Draco couldn't believe the things Blaise had access to. Employee files, bail requests, court transcripts, prison records – you name it, Blaise could find it with his security clearance. Draco didn't understand why the Ministry would give a former supporter of Lord Voldemort such power. Perhaps Blaise had passed the Veritaserum testing with flying colors. Perhaps he had cheated. But that wasn't what Draco needed to find out. He needed to stay low and thieve all the information he could to the Dark Army without getting caught.

He was glad Blaise was an anti-social. No girlfriends, fiancés or wives. No friends, really, other than the people he worked with. "Loner," Draco scoffed as he read the short list of people he needed to know. Blaise had been all high and mighty in school. Look where that got him… Dead.

Draco had once looked up to Blaise. The boy didn't waver in his condescending stance. He was always snubbing his nose at everything, authority figures, dangerous criminals, friends… Draco had admired Blaise's detachment once. Not anymore. He saw Blaise for what he was – a chameleon. The man didn't ever pick sides because he wanted to make sure that when the time came, he could choose the winning side. A coward and a petty mime, that's all Blaise was. Draco saw it so clearly now that he was no longer blinded by false idolism.

Society. He detested mingling with society. He never knew how to act, what to say and when to respond. He never knew. And yet, here he was; a wolf in sheep's clothing. He stepped out onto the marble floors of the Ministry as Blaise Zabini from the Records and Bookkeeping Sector.

Blaise was just walking into his office when he was stopped by a man calling out his name. "Oi, Blaise! Feeling better?" Randle asked. He was a stout middle-aged man with a thick mustache and a shaven head to accent it. He leaned against the doorjamb of the cramped common area, waiting for a response.

"Yeah," Blaise answered. "Thanks."

"No problem. There's a pile waiting for you at your desk. Try not to throw a fit," Randle laughed, his potbelly shaking.

"Charming," Blaise muttered under his breath, closing the door behind him. Sure enough, the pile was right where it was supposed to be, scattered all along the desk.

After a few hours of fumbling about, he had figured out some of the details of Blaise's job. Departments came to him searching for comparison of records. He had to compile them in a meaningful manner and hand it back to the departments. Easier said than done, he soon learned. The records were often so random and disorganized that he had a pounding headache at the mere thought of sorting through all the data and pulling out the appropriate ones.

To pull the records from the library and storage, Blaise needed to send his order in as a flying note to the librarian. They would charm the documents onto Blaise's desk and he would set about rewriting some of the information into new parchments and highlighting the important details. This was the desk job that every man and woman loathed. For good reason too, he felt. His hands were cramping and his eyes were crossing after five hours. Thank goodness he had a job to focus on. If not, he would go out of his mind looking at the numbers and names.

Being his first day and all, he started with something small – a list of all Azkaban prisoners at present. While it was a small feat for the librarian to send back, it was a huge accomplishment for the Dark Army. If they could get a full list of prisoner names, who was to say that they couldn't get a list of prisoner crimes, rates, and sentences? Blaise scanned the list as he felt a sense of pride at a job well done. So, if he managed to pilfer one record per day, the Dark Army would be swimming in previously unknown prison files and court transcripts.

Draco showed the list to his uncles. Both appeared impressed. "Was it difficult?" Rodolphus asked.

"About as difficult as writing a letter to the librarian to fetch it for me," Draco said with a bored flick of his hand.

The brother laughed. "Very well done, Draco. We're so pleased," Rabastan said, patting Draco's shoulder. "Do you think it will be difficult to get us the information?"

"Well, I don't think I should meet you everyday," Draco explained. "Just in case someone's watching. That is highly improbable, though. But I don't want to take any chances. So perhaps we can arrange a meeting once a week?"

"Once a week would work perfectly."

Blaise was shrugging on his coat and about to leave for the day when he heard a knock on the door. Before he could reach it, it opened. His heart plummeted nauseatingly when he recognized the man to be Harry Potter, Head Auror and named the most feared detective in recent history. If it had been the seventeen-year-old Harry Potter who was standing before him, he would have made light of the situation. But this man exuded authority. Finally comfortable in his own skin and his place in the work order, he wore his robe and badge well, as though he deserved them and so much more. In fact, he had put nearly half of the Dark Army in Azkaban all by himself.

And for the past four years, Harry Potter had been hunting Draco Malfoy with all his resources.

"Leaving early?"

Blaise. Right. He pulled himself up to his full height, shaking out of his morbid musings. He was going to live another day, apparently. "Potter," he said out of habit, realizing too late that he had no idea what Blaise's relationship with Harry was.

"Zabini," Harry said with a faint smile. "You never got me those results."

"I've been sick," Blaise said smoothly. There had been nothing in Blaise's pending paperwork that had anything to do with the Auror service. He hadn't even known that he would have to deal with Potter personally.

"Hmm," Harry tsked. "It's fine. I'll get Julie to do it. You can go," he dismissed, leaving Blaise to collect his wits in the cramped office.

It made Draco's blood boil to hear Potter talk to him that way. He clenched his fists, willing himself to calm down. Potter had always managed to do this to him, make him strike without thinking. No more. He wouldn't let Harry Potter pull him away from his mission.

After seeing Potter the week before, it seemed as though Blaise saw him everywhere now. Walking into the Ministry from the Floo Network, he walked by the Head Auror. Sidling past the lines of repeat offenders, he finds himself walking behind Harry. Waiting for the record keeper at the library, he saw Harry at the table with his head bent over books.

He was worried because he knew how closely Harry had been studying his mannerisms. All through school, they had been at each other's throats, trying to find the next new button to push to make the other snap. Harry knew all of Draco's habits and moves. Draco's line of thought was often so transparent that Harry could be ten steps in front of him when things boiled down to it. In some ways, Harry was just as transparent. It was the reason they hated each other's guts.

Draco wondered how long it would be before Harry realized that something was amiss. Behind frameless glasses sat sharp emerald eyes Draco loved to loath with all his might. Perhaps all it would take was one hard look for Draco's disguise to fall apart.

Draco liked challenges.

He also liked to get lost in his thoughts, apparently. He didn't even notice the rather surly and nervous looking man until he bumped into the solid wall of muscle. "Excuse me," he muttered, shifting the teetering piles of books to his other hand as he tried to move past the man.

"Ah've bin waitin' here f' two hours!" the man growled. "How much longer?"

"I'm not sure," Blaise said, glancing at the service desk. "I don't work in this depar-"

"Ah don't care!" the man said loudly. To be fair, he looked more like a miniature troll than a man. "Ah need ta see the official. Now."

"You need to wait y-"

"Don't you give me lip," he snapped. "Tell 'em I need to see the official or else I'mma walk. Ya hear me?"

Blaise huffed indignantly. This was going nowhere. "I'll let them know," he lied, once again trying to move past the man.

"You're a piss poor liar, boy," the man sneered, grabbing Blaise by the collar. The books came crashing to the ground as he staggered forward. All conversation around them dropped.

"Put me down," Blaise said in a controlled tone.

"Or what?" the man asked.

"Sir, I'm asking you to let go of me," Blaise ordered with a deadly glare.

The man whipped out a wand from his pocket, training it at Blaise and receiving plenty of gasps and yelps of terror around him. He smiled triumphantly, digging the wand into Blaise's chest.

"You're supposed to leave this at the front desk," Blaise snapped, snatching the wand out of the man's hand. "How much of an imbecile are you?"

"I'll take it from here, Mr. Zabini."

Blaise was released in an instant and he stumbled back, righting himself with failing arms. The loud man, who had looked utterly perplexed when his wand was gone, was now pale as a ghost when he was faced with Harry. Although the Head Auror was considerably slighter, his grim expression could quell any man. "Do we have a problem here?" Potter asked quietly.

"He took mah wand," the man said stupidly, pointing to Blaise.

Harry glanced back at Blaise, eyes shadowed by a blank screen. He held his hand out and Blaise handed the wand to him, furiously chiding himself in his mind. Harry held the wand and raised a brow at the offender. "And may I ask why you have your wand on you?" he questioned.

"Ah forgot," the man mumbled, a lame excuse, if there ever was one.

"We do not take kindly to assault on Ministry employees, understand?" Harry asked, his tone implying that if the man didn't understand, his life could be made difficult.

"Mhm, mhm," the man nodded quickly.

"Good," Harry said. "This will be waiting for you at the front desk," he added, indicating to the wand. "Now I will have to ask you to stand in line and wait your turn." Without waiting for an answer, he gestured at Blaise to follow him as he strode out of the Law Enforcement office. Blaise let out a frustrated snarl and flicked his wand at the fallen books to make a pile. He weaved through the crowd before he could lose Potter.

He found Harry standing at the end of the hall, by the elevators. Harry didn't turn around until Blaise was beside him. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?" the Auror asked quietly.

"Hmm," Blaise said, not caring what Harry thought.

"There were civilians present," Harry continued. "That man is highly unstable. You saw that, didn't you?"

"What did you expect me to do? Wait to be hexed?" Blaise asked, now meeting Harry's steely gaze.

"Yes," Harry said simply. "If that's what it takes to stop him, then yes."

Draco quelled the urge to strangle Harry. "Whatever," he muttered, done with the conversation.

"That was strike two, Zabini."

Blaise's stomach clenched. "What?" he asked.

"One more foul up and you're gone," Harry said with finality.

"By what right?" Blaise exclaimed. "You can't fire me!" He had read up on the hierarchy and chain of commands. Auror sector had no business being involved with Record keeping except to extract information.

"I can fire you just as easily as I can hire a new staff member. I'm sure I have no fewer than ten applicants sitting on my desk. You're on thin ice," Harry threatened.

This was a side of Potter Draco had never seen before. This Potter was cold and professional. Draco held his tongue. Ten weeks. Just keep a low profile for ten more weeks. Stay out of Potter's way and keep infiltrating deeper and deeper into the files until what the Ministry has, the Dark Army has as well. Evade all high traffic areas of the Ministry. Arrive early, leave late. Don't speak, don't ask, don't look. Just finish the job.

"Are you hurt?"

Draco jerked out of his thoughts, brows arching up as he looked at Harry. "What?" he asked, perplexed.

"Did he hurt you?" Harry asked.

This was the Potter Draco knew and hated – always worried and selfless. It was all an act. Draco could never figure out why Potter kept the façade up. "No," he said curtly.

"Well… that was really stupid," Harry said as the elevator pinged, going up. "Really stupid and impressive." He glanced back at Blaise with a smile, the doors sliding shut and shooting away a second later. Blaise's lips curled up in disgust.