One Day to the Next

Chapter 2

Everything Eventually

Sometimes, life just isn't fair.

I come to this conclusion as I wait for the witch at the cafeteria to give me my morning coffee. Yes, I know it's typical to a workday routine. And yes, I realize that I, as a rule, resent this sort of normalcy. But since I'm stuck with it anyways, I figure I might as well embrace the good aspects. Like coffee.

Finally, the warm cup is placed in my hand, and I take a grateful sip. I pay the witch, and give her a generous tip, because it's expected of me, the Golden Boy.

It is as I am getting into the elevator that I finally notice that I didn't pass the man that I have nodded at, every morning, for years. I'm not sure whether to feel elated that one tedious aspect of my tedious day at my tedious job has been removed, or to be worried.

I choose the latter, because as the elevator reaches my floor, yesterday's niggling worry tickles my brain once more. My suspicions are raised even more when I reach the office.

Both Kaila - Kaila, who has not been on time for work since she started this job - and Paul look up at me as I enter the room. I pause, unsure, and ask, "What?"

"We 'ave 'ad a walk in!" Kaila exclaims. She's practically bouncing. "Do you remember? I told you yesterday that there was somezing going on! And there was!"

"Good, more paperwork," I mutter. I begin moving towards my desk once more.

"It was a Death Eater, you know," Paul states.

That makes me freeze.

"There is a DEATH EATER in the building?!" I find myself demanding.

Paul and Kaila nod comically, though there is nothing funny about the situation. A Death Eater walk in hasn't happened since... well, ever. When Snape turned spy, he went to Dumbledore. Certainly not the Ministry of Magic - not at first.

And then there's the whole other issue of whether or not this is for real ... because, what's a more perfect set up?

A sharp rapping at the door, and all three of us snap our heads around to see Mad-Eye Moody standing there. I know we all have guilty expressions on our faces for engaging in the office gossip Moody so desperately despises. Both his real eye and his magical eye focus on me.

"Potter, come with me."

What?

"What?"

"I assume you've already heard about the walk in we had yesterday..."

"Yes, I was just informed," I tell him, frowning. At this point, I am beyond confused. What is it that I'm needed for?

"We need someone to process his statement, watch him for a little while..."

My heart sinks somewhat at the thought of more paperwork. Until that moment, I hadn't realized that I had been expecting something more. And then I feel foolish - why should today be any different from the others?

"Oh," I say, and know the disappointment is clear in my voice. "Of course."

Why wouldn't the Boy-Who-Lived be put on babysitting detail? It makes perfect sense, really. When you think about it, that is.

Moody looks at me, and I suddenly get the distinct feeling that he knows what I'm thinking. I try to look ashamed, but if the only way that anyone's going to hear what I'm thinking is by reading my mind, then so be it.

I walk down the hallway with him, hearing my shoes squeak all too loudly on the smooth floor, and I wait for him to begin to explain - to give me some sort of information on this person... this Death Eater. Moody stops outside a door, and stands watching me for a minute. Then, he hands me the proper forms that have magically appeared in his hand - I'm unsure as to whether I'm just unobservant, or whether they really DID magically appear - and finally opens his mouth once more.

"Now, have him fill those out, then call for someone to come collect them. Stay with him until another agent comes to relieve you... then I'll see you in my office to review his statement. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir," I respond, nodding.

I reach my hand out to turn the doorknob, and Moody begins again, "You should know, Potter..."

I forget to let go of the doorknob, and find myself staring at the person in the room, unable to think what to say to this. I almost don't hear Moody's next words.

"...That the walk in was Draco Malfoy."

***

The room is unbearably silent, but for the persistent scribbling of a quill. Malfoy ran out of room on the Ministry's standard statement form about half an hour ago - not that walk ins are standard - and I had had to go fetch him more parchment.

I never thought I would see the day when Malfoy was sitting in front of me, in a pristine white Ministry interrogation room, defecting. His robes, Death Eater's robes, are torn and muddy. His pale face isn't as pointy as I always remembered it being - his jaw is much too swollen to be anything remotely angular. It seems cruel to me, somehow, to watch him sitting there, obviously in pain, and doing nothing about it.

His lip is split, and I assume that he was thrown into something quite hard - at some point on the path leading him to this moment.

I wonder why no one has offered him medical attention. He stops to rub his chin - fingers coming away with a small spot of blood from his lip - and I know that were I trained in healing charms, I would heal him myself.

The only thing I can do is conjure a glass of ice for him, and place it on the table. Not that he notices - so absorbed as he is in what he is writing. Pages upon pages have already been filled, and he doesn't show any sign of slowing down. Then again, as a Malfoy, he probably has a lot to tell us about Voldemort's plans, the inner workings of his following.

He hasn't spoken to me yet - barely even looked at me.

But I assume that our past connection is what prompted Moody to let me supervise Malfoy. Apparently, I don't need protection from my old school rival.

For a second, I am lost in memories of Hogwarts, and the many times Malfoy and I taunted each other, stared each other down across the Great Hall, got into a fistfight over a stupid comment.

It's funny... neither of us has ended up where we thought we'd be.

* * *

I'm staring at Malfoy now, and he's staring at the table in front of him, not saying anything as I wait for another auror to show up. It's been twelve minutes and fifty seconds since the scratching of the quill ceased. And, aside from counting off the seconds, I've been debating with myself as to whether or not I want Malfoy to end the silence. Do I really want to hear anything he has to say? Probably not. And yet...

He's just sitting there, not saying a word, as I scrutinize him, trying to figure out if this is just an elaborate ruse. The document he has written up will be checked, of course - verified, many times over. But his eyes, which have always looked like ice-cold slates of gray to me, are now merely dull. There is no harshness in them, just...blankness.

I almost want to believe him.

"What happened?"

The words echo in the room, and it takes the surprised look on Malfoy's face for me to realize that I have spoken. Then, his eyes narrow, and he states, "It's in the report. Not like you'd trust my answer, anyways."

"I might."

This is met with silence. After a moment, Malfoy shakes his head, and returns to staring at the table in front of him. Not even I know why I said that. Malfoy has never given me any reason to trust him before - why should I start?

The door opens, and an auror I don't recognize gestures me forward. I cast a last look at Malfoy, wondering if our paths will ever meet again, and leave the room. Moody stands outside, waiting to walk me back to his office. The other auror stations himself outside the door, looking more like a Muggle club bouncer than Ministry official.

"Did you get a look at his statement?" Moody asks gruffly, as we walk down a corridor.

Surprised, I ask, "What? No... Should I have?"

"Of course not."

Okay, then.

"If this goes through...if everything is verified...he'll need a handler. Now, as you know, many aurors are quite busy with the threat the Dark Lord has been posing as of late..."

Actually, no, I do not know. This is what you have all been keeping as far away from me as possible, remember?

Dark Lord? Who? ALERT THE PRESS!

"... but we still need a strong auror to do the job. Now, I know that you know how to deal with Mr. Malfoy - you're familiar with him..."

He's going to ask me to permanently baby-sit Malfoy. That's where he's going with this, isn't it?

"And we were wondering if you would be able to suggest anyone not currently in the field who would be up for the job."

I have a hard time deciding if I'm relieved, offended, angry, or just plain hurt. I nod dumbly, and watch Moody - and quite a few hopes I hadn't realized I was hanging on to - walk away.

It is another minute before I realize I should be following him.

* * *

I walk in the door, and Hermione is already home, at the kitchen table, surrounded by books. A suitcase lies on the floor next to her.

"Hey Hermione," I greet her, shrugging off my shoes.

"Hi Harry," she responds absently.

I wait a moment, and then say loudly, "Hello Ginny!"

A brief pause.

A distant giggle.

Then: "Hiya Harry!"

Turning back to a blushing Hermione, I demand, "I thought you said your parents were coming to visit 'sometime.'"

"And obviously, they are."

"You didn't mention it would be tomorrow."

"Did I not?"

"No."

She's lucky I love her. She really really is.

"Well... we moved your stuff over to Ginny's for you. So, at least you don't have to do that," Hermione responds. "And we're making dinner."

She shuts the textbook in front of her with a loud slam, and shoves her chair backwards. I try to ignore the harsh scraping sound the legs make as they rub against the tile. She has gotten up to stir the pot of spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove - I can tell, because I would know the scent anywhere. We've been having it at least once a week for a month, now.

"Ron's coming over to eat," Hermione states, still stirring. "So we can finally catch up with him. It's been forever since he's been here."

"Yeah, why is that again?" I ask. I've been wondering for the past few weeks why exactly Ron has gone AWOL.

"I'm not sure."

She stops stirring, and frowns.

"Ginny just said he's been really busy lately..."

I hear flames roar in the other room, and a loud thump.

"Bloody HELL, Harry..." Ron mutters, rubbing his shin as he enters the room a second later. "What in Merlin's name is your table doing in front of the fireplace?"

I had moved it there earlier that morning for no other reason but to make the room look different. Perhaps that had been ill advised.

"Um... I'm not sure?"

Ron's eyes narrow and he opens his mouth to speak, but his words are interrupted when Ginny emerges from her bedroom - MY bedroom - to give her big brother a hug. I love it so much when Hermione's parents come to visit. Really.

"Will anyone else be joining us tonight that I should be aware of?" I ask, suddenly in a very bad mood. Hermione winces, and bites her lip.

"No, Harry. This is it."

"Good. I'll be in my room, call me when dinner's ready."

I'm just reaching my doorway when Ginny calls, "Don't touch any of my stuff!"

I slam the door.