• 1-Political Axes
• 2-Ch 1
• 3-ch2
• 4-Ch3
• 5-Ch 4
• 6-5
• 7-6
• 8-7
• 9-8
• 10-9
• 11-10
• 12-11
• 13-12
• 14-13
• 15-14
• 16-15
• 17-16
• 18-17
• 19-18
• 20-19
• 21-20

I would like to dedicate this rather meaty chapter to Kera and SoftObsidian. Your reviews brought a light to my muse's spirit. I am so glad you had such thoughtful things to say about this fic. I hope it continues to live up to your expectations. R.

Emma and Harry stepped out of the elevators and casually approached the receptionist’s desk in the lobby of Dodd & Gorem. Seeing no one else waiting in the lobby, Harry didn’t even let the receptionist finish his boilerplate greeting, he just snapped his fingers for Emma and she pulled out her wand and put the man to sleep. Harry leapt over the front desk and tucked the receptionist’s body into the footwell beneath his desk for a nice, long, cramped nap. The man would have a hell of a crick in his neck when he woke, but otherwise be none the worse for wear. Then Harry unhooked the multiline phone system. It just wouldn’t do to have some frightened do-gooder come along and call the Muggle authorities before he could complete his task. He hated dealing with Muggle cops. They were a suspicious lot and trigger happy to boot. He did NOT want to end up shot. He’d done that once already; Draco would not thank him to repeat the experience. It had been then that Harry had decided that any wizarding outlaws who were stupid enough to hide out in Mexican Muggle drug cartel territory deserved whatever the fuck they got. He’d certainly not be going to retrieve any from there again, no matter his orders.

Emma put the finishing touches on a nifty little Confundus charm near the front desk, which ensured any newcomers would be deterred from their business for today. They both surveyed the lobby once more. Satisfied that they were alone, they headed down the hall into the farthest office, Max’s.

Harry thrust open the door, startling Max to the point that the papers the man was reading flew into the air as though caught by a gale force wind.

“Harry, what in Merlin’s name are you doing here?” Max asked, already reshuffling papers and smiling at his good fortune to have Harry visit. Then he got a look at the cold anger in those eyes that usually warmed him like a summer’s day and he knew this was no social call.

“Someone killed a member of my team by bursting all the vessels in his brain and turning his eardrums into mulch! Sound familiar?” Harry growled, stalking back and forth in front of Max’s desk like a wild lion.

“Shit.”

“Yes,” Harry drawled, sounding far too much like Draco for Max’s liking.

“But no one was supposed to know of that spell, Harry. No one but you and I… I mean, we created it.”

“I fucking know that, Max. I am here to discover why that is no longer the case.”

“Your notes on it?” Max asked.

“Burned. The spell was volatile at best. You and I both know that it was going to take far longer to perfect than it was worth. Yours?”

“I…safeguarded them, Harry, thinking we’d come back to it. I didn’t want us to lose what ground we had already made on it. I believe Extrico Verum ex Memoria still has potential. So, I locked the notes on it away, along with all the files pertaining to your crew.”

“Where? Can you check?”

Max quickly cleared the top of his large mahogany desk and placed his palm flat atop the surface, his fingers spread as wide as possible. Harry looked closely and saw the tiniest holes beneath each finger pad just before Max’s hand covered them completely. The two Aurors watched as Max’s features crumpled into a wince before he removed his palm from the desk, the face of which quickly became transparent, revealing a computer screen with an infrared keyboard. Max tapped the keys in apparent random fashion, his eyes narrowing as he interpreted the contents of the files he accessed.

“Fucking hell!” Max exclaimed, looking at Harry remorsefully. “I chose to digitize all my files dealing with the Class 5s. I figured it was safer than parchment. Even with the increase in Muggleborns, very few wizards can utilize computers this advanced, so I figured it was the best way to safeguard the information, which would only benefit a wizard or witch.”

“Can you tell what, if anything, pertaining to my crew was accessed?” Harry asked.

“Looks like they got a look at the entire Class 5 file, which included the spell in question, your summons spell code, and an abbreviated dossier on every member of your team,” Max replied, his voice filled with regret and disbelief. “I can tell because of the access logs…I haven’t looked at any of this information in over six months. The log states it was most recently accessed about three weeks ago.”

“How the fuck did they bypass your security, Max? Who the hell are we dealing with here?”

Max shook his head and let out a deep sigh before leaning against his desk in concentration, browbeating himself for allowing his system to be compromised. Some fucking security firm he owned.

Emma, quiet per usual until now asked, “You’re a defense contractor, in simplest terms. You deal with the Muggle world as much as the Magical. The information might only be useful to a wizard, but that high-tech gadgetry seems purely Muggle. Am I right?”

Max nodded, wondering where the witch was going with her train of thought.

“Your company probably has a vault full of contacts, both past and present, that specialize in one form or another in computer intelligence gathering, counter-cyber-terrorism—that sort of virtual cloak and dagger stuff. It’d be easy enough for someone with access to those files to locate a qualified Muggle willing to hack your system. Hell, they might have even found the guy who built and installed the very one you use.”

Harry, for his part, didn’t understand half of what just came out of Emma’s mouth, but realized that by the ashen look on Max’s face that the clever witch had struck gold.

“We forget that despite the barriers separating our world from the Muggles, that we know about them even if they don’t know about us. Which leaves them open for all sorts of use by wizards. It is even possible that the Muggle that hacked your system wasn’t even aware he was doing it. Imperius still works, last I checked. Now, the question is, who has access to those files?” Emma asked, her face placid, but her eyes deadly cold.

“Shit,” was all Max could say, fully aware of his useless redundancy. “There are only three people who can access our confidential contact files, which contain more secrets than should be legal—myself, my mother in the event of my death, as she is a silent partner invested at twenty percent, and my other partner, Miles Gorem.”

“Never met your partner, even in all the time we worked together. Why?” Harry asked.

“He’s more of a figurehead, less of a hands on type,” Max said, not surprised when Harry gave him a blank stare.

“When I moved the company from the U.S. to Europe I needed an investor on this side of the pond to ease the way. If I was going to set up shop solely in wizarding Britain I would have gone it alone, Merlin knows I’ve the money to do so. However, business in Muggle London required oodles of red tape and whatnot, especially since I am not a British citizen. My citizenship is dual for the U.S. and Haiti, despite my father being a Brit. I wasn’t born here. Enter, Gorem. He is a wizard born from a Squib mother and a wizard father who abandoned the family in his childhood. That made him a bit of a mutt, like me. I liked him. He made an ungodly fortune playing the Muggle stock market—
without the aid of a Seer or magic, mind you—and fancied himself an entrepreneur, although he knows just a tad more than shit about the actual running of a business.

“Still, his money was abundant and his influence in the Muggle business world was impeccable. He really helped the Muggle side of our operations take hold in the security industry. After 9/11 we could hardly keep up with demand on the Muggle side of our operations. Guns, enhanced armor, ammo, smart bombs, fucking smarter bombs, high-tech gadgets, combat training, etc. My company helps supply it all. Gorem is pretty much our pitchman in the Muggle boardrooms. He’s not particularly gifted or savvy when it comes to developing weapons technology or the practical application of warfare engineering, but he does charm the hell out of the suits in Washington.”

“Since I doubt your mother has left her seaside villa in three decades, and you haven’t the need to steal your own intel, I’ll just assume this Gorem is the mole,” Harry snapped. “Would he have cause to do something like this? What skeletons might he be bartering your company’s secrets in effort to keep hidden?”

Max looked momentarily perplexed and then he threw his head back, letting out a gut-deep groan. If he’d had a light bulb above his head it would have lit up about then.

“Yes…yes he would have cause. About ten months back Gorem got into a bit of a snare…of the fourteen year-old witch variety. There were accusations, but nothing was ever taken before the wizarding courts and no formal charges were filed. I…I didn’t take the time to get too involved, I’m sad to say. Work keeps me fairly stretched and his personal fuck ups didn’t seem like my business. Our lawyers informed me that there was nothing to be worried about. I put it out of my mind after that. It’s the one mark on his reputation that I know of. I don’t know any further details beyond what I’ve just told you.”

Harry’s jaw clenched so tightly Emma thought he might just crack a molar. She forced her own jaws to relax, realizing she was gnashing her teeth behind closed lips as well.

“Where can I find him?” Harry snapped.

“His office is on the direct opposite end of the hall. He’s likely there.”

As Harry made to sweep out of the office to go after Gorem, Max called him to a halt.

“Let me go, Harry. I’ll bring him here. I’ll tell him there are some papers that I’d like to go over with him. Besides, my office is sound proof.”

“Fine, but once you return with him it’s my show. You can watch silently or you can hear about it later over a beer. If you stay, no matter what happens, you remain quiet as a mouse unless directly addressed by Em or I. Interfere and I’ll let Draco put you in a cauldron,” Harry said the last bit with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Even though it was a brief moment of levity, Max knew the situation was serious, and he also knew Harry. Harry was the last person he’d ever think of fucking over…for more reasons that one.

Not ten minutes later Max and Emma returned with Mr. Miles Gorem, a man who reminded Harry all too much of his Uncle Vernon, although by the looks of it Mr. Gorem was a one extra chin shy of the three chin set Vernon sported.

When they entered Harry wasted no time binding the confused, blustering wizard to a chair and silencing him. The team always teased that Harry did intimidation as though it were second nature. Based on the bulging eyes of the man currently trying to determine why he was being accosted in such a manner, the intimidation factor was working.

Emma leaned casually against the closed door to the office, which had been spelled six ways from Sunday; her cool, relaxed composure at direct odds with the amount of tension in the air.

Max, having made himself quiet and inconspicuous, retreated to a space behind his desk, so that the only view he had was of the back of Gorem’s head and the hardened, angry face of Harry as he leaned in to speak to Gorem in a voice just loud enough for Max and Emma to hear as well.

“Do you know who I am?” Harry asked, piercing Gorem with a head-on stare.

The bound wizard nodded quickly.

“Then you know what I do as well, yes?”

Again a jerky nod, indicating to harry that Gorem was extremely nervous. He liked that.

“Obviously we know something, or else we would not be here. Keep that in mind as you ponder your current predicament. And before you even think to lie, let me lay out your choices. You can tell me what I want to know Mr. Gorem,” Harry said, spitting the man’s name as though it were filthy to even speak. “Or…I can give you to her,” he added, indicating Emma with a slight jerk of his head in her direction, never once breaking eye contact with Gorem.

Emma smiled coldly at Gorem and gave him a playful wave.

Harry stepped back from Gorem a few paces and said, “Emma, demonstrate for Mr. Gorem here why he’d rather just spill what he knows.”

Emma, very distractedly, reached around her own back and before anyone could blink, flung a tiny, needle-thin blade at Gorem, which sliced through his earlobe, leaving a slit from which blood trickled in earnest.

Harry lifted the silencing charm almost the moment the knife sliced Gorem, relishing the sound of Gorem’s cry of pain and his verbal castigation of Emma by shouting, “You filthy, black bitch!”

Harry towered back over a near sobbing Gorem, who at this point was sweating through his finely tailored Muggle suit and whispered, “She is always with me Mr. Gorem. Always. I have, rather had, four other team members, but I always have her at my flank. Do you know why that is? Did you glean the answer to that from Max’s notes? No? Well, then let me tell you. In all my battles, in all my training, I have found nothing more fearsome, or more deadly than a woman intent on causing pain. You should also know that the “black bitch” behind me is by far the deadliest I’ve ever encountered, and that’s coming from the man who put Bellatrix Lestrange out of her misery. Emma can slice off your nuts so cleanly you’ll swear you were born that way.”

At the end of Harry’s speech Emma had moved a few feet closer to them, which made Gorem swallow audibly and attempt to shrink his lard back further into the chair. A half hour later the two Aurors were bidding Max goodbye, while a shivering, snotty-faced Gorem was Apparated off to a holding cell at the Ministry. Between Harry’s menacing presence and Emma’s rather terrifying abilities, Gorem had squealed like a pig, revealing secret on top of secret, one transgression after another, some of which had no relevance at all to the attack on Syl.

By dinner time that same day, after Emma and the team had clocked out for the day and Kingsley had been briefed on the information Gorem provided, Harry sat in his office doing a line-by-line reading of the personnel file of ex-Auror candidate Charles Avery.

Harry had hardly had the time to fully digest all Gorem had revealed, until now. The past just kept coming back to haunt him, it seemed.

Charles Avery, a nephew of the presumed dead Death Eater Avery, whose mother had broken with the family over their support of Voldemort, had been a one-time candidate to join the Aurors. He was about four years older than Harry and had done his primary education in France, far from the negative influences of his uncle and his Death Eater cronies.

Avery excelled in school and was by all accounts a very decent individual. Harry, not wanting to judge a person based on their last name or their family’s actions, didn’t think twice when he started hearing praises about the wizard from the instructors in the training camp. From the outset Avery had stood apart from the rest. He was as punctual and thorough as Percy, and as smart and quick thinking as Draco. He had a flare for dueling and had been trained in sword fighting, which was a skill only one of the current Class 5s held. As Avery continued to show outstanding potential, Kingsley approached Harry about adding another member to the Class 5s, one fresh out of training—Avery.

There had long been talk of expanding Harry’s team, which Harry was not all that thrilled about but he was willing to entertain the idea. He knew that Kingsley wanted him out of the field, hoping that Harry would take over in his stead as not just the commander of the Class 5s, but as their assignment head, which would mean Harry going through pending cases and prioritizing the jobs for the Class 5s and dispatching a team to handle it, leaving the green-eyed wizard behind to wait for the results. Kingsley felt that Harry had done his share of fighting, and honestly, he held far too much affection for the young wizard to continue stomaching Harry risking his life in combat. What Kingsley didn’t tell Harry was that Draco felt very much the same and had quietly asked Kingsley to encourage Harry to opt for a less active role.

Well, that plan failed once Harry determined Avery a poor fit for his team and commented in the report that he felt Avery was poorly suited for the Aurors in general. Harry had monitored the man in training ops and such for over a month before writing up his observations in a report, which in the end had effectively killed Avery’s career as an Auror before it had even truly begun.

Harry had found Avery to be skilled and competent, but also impulsive and quick to anger. Avery seemed to have poor control over both his anger and vengeful urges, lashing out wildly with unsanctioned hexes when a sparring partner seemed to be getting the better of him, or nearly removing the entrails of his sword fighting partner when the other man playfully taunted him because of his family ties to Voldemort. Those were weaknesses that Harry could ill afford to have in a member of his team. Untempered anger and impulsiveness got people killed, the wrong people most often. Sirius’ death had brought that lesson home to Harry in the most unforgettable way. It had given Harry the final push into maturity, away from childhood impetuousness and blind bravery.

After Harry’s report hit, which was really intended only to keep Avery off the Class 5s roster, word of his assessment leaked to the heads of other teams. None would accept Avery and thus, he was quietly booted from the program.

Gorem had informed them that in the ensuing years Avery had opened his own private investigation company, which was apparently a one-man operation as far as Harry could surmise. Gorem had gone looking for a clean-up man after the fourteen-year old witch began telling of his sexual encounters with her. Gorem had paid Avery to dig up some dirt on the girl or a member of her family that he could use to quiet her from pressing charges, adding in a cherry of a 50,000 Galleon payoff to the girl’s parents for their trouble. Turned out that these parents weren’t the kind who could be bought. According to Gorem, the father had outright refused Avery’s attempts to bribe them, and the family turned out to not have an exploitable skeleton for generations. Avery, apparently also having a problem with perceived failure, was so angered by the father’s reaction and responses, calling Avery “scum”, etcetera, had killed the man in a fit of pique. Having done so in the man’s home, in plain view of his horrified wife, who was by that point screaming bloody murder—literally—Avery had no choice it seems but to take out the witnesses, which were the girl and the mother.

The case of the triple murder, a rarity these days, had sat in the cold-case stack in Harry’s office for nearly a year, as time after time, they could find no one anywhere who could speak of a single enemy of the family.

Avery, for his part, had blackmailed Gorem with the murders, telling Gorem that he was also culpable—which was actually true. Gorem had gone from sitting in shit to being buried beneath it all in the span of less than a year. Avery kept extorting Gorem. First, for money, and then, intel.

It was no secret that Dodd & Gorem were contracted with the Ministry to provide aid to the Aurors, and when Harry and Max had been dating they had not necessarily been hiding about it. It didn’t take Avery more than a second to see the angle to exploit. He could use Gorem to get at Dodd, and in the end, to Harry and the Class 5s, who in Avery’s view had cost him the glory of being an Auror and redeeming his family name.

But Harry still felt something was missing. Every instinct told him that this was about more than revenge; especially given the information Blaise had shared with Draco several days back. Somehow, Avery’s ham-fisted actions, Syl’s death, and the negative press campaigning against Harry were all tied together. Now, Harry just had to find the string that linked it all in a package.

Harry closed the file he had been reading and let out an exhausted sigh. It had been a long, grueling day, and his eyes felt like they would gladly pop out of his head if only to roll beneath the nearest piece of furniture in an effort to block the light.

He loosened his tie, never having returned his robes to their original state before he transfigured them into a suit, and unbuttoned the sleeves of his oxford, rolling each sleeve to the elbow. Just as he was thinking of calling it quits and taking a Floo to the Manor, wanting nothing more than a warm soak in the bath with Draco, a quiet knock to his office door had him granting entrance to Max, who entered cautiously, a small smile on his face.

“Harry,” Max greeted, shutting the office door behind him.

“Hello, Max. What brings you here this close to dinner? Thought you’d be back at the office cleaning up the mess your partner made,” Harry said, plucking the stack of files from his desk and placing them in a lower drawer.

“Well, actually it’s not too much of a mess at all. Once his crimes are made public, if ever, it will only matter in the wizarding world. We’ll take a hit, but nothing a little time and our reputation won’t survive. The Muggle side will only be told that Dodd and Gorem, partners for four years, have chosen to amicably part ways. Mr. Dodd will continue on as CEO and the business will continue on without a hitch. The Muggles won’t ask too many questions so long as they keep getting the desired results from our firm, which Gorem had little to do with anyway,” Max explained.

“Well…glad to hear that. So?” Harry asked.

“I just…I wanted to see you,” Max said, his voice gentle and expectant. “To see how you were.”

“I’m…fine,” Harry replied, licking his lips and trying not to notice how good Max smelled as he leaned forward and placed his palms down on Harry’s desk. Harry had forgotten how much sexual energy sparked between he and Max. Those hands, large and manicured had spent many nights and not too few days making Harry’s body feel like every patch of skin was aflame.

Max boldly walked around the desk, coming to stand beside Harry’s chair, his back to the door. He reached out a hand and rubbed it through Harry’s hair, making the seated wizard’s eyes close in comfort.

“Are you fine, Harry?” Max whispered above him, his long fingers stroking down the side of Harry’s face. “I don’t think you are.”

Harry let out a sound not unlike a shallow sob before standing abruptly and grabbing Max’s hand, but not removing it from where it lingered on his cheek.

“Max…” Harry began, swallowing thickly as he looked into those large burnt sienna eyes that looked so goddamned sexy all the fucking time. “Listen, I know what you want and…I can’t. Things are different now. Draco and I, we’re…together. A couple.”

“We used to be together,” Max retorted, hastily adding, “All three of us, actually.”

Harry averted his gaze as he face grew warm at the reminder of their threesome days. The three of them were actually so good together. They had actually fit, for a time. Then, Harry and Draco fell deeper in love. It was then that Harry knew, that no matter how much he cared for Max, Draco was the one that completed him. Draco was everything Harry had ever wanted—love, security, understanding, passion, spontaneity, laughter, warmth, peace. Draco was like solid ground beneath his feet, keeping Harry from shifting too easily with the ever-present winds of strife, change, and stress that the wizarding world continually lashed upon its hero. Draco was a veritable port of calm, where Harry could seek refuge when the world became too needy to bear. As much as Max piqued his ardor, Harry knew in the end the beautiful man was not the one he ultimately wanted. He had the one he wanted, and he knew just how lucky he was that Draco wanted him in return.

“That was then, Max. This is now,” Harry replied, gazing once more unflinchingly into Max’s eyes, which held nothing but need and adoration, making Harry’s heart sputter sadly for the relationship they would never have.

“I see,” Max said quietly, dropping his hand and looking away. After a few moments he looked back at Harry and asked, “If…If things were different. If I had come along first?”

Harry knew what Max was asking. If Draco had not been in the picture, if their universe was altered, would Max have stood a chance at the kind of love Draco now had with Harry.

Harry smiled a sweet, placid smile and lifted his hand to toy with one of Max’s locks, breathing in the scent of sandalwood and vetiver that mixed so delightfully with Max’s personal scent. The Auror took his time answering, filling the silence with creating a memory, a memory of Max. Harry catalogued those fine, chiseled features, the broad nose and full lips, the smooth, chocolate skin, the elegant hands.

“If things were different,” Harry began as he grabbed Max by the jaw and traced his thumb across that mouth that had brought him so much comfort and pleasure once upon a time, “I’d take you home and lock you away like the priceless treasure you are. If things were different, Max, I’ve no doubt my feelings for you and yours for me would ensure a great love that could very well stand the test of time. But, things are not different. It’s time to move on, for both of us. I want to keep your friendship. I want you as a part of my life, but that’s as far as we can go now. I’ll miss you in my arms and in my bed. And I’ll always be jealous that some other man gets to see that ass of yours.”

The last brought out a quiet chuckle from Max, who nodded solemnly.

The two men embraced tightly, silently letting go of the past and promising to respect the new terms of their relationship. As their embrace relaxed, Max rested his forehead against Harry’s and said quietly, “I’ll miss you too, and I am … so very happy that you’ve found love, Harry. You…probably more than any of us, deserve it.”

As they parted completely both their attentions were drawn towards the door, where a furious Draco stood, mouth pinched so tightly his lips were invisible. The wicker picnic basket Draco held dropped carelessly to the floor when his shaking hand let go and reached for his stomach, as though a terrible cramping sensation had taken him by surprise. Harry heard the unmistakable sound of breaking glass when the basket dropped, followed quickly by red liquid leaking through the weave of the basket—a bottle of wine no doubt.

Harry had not even registered that Draco had entered the office, as he had been so caught up speaking with Max. The blond had apparently only witnessed the embrace and not the conversation that led up to it, because before Harry could even speak Draco pulled his wand and fired off a hex directly at Max. Harry, with his lightening fast reflexes, had the presence of mind to pull Max down into a duck beneath his desk. The hex ricocheted off the back wall and slammed into Harry’s desk chair, blasting the wooden chair to splinters.

After a three second delay when no follow-up hex was thrown, Harry leapt up over the desk, a shield erected as he went. Only, Draco had already vacated the doorway.
Harry looked back at Max with an apologetic frown on his face.

Max just chuckled and said, “Good luck with that one, mate”, as he shooed Harry out the door in search of his seriously pissed-off lover.