Harry went over the list one more time, trying to understand where all the galleons went. It was not that his account at Gringotts was in danger of being emptied any time soon, but the expenses were far beyond anything he had expected. When asked about this, Hermione just shrugged and found another conversation topic.
Harry sighed and took the list of 'incomes', noticing how the sums written there were rarely above five Galleons. All in all, the past three months had cost him two hundred Galleons and had seen sixteen wizards relocated.
Putting the pieces of parchment away, Harry got up from the table and poured himself a cup of tea. At least once a week, Hermione brought someone to Harry's house and left him in his care while she found a willing master for the unfortunate wizard. Tonight someone new was to come.
The wards surrounding the house rippled and a few moments later, Hermione entered, followed by a taller, hooded figure wearing a battered wizard's cloak. Harry moved towards them, lighting a few candles with a flick of his wand.
"Awful weather out there," Hermione said softly, taking off her cloak. She frowned a bit, tilting her head in a familiar way that meant their guest was a difficult one.
"Long trip?" Harry asked, studying the man who had stopped in the middle of the room, head bowed and staring at the floor.
"He was the last one in the North camp," Hermione said as an explanation and Harry nodded. Last one meant immediate transfer to Azkaban.
"Tea?" He moved towards the cupboard, eyes finally moving away from the man whose features remained hidden.
"Yes, please," Hermione said, then turned towards the man and sighed in frustration. "This is getting ridiculous, Draco."
"And you would know all about it, wouldn't you?" The man asked sarcastically. Harry frowned, moving next to him. He took the hood off and studied Malfoy. He was thin, pale and frowning deeply. "Why have you brought me here?"
Hermione sighed and went upstairs, muttering something that Harry did not feel he needed to know.
"I take it she explained the situation to you," Harry said, taking a cup of tea and offering it to Malfoy.
The blond snorted, looking with disgust at the offered cup of tea. "She babbled something."
"Well, she might have mentioned you'll be staying here until we find a suitable… master for you." Harry was not an evil man - he didn't enjoy the fact that other people were forced into this sugar-coated slavery. But they had rescued Malfoy from a life sentence in Azkaban, and the flash of anger that swept over his features when he mentioned the word 'master' was a strange sort of payment for what they did for him. It wasn't their fault he was in this position. "Your room is upstairs; you might want to get some rest after this evening's events."
Without a word, Malfoy went upstairs.
Five days passed and at times Harry felt the urge to go upstairs and make sure Malfoy was still there. He knew he would have felt it if the wards had been broken, or heard him walking or doing something - anything. Food disappeared from the kitchen - once a day and far too little to satiate a grown man. Three candles disappeared from the cupboard every day - though what he could be reading, Harry didn't know. And Hermione left the house crying every night after trying to talk to him - it would always start with 'Draco, please talk to me' and end with something involving 'cruel' or 'awful' or 'heartless'.
On the sixth day, Hermione went upstairs and knocked on the door. "Your master's representative will be here soon. Get ready."
Harry could not remember a time when she seemed more relieved to send someone away. "The master is a shop owner and apparently needs someone to keep track of the products and, well… he was looking for someone smart enough to do it." She smiled, sitting in the armchair that had become hers over time. "I was a bit worried we wouldn't find someone willing to take him."
Malfoy came downstairs, head held high, eyes focused on the door. He looked at the two of them briefly and seemed to want to say something, but instead of that he shook his head and clasped his hands behind his back.
A few moments later, Harry felt a pull at the ward, followed by a knock at the door. Hermione opened it and welcomed inside a short man that resembled Wormtail far too much for Harry's comfort. He had the same ratty teeth, the same way of holding his head and Harry was sure he stuttered. Glancing at Malfoy, he realised he made the same connection and seemed apprehensive.
"This is Mr. Proctor, a representative of Malfoy's master," Hermione said as means of introduction.
The man nodded, smiling in a way that was closer to a pained grimace, and stuttered something about the honor to meet Harry Potter. He took Harry's hand and shook it, babbling about the war and how he knew everything about it, until Hermione cleared her throat and pointed towards a stack of parchment she had brought.
"Ah, yes, of course," the man said, taking the quill she offered.
"By signing this, you agree to take Draco Malfoy into custody, along with his possessions," she patiently explained.
"P-possesions?"
"Yes, he has a change of clothes and…" Hermione turned to Malfoy with a questioning expression. The blond shook his head once and stared at her with unblinking grey eyes.
The scrap of the quill on the parchment was followed by a loud pop as the parchments disappeared to the ministry archives.
Moving towards Malfoy, Proctor took a black scarf from his pocket. It was quite long and a couple of inches wide. "Arms in front of you," the man commanded when he got to Malfoy's side, and after a moment of hesitation, the Slytherin complied. Proctor tied the scarf around his wrists, leaving a longer end dangling. Taking it, Proctor gave it a small tug and grinned. "Your master will be very pleased with his purchase." Turning to Hermione, he smiled and bowed his head. "Thank you very much, and maybe we will work together again."
He then led Malfoy towards the door, holding the end of the scarf the entire time.
"Goodbye, Draco," Hermione said as the two walked outside. She got no response.