"Excuse me."
Joe West looked up from the endless paperwork to see a man standing by his desk. His cop's mind immediately turned to a description: medium height, approximately mid-thirties, black hair, round glasses which made him look a bit like John Lennon, casual clothes. "Can I help you?"
"Could you tell me where I might find . . ." He frowned and looked down at a piece of yellowed paper in his hand. "Julian Albert?"
"Sure, he's in the crime lab. Right this way." Joe got up and led the man in the direction of the CCPD Forensics Department. "Are you a friend of Julian's?"
"We, um, went to school together. Harry Potter." He extended his hand, and Joe shook it.
"Detective Joe West. Are you in town on vacation?"
"No, it's . . . personal."
"Oh, I see. Well, here we are." He stopped before the closed door and knocked on the glass.
"What is it?" Julian called.
"You busy? There's someone here to see you."
The door opened hurriedly. Julian stood there with a hopeful smile. Then he saw Harry Potter and the smile faded. "Potter."
"Hello, Julian."
"What are you doing here?" Julian asked sharply.
Joe looked from one to the other. "Is there a problem, guys?"
"No," said Harry.
"Yes," said Julian.
"Okaaaay . . . I'll let you two sort it out. I'll be around if you need anything." With that, he went back to his desk. The two men were both adults; they didn't need his help to sort out their personal problems.
"May I come in?" Harry asked.
Draco Malfoy stared at his childhood rival for a long moment before ushering him in the room quickly. He then locked the door, and pulled the shade down for good measure. "I'll ask you again, Potter: what are you doing here?"
"I've come to take you home."
"I'm not going home." Draco started pacing back and forth. "Did the Ministry not receive my request for an extension? I know my original objective is complete-I was sent to determine if the so-called metahuman activity in Central City was related to dark wizardry, and I can say with certainty that it is not-but things have changed."
"Draco, I-"
"I have a purpose here, Potter. Not just this," he said, sweeping an arm around the room. "I'm part of something. I'm part of a team. I'm working with the Flash, and . . . it's the most fulfilling and encouraging work I've ever had. For the first time in my life, I'm actually doing something that makes a difference, in a good way!"
"Yes, but Draco-"
"I have friends now. Actual friends. People who hang out with me because they like me, not because their dads force them to. I've never had that before. It feels good. I don't want to walk away from that."
"Draco, I-"
"There's more. I've met someone. A woman like no one I've ever met. Her name is Caitlin. She's currently missing, but I know she'll come home when she's ready. I intend to be here when she does."
"Your wife will be interested to hear about that."
"Ex-wife," Draco corrected him. "We'd ended it even before I left. It's not final yet, but I expect the paperwork's on its way. It must take the owl a long time to cross the Atlantic-"
"Draco, your father's dead!" Harry shouted.
Draco stopped in mid-sentence, his mouth hanging open.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to blurt it out like that. You weren't letting me get a word in edgewise."
Draco was silent for a moment longer, and then he asked, "When?"
"Two nights ago. He was getting ready for bed, and he just . . . fell over. Massive heart attack, they said."
"I'm sure it will come as news to a lot of people that he actually had a heart," Draco said bitterly.
"Yes, well, you don't want to read the write-up in the Daily Prophet."
"I'm sure I don't."
"They do mention his charity work of late, but most of it's overshadowed by . . ."
"What came before. Yes, I understand. People have long memories."
"Anyway, they're holding the funeral until you get there. I really am sorry, mate. You can count on us all to be there."
"Your in-laws, you mean? Dad never liked them. He used to say they were practically mud-I mean, muggle-borns."
"Yes, well, that's all in the past now. We need to go pack up anything you want to bring with you and then get to the portkey before it closes."
"Wait, what? We're leaving now?"
"The portkey's only open for another hour."
"So I don't even get to say goodbye to my friends?"
"You can leave them a note, if you like." Harry looked around to make sure no one could see them, and then he pulled a long quill out of his pocket. "The dictation spell's on it already. Just tell it what you want to say, and it does the rest."
"Isn't that illegal, to have it here around the muggles?"
"Not if they don't see us. Better hurry; only fifty minutes left."
"Fine." Draco cleared his throat and began. "Team Flash: I am writing this to tell you that I have to leave you. I have to take care of a personal matter at home, and I'm not sure when or if I'll be back. I want to assure each and every one of you that I have enjoyed working with you and being a part of the team. I'll try to stay in touch, but I can't promise anything. If Caitlin comes back, tell her that I love her and I'll come back someday. Tell Barry the same, if he finds his way out of the Speed Force. In conclusion, I am proud to call each of you friend. Yours truly, Julian."
"What are the pellets for?" Harry asked, spying an open container near the window.
"Bribing the owls," Draco told him. When the quill had finished writing, it held still for a moment and then collapsed onto the desk. Draco picked it up and handed it back to Harry. He then rolled the sheet of paper into a tube and tucked it into his pocket. "Do you know how hard it is to train a city owl? Nearly impossible. Took me a month of leaving the pellets on the windowsill just to get one to approach."
"Bring them along," Harry directed him. "We can give them to our owls."
"Oh, yes, I have one at home, of course. I couldn't bring him because it would be too conspicuous. That's why I had to tame my own."
"Is there anything else you need here?"
Draco looked around. "No, most of it's department property. Can't take that." He eyed the few personal items on the desk. "I don't need these, either. They were just stage dressing. They belong to Julian Albert, not Draco Malfoy. Leave them."
"We'll send for your other things, then. Forty minutes now."
"How far is this portkey?"
"It's on the bridge between Central City and Keystone City."
"Is that safe?"
"If we get there before it closes."
Draco took one last look around at the office that had become his second home for almost two years. "I guess that's it," he said. He shut the lights off on his way out.
As the two of them passed by Joe's desk, Draco dropped the letter on top of his IN pile. Joe looked up.
"What's this?"
"It's, um, a message for the team. It's my goodbye, unfortunately. I'm going back to England, right away."
"Something wrong?"
Rather than make up a story to explain his departure, Draco chose to tell him the truth. "My father's just passed away," he explained. "I've got to go and sort out all the details."
"I'm so sorry. When will you be back?"
"I'm not sure. Tell everyone I'm sorry I couldn't say goodbye in person. There simply isn't time."
"Well, um . . ." Joe was at a loss for words. "Good luck."
"Thank you." With that, Draco and Harry left the building, moving at a pace just short of running.
"How did you set up a portkey on a bridge?" Draco asked Harry.
"It wasn't easy, let me tell you. The local magical council was up in arms until I assured them that it was a one-way trip and we wouldn't be be in full view of the muggles. When I say the portkey is on the bridge . . . it's actually under it, disguised as a shopping trolley. That way no one would move it or mess with it until we got there. Twenty minutes now."
"Can we risk apparating?" Draco asked.
They stopped at a crosswalk, and Harry gestured at the traffic all around them. "Not here, we can't. Too much risk of being seen. We're going to have to run. Oh, by the way." He slid something out of his sleeve and handed it over.
"My wand! I wondered where it had got to."
"The Minister gave it to me to bring back to you. You won't need it here, but you will at home."
"There were times when I felt naked without it. Everything was so hard. All the little things that we take for granted, the muggles have to do the hard way. How can they stand it?"
Harry shrugged. "They don't know any differently. Come on, the light's changed. Let's go."
They set off at a dead run and made it to the bridge a scant five minutes before the portkey was set to close. It really was a pathetic-looking thing: a rusted-out trolley lying on its side, one wheel spinning crookedly.
"This is it," Harry said. "Grab hold now!"
Draco couldn't resist one last look over his shoulder. Goodbye, Central City. It's been . . . interesting. Goodbye, Flash, wherever you are. It occurred to him that the reason he hadn't gotten on with Barry Allen at first was because the younger man reminded him so much of Harry, always flagrantly violating the rules and getting away with it.
The places and the faces change, but the song remains the same.
"Harry," he said, "I'm glad it was you that came. Thank you." And for once, he meant it.
He reached out and took hold of the trolley's wire rim, feeling the pull of the portkey taking hold, bringing him home at last.