Draco asked, "So, what about your mates? What are they doing?"
                              
His green eyes met his, a little suspicious, again. "They are well. Ron... umm... made it through... the program. Hermione is in the Minister's office, Junior Undersecretary to Kinsley."
                              
Draco smiled. "I'm not surprised about that. I'll bet anything that within the next few years, she becomes Minister of Magic. She could really change a lot of things."
                              
Potter blinked at him, as though making sure that he wasn't joking as he threw his wrapper into the rubbish bin. He didn't say anything, though.
                              
"So, did Weasley finally man-up and ask her out?" Draco asked.
                              
"I... umm... yeah... they're engaged."
                              
"That's great for them. They deserve each other," he said.
                              
"They... do?" Potter said, finally, staring at him, again, incredulously.
                              
Draco finally broke eye contact and looked over the Thames. Potter wasn't accepting it... him. Draco sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I know I was a prick. But I'm not anymore. I swear I'm trying to be a better person if a muggle stripper can be one." He put his hands on the rock wall they were next to, trying not to cry. "I never wanted to be one of them, Harry. I never wanted to be my father. I never wanted to be a killer."
                              
Potter was quiet, but his hand reached forward and put it on his. "I know you aren't... a killer... or one of them anymore. I'm sorry, too.... you're just so... different."
                              
"Not really. I'm just me, now. Not pretending to be something I'm not."
                              
Potter bit his lip, considering that and nodded. "So... will you tell me... about you? What happened since the war?"
                              
"Nothing too exciting. Stole what galleons I could and left an F-U note to my dad, flooed to Diagon, went out into muggle London and found a flat with a room open. My mates showed me the city and even the club. Now, I can cook, clean, use the microwave... wash my clothes. Live without magic, appreciating others around me and not be an asshole," Draco whispered, enjoying the feel of Potter's hand.
                              
"Sounds like you're living free," Potter whispered.
                              
"Yeah, I am. Are you?" he said and meeting his eyes.
                              
Potter hunched his shoulders. "Trying... after Roger...."
                              
"I'm sorry that he hurt you."
                              
Potter nodded and pulled his hand back. "I just haven't been able to trust people that aren't my friends."
                              
"Potter... Harry... that's not a way to live. Take small steps... talk to people... and well, you did meet a convicted Death Eater in the middle of the night. So, that's a good sign," Draco murmured and looked across the channel.
                              
"Malfoy... that's not who you are. I trust you."
                              
Draco met his eyes, again. "Really? Your wand was at the ready when you showed up tonight."
                              
Potter looked guilty. "I'm sorry, Malfoy. I didn't know what is going on... what you wanted."
                              
"It's okay, Potter. I really wanted to know what is happening and about you."
                              
"What about... what happened... in the club?" Potter said with hesitation.
                              
Draco turned and gave him a smile. "What indeed?"
                              
Potter tensed up, again, uncertain.
                              
"So... what about your other friends? Longbottom? Finnegan?"
                              
Potter seemed relieved at the topic change and slowly unclenched, again. Talking about his friends was a neutral topic. When Potter subtly probed him about his flatmates, Draco more than willingly talked about them and a few drunken stories involving pranks and near run-ins with their landlord. They started walking, again, along the river.