Author's note : After a long absence in which I had time to delect myself of many new stories and read truly talented authors, here's my attemps at trying to write again. This takes place just after the end of the war, when Voldermort has been killed.

Disclaimer : I do not own the world of Harry Potter nor pretend to (though it would be cool ^^)

Chapter 1

Finally finding a place to cool off and lie down, harry let out a sigh of relief. For the past few days, he had had to stay in Hogwarts as the last Death Eaters were being rounded up and the victims were counted. He still hadn't had the time to talk to Ginny, expect the few times when everyone had been here and they had exchanged longing glances, knowing full well that it would be long before they were alone again.

After the euphoria had calmed down, and the cadavre of Tom Jedusor had been buried far, far away - Kingsley had personnally Aparated to Groenland to make sure the body would not be found - a feeling of emptiness had filled the crowds. For the fighters that had been there during the battle, there was no question sitting around and moping. They knew it would drive them mad if they had nothing to do but think all day. Of course, Kingsley was being made temporary Minister, and the whole government had to be rearranged.

But for the ones who had lost a member of their family, a friend, or a love, as most had, these questions were of little matter. Yes, the world would go on, yes, life would continue, but the so many deaths that had affected everyone were too important, too much, and it became almost normal to see someone erupt into tears before rushing out of the Great Hall at breakfast, lunch, dinner.

No one had wanted to go home.

Where was home anyway ? Wasn't it with the people they had fought with, and for ? Wasn't it clutching to the place they had last saw their loved one ?

Harry adjusted his black cape, looked at himself quickly in the mirror and left the room, shaking his head. As he walked outside, admiring the great, hard sun oblivious to man's pain, and the reflect of it in the lake, he made his way to the crowd that was steadily growing a little way down the grass.

They had decided all the ones who had died defending Hogwarts should be buried, in the same fashion, next to Dumbledore's grave. And today, after having had to go through Fred's, and little Creevey's, and the countless others, he now had to affront yet another, and this one he did not know if he could bear : Tonks and Lupin's.

It had also been decided that they should be buried in the same spot, their bodies forever unchanged by a spell, hands entwined, faces facing a sky they would never see.

- " Harry... Will you be okay ? " Underlying the subtil question : can you stand this till the end ?

- " I..." He was going to answer 'I think so', but this was Hermione, he couldn't lie to her, and he was so used to standing strong and facing it to help all of the others stay put together and not break that he was fed up with having to lie. " I don't know.", he answered. "... I don't think so."

He felt a gentle squeeze that felt quite wet. He looked up, surprised. The tears were flowing freely on Hermione's face, and she had obviously used her hand to wipe some of. It didn't work. Ron suddenly came up, and Hermione took his hand, too.

But even them three, united as ever, it wasn't enough.

They sat down at the chairs designe especially. They had been there for seven whole days, unflinching as funeral after funeral was being held. If they waited too long, it was unbearable. Tonks and Lupin's were the last ones, and after that...home ? They liked to think it would make things better.

"Everyone...Good day."

The irony...

"As you are well aware, we are holding this last funeral of the fifty who have deceased bravely fighting for their freedom."

Arthur was speaking. After the battle, counting the victims, he had, bravely, taken over the logistics of the many funerals to be held. He wass a natural speaker, sincere.

"What to say about Tonks and Remus... They were two people of exception. Remus...he was here from the beginning. He was...", Arthur choked on his words. His nose went red, a sign that barely held tears were threatening to surface. "...brave. Discreet. One thing I am glad of, though, was that Tonks and him found each other. The love between them was, and is, a witness and proof that solidarity, love, friendship, and hope will always exist even in the darkest of times... Tonks, she was much too young to -" This time, one, lone, tear ran down his cheek, shining in the sun, blinding one eye. "And they had a child !" was all he could manage to get out before he stumbled down the alley, sitting down brusquely on a chair beside Molly, who took his hand firmly.

Harry was gone a long time before that. He was gone at the mention of the fifty deceased, finally putting a number on the victims of this battle, not counting the many others who had died before. He was gone running, barely breathing, barely able to hold his heart in as it exploded with each step he took.

Back at the funeral, a lone, aged figure, standing fiercely and alarmingly thin on the edge of her chair, at the very front of the audience, was holding baby who babbled happily, not knowing yet that, like Harry, he had been born without parents.

3 months later

- " All right, Harry, I need you to look into this, there might be some interesting info there", said Doug, the wizard Harry was working with.

In a matter of fortnights, Harry had passed the Auror qualifications - Metamorphosis was easily accomplished seeing how many times he had had to change his appearance, and seen Hermione do it, during his years of school and his last year of-

He preferred not to think about it.

What he was focusing on at the moment were the perks of dark magic the sensors picked up at irregular intervals, from around the country but that also stretched as far as Northern France.

Just after he had left Lupin's funeral running, and unable to tear himself away from the thought that of his father and his father's best friends, all of whom had cared for him and actually taken care of him, none had survived...His father, Sirius, Remus...

The day after, he had finally been able to have a quiet conversation with Ginny. He was never good with words. It had been decided they would part for the time being, what with him being completely incapable of opening himself up without having a panic attack that almost always ended in a fit of uncontrollable tears. Even Ginny had been powerless against this.

The war had left him more broken than he would have thought.

-" Are you listening or merely nodding your head with no idea whatsoever what I'm talking about ?" demanded Doug, on the verge of angriness.

Doug was an American whose cousin, Seamus Finnigan, had contacted him after the war. As it turned out, he was more than happy to come clean up England of dark magic rather than do...things he was doing there. Harry really had no idea what was Doug's job back in America. A vague 'keeping the bears out of the magic ponds' had sufficed.

- "Yeah, right, the files... Is there any mention of the Goyles ?"

- "You mean the father ? Nope, that one's dead. That's not in the file, but I heard some of the Auror's next door are looking into it - seems like it was the mother pulling the strings in the family, for all those years she was using some sort of potion...damn, Pola..Pole..."

- "Polyjuice ?" Well, that came as a surprise. Not that much, though...In these rotten families no one knew how far perverrsity could go...But to assume the form of the father ? Was he too cowardly to meet Voldemort on the numerous occasions, simply overshadowed by his wife, or could no women attend these meetings but the craziest of them all, Bellatrix ?

- "Yeah, that's right. Anyway, pretty interesting case. But so is ours", he snapped, getting Harry back into focus. "We've been hearing back from the ears we put in the various houses when they all fleed, you know, those stuff the Weasley twins made, and George made it so that we could record it and hide them well - he really wants to get that son of a bitch that killed his brother, he says..." He suddenly stop upon seeing the look on Harry's face, completely blank. "Sorry...", he mumbled, lost.

It wasn't easy on him. Coming into the country at the end of the war, not having lived it like the others, made him somewhat insensitive or unaware that sometimes he said things a little too...directly.

- "Well ?", asked Harry, trying to hide his discomfort.

- "What ?"

- "What have you been hearing then ?"

- "Oh, yeah, right. Five ancient Death Eaters met at one of the houses and started talking about the three hostages they had against one of our prisoners at Azkaben, a certain...Thomas Langlord. Any idea who this is ?"

Harry shook his head, lost. This guy must not have been the big Death Eater if Harry didn't know him...

- "Says in the file, if you ever bother to read it-"

- "Why should I, since you tell me everything like a friggin' dictionnary", mumbled Harry under his breath

- " - that it's a pretty big fish, but has been discreet even after Voldermort came back to power", continued blatantly Doug, ignoring Harry's remark.

- "What ? Really ? I'll get into it right away..."

- "Good. Oh and...I got Molly Weasley to send you some dinner too. You gotta stopo with that diet of yours, man."

- "Stop being nosy, Doug", said Harry, trying to decide whether he was glad that Doug and Molly were still there for him when he was ignoring everyone and everything, or annoyed that he was getting into his business again.

- "You're glad", Doug answered the unasked question with a smirk.

That night, instead of enjoying a bag of chips and half a pack of cigs, Harry got to eat delicious lasagna, alone in his empty appartement in London, overlooking the cloudy, black sky.

- "So it's definite then ? The tip is reliable ?"

- "Yeah", said Doug with a smirk, "we're going in."

- "We're going in. Yeah !", shouted Harry, punching the air.

Finally, he was going to get some action and finally end any dark magic still operating. The death of Voldemort had proved not to be enough, his anger was renewed by the funerals after that.

Langley, their superior, entered the room.

- "Doug, Harry, Alice", he barked, "The three of you are going in tonight at one of the Death Eater's houses, we'll tell you the exact destination at the last minute. You go in, you Stupefy the five members that we were tipped on and you go out. No less...No more"

- "What about the three hostages ?", asked Harry, confused.

- "They'll be taken care of by the Special Team that comes after. Less action, more comfort. If they went through a trauma, it's best that they don't see three Aurors waving their wands around like furies", he said, completely ignoring the indignant 'hey !'s he got from said Aurors. "I know this is your first time in the street, but this is no game, nor any kind of personal vengeance", he went on, adressing his last comment to Harry, who shot him a blank look. "Be precise and clean. Leave no trace. You don't want others to come personally after you."

And with that last piece of advice, the three of them all waited impatiently for night to fall.

- "Good luck.", whispered Doug gently.

- "Let's go", answered Alicia.

- "All right, enough nonsense", interrupted Langley. "The house you're going to tonight is the Malfoy's manor. Apparate now."

Before Harry had the chance to process the fact the he was going in and possibly arresting the members of the Malfoy family, he was being taken in side-along Apparition, brusquely following Alicia's lead.

The Malfoy's manor ! Fuck ! And he thought he wouldn't have to deal with them for the rest of his life. Well, if he was going to have to arrest them, that would be the end of all his good resolutions. After all he'd done for him, and he was dwelling in the sphere again ? Fuck...Some people never change...

They Apparated just outside the gates, and circled the manor quickly to check possible guards. Lights were on in the manor. The three of them quickly walked up the dark alley up to the imposing door. Seemed like the pheasants weren't there anymore.

Discreetly, they entered the house. The door closed silently behind them, and they faced the immense corridor. Muffled voices were emanating from a room not far.

In a distant part of his mind, Harry thought about how they had gone from the gates to the door without declenching any kind of alarm, or being noticed.

As Alice and Doug progressed to the room from which the noises were emanating, Harry heard a quiet clinking.

He stopped, straining his ears. Yep, that was definitely the noise of clinking. Like magnetised, he moved to the sound of the noise. A small, brown door behind a curtain. He opened the door to darkness.

Whispering of discreet 'Lumos', he moved his wand around what appeared to be a small cellar. And here, right in the middle, right in the middle between barely breathing Lucius and Narcissa, was a paler than death Draco, his eyes wide and his hands stretching against cufflinks, his wrists open in blood.