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Enigma	By : SilverEros Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 1356 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Enigma
- 1
Title

Enigma

Author

Silver Eros

Rating

R

Warning

Slash: malexmale pairing. Harry x Draco.

Disclaimer

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Chapter One

Driven Off The Edge

Harry groaned in frustration as he ran a restless hand through his freakishly disheveled jet black hair.

How many hours had he been sitting here going through file after file of utter rubbish? He was tapping his quill agitatedly while glaring at the dangerously tall stack of papers towering on his desk.

Sod hours, he’d been here days - even weeks maybe, searching. Searching. Searching. He’d been doing this for so long that he was even beginning to forget what he’d been searching for. Day after endless day, night after endless night.

When had he last eaten a proper meal? Taken a nice long bath as opposed to a hurried shower? Bothered to check his mail for holiday cards?

But it seemed that no matter how many file cabinets he emptied and no matter how many newspaper clippings he tacked onto his bulletin, nothing. There was nothing. No proof, no evidence pointing him in the right direction. Abso-bloody-lutely nothing.

It was not only frustrating, but also very humiliating in the sense that people were beginning to look upon him as if maybe he were starting to lose his marbles. Just like old Alastor Moody. He tried to act like he didn’t see or hear his fellow workers muttering and shaking their heads sympathetically and was somewhat successful, if one didn’t count the times when a busy haired, motherly hen of a friend would constantly poke her head into his cubicle to rudely pluck his quill out of his hand and drag him to lunch along with another red-haired friend.

It didn’t seem to occur to either of his comrades that he didn’t want to be disturbed and that he needed quiet. They were too busy laughing and talking about trivial things and overall having a good time. It wasn’t that Harry disliked any of those things, in fact, during his carefree adolescent years, he seemed to do only that, whenever he wasn’t dueling with one He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But now... now, there were far more important, death-dealingly serious things that he had to do.

Like uncover the one last, final secret of the Darkness that the whole magical world had failed to see. Yes... he was almost entirely sure... one-hundred percent positive that there was someone out there, still uncaught and hiding. Someone that Harry wanted to kill... tear limb after limb apart until there was nothing left... who that was, even he didn’t know.

Of course no one believed him and his ‘wild’ supposition, not even Ron or Hermione. After all, who in their right mind would want to destroy what happiness they’d regained after decades of living in utter fear? To them, the world was now a peaceful little jubilation. Cauldron cakes and butterbeer for all!

NO!!! Harry violently crumpled up the sheet of notes he’d been jotting down and hurled it into the small dustbin next to his chair.

“God dammit!” he swore under his breath as he removed his glasses and rubbed his strained eyes hopelessly. “Why is it so bloody difficult?”

“Perhaps you need to take a break, Harry.” a voice said warmly from behind him. Harry sighed irritably and didn’t bother to turn around. “You only allow yourself four hours of sleep every night and you hardly talk to anyone anymore.” he felt a hand rest gently on his shoulder. “Don’t you think you should take a deep breath and relax?”

Harry shrugged away the touch and slumped forward onto his littered desk.

“No.” he replied stubbornly.

He heard Hermione sigh and a rustle of papers as she cleared off the second chair that he’d long since forgot existed.

“You’re going to drive yourself over the edge sooner or later.” she said softly. “And plus, it’s almost Christmas.”

Harry snorted. “What’s Christmas anyway? It’s not like I have anyone to keep me company.”

“What are you talking about? You and Ron and I spend Christmas together every year.” she insisted.

“Not this year Hermione. I’m sorry, I appreciate both of your efforts to include me in the yearly powwows, but I’m tired of feeling like the third wheel while you two sit there snogging and looking so bloody happy.” There was a pause in which he was sure that Hermione was blushing, and then went on. “I’m not saying I don’t want you two to be together, I really do, but I feel like I’m just a bother in your relationship. You’ve never spent a Christmas alone with Ron, have you?”

“Well, no but-” Hermione stammered.

“And it’s about time you did.” Harry said firmly, ignoring the pang in his chest.

“Harry, we wanted to spend the holidays with you. You’re our best friend and you’re not just a third wheel.”

“I didn’t mean to sound accusing or anything.” he said quickly, amending the bitterness in his tone. “It’s just... I don’t know. We’re old enough to not have to stay by each other’s sides every waking hour. It won’t change our friendship.”

There was another silence and Harry finally brought himself to swivel around his his seat to face her.

“You know, I think I will take a break.” he said thoughtfully, gesturing to his crammed office that looked as if a whirlwind had recently passed through. “A short one, mind you, but a break nonetheless.”

Hermione’s face lit up and she smiled.

“It’ll do you good, Harry.”

“Don’t know what I’ll do though. Hopefully I don’t end up drowning myself in firewhisky.” he chuckled.

“Why don’t you take someone to dinner?” Hermione suggested. “A date? Merlin knows you haven’t had any romantic escapades lately.”

Harry rolled his eyes at her. “That’s because I don’t want any. I’m perfectly happy on my own.”

“You’ll grow into a bitter old man with a pot belly and a life spent entirely on a couch.” she warned.

Harry raised his eyebrows at her. “You reckon?” he asked in mock-seriousness.

Hermione grinned cheekily. “Oh yes.”

“And what do you suppose the treatment to prevent that would be?”

“To find a nice lady to take out on a date of course.”

“Ahh, but what if I can’t find one?”

Hermione shrugged. “It’s none of my concern who you decide to date, so you’ll have to find someone yourself.” her lips twitched as she stood up from her chair. “By the way, I’ve got something important to talk to you about. Something that I can’t say here.” she added. “You’ll meet me in the café next to Florean Fortesque’s at lunch, won’t you?”

Harry cocked his head to the side in confusion. “Uh, sure, I guess. But why can’t you tell me here?”

“I just can’t. Too risky.” she answered briskly and then smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m not pregnant or anything.”

Harry’s ears tinged red and he coughed. “I didn’t say I thought you were.”

“Alright, well then, lunch. Diagon Alley. Don’t be late.” and with that, she disappeared into the hallway.

Harry stared at the open door for a few seconds, and then reached to shut it. What could be so important that she could not tell him in the safe walls of his office? It had to be something really bad... or shocking, to be that confidential.

He glanced at his watch and saw that it there was still an hour until his lunch break.

What to do now.

He could pick up where he left off and bury himself back in to those dull files, or he could call it quits for the morning and catch up on a much needed nap for once.

No doubt that the latter seemed more appealing, but it made him feel as if he was being negligent and procrastinating the one thing that felt most valuable to him.

His nightmares would never cease to haunt him if he didn’t dig out the truth. If he didn’t, who could? No one.

He cursed his memory for betraying him when it was most crucial that he remember... But alas, when he’d vanquished Voldemort with that dark, deadly curse, his mind had literally imploded from the pressure and bits and pieces of his memory had been erased, possibly permanently - a medi-witch had told him during his long hospitalization in St. Mungo’s.

He would have given up anything to recover just that one memory. Anything.

Remus. Harry thought sadly, reaching out to finger the photograph sitting on his desk. It was a photograph taken during the summer before his fifth year, of Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and himself; their arms slung around each other’s shoulders. This photograph had been Remus and Sirius’ favourite... they said it reminded them of their Marauding days long ago.

“Remus. What did you say to me that night?” he whispered, wiping a fleck of dust from the glass. But the Remus in the picture only smiled at him. “I won’t give up, I promise.”

With that, he stood up from the position he’d been in for the past six hours and stretched painfully, rolling his neck and elongating his arms out before him. He couldn’t sit and do nothing in his office, not feeling guilty about it, and so decided that he would head on out to lunch a little early.

“I’ll be back.” he reassured before throwing his heavy wool cloak over his shoulders and securing his scarf snuggly around his neck. He stuck his wand in his pocket and glanced once more at the photograph, before walking out of his office and locking the door behind him.

--------------------------

When he stepped inside the Leaky Cauldron, he found the old pub crammed to the brim with witches and wizards. He had to squeeze his way in between them as he made for the back door, holding his scarf firmly in place so that it wouldn’t uncover the lower half of his face; at the moment, he wasn’t really in the mood to be noticed and neither did he want to spend hours signing autographs and answering mountains of questions about his personal life.

He hurried through the pub and let out a long breath that he hadn’t noticed he was holding, when he pushed open the door and came out into the tiny courtyard with the plain brick wall. Pulling out his wand, he counted the bricks, tapped, and stepped back as the bricks began to rumble and shift to create a large archway into Diagon Alley.

He glanced at his watch again.

Still twenty more minutes.

He kept to the shadowed sides of the cobbled street, avoiding as many people as he could and trying to look inconspicuous amongst the busy swarm of holiday shoppers. It had been a while since he’d last visited the place and he noted that there was a definite change in decoration all throughout the long walkway.

There were twirling green and gold garlands lining the air high above and shimmering red ribbons on each and every shop door.

In one shop, Glenda’s Gift Boutique, gold pixies were fluttering around behind the large window, doing miniature ballet twirls and pointed-toe leaps and flashing smiles at the passing shoppers.

In another window, of Eyelops Owl Emporium, beautiful snowy owls were perched inside red and gold cages with overdone bows stuck on the bars. ‘A delightful gift for school age children’ said a sign propped next to the cages. Harry thought that the owls looked annoyed at the loud decorations, for they were snapping their beaks and shredding the ribbons with fervor.

The Quality Quidditch Supplies window was not visible, as there was the usual throng of young children crowded around it ooing and ahhing and begging their parents to buy them the newest model broom on display. Harry wistfully remembered all the times he’d stood in that group himself, mentally calculating if he’d have any of his parent’s money left over if he bought everything in that shop.

But then again, he’d never had to provide himself with a topnotch broom in all his years at school. He’d always had unexpected luck there.

He passed Flourish & Blott’s without a glance. He knew what he’d see if he looked. He’d see a sign near the window that pointed to a section of the bookstore called ‘The Harry Potter Tribute Shelf’ where every book, every magazine, every editorial was dripping with him. How he’d gotten the shock of his life when Hermione had pulled him into that section surrounded by gold railings and posters of his blushing face. He assumed that they would get rid of it sooner or later, but even now, after four long years, it was still there, and he knew it.

Finally, at last, at long last, he saw the appointed café up ahead with a crooked chimney spouting wafts of steam. Bowing his head low, he crossed the street and picked up his pace, intent on simply getting there, listening to what Hermione had to say, and then leave as quickly as he could. Normally, he would have refused to step inside Diagon Alley but... she’d sounded so serious that he couldn’t help but agree to a lunch there.

He pushed open the wooden door slowly, wincing at the number of people inside the café. His stomach growled at the strong aroma of coffee, spices, and fresh baked butter crumpets. Hoping that everyone was too busy eating and drinking to notice him, he slipped past the long line of customers and to a table that had just been cleared off, and settled himself onto the stool, waiting for a mop of bushy brown hair to approach him.

There was still a few more minutes left.

He tapped his fingers on the smooth tabletop impatiently, feeling smothered in the cloak and scarf now that he was in a warm room full of people. But he didn’t dare take them off.

Come on, Hermione. He thought, eyes darting around to see if she hadn’t indeed already taken a seat somewhere else.

His head snapped up when he heard the sound of the doorbell tinkling softly, announcing another customer’s arrival.

But it wasn’t Hermione. It was...

Oh crud. Harry cursed silently, panicking. He looked around for a way to become unnoticeable and spotted a discarded copy of The Quibbler lying on the table next to his.

“Excuse me, I’m going to borrow this for a sec...” he mumbled to the old witch sitting there. He snatched it up without her consent and nearly tore it open in his haste to hide behind it.

Biting his lip, he waited.

Just as he was beginning to think that they hadn’t noticed him after all, a small hand appeared on the top of the page shadowing him, and was pushed down a few inches tentatively, followed by an audible sigh of relief.

“Hello Harry.”

Harry managed a lame smile and cleared his throat.

“Er - uh - hi..... Cho.”

She beamed and took the paper from his hands and folded it neatly. “I thought it was you, but I wasn’t quite sure. I’m glad it was though, because it would have been a bit embarrassing if it wasn’t.” she sat down on the stool opposite him.

“I- I’d never thought I’d meet you here.” he said. “Christmas shopping?”

She frowned and looked at him oddly. “What do you mean?”

Harry furrowed his brows. “Huh?”

“Hermione told me you agreed to have lunch with me today.” she said. “Didn’t you?”

Harry blinked, completely taken aback. “Wh- what? Hermione?”

“Didn’t she... tell you?” Cho asked, looking incredulously at him.

Harry’s brain spun as he tried to put the pieces together. He wasn’t supposed to meet Cho Chang, no, he was supposed to meet Hermione. She had something important to tell him. Why wasn’t she here? Why was Cho here?

And then it all clicked.

“Hermione!” he exclaimed loudly, jumping up from his seat, a blush creeping onto his face in realisation.

“ -Harry?”

Harry started and looked at Cho. She was looking just as confused as Harry had been feeling a second before.

I’m going to strangle her when I get back to the office. Harry fumed inwardly as he sat down again, licking his lips.

“Sorry about that.” he quickly apologised. “I er- remembered something I forgot to tell Hermione this morning... anyway.” he put on a smile and reluctantly unwound his scarf a bit.

“So you did know about this?” Cho asked looking skeptic.

“Oh yeah, of course.” he replied laughing. “Yeah, I knew.”

Cho looked relieved. “Good. You had me worried for a second.”

“Do you want anything?” Harry ventured, not knowing what else to say. He stood up and nodded toward the counter.

“Um, I’d love a hot chocolate and a croissant.” she said, looking up at him from beneath her long curly eyelashes.

“Sure, I’ll be right back.” he hurried off to join the long queue feeling very flustered and agitated about the current situation.

So Hermione, his trustworthy, incredibly sweet, intelligent friend had set him up on a date. With Cho Chang. He knew that she probably did it for his own good, but the only thing was that he wasn’t happy at all. Not in the least bit. He was positively steaming with the aftermath of confusion, humiliation, and annoyance. Did she think he wasn’t capable of finding someone himself? Or choose for himself, for that matter? What had ever put such a notion as Cho Chang into her usually very flawlessly rational thinking was beyond him.

Right now, someone like her - a ridiculous crush that was strictly restricted to the years of his pre-adolesence - was definitely not what he needed or what he’d meant when he said that he wanted to take a break from work. He honestly hoped that Hermione didn’t expect for him to go through with inviting Cho on a further date, because he certainly didn’t intend to.

When Harry returned to their table, Cho was gazing at him with a sweet smile on her face, and even though he still thought her to be very pretty, he just wasn’t interested in her. He couldn’t feel the romantic jolt that he’d felt back when. It made him feel rather guilty.

“Oooh, thank you Harry.” she cooed, taking the piping mug of hot chocolate from him.

“No problem.” Harry mumbled, taking a sip of his own drink.

“So Harry.” Cho proposed after they sat in a few moments of silence, eating and drinking contentedly (at least in her case). “How have you been lately? I haven’t seen you in such a long time!”

“Uh, yeah. S’ppose so.” Harry said, trying to remember how many years ago it had been when Cho had graduated from Hogwarts. “Four - no, five years?”

Cho nodded vigorously and licked her lips. “Wow, five years. Can you believe that? I can’t.” she daintily popped another piece of croissant into her mouth. She swallowed and then stared at him thoughtfully.

Harry stared uneasily back at her, wondering what on earth was going through her head.

“You’ve changed a lot, you know.” she commented a second later, her smile sincere. “You’ve really grown up.”

Harry tried hard to suppress an indignant snort. He covered it with a cough.

“You’ve.... you’ve changed too.” he said, fishing in his mind for a possible compliment that didn’t sound too cheesy.

Her eyes glittered. “In a good way?”

“Of course.”

“Tell me, how so?”

“You’re very pretty.” he flinched at the look on her face. “I mean, prettier than before and you were really pretty then too.”

“I always thought that you would become a professional Seeker or something. But I heard from Hermione that you work at the Ministry too.” Cho crumpled up the paper napkin and dropped it into her empty mug. “Why didn’t you choose to play Quidditch after Hogwarts? You’re a really decent player and a legend to a lot of people.”

Harry blushed appreciatively. “Thanks, but I never really considered becoming a Quidditch player, to be honest. Quidditch was great, but I had more important things I knew I had to do. Being an Auror is hard work, but it’s not bad. I’ve lived my whole life fighting the Dark side, and it seemed sort of weird to just quit there.” he shrugged. “At least I don’t have any regrets.

“How’ve you been since Hogwarts?” he inquired, hoping to steer the conversation away from himself. “What have you been doing?”

“Oh, it’s not much but I’ve been doing design work for international teams over the past few years.”

“Design work? What kind of design work?” he asked, a little intrigued.

“Quidditch gear -” she explained. “Mostly robes though. Right now I’m doing a project pattern for next summer’s robes for Puddlemere United. They’ve been complaining that their current summer robes are too heavy - but honestly, they’re supposed to be made of the lightest fabric ever to be used for Quidditch robes. I think they’re simply tired of the old design and want something new.” she smirked and flipped her shiny black hair over her shoulder.

Harry grinned. “That sounds like a fun job though, bet you get to meet a lot of world famous players.”

“Oh I do. And I get to see them practice too, as I have to observe each of their movements and flying techniques to design custom robes. It’s very exciting.”

Cho then leaned forward, propping her chin on her hands and looking suddenly serious.

“Harry - I wanted to talk about... well, about what happened when were were back at school all those years back. I know things never really went out well between us, what with... with Cedric’s death and all.” Harry felt his stomach give an uncomfortable lurch. “But -” she said quickly, leaning in even closer, so that he could see the changing shades of chestnut in her large irises. “That was such a long time ago.”

Harry had a strong feeling that this conversation wasn’t going exactly in the direction he wanted it to go. He kept himself from leaning away and stiffened as she smiled weakly.

“We can look over all that now, right?” Cho asked looking hopefully into Harry’s eyes. “I know it was all my fault, and I felt terrible for years after that. Really, I did. I regretted being such a whiny brat and feeling sorry for only myself when I’d known that you were going through things that were much worse then I could ever imagine. I really want you to forgive me Harry.” she pleaded softly, placing her hand gently on Harry’s own.

Harry looked down at their touching hands and then back up at Cho, not quite knowing what to say. He didn’t know what to say because he’d long since forgotten about his and Cho’s futile fling, and having her apologising to him and asking him for forgiveness for something that he no longer really cared about, was definitely enough to render him inconversable.

“I don’t think -” he started but was immediately cut off by Cho’s tearful eyes and trembling lips.

“Please forgive me.” she said again, sniffling. “I’d do anything for things to be okay between us again. I want to be your friend Harry, I care about you.”

Harry opened and closed his mouth, wishing that she’d stop looking so bloody forlorn. “Erm,” he scratched his head. “Well, I’ve never been upset at you for anything, so I don’t see why you’re apologising.”

Cho’s expression dissolved into a warm smile. “So you forgive me, then?”

“Well, yeah -” Harry replied impassively. He was hoping that Cho wouldn’t take it in the wrong way. He had to somehow find a way to tell her that he wasn’t interested in a relationship. Friendship, sure, but for some reason, his gut feeling was pinching him in an irritable fashion, warning him that friendship was not all that this woman had in mind. Cho’s smile was enough to prove that.

“Thank you so much, Harry.” she gasped, promptly standing up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “I’ve always loved that about you, so understanding of everyone.”

“Cho -” he tried again, his tone desperate this time.

Her eyes flickered down to Harry’s wristwatch and widened when she saw the time.

“Oh, I have to go! My lunch hour is over in a few minutes!” she gathered up her cloak and winked at him, cheeks rosy with blush. “I’ll see you soon, Harry. Send me an owl won’t you? I’ll be waiting.”

And with that, she hurried out of the coffee shop leaving him behind in a state of utmost repine.

“Well that was completely useless!” he said loudly, throwing his arms up into the air. “She didn’t even give me a chance to say what I thought!”

Fuming, he stormed out of the café after her and back up Diagon Alley to the Leaky Cauldron and apparated to the Ministry with only one intention in mind.

“HERMIONE!!!!” he bellowed as he threw the door to her office open with a thundering ‘bang!’. “YOU-”

Hermione whirled around in surprise, her eyes wide and bulging.

“Harry!” she exclaimed, clutching her chest with her hand. “You nearly scared me to death!”

But Harry didn’t reply. He’d noticed another occupant in the room who was sitting lazily on the edge of Hermione’s desk with his legs crossed; he was staring back at Harry as if he’d never quite seen anything like him before.

Harry wasn’t sure whether he should continue shouting at Hermione as if Draco Malfoy wasn’t there, or if he should just turn around and head back out.

Seeing his loathing archenemy at a time like this most certainly did not help his temper at all.

But she should damn well know what I’m here about!! He thought angrily to himself, shooting the most deadly glare that he could muster in her direction.

Hermione barely flinched at his look; only smiled innocently and raising an eyebrow.

He wasn’t looking at Malfoy, but he could feel Malfoy’s eyes on him too. He felt the hairs bristle on his neck.

“Hermione.” he said through gritted teeth in an effort to sound calmer. “I need to talk to you. NOW.” He jabbed his finger at the door.

Hermione cocked her head and then gestured toward Malfoy.

“But I’m in the middle of an important conversation, Harry. Can’t it wait?”

“No. And didn’t YOU tell me that you had something important to tell me too? I believe it was supposed to be too confidential to say in my office. That’s why you met me for lunch, didn’t you?” he snapped, stepping forward threateningly.

Hermione’s lips turned downwards into a half frown for a moment, as if contemplating something. “So it didn’t go well?” she asked concernedly.

“It went absolutely swell, it did! She thinks that we’re together again, dammit! What in the bloody hell were you THINKING when you set us up?? She thought I wanted to have lunch with her! Do you think I can’t find my own people to date? I don’t need a matchmaker, especially one that doesn’t know what my tastes are!” he took a deep breath and stood there, waiting for an apology.

“But -but... I thought you used to be infatuated with her.” Hermione said disappointedly. “And I bumped into her in Hogsmeade the other day - she was the one that wanted to see you. She wouldn’t stop talking about you and so I just told her to meet you for herself.” she shrugged.

“I used to have a stupid crush on her Hermione.” he sighed exasperatedly. “And plus, that was years ago. I told you I was completely over her after that -” he caught himself before he said it, suddenly very aware of Malfoy’s presence. “I mean -”

“That kiss?” Hermione suggested helpfully.

Harry felt the heat rising in his cheeks.

“No.” he amended, solemnly. “Before that, of course.”

“Oh.” Looking a bit surprised, she bit her lip, her mouth twitching with a slightly suppressed grin. “Well, I suppose that’s my mistake then, Harry. I’m very sorry.”

“Just... just don’t do it again, please?” he implored wearily. “Don’t worry about my life, or my love life. I can handle it.”

“Alright Harry. I’m truly very sorry.” Hermione apologised again, this time looking genuinely so.

Harry ran a hand through his hair by habit as he did whenever he felt considerably bothered. “It’s fine.”

There was a short silence before Hermione clapped the palms of hands lightly and smiled cheerfully.

“Well, Harry.” she glanced at Malfoy. “Aren’t you surprised to see Draco here?”

Harry pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes sourly.

“Malfoy.” he said coldly and very reluctantly, turning to face him.

Malfoy’s lips twisted noxiously and he didn’t budge from his seat.

“Potter.” he replied, and Harry could detect a slight shadow of amusement in his drawling tone. “I didn’t know you could get as worked up so early in the day.”

“You’re still the same old stuck-up prat, aren’t you.” Harry sneered, crossing his arms with a snort.

“Maybe.” the blonde replied carelessly, picking at his perfectly manicured fingernails. “But it seems that you’re the one that’s still clinging onto some pathetically ancient school rivalry. Learn from the wise, and move on, Potter.”

The nerve! Harry’s rage flared up again.

“What, suddenly gone soft in the heart, have you?” he said, glaring. “What are you doing up here anyway? If you’ve just come up here to annoy me, do me a favor and head back down to your mystery department where you belong.”

Malfoy’s silver eyes flashed and he smirked. “Hate to burst your happy bubble Potter, but coming here to simply get a kick out of annoying you seems like such a sad way to use my precious time. If you haven’t noticed, I’ve got quite a load of more important things to do.”

“Like hell you do, so stop strutting around as if you own the whole damn Ministry and quit bothering us!”

Malfoy quirked an elegant eyebrow at Hermione.

“Am I bothering you, Granger?” he asked politely.

“No, not really.” she said, smiling. “You’ve been a perfect angel.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief and disgust.

“I don’t see what good you see in him, Hermione.” he spat, feeling highly affronted and extremely perturbed. “And don’t expect me to see it any time soon.”

He turned on his heel and strode out of her office with his head held high.

------------------------------------

Back on the second floor, he made to return to his office; his blood still riled up and boiling. He must have been making a racket because one of his co-workers stuck their head out into the hall with a bewildered expression on their face, calling out his name.

“Potter? What’s up with you? Thought we had an elephant loose in the corridors.”

Harry halted and turned, his anger fading slightly at his fellow Auror’s face.

“Oh, Zabini.” he said, sighing. “Just a bit upset, s’all.”

“Just a bit, huh?” Blaise said, looking disbelieving. “What’s wrong?” he opened the door wider for Harry to enter and so he did. He plopped himself down on a leather workbench and began toying with the fluttering christmas ornament sitting on the edge of Blaise’s desk.

“Some stupid stuff.” he shrugged. “You know. Hermione.”

“Ahh.” Blaise nodded knowingly, half smiling. “She seems to be touching a nerve of yours lately, isn’t she?”

“Sort of. She just can’t leave me alone even though I always beg her to, over and over and over again.”

Blaise sat down and pulled open his desk drawer.

“Something to drink?”

Harry nodded. “Sure.”

“What’ll it be? Coffee? Tea? Butterbeer? Firewhisky?”

Harry looked up and stared at him incredulously. “Firewhisky, Zabini? Honestly - at work?”

“Then Ogden’s Old Firewhisky it is.” Blaise reached into his drawer and pulled out two glass cups and a large red bottle and began pouring the drinks expertly.

“You’re twisted, you know. You really are.” Harry said, laughing and taking the glass from Blaise’s outstretched hand.

“I know.”

“We’ll get kicked out of work if they find us drinking.” Harry said seriously, taking a deep sip of the spicy drink and ‘hmm’ing appreciatively.

“Exactly, that’s why these bottles and these glasses are charmed to be invisible to all but the drinkers.” Blaise said mischeviously, smirking. “We’re safe, don’t worry.”

Harry held up the glass to the light. It was a very holiday-ish and aesthetic looking object. There were white snowflakes drifting down the surface of the smooth glass, falling from the rim of the cup to the bottom; undisturbed even by thud when he put the glass down onto the table.

“You like pretty things don’t you?” Harry teased, looking pointedly around the room at all the unusual articles of decor. All the furniture was a solid smoky black and very expensive looking, and the chairs were all leather, and the rug was fluffy and soft. His file cabinet was made of tinted black glass as well as the brightly glowing lamp overhead and the parchment holder on his desk. Everything was in spiffed neat shape and very organised. It was a completely opposite world to that of Harry’s whirlwind office.

“I don’t like pretty things. I just like my office to look clean. You can’t blame me for having good taste.”

“I couldn’t imagine myself working in something like this.” said Harry. “It would distract me too much.”

“Well, you do have that hair so I suppose the rest of you would be more or less on the same level.” said Blaise, amused.

“Hey.” Harry growled in mock-annoyance.

“So how’s your research going?” Blaise downed the last of his drink and tossed the glass back into the drawer. “Any luck?”

Harry looked down at his hands and absently brushed a fleck of dust off his robes. “Why would you be concerned? I thought you didn’t believe me, along with everyone else.”

“I never said I didn’t believe you.” Blaise paused. “It’s just, I mean, come on. Voldemort’s gone and things have been great since the War ended. I’d rather not think that there’s some Death Eater running amok around the country.”

Harry sat up straighter in his seat, a look of defiance coming over his face.

“But we’re Aurors! Our job is to catch those associated with the Dark! What’s our use if we don’t even keep our eyes open for any possibilities? People say Moody’s insane, but he’s caught more Death Eaters than anyone here!”

Blaise was looking uncomfortably skeptic and Harry groaned in frustration.

“Yes, we’re Aurors and yes it’s our job, but we don’t have any proof. We don’t have any facts. No tips. Nothing. How are we supposed to track someone down without any valid information? You’ve been searching for weeks and yet you haven’t found anything.” he pointed out.

“I’m telling you, I have this weird feeling that I’m not wrong. Remus - before he died, he said something about his murderer. I just know it.”

“You mean, Lucius Malfoy?”

“No. That’s the thing. The Ministry pinned the wrong guy. It wasn’t Lucius Malfoy that killed Remus. It was someone else.”

“Who then?”

Harry fell back into his seat and rubbed his face tiredly with his hands.

“I don’t know. I can’t remember. I can’t remember what Remus told me that night.”

There was a silence before Blaise breathed deeply and nodded thoughtfully.

“Fine. I’ll help you, Potter.” he said, looking as if he couldn’t believe his own daring. “I’ll help you search for the facts, but we’re going to have to do more than just dig up old files, if we want to get any closer to the answer.”

A wide grin spread abruptly across Harry’s face and he clamped his hand on Blaise’s knee, never having felt this grateful to anyone in his entire life.

“You will? You’ll help me?”

“Yes.”

“What do you suppose we do then? Besides looking up files?”

“Get into it knee deep of course. Hands on type of stuff.” Blaise said, his eyes glinting.

“You mean -” Harry furrowed his brow. “Get out there and do the actual searching?”

“Uhuh.”

“But we can’t, we don’t have any clues.”

“I have something in mind. Give me a day or two, will you?”

“Alright, but you’d better tell me about anything and everything you find.” said Harry intently.

“Of course. Not to worry.”

That evening, Harry went home at six o’clock; an hour that had been unheard of for the past few weeks. He’d cleaned up his desk early that day for a change and had never felt so happy to see the cozy scenery of his flat as did now. Apart from the devastating meeting with Cho, and the smart conversation with Malfoy, he considered it a good day.

He was in very high spirits as he went about preparing himself some dinner of chicken and helped himself to a couple of bottles of butterbeer, then hopped into a tub full of sandalwood scented water and bathed for a full hour before falling asleep on his comfy bed, instead of his couch for the first time in a long long while.

Finally. He thought with a yawn. We’re getting somewhere, Remus.

TBC...

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Enigma