Volunteers

February 14

Harry blew out his breath and stirred his tea, checking his watch. He'd arrived a bit early, and was busily telling himself that it was merely due to the fact that the meeting had originally been scheduled two hours earlier. Being early had nothing to do with not wanting to give Malfoy any advantage over Harry by virtue of him arriving at the pub first. It also didn't mean that he wanted the opportunity to act impatient if Malfoy turned up late. Which, if memory served correctly, was highly likely. Malfoy had often used lateness to make an entrance, or to show that he didn't much care about the people he left waiting. Never tardy for Snape or McGonagall's classes, but often strolling in with an insolent smirk ten minutes into Hagrid's lessons. Harry wondered whether Malfoy would come late, letting Harry know that he still didn't think much of him, or fawningly early, playing nice in order to get something from Harry. He wasn't sure which option would be worse.

Then again, maybe he wouldn't do either. Wouldn't make any kind of entrance or show any kind of reaction to Harry. Which was also possible, given that Harry had no idea whatsoever why Malfoy had taken this position in the first place, since it certainly didn't fit in with anything he'd ever thought he knew about Malfoy. Malfoy might have changed. It was possible.

Of course, it was also possible that some day Hedwig might strike up a deep friendship with Pidwidgeon, but he wasn't going to hold his breath for that either.

Harry perused the Quidditch scores in the paper, determined to not play any of Malfoy's little power games should it turn out that Malfoy was still playing them. He would act perfectly normal. Polite, businesslike. No sense in anticipating trouble when there might be none there.

He glanced around the pub as he finished reading the Quidditch pages and turned to the Music section, observing that the place didn't look too bad for a pub on Valentine's Day. Almost empty, fairly quiet, and nothing like the decor in Hogsmeade's pubs, which had always made him think of bands of drunken cupids sicking up all over town. This was far more discreet. Unfortunately, that discretion wasn't shared by all the patrons; to his left, a couple were gazing at one other with such besotted adoration that it was a wonder they weren't accompanied by a chorus of tweeting bluebirds, and to his right, another couple were exchanging come-hither looks with an intensity that would have made the average Knockturn Alley professional look demure. As Harry watched, the woman slid a little closer to the man and pursed her lips in what was probably meant to be a fetching manner. Harry averted his eyes and hoped they'd move the party to a more appropriate place before tongues got involved.

Idly he glanced at his watch. Four o'clock on the dot. He heard a soft throat-clearing and looked up.

"Malfoy." Harry stood up, noting that Malfoy definitely looked a hell of a lot more... mature, or something, than he had the last time Harry had seen him. Might be the glasses. Also very different from the last time Harry had seen him, sporting a short Muggle haircut, Muggle jeans and jumper. "Good to see you." He held out his hand.

"Potter. Likewise," Malfoy said politely, shaking Harry's hand. He looked at his watch. "Have you been waiting long?"

"No, I was just bit early." They sat down. "Do you want to order something before we start?"

"No, that's all right. I'd like to get straight to business."

"Right, good." OK, so far, so good. No unpleasantness yet. They both took out agendas and Harry put his quill and ink on the table before him, noting Malfoy's expensive-looking Muggle ballpoint pen. "So apparently we're supposed to meet five times between now and Beltane and owl in between for anything that comes up. I assume owls are all right?"

"Do you have e-mail?"

"Oh." Harry blinked. "Yeah. I don't really use it much."

"I can do owls, but I live in a Muggle neighbourhood. E-mail would be less conspicuous."

"Right. Noted." Harry cleared his throat and made a note of that, nodding as Malfoy handed him a business card with his e-mail address. "I'll, erm, have to figure out what my address is, probably send you an owl with it-"

"You can just send me an e-mail; I'll get it from there."

Harry nodded, feeling a bit off-balance, and realized that part of what was bothering him was Malfoy's utterly neutral tone. Not even a hint of mockery for Harry's obvious unfamiliarity with e-mail.

"Now, I'm assuming you know how all of this goes, right?" Malfoy said.

"Erm, basically. I mean, they sent me the file and I've reviewed it, but I was told-"

"What do you mean, they sent you the file?"

"I only just took over the position this week. Who were you doing this with before?"

"Before what?"

They stopped and stared at each other.

"You mean... this is your first time as Liaison?" Malfoy said slowly.

"Of course. Oh. Bollocks." Harry bit his lip. "This is your first time too."

"Obviously."

There was a small silence, broken only by a squishy squelching noise from the table to the left of them. Evidently, tongues had arrived on the scene.

"Well, that's a bit awkward, isn't it?" Harry finally said.

"Rather."

"I... don't actually know what we're supposed to do next."

"Nor do I," Malfoy admitted, looking uncomfortable for the first time. "I was expecting... I suppose we'll have to reschedule..."

"I suppose so." Harry frowned, then shook his head and stood up. "No, hold on, I'm not going back home just to come all the way out here again in two days. I'll just go firecall my assistant and see if he can Floo down with the file. He's at our Dublin office today anyway."

Bollocks, he thought as he explained what he needed to his assistant. So Malfoy was new at this too. So much for the easy, low-key volunteer position. They were both going to have to start from scratch, and if Harry's previous experience bore out, they were sure to find that, like most positions held by one person for a very long time, most of the knowledge and skills needed to do the jobs weren't written anywhere.

He came back to their table. "All right, he says he'll Floo down with it. Shouldn't take him more than a few minutes."

"Oh. That's good."

And then Harry realized the implications of his actions. No, he wouldn't have to come back to do their meeting another day, but here he was, with Draco Malfoy, stuck between chirping lovebirds and enthusiastic tongue-slurpers, with absolutely nothing to say, for however long it took Tim to find the bloody file.

Not too bright, are we, Potter?

All right. He'd really hoped they could do this without exchanging anything more personal than work-related information and inane chatter about the weather, but apparently that was not to be. Not only did they not have anything to work on, but for some reason right now Harry couldn't figure out how to smoothly segue into weather-talk for the life of him. Which might have been due to the moans coming from their left and the cooing sounds to the right.

"So." Harry cleared his throat. "How did you, erm, end up here?"

"I took a taxi."

Harry blinked. He had no idea whether Malfoy was being serious or facetious. "No, I don't mean - I mean, how did you end up taking the Muggle Liaison position for this?"

Malfoy's eyebrows went up slightly. "Oh. I heard that the previous Liaison wasn't going to do it any more. It seemed like an interesting idea at the time."

"What are you doing these days?"

"I have a job at Trinity College."

"A Muggle school?"

"Well, yes. I do live in the Muggle world," he said, a faint hint of dryness in his tone. Which, oddly, made Harry feel a little more at ease.

"Right." He nodded. "How did that come about?" And then he was back to feeling like an idiot, because of course, any fool could guess why Malfoy had ended up living in the Muggle world, and it wasn't really a terribly sensitive topic to bring up.

Malfoy's face remained expressionless. "If you mean was living in the Muggle world and getting a Muggle job part of my sentence, no, it wasn't," he said evenly, still perfectly polite, and Harry nodded, grateful that he didn't blush much any more. "I didn't have to do anything after my release, other than refrain from using any magic for three years. But I didn't wish to waste my time, so I ventured out into the Muggle world. Started volunteering, to fill the hours, and wound up teaching. It's not a bad job, so I kept it after the three years were done."

"What do you teach?"

"Music. What are you doing now? I'm not following the wizarding papers too closely these days."

"Oh, I'm not in them any more. Not much, anyway. I was playing Quidditch for a few years, and I was going to go into Auror training once that was done, but they're not exactly family-friendly, so I changed my mind. I'm a curse-breaker now. Work with Bill Weasley, mostly." He barely stopped himself from wincing overtly, and there was a brief silence. Bill Weasley was still horribly scarred and would be dealing with various werewolf tendencies for his entire life, thanks to Malfoy. Oops.

This was awkward as hell. It was obvious neither wanted to be here, Malfoy didn't seem to want to talk about himself much, Harry definitely didn't want to talk about himself, Malfoy didn't keep up with wizarding news much and Harry sure didn't keep up with Muggle news, the couple next to them appeared to have taken lessons from Ron and Lavender Brown's 50 Ways To Snog Inappropriately in Public... what the hell could they possibly talk about?

Malfoy's face had gone even more blank. "Curse breaking? Isn't that dangerous?"

"No, not at all. It's mostly theory. Figuring out puzzles, taking down wards, things like that. Interesting work, too." Harry hoped that his voice didn't sound anywhere near as ill at ease as he felt. "So do you live close to Uisneach?"

"Close enough; outskirts of Dublin."

That was another difference, Harry realized: he thought he detected a hint of an Irish accent in Malfoy's speech. "What's Dublin like? I only ever come here on business."

"Not a bad place to live," Malfoy said, and began to describe the city. Harry nodded politely, noting that Malfoy seemed very calm and cool, very professional. Certainly didn't look as ill at ease as Harry felt.

Then again, Harry probably didn't look or sound nearly as uncomfortable as he felt either. One skill he'd picked up during the war was the ability to act as though everything was under control, no matter what. Feeling somewhat uncomfortable at having to work with somebody he hadn't seen in years, with whom he'd had a conflictive relationship during school, really didn't measure up to most of the stuff he'd done during the war.

It probably didn't measure up to anything Malfoy had done in the war either. Or since the war. Malfoy had worked with Death Eaters, defected from their ranks, served nine months in Azkaban, lived without magic for three years, and got to know and work with Muggles. It was possible that having to interact with Harry didn't rate as a major challenge.

He cleared his throat again, casting about for another topic, but was spared the need to come up with one as he heard the swish of the pub's Floo and spotted his assistant stepping out. "Oh, there we go. That was fast." He sighed in relief and waved Tim over.

"Harry - oh, hello, you must be Mr. Malfoy," Tim said politely. "Harry, I think I've got it all, but let me know if there's anything missing. I'll be at work another hour or so-"

"No, thanks, Tim, I'm sure this'll be all."

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," Tim said, heading back to the Floo.

"See you tomorrow," Harry called out as he opened up the file. "Right, let's see... we've got a map of the site, a list of events going on during the week..."

"All of them? I thought-"

"No no, not all of them," Harry said. "Just the ones where there's a possibility of Muggles and wizards coming into contact. Most events are fine. For the Muggle things, most wizards who know about them are Muggle-borns who know enough not to disrupt anything. And most wizarding events take place at different times and places than the Muggle ones. We're only responsible for the overlaps."

"That's what I thought."

They spread the papers out over the table and they started to sift through them. "Let's see..." Malfoy said thoughtfully, picking up a chart with curlicues and doodles in the margins. "It looks like 'What' is the name of the event, 'When' is time and date, 'Where' is the location, 'Who' describes the participants, and 'Why' is an explanation of why this particular event has to be supervised by the Liaisons." He flipped the page. "What's this?"

Harry took a look. "I think it's yours. Looks like you're supposed to figure out plausible explanations to have on hand for any weird things Muggles might see. Bannerjee seemed to think that was a fun part of the job. I think I have a list of his somewhere..." Harry reflected briefly that he couldn't imagine Malfoy having fun and being creative for anything that wouldn't cause embarrassment to somebody else, but quickly headed that thought off. Keep an open mind, he reminded himself. "Yeah, here it is."

Malfoy nodded, looking it over. "Good, thanks. I'll read it and make a copy for you if you'd like."

"Yeah, sounds good." Harry picked up another page, a small piece of parchment with "Wizarding Representative" emblazoned on the front, and skimmed through it. "Informing wizard participants of restrictions... advise on Muggle behaviour... warn about wards and shields... be ready to contact Magical Law Enforcement, Obliviators, Healers..." He handed it to Malfoy. "I've already got a copy, but you may want one. That way you know what I'm supposed to be doing."

Malfoy nodded and handed Harry a similar piece of parchment with "Muggle Representative" written across the top, and Harry glanced it over. Pretty much what he had already gathered: tourist information, contacting the Wizard Liaison in case of breaches of security by wizards, acting as contact for Muggles aware of the wizarding world, preparing lists of Muggle organizations/people involved in Beltane activities that could potentially come into contact with wizarding activities. Good to have a written copy to refer to.

"I think I'm supposed to set up Portkeys," said Harry.

"Yes, I don't think I've anything to do with that."

This was actually rather interesting, Harry realized as they continued to leaf through the file. Very different from his regular type of work. Very non-magical, dealing with people and activities rather than complex charms or curses. He spared a moment's curiosity as to whether Malfoy might find it interesting because there was magic involved, even if it was so minimal.

"Hold on, I need to file some of this before we go on," Malfoy said, opened his briefcase and shuffled through a few papers, reorganizing them neatly. Harry caught a glimpse of sheets of music along with brightly coloured papers with scribbles on them.

"You teach children?" Harry asked curiously.

"A few." Malfoy moved the children's art work aside. "My classes and most of my private students are adults, but I also lead a children's choir." He moved a few papers over and Harry caught a glimpse of a few photographs that looked like Muggle newspaper clippings of a group of children singing in a field and one of a small dark boy singing in front of the group.

"That's... interesting."

"It's a living," Malfoy said absently, making a few notes in his agenda.

Harry nodded, taking a sip of his tea and allowing himself to observe Malfoy for a minute while Malfoy was occupied. Now that he was more used to the glasses and Muggle clothing, he could see that they suited Malfoy. He looked good, actually. Definitely more mature. Settled. The sharp features and permanent smirk were gone. Hair shorter than it had ever been when they were in school; very inconspicuous among Muggles - as much as that platinum colour could ever look inconspicuous. A small earring in one ear. And hadn't he also had some slight facial scarring during the war? Harry looked for it but couldn't find it. Maybe Malfoy had it removed. Or maybe he covered it with a glamour.

He spared a thought for what he looked like to Malfoy. Older, certainly. He'd never bothered to cover his own scar, but his hair was longer and tied back now, and prematurely shot through with grey here and there. He certainly dressed and looked a lot more like a wizard than he ever had during school or the war. And he couldn't say for sure, but he was fairly certain that he looked a hell of a lot better now than he ever had during school or the war. As did Malfoy. In fact, one could even say Malfoy was fairly attractive now.

He took another sip of his tea, a bit amused at himself. You've been single too long, mate, he told himself, if you're thinking that Malfoy's attractive. Also, word of advice: don't sit near public cuddlers or frotters for your next meeting. It makes your thinking go funny.

ooo000ooo

"I think this is as much as we need to do," Malfoy finally said about an hour later, and they started to put away their various scrolls and writing implements and the couple to their left continued their slow-motion exhibitionist foreplay with undaunted enthusiasm. "You'll send me an e-mail when you've got that sorted out?"

"Yeah, no problem. You've got your list, I've got mine, next meeting is set?"

"I'd say so."

"I'll see you in a few weeks, then," Harry said, and finished packing up.

"See you then." Malfoy checked his watch. "Good, I'm not running late." He stood up, then gazed at Harry for a moment as if just now realizing something. "Well. This was... interesting."

"Yeah, it was," Harry said. Who knew Malfoy could go almost two hours without snideness or rudeness, and even turn out to be semi-pleasant, if humourless, company? It was like discovering that a Niffler could knit and tap dance.

"I'll see you in four weeks, then," Malfoy said in an almost friendly tone, and left. Harry paid for his tea, spared the amorous couple the next table over one last glance, debated asking a waiter to drop a pamphlet on safe sex onto their table, and headed out.

ooo000ooo

Date: February 16
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
This is my e-mail address. I don't have access to it everywhere, but will make a point to check it in the mornings.

Date: February 16
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Got it, thanks.

Date: February 25
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
I have a list of wizarding groups that caused problems for Bannerjee during last year's Beltane events. I'll bring it to our next meeting.

Date: February 26
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
I've got a list from Stedman as well. I've included it as an attachment.

Date: February 26
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Let me know if you need help to open the attachments.

Date: March 1
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Thanks. I got the attachments and was able to read them. I'm attaching Bannerjee's file.

Date: March 1
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Thanks, got it.

ooo000ooo

March 15

"Do you have Stedman's list that I sent you, the one with the Muggles who caused problems at the grove last year?"

Potter flipped through his file. "The ones that didn't seem to react to the Muggle-repelling wards?"

Draco nodded. "Those ones. Stedman figured they may have been people with a bit of magic, just not strong enough to be picked up for Hogwarts."

"Makes sense."

"Two of them have died, so that's one worry gone." Draco winced inwardly; that had been a little blunt. "I think we should still keep an eye out for other people like them and the area should be warded more strongly. One of them had to be Obliviated last year."

Potter nodded and took out another piece of parchment. "Bannerjee's list of wizards who caused trouble has some people on it who act up every single year. Unfortunately, most of them don't do anything bad enough for the Ministry to discipline them, or they always have excuses the Ministry believes. I don't think there's much else to be done about most of them at this point; I'll just be contacting them with a strongly worded letter reminding them not make trouble again."

"Why bother, if the Ministry doesn't do anything?"

Potter shrugged. "We just let them know we're keeping an eye on them; keeps them from getting too out of hand. Plus, if they misbehave enough, the Ministry might decide enough is enough and ban them for a series of minor infractions even if they haven't committed any major ones. Bannerjee got three of his persistent troublemakers banned that way last year."

"I wouldn't mind being able to ban some of my problem cases, but unfortunately they aren't actually doing anything wrong."

"No, I suppose not."

"Oh, by the way I got a call from the Muggle Liaison for Dublin's Beltane."

"Yeah?"

"She heard we're both new at this, so she wanted to remind me that somebody will have to look over the ley lines at the Hill to see if they can figure out where random wizards may be likely to show up. I assume that's your department."

"Yeah, I think so."

"She also suggested I look over the local Muggle papers, so I've bought a few subscriptions. I'm also keeping a watch on internet sites and forums. She said Muggles get enthused about this kind of thing closer to the date itself. They'll probably be posting what they're going to do and where they're going to meet up to the night before."

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that. Yeah, that makes sense," Potter said, obviously pleased, and Draco couldn't help feeling a bit proud of himself - and then immediately feeling sheepish about feeling proud. "On my side," Potter continued, "Bannerjee couldn't be reached about that new coven that's going this year - he's in Australia, apparently - but his daughter said new registered covens just go through the Ministry licensing office, and I don't need to get involved at all."

"Oh, that's good."

"She also said Bannerjee felt that Stedman's letter to the international delegations last year needed a bit more detail on some of our local restrictions. Here let me see..." He scanned a scroll before turning it towards Draco and starting to go through it with him, explaining some of the more obscure scribbled notes.

Their work was going well, he thought as Potter elaborated on the notes. They were working well together, slowly becoming more comfortable with each other. Potter had even smiled a few times.

It was... a little bizarre, actually.

"Yeah, all right." Draco nodded as Potter wrapped up. "I'll write it, you check it over to make sure the restrictions are things we can ask them to restrict."

He started working on the letter as Potter read over a report, glancing at Bannerjee's notes now and again to guide him. They were hell to decipher. The man's writing made chicken scratches look like calligraphy, and Draco wished for a nice computer screen to make it all legible.

This was definitely not nearly as uncomfortable as he'd expected it to be. It shouldn't have been a surprise, really; Potter had shown in school that he could hold a grudge with the best of them, but he wasn't usually spiteful just for fun. And they'd both had to work with enough people they disliked during the war that they'd become rather good at it. But this was actually... almost enjoyable.

He paused, re-reading Bannerjee's notes on flying carpets and the common attitudes of foreign wizards towards English restrictions concerning their uses. Vaguely he remembered Father mentioning that attitude as a common problem with his friends from the East.

He suppressed a sigh as he continued the letter, glancing at Potter, who was frowning slightly at the scroll he was reading. Draco had known, even at the time, that a lot of the enmity between them at Hogwarts was due to his own behaviour. Now, with Draco carefully watching what he said and did, there was no friction. He couldn't help but wonder what their relationship would've been like at school if he'd been just a bit more careful back then. No, not more careful - nicer. Not that there had been a hope in hell, back then, of him even pretending to be nice. Why would he? He was a Malfoy; he was perfectly justified in antagonizing his family's enemies, and besides, he didn't need to play nice with anybody, because most people were either scared to death of his family or willing to do whatever it took to gain their favour.

He suppressed another sigh. Nothing like uncertainty and powerlessness to teach you some manners. He finished his letter.

"Here, can you take a look at this?" he said, and Potter nodded and scanned his letter, quickly flipping open a copy of his Pocket Guide to Magical Restrictions in the United Kingdom. Draco waited patiently, glancing over his own copy of Muggle Magical Wards, Seventh Edition.

This was nice, actually. Potter wasn't bad company at all. Easy on the eyes, too. Hair that looked so soft as it fell to his shoulders in a messy tumble of black with silver threading through it, eyes just as vivid green as ever, grace and self-assurance in his movements, an air of being comfortable in his body...

He groaned inwardly. Oh, bad idea. Very very bad idea, allowing himself to feel any kind of attraction to the Boy Who Lived. There was appreciation of male beauty, and there was pathetic mooning, and the Malfoy name might have been dragged through the mud and left there to ooze but that did not mean Draco had to add to the disgrace by developing a puppy-like crush on Harry Potter, of all people. Even if he was fairly fit and even if he did remind Draco of so very many little things he missed about the wizarding world. Robes, longer hair, quills, parchment - all of those small details that spoke in a silent language that Draco understood and beckoned to him with comforting familiarity. How ironic that Potter, whom his family had blamed for endangering the wizarding way of life, should have come to represent that way of life to Draco.

That's all it was, Draco told himself. He just missed his world. And after being on his own in unfamiliar territory for so long, never really sure that he was getting it right in the Muggle world, Potter just represented safety and comfort, and that's what his subconscious was picking up on and misinterpreting as desire. And wasn't it ironic that here he was, explaining away attraction using a Muggle concept like subconscious misinterpretation.

"Well, that's it for me," Potter said, handing Draco back his letter and starting to put away his things. "Is there anything else from your end of things?"

"No, that's about it for me too."

"So, you'll let me know if you see anything on the internet."

"Yeah, I'll send you an e-mail if I run into difficulties. Or - I can do owls, if you'd prefer-"

"E-mail's fine," Potter said. He checked his watch. "Oh, bugger - I'm late."

"Right." Draco checked his as well and did a double-take. Shite! He was going to be late - how could that be? He was never late. Must have lost track of time. Frowning, he hastily packed up his things.

"You all right?" Potter asked.

"What? Oh, fine, I just, I didn't realize what time it was-" he glanced around and bit his lip. Anti-Apparition wards inside the Welcome Witch, he wasn't connected to the Floo, a very public Muggle street right outside, he'd have to go at least... three blocks before he could Apparate-

"Late for work?"

"What? No, family," Draco said distractedly. Damn. Nothing for it, he was going to be late.

"Looking to Apparate?"

"Yeah," he said and turned, startled, as Potter touched his arm lightly.

"Mini-Invisibility Aid," Potter said, holding out a small red button. "It only works for about ten minutes, but that's enough when all you need is to be able to Apparate in public without alerting any Muggles."

"Oh. Thanks," Draco said, taking the small button.

"No problem. And speaking of family commitments, I have to go." Potter smiled and stepped into the Floo. "See you in April."

"See you then," Draco said, and firmly squelched the stupid little inner voice that said he wanted it to be sooner.

ooo000ooo

Harry stepped out of the Floo and shook the ash from his hair, barely getting his bearings before a small form barreled into him.

"Uncle Harry!!"

"Hello, Jason," Harry said, ruffling the hair of the little boy hugging his legs.

"Alec! Your dad's here!!" Jason shouted, and Harry barely had time to brace himself before another small boy tackled him.

He bent down and squeezed his son, murmuring into his hair. "You're sticky. What've you been doing?"

"Oh wow it was so brilliant Uncle Harry, Mummy wouldn't let us have any more lollipops," Jason said, jiggling up and down with excitement, "so I said we had to go into the beehive and you know what's in the beehive Uncle Harry it's totally brilliant and Alec didn't want to at first but I said-"

"Slow down, slow down!" Harry laughed.

"Alec where - Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, popping her head around the door and smiling at Harry. "I wondered why he went tearing off."

"Sorry I was late," Harry began, and Hermione waved her hand dismissively. He took a closer look at Alec and frowned. "Why's his hair-"

Hermione sighed. "Michelle was trying out hair colouring potions."

"Like father, like daughter," Harry said, laughing. "Did she try them on herself first?"

"Of course, just like Fred. But just like him, she's not averse to trying them on others either."

"She said it would turn black like yours, Uncle Harry!" Jason said emphatically. "Like a Potter, an' I said Alec's just as much a Weasley as her, but she said it would turn back but it didn't and you can turn it back, right?"

"Of course. I think. But first we should ask what she used. You can't just go around reversing magic when you don't know anything about it." Especially considering the source of the potions, he reflected.

"You like Alec's hair, right Uncle Harry? You don't mind it's not Potter-coloured?" Jason asked, his small face scrunched up in a worried frown.

"I'd better like it, there's enough of that colour around me all the time, right?" He ruffled Alec's hair and smiled at him. "It was your mum's hair colour. And my mum's, too. We'll get it back soon, all right?"

Alec grinned at him. "All right, Daddy," he whispered, giving him a hug before following his cousin out the door again as Jason scampered off.

"Alec, don't go too far, we've got to go home!" Harry called after them.

"Okay Uncle Harry!"

"Stay for dinner, Harry," said Hermione, resting against the doorway and putting a hand on her slightly rounded belly.

"Thanks, but you've enough on your hands right now," Harry said. "How many did you have here today?"

"Just Alec and Jason for most of the day. Fred just stopped over with Michelle about an hour ago. Oh, by the way, I felt the baby kick yesterday," Hermione smiled, then straightened slightly, looking startled. "Oh! Hang on!" She grabbed his hand and put it on her belly.

He grinned at her as the taut surface under his hand rippled. "Has Ron felt it? Better yet, has Jason?"

"I told him his little brother or sister is moving. I don't think he understands, though. He kept asking if it's moving, why doesn't it come out. Wants to know if it's a real baby yet."

Harry chuckled. "He's only three. He'll figure it out."

"He won't have much time to do so," Hermione said, sounding only slightly bitter.

"Have the Healers said this one'll be early too?"

"Yes. Not that I mind so much, and I know the Healers will make sure it's all right, but I do wonder what it would be like to carry for more than six months."

"I know." Harry touched her arm comfortingly.

"I'm being stupid," Hermione said impatiently. "I should be grateful, after everything we were hit with. I'm lucky I can bear at all, let alone healthy babies. I've heard the last month is ghastly anyway." She shook her head, dismissing her own complaints. "I think we're going to have to figure out whether it's a boy or girl though, otherwise Jason's going to go mad trying to guess. And of course Molly's hoping for a granddaughter. One girl per generation is not enough," she said, then bit her lip.

"No, it's not," Harry said, keeping his voice light. "Especially when that one is more of a terror than any of the boys, including her father."

"Too right," Fred said, coming into the room and looking harried. "Have you seen her?"

"No, but apparently she's the reason my son's hair is puce," Harry said. "Anything to be done about that, or will it wear off on its own?"

"Oh shite. She got into the samples again. Bugger." Fred ran a hand through his hair. "I'll send you the antidote. It's not that big a deal, it'll turn back within a week... unless it starts singing."

"Singing. My four year old is going to have hair that sings."

"Well. It's not quite singing. It's more like... wailing."

Harry lifted his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Fred. Have you thought of putting ward charms on your samples?"

"What do you think I do, mate? We've got competition, you know. We keep our products safe from theft or tampering. Only our wards don't stand a chance against Michelle," he said, sounding irate and proud at the same time.

"Your parents are getting their own back, you know," Hermione smirked.

"Too right. I just hope I'll get my own back when she's got kids."

"All right, stop," Harry said. "I can barely deal with the idea of you as a father; grandfather is too weird."

"Too right," Fred said again with a grin. "Well, I'd better find her before she gets into trouble. Again. Maybe shouldn't have told her about me turning Ron's teddy bear into a spider." He started out the door.

"Stay for dinner, Harry," Hermione urged again. "Ron'll be back in an hour or so, he hasn't seen you in ages."

"I'd love to, but I really have to go. The meeting with Malfoy went a bit long-"

Fred turned around so fast he nearly smacked against the doorframe. "Malfoy?"

"Yeah."

"Draco Malfoy? What are you doing meeting with him?" he asked, his face a mask of disgust.

"Working with him. He's - get this - Muggle Liaison for Uisneach Hill's Beltane."

"What?"

"He's been living among Muggles for years," said Harry.

"And he hasn't killed any of them yet?"

"Apparently not. You know he's still got restrictions on his magic."

"They only control magic. How d'you know he's not plotting to sabotage the festivities for some-"

"To be honest, it hadn't occurred to me."

"The more fool you, then," Fred said angrily. "Why would you want to work with him anyway?"

"Hermione suggested it-" Harry said, biting his tongue as soon as the words were out and Fred rounded on Hermione.

"I've told you," he said furiously. "You shouldn't interfere with-"

"Hey, no, she just suggested doing something public, it was Ron who told me to take the Beltane Liaison post." That should be safe; Ron wouldn't be back for a while, and with any luck by then Fred would either be calmed down or gone. And if he wasn't, at least Ron wasn't five and a half months pregnant.

Harry kicked himself for mentioning Malfoy in front of Fred. It had taken George a long, long time to (mostly) recover from the curses Lucius Malfoy had thrown his way during the war. And although George himself was fairly philosophical about the whole experience, Fred had never quite recovered emotionally and was completely unable to maintain a sense of proportion whenever anything about the war, or anything Malfoy-related, came up in conversation.

"Why didn't you just refuse to work with him? Nobody would blame you if you ditched-"

"Well somebody has to-"

"Nobody should have to work with him," Fred snapped. "He should've been exiled for good, or locked up in Azkaban with the key melted down, like the rest of his miserable family. Nothing good ever came out of any of them. Bloody monsters."

Alec had run back into the room and was now looking up at his normally cheerful and laid-back uncle with alarm, his eyes round and his mouth slightly open. Harry patted his head comfortingly as an image of the children's drawings and choir clippings in Malfoy's briefcase - Malfoy's Muggle briefcase - flashed through his mind. He shrugged uneasily. "Maybe he's changed. Looks like it, anyway."

"Kneazles don't change their stripes," Fred snapped. "And anyone who thinks they can is a blithering idiot." Harry met Hermione's eyes in silent apology for setting Fred off, trying to figure out how to get them all out of this unpleasant topic and unwilling to leave her alone with Fred while he was in one of his snits.

"Look, I don't mind meeting with him, it's just a few-"

"You don't mind that he's trying to sneak his way back into our world? You wait, he'll use this to get himself in with the right people at the Ministry and before you know it, we'll be arse-deep in bloody Malfoys again, with their-"

"He's the only one left, Fred," Hermione broke in.

"Only one outside of Azkaban. D'you really think he's not planning to get his parents freed? Spread around the right money to the wrong people-"

"I don't think there's that much money left, frankly. You know the Ministry took-"

"That's what he'd like you to believe," Fred said hotly. "And it's exactly that kind of soft thinking that'll get him and his kind right back to where they were before! What the hell did we all fight for, then, if we let scum like that back in so they can terrorize everyone again with our blessing?"

Harry cleared his throat. "All right, little man," he said to Alec. "Time to go. So, Hermione, you said you were tired - d'you want me to take Jason home with me too? You can have some rest and send Ron to get him when he comes home."

"No, that's fine," Hermione said, and had the sense to not start to bustle about with her usual energy, as she normally did whenever anybody suggested she might need a rest. Playing the pity card with Fred was pretty much the only thing that could make him drop a rant.

"Are you sure? After what the Healer said about the baby coming early?"

"I'm sure. I'll be fine, Harry."

As if on cue, Fred cleared his throat, looking sheepish. "Erm. I'll... I'll just take Michelle home then too. Really, Hermione, if you're tired, just send Jason over to our place. He's no trouble, not when we're already dealing with my little terror."

"Thanks," Hermione said warmly. "I appreciate it. I'll be all right, Ron'll be home soon, and I think your little terror probably wore mine out anyway." She patted Fred's arm and gave him a smile as he set off to track down his daughter.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked once Fred was gone.

"I'm fine, really."

"D'you want to send Jason home with me? Fred's snit aside, I meant the offer."

"No, that's all right." Hermione cleared her throat. "I... I am sorry about this ending up with you and Malfoy working together... I really didn't think-"

"It's all right, really. I wouldn't say this around Fred, but he's really not bad. I think he's changed. On the surface, anyway."

"In what way?"

"Well, the Muggle thing aside - which I still can't quite get used to, by the way-"

"Neither can I," Hermione chuckled. "I've seen a lot of odd things, but I must say the image of Malfoy living among Muggles as one of them, and representing their interests... part of me keeps thinking one of these days you're going to finally break down and admit you've made this whole thing up."

Harry laughed. "Only you'd have to smoke a lot of Gillyweed to make up something like that. But no, it's not just the Muggle thing, he's... I don't know, very polite. Very quiet too." And very attractive, he thought, briefly picturing Hermione's face if he said that last bit out loud. "I don't know much about what he's been doing in Dublin, other than working as a music teacher, but he seems really involved in it. He's even working with children. Has kids' art work in his briefcase, and clippings from the newspaper about his children's choir."

'"All right, now I have officially heard everything," Hermione said, laughing. "Are you sure he's actually Malfoy and not Neville, Polyjuiced?"

Harry chuckled. "I'll check to see if he's drinking out of a hip flask next time I see him." He held out his hand to Alec. "Come on, little man. Time to go home."

"Bye Auntie!" Alec said softly, giving Hermione a hug. "Are we going by broom, Daddy?" he asked excitedly as Harry got his Firebolt from Hermione's front closet.

"Of course," Harry said as they went out the front door. "Let me do the cushioning charm," he said, putting his son before him and holding him close. "Ready? Let's go!" he said, and they lifted off.

ooo000ooo

Date: March 22
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
It looks like the Cork Coven is coming to Uisneach Hill and will be at the South grove at 4PM. Isn't that when the Handstand Band is performing?

Date: March 22
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
The same time. Can you get the Cork Coven to delay? The Handstand Band will be on for two hours.

Date: March 25
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
They think they can work around the band. Unless the Handstand Band does acrobatics while they play.

Date: March 26
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
It's just a name. They're Muggles. They don't do acrobatics.

Date: March 28
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
That was a joke.

Date: March 30
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Right.

ooo000ooo

April 2

"Archdeacon Ernest Waleran intends to come and denounce pagan immorality," Draco said as he and Potter began their third meeting.

"Bloody hell." Potter rubbed his forehead. "And Bannerjee was so happy when Father Milligan retired."

"Milligan's getting old, and his protests didn't do much last year. Waleran's full of enthusiasm over it."

"Times like this I really wish we could use Obliviating Thread. Just make him forget all about Beltane."

"What?"

"Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes makes it. Works like a charm. You would not believe how many Wheezes products we use in curse breaking, it's a bit disturbing, actually. D'you know what Waleran's going to go on about?"

"I don't think it'll be anything too difficult to deal with. I think we can leave it to the Muggle police. He's not going to be talking about real witches and wizards, just Wiccans and other godless folks."

"Wiccans?"

"Muggle witches."

"Muggles who do witchcraft?" Potter said skeptically.

Draco hid a smile. It was somewhat amusing, being the one explaining Muggle things to Harry Potter. He shook his head. "It's a religion based on reviving ancient beliefs about natural magic. Probably from a time when the wizarding world and the Muggle world were in closer contact. They don't actually perform spells, but they try to connect with the force of natural magic. It's mostly spiritual. Feeling a connection to the land, to the spirits around you. The Earth Goddess, that kind of thing."

Potter was gazing at him, intrigued, and Draco suddenly realized that this wasn't the first time he'd seen Potter look at him with no barriers between them. No awkwardness, no forced politeness, no businesslike briskness. Just curiosity about what Draco was saying and interest in Draco's point of view.

It was rather disconcerting, being the focus of that attention. And... rather nice.

Draco felt himself start to blush and immediately clamped down on his feelings ruthlessly, sternly bringing his focus back to the topic at hand. He cleared his throat. "It's harmless."

"So why would anybody come by to denounce it?"

"Well, some of the beliefs go directly against Christianity or organized religions in general. Wiccans believe in goddesses and wood spirits; that smacks of Devil worship, I suppose. Also, some of the rituals can get a little... distasteful, I guess they'd call it, from a Christian point of view."

"Distasteful? In what way?"

"They burn Christ in effigy."

"What?!"

"No, I'm joking. Mostly there's nothing objectionable, but some of the more hardcore Wiccan rituals involve enactments of the May Queen and the Horned King or Green Man becoming intimate."

"Intimate?"

"You do know Beltane is supposed to be about fertility."

"Yeah, but it's just symbolic. They actually have sex during the rituals?"

"No, they pick out china patterns. Of course they have sex." Potter's face went through an odd combination of surprise, amusement, and uncertainty, apparently not sure whether Draco was teasing him good-naturedly or mockingly. Draco bit his lip. He probably shouldn't have done that, used humour to deal with his own unsettling feelings; he was supposed to be careful around Potter, he wasn't supposed to get familiar, and what if he'd alienated Potter - but now Potter was smiling, evidently having decided to not take offense.

"Right. So we leave Waleran to the Muggle police?"

"I don't see why not," Draco said, relieved. "He won't be insulting any real wizards or witches. I think if any of them do hear him, they'll just be amused."

"Right, then. What's next?"

Draco took out another scroll. "I think... were we going to talk about the Mummers?" He started to flip through his notes, reminding himself to go through the whole mess and reorganize it before their next meeting.

"I wonder if I should bring my son to the Hill." Potter said thoughtfully, stirring his tea as Draco searched his files. "He's very curious about Muggle things."

"Really?" Draco looked up, surprised. He had never heard Potter speak of his son. He knew that Potter had one, of course; the entire wizarding world knew about him, and Draco figured he was the reason Potter always hurried home after their meetings. But until now Potter hadn't mentioned him.

"Yeah." Potter took a sip of his tea. "He'd love the music, too. Though I'll have to tell him the Handstand Band doesn't do handstands. And keep him away from the Wiccans."

"He likes music?"

"Yeah." Potter's eyes were a bit distant. "He's always singing or playing something."

"How old is he?"

"Four and a half."

"And he plays an instrument already?" Draco asked skeptically.

"Piano and a very small guitar."

"That's rather remarkable."

"He's very passionate about it. Spends a lot of his time just playing. Which can make it difficult when he's with his cousins for a long time. They don't really understand when he wants to be left alone with his music. Still, I suppose it's better than him being bored when he's at home without any other kids to play with."

"I loved music too. It's a good hobby for an only child."

"Yeah, that's the way I see it. And he likes his cousins; just doesn't need to be around them that much. He's very quiet, too, which is a bit of a rarity in that family."

Draco nodded, wondering why there was a hint of sadness in Potter's voice.

"Right," said Potter, clearing his throat and putting down his tea. "So, next: the Mummers. That's one of your groups, right?"

"Shite. I thought they were yours."

Potter sighed.

ooo000ooo

Date: April 9
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
I may be late on Wednesday - maybe an hour or so. I've got a rehearsal that may go overtime, but I won't know until I'm there. Shall we reschedule?

Date: April 11
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
No, I have some work I can do at the Witch. Is this for that maritime concert you're doing?

Date: April 11
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
How do you know about the concert?

Date: April 12
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
You had an advert for it in your briefcase.

Date: April 12
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Yes, I've got two choirs singing at it. One of the directors changed her mind and wants us to add a few songs. We're rehearsing at the church right next to the Witch, so I could probably come in during a break and let you know how it's going.

Date: April 12
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Don't worry about it, I'll just wait at the Witch.

ooo000ooo

April 13

Harry looked around the church lobby curiously, abruptly aware that he was in a completely Muggle environment. The total lack of talking pictures, moving furniture, or any of the other familiar details that made up a wizarding environment was unsettling. He normally didn't think about it, but on the rare occasion that he ventured into the Muggle world he was always profoundly shocked by how completely he had left it behind.

"Which way is the choir rehearsal?" Harry asked a young woman mopping the floor near the entrance.

"Down that hallway, sir. Just follow the music."

Harry nodded, realizing that yes, he could hear, faintly, the sound of music. He followed it and ended up in a chapel, where a group of women was singing in the chancel and a group of men was sitting in the pews in the main part of the church.

And there was Malfoy, in front, conducting a song that sounded quite perfect to Harry until Malfoy stopped abruptly.

"No no no. Come on, that's terrible, my five-year olds can sing that part with more accuracy. Here's a hint: you see the little lines on your page, with large black dots and sticks and little dots and all of that? Those are called musical notations. You might want to take a look at them once in a while."

"Come on, Draco, it's good enough-" the woman at the piano protested.

"Really? Good enough for us to wipe the floor with Calhilly Choir's arses with our score? I'm not losing to them again."

"We're not doing the competition till next Sunday, this is just a concert-"

"Oh, so sorry, you're right," Malfoy said snidely. "I forgot, it's only a concert that we're asking people to pay a pretty penny to attend. My mistake, of course we can be sloppy for that."

"All right, ye great arse," the pianist muttered and turned her music back to the beginning.

"Right, then. From the top again. Remember what I said about the little lines and dots on your music. Also note that on page six it says 'ritardando', which is Italian for 'look at Draco'."

They began a song, something about fishing and Japan as far as Harry could tell. He took a seat near the back of the chapel and let the sound wash over him. Sounded lovely, though the words made no sense whatsoever. And the choir was rather good; the voices were blending well, Harry couldn't hear any timing difficulties, the tone was-

Harry's eyes popped open. The tone had been going flat, but then it had gone up, and Harry was almost certain he'd felt a small ripple of very subtle magic right before the correction. He listened carefully as the choir repeated the same bit of melody and started going flat the same way, and felt the ripple again.

He grinned. That had been magic. Real magic, bringing the choir's tone up a bit. Not that he was terribly musical himself, but it was impossible to live with Alec and not pick up something about music. And the choir had definitely been flat there for a moment before an almost imperceptible tug of magic had pulled it up a bit.

He narrowed his eyes. Malfoy's baton... was that... yes. Definitely. Malfoy was using his wand as a baton. Harry grinned again, amused by Malfoy's creativity at getting around the restrictions on using magic around Muggles, because he doubted any Muggle could possibly detect what Malfoy was doing right now. All they could do was enjoy its effects. Harry leaned back, closing his eyes and deciding to do the same.

The women finished and Malfoy called up the men to join them, making a few notations on his music as the choir rearranged itself.

"Right. Ready to sing this one properly, for once?"

"Not to your satisfaction," one of the men grumbled.

"Surprise me. Altos, don't forget you've got your great solo in this, right? Your one and only chance to shine, so don't muck it up. Again. Sopranos and tenors, if I have to grit my teeth through your contrapuntal section the way I did last rehearsal, I will find a way to make you all cry." Malfoy waited for them to sort themselves out, then the music began. A lovely, slow ballad about time passing too quickly. Harry kept his eyes closed, enjoying the gentle music and wondering if maybe Alec would like to attend Malfoy's concert.

Because Alec loved music, he told himself firmly. Not because Harry wanted to see Malfoy again. Right.

"One, two three!" Malfoy called out, and the music abruptly switched into a fast-paced swinging beat. Harry's eyes opened - he would not have thought you could merge two such disparate musical styles together, but the effect was very powerful. He could almost feel ocean surf pounding near him, and he closed his eyes again, trying to see how Malfoy was creating the effect. He listened to the music while trying to spot the subtle signs of magic in it, without success, and finally just relaxed and listened to the music for its own sake.

And then the choir dropped back into the same slow rhythm as at the beginning for one verse before ending the song. There was a short silence, that lovely pause that occurs when a song is done but its beauty still echoes through the room and the listeners.

"All right, we'll stop there," Malfoy said quietly, breaking the silence, and the choir breathed a sigh of relief. "Men, don't forget to go over the Navy Hymn and Fogarty's Cove."

"Ah yes, your favourite piece," one of the women called out, and the choir laughed.

"My very, very favourite. At least, until the director meets with an accident and can't make it to the concert, at which point it just might mysteriously disappear from our playlist."

"From your lips to God's ear," one of the men said fervently.

"It happened last time. Draco's lucky that way."

"Luck doesn't have much to do with it," Malfoy said. "I'm not too proud to use voodoo, you know. Her own fault for picking awful music." The choir chuckled as they gathered their things and slowly cleared the room. Harry waited until most of them had left the chapel before approaching the chancel where Malfoy was still making notes on his music. He cleared his throat.

"Malfoy."

Malfoy turned around quickly. "Potter?" He frowned. "What are you doing here?"

"Starting the meeting early. Don't worry, I can wait, I just thought it might be easier to meet here, so you wouldn't have to go out of your way."

"Oh. Thanks," Malfoy said after a brief hesitation. "That's going to save me time; I've got all my notes over here." He led Harry through a door at the far end of the chapel and into a small office.

Harry looked around. "This is your office?"

"Close enough to it," Malfoy nodded, walking towards the desk. "Nobody else uses the space, so I took it over."

"Very nice." Harry glanced around, noting children's art work decorating the walls, a few Muggle photographs neatly framed. One was of the choir Malfoy had just been conducting, the other two were of a child who seemed vaguely familiar. Harry peered more closely. It seemed to be... it looked like the dark little boy who had been in the newspaper article, singing in front of the choir.

"Favourite student?" Harry asked, pointing at the photograph.

Malfoy looked over and smiled slightly. "You could say that."

Harry waited for a moment, but no elaboration seemed forthcoming. He cast about for something to say. "I was wondering, did you, during that last piece, were you doing any magic?"

Malfoy's face took on a wary expression as he looked back at Harry.

"I just noticed that your conductor's baton is actually your wand..."

"I cleared that with the Ministry," Malfoy said defensively.

"Oh - no, I - I'm sure you did-" Harry broke off, realizing what he'd sounded like and wondering if he could possibly get used to dealing with Malfoy's legal status some time during this working relationship. Odd how he was starting to forget, sometimes, that even though they seemed to be getting on well, they weren't really friends. And that Malfoy might have some understandable trust issues with him.

Wait - Malfoy was the one who was on probation for life, and Harry was worrying that he might have "trust issues" with Harry?

Harry shook his head, irate at himself. "Sorry, I wasn't - I'm sure you do, that wasn't what I was asking about at all; I just thought, in that last song, it sounded like there was some kind of Music Magic going on. I noticed you were using your wand to bring up the tone in the first song, and I just wondered if you were using it for other spells later. To make the music sound more... erm, more moving."

"Oh." Malfoy's face cleared. "No, I wasn't. Not at all. They're just very good," he said smugly, "though I'd never tell them that."

Harry smiled. "Yeah, they really are. How long have you been running the choir?"

"I don't really run it. I'm in it, and I conduct a lot of our rehearsals and have some input with song selection, but I don't conduct the concerts or do the administration. Don't have the time."

"Draco?" a woman's voice called from the chapel.

Malfoy frowned. "In here!" he answered, and a tall black woman hurried into the office.

"Oh good - ye're no busy, are ye?" she said, and looked at Harry curiously.

"No, just finishing up some planning for the concert. Oh - Kara, this is Harry Potter." She held out her hand and Harry shook it. "Potter, Kara Greely."

"Pleased to meet you," the woman said absently. "Draco, I've got the girls coming over tonight, can you take him, d'you mind?"

"I've got this concert in two days," Malfoy said warily.

"I know, but you're done rehearsals, what are you going to do, sing to yourself? I really need this, Draco."

"Did you just find out about the girls coming over now? Or did you just not think ahead, again?"

"Draco..."

"All right, fine," he said, looking a bit put out. "Where is he?"

The woman looked around. "Ben? He was right here, I swear the wee bugger does this just to piss me off-" the woman trailed off. "Ben! Get your little-"

"Kara," Malfoy said warningly.

"Dad!" A little boy rushed into the room and jumped into Malfoy's arms. Harry's eyebrows rose. It was the little boy from the photographs, same short dreadlocks, same wide smile. He noticed Harry's presence and stared at him, the greyish hazel of his eyes contrasting strikingly with his tan skin.

Malfoy hugged him tightly, and turned to Harry. "Ben, this is Harry Potter; Harry, my son Ben."

Harry realized his mouth had dropped open slightly, and closed it. "Erm. Pleased to meet you," he said, and was surprised when Ben jumped out of Malfoy's arms and held out his hand.

"Pleased to meet ye," he said, shaking Harry's hand enthusiastically, and through his shock Harry noted his heavy Irish accent with amusement. "You're a musician too, are you?"

"I've got to go. Thanks Draco," said Kara. "Goodbye, scamp," she said, giving the boy a swift tap on the behind. "Be good for your Da, right?"

"Right, Mam," he said, still looking at Harry. "So are you?"

Harry blinked. What - "Oh, am I a musician? Erm. No, I'm not."

"Oh. How d'you work with me Da, then?"

"Ben, did your Mum leave your bag in the chapel? Why don't you go get it?" Malfoy said, and Ben nodded, running back into the chapel.

"You... you have a family?" Harry said, nonplussed. "I mean, a family outside of-" he cut himself off before he could finish the sentence with "Azkaban," relieved when Malfoy kindly ignored his verbal stumble.

"A son, yeah," Malfoy said, his tone slightly defiant.

"What... wait a minute." Harry shook his head. "Sorry, I thought, during the war, you told - weren't you gay?"

Malfoy chuckled, sounding amused at Harry's bewilderment. "Yeah, I was. Still am."

"Then... did you adopt him?"

"No, he's biologically mine."

"How - no, sorry, none of my business," Harry said, stopping before embarrassing himself further.

Malfoy smiled. "It was a... bit of an experiment, with an unintended side effect. Good side effect, though."

"I didn't know you had a family."

"We're not married or anything. Kara's a lesbian, actually, so that wasn't ever in our plans. We just take turns taking care of him."

"Oh." Harry blinked a few times. "How old is he?"

"Just turned five."

"Oh. He's - Ben? That's his name?"

"Benjamin Tristan."

Harry nodded. "That sounds..."

"Halfway normal?" Malfoy smiled slightly. "His mum and I couldn't agree on names at all, so we finally decided I'd name a boy and she'd name a girl. I was quite relieved when he was born; she was going to call our daughter Astarte. Or Cerridwen, or Blodeuwedd. She was even thinking of star names - would you believe Aldebaran and Betelgeuse were on her list?"

"Betelgeuse Malfoy?"

"Greely, actually. He's got her last name. Betelgeuse Greely, that would've been dear. She thought it would go very nicely with my name, and I didn't have the heart to tell her it would also go very well with a lot of other insanity. I did put my foot down over that last, though. Told her if she named our daughter Betelgeuse, I would never call her anything but Jane."

Harry laughed. Malfoy smiled, then sobered and said, "Seriously, any child of mine will have enough going against him with his family connections if he ends up in the wizarding world. No need to add to the misery."

Harry blinked, at a loss as to how to respond, and was saved from having to say anything by Ben's return. The little boy came bounding back into the office with a small overnight bag and tossed it onto Malfoy's desk.

"What did you bring this time?" Malfoy asked.

"That story Mam's reading me, I want you to finish it. And I got a sticker in art today, see?" He took out a large piece of paper with what looked like several pieces of felt glued on in an interesting pattern. "Can you put it up?"

"Oh, that's very pretty. Where should it go?"

Ben pointed to an empty spot on the wall, then turned to Harry. "So how d'you know me Da?" he asked.

Harry hesitated and looked at Malfoy.

Malfoy opened his mouth to respond, then closed it and a thoughtful expression came over his face. He gazed at Ben for a moment, then at Harry, and then seemed to come to some sort of decision. He went to the office door and looked out into the chapel, closed the door and turned around, taking out his wand. Ben stared at him, then at Harry, as Malfoy waved his wand over him and Harry felt wards going up in the office.

"Dad?" Ben said uncertainly.

Malfoy held out his hand and Ben took it, a puzzled frown on his small face. Malfoy pulled him close and smiled at him. "Ben. Harry's not a musician; he's a wizard."

The little boy's eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. "A wizard?"

Malfoy's eyes met Harry's. "Yes."

"Like you, Dad?"

"Yes, just like me."

Ben gaped at Harry wordlessly for a long moment before suddenly springing back to life. "Can - can you really... can you do the stuff Dad can do? Can you really - you've a wand, yeah?" he asked, breathless with excitement, and Harry blinked, caught a bit off-balance.

"Erm. Yes, I-"

"Can I see it?"

Harry glanced at Malfoy, who nodded. Harry took out his wand and Ben reached for it, a rapt look of wonder on his face.

"Wow. Wow! I've only ever seen me Dad's. This is brilliant!!"

Harry nodded, smiling, as Ben reverently touched the wand and gently waved it. He noted with approval that the little boy seemed to know enough not to swish it indiscriminately. Malfoy must have taught him something of proper handling of a wand.

"D'you think I can have a wand like this when I get older?"

"Erm." Harry looked at Malfoy.

"We don't know, Ben, remember?" Malfoy said gently. "You show some magical ability, but we're not sure yet how strong it'll be."

"I think I'll be a wizard. Like me Da." He grinned at Malfoy. "D'you have kids too? Are they wizards? Can I see you do magic?"

"All right..." Harry took his wand back and turned a hymn book into a songbird, and Ben laughed delightedly. Harry smiled. Alec had had the same reaction when he'd done it yesterday.

"What about flying? D'you have a broomstick? Can I ride it?" he asked.

Harry smiled. "Maybe. If your dad says it's okay."

"And - and can you turn into an animal?"

"No, that's really, really hard to do. Not very many people can."

"Can you play Quidditch?"

"Yeah."

"What position d'you play? Are you a Seeker?"

"I was, yeah."

"Did you ever play against Dad?"

Harry glanced at Malfoy, who looked amused. He smiled. "Yeah, I did. He was very good."

"Can you-"

"Ben," Malfoy broke in, "I know you're really excited, but Harry and I have some things we have to talk about. Why don't you go play in the nursery while we-"

"But Dad-"

"You can ask him more questions once we're done. Is that all right?" he asked Harry, and Harry smiled.

"Yeah, that's fine. My son's staying with his cousins overnight. I don't need to go home right away"

The little boy looked a bit rebellious, but left the office and Malfoy turned to Harry. "Thanks. Remind me to tidy up after we're done. He's not supposed to use the church nursery, but it'll keep him out of our hair."

Harry nodded, his mind swimming a bit, and sternly turned his thoughts to their meeting, away from the brightness of Malfoy's smile as he held his son, the love and pride in Malfoy's voice when he talked about him - and the way all of that seemed to turn him from a rather fit bloke, about whom Harry had had a few stray inappropriate thoughts, into... something more.

ooo000ooo

Author's Note: The songs sung during the rehearsal are Tiny Fish For Japan and All Too Soon. The two songs mentioned for the men to rehearse on their own are Navy Hymn and Fogarty's Cove. I happen to love all of them, but I think Draco would really rather have his tongue pulled out than perform a song that required him to sing "doot-doot-doot," hence his reaction to Fogarty's Cove. You can look up the lyrics and/or download the songs at:

http://annafugazzi.livejournal.com/38258.html