Title: Under Pressure
Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling. I do not claim any ownership of the characters or settings contained within. This story is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.
Pairings: Harry/Draco, Hermione/Ron
Warnings: Contains mature language and sexual content
Rating: M
Summary: Harry Potter has quit magic and left the wizarding world. Draco, a top-notch Tracker, has been hired to find him and save his life.
Author's Note: This is what you get when I try to write a "short" fic. I wrote it as a one-shot but then decided to break it up into chapters, because even my short fics are too long to be short fics. Dedicated to all of the flowers out there who blossomed after high school.

oOo

Late afternoon sunlight slanted through the slatted shutters that lined the front window of the cozy shopfront. The rich, golden glow of autumn glinted off of the ever-present dust that floated in the air like sprites and outlined the precise lines of the sun's rays. Draco closed his ledger book and laid down his quill. It had been a long day.

"If I have to brew one more fidelity potion this month I might just close up shop," he sighed as he scratched the chin of his Persian cat. "I'm telling you, Hairy, just one more and we'll lock up and move back to the manor for good."

The cat gazed up at him with vivid green eyes, her lids half closed in utter pleasure as he scrubbed her most favorite spot. She flopped over onto her side and made kitty fists on the time-worn oak desktop.

"You're right, it's time to call it a day and relax," Draco said. He crossed to the front door and peeked out at the shoppers still milling about Diagon Alley and fondled the latch on the door. If he closed up now it would be twenty minutes ahead of his posted hours. It was his shop, he could do whatever he wanted to, but twenty minutes was pushing it.

"Keep an eye on things," he told the cat. "I'm going to run upstairs for just a moment." The cat twitched her fluffy black tail once and closed her eyes.

Draco ran upstairs and passed through the finely appointed parlor to the kitchen, where he dodged around a house elf and tossed open the pantry. It was orderly and well-stocked, but contained nothing that appealed to him at the moment. Tonight might be a good night to pop out for take-away.

"Don't bother cooking tonight," he told the elf. "I'm going out."

"Yes sir, Master Draco, sir," the house elf said.

"Give Hairy an extra treat with her supper," he added as he closed up the pantry. "And she needs a brushing, too."

"Yes sir, Master Draco, sir."

Draco fished a handful of chicken nibblets from a jar on the counter and skipped back down to the shop. He was just feeding Hairy her third snack when the door chimed.

"Oh no, Hermione turn around. We'll go somewhere else."

Draco looked up in surprise as Ron Weasley stumbled across the threshold and tried to reverse back out again. Hermione Granger blocked his way, her diminutive stature somehow significant enough to hold the tall man at bay.

"Move it, Ronald. You'll crush Rose," she snapped.

Ron shuffled into the shop and sidled along the front windows to maintain his distance from Draco. Hermione entered with a pram that held a sleeping baby. Hairy lurched to her feet and dashed into a corner at the sight of the wheeled contraption.

"Fancy meeting you here," Draco drawled, hoping his tone would cover up his dismay at his former schoolmates' appearance.

"Hello, Draco," Hermione nodded politely. "Is this your shop?"

"It is," Draco folded his arms across his chest. He told himself not to be standoffish but old habits die hard.

"How have you been?" she asked. "We haven't seen you since graduation, I suppose."

"I've been well," Draco raised an eyebrow. He looked back and forth between the two former Gryffindors. "You two are breeding, I see."

"We were married two years ago," Hermione said. Ron's gaze was fixed on the rough-hewn plank floor.

"Ah."

"Her name is Rose," Hermione added.

"Lovely," Draco nodded. They stared at each other for a long, silent moment. "What brings you in today?"

"We were told this shop is owned by a Tracker," Hermione said. She rolled the pram back and forth and eyed the baby as she stretched and yawned.

"It is."

"You're the Tracker?" she asked, the first annoyance creeping into her voice. Draco wasn't intentionally giving her short answers. Or maybe he was. He was very uncomfortable.

"I am," he said. She frowned and sighed so he kept going, "I specialize in magic that binds to people. Love potions, fidelity charms, spells to recover lost memories, spells to forget lost love. And I'm a Tracker."

"How did you end up in a lovey dovey feeling line of work, Malfoy?" Ron looked up and away again.

Draco stared hard at the top of his head. He waited until Ron looked up again. "It's been a long time since school, Weasley. A lot can change in six years."

"I would have thought you'd start a thugs for hire business," Ron shot back. "That's more suited to your personality."

"In that case I assume you've become a slug farmer, is that about right?" Draco snapped.

"Hold on here," Hermione raised her hands between them. "Can we please act like adults?"

"Indeed," Draco raised an eyebrow. "Otherwise you're welcome to take your business elsewhere."

"Maybe that's a good idea, come on Hermione," Ron tried to wave her out of the shop.

"Of course you'll never find a better Tracker than me," Draco added. "I hope you're not missing something too important."

Hermione and Ron stared at each other, each a portrait of stubbornness. He bugged his eyes out, she shook her head. He tossed his hands up, she glowered and sighed.

"If you've lost your keys, by all means hire someone else," Draco said, leaning his shoulder casually on the wall. "But if it's important-"

"It's Harry," Hermione interrupted. "He's missing."

Draco's stomach lurched. Why couldn't it have been lost keys? "What do you mean by missing? Isn't that a matter for the Ministry?"

"He quit the Ministry," Hermione's brow furrowed with worry. "He quit a year ago and left."

"They still do missing persons investigations," Draco glanced up at the clock and noted that it was closing time. He needed to hustle them out so he could lock up. "It's been marvelous catching up with you but I need to be going. Thanks for stopping by."

"He quit magic entirely," Hermione raised her voice.

Draco's stomach twisted again. He didn't like the sound of that, not that he would let them see it.

"He's given it up. He lives as a muggle now," she went on. Her lips pressed in a thin line and she looked to Ron for support. He touched her shoulder and nodded grimly.

"So there's one less hero in the Wizarding World," Draco pretended he didn't care. But inside his mind was reeling. Harry Potter had really left the Wizarding World for good? There was something distinctly disturbing about that.

"Draco," Hermione stepped forward, releasing the pram and clasping her hands together. "He's given up magic. He refuses to use it at all. He doesn't know what that means."

Draco sat on the edge of his stool and considered his response carefully. He couldn't act concerned. He couldn't share their distress. There would be time for that later when he was alone.

"We need to find him, Malfoy," Ron said softly. He looked up through his eyebrows, this time without malice. "If we don't," his voice trailed off.

"Potter goes boom," Draco nodded.

The three Hogwarts alums stared grimly at each other. Draco understood now. If they didn't find Harry soon, he would die.

oOo

Against his better judgement Draco invited the Weasley family upstairs to his flat for a cup of tea. He latched the front door and switched the shop lights off before leading the way upstairs with Hairy in his arms. She flicked her tail angrily and squirmed out of his grasp as soon as they crested the top step.

Draco summoned the tea and offered some milk for the baby. Hermione declined but seemed grateful for the thoughtful offer.

"When was the last time you saw Potter?" Draco asked as he sat in his favorite leather wingback chair. Hairy appeared from nowhere and jumped into his lap. He would pay for her affections with a lapful of black fur but he didn't mind.

"About eight months ago," Hermione said. She scooped the baby into her arms and hoisted her shirt up to feed. Draco shifted uncomfortably and tried not to think about the last time he'd seen a woman's breasts. It had been years, he was certain.

"Sorry. Do you mind terribly?" she asked.

"No, be my guest," Draco focused on the cat in his lap.

"He left a year ago when he quit the Ministry. Moved to London and got a job in a greengrocer's," she said. "We kept in touch for a while, but then one day he was just gone. Completely gone without a trace."

"He left this note," Ron extended a slip of parchment across the cocktail table. "It says he's sorry but it's too hard to give up magic if we're around."

Draco accepted the paper and closed his eyes. He could feel the sorrow in it, the panic and fear. Harry had cried while writing it, had written two drafts before sending this one.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked dubiously, breaking his concentration.

"Shut up, Weasel," Draco snapped automatically. "I'm trying to focus."

"Sorry," Ron muttered. He slumped in his chair and scowled at his shoes.

Draco focused on the note again but his concentration was too ruffled now. He sighed and dropped it onto the table. "What else have you got?"

"Lots of things," Hermione hauled her purse onto the sofa while she continued to feed on the other side. She dug her arm impossibly deep into its interior and pulled out a framed photo, a shimmery silver cloak, a golden Snitch, a blue muggle T-shirt with a burgundy West Ham shield on the breast, and a red and gold striped Gryffindor scarf.

"Hold up now," Draco seized her wrist to halt her frantic unpacking. "We're not turning my flat into the Saint Potter Memorial Museum."

"I have all of his things," she said weakly. "I don't know what will help."

Draco rummaged through the pile and tossed the Snitch and the cloak back into her lap. He hefted the photo and surmised that it showed Harry's parents. He focused briefly but picked up nothing useful so he tossed it into her lap, too.

"When is this from?" he held up the T-shirt. It felt strange to be holding Harry's clothes. "Did he wear this recently?"

"It was on the floor of his flat when he disappeared," Ron said. "So he probably wore it before he left."

"I'll keep this, the letter, and the scarf," Draco folded the items together and set them aside. He rotated his wrist and conjured a small glossy notecard, which he handed over to Hermione. If he knew Granger, she would be the one who held the family purse strings.

"What is this?" She scanned the card and sat up straight in her chair. "Are these your rates?"

"You came to the best," he said. "I offer a premium service."

"We can't afford that!" she handed the card to Ron.

"This is robbery," Ron tossed the card back at Draco.

"I'm not running a charity. I have a natural talent for Tracking and I don't take on clients lightly. If I agree to do this, I will find him," Draco regarded them with a haughty sneer. He would not be talked into haggling.

Then again, he thought, if they truly couldn't afford it they would certainly take their business elsewhere. And for reasons he wasn't prepared to discuss he did not want them to take their business elsewhere. He wanted the job. It would take some clever manipulation to turn the situation in his favor.

"I don't owe Potter anything, and I don't owe you a discount on my services," he said, staring at them significantly. Nothing wrong with a bit of Legilimency, he thought as he projected the seed of an idea. As he suspected, Ron had the weakest defenses.

"Fiendfyre!" Ron yelped, startling himself. "Harry saved you. You owe him a life debt."

"No I don't," Draco lied.

"Yes you do!" Ron's voice cracked. "If Harry hadn't pulled you out you would have died."

"Perhaps."

"Not perhaps, definitely!"

"Okay fine, maybe I do," Draco pretended to give in. "I suppose I could do it at no charge if it would pay the life debt."

"What do you think?" Ron asked Hermione.

"He's going to die if we don't find him," Hermione's eyes welled up. "Draco will be saving his life. That would pay the debt."

"So are we agreed?" Draco looked back and forth between them. "Leave these items with me tonight so I can try to get a reading on them," he said. "Come back tomorrow and we'll draw up an agreement."

"But," Hermione chewed her lip. "Okay but be careful with that letter. It's the last thing we have of him."

"I won't lose it," he rose and waved them to the door. "Now if you don't mind, I had plans for the evening that didn't involve playing host to a couple of dopey Gryffindors."

"You're as friendly as ever, Malfoy," Ron grumbled as he and Hermione maneuvered the pram down the stairs. Draco waved his hand and unlatched the door from the stairwell, then secured it with another wave behind them.

He stood at the bottom of the stairs and listened to the silence his visitors had left behind. For the first time since their arrival he allowed himself to exhale and truly feel the magnitude of their request. If Harry Potter was gone, that was bad. Maybe even for Draco. Maybe especially for Draco.