TWO
"I'll be back in a few hours Charlie," Harry cooed to the large pile of chocolate Labrador that was sat on his foot. Charlie whined, blinking up at Harry with miserable eyes, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Harry sighed and put the record player on, letting The Beatles serenade Charlie while he was out. Less than pleased about this arrangement, Charlie bounded up to the living room window and pressed his nose against the glass, watching Harry make his way down the street below in his smart Auror uniform.
When Harry got to work he found Nathaniel in his own uniform, writing urgently at his desk. This was such a rare sight, Harry paused in the doorway to take the scene in. "Is that work you're doing Nathaniel?"
"Shit Harry," Nathaniel breathed, continuing to scribble way, dipping his quill in the ink with such vigour he blotched his parchment. "Kingsley just came up; told me it was shaping up to be a lively sort of day, so we're going to be busy."
"Good." Harry replied, tossing his briefcase on his desk and taking his mobile phone out of his pocket to check it. Nathaniel groaned.
"No Potter! He also said he wanted all our assignments in!" Hermione had sent Harry a text telling him to be good, use sun cream, talk to Ginny and try and get back to his old self again. Harry put his phone back in his pocket and sighed, watching Nathaniel wrestle with several different reports at once.
"You're going to have to do it lunchtime mate," Harry said. "I'll bring you a sandwich."
"They're right about you Potter," Nathaniel grinned, leaping up from his desk.
"What?"
Nathaniel smirked at him, gesturing for him to follow."You're a saviour."
~X~
The uniforms had been introduced after the war to make Aurors seem more united and threatening. To a Muggle, they looked like an ordinary outfit so as not to draw attention, but to magical folk, they were supposed to radiate authority.
Harry and Nathaniel took the Floo Network to Knockturn Alley where they'd been sent to investigate a suspicious stall owner. Even on a warm spring day, it was shadowy and skin prickling, just as Harry had remembered it being when he'd been there at twelve. The stall owner had set up on the doorstep of a boarded-up shop, and he licked his teeth uneasily when he saw Nathaniel and Harry approach in their uniforms. It was a reaction Harry always appreciated, as most of the time he felt absurd dressed so officially "What you selling, my friend?" Nathaniel asked, eyeing the wicker baskets set out on the table.
"Why?" The man spat. "You buying?" He was bald and middle aged, wearing a shabby coat with rags wrapped around his hands. He narrowed his eyes at Harry, probably recognising him. It was undoubtedly Harry's pet hate to be recognised on the job. People either asked for his autograph as he wrestled them to the floor or spat hate-filled abuse at him for stopping The Dark Lord rid the world of its filth. This man, however, remained silent.
"Mind if we take a look?" Harry asked, gesturing to the wicker basket. The man screwed up his face thoughtfully before nodding, his hands on his hips. Harry lifted the lid from the basket and saw five Cornish Pixies, docile and slumbering at the bottom of the basket. "Who buys these?"The man grunted.
"People looking for a little energy boost. They boil 'em in a pan and eat 'em hot."
"Who the hell eats pixies?" Nathaniel snorted.
Harry shook his head, knowing there probably were magical folk out there who believed in these kinds of absurd remedies. "You don't have a license do you?" he sighed.
"What do you think?" the man retorted. Nathaniel took out his notebook and quill.
"Right." he began. "One seizure of five-"
"Thirteen." the man added, gesturing to two other baskets.
"-thirteen Cornish Pixies and a written warning." Nathaniel tore off the parchment and presented it to the man as Harry picked up two of the wicker baskets to take them to The Ministry. Nathaniel lifted the last one, striding after Harry as they headed back to their fireplace in the Apothecary next door.
"Good luck dealing with 'em when the ale wears off!" the man called bitterly. "They've eaten half of me hands!" Harry hoped the ale wouldn't wear off before he could get them to the Misuse of Magical Creatures Department. He'd much rather keep his hands thanks.
"Nuts!" Nathaniel hissed as soon as they had reappeared in the marble Fireplace at The Ministry. "Eating pixies! Aren't they poisonous?" Harry shrugged, quickening his pace when he heard a wicked giggle emanate from one of his baskets. They strode through the atrium, getting occasional awestruck stares from visitors, envious glances from office workers and flirtatious smiles from Witches. One in particular, with glasses and chocolate coloured hair swept into a bun who often wished Harry Good Morning, waggled her fingers and giggled. Once she'd left him a cupcake on his desk signed 'love Gloria'. It had worried Harry all morning and he'd ended up feeding it to Ron. "Get in there!" Nathaniel murmured as she sauntered past them, smiling at Harry.
"Morning Mr. Potter." she simpered. Nathaniel snorted and waggled his eyebrows.
"Mr. Potter, eh?"
"I don't like it." Harry frowned. "It reminds me of being in school."
"She could call me whatever she wanted." Nathaniel leered, walking backwards so he could watch her departing backside. Harry rolled his eyes as they dropped the pixies off at the Magical Creature Misuse Department. A rookie with acne peered into one of the baskets and slammed it shut again, calling for his supervisor in an unsteady voice. "I'm going to run up and try and finish my work," Nathaniel called, jogging towards the lift.
Harry waved him away and took the opportunity to take a cigarette break. He scrubbed at his hair and went and sat in the Slacker's Yard out back. The air was mild and the sky was blue as Harry blew smoke into it today. He could take Charlie and Teddy out later. Last time, Teddy had waded into mud after the dog and Harry had been spelling it out of his carpets for weeks afterwards. He hadn't minded, Teddy's resemblance to a swamp monster and his delight at the amount of Weasley's Whistling Bath Bubbles Harry had let him have in his bath had made it all worthwhile.
Dragging at his cigarette, Harry wished Ron was with him to retell the goings on in his own office. Only last year they'd held snail races on their desks and Ron had won a galleon. Harry tried to imagine what Nathaniel would say if he suggested such a thing. The only thing Nathaniel was willing to bet on was a passing Witches cup size, to which they had no way of discovering without ending up with a slapped face and a dismissal for sexual harassment. Quite often, Harry felt he would willingly trade his good job, windowed office and Nathaniel to be a part of the frivolity in Ron's neck of the woods. "There you are Harry," said a deep, slow voice.
"Kingsley!" Harry gasped, surprised to see him out here. He was The Minister of Magic now after all. Kingsley stared down at him in his purple robes, his expression somewhat amused. Harry threw his cigarette on the ground and laughed sheepishly.
"Waste of a good smoke." Kingsley smiled, nodding at the smouldering remains. "Though I can't encourage it Harry, Aurors need to be healthy."
Harry nodded. "I know. I'll quit - I promise." Kingsley nodded slowly, almost as though he really believed him.
"In the meantime, a fight has broken out in Paddington Station and the mention of magic has been detected. Could you and Nathaniel do something about it?" Harry nodded feverishly, coughing a smoker's cough in his haste. Kingsley smiled. "I've already spoken to Nathaniel. He's waiting in the main hall."
The fight - by the time Harry and Nathaniel arrived on the scene - had become more of a shouting match. Paddington Station's Muggle security had already turfed the scrappers outside onto the pavement and they were making quite a racket. A man a few years older than Harry with a beard and shoulder-length, sandy coloured hair twisted into dreadlocks was being shoved repeatedly by a furious foreign man with a juvenile, but handsome face and a thick, familiar accent. A girl with electric-pink hair and more piercings than Harry thought possible was trying to break up the row. "I would kill you right here! If I had my wand I would kill you!" the foreign man roared, trying to get a hold of the bearded man. Harry wagered that despite his babyish features, he was probably three or four years older than Harry.
"Ed!" the girl screeched. "That's not fair! Calm down!" Harry exchanged a glance with Nathaniel before they advanced towards the brawl. Nathaniel pushed the enraged foreign man against the wall with his forearm and told him, very firmly, to calm down. Harry approached the other man and the girl.
"What's happening here?" he asked them, eyeing them both cautiously.
"Our friend," the girl said breathlessly. "He gets like this. He'll be okay in a minute." Harry glanced at the man with dreadlocks who rolled his eyes and nodded. The girl took another deep breath. "Pleased to meet you Harry Potter." she smiled.
"You're definitely Wizards then?" Harry asked, knowing a Muggle wouldn't know him from the next spectacled twenty year-old.
"Ed is," she replied, nodding at the foreign man who was ranting wildly to Nathaniel. "So is my sister and his parents," she added, gesturing to the man with the dreadlocks.
"Squib." he said quietly, pointing at his own chest. The background din had suddenly fallen silent and they all looked over at Ed, the foreigner, who was blinking at Harry, his mouth shut. "You don't remember me Harry Potter?" he asked. Harry shook his head slowly. He didn't think he did. "My friend lost out to you in the Triwizard Tournament...The night The Dark Lord rose again."
He was from Durmstrung! Harry recognised him now. He was one of the many faces that had wandered the castle during his Fourth Year. He had been a bit of a joker, laughing raucously in the corridors and latching onto Malfoy - of all people. He had even spoken to Harry in The Yule Ball when he'd come over to tell a joke to Krum who had been talking to himself, Ron and Hermione at the time. "What did the big candle say to the little candle?" he had grinned after striding over to the group. Ron and Harry had ignored him, far too concerned with their sulking."I'm going out tonight!"
"I remember you." Harry said, noticing the thuggish scar on the side of his head.
"I'm Edvard Kovachev and don't you forget it." he said darkly, before his face lit up with a dazzling smile.
"Right...Edvard," Nathaniel began. "Do you think you could refrain from fighting in public?"
Edvard nodded earnestly. "Of course. My mistake. My apologies." He advanced on the man with dreadlocks and threw his arms around him. "All is forgiven Steven, yes?" Steve grunted in response and the girl breathed a sigh of relief.
"All sorted!" she cried, tucking strands of pink hair behind her pierced ears and reminding Harry of a more eccentric Hermione. Harry nodded, watching Edvard as he chatted away happily to the man called Steven, who stood frowning at the floor.
"You sure everything's fine?" Nathaniel murmured. The girl nodded furiously.
"Absolutely. Sorry to trouble you!"
"Okay. Behave yourselves." Nathaniel called as the trio hurried away, ushered by the girl with pink hair who scolded Edvard furiously.
~X~
Harry was strongly tempted to go for another cigarette break when they got back to The Ministry, but remembering his promise to Kingsley, he got into the lift with Nathaniel and headed back to their office. Nathaniel loosened his collar and sighed wearily. "Fancy a pint tonight?" he asked, resting his head against the wall of the lift as it flew backwards, then up again. "Nancy's taking me shopping. She thinks I need to start wearing hats." Harry held onto the handles suspended from the ceiling as he wasn't gifted with the obscure cat-like balance Nathaniel had when travelling in the Ministry lifts.
"Can't sorry. My Godson's coming over."
"Cute."
"Yeah."
Back at their office, Nathaniel reluctantly threw himself into completing a term's worth of incomplete reports while Harry procrastinated at his desk, drawing owls on his parchment and rolling himself cigarette after cigarette that he wasn't supposed to be smoking. He jammed them all in the box and rubbed his face in exasperation. He'd only gotten into the habit when Nathaniel had offered him one after they'd had several pints. He hadn't been able to separate the social activity from the habit however, and since then he'd have anything up to ten a day, which - for an Auror – wasn't well-advised.
It wasn't even lunchtime and Harry had nothing to do but stare out of the open doorway of his office, watching people passing in the corridor outside. There was Grimsby, a fierce thirty something Auror who brought Dark Wizards in with broken bones because according to him, they'd given him attitude. He passed the doorway with a stack of parchments, his face twisted aggressively. Harry thought he harboured most of his hostility in the greying handlebar moustache beneath his crooked nose. A few minutes later Wendy - who reminded Harry of a more extroverted Luna walked by, singing merrily to herself. Harry heard the lift ping and waited for the swarm of people that would surely pass his doorway on their way to Kingsley's office.
Jefford, one of Ron's desk buddies whose laugh sounded like a dying elephant, shuffled past; then a Witch with a strawberry-blond perm chatting to Yarns from the canteen who loved to discuss the weather and only ever the weather. A seven foot warlock followed them, narrowly avoiding treading on Layla, the office flirt who Nathaniel had lusted after for years. Then Malfoy, an arrogant brat with unnaturally blond hair -
Malfoy?
Harry lifted his head from his hand and sat rapt with attention at his desk. He can't have seen right - though hadn't he smelled the git yesterday? Before Harry could doubt his eyesight any further, Draco Malfoy walked backwards in front of the doorway, with a wicked grin on his face as he disappeared out of sight again. Harry rubbed his eyes with his hand and when he took it away, Malfoy had edged slowly around the doorway like a blond puppet, smirking at Harry with a raised eyebrow.
His shockingly pale hair fell jell-free into his eyes and he was dressed in what looked suspiciously like a denim shirt and very dark, skinny jeans. On his shoulders was a scruffy green, canvas rucksack with several material badges sewn onto it. He gestured for Harry to join him, out in the hallway. Harry stood up and crossed the room, standing face to face with a pseudo-Malfoy (he was sure) in the corridor. "What. The hell." said Harry, looking him up and down.
"I thought you might be taken aback." Malfoy muttered in response. Harry watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed nervously.
"You were here yesterday weren't you?" Harry hissed. Malfoy shook his head vigorously, raising his eyebrows with a clueless expression as though he didn't know what on earth Harry was talking about. "Yes you were." Harry persisted. "I walked into you when you were getting out of the lift." Harry dipped his head forward and sniffed the air Malfoy was standing in. Sure enough, it smelt like cedar spice in the fire and several other things that took Harry back to fights on the Quidditch pitch and too-close toxic disputes in school corridors. "I smelled you." he hissed.
"You've gone daft Potter. I don't know what you're talking about." Malfoy replied with a nervous huff of laughter.
"Shut up Malfoy! You've been lurking around The Ministry! What are you doing, eh? Trying to reinstate a bit of Malfoy power? No one's going to respect you looking like a teenager." Malfoy raised a fine eyebrow and looked disdainfully down his nose at Harry. Grinning in excitement, Harry ducked his head into his office. "Nathaniel? You know that arty type that came looking for me yesterday?" Nathaniel grunted in response, still scribbling away furiously. "Blond hair, Muggle clothes and a face like he's chewing a wasp, yeah?"
"Sounds about right." Nathaniel replied.
"...chewing a wasp?" Malfoy repeated, his cheeks flushing pink.
"I knew it." Harry smirked, turning back to face him. What the hell he was doing looking for Harry was the real mystery. Besides, he'd once heard the girls in the office say never to trust people who wear denim on denim – no matter how good it looks. "What do you want?" he demanded in a low voice he hoped sounded threatening.
Malfoy took a deep breath and he dug around in his pocket for a scrap of paper which he clenched in his fist. "Fine. I was here. Only because I have a favour -"
"Favour?"
"I mean...I'll pay you for your services."
"I don't want your money." Harry bit. "And what services?"
Malfoy blushed again. "I work in the media. For The Prophet." Harry snorted. Malfoy hurried on, flustered and uncomfortable. "I'm a photographer," He mimed taking a photo with his hands. "They want me to go back to Hogwarts on Monday." Harry waited, watching a bead of sweat make its way down Draco's neck. "They want pictures on how it's been rebuilt. Featuring Potter." he muttered. Harry laughed raucously as Malfoy's face twisted into a scowl. "You don't see me laughing at you in your silly uniform do you?" Malfoy snapped. "I want this job Potter. I've been working exceptionally hard for three years to get here."
"You spent the first year in Azkaban." Harry retorted.
"Like I said," Malfoy growled. "I've been working hard." Harry bit a hangnail on the corner of his thumb, trying to look bored. "So why do I come into this?"
Malfoy sighed, averting his eyes and tapping his foot - which resided in a Converse trainer much like the kind Harry had at home. "They want pictures of golden boy and the castle and happy faces."
"That's a good one, Malfoy." Harry chuckled, folding his arms. Malfoy's face contorted into a scowl.
"I wasn't joking dick head."
"Right." Harry snapped. "You're a rude bastard and absolutely off your head so-"
"Potter, I didn't mean that!"
Harry marched back into his office. "- I'll thank you to excuse me-"
"Potter!" Malfoy hissed and Harry gestured rudely to him as he sat back at his desk, crumpling the packet of cigarettes in his hand.
"Bugger off!" he hissed. Malfoy gritted his teeth in the doorway and edged into the room, watching Harry for a minute before gingerly placing the crumpled piece of parchment on Harry's desk. Harry ignored him, staring down at his cigarette packet and waiting for Malfoy to leave. When he did, sidling from the room in silence, Harry lifted his head and growled low in his throat.
"Must be crazy to be you, Potter." Nathaniel remarked.
"Don't call me Potter."
~X~
It wasn't until much later, not long before lunch and just as Harry had finished clearing his desk that he found the Prophet. It was resting under his briefcase, the picture of Godric's Hollow, sparkling in its article. Harry took it up and watched the grass move in the breeze for a while. I could stick it on my wall, he thought, setting about tearing the picture from the paper. Then it caught his eye. There, beneath the image was a tiny footnote: Photograph courtesy of D. Malfoy.
Well there was only one D. Malfoy working as a photographer for The Prophet that Harry knew of. Harry looked at the picture again, expecting it to transform into a rotting tomb filled with writhing snakes. It remained, however, quite as provocative as before. "That little shit." Harry seethed. Nathaniel politely ignored him.
Scrabbling for the parchment at the edge of his desk, Harry debated his options. He could go to Hogwarts on Monday and say he was doing it for the school not the boy with the camera. Harry considered just pocketing the picture and pretending Malfoy was still in Azkaban or something. Despite this, he was just far too intrigued in a Draco Malfoy that wore Muggle clothes and took professional photographs of his birthplace. Harry dialled the number Draco had left on the parchment before he could stop himself. "Malfoy?"
"I'm listening Potter."
"What are you doing for lunch?"
