#ywfm

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Draco knew, factually, that Harry and his mother had had a close relationship, but seeing the fond heartache in the man’s eyes at the thought of her made his gut twist in some type of jealous longing. “What a woman,” Harry said finally.

“Truly,” Draco agreed, desperately grasping for a new subject to discuss, but now his mind was flooded with images of Narcissa: her gentle smile, the way she would so tenderly stroke his hair when he was small and upset, placing a light but solid hand against his chest and guiding his breathing until he calmed down. How her laugh would burst past her lips when she was caught off guard by something that delighted her. Images of Harry, this Harry, spending time with her, knowing her, making her tea and helping her stand from her chair as her health waned. Had he known that laugh?

Summary: Decades after the war, Draco has moved on. Started over. His town is small, tight-knit, accepting, and they know nothing about his past or his family name. It's perfect. It's home. On the good days he might even consider himself happy, fulfilled.

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Her hair was thinner and grayer than he’d remembered. Her nail beds were red, picked and swollen, and her face seemed sunken in on itself, with deep pockets under her eyes. Her chin and shoulders and elbows and knuckles were sharp, pointed in a way that Harry had always thought Draco inherited from Lucius, but now recognized in the woman. The room was warm, and a gentle, conjured breeze rustled through the palms above them. Harry sipped his tea. Another minute passed.

“How can I help you, Harry?” she asked, polite as ever.

Summary: Decades after the war, Draco has moved on. Started over. His town is small, tight-knit, accepting, and they know nothing about his past or his family name. It's perfect. It's home. On the good days he might even consider himself happy, fulfilled.

And then Harry Potter is across the room, and Draco wonders if he's been fooling himself.

Chapter 2: did someone say coffee shop date