Warning: Rated M for language and sexual content. For further disclaimers and warnings, make sure to read my profile.

A/N: Prompt: High Hopes, by Panic! at the Disco. This piece was part of the Sing Me a Rare Volume 3 Collection. Runner Up: Best Comedy, Best Romance

Beta Love: LuceFray27 and JenCala

High Hopes

"Back in the days, we wanted everything," Harry said, looking down at the paper cup in his hand, half-filled with too cold, poorly made coffee. He rarely drank or ate at the meetings, but it felt better to have something in his hands to prevent himself from fidgeting. "There was so much hope for the future, you know? But now Albus is on his way to Hogwarts, and with him and James both gone for most of the year, I just... I don't know, I guess?"

It had taken years of growth to get him to talk so openly about his feelings, but even Harry couldn't say that it wasn't beneficial to do so. He hadn't wanted to go to the support group for single parents, but Hermione always had a way of twisting his arm (sometimes very literally) to get out of his comfort zone.

The day Harry walked into his first meeting, Ginny had been gone for four years. Albus was only six, James a nightmarish eight years old. While Harry felt that his grief had finally found a comfortable place in his chest that didn't throb so badly it hurt to breathe, he was very overwhelmed parenting two rowdy boys who rarely ever actually got along.

Hermione found the group for him thanks to hearing about it from a working relationship with another Curse-Breaker, Penelope Davies, who highly recommended it after a nasty divorce when her husband of two years up and abandoned her following the birth of their first child. It took Hermione's endless logical badgering, James breaking his arm trying to jump the stairs at Grimmauld Place, and accidentally losing Albus in a Muggle shopping centre for Harry to finally admit that he couldn't do it alone. He needed support. He needed people who knew what it was like and, perhaps, had ideas on how to help.

The group was rather large, especially for people near his own age. The marriage and birth rate following the end of the war was high, but the fallout of "Wait, we're not going to die?" elopements and honeymoon babies were swiftly followed by lines at the Ministry for quick divorces and custody arrangements. Harry wasn't surprised to see many of his former schoolmates sitting around the circle his first visit.

He was, however, the only widower.

Harry and Ginny had been blissfully happy, even if they still had the occasional argument followed by a night on the sofa or a drink at the pub with friends to let off some steam, only to crawl back in bed and apologise. They had been young, stupidly in love, and exceedingly happy to just be alive. Harry and Ginny were both on the rise in their respective fields. Everyone always worried about Harry most; always out there hunting down dark wizards and criminals. No one thought much about the risks of Ginny's job playing Chaser for the Harpies. A faulty Firebolt in the middle of practice caused a jolt, followed by a badly aimed Bludger and a seventy-foot fall that no one could pull out a wand quick enough to slow. And just like that, Harry's world had been upended.

Harry swirled the cold coffee in his cup and sighed. He'd been going to the support group for almost five years. He considered most of the people there friends, but very few did he truly confide all of his worries in. One, actually.

As if on cue, his spell-phone buzzed in his pocket—a wonderful mixture of magic and technology put together by the Muggle-borns that worked for Arthur in the Department of Muggle Cooperation. "Sorry," Harry muttered as he pulled the phone out, glancing down at the flashing screen.

Running late. Save me a seat.

He smiled fondly down at the text before putting the phone away and glancing to the seat beside him, which he had already saved. "Umm, where was I? Oh, right. Anyone here know how I'm supposed to put my life back together with the boys at school?" He let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh. "Seems like the last nine years I've spent every waking moment living my life for them. I know they'll still need me, but what am I supposed to do with myself now?"

"You've done so well with them, Harry," Penelope, now the group leader, said with a tender smile. "Stay up on that rise. Just because the children are gone to Hogwarts, doesn't mean you're taking any steps back. You're still moving forward as well. Now, you just need to figure out how to focus on what you want for your life."

His spell-phone buzzed again as Penelope spoke. Harry subtly took a glance and smirked down at the message:

Bringing you a latte so we don't have to poison ourselves with the coffee there.

"What I want?" Harry actually laughed, still looking down at the phone, already craving the taste of a good espresso mixed with caramel. "Anyone here have any idea what that might be? Don't think I've ever much considered it. Always had someone to take care of."

"Or everyone," Cho Pucey said with a smirk.

Harry nodded. "Fulfill the prophecy," he said sarcastically. "Go make a legacy."

"Manifest destiny," Cho added, chuckling under her breath.

His phone buzzed once more in his hands.

I hope you're not replying because you're actually participating in group. Otherwise, I'm to assume you've actually had the coffee there. In which case, I suppose I should also bring a bezoar with me.

It was a struggle not to chuckle.

"Penelope's right," Terry Boot chimed in, drawing Harry's attention back to the group. "We all went through something similar at some point. Or some of us. Now's a chance to rewrite your history. You can start part of your life off from scratch."

Someone opposite Harry in the circle snorted in amusement, and he looked up to see Pansy Zabini rolling her eyes. "Something to say, Parkinson?"

Pansy let out a put-upon sigh and smiled at him. "The idea of you, Potter, of all people in this room trying to rewrite your history. Funny."

He huffed a soft laugh in agreement. "You disagree?"

"I say start this new chapter of your life with a bang," Pansy suggested.

Terry eyed her quizzically. "Like some sort of celebration? That could work for you, Harry. Do something symbolic in regards to your past. You don't have to forget the best parts, of course, but let go of the bad bits."

"You could burn your biographies," Cho suggested with a cheeky grin, and everyone laughed.

"You're hilarious," Harry said dryly. "As if I'd ever buy that Skeeter rubbish. Not worth the coin to even set on fire."

"Not that anyone was paying attention," Pansy cut in, looking annoyed. "But I wasn't talking about having some silly little bonfire to start Potter's new life as a long-distance via Hogwarts single father. I said start it with a bang," she said, enunciating every syllable. "Get your uptight little knob sucked off."

He wasn't sure exactly which part was more offensive: the "uptight" or the "little". He glared at the woman, but couldn't bring himself to object to the idea. It had merit. And it had been far too fucking long since he'd been with anyone. Not since Hermione's thirty-fifth birthday party.

Molly had taken the boys for a whole week, so Harry let himself get roaringly pissed at the Leaky, and he ended up having a one night stand with Luna. The sex, what he remembered of it, had been utterly mind-blowing, but the aftermath of the following morning was beyond awkward. Luna admitted to needing an itch scratched with no intentions of any romantic interest and told Harry that he could always rely on her for a good orgasm if he ever needed. He'd turned bright red, apologised profusely, and buried his face in his hands as she told him that he was in her top three performers of cunnilingus. Harry did not ask who the other two people were.

That had been two years ago, and Harry had been single-handedly taking care of himself ever since.

"Sorry I'm late! Sorry! Sorry!"

Harry breathed a sigh of relief at the interruption, firmly pocketing his spell-phone and smiling as Astoria Malfoy rushed into the room. She carried a large bag over one shoulder and two large cups in hand. Dropping her bag near the door with the other purses, she snatched up a pumpkin pasty from the table with a napkin using her free hand.

Harry quickly tucked the cup of cold coffee beneath his seat just as Astoria reached him, handing over the good stuff.

"What did I miss?" she asked, taking a bite of the pasty as she dropped into the seat beside him.

"We're trying to figure out how Harry can get a blowjob," Pansy said with a sly grin.

Harry felt his face turn red and he choked on a mouthful of scalding latte.

Astoria chewed her mouthful of pasty, turning to look at Harry with a slender blond brow raised, and chuckled as she swallowed. "Oh, is that all? Need a trip down Knockturn, Harry? Light up your wildest dreams."

"You're all hilarious," Harry said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and setting his latte on the ground near his feet. He leant back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. "Penelope, I think my time talking is up."

The others took their turns then, most complaining about the toddler years, something Harry was glad was over. He barely scraped through them on his own, so his advice to offer was minimal. He tried to pay attention, but Astoria would offer him a bite of her pumpkin pasty every now and then, also reaching over to casually dust crumbs from the cuff of his sleeve, all while paying what looked like rapt attention to anyone in the group who was speaking.

"I don't know how you're doing it without a house-elf, Cho," Astoria said with admiration in her tone. "Scorpius, my darling angel, was a demon at that age."

"I used pain potions and bourbon to survive," Harry commented.

"What for?" Astoria demanded playfully. "Potter, you actually have a house-elf!"

"You've met my house-elf, Malfoy," he said with a laugh, always smiling when he called her by her married name like it was their little inside joke. Despite the similar hair colour and inherited wealth, Astoria was nothing like her ex-husband. "Do you actually think I trusted Kreacher to handle Albus's temper tantrums?"

When the meeting ended, everyone gathered around the food like always, discussing plans for the week. Some, Harry knew, occasionally met up for lunch or drinks now and again. He very rarely attended.

"Nervous about the owls coming?" Astoria asked as she approached him. "Scorpius was petrified when I put him on the train. He didn't say, but I think he's certain his father will disown him if he doesn't sort into Slytherin."

Harry offered her a smile and an extra chocolate scone that he knew she liked to hide away in her bag. "Albus was the exact same only worried about what would happen if he does get into Slytherin."

"They'd be so lucky," she said. "Both of our boys would be a boon to that house."

"Or they'd burn the dungeons to the ground," Harry added with a grin. "Heard from Draco?"

Astoria nodded. "He's coming back to Britain for Christmas. Since Scorpius will be at Hogwarts for most of the year, it's made the custody agreement a little complicated. Rather than have him spend every holiday being Portkeyed back and forth between here and the states, we've agreed to just spend much of the holidays together, that way Scorpius can settle in at home when he's not at school."

Nodding, Harry wondered if that was Astoria's idea or Malfoy's. From what they'd heard in group, a lot of the custody arrangements could get ugly, especially when one parent left the country.

"What are the two of you whispering about over here?" Cho asked with a teasing smirk as she approached them.

Harry baulked, looking at her strangely. "What?"

"I was giving Harry tips on which Knockturn brothels to visit," Astoria said with a serious expression on her face. "He's dead set on Madame Maladie's, but I suggested maybe taking a chance on a Muggle facility. I've heard they even have services you can phone in for."

Choking on shock and embarrassment, Harry struggled for words as he glared at his devious friend.

Cho giggled. "Poor Harry."

"Laugh it up," he grumbled under his breath.

Pansy shoved her way through them, side-checking Harry and stealing the rest of his latte right from his hand. "Don't you dare sully yourself with some Muggle, Potter. You don't know that you're immune to whatever diseases they carry. At least if you pick up something from Madame Maladie's, you can Floo right into St Mungo's when you're finished."

"I am not going to buy a prostitute!" Harry exclaimed.

Pansy stared at him blankly as she finished the rest of his drink. "Well of course not, Potter. You rent them."

Throwing his hands up in defeat, Harry muttered, "I quit," and moved for the door.

"You do need to get out, though," Cho said with a kind voice. "We weren't teasing about that. Come to lunch with us this week."

Grimacing, because he knew they'd all just start talking about everything they always talked about in group but out in the open where anyone (nosy reporters included) could hear their sad tales of parenting dilemmas and loneliness, Harry shook his head. "I've got a full plate this week at work."

"Tomorrow night then," Pansy insisted. "My shithead ex just opened that new club just off Knockturn. As terrible as he is at marriage and fatherhood, he's quite adept at design and creating a half-decent Old Fashioned."

Before Harry could answer how much he did not want to visit a nightclub at his age, Astoria asked, "What's it called again?"

"Stranger Crusaders," Pansy answered. When everyone gave her a puzzled look, she bristled. "I don't fucking know. I'm guessing he just randomly flipped open a bloody dictionary. That is if he owns one."

"I think it sounds fun," Astoria said, looking at Harry with a bright grin.

He thought of going out in wizarding public and getting a drink at a Slytherin nightclub. Rita and her cronies would have a field day. It sounded miserable. Hermione and Ron wouldn't dare go with him. Neville might if he wasn't at Hogwarts. Luna would, of course, be game for it, but Harry did not want another repeat of the last time they had drinks together.

He thought about abandoning the idea entirely, but Astoria was writing down the exact location of the club from Pansy, who was also detailing the best drinks to order whilst there. The idea of Astoria going to some Knockturn nightclub on her own made his stomach turn over.

They'd been friends from the moment she walked into group following her divorce. Everyone knew what had happened with the Malfoys. Following the end of the war, Narcissa and Lucius arranged the entire thing, even though Astoria and Draco had scarcely interacted prior to their wedding day. One year after the birth of Scorpius and the death of Lucius, the marriage was amicably ended, and Draco had run off to America with Astoria's sister Daphne, whom he had originally wanted to marry. Despite everything the papers said, Astoria knew about the plan all along and was thrilled for her ex and her sister. Still, she had a son to raise mostly on her own and reporters now hounding after her.

Knowing the plight of the media, Harry had offered her sanctuary in friendship.

He felt protective of her.

He imagined her getting a drink at a club and being led to the dance floor by some stranger, maybe even someone Harry had previously run into or arrested, putting their hands on her hips and absconding with her somewhere private.

"Tomorrow night?" Harry blurted out, interrupting Pansy mid-sentence. "I think, I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm free."

Astoria looked pleased, but it was Pansy who looked like a cream fed cat.

"Sounds like a plan!" Terry jumped in excitedly. "When exactly are we—? Ow!"

Pansy withdrew her arm from behind Terry's back. "Apologies, Boot. It looks like your kidney got in the way of my elbow." With him silenced in pain, Pansy returned her attention to Harry and Astoria. "Such a shame that the rest of us will have to skip out. I've got so many things to handle, and I know everyone else here does as well, don't we?"

The glare she gave the group wasn't even slightly subtle.

"Plans," Terry managed to choke out.

Ignoring the concern that was Pansy being painfully obvious, Harry bid the rest of the group good night and walked with Astoria to the nearest apparition point, promising to meet at the nightclub the following evening.

Back at Grimmauld, more silent than it had been in over a decade, Harry sighed and fell into his armchair. Kreacher brought a drink that Harry politely refused, and managed to stare at the window where the owls came in, wondering if either of his boys had already sent a letter off. James was terrible at keeping in touch, but surely Albus would want to write as soon as possible after the sorting ceremony.

The buzz of his spell-phone broke his concentration.

I can feel you worrying all the way over at my house.

Snorting, Harry wrote back:

Just hoping they're all right.

Get some sleep, Potter. I'll be put out if you can't keep up with me tomorrow night.

You're terrible to me. Night, Malfoy.

Harry had a terrible night of sleep, waking in the morning with cravings for a good latte. Not the stale coffee he knew he had stored in his own kitchen, but the good stuff that Astoria always brought him to the group meetings.

The house was eerily quiet without at least one child there to wreak havoc upon the place. Kreacher had already set out a small breakfast of eggs and toast (and terrible coffee) for Harry, but the house-elf in question was nowhere in sight.

His gaze lingered on the open window where the owls normally came in with the morning paper and any mail. Nothing yet. Sighing with impatience over not knowing how his boys were doing, his mind began to wander to his plans with Astoria later that night.

"A nightclub. Bloody hell," he groaned into his palms. "What was I thinking?"

Thankfully, the chiming sound of his Floo pulled him out of his lingering thoughts, and Harry rushed into the other room toward the fireplace where he caught sight of Hermione's head in the flames.

"Morning," he said to her with a nervous smile. "Rose owled already, I gather?"

His best friend grinned brightly, excitedly shouting, "Gryffindor! Can you believe it?"

Knowing Ron and Hermione (not to mention generations of previous Weasley sortings) as well as the temperament of his niece, Harry could, in fact, believe it. "Good girl. I'm happy for you guys."

"I would have been just as happy with any house, of course," Hermione insisted.

Harry laughed when he heard Ron muttering in the background, "I wasn't joking about disowning her, for the record."

"Oh shut up," Hermione snipped as her head disappeared in the flames for a moment only to return once again. "Have you heard from the boys?"

Shaking his head, Harry sighed. "Did Rose mention them?"

Hermione mimicked zipping her lips shut. "She did, but I shall not spill any secrets."

He tried to read her expression but years of working with the Ministry had Hermione well-adept at keeping secrets. She betrayed nothing. "Mean."

"Cruel," Hermione agreed with another happy grin. "I'm sure the letter is on its way. Listen, we're all getting together at the Burrow tonight to celebrate. Are you coming? Molly's making roast chicken."

Even with a belly full of eggs, Harry's stomach growled a bit at the thought of Molly's roast. He could greedily eat twelve helpings of potatoes and Yorkshire puddings. But then he remembered his previous plans. "Oh, umm, see I'd love to, but I actually have something already planned."

Raising a brow, Hermione studied him the way he had just done with her. Unfortunately, Harry apparently left little to the imagination by way of facial cues. "Do you have a date?"

"What?!" Harry sat back, eyes wide. "Of course not! I have, it's a, just like a, a work thing, Hermione."

She narrowed her eyes at him, clearly catching him in the lie. "Whatever you say, Harry James Potter."

"Using my full name doesn't work on me, you know," he said accusingly.

Hermione let out a little sigh. "Well, it used to. Fine. Keep your secrets, Harry. I'll make sure to bring you a plate later on tonight." She then left a very heavy pause before smirking and adding, "Or maybe tomorrow."

"Goodbye, Hermione!"

Harry shut the Floo in the middle of her quiet laughter.

Feeling like an embarrassed teenager, Harry went back upstairs to find his spell-phone, ready and eager to text Astoria an apology for cancelling their plans. He couldn't do it. Unfortunately, when he clicked the button to turn on the screen, there was a message already waiting for him.

Scorpius got into Slytherin! I'm so happy for him, but Draco's going to be a smug shit about this, so I fully expect you to get me utterly smashed tonight. Can't wait!

"Fuck."

Like an idiot, Harry changed his outfit three times before staring at his Floo, ready to leave for the night. Clenching his fists in a fit of nerves, he jumped a bit when an owl barked at him from the other room.

"Oh thank Merlin," Harry muttered as he rushed into the kitchen, nabbing the letter from the owl's grip so fast that the bird took a good bite of his finger in the process. He didn't even bother to wince at the pain as he tore the envelope open to see James's terrible penmanship.

Dad,

No surprise that Al got into Slytherin. I haven't seen him since dinner, but I figured he'd be too worried to write you. That or he's busy brewing evil down in the dungeons now. Kidding. I'll behave. No one made faces or said anything rude when he was sorted. Plus, he's got Malfoy with him. I promise to keep an eye out just in case. Oh, can you send me my Quidditch gloves? I forgot them in my room. And guess what? No detention so far! Aren't you proud?

James

Harry sighed, feeling the familiar tension of parenthood returning to his shoulders. It was achy but oddly comfortable compared to the silent peacefulness of the house. He'd send a reply letter in the morning when he had a chance to rifle through James's room and find the damned gloves.

Thinking of his brave little boy having to make the walk from the sorting stool to the Slytherin table made Harry clear his throat and walk back into the other room to face the Floo once more. If Albus, who was terrified of his sorting, could make that walk and start a new life wearing green-lined robes, Harry figured he could be a Gryffindor about the whole situation, find his own courage, suck it up, and go to the bloody nightclub.

When he stepped foot into Diagon Alley, passing the windows of Madam Malkin's where he saw the variety of house scarves on display, Harry smiled. Before sending James's gloves off tomorrow, he made a mental note to come back here and buy Albus a new green scarf to show his support.

Walking through Knockturn Alley was less comfortable, but nowhere near as bad as it had been over twenty years ago when Harry had made his first appearance there. Borgin and Burkes had been out of business for well over a decade. While not everything done on Knockturn was exactly legal, it was at the very least no longer up to the brim in dark magic. Amid the old and new shops and stores, a strange-looking nightclub rested between a closed-down bakery and an apothecary that had been for sale for the past four years. Harry recalled Pansy once mentioning that her ex-husband was planning on buying out the whole area to expand.

The bouncer at the door in front of a long queue of people had a fierce look to him. It was only when he made eye contact with Harry that his grimace fell away into a look of shock and worry.

"Goyle," Harry said in greeting. "Don't worry. I'm not here on any official business."

Goyle cleared his throat. "Nothing illegal happening inside."

Harry sighed irritably. "Like I said. I'm a paying customer tonight."

Goyle, as well as the crowd in the queue, looked at Harry sceptically.

"I'll just go and get in the back," Harry muttered, pointing to the end of the line.

"There you are!"

Harry turned to see Astoria on the other side of the door, smiling at him.

"Greg, let him in. Potter's with me tonight."

Harry swallowed at the sight of her.

She normally looked like a mum anytime he saw her. She never wore anything overly fancy like Narcissa Malfoy used to, or even her own sister, Daphne. She dressed in well-fitting robes or even Muggle attire from time to time. Simple blouses, black or grey trousers, sometimes a skirt and sensible heels.

But tonight she wore a dress.

A green dress that reached the tops of her thighs. The neckline plunged down between her breasts, and the sleeves flowed out, pinching back around her wrists.

Her hair was down. Long flowing blond locks, curled just at the ends instead of up like she usually wore it.

She looked young.

She was young.

Harry did a double take of her and then looked down at himself. Was he still young too? He felt old. There was a little bit of grey in his beard. His knees cracked sometimes, and there were wrinkles developing in the corners of his eyes. He knew Astoria was only a few years younger than him, and she had a son the same age as Albus. But she was full of youth in that moment. She looked free and happy.

Happy to see him.

"Oh fuck," he muttered and reached for his spell-phone in his pocket. Glancing down at it, Harry looked up at her and mouthed, "I'll be right inside," while pointing at the phone, acting as though he had a call that he needed to take.

Goyle looked at him with a raised, accusing brow, and Harry narrowed his eyes, shifting away from the door and around the corner.

His body on autopilot, he dialled the phone and held it up to his ear.

"Busy at work?" Hermione said as she answered.

"Can you not? I'm panicking."

"Hold on," she said, and Harry could hear the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. "We saved you a plate. Molly's heartbroken that you're not here, but I told her you were very busy with work."

"I think I'm on a date," Harry blurted out.

"I figured that," Hermione said, the background noise on her side of the call fading as she clearly stepped into a private room. "Why are you panicking?"

He thought about it for a moment. "Because I didn't think this was a date? But then I got here and I saw, and I just, I don't know what to do, Hermione. I thought I was too old for this. I thought I was all tied up and had no more love to give."

"Harry." Her voice softened, no longer teasing. "Of course you're not too old to start over. Nothing is done, and you haven't yet seen the best of life. And you, more than anyone I know, have an endless supply of love to give. You deserve to have some given back to you, in fact. And before you even bring her up, you know that Ginny wouldn't want you to be alone. She'd probably curse you silly for waiting this long." She took a long pause and sighed. "Harry, don't give up."

Clearing his throat, he whispered, "It's a little complicated."

Nearly half a minute of silence passed before Hermione spoke again, "Who is it?"

"Malfoy."

"Shit," Hermione cursed. "Ron, I owe you ten galleons."

Harry's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"Don't get me wrong, Harry, we love you no matter what, and I suppose we'll get used to having him around if you insist on it, and only so long as he behaves himself."

Catching her meaning, Harry promptly wanted to die. "Astoria Malfoy, Hermione."

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, sounding relieved. "Well thank Merlin for that. Not that I would have put up much of a fuss if it was the other way, but Ron gets so smug when he wins. Astoria is lovely, though! Well done."

Thinking back to Astoria in that dress, Harry began to panic again. "I've not done anything, Hermione."

"Yet."

"Hermione!"

"Harry, I love you, and you have been coming to me with girl problems since we were in Hogwarts. So you will listen to me, am I perfectly clear?" She didn't wait for him to agree before she went on, "You are going to go on a date tonight and enjoy yourself. You do not have children at home to tend to, and you're off of work tomorrow. You are not an old man, doomed to walk the earth alone for the rest of his life."

He let her words sink in as though they were Felix Felicis, whispering encouragements in his ear and directing him on the best path. He let out a relaxed exhale and nodded. "Right."

"Now hang up the phone," Hermione insisted.

He paused before saying goodbye. "Did you really think that I meant Draco Malfoy?"

"Night, Harry!" Hermione said brightly and then hung up the line.

It took several minutes to actually get into the club. A crowd had gathered and Goyle seemed to be struggling to shoo away a few unwanted guests while also filtering through an onslaught of eager customers. By the time Harry made his way into the club, most people had stopped gawking at him. He ran his hand through his hair nervously, searching the club for Astoria.

Spotting her at the bar, he smiled softly thinking of all the lattes she had bought him over the years. She didn't have a drink in her hand yet, and Harry was determined to buy one for her.

"Hello, stranger," Astoria said with a smile as he approached. She was perched on the bar stool rather elegantly, and Harry did his best not to look at the way her dress clung to her thighs as she crossed one leg over the other.

"I think I owe you a drink."

She laughed brightly. "Potter, you owe me so many drinks." She turned to the bartender. "Two appletinis."

Harry's smile dropped. "I'd rather have a firewhisky."

Astoria chuckled and shook her head. "You are having an appletini with me, Harry because I happen to know that you are the proud parent of a newly sorted Slytherin. You have to have a green drink. It's required."

Rolling his eyes and ignoring the snickering bartender who passed over the tiny martini glass to him, Harry sighed. "Scorpius say anything about how Al's doing?"

Astoria clinked their glasses together and took a sip. "He's perfectly fine, I assure you."

Harry cringed at the too sweet cocktail, trying to swallow the whole thing in one gulp so as to be done with it. "Firewhisky now," he said to the bartender. "Please."

"Poor sport," Astoria accused before finishing her own drink, looking like she was forcing it down as well. "Anything new on the menu?"

The bartender pointed to a menu board off to the side.

Harry's brow furrowed. "You sell Amortentia?"

"It's Amorsensia," the bartender corrected. "Doesn't make anyone fall in love with you. Just helps you let go of your own inhibitions. It's all legal."

Sighing, Harry wondered if he just should have worn his Auror robes tonight, all things considered.

"You can only drink it yourself," the bartender added. "Can't walk off with it."

Harry nodded, feeling somewhat relieved. "Well, there's that, I guess. It's poorly named, though."

The bartender shrugged. "Do you want one or not?" His hand hovered between a bottle of firewhisky and a glowing, mother of pearl sheen, bottle next to it.

Looking at Astoria, Harry swallowed hard. "I mean, I wouldn't presume to, because we're friends."

She pushed a slender hand through her hair and smiled sweetly at him. Her other hand landed on his forearm. "Did you not want this to be a date, Harry?"

He blanked, staring at her in shock. "I mean, I didn't want to assume?"

She reached into her small bag and pulled out her spell-phone. One click and the screen lit up and she passed it over to him. A message had arrived not more than a few minutes earlier, likely when he was waiting to get into the club.

Please shag our friend.

Closing his eyes tight, Harry handed the phone back and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ron."

Astoria chuckled quietly, her hand still resting on his forearm. "One Amorsensia for me, good sir."

Harry opened his eyes and looked as the drink was placed in front of Astoria. "Think you need that?"

She brought the glass to her lips and licked the edge. "Think I want it."

Sucking in a breath, Harry shook his head at the bartender. "Two firewhiskies, please." He glanced down at Astoria's drink and then, when she gave him a quizzical look, he smiled at her. "I don't need that."

Her lips turned to a softer smile, and she placed the drink back down on the counter, exchanging it for the firewhisky.

Harry took the glass handed to him and held it up to Astoria's. "Here's to high hopes."

She grinned at him. "High hopes."

The bartender was correct about the Amorsensia. The moment Astoria placed the potioned drink down, the bartender took it away, tossing it into a sink in the corner, waving his wand over the water to dispel any remnants of the potioned cocktail.

Harry stepped closer to Astoria, half leaning against the bar stool beside her. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and said, "I'm out of practice."

She leant into his touch. "You've had more practice than me, I'm afraid. My marriage was arranged."

"Maybe," Harry hesitated as the effects of alcohol rushed through him, making everything but her seem a little unfocused. "Maybe we should take this slow?"

Astoria licked her lips. "I didn't come here tonight looking for slow."

Something startling happened in Harry's chest, and he resisted the urge to bring his hand to it. He wouldn't be such a romantic to think of it as his heartbeat skipping, especially since it felt more panicked than that, but something sure as hell happened at her words.

After thinking for a long moment, trying his best to imagine her in a blouse and trousers with her hair pulled up, latte in one hand and her ridiculously large bag hanging over her forearm, Harry said, "So you're looking for fast. What about longevity?"

She sat forward on the edge of the bar stool, uncrossing her legs. Her small hand reached up to touch his cheek, and he noticed that she hadn't bothered to paint her nails for the occasion; he knew that she had a nervous habit of chewing them.

"I'm not looking for a one-off, Harry."

He let out a breath and smiled. "It's weird when you call me by my first name. I like it."

She grinned. "Might be strange if you called out 'Malfoy' in the middle, I suppose."

Cringing, Harry looked up, trying not to laugh. Eventually, he glanced back down, watching as her eyes focused on his mouth. Her shoulders moved with every breath, the deep line of her dress adjusting with the subtle movement of her breasts as she inhaled and exhaled.

One glance to the bartender was all it took before the man rolled his eyes as if he'd seen this several dozen times already tonight, and he gestured with a lazy hand to an exit behind the bar.

"Do you want to stay and dance?" Harry asked, holding his hand out to her even as he kept his gaze on the door.

Without a word, Astoria grabbed his fingers and dragged him toward the exit, leaving the blaring sound of music and the smell of crowd sweat as the door shut closed behind them.

"Your place or mine?" Astoria asked, but Harry was already casting a Notice-Me-Not Charm on the alley behind the nightclub, pressing her back against the wall with his wand still in hand.

She tilted her head back and laughed in delight, offering the soft line of her jaw to his lips even as she drew her own wand, locking the door from the outside. "If you insist. But I fully expect you to buy me a coffee afterward to sober up."

Harry pressed his lips to her neck, working his way up to her ear. "Plan on telling me where your secret coffee shop is?"

"Mmm." Astoria raked her fingers through his hair, reaching to cup the back of his head. "In that case, you make breakfast, and I'll bring the coffee."

The first press of his lips to hers was slow, slightly shaking, and he took care with her when she gasped softly into his mouth. He tried to remember that there was a strong chance she had only been with Draco, an arranged marriage. He'd never seen her date anyone else. He thought to perhaps be gentle, but then she hitched her thigh up against his hip, tilting her pelvis forward.

"Oh god," Harry groaned, pocketing his wand to grant him the use of both of his hands, which he immediately placed on her hips, letting his fingers drift down the outside of her thighs until the tips reached the hem of her dress.

"We can go somewhere more private. I want to take my time."

Astoria shook her head. "For the second round, you can take all the time you want, Harry. Don't make me beg. I'd rather not become irritated with you."

He chuckled, even as she bit his lower lip, reminding him that Slytherins had fangs.

Pulling away, he kissed her once more. "I promise, I won't make you wait any longer than necessary." And then he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her tight against his chest and Side-Along Apparated them both back to the front step of Grimmauld Place.

Astoria looked up as she caught her breath. "We're at your house?"

Harry kissed the corner of her mouth. "Fast or slow, I'm not about to have our first time be up against a dirty brick wall in Knockturn." Tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, he clicked open the front door with a flick of his wand. "I'm not looking for some one-off either, Astoria. You're bloody sexy in that dress, and my baser urges are fighting me a bit because of it," at that, she grinned, "but you've also been a dear friend for years, and maybe I've been half falling for you for a long time without even knowing it."

Her eyes widened in obvious shock. "What?"

"So surprising?" Harry asked, feeling much too vulnerable for his own liking. "You have to know you're brilliant."

She looked down, appearing as though she were trying to hide a blush. Eventually, her gaze lifted once more but not to him, to the inside of the house. "You have plans for us in there?"

Harry brushed his knuckles lightly against her cheek. "A few. My bed's more comfortable than an alleyway, after all. Plus, I did promise you breakfast."

Once inside, Harry kissed her until they reached the staircase, at which point he lifted her into his arms and carried her up to his room, peeling the zipper of her dress down her back as he moved.

When she stepped out of the fabric (and after he fumbled his way out of his shirt and trousers), Harry let his fingers trail over her skin, admiring every curve, every pale freckle, and even the soft stretch marks on the side of her belly. Removing her knickers was a silent affair, and Harry did his best to get Luna's voice out of his head as she told him again that he was expert at cunnilingus. He placed a kiss to Astoria's inner thigh, and she made a soft noise that reminded him of the excitable birds that chirped outside his window every morning.

"I thought I told you that you could take your time later?" Astoria asked through a whispered moan. "I don't know how long it's been for you, but I've had my fill of waiting if it's all the same."

Her words were all the encouragement he needed to divest himself of the remainder of his clothing, too excited to even remove her bra in the process (something he would correct on the next go when he planned on being slower).

Astoria arched her back and gripped the sheets when he filled her, waiting several long moments to let her adjust. She had said it had been a while, and Harry was not too sure the exact circumstances of her marriage to Draco, other than they had one child, so there was at least one night of sex. Astoria clearly needed little time, though, because she tilted her pelvis in a welcoming motion, her gaze locking with his in the same moment.

"More," she pleaded.

Prompted by instinct and muscle memory more than any purposeful thought, Harry pressed forward, pushing and pulling and thanking Merlin that he was no longer of an age that his stamina was lacking (the wank in the shower earlier that evening certainly helped). Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her upward until she was practically sitting on his thighs, the lace of her bra rubbing against his chest.

She fisted a hand in his hair and squeezed her eyes tight when he tilted back slightly, hitting something inside of her that made her body tense in the most perfect way possible.

He was tempted to ask her how close she was, but she cut him off with a kiss, lips unmoving as she gasped against his mouth. "Oh god, oh god."

Harry almost laughed but did his best not to. She was in the middle of a perfect high, looking stunning and beautiful, and he could barely make out the colour of her eyes due to the way the heat from her skin had fogged up his glasses.

When she came down, her mouth closed and she kissed him as though it were the most normal thing in the world. As though they had been doing this for years.

Harry tried to catch his breath.

The air in the room was quite cool, and he realised that he must have left a window open. Harry tried reaching for the sheet or a blanket to cover them both only to see that everything had been kicked off the bed. Giving up, he pulled her close, sighing happily when she curled into his side, her blond hair fanning out on the pillow behind her.

"Can I ask you something?" Harry eventually ventured.

Astoria let out a relaxed breath. "Yes, you're better than Draco."

Snorting with amusement, Harry kissed the top of her head. "Not what I was going to ask, but please feel free to remind me of this moment for as long as I live."

"Noted."

He played with her hair as she dragged her nails softly against his chest. "Do you want to go to Diagon with me tomorrow? I want to buy Albus a green scarf."

"Mmm," Astoria sighed happily. "I can do that. As long as I still get that breakfast."

"Are you still bringing me coffee?" Harry asked playfully.

Astoria tilted her head up and grinned at him. "High hopes for you, Potter."