jlh | On Anniversaries.

Three years ago today, I opened this LJ with a code from

fiatincantatum. Also three years ago today, EWFS-1 was posted on Fiction Alley. Since then so much has happened that I can't even lay it out here, but suffice it to say that I'm looking at the future with much more hope and excitement now than I was that spring.

I've mentioned a few times that I'm working on a post-war EWFS sequel. So in honor of this day, and to say "thanks" and "stay tuned", I give you this cookie. We open in the late summer of 1998, where Draco Malfoy is clearing up the mess in the library of a mostly-wrecked Malfoy Manor when he's interrupted by a friend:

“Oh, hello Potter. Why the broom?” He paused. “You look a fright. Sit down.” He indicated one of the club chairs that was free of books, then walked over to the side cabinet and poured two glasses of scotch from the stash which had miraculously survived the destruction. Handing one to Harry, he leaned against the desk. “Another argument with Granger, I take it,” he said, taking a sip from his glass.

“Not another one. The last one.” Harry tipped his head back and downed a large swallow of scotch, then coughed as it burned his throat.

Draco shook his head. “Don’t gulp; it’s the good stuff. What happened to make you think that?”

“Oh, she called me an arse and I called her a bitch and then she slapped me and ran out.”

“Well,” Draco said, and took another sip. “Know where she went?”

Harry shrugged. “Not the Burrow.”

“Care where she went?”

“She’s a big girl. She’ll be fine.” Harry took a sip this time. “It’s odd, you know? At first it was just the same argument we’ve been having all summer, and then suddenly, part way through, I realized it would be the last time we were going to have this argument. Probably the last time we would argue about anything. So of course I had to get all my licks in, and then it just got really ugly.”

“Why don’t you just tell her what we’re doing?”

“You think she would be satisfied with that?” Harry asked, shaking his head. “No. She wants me in the thick of things, not in the background.”

“That’s ridiculous. Besides, it wouldn’t even work.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Harry took another sip. “The point is, I don’t want to be in the thick of things. I want to be well out of it. I’ve had my fill. That’s what she wouldn’t understand. This project is neither here nor there.”

Draco swirled his scotch absently, thinking. Then he said, “Well, I’m glad you’re playing Quidditch even if she is not. Wood needs as many star players as he can get his hands on if he’s going to make a go of it. And since I can’t play, I suppose you are the next best thing.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Oh, it was meant as one. Of the highest order.”

Harry rolled his eyes but said nothing. The brief silence was broken by the sudden appearance of a large, tawny owl swooping down onto the mostly-cleared off desk next to Draco. He took the proffered note and offered the bird a drop of scotch in lieu of a treat, and the owl went on its way. As he read, he broke into a wide grin.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

“It’s from Pansy. She’s in!” He handed the parchment to Harry and began to pace, too excited to sit still.

Harry quickly scanned the note, then stood as well. “I don’t know how you did it, Draco, but well done.” He held out his scotch to Draco, who returned the toast, and they both downed what remained in their glasses. “I suppose you will have to start getting rather chummy with her in public places.”

“Yes,” Draco said, setting his glass down on the desk. “I’m going to invite her to Weasley’s party, I think.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Oh, that is not going to go over well at all.”

“If you mean Ginny, I have—”

“No, no, I know you have. I meant the others. Particularly Ron.”

Draco shrugged. “There will be plenty of other Slytherins there. Padma saw to that.”

“But those other Slytherins didn’t flee the country during the war.”

“No, they didn’t. Which is why they won’t do, and she will.”

“I’m not arguing that. I’m just pointing out a difficulty. Forewarned is forearmed.”

“Consider me forewarned then!”

They were silent for a moment, then Harry said, “Got anything to eat here? Didn’t get lunch.”

“No, not here. You don’t look up to the Burrow.”

“God, no. No drowning of sorrows at the Burrow.”

“Pub, then?”

“Sounds about right.”

Draco nodded. “You should send a note to Sirius, you know. Tell him where you are. He’s worse than Molly when he starts fretting.” He went to the desk and pulled out two pieces of parchment and two quills, handing one of each to Harry.

“Who are you writing to?” Harry asked.

“Oh, no one important,” Draco said vaguely. He took the notes into the hall, where his owl sat atop a bit of crumbling statuary. He gave the owl his notes and sent him on his way, then turned to look at Harry, who was standing in the doorway of the library. “Potter, leave the broom.”

“Oh!” Harry said, looking down at his hand. “Forgot I had it.” He set it aside, then both men Apparated into the village.