Lost and Found

"His fine wit

Makes such a wound, the knife is lost in it."

Percy Shelley

Harry walked into The Three Broomsticks and spotted Ron at a small booth at the back. For a moment, Harry wished he had told Ron to meet him at The Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley instead. Seeing Ron here made Harry nostalgic for their Hogwarts days when they had frequented this establishment with Hermione.

When Ron spotted Harry, he rose and waved, a wide smile breaking out across his face. Harry made his way to the table and the two men embraced before Harry slid into the booth opposite of the Keeper for the Chudley Cannons.

"How you've been, Harry?" Ron asked enthusiastically. "I ordered you a butterbeer. Hope it's still your favourite," Ron said, taking a sip of his ale.

"It is," Harry answered. "Sorry, I'm a bit late. We had a meeting at work . It didn't go well."

Ron arched a brow. "Can you tell me about it? Or would you have to memory charm me then?"

Harry chuckled lightly, even as his mind wandered to Ginny and if she should be memory charmed or not. "It's boring," Harry said, deciding to switch to the much safer topic of Quidditch. "You're having a great season! That save you had in the last game was amazing. I don't know how you stayed on your broom."

Ron laughed in a self-depreciating manner. "It was a tough match. The Wigtown Wanderers are a solid team. You're coming to our game against the Pride of Portree, aren't you? Wood would love to see you there too. Of course, he's going to be on the losing team," Ron joked.

Harry grinned. "I'd love to come, but work..."

"Work?" Ron scoffed. "You can't save the world everyday, Harry, come to the game."

Harry nodded. "I'll do my best. How's Lucy?"

Ron beamed at the mention of his wife. "She's doing well. Busy decorating the new house. And..." Ron leaned in and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "We're having a baby."

Harry's mouth fell open. "A baby?" He repeated loudly.

"Shhh!" Ron said, even as he laughed. "You're the first one we've told. We're going to tell Mum and Dad this weekend before the game."

"Wow," was Harry's brilliant response. He couldn't believe it. It had been surprising when Ron had suddenly eloped with Lucy after having just broken up with Hermione, but this surprised Harry even more for some reason. It was so, so, adult. "Congratulations, Ron."

Ron leaned back again. "Thanks. We weren't even trying, but when you're a Weasley, you really don't have to try," Ron laughed.

The server came and took their identical orders of fish and chips and they sat in silence for a few minutes, both nursing their drinks. "How --", Ron started, but then he hesitated. He took a large gulp of ale and continued, his unease apparent to Harry, "How's Hermione?"

Harry fiddled with his napkin, his lips pursed stubbornly, "She's fine. Working a lot."

"That's Hermione. Always working," Ron said, a trace of bitterness in his voice.

Harry picked up Ron's tone and said, "Why don't the two of you talk?"

Ron arched a brow at Harry. "I doubt she has time to talk to me, Harry. She had trouble finding time when we were a couple. If the fact that I was her boyfriend wasn't enough to get her attention, why in the world do you think she'd want to take the time to talk to me now?" Ron answered huffily.

Harry slammed his glass down on the table. "That isn't fair, Ron."

Ron, noticing the onslaught of curious eyes directed at their table, lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "Isn't it? Do you know I looked over in the stands during the match with Puddlemere United and she was reading a book? A book, Harry. During one of the most important matches of my career," Ron shook his head, his anger dissipating. "It was more than that though. Hermione and I - we just weren't meant to be together."

Harry nodded. "I'm sorry, Ron. I haven't been sleeping well. I don't have a right to say -"

Ron interrupted Harry, "No, no, you're right. It's been nearly two years. I should talk to Hermione," Ron sighed and continued. "I just don't know what to say to her."

The server came with their meals and both men concentrated on their food for a few minutes, instead of their conversation.

Harry studied Ron's face as he absently ate a chip. He knew that Ron had not meant to hurt Hermione and Hermione had not meant to ignore Ron. He knew a relationship that had seemed so natural, so right in school had just failed in the so-called Real World. Both Ron and Hermione had grown and changed, but their relationship hadn't. "Just tell her the truth, Ron," Harry replied finally. "Just talk to her. Talk to her like you did when we were at Hogwarts."

"I think I will, Harry. I will. What about you, Harry?"

Harry looked befuddled. "What about me?"

"What about you and Hermione," Ron said, trying to sound nonchalant, but failing.

Harry shrugged. "We're friends. Flat mates. Co-workers." Harry said it calmly, even as his heartbeat quickened, although he didn't understand why.

Ron smiled a disbelieving smile, but said, "I'm glad she has you, Harry. I know you'll never let her down the way I did."

"You didn't let her down, Ron."

Ron smiled sheepishly, "Thanks, Harry. I have to run. We have an afternoon practice. I hope you can make it to the game."

Harry stood as Ron did the same. They both put galleons down for the bill. "I'll be there. I'll pay, Ron."

Ron grinned. "I'll pay this time. Bring Hermione to the game. She can bring all the books that she wants."

Harry chuckled. "I'll ask her."

"You're a good friend, Harry," Ron said, squeezing Harry's shoulder. "Take care."

"I will," Harry said.

Ron started toward the door and glanced back at Harry. "Life is for the living."

"What?"

Ron shrugged. "Just don't keep waiting for this to be accomplished or for that to be finished. Live, Harry. You're the boy who lived after all; don't waste it.

Before Harry could respond, Ron had swept out the door, a gaggle of girls giggling after him, too nervous to ask for his autograph. Harry, still puzzling over Ron's parting words, watched as his best friend turned and talked to the girls and then signed autographs for all of them, a huge jovial grin on his face the entire time. Harry smiled crookedly and Disapparated directly from the Three Broomsticks without drawing the attention of any of the other patrons.

~*~

Hermione frowned at the computer screen in front of her. There was nothing here. Not one clue. The Muggles had nothing in common that she could find. They weren't born in the same cities, they didn't go to the same schools, they didn't have any common relatives, and they didn't even belong to the same political parties.

Hermione shook her head. Maybe I'm going about this all wrong, she thought. Maybe I'm thinking as a Muggle would and not a Witch. She sighed heavily. She felt weary. Alone. She signed off the computer and headed back to the flat. The books she had owled for from Hogwarts should have arrived. There would be something there. There had to be something there.

~*~

Ginny walked out of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and sighed when she saw Lucius Malfoy standing across the street. He waved his cane at her, predatory grin upon his face.

Ginny rolled her eyes, turned away from Mr. Malfoy, and walked briskly down the main street of Hogsmeade. She knew he was following her, she could feel his presence sauntering merrily behind her. So, he wanted to play, did he? I've played with a more malicious wizard than you could ever hope to be, Mr. Malfoy, Ginny thought to herself, pushing the fact that she had almost lost her life in that particular match out her head. Ginny turned and stepped inside a small coffee house. It was filled with 6^th and 7^th year Hogwarts students and a couple of professors. Ginny sat down at a small table in the back corner and watched Lucius Malfoy, who stood quite out from the other patrons, still manage to glide through the coffee house as if he visited there everyday of his life.

Lucius sat opposite of Ginny and remarked, "What a delightful establishment. Is this where you write your dark little poems?" "Are you sure you want to be seen with a Weasley, Mr. Malfoy? I wouldn't want to disgrace your family name."

Lucius arched a brow at the young witch. "When the Weasley in question is as beautiful as you, Ginny, I do not mind the possible dishonour of my name."

Ginny frowned slightly and leaned across the table. "While I appreciate empty flattery as much as the next young woman, let us get the point, Mr. Malfoy. You want something from me. Tell me what it is," Ginny eyed the dark wizard carefully, probing how blunt she should be. She leaned back, posing casually, as if this were just a discussion of her favourite flavour of Bertie Bott's Beans. Under the table, she crossed her fingers and said carefully, "I am not unwilling to negotiate. If you have something I desire."

Ginny waited with baited breath as Lucius Malfoy toyed with the head of his serpent cane and said nothing for a long moment. Ginny feared she had struck too quickly and he didn't believe her, but then a slow smile spread across his handsome face.

"Oh, Miss Weasley, I do like you," he drawled, leaning back in his own chair, his posture relaxing noticeably. "If it were not for your red hair, I'd question the fact that you're a Weasley."

Ginny shrugged slightly, looking down at the floor for a second and then straight into Mr. Malfoy's eyes. "Tell me why you suddenly find Hogsmeade the place to be."

Lucius nodded. "Yes, the negotiations. I want information about the activities of Potter and Granger."

"And in return, I get...."

"Tell me what you desire, Ginny."

Ginny smiled at Mr. Malfoy as she thought how what she most desired was to be standing over his dead body and Tom Riddle's voice out of her head. Her nightmares gone. Harry safe. Voldemort gone forever. Those were the things that Ginny wanted, but she continued to smile sweetly at Mr. Malfoy as she chose her words carefully. Tom Riddle had taught her a few lessons. One of those lessons was that when one lied, it was best to wrap the falsity in the truth. "I won't do anything that will cause harm to Harry, but I will help you find Draco."

"Ah, now you know of Draco's disappearance?"

Ginny nodded. "I spoke to Harry last night. I'm sure he knows where Draco is. I don't care about your son, Mr. Malfoy. I'll do what I can so that you can find him. There is something I want in exchange though."

"Name it."

"Money, Mr. Malfoy. I work as a clerk part-time in my brothers' joke shop and live at home. I want money."

"And you shall have it," Lucius said, rising from the table. "When will you next be working alone at your brothers' shop?"

"Saturday afternoon. They're going to Ron's Quidditch match."

"I'll drop by then, Ginny," Lucius said smoothly, tipping his hat to her. "Have information for me."

"I will," Ginny said as the waiter placed a cup of espresso in front of her.

The waiter turned to ask Mr. Malfoy if he wanted anything, but the wizard was gone. The waiter turned to Ginny. "Not your usual type, Gin," he said casually.

Ginny smiled darkly. "Unfortunately he is my usual type, but I'm looking to change that. "

~*~

Harry and Draco Apparated into the living room of the flat and both collapsed onto the floor. Draco, who had been polyjuiced to appear as Neville Longbottom, was a bright blotchy red even as the polyjuice potion wore off and his hair turned silvery blondeagain. Longbottom was an Unspeakable and one of the select few at the Ministry that knew that Draco was an Auror.

Breathing hard, Draco gasped, "I've never been hit with a Burning Hex before. Damn. My skin still feels as if it's on fire!"

Harry, who had blood seeping through his robes and a nasty gash on his cheek, sat up. "This is my third time being hit with the Slashing Hex. At least we know we're getting closer."

"Wonderful," Draco said as he pulled himself up, peeling off his robes, twitching about and moaning loudly.

"Cool water will help the burning dissipate faster," Harry said as he undressed, examining his wounds as if he were looking at freckles.

Hermione came out of her bedroom, running to Harry. "Harry! Not the Slashing Hex again."

"'Fraid so," Harry replied as Hermione pulled out her wand and began to use healing charms on his cuts.

"I was hit with a Burning hex," Draco said, still dancing about as he unbuttoned his shirt.

"Take a cold shower," suggested Hermione, not looking up from Harry's wounds.

Draco pouted slightly, but realizing that neither Hermione nor Harry was paying him any attention, he sulked off to the shower. He suddenly missed Crabbe and Goyle. True, they had never been great conversationalists, but they had been loyal to him. He even found himself missing Pansy. Pansy, who spoke of very little other than herself and nothing deeper than the latest gossip, but at least she had always been willing to kiss his every hurt. "I'm brooding," Draco groaned as he finished disrobing and stepped into the shower. "I need to stop that. Brooding is for people who give a damn."

He turned on the cold water and the water cascaded across his burning skin. The water stung as if each drop was peeling away his flesh.

~*~

Harry and Hermione jumped at the scream that came from the shower. "Maybe we should have warned him the cold water would sting at first," Harry said as Hermione finished wrapping his healed wounds just to be on the safe side.

Hermione shrugged. "Did you find anything?"

"No," Harry said, disappointment evident in his voice. "But we were interrupted by two cloaked Death Eaters, so we must be on the right track. Did you find any connections among the missing Muggles?"

Hermione shook her head and slumped back into the futon. "Nothing," she said wearily. "I had Madam Pince send me some books from the Restricted Section at Hogwarts. I hope to find a locatorspell that we could use. If we find out where they are, it might answer a lot of our other questions."

Harry nodded and leaned back next to Hermione. "Shall we order in for dinner?"

Hermione nodded. "I'm going to shower when Draco is finished and then start reading," she said, pointing toward a tall stack of books in front of what had been their TV and was now a large, stone gargoyle thanks to Malfoy.

Malfoy walked stiffly from the bathroom, wearing loose sleep pants and a baggy shirt he had borrowed from Harry. He opened his mouth to thank them for their oh-so-helpful advice but stopped. They sat closely, their bodies almost touching; Hermione's head would only have to move a centimetre to be resting on Harry's shoulder. They looked so comfortable, like a pair of matching bookends. Draco found the sweet, pathetic nature of it to be nauseating. So close, yet so far. It was as if there were a bridge between them, but they both feared the middle of the bridge would crumble if they dared to cross it.

He shook his head, time to throw some salt on this tender moment. "How was lunch with Ron, Harry?" Draco asked, sitting in the gold chair across from Hermione and Harry.

Hermione stiffened instantly, glowering at Draco. She picked up a book and opened it. Books were her constant security blanket. Not looking at either man, she asked formally, "Yes, how is Ron?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably, throwing a dark look at Draco. "It was nice. He's invited us to the match against Pride of Portree on Saturday."

"Us?" Hermione asked, not looking up from the book.

"Yes, you and I. I don't think Ron would invite Draco even if he knew he was living with us."

Draco snorted. "Won't that be cosy? Maybe you can sit with the Weasel's wife, Granger."

"Malfoy!" Harry hissed, bolting off the futon.

Hermione stood as well. "Malfoy is right, Harry."

"What?" Harry asked, wrinkling his brow.

Draco smiled contently, enjoying his evening's entertainment.

"Malfoy is right. I can sit next to Ron's wife and perhaps we can exchange cooking charms and speak of how Ron's face turns bright red when he's -"

"Stop," Harry interrupted.

"Angry," Hermione continued primly. "Won't that be a jolly good time?"

Harry sighed. "Hermione, I think it's time that you and Ron spoke to each other. It's been over a year. Ron wants you to come to the match, Hermione. He asked me to invite you."

Hermione arched a brow and tilted her head. "Hrumph. He didn't invite me to his wedding, yet he wants me to come watch him play Quidditch?"

Harry sighed heavily. "Hermione...I'm not saying what Ron did was right, but don't you think it's time the two of you at least talked?"

Hermione stared stonily at Harry. "No."

Draco put his feet up on the coffee table and decided to stir the pot a bit more. "Hermione, weren't you just telling me last night what a good family the Weasleys are?"

Harry and Hermione both ignored Draco's jab. Harry carefully weighed his options and decided to hedge his bets. "Lucy is pregnant."

Hermione's mouth fell open and she took a step back. "They're having a baby?"

Draco snorted. "Probably a litter. That's what Weasleys do - breed young, often and irresponsibly."

Harry threw another dark look at Draco and motioned him out of the room, but Draco didn't budge and Harry turned back to Hermoine. "Yes, they are. Hermione, please -"

"I can't, Harry," Hermione said, her voice began shakily, but steadied. "A baby, a house, a family?" She looked into Harry's deep green eyes and laughed darkly. "A normal life? One where men in hooded cloaks aren't hexing you? A life where we don't have to baby-sit a runaway Death Eater? A life where you don't wake up in the middle in the night, your scar hurting, knowing Voldemort hunts you. A normal life. Will either of us ever have that?"

Not waiting for an answer and choking back tears, Hermione quickly gathered up a stack of books and rushed into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

"Hermione," Harry called following her. He knocked on the door, but it didn't open. Soon the soothing sound of jazz came from behind the door, but there was no other response. Harry considered using Alohomora to open the door, but decided not to risk Hermione's wrath. He slumped back down on the futon.

"I think you'll be going to that Quidditch match alone," Draco observed.

Harry rose, grabbing his shirt and pulling it on, "Go to hell, Malfoy."

"I thought I was already there," Draco replied, rising to search the kitchen for something edible.

Harry stalked across the flat, put on his cloak, and grabbed his broomstick, "I'm going for a flight."

Draco opened a bottle of wine and poured himself a glass as Harry fled the flat through the balcony door. "I do hate it when Mum and Dad fight," he said taking a sip. He took an apple from the fruit bowl, pondering the best solution to the Ginny problem while he ate it.

By the time he had finished the apple, he had a plan set in his mind. He changed clothes, put an ear to Hermione's door, but heard nothing but jazz and pages turning steadily. He surreptitiously entered Harry's bedroom, opening the trunk at the foot of the bed and pulling out a silvery cloak. Smirking, Draco pulled Harry's invisibility cloak on and Disapparated out of the flat.

~*~

Narcissa walked into her husband's library to find him sitting by the immense, uneven stone fireplace. Lucius smirked at his wife as she glided across the room to stand in front of him.

"You look pleased with yourself," she remarked.

Lucius chuckled sardonically. "The Weasley brat believes she can play me."

"No," Narcissa said, a cold smile gracing her porcelain features. "Her experience with Tom Riddle must have addled her brain."

"I know," Lucius said, still grinning. "We shall have our son back by Saturday night."

Two martini glasses appeared on the end table next to Lucius' chair. Narcissa and Lucius each took a glass and clinked them together. "To the safe return of our son," Narcissa said.

"Indeed," Lucius said as he drank to his wife's toast.

Narcissa gazed at her husband for a long moment, and then did something she had not done in ages. She gracefully slid into his lap. It had been a long time and while his touch was not something she necessarily missed, it was a pleasant diversion at times. She took another sip of her martini and kissed Lucius, letting her tongue explore his mouth leisurely. She had forgotten how delicious he tasted, a mix of expensive gin and exotic spices.

Lucius returned the kiss, savouring Narcissa's lean body pressed against his own. When their lips finally parted, he asked. "Which of the Weasleys should we destroy first?"

Narcissa finished her drink and placed that glass on the table. "The redheaded one," she said in an atypical moment of humour.

Lucius smirked at his wife. "Indeed, my wife. We'll start with the youngest and work our way up."

Narcissa slowly combed her fingers through her husband's long blond hair and gave him another lingering kiss. When the kiss ended, she spoke softly, "It will be delicious, my husband."

She disentangled herself from Lucius and arose, noting the disappointment in her husband's eyes she said, "When Draco is in the Manor again, Lucius. Not before."

She turned from her husband and gracefully exited the room, pleased and hopeful and amused at her husband's desire for her.

Lucius watched her go. "You are a cold-hearted creature, aren't you? Of course, that's your charm." He raised his glass in toast to his absent wife.

End Chapter 4