What if Harry hadn’t managed to save Draco from the Fiendfyre? As far as Harry knows, Draco dies that day, and Harry lives on, haunted by the memory of Draco’s fall into the flames. The loss jars Harry into realizing his feelings for Draco—but it’s too late. Seventeen years later, Harry is still alone after a string of casual relationships, unable to rediscover that depth of emotion with anyone else. As far as Draco knows, the reports of his death have been greatly exaggerated. He not only survives the Fiendfyre, but finds himself inexplicably in the future, a future where people think he’s been dead for seventeen years, and where an older, jaded, stubbled Potter is bizarrely fixated on him. Never mind that, though; Draco has a life to get on with and a reputation to repair, a Potions apprenticeship to adjust to and an unexpected friendship with the young Teddy Lupin. He mostly tries not to think about the fact that he’s stuck living with Potter, who’s become disturbingly attractive with age, and who seems disturbingly attracted to him, in return. Essentially, this is an excuse to indulge my age difference kink. Um. Enjoy?
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