Heaven Through a Window • Drarry •

Chapter Fifteen: A Man and His Horse

"Where's Ginny?"

Draco stood by the door and stared at it. "She's away a lot. I can write to her, if you'd like—it would probably be safe for her to visit."

"Yeah. Unless..." Potter rubbed the back of his neck. "We had this, er, thing... in sixth year—"

"I see."

"It would be weird if that went anywhere, and I forgot."

"I don't give a fig for your romantic exploits. Tell me your name, date of birth, et cetera."

"Wanker," Potter muttered, before continuing on with the examination.

Draco didn't know if it was the Legilimency, or if the return of Potter's memories were gathering speed on their own accord, but Potter didn't leave his room, exercise or talk to anyone for a month.

The only person Potter would look at was Mother, and she advised everyone to keep their distance for the time being. She brought in lavender from the grounds and helped Potter sew them into tiny bags—Mother was wonderful at taking your mind off things. Then she'd sit and read whilst Potter slept, to ensure nobody disturbed him.

Draco took Scorpius to Monaco for the last week of the holidays—they'd finally replaced Penelope Clearwater—and all too soon he was back at King's Cross for his son's second year of school.

It stung, going back to enemies or arch-rivals or whatever they were, and Draco sent the Trainee Healers in his place to assess Harry.

They didn't go to their garden, practise Legilimency, or even have a proper conversation in all those weeks, and it was like losing a friend.

Still, with the extra free time he could chase the Private Investigator, see Theo and Tracey in Prague, and he even managed to go to a single-day symposium in Athens. It was a good thing he wasn't traipsing around after Potter, larking about like he didn't have a job to do, and it was a damn good thing he could devote more time to filling out paperwork and brushing his horses and walking his cat.

Despite all this, Draco met the Weasleys in the Visitors' Tearoom on the top floor after they called on Harry.

"It was a long time ago, but you ran into us that year, and it wasn't exactly a holiday."

"I'm not suggesting it was," Draco began, shoulders approaching his ears.

"I'm not saying you were, it's just... You know, Fred died, Remus and Tonks, we saw Snape die, too, that was traumatic..."

Ronald grimaced. "And Hedwig, his owl. He never got another one, you know."

"We also saw the dead body of Professor Bagshot animated by a snake-Horcrux, that was lovely."

"Not to mention Colin and Dobby—"

"My elf," Draco said, nodding.

"Harry himself died—" Hermione started.

"What?"

"You didn't know?" Ronald said, frowning.

Draco looked between them both, flummoxed.

"You should speak to him about it," Hermione suggested. "When he's ready."

"I will," Draco promised, "if he brings it up. How do you think he'll feel about the divorce?"

Ronald shared a look with his wife. "Dunno," he said. "They're really good mates. Not upset at all when they separated. But I wouldn't spring it on him or anything."