministry to let him go free. "Give him a second chance," Potter had said.

And what would Draco look like now, if instead he had joined his father in Azkaban? He certainly wouldn't be at this reunion. He'd probably be dead, he remembered the effect the dementors had on him in third year, he wouldn't want to meet them again. He recalled the vivid fear and chills that ran through him. Lord Voldemort stabbing him. Pain. That was okay. The worst was the feeling of rejection, that no one wanted him, alone, betrayed by even Goyle and Blaise. Shame; his father looking down at him, "Draco, you've failed us." Aunt Bella blasting his name from the family tree. Isolation, locked in a room, Potter looking down at him, laughing.

Maybe Potter didn't realize it, but Draco had been thanking him since he was eighteen. Well... maybe not the exact day he graduated, but ever since he had come to his senses and had seen the terrible vision of Azkaban that haunted him in his dreams... he realized Potter had saved his back, convincing the Ministry to free him.

He saw the Granger girl handing out punch (well, it was her party, everyone knew Ernie had nothing to do with it) and took a glass of punch. He swallowed a gulp, and washed down the cold sweet liquid down.

"Draco," Granger smiled sweetly, "glad you could make it!" She sounded cheerful, like they were best friends or something. She stuck her hand out, wanting to handshake. Draco looked at her freckled hand thinking, "you really think I'll shake your mudblood hand?" Some things hadn't changed.

Granger got the message and slowly removed her hand.

"So, Draco, how are Astoria and Scorpius?" Granger grinned. Why did everyone ask about Astoria and Scorpius? It's like no one even want to acknowledge he was there. The elephant in the room, that sentiment seemed entirely appropriate now, applicable to him.

"They're...fine. Scorpius is at home, and Astoria is taking care of him." he said, giving an abridged version of what he had told Potter. At least Potter... well Harry was Harry and Malfoy had a certain degree of respect for him. Potter's muddled friend? Not so much.

"Great, great," Granger breezily smiled, but Draco could tell her mind was already on a hundred other things, possibly never paying attention to what he was saying in the first place. She whisked away, perhaps satisfied with the amount of glasses filled with punch. He saw her on the other side of the room, yelling sternly at Dean Thomas. "What is it now?" Draco thought, amused. But then he felt it, the ship swinging wildly. It was an abrupt reminder that they were on a ship, it seemed so much more like a building, it had hardly felt like moving at all, until now, and he (well he and everyone else) could hear Pansy's sharp shriek of distress at her glass of punch spilling all over "my brand-new emerald dress! Ah-eeeeee!"