Found, Never Lost

Chapter 1: Fool's Errand?

Friday, June 18, 2004

Draco would certainly not have accepted her invitation to come in for a cup of tea if she had told him right away that Potter would not be home till midnight, but it was too late now. He was sitting at the kitchen table with a steaming mug in front of him while she was leaning against the counter, head cocked to the side, one eyebrow slightly raised, her blue eyes studying his face.

This was ridiculous! A Mal... wizard was never intimidated by Muggles. Yet here he was, feeling... vulnerable under this person's gaze. A few times he could have sworn he felt a tingling coming off of her that reminded him of magic, which was preposterous, of course. There was something about her that he could not place and it made him uneasy until he pushed the thought firmly out of his mind.

He had no idea how Harry had come to live with - what was her name again? Had she been attractive, he would have wagered a guess as to what kind of relationship they had, but the most flattering description Draco could think of was "unusual". She was tall and skinny, and if she had any curves, they were hidden under the oversized white button-down shirt with rolled-up sleeves she was wearing over tight black leather trousers. Her hair was a wild, dark, frizzy mess - worse than Potter's had ever been! - and a sharp nose the most... prominent feature in her angular face. She was clearly several years his senior and spoke English with an odd accent.

"So what brings you here, Draco?" she asked conversationally after the customary exchange of polite remarks about the weather in England, his flight, and how he liked the city so far.

Although he had introduced himself as Draco Malfoy and Granger had warned him that it was common among Muggles to address each other by their given names, he inwardly winced at hearing his from her lips. He doubted that he would ever get used to such rash verbal intimacy!

What should he tell her? He considered several replies, chose the shortest one that was still closest to the truth. "Harry's been gone a long time. His friends are... worried about him. They want to know how he is doing," he said cautiously. Back in school, Potter had certainly been good at keeping things to himself, but he had also let emotions get in the way of reason way too often. Merlin knew how much Potter had told this... roommate about his former life. Draco hoped it hadn't been too much.

oOoOoOoOoOo

It had taken Granger several years to track Potter down. Draco didn't know how, but done it she had - and, much to Draco's surprise, contacted him immediately, winning his respect and gratitude (which, of course, he wouldn't admit in public).

He wished she would have warned him that Potter was sharing a flat with someone, but even Granger could not know everything. It was reassuring to learn that there were limits to Granger's capabilities, Draco mused - although how fast she had managed to per-suade him - of all people! - to venture into Muggle territory - of all places! - on such short notice to seek out Potter was somewhat alarming.

Actually, come to think of it, the alarming thing was that he had been... flattered when she asked him to go. Although she had, of course, perfectly rational and absolutely logi-cal reasons why somebody needed to go as soon as possible, why that somebody could be none other than Draco, and why nobody but the two of them must know about this. It was almost like she... trusted him, and that felt good (which, of course, he wouldn't admit to anybody. Anywhere. Ever!).

Although, there had also been that... speech about putting the past to rest and letting people move on with their lives... He didn't like to think about that one. It had made him wonder if Granger had had a wand up her sleeve and used a wordless Legilimens on him while they were talking. She had always been good at non-verbal spells. Well, what had Granger ever not been good at, except flying?

So now, one thing having led to another, here he was. On the Continent. In a city that, to the best of his knowledge, had no wizard population and, judging by first appearances, was inhabited by more than its fair share of morose old ladies, uncourteous elements, and straightout nutters.

Thank Merlin that Granger's preparations of his - for lack of a better word - mission included address cards for the taxi driver, getting him to the tenement where Potter lived quickly and with a bare minimum of contact to the locals.

Draco found himself adding a grudging admiration for Granger's organisational talents to his newfound respect - which was only slightly marred by the discovery that he had to climb six flights of stairs because Potter lived on the top floor and the building had no lift. And, of course, the fact that there were two name plates on the door...

oOoOoOoOoOo

Her eyebrow arched a little higher and she looked amused.

"His friends sent you to find him? What are you? A private investigator?"

Gods, this could get complicated. He did not feel like getting into a battle of wits with this person. What had possessed him to rush into this like a foolish Gryffindor? He should have spent the night first, then come here, rested and better prepared to deal with... things. Right. As if he would have been able to sleep. Or muster the courage to do this tomorrow.

He rubbed his eyes wearily.

"I'm sorry. It's been a long day. I should have made myself clearer. I'm... What I meant is that we all are worried about him... And we miss him..." He trailed off, not sure what else to say. Of course he could have made up some story about passing through on busi-ness and just stopping by to say hello to an old friend from school. However, for some reason he had the feeling she would detect the lie immediately, and that would be a bad thing. He knew he needed her goodwill if he wanted to get in touch with Potter.

She studied him for a long moment and he found himself unable to avoid her wide blue eyes. Her gaze reminded him uncomfortably of the way Potter used to look at him some-times, as if he was searching for something in his face.

"Look, Draco," she said finally, "I know who you are. Harry has told me about... your relationship. Certainly not every-thing. Probably not even all that much. But enough."

Thank Merlin he had decided to stick as close to the truth as possible!

Her voice was soft, her eyes still intent on his face. "He had his reasons for leaving England. And for staying away. What makes you think he would want to talk to you now?"

Because he needs to hear me say that I've been a bloody idiot and that I'm sorry for not realising it sooner and if I could change the past, I would, he thought. But of course he would never admit to this total stranger that he had never stopped wondering where Harry was and how he was doing. That he was ashamed for not having had the backbone to stand up to his father and angry at himself for not using his brains, for not listening to Pansy because he was too stubborn to admit that she - or Potter, for that matter - had a point... or too afraid of his father to question Lucius' views of family loyalty and pride. That he needed to know Harry was all right...

"Listen," she finally said, not unfriendly, when he remained silent, "I hate to get in the middle of things and I probably shouldn't tell you this, but no matter who broke up with whom, it took him a long time to get over it. God knows he's one of the most stubborn people I have ever met in my life and he can be infuriating as hell, but he's also one of the sanest people around me. And he deserves to stay that way."

She paused, looked at him, seemed to make up her mind about something.

"How long you gonna be in town?"

He shrugged. "Over the weekend at least. Maybe longer."

"You got a place to stay?"

He nodded, thanking the gods again for Granger's mastermind. She had, of course, fore-seen that things might not go as smoothly as they both hoped and made reservations for him for the whole week. Not that that was any of this woman's business, of course.

"Okay, here's the deal..." She handed him a notepad and pencil. "I think this is entirely up to Harry to decide. Leave your phone number. I'll tell him you were here. If he wants to talk to you, he can call you. If he doesn't call..." She looked at him and shrugged. He had a feeling she wanted him to complete the sentence, but he could not bring himself to say what she expected.

"I'll call you a cab," she said and picked up the phone.

This was his only chance.

"May I use the toilet?"

"Sure." She pointed at a door further down the hall.

The room was small - barely large enough for a shower stall, sink, toilet, and two shelves - but clean. He had never understood how Potter could tolerate a messy study or living area but keep the washroom spotless.

Much to Draco's relief, one of the shelves obviously belonged to a man.

He would need to put the spell on something Potter used frequently and would most likely take with him should he go anywhere for an extended period of time. Guessing what belonged to whom could have been tricky, but thanks to whoever the organiser was around here, Draco quickly found what he was looking for. He tapped his wand to the razor and drew a symbol around it.

"Sequiatus."

It was a fairly weak tracking charm but he didn't dare use anything stronger. Even after several years among Muggles, Potter would be able to pick up on magical residue, possi-bly even look for it when he heard that Draco had been here. And maybe those who specu-lated that the Da... that Voldemort had transferred more or even all of his powers to Potter when Potter killed him were right, making it even more important to use magic very sparingly.

Draco flushed the toilet, washed his hands, and stepped back into the corridor. He hoped he would not have to start chasing after Potter, but at least now he had a chance of find-ing him a bit more easily should he try to disappear.

"Your cab will be here in a minute. I'll show you out."

"Thank you... Star." Thank goodness he had finally remembered her name!

She nodded, smiling.

"Good night, Draco," she said and closed the door.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Draco stepped out the front door into a balmy evening. The taxi was waiting for him. He climbed in the back seat and handed the driver the card of his hotel, apologising for not speaking German. According to Granger this was the polite thing to do, even if people could not understand him. Draco found it rather ridiculous to explain in English to some-one who didn't speak his language that he didn't speak German, but he took Granger's word for it. What did he know about Muggles, after all?

Seconds later he wished he had kept his mouth shut. Not only did the driver understand him perfectly, he also started babbling incessantly about being enrolled in English and American Studies at some university in town and just having returned from an exchange semester in the United States, constantly glancing at Draco in the rearview mirror while he weaved through masses of vehicles of all shapes and sizes at alarming speed.

Draco was thoroughly relieved when they finally stopped. How anybody could stand this noise and chaos was beyond him. What in Merlin's name had driven Potter to live as a Muggle? He shuddered. All he wanted now was a quiet room, a nice hot bath, and something to eat.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Harry smiled when he heard the bathroom door open. It was way past midnight. He had been careful not to make too much noise when he came home from work, in case Star was already asleep, but he had hoped she would still be up, and here she was.

"Want me to wash your back?"

He knew she didn't expect an answer. She merely asked as a way of announcing her pres-ence. He leaned forward to let water wash over his head and seconds later felt her arms around his waist.

"Long day?" she asked, nuzzling his neck, holding him tight for a moment. He chuckled and resisted the urge to turn around and kiss her. Instead, he leaned back into her em-brace, covering her hands with his, following them as they slid up his stomach, across his chest and down his sides, coming to rest on his hips.

"Hm-mm."

Her hands were withdrawn briefly, then returned, soapy and slick, and started wandering over his body again, massaging firmly in some spots, rubbing gently in others. He was just beginning to really relax and appreciate the effects of her attention when she nudged him under the shower to rinse off.

"There you go. Back's all clean. Now wash the rest and come to bed."

She slipped out of the shower, laughing at his noise of protest.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Draco felt like he had been tossing and turning around in the unfamiliar bed forever, kept awake by the myriad noises of a big city night.

It had been past nine o'clock when he arrived at the hotel where he was informed by the receptionist that "Miss Granger" had called this morning to confirm his arrival later this evening. His suitcase had been sent directly from the airport and was already in his room. She handed him his code card. "Welcome to Berlin, Mr. Black," she said, "enjoy your stay."

His room on the sixth floor - thank Heavens this building had a lift! - offered a good view over what seemed to be a downtown borough and he had looked out the window for a while, watching the sun set and lights blink on all over the city.

Although slightly different from the ones Granger had shown him in her home, the bath-room fixtures had posed no problem and he ran a bath while he rang Granger. He reached her - what did they call it? "voice mail", but didn't leave a message. It felt too odd to talk into a void. He would just have to try again tomorrow.

A welcome package next to the telephone informed him in English and several other languages that the hotel restaurant closed at nine but room service was available until midnight. The clock showed past ten when he got out of the tub. Room service it was, then - which suited him just fine because he definitely had had more than enough contact with the Muggle world for one day.

Draco sighed and turned over again. All in all, things had gone pretty well, he thought. Granger had taken him to Heathrow Airport with enough time to spare to show him around and explain things to him. To his relief, nobody took any notice of them. This was not really a surprise, considering how many Muggles in every conceivable stage of ambu-lation from strolling to running surrounded them. But it made him feel less nervous none-theless. And once he had become accustomed to the crowds, he found them surpris-ingly fascinating to watch and listen to. He knew, of course, that Muggles lived in foreign countries and on different continents, just like wizards, but he had never seen such a variety of people and heard so many languages together in one spot.

The flight had been uneventful, and although he could certainly spend the rest of his life without ever setting foot on an airplane again, that, too, had been an interesting, albeit slightly... intimidating experience.

And the conversation with Potter's roommate hadn't been too bad. Awkward, yes, but not really unpleasant. Just... strange. He wondered if she would keep her word and tell Potter that he had asked for him, and what he would do if he didn't hear from Potter. Now that thought was definitely unpleasant! He needed to sleep. It was almost one o'clock in the morning and whatever awaited him tomorrow, it would be easier to deal with in a well rested state of mind. He reached for his wand. Granger had been adamant about using magic only in emergencies, but what the heck.

"Dormitas."

oOoOoOoOoOo

Her hand stopped tracing patterns on his skin, came to rest over his heart.

"Your friends have found you," she said quietly.

Harry looked at her for a moment. Smiled.

"That was faster than expected."

He lifted her hand off his chest to kiss her palm and she gently caressed his cheek. Put her hand back over his heart.

"Who called?" he finally asked.

"Nobody." She chuckled at his frown. "Somebody showed up."

"What? Here!"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course here. Where else?"

"Who was it?" he asked, surprised.

She just looked at him with her best "take a wild guess" face. He stared back at her, not sure he liked who his thoughts immediately turned to. Didn't want to ask. Had to.

"Draco Malfoy."

It wasn't really a question and he didn't need to see her nod to know he was right.

Suddenly his heart seemed to slow down and beat very loud.

Heaven help me, he thought, him I would have never expected.

Of course he had anticipated that a book titled The Cupboard Under the Stairs would catch somebody's attention sooner or later, even though his name did not appear in it. Star, of course, had declared that that was why he had consented to the title in the first place. She took it as a sign that he was finally done running and ready to deal with his past. "Ja ja, Sigmunda," he had teased her and shut her up with a kiss.

He knew she was right, but did the first person from his past he would have to deal with have to be Draco Malfoy? He groaned.

"Why couldn't it be Ron?"

"Hmmm... Because your luck had to run out some day?"

He poked her in the ribs. "You're not taking this very seriously."

She grinned.

Actually, he was surprised that they had tracked him down so quickly. The book, printed about a year ago in a limited edition by a scientific publisher, had been written by Susan Crane, a friend of Star's who was working on her doctorate in Counselling Psychology at the Birmingham Psychological Institute. Star had invited her to dinner one day and some-how he had ended up as one of the research subjects for her thesis soon afterwards. He still wasn't sure how exactly that had happened. Or why he had agreed to do it. Or how he had made it through more than a year of reliving childhood nightmares and baring his innermost thoughts to somebody who would put it on paper and, eventually, on the shelves of bookstores. But he was glad that he had done it.

"Did you talk to him?"

"Yep. Dragged him in, sat him down at the kitchen table and gave him a good talking-to. Poor guy didn't know what hit him. Didn't say much. Gave me some odd looks. Bit of a xenophobe, if you ask me. Not bad-looking, though, if you like blonds."

Harry knew she was not being serious, but he found it impossible to resist Star when she was in mischief mode. He laughed despite himself, realising that she made this a lot easier for him.

"What did you tell him?"

"That you had your reasons to leave England and stay away. And I asked him what is different now and why he thinks you would want to talk to him."

"And?"

She shrugged.

"He didn't say anything. Not that I expected him to. But I hope he has answers for you."

Harry frowned. "What makes you think I will talk to him?"

"What was your first thought when you realised it could be him?" she asked back.

"Heaven help me," Harry answered truthfully.

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a quizzical look. "And you need me to tell you why you're going to talk to him?"

He smiled. "Things just make more sense when you say them out loud," he said and drew her closer. "What should I do?"

"Hmmmm..." She pushed herself up on one elbow. The fingers of her right hand re-sumed their journey, slowly, gently, barely touching his skin. Neck. Shoulder. Left arm. "Go see him," she said finally, fingertips travelling upwards on his stomach, across his chest. "You've been wondering too long if leaving was the right thing to do." She smiled and kissed his cheek. "It's a chance for you to complete the past. You need it. Actually, I'd say you both do."

He lifted his head and caught her mouth with his. "So you're telling me to get on with it?"

She smirked and rolled half on top of him. "Absolutely," she said and sat up, straddling his thighs. "Ready?"

Harry laughed. "I thought you'd never ask!"