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Advice 2: Wheel of Fortune	By : Chocho Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3448 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the characters, places or names. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Day I
- 2-Day II
- 3-Day III
- 4-Plus
- 2
- 3
- 4
Advice 2: Wheel of Fortune

Four-Shot

Sequel to: Advice

Written by: chochowilliams

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Summary: While a rift forms between the Golden Trio, and Harry and Ginny start having premarital problems, Harry and Draco are growing closer. When a Ministry official is assassinated and the prime suspect turns out to be Draco, just how close these ex-rivals have become is revealed.

Warning: AU, infidelity, romance, drama, slash, OC character death, bashing, possible OOCness, OCs, m-preg, sexual situations, Mary Sues and Brit Picks need not apply.

Pairing: Harry/Draco, Hermione/Ron. Mentioned: past Draco/Astoria, Astoria/OMC, Harry/Ginny, Ginny/Michael Corner

Inserts: recap from chapter 2

A/N: I’m my own beta, so I may have missed something. Let me now if you spot something I missed. Enjoy!

+ HARRY POTTER + ADVICE 2: WHEEL OF FORTUNE +

Last Time

All she’s heard lately was unkind criticism about how she was fucking up things with Harry. Everybody seemed to have ignored Harry’s part in the destruction of their relationship. It was always “Oh, Ginny, you didn’t.” and never “Harry, you idiot. What are you doing?” Michael was the first person to seem genuinely concerned about her and for her.

“Oh, Ginny.” Michael stood up and embraced her.

Ginny wrapped her arms around Michael’s waist and hugged him so tightly she heard Michael grunt. She buried her tear stained face in his chest and cried softly, “I’m sorry. It’s just been a really shitty day.”

“It’s okay,” Michael said softly as he tried to comfort his ex-girlfriend. He pulled away enough so that he could smile down at her. “Come on. Let’s say we get out of here huh? I’ve got a place not too far from here. I can make some tea, heat up some biscuits my mom sent me- because apparently without her there to cook for me I’m going to starve to death-”

Despite herself, Ginny chuckled.

“-and we can talk or not talk. Whatever. What so you say? Hm?”

Smiling, Ginny brushed at her wet cheeks and nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Good. C’mon.” Draping his arm around her shoulders, Michael steered Ginny out of the pub and out into the night.

+ HARRY POTTER + ADVICE 2: WHEEL OF FORTUNE +

CHAPTER III: Day Three

Morning - Potter Residence - 23 Pasteur Drive, Swindon, Wiltshire, England

With his hands clasped over his forehead and the sheet tented over knees bent towards the ceiling, Harry stared up at the ceiling. His gaze was unfocused. His mind blessedly blank.

Harry hadn’t been able to sleep. He’d been able to grab five minutes here, five minutes there and he was exhausted. He was more tired now than he’d been when he went to bed. The problem was his thoughts were full of Ginny.

No, he wasn’t having second thoughts about Draco. Draco was the best thing that ever happened to him--of that, he was certain. The problem was the guilt he felt about the way he’d treated the woman that, at one time, he’d imagined spending the rest of his life with. There were no excuses; no rhyme or reason.

He had to talk to her.

If nothing more, he’d like to be able to call her a friend. It was not going to happen overnight, he knew that, but some day he hoped.

He was unsure how long he remained like that when movement besides him broke him from his stupor. Dropping his arms to his sides, he turned his head and gazed at his lover asleep on the bed besides him. A smile broke out across his face. Turning onto his side, being careful not to jiggle the bed too much as it would disturb Draco, Harry pillowed his head on his arm and reached out with his other hand to tuck a stray strand of blond hair behind Draco’s ear. Draco didn’t so much as twitch.

Pulling his hand back, Harry leaned over his sleeping lover and pressed their lips together.

How had his life changed so much in such a short amount of time? And without him even realizing it? Just two days ago, even though he’d been engaged to his long term girlfriend of five years--six counting the year they were together during his sixth year--he’d been living a life of a confirmed bachelor and had preferred the single life. But virtually overnight, his whole world changed.

As much as he’d loved Ginny, her presence in his life had become an obligation. It was something he’d had to endure because it was a necessary part of being in a relationship. He’d had to force himself to make time for her. That was not the case with Draco. Having Draco as a part of his life was a necessity like breathing or eating. He couldn’t imagine his life without Draco by his side.

Running his hands along Draco’s jaw, the blond stubble scratching his palms, Harry wondered how he had gotten so lucky. With the barest of touches, Harry pressed his lips to Draco’s once again before quietly sliding out of bed.

As the sweatpants he’d worn the night before--before Draco vanished them--was nowhere to be seen, Harry summoned another pair along with a shirt. This one was a Slytherin green that said, “I’ve Had a Basilisk Running through My Chamber of Secrets” in silver lettering on the back. On the front over the left breast was a coiled snake hungrily eyeing a darkened train tunnel. It’d been a gag gift from George. Who would have thought it’d become so apropos?

Dressed, he slipped out of the bedroom, shutting the door silently behind him, and headed up to the converted attic.

The attic ran the entire length of the house so it was a fairly decent sized space that had been doing nothing more than collecting dust up until about a year ago when it’d been turned into an owlery and an office/lounge with attached full bath.

Both had been Draco’s idea.

Ever since Hedwig was killed, Harry hadn’t felt the need to buy another owl. He got by with using post-owls or his friend’s owls. Hedwig had been one of a kind. No other owl could hope to replace her or the bond the two of them had.

With no owl of his own, there hadn’t been a need to create space for an owl in the house. That was until Draco bought him one. It’d been one of the very first gifts from Draco.

Hence the owlery in the attic.

Then when Draco realized that Harry had no proper office to work out of when he worked from home, he took it upon himself to convert the remaining footage of the attic into an office that would have fit in better with Malfoy Manor.

Harry would have staged a protest, but then figured why waste the energy or the breath. It wasn’t his money, so why should he care how Draco spent it? If Draco wanted to waste his inheritance on someone like Harry then so be it. It was Draco’s money to do with what he choose. Who was Harry to argue against being taken on shopping sprees and having his house renovated on someone else’s dime?

With a yawn, Harry opened the door at the end of the hallway. On the other side was a set of stairs that led up to the attic; originally, the entrance to the attic had been a pull-down ladder, but Draco had taken care of that.

The top of the staircase opened up into the office/lounge that took up the front two-thirds of the attic. It overlooked the street, ensuring Harry actually did some work; not that that was a problem. The enclosed owlery was behind specially erected wards that kept the chill of the colder months, the stench and the noise of the owlery itself from seeping into the rest of the house. It looked out over the backyard.

Lucifer was one lucky owl.

Hermione had suggested the name Lucifer for Harry’s new owl not only because of Lucifer’s “disturbingly creepy appearance”--her exact words--but because Lucifer made a god-awful racket when approached by anyone who wasn’t either Harry or Draco. Lucifer was even known to attack the people Harry sent post to. It even attacked Ginny the first time Harry took her up to met him. Draco found Lucifer’s attitude and behavior highly amusing, which was probably why Lucifer still acted like he did.

Topping the last step, Harry paused to take in his office.

It was covered in beautiful rich cherry wood paneling and molding. Heavy forest green drapes tied back with gold pulls framed the windows that looked out over the street.

In front of the windows was his desk loaded down with files and papers he still had to go through. Draco called the desk a “heritage” desk, whatever that meant. Two armchairs sat angled in front of the desk.

Floor to ceiling built-in bookcases flanked a fireplace with an ornate, hand carved cherry wood mantel on the wall opposite the windows. The shelves of the bookcases were filled with books of varying size, shape, thickness and antiquity as well as knickknacks and various other artifacts. All of which had been meticulously picked out by Draco. An antique gold framed mirror hung on the wall above the mantel. A chaise longue, another antique upholstered in a dark green velvet, sat before the cold hearth with a small round cherry wood side table besides it.

The door that led to the owlery was to Harry’s immediate left tucked into the corner.

Due to the angle of the roof, there was hidden storage/crawl space interspersed along the entire length of the office because Draco had chosen to square off the attic during renovations. Press against certain panels along the lower half of the wall and the storage space is revealed.

A corkboard and a dry erase board had been built into the upper half of both the left and right hand walls. All were currently empty.

Harry sat down behind his desk and cleared a space. Pulling out a clean sheet of parchment, he grabbed a quill pen, dipping the silver tip into a vial of black ink, and proceeded to write a letter to his former fiancée.

Once finished, he reread what he wrote. It was short and to the point. He’d avoided making excuses for his actions. There was no groveling for her forgiveness. None of that. Not only did he feel none of that was necessary, he also knew that Ginny wasn‘t going to give a damn about anything he had to say. She was more likely to want to Avada Kedarva his sorry ass into the next millennium. Actually, now that he thought about it, she’d probably incinerate the letter the second she realized who it was from. There was no guarantee she would read it. But still, he had to try.

When he was satisfied, he folded the letter and stuffed it into an envelope, sealed it with the newly created Potter-Black family crest pressed in red wax and printed Ginny‘s name on the front.

Pushing away from the desk, he stood up and made his way to the owlery.

He stepped through the door and halted at the sight that greeted him.

Two-year-old Lucifer perked up at the sight of him and trilled softly in greeting.

It wasn’t the sight of a placid owl his friends had taken to call The Devil Bird, but the second bird within the owlery, the very one cuddling against Lucifer’s side as if he belonged there that had given him pause. Harry recognized the owl. It was Draco’s owl Ares.

It didn’t appear as if Ares was carrying anything for Draco, so what was he doing here? When had he gotten here? Harry couldn’t remember sensing the wards being tripped last night. But then again he had been a little distracted.

Crossing towards the owls, Harry greeted Lucifer softly so as not to disturb a slumbering Ares. “Hey boy.”

The black as night owl nipped at his fingers and hooted softly back.

“Looks like you made a new friend huh?”

Lucifer hooted a second time. He looked almost smug.

Snorting, Harry shook his head. He wondered if Draco knew his owl was here. “I need you to deliver a letter to Ginny for me, okay?”

Lucifer glared at him. Like Kreacher, Lucifer was not a big fan of Ginny’s.

“C’mon. Please? You don’t even have to wait for a response.” Dear Merlin, he thought, he’d been reduced to begging his own post owl to deliver the post.

In response, Lucifer stuck out a leg, but he turned his head away. If Lucifer had a nose, Harry bet it would be in the air.

Harry sighed as he tied the scrolled up letter to the owl’s leg.

Ignoring him, Lucifer turned towards Ares, hooted and nipped at Ares’ feathers, as if he were preening them. Ares pried open an eye, gave Lucifer a short, low hoot that sounded annoyed, before closing his eye and rearranging himself before seemingly falling back asleep.

Harry watched all this with an amused smile on his face and a cocked eyebrow.

With a rustling of feathers and without a second glance at Harry, Lucifer took off with the letter through the window that had been charmed to open and close before and after the owls.

Feeling slighted, Harry blinked after his owl and said, “Well.”

Ares peered up at him, looking annoyed. The bird proceeded to turn its back on Harry where it immediately lifted its tail feathers and shit all over Harry’s bare foot.

With a curse, Harry jumped back away from the perch.

Later, he would swear that Ares laughed at him.

Muttering about Devil Birds, Harry limped to the attached bathroom to wash the bird shit from his foot as he’d conveniently forgotten his wand back in his bedroom.

“Harry! You up there?” he heard a few minutes later as he was stepping out of the bathroom with a clean foot.

“Yeah! Be down in a sec,” Harry called back.

Before leaving his office, Harry detoured to the owlery. Ares started squawking what sounded like a laugh at the sight of him.

“It’s not funny,” Harry sneered at the damnedable bird.

Ares just squawked harder.

Rolling his eyes, Harry retreated, shut the owlery door and made his way back downstairs where Draco was waiting, his hair sleep tousled. The sight alone had Harry fighting back his reawakening morning erection. He gulped. It hurt. Dear Merlin. He could not get over the fact that the blond Adonis standing before him looking as if he’d just had the best shag of his life was his. His!

“Was that Luc making all that racket?” Draco inquired as Harry shut the attic door behind him.

“No.” Harry had to clear his throat violently before he said that simple one-syllable world. Was it hot in here or was it just him--or rather Draco? “That was Ares,” Harry corrected.

Draco cocked an eyebrow. “Ares?”

“Yup,” Harry said as he led Draco back to the bedroom. He wrapped an arm around Draco’s waist, hugging himself to his lover’s side and rested his head on Draco’s shoulder. There was a tiny insignificant voice in the back of his head reprimanding him for acting like a love struck schoolgirl, but he just told it to shut the fuck up because he was love struck and therefore had every right to act as he pleased thank you very much.

“Ares as in-?”

“-as in your damnedable demon bird who shit all over my foot because I sent his pillow to deliver a letter.”

Draco halted, forcing Harry to stop as well. Turning his head to look down at him, the Slytherin cocked an eyebrow in question, so Harry told him what happened. In the end, Draco was in stitches.

“It’s not that funny,” Harry protested though his lips twitched.

“Oh, on the contrary I think it is.”

“Whatever.”

Snickering, Draco turned Harry towards him and splayed his hands over the round globes of Harry’s ass, pulling the slightly shorter male against him. He heard the indrawn breath followed by a throaty moan and felt the hardness against his own. “So, what say you and me,” Draco breathed into Harry’s ear, “go take a shower?”

Harry shivered in delight. Stepping out of the warmth of his lover’s arms, Harry grabbed the drawstrings of Draco’s borrowed sweatpants and with a wicked grin, used the drawstrings as a leash to pull an eager Draco along behind him towards the bathroom.

The door shut firmly behind them.

“By the way, Harry,” Draco’s voice drawled from behind the closed door.

“Hm?”

“Love the shirt.”

“You would,” Harry replied with a snort.

+ HARRY POTTER + ADVICE 2: WHEEL OF FORTUNE +

Same Time - Weasley Residence - Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon, England

Hermione did not intend to procure a house-elf unless she could find one like Dobby. If she wanted or needed help around the house, she’d hire a servant, or get Ron to help her--with added incentive if need be--and not purchase a slave. SPEW may have been a miserable failure, much to her disappointment, but she remained faithful to her beliefs regarding the wellbeing and welfare of all magical creatures.

With no house-elf, Hermione found herself in the kitchen early that morning making breakfast.

As she stood at the stove flipping the bacon, a large dark blue ceramic bowl that was filled with homemade home fries and a white plate stacked high with buttered toast were settling themselves onto the kitchen table. With a flick of her wrist, the pan in which she’d used to fry the home fries levitated off the stove and sank into the sudsy water in the sink where it began to wash itself. A pink sponge began wiping down the counter clean of crumbs and butter droppings.

At the sound of movement behind her, Hermione glanced briefly over her shoulder. The kitchen door swung open and in shuffled her husband.

“Morning,” she greeted cheerfully. “You’re up early.”

Still in his flannel pajamas and his ginger hair on end, Ron yawned and scratched his stomach that was exposed by his stretching. Sighing, Ron blinked rapidly in an effort to dispel the sleep from his eyes and glanced blurrily into space.

Hermione had actually expected her husband to sleep in that morning since he hadn’t returned home last night until well after midnight. “Do you have to go in this morning?”

In response, Ron grunted. With a yawn, he flopped down into the chair nearest the door.

Hermione sighed in exasperation as she transferred the last of the bacon from the cast iron skillet to a paper towel lined plate. “At least take a Pepper-Up,” she said.

Being married to an Auror was nerve-racking as it was without having to worry about her husband overexerting himself into a hospital bed because of his refusal to take the recommended down time. Lack of adequate rest had been the downfall of many an Auror. Ron didn’t become obsessed with a case as Harry did, but Ron did have the tendency to work long hours on little to no sleep depending on what the case was he was working on--and whether or not he’d teamed up with Harry. There were those people who could function on very little sleep and without the use of aides such as a Pepper-Up Potion. Unfortunately, Ron wasn’t one of those people. That caused Hermione to worry.

With his chin propped in his hand and his eyes half closed, Ron asked, “Do we have any?”

“We should.” She made sure they always had an adequate supply on hand for just such occasions.

Starting to nod off, Ron hummed, but shot to attention when Hermione placed the plate of bacon besides the toast and home fries.

Meanwhile, the pan she’d used to fry the bacon had dumped its greasy contents into a tin can she’d set aside earlier just for that purpose before vanishing the pan beneath the suds of the sink.

Ron grabbed several slices of bacon and shoveled them into his mouth.

Hermione turned back to the stove, rolling her eyes as her husband inhaled the food before him. “What kind of eggs you want?” she asked as the pan in which she’d used to make the fries, now clean, settled down on the stove.

“Whatever,” Ron said around a mouthful of bacon.

Grabbing the egg carton, Hermione set about making three eggs sunny-side up for Ron and a single egg over-medium for herself. Wondering if it was the reason he didn’t get home until late, she asked, “Were there complications with that cold case you were telling me about? The one where the husband disappeared, right? Wasn‘t the wife suspected at the time?”

“Yeah,” Ron answered around a mouthful of potatoes, “but the Aurors who originally investigated the husband’s disappearance couldn’t find anything to suggest anything other than what the wife was claiming.”   Chewing and swallowing the food in his mouth, Ron pulled out his wand and gave it a flick.

As Hermione was plating the eggs, she watched as invisible hands flung open an upper cupboard door, pulled out a chipped navy blue mug and settled it on the countertop besides the coffeemaker. The glass carafe was lifted out of the coffeemaker by those same invisible hands and poured coffee into the mug.

Hermione shook her head.

It had to be a Pureblood thing, she decided, for she and Harry had a tendency to forego the use of their magic when they were perfectly capable of accomplishing the task without. Well, she did at any rate. She had a feeling Harry just plain forgot he had magic at times.

Ron made a face as he sipped his coffee. It’d gone cold. Shaking his wand back into his hand from its disillusioned holster, he tapped the rim of the mug and muttered a Word. Immediately steam began rising from the mug. This time when Ron took a sip, he smiled. Perfect. “If the D’Salvatore family hadn’t dug up the old well, it would have remained a missing person’s case.”

“What happened? You never did say.”

“Turned out the guy was bashed over the head with a statue and buried in the well out back. We were able to track down the wife and arrested her when her fingerprints were found all over the statue that had been tossed into the well besides the husband.”

“Good.” Hermione nodded as she slid into a chair opposite her husband’s and began plating herself some breakfast before it was all gone.

“Didn’t get have the chance to interview her yet though. She‘ll either plead not guilty or claim it was done in self-defense. If the courts still allowed it, she might plead temporary insanity or some such rot.” Ron exchanged his coffee for his fork and dug into his eggs. “Anyway, I was called to Edinburgh-” he explained around a mouthful of eggs. Bits of eggs went flying.

Hermione grimaced and very nearly lost her appetite, but forced herself to eat something because she had a deposition that afternoon. It wouldn’t do to have an empty stomach.

“-to the scene of a body dump,” he continued. “Turns out it was Harry’s CI.”

Her fork halted halfway to her mouth, Hermione’s head snapped up. She glanced wide eyed across the table at her husband. “His what?” Her brow furrowed in thought briefly. “Oh! You mean his informant?”

“Yup,” Ron nodded.

“Oh no,” she moaned. “What happened?”

Ron launched into an explanation of what he’d found at the scene and the conclusions he‘d drawn. He followed it by telling her what he, Harry and Malfoy had spoken about, including Harry and Malfoy’s conspiracy theories, when he‘d gone to inform Harry of his informant‘s death. Ron wasn’t sure what to make of any of it yet. There was no proof as of yet that the suspected murder of Harry’s informant had anything to do with the Black Market Ring Harry and Malfoy were unofficially working on, but there wasn’t anything proving it didn’t either.

Hermione sat there with a thoughtful expression on her face, her breakfast long forgotten. “This could be bad.”

Ron snorted, “You think?” He took a long sip of his coffee.

Hermione’s contemplation was cut short by the sudden flutter of wings. A barn owl sat on the sill of the open window. A bag was strapped around its neck. The post owl delivered The Daily Prophet.

Ron, realizing the owl was not an official correspondent from the Ministry, ignored it in favor of filling his plate with a second helping of everything.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione pushed away from the table and crossed the kitchen towards the owl, making sure to snatch a piece of bacon off Ron’s plate to feed to the owl. She ignored his cry of, “Hey”.

Grabbing the money for the paper out of the dish on the icebox, she fed the bacon to a grateful owl who nibbled her finger affectionately, placed the money in the pouch and took the paper. The owl took off with a hoot.

With the paper in hand, Hermione returned to the table. She scanned the front page and gasped when a particular story caught her eye.

“What? What is it?” Ron demanded, his head snapping up.

“Head Auror Pieletska. It says here he passed away yesterday morning.”

His expression going neutral, Ron nodded and stood up. He went to the coffeemaker and poured himself another cuppa. “Yeah. Rumors were circulating around the Department last night, but nobody knew for sure one way or another, but then Moore confirmed it was true when he sent me to Edinburgh.”

“So it’s true then?” She glanced briefly up at him before returning her gaze to the paper.

“Yeah. Guess he just passed away sometime during the night.”

“Yeah. It says,” Hermione read aloud, “that tests didn’t reveal any sign of foul play.”

Leaning against the counter, his hands warming as they cupped the mug, Ron stared down into the almost black liquid.

Setting the paper down, Hermione looked at her husband. “Isn’t that a bit odd though? That the Head Auror was admitted into the hospital for what the Healers said was a minor stroke and he ends up dying?”

Ron shrugged. “Not really. It happens.”

Her eyes narrowed in thought, Hermione looked back down at the paper.

Knowing that look all too well, Ron pushed away from the counter and returned to the table. “Look, ‘Mione,” he said, “there isn’t some sort of cover-up surrounding Pieletska’s death. He fell asleep and never woke. That’s it. End of story. The End. Thank you and good night.”

Hermione nodded; not in agreement Ron knew. “I just…find it--odd-”

Ron heaved a heavy sigh. Shaking his head, he pushed his chair back and stood back up. Picking up his dishes, he carried them to the sink. “Yes, Pieletska wasn’t well liked around the Department. He made life hell for a lot of people, especially Harry, and a lot of those people probably contemplated murdering the snarky bastard at one time or another and I bet those same people aren’t going to mourn his death, but that doesn’t mean there’s some sort of conspiracy for you to uncover. Saint Mungo’s hired independent experts to come in and run the tests, but of course there’s always going to be that person that won’t be satisfied with any explanation other than the one they believe is ‘accurate’.”

Hermione nodded as she absently scanned the paper. She understood what Ron was saying. She just found it a bit coincidental that the Head Auror had passed away of “natural causes” after suffering a “minor stroke” the Healers all said he would fully recover from.

Swallowing the last of his coffee, Ron half turned and dumped his cup in the sink.

“What’s this about Malfoy having been arrested yesterday?” she asked her husband as another article caught her attention.

“Oh yeah! Harry told me about that when I went to question him last night. I guess they went to meet with their informant-”

“The one who was killed?”

“Yeah,” Ron confirmed with a nod. “-and about a dozen Aurors appeared out of nowhere and arrested him. Apparently they believed Pieletska was murdered, even though there wasn’t any evidence, and arrested Malfoy, even though Malfoy had a solid alibi.”

“Says the charges were dropped-”

“Seeing the charges were unfounded.” Ron did not believe that Malfoy was as completely innocent as he claimed he was, but even Ron knew it was idiotic to arrest a man for a crime that either did not happen or for one in which there was no evidence incriminating said man. If a man made a threat against someone and that someone was found dead in bed the next morning, that threat was not enough evidence to convict the man and neither was arresting a suspect merely because you did not like him.

“-and that he plans on suing the Aurors who arrested him as well as the Auror Department, the DMLE and the Ministry,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard Ron speak.

“Not surprised.”

“‘Acting Head Auror D’Arcy Moore has called for a full investigation into the matter’,” Hermione read.

“About time. There‘s been rumors about these guys circulating for years, but Pieletska never did anything, just allowed them to run around doing whatever they pleased.”

“‘The Aurors in question have meanwhile been placed on administrative paid leave pending the outcome of the investigation.’”

Ron hummed deeply in his throat. “Departmental policy.” A quick tempus confirmed how late it was getting. “I got to get ready for work.” He was halfway out the kitchen door when his wife called out to him.

“Hey, Ron?”

Ron turned back towards her. “Yeah?”

Hermione was decidedly not looking at her husband. Instead, she was staring down at the paper that she’d laid flat on the table so her hands were free to relocate her fried potatoes from one side of her plate to another. “Did you have an opportunity to speak to Harry last night?” she asked him. “I realize it may not have been the best time, but-”

Ron shook his head negatively, knowing that Hermione wasn’t referring to him speaking to their friend in general, but about something very specific--mainly about one Draco Malfoy. It was something that was going to have to happen eventually. But knowing it had to happen did not make it any easier to have. “Not yet.”

Hermione nodded.

There was something he had done concerning Harry. Despite arriving home well after midnight last night, he’d been unable to fall asleep right away. Instead, he’d spent hours thinking. Specifically, he’d been thinking about Harry and Malfoy and he’d come to a startling realization that wasn’t sitting very well with him. Knowing his wife, Hermione probably already knew, but Ron found himself saying it anyway. “But I think he’s sleeping with Malfoy.”

There was silence.

“I know,” Hermione whispered.

+ HARRY POTTER + ADVICE 2: WHEEL OF FORTUNE +

Half an Hour Later - Corner Residence - Northumberland, England

Morning came too soon for Michael.

He and Ginny had stayed up all night talking. They’d only just fallen asleep when the distant horizon began lighting with the approaching dawn. Only one subject had been taboo and that was Harry Potter. This led Michael to the conclusion that whatever happened to drive his ex-girlfriend to the Horney Goatfish last night had something to do with her fiancé. Or was that ex-fiancé now? Michael was starting to believe that to be the case as he’d noticed last night that there was nothing but an indentation on Ginny’s ring finger where he assumed her engagement ring used to rest. There was obviously some sort of trouble in paradise.

Yawning, Michael dropped a teabag into the boiling water that filled his black coffee mug. Instantly, swirls of color overcame the colorless hue of the water. Already, there was an almost citrus-y scent that filled the tiny kitchen. In his other hand was The Daily Prophet turned to the sports section.

An insistent tapping interrupted Michael’s perusal of last night’s quidditch scores.

Looking up, Michael blinked at the sight before him. Flapping outside the window above the kitchen sink was what appeared to be a snowy owl, but instead of the pure white feathers, this owl had feathers blacker than night. It even had black eyes. It was like looking into an abyss.

Michael shuddered.

The owl, realizing it had been spotted, screeched. Michael cringed at the sound. It sounded like a screech owl only a thousand times worse.

Setting the paper aside, Michael slid down the bench and stood up. Rounding the table, he crossed towards the sink and tossed open the window. The owl flew inside and circled overheard a couple of times before landing on the table. It thrust its leg out and hooted shrilly at him. If Michael didn’t know any better, he’d swear the owl was giving him the evil eye.

He shivered.

Gulping, Michael slowly approached the owl. It eyed him warily.

He reached out tentatively for the scroll tied to the owl’s proffered leg and had to immediately withdraw his hand to keep it from being gnawed off or peeked into Swiss cheese by the owl that went after his hand with another ear-piercing screech. Muttering angrily about Devil Birds, Michael cautiously tried to relieve the owl from its burden a second time and succeeded. It was touch and go there for a moment or two for it looked as if the owl was readying itself for another round of attacks, but in the end, it kept its beak and claws to itself.

Michael exhaled noisily, sagging in relief, as the owl took off with yet another screech.

“What was that?” exclaimed Ginny as she pushed through the door into the kitchen, fresh from the shower. She peered around the tiny but tidy kitchen. At this time of day, it was flooded with light.

“A Devil Bird,” Michael muttered as he unfurled the scroll.

Ginny laughed, “A what?”

“A devilbird,” he repeated. “Ya know, like a devilfish? You ever heard of those?”

“Nope,” she said getting a coffee mug out of the cabinet.

“It’s a fish that’s supposed to have an evil-looking appearance like an octopus or something.”

Ginny snorted, “Octopus.”

“Only this bird didn’t just look evil. It was evil.”

Still laughing, Ginny asked, “How?” as she made herself a cup of tea.

“It was completely black: its feathers, it’s eyes; and made this horrible screeching sound. Very nearly made my ears bleed.”

Paling, Ginny froze.

“It dropped this off for you.” When she made no move to take the letter he was waving around, he grew concerned. He dropped the letter to the table. “Ginny?” Michael called out to her softly. “Ginny are you alright?”

Shaking herself, Ginny forced herself to smile. “Yeah. Fine. Still a little tired is all.” Setting her mug aside, she crossed towards where he sat at the kitchen table and took the envelope. She stiffened at the symbol pressed into the red wax that was sealing the envelope closed.

She’d been right. It was from Him.

Last night had been incredible. To be able to forget her troubles for just a little while had lifted a huge burden from her shoulders. She’d been able to relax and have a good time and had even been able to have a good night’s sleep for the first time in a long time. She’d woken this morning well rested and with a smile on her face. She could not remember the last time that happened.

Last night, Harry Potter had been effectively erased from her mind like a well-aimed obliviate. But now…

“Ginny?”

Realizing she was shaking and on the verge of tears, Ginny shook the gloomy, heavy air of depression aside and smiled at the man before her. She didn’t want him to worry unnecessarily. He did enough of that last night.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Ginny didn’t give the envelope one last glance before stuffing it into the back pocket of her jeans. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Now,” she continued, giving the kitchen a weary glance, “tell me you have more than just ramen, tea and beer in this dump. I’m starving.”

Must have been from her ex, Michael realized. That meant the Devil Bird that very nearly killed him belonged to him. Michael shook his head at that. To think the Savior would keep something that was clearly vicious and malicious and what was so obviously a harbinger of death as a pet was a little scary. It was a bird that would have suited You-Know-Who perfectly.

Michael shook all thoughts of The Bird from Hell out of his mind and allowed Ginny to change the subject. It was clear that she wasn’t ready to talk about it yet, so he wasn’t going to push. When she was, he’d lend her an ear, a shoulder or anything else she required. Last night he’d made sure to make that clear to her.

“Of course I do,” he scoffed haughtily, insulted and slighted that she would dare to call his flat a dump. “I also have corn flakes.”

Ginny snorted out a laugh. Michael thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

+ HARRY POTTER + ADVICE 2: WHEEL OF FORTUNE +

Two Hours Later - Apothecarius Dracon - Diagon Alley

Draco was humming. Not only that, he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. It was likely to scare off customers--both regular as well as potential new ones--but he couldn’t help himself. He’d never been more satisfied with his life as he was at that moment.

Now he just had to inform his parents of his new status.

In the laboratory located at the back of what was the main branch of his string of apothecaries, Draco stood at a butcher block worktable on which stood a small cold cauldron. He sprinkled into the cauldron a handful of basil that had been dried out and then crushed.

His hand paused, hovering briefly over the elderflower petals that had dried out as well as a stray thought hit him out of nowhere. He had to search for a new runner.

He shook that thought aside to deal with another day.

After tossing the dried elderflower petals into the cauldron, Draco picked up his wand and lit the flames beneath the cauldron.

Now he waited until the basil and the flower turned to ash. Then he could add the dragon’s blood.

He was brewing a potion for a client who wanted to bind a troublemaker who kept defacing the park near her house and tearing up the flora she‘d painstakingly planted herself. The potion was borderline illegal and was thus a Backdoor Job. These were the jobs Harry turned a deliberate blind eye towards, which Draco much appreciated.

Surprisingly, Harry’s opinion about Light versus Dark and Good versus Evil were not as cut and dry as one would believe given that he‘d been molded as the Scion of the Light. Maybe his parents wouldn’t have such a harsh opinion of his lover if they knew that.

He made a mental note to owl his mother and ask if she would care to join him for tea.

On a related topic, Draco wondered how the Weasel and Granger would react if they knew about their best friend was having a love affair with the Dark Lord’s right hand man’s son. They’d probably have coronaries.

Though, if he were being honesty with himself, he frankly could care less what anybody thought about his relationship with Harry. The only opinion that mattered to him was Harry’s.

He would do whatever it took to keep Harry at his side. Anything. Even if that meant defying his parents, whom he loved dearly and was fiercely loyal to, as well as those Harry was close to.

+ HARRY POTTER + ADVICE 2: WHEEL OF FORTUNE +

Same Time - Auror Department - Ministry of Magic - London, England

Having finally arrived at the Ministry--Draco really was insatiable--Harry was currently awaiting confirmation from Acting Head Auror Moore. He’d gone directly to Moore’s office upon arrival half an hour ago, but according to his secretary, Moore was currently unavailable, but she would let him know when Moore was able to meet with him.

Harry was beginning to become antsy.

The door to his office was closed and the blinds half-drawn, but he hadn’t erected a silencing ward so he could hear the din from the bullpen, as muffled as it was.

He had a bunch of terrific witches and wizards working for him. Most have been part of the Homicide Division long before he stepped foot within the Auror Academy. A couple was here before there even was a Homicide Division. He trusted each and every one of them. That included Ron. Just because their friendship was going through some things currently, didn’t mean the sixteen year history they had together never happened.

There was a flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye. Tense and immediately on alert, Harry turned towards the movement. Immediately he relaxed as he spotted a piece of paper fluttering in the air as if it were a bird. An interdepartmental memo. Jumping to his feet, Harry circled his desk and snatched the memo out of the air as the thought of it being from Moore crossed his mind; it didn’t cross his mind to use magic to fetch it, though.

Unfolding it, Harry scanned the brief but to the point message: Moore would see him now.

Turning sharply on his heel, Harry set the memo on his desk and picked up a small stack of files before exiting out in the bullpen.

“Listen up,” he called loudly. Silence immediately fell. A dozen faces turned to regard him. “We have an unassisted death in Stratford-upon-Avon. Middle-aged woman was found dead in her loft. Harris.”

Carlotta Harris, five years his senior, stood from her cubicle with a, “Sir,” before stepping forward and taking the proffered file.

“A possible suicide in Belfast. Greene.”

Timothy Greene strode forward from where’d he’d been leaning against a table set against the far wall with his arms crossed over his chest and took the file. “Possible?” he inquired further as he glossed over the single report in the file.

“Muggle Priest claims that when he was walking from the rectory to the church, he heard a shout from within the church, which he’d secured himself the night before. When he gets into the church, he finds a man hanging from the rafters. Dead. The Priest has a younger sister who‘s Muggleborn and he called her instead of Muggle authorities when he recognized the wand near the deceased’s body. ”

Greene nodded and walked off.

“And a shooting in Nottinghamshire. The Sherwood Forest, actually, if you can believe that.”

“A shooting? As in with a Muggle gun, sir?” Rosenstein asked above the sudden whispering.

“As in. Batterley, I want you to take this.”

“Yes, sir,” a woman from the very back said.

Harry sent her the file with a flick of his hand. Batterley was not only Muggleborn, but she came from a long line of police officers. She was actually a liaison between the Auror Department’s Homicide Division and the Muggle police. “Now,” he said once he’d finished assigning the new cases, “does anybody not have anything to do?”

Silence.

“Good. Get to work.” Harry turned to make his way to Moore’s office when a mouse of a girl, Heidi Christ, called out to him.

“Sir? About this cold case I’m working on?”

Harry narrowed his eyes in thought. “The one where the French girl went missing while on vacation in London?”

“Yes, sir. Sir, I was-”

“Walk with me.”

The girl shot up from her seat and fumbled with a mess of papers and folders before scrambling after him, who was halfway to the elevator already. As Christ filled him in the case of the missing foreign tourist who was presumed dead, they passed Ron who was exiting from the interview rooms. He looked flustered.

“Claimed self-defense didn’t she?”

With an exasperated sound, Ron rolled his eyes at him.

Harry chuckled. Turning back to Christ, he inquired, “What about the lover? What we have on him?”

They chatted about the case all the way to Moore’s office with Harry adding his two cents and some suggestions.

“Keep me informed,” he told her.

“Yes, Sir,” Christ agreed with a nod.

Harry didn’t watch her leave. Instead, he turned to face the closed office door of the Head Auror.

During Pieletska’s tenure as Head Auror, he’d moved the Head Auror’s office from the DMLE to the same floor as the Minister of Magic. Talk about delusions of grandeur. That guy sure had been a piece of work.

He ran his hands down his uniform and made himself as presentable as he possibly could, nodding to Ministry workers that he knew.

Taking a deep breath, he raised a hand and knocked. A breathy voice called for him to enter.

“Morning Melinda,” Harry greeted the woman behind the desk.

“Morning Auror Potter.” Melinda returned the greeting with a warm smile.

From the moment Harry met Melinda Foster, he’d been reminded of the Minerva McGonagall he’d met as a wet behind the ears first year--minus the stern I just swallowed a lemon expression. Maybe that was way he’d taken to her right away.

She continued, “You can go right in.”

“Thank you.”

The breathy whisper Melinda used when speaking reminded many, who knew of the Muggle star, of Marilyn Monroe, but unlike Marilyn Monroe whose was said to have been an act, Melinda‘s was not. As a toddler, Melinda suffered a severe bout of laryngitis. The Healer her parents took her to mixed up the potions and instead of curing the laryngitis, made it permanent.

Crossing the outer office to the Head Auror’s private office, Harry raised a hand and knocked. At a curt, “Enter”, he stepped into the office, closing the door firmly behind him.

The man sitting behind the desk in front a grouping of windows that had been charmed to look out over the countryside appeared to be about the same age as Arthur Weasley. He had short dark red-brown hair that had been slicked back and piercing chocolate brown eyes. A diamond stud sparkled in his ear.

“Sir,” Harry greeted his new boss with a nod. “Thank you for taking the time to see me.”

With his arms crossed over his belly, Moore sat back in the black leather chair that gave a particularly loud squeak in protest. “Of course,” he said as he regarded Harry. “Please have a seat.”

As Harry was settling himself in the visitor’s chair, much to his pleasure, he noted that the chair was not the same one from when he’d been called into this very office just two days ago. It didn’t wobble precariously and was cushioned.

Moore sat forward, his chair squeaking once again, and laced his hands together on top of the desk. “What can I help you with? If this is about Draco Malfoy being falsely arrested-”

“No, sir,” Harry denied as he say ramrod straight upon the chair and his hands folded demurely in his lap, “but I would like to thank you for looking into the incident. Both Draco and I appreciate it.”

Moore inclined his head. “Think nothing of it, Potter. As a member of this department, Malfoy has the right to have the incident, and those involved in the incident, investigated.”

Harry was in shock at Moore’s words. Shaking himself, Harry grew somber, and said, “I wanted to speak to you about my CI.”

“The one who was found dead in Edinburgh last night?”

“Yes, sir.”

“According to Weasley’s report, you and Malfoy were the last to see him.”

Harry nodded. “Yes, sir. He had some information concerning the Black Market Fertility Potion Case we‘ve been working on.”

Interested, Moore leaned forward. “What kind of information?”

Harry studied Moore silently. Could he trust this man? Pieletska had hated his guts and tried everything within, and outside of, his power to get rid of both him and Draco. Pieletska had never taken anything he had to say seriously. Harry never worked with Moore before or worked with anyone who had worked with Moore. Under Pieletska’s reign, Moore had been nothing more than a pretty face to parade around to the media. Pieletska had given himself complete control. What he did know was that Moore had done the one thing his predecessor never would have done: publicly acknowledged Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater, as a member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Pieletska never would have done that.

Maybe things really could change and for the better.

“Sir…” Harry hesitated.

“What I heard, these VIPs be getting kickbacks for pretending they see nothing, for overlooking certain deals that go down. They make certain things and people disappear, lose paperwork, grease palms. Know what I’m saying? In return, they get a cut of the action, a generous percentage.”

And change they would if what Sting told him and Draco yesterday was true. Many people’s lives were going to be flipped upside down and those people were all going to blame him. Overnight he would go from the Savior to the Destroyer. But he couldn’t let that stop him. It wouldn’t be the first time the wizarding population turned on him and it wouldn’t be the last.

“What he told us…Sir, you might want to call the Minister and have him join us.”

Moore cursed.

+ HARRY POTTER + ADVICE 2: WHEEL OF FORTUNE +

That Afternoon - Afternoon Delights - Bannum Alley

“Well,” Narcissa Malfoy drawled.

She, along with her son, was sitting in a quaint little teashop located within the heart of the affluent shopping district of Bannum. Upon her arrival, she’d immediately spotted the French Wizarding President with a drop-dead gorgeous young woman who appeared younger even than Draco, a woman decidedly not the President’s wife. There were also several members of the Wizengamot clustered together in the back as well as a couple obviously in the beginning stages of courting.

His back straight, shoulders back and chin held high, Draco faced his mother with determination and her own stubbornness shinning in his blue-gray eyes. “Mother-”

“Hush, now, Draco,” Narcissa scolded lightly. “You know never to interrupt someone when they are speaking.”

Feeling as if he were five years old, Draco nodded curtly. “My apologies, Mother. I was merely going to say that I did not tell you about Harry in order to gain your permission. I have chosen to become involved with him and no matter your or father’s opinion, that will not change.”

A smile crossed Narcissa’s newly lined faced making her appear as she had before the war had forcibly aged her so. “Do you love him?”

Draco’s soft softened. “Yes.”

“Does he love you?”

“Yes.”

Narcissa nodded. “As long as you are happy. That is all I wish.”

“I am Mother.”

“Good.”

“Thank you Mother…But…What about Father?”

Narcissa waved her son’s inquiry aside as if it were a gnat. “Leave your father to me.”

Draco inclined his head. “If that is what you wish Mother.” He took a sip of his tea. His mother did the same.

“Do you plan on moving into the Manor? Have you and Harry talked about where you will live after you marry?”

Draco did not bother to suppress a shudder. “I would think not, Mother. I have not stepped foot with the Manor since the war and never plan to until a Cleansing is done--several in fact. The closest I have come to the manor is Harry’s house in Swindon.” And that was the truth. His parents had not been back to Malfoy Manor since the end of the war either. Instead, they’d moved into the château in France. He himself stayed at the townhouse in London. Draco could not remember the last time a Malfoy had stayed at the townhouse. It’d sat abandoned for as long as anyone could tell. But living in a house the size of his closet at the Manor was better than staying at the manor. “And no, we have not spoken about where we will live after we marry. As we have only been together for two days, we have not even spoken of marriage.”

Narcissa tsked. “Has it only been two days? Or has it been two days, my little dragon?”

Draco merely stared at the woman. “Mother? Are you seriously…?” He could not believe what he was hearing. What he’d expected was opposition from his mother concerning his choice in partners. He’d prepped before hand--as much as one could when the opposition was one’s own mother--for that very scenario. This, on the other hand, was a development even he had not seen coming.

“I am thinking a winter wedding,” his mother was saying.

To think his mother was so gung-ho for her son’s new romantic liaison with someone she once considered an enemy that she was already planning the wedding…

Harry is going to laugh himself to death over this one, Draco thought in mortification as his mother went on to discuss the honeymoon.

“What about a nudist colony?”

Scandalized and horrified, Draco practically screamed, his face red in mortification, “Mother!”

+ HARRY POTTER + ADVICE 2: WHEEL OF FORTUNE +

Same Time - Auror Department - Ministry of Magic - London, England

Here it was lunchtime and Harry was exhausted though the day was only half over. He was tempted to stop for the day. As the boss, of the Homicide Division anyway, he should be able to leave whenever he felt like it and he knew many of his colleagues did just that. He knew that was what Pieletska used to do constantly. But Harry never had--voluntarily at least. He’d been bullied by Ron and a few of the others once or twice to take off for one reason or another. He’d reluctantly complied, but of course, he hadn’t gone home to rest like they all said he should. As long as he wasn’t on his deathbed, he was damned if he was going to lollygag around when he could be helping someone.

With a heavy sigh, Harry collapsed in the armchair besides the fireplace. Closing his tired eyes, he leaned his head back against the back of the chair. Immediately, he felt the tension slip away.

“That is a serious accusation, Mr. Potter,” the Minster of Magic said after he’d told him, Moore and the Head of the DMLE the conclusions he and Draco had come to the night before--another one of their “conspiracy theories” as Ron called them.

Harry hadn’t thought to include the Head of the DMLE in on the conversation, but he was glad that the man had been meeting with the Minister when Moore floo called.

The four men spent the entire morning pouring over the Pensieve memories Harry provided and were still doing so when Harry left and were most likely still at it, not that he could blame them. Like they said, this was not something to be taken lightly. They even planned to summon Draco to the Ministry the next day to question him about his version of events.

Moore, the Head of the DMLE and the Minister vowed to investigate the matter. What happened after that would be decided when the investigation was finished and who knows how long that would take.

At least the matter was going to be looked into. If Pieletska had still been in charge of the Auror Department, he would have scoffed at Harry’s accusations and booted his ass for making unfounded allegations.

Moore might not have had any aspirations of becoming the Head of the Aurors, but he certainly made a fine Head.

A chime whispered through his office.

Snapping his head up, his eyes flying open, he zeroed his gaze on the fireplace that had blazed to life with a very familiar head surrounded by green flame. Sliding off the chair to his knees before the hearth, Harry smiled brightly at the unexpected visitor. “Andy! Hey!”

“Hey Harry,” Andromeda Tonks nee Black greeted him with a smile that was strained around the edges. “This isn’t a bad time is it?”

“No! Not all. What’s up? Is everything okay?”

“Other than Teddy demanding to know when you’re going to come by and visit? Yeah, everything’s fine.”

Harry chuckled. “Sorry about that. Things have been a little hectic lately.” To say the least, he thought.

“Of course,” Andromeda nodded. “That would be given as you head your own division.”

Harry nodded.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Teddy.”

Harry snapped to attention. Worry flooded through his at the mention of his godson. “Is he alright?” he demanded in alarm. “Has-?”

A light smile on her lips, Andromeda shook her head. “Oh not to worry. Runs me ragged with all that excess energy he has, but he’s fine.”

Harry sagged with relief.

“I was actually wondering if you wouldn’t mind watching him for an hour or so tomorrow.”

“Sure.” It wasn’t a request Harry had to even think over. Lately, he hadn’t been spending as much time as he used to with his godson. He’d take any excuse to spend time with the little metamorphmagus. “Got a date?” he teased.

Andromeda blushed. “No, no,” she denied with a shake of her head. “Just a Healer’s appointment.”

Concern flooded through Harry once again. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s just time for my annual checkup.”

Harry nodded. “That’s good. I have to work tomorrow, but I can take off early.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. It’s fine. I‘m always being told I work too much anyway.”

Andromeda chuckled. “I’ll drop him off a little before noon.”

“Bring him here. A new Muggle comic bookstore opened up just down the street.”

Andromeda rolled her eyes. “You spoil him Harry.”

“Of course. What else are godfathers for?”

After speaking for several more minutes, Andromeda had to plead out. Her grandson was dying of starvation.

“Give him my love,” Harry said.

“I will.”

After the call ended, Harry swung his legs out from under him and leaned back against the front of the chair he’d been sitting in just moments earlier. A happy smile was plastered on his face at the thought of spending the next afternoon with his five-year-old godson.

A thoughtful expression chased away the smile before long as he wondered what Andromeda’s reaction would be to his and her nephew being lovers. He had a feeling he knew how Ron, Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys were going to react, but he was uncertain when it came to Draco’s parents, and Andromeda and Teddy. Of course, he would like to have their blessing, but it wasn’t a necessity. Draco had become an important part of his life and no matter what other people may think, say or do, he was determined to keep Draco by his side for as long as possible.

+ HARRY POTTER + ADVICE 2: WHEEL OF FORTUNE +

That Evening

Despite the lateness of the hour, the Homicide Division was still abuzz with activity. It always amazed Ron how the entire division had turned into a bunch of workaholics. He shook his head in wonder at his colleagues’ determination as he crossed the bullpen towards his best mate‘s office.

Rapping lightly on the closed door, Ron pushed the door open and stuck his head inside without waiting for a reply. “Hey Boss.” He took in the sight of Harry standing bent over the side of his desk shoveling through a mound of paperwork. It was no wonder Harry always seemed to be working. He had a lot of work to do. “Heading home?”

“Yeah,” Harry confirmed, glancing up briefly at Ron before returning to his task. “Got dinner plans.”

“Good,” Ron nodded jerkily. He squirmed uncomfortably at the thought of just whom Harry had dinner plans with.

There was a boom of laughter from the bullpen. Ron glanced over his shoulder. Davidson and Rosenstein had collided, causing both to spill their coffee all over Mitchell from Narcotics who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Ron snickered.

Sobering, Ron stepped fully into the office and shut the door behind him. He turned around to face Harry who was watching him with a neutral expression on his face. “Look, mate,” Ron said. “I-”

“-broke up with Ginny,” Harry blurted.

Ron blinked across the office at Harry. “What?”

Sighing, Harry collapsed down in his chair behind his desk and waved Ron to take the visitor’s chair. “To be accurate, she ended things with me.”

A hundred different emotions and thoughts were racing through Ron as he tried and failed to absorb the startling news that Wizarding Britain‘s Royal Couple--as The Daily Prophet liked to call Harry and Ginny--had called it splitsville. Sure, Ginny and Harry had been having relationship trouble lately, but he’d just chalked it up their demanding careers. That was what he thought anyway until he’d walked in on Harry with Malfoy last night. Now, he knew the truth and apparently so did his sister.

Ron’s face shut down as anger swelled within him. His hands twitched to grab his wand and hex the man sitting five feet away from him to oblivion.

He turned his face away from Harry and stared across the room at the picture hanging on the wall above the mantel. It had been presented to Harry not long after they graduated from the Academy from a particularly well known wizarding artist as a thank you present for capturing his sister’s murderer. To this day, Ron had no idea what the subject matter of the painting was. It was an explosion of color and movement that made no sense whatsoever, but seemed to match the turmoil going on within him.

“She, uhm…” Harry faltered.

“She found out about Malfoy, didn’t she?” Ron guessed with a bit of a bite to his voice. Slowly, he turned back to face Harry just in time to catch a fleeting glimpse of surprise and uncertainty wash across Harry’s face. They were here and gone so quickly that had Ron not been an Auror, he never would have seen them. It was the only confirmation Ron needed.

Sighing, Harry hung his head, his eyes closing. “Yes,” he confirmed. Lifting his head, Harry gazed over the desk at his best friend. “She did.”

Ron clenched his hands into fists to keep from going to his wand. He clenched his teeth together to keep from spewing words he’d later regret. “How long?”

“Two days.”

Cursing, Ron jumped to his feet and paced to the closed office door.

“I’m not going to apologize.”

Flabbergasted, Ron spun around.

Sitting behind his desk, his back straight, shoulders back, chin lifted, his eyes alight with determination, Harry said, “I love him, Ron. I love Draco and I am not going to apologize for that. However,” he continued over Ron’s protestation, “I am sorry for hurting Ginny like I did. There’s no excuse for that. Ginny…She deserves better.”

“Damn right she does,” Ron barked. Sighing, Ron marched back across the room and slumped in the visitor’s chair he’d just vacated. Dropping his face into his hands, he mumbled something about a “pointy faced git” followed by “ferret face”. The anger and violence that had risen within him unexpectedly at Harry’s admission drained away as suddenly as it appeared.

“Ron,” Harry called hesitantly.

Dropping his hands, Ron sat up and taking one look at Harry, shook his head. Standing, he opened his mouth to say something, but when he couldn’t find anything to say that didn’t begin and end with, “Fuck you”, Ron decided it was time to go.

He made his way back to the door.

With his hand on the doorknob, Ron said over his shoulder, “I’m going to need some time.”

“Of course.”

Ron nodded. Silence fell. It broke when he asked, “Are you happy with him?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

Throwing open the door, Ron stepped out and shut the door calmly behind him. It wasn’t until he was back at his desk that he realized he’d forgotten to hand in his report on that cold case he’d been working on. “Sod it,” he muttered. He’d turn it in later after Harry was gone for the night. That way he wouldn’t have to see his face again. Who knew how long he’d be able to hold back the urge to kill the unfaithful bastard.

+ HARRY POTTER + ADVICE 2: WHEEL OF FORTUNE +

Same Time -- The Burrow - Outside Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon, England

Arthur had fallen asleep on the sofa in front of the fire with his hot chocolate in one hand and a rectangular-shaped contraption in the other. Molly shook her head in bemusement at the sight, a smile on her face. She took both and set them on the coffee table. Then she grabbed the afghan hanging on the back of an armchair and covered her husband. Kissing him lightly on the forehead, Molly picked up the untouched hot chocolate and the Muggle thingamabob and strode into the kitchen. She was sorely tempted to toss the whatsit called into the trash, but knew from experience that Arthur would just go out and get another.

Him and his curiosity.

Setting the whatever it was on the counter, she dumped hot chocolate into the sink before turning and heading out of the kitchen, but movement out of the corner of her eye halted her progression. She had her wand out and a string of curses ready before she realized the movement she’d seen was her youngest.

“Merlin,” Molly breathed with a hand over her racing heart. “Ginny dear you gave me such a fright! What are you doing sitting here in the dark?” She turned away to light the lamps. “When did you get home? Are you hungry? How did things go with Harry? You were gone for two days, so obviously-” Molly’s seemingly endless prattling came to a sudden halt. Frowning, she turned back to Ginny. “I’m sorry dear. What was that?”

Lifting her head, Ginny presented her mother with a tear stained face.

Her pulse racing, worry flooded through Molly as did a surge of differing and contradictory emotions and thoughts. “Oh, Ginny,” she cried, “what happened?” Molly rushed to her daughter’s side and embraced the obviously distraught girl.

Ginny’s throat constricted around a sob and a fresh wave of tears stung her eyes. “Oh, Mom,” Ginny sobbed as she threw herself into her mother‘s warm, comforting embrace.

+ HARRY POTTER + ADVICE 2: WHEEL OF FORTUNE +

That Night - Potter Residence - 23 Pasteur Drive, Swindon, Wiltshire, England

Harry sighed as Draco rained kisses, feather light, down his neck, pausing to nip lightly at his Adam’s apple.

“I forgot to tell you,” Draco told him between kisses. “I had tea with Mother this afternoon.”

Running his hands up and down Draco’s sweaty back that rippled with each movement, Harry titled his head to give his lover better access.

Of all the times to talk about his mother, Harry thought, rolling his eyes behind closed eyelids. Was Draco trying to ruin the mood? At the moment, Harry was not interested in hearing about anything that had nothing to with the raging hard-on he was sporting all thanks to a certain someone who’d felt the need to tease him under the table in the middle of one of the most popular wizarding restaurants in Britain. So, he just ignored his lover’s prattling and prayed the aristocratic git got the picture.

“She’s planning our wedding.”

That got Harry’s attention. His hands stilled their downward movement. They were a hairsbreadth from cupping the firm globes of Draco’s ass. His emerald eyes snapped open. “Excuse me?” he asked. He’d been going for stern, but his voice just a little too breathless.

Draco lifted his head, effectively putting a halt to the lavishing he’d been doing to Harry’s chest and stared down at his boyfriend. The upper half of his body was propped up off Harry in a mock pushup motion. “You heard me.”

“What exactly did she say?”

Draco told Harry about his--interesting, to say the least, conversation with his mother over tea earlier that afternoon.

Snorting, Harry shook his head. His lips twitched in amusement. “And it didn’t faze her that we only started dating two days ago?”

Though it had only been two days since they went from being partners to lovers, thus making it too soon to talk marriage, technically Draco has been courting Harry for the past year--as soon as he was free from Astoria in fact. This was made known to all of Wizarding Britain thanks to The Daily Prophet via Rita Skeeter who‘d received an “anonymous” tip. As expected, an enraged Ginevra Weasley had tried to shoot down those rumors immediately, which in turn caused many to believe that there was some truth to them; which of course, there had been. Harry, curiously enough, had remained silent on the matter, which of course had not gone over too well with any of the Weasleys. It’d suited Draco just fine, though.

“It did not seem to deter her.”

Laughing lightly, Harry said, “Must be a Pureblood thing.”

“What?”

“Being so brazen.”

Amused, Draco smirked.

“I mean, we’re not even engaged.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Is that a hint Potter?”

Harry shrugged, ignoring the heat fast encompassing his face. “Just saying.”

Draco snickered.

The laugh jolted through Harry’s body, leaving him breathless and panting and reviving his waning erection.

“Oh and be prepared. She plans to send us to a nudist colony for our honeymoon.”

Harry could not help it. He burst out laughing.

Draco narrowed his blue-grey eyes. “What,” he demanded. “You want to go to a nudist colony so every Tom, Dick and Mary Sue can see yo--my bits?”

“Your bits huh?”

“Damn right,” Draco snapped. To emphasize his point, he reached down between their bodies and cupped said bits.

Pleasure danced up Harry’s spine. It caused him to arch off the bed and into Draco’s touch. It ripped a passion filled cry from his lips. “Oh, God,” he moaned.

“Mine,” Draco growled.

“Yes,” Harry panted as Draco ran his thumb along the underside of his cock.

Draco barked, “Say it.”

“Yours.”

“Louder!”

“Yours!”

Draco pumped Harry’s erection in earnest, loving the way Harry clawed at the mattress beneath him; loved the utterances he spewed; loved him.

As Draco brought him closer to climax, all other thought was nonexistent and that was just the way both men liked it.

+ HARRY POTTER + ADVICE 2: WHEEL OF FORTUNE +

Same Time - The Burrow - Outside Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon, England

Turning onto her side, Ginny reached for her glass of water sitting on the bedside table. When her hand brushed against something else, she jerked her hand back. Propping herself up on her elbow, she grabbed her wand and cast a lumos. She aimed the light at her bedside table. It illuminated an envelope with her name printed on the front in familiar chicken scratch. It was Harry’s letter. The one she’d received from his Devil Bird at Michael’s place that morning.

She smiled at the memory of the man that helped save her from her plight.

As quickly as it appeared, the smile fell.

After spending the entire day with Michael, Ginny had been reluctant to return home for she knew what would happen the moment that happened. And it did. The barricades came crashing down and everything came flooding back.

She may have had to use a petrificus totalus to keep her mother from castrating Harry afterwards--for if anyone did that, it was going to be her--but Ginny had to admit that spending the evening talking to her mother about her troubles with Harry had lifted a huge weight from her shoulders. It felt as if someone had cast a featherweight charm on her.

She’d avoided speaking with her mother in the past for various reasons, almost as if there’d been some sort of geass stopping her, but she’d felt compelled to lay everything out to her mother this time and she was glad she had.

Going to Hermione rather than her mother in the past made her problems with Harry not that big a deal. There was no getting around it this time.

With her wand clutched in her hand, Ginny picked up the envelope and laid back down, holding the unopened letter out in front of her. Frowning, her forehead creased in thought as she wondered what Harry had to say for himself.

Was he asking for her forgiveness; begging her to take him back--to give him a second chance?

Her heart pounding, her palms slick with sweat, Ginny turned the envelope over with trembling hands and slid a finger under the flap. Then, she paused. Removing her finger, Ginny turned the envelope back over and stared at her name on the front of the envelope for long silent moments.

What if Harry was asking for her forgiveness? What if he did want to give it--them another go?

Her mind flashed back to the evidence of his betrayal, the used condoms she found in the trash, the clothing washed and nearly folded on the bed, and anger and sorrow swelled up within her.

With tears stinging her eyes and blurring her vision, her throat tight, her chest aching, she turned onto her side and shoved the still unopened letter into the top drawer of her beside table. Then, whispering, “Nox,” to extinguish the lumos, she hide her wand back under her pillow. Rolling over, she closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.

She’d deal with Harry when she was confident she wouldn’t do something she’d later regret. The problem with that logic was that she wasn’t sure she’d ever regret whatever she ended up doing to Harry.

“Fuck you Harry James Potter,” she whispered harshly into the night. “I hope you and Malfoy rot in hell.”

+ HARRY POTTER + ADVICE 2: WHEEL OF FORTUNE +

Midnight - Weasley Residence - Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon, England

Hermione had been asleep for four hours--she had another early deposition the next day concerning the illegal use of allure by a veela against a wizard--when she, still half-asleep, rolled over to cuddle against her husband’s side. Only, her husband’s side of the bed was empty and cold. Catching herself before she smashed her face into the mattress, Hermione blurrily glanced around the shadow-infested bedroom.

Completely awake now, she called out, “Ron?”

Nothing.

Sitting up, she tossed back the sheet and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Slipping her feet into her slippers, she stood up and shrugged into her robe as she shuffled her way out of the bedroom and through the house in search of her wayward husband. She found him out in the garden staring up at the night sky.

Saying nothing, Hermione crossed the yard silently and sat down on the white marble bench besides him. The bench had been a wedding present from Harry, she remembered. It was an odd thing to be remembering at that moment; or maybe not so odd given that Ron was most likely restless because of the very person who had gifted them the bench they sat upon.

“I hate Malfoy,” Ron commented suddenly in a nonchalant tone. It was almost matter of fact, said in the same tone of voice one would use to greet a stranger waiting at the same bus stop.

Hermione remained silent.

“He used to hate him too.”

The “he” Ron was referring to was most probably Harry, she realized. Still she said nothing.

“So I just--I don’t--I can’t--” Flustered and frustrated, Ron floundered, unable to put into words the betrayal he felt towards his best friend. Jumping to his feet, Ron scrubbed his hands over his face, making an irritated sound in his throat. The impediment was brief for he was soon shouting out angrily, “How can he choose him over my sister? How can he love that spoiled, pompous ass?”

As she was not knowledgeable about everything that had transpired between Harry, Ginny and Malfoy, Hermione felt she could not make an informed decision either way, but she trusted Harry. She worried incessantly about him. More often than not, she felt as if she should be policing his every action to keep him from killing himself as if she were his mother and not his friend, but in the end she did trust him. He did not always have the best judgment or make the greatest decisions, but Harry always did what he felt was right. If that meant breaking a law or two, so be it. It appeared as if he had not changed in that regard.

It was a bitter pill to swallow given their history with the entire Malfoy family, but if being with Draco Malfoy was what made Harry happy, then for Harry’s sake, she was willing to at least pretend to act civil. Of course, this was contingent upon Malfoy not being the same Malfoy she knew from their Hogwarts days, but if the man she’d seen at Bean Sidhe café in Bannum was any indication, it was prudent to say that was not the case. Malfoy may just be the best thing that ever happened to her friend. It was too bad Ron just couldn’t see that.

Ron’s dislike of the Malfoys was ingrained. Changing that was not going to be easy nor was it going to happen overnight, not even for the sake of his best friend.

“Does it matter?” Hermione found herself asking into the night, even though she knew the answer.

Appalled at the question and the matter of fact way she said it, Ron glared down at her. “Of course it does! It’s Malfoy!”

Her face blank, Hermione simply stared up at her husband without saying anything. This stubbornness of his was going to end up costing Ron his friendship with Harry.

Eventually, Ron turned his face--that was flushed with anger and confusion and a little hurt--away.

Hermione‘s expression softened into one of understanding. “What about Harry? You may not like Malfoy, but Harry is your best friend-”

“And Ginny’s my sister,” Ron shot back, spinning back around to face her. With a curse, Ron spun around and raked his fingers through his hair.

For once, Hermione was at a loss.

“He…”

Standing up, Hermione approached her husband. She longed to reach out to him to comfort him--to tell him she understood; that everything would work itself out in the end, but she didn’t--couldn’t.

“He said he was happy.”

“Then isn’t that all that matters?”

Ron shook his head; not in denial, Hermione knew. “How…? How can he be--happy with--with…?”

“He’s in love Ron,” Hermione said as if that was answer enough and to most it would be.

“What about Ginny?” Ron retorted, turning around towards her.

Hermione was silent for several long moments as she searched her husband‘s face--for what, she was unsure. But then she found it. “What’s this really about? Ginny or Malfoy?”

Spinning away with a curse, Ron raked his fingers once again through his ginger locks.

“I understand as Ginny’s older brother, you feel it’s your duty to look out for her--protect her, but things between her and Harry have nothing to do with you. There are just some things you are just not going to have control over.” It was something she learned the hard. “Whatever happened between her and Harry happened. There’s no changing it. This isn’t a muggle videogame where you can just press reset. It’s done. It’s over.”

“But Malfoy-!”

“-is dating Harry, your best friend, now. Harry said he was in love with Malfoy, didn’t he? That he was happy?” At the nod, she continued, “Then that’s all that matters. It’s time to leave the past in the past and move on. If you cannot find it within yourself to give Malfoy a second chance for Harry‘s sake…Well.” Hermione stood watching the back of her husband’s head, willing him to say something; anything. She heaved a heavy, tired sigh. Then shaking her head, turned and started back towards the house. She paused with her hand on the door and a foot in the kitchen. “It makes me wonder, though, which is more important: a grudge or your best friend.” With that, Hermione vanished into the house.

Standing in the middle of the back garden, Ron tipped his head back and stared up at the sea of stars that twinkled and pulsated in the heavens above.

What kind of friend was he that he couldn’t at least pretend to be happy for Harry?

+ TO BE CONTINUED +

pacerunY"�Y'��`rYou might need this.” She handed over the ring.

“Yeah. I think I just might,” Ginny agreed. She slid the gold band onto her left ring finger, admiring the emerald flanked on either side by a small white diamond. “Thanks Ma.” She looked up and spoke softly to her mother.

Standing in the threshold between her daughter’s room and the hallway, Molly smiled back at her youngest child. “Speak to him, Ginny.”

Ginny nodded. “I will.”

“Everything’ll work out fine. You’ll see.”

“I know they will.”

With a smile and a nod, Molly left, shutting the door gently behind her. She made her way down the stairs to the kitchen to retrieve her groceries. When she noticed that the carrots were missing, she sighed heavily and shook her head, cursing gnomes.

+ HARRY POTTER + ADVICE 2: WHEEL OF FORTUNE +

As soon as the door closed behind her mother, Ginny’s face fell. Misery enveloped her. It wrapped its arms around her and held her tight. Drawing her legs to her chest, she hugged her arms around her knees and dropped her face to her legs as tears filled her eyes, her throat constricted around a sob and her chest tightened.

“-and he chose Malfoy over me,” she whispered into the silence of the room against her jean-clad legs.

Her silent sobbing filled the room as her despair grew.

It wasn’t fair, she thought. It just wasn’t fair at all.

+ HARRY POTTER + ADVICE 2: WHEEL OF FORTUNE +

Late Evening - Potter Residence - 23 Pasteur Drive, Swindon, Wiltshire, England

“Oh hey,” Harry spoke up into the mellow silence that had enveloped the men.

He and Draco were in the parlor lounging in front of the stone hearth where a roaring fire was slowly burning. The flames danced and undulated beautifully, giving the quickly dimming room a soft glow and illuminating the hand carved mahogany mantel, but gave off no heat. They were slowly polishing off a bottle of wine and a fruit and cheese platter courtesy of Kreacher.

Harry was of a mind to think that the old, decrepit house-elf had a crush on Draco because Kreacher was never this nice or thoughtful when Ginny was over. In fact, Kreacher disappeared when she was around.

Sipping his wine, Draco made a noise that indicated he was listening.

“You remember that--what’s his name--that Lucas Mahoney or whatever it was?”

“You mean from the Jackson case?” Draco set his wine down on the side table besides the plush armchair he had confiscated and picked up a grape from the platter on the coffee table. “The one who didn’t fit the pattern?” He popped the grape into his mouth.

Harry nodded as he took a sip of his wine. “Turns out,” he said, lounging back in the corner of the sofa, “his real name was Eamon.” Harry pronounced the name “AY mon”.

Draco cocked an eyebrow.

“Guess he hated his name so much he changed it, but it hadn’t been made legal yet.”

“Eamon. Really?” Draco washed down a second grape with a sip of wine. “If I were him I would have done the same thing. I mean, what kind of name is Eamon?”

“Irish,” Harry deadpanned.

“Oh. Ha. Ha,” Draco shot back dryly.

Harry snickered. “People could say the same about your name you know. It’s not even a name. It’s the name of a constellation.”

Draco glared at Harry.

Harry saluted him with his wine glass.

“So,” Draco said with one last glare before turning away and picking a square piece of mozzarella cheese from the platter, “this guy--he strangled and sexually assaulted--what?--nine people before we stopped him?”

“Right. Aaron Baker, Bailey Calkins, Cadan D‘anna, Dana Eaton, Eamon Faatz, Fanny Gabriel, Gary Haenel, Harriet Ianni and Ian Jarvis (1).” Harry held up a finger for each of the victims of the monster Jack Jackson and tortured to death.

“Sick fuck.”

“Got that right.”

+ HARRY POTTER + ADVICE 2: WHEEL OF FORTUNE +

Same Time - Granger-Weasley Residence - Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon, England

Like after the second Muggle World War, once Voldemort was defeated, there was an influx of marriages followed by a baby boom. Ron and Hermione had been no exception as the June following Voldemort’s fall, they were married. It wasn’t anything fancy or elaborate; just a simple ceremony followed by dinner with family and close friends. But instead of starting a family like every other newly married couple was doing, Ron had gone to Auror Academy with Harry, much to the disappointment of Hermione who had decided to go back to school to sit her NEWTs. Even now that Ron and Hermione had gradated from their various institutions they had yet to start a family.

“We have plenty of time,” Hermione said at one point.

For the time being, both Ron and Hermione wanted to concentrate on their jobs; Ron was an Auror working for Harry who ran the Homicide Division of the Auror Department and Hermione worked in the DMLE as a solicitor alongside the Department‘s top barrister.

Yet, despite their demanding careers, Ron and Hermione seemed to be able to make time for one another. They appeared to be more in love now than they had when they were first married. Ginny envied them that. It seemed as if the closer her brother and Hermione became, the farther apart she and Harry got. Why was life so unfair? All she wanted was to get married, start a family and live happily ever after with her prince by her side. Was that too much to ask for?

She apparated in front of the one and a half story rural house where her brother and Hermione lived.

Hoping they were at home, Ginny strode up the narrow dirt path to the front door. She’d barely touched her knuckle to the wood when the door swung open an inch. Wary, Ginny stepped forward and pushed the door open. “Hello?” she called hesitantly. She stepped inside and shut the door behind her. “Hello?” she called out again in a louder voice. “Ron? Hermione?”

“Ginny?” called a female voice from the back of the house.

“Yeah it’s me,” Ginny called back.

There was the sound of approaching footsteps and moments later, a familiar figure appeared around the corner. “Hey!”

“Hey,” Ginny greeted her sister-in-law with a forced smile. It hurt to smile.

Hermione crossed towards her enveloped her in a hug. “Not that’s its not great to see you, Gin, but I was just about to head up to bed. What’s up?”

“Oh.” Ginny scratched at the back of her head sheepishly. She’d picked up the gesture from Harry. “I, uh, I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized it was that late. I can come back in the morning-”

“Nonsense.” Hermione looped her arm through Ginny’s and led the younger girl down the short hall to the small room located towards the back of the house that she had confiscated as her home office. “It’s obvious something happened and you know my door is always open day or night.”

“Thanks,” Ginny sagged against Hermione as the tension vanished all at once. Tears of relief filled her eyes. She was not sure what she would have done had Hermione turned her away. She really needed to speak to someone about this. As much as she loved her mother, she couldn’t discuss this with her. “Where’s my brother?” Ginny inquired as she stepped into the meticulously--one could say obsessively--neat office despite the stacks of clutter that filled it. Organized chaos.

“Sleeping,” Hermione answered. “He has an early shift tomorrow.”

Ginny nodded as Hermione conjured a chair for her.

“Actually,” Hermione confessed as she rounded her desk, looking a little sheepish, “I put a sleeping drought in his tea.”

Wide eyed, Ginny spluttered. “What? Why? What happened?”

Hermione heaved a heavy, tried sigh as she dragged her chair around the desk next to Ginny’s. “I got into an argument with Harry this afternoon about something stupid and when I relayed to Ron what happened, he, well--he’s a little upset.”

Ginny nodded in understanding. Her littlest big brother was a bit of a hothead.

“Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Water? Juice?”

“No thank you,” Ginny shook her head.

Once Hermione was settled in her chair, she inquired as to what her sister-in-law wanted to talk to her about. “Does this have to do with Harry?”

Folding her hands in her lap, Ginny hung her head and nodded.

Hermione said nothing, just folded her hands demurely in her lap and waited patiently.

“You know how we talked about me taking the initiative and moving in with Harry?”

Hermione winced. That was not exactly what she’d said or meant. “Oh, Ginny,” she moaned. “Tell me you didn’t.” What she’s said was to confront Harry. Hermione understood Ginny’s impatience and frustration with the rut her and Harry’s relationship seemed to be in--and yes, as women they sometimes had to take the initiative because men could be such clueless morons sometimes. As liberal and independent as she liked to think of herself as, even Hermione had to admit there was a fine line women shouldn’t cross. It had taken her quite some time to come to this realization.

Ginny winced. “Yeah,” she admitted in a small voice.

With a sigh, Hermione pushed it aside. What was done was done.

“He was already in a bad mood now that I think about it,” Ginny continued in that same demurred voice. “Now I know why.” Catching me bringing my stuff over just made things worse, she thought sadly. She really was an idiot. What had she been thinking?

Hermione cringed. “What happened?”

Ginny told Hermione about the argument. Afterwards, there was nothing but the buzzing of the insects.

“You shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Hermione finally said. “People say things they don’t mean when they’re angry. You’re no exception,” she reminded the younger woman.

Ginny blushed. That was too true.

“And besides, we all know about Harry’s anger management problem.”

Ginny nodded.

“Harry is the epitome of a Gryffindor: he acts first, thinks later. You of all people should know that.”

That had Ginny laughing.

Hermione dropped her head in thought. “I’ve known Harry since he was eleven years old and if there’s one thing I’m absolutely certain about is that he’ll fight for his friends.” She lifted her head. “He’ll defend them to his dying breath--even if it means going up against those he cares about.”

That sounded exactly like Harry.

“Like you said, he was already in a bad mood, for which I apologize. That was completely my fault. Like I said, we--we had a bit of an--a disagreement-” Hermione winced at the choice of words. Understatement of the century, she thought. “-about his--association with Malfoy and he ended up saying--a few things before he stormed out and then you-”

“-had the misfortune of running into him directly afterwards,” Ginny finished with a wince.

Giving Ginny an apologetic look, Hermione nodded.

Ginny’s mind was reeling.

“Look,” Hermione was saying, “I know you hate Malfoy.”

That’s an understatement, Ginny snorted.

As if reading Ginny’s mind, Hermione snickered lightly. “I’m not overtly fond of him myself and Ron hates his guts, and he has every reason to, but not only is Malfoy Harry’s partner, like he told you, but Harry considers him a friend. So whether you like it or not, Malfoy is going to remain a part of Harry’s life and if you love Harry and want to remain in his life, this is just something we’re all going to have to deal with.”

Ginny bit her lip and glanced at a towering pile of books in the far corner that had to be held up with magic for gravity surely would have pulled the stack down long ago.

She wasn’t sure if she could do that--befriend Malfoy that was. There were just some things she wasn’t--couldn’t--refused to forgive Malfoy or his family for--not even for Harry’s sake. That was what she told Hermione.

Hermione gave her a sad little smile. “I know and that’s fine. Nobody said you had to, but for Harry‘s sake and for the sake of your relationship, you‘re going to have to learn to at least pretend, because trying to come in-between Harry and Malfoy or any of his other friends is only going to cause you heartache in the end. I should know,” Hermione continued. There was a sorrowful note to her voice now. “Both Ron and I have never liked Malfoy and we hated it when Harry started associating with Draco and then Harry said he considered Malfoy a good friend…we’ve tried talking to Harry about it, telling him how Malfoy was no good… but all it’s done is make things worse.”

Cursing, Ginny bent over and dropped her face in her hands.

“Look, Gin,” Hermione said, sliding to the edge of her chair. “What you should do is go talk with Harry, even if you have to bind him to a chair or something.”

Ginny giggled and lifted her head.

“Tell him what you told me. Talk things out.” Hermione emphasized the last part by punctuating each word as if it its own sentence. “Okay?”

Ginny nodded. “Alright. Yeah.”

Hermione smiled. “He loves you. You know that right?”

A warm feeling washed over Ginny. She nodded. “I do. I love him too.”

Both women stood up.

“Thing’s’ll work out. You’ll see,” Hermione whispered as she hugged Ginny.

“I know they will,” Ginny whispered back and she returned the hug. “Thank you. Really. For everything.”

“Of course,” Hermione said as she pulled back. “What’re sisters for?”

They shared a laugh.

Hermione walked Ginny back through the house in silence. Each was lost in her own thoughts. At the door, Hermione waylaid her sister-in-law with a hand on her shoulder. “Give Malfoy a chance,” she suggested.

Ginny’s eye twitched. She knew that if she wanted to keep Harry in her life, she had to polish up on her acting skills, but giving Malfoy a chance was outside her comfort zone.

“He’s not--He’s not such a bad bloke,” Hermione continued, seeing the hesitation on the ginger-haired girl’s face.

Ginny rounded on Hermione. “What?! Not so bad? What the fu-?”

“I saw them today,” Hermione was saying as if she hadn’t heard Ginny. She stared past Ginny’s shoulders at the night sky where a sea of stars twinkled majestically, knowing she probably shouldn’t say anything, but knowing she had to. “At the café.” She turned her gaze towards a furious Ginny. “I watched them--saw them interact.” She dropped her gaze to her slippered feet, gathering her thoughts. “It’s obvious--Malfoy seems to be the only one who can talk sense into Harry sometimes.”

The fury ebbed away at the words only to be replaced with a cold dread. It was the same feeling Ginny came to Hermione to get rid of. Now here Hermione was confirming what Ginny had already suspected. It was like a replay of what had transpired with her talk with her mother. Ginny felt nauseous.

“Like I said, talk to Harry. It’s obvious you have some things to talk about.”

Ginny could only nod.

“At this point, the only suggestion I can give you is to not make my mistake. If you force Harry to choose between you and Malfoy…He will choose Malfoy over you.”

The bottom fell out of Ginny’s stomach. This was not what she’d wanted to hear when she came over.

Somehow, Ginny made it home without splinching herself, undressed, crawled into bed and was asleep before her head hit the pillow. Her last conscious thought was that she both dreaded and looked forward to seeing Harry in the morning.

As Hermione was crawling into bed besides a snoring Ron, she silently apologized to Ginny as she remembered what she’d witnessed back in Bannum Alley earlier that afternoon. She had a feeling that it was already too late. Harry just might have already chosen.

+ HARRY POTTER + ADVICE 2: WHEEL OF FORTUNE +

That Night - Potter Residence - 23 Pasteur Drive, Swindon, Wiltshire, England

With a glass of wine in one hand, Draco stood from the sofa and waltzed over to one of the built-in bookcases flanking the fireplace. Only a couple of the shelves had books on them. The rest of the space was interspersed with knickknacks.

From the sofa, Harry sipped his wine and watched Draco. Maybe it was the large consumption of alcohol he’d consumed that day, but he found his gaze roaming the other’s tall, lean figure with growing appreciation, lingering on the tight ass that filled out those fitted Muggle designer jeans almost a little too well.

Draco ran a finger across the spines of the books and paused over one with a burgundy-red cover. “The Adventures of Lucius Caecilius Iucundus,” he read. He cocked an eyebrow over his shoulder.

Harry shrugged, ignoring the warmth that spread across his cheeks.

Setting his wine down, Draco pulled out the book and flipped carefully through its yellowed pages. He could guessimate its age to be a little over two centuries old.

“I was given the book by a Mrs. Fredrick J. Smith,” Harry said. “It was during one of the very first cases Pieletska assigned me to.”

“Really? What happened?”

“Early one morning when Mrs. Smith woke to let her dog out, she found a body floating face down in the small pond located on her property. It turns out that she had a noggle-”

Draco marked his place with a finger and turned towards Harry. “A noggle?” He’d been under the impression that the Noggle inhabited the Shetland Islands; or used to at any rate. Last he heard, there hadn’t been a noggle spotted there in decades.

Harry nodded and took a sip of his wine. “Yeah. They appear only by water as a small gray horse with bridle and saddle, its tail curled up over its back-”

“Yes. Yes,” Draco said with a wave of his hand. He knew damn well what a noggle looked like. He wasn’t an idiot.

“Well, then you know that they’re usually fairly harmless-”

“Except to mills and idiots who think it’s cute to ride a miniature horse.”

Harry chuckled. “It turns out the guy Mrs. Smith found face down in her pond was a thief. Went by the name Thrasymachus.”

Draco cocked an eyebrow.

“His real name was Wendell,” Harry deadpanned.

Draco barked out a laugh. “Wendell?”

Harry laughed, his emerald green eyes sparkling in mirth. “He’d been on the run for at least a decade. Has hit hundreds of houses--both Muggle and magical--and the Aurors were no closer to catching him than when he first appeared on the scene.”

“Useless. All of them.”

Harry shrugged. “We speculate that this guy heard rumors of Mrs. Smith’s collection of antiques that included that book,” Harry waved a hand at the book Draco still held, “and that particular night he’d planned on a little shopping spree, but got, ah, waylaid, as it were, by the sudden appearance of the noggle.”

Draco snorted. “Idiot.”

“Again this is all speculation.”

“Of course.”

Seeing as “Thrasymachus” was dead, it was difficult to know what exactly the man was doing on Mrs. Smith’s property. It could be that this guy was just passing through.

“But whatever he was doing there, he saw the noggle and maybe thought it was nothing more than a miniature horse and decided to take it for a ride, but once he got on the saddle-”

“He couldn’t get off.”

“Right,” Harry said with a nod. “And thus drowned when the noggle immediately went into the water (2).”

Draco returned his gaze to the book clasped around his finger. “And as a reward, Mrs. Smith gave you this book?”

Harry shrugged. “Yeah.” Noticing he was running low on wine, he reached for the wine bottle in the ice bucket and poured himself some more.

Opening the book to the page he‘d marked, Draco went back to flipping through the pages.

“It’s about this well-known Pompeian banker Lucius Caecilius Iucundus and his family on that August day when Mt. Vesuvius erupted.”

“Have you read it?”

“A little,” Harry confessed, “but it’s slow going since I’m not fluent in Latin.”

Draco nodded. “As with all Pureblood children, I was taught to speak Latin, as well as French, fluently,” he explained haughtily, “but it’s been awhile.”

“A bit rusty huh?” Harry teased.

“A bit,” Draco agreed with a twitch of his lips. He flipped to the last chapter. It was titled, “finis”. Without even reading the chapter, Draco felt it was safe to assume what happened. “iam nubes atra ad terram descendebat; iam cinis densissimus incinerate. plurimi Pompeiani iam de urbe sua desperabant. multi peribant (3),” he read. “Now black clouds were coming down to earth; now very thick ash was falling. Most Pompeians now about the city were becoming despaired. Many were dying,” he translated roughly. He mentally winced. It really had been a long time. Snapping the book closed, he slid it back onto the shelf. “A very depressing read Potter.”

Harry saluted Draco with his wine and a chuckle. “Even without knowing Latin, I could have told you that.”

“Yes. Seeing as it is about a man living in Pompeii when Mt. Vesuvius erupted and buried the town,” Draco said as he returned to the sofa besides Harry.

“Exactly.”

“Have you had it appraised at all?”

“No.” Harry set his glass on the coffee table.

“You should.” Draco downed the last of his wine and placed the now empty glass besides Harry’s. “Given its excellent condition and its rarity, you could probably get a fair price for it.”

Harry shrugged.

“I know some reputable dealers I can recommend.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Just let me know.”

Having a book appraised was not very high on Harry’s list of priorities at the moment.

Silence enveloped the two men.   It was a comfortable lull and not the least bit strained.

As Harry sat staring at the undulating flames dancing erotically within the fireplace, for aesthetic appeal rather than warmth this warm spring night, he sensed rather than felt movement besides him. That was when he found himself suddenly aware of Draco’s presence besides him. There was Draco’s arm thrown casually along the back of the sofa behind Harry’s head that Harry was certain was not there moments before. Warmth flooded his face. Suddenly feeling nervous for some inexplicable reason, Harry fidgeted and forcibly cleared his throat. Was it him or was the space between him and Draco growing smaller and smaller?

He jumped when a hand that did not belong to him settled onto his thigh just above the knee and ever so slowly started sliding upwards. Harry gulped. His pulse was racing. His heart was pounding. He couldn’t catch his breath. He tried to speak--to tell Draco to remove his hand from his person, but he couldn’t find the words. All that came out was the name of the man besides him who was currently in the process of molesting him.

“Draco.” It came out as a breathy whisper.   It didn’t sound like his voice at all.

When the hand halted a hairsbreadth from his groin, Harry breathed a sigh. He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved. What he did know was that his pants were uncomfortably tight and causing certain parts of him to chafe.

“Har~ry.”

His name rolling off Draco’s tongue sent a pleasant tingle rolling through him. Or maybe it was the hand that was suddenly cupping him through his pants. “Oh, God,” he moaned, arching into the gentle, but firm touch that seemed to be burning its way through the layers of cloth between it and his aching cock.

Draco ran his thumb over the head of Harry’s pulsating cock.

Pleasure shot up Harry’s spine. He moaned again and thrust his hips into the touch.

His head was spinning. Merlin help him. He had no idea what was going on, but he wanted more.

He’d readily admit to finding Draco attractive. It was fact like the sky being blue and the grass being green. So what? Even the straightest of men would find Draco to be a good-looking bloke. He’d even admit to having several very erotic wet dreams staring the blond Adonis as of late. But that didn’t mean anything. Who didn’t have a homoerotic dream at least once? It was no big deal. Dreams weren’t meant to be taken literally after all. Just because he’d dreamt of this very scenario countless times didn’t mean that over the course of their post-Hogwarts relationship, he’d fallen in love with the man.

If that were the case, though, then why wasn’t he telling Draco to stop?

Panting, Harry rocked his hips in time to the hand jerking him off. He dropped his head back against the top of the sofa as the building pleasure overcame any doubts, questions, and uncertainties.

Harry watched Draco from hooded eyes as the blond haired blue eyed Potions Master slid off the sofa and sank to his knees in front of him. Draco looked up and caught his eye. Harry’s breath hitched.

Without taking his eyes away from the lust filled emerald ones, Draco unclasped Harry’s pants and lowered the zipper, being carefully not to get Harry caught.

Harry gulped. He clawed at the delicate fabric covering the cushions. His toes dug grooves into the floor.

Draco grabbed Harry’s cock, hard yet soft and throbbing, and freed it from its uncomfortable confinement. When he took the entire length into his mouth, worshipping it, loving it, Harry’s eyes rolled back as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through him. Moans, grunts, and other nonsensical noise filled the otherwise quiet of the house.

Harry knew he should stop Draco before it escalated any further, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember why.

+ TO BE CONTINUED +

Brónach (BRO nakh): Traditional Irish name. Possibly meaning “sorrow”. Other spellings: Brona, Bronagh.

Heinin: Welsh name. Not sure what it means.

Magnus Hallucinari: Great Dream

(1) Get the pattern? First a male is killed, then a girl, then a boy, then a girl, etc, but there’s more to the pattern then that. Can you see it? Here’s a hint. Jack Jackson’s last victim would have been Zach Aaserud.

(2) Info from Magickal Mystical Creatures by D.J. Conway

(3) Taken from the fourth edition (2001) Cambridge Latin Courses Unit 1. Please excuse the crude translation.
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Advice 2: Wheel of Fortune