It turned out that Johnny was feeling better, but not on top form, so he needed to rearrange the interview he was supposed to be doing and just get some rest. Not really surprising after the morning's activities, so Harry dragged Draco with him after being made to promise that he'd reappear when Johnny called. It seemed that Johnny was afraid of facing Lysacek alone and he had begged Harry to be there for moral support.

Of course, Harry had said yes, even though he had his own things to sort out. It did mean, however, that he had time to talk with Draco alone. He took the Slytherin back to where he was staying.

"You're tidier than you used to be at least," Draco observed as he walked into the small room Harry had been allocated.

"When you're pretending to be eleven and don't want any adults around, you get into the habit of keeping things neat and tidy yourself," Harry replied and threw himself onto the bed, letting Draco have the only chair; "I never grew out of it."

Draco sat himself down with all the grace Harry remembered him having on a broom.

"I've only ever heard of one person trying what you did," the Slytherin said, tone almost admiring, "and they managed to turn themselves into a hideous giant baby. How did you do it?"

It wasn't really an unexpected question, but Harry didn't have a very clear answer.

"The woman who sold me the spell and potion told me it was all about focus and want," he replied with a shrug. "I wanted it very badly."

"Quite Slytherin of you to vanish so completely," Draco pointed out.

That made Harry smile; it was a compliment indeed.

"No one was looking for an eleven-year-old," he replied, thinking back and remembering his flight from the Wizarding world; "it wasn't that difficult. I made all the financial arrangements before regressing myself and then I just stepped from one life into another. A few cosmetic changes, hiding the scar and I was all set."

He noticed that Draco was looking at him rather closely then.

"You do look very different," Draco finally said; "how did you tame the mop?"

Harry grinned and ran his hand through his hair; it was now straight and manageable, a long way from the untameable nest it had once been.

"The Muggles have some very inventive hair products," he replied and wondered what Draco thought of the two-tone he had it dyed at the moment.

It was deep red on top and black underneath in an asymmetrical style which had matched his costume.

"When I first disappeared, I just used to dye it brown," he added, remembering the mess he had made of it the first time, "but when I started skating that just wouldn't do. Straight after getting my first pair of skates I was pointed at a decent hairdresser."

That had been a very eye-opening experience; he remembered it well.

"Now that is a miracle," Draco replied with a smirk.

"So," Harry decided he'd answered enough questions for now, "what have you been up to?"

"Oh, nothing overly exciting," Draco replied with a shrug, "got married, had a son, got divorced, committed my father; the usual pureblood thing."

Surprisingly Draco sounded just a little tired. Harry had to wonder if maybe the Wizarding world wasn't hard on purebloods as well.

"Sorry it didn't work out," Harry said, feeling the need to say something supportive, even though he really didn't know Draco anymore.

Draco smiled at that. Harry was a little disappointed to find out Draco was straight, but then you couldn't have everything. The Slytherin was impeccably turned out and very pretty to look at, but Harry was beginning to think that was a Malfoy thing.

"It was working out fine," Draco said, looking ruefully amused and seeming to want to talk, "until the Prophet stuck their nose in. You leaving left a terrible hole in the market for gossip and so they started looking harder at we purebloods. When the pictures of Astoria and Pansy hit the front page, Astoria and I decided there was no point in continuing the sham of a marriage. We had, after all, achieved what we set out to do and produced an heir for both our families. Astoria still lives at the Manor, but we have separate lives."

"Astoria and Pansy?" Harry had to ask.

That sounded so completely risqué for purebloods. Draco smirked at him for the question.

"Seems our press were picking up bad habits from the Muggles," Draco replied. "They took pictures through Pansy's bedroom window; very juicy stuff. Pansy sued them for some very large amounts of money, and I doubt anyone will try such a thing again, but by then the damage was already done; everyone knew that my marriage to Astoria was a front. Our divorce was headline news for a while and they hounded Astoria. Can you believe they actually thought I didn't know what my own wife was up to?"

Harry smiled at that; it did seem farfetched to him. Their entire generation was paranoid thanks to the war and Slytherins were paranoid to begin with. Draco Malfoy was the Prince of Slytherin which led to only one conclusion: Draco would have to have known everything.

"The Prophet was always staffed by idiots," Harry agreed from where he was lounging. "Any tips for dealing with them when I get home?"

"Keep smiling and sue them when they step over the line," Draco said with a wicked grin.

Harry had not failed to notice that Rita Skeeter's name was all over the article about him on the front page. He relished the idea of suing the annoying woman. He let himself enjoy the thought for a little while.

"By the way," Draco said suddenly, breaking him out of his thoughts, "the answer's yes."

Harry frowned; he had no idea what Draco was talking about.

"Gryffindors," Draco said and rolled his eyes, "the attention span of a Puffleskin."

Harry gave Draco his best affronted look.

"Slytherins," he replied with a very dramatic sigh, "always expecting other people to understand their neuroses."

From the way he smiled, Draco liked that comeback. Harry was quite pleased he had had ten years to sharpen his tongue. When he had left the Wizarding world he had not seen Draco at all since school, but he was beginning to think they might have grown into being friends had circumstances been different.

"Am I interested, Potter," Draco said, with exaggerated slowness, as if talking to an idiot, "the answer's yes."

That did shock Harry into properly paying attention.

"Well you did ask," Draco said, clearly pleased at having surprised him; "if only we'd known at school, we could have had a much more amenable relationship."

For a moment Harry's brain tried to rationalise that and came up with a huge mess, so decided not to bother.

"Thank god," he said, leaning back against the wall, "I thought my gaydar was off."

Draco actually laughed at that.

"You're much more dramatic this time round, Potter," Draco said with a smile; "I think I like it."

"Black," Harry corrected, "or James, not Harry and definitely not Potter."

One thing he was completely sure of was that he was never being Harry Potter ever again.

"And I've been associating with figure skaters and coaches for eight years," he added with a grin, "it rubs off."

He would have loved to have continued the conversation, but something made a noise, a clear bell like note and Draco reached into his pocket. What Draco pulled out looked like a small leather photo frame, only he appeared to be reading it.

"Sorry, P...James," Draco said, standing up; "Mother needs me to assist with some things to do with father. I have to be going."

Harry stood up as well.

"What is that?" he asked curiously, looking at the device, since he had never seen one.

"This is a Weasley Communicator 2009," Draco said and then waited for his reaction.

"You're using something from a Weasley?" Harry asked, shocked.

"The whole of Wizarding Britain is," Draco replied and Harry realised how out of touch he really was. "Hermione married Ron and then they both went into partnership with that blasted brother of his and they started bringing out these two years ago. I believe they work like Muggle ... um ... email, is that right? No up to date wizard or witch will be seen without one these days, even Mother learnt to use one when I gave her one for Christmas. They are a lot less messy than owls or firecalls. I think they're about to go global."

Harry was amazed; the Wizarding world was entering the twenty first century. The Communicator made a sound again and Draco looked down at it.

"Those idiots," was Draco's response. "Sorry, I really must go."

"Of course," Harry said, sorry to see the other Wizard leave when he was just getting to know the man again.

"Goodbye, James," Draco said and offered his hand, "sorry that we met again under such trying circumstances."

"Not your fault," Harry replied and shook Draco's hand; "thanks for your help."

Draco just nodded and pulled out his wand. It looked as if he was about to disapparate, but then he paused.

"Would you care to join me for dinner tomorrow night?" Draco asked and rather took him by surprise again. "I know a nice restaurant not far from here."

For a moment Harry just stood there and then he smiled.

"I'd love to," he said.

"Shall we say seven for seven thirty?" Draco asked and he nodded.

Draco looked pleased and then he was gone with a crack. Harry threw himself back on the bed and laughed; it was turning out to be a rather enjoyable day.