Having a Bad Day

Rushing through the Ministry atrium, I decided that this was not a good day. Naturally nothing goes right when you're in a hurry, so after practically sprinting through the crowd there was a wait at the lifts. Stabbing repeatedly at the button wasn't helping, but I did it anyway while scowling at my watch, the same one the Weasleys had given me for my seventeenth birthday. Being late for a meeting with a newly formed Auror task force was likely going to make Kingsley angry. Well, he'd have to get over it, especially since being on the stupid task force wasn't my idea anyway. It's not like I meant to be late, but the damned meeting with Ginny's solicitor had taken forever.

Yeah, we're getting divorced. It's a big surprise to everyone, I guess. The papers are making a huge deal out of it, splashing headlines with leads like "Potter Marriage in Shambles!" and "Fairytale Romance Ends in Divorce Shocker!" Bollocks to that. We were never a fairytale, not really. Sure, I saved her in the Chamber of Secrets, but we were just a couple of scared kids, not Cinderella and Prince Charming. To tell the truth, being married to the Weasley family was more important to me than being married to Ginny. I wanted to be a real part of the Weasleys, not a tagalong orphan looking in from the outside. Ginny represented everything I thought I'd always wanted, but once I had it, I still wasn't happy. Neither was she. Once she stopped playing Quidditch when the kids were born, nothing I did was right, no matter how hard I tried. She wanted a big house in a fashionable district, with lots of dinner parties and visitors to make up for the loss of her exciting, glamorous lifestyle. Being with her and the kids in a little house somewhere quiet, maybe near the Burrow, coming home to my family after a hard day's work and enjoying a drink or two before bed was enough for me.

If I occasionally wanted to have more than one or two drinks, what's the harm in that? I deserve to have a drink if I want one, especially considering all the stress I'm under, A lot of guys in my kind of work or coping with a failing marriage would have a couple of pints in the evening to unwind. It's not as if I'm falling down drunk around the kids or anything like that.

All right, I'll be honest. It's possible I've developed a bit of a problem with drinking. Not much, just a little one. According to Ginny I drink way the hell too much, but nothing I do is acceptable to her anyway, so she's probably exaggerating, or trying to make me look bad in order to get more money, or saying it for some selfish reason.

Probably.

I suppose I should quit drinking, or at least cut back. I just don't have anything better to do, really. What's worse is that I can't sleep without it. Sleep potions are harder to get, more stringently regulated and detectable by any random test for potions that the Ministry might spring on me, so I drink instead. I know it's not good, but I don't know what else to do. Besides, if I can still go to work and be a parent, meeting all of my responsibilities without hearing complaints from anybody (other than Ginny) then I must have things under control.

Right?

Anyway, the best things to come out of my marriage are my children. I love them, and I love being a father, even though I don't know what I'm doing half the time. It's easiest with the boys, because they don't care if I'm rubbish at parenting. They don't really notice. It's my youngest, Lily, who ties me in knots. She looks at me with those big eyes, looking so like her mother, and I don't know what to do. I love her just as much as the boys, but I don't understand her at all. I suppose I just don't understand women, regardless of their age.

Considering my phenomenal success with women of all ages, I guess it's not so much of a surprise that I'm gay. Does it count as gay if you've never actually had sex with a man? I don't know. I never wanted to face that part of myself when I was younger. I was already called a freak all my life, so why would I want to add another "unnatural" feature to myself? As the years went by, I eventually had to accept the truth as the evidence added up. I'd only had two girlfriends in my life, both of whom were slim and athletic, with boyish figures. I didn't even notice girls until I was fourteen, and although I developed a crush on Cho during fourth year, I think I crushed just as much on Cedric. Not that I realised what those feelings meant until later, mind you.

I didn't touch Ginny sexually until our wedding night, and I had to force myself to do it then. God, what kind of husband has to force himself to fuck his wife on their bloody wedding night? I should have been all over her, barely able to control myself, but instead I couldn't even get hard. That part of our relationship always felt forced to me. Even back at Hogwarts, I avoided situations where we'd have a lot of privacy. I stuck to some light snogging and a lot of handholding, telling myself it was because I cared about the Weasleys too much to disrespect their daughter. Once we were married, sex was a chore rather than a pleasure, although I tried not to show it. Ginny didn't like it that she always had to initiate sex, and that I didn't like going down on her. She said the Dursleys warped me, since they never touched me or anything. Hell, maybe she's right, but I think the main reason that I wasn't physically attracted to her is that women just don't do it for me.

God help me when the Prophet finds out.

The lift finally arrived, and I took it down to Level Two where Auror Headquarters is located. I dashed through the office, throwing my cloak into my cubicle as I went by, and went to the conference room nearest Kinglsey's office. He was a good Head Auror, but rumor had it that he'd be tapped for Minister soon.

"Well, nice of you to join us, Harry," Kingsley said as I shut the door behind me.

I grimaced in reply and sunk into the nearest chair. "Sorry. Meeting with the solicitors went longer than I'd expected."

He nodded and turned back to the table full of my colleagues.

"As I was saying," he said, "We have a situation on our hands unlike anything we've handled before. A group calling itself the Justice League has been turning vigilante against former Death Eaters and Death Eater sympathisers."

He paused while all of us who were Muggleborn, or Muggle-raised in my case, had a good chuckle at the name.

"Yes, the name is presumably from a Muggle comic book, but there's nothing funny about what this group is doing," he said soberly. "We suspect they're responsible for a number of attacks across the country, and now there's been a murder."

"Who was the victim?" asked Euan Abercrombie. He'd been a few years behind me at Hogwarts, and we'd worked together on occasion. He was a decent sort.

"Ludo Bagman," Kingsley said grimly.

"He wasn't a Death Eater! He was cleared of all charges," piped up Morag McDougal, another of my old classmates. There were a lot of them around the Ministry these days.

"Perhaps some people don't believe that he passed all that information along to Rookwood unknowingly," theorized Dennis Creevey. He'd never been the same after Colin was killed, but he'd taken to Auror work like a duck to water.

"The targets seem to be those who supported or assisted the Death Eaters in any way during the last war. Proof isn't necessary for these people, apparently, or motive. Some of the Justice League victims only aided the Death Eaters because they were coerced or under Imperius," Kingsley shared.

"How do we know that this Justice League is responsible for all of the attacks?" asked Nigel Proudfoot, a veteran Auror. He'd been barely more than a rookie when he was assigned to patrol Hogwarts during what would have been my seventh year, but now he was one of the best investigators we had.

"They've sent a letter to our department each time, taking responsibility for the crime," Kingsley replied, reaching into a file and tossing a stack of parchments into the table. "All of the letters arrived via Muggle post at the Ministry's drop box, with postmarks from all over Britain. They've been spelled to disguise the handwriting and conceal the sender, naturally. The parchment, inks and seals are all common grade, available in most shops, so they don't give us anything to go on."

"How'd they kill Bagman?" I asked him.

"Some sort of small explosive device was sent to him via owl post," he answered.

"Were all the attacks done using Muggle weapons?" I asked. Kingsley nodded. "Most wizards are an easy target for that sort of thing because they don't understand the danger," I mused aloud.

"What methods were used in the other attacks?" Morag asked.

"Someone tried to run down Stan Shunpike outside the Leaky Cauldron, Xenophilius Lovegood received poisoned biscuits from an anonymous Quibbler reader, and Narcissa Malfoy was stabbed in Diagon Alley," he shared, ticking off each attack on his fingers as he spoke.

"Why didn't we hear about these in the Prophet?" I asked.

"We didn't want to publicise the existence of a vigilante group. It might give them more recruits and more power," he replied, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. I wondered if this investigation was already taking a toll on him. The usually impeccable man looked tired, with bags under his eyes, and his robes were a bit mussed.

"How do you want us to proceed, boss?" asked Dennis, ever the eager Gryffindor.

"Team up, interview the survivors and get any details you can. If we can find a pattern, or a common thread, that will give us a start."

"What about protecting potential victims?" I asked, wondering who might be next.

Kingsley sighed before replying. "There are just so damned many of them. We can't assign Aurors to all of them, so hopefully you lot will turn up some information that will help us narrow our focus and pick out some likely targets. We can also try to decide if our killers are going to try going after a second bite at the apple with any of the previous victims. They haven't yet, but this only started a few weeks ago."

Kingsley finished the dregs of his tea, sat up straight at the table and looked around at all of us. "Any more questions?" We all shook our heads. "Very well. Let's meet back here day after tomorrow at, say, half three. All right?" With that he picked up his files and exited the room.

"Tough case, eh?" said Dennis, sidling up to me. Sometimes he still reminded me of the kid he was at Hogwarts, a bit of a limpet. Still, it would be easier to partner with him than to come up with an excuse to fob him off. He wasn't a bad sort, really, and he was a dedicated Auror. I think part of my reluctance to be around him stemmed from the guilt that came from not seeing Colin by his side. The Creevey brothers had been inseparable, and seeing Dennis without Colin was almost as bad as seeing George without Fred.

"Yeah, this one's a gem," I replied, standing and stretching. "Who do you want to interview? I don't care, so you can pick."

"How about we take Narcissa Malfoy?" he asked. I nodded, and he turned toward the chalkboard that hung on the other side of the room. He waved his wand, and our two names appeared next to Narcissa on the witness list.

So, I'd started my day by sitting for hours in a solicitor's office with my soon to be ex wife, then I'd pissed off my boss by being late to a meeting about what was shaping up to be a very important case, and now I was going off to visit the Malfoy matriarch.

I don't know what deity I've offended, but I hope I get a chance to make amends soon.

***

After stopping for a quick lunch in a pub down the street from the Ministry, during which I limited myself to just two lagers despite thinking I deserved a couple more to make up for the day I was having, we Apparated to Wiltshire. The Malfoys had a manor house there that had been in the family for centuries. I'd been there before with other Aurors to inspect the place, as we did several times a year since the deal was cut to send Lucius back to Azkaban while letting Draco and Narcissa go free. We had to verify that no dark items were in residence, nothing nefarious was going on, that sort of thing, and interview the two remaining Malfoys. Thankfully I'd always been spared that particular chore during our visits, and Draco had left the country just a year or two after the end of the war anyway. It was beautiful, if a bit cold, but it reminded me too much of Grimmauld Place. Well, it was cleaner, of course, and not run down, and the portraits didn't deign speak to me, let alone screech insults like Sirius' mum, but the same dark, pureblood feel permeated the place. I could just feel that centuries of darkness had cultivated within those walls, and it set my teeth on edge.

Between that feeling and the lagers, my stomach was a bit queasy by the time we rang the bell. A house-elf greeted us, and showed us to a parlor to wait for Mrs. Malfoy. I settled in, expecting her to make us wait for quite a while. Malfoys didn't exactly have a lot of respect for the MLE or the Auror Corps, and I didn't expect that to change just because they were the victims instead of the perpetrators in this particular instance. Surprisingly, the sound of footsteps coming nearer echoed down the hall only a few minutes later. Turning from the window, where I'd been idly looking out over the grounds, I was totally unprepared to see Draco Malfoy walk into the room.

He and I had seen each other only once after the defeat of Voldemort. I looked for him on the Maurader's Map the night after it was all over, and I found him on the Astronomy Tower. He thought I was going to hex him, but I just wanted to give him his wand back. We talked a bit about what had happened there, and he admitted that he wished he'd been faster to accept Dumbledore's offer of help. It was definitely a weird conversation, especially considering how we usually treated each other. He had saved my life, and I'd saved his, so something had changed between us. We didn't part as friends, not even close, but we weren't enemies anymore either.

When I saw him again, the first thing that I noticed was that the twitchy little ferret of our youth was gone, and in his place was a beautiful man. Hell, I was bent enough to admit that Lucius was a pretty one to look at, when he wasn't trying to kill me, but the father had nothing on the son. Draco's youthful pointiness had turned into chiseled features, with high cheekbones, a finely sloped nose and slightly full lips. His hair was short, unlike his father's, but it was still the same white blond as always, and his fringe hung artlessly around his face without the gel he used to employ to slick it back. He was dressed in silver-gray robes over a crisp white shirt and finely tailored black slacks, and he moved with an assurance and a grace that had been totally lacking in the Draco Malfoy I'd known.

I only noticed these things because I am a trained Auror, proficient in taking in multiple details at a glance and memorising them for future use. It had nothing to do with the fact that the man was bloody gorgeous and I wanted him the minute he walked into the room. I am a thorough professional, that's all.

While I was picking my jaw up off the floor, metaphorically speaking, (I hope I wasn't that obvious in my reaction) Dennis was taking the lead on our interview.

"Draco Malfoy," he said, sounding surprised. "We weren't aware you were back in the country."

"I returned immediately upon hearing of my mother's attack," he said soberly. He gestured towards the chairs in front of the fire and said, "Did the elves bring you some tea?"

Even though we'd sort of settled our differences the night I returned his wand, I would have expected him to be shirty, or at least less hospitable when two of his least favorite schoolmates show up in his home and start questioning him. Perhaps he's rattled by his mother's assault.

Or maybe he's grown up. It had to happen to at least one of us sooner or later.

He poured for each of us, and then settled back in his chair with his own cup.

"Where have you been for the past thirteen years, Malfoy?" Dennis asked, taking out a small spiral notebook and a Quick Quotes Quill. It was funny how some of us combined things from the world we'd grown up in and the world we now belonged to.

"Traveling, mostly. I toured the Continent, and then moved on to the Far East. I settled in Tibet for a few years before going across the ocean to Australia and New Zealand for a bit. I spent a couple years in the States, and for the past few I've been in South America, down in Brazil," Draco answered.

"Why did you move around so much?" I asked, finally finding my voice.

"I was learning different things," he shrugged. "There wasn't much of a future for me here, not after the war. I wanted Mother to come with me, but she wanted to stay here close to Father, even if she wasn't allowed to see him."

"What kinds of things did you learn?" I asked, not liking where my mind went as I asked the question. I know I hadn't been laid in quite a while, considering that I'd never cheated on my wife and we hadn't touched each other in almost a year, but this was ridiculous. Mentally smacking myself, I forced myself to concentrate on the interview.

"I was a naturalist of sorts. The indigenous plants and animals of the various global regions have different properties and different uses, magically speaking. Even the different magical disciplines have much to offer us Brits," he said with a small smile.

"How so?" I asked, curious despite myself.

"Different magical traditions have different ways of dealing with the same issues, and some of them are more effective than others. Take lycanthropy, for example," Draco said, setting down his tea and beginning to gesture with his hands. "There are a group of Tibetan healers that have a ritual that involves a kind of progressive meditation as a way of controlling the beast. It's almost like Occlumency, in a way, but instead of blocking something out, they're caging something in."

He leaned forward in his seat, his gaze intense, and continued on.

"In Brazil they have a rare flower, something that's unpronounceable to non natives in the tribal language, but it gets translated into Portuguese as besta-flor da luz da lua. It's a kind of water lily that only grows in one particular magical lake in the heart of the Amazonian rainforest. It only blooms at night during the full moon, and using a potion made from it can stop the transformations entirely."

I felt a sudden bright flame of hope before remembering that Remus was long dead and buried. No miracle cure was going to do him any good now.

"So you returned when you heard that your mother had been injured, you said?" Dennis asked brusquely, cutting off my thoughts and bringing me back to the present. Malfoy nodded, sitting back in his chair again and crossing his legs. He steepled his fingers under his chin and gazed at Dennis, giving him his full attention.

I most assuredly did not miss having his attention on me. Not in the least.

"How did you hear of what happened? It doesn't sound like owl post would reach you easily," Dennis said, his quill dutifully taking notes in the air beside him as he spoke.

"No, owls wouldn't survive the jungle well," Malfoy answered with a small smirk. "To stay in contact when the Floo was unreliable or owls couldn't reach me, Mother and I had a pair of partnered journals. Hinkey contacted me that way when Mother was taken to St. Mungo's. "

"Your house-elves can read and write?" I interrupted.

Malfoy looked at me and raised an eyebrow. "Of course, Potter. Don't all elves know how?"

I could only stare at him, dumbfounded. It had never even occurred to me that elves had those skills. After a few moments, Draco began to laugh.

The sound of it most assuredly did not create a flash of desire that coiled low in my belly. Not even when he tipped his head back and showed off the lines of his throat.

"I don't see what's so funny," I snapped, annoyed.

"I'm sorry," he said, still smiling broadly. "I'm just thinking of that little oddball Dobby being your main example of a typical house-elf."

"Dobby died saving my life, you know," I shot back viciously.

Malfoy's face clouded, and the mirth left his eyes. "I'd heard that," he said. "I wasn't really surprised. He was a very loyal creature to those whom he felt loyalty was deserved."

"How would you know?" I asked, cutting off Dennis as he opened his mouth to ask another question, and presumably to get our interview back on track.

"At one time he was loyal to me," Draco answered with a touch of sadness. "He was my caretaker as a child, you know. Dobby would always try to protect me from getting into trouble. He would take the blame and punish himself rather than allow me to get chastised when I'd done something wrong."

"But he thought you were evil!" I protested, not able to reconcile the Dobby I'd known, the one who had hated all things Malfoy, with the one Draco was describing.

"Well, I was," he answered shamelessly. "By the time I left for Hogwarts I was a right little shite. I was trying to emulate my father in every way possible, including the way he treated the house-elves. I abused Dobby terribly, and he knew you and I couldn't stand one another. After you became his hero for freeing him, he probably hated me as much as you did."

After an uncomfortable silence grew between us, Dennis jumped back in.

"Um, okay," he said, clearing his throat a bit. "So, you heard of your mother's injury through the journal and you came back from Brazil straight away, right?"

"Yes," said Draco, turning his attention back to Dennis once again.

"So you were not even in the country at the time it happened. Do you have any information at all?" Dennis continued with his questioning.

"The dagger used wasn't poisoned, which probably rules out Death Eaters," Malfoy responded candidly. "They would have wanted to do as much damage as possible in one clean strike. Besides, they'd have wanted her to suffer more."

"So her injuries weren't serious?" I asked.

"Serious enough," he said, his eyes flashing with suppressed anger. "She had a collapsed lung, and it nicked an artery. She almost bled to death before the healers could stabilise her."

"May we see her?" Dennis asked.

"She's still resting in bed," said Draco, shaking his head. "I know you're doing an investigation, but I would appreciate it if you could give her another few days to recover her strength. If you'll come back, perhaps we can have a Pensieve available and you can examine her memory of the events."

"That would be helpful," I admitted. I was absolutely not thinking that it would be convenient to have another reason to come back and see Malfoy again. I wasn't!

God, you know you're a bad liar when you can't even lie to yourself.

"All right then, Malfoy," Dennis said formally, rising from his chair. "We will owl you in a few days to set up a time to come and interview your mother. In the meantime," he said, putting away his notebook and quill, "please contact us if she remembers anything that might be important."

"Certainly, Creevey," Draco responded, also rising. I managed to stumble up out of my chair, too.

He saw us to the door personally, and even shook hands with each of us as he bid us good day.

I absolutely did not spend the next few hours thinking about how his hand felt in mine, even for that brief moment.

***

Back at the office, we met up with the other teams that had already returned from their interviews. Gathering in the conference room, we exchanged notes and tried to formulate some theories on who might be next on the Justice League's hit list. Unfortunately, Draco Malfoy seemed to be everyone's first choice.

"We're going to have to offer him protection," said Morag, stirring her tea idly as she gazed over the notes we'd all contributed to the board.

"I doubt he'll take it," observed Euan from his post by the window.

There was a general rumble agreement with that. As accommodating as Malfoy was when we visited, there was no way he'd cooperate with the Ministry full stop.

"We'll have to give him no choice," I said grimly. "I'll update Kingsley if you lot want to head out for the night."

The team filed out, saying goodbye or slapping me on the back as they left. Sighing, I studied the board one more time and then followed them out. Hopefully I could wrap up a briefing for Kingsley in under an hour, and get home in time for a few drinks before bed. The new flat I'd rented was still so strange, so empty without the children, and I'd never get to sleep without a little help.

Besides, it's been a hell of a day. I think I've earned a little relaxation after all that.

Yeah yeah, denial and rivers in Egypt, and all that rot. My life is in shambles, and I'll take my comfort where I can get it.

***

I was asleep sitting up on my sofa when the Floo flared to life some hours later. I have no idea how long I'd been asleep, but I had a nasty crick in my neck and the fire had burned down to embers.

Kingsley looked aghast at my state, and obviously noticed the empty bottles littering the coffee table, but he didn't say anything. I hoped I wasn't in for a lecture later, or worse, a friendly "concerned chat".

"What is it?" I asked, scrubbing at my face with my hands and trying to wake up.

"There's been an attack at the Malfoy's," he said, with no preamble. "Get out there straight away."

He disappeared before I could get any details.

I stumbled to the bathroom and downed my last two bottles of hangover potion and Pepper Up. Hadn't there been half a dozen of each in there just last week? As I rinsed my mouth and stuck my head under the tap, my thoughts were racing. What kind of attack was it this time? Was anyone hurt?

After the familiar step and turn of Apparition took me to the grounds of the Malfoy estate, I ran into several of the task force members and we all made our way up to the house.

"What the hell happened?" I panted, winded from the walk.

"I don't know," Dennis said. "I just got here a few seconds before you."

"Kingsley didn't give me any details," said Nigel. He looked as unkempt as I did.

Morag met us at the front door. She was wearing a slightly rumpled man's shirt with her slacks and auror's robe.

"How did you get here so fast?" Nigel demanded. He hated not being first on scene for anything.

She actually blushed, which piqued my curiosity. "Never mind that. We have a shooting."

"Who's hurt?" I asked, alarmed. What if it was Malfoy?

"Nobody, thankfully," she answered, leading us through the foyer and up a large, winding staircase. We arrived in a long, ornately decorated hallway that was swarming with MLE people and regular Aurors that had been on duty when the call came in.

"This is Draco Malfoy's bedroom," Morag said, leading us into a room on the left.

It was a large room with a sitting area off to one side and a sleeping area in the center. Slipping into investigator mode, I took in the broken window, with the closed curtains billowing out in the breeze, and the glass all over the floor next to the empty frame. Wanting a better look, I walked around the large four poster bed that was in the middle of the room, and noticed that there were chunks missing out of the post nearest the window. Following what might have been the trajectory, I saw bullet holes in a vacant portrait that hung over the fireplace directly across from the windows.

"Somebody used a pretty powerful weapon to do this, or they were pretty damn close," I mused out loud. "Any evidence in the portrait? Bullets, slugs, whatever?"

"I'm on it," Dennis piped up. He crossed to the portrait and began to examine the holes.

Leaving him to it, I went to the window and pulled aside the curtain in order to look out. The view was gorgeous, even in the moonlight, but there were too many potential spots for the shooter to have chosen. We'd have to sweep that whole side of the estate looking for evidence, and even though the moon would be full in a day or two, it wasn't enough light for us to do a thorough job.

There was still the possibility that it was someone on a broom, or on an illegal flying carpet. Just because we didn't import them anymore didn't mean they didn't exist, and a lot of families had one tucked away that they had never turned in to the Ministry. They were the kind of curiosity that Muggleborns loved to bring home to their families, because they looked like a regular carpet and could be used like any other rug until a wizard commanded it to fly.

Morag and Nigel were questioning Malfoy over in the sitting area, and he looked relatively unperturbed by the night's events. He was in a dressing gown, but other than that he looked as perfect as he had during our meeting earlier in the day. His chest appeared to be bare beneath the robe, which brought all sorts of interesting thoughts to my mind that were of no help to me at this particular moment.

Apparently my libido not only lacks gaydar, it also lacks a sense of timing or propriety. The man was straight, for fuck's sake, and he'd just been used for target practice. Now was not the time to notice how smooth his chest looked, or that his bare feet were surprisingly delicate.

Mentally shaking myself, I tried to get back on track by stepping out into the hall and waving Kingsley over.

"Did anyone get a location on the shooter?" I asked.

"I have teams out there searching for magical residue from Apparition or other magic, but I haven't heard any of them report in yet," he answered, snagging a cup of tea from a passing house-elf. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt under his robes instead of his usual shirt and tie, and he looked as if he hadn't slept yet.

Morag popped her head out of the bedroom and looked around until she spotted us. She smiled at Kingsley, and then waved me over.

Putting two and two together, I grinned at Kingsley.

"So," I asked innocently, "Do you have any idea how Morag got here so quickly?"

The man actually growled at me, and then shoved me toward the bedroom door. As I passed Morag, I said "Nice shirt," and ducked her slap to my head.

Hey, at least somebody was getting some. Good for them, but I sure as hell wasn't going to hold off on taking the piss. Kingsley may have been my boss, but he had been my friend for a lot longer than that.

I was still grinning when I approached Malfoy and Nigel. Malfoy looked up and caught my eye, and I suddenly felt like a fool to be laughing in the midst of what happened to him. The smile slid off my face, and he raised an eyebrow before turning back to Nigel.

I felt like I needed to apologise, but I didn't know what to say.

"Um, look, Malfoy," I began. "I'm sorry about that. I wasn't laughing at you. I had just been teasing Kingsley about something, and..." I trailed off, unsure of what to say next. He just looked at me silently with those cool grey eyes.

Fumbling, I finally managed to finish. "Anyway, I'm sorry. It was unprofessional of me, and I want you to know that I do take your situation very seriously."

He looked at me for another few seconds, and then smiled. "Call me Draco, and it's quite all right. I know you take your job seriously, and I certainly don't expect you to stop being a human being whilst you do it."

Somehow I felt relieved by his smile. "Call me Harry," I said, and smiled back. We sat and smiled at one another for a few more seconds before Nigel cleared his throat. Giving me a weird look, he said, "Do you want to start from the beginning again for Harry's benefit?"

"Certainly, but I don't have much to tell," he said, leaning back and crossing his legs. "I was getting ready for bed. The curtains were open, and I was passing back and forth in front of the windows as I took off my clothes and waited for the bath to fill. I bent to pick up something and the window shattered above my head."

His face darkened at the memory. "I covered my head and stayed down until the glass stopped falling, and then I stood to see what had happened. That's when the second shot came," Draco said, indicating the bedpost. "That one hit the bed, and I still didn't understand what was happening." He seemed more upset at his reaction than at the fact that someone had been shooting at him.

"What happened then?" I asked, making sure my own Quick Quotes Quill was taking full notes.

"I felt something pass right by my head, and then the portrait screamed," he answered, indicating the still empty portrait over the fireplace. "Another shot went by, barely missing me, and hit the portrait again. I finally dropped to the ground and called for Hinkey to shut the curtains," he finished.

"Then you called the Aurors?" I asked.

"No, first I checked on Mother and took her to an interior room with no windows. Then I called the Aurors," he said.

"Your mother is all right?" I asked, guilty that I hadn't even thought if her welfare.

"She's fine," he said, obviously relieved. "She slept through the whole thing."

"We need to get you and your mother somewhere safe," I said, thinking aloud. "There's no telling if the shooter will come back."

"Well, until tonight I would have said the manor was the safest place possible," Draco said, rubbing his forehead.

"Let me talk to Kingsley and we'll see what we can do, okay?" I said, rising and squeezing his shoulder on my way out of the room. He seemed surprised, but smiled in return.

We held an abbreviated conclave in a side parlor with the team, conferring with the Minister's assistant via Floo. The Ministry wasn't used to offering protection, as the war was long over, so he offered the holding cells down near the courtrooms as accommodations for the Malfoys. None of us were well pleased with that idea, and there was no way Draco Malfoy would agree to imprisonment for himself or his mother, not even as a way of protecting them.

We argued about the possibilities, or lack thereof, for almost fifteen minutes when Kingsley suddenly sat up straight in his chair, almost spilling his tea in his lap.

"Harry," he said, "what about Headquarters? Are you willing to allow us to use it?"

"Brilliant, Kingsley," I said, breaking into a tired grin.

"What's Headquarters?" asked Euan, looking confused.

"During the war, the Order had a safe house of sorts where we held meetings and made plans," I explained. "I even holed up there for a while with Ron and Hermione after we left Hogwarts."

"Sounds perfect," Morag said. "Where is it?"

"I can't tell you," I said with a smirk.

"What, you're not going to let the rest of us in on this?" asked Dennis, sounding offended.

"No, I mean I literally can't tell you," I said. "It's under Fidelius, and I'm not the secret keeper."

"Who is?" asked Nigel.

"He's dead," Kingsely said somberly. He and I shared a look, both remembering Dumbledore.

"So how are we supposed to get anybody in there if the secret keeper isn't alive to pass on the secret?" asked Morag, exasperated.

"He just so happened to have left a few written copies of the secret. We found them after he died," I said.

They had been in a book I'd found in the Black library, a dozen slips of paper with that familiar, spidery handwriting stating that "The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London." He must have known that we'd need to bring people into the house at some point, and he'd left them for us to find after he was gone.

I guess we could have worked to break the Fidelius Charm, but I never saw the point. Kreacher loved the old place, and Ginny, the kids and I sometimes stayed there when we were in London, but other than that it was just a neglected old house with a lot of bad memories.

Maybe now it could finally be put to good use again.

We quickly worked out the details, and I called Kreacher to fetch the slips of paper with the secret on them. He was beside himself with happiness at the idea of guests. Once I'd finally calmed him down and sent him on his way, I went back in to see Draco.

"Good news!" I said with a smile. "Pack your bags and prepare for a stay at the lovely Chez Potter."

***

"This is your house?" said Draco, dropping his bags in the hall beside the old troll leg umbrella stand.

"Yeah, it is. I actually live in a flat outside Exeter, but I've owned this house since I was sixteen," I answered, setting down Narcissa's bag. Kreacher and some of the Malfoy elves had done the bulk of moving what the pair would need while in protective custody, but we'd taken their most personal effects with us when we took a portkey to the front stoop.

"I haven't been here since I was a girl," said Narcissa, looking around curiously. She was still a bit wan and weak from her recent experiences, but she had actually been quite cordial with me, warm in her own way. It was a surprise, but a pleasant one.

"I've done some redecorating and a small bit of remodeling, but some things should be as you remember them. The library, for instance, is almost unchanged," I shared, hanging our cloaks on the hall tree.

Just as I was about to call for him, Kreacher appeared.

"Master Harry! You is here!" he rasped, bowing low.

"Hello, Kreacher," I said to the elderly house-elf. "You know Narcissa and Draco Malfoy."

Kreacher seemed to look guilty, and glanced at a picture of Sirius that I had placed on the wall where Mrs. Black's portrait had once hung.

"Yes, I is knowing them," he said, quietly. His tufted ears were drooping.

"Kreacher," I said, stooping down to look into his face," it's all right. I've forgiven you for what you did back then. Sirius was awful to you, and I understand your reasons for trying to help those whom you felt were true Blacks."

The little creature looked up at me hopefully. "Should Kreacher be punishing himself?" he asked, somberly.

"No, Kreacher. I forbid it," I answered firmly, standing straight again. "That was years ago, and you've been a very good house-elf to me since then. Nobody takes care of me the way you do."

His bulbous eyes lit up with the praise, and he practically glowed with happiness.

"Draco and Narcissa will be staying with us for a while," I said. "They're the guests I said would be coming."

"Kreacher is pleased to be showing you to your rooms," he said to the Malfoys, bowing low again.

Draco looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

"Go ahead and get settled," I said. "I'll be having a meeting with the other task force members in the drawing room in about fifteen minutes to work out guard schedules and such. You don't have to sit in on it unless you want to."

"I think I'd like to rest," said Narcissa. Draco looked at her worriedly.

"I'm fine, darling," she said, taking his arm. "I'm just still tired."

"I'll make sure Mother is settled, and then I'd like to sit in on the meeting, if that's okay," said Draco, looking back to me.

God, his eyes were so clear. They shined in the light of the gas lamps in the hall. I got lost in them for a moment, and I only realised that I hadn't answered his question when he began to get a defensive look on his face.

"Well, Potter, if you don't want me there..." he began.

"No, no! Sorry, I was just distracted for a moment," I interrupted, quickly. "It's fine if you'd like to join us. This does affect your safety, after all, and it wouldn't hurt for you to get to know the team that will be in charge of your protection."

Draco nodded, and led his mother after Kreacher.

I was most definitely not looking at his arse as he ascended the stairs.

***

Later that night, I was settled in the library with a drink and a book when Draco came in.

Actually, it was my third drink, but I didn't feel it necessary to keep count.

"Harry," Draco said, his voice sounding warm as it slid over the syllables of my name. "Mind if I join you?"

"Go ahead," I said, setting aside my book. He settled himself into the other club chair in front of the fire. Kreacher immediately popped in and bowed low in front of him.

"What can Kreacher be getting for Master Malfoy?" he asked.

"A pot of tea would be lovely, thank you," he said, smiling slightly at the elf.

Kreacher disappeared, and shortly afterward a small tea tray appeared on the low table between the chairs.

"Gingersnaps, my favorite," Draco said, snagging a couple of the biscuits before he'd even poured his tea.

"Kreacher's good at noticing things like that," I said, as a fresh gin and tonic appeared next to the tea tray.

Draco poured his tea and we both sipped in silence for a while.

"The meeting went well," I finally said, struggling for something to say that wouldn't make me sound like an idiot or expose my growing crush on the other man.

"It did," he agreed. "It was nice to see a few old classmates after all these years."

We fell into silence once again.

"What do you think of -" I began.

At the same time, Draco said, "How did you -"

We both stopped speaking and gestured for the other to continue before chuckling at ourselves.

"What were you going to say, Harry?" Draco asked, refilling his teacup.

"I wanted to know what you thought of the arrangements we created," I asked. "Do you feel comfortable with them?"

We'd laid out shifts of single coverage, basically going for a full day from three o'clock in the afternoon to the next day at three o'clock. A few had been in favor of double coverage, but with the Fidelius charm still in effect, we finally decided it was safe enough for one of us to be on duty at a time. Besides, Draco was pretty handy with a wand, and as a former servant of Voldemort, Narcissa was no slouch either.

"I think it will be fine," he said, settling back in his chair. "I'm not pleased about being locked away like this, but I want Mother to be safe."

"She will be," I assured him. As I finished my drink, another appeared on the table.

"What were you going to ask?" I said, removing the lime twist from the edge of the glass and dropping it in before taking a few swallows.

"Well, I was going to ask how you ended up with the Black family home," Draco said, "but I think a better question might be how long have you had a drinking problem?"

I froze in my seat as he looked at me steadily. Setting down my drink and crossing my arms over my chest, I bit out, "What makes you think I have a drinking problem?"

"Harry," he began gently, setting down his own cup, "I recognise the signs."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, icily. I tried to maintain a cool demeanor, but inside I was terrified. Was he serious? Did he plan to talk to Kingsley, or do something to damage my career or reputation? What had I inadvertently revealed to him?

"You've had three drinks in the time we've been sitting here, and I don't think you were on your first when I arrived."

He was speaking calmly and quietly, looking into my face, although I wouldn't meet his eyes.

"I'm not drunk!" I insisted.

"No, you're not. You should be slurring your words or showing some kind of outward signs of intoxication, but you're not. That means you have developed quite a tolerance, something that only happens after a long time of drinking heavily," he responded.

Damn. He had a point.

"What do you want me to say?" I bit out. "That my life is a shambles, and I drink to numb the pain? That I drink myself to sleep every night, or that I'm getting to the point where I need a drink in the morning before work to stop the shakes?"

I couldn't believe what was tumbling out of my mouth once I started to talk. Maybe the alcohol was affecting me more than I thought.

Or maybe it was the way that Malfoy sat there looking at me, no sign of that old sneer on his face, his eyes shining with what looked like understanding, or possibly compassion.

He left his chair and crossed over to me, kneeling on the floor in front of my chair and reaching up to turn my face toward his. I allowed his touch - god, it had been so long since I'd been touched! - but I still refused to meet his eyes.

"Harry," he said softly, "look at me."

Almost against my will, I finally complied.

"I know because I was just like you," he said. "I recognise the pain, and the way you're masking it. I did the same thing."

"Your marriage fell apart; you lost your family and became a drunk?" I asked bitterly, leaning back and sliding my face out of his grasp. He sighed and sat back on his heels.

"No, for me it was the fallout from the war," he said. "I couldn't deal with the memories, the feelings..."

"The dreams," I breathed. Nobody else had ever talked about being fucked up the way that I had been. I had hid it well, or so I'd thought at the time, by throwing myself into my relationship with Ginny and barreling through Auror training in record time. If I was too tired, maybe I wouldn't dream. Maybe being married and having a family would make it all a distant memory.

Draco nodded. "Did you start drinking afterward?"

I thought back. Was that the beginning of it all for me? Yeah, I think it was. I started drinking before bed occasionally back then, hoping it would help me sleep. Now I couldn't sleep without at least two, usually more.

"Yeah, I think I did," I answered.

He nodded again. "It's understandable. Life goes on; we go through the motions, but things inside don't heal overnight." He placed a hand on my knee and said, "I don't know all of what you went through, just what little I saw firsthand and what I read in the Prophet afterward, but I'm not surprised you had trouble coping."

His hand felt incredibly warm through my trousers. He looked so earnest, so concerned. I couldn't believe that Draco Malfoy could look that way about me and my problems.

"What did you do?" I asked.

"Crawled into a bottle for a couple of years, really," he answered, candidly. "I was pretty far gone near the end of it, but I had someone grab me and help me pull myself out of it." He smiled to himself at the memory, obviously thinking of whoever his savior had been.

"How did you change things, and stop drinking?" I asked, amazed at the tinge of desperation I heard in my own voice.

"He made me suffer through the first week, to make sure that I was really committed to changing my life, and then he taught me how to brew a potion to help me shake off the physical effects of alcoholism," he answered, once again focusing on me.

"Who was he?" I asked, jealous despite myself.

"Klaus," he said, that same smile on his face that said there was much he wasn't telling me.

"He must have been a good friend," I said, choking back my bitterness. Why was I so jealous of someone from his past? It wasn't like we were together or anything, and I had no right to be like that.

"Yes, a very good friend," Draco said, his smile broadening. "He was my first lover, actually."

I sat there, stunned. He was gay? I'd never heard a single rumour or bit of gossip hinting at that. Was he having me on?

When I looked at him again, he seemed a bit abashed. He took his hand off my knee, and I immediately missed the warmth of his touch.

"I'm sorry," he said, rising and going back to his own chair. "I didn't mean to overstep my bounds." He sat stiffly and poured himself a fresh cup of tea.

What the hell just happened? We were close, and he was touching me, and now he's over there, acting like we're strangers again.

"Draco," I began, my alcohol soaked brain not processing what had transpired, "what's wrong? I mean, what did I do?"

"Nothing, Harry. It's fine. I apologise for making you uncomfortable," he said, still sounding distant. "I'm willing to help you, even make you the same potion Klaus made for me, but I promise I'll keep my distance."

"What are you talking about?" I asked. This was so confusing, but maybe that was because the gin had kicked in full force. My head was pleasantly buzzy.

"I won't touch you again," he clarified.

"But I liked you touching me," I said, and then wondered if I should have said it.

He smiled slightly. "You're drunk."

"Well, yeah," I said, "but I still liked it."

He smiled even wider, a bit of the light coming back into his eyes. "Are you saying that you're gay, too?" he asked.

"Yeah, sort of. I've never, you know, messed around or anything with a guy, so I don't know if that makes me gay or not. Maybe I don't qualify, or something," I babbled.

He actually laughed now. "That's an easy thing to settle. Who do you think about when you wank? Men or women?" he asked.

"Men," I answered immediately, not even registering that I was now discussing my wanking habits with my crush and the current star of some of those same fantasies I used as fodder when I had one off at the wrist.

"Congratulations, you're gay," he said, raising his teacup to me in a mock toast.

"Okay," I said, smiling back at him. That was simple enough. I settled back in my chair, finally dozy.

"Oh, no, you're not sleeping here," he said. He put down his teacup and stood, hauling me up out of my own chair. "This is probably your last night drinking yourself to sleep, so you might as well enjoy it in the comfort of your own bed."

"Okay," I said again, resting my head on his shoulder. Damn, I really hadn't meant to drink this much while I was supposed to be on duty. I wasn't used to having house-elf service refilling my drinks, so next time I'd have to be more aware of my limits.

Wait. There wasn't going to be a next time. Draco was going to help me with that.

"Thanks, Draco," I murmured as he guided me up the stairs to my room. "I really want to change."

He paused and looked down at me. "It's okay, Harry," he said, smoothing my hair off my forehead. "We'll work on it together tomorrow. Tonight, just sleep."

For once, I did what I was told.

***

"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!" someone sang over my head in a really annoying voice.

"Nghh," was my succinct response as I ineffectually swatted at the voice.

"No no, bad Auror," it said, and now someone was tugging at my blankets.

I buried my aching head under my pillow and tried to block out all stimuli. Suddenly, my pillow was yanked away, and a blast of cold water hit me right in the face.

Sputtering, I sat up, reaching for my wand to do some damage to whomever had attacked me.

"Looking for this?"

Finding my glasses instead of my wand, I put them on and focused on Draco, who was holding up my wand and smirking wickedly.

"What the bloody fuck was that, Malfoy?" I demanded.

"Come on, Harry," he said, using my wand to cast a quick drying charm on me and my bed, and then handing my wand back to me. "Kreacher has food ready for you, and then I thought we could set up to brew that potion for you."

"Potion? What potion?" I said, and then my brain caught up with me. "Oh, that potion!"

"Yes, that one," he said, dryly.

The rest of the night came flooding back to me, and I was mortified at the things I'd said and done.

"You're still willing to help me even though I was such a plonker last night?" I asked, hopeful that I hadn't ruined everything.

Draco threw back his head and laughed, a genuine, full throated sound. I'd never seen him do that before, and I immediately decided that I wanted to see him do it as often as possible from now on.

"Of course I'll still help you," he said, still smiling but turning more serious for a moment. "You need my help. Besides, you're helping mother and me by letting us stay here and helping to protect us."

"So it's a matter of obligation," I said, disappointed.

"Not exactly," he said, turning and walking toward the door. "I'd like the opportunity to touch you again when you're sober, and see how you react to it then." He turned back and winked at me before leaving the room.

"Wash up and come on down," he called back up the stairs. "We'll be waiting for you."

After a quick trip to the loo and a change of clothes, I was on my way downstairs. We all ate together in the kitchen, while Draco and I exchanged so many smiles and accidental touches that even Kreacher must have noticed that something was different between us.

Afterward, Narcissa retired to the library to read, and Draco and I went down into the cellar, where Snape had occasionally brewed potions during his days with the Order. We inventoried what was there and what we might need, and did what was necessary to set it up as a potions lab again after so many years of disuse.

That actually took most of the day, with a short break for lunch. By the time three o'clock was approaching, I had a full list of what I'd need to obtain and bring back in order for us to brew my potion.

I'd actually gone all day without a drink, and while I felt a little shaky, Draco's support was enough to help me get through it. It was amazing to have him there to laugh with and talk to. I'd never felt a connection like that with anyone. I'd told him all about my children, and he'd talked about his travels.

"My shift is almost over," I said, checking my watch.

"I know," he said, sounding a little disappointed.

At that point, Dennis Creevey walked into the kitchen.

"There you are," he said, sinking down onto one of the benches. Kreacher scurried over to present him with some tea and fresh biscuits. "House-elves are so cool," he sighed, biting into a biscuit.

"Walk me to the door?" I asked Draco. He nodded, and we rose from the table.

"Everything was quiet, Dennis," I said. "Morag is on duty tomorrow at three, and you know what to do if anything comes up. Firecall me if you need anything."

He nodded. "Seeya, Harry," he said, his mouth full.

In the entryway, I slung my cloak around my shoulders, and Draco did the clasp before I could get to it. His fingers lingered on my chest, before sliding up to my face and cupping it.

"See you soon, Harry," he whispered, leaning in to kiss me. I was so surprised that I almost forgot to kiss back. It was amazing, both soft and strong while still curling my toes and bringing a coil of desire to life low in my belly. I put my arms around his waist, kissing him back for several moments.

When we finally broke apart, we were both grinning like loons.

"I'll see you soon," I said, stroking his cheek. "I don't think I can make it back tonight, but I'll come back tomorrow once I have all the ingredients on the list."

"I'll be here waiting," Draco said, smiling. He kissed me one more time and then pushed me towards the door. "Go now, or you never will."

Looking back as I closed the door behind me, I drank in the sight of Draco standing there, smiling. I couldn't wait to get back to him.

***

After leaving Grimmauld Place, I went back to my flat and tried to take care of things, like making a food shopping list and going through my mail. All I could think about was Draco, so I couldn't concentrate on anything.

Well, that's not entirely true. I was thinking about him, but I also wanted a drink. Badly.

The feeling grew throughout the evening, like a prickly sensation under my skin. I was restless, unable to sit still, and I couldn't shake my anxiousness.

Reading didn't help. After going over the same paragraph four times, I threw the book down in disgust. There was nothing on the wireless, or the telly. Throwing myself down on the sofa, I decided to brood. Placing my hands on my knees, I realised they were shaking. This was not good. Could I really do this, give up drinking?

Maybe, if I didn't have to be alone. One afternoon of discussing my drinking wasn't enough to force a change to take root. If I was really going to make a go of this, I needed help.

Pacing in front of the fireplace, I argued with myself. It's pathetic that I couldn't last more than six hours or so on my own without a drink, but damnit, I was tired of trying to be strong all by myself. Maybe it was okay to lean on someone occasionally.

Maybe it was okay to lean on Draco. He'd offered, after all.

Grabbing a handful of Floo powder, I started a fire in the hearth and shouted out the right words to take me back to my room at Grimmauld Place.

The house was strangely still when I arrived. Usually Kreacher greeted me immediately with happy bowing and offers of food and drink, but he didn't materialise.

Ascending the stairs to the third floor, I went to find Draco in his room but he wasn't there. I thought he might be with his mother, but a knock on her door went unanswered.

Maybe they were having a late dinner? A little annoyed with this game of hide and seek, I went down to the kitchen to find my guests. Where was their minder anyway? I had a talisman that would let me through the wards and protections without setting off any alarms, but shouldn't Dennis be more aware of someone coming into the house? I'd have to talk to him.

Unfortunately, I was stunned from behind as I passed the drawing room doorway on the first floor landing.

Coming to some time later, I opened my eyes to discover that I was bound to a chair with thick ropes. Looking around, I saw that Draco hung on the wall before me, right on top of the elaborate Black family tapestry Sirius had shown me during the holidays of my fifth year. He was either unconscious or stunned and he was shirtless, bleeding from many small cuts and abrasions. Chains bound him hand and foot to metal rings coming out of the wall. Had those always been there? I didn't think so. Trying to regain my senses, I looked around the room and realised Narcissa was also bound to a chair a few feet from me. She was gagged as well, but she didn't need her voice to tell me she was terrified and in pain. Tears leaked out the corners of her eyes, and she kept pointedly looking at her son, and then back at me.

"What the hell is going on here?" I muttered my tongue thick and my words garbled. That must have been a hell of a stunner.

Obviously the Fidelius has been compromised, and the Justice League killer or killers had breached our defenses. They'd taken Narcissa and Draco hostage, but where were Dennis and Kreacher? Were they dead? Injured? My sense of dread was so intense it left a bitter, dark tang in my mouth.

"Hiya, Harry," said Dennis, startling me. He was walking into the room, carrying a black duffel bag.

"Dennis, are you all right? Go for help before the killer comes back!" I urged.

"There's no need for that, Harry. Everything is under control," he said, setting his bag down in the sofa and unzipping it.

"What the fuck are you on about? We have a hostage situation, with a probable serial killer or killers somewhere on the premises! Call for backup before they get you too!" I practically screamed at him.

Bending to rummage in the bag, he smiled calmly at me over his shoulder before withdrawing some sort of device. It was a bit larger than a mobile phone and looked sort of like an electric shaver.

Setting it down on the coffee table, he dug back into the bag, looking for something else. He pulled out a small case and withdrew a scalpel from it, and then set those things down before going back into the bag for a small handgun.

"Dennis, what are you doing?" I whispered, as horrified comprehension began to dawn on me.

"I'm doing what should have been done at the end of the war," he answered, his face set in grim lines. "You know these people, ones like the Malfoys, got away with everything. They tortured and killed dozens, if not hundreds of Muggles and Muggleborns, and they were allowed to walk away with no consequences. They have to pay," he said, looking me right in the eyes. His were glazed, off somehow. How had I never seen that before? I'd never suspected a thing.

"How is it your right to make them pay?" I asked, licking my lips. Maybe I could get him talking long enough to figure out some sort of plan to talk him down. Nothing was springing to mind, but there had to be some way to stop him from hurting Draco.

"I have every right!" he roared back. The normally mild mannered, affable Auror was suddenly red in the face, eyes bulging, flecks of spittle flying out of his mouth along with his words. Was he unbalanced? If so, I'd never seen any sign of it before.

"You have no right, Dennis," I said as gently as I could, trying to hide my anger, fear and confusion. He used to look up to me as a leader, so maybe I have some influence left. "Nobody has any right to take the life of another person," I continued.

"That didn't stop them from killing Colin," Dennis said, bitterly.

"Colin wouldn't want you to become a killer for him," I said, echoing what I'd said to Sirius and Remus so many years ago in the Shrieking Shack.

"How would you know? He's not here to tell us, is he?" Dennis bit out, sweeping his duffel bag onto the floor and flinging himself down on the sofa.

God help me, but I was actually beginning to feel a little sorry for him. It was obvious that losing his brother had scarred him far deeper than any of us had understood. The boys had been very close, and I knew Dennis grieved his brother deeply, but I had no idea that Colin's death had planted a seed of anger and hatred within him that would sow a crop of murder.

"You don't have to do this, Dennis," I pleaded with him. "Don't do something so evil and violent in the name of someone who was so generous and kind, someone who had such a loving nature."

Leaping up from the sofa, he stalked to my chair and put his face right down in front of min. He was like a stranger when he said very softly, "Harry Potter, you may be the "Boy Who Lived to Save Us All", but you will not be sweeping in to save the day for any of these Death Eater bastards." With that, he silenced me and turned back to Draco.

After a soft "Ennervate" brought Draco back to consciousness, groaning and mumbling, Dennis picked up the small device off the table and strode toward him. Tossing it lightly from hand to hand, he approached his victim.

"Hello, Malfoy. Have a nice nap?" Dennis asked, as if they were having a perfectly nice conversation over a cuppa and some scones.

Draco raised his head slowly and struggled to focus his eyes on his captor. He was twitching and shaking, side effects characteristic of someone who has suffered the Cruciatus Curse multiple times.

"What do you want from me, Creevey?" he asked, his voice raspy. "Do anything you want to me, but please, don't hurt my mother. I'll do anything-"

Dennis cut him off.

"I will do anything I want to you regardless of whether I have your blessings or not, and I will see to your murderous bitch of a mother after I'm finished with you." He stood very close to Draco, poking him in various places with his little black device, seemingly trying to decide something.

Draco looked at his mother, and noticed that I was there, too.

"Harry!" he cried, his voice breaking from the strain. The only thing I knew that could do that to a person's voice was screaming, and a lot of it.

I tried to speak to him, but no sound came forth. I mouthed, "I'm okay" to him, but he didn't seem to understand.

"Oh, he's silenced, so he won't answer," said Dennis cheerfully, poking hard into Draco's side and making him wince. "Unlike your mother," he went on, "Harry is worthy of magic, so I just used Silencio."

"Did you hurt him? Is Mother all right?" Draco asked anxiously.

"That's really none of your concern," Dennis answered, seemingly deciding that he liked the spot just under Draco's ribs. "However, I'll let both you and Harry know that I won't hurt him. He'll have to be Obliviated, but I'm pants at that. I'll have to Floo him back to his place and call in one of my comrades to do it properly."

"If you Obliviate him, won't he know something is wrong?" asked Draco, flinching back from Dennis' poking.

"Not if we pour a little gin down his throat and make it look like he just blacked out."

My eyes widened. Did everyone know I had a drinking problem? Why hadn't anyone said anything? Did Kingsley know? Had others used it against me without me even noticing?

My attention snapped back to the action taking place in front of me when Dennis said, "This is going to hurt a lot," and thrust the device up under Draco's ribs. He did something that caused it to arc electricity, and Draco screamed, arching away from the wall and writhing in the end of his chains.

After about ten or fifteen seconds, Dennis stopped. Grinning, he said, "Muggles sure do have neat toys, eh?"

"What... what is... that?" Draco managed to choke out, panting and leaning back against the wall.

"A taser. Isn't it cool? I can set it high enough to kill you instantly, or low enough to just make you wish you were dead. For now, I just want it to hurt," Dennis said, and jammed it up into the same spot again. He flicked it on, and the whole scene was repeated.

It was agonizing to watch. I wanted to turn away, but I thought that if I couldn't stop it and Draco had to endure this, at least I could watch it and go through it with him.

I glanced over at Narcissa, who was crying in earnest now. Her hands were twisting against the rope binding them to the chair, and her wrists were bleeding. If she could have, I think she would have severed her own arms if it would free her to go to her son.

After another session, immediately followed by a third, Dennis stopped to let Draco recover a bit and catch his breath.

"How do you like that, Malfoy? Do you like being on the other end of things as much as you liked being the one dishing out the pain and misery?" Dennis asked.

"Dennis, please, you have to stop," Draco begged. "You don't understand what you're doing. I can't take much more of this, and I don't know if I can control it much longer."

Control what, I wondered? What was he talking about?

"You're not in control of anything, Malfoy," Dennis growled. "I am"

He chose a new spot this time, and the torture and the screaming started again.

"Stop, you have to stop!" Draco screamed.

Dennis continued for another ten seconds or so before pausing. "You don't tell me what to do. In fact, I think I'll have to hold the next one longer as punishment."

Draco's head snapped up.

"It's coming, oh god, it's coming," he babbled. "Harry," he moaned, turning his head toward me and staring with wild eyes. "Take my mother and run, you have to go. It's coming soon; I can't hold it much longer!"

"What the hell are you on about?" Dennis said crossly, and jammed the taser back into Draco's side.

Draco screamed louder than ever, and it quickly turned into a howl. As his body arched like a bow, it began to change, and Dennis stumbled backward, shocked.

Draco's facial features elongated and hair began to emerge all over his face, chest and arms. He grew larger, while his legs shortened. His pants ripped, eventually falling to the ground in shreds. By the time they did, a tail had emerged, and Draco had dropped to all fours.

He was a werewolf.

Jesus fucking Christ, he was a werewolf.

The rings holding the chains on his arms had pulled out of the wall when he dropped to all fours, and wolf Draco's narrower forelegs and ankles slipped out of the cuffs as he stepped toward Dennis. The victim was now the aggressor, and the captor was the prey.

Dennis moved backward, mesmerised by the beast before him. Wolf Draco advanced, and Dennis retreated even more, until his knees hit the back of the coffee table and he fell. Immediately, the wolf was upon him, and in seconds it had ripped out Dennis's throat.

With his death, his spells upon us faded, and the ropes holding Narcissa and I to the chairs vanished. I leaped to my feet and called, "No!" in a belated, futile attempt to stop the wolf and save Dennis.

That brought the wolf's attention to me. He growled, and started to stalk towards me. Beside me, Narcissa finally succeeded in removing the gag, and she cried out in fear. Wolf Draco was only a few feet from us, and he was going to attack any moment. He obviously didn't have any of his human mind left, so we were nothing more than food or prey to his lupine mind.

So, I did the only thing I could do, under the circumstances. I changed.

Years ago, I wanted very much to follow in the footsteps of my father and Sirius and become an animagus. To my surprise and pleasure, my form was a large, black Labrador retriever. It was reminiscent of Padfoot, but was different enough from a Grim that I felt like it came from me instead of being an echo of longing for the godfather I'd lost.

I only had the pleasure a handful of times, but I ran with Moony at the full moon. I'd wait with him until the moon rose, and we'd transform together before running the Forbidden Forest, or the fields around his cottage. It was amazing, free and wild. They were memories that I treasured, and I now drew on every one of them as I tried to control the beast before me.

I leapt towards the wolf, striking him with my shoulder and knocking him off balance. He snapped at me, and I growled in return as I rolled back to my feet. I lowered my head onto my forepaws and raised my rump into the air, wagging my tail in the universal canine gesture for "Let's play!" He growled at me and turned toward Narcissa, but I moved in between the two of them and barked sharply at him. He didn't like me interfering with his hunt, but I basically goaded and baited him until he chased me out of the drawing room. I was hoping that Narcissa would barricade herself in and use the fireplace to call for help.

Wolf Draco and I played a violent sort of tag throughout the house, overturning furniture and slamming into things as we skidded around corners and vaulted over obstacles. I was hoping I'd enticed the wolf's youthful side out to play, but I didn't really want to let him get close enough to me to find out for sure. If I hadn't, I'd damn well better keep him from catching me, or he'd likely take a bite as soon as he got within range.

After what seemed like hours but was probably only ten or fifteen minutes, I heard voices from the drawing room. Hearing my name called, I loped up the stairs, hoping that whoever had arrived as backup was prepared to handle a feral werewolf.

As I approached the door, I saw four of my team members surrounding the doorway with their wands out. Diving past them, I got the hell out of the way before hearing them all yell "Stupify!" in unison. There was a loud thump, and the sounds of wolf pursuit I'd been hearing disappeared. Turning around, I saw the wolf lying unconscious on the landing.

Changing back to human form, I turned to Kingsley.

Looking from me to wolf Draco, and then to Dennis' lifeless body, he shook his head.

"The condensed version, please?" he said.

"Dennis was in the Justice League," I said, panting, dropping into a chair and rubbing my eyes. "He waited for me to leave, and took Narcissa and Draco hostage. He tied her up and tortured Draco. I stumbled into the middle of it."

Kingsley snorted at that.

Ignoring him, I went on. "At moonrise, Draco transformed, got loose and killed Dennis. I transformed as well and lured him away from Narcissa, then kept him occupied while I waited for backup."

Kingsley shook his head, sadly. "I can't understand why Dennis would get involved with a group like that. I never would have imagined he'd be involved in torture and murder."

"He seemed to think it was justice for Colin, his brother who died in the Hogwarts battle," I said, tiredly. The events of the past few hours were beginning to catch up with me.

"Did he have a next of kin?" Kingsley asked.

"His parents are still alive. I'm sure their information is in his personnel file," I said, letting my head fall back against the back of the chair and closing my eyes. For the first time in a long while, I didn't think I'd need a drink to help me fall asleep.

"Why don't you go up and get some rest?" Kingsley said, noticing my state. "I'll let you put off writing your report until tomorrow."

"I just told you everything," I whined. "Can't you just make that the official statement?"

"Just get some sleep," he said, "and we'll sort the rest out tomorrow."

As I passed the bedroom across from the drawing room, I saw the two of the others levitating wolf Draco into a strong looking metal cage. Narcissa was watching from the doorway, looking anxious and worried.

Stopping to squeeze her shoulder, I told her," It will be all right. We'll get him to hospital when he changes back in the morning, and they'll fix him up right as rain."

"But then everyone will know," she said softly, never taking her eyes off her son. "His life will be ruined."

"What's coming will come," I said, turning towards my room. "We'll just have to meet it head on in the morning."

***

Morag woke me in the morning and updated me on what had happened overnight. Draco had been taken to St. Mungo's, and Narcissa had gone with him. Dennis' parents had been notified of his untimely death, and a search of his flat turned up a good bit of evidence that would be useful in rounding up his fellow Justice League members. I was expected to go in and write up my report, but after that I was off duty for at least a week, as per Kingsley's orders.

Racing through my breakfast, lovingly prepared by a fully recovered Kreacher, who had been bashed over the head with a cast iron pot and subsequently knocked out for the duration of last night's events, I hurried to the office to take care of the necessary paperwork. It was hard to get through it, what with people stopping at my cubicle every few minutes to congratulate me on breaking the case, or to talk about what a shock it was that Dennis was a bad guy, or to fish for details on my experiences to share with the gossip mill. I got out of there as soon as I could, and Apparated over to St. Mungo's.

Draco was lying in bed, staring dully out the enchanted window when I arrived at his room. He was pale, paler than usual, and he looked lost, forlorn. My heart ached looking at him.

"Hello, Draco," I said gently, startling him from whatever thoughts were tormenting him.

"Harry. What are you doing here?" he asked. He seemed puzzled.

"I'm visiting you, of course. Aren't you supposed to have your human faculties intact after you transform back?" I teased. My joke fell flat, and he seemed to withdraw into himself.

"You don't have to," he said, turning back toward the window.

What the hell was going on here? Before last night, we had been talking, even kissing, and now he was acting like he didn't want me here. I didn't understand.

My mouth was moving of its own volition again, and I heard myself asking, "Don't you want to see me?" Inwardly, I cringed at the plaintive, hurt tone.

That actually brought a brief flash of life to his eyes as he turned back to me. "I don't need your pity, Potter. I'm not one of your pet causes, or some helpless creature in need of your sympathy," he said, sharply.

"True. You don't need me anymore now that you're safe, but I need your help," I said, stepping closer to the bed and taking his hand. "I need your support and encouragement to stop drinking, and your potion. Besides," I added, toying with his fingers, "I thought we were friends, or maybe more."

Draco was silent for several long moments. He looked at our clasped hands, and then up at my face again. "You'd want to be with a werewolf?"

"Why not?" I said. "All that stuff you talked about the day we met, the flower potion and stuff, does it help you stop the transformations?"

"It did," he answered, "at least as long as I was calm and controlled. I don't know what will happen now that my beast has been freed again."

"Well, even if you still transform, your furry little problem is only an issue a couple days a month," I shrugged. "With the Wolfsbane you'd be safe, and even without, I can transform and we can get to know each other in a whole new way."

He was a bit stunned, I think. I took two fingers and gently shut his mouth, which had fallen open. That snapped him out of it, and he asked, "You really don't care, do you?"

"Nope," I said, grinning. "I really don't."

Before I could show him exactly how much I didn't care, Narcissa walked in. She looked tired, but smiled when she saw me.

"Good morning, Harry. Are you all right, then? I was worried that you might be suffering ill effects from your adventures last night," she said with a wry smile. It reminded me of Draco's, actually.

"I'm just fine," I assured her, letting go of Draco's hand and pulling out my chair for her. She took her seat by his bedside, and looked at her son.

"Your color is better, and you look less tired. Harry must be good medicine for you," she said, turning to me with a wink and a smile.

"Mother!" Draco sounded embarrassed. He even flushed a little.

"What?" she asked innocently. "Can't a mother be concerned for her child's welfare?"

I hid my smile behind my hand, casually scratching my nose.

"Now Harry," she said, turning her attention to me. "Please, sit down and tell me about what's happening now with the investigation. Can we return to the manor?"

Taking the chair on the other side of the bed, I filled them in on what Morag had told me.

"Hopefully we'll have the core of the group in custody by tonight," I finished. "We've kept the attack out of the paper so Dennis' people aren't alerted to the fact that we're on to them."

"Won't they know something's happened?" Draco asked.

"As far as we can tell, he wasn't supposed to move so soon. He was supposed to get into the routine for a week or two, and then bring in a team to capture you both and move to you a new location," I explained. "They shouldn't know anything has changed until we pick them up."

"Will we still be in danger, then?" Narcissa asked.

"We have protections in place here at St. Mungo's," I assured her. "By the time Draco is released, it should all be over."

"Not all of it," said Draco, turning moody again.

"Darling, it will be all right. We'll figure something out," said Narcissa, stroking his hair.

"What do you mean?" I asked. It was all wrapped up so nicely, what could be the problem?

"Everyone will know I'm a werewolf. My holdings will be stripped, since werewolves aren't allowed to have property, and we'll be ostracized."

"We'll go to one of the properties in France," his mother said, still stroking his hair. "The Ministry cannot take things that are in my name, so we'll have some accounts and holdings left."

I know you don't want to leave England while Father is here," he replied. "I'll just go off on my own again, and I'll sign everything into your name today before the news breaks."

"Hold on," I said, beginning to understand. "You think that Draco will be outed as a werewolf, and you'll have to flee the country to avoid poverty and disgrace?"

The two Malfoys looked at me as if I were a particularly slow child. It brought back memories of Lucius, actually, or maybe Snape.

"Yes, Harry," Draco said slowly. "There are laws, you know."

"Not anymore," I said smugly.

They just looked at me uncomprehendingly, so I explained.

"I guess you wouldn't know, since you've been traveling, but I'd think you'd know," I said, turning to Narcissa, "since it was all over the Prophet at the time."

"I stopped taking the paper after the war," she admitted. "It was nothing but attacks and hurtful stories, so I simply stopped reading it."

"Surely your friends would have talked about such huge political news?" I asked, disbelieving that she could have missed out in such important news.

She shrugged gracefully. "I don't exactly have a large social circle anymore."

I paused for a moment, thinking of her spending a decade alone in that big house, with no friends and her son off traveling the world in search of a cure for his lycanthropy.

"You must have been very lonely," I said, a bit sad for her.

"I made do," she said, resolutely. "I needed to be near Lucius."

"Well," I began to explain, "several years ago, Hermione finally succeeded in changing the anti-werewolf laws."

"Granger went on another of her campaigns?" said Draco dryly.

"Yeah, only this one worked out a lot better than S.P.E.W.," I said with a laugh. "She overhauled the entire Department for Control of Magical Creatures, and shepherded through changes to the laws she felt were discriminatory or wrong. Doing away with the werewolf policies was one of her priorities."

Draco looked so hopeful that it hurt my heart to look at him. Taking his hand, I continued explaining. "The laws about property ownership and all that rubbish have been abolished. You don't have to worry about losing anything."

He breathed deeply, letting it out in a whoosh. "That's something. At least we won't have to worry about that when everyone finds out."

"See, that's the other thing," I went on. "Nobody has to find out."

"What do you mean? Won't he have to register, and pay a fine for not doing so at the time he was infected?" Narcissa said, clinging tightly to her son's hand.

"The Registry has been abolished too," I said. "New privacy laws were enacted preserving the rights and information of those infected with lycanthropy. The only time information is collected is when a werewolf attacks someone, and that's so the department can follow up and make sure that person has access to Wolfsbane. They give it for free now to those who can't afford it." I turned to Draco, squeezing his hand. "You don't have to register, and the people here at St. Mungo's aren't allowed to tell anyone."

"That won't stop the gossip," he scoffed.

"No, you don't understand. They literally cannot tell anyone anything, not about any patient here. They're bound by an oath, sort of like a modified Unbreakable Vow," I shared.

"What about the Aurors?" he insisted. "I attacked you, and I killed Creevey."

"Those things wouldn't have happened if he hadn't taken you hostage and tortured you. As far as the MLE is concerned, you're free to go."

"That's it? It's that simple?" he said, sounding like he didn't believe it. Narcissa had begun to weep silently as she clung to his hand.

"Yeah, it is," I said, smoothing my thumb over the back of the hand I held.

He disengaged his hand from mine, and embraced his mother. When they separated after a few minutes, I conjured a handkerchief for her. Wiping her eyes, she excused herself to go freshen up.

Draco and I looked at each other, and he shook his head.

"When Greyback bit me, I thought my life was over," he began slowly. "I spent years searching the world, looking for a way to undo the curse. I found ways to control it, to suppress it, but it was still always there beneath my skin, waiting for a chance to break free again, ruining everything." He swallowed, picking at the edge of the blanket nervously. "Now you're telling me that none of that was necessary, and I can pick my life back up where I left off?"

"Not exactly where you left off," I said, picking up his nervous hand and holding it in mine.

"Not exactly," he said, meeting my eyes. I leaned in and kissed him, and the gentle meeting of lips quickly turned into a full out snog.

The healer was scandalised to see me in the bed with him when she entered a few minutes later. She scolded us both, going on about propriety and patients needing to rest, but we barely listened as we separated. Grinning, I reclaimed my chair next to the bed.

It was going to be a good day.

***