What Are Words For? (1/5) (Harry/Draco, NC17) Title: What Are Words For? Author:salixbabylon Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy Prompt: "Words" – Missing Persons, part of the ficrocksthe80s fest Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 5637 Disclaimer: JKR owns everything. I just like to play naughty games with her dollies.
Summary: "Six months after the end of the war Harry decided, admittedly in a fit of pique, that he wasn't going to talk any more."
Author's Notes: Surprisingly mostly canon compliant, even with DH. Only I didn't kill Fred because that's just wrong. Also warning = plot! Not my usual PWP-fare. Tons of thanks to my beloved beta, sarka *smooch*
What Are Words For?
Six months after the end of the war Harry decided, admittedly in a fit of pique, that he wasn't going to talk any more. No one ever listened to what he said and he was sick of it. Sick of trying to be a hero, sick of everyone putting him on a pedestal, and utterly sick to death of the Ministry and the Prophet and all the rest of the Wizarding Press twisting his words around so that it didn't matter a whit what he actually said. They only heard what they wanted to hear.
He had gone to enough of the public events - enough parties had been drunk at, enough medals had been received, and enough speeches had been given - and Harry decided he was just bloody well finished with it all. Every single day the Prophet quoted him spouting some grandiose words about how fantastic the Wizarding world was, which never resembled something he'd actually said. Or thought in most cases; often he disagreed completely with the sentiments they were attributing to his name. He was sick of it, so he decided to simply just stop talking to everyone.
At first his decision didn't seem to impact his life at all. He was living on his own at Grimmauld Place with Kreacher, who was pretty good at doing what he did without needing instructions. Harry kept himself busy tearing apart the layers of Dark magic on the house and breaking curses on objects; he didn't want to live here forever, he didn't think, but he couldn't very well sell it in the state it was in either. And it wasn't like he had anything better to do with his time, since he'd turned down any and all offers to become an Auror or enter into their training program. Some days he actually toyed with the idea of disappearing into the Muggle world and never looking back, but the idea of living without magic sounded a bit grim after having it for so long.
He sent his new owl, Glaucus, to Hermione and Ron every few days, and assumed they would continue to get together a few times a week, as they had since the war ended. His two friends were somewhat nauseatingly preoccupied with each other at the moment, and had just decided to move into a flat together soon. Harry suspected they'd be married already if Ron had his way, but Hermione was nothing if not practical. She wanted to wait until she'd finished her education, whether that was some sort of university or an apprenticeship, at the very least.
As for Ginny, well... Harry just didn't feel quite ready to settle down. Not with her, and not in general. Something wasn't right there, something hadn't been properly connecting inside him the few times they'd kissed since the war ended. It was nice, of course, really nice - but he hadn't had much of an urge to do more. The comfort and touch, the physical connection, knowing he was loved and desired – that all felt good. He did love Ginny; something just seemed off and he wasn't quite sure what it was.
All right, he did know, sort of. Harry felt that, as an eighteen year old boy, he ought to be dying to have sex with Ginny - but he wasn't. At all. Which seemed like a pretty big indication that there was something wrong, and that it was with him, obviously.
They'd not seen much of each other for almost a year. Then, once everyone was healed from their battle wounds and the Wizarding world was ready to celebrate, Harry had taken Ginny to the galas and parties for which he'd needed a date, but nothing more. She seemed to pick up on his odd moods and hadn't pressed him for an explanation of his distance for the last several months. He could tell she was getting restless, though. She was a great girl - loyal and brave and incredibly pretty. He was just broken somehow. She deserved better.
She deserved someone who didn't feel a sense of relief at the thought of not having to see her, even just once every couple of weeks at a formal, public affair. He knew he was using her and he hated himself for it.
A couple of days into his Silence Resolution, as he liked to think of it, Ron's Pig had delivered a note from Ginny asking if they were going to the Ministry's fundraising banquet on the coming Saturday. Harry had written back that he was finished with the publicity stunts and wouldn't be appearing in public again for an indeterminate length of time, so no. After much pen nibbling and hair pulling, Harry added that he needed some space, that he wasn't seeing or speaking to anybody, and that she shouldn't wait for him. It wasn't a very good way to break off with her, but he was a bit more forthcoming with his feelings on paper than he ever would have been in a conversation, and hoped that she wouldn't be too hurt.
When he didn't get a reply from Ginny, he knew that she was and that it was only a matter of time until Ron showed up to try and pound some sense back into him. For a guy who was so bothered by the thought of his little sister dating as a general concept, Ron was surprisingly adamant that if she absolutely insisted on it, Harry was the one for her.
To try and postpone the inevitable confrontation, Harry sent Glaucus with a note to invite his friends for lunch the next day. That would give Harry the rest of the day to set the wards and then test them on Ron and Hermione.
Several months with almost nothing to do but set up a camping-tent and puzzle over the workings of madmen's minds (and Harry included both Voldemort and Dumbledore in that assessment) had given him the time needed to become quite proficient at wordless spells, at least most of the minor ones. Furthermore, it wasn't as if Harry had taken a magically-binding Vow of Silence or something stupid like that, so if he needed to defend himself, he could. On the whole, though, it was proving surprisingly enjoyable to simply be silent all the time.
After all, if no one was going to listen, why bother speaking?
*****
Ron showed up slightly before lunchtime, dragging a reluctant Hermione with him, to see what the bloody hell Harry was playing at and why he'd dumped the girl who was meant for him and was he finally cracking up after the stress of the last few years or what? Because if he wasn't, then Harry was going to have some explaining to do, to Ron's fists, and he'd better do it pretty damn quickly.
Harry rolled his eyes at the threats and got out a piece of parchment and quill. He then had to dodge Ron, who thought Harry was just going to ignore him. Once it was sorted that no, Ginny had not shared the whole letter with Ron, Harry explained as briefly as he could that he'd made a Resolution of Silence in reaction to the Ministry, Prophet - in fact the whole bloody Wizarding world - and that yes, that included within the privacy of his own house, too. Yes, even with Ron and Hermione and yes even when Ron needed an explanation fast or he was going to beat Harry to a bloody pulp.
Hermione of course just rolled her eyes and elbowed Ron really hard in the ribs.
That done, Ron launched into a tirade about him breaking up with Ginny. Harry wrote "" in great big words and charmed the ink to make it look like the letters were made of flames. He considered it a plus that he hadn't entirely mastered the spell and after a few moments the parchment actually did spontaneously combust, singeing Ron's fingers.
The slight medical distraction allowed Hermione enough time to get Ron calmed down, not to mention to throw in her two cents that she thought Ginny was all wrong for Harry anyhow. She refused to elaborate and Harry wouldn't meet her eyes; he wasn't sure he wanted to know why she thought that, and especially not in front of Ron.
Food had a wonderful way of settling Ron's temper. After eating, they adjourned to the drawing room with some tea, while Hermione worked on Transfiguring a mirror into a blackboard. That would allow Harry to have a "conversation" with them both without wasting parchment or getting his fingers all covered with ink.
The two lovebirds had an appointment with a letting agency to look at flats, so they had to cut their visit short after lunch. Harry walked them to the front door.
Hermione kissed his cheek and said in her analytical way, "I think this will be good for you. Some time to see what's really going on in your heart, come to terms with all that's happened. Do let me know how I can help, all right?"
Ron paused a moment, then added, "Yeah, we figured you'd go mental at some point. I suppose this isn't so bad. It's hit Ginny pretty hard though, but I guess you know your own mind. Maybe."
Harry, recognizing a Ron-style apology when he heard one, accepted it with an eye roll and slight shove. Ron grinned back, then took Hermione's hand and they Apparated away.
*****
Over the next week, it seemed like almost everyone Harry knew either sent him an owl or tried to drop by for a visit. They all just wanted to make sure he was all right, now that word was spreading that he'd stopped talking, but it was getting quite tedious to have to keep repeating the same story over and over again. Yes, Harry was fine. No, he hadn't completely cracked up. Yes, it was mostly the stress of constantly being in the public eye. No, he wouldn't make an exception and talk to them, not even in his own home. Harry left the general bits of his responses up on the blackboard in the drawing room at all times.
Some tolerated his silent company well, while others got frustrated at his refusal to speak and left in a huff. It was easy to see who his actual friends were, or at least, who the patient ones were. Most of his former fellow-students came as a group and left as one, only Neville and Luna staying behind to chat with each other. Molly of course was far too busy to visit for long once she'd determined that Harry was all right, but Arthur stayed a while, sharing a quiet cup of tea. Hagrid nattered happily about his new quest to try to find a Lethifold, while the newly-appointed Headmistress McGonagall left as soon as she'd judged that Harry had not lost his marbles quite yet. Kingsley Shacklebolt said it was the best few hours he'd had since becoming the interim Minister of Magic and jokingly asked whether he could move in with Harry.
After five days of non-stop visits, Harry increased the wards on the house to only let a select few people in, and sent Hermione and Ron (now in their new flat in Hogsmede) an owl asking them to tell everyone to please back the fuck off. Ron immediately popped by to make sure Harry really was all right, and in a moment of surprising reasonability, suggested a game of chess when he noticed the angry expression on Harry's face as a result of his impromptu visit.
After that Harry's life took on a fairly peaceful tone: unraveling Dark curses by day and either entertaining visitors or spending some time relaxing in the evenings. When he had guests, they either played cards or chess or Harry just listened to a small group of friends chat. Otherwise he sat in a cozy chair by the fireplace reading or just thinking as he stared into the flames. Someone owled to ask if they could come by about every two or three days, and Harry was amused that his friends thought this was a subtle way of keeping an eye on him. Frankly, he didn't mind the company, now that the ones who came weren't pestering him to speak.
No, in fact the only bit of business that Harry hadn't dealt with, the only little thing niggling at the back of his mind because he kept putting it off for reasons he didn't quite understand, was returning Draco Malfoy's wand.
He should have given it back right after the end of the final battle. Sure, Malfoy had managed to obtain another wand somehow but Harry knew it was unlikely to fit him as well as his original one had. He didn't need Malfoy's wand and in fact he kept it locked inside a drawer in his wardrobe, hidden away. He had a disconcerting sort of proprietary feeling about the wand, like he had won it as a prize of war, like it belonged to him. But that was ridiculous, not to mention more than just a teensy bit petty. Malfoy's entire life had been ruined by this stupid war, just as much as Harry's had. Just because he'd been a total prat for six years didn't mean that Harry should keep his wand.
Reluctantly he sat down to pen a note to his ex-nemesis. He didn't want to say too much, since all of the owls and Floo calls in and out of Malfoy Manor were monitored and he wasn't sure how the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would feel about The Great Savior Harry Potter trying to give Draco an extra wand when his parents weren't allowed to have them at all while they awaited their trials under house arrest. Draco had lucked out of his own trial by not having the Dark Mark and by being underage and pretty clearly blackmailed into his involvement with Lord Voldemort by threats to his parents' safety.
Harry wasn't certain he completely agreed with that decision; apparently the Malfoy solicitors were quite good at their job. However, Draco and Narcissa had both saved his life, and although those debts had been paid, he was willing to let bygone be bygones so long as Lucius suffered. The way Harry saw it, Lucius had made the decisions for all three Malfoys and all of the responsibility and guilt lay with him. Even if Draco was a bigoted little prat.
He decided on something short and to the point:
The reply Glaucus brought back was equally terse:
After a bit of internal debate, Harry decided to just have Malfoy come to the house so he could avoid being in public. Since he wouldn't be talking, perhaps the ferret would keep his mouth shut as well, and they could get through the whole encounter without hexing each other to bits. He instructed Malfoy to meet him at 15 Grimmauld Place and would then show him inside.
Harry was certain his friends would question his decision to admit Malfoy into the house, despite it still being warded to the teeth. It was, after all, warded for Harry's protection, but frankly he didn't feel very threatened by Draco any longer. And on the plus side, since he couldn't tell his friends what he was intending to do, he didn't have to feel guilty about it. There were some perks to this silent thing.
*****
Their meeting went better than expected. Malfoy was clearly more interested in getting his wand and getting out than in harassing Harry, though he did seem quite taken aback when Harry simply handed him a note explaining both the Silence Resolution and admitting him into the Black Family's house. He was polite to the point of formality, looking around but not asking questions while Harry escorted him to the drawing room and then dashed upstairs to get the wand from its hiding place.
He returned to find Kreacher setting out a silver tea service Harry hadn't seen before and pushing some scones at Malfoy. He tensed for a moment, remembering the elf's past history with the Malfoys, but then relaxed incrementally as he saw that Kreacher was still wearing Regulus' locket and that the scones were Harry's favorite kind, oatmeal with orange zest. Perhaps Kreacher had just been holding onto the tea set until Harry had someone over in what seemed like a formal setting. He decided to let it go and enjoy the tea and scones.
Malfoy drank one cup of tea in a way that was clearly polite to the letter, yet he couldn't entirely hide the fact that he was vibrating with the urge to hurry up and finish so that Harry would give him his wand back. Harry leisurely ate half a scone before he grew tired of being a bastard and handed over Malfoy's wand.
It was interesting to watch Malfoy's reception of the longed-for item – he seized it like a greedy child, but the moment it was within his grasp, his fingers cradled the slender stick of wood tentatively, stroking over the whorls in the grain as the tension between his eyebrows and in the set of his shoulders relaxed. He raised a brow inquiringly in Harry's direction and, pretty sure he knew what Malfoy was asking, Harry nodded. Malfoy Summoned a quill from across the room, and even more tension drained out of him as the quill sailed gracefully into his hand.
"Well, you didn't tamper with it, I see," was Malfoy's grudging comment.
Harry shot him a disgusted look.
Standing up, Malfoy took a deep breath before saying very formally, as if rehearsed, "Thank you, Potter, for returning my wand. I am aware that you didn't have to return it, and I..." Here he took a deep breath, "...am most grateful." He pursed his lips, then added, "My family and I are already in your debt."
Part of Harry wanted to smirk and enjoy watching Malfoy twist on his own sense of honor and debt and repayment, but most of him was just bloody sick of all this stupid shit about Life and Other Debts in the Wizarding world.
He crossed to the chalkboard and wrote, ""
He turned around to see Malfoy attempting to reign in an expression that, on anyone with less self-control, would have been totally gobsmacked.
"You're sure?"
Harry nodded.
Malfoy looked at the wand in his hand for a long moment. Then, squaring his shoulders, he walked over to Harry and held out his hand.
That seemed like an oddly un-Malfoy-ish way to settle things but Harry shrugged inside and took the proffered hand. It was a bit cold, even after a cup of tea, and their shake was more like a brief clasp of hands. It was awkward and strange and for some reason it made Malfoy's eyes light up with a strange hint of pleasure that Harry thought was totally unaccountable.
After a strained moment, where Malfoy seemed almost embarrassed and Harry was simply puzzled, Draco thanked him again and said he needed to get back home. Harry escorted him out, reset the wards, and went back to nibble contemplatively on another scone until he shrugged his shoulders and gave up ever trying to figure out what was going on inside Malfoy's head.
*****
Two days later Harry was in a foul mood. Not only had he been unable to break the hexes on the glass cabinet in the library after an entire day of trying, but the hallway rug on the second floor had unexpectedly tried to strangle him like a giant boa constrictor as he was on his way to the loo early in the morning. To top it all off he'd had an owl from Ron inviting him to Sunday dinner at the Burrow, followed immediately by a Howler that was already smoking when a very disheveled Erroll dropped it in front of him.
It erupted at once into Ginny's voice, magically enhanced and sounding impressively similar to Molly's. She berated her idiot brother for being so insensitive and Harry for breaking up with her and being a self-centered idiot, and threatened to eviscerate them both if Harry came into her house before she was ready to see him. The actual majority of the Howler was Ginny yelling at Ron, which Harry understood but he wished that Ron had been there to hear it and share in Harry's ringing eardrums. Finally, to top off the whole exchange, the small fire that started when the Howler exploded burned a hole in the sofa before Harry could get his nonverbal Aguamenti to work.
The next day Ron popped in with the twins, who had a great deal of fun trying to provoke Harry into talking or take him by surprise. Harry held that the shriek he let out when Fred tickled under his arms didn't count as speaking, no matter that they said.
However, it seemed they'd had a reason for their visit beyond simply taking the piss when Ron disappeared to use the loo and left the other three alone.
"We heard you'd gone a bit nutters, Harry..." said George.
"...and wanted you to know you've our full support in this. We always knew you'd make a fantastic madman..." added Fred.
"...even if you decided not to use your powers for evil and become The Dark Potter," George teased.
"So after talking to Hermione, we thought we'd share the spell the professors at Hogwarts use to throw their notes up onto the blackboards."
"It's not much but it's the least we could do," Fred added. "You know, to thank you for that whole defeating Voldemort thing."
Harry gave them a puzzled look, then wrote "" with a bit of chalk.
The twins had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "Well, er, you see..." George hesitated.
"We thought it'd be dead useful for graffiti," explained Fred.
"Except it didn't work – chalk makes crap graffiti and you could barely read it on the castle stones." George shook his head sadly. "We spent hours in the library looking it up."
"Still, at least it wasn't time wasted if you can use it, Harry," Fred grinned, clapping him on the back.
"What are you two doing to Harry?" Ron's suspicious voice asked from the doorway.
"We're not sexually harassing him, if that's what you're worried about," George said with a roll of the eyes.
"Right; it's not harassment if the lad's willing," Fred teased, reaching back to give Harry's arse a squeeze.
Harry smacked away the offending hands and made a mental note to think about the way his prick had twitched at the warmth of Fred's hands on his body later - much later, perhaps some time after Azkaban had become a tropical family holiday destination.
*****
The next day was quite eventful. A familiar eagle owl swooped into Harry's kitchen as if it owned the place, holding out its leg and fluttering impatiently until Harry removed the letter from Malfoy.
Harry's temper almost made him set the parchment on fire but Malfoy did have a point – Harry had kept the wand for far longer than he could justify. It wasn't like he'd expected Malfoy to suddenly turn over a new leaf and be nice or anything, even if the arsehole was grateful to have it back. It had probably killed him to have to write Harry asking for help.
Well, he could prove he was the bigger man, yet again. Even if the Life Debt had been cancelled out at least twice over, Harry would never forget that Malfoy hadn't betrayed him, even in the confines of the Manor. Draco had changed, at least some.
He hadn't tampered with the wand at all though, so he started to mull over what could possibly be wrong with it. It wasn't his fault if Malfoy had forgotten some spells in his year of near-imprisonment at the Manor. Perhaps he was just rusty, Harry thought, sniggering to himself.
However, a more logical thought popped into his head; perhaps Malfoy needed to win the wand back from Harry, the way he had won it from Draco in the first place. He wondered if the wand would care if Harry threw the game, so to speak, and let Malfoy take the wand from him. Then again, Expelliarmus worked whether Harry cooperated or not, so that might not be relevant.
It couldn't hurt to try; he'd just have to find a way to explain his theory to Draco. Er, Malfoy. He shook his head at himself.
Harry also received a firecall that afternoon, which was annoying. If he wasn't going to talk, the Floo was strictly a one-way message device and an owl bearing a note seemed much more polite to Harry than someone talking at him while he gestured and nodded. Still, he appreciated the invitation from Bill and Fleur to come and see Victoire, and he nodded his agreement to show up at seven o'clock for dinner.
Returning to Shell Cottage was more difficult than Harry had anticipated. Although Fleur had done her best to make the place more warm and welcoming, even redecorating a bit since he was last there (most likely to make it baby-proof), the cottage still seemed haunted by the specter of war in Harry's mind. He visited Dobby's grave with Fleur and Victoire upon his arrival, and got a bit more choked up than he had anticipated. He was grateful to have the infant in his arms to divert his attention, as she didn't seem to care if his eyes watered a bit.
It wasn't that the other losses during the war hadn't affected him, it was just that it was so easy to put them aside and live in the present. There simply hadn't been a lot of time for Harry to spend in mourning. The memory of the death of the selfless house elf had made him feel like something was tearing apart inside his chest. All of the loss and suffering hit him unexpectedly, as if those feelings had just been waiting for the last half-year.
He busied himself making faces to entertain the baby while Fleur prattled about her child's amazing development and how she was nearly crawling already, while Bill was in the kitchen finishing up their supper. He quite liked holding Victoire, to his surprise; perhaps someday he really would have a family of his own, children and everything. Not for a long while though, he thought, snickering as Fleur and Bill tried to get the evening's meal into the baby, rather than all over her as she seemed to prefer.
Harry even managed to keep his Silence Resolution, despite Bill's teasing. "You've always been a bit quiet – I hardly noticed the difference," he said, slapping Harry on the shoulder as the four of them walked outside to see Harry off.
Fleur rolled her eyes at Bill, adding that it had been very nice to have Harry over and he should come back again soon. Her eyes took on a mischievous sparkle as she said, "Gabrielle will be visiting in a few weeks; perhaps you might come by for dinner then?"
Harry could feel his face turning red as Bill scowled at his wife, but thankfully Bill kept his mouth shut about Harry's recent break-up with Ginny. Harry shuffled his feet a bit, then awkwardly waved goodbye and Disapparated with the sound of their farewells still ringing in his ears.
*****
Harry spent some time preparing for Malfoy's visit, writing on the blackboard his theory about Draco needing to disarm him. Unsurprisingly, Malfoy thought his notion was rubbish and instead insisted on testing out a few hexes first. Fortunately, his mother had informed him of the ghoul that had been haunting the upstairs toilet for generations and Harry had no objections to Malfoy doing almost anything he wanted to it.
The pseudoscientific approach Malfoy used was amusing to watch, casting spells from a list and making notes about the results. It reminded Harry that his former schoolmate actually had done pretty well in most of their classes. He was no Hermione, but he was clever and had an amazing focus when he set to a task. Harry chose to ignore that historically his own suffering had usually been the result of Malfoy's intelligence.
After an hour of testing different spells, Draco declared that indeed, the wand was not performing to capacity. His eyes flashed with anger when Harry wrote on the blackboard that perhaps he was simply out of practice. Harry didn't bother to stifle his snigger.
"Oh, you think I didn't have enough time to practice Dark spells in the last year, do you, Potter?" Malfoy sneered. "That it was all tea parties and presents from Aunt Bella and her friends?"
Harry flinched. The memory of Draco's strained, thin face, the dark circles under his eyes, the fear etched permanently into his expression, a prisoner in his own Manor, assailed him. No indeed, it hadn't been a fun year for Malfoy, and in fact Harry didn't really want to know the details. Shrugging and nodding in an awkwardly apologetic way, Harry erased his last comment from the blackboard. After a moment's pause, he tapped the words left on it, his theory about Disarming.
Draco kept his eyes focused on the words written in chalk, taking a few purposefully slow breaths to calm himself. "I need a drink," he finally said, and turned to head toward the stairs.
Bypassing the still-draped dining room, Harry showed Malfoy into the kitchen, where he made a pot of tea while Draco rolled his eyes and pointed out that Harry actually had a house elf, although he wasn't surprised that the Boy Hero didn't know how to treat them. Harry scowled back, but there wasn't really any venom in their exchange. On the whole, Malfoy seemed to have forgiven him for bringing up the past, although they were both still somewhat uncomfortable.
After a silent cup of tea, they returned to the drawing room. Harry added a bit more to his suggestion on the blackboard, drawing out a diagram of the action, complete with labeled stick figures and various wands and arrows everywhere. He only stopped to look at Malfoy when he finished.
Who was smirking at him. "On a first name basis, are we now, Harry?"
Harry turned back to the diagram. The figures were clearly marked "Harry" and "Draco." He rolled his eyes and with a flick of his wand changed it to read "Malfoy."
Surprisingly, the reaction to that wasn't the satisfied snort Harry had expected. Rather, Malfoy sounded unusually awkward but sincere as he said, after a long moment of silence, "No, I suppose it's all right. It's not like we're on opposite sides of anything any longer." With one slender finger he wiped away the chalk, then wrote in his given name again.
"All right?" he asked, turning to meet Harry's eyes.
Harry nodded.
"Well then," Draco said, slowly exhaling to dispel some of the tension. "Let's give this idea of yours a try. After all, I've been waiting to Disarm you since second year."
Surprisingly (to Draco anyway), it went off without a hitch. Malfoy sent a fairly weak Expelliarmus at Harry, who let go of the wand quite easily since he was prepared for it, and barely even wobbled on his feet. Malfoy's relief was so apparent that it was only once it was all over that Harry considered that the last few Disarmings Malfoy had witnessed or participated in had been fairly traumatic events for him.
Anyway, it was done with and Malfoy set to testing his old wand again. This time, every spell was flawless and Harry found himself actually impressed at Draco's skill with Charms and Transfiguration. The nuances and details he could achieve in the simple animation of a parchment Hippogryff were amazing.
Malfoy's pleasure at having his wand back in top form was infectious, and even after he left to return to his Manor for supper, Harry found his own solitary evening passed with a sense of lasting contentment. Not only had his theory about the wands been correct but his interactions with Draco had almost all been pleasant. After nearly eight years of hostility, Harry found that he had actually sort of enjoyed their afternoon together.