Do You Still Believe?

So sacrifice yourself
And let me have what's left
I know that I can find
A fire in your eyes
I'm goin all the way
Get away, please
Breaking Benjamin - Breath
-o0o-

Harry had the paperwork back at the office and on Shacklebolt's desk before midnight struck. He returned to his home, and settled himself in for a sleepless night.

Tomorrow was the day he would visit Ron's grave.

-

He awoke with the sun, and dressed silently. This would make eight years since Ron's death, and he allowed himself a moment to wonder what his best friend would have done with those eight years. Would he have gone into Quidditch? Or joined Harry in the Aurors? For that matter, if it hadn't been for the loss of his two friends, would he have joined the Aurors at all?

No use crying over spilt pumpkin juice, his subconscious reminded him, sounding despairingly like Hermione. What's done is done. This is the life you have now. Deal with it.

Several years ago, he'd gone with the Weasleys to visit their son and brother's grave. After a while, they stopped coming, one by one, as the pain of loss eased, and they moved on with their lives. Occasionally Harry found flowers or other offerings on the gravesite, and realised that he wasn't the only one who still visited, but he was always alone these days. If there were already people there when he arrived, he hung back until they left. He had no desire to share his treasured memories of the red-headed lad with any one. They were his, some of the only things he had left to call his own.

Apparating to the cemetary, his feet found the path to Ron's grave on their own, while his mind wandered. He knelt beside the stone, engraved with "War Hero" on Harry's insistence. "Hello mate," he said softly. "Been another year. I'm still with the Aurors. I guess it's going alright. Would have been better with you there, but you knew that already." He laid the flowers down, letting them rest against the headstone. "I've a new partner again." If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that he was sitting there next to his old friend, beside the lake outside Hogwarts, and they were just talking about their day. His voice eased as he spoke, imagining what Ron would say to him if he were there. "You'll never guess who it is. Draco Malfoy. I can't understand him at all," Harry continued. "He's trying to become a Potions Master, like Snape, but then he suddenly applied to be an Auror. And I got saddled with him. I wish you were here, mate," he said softly, opening his eyes as a soft rain began to fall. "You'd remember all the old names we used to call him. I can't think of a single one."

The rain mingled with his tears, slipping hotly down his cheeks, as he stared at the arched stone marker.

-o0o-

Draco arrived punctually at eight o clock, dressed in the standard uniform of slacks and a button down shirt. He'd brought his robes with him, to be worn if he were sent out of the building, but it was generally accepted that while you were inside, muggle clothes were fine.

The first thing he did was clear the paperwork out of Potter's cubicle. He'd brought a filing cabinet in with him, and he set it up in the corner before filing everything away where it was supposed to be, and getting it off the desks and walls and floor. He rearranged the desks slightly so that they were even, and pressed against the far wall, leaving extra space at the entrance to the cubicle for a coat rack or a plant. That done, he pulled out some family pictures, and laid them on his desk - Narcissa and Lucius' wedding day, and a family portrait taken just before he entered Hogwarts. He took down the pictures of the victims, and filed them into the cabinet; Potter might appreciate knowing that he failed, but Draco's nerves would be shot after the first day if he had to sit there and work with those faces staring sadly down at him.

He'd ordered a floral and fragrant plant, as well as a few other personal effects via the floo, and they were delivered shortly afterwards by owl. The rest of the Aurors in attendance watched helplessly as he refit the cubicle to his liking. Finally, after an hour, the staring got to him.

"Can I help you lot, or are you expecting the Dark Lord to jump out of my skin?" he asked facetiously. Shacklebolt had made him promise to make nice with Potter; that didn't mean he had to be busom buddies with the entire department.

One nervous looking chap stepped forward, clearing his throat. "I, well, that is, we, uh - that's dangerous," he finally managed. Draco raised an eyebrow at his manner.

"I assure you, the plant is entirely safe," he said. The man shook his head.

"Not that." He swallowed rhythmically, something that was already getting on Draco's nerves. How did this man become an Auror in the first place? He looked as though a tap on the shoulder from behind would give him a heart attack. "This," he said, and gestured broadly to the cubicle, which was now nearly unrecognisable. "He's not going to like it."

"He all but bit my head off for putting up a picture of my mum," one witch said, stepping forward. "And now you've gone and changed everything." She sighed shudderingly, looking around the cubicle with thinly veiled horror.

Draco smirked, lifting his chin defiantly. "He's stuck with me for a year whether he likes it or not. He's not getting rid of me that easily." He caught a glimpse of the clock out of the corner of his eye, and turned to look. "Where is he, anyway? I was given to believe he was rather punctual."

The group shared a nervous glance, before the witch spoke again. "He's not coming today," she mumbled.

"Is he sick?" Draco asked archly, irritated when the lot of them shook their heads. "Well, did he fall off a bridge?" Another group head-shake. Draco's patience was wearing thin. "Well then, where is he?"

"It's the thirteenth of February," the nervous wizard offered. "He's always gone two days every year, without fail. The thirteenth and the twenty seventh of February." He swallowed again when Draco's hawk-eyed gaze fell on him.

"Why?" he snapped. They all averted their eyes from him. "I assure you that if I need to find this out on my own, I will not hesitate to hex each and every one of you."

"His friends," the witch said, apparently the self-appointed spokes-person for them. "Those are the days his friends..." She trailed off, shaking her head.

Her words sprang with sudden clarity into Draco's mind, and he understood. Potter took two personal days a year, did he? He'd not struck Draco as the type who would drag his bleeding and broken body into work rather than take a vacation, but it certainly fit with the Gryffindorish way he threw himself into everything he did without a second look back.

"And none of you freeloaders felt it necessary to inform me - as his resident working partner for the next twelve months - of his annual habits?" he asked, testily. They shuffled and fidgeted, none of them looking him in the eye.

"Well, we're so used to his habits, y'see, we didn't even think about it. But since you've asked, I guess I'll tell you." A third man, one who'd been silent up to this point stepped forward.

Draco regarded him coolly. "So kind of you."


"I woke up this morning, and looked at the calendar, and just knew that I wouldn't be seeing Potter today. It's been that way for the last seven or eight years. I've never seen him get sick, or wounded in any way that would prevent him from coming in, and he's always here. Most of the time, he's here before any of us get in, and he's here long after we've left. Sometimes I've been in early, and I hear Shacklebolt ask him if he's just got in, or if he's been in all night, and it's about even, what he says. He doesn't stand anything in his space to be touched, which is why we were all so worried about you when we noticed what you was doing."

"Duly noted," Draco said archly. "Can any of you kindly souls tell me where I can find him today?"

They exchanged a horrified glance. "You don't want to do that. He likes his privacy."

"So I've gathered," Draco said, his tone frosty. "Tell me, because if I'm forced to track him down, I'm going to make your lives even more miserable than he does."

They looked miserable already, but slowly dispersed without telling him anything. Draco scowled around at the newly-redecorated cubicle, and then stalked out of the building, thinking to himself that it was no surprise that Potter had little to do with these fools. He did, however, take the time to poke his head into Shacklebolt's office.

"I'm going to find Potter," he said. Shacklebolt waved him off disinterestedly, and he smirked, wending his way through the maze of corridors to the exit and Apparition point. He was almost to the door when a startled voice came from behind him.

"Malfoy, wait, you're doing what?" Shacklebolt put a hand out to stop him, but he neatly ducked away from it without making it obvious he was avoiding the touch.

"Going to find Potter," he repeated. The head Auror shook his head.

"That would be a very unwise idea. This is one of his personal days."

"So I've been told. I'm still going." Draco pushed open the door, and left a flabbergasted Shacklebolt behind him. His curiousity about Potter's whereabouts overrode his common sense, and he apparated blindly.


-o0o-
OMFG. Tom Felton SINGS. Did any of you know this?

bloodsoakedninja: Damn, you're fast. XD Thanks for reviewing! I hadn't even realised that I'd kept Draco in Slytherin-character. XDD That's just... how I see him. Yay, I'm better at staying character than I thought! Glad you're enjoying this so far~

tar21, Insanely Wicked Doll: thanks for reviewing!