[HP] Bond

Draco wrapped the robe tightly around his body, his already pale face became even more ugly because of the discomfort caused by the apparition.

"Is it cold?" Harry looked down at him when he let go of his hand, and felt a little presumptuous again when he wanted to dry his clothes.

"There is a bathroom in the training room next door, and there's no one there right now," he hesitated and said, "I'll take you there."

Draco lowered his eyes slightly and didn't look at him again, and said lightly, "Thank you."

The training room was empty, and Harry was nestled on the sofa in the corner, silently staring at the puppets used as training objects, a little lost in thought.

The guy looked much thinner.

Malfoy is St. Mungo's therapist, and the two have had many chances to meet each other. After all, Auror is not a safe profession. It is because the magic world has become more peaceful in recent years, and they have gradually lost news of each other.

In fact, Harry has always been curious why he didn't go abroad with the Malfoys, but stayed in the UK. Because of the family's dark history, he was destined to receive a lot of unfriendly treatment.

Speaking of which, even if the Malfoy family was defeated, they were not so poor that the eldest young master needed to make a living in person. He actually chose to be a therapist whose job was not easy. It was beyond everyone's expectations at the beginning. .

Thinking of the people who were watching and whispering from a distance just now, Harry frowned, and suddenly realized that no matter how much Malfoy had worked hard for that job all these years, today's fuss would probably be in vain—St. Mungo might not Willing to keep one more contentious ex-Death Eater.

With a click, the door of the bathroom was opened, and Draco walked out slowly with the cleaned robes on his arms.

"Thank you," he said calmly, as if nothing had happened just now, with a reserved and indifferent expression, "Is there anything else I need to cooperate with today's matter?"

"no need."

Harry stood up, and when he got closer, he smelled the body wash he used frequently, and his eyes flickered for a while, "Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

Draco was silent for a moment, then handed him the robe, "It has been cleaned, thank you very much."

"You're welcome," Harry smiled, and took his own robes, "We are classmates after all—"

Although the seven years of student life were not pleasant, such a cold and indifferent tone made him suddenly feel uncomfortable, and he even began to miss that young master Malfoy who would call him Scarhead with his chin raised high.

Draco chuckled lightly, without sarcasm, but without any hint of intimacy, and said flatly: "There is only one magic school in the whole of England."

To put it less strictly, the vast majority of people in the entire British magical community are classmates.

The attitude of disregarding the relationship was quite obvious. Harry felt that this question was simply unacceptable, so he changed the subject abruptly, "Well, there is no need to worry about St. Mungo's side, I can explain it."

He doesn't care much about the title of savior, but he has to admit that sometimes it works.

"Do you think I support myself with that little salary?" Draco looked away, straightened his collar, and said casually, "It's just a job, Potter, don't waste your precious money." Time, I'm tired of being there anyway."

"Oh--"

Harry pushed his glasses to hide his embarrassment at being speechless, and the enthusiasm for the conversation quickly faded under his indifferent attitude.

"Can I leave?" Draco asked politely, pulling out a very Malfoy smirk.

Harry took a step back a little later, "Please."

"Goodbye, Potter." Draco nodded slightly, passing by without leaving a glance.

Harry put on his robe again, lowered his head and buttoned it, and said in a cold tone, "Goodbye, Malfoy."

It seems that if you say one more word, you lose.

------------------

Harry didn't expect the so-called goodbye to come so soon.

On the somewhat deserted street, he rode an excited little Teddy on his neck, whining and running forward like an ordinary silly father, making his godson smile.

Both of them wore light yellow sweaters woven by Molly, with a large and a small green fire dragon embroidered on the chest. Under the kind eyes of a few Muggles, they laughed like a pair of big fools and little fools for such a childish game .

Draco looked at the smiling face that seemed to be coated with a golden halo under the setting sun, squinted his eyes slightly, and stopped in his tracks.

"Malfoy?" Harry was a little surprised to see a Slytherin near the Muggle community. "How are you doing?"

"Not bad." He responded perfunctorily.

Teddy blinked curiously, gently tugged at the messy black hair under his hands, and lowered his head softly, "Godfather——"

"This is Mr. Draco Malfoy." Harry turned his head and said to him with a smile.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy." Little Teddy greeted him politely, with a shy expression, "I'm Teddy Lupine."

This guy is prettier than the godfather~

Draco looked at the child's cute little face, and his expression softened, "Hello."

"You go shopping too?" Harry asked casually.

Draco hummed, "Just walk around."

Harry put Teddy down and took his little hand, "My house is nearby, do you want to have a cup of tea?"

There was still a happy smile on his face, and when his slightly curved emerald green eyes looked at him, they were sincere and enthusiastic.

"Ok."

Draco shook his head, blurting out the promised words before thinking about it.

He was a little annoyed, and it seemed too deliberate to regret it immediately, so he could only turn around and walk back with the father and son.

Teddy tilted his head and looked at him all the way, his eyes lit up suddenly as if thinking of something, "I saw you in the photo, Mr. Malfoy, Hermione said you were their classmate—"

Draco raised an eyebrow, "Photo?"

"Some photos taken by Colin in the past, at the time... Mr. and Mrs. Creevey gave me a book." A trace of sentimentality appeared in Harry's eyes, and he smiled to cover it up, "Probably a few of them took photos of you too. Go in, Teddy loves that album."

perhaps?

Draco was keenly aware of the meaning of this word. Potter himself hadn't seen all the photos left before the war.

The dark-haired young man's smile seemed to have no haze, just like the photos published in newspapers and magazines, it was bright and full of hope, it was everyone's favorite, the appearance of a savior.

He pursed the corners of his lips, but the polite smile on his face gradually disappeared.