Lacuna

Lacuna
Chapter Four
~~~~~

Out on my window ledge
I don't feel safe
And I stay
Looking down on you

It's out of my hands for now
It's out of my hands for now

I can't just walk away
Be nice to walk away
But I don't feel safe
Get away, all the way up here

~~~~~

"Okay, where's the birthday girl?"

A chorus of shouting and whooping broke out among the assembled crowd as Oliver Wood and Matthew came stomping into the house. There had been rain falling since the last day of August, and even now nearly two weeks into September, it still rained. Everywhere the ground had turned to mud, and a person had to take extra care so as not to slip. The two men took off their shoes and hung their cloaks before they began greeting people.

"Mattew!" Ayida yelled triumphantly and skipped to him. "Did you bring presents?"

"Ayida!" Harry admonished as he levitated multiple trays of food out of the kitchen. "At least say hello first."

"Hello, Mattew! Did you bring presents?"

"Yes, you little chatterbox, I brought presents!" Matthew messed her hair.

Hermione cringed. "I just did her hair, Matt."

"Sorry, love," he shrugged and then swung Ayida into his arms. "Are you having fun at your birthday party yet?"

"Yes! Grandmum, Grandpa, Grandmother, Uncle Ron, Auntie Herminne, Uncle FreGeorge - "

"Fred and George," Harry corrected her as he walked by. "They're two people, sweetie."

Ayida took a deep breath as if about to say something very important. "Aaand..." she smacked her lips, "they here to see me."

Oliver Wood stood to Matthew's side, smiling at her. "And how old are you today, Ayida?"

With eyebrows furrowed in concentration, she held up three tiny fingers. "Four!"

Matthew feigned surprise. "Why... I have never met anybody who is a whole four years old! Ayida, my dear, I have to put you down so that I can shake your hand. I came here to celebrate a birthday, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I would meet somebody who is four years old! And you look so pretty!"

Ayida smiled up at him and held out her hand proudly. "Me Ayida, and I'm four!"

"A gentleman has given you a compliment, Ayida. What do you do?" a snobbish voice said from the shadows.

Ayida turned back to the woman speaking, grinned and then curtsied to Matthew. "Fank you."

"You're most certainly welcome," Matthew bowed, looking to Harry, who was frowning at Ayida. Matthew had a sudden rush of foreboding and glanced to the corner the voice had come from.

"Everything here going all right?" he asked Harry as Ayida ran to play with what Fred and George were setting off; a new prank no doubt.

Harry's smile was strained. "Fine," he kissed Matthew's cheek. "Narcissa is here," he said more quietly. "Everybody is a little on edge because of it."

"Why did you invite her then?"

"She's Draco's mother," he replied as if it were obvious. Matthew still did not get it.

"That's no reason if nobody likes her."

"Ayida would have wondered had she not come. It was so much easier when she was a baby. She never knew the difference." Harry sighed, turning back around to stare at everybody. "I hate being around her. I really do. I never know what to talk to her about, Matt, because all I really want to talk about is Draco, and I swear she would have hexed me if I had continued on the last time that I mentioned his name. I just want to blame her for everything."

Although Matthew could understand Harry's viewpoint, it still hurt at times when Harry spoke like this. If Draco had never died, they never would have met. Or perhaps they would have, but it would have been under much different circumstances. Of course, sometimes, he was not so sure that Harry really cared about him the way he cared for Harry. They had been together for two years now, and Matthew could say with certainty that he loved Harry. Not only that, but he loved Ayida as well. More than anything, Harry seemed sorry that he did not feel the same way. It had always been quite obvious that Harry cared for Matthew, but since the very beginning it had been the same. Harry cared for him a lot, and that was it.

It was evident that it all stemmed back to Draco Malfoy. Harry did not talk about it much anymore, but Matthew knew that he believed Draco was alive somewhere, even if the belief was not that strong anymore, it was there. Because of this, Harry held back almost everything that would be beneficial to their future together. Once the belief that Draco was alive was gone, maybe they could move on together. Maybe Harry would put his all into their relationship.

"Tonight is about Ayida, not her grandmother or her father. It would be much better if you were to stop dwelling on it altogether, Harry."

Harry nodded minutely, and Matthew did not miss the movement Harry's eyes made when they looked at a small picture of Draco that sat on a small table beside them. "I know, Matt," he sighed tiredly. "I'm sorry."

Taking Harry's hand, Matthew led them back into the crowd to help Ayida celebrate her birthday. Hermione struggled up from her seat on the couch, being now close to nine months pregnant and approached Matthew, taking him by the hand and leading him to where Matthew had heard Narcissa speak to her granddaughter. The leather chair in which she had sat was now empty, and Hermione pulled Matthew behind it near the small bookcase. It was dark in the corner, and even Harry who was staring so hard at them could not see them clearly.

"I know what you think about," she hissed to him. "I can see it in your eyes... and Harry's. I've watched you for a while now. It's there every time Draco is mentioned. But I've always known Harry still believes he's alive. The question is why do you want to know the answer? What if he is alive? Do you know what that will mean for you?"

"It means," Matthew grit out, "that I will be erased from Harry's life as we know it. I will be cast out like last week's dinner. I know, Hermione."

"Then why do you want to know?"

"One way or another, I will know which way my life will head. Right now, I have no bloody clue, and I hate it. If he is, in fact, dead then I'll know that he'll still want me. If he's alive, then I'm gone, and I'll find somebody else. Don't get any foolish notions in your head about it, Hermione. My reasons for wanting to know are purely selfish."

"Yes, but they're for good reason. I'm probably one of the only people in this room who hate that Harry started seeing you so soon, or ever rather. I was all right with it at first. In fact, I thought it was a good idea, but then I could see why Harry wanted you. And I didn't like it. Maybe his feelings have changed, I don't know, Matt. But if there is reason to let go of Draco, then he needs to know." She poked his chest hard. "And when he knows, he can stop hurting you."

Matthew grimaced, rubbing the spot on his chest. "How did you know that this was on my mind tonight?"

"As soon as I heard Narcissa was coming, I knew that Harry would be uptight the whole time, and then I knew he'd talk to somebody about it. He always does. As for that old croon, Narcissa, I don't trust her as far as I could throw her while pregnant. However, I don't believe that Draco is alive. He would have come back to Harry by now if he was. Since you need solid proof, I would suggest starting with Narcissa."

"I don't know what to do though." He felt helpless when the case was so personal. His future rested on what he would find.

"Just talk to her. You're a people person, Matt. Try to steer the conversation toward what you want to know. She might say something a little off, and then you'll have to go from there."

Matthew shifted his weight and looked out at everybody. Narcissa was standing coldly outside of the group, looking down her nose at all the people gathered. Her blonde hair was long, swept pristinely down her back, contrasting against her dark blue robes. "She looks like a bitch," he muttered.

"She is," Hermione stated matter of fact. "She never speaks to any of us, only Ayida, and only then to teach her some sort of behavioural lesson as if she thinks Harry is lacking in his parental skills. Sometimes she speaks to Harry when he tries. It's a wonder Draco ever turned out as well as he did.... But I'd say he still picked up her bitch attitude sometimes," she added as an afterthought. "Anyway, are you going to do it?"

Reluctantly, he nodded.

"Good. If you need help with anything, you know where to find me, though being pregnant, I doubt I can help you that much."

"Thanks."

It took much courage to speak to Narcissa Malfoy. Matthew waited until cake was distributed to approach her, but only because he was more afraid that she was about to leave. "Mrs. Malfoy," he bowed his head courteously. "It's an honour to finally meet you. I'm Matthew Pickleworms."

She looked down her nose at him. "I know who you are, Mr. Pickleworms. You come from Muggle parentage, do you not?"

"My mother is a Muggle, yes, but my father is a wizard."

"There is a fine distinction between a proper wizard and one of Muggle parentage. Your father does not come from a line of wizards, does he?"

Matthew took an inaudible breath, attempting to keep his cool. "No, my grandparents are Muggles. But my father, Mrs. Malfoy, do not mistake, is a wizard - a fine and proper wizard, if I might say so."

"It is a little presumptuous, but yes, you may say if you are so inclined."

Matthew took a small breath, silently asking for patience. "Well, I have heard much of your son and what a wonderful person he was."

"I would assume you would have, what with the company you choose to keep."

"Then in your opinion, was your son, Draco, a proper wizard?"

"He is of fine blood, but blood does not always make the wizard proper. I always did all I could to assure that my son would become a man I would be proud to call my blood. Sometimes, I think it better that he is around no longer so that he will not remember the company he kept and the offspring he produced. He's better off the way he is."

Narcissa stared hard at him. Matthew returned it. "You mean dead."

"It would be better for all of those involved to drop it, Mr. Pickleworms. My Draco exhausted all of his words on any subject three years ago when he killed himself. Now if you will excuse me, I must be getting home."

"But your granddaughter hasn't opened her presents yet."

"She has already opened the present I brought. Goodnight, Mr. Pickleworms."

Narcissa moved with fluid grace as she went to say good-bye to Ayida. Harry intercepted her as she moved to the door, had a few words that he could not understand from where he stood, but he watched as Harry kissed her hand and she left the house without looking back.

"So what's the verdict?" Hermione approached from behind.

"I think she knows that I want answers, and I think she's hiding something. She said 'is of fine blood' when referring to Draco. Then she said that he's better off the way he is, which could mean just... well, dead. But then she said that it would be better for everybody involved to drop it."

"That could mean anything," Hermione said reasonably.

"Not the way she said it." Matthew turned from looking at Harry to look at Hermione, his learning from the university kicking in. "I need to see Draco's grave."

"Why?"

"I just need to see it."

"You'll have to wait until tomorrow."

"I know, but I need to see it. Will you take me?"

Hermione nodded. "If you think it will help."

***

The graveyard was dead and cold, the open fields not offering any shelter from the wind, save a few scattered trees. The rain had stopped for the morning but forlorn clouds still covered the sky, whispering of more rain to fall. Matthew looked grimly up at them as Hermione led the way. He hated the rain and had always held dreams of moving somewhere warm and sunny. However, those dreams had been put on hold when Harry had come along.

"I believe he was buried under a tree next to his father," Hermione was saying ahead of him. She had stopped and was looking around. She held her robes up past her ankles, but mud was still caked around the hem. "I remember Harry being upset over it, but not saying anything. He wants to be buried next to Draco, but Narcissa's site is on the other side of him. I knew he should have had more of a say in the funeral. Well... I really doubt she would have gone along with anything he had said. Goodness, this weather is dreadful," she shivered as a gust of wind whipped around her.

Matthew withdrew his wand and cast a warming spell on her. She turned her head to smile, but kept walking. "I think it's that one," she pointed to a tall beech tree.

"Let's have a look then."

Hermione slipped and just barely kept her balance. Matthew hurried to catch her up and took her arm. She clutched her bulging stomach. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, it's just hard to manoeuvre with a big belly," she smiled. "Don't worry about me. Let's just look at what you need to look at and get out of here."

The graves beneath the tree slowly grew bigger and bigger as they neared. Matthew wanted to walk faster, but decided to stay with Hermione. She huffed alongside him. "Draco Lucius Malfoy," she read before he could even read what was there. "That's the one. What's your plan?"

Instead of answering, he let go of her arm and went to take a closer look at the large headstone. It rose to his chest. He reached out and ran his fingers over Draco's name. "If you're really here, Draco, let Harry go. Let him love somebody else, even if it's not me," he whispered. "Let the investigation end here. Please. Let me have Harry."

Pulling out his wand again, he started murmuring Latin phrases, drawing the point of the wand in circles above his head. A whirlwind kicked up and beads of water from the grass and top of the headstones all around were sucked up into it, creating a magnificent sight. Hermione gasped quietly, transfixed by the swirling colours and shapes within the cyclone. Then, Matthew brought his arm down as if chopping wood and the whirlwind collapsed into the ground with a crash. The earth around them shook and the tree sent its water falling to the floor. He panted as the magic took effect and the image of the grass, and dirt began to wave, the ground becoming transparent. Hermione moved forward, awe written across her face. Matthew looked to her and when he looked back to the ground, he could see a coffin - Draco's coffin.

"The ground is there, just transparent." Matthew said, though Hermione did not say anything.

"What now?"

"We wait for the magic to go through the wood. It's more difficult to get through wood. That's why I held the spell for as long as I did."

"We'll see inside? But what if there is a body? Surely you won't end there, Matt. It could be Draco, but it might not be."

"We'll get to that when we see."

Slowly, the wood began to clear. Matthew's heart pounded steady in his chest. When the coffin was transparent, both exhaled loudly.

"Empty," Hermione whispered. "What does that mean?"

Matthew looked to her, blinking owlishly. "You know as well as I do what that means, Hermione."

"I know," she swallowed. "I just need to hear it out loud."

"It means that... either Draco has been brought somewhere else or... or he is alive."

"And what do you believe, Matt?"

Swallowing thickly, Matthew looked to the ground again, choosing what he would say. "He's alive. If he were dead, Narcissa would keep him in the grave, not bring him into her home, or anywhere else. Unless she's extremely depraved...." He smiled with no humour.

Hermione nodded. "I just don't understand. W...why would Draco not come back to Harry? Why leave?"

Matthew continued to watch the ground as it seemingly solidified, and tried to put his Ravenclaw mind to use. He could figure this out. He knew he could. Thinking back to his conversation the previous night, it came to him quickly. Narcissa's words.

"So that he will not remember the company he kept and the offspring he produced," he murmured.

Hermione was confused. "What?"

"He doesn't remember," he turned to look at Hermione, his eyes wide. "Narcissa did something to him. It's not because he doesn't want to come back to Harry. It's because he doesn't know that he has somewhere to go back to. Narcissa told me that she thought it was better that Draco can't 'remember the company he kept and the offspring he produced.' She didn't mean that he was dead."

"You think it's true," Hermione murmured, her bottom lip shaking, "That she would do such a thing?"

"I can't think of any other explanation as to why he wouldn't come back. He's had to have heard by now that Harry is still alive. He would have come."

"We have to find him. I have connections in the Ministry, Matt. They'll find where Narcissa goes, who she speaks to... she probably talks to Draco. With any luck, we'll get something on her so that we can lock her up. We'll need proof that she did this, if she did."

"We need to get started immediately." Matthew pulled on her hand and she followed.

"Matt, we can't tell Harry until we're sure. We can't do that to him."

Matthew did not answer right away. His mind worked furiously. Out of the corner of his eye, he stared at Hermione who looked quite resolute. No, it would not do to say anything. "I'm not going to tell him until I've spoken to Draco."

The pair fell silent as they walked back to the car. They had driven because Hermione had been advised against magical ways of travel while pregnant, so she and Ron had purchased a vehicle. They held hands tightly, alone in their knowledge. It began to sprinkle rain as they walked along.

"You're so brave," Hermione sniffed, wiping a drop from her cheek, "giving up Harry like that. I don't know if I could do the same in your situation. If I had to give Ron up... I don't think I could."

"It'll be fine. Nothing will really change for me."

Hermione blinked up at him. "I don't understand. Everything will change for you."

"Well..." he faltered. "It's different, isn't it? Ron loves you completely. Harry has never loved me, Hermione, as much as I've wanted him to. It was purely physical for him, a means to end loneliness. And it fooled everybody for a while, including me, but now that I have this knowledge, I can't pretend. Well," he sighed, "I'll have to pretend for Harry until I know more, but..."

"It'll be hard," Hermione finished, though she still had a knit to her eyebrows suggesting she did not understand what he was getting at. She climbed into the passenger's seat as Matt took the driver's.

"That's an understatement," he started the car. "The hardest part will be when and if I get to meet Draco, meeting the man who already has what I want, but doesn't even know it... assuming Draco really can't remember." Hermione placed her hand on his.

"I'm sorry, Matt. I wish it could be different."

"Well," Matthew sat up straight. "No use crying over spilled milk, my mum used to say. Where to, Hermione?"

"The Ministry. I'll probably be there for a while, so you can Apparate from there. I'll be fine in driving home."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'll call you when we've found something. Just sit back and wait until then, and don't let on that anything is wrong, Matt. Harry will get paranoid, and we want to keep him in the dark."

An hour later, Matthew Apparated in front of Harry's home. The sun was peaking out from behind the clouds, but it offered no warmth. As he walked up the muddy path, the door opened and Harry poked his head out with a grin. "Matt! I was hoping you were coming over today."

Despite his mood, Matthew could not help but grin back. He entered the house without a word, wrapping Harry in his arms and kissing him keenly. He ran his fingertips through Harry's hair, down his cheek and neck, rubbing his nose along and pressing his cheek against Harry's. Matthew inwardly sighed. Oh, he could not let this go. Not now.

Harry sighed, hugging him tight. "This is nice," he said quietly.

Yes, and you're not mine, Matthew thought devastated. "I've wanted to do this all day," he said instead. "I've wanted to kiss you and hold you... and I have just wanted you."

"So kiss me," Harry pulled slightly away, his face quite serious.

So Matthew did as he was told, all the while the ache in his heart mounting.

***

"Matthew! It's magnificent!" Hermione's head beamed through the fire. He was in his own flat a week later, preparing to go pick up Harry and Ayida for a day out when Hermione's head popped into the fire. "We found him! He's alive and well, though we don't know the state of his mind. He's in Puerto Rico and has been for almost six months. He goes by Kalen Mortimer. We got some dirt on Narcissa as well, but that's not what's important right now. Draco is alive!" She let out a short, high pitched laugh, her eyes sparkling.

Matthew dropped to his knees in astonishment. Somewhere in the past week, he had convinced himself that it was not real. Draco was dead and there was nothing more to it. Now here Hermione was telling him that Draco was alive and living in Puerto Rico of all places.

"What am I to do? I'm going out with Harry and Ayida today. I can't see them. I'll want to tell them."

"You can't go to them today anyway." Hermione cringed. "I'm sorry, but I booked you a Portkey that leaves in an hour. You have to pack quickly and get here. Meet me in the Atrium."

"But what about Harry?"

"I'll make up a story."

"Hermione, I need something for proof. Harry won't believe me without it."

"Don't worry about it. There's more to this than you think. Just pack your necessities and get your arse down here."

"Fine, I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

The call was ended and just as soon, Matthew went into action. He ran to his bedroom and began throwing everything into a bag. The bag was magically enlarged, so he did not need to worry about size or amount of objects he put in. He glanced at a picture of Ayida and Harry he kept on his bedside table, grimacing as he hurried with his things to the bathroom. Harry would be furious, he was sure, and possibly suspicious of what he was up to. He hoped that Hermione would come up with a suitable story. Better yet, he hoped he was long gone by the time Harry received an explanation.

Just as he promised, he was in the Atrium at the Ministry of Magic fifteen minutes later, but Hermione was nowhere to be seen. He set his bag by the fountain and sat on the edge to wait. Hermione's office was with the Minister's, he knew, but was not sure what floor it was on. Besides, she could be anywhere in the building. He thought it safe to wait. After ten minutes, Hermione came running off the lift, her hand underneath her bulging belly, and her hair askew.

"Matthew, I'm so sorry, but the Minister gave me something that needed to be finished straight away. I did it so quickly I don't even know if I did it correctly." She grimaced. "I really should hurry back to fix it before he gets to it. Well, the Aurors have your portkey in their offices. I'll take you there."

Matthew followed her to the lift and up without a word. She kept glancing at him anxiously, but never said anything either. When the lift opened at the Aurors' floor, Kingsley Shacklebolt was waiting for them. He took Hermione by the arm and motioned with his head for Matthew to follow him. He had been promoted to Head Auror and now had his own office with windows.

"Sit," he said in his deep voice as he closed the door. "We've still got some time before the portkey activates. Listen, Pickleworms, I know that this trip is more personal for you, but in agreeing to go, you're agreeing to work for us. We're running a criminal investigation on Narcissa Malfoy and her son, Draco is directly involved. By going to visit him for Harry, means you're helping us."

Matthew nodded. "I understand."

"We've already had a photographer there taking pictures, and we'll be putting a recording spell on you so that we'll have a live feed into him. We want anything that will incriminate Narcissa. Understand that all times, you will be watched, especially when you're with Draco. There is somebody following him at all times. Do not contact Harry. He must not get involved in this until the time is right. That goes for the both of you," Kingsley looked sternly at Hermione. "It's partly for his protection. I have doubts that Narcissa would do anything if he were to show, but we must take extra precautions. So... no Harry, got it? A simple yes will do."

"Yes," both Hermione and Matthew chorused.

"Good. Moving on.... These are pictures of Draco taken in the past few days. I'm positive you know what he looks like, Pickleworms, but he's changed. Get to know his face so that you don't miss him." Kingsley had handed pictures to Matthew. Hermione leaned over his shoulder to look as well.

"Goodness, he's changed so much," she whispered. "Why would he dye his hair darker?" she wondered aloud.

The picture showed Draco exiting a building and locking up. His hair was long now, tied back in a low ponytail. It was still blond, but it had hints of brown and was not quite such a stunning colour anymore. Hermione looked closer and shook her head. "He looks a little bigger, too," she commented, "like he's been lifting weights."

Kingsley sat behind his desk. "We think he dyed his hair under Narcissa's insistence. It could be for the same reason that he's changed his name."

"Which would be why?" Matthew asked, looking up.

"That's what we are hoping you will help us with. Remember, Matthew that if you see Narcissa, get out as fast as you can. She knows who you are, and if she sees you she'll know why you're there. Hermione told me that you spoke to her about Draco. If she sees you, she'll insist Draco move and we could lose him and possibly her as well."

"I'll be careful, Shacklebolt, and I understand what's at stake for everybody."

"Good. The portkey will activate in two minutes," he said checking his watch. "We'll be in touch with you."

Hermione stood and grabbed a pencil holder from the desk, handing it to him. "This is your portkey." She made him stand and then hugged him firmly. "In the end, Harry will be so grateful for you."

"You helped as well."

"Yes, but you're the one who is taking the most risk by going there. And in my opinion, you're more personally involved than I am. You love Harry and you're giving him up to make him happy. If he doesn't love you now, he'll love you unconditionally when this is through."

Matthew looked down. "Yes, but not in the way I wish for him to."

"You'll find somebody," she said quietly, knowing her words were not adequate, but unable to say anything else.

"Thanks," he replied and stepped away. "Give him a good story, Hermione. I was supposed to pick him up a half hour ago."

"I will. Be careful."

He waved to her just as he felt a jerk behind his navel and he was whipped through the space between London and San Juan. In seconds, he was dropped back to his feet and he swayed, trying to regain his equilibrium. A clock on the wall across from him said it was just eight in the morning here. He sighed. Just what he needed... the day to start all over again.

"Welcome to San Juan!" a jovial voice exclaimed. "You are Matthew Pickleworms?" Matthew looked around to see a witch with long black hair in casual blue robes. He nodded, blinking. "You're in the British Auror Headquarters, which is located in the wizarding District of San Juan."

Matthew looked around confused. The room they were in had no windows, cream walls, one desk and a small Muggle refrigerator. "This is your headquarters?"

The witch laughed, but it held no humour. "Actually we're just renting this place for the investigation. We're above a wand shop."

Matthew studied her. "Not exactly the assignment you were looking for then?" he smiled.

She waved his assumption away. "No, it's fine as any job is. I'm just tired today. Malfoy had a late night last night. Anyway, I'm Imogene Price. I'll be one of the Aurors you report to every night. Come, I'll show you to your hotel and you can get settled in. I'll debrief you afterwards."

Imogene led him into another much larger room which had windows lining every wall. It was a beautiful, clear day outside, and they could see wizards and witches doing their early shopping in the street below. Palm trees were everywhere Matthew looked, and he smiled thinking he would like the change.

"How's the weather here?" he asked as they descended a staircase.

"Beautiful and sunny most of the time, at least in the short time we've been here," she looked over her shoulder for a moment. "It's usually in the 60's Fahrenheit, low 70's. The high today I think is supposed to be 79, I believe, so I hope you brought light clothes."

"I packed everything I own," he admitted sheepishly. "I was given very little notification of this trip. I think I'll find something."

The two continued to make small talk as she led him down the street. The day was warm already and Matthew basked in the morning sunlight. It was a nice change from the wet September weather they were having back home. The hotel was a large wizarding establishment, and Matthew was given one of the largest suites in the building. Imogene waited on the balcony for him to change into something cooler and to get his clothes put away in the dresser. He slipped into a fitted, red tank top and light trousers. He had only thought to bring the shoes he had on, so made a mental note to buy sandals the first chance he got.

Matthew opened the balcony door with a smile, the light breeze ruffling his hair. Imogene leaned against the rail, looking down on the city. "So... what do I do first?" he asked.

"Ultimately, it's up to you. But I can tell you that he has a routine of sorts from what we can tell so far," she said not looking at him. "Today he'll wake up late. He was at the club late last night drinking. When he wakes, he'll go to the gym and work out for an hour. Then he'll go home to shower and change. Then he might go back to the club. We think he might be in with the owner or actually is the owner. No solid information on that quite yet. He'll go to dinner with a friend, named Stuart. Afterwards, they'll go to the club to see if everything is running smoothly. They might stay for a couple drinks, or they might go home. It depends on how Draco is feeling. Draco usually follows a routine every day, but usually after he works out, it can vary."

"And it's only a little after nine now," Matthew said, checking his watch, having changed it when they had arrived at the hotel. "What gym does he go to? I could go there and try to bump into him." He sighed inwardly. He enjoyed working out, but had done so already when he had woken up about seven hours ago. It was going to be a long day.

"It's the one on the corner down there," she pointed down the street to a large building. "Take a left out of the hotel, walk two blocks and on the left you'll see a wizarding bookstore. Walk across the store, out the door and you're in the Muggle world."

"Just like that?" Matthew was surprised.

"They're not so worried about Muggles around here finding our shops. They place a few innocuous spells on the front of the bookstore and hope that Muggles don't find it. But if a Muggle does happen to walk in, the shopkeepers have to say it's a closed event - invitation only. But it never happens, I hear. Anyway, when you're out, take a right, walk a block and it'll be on the right side. It's not hard to find. It's a big building. If you ever need help, just scratch the back of your head. There will be somebody following you at all times. They'll give you a push in the right direction."

Imogene left shortly after, leaving Matthew to his own devices. He sat on the balcony for a long time, wondering what Harry was thinking at this very moment, and what sort of bull story Hermione had concocted. He eyed the large fireplace in his suite a few times, tempted to call, but thought better of it. When half eleven came, he threw some workout clothes into his bag and left the hotel. The locals eyed him up as he made his way up the street, but he ignored them. They could tell he was not from around here, he knew. His skin was white compared to theirs, even if his skin was normally darker than most.

The Muggle world was just as easy to get into as Imogene had said and soon he was walking amongst people who had no idea that there was an entire world around them that they knew nothing of. Sometimes he felt a little boost of superiority, but squashed it. Most of his family were Muggles and he hated the bigotry in the wizarding world against non-magic people. Harry had told him that Draco used to call Hermione a Mudblood, and idly wondered if the memory alteration (if there, in fact, was a problem with his memory) would make him forget how he changed his attitude towards anybody who was not a Pureblood.

It took him fifteen minutes to walk there and another ten to open a temporary membership. He was thankful that he always had Muggle credit cards at his parents' insistence, because it was the only Muggle means of payment he had. He had a pouch full of galleons, but did not think that the gym would want that. They gave him a tour of the massive building and at his persistence, left him in the changing room. The gym wanted to give him a trial class in anything he chose, but that was not what he was here for. He changed quickly and then went straight to the track to warm up. Running laps, he craned his neck around at everybody, trying not to seem like he was here for the bodies. Warm-up laps usually took him twenty minutes, but today he ran for ten and then went to the floor below where treadmills and bikes were. He slowly walked down the stairs from the track, scanning the room. He stopped at the bottom and under the pretence of stretching, continued staring around. After nearly a minute, he saw the door open and his heart began beating erratically.

It was him. Draco.

Matthew checked his watch in a fit of nerves. Draco had his hair wrapped tightly in a ponytail wearing a tight workout tank top and shorts. Matthew bent to his knee, pretending to do up his lace, but really he watched as Draco went straight for a treadmill. There was one open next to the blond, so he quickly stood and hurried to it. He swore to himself. The pictures of Draco in Harry's house were everywhere. Matthew had his face memorized, but the pictures did not do him justice. Draco had grown into a striking young man. It was no wonder Harry was so taken with him. If Matthew had never met Harry and did not know who Draco was, he would most likely try to talk to him.

'You still have to try to talk to him, you sod,' he thought to himself as he stepped onto the machine. He glanced over before starting the treadmill. Words evaded him, even simple ones like 'hello.' Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco look back at him, but he ignored him. 'Here's your chance, idiot,' Matthew continued the inner dialogue. 'Say something.'

"Come here often?" Matthew finally blurted, and he cringed, smiling in almost an apologetic way.

Draco looked to him with an eyebrow raised, but he continued running in silence. Matthew swore violently in his head. "Every day," Draco finally looked back over with a smirk. "You?"

Ah, Matthew thought triumphantly. After three years hearing of nothing but this man and making up a voice in his head, Matthew finally could hear what Draco sounded like. He did not know why he was so interested in hearing the man, but he supposed he just wanted to know the person Harry was in love with. "No, this is my first time... in this particular gym at any rate."

Draco nodded and they fell silent again for a few minutes. "You're a tourist then?"

"Yes, I just got here last night," he lied, because who would come to the gym immediately after arriving, he thought logically.

"England?"

"Yes, I live in Liverpool. You're British; where are you from then?"

Draco waited to answer, obviously deliberating what he should say. But after studying Matthew for a few moments, he smiled slightly. "Wiltshire, but I haven't been to England in a few years."

"Do you miss it? I think I would to a point. I could deal without the weather."

Draco nodded with a small chuckle, pressing the 'up' button for the incline. He let his machine whir for a few seconds before he answered. "I couldn't agree more on that. Although I'm not much for heat either. Sometimes I miss winter, so yeah when I think of it, I do miss it. However, I have no plans to return in the near future. I have no reason to."

Matthew nodded, physically restraining himself from yelling at Draco that he did have a reason to return, two in fact. "I'm Matthew by the way. Matthew Pickleworms." He held out his hand. Draco cautiously took it and they shook.

"Kalen Mortimer," he replied, his eyes now suspicious. "Your name sounds familiar to me."

"I can't think of why it should," Matthew shrugged, but inwardly cringed. What if Draco followed Quidditch still? Would it matter if he knew who Matthew was?

"What do you do for a living?"

"I... well, I'm a professional sports player."

"Rugby?"

"No... it's a little more dangerous than that."

He was not technically supposed to know that Draco was a wizard, so he decided to act cautious. "Explain it then," Draco said, his face still suspicious.

"Well... there are seven players on each team. Three are meant to score goals. One is meant to keep the goals. One is meant to search for an elusive ball -"

Draco was frowning when he interrupted. "A Seeker?"

"You know it?" Matthew smiled.

"Quidditch? Yes, I know the game," Draco snapped impatiently. "I was a Seeker at Hogwarts. What team do you play for?"

"Appleby Arrows," he replied.

Draco looked forward, and he increased the speed of his workout. He was silent for a few moments. When he spoke again, his voice was impatient and strung so tensely, his normally deep voice sounded quite a bit higher than normal. "Matthew Pickleworms... you're a Chaser, the team's best. Your boyfriend is Harry Potter so I'm told, and when you retire you want to work for the Ministry and settle down with Potter. A couple years ago, the Arrows upped your incentive for playing for them and you stayed. I know all about you, Pickleworms, so if your plan was to hit on me, think again. I don't date British men."

Draco pulled the cord from the treadmill and leaped off the machine as it whirred back to its setting position. He looked back at Matthew, his face hard. "I especially don't date British men who already have equally famous British boyfriends. I am not so eloquent in public speaking opportunities." He walked away.

Matthew blinked rapidly a few times, wondering just what in hell had just happened. "I... I didn't even know you were gay!" Matthew stuttered for lack of a better response. He pulled his own cord. "Wonder if Harry will be as interested in the barmy bastard once he figures out he's gone schizophrenic," he muttered darkly to himself and stepped from the machine. "Bloody delusional that one." He watched as Draco disappeared into another room and swore colourfully before making his way back to the changing rooms.

Matthew spent the rest of the day taking small naps and explaining to the Aurors over and over again what happened. Though they had listened to every word, they wanted to know every move he had made while there. Matthew did not see how it would help. The next morning, Matthew was awakened by Imogene at the foot of his bed, demanding that he woke up. Draco had gotten up for the day twenty minutes ago and would be at the gym soon. Matthew was out of bed and running to the gym within five minutes. He barely had time to register what was going on.

Draco was nowhere to be seen when he got there, but he had decided the previous day that he would go about his own normal routine and warm up for twenty minutes on the track. Only five minutes had passed on the track when, to his amazement, Draco ascended the stairs and began running. He was half a lap ahead of Matthew, so he put on a burst of speed. It took two laps to catch up, and when he did, Draco still had not seen him. Matthew pulled in next to him.

"Kalen, I was hoping I'd see you again."

Draco looked over and was immediately annoyed. "Are you following me, Pickleworms?"

"No, I was already up here when you came."

"So you were anticipating my presence here today."

"Only hoping. Listen, I just wanted to tell you that I wasn't trying to hit on you yesterday. I like to talk to people in the gym, so I'm sorry if I gave the wrong impression. It's just natural for me to make friends. Really, it is."

Draco looked at him curiously. "Why are you going through so much trouble to tell me this? I don't even know you."

"I don't like people to have the wrong impression of me. Besides, it's always nice to know somebody in a strange place, especially a fellow countryman, right?"

Draco looked forward and continued running for two laps before he said anything. Matthew followed in silence.

"Yes, it is nice to know somebody," he finally admitted.

"So is it all right if I talk to you? I promise I don't want anything more."

Draco looked over and smiled ruefully. Matthew could not help but return it. "It's all right. I'm going to go lift some free weights. Do you want to join me?"

"Sure," Matthew nodded, inwardly congratulating himself.

For the next half hour, they lifted in near silence. Matthew studied Draco surreptitiously, wondering what this was leading to. He hoped he could find some useful information so that they could apprehend Narcissa and get this horrible ordeal over with.

"So, what do you do here in San Juan?" he asked Draco as he laid on the bench press. Draco stood over him as the spot.

"I moved here because of a friend I met a couple years ago," Draco replied as Matthew began lifting. "He wanted help with a place he had just bought and was renovating it into a dance club. He thought I had stellar taste in fashion, or some such nonsense." Draco flashed a grin. "To him, gay equates fashion expertise. Although, I do say it turned out better than it would have if he had been making all the decisions. Anyway, Stuart, that's my friend, is back and forth from America and here. I kind of manage it for him while he's away."

Matthew finished the repetition with a grunt. "Do you enjoy it then? You didn't really strike me as a businessman type."

"It can be rewarding in its own way," Draco shrugged. "Something to be getting on with at any rate. I've been a bit bored since I left home. Just been travelling, you know... I like having something to keep me occupied. Besides, I know business pretty well. My father was into real estate. He taught me a lot when I used to follow him around."

Matthew smiled slightly. "Think you might expand on your own business in the future?"

Shrugging, Draco grasped the bar. "Do another set." Draco watched him for a few moments before he answered. "I don't know. The family fortune is quite sizeable because of how well my father and his father expanded it. Perhaps someday... I don't really think past today though."

"Right," Matthew grunted as he finished and sat up, swiping at his towel and mopping his forehead. "What spoiled little rich boy does think past today?"

Draco smiled minutely. "Anyway, you should check out the club some night. I'll put your name down so that you don't have to wait in line."

"That'd be great. Thanks, Kalen."

"It's on the corner just past the bank in the District. You won't miss it." Draco paused and glanced around. "Do you have the time?"

"It's a little after ten," Matthew checked his watch.

"Oh, I have to go. I'm sorry. My mother is in town today and she wants to do brunch. Maybe I'll see you in the club? Or here tomorrow."

"Either or," Matthew smiled.

They bid their goodbyes, and Matthew once again watched as Draco disappeared. "That was a little better today, right Imogene," he spoke for her benefit. He just hoped that Draco would not mention who he had met in the gym.

***

Draco took his time showering and dressing for his brunch date with his mother. His thoughts were too busy for him to move faster. Yesterday, when he had first met Matthew Pickleworms, he had been a little excited to meet such a great Quidditch player. However, Draco could not keep his mother's voice from his head. Make up any excuse. Leave as quickly as possible. It will not come to any good for someone from home to find you.

His mother, Narcissa made it habit to read stories from the papers from back home to Draco when they met. She usually steered clear of the gossip pages, but on one particular day she had laughed when she skimmed the page.

"Listen to this, darling," she had smirked, "Matthew Pickleworms, esteemed player for the Appleby Arrows was quoted yesterday in saying, 'I'm happy with my life right now, yes. I have a great career, and a magnificent boyfriend. I couldn't ask for anything more.' When asked about his boyfriend, Pickleworms confirmed the wild rumours that he was seeing Harry Potter. 'We care about each other very much. I believe I understand what his needs are after sustaining such tragedy two years ago. It hasn't been easy so far, but we work every day at the relationship, and we're very happy together.' Pickleworms seemed optimistic while smiling. 'I hope to settle down with him in a few years, maybe after I retire from the game.'" Narcissa looked over the paper at her son. "What sentimental flattery."

"What tragedy?" he asked.

"Oh, just some nonsense about another boyfriend. I admit that I do not remember what happened. Everybody made a big deal out of it just because of who he is. It's of no consequence to us."

Presently, he pulled on his shirt, still curious about the tragedy. He had not thought of that conversation until just yesterday when Matthew showed up in his local gym. Matthew and his indiscretions had never been foremost in Draco's mind after all. In fact, he did not know if the two were still together. They could have broken up ages ago. Narcissa might know, but it would not bring any conclusions to ask as she would tell him to think of things with substance. Besides that, bringing up his chance meeting with Matthew did not seem like a good idea. Narcissa was adamant that he cut all ties with England and he could not agree more... for the most part. Though he had nothing to base the assumption on, just from what his mother had told him.

There had been tears in her eyes when she first explained that he had done something that should never be brought up in civilized conversation. She was protecting him from himself, she said. But Draco had never felt as though he could commit a violent act, and could not understand what he had done that was so terrible. He wished he could remember, but Narcissa had an explanation for that as well. He had been traumatized. He had blocked out all memory of the crime because he had no desire to know.

But he did have a desire to know everything he had forgotten, and it burned so deeply within him that some days, he did not know what to do with himself. The gym helped to clear it away, but he could always feel a void within him. And he wanted to know what needed to be there.

There was an important blood connection between Draco and Narcissa, and he treasured that, especially after his father had died (though he had no recollection of his death or funeral; he just knew it to be so). When all was said and done, there was still certain mistrust between them both. Draco did not always trust what she told him, and Narcissa did not trust Draco's actions. She watched him like a hawk, though as of late, she had been around less, which suited him just fine.

"Soon, Draco," he whispered to himself in the mirror. "Soon it will all come back to you, and you won't ever have to hide again. Kalen Mortimer... hell."

He hated the name with an unadorned passion. It embodied everything that he had become in the past few years. He was not Draco Lucius Malfoy anymore; he was an empty shell of who he once was. Narcissa knew it. They both knew it. The only difference was that Narcissa seemed to enjoy it.

Checking his appearance once more, he nodded in appreciation and Disapparated into the wizarding district. The day was beautiful, sunny and clear. The red robes he wore were light and charmed to keep cool. He walked along the cobbled street leisurely, knowing quite well that he was already ten minutes late. Narcissa favoured an outdoor café across from the wand shop, and was already sitting beneath an umbrella adorned table, reading a newspaper, the food for both had already been set down.

"Mother," he greeted her, bowing his head.

"You're late."

"I apologise. I lost track of time at the gym today."

Narcissa wrinkled her nose. She hated the gym and anybody who would choose to pay to go to such a dirty establishment. It was just another reason for Draco to go. He had never quite grown out of taking part in activities simply to annoy his parents.

"You really underestimate it, Mother. It helps let off a lot of steam."

"And do you have a lot of steam to let off, Draco?"

"My name is Kalen, Mother. I know you're well aware of that."

She narrowed her eyes at him. He decided to change the subject. "Is that the Daily Prophet? Anything interesting in it today?"

"Do try to speak in complete sentences, son. To answer your question, no, there is nothing of interest in the paper today. To think that the top story was the birth of Hermione Weasley's baby boy late last night and they put it on the front page. The things they'll do for a story."

Draco blinked. "Hermione Weasley?" he asked befuddled.

"She's the junior undersecretary to the Minister and a Mudblood at that."

"Weasley is her married name? What's her maiden name? Granger?"

"I believe so," Narcissa looked at him disapprovingly. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," he said quietly. "I just remember her from school. She must have married Ronald Weasley then."

"Yes, about two years ago."

Draco fell silent, thinking hard, and playing with his food. He remembered hating Weasley and Granger in school. So why, then did he not feel any sort of hatred towards them now? He felt almost a certain... fondness. It was unsettling. What was more so, was that he remembered there being three of them. But who was the third? There was a particular memory that came immediately to mind at the mention of Hermione. Hermione Granger had hit him across the face in.... Well, he could not recall exactly what year it was in. Perhaps second or third. It was of no consequence anyway. Ron Weasley had been behind her, he could see him clearly. However, there was another person. In the memory, he could not quite seem to draw up any sort of image, but he could feel a presence. There was somebody, but who?

"What is the baby's name?" he finally asked some minutes later.

"Alaric Harold, but they'll call him Al, it reads." Narcissa looked up from the paper. "Is there something the matter, Draco? You look pale, and you're not eating."

He shook his head. "I'm not feeling very well, Mother. I think I should go home."

"If you think it will be best for you. I will not be able to come back here for at least a fortnight, darling. It may even be longer than that, I cannot say. If you need anything, Floo me."

"I'll remember to. I'm sorry. I don't know what's come over me."

"It is quite all right, Draco. Go home and get some rest."

Draco stood, kissed her cheek and left as quickly as he could. He did not exactly feel physically sick; it was more mental than anything. The mention of Hermione Weasley unsettled him, though he could not explain why. As soon as he arrived home, he collapsed onto his couch and threw his arm over his eyes. He laid there for a long time, wondering what was wrong. It was not until hours later that he decided on a course of action. Going into his study, he pulled out a piece of parchment and quill and composed a letter.

***

The hospital room was finally emptying after a long day of visitors and Hermione settled back against her pillows with a sigh. Ron sat at the edge of the bed holding their new, tiny son, and Harry sat in a chair beside them, Ayida sleeping soundly in his lap. Hermione still could not believe that her son was here already. Her pregnancy had gone by so fast, but she was content.

"I know you don't need more visitors, but I really wish Matthew had been here," Harry said longingly.

"I contacted him hours ago, Harry," Hermione yawned. "He sent back his congratulations, and that's all I need right now. And maybe a few hours of sleep."

The peace their comfortable group created was not to last long however, as a nurse knocked on the door just as she said this. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Weasley, but a letter just arrived here for you. Would you like to have it?"

Hermione nodded tiredly and held out a hand for it. The nurse left as Hermione tore open the envelope. There was no insignia on the wax, so she was curious as to the sender.

Dear Mrs. Weasley :

I fear I am not sure why I am writing you this letter -

Hermione stared hard at the handwriting, recognizing it, but not quite able to put a finger on it.

..., but I was read the news of your new addition this morning over brunch with my mother and felt an urge to do something with the knowledge. So here I am in my study writing to you. You may be startled to hear from me as I have not been to England for some time, so I am sorry if I disturb you in any way.

My first order of business in writing is to congratulate you and your husband on what I am sure is a beautiful baby boy. You've made a wonderful choice for a name. It's beautiful, though I daresay my mother is not fond of the nickname, Al. She is of little taste anyway.

The second order is to ask you a question. I'm afraid that I've retained little memory of my days at Hogwarts for reasons still unknown to me. After you were mentioned over brunch, however, something came to me. It was a day in our earlier years at Hogwarts (I am afraid I cannot recall which year it was) when I said something to offend you (though I cannot remember what) and you slapped me across the face.

Hermione gasped, knowing who the author was. But she could not believe it. If she had not known he was alive already, she would have been furious. Now she wondered if Matthew hadn't had something to do with it. But why would he tell Draco to write? Harry and Ron looked at her curiously, but she shook her head at them.

I probably deserved it, the little prat I was back then. But the reason I bring it up is because I know that there were two other people with you. One of which, I am sure was your husband, Ron. The other, I am not sure of. I am attempting to put together shall I say, the puzzle of my life, and I would appreciate it if you could dig through your memories and try to remember who it was that was there. I cannot see anybody in my mind, but I know that there was somebody.

I don't mean to sound desperate, but a prompt reply would be appreciated, though I know the new baby will keep you quite busy. And if it's not implausible, perhaps we could arrange to meet someday. I should probably not disclose this, but my mother is adamant I do not speak to anybody from England, but I feel that I need to. So I ask you to be discreet.

Sincerely yours,
Draco Malfoy

Quickly, Hermione folded the letter and held tightly to it, daring not to look at Harry. She was not supposed to tell Harry anything, and it had been almost easy to pretend that she knew nothing until now. Now when she had a letter from Draco in her grasp, she could hardly contain her emotions. Curiously, she peeked quickly at the letter again and had to blink rapidly to contain her tears. It was true, she realised. Draco was having difficulty pulling up a memory with Harry in it. Slowly, she raised her eyes to Harry and nearly gasped with the pain she felt for him.

"What is it, Hermione?" Harry asked. "You've gone all pale."

"It's nothing," she whispered, a terrible lump of dread and despair now lodged in her throat. Just how much was Draco missing? All of it? All of Harry?

"Are you sure?" he asked, touching her arm.

She tried very hard not to jerk. "Yes, I'm sure," she whispered painfully.

"Well..." Harry looked to Ron who shrugged. "If you don't mind then, I'm going to get Ayida to bed. I'll come visit you when you're at home tomorrow."

"Of course. I'd enjoy that," Hermione smiled up at him.

Harry clapped Ron on the shoulder and kissed Hermione's cheek. "Goodnight," he said and left the room, Ayida still sleeping in his arms.

Hermione looked tremulously up at her husband. "Ron," she whispered brokenly and without further preamble, burst into furious tears. Alarmed, Ron shifted the baby back and forth in his arms for a few moments before deciding to lie him down between Hermione's feet.

"Hermione," he said quietly, coming to wrap her in a hug. She buried her face against his chest and continued crying so hard she began to hiccup. "This has to do with the letter, doesn't it?" Ron asked after a few silent minutes of comfort. He smoothed her bushy hair away from her face and she looked up, her lip trembling. She nodded. "It's about Harry, isn't it?"

"Ron...."

"Calm down before you say anything," Ron said quietly, wiping tears from her cheeks. "Deep breaths, right?"

After finally composing herself, she took one final deep breath and stared at Ron, her eyes beseeching. "I'm such a terrible person."

"What are you banging on about, Hermione? No, you're not."

"I'm keeping something from Harry that I shouldn't. I should have handed this letter to him and explained everything."

"What is it?" Ron asked, eyeing the letter with interest.

She sniffed mightily. "Ron, I can only tell you if you promise to absolutely NOT tell him. The Ministry is involved and if they weren't, I would tell him in a heartbeat. Really, I would."

"Just tell me."

"Matthew and I discovered something the day after Ayida's party. We went to Draco's grave and found it empty," she gushed, relieved to finally have told somebody.

"What?" Ron was shocked, his face gone pale.

"He's alive," she whispered. "And this letter is from him... asking to meet with me. It kills me that he wrote to me, because now I have to turn it in. I can't keep it and I can't meet secretly with him. I have to turn it in. What's worse is that he doesn't...." Before she could finish, she burst into tears again.

Thousands of miles away, Draco stood on his terrace looking at the people below. He felt better than he had all day. Perhaps the answers were already on the way, and at this time tomorrow, he would be able to fill in at least one blank.