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Survivor's Joy	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4586 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Survivor's Joy
- 1
Title: Survivor�s
Joy

Disclaimer: J. K.
Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this for fun and not
profit.

Word Count: ~24,000

Rating: R/M.

Pairings: Harry/Draco

Warnings: DH
spoilers (ignores epilogue), language, sex, some violence.

Summary: Harry
works for the Aurors. Draco works for the Department for the Regulation and
Control of Magical Creatures. There�s not much reason for them to meet�until
someone starts selling diluted Wolfsbane potion, and they find out just how
much the years since the war have moved them both on from simply surviving.

Author�s Notes: This
is an extremely belated birthday fic for aldebaran1977; I am so sorry that this took so
long! Her request was: H/D (of course!),
first time, mystery plot or at least any plot, one or both of them working as auror(s) or some rare occupation, flangst,
ferret!Draco. Here�s hoping I managed to hit them
all, and happy un-birthday!

Survivor�s Joy

�� What does
this button do?�

�� Harry
sighed and captured M�ire Dobson�s hand as she tried to press the lift button
that would take them to the ninth floor of the Ministry instead of the
Department of Magical Law Enforcement. �Don�t do that,� he said, and pressed
the right one.

�� I only
asked what that button did,� said M�ire, and leaned against the back of the
lift, grinning at him, as it clunked and began to rise. �That�s not a crime.�

�� Unlike
some other things you�ve done, no,� Harry said, fighting against the very
strong urge to roll his eyes. No one had told him about criminals like M�ire when
he went through Auror training. They had studied famous cases involving
murderers, rapists, kidnappers, Dark wizards who became addicted to the
Unforgivable Curses, and, of course, incidents during the war with Voldemort.
(Harry had put up with the way the other trainees stared at him by invoking the
name of Voldemort loudly and often. Watching the entire class flinch soothed
him).

�� And then
there were people like M�ire, who committed small crimes often and regularly,
but with such a lack of evidence or consequences that it was easier to let them
go than take up cell space or paperwork by retaining them. This time, M�ire had
practiced sleight-of-hand in front of a crowd of Muggles, and perhaps she had used magic to aid
herself. Harry didn�t know for certain if she had, because nothing she said
should be trusted. When the report of the crime had come in from a team of
tense Obliviators and he�d heard the description of the woman committing it,
he�d sat with his head in his hands for several minutes.

�� Now he
sourly studied the woman across from him, who lived to be a nuisance. She was
utterly ordinary, with dark hair and brown eyes, save perhaps for her height;
she stood only five feet tall. But her gaze wandered restlessly around the
lift, trying to find something she could break, steal, cast a spell on�even
though her wand rested firmly in Harry�s robe pocket�or ask questions about.
And she would, inevitably. This was the fifteenth time Harry had arrested her,
and every time she caused more trouble in custody than she had out of it.

�� Why is the
Ministry so ugly?� she asked suddenly. She turned around and blinked at Harry.
�You�d think they�d want people to visit, not be kept away by the horror of
what they might see if they venture here.�

�� Actually,
there are certain visitors we want to discourage,� Harry said, giving her a
pointed look as the lift doors opened. He caught M�ire�s arm. She promptly went
limp. Harry shrugged, Body-Bound her, and levitated her in front of him. She
frowned reproachfully at him; Hermione could manage a Body-Bind that froze even
the muscles of the face, but Harry had never acquired the skill to do so.

�� Sorry,�
said Harry, with total insincerity, and then herded her into the small, crowded
office where all captured criminals were brought when first entering the
Ministry. Olivia Stone, the witch on duty, looked up with a frown when she saw
him; she and Harry had taken an instant dislike to each other from the first
day they�d met in Auror training. Stone probably thought she was entirely
innocent, of course. Harry didn�t take to her because she taught like Umbridge
minus the Blood Quill.

�� Then Stone
saw M�ire, and her face changed. She disliked constant criminals even more than
Harry did. She nodded and shoved the relevant paperwork across the desk to
Harry without fuss. Harry bent down to fill it out, idly aware that M�ire was
making faces at Stone, who sat stiffly and stared at her. Since he absolutely
did not care who won that contest, he
didn�t bother looking up.

�� He�d just
signed his name when the door rattled behind him. Harry turned, wand lifted to
float M�ire out of the way. From the sound of it, someone was bringing
half-a-dozen criminals into Stone�s office. Maybe Ron had returned from that
raid he�d been sent to help on this morning, which involved an illegal potions
ring.

�� It was Ron,
all right, but his face was pale as it never was when he looked at a Dark
wizard�s handiwork, and he was staring directly at Harry. And, by the sound of
his breath, he�d run most of the way from their office.

�� Harry,� he
gasped, leaning on the door. �Andromeda just firecalled. She�something�s wrong
with Teddy. He took a new kind of Wolfsbane��

�� Harry began
running. Ron had already prudently ducked out of the way, and a moment later
Harry could hear his voice rising, soothing Stone, who had begun to complain
about Harry�s exit. Harry smiled briefly. He knew he could trust Ron both to
make his apologies to Stone (who liked him for some reason) and to take charge
of putting M�ire in a holding cell, doubtless temporary.

�� Then he put
all such considerations out of his mind and headed to the office he shared with
Ron, which had an illegal fireplace and an even more illegal bowl of Floo
powder on the mantle. They had glamour spells to conceal its existence from
most of the Aurors, but the spells were transparent to anyone who actually
belonged in the office. Harry tossed a handful of powder into the flames and
called out, �Tonks home!�

�� He was
doubtless going to arrive battered and singed, with holes torn in the elbows of
his robe, because he had never mastered Floo travel. But that didn�t matter.
Something was wrong with his godson.

�� Harry was
not going to allow something to be
wrong with the people he loved.

*

�� Draco had
long since decided that he must have been an extraordinarily evil person in a
past life, and that was the reason he had paid such a price for his sins in
this one. In his spare moments, he liked to try and divine that person�s
identity. Had he been Gerald Bellingham, who had killed twelve Muggles at once
at the end of the nineteenth century and very nearly started a new witch hunt?
Or perhaps he�d been Jessica Cutting, a madwoman who had taken ages to be
discovered because she was so pretty and smiling and sane in public, not at all
like the straggle-haired incarnation of the stereotype his Aunt Bellatrix had
been.

�� Today, he
was certain he must have been Grindelwald.

�� The wire
cage he clung to the underside of wobbled on its small wheels, and Draco
tightened the hold of his claws. He was tempted to close his eyes, but
unfortunately he needed to be sure of their destination in order to collect
evidence. So far, this particular illegal potions ring had been tracked and
lost by Aurors, the Hit Wizards, and at least three other divisions of the Department
of Magical Law Enforcement. Draco was determined that the Department for the
Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures would be the one to actually catch them. That meant staying awake and
not vomiting.

�� Come to
think of it, he�d never been sick in his ferret form. He wasn�t sure what would
happen if he was. But the very thought of getting vomit on his fur made him
tighten his claws again and fight back a squeak. The wizards pulling the cages
around and in and out of dilapidated buildings at a rapid pace might not hear
him, but the large dogs riding in the cages almost certainly would, and they
would bark. And then the wizards might search hard enough to find him.

�� No, thank you.

�� The cage
swerved to the left, nearly throwing Draco off, and he laid his muzzle parallel
to the bottom and rolled one eye in that direction so he could see what was
happening. From what he had discovered in his scouting, this was a wizarding
estate, one of the many places abandoned when the taxes got too high for it to
be attractive anymore, but warded under anti-detection spells so strong that
the Ministry couldn�t find it in order to assert some ridiculous claim over it.
So far, they�d proceeded from potions laboratory to potions laboratory in
orderly fashion. Where were they going now?

�� It was one
of the many questions Draco wanted to discover the answer to, along with why
wizards were using wire cages instead of levitation spells, how they had found this
estate in the first place, and exactly what
they thought they were brewing.

�� His
irritation increased when he realized the cages were heading towards a wide
field, crowded with weeds and the remains of what might once have been handsome
topiary hedges. The greenery had been clipped enough to leave a patch of absolutely
flat and open grass in the middle. Not good hiding ground for a ferret who
needed to take cover suddenly, let alone a white ferret.

�� Yes, definitely Grindelwald.

�� On the
other hand, the wizards were calling something to each other about testing the
potion now. If Draco could observe enough to construct a Pensieve memory, he
could leave now, and hand over the evidence to his Department Head, Sarah
Cullingford. That would garner him the acclaim he wanted and end the danger at
once. That sounded good to Draco.

�� And really,
could it be any harder than the mad dash he�d made in the first place, in order
to catch one of the wizards� robes and be Apparated along with him to the
estate?

�� The cage
stopped rolling. Draco stretched warily, muscles tensed to run at a moment�s
notice. But the wizard who had pulled this cage shouted something, and then the
wire doors above him swung open as they removed the large gray dog riding in
it, who of course struggled and barked frantically. They never even thought of
looking under the cage itself. Draco twitched his whiskers�that always happened
when he was in ferret form and tried to smile�and crept forwards as far as he
dared to see better.

�� The wizard
he had named Hook-Nose, who looked like Snape but less attractive, seemed to be
the leader of the project. He jabbed his wand authoritatively here and there as
the other wizards, five in all, ran about, setting the dogs up in the middle of
a circle made on the ground with white dust.

�� Draco
narrowed his eyes and wriggled his nose cautiously, twisting his neck back and
forth to try and catch the scent of the dust that formed the circle. The wind
wasn�t blowing strongly enough for him to be certain, but he thought it smelled
like a mixture of rotten eggs and rose petals.

�� His
irritation grew. An illegal potions ring playing with Morganna�s Debris was
cause for concern, even if they were only using it to confine animals, as it
appeared they were. Morganna�s Debris got everywhere and caused disasters in
the end. It was made of the ground fingers of women stoned to death for
adultery; it would be stupid to expect it not
to cause trouble.

�� Hook-Nose
barked out an order that Draco was too far away to hear clearly, but it had the
word �dogs� in it. The others quickly backed out of the white ring and
scattered a last bit of dust to close it. Draco winced, his fur bristling from
the sudden crackle of power in the air. And yes, the scent of rotten eggs and rose
petals was coming to him strongly now
that the wind had shifted.

�� The dogs in
the circle�a mixture of Alsatians, Crups, large gray dogs that looked part
wolf, and small fluffy white dogs like the kind his mother had once talked
about getting after his father put peacocks in the Manor gardens�milled around,
barking at each other. Two of the larger ones started wrestling, snapping their
jaws hard enough to make Draco wonder if perhaps the wizards he watched had
decided to take up dog-fighting as a sideline to their illegal potions brewing.
Then Hook-Nose raised his wand, collected the eyes of the others, and cast a
spell that Draco recognized the motions of at once. It would trigger any
time-delayed potion in the body of the person it was cast at.

�� Or animals,
in this case.

�� The dogs
stiffened. Some fell over. A few barked as though the sound was being yanked
out of their guts with fishhooks. The wrestling dogs dropped to their haunches
and began to nip frantically at their flanks.

�� The large
gray dogs who looked to be part wolf stood calmly, panting and staring at the
chaos around them with bewildered eyes. None of them moved to attack, however,
even when one of the barking dogs ran into them.

�� Hook-Nose
shouted triumphantly, and two of the witches next to him actually started
dancing. Then they began holding an excited conversation in which the word
�Wolfsbane� featured prominently.

�� Draco
narrowed his eyes further. He�d watched every movement and every ingredient
they�d used in the potions laboratory. Whatever they were brewing, it wasn�t
Wolfsbane.

�� And of
course, he had no way of finding out what it was just from the reactions of the
dogs. They were such careless brewers they could have produced a potion that
did nothing, and mistaken the mixed reactions from the dogs for what they
actually wanted to see, whatever that was. Their conversation on the topic had
proven spectacularly unenlightening; they weren�t like the sorts of criminals
in wizarding war novels who always explained their plans to each other just in
case there was a hidden hero who needed to overhear them. Had they actually
produced an illegal potion? He had no way of telling.

�� One thing
was certain, however. Draco didn�t think he could do anything more here. He had
tracked the brewers to their home estate, and he could at least have them
arrested for using Morganna�s Debris. Once they were in custody, they could be
interrogated on other matters.

�� Now he only
had to decide how he was going to get out of here.

�� A sharp
crack came from behind him. Draco froze, his body tensing, and barely
controlled the instincts that were urging him to make a spring into the open.
He managed to turn around instead, by hooking his claws carefully into the
bottom of the cage, and see a woman rushing towards them across the field. He
sneezed in contempt. Whoever she was, she wasn�t very skilled at Apparition.

�� She halted
in front of Hook-Nose and babbled something, too fast for Draco to make out
most of it from this distance. Once again, though, he heard �Wolfsbane,� and
then �sick.� And then one whole sentence:

�� It harmed
a child who�s close to Harry Potter!�

�� Before
Draco could sneeze again at the fear that filled their faces at the sound of
that name, Hook-Nose whirled around and lifted his wand high. He shouted, with
the sound of desperation in his voice, �Flagrare
immortalis!�

�� Draco felt
every single part of him freeze in dread. Then he leaped free from the cage and
raced towards the edge of the nearest building, his body flat and parallel to
the ground. He counted the pops of Apparition behind him for a moment, trying
to determine the time when he would be free to resume his human form and
Apparate himself, but the sound of them was overwhelmed by the roar of the fire
that Hook-Nose had called.

�� A blast of
superheated air traveled past Draco�s head. Then he felt his tail singe, and
the ground became hot under his paws. He squeaked and ran faster, looking for a
hole before he remembered that he was not a true ferret.

�� And he
would have to risk changing back, because there was no way he could survive the
fire of this spell�the fire that would destroy the Morganna�s Debris, the dogs,
and every other piece of evidence Draco had�without his magic.

�� He reached
inwards and twisted the imaginary dial that pointed to �ferret� at the moment
to �wizard.� He had envisioned that dial from the first time he made the
Animagus transformation, and it had never failed him.

�� Nor did it
now. He came back to himself between one step and another, awkwardly running on
his fingers and toes. He collapsed for a moment, then rolled to his feet and
seized his wand, turning briefly, just to make sure nothing could be salvaged.

�� The middle
of the field was one towering column of white and blue flame, striking for the sky
in such a way that anyone who could actually see it beyond the anti-detection
spells would probably think it was a forest fire�or a rogue dragon, if they
were wizards. A few white flakes, all that remained of the Morganna�s Debris,
drifted high, then fell low and were sucked into the flames. Draco heard the
screams of dying dogs, smelled burning grass and hair, and felt the air around
him turn desert-like.

�� And he saw
Hook-Nose standing next to the fire, waving his wand as though to fan it on. He
caught sight of Draco and stared, eyes widening, then lifted his wand and aimed
a curse at him.

�� Draco knew
the better part of valor. He Apparated out before the curse could hit him, and
sagged against the gates of the Manor, swearing under his breath. No evidence
except for his own memories�which wouldn�t be enough if no one recognized the
wizards in question�the wizards� hiding place destroyed and no idea of where
they would go next, and the ringleader recognizing him. Not good.

�� I have nothing more than a few accusations
that probably won�t do much good in the first place, he thought, running a
hand through his hair in agitation. And
Cullingford won�t authorize me to continue with the case if I can�t prove that
it has some connection to magical creatures. Draco had planned to use the
rumor that the ring was brewing Wolfsbane as his connection if his superior
asked him exactly what he thought he was doing, but he had seen them not brewing Wolfsbane with his own eyes.

�� How am I going to continue working on this,
and prove I�m not a failure?

�� Then
Draco�s head came up, and his eyes widened.

�� They made a child Potter cares for sick,
somehow. He�ll be on a hunt for vengeance. I could do worse than go to him and
offer my�services.

�� Potter
might still refuse, but Draco had learned something about civility in the seven
years since the war, in addition to what he�d always known about flattery and
feigning respect. And he doubted that Potter would have changed as far as
angrily trying to revenge himself on those who hurt his friends went. It could
be that he�d be desperate enough to accept Draco�s help with it.

�� Draco
relaxed, and smiled up at the clouds spitting rain on him. Yes, it had been
worth it to go back into the world and work to redeem the Malfoy name instead
of spending all his time hiding in the Manor. His biggest schoolboy rival might
yet help him to redeem that name further. And was that a chance he ever would
have had if he�d been hiding?

�� There was,
of course, Potter�s reaction when he found out Draco�s Animagus form really was
a white ferret to consider. But Draco considered that a minor enough price to
pay, next to keeping his job and the respect of his colleagues in the
Department.

*

�� I�m hot,�
Teddy said fretfully. His hair was changing colors so rapidly it almost made
Harry sick to look at; one moment it was Weasley orange, then purple, then
pink, then brown, then gray, and then brown again. He reached out a hand and
clasped Harry�s, staring at him with bloodshot eyes. �Make it not be hot.�

�� Harry used Aguamenti to conjure a glass of water
for his godson and held it against Teddy�s forehead and cheeks for a moment
before he held it to his lips. �Sip it slowly,� he cautioned Teddy. �We don�t
know what might react with the potion you swallowed.� Maybe it was a little
silly to talk to a seven-year-old so seriously about potions, but Harry had
hated how no one had ever explained things
to him when he was a child�not the causes of his illnesses, not why his
relatives had hated him, not who his parents had really been. He could at least
talk to Teddy about it, even if he didn�t understand.

�� Teddy
gulped the water, then lay back on the pillow and found Harry�s hand again.
�The potion looked just like the other potion,� he muttered, closing his eyes
and trembling. Harry felt his forehead. It was hot as if he had a fever, but
enormous beads of sweat kept forming at the corners of his temples and then
rolling down his face. And he couldn�t stop the shaking. The beginnings of
convulsions, Andromeda had told Harry, or at least she feared they were. �The
other potion never hurt me. Why did this one?�

�� I don�t
know,� Harry said quietly, and cast a spell that stroked the sweat from Teddy�s
forehead and cheeks. �But I�ll find out.�

�� Teddy
opened his eyes and smiled at him. They didn�t change color nearly as often as
his hair; right now they were the bright, calm brown Harry first remembered
seeing eleven years ago in Remus�s face.

�� Harry
swallowed hard and kissed Teddy�s forehead, then cast a little charm that
should make him sleep. And so it did, but not until he had gone through another
three minutes of shivering and murmuring. Harry took a deep breath and squeezed
Teddy�s hand again.

�� Teddy had,
it turned out, been left with some werewolf characteristics after all: a
tendency to grow more irritable as the full moon approached, thick hair that
appeared on those full-moon nights and then disappeared again, an appetite for
barely-cooked meat, and a truly impressive growl. He took a small dose of
Wolfsbane every week to control the more annoying symptoms, and he had taken
the latest one just this morning.

�� And now he
was sick and shivering as if he might have a seizure. Harry thought the tremors
were worse than they had been a few minutes ago. He gritted his teeth and
forced his anger back under control. Three years of training and four years�
work as an active Auror had given him plenty of practice; Harry had had to
learn that not everyone would obey or be impressed by the Chosen One.

�� Andromeda
came into the room, moving quietly in the full black mourning robes she always
wore. Her face was haggard. Harry reached out and gave her the hand that wasn�t
holding Teddy�s. He could only imagine what it must be like to watch her
grandson shiver and sigh in the grip of an intense sickness after losing her
husband, daughter, and son-in-law. It didn�t help that the connections she�d
tried to re-establish with the Malfoys after the war had come to nothing
through Narcissa Malfoy�s haughty refusal to be in the same room with her
sister.

�� It was
definitely the potion,� she said softly, and handed him a corked vial that
Harry took carefully. It was filled with a brilliant red liquid which collected
into crumbling sediment at the bottom of the vial. �I broke down the rest of
that sample with Athena�s Universal Dissolving Solution. Ordinary Wolfsbane
breaks down into violet liquid with no sediment.�

�� Harry
hissed between his teeth. �And was there anything unusual about the Wolfsbane when
you bought it?� He could not accept the idea that Andromeda would deliberately
hurt Teddy, but there was still the possibility of a bad batch of the potion,
and in that case, he would make sure the seller was turned over to the Ministry
as soon as possible.

�� Andromeda
frowned and said, �I was using a new seller recommended to me by Roberta. Do
you remember her?� Harry nodded. Andromeda had mentioned the other witch before
as someone who had a young son infected with lycanthropy. �The Wolfsbane was
cheaper than normal, and they provided more. Roberta said they would be driven
out of the market soon if more people didn�t start buying from them, and of
course they have an excellent reputation, with satisfied customers, in other areas.� She sighed and stared down
at Teddy. �I was stupid. I should have been more suspicious.�

�� Harry rose
and hugged her. �You were only trying to do the best you could by him,� he said
quietly. �And I�m surprised that someone hasn�t tried selling fake Wolfsbane
before now.� The potion was expensive, and not every family with a werewolf
member or a child, like Teddy, who bore the consequences of having a werewolf
parent, could afford it. Of course someone could easily exploit the market, and
of course the potion they sold would be cheaper.

�� I don�t
think it was fake,� Andromeda said grimly, and cast the spell that would banish
the sweat from Teddy�s face as he began to shiver again. �I smelled it and had
Teddy smell it�� Harry nodded; Teddy�s nose was also sharper than normal ��and
he said it seemed normal. And it certainly looked
normal.�

�� Diluted,
then,� Harry said, thinking of the case he and Ron had handled last year that
had involved a Healer from St. Mungo�s selling diluted pain-killing potions on
the black market. �Which means they knew what they were doing.� His hand
tightened on his wand, and he had to set the vial of red liquid down hastily on
the table beside the bed, so he couldn�t crush it. �Which means I am going to destroy them.�

�� Andromeda�s
hand rested on his arm at once. Harry blinked away the haze defining his vision
and saw her staring at him seriously. �I would prefer it if you didn�t go after
them,� she said. �Or not alone, anyway. You know Teddy depends on you.� She
lifted her chin and licked her lips. �And I�I like having you here, too.�

�� Harry hesitantly
hugged her. Andromeda was a proud woman, and though she had made it perfectly
clear she appreciated his help with and love for Teddy over the last seven
years, she didn�t often make her own emotions towards him known. Now, she stood
stiffly in his embrace for a moment only before she cleared her throat and
stepped away.

�� I
promise,� he said. �But this needs to be brought to the Ministry�s attention at
once, anyway. They�ve been tracking an illegal potions-brewing ring for some
time now, and this is probably connected. Certainly the last laboratory of
theirs we discovered had ingredients in it that could have been used to brew
Wolfsbane.�

�� Andromeda
nodded. �Then go into this with the full force of the Aurors behind you,� she
said. �No lone heroics.�

�� I�ve
changed enough not to consider that,�
Harry said, and kissed her cheek. �I like company.� He stroked Teddy�s hair
back from his forehead once, then looked at her. �You�ll let me know if
something changes?�

�� At once,�
Andromeda promised, and took his place in the chair, casting a spell that
soothed Teddy back to sleep as he moaned softly. At least his shivers had
calmed and it didn�t look as if he�d have convulsions, Harry thought.

�� He had barely
arrived at Andromeda�s fireplace when something hammered on the window.
Frowning, Harry turned around and saw a post owl hovering there. It drummed on
the glass with its beak again and looked at him pointedly.

�� Rolling his
eyes, Harry opened the window. He would take care of the letter for Andromeda,
since he doubted she would want to leave Teddy any time soon.

�� But the owl
pushed the letter insistently at him, with a grumbling noise in its throat that
reminded Harry painfully of Hedwig for a moment. He still hadn�t got an owl of
his own, feeling guilty for trying to replace her. He blinked away the
memories, opened the letter, and raised his eyebrows.

�� Potter:

�� I�m sure a letter from me will surprise you,
but I promise this isn�t an evil Death Eater plot to try and kill you. I�ve
been tracking a ring of illegal potions-brewers we thought might be brewing
Wolfsbane, and heard one of them say that they�d made a child near you sick.
That was apparently enough to cause them to destroy their latest hiding place
and all evidence of their illegal activities�and nearly me with it.

�� I�d like to speak with you about this. Solving
the mystery of exactly who these wizards are could benefit both of us. I�d be
willing to share my memories with you, in the hopes that you�ll recognize one
of the people I observed. I can tell you that, whatever they were brewing, it
wasn�t Wolfsbane, even if they thought it was. The Floo at the Manor is open to
you.

�� Draco Malfoy.

�� Harry
stared at the letter for some time. Then he carefully drew his wand and cast
several spells that made the paper glow red, blue, and finally white. He leaned
back on the fireplace and regarded the parchment once again. There were no
hexes on it, no Dark Arts curses, and no Confundus Charms. But it was from Malfoy. Surely that meant it had to be a
joke or the first step in a trap?

�� Then Harry
closed his eyes. He could feel cool stone beneath his fingertips if he concentrated,
the way he always could nowadays. He had spent enough time sitting beside his
parents� graves, and Fred�s, and Lupin�s and Tonks�, and even Snape�s, to know
it very well. How many times had he rested his hand there, and swore that
things would be different from now on, that he would do what he could to stand
against the prejudice, fear, and hatred Voldemort had drawn on to make himself
strong?

�� The war didn�t stop when Voldemort died. He
had said those words in the cemetery at Godric�s Hollow, his voice strong and
sure and quiet. He had thought the words up the night before, but they sounded
even better in the light of day. Maybe
the last enemy that shall be conquered is death, but I promise you, I�m going
to conquer a lot of them before then.

�� If he
became sure Malfoy was tricking him and discarded this letter, that would be
giving into the same prejudice he had condemned in others. Maybe it was a minor
instance of it, but many minor instances could grow into major wounds if left
to fester untreated. And it was true he had heard no evil of Malfoy in the
years since the war.

�� And if it
turned out Malfoy could have helped him help Teddy, and Harry hadn�t listened
to him about it, he would never forgive himself.

�� Harry stood
and cast the Floo powder in the flames, but this time, he called out, �Malfoy
Manor!�

*

�� Draco chose
to wait for Potter in his mother�s conservatory, the most open and cheerful
room in the house. Perhaps it was wasted effort, considering the size of the
grudge Potter had against him, but still, Draco wanted to appeal to the man�s
Gryffindor sensibilities if he could.

�� Besides, he
liked being in the conservatory. Narcissa had recently taken to breeding
bluebells, which Draco enjoyed much more than the thick, sweet, cloying roses
that had come before them. He wandered around the room, peering into pots where
the flowers twisted without a wind, or rang like actual bells, or stared back
at him with small black faces adapted from pansies. The smells, both natural
and added, danced around him in a sweet invisible cloud, and by the time a
house-elf finally escorted Potter into the large glassed-in room, Draco was as
relaxed as he could be when confronting his old rival.

�� Potter
paused in the doorway, as if he had his doubts about the sincerity of Draco�s
invitation. Draco turned to face him, leaning one hand casually on a shelf full
of seedlings behind him.

�� And nearly
choked on his tongue.

�� The Potter
who stood watching him thoughtfully from across the room looked much the same
as he ever had�except for the eyes. Those eyes could have been the ones Draco
confronted in the mirror every morning, and asked stern questions of, searching
them for signs of shadows, greed, envy, pure-blood pride, and the other things
that had driven him into the war. Draco had decided the rest of the world could
be like that if they wanted, including his parents, but he was not going to be.
He hadn�t enjoyed being that way. So
he had done what he could to strip those qualities out of himself, and if he
had to bite his tongue hard sometimes, well, that was a small price to pay. He
could always keep up a sarcastic running monologue in his head, after all.

�� Potter
looked as if he had done the same thing. Draco recognized that wary gaze,
cautious both about judging and being judged.

�� It�s probably coincidental, Draco argued
to himself. He�s probably got a bit of
dust in his eye and blinked the wrong way, or exactly the right way. Just
because you�ve changed doesn�t mean Potter has. But the delusion made his
voice softer than normal when he nodded and said, �Potter. Welcome.�

�� The other
man relaxed his taut stance and nodded to him. �Malfoy,� he said. There was no
emotion in his voice, which made him sound far less unfriendly than Draco had
expected.

�� What�s changed him, I wonder? Or is just
being polite for the sake of finding out what I know about the false Wolfsbane?
Draco managed a smile nevertheless, and was more than astonished when
Potter smiled back.

�� Damn. That�really does something for him. Draco
searched his mind for memories of times Potter might have smiled at him in the
past, and couldn�t come up with anything. It didn�t really count when your
rival was gloating triumphantly about having bruised half your body.

�� Draco felt
his muscles tense with the pain the memory brought along in its wake, and
turned his mind promptly away from it, envisioning a stone garden wall the
memory couldn�t cross. He�d had to do that often, too, in the past few years.
He knew he had a tendency to react stupidly if he got angry, and he was determined
that no one would make him look stupid anymore.

�� There�s a
Pensieve waiting for you with the memories of what I observed,� he said, and
gestured towards a table on the other side of the room. From the way Potter
flicked a glance at it, Draco was sure he had noticed it already, but he nodded
as if he hadn�t and moved forwards.

�� For a
moment, he stood above the Pensieve, looking down with an expression Draco
couldn�t read, as if the mere sight of a Pensieve held evil memories on its
own. Then he ducked his head down and plunged it beneath the surface of the
silvery liquid inside. Draco was left in the uneasy half-state that he always
fell into whenever his parents were reading the Prophet at the breakfast table: they were still in the room, and
would notice him and perhaps snap at him if he moved, but they weren�t present
and able to be addressed as normal.

�� He studied
Potter�s bent body idly for a moment, then frowned when he realized his eyes
were focusing more on the set of Potter�s shoulders and the tightness of his
arse than anything else. He turned away with a little shudder. What is wrong with you? Potter�s not going to want to think about things like that
even if he�s gay at the moment, thanks to this child he likes who�s endangered.

�� Draco let
his eyes go out of focus staring at the bluebells instead, and waited for
Potter to be finished in the Pensieve. Things had changed between them, yes,
but not enough for him to think physical admiration of Potter would pay off in
any way.

*

�� Harry
blinked slowly when he realized that Malfoy�s Animagus form was a white ferret.
I wonder if he was subconsciously
influenced by the way Moody transformed him? he thought, amused for a
moment.

�� Then he
winced as he remembered that had been Crouch, not Moody, and that Malfoy
couldn�t have been happy when he discovered his form. McGonagall had told Harry
often enough during the training necessary to pass his NEWTs that the animal
chose the wizard, not the wizard the animal. No, Malfoy couldn�t have liked it,
and Harry didn�t think he would have, either, if someone had turned him into
that animal and bounced him about the school.

�� He stared
intently at the face of the hook-nosed wizard who sneered at Malfoy before
Apparating away, but he didn�t look more than vaguely familiar. Nor was his
voice, though Harry closed his eyes and listened during the part where the
wizard cast the Immortal Flame spell instead of watching Malfoy dash along with
his little ferret nose to the ground.

�� Damn, he thought as he pulled his head
out of the Pensieve. So we have one
suspect at least , but not one I know. And the place where we might have stood
the best chance of gathering evidence is destroyed. And they know one person is
tracking them.

�� But even
this much information was more than Harry would have had if he had gone
straight to the Ministry and tried to raise the investigation there.
Incompetent brewers or not, Hook-Nose and his minions were awfully good at
hiding. Ron had managed to track them down in their laboratories, but always
after the fact.

�� And after
what he had heard the witch say, Harry was in no doubt that they had sold the
Wolfsbane that had led to Teddy�s illness.

�� But how did they hear of it so fast? Harry
frowned for a moment, then put the mystery away for later. He thought he could
be certain, after he had watched the memories, that Malfoy was not part of the
group, and there would be no one else with them to serve as informant if they
were investigating this together, just the two of them.

�� Well, that was unfortunate phrasing, Harry
thought, as he turned and saw Malfoy pivoting on one heel to face him
expectantly. Malfoy looked far different when it didn�t seem as if he would
turn every line of his mouth to a sneer in an instant. He looked at Harry
intently now, as though trying to fathom what he had thought of the memories,
and that was another difference. Harry couldn�t remember a Malfoy who was
interested in what he thought, rather than one who was interested in what his
own bigoted mouth would produce next.

�� The potion
they made was enough like Wolfsbane to be sold as such,� he said quietly, �and
to fool the nose of a child whose father was a werewolf.� That much, he owed to
Malfoy after what he had seen. Besides, if they were to help each other, there
was no point in lying to him, even by omission.

�� Malfoy
blinked for a moment in what looked like surprise, then said, �My cousin?�

�� Yes,� said
Harry, and couldn�t help a frown. �Teddy Lupin. My godson,� he added. The
Malfoys had never made any attempt to initiate contact before now. He wanted to
show that Teddy mattered to him in his own right, not simply as part of the
Malfoy family.

�� Malfoy
blinked again, but this time his emotions didn�t show so clearly on his face.
�Yes, that explains their panic,� he murmured. �But how did they learn the news
so fast? That happened, what, a few hours ago?�

�� Harry
nodded, relieved by the quickness with which Malfoy�s mind moved. At least he
wouldn�t have to explain things to him the way he did with slow Auror trainees.
�But it was announced in the Ministry. Someone could have heard it and passed
on the information to Hook-Nose. What?� he added, because Malfoy had abruptly
grinned.

�� That�s
what I called him, too,� Malfoy said, and shrugged. �It�ll do as well as
anything until we learn his real name. And if we�re out of the Ministry, I
suppose we have to spend less time worrying about informants.�

�� That�s
what I thought,� Harry said, involuntarily. He was in a bit of a daze. Not only
hadn�t there been a single disagreement so far, there hadn�t been a single hex
flung, or a single statement spoken that caused him to want to hit Malfoy.

�� Some
moments passed in silence. Malfoy surveyed him with narrowed eyes, then moved a
step nearer. His hair was brilliant in the sunlight through the conservatory
windows, and his face was serious, as was his voice.

�� Look,
Potter. I want to stop this bloke and his ring of followers. If they can brew
something that looks enough like Wolfsbane to pass the scent test, that�s bad
news for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
Who knows what effect it�ll have on a werewolf? And then they�ll probably buy
that instead of what we offer, to avoid registration, and there could be
incidents with rogue werewolves.� Malfoy shook his head firmly. �My Department
does not need that.�

�� Neither
does anyone else.� Harry folded his arms and leaned back against the
conservatory wall. �I�ve hunted enough people who refused to take the Wolfsbane
Potion or register with the Ministry, and I�ve seen the havoc they caused.� He
spoke as cautiously as he could, as neutrally. No, he didn�t want to alienate
Malfoy, but neither did Harry know where he was going with this.

�� So.�
Malfoy lifted his upper lip in a gesture that looked like a smile, but Harry could
sense the tension behind it and didn�t think it was. �You can trust me. I won�t
step up to your side and tell you what a hero you are, but I won�t try to turn
on you for having a godson who�s my cousin, either. I need to examine the
potion he drank, or at least look at him and his symptoms if there�s none left.
Do you trust me enough to let me do that? Or will you give me your memories in
return?� He nodded to the Pensieve.

�� Harry
hesitated, trying to decide what would be the greater intrusion. Then he took a
deep breath and reminded himself, Teddy.
This is for Teddy. And you�re not the one who has the right to say if Malfoy
gets to visit him. Besides, what if you missed something vital? Take Malfoy to
the house and see what Andromeda says.

�� Yes, all right,�
he said. �You can visit him. But one remark about blood traitors or��

�� I don�t
use that sort of language anymore,� Malfoy said. Astonishingly, his voice was
dignified and quiet, his face utterly composed, as if he disdained even the
thought of the words. �I find it vulgar and unhelpful.� Then he smiled, and it
was a real smile this time, enough to make Harry stare blankly in astonishment.
�And if you know one thing about me, Potter, you ought to know that a Malfoy never does anything he thinks vulgar.�

�� Harry
nodded hesitantly, wondering what had happened in the past few years to change
Malfoy so completely. Well, perhaps it was his own caution and the situation
that created the impression of change. If they had simply met over drinks in a
pub, Harry doubted Malfoy would have been so accommodating.

�� He felt
cool gravestone under his fingers for a moment. And I thought you weren�t going to be so judgmental anymore?

�� Harry
grinned ruefully. It would be easier to keep an eye on Malfoy just in case and
a hand on his wand than it would be to keep himself from judging, but he was
determined that he would manage the latter somehow.

�� Why are
you grinning?�

�� At least
Malfoy sounded properly suspicious of that. Harry raised his eyebrows. �Because
I�ve decided to trust you, and God knows what Andromeda will say to that. Come
on. We�re Apparating, not Flooing.�

*

�� Draco had
to admit Potter was competent at Apparition, and even at Side-Along Apparition,
though nothing could make being turned inside out and having your stomach
squeezed through your ears pleasant. When he could see again, he found they
stood in front of a trim cottage with a flourishing garden, surrounded by
sparkling wards that relaxed only when Potter murmured a long series of incantations.
Draco frowned.

�� Is Mrs.
Tonks paranoid?� he asked. She was likely to chase him away from little Lupin�s
bedside if so, and that would be inconvenient.

�� Potter
turned, walking backwards for a moment, and looked evenly at him. �No,� he
said. �I am. People have already tried to kidnap Teddy three times just because
of his closeness to me.� His face was cool, without the self-pity Draco would
have imagined necessary for any Gryffindor giving a disclosure like that, but
his voice bore a note of warning. If Draco made some cutting remark, Potter
stood ready to cut back.

�� Draco
inclined his head and changed the subject slightly. �I think you�ve done a good
job of defending him. Hook-Nose and his associates were certainly discomposed
when they found out they�d offended you.�

�� Potter
blinked twice, then smiled. And yes, this wasn�t the right situation for it,
but that smile pulled strings in Draco that he hadn�t even known were there.
The last two years had been hard; Draco�s name was still rubbish in large parts
of wizarding society, whilst his parents� friends disdained him for cooperating
with the Ministry, and his colleagues looked at his ambition with narrowed
eyes. It could be hard to get a simple date, let alone anything more
complicated.

�� Not that any date with Potter could ever be
simple, Draco thought, and tried to make his staring less obvious by
examining the gardens. They were largely practical, vegetables and herbs that
he recognized as useful in potions-brewing. He wondered for a moment what kind
of garden his mother and aunt would create together, and why they hadn�t tried.

�� Here we
are.�

�� Draco
looked up again. Potter had knocked on the door of the cottage. It took long
moments for anyone to answer. Draco imagined a reluctant grandmother leaving
her grandson, and he swallowed, a sick feeling twisting in his stomach for the
first time.

�� Then
Andromeda Black Tonks stood there, and Draco found he didn�t know his aunt at
all.

From his mother�s stories, it had
been easy to picture some rebellious, pinch-mouthed girl who didn�t know what
was good for her, because if she knew what was good for her, why in the world
had she run off with a Muggleborn? And his father had shuddered whenever he
mentioned her, so Draco had gathered the vague idea that she must be very ugly.
And there were no Black grandparents to tell him different stories, or anyone
who regularly interacted with him and also with Andromeda.

Draco saw a version of his mother
who had unfrozen long ago and learned to live in the world. Her face was worn,
yes, and marked with lines of tension and worry, but it also didn�t have
Narcissa�s inflexible stiffness. She looked as if she could laugh from the
belly, and enjoy a meal that hadn�t been prepared by the hands of meticulous
house-elves. The full mourning she wore enhanced rather than detracted from the
effect.

Her eyes fixed on him, and
immediately she drew herself up. Draco winced in spite of himself as her face
became blank. Yes, there was the resemblance to his mother: when she was around
someone she disliked. He made a small bow, never taking his eyes from hers. She
would probably distrust someone who looked at his feet and shuffled about more.
She would either take it for false modesty or think he had something to hide.

�Mrs. Tonks,� he said. �Potter told
me about Teddy. I�d like to look at him, if you don�t mind. I have some
knowledge of potions, and also of Wolfsbane, since I work for the Department
for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I might recognize the symptoms
of a diluted potion, or one that�s been tampered with.�

�� Andromeda
didn�t close her eyes to consult with herself, the way his mother would have,
and neither did she stare at him. She looked at Potter instead, and Draco
fought the temptation to shake his head. How had it come about that Potter was
closer to his relatives than he was?

�� Because he wanted to be, of course. Draco
had learned since the war not to hide answers to simple questions from himself,
not if he wanted to achieve his goal of stripping out the things that had made
him fail so badly during the years of the war. You could have got into contact with them if you really wanted to. It
would have been as simple as an owl, and if she refused to let you visit, at
least it wouldn�t be your fault.

�� But it had
always seemed so much simpler to go along with his mother�s wishes on the
matter�and so seven years, almost eight, had passed, and Draco hadn�t attended
to the passage of time and how it might have affected Andromeda and Teddy at
all.

�� Of course,
the fact that the damaged Wolfsbane had affected Teddy was now a blessing in
disguise. Perhaps she�ll let me visit
again if I do a good enough job saving my cousin. Maybe she�ll even be polite
to me next time.

�� I trust
him, Andromeda,� Potter said softly.

�� Draco
clenched his fists at his sides and deliberately didn�t look at Potter. He
would let some vulnerability show in his eyes if he did, and that was the last
thing he needed.

�� Andromeda
spent a moment looking at Draco�s left arm. Then she nodded and raised her gaze
to his. �You can come in,� she said.

*

�� Harry had
to fight the temptation to precede Malfoy into the house, and into Teddy�s
room, and into the chair placed beside the bed. The tainted Wolfsbane had been
enough. Malfoy was someone who could hurt
Teddy, however unlikely it was that he would. He had knowledge of Dark curses,
and he had been among the Death Eaters, if not actually one of them.

�� And he refused to reveal me to those Death
Eaters, Harry reminded himself. That
has to count for something.

�� He kept a
hand on his wand nevertheless as he leaned against the wall near Teddy�s
eastern window. The whole room was done in posters of winged horses, Teddy�s
latest obsession. Small animated pictures of various breeds of pegasi soared
across the walls between the posters, and grazed on painted patches of grass. If
Malfoy said something derogatory about it, Harry promised himself, he would get
a Bat-Bogey Hex right up the nose. Ginny had taught Harry how to do a good one
before they�parted ways.

�� But Malfoy
only leaned over Teddy and studied his face gravely. Teddy was still asleep.
Harry was grateful for that. He didn�t know how he would have explained
Malfoy�s intrusion into the sick-room. Teddy had asked only once why his big
cousin didn�t come visit him, and Harry�s explanations had fallen into an
awkward, tangled silence. Teddy had looked away, said, �It was because of Dad
and Granddad,� and then turned his hair black and kept it like that for the
rest of the day.

�� Now,
watching Teddy sweat and pant and tremble�the shaking in his limbs had started
up again�Harry felt the anger as a result of that conversation welling up
again. He sighed and once again harnessed it. He stood nearby, and Andromeda
was hovering in the doorway. If they couldn�t protect Teddy like that, then
they didn�t deserve to have him.

�� Malfoy made
a soft, curious noise, and picked up Teddy�s left hand, turning it over. Harry
raised his eyebrows, especially when Malfoy cursed and stood up rapidly.

�� Even then,
Harry noticed, he took the time to put Teddy�s hand back gently on the coverlet
instead of dropping it.

�� Whirling to
face Andromeda, he demanded, �Do you have any of the potion left? I need to
examine it immediately.�

�� I broke
down the sample that I had with Athena�s Universal Dissolving Solution,� said
Andromeda, steadily. �You can see that.� She pointed to the vial on the bedside
table. Malfoy snatched it up and held it to his eye, turning it back and forth
as if he would count the chunks of sediment floating against the glass.

�� When he put
the vial down and brought a hand up to his brow, he looked actually ill. Harry
swallowed back the temptation to snap at him, and asked, as calmly as he could,
�What is it, Malfoy?�

�� Malfoy
turned to face him. His hand was trembling before he closed it into a fist at
his side. He was careful not to look at Andromeda and Teddy now, Harry noticed.
�Ordinary Wolfsbane uses a plant called foxberry,� he said, his voice low but
sharp. �This potion has used foxglove
instead. It�s poisonous, and it can affect the heart.� He closed his eyes. �I
suppose we can thank their need to make the potion pass as Wolfsbane that they
couldn�t use enough foxglove to invoke the regular array of symptoms. But he
could die. And there�s absolutely no treatment we can use for him unless things
become worse; we�ll have to wait and hope he recovers.�

�� Harry heard
Andromeda�s soft, choked noise, and it was sheer good luck�or stubbornness�that
he did not make the same kind of sound. Instead, he said, �And what did your
look at his palm determine?�

�� Malfoy
turned Teddy�s hand over again, and this time Harry made out a faint blue tinge
to the skin in the center of his palm. �That�s a sign of blended foxglove,�
said Malfoy. �From the look of his symptoms, they probably mixed it with hen�s
teeth. That would explain the convulsions, and it might disguise the scent of
the wrong ingredients even from a werewolf�s nose.� He hissed between his
teeth. �By all rights, I should go back to the Ministry and tell Cullingford
about this.�

�� Harry
looked into his face. He made himself ignore the impulse to sweep Teddy into
his arms and hold him there tightly; he made himself ignore the way Andromeda
was dashing tears from her eyes whilst trying to avoid being obvious about it.
�And what would happen if you did?� he asked quietly.

�� Malfoy
raised his eyebrows but didn�t glance away, which was commendable of him.
�That�s not the question you mean to ask, Potter,� he said. �You want to know how
long it would take.�

�� Harry
nodded.

�� Cullingford
moves fast when she senses true danger, but even then, it wouldn�t be fast
enough, because the next full moon is two weeks away, and she wouldn�t think
one sick child is an emergency,� said Malfoy. �So, no, it wouldn�t let us catch
Hook-Nose. They would have time to find another estate to practice on. And they
might have time to launch an attack at me, especially if their informant can
pass more details of Ministry investigations on.�

�� It�s
decided, then.� Harry rose and held out his hand to Malfoy. �We�re going after
them alone.�

�� Harry��
Andromeda began.

�� Yes, we
are,� said Malfoy, and clasped Harry�s arm instead of his wrist. Harry, faintly
amused, thought it was almost as though Malfoy wanted to feel how strong he
was, and whether he would be up to the task of battling someone who had tried
to take his godson from him. �We have the necessary expertise between the two
of us, given my knowledge of potions, my observations of the enemy, and my
Animagus form, and your Auror training. That�s all we need.�

�� Harry
nodded back, and for a moment he and Malfoy engaged in a silent staring contest
that shut out the rest of the room as thoroughly as if they had both agreed to
ignore them. Then Harry blinked and glanced away, because Andromeda had put her
hand on his shoulder, and her face was white.

�� Just a
moment, Malfoy,� he said. He found himself regretting the loss of warmth when
Malfoy moved his hand away, but there was the weight of Andromeda�s fingers,
heavy and growing heavier all the time. He turned away and walked to the far
side of the room with her, lowering his voice, since he thought she would
prefer that they not be overheard. �What�s the matter, Andromeda? I promise I
won�t play hero. I�ll keep as safe as possible. With a potions expert and an
Animagus beside me, I�ll be far safer than I could otherwise.�

�� It�s not
that,� Andromeda whispered. �But�how far can you trust him? A few pretty words,
and you�re ready to follow him into a trap?�

�� Harry
sighed, partially because Andromeda had never been rational on the subject of
the Malfoys�she had even argued that Narcissa must have saved Harry�s life in the
Forbidden Forest simply to claim a life-debt�and partially because he had never
imagined he would find himself in the position of defending Draco Malfoy from a
woman he loved and trusted. �It�s not a trap. I�m sure of that. I promise I�ll
be careful, but yes, I do trust him, and I�m going to follow him.�

�� You don�t
have any proof.�

�� I didn�t
have any proof that I would love Teddy the first time I met him, either,� Harry
retorted, and looked over his shoulder at the bed, where Malfoy still hovered.
The sight of Teddy�s crimson face and the small, pathetic shivers in his limbs made
it impossible to breathe. He had to shut his eyes before he could regain the
thread of the conversation. �But the moment I held him, I knew I would.�

�� Andromeda
was silent for so many seconds that Harry thought she would probably firecall
the Ministry as soon as he and Malfoy had gone. But then she sighed and said,
�I�ll give you a few days. If he comes back without you, then I�ll demand Ron
come and arrest him.�

�� Ron would
do it on his own,� Harry said, and smiled at her in relief. �I�m glad you know.
I wouldn�t go away with Malfoy without leaving some word behind me, but this
makes it easier.�

�� Andromeda
unexpectedly embraced him. �Be careful,� she whispered into his ear. �You�re
not dear to me only because you�re Teddy�s godfather.�

�� Harry
hugged her back, hearing the black velvet mourning robe crush beneath his
hands. The war had brought Andromeda so much suffering, and she wore her sorrow
openly. But she had lived past it. Harry was trying to do the same thing with
the memory of gravestone beneath his fingers, his resolve to fight against his
own anger, and his refusal to brood over the parts of his life that had not
worked out the way he expected them to.

�� Ginny�

�� He banished
the name from his mind and turned to Malfoy. �Let�s Apparate to the place �you saw them, then.�

�� He thought
for a moment that Malfoy looked at him oddly, as though he had thought Harry
would demand to go elsewhere first, but he reached out an arm. Harry stepped up
beside him and clasped that arm in turn, letting himself be dragged against
Malfoy�s side. He enjoyed the sensation of the other man�s breathing in the
moment before the Apparition swallowed them both.

*

�� I see what
you mean�about evidence being destroyed,� Potter said, his words interrupted by
his hacking cough. He waved his wand, and some of the smoke bent away from him
as if chased. �Hook-Nose is�quite afraid of me. That�s something�at least.�

�� Draco
nodded absently. He had already learned as much as he could from observing the
charred ground that had been a thriving field and several buildings a few hours
ago, and now he was more interested in studying Potter, who was bent over,
poking with his wand at a clump of ash as if that would tell him things.

�� He had, of
course, cast a spell that would bring the whispered conversation between Potter
and his aunt to his ears. And what he had heard stunned him.

�� Potter trusts me enough to go somewhere
alone with me. He wants at least a few days before Andromeda contacts the
Ministry.

�� It had been
seven years since they had last seen each other, but the man in front of him
was still Potter, and Draco knew what that meant�had known what that meant. He
had anticipated a temporary partnership full of long silences and snide
remarks, just on this side of what would make him strike out at Potter. He had
thought he would hear sniveling and weeping at night if they were together that
long, and Potter would insist on telling him stories about Teddy, just so Draco
couldn�t mistake his motivation for being here.

�� But Potter
had said he trusted hm. And now he worked over the cinders with a grim, quiet
determination, chasing away the ash again and again no matter how many times it
got up his nostrils, coughing only when he couldn�t avoid it, and pausing when
he unearthed a series of crumbling bones that must have been the dogs�. He
waited long moments, his hand making petting motions above the bones. When he
straightened and turned away, Draco found himself disconcerted by the mixture
of rage and sorrow in his eyes. Well, that hadn�t changed, at least. Potter was
still Gryffindor enough to hate the deaths of innocents.

�� And he had said
he trusted Draco.

�� You were
right,� Potter said, so quietly that Draco couldn�t take any offense from the
words. �No evidence to be found here. Unless�� He hesitated, and turned back to
face the bones again. Draco heard a small, wet sound that might be Potter
licking his lips.

�� He shook
his head to banish the thoughts of other contexts that wet sound could occur
in�really, he was getting as bad as Theodore, who spent most of his time
evaluating people by what kind of sexual partner he thought they would make�and
stepped forwards. �What did you have in mind, Potter?� he said. For a moment,
he leaned his elbow on the small of Potter�s back, just to see what would
happen. He neither stirred nor moved away.

�� Potter said
nothing for so long Draco felt impatience well up in him, sick and fierce, and
then die away again. Finally, Potter looked at him sideways and then said, �Why
did you join the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical
Creatures?�

�� Draco
blinked a few times. He opened his mouth to demand that Potter tell him what
that question had to do with anything. Then he hesitated.

�� Is it really so bad to offer trust in return
for trust? You have your wand with you if you need it.

�� I wanted
to join the Ministry to prove that the Malfoys were more than followers of the
Dark Lord and hapless victims,� he said. He cleared his throat, though this was
no more than the speech he had given Cullingford when she called him into her
office and wanted to know the same thing. �I was so tired of being a victim. I
knew the Aurors wouldn�t have me, and most of the Departments in the Ministry
didn�t sound interesting. But I�ve found magical creatures fascinating for most
of my life, and I�m an Animagus. If there was any place I could fit into the
Ministry, it was here.�

�� I couldn�t
tell you found magical creatures fascinating from the way you paid attention in
Hagrid�s class,� Potter muttered.

�� Draco
bristled and took half a step away. He
was the one who brought up Hogwarts first. That means I�m entitled to strike
back. He had made a promise to be more cautious in the last few years, not
a coward. �Yes, because you had such loyalty to him that you dropped his NEWT
classes in our sixth year,� he said. �I was distracted with other things then,
but I remember that.�

�� Potter
glared at him for a moment. Then he folded his arms and glared at the ground,
tapping one foot, as though it were somehow the fault of bones and ash that he
was an idiot. Draco regarded him scornfully, glad Potter had said what he did
when he did. Draco might have returned trust for trust, and where would that
have got him with someone who couldn�t forget the past?

�� Caught up
in his own self-congratulatory musings, Draco thought he must be hallucinating
at first when Potter said, �I�m sorry.�

�� I�what?�
Draco said. His voice limped out of his mouth. He wished he had sounded
prouder. One of his father�s haughtier �Pardons?� when meeting a Weasley who
dared address him would have been perfect.

�� I have no
reason to think you�re lying, and� no
reason to bring up Hogwarts,� Potter said. He was speaking between clenched
teeth now, and the patch of gray ground on which his eyes rested would have
caught fire again if he glared at it any harder. �I didn�t�I was stupid, and I�m
sorry.� He looked up and sought Draco�s eyes.

�� Listen,�
Draco said, trying to decide how he felt about things. �We have to work
together for the moment, but there�s no reason we can�t just part at the end of
this and never see one another again.� The loneliness he had felt more than
once in the last few years protested that there was a reason, but Draco had long
since neglected to listen to his lesser emotions. �Can we make a truce? An
agreement that we won�t mention certain things?�

�� Potter had
a wan smile on his lips, but he shook his head. �There are things I may need to
know about you that depend on your past,� he said. �Especially what you�ve done
in the last seven years since I saw you.� He hesitated, then added, �I suppose
I was looking for an answer you�re not going to give me. That serves me right.
I can only hope you won�t report me after you see this.� He pointed his wand at
the dog bones.

�� The
incantation that came from his lips then was like nothing Draco had heard in
seven years of training at Hogwarts, eleven years before that of childhood
instruction, and seven years since of often sudden experience on the ground
working for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
The words twisted and slithered sideways, then came back again so Draco�s ears
almost made sense of them, and then leaped and thumped down in odd places. They
either had no syllables or were all one sort of stress. Draco shuddered and
felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

�� A shimmer
like a heat haze crept across the bones. The nearest set rose from the ground
and balanced on slender paws, wavering back and forth as if it longed to rest.
But the skull lifted to face Potter, and there was a spark of dead blackness in
its eyesockets deeper than the ash around them could account for.

�� Draco would
have looked at Potter, but he couldn�t take his eyes away from the dog. And
then Potter repeated that weird incantation again, in all the nonexistent
directions words could take, and Draco was glad he wasn�t looking at him.

�� The dog�s
jaws parted, and it wheezed out a huffing breath that smelled like a
slaughterhouse. The words made no sense to Draco, rather like Potter�s
incantation. But Potter seemed to understand them, because this time he made
only a few sounds, instead of repeating himself again. Draco shivered
helplessly and closed his hands on his elbows, wrapping his arms violently
around himself. It didn�t help. He had never been so cold, never wanted so much
to scream and run away. He locked his feet into the ground to keep himself
still, and then watched the skeleton out of sheer stubbornness.

�� The dog
swung its head forwards, coughed heavily, and again said a few menacing, rough
words. Potter nodded, or at least Draco thought the silence to his right lasted
long enough for a nod, and asked one more question, or his voice lilted enough
for it to be a question. This time, the dog was silent.

�� Potter
spoke the incantation again. Draco was shivering, tears in his eyes, by the
time the words stopped. And then the heat haze passed, and so did the cloud of
dust in his head, and the skeleton slumped to the ground and was charred bones
once again. If it had ever stood up at all, Draco thought, numb with horror. If
it had ever spoken at all.

�� But he knew
it had. The idea that it hadn�t was just a childish refusal to remember a nightmare.
He took a deep breath and turned to face Potter again.

�� Potter was
nearly as gray as the ash, and wavering on his feet. He shut his eyes and
looked dead himself for a moment. When he wavered again, Draco reached out and
caught him under the shoulder, not at all sure he ought to. Potter smiled
without showing his teeth and leaned heavily on Draco�s side.

�� I got the
information we needed,� he whispered. �The others called him Ferris Dobs. And
he�s gone to a place in Cornwall marked by three standing stones and rumors of
Dark magic. Let�s get out of here. It�s not good to stay too long near a place
where you�ve used that spell.�

�� Draco bit
his tongue to control the questions, and Apparated. But his trust went only so
far. That was Dark magic, or he had never felt it. And Harry Perfect Potter
using Dark magic was�not within the compass of the world as Draco knew it.

*

�� Harry woke
slowly. He had been awake all the time he cast the spell, of course; casting it
wasn�t a decision that could be made in his sleep. But he only felt as if he
weren�t walking through a dream when he had a cuppa of tea clenched in his
hands, and the warmth had seeped into the bones of his fingers, and his shivers
had ceased, and his throat had stopped tasting like rotten meat.

�� Malfoy sat
on a chair across from him in this great dim room, wherever it was, sipping
from what Harry privately suspected was a cup of something much stronger than
tea. He blinked and looked at the fire. The wavering shapes of the flames
helped chase away the memory of the way the dog had looked, moved, spoken.
Harry closed his eyes, shuddered once, and made himself be all right again.

�� He looked
at Malfoy. �I suppose you have questions,� he said.

�� Like Runespoors
have scales,� Malfoy said, and set his cup down on the table beside him with a
clink. The flat, hard suspicion in his eyes made Harry fight back the impulse
to defend himself. He bit his lip and held his peace. It showed a great trust
for Malfoy to have brought him here instead of turning him over to the
Ministry, and that was all he could ask for.

�� Until he
explained, at least.

�� Where did
you learn that spell?� Malfoy asked quietly.

�� Harry
sighed shakily and flexed his left hand open on his knee, looking at it instead
of Malfoy. �What do you know about the means by which Voldemort became
immortal?� he asked.

�� Malfoy�s
shadow swung to the right as if in startlement, and Malfoy said slowly, �I�I
only knew that he was, and that you killed him. Somehow. With your mother�s
love, and my wand.� His voice roughened with amusement for a moment, or maybe
anger, but he banished it. �What did he use?�

�� That, I
still can�t tell you,� Harry said, and raised his hand to forestall the protest
he knew was coming. �It has nothing to do with whether I think you�d betray the
secret. Ron, Hermione, and I had an interview with the Minister after the war
was over and we took an Unbreakable Vow never to reveal the secret of
Voldemort�s immortality.�

�� That bad,
then,� Malfoy said.

�� Harry
nodded. �But there were a number of places important to his immortality.
I�visited one of them, a year after the war. Curiosity, I suppose, or a desire
to pay my respects��

�� To the Dark Lord?�

�� Harry
welcomed the surge of irritation that traveled through his body, and squinted
up at Malfoy. �No,� he snapped. �If you would let me finish my sentences, you�d
see that. That place was instrumental in killing Dumbledore. I went to pay my
respects to him.�

�� And here I
thought Professor Snape killed Dumbledore,� Malfoy muttered, and shook his
head. �Clearly, I have a lot to learn about the Hero of the Wizarding World and
his affairs.�

�� Most
people do,� said Harry, and he must have said it in the right way, because
Malfoy relaxed against the back of his chair. �Anyway.� He closed his eyes,
trying to block the sight of the cave from his memory. But the darkness made
his immediate environment more like
the cave, so he opened them again and did his best to stare at nothing. �I
found a book there. Voldemort must have stolen it from somewhere. Maybe the
Chamber of Secrets, or some private library that had several books about
Slytherin. It talked about necromancy��

��

�� I know
what you did, Potter,� Malfoy said, and his voice was tight and harsh. �Tell me
why you did it. Tell me why you learned it.�

�� Harry shut
his eyes again, more tightly, because this time he thought it right to
concentrate on what he saw when he did. �I visit the graves of the people who
died in the war often,� he said. �And my parents, too. I talk to their
gravestones. Would you believe that once I wanted to talk to them more
personally? I had something that would let me do that, but I�lost it.�

�� Only you
could speak about the Resurrection Stone that casually,� Malfoy muttered.

�� Harry
ignored him. He was lost in memories of the first time he had seen the earth
above the graves stirring, and realized just what necromancy was: speaking with
the bodies of the dead, not their spirits. �I cured myself of that longing
fairly quickly. But one reason I kept the book, and one reason I learned the
spells in it easily, was that it would have been useless to anyone else anyway.
You need to be able to speak Parseltongue to cast them.�

�� Malfoy said
nothing for so long Harry thought he might have stood and left the room to
firecall the Ministry. But when he opened his eyes, he realized Malfoy was
holding his cup of liquor very tightly and staring into the fire.

�� It was up
to Harry to break the silence. He did after a few moments. �So that�s what you
heard me use today. It doesn�t have a use that often, but sometimes it does.�
He sipped the tea. His throat felt far dryer than it should. �The dead can�t
lie, though there are questions they might refuse to answer. I�m sure the
information the dog gave me is accurate.�

*

�� Draco
didn�t reply, because he didn�t think he could yet. He was trying to
contemplate the longing to talk with the dead Potter must have experienced to
make him learn magic that felt like that,
the feelings that had led him back to the place�whatever it was�and the fact
that he was actually willing to exploit one of the connections between him and
the Dark Lord.

�� And the
trust, once again, that had led him to show off that magic in front of Draco.
Necromancy was still punishable by three years in Azkaban, and more than that
depending on what kind of sacrifice was used to power the spell and the motive
for seeking the information. Speaking with a dead animal in order to find its
murderer and without a sacrifice might not be called a crime, but Draco knew
the Wizengamot wouldn�t see it that way.

�� He held the
future of the Chosen One in his hands. Potter had given it to him as if it
meant nothing at all.

�� Draco
didn�t like gifts that meant nothing at all.

�� He sat up
and turned around to face Potter. �Why tell me this?� he demanded. �Why did you
use that spell in front of me, instead of sending me off to scout the remains
of the buildings and then casting it? Do you take risks like this all the time?
How many of your friends know you�re a necromancer?�

�� Potter
opened his eyes. They looked glazed and exhausted. Draco wondered what kind of
toll necromancy took on the wizard using it, and whether it was anything like
the Unforgivable Curses� toll. Then he frowned. Should I really be concerned about someone who would use that kind of
spell in the first place?

�� My friends
know,� Potter said, his voice thin. �And I didn�t send you away because you
would have wondered why I wanted you to leave so suddenly, and crept back and
watched me perform the spell anyway. Then you would probably have thought it
was your duty to report me to the Ministry, and done so. This way, there was at
least a chance that you would be on my side, or want to ask questions.�

�� Draco
resisted the urge to hit his head into the back of the chair. It was the same
kind of non-logic Potter applied to everything�to trusting him, to his desire
to act on his own instead of waiting for Auror backup, to deciding that he
should take Draco to the Tonks house instead of just describing Teddy�s
symptoms to him.

�� On the
other hand, it had worked, hadn�t it? Draco still felt wary of Potter, but he
felt a measure of sympathy for him as well, and a sneaking admiration he
couldn�t help. To find and exploit the secret of that book, and then keep it
from possessing him in return, was something Draco might have done. Or tried
and failed to do, before his sixth year.

�� All
right,� he said finally. �So say that I won�t report you to the Ministry for
now.�

�� Potter
lifted his head and gave him a brilliant smile. Draco�s stomach tugged again. But
this was more than physical attraction, or the wonder of seeing how much Potter
had changed, because now he knew the source of that change. Of course being
close to that kind of darkness, and daring to master it anyway, would alter a
person.

�� Thank
you,� Potter whispered. �Do you have maps that might show the location of three
standing stones in Cornwall?�

�� Yes,�
Draco said. �But you need to sleep.�

�� It�s not
that late��

�� It�s
nine-o�clock,� said Draco, and Potter frowned, looking around as though he
thought there were windows in the room that might show him otherwise. �And I�m
your host. You sleep, and I�ll look over some of the maps.�

�� Every hour
we delay��

�� Is an hour
that Ferris Dobs convinces himself we don�t have enough proof to come after
him,� Draco said smoothly. �I would rather take our time and make sure we can
catch him when we face him than charge at him too soon and lose because of
that.�

�� Potter
spent some time considering that, his eyelids flickering up and down like those
of a person deprived of tea for three days. Draco�s private resolve increased.
He would chain Potter to the bed and take away his wand if he refused to sleep.
He was not going to battle beside anyone who looked like that.

�� Perhaps I should chain him to the bed
anyway.

�� Draco
calmed his immediate irritation with himself by admitting that at least he had
a reason to want Potter now, after seeing his necromancy. It brought Potter
closer to him, as someone who had used Dark magic but refused to spend his
entire life in guilt over his actions. Perhaps Draco had sensed that inherent
likeness and was interested because of it.

�� And perhaps he�s just fit, and I�m just
lonely.

�� Finally,
Potter nodded and put down his cup carefully on the arm of the chair. �Thank
you,� he said. �Could you have one of the house-elves escort me to a room? I
think I�d trip over my own feet if I tried to stand up now.�

�� Draco
smiled in spite of himself. He could learn to like this honest Potter. �I�ll
take you myself,� he said, standing. �It�s not too far, and the elves are
excitable. You could fall down the stairs and break your neck because one of
them saw a patch of dust that hadn�t been cleaned on the banister.�

�� Potter
blinked at him, then snorted. �Your parents don�t know I�m here, do they?�

�� Smart, too.

�� Not as
such,� Draco said. �But I�m less afraid of what they might do than of what they
might tell the papers.� He extended his arm so Potter could lean on it, and the
other man did so, yawning widely enough that Draco heard his jaw crack.

�� They
shuffled carefully up the back stairs, the ones that had been used by human
servants in the days when the Malfoys had lost enough prestige and money to
need them instead of house-elves. Now and then Potter paused to tilt his head
back and study the pattern of climbing dragons on the banister, or the walls,
which were cream here. When Draco asked him what he was looking for, Potter
said, �You have a warmer home than I expected.�

�� Draco
played with the comment in his mind all the way up the staircase, but couldn�t
find anything to do with it. In the end, he laid Potter down gently on the bed
he�d chosen and wrestled his boots off in silence. Potter flung out a hand when
Draco started to attend to his socks.

�� I�m�all
right,� he said, pausing to let another yawn through. �Thanks for the
hospitality. Don�t stay up too late looking at maps yourself. And you might
firecall Andromeda, if you think of it.� He rolled onto his side and let his
eyes fall shut.

�� She�d be
suspicious of me,� Draco said, though he hated to keep Potter from rest a
moment longer. His breathing was already sliding deep and evening out.

�� Likely,�
Potter muttered. �So. Tell her�tell her I told you the story about the blue
ribbon and the summer day when Teddy changed his hair green and his skin brown
and hid in a tree for hours.�

�� What?�
Draco demanded, but Potter was asleep, and only an open-mouthed snore answered
him. Draco rolled his eyes and lightly tilted Potter�s face so his mouth shut.
It was only so drool wouldn�t spill over the pillows, of course.

�� And it was
only because of his loneliness that Draco lingered with his fingers on Potter�s
cheek, cataloguing the changes seven years had made in the shape of his forehead
and jaw.

�� At last he
shook himself away from the bed and went down to the section of his father�s
library that held the maps of Cornwall.

*

�� Harry woke
slowly, to the inevitable rumpled feeling that always assaulted him when he
slept in clothes. It took him some time to remember why he still felt tired, grains
of gritty dark exhaustion rubbing back and forth in his bones and behind his
eyes, and his jaw popped open in another yawn as he examined the sleek blue
sheets he lay among.

�� Oh, yeah. Malfoy�the dog�Dobs�Teddy.

�� Harry
hastened to rise then. He wanted to be at his most alert
when they confronted Dobs, and he knew from long experience that only a shower
would ease him when he was feeling like this.

�� There was a
loo located off the bedroom which Harry found after a few minutes of opening
closet doors, to his relief, so he didn�t need to call the house-elves and ask
embarrassing questions. And the shower itself was as big as some of the
closets, with the hot water steady enough to drum against his muscles and push
the weariness by force out of his body. Harry leaned his cheek on the wall and
moaned in appreciation, then straightened and turned so the water could pound
his back in return.

�� A number of
fluffy dark red towels awaited him when he stepped out of the shower. Harry
wrapped one around his waist and one around his shoulders so his hair wouldn�t
drip all over the towel around his waist, and wandered out into the bedroom
again, using a third towel to dry his arms and head off.

�� Because he
had his face tilted forwards, scrubbing at his stubborn, dripping fringe, he
didn�t immediately realize he wasn�t alone. Then he heard a caught breath, and
looked up, blinking, to see Malfoy standing by the bed.

�� And he was
staring. Definitely.

�� Harry
stared back at him, trying to decide what to do next. He could feel a blush
coming on, but Malfoy would have heard the shower going when he came into the
bedroom, and he could have left again. Or detailed an elf to bring the
breakfast steaming on a tray next to him, for that matter. Harry decided to stare
back boldly.

�� Malfoy
swallowed, then let his gaze travel from Harry�s face to the towel wrapped
around his hips, and back up again. He still looked faintly uncomfortable, but
he was showing his interest openly.

�� Harry felt
happiness burst in his chest like a supernova. No, his trust in Malfoy had not
been misplaced.

�� Good
morning,� he said calmly, and returned to drying his hair with the towel. When
he made a movement as if to drop it on the bed, Malfoy tsked and floated the towel into the air, then banished it,
presumably to where it would drip safely. Harry grinned at him, and then bit
his lip to stop himself from grinning like Teddy presented with ice cream.

�� Have you
firecalled Andromeda yet?� he asked, as if he couldn�t feel the tension
hovering between them.

�� Malfoy
moved forwards a step, then paused, studying him with half-lowered lids.�Yes,�
he said. �She believed me when I gave her the story of the blue ribbon and
Teddy. Teddy himself is recovering, sleeping without convulsions, and not
sweating as much now. And I located the area in Cornwall where our Dobs presumably
is.� He flicked one hand. �For now, to something more important. I rather
expected you to charge in the opposite direction when you realized the way I
was looking at you.�

�� Harry hummed
under his breath and bent forwards, far more than he needed to, in order to
retrieve his robes; they looked suspiciously free of wrinkles. House-elves, popping in whilst I was in the
loo, he decided, and slid his shirt over his head. No, Malfoy didn�t need to come into the bedroom if he didn�t want to.

�� Why would
I do that?� he asked, and removed the towel from his shoulders as the shirt got
tangled with it. Malfoy vanished it as he had the other, but Harry didn�t think
it was his imagination that the movement was a trifle slower this time. Malfoy
was staring at his arse, or at least at the bulge it made beneath the towel.
Well, it was a nice arse, Harry thought contentedly. �It�s rare enough that I
find someone who looks at my body.�

�� What else
would they be looking at?� Malfoy�s voice conveyed genuine bewilderment.

�� Taking pity
on him, Harry turned around and tapped his fingers on his forehead. �When I�m
more to someone than just a scar, it�s a rare and momentous occasion,� he said.

�� Malfoy
blinked, his eyelids rising and falling so slowly Harry half-thought he was
falling asleep. Then he shook his head. �How ridiculous,� he muttered. �That
scar is old, ugly, and not anything special. I knew that years ago.� He moved a
few steps closer to Harry, his expression curiously intent, as if he were
stalking a wild Fwooper he thought would fly at any second.

�� I�m not timid, Harry thought, and
stepped forwards to meet him. �Yes, but not everyone has the benefit of your
years of acquaintance with me, or your habit of thinking that I�m not anything
special,� he murmured.

�� Malfoy
stood in front of him, looking thoughtfully at his chest. �You may have
misunderstood me,� he said.

�� Oh?�
Harry�s voice was higher than he would have liked, his breath faster, but
Malfoy didn�t look much less flustered.

�� Malfoy met
his eyes at last. He wasn�t smiling, but his voice sounded as if he was. �I
said there wasn�t anything special about your scar,� he said. �But your scar
isn�t you.�

�� Harry
growled�anyone who could have expected him to hold back now just wasn�t human�and leaned in to see what Malfoy�s
mouth tasted like.

*

�� Draco had
worried at first when he saw the confidence with which Potter spoke, thought,
stared at him, moved. That confidence spoke of someone who�d had many lovers,
and either Draco wouldn�t measure up to them or Potter was the sort who would
grow bored easily and leave him. They weren�t that old, after all, so Potter�s
confidence couldn�t be simply the result of age.

�� But the way
Potter kissed him was too eager and forthright to serve someone who was bored
of lovemaking. Draco found his chin taken and turned, his mouth opened by a forceful
tongue, and his hips pressed suddenly against Potter�s still-sodden ones. He
might have protested the indignity of it, the wetness, or any number of things,
but he was too busy kissing, and being kissed by, Harry Potter.

�� Draco found
himself gasping early into the kiss; Potter seemed to have decided the words
�dignified� and �chaste� never applied to snogging. He leaned closer and
closer, pressing his tongue in when Draco would have liked a breath, nipping
Draco�s lips as if that were the purpose of lips, and grumbling in his throat
when Draco made some attempt to preserve an inch of space between their bodies.

�� Water drops
crept into Draco�s robes. He gave up standing on his dignity and pulled Potter
closer with a muffled little moan.

�� Though
black spots burst in front of his vision by the time the kiss finished, it was
still worth it.

�� I�hadn�t
expected that,� he said, when he pulled away and stared at Potter. Potter
smirked at him with swollen lips that made Draco clench his fists so he didn�t
dive right back into the kiss.

�� Neither
did I.� Potter shrugged and shook his head. The towel had come mostly undone
from his hips, and Draco caught a satisfying glimpse of a pink erection rapidly
turning red. His hair hung gleaming and dripping and unrepentant just above his
shoulders, and he had more muscles, and more scars, than Draco would have
imagined. Being an Auror is dangerous
business, he thought, and reached out, idly tracing a finger down the
broadest scar, a white line above Potter�s right hip that looked oddly like a
sword-cut. Potter�s breath whistled in and out for a moment before he
controlled himself. �And no doubt Andromeda would talk on and out about an
enchantment.�

�� But not
Weasley?� Draco looked up to meet Potter�s eyes again, and wondered idly if he
ought to start calling him Harry.

�� No.�
Potter�s smile flashed. �He�s forgotten his grievances against the Malfoys in
the last few years. Too busy living. They�re more present for Andromeda.�

�� That seems
to have happened to all of us,� said Draco, and cupped a hand around Potter�s
hip.

�� Grievances
against your family?� Harry asked. �Not unless your parents have been behind several
crimes I couldn�t solve.�

�� Draco
laughed before he recognized the words as teasing. It felt odd, and very right,
to have Harry Potter smiling at and joking with him, instead of making him the
butt of the joke. �No. We�ve lived. Maybe that�s one reason this can happen.
Because we�re not what we were.�

�� Isn�t that
too simple for you?� Harry asked, a line appearing between his brows. �I
thought you would want to apply some complicated Slytherin analysis to it.�

�� Living is
the most complicated thing of all,� said Draco, and sucked a soft line along
Harry�s neck. Harry gasped and tilted his head back.

�� Draco knew
they would have to stop soon; among other things, they had to go after Ferris
Dobs before anything further could happen between them. But for the moment, he
was sucking on Harry Potter�s neck, and Harry Potter was letting him, and there
was a small, solid knot of happiness in Draco�s stomach that was not melting.

*

�� Harry
grimaced and straightened, fighting the temptation to run a hand through his
hair. It couldn�t have been further disordered by the Side-Along Apparition
than it already had been, and Draco�s sideways glance told him as much. But he
kept his hands at his sides, and instead regarded the area before them
cautiously.

�� The ground
was boggy, a sullen green, with open pools of water dotted here and there. The
sky above them was gray, steady lines of drizzle traveling downwards from it
the way a line of drool might have dropped from a living dog�s muzzle. Draco
had already cast an Impervious Charm; Harry hastened to cast the same one, and
did what he could to ignore Draco�s chuckle.

�� The
standing stones weren�t far from them, one slender pillar on either side of an
enormous boulder starred with green and white patches of moss and lichen. Harry
shivered as he stared at it. He had grown more sensitive to Dark magic than he
would have liked since he started studying necromancy, and whilst it had proven
an asset when tracking down Death Eaters, now it only added an edge to the way
he regarded the stones without telling him anything useful.

�� Draco had
been quietly casting tracking charms and murmuring beneath his breath. They had
arrived under Disillusionment, but Draco had warned Harry that Dobs� group were
competent ward-casters even if they were incompetent
brewers, and they couldn�t be sure they had arrived unnoticed. Draco relaxed a
moment later, though, and tossed his hair over his shoulder in a flurry of
blond.

�� Where are
they?� Harry whispered.

�� Draco aimed
his wand past the great boulder and at what looked like an ordinary, small
hillock of green to Harry. �There,� he whispered back. �They�re using charms to
repel Muggles, but also a complicated glamour that makes the place
uninteresting to anyone who doesn�t already know it�s there. We�ll be best off walking
towards it with our eyes squinted so our sight can�t trick us, the way you
approach the platform for the Hogwarts Express.�

�� Funny,�
Harry said as they began to walk. �I always rushed it with my eyes shut.�

�� Draco
laughed at him, though he kept the sound low. Harry didn�t have to listen hard
to find it friendly. �That would be a Weasley trick, yes,� he said, and then concentrated
on the uneven footing ahead of him.

�� Harry found
it sickening to walk that ground. It jigged up and down constantly, and
sometimes assumed colors he knew it couldn�t be, such as black and gray and
purple. He hadn�t seen charms like this before, and vowed to convince the
Aurors to interview Dobs and the others when he brought them in, so they could
learn the trick of it.

�� The colors
suddenly flattened and swam, and Harry flung a hand up in front of his face.
But Draco seized his wrist and drew him forwards, and then Harry found himself
past the glamour, or wards, and in a different landscape altogether.

�� A granite
path spread out before them, encircled by further rings of standing stones. The
whole area hummed with enough magic to make Harry�s teeth hurt. He heard the
barking of dogs, though he couldn�t see them; in the center of the granite path
was a series of what looked like wagons, or perhaps simply collapsible wooden
buildings on wheels. They were painted a somber green and gray, to blend in
with the ground and the rain from a distance. Harry could hear a wizard�s voice
shout, and another, lower voice answer. Then someone cursed. Harry hoped one of
the dogs had got a bite in.

�� He turned
to Draco. �What should we do first?� he whispered. He wanted to charge, but he
suspected Draco wouldn�t like that plan, bloody cautious prat that he was.

�� Scout,�
Draco said, and he blurred like the colors in the landscape had, so Harry was
almost tempted to shield his eyes again. But the colors cleared quickly, and a
white ferret stood there on its hind legs, wriggling a set of enormous whiskers
at him. Harry swallowed a snicker and adopted a grave face instead.

�� You could
grow quite a beard, if that�s any indication,� he said.

�� The ferret
bared its teeth at him, which Harry supposed was probably weasel for �Get
stuffed,� and then slid away towards the wagons, moving with a lithe grace that
reassured Harry, who had suspected he would be immediately visible to Dobs�
people, white as he was. Harry crouched down and cast another charm to cushion
his arse from the wet ground under him. His eyes followed every trace of the
ferret�s motion until it vanished.

�� Then he
squeezed his knees and told himself he was waiting,
not following Draco into the camp, however dearly he wanted to.

*

�� Draco
sniffed carefully as he crouched under one of the wagons, but smelled nothing
unusual. Smoke from the fires in the center of the camp, charmed to burn
against the rain, and the wet fur of dogs, and dragonhide from the boots the
wizards wore, and the thickly embroidered cloth of their robes, and�

�� Suddenly
his tail stuck out straight behind him and his fur bristled. He could smell
something different after all, though the crushing, pounding scent of the rain
had almost washed it away. There were herbs in the wagon above him, and among
them was foxglove. And when Draco stood up on his hind legs, forepaws braced
against a wheel, and stuck his nose close to a crack in the wooden floor, he
could smell hens� teeth as well.

�� Satisfaction
surged through him like wildfire, though the scents told him nothing more about
what in the world the wizards thought they were doing. They couldn�t actually
mean to make a substitute for Wolfsbane.

�� But he
remembered the gray dogs who might have been part wolf, and how they had
reacted differently than the rest of the dogs to the first potion, and he
wondered.

�� The barking
grew louder. Draco peered around the wheel, and saw Hook-Nose�Dobs�standing on
the steps of the wagon across from him, waving his wand to cast a wide circle
of Morganna�s Debris around a loose ring of dogs gathered near the central
fire. Once again, there were a great variety of them, but once again there were
some gray ones, lean and rangy and possessed of amber eyes, that could have
been part wolf. Those stood with their ears pricked forwards and their
attention on the wizards, whilst the other dogs snapped and snarled and
growled. Draco rubbed his nose with a paw for a moment. He had always thought
that dogs with wolf blood in them were wilder, and thus less likely to be
quiet.

�� On my
signal!� Dobs shouted, and his five people, three wizards and two witches,
gathered around the outer circle of the Debris raised their wands. They cast
the spell nonverbally, but Draco recognized the wand motion used by Healers to
send a nutrient or sleeping potion directly into the stomach when a patient would
vomit everything taken by mouth. They were spelling the potion they�d come up
with into the dogs� stomachs, Draco was certain.

�� He edged a
little sideways, putting him into a position that would allow him both to hide
better from the firelight and to have a wider field of vision, and watched.

�� The first
few dogs froze and stiffened and fell over then. The ones left in the circle
with them began to back up, barking and whining, and then several of them
turned and began to chase their tails madly. Effects of a plant called
fire-binding weed, Draco thought, and opened his nostrils wider to be sure he
could smell it.

�� As other
dogs fell to the ground and began to paddle their legs in convulsions, Draco
returned his gaze to the wolf-like dogs. They were nosing calmly at each other,
or regarding the humans with curious eyes.

�� Dobs and
his people broke into hoarse cheering. Draco dug his paws into the earth and
sneezed in scorn. Yes, they really were trying to brew Wolfsbane and thought it
was enough that the dogs who had some wolf heritage weren�t reacting violently.
But the idiots were disregarding the unique magical effect that the full moon
had on werewolves�Draco might have been slightly more convinced by their trial
if he�d seen it happen on a full moon night�and the way that the disease
influenced the immune systems of humans. If they were sending this potion out
into the world as Wolfsbane, or some even more inferior version of it, Draco
would not be surprised if a majority of their human patients fell ill.

�� The wizards
and witches were watching the wolf-like dogs and beginning to argue about the
likely cause of their calmness. Draco twitched his ears. He could listen to the
words and gain some additional proof that they�d been trying to modify
Wolfsbane, but he doubted he would learn anything truly useful. It would be far
better to gain some direct observations of one of their brewing labs.

�� He crept
around the corner of the wheel, grateful the rain would affect the dogs� noses
as much as it would his, and then streaked up onto the lowest step of the wagon
he�d been hiding beneath. Once again, no one seemed to notice him, and Draco
relaxed. He had had reason before to curse the white color of his fur, but that
couldn�t help his enemies if they persisted in not looking in his direction.

�� And then
the air around him grew iron bars, and a cage formed, encompassing Draco.
Someone laughed. Draco knew, even as he twisted his body madly in circles to
try and force an escape between the bars, that it would be Dobs.

�� And that, my friends,� he told the wizards
and witches around him, even as the cage containing Draco rattled down the
steps of the wagon and collapsed at his feet, �is why I put ferret-detection
wards on the wagons.�

*

�� Harry
raised his head when he heard a strange sound coming from the camp. His body
tensed. Rationally, he told himself that it was no stranger than the sounds he
had heard before�laughter, hoarse cheering, the barking of maddened dogs�but it
was different, that was for certain. It was a high, shrill squeaking. Harry
listened intently, wondering if they were getting ready to move the wagons and
one of them had wheels that hadn�t been oiled recently.

�� But it was
louder than that. A squeaking like a ferret in trouble, perhaps.

�� Harry
muttered, �Bloody Malfoy,� under his breath and rose to his feet. His steps
forwards were cautious, and he kept his wand loose and ready in his hand. He
had seen most of the wards that sparkled about the camp, or so he thought, and
there were some that would miss him automatically because of his
Disillusionment Charm. But the last thing he wanted was for their enemies to
capture them both.

�� If that was
even what had happened to Draco.

�� He ducked
around the corner of one of the wagons, and froze when he saw a spell stretched
like a tripwire across his path, gleaming white and then black in lazy
patterns. Harry hissed under his breath. He had no idea what the spell did, and
no desire to find out.

�� He cast a
spell on his ears instead, so they would seek out every single suspicious noise
in the camp and bring it straight to him. He winced when a wave of sound
crashed in on him, but he�d used this spell before, to pick up the whispers of
dastardly criminals at a hundred paces, and was used to the effects. He
listened, concentrating on any sound that was definitely animal and not human,
and sorting the words that came to him for certain specific ones.

�� In a
moment, he heard the word �ferret.�

�� Harry leaned
forwards, extending his body cautiously above the black-and-white spell, so he
could see around the corner of the nearest wagon and, hopefully, catch a
glimpse of Draco. He saw Dobs instead, the man�s back turned to him. He was
holding something above his head and laughing. Harry squinted, unable to be
sure from this distance�bloody glasses�but
thinking he made out a small white form moving inside an iron cage.

�� Harry
smiled, or rather he peeled his lips back from his teeth. Then he aimed his wand
into the camp and whispered under his breath, �Abi, ferrum.�

�� Startled
cries were his first indication that the spell, one to banish all the iron in
the camp, had worked. The wizards and witches of Dobs� group were turning
around to stare at the wagon wheels suddenly rolling around them, missing their
axle pins, and some of them were feeling frantically at their clothes, which
apparently had had iron buttons tying them together.

�� But Harry�s
concentration was on Dobs himself, and the suddenly nonexistent iron cage he�d
held�

�� And the
lithe white shape that surged up Dobs� arm to bite him right on his hooked
nose.

*

�� Draco
usually tried to avoid biting things in his Animagus form; it called forth the
ferret instincts too strongly, and then he would be left with the urge to hunt
down rodents and eat them, and that was not on. But he had no intention of
resisting the urge to bite Dobs, and few things had ever given him as much
satisfaction as hearing how the flesh crunched and tore between his sharp teeth.

�� Dobs
screamed in agony and flung his head back, an unwise move. Draco went along for
only part of the ride, and then flew away, clutching most of Dobs� nose in his
teeth. Only a strip of dangling flesh would be left on his face.

�� Draco
didn�t have much time to feel smug about this. He slammed into the side of a
wagon and felt the impact all along his ribs. He screamed in pain, a high,
shrill sound, as he dropped, and for a long moment he couldn�t summon the
concentration to change back into his human form again.

�� Then he
wondered why he�d had that moment at all, considering how angry Dobs must be
about the attack. He looked up, blinking, and found Ferris Dobs dueling Harry
Potter.

�� Harry�s
teeth were locked in a merciless grin, and his body crouched and leaned
forwards, as if he were facing into a strong wind. He flung hex after hex at
Dobs, who countered them with frantic dodging more than sophisticated defensive
charms. The air around them was filled with the smell of lightning and the
crackle of weird lights. Draco didn�t think he dared approach.

�� On the
other hand, he didn�t need to. Dobs� group had started to recover and were
aiming their wands at Harry�s back. Draco smiled, stuck his wand at their feet
along the ground, and cast the strongest sleeping charm he knew. The Ministry
approved of things like that. They collapsed, their wands raining from their
hands like so many useless sticks of wood. Draco chuckled, and stood up,
studying Dobs and Harry thoughtfully. Harry seemed to be handling the duel well
enough, and Draco really should get a look inside one of those wagons. He would
understand the ingredients and instructions used in the potions better now that
he knew what he was supposed to be looking for�

�� And then he
saw Dobs backing away from Harry, his face distorted with rage and hate, and his
wand rising, and he remembered the Immortal Flame spell that had destroyed the
previous estate. He wondered what Dobs would do this time, now that he was
faced with an enemy he feared enough to destroy his precious work on the mere
chance of avoiding.

�� Draco
lurched into a run.

�� But Dobs
was already screaming the words to an incantation that Draco had heard
Bellatrix use once, and he feared he was too late.

*

�� Harry
recognized the expression Dobs wore. He had seen it on Voldemort�s face when he
began to realize that he was not going to win their final duel. He had seen it
on the face of Molly Weasley, battling Bellatrix.

�� He had seen
it in the mirror, when he had begun to realize what studying necromancy from
Voldemort�s secret book was doing to him.

�� And Dobs
had begun his spell. Harry didn�t know what it was, though he knew it contained
the Latin word for conflagration. He didn�t know how to stop it. He didn�t know
how to block Draco from its effects, or Dobs� people, or the living dogs, or
the evidence he desperately needed to convict the man.

�� Aurors take their prisoners alive when they
can, said the voice of his training in his head. We kill only when necessary.

�� And in
desperation, Harry reached for the magic of death in order to preserve life.

�� His first
hissed words darkened the air around him. A dust haze rose and crowded in on
him. His vision blurred, and then became the inside of the cave, the dark
crevice where he had found the book. This always happened at first, and Harry
ignored the panic it gave him now, when he couldn�t see Dobs, couldn�t tell if
perhaps a wall of fire was already heading for Draco.

�� The
darkness dissolved as Harry went on speaking, but that was because it had
spread outwards to the spell�s target. The air closed hungry jaws on Dobs, and
Harry could see his wand flicking through the last movements of his own spell.
Fire began to splutter from it, but moving slowly, so slowly; it trickled like
water along the ground and through the air.

�� Harry had
time to complete his spell; he had stepped through time and into the world of
death that lurked behind the world of the living. He made a final gesture, with
both his wand and his left hand.

�� White light
flashed, or perhaps Dobs became the only non-dark thing against a deeper
darkness. Harry could see into his body. He could see the transparent conduits
of his veins, the brilliant blood sparkling and twined through his heart, the
frantically contracting muscles, the leaping of impulses in his brain that
signified he was giving in to fear.

�� And he
could see his death, coiled around Dobs and gnawing slowly on him like the
dragon that gnawed on the root of the tree of life in a legend Hermione had
once told him.

�� The spell
quickened that death, brought its head up and turned it around. The dragon�s
jaws began to move faster. Dobs hurtled towards his predestined end. The spell
did not manipulate time; not age but pure death was eating him from the inside
out. The book had said there was no necromantic spell that could be used upon
the living that was more painful, and the pain usually prevented the victims
from generating an effective defense.

�� Dobs
screamed, and went on screaming. His voice had risen to a sobbing wail, the
sound Harry thought dimly that George must have made when Fred died. His wand
fell from his hand. His fire died away to nothingness.

�� Harry
reached out and slowly, because speaking the language of life was hard after he
had hissed so many twisting syllables to death, said, �Enough.�

�� The climb
up from the magic was sore and painful. Harry could feel his own magic
shuddering, disliking to be used for such purposes and fighting him intensely. If
he had to use it that way, at least let it stay and bathe in the power. But
Harry shook his head and pulled, backwards and further back, concentrating on
leaving Dobs alive.

�� Someone
touched his shoulder. Harry turned his head and stared at Draco. Draco stood
behind him with eyes full of trust and a gaze so bright that Harry felt some of
the shadows surrounding him part, cleaved away to nothingness by it. His
breathing steadied. His hand rose to clasp Draco�s.

�� It was the
first time he had ever had help on this road.

�� And then he
was back in the real world, blinking in the light of the campfire. Dobs lay on
the ground before him, face twisted.

�� Draco�s arm
was around his waist, and Draco did not, would not, stop nuzzling into his
neck.

*

�� Draco Malfoy.

�� By the time
he had put his signature on the last report that demanded it, Draco�s fingers
were aching and his vision was blurring with fatigue. He had had three cups of
tea, and seemed to have reached the saturation point; he had ceased to awaken
fully a few hours ago, though he had made numerous trips of the loo. He leaned
his head on the back of his chair and blinked hard.

�� Malfoy?�

�� And of
course Cullingford would choose this moment to come up behind him. Draco sat up
and tried his best to look alert. �Madam?�

�� Cullingford,
her blonde hair frizzing around her head as it always did when she�d been up
all night, looked at him for a long moment with her lips pursed. Draco gazed
back as evenly as he could. He didn�t think she bore him any particular malice�he
wouldn�t have stayed active in this Department for years if she did�but she had
to have mixed feelings that he�d been the one who brought Dobs� ring down,
after so many other agents had tried various strategies that should have
succeeded. And he had pursued the case against her wishes at first; she hadn�t
thought the Wolfsbane connection enough to give the Department for the
Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures authority over it.

�� But Draco
and Harry had found enough evidence in the wagons to make him gaze back at her
steadily. The wagons had had built-in shelves and tables covered with hens�
teeth, foxglove, and pieces of dragon eggshell�enough to convict Dobs and the
rest all by themselves�as well as foxberry and the other more usual ingredients
of legitimate Wolfsbane potions. Glass vials, lists of contacts who worked at
apothecaries, and shipping crates warded against breakage of the contents
declared their intention to sell the potion far and wide. And best of all,
Harry had sensed powerful wards in the floor of one wagon and uncovered a
locked chest containing the shops that the first version of the potion had
already been sold to. One of them was the seller that Andromeda had bought the
potion for Teddy from.

�� From what
Draco could read of Dobs� nearly illegible notes, he had so many misconceptions
about Wolfsbane it was a wonder he hadn�t destroyed himself in the brewing. He
thought it was solely a potion to make the werewolf in the mind of an infected
human calmer, and that meant he should be able to duplicate it with cheaper
ingredients and tests on dogs with wolf blood. When the first version had
failed, he had not taken it as a sign that he should stop selling his inferior
recipe, but simply a sign that the potion should be improved.

�� Draco was
glad he and Harry had stopped the idiots. They weren�t just dangerous to
werewolves and other people like Teddy Lupin who needed the Wolfsbane, they
affronted his sensibilities as a potions-maker.

�� But that
didn�t change the opinion his superior might have of the matter.

�� Cullingford
glanced away as if she were appealing to an invisible audience for help. Then
she looked sternly at Draco. �As long as you don�t do it again,� she said, weighting her words as if she thought
he would cease to do it again in simple dread of her wrath, �then I think you
deserve a commendation this time.�

�� Draco
relaxed slightly. He had, technically, broken the rules in going after Dobs
without back-up, and with an agent of another Department at his side. But his
work for the last four years hadn�t been in vain. He had been too polite, too
consistent in his paperwork, too willing to take the mean little cases that
would bring no glory. Cullingford didn�t think he�d done this to simply boost his
own reputation, which had been the danger Draco was most worried about.

�� Thank you,�
he said. �And believe me, I don�t plan to make a habit of this.�

�� Dashing
off like a schoolboy on a mad lark?� Cullingford asked, raising her eyebrows. �Or
doing so in the company of Harry Potter?�

�� Draco
smiled. �The former.� He waited, curious to see what her reaction would be.
There were people who wouldn�t react well to his being in company with Harry,
and it was best to know now if his boss was one of them.

�� But she
only raised her eyebrows higher, and then turned and stalked away in the high
boots she favored that always made her waver as if she were about to collapse.

�� Draco
sighed and turned to filing his paperwork.

*

�

�� He�s
sleeping better than he was and not sweating any more, but I don�t know what
that means,� Andromeda said, hovering next to the bed as Harry bent over and
carefully examined Teddy�s fingernails and hands. �Is it another bad sign?�

�� Harry
murmured wordless reassurances for the moment, since he was rather occupied in
studying Teddy�s palms. Draco had told him that the blue stain should fade from
Teddy�s skin if he was recovering completely from the botched potion. Should it
do so, then he would need no cure but rest. If it didn�t, then Harry was to let
Draco know at once by Flooing the Ministry, and he would come through with a
potion to counter the effects of the foxglove as soon as he could.

�� Teddy�s
skin was smooth, and soft, and warm, and pink. Entirely.

�� Harry sat
back, shutting his eyes, his bones suddenly lighter. His hand trembled as he
stroked Teddy�s fringe away from his forehead, and let his fingers linger
around his eyes. Teddy made a sleepy mumble, and then Harry felt eyelashes
flicker against his fingers. He opened his own eyes hastily.

�� Teddy was
looking at him with some curiosity. His eyes were bright and sane for the first
time in two days. ��Uncle Harry?� he
said. �What are you doing here? I thought you weren�t going to visit for a few
days.�

�� Andromeda
said something that might have been half a prayer. Harry smiled and bent down
so he could kiss the middle of Teddy�s forehead, where his hand had rested.
Teddy tried to squirm away; he was just at the age to find kisses embarrassing instead
of comforting.

�� You�ve
been very sick,� Harry said. �The potion you drank was the wrong kind of
Wolfsbane. But you�re going to get better now. Do you want something to eat?�

�� Teddy
nodded, and his hair turned the bright orange color that it usually went he was
hungry. �Fish,� he said. �Lots and lots of fish.�

�� Harry
grinned. �I�ll talk to Kreacher.� He rarely called on the house-elf anymore because
he didn�t live in Grimmauld Place, but Kreacher was more than happy to cook
food on a moment�s notice. He would, of course, grumble because he could have
done even better with more time, but Harry had long since ceased to find
Kreacher�s grumbles threatening.

�� Breakfast
was a quiet affair, at least if you discounted the noise of Teddy�s chewing and
mumbling his way happily through mouthfuls of trout. Andromeda sat by his bed
in silence, eating some toast that Harry had pressed on her by claiming he
couldn�t possibly eat the rest of the enormous tray of food Kreacher had
brought. She still had guilt and fear swirling through her eyes, but they were
disappearing at last. Harry nevertheless sat with his hand clasping hers for
some time, so he could make sure she understood that he didn�t hold her to
blame for buying tainted Wolfsbane. How was she to know the truth, when Dobs
and his group had avoided the notice of the best in the Ministry for months?

�� He would
have liked to stay longer, but he had business at the Ministry�something quite
apart from the endless paperwork he knew would be waiting for him. He had
finally made a connection he should have made some time ago, and needed to
follow up on it.

�� He kissed
Andromeda on the cheek when he stood, and held out his hand to Teddy, who shook
it gravely. �I should be back this afternoon,� he said, �if the paperwork
mountains don�t destroy me.�

�� Why paperwork?�
Teddy asked, as he dug into his third helping of trout.

�� Because
the wizards who sold that potion that made you sick were evil,� said Harry, �and
I had to arrest them, with Draco Malfoy�s help. There�s always a lot of paperwork
when you arrest someone.� Most of the
time. And when there�s not, there should be.

�� I want a
story about the evil wizards!� Teddy said, sitting up with wide eyes, the rest
of his breakfast forgotten.

�� In a
little while,� Harry said, and smiled at Andromeda and left the room before
Teddy could get shrill in his demands for a story. He was as enthusiastic as
Tonks had been when he wanted something.

�� Harry felt
the usual pang that came with thinking about Teddy�s parents, but succeeding it
was a new thought: He�s rather like
Draco, too.

�� He wore a smile
that made some of the people passing in the corridors look at him wonderingly,
when they didn�t want to stop him, slap him on the back, and congratulate him
on the capture of Dobs and his minions. Ron met him in the corridor outside
their office and tried to harangue him about taking off with Malfoy of all people, but Harry cut him
off. �I promise I�ll tell you all about it later, Ron, as we fill out the
paperwork. Right now, I need to know where M�ire is.�

�� Ron blinked
as if it were taking him a moment to remember whom Harry meant; Harry was used
to the effect when Ron was tightly focused on one case, and waited patiently.
Then Ron frowned and said, �Still in the holding cells, I suppose. They held
her a little longer this time on the Obliviators� insistence, but as usual,
there�s no evidence on her.� He sounded guiltily proud. His own brothers� ability
to get away with immense trouble had made him admire people like that, Harry
thought.

�� This time,�
Harry said quietly, �I have some.�

�� With Ron
trailing behind him, Harry crossed three corridors and came to the temporary holding
cells for those criminals whom the Aurors expected to release fairly soon,
either because of a lack of evidence or because of minor offenses. The polished
wooden doors looked no different from the doors of the Aurors� offices, if one ignored
the wards crawling all over them. Harry examined the plaques above the knobs�enchanted
to change depending on the name of the wizard or witch confined in the cell at
the moment�and grunted in satisfaction when he found the one that said M�ire Dobson.

�� Dobson.
Dobs. And M�ire had been in Stone�s office when Ron brought in word of Teddy�s
sickness, and most prisoners were allowed a few firecalls to relatives or
friends to explain what had happened when they were arrested. M�ire could
easily have conveyed the information about Teddy�s illness to one of Dobs�
people. It might not even have taken a code or lies, Harry thought; the Aurors
were accustomed to thinking that M�ire was no threat and rarely paid attention
to her Floo calls.

�� With a
sense of an era ending, Harry unlocked the wards and entered the cell with his
wand drawn.

�� M�ire was
sitting on the chair in the center of the room, staring at the wall. The walls themselves
were bare stone with no decorations, though they were spelled to be warm enough
for anyone not under a Freezing Charm. Other than the chair, the only furniture
in the room was a bed and a crude loo. Harry had long ago decided that the
purpose of the holding cells wasn�t to make criminals think about what they�d
done so much as bore them to death.

�� M�ire
looked up when they came in, and her face brightened. Then she noticed the
wand, and lifted her hands in mock fear. �Watch where you�re pointing that
thing,� she said. �I�m not armed.�

�� Harry
looked at her in silence, remembering all the instances over the last few
months when M�ire had been captured and then released within a few days, each
time for crimes they could find no trace of. No one had tracked the
correspondence of her periods of imprisonment and those times when Dobs� group
had apparently gained information that would enable them to vanish from under
the noses of the authorities. Why should they? M�ire was as harmless as she was
short. Even now, she looked at them with a mask of practiced innocence.

�� Our decision not to come to the Ministry for
back-up was a better one than we could have known at the time.

�� Not with a
wand, perhaps,� Harry said at last, quietly. �But you�ve proven yourself armed
with the right information at times that are�troublesome for the Ministry.� He�d
chosen that word over several others he could have. He wanted to avoid being
too dramatic right now. M�ire thrived on drama; she would simply turn the
situation to her advantage if Harry let her. �What is your relationship to
Ferris Dobs?�

�� M�ire came
up out of the chair at him. She never changed a line of her face or a muscle in
her body before she did so; she simply sprang, and if Harry had been alone
there was a good chance she would have overwhelmed him. She was too close in an
instant, and her elbow slammed his wand away as he tried to bring it to bear.

�� But Ron was
there, and he shouted �Petrificus Totalus!� in time. M�ire froze and then leaned on Harry
as heavily as a slab of stone. Harry grimaced, retrieved his wand, and floated
her back into her chair.

�� Unfreeze
her jaw, Ron,� he said, not taking his eyes from M�ire�s. They had gone
deliberately blank, now, and she was staring over his shoulder as if the entire
affair rather bored her.

�� Ron did,
but M�ire didn�t speak. She shifted her eyes sideways to glance at Harry�s
face, though, and Harry considered that progress.

�� I would
hazard a guess he�s a relative,� Harry said, and leaned his elbow on the wall,
keeping a faint smile on his lips. The more he seemed to know, the more he
could unnerve a criminal who might try to deceive him. �A half-brother,
perhaps, or a cousin. You don�t look like each other at first glance, but a lot
of that�s his nose. And he�s already telling us some important things about his
brewing.� That last was only true in the widest sense; Dobs was still
unconscious from the necromantic magic Harry had used on him. But it had worked
in the past to convince some criminals they might as well talk, since everyone else
was doing so, and Harry saw M�ire close her eyes and swallow.

�� He�s my
half-brother,� she said at last. �And yes, I sent information to him. No, you
won�t get me to confess more than that.�

�� If you
talk more freely, it could be easier for you,� Harry suggested. �I�m not
pretending that you won�t go to Azkaban, but it could be for a shorter term. There
are questions about the brewing process and what his group thought they were
doing�how they formed and where they found that hidden pure-blood estate they
were camped on�that he hasn�t answered yet.�

�� M�ire
sighed. Then she said, �I don�t owe him that much loyalty. He would probably do
the same thing, if he were in my position.�

�� I�m sure
he would,� Harry said encouragingly. Dobs hadn�t impressed him as someone who
had the greatest common sense about such things, but he did have an addiction to
dramatic gestures that rivaled M�ire�s. A confession might be dramatic enough
for him. �And, well, the information will come out sooner or later. There are
others in his group who might be willing to talk, after all.�

�� M�ire
sighed again. Then she looked at Harry and began to speak. Harry gestured for
Ron to fetch some Confessional Parchment so they could take down M�ire�s speech
exactly as she made it, but Ron was already scrambling for it.

�� Harry
settled back and listened to the story, which unfolded more or less as he had
expected it. Dobs had seen a way to �take advantage of the market� for
Wolfsbane without considering that Wolfsbane was an immensely complicated
potion for a reason; it had taken years to perfect it so that Remus could teach at Hogwarts. Dobs had learned enough of
the brewing process to become a danger, but no more than that. And the �improvements�
he had made to his diluted version were almost all aimed at concealing the
negative effects for a greater period of time, rather than eliminating them. He
didn�t possess the knowledge or the compassion for that.

�� Just as
Harry heard Ron�s footsteps in the corridor coming back, M�ire paused in her
confession to ask, �Can I have something brightly colored in my cell at Azkaban
at least? A quilt, or a Quidditch poster? Say that I can.�

�� Harry said,
�If the story suits.�

�� You�re a
hard man, Harry Potter,� M�ire muttered without rancor, and went on with the
story. Harry doubted he would ever understand her.

�� Well, I don�t need to. There are better
people that my understanding can be spent on. And Harry began smiling as he
thought of Draco, to the point that Ron glanced at him curiously as he set the
Confessional Parchment to record.

*

�� Draco.
Hello.�

�� Harry.�
Draco was unable to think of an appropriate greeting, so he put out his hand
and hoped that would be enough. Harry clasped it and shook it with every
appearance of contentment, so Draco thought it worked. Then Harry leaned in and
kissed him on the cheek, and that was even better�

�� Except that
it should be the lips. Draco caught his head and realigned their mouths. Harry
chuckled and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. Draco lost
track of time in a most pleasant fashion as he let his tongue travel leisurely
around Harry�s mouth. With no sick children or Dark wizards to worry about this
time, he sank his fingers into Harry�s hair and let them explore there as well,
learning all the sensitive spots on his scalp. Harry sighed into his mouth and
let him.

�� When they
had parted and were once more seated in front of the fireplace with glasses of
Firewhiskey, Harry leaned forwards with eyes gleaming. Draco braced himself. It
had been two weeks since they�d seen each other. The paperwork had taken more
time than either of them had foreseen, and then there�d been the official
commendations from the Ministry, and their superiors had had to give them stern
lectures, and Draco had to fight with his parents about his being seen in
public with Potter, and Harry had to convince his friends that he was not, actually,
dating a mass murderer. Arranging a cautious visit with Andromeda and Teddy was
the only thing Draco had been able to do for himself in that time.

�� Draco had
not been sure the connection between them would endure two weeks. It had been
so passionate and immediate, after all, they probably should have consummated
it the moment they captured Dobs and his group. The Ministry could sod off.
Apart from anything else, Harry would have had time to chew over uncomfortable
memories and think of awkward questions.

�� But Harry
only said, �You know some of the reasons I�m so different from the person I was
before the war. But why are you so different?�

�� Maybe I�m
not,� said Draco, greatly daring. But he wanted to know if he would be able to
tease Harry. If he couldn�t, then he doubted this could last, even if they had
saved each other�s lives and managed to have some pleasant times in bed. �Maybe
I have a collection of Death Eater paraphernalia in the kitchen.�

�� Harry laughed,
a sound that made Draco�s stomach roil with excitement. Yes, he could get used
to hearing that. �Yes, you have,� he said. �At one time you would either have
flown into a rage or taken on dreadfully if I asked you that question.�

�� I see you have learned no manners,� Draco
muttered, and downed some of the Firewhiskey.

�� That�s me,�
Harry agreed cheerfully. �Necromancy books are woefully short of manners
courses.� He spun the stem of his glass between his hands. Draco bit his lip as
Firewhiskey settled on the carpet, since he knew perfectly well the house-elves
would clean it up later. �But what about you? Was it a life-changing
experience? Did something happen that forced you to reconsider your former
beliefs?�

�� Why, yes,�
Draco said, unable to keep dryness out of his voice. �It was called the war.�

�� Harry�s
face softened. �I�m sorry,� he said. �It was
stupid of me to forget that. What I meant, I suppose, was whether you changed
all at once, or if it was long, or if it was unconscious, or if it was
conscious�� His voice trailed off as if he found the subject embarrassing, or as
if he were only now realizing that Draco might not want to talk about it. �It�s
interesting,� he said. �Everything about you is interesting.�

�� Draco
relaxed. He�d kept Harry almost continually on edge since he�d stepped out of
the fireplace, and still Harry hadn�t run away. That was a good sign. �It was a
conscious process, and it took a long time,� he said. �It�s still not
completely done. Basically, I decided I was unlikely to advance in the world
being the kind of person I�d always been.

�� So I
started�watching. Spying, maybe. I wanted to know how other people got along.
And I learned the value of politeness, which I used to think was reserved for
dealing with people like the Dark Lord. And I learned that being a bit more
courteous and not blurting out everything I thought at the drop of a wand didn�t
have to restrict my freedom of expression. Besides, when I spoke more slowly
and with more thought, people respected me more.� Draco smiled into his
Firewhiskey.

�� I�ve made compromises.
I want peace, I want respect, I want friendship, and I can�t get it if people
think I�m a child.� He had almost included love on the list of things he
wanted, but he was a bit too shy to do that with Harry in the room. �The most
important step is waking up and looking at myself in the mirror every morning,
recounting the changes I�d like to make, and trying to make myself actually put
them into practice. I still scold myself. I still have moments when I slip up,
or know that I�m taking a risk to say something to a particular person. It�s
uncomfortable. But I�d rather do that than go back to the person I was, the
kind of person my father still is.�

�� What�s
your relationship with your parents like?� Harry asked softly.

�� Uncomfortable,
also,� Draco said wryly. �They don�t really understand why I changed, and my
father mocks me when I explain. My mother comes closer, but even she doesn�t
grasp why I felt change was necessary. She thinks I should take what I want and
only worry about the consequences if I offend someone powerful. Besides, my
career as a Ministry flunkey doesn�t please them.�

�� He heard
the thump of a glass being set down, and looked up in surprise. Harry was
kneeling on the floor next to his chair, looking at Draco with an expression that
made him want to glance away again at once. Holding Harry�s gaze was at least
as painful as looking at himself in the mirror.

�� I think
that�s admirable,� Harry whispered. �It isn�t change forced on you from the
outside. It isn�t someone telling you you�ll suffer unless you do things his
way.� Draco grimaced, remembering the Dark Lord and his disastrous sixth year. Harry
grimaced in sympathy with him. �And it isn�t an experience like mine, which
changed me for the better but was still something I wouldn�t have chosen to go
through. Your path is the harder one. Maybe that�s why I like you so much,
because you�ve proven you can do difficult things even if you struggle with them.�

�� And he leaned
forwards and kissed Draco again.

*

�� It was
right, what they did then.

�� Harry never
remembered making love in such a daze. Too many thoughts for articulation raced
through his head. He could touch Draco�s hip in a reverent manner or murmur the
words he wanted to say about how Draco�s courage was inspiring�but not both at
once. He felt vaguely ashamed of that, as if he needed to get everything
perfect the first time.

�� But if
there was one thing the years since the war had taught him, it was that that
impression was false, and damaging. So instead he touched Draco�s hip, and
kissed his way very gently down his body towards his groin, and trusted that
the words could come later.

�� Draco lay
with his eyes shut most of the time, as if he couldn�t bear to watch Harry
touch him. But his hands flailed about restlessly, brushing Harry�s hair and
then jerking away again, cupping his shoulders, trailing over his chest and
locating his nipples. Harry trusted his hands more than his face, at the
moment.

�� Harry
sucked Draco as gently as he could at first, then more powerfully, varying the rhythm
and speed of his tongue, trying to learn what would make Draco sigh or moan in
pleasure and would make him stiffen all the muscles in his thighs with it. Draco
did an awful lot of moaning, and then settled into a series of grunts that made
Harry warm and amused at the same time. He kept his nose buried in Draco�s skin
just above his navel as he sucked�he�d taught himself a charm that relaxed his
throat and got rid of his gag reflex rather effectively�and watched the ripples
of emotion run over Draco�s face.

�� When Draco
came, it was no sudden revelation, but a burst of musky scent and bitter taste
and soft panting sobs that Harry treasured as much as the knowledge that he had
been the one to make Draco react like this. When he�d swallowed as much as he
could, he pulled away from Draco and dropped his head against his hip, cupping
his arse with one hand this time, and letting his fingers trail gently across
the cheeks.

�� Draco
caught his breath and rolled onto his stomach.

�� Harry never
knew how long he took to prepare Draco. The daze in his head interfered. Was he
using the lubrication, or thinking about the other times he wished to be able
to use it, and hoping this wasn�t a one-off? Was he easing a few fingers into
Draco, or daydreaming about doing so when he had enough oil on them?

�� Easy,�
Draco panted, lifting his head and twisting when Harry hooked one finger into
his arse. The daze parted, Harry pausing guiltily, his mind concentrated on the
one thought of whether he had prepared Draco enough.

�� I�m all
right now,� Draco said, and curved his head back to seize a kiss. Harry bent
down and spent long moments reassuring himself with the taste of Draco�s lips
and tongue, until Draco wriggled impatiently and eased himself further down
Harry�s fingers.

�� Draco�s
skin shone like gilded alabaster in the firelight.

�� The
pleasure when Harry slid into him was almost too great.

�� Draco had a
way of shifting back to meet Harry�s thrusts, but in an irregular pattern,
which drove Harry absolutely mad.

�� His
thoughts raced and blurred. The air around him was gilded alabaster, too, now,
as though his eyes could only deal with so many colors at once. Draco grunted
softly, rhythmically, under him as Harry drove him into the mattress, and at
least that was regular. And then he
tilted his head back and came with a great shudder, and Harry followed, utterly
surprised, pleased, and half-mortified that he hadn�t even remembered to touch
Draco�s erection, but half-proud, too, because Draco hadn�t needed that to
climax.

�� Draco swore
quietly as he collapsed. Harry stroked his back from the shoulders down with
several long motions, then pulled out and cast a few cleaning spells.

�� Draco
rolled over and smiled at him, his face softened and blurred itself, as though
he shared some of the same daze that had overpowered Harry. �Who says that you
have no manners?� he murmured, indicating Harry�s wand.

�� You,� said
Harry. �And I hope you�ll say it a lot more often.� He dropped his wand to the
floor and put his arms around Draco before he could think better of it.

�� Hm,� Draco said. �Yes, please. But you might have to change
a lot more to suit me.�

�� It was said
in such a matter-of-fact tone that it really did sound like a plain statement
of fact, instead of an insult or a warning. And Harry thought he could take it
that way.

�� We�ll see,�
he said, and for the first time in a long time, the thought of a promise didn�t
give him the feeling of cold gravestone under his fingers. Draco�s skin was too
warm for that, and at the moment, it was all Harry could feel.

�� I�m learning.

�� End.

��
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