A couple of days later, Harry was inclined to recross the road when he saw Skater Yoof ahead, rather than risk further mocking. He was just after the papers, not an interaction with local personalities. But the boy spotted Harry with obvious relief and came running up to him. 'You've gotta help them,' he gasped out, pointing down the nearby narrow lane.

Sounds of a fight came from within. Harry eyed Skater Lad dubiously, but decided that the level of acting required to look that genuinely distressed was beyond him. Shoving his hand into his coat's wand pocket, he ran into the fray.

There were five assailants. Young men, older than Skater Yoof and much burlier. Off to one side, with a nose streaming blood, was a young kid who often hung around with Skater Yoof outside the library. On the ground was one of the older men who lived rough locally, and standing in front of him, with a piece of paling held like a club, was Draco Malfoy.

They were all so focussed on each other that Harry was able to Stun the two rear-most attackers before anyone even heard him. Malfoy moved then, swinging his bit of fence into the nearest body with vigour. The man staggered to one side, and only avoided falling by clutching at the far wall.

No one else was armed, Harry was pleased to see, only kicker boots and menacing attitudes. He tensed for another pass, but Skater Yoof was suddenly there beside him, yelling angrily at the men. The two remaining thugs realised they were outnumbered now and took to their heels, grabbing the one Malfoy had clobbered as they went and dragging him away.

Skater Yoof jumped over the bodies that remained to get to the younger boy. 'Are you OK, Phil?' he asked, all solicitude.

'He hit me in the nose!' the younger boy declared.

'Yeah, I can see. Here you go,' Skater Yoof handed over a pack of tissues from his pocket. 'Put your head forward and pinch the top, that'll stop it. Mum's gonna freak when she sees you.'

'Not your fault,' the younger boy replied, his voice muffled by a hand full of Kleenex.

Harry took a breath, and turned to Malfoy.

Who was ignoring him, and helping the old man to sit up.

Now that Harry looked closely, he could see bruises starting to colour on the old man's face and bare forearms. One of his eyes was swelling shut, and there was a streak of blood welling across his forehead. Malfoy was pulling a series of bottles from his bag and encouraging the man to drink from one of them, while tipping the contents of another onto a handkerchief before dabbing at the cut and bruises he could see.

'You're a good boy, Draco,' the old man said.

'They were well out of order,' Malfoy replied, grimly. 'Derrick, are you and Phil all right?'

'Fine,' Skater Yoof – Derrick, presumably – replied. 'Phil got a whack to the nose, but it doesn't look broken.'

'Sfine', Phil agreed.

'Good news. Thanks for helping me out there.'

'Not a prob, I could only find that boy from the Centre, but he was OK. He knocked those two down faster than I could even see.'

Malfoy looked up at that, taking in Harry with slight amusement. 'Yes, he was indeed OK.'

Harry stood there, breathing heavily, with no-one left to fight and without anyone to tend. He was disinclined to offer assistance to the two unconscious thugs that still lay before him. Though he supposed he would have to do something with them.

'Should I get the police?' he asked, addressing the question generally.

'No filth!' the old man said definitely.

Derrick and Phil grunted their agreement, and Malfoy shrugged. 'Do you want to spend the rest of the day having your testimony taken in detail?'

Harry looked at the old man, who was shaking his head so vigorously it looked as though he might do himself a further damage. 'No. All right, then, I won't get the police. But what are we going to do with these two?'

Phil stood up carefully and came over to look down at the two bodies. He knelt and took out their wallets, removed the cash from each, and then popped the wallets back in the pockets they had come from. He divided the money carefully into two, and gave half to the old man before pocketing the remainder. 'Compensation,' he said to Harry's startled look.

Malfoy returned his bottles to his bag and left the old man holding the hanky to his brow in proper blood-staunching fashion. Without looking at Harry, he checked both of the prone figures carefully. 'They'll be fine in twenty minutes or so,' he announced. He picked up the heels of the closest one and looked at Harry expectantly.

It took Harry a moment to twig, but then he lifted the man up by his shoulders and helped Malfoy carry him further down the lane. They dropped him behind a mini-skip, where he would be hidden from view for anyone looking in from the street, then repeated the action for his colleague.

Derrick was waiting for Harry when he returned. He stuck a hand out. 'Thanks,' he said.

Harry took the hand and gave it a quick shake. 'All good,' he replied.

Derrick nodded and turned back to his brother. 'Come on, better get you home. If we're lucky, Mum will still be at bingo.' He turned to Malfoy. 'Cheers, D-Man.'

'Catch you,' Malfoy replied.

He waited until the two boys had left before turning to Harry. 'So. I'm not doing as well at avoiding you as I had planned …'

Harry smiled involuntarily. 'It's like being back at school. Wherever something is going badly wrong, there we are.'

'There we are,' Malfoy echoed. They looked at each other bleakly for a moment, before the old man started to cough and complain.

Malfoy walked back over and squatted beside him. 'Mr McAuley, this is Harry Potter. He has a Centre nearby where there are some very good doctors, I'm told. I think it would be a good idea if we took you there. You could spend the night if you liked, or maybe even stay longer.'

'No religious and no do-gooders!' the old man grunted.

Harry could see Malfoy holding in a grin. 'Potter is not religious and although he is nauseatingly righteous, I don't think you could fairly describe him as a do-gooder, either. Cashed-up layabout with a guilty conscience would be more accurate.'

Harry could tell that Malfoy was enjoying himself, but it seemed to work. Mr McAuley nodded, and let Malfoy help him to his feet.

'The van's at the Centre today, would you like me to call for it?' Harry offered. 'Save you the walk.'

Mr McAuley looked as though he was about to refuse, then nodded. 'Can you bring my trolley?' he asked, pointing at his wheeled contraption with boxes and bedding strapped to it.

'Of course.'

'Good. I'm going to sit here and wait, then.' He lowered himself down to a handy milk crate, took down the topmost bag from his trolley and began to rummage inside it.

Harry pulled his phone from his pocket and punched in the centre's number. It picked up on the second ring, and he gave directions to their location. 'They'll be five to ten minutes,' he said as he hung up.

'You've gone native,' Malfoy said, pointing to the small device.

'Have to, it's the only way you can keep in touch with most of the people I work with. And you can't talk. How do you even know these people?'

'Draco's my herbalist,' Mr McAuley said, proudly. 'And he's very good.'

'Herbalist?'

Malfoy shrugged. 'Some valerian to help people sleep, St John's Wort and chamomile for anxiety, basic things for basic needs.'

'Herbalist?'

'We have to make a living somehow, Potter. It was this or allow my mother to tell fortunes in the market, and you can imagine how that would have ended.'

Harry had a sudden clear vision of Narcissa Malfoy at a silk-covered table in Covent Garden telling willing punters they were doomed to a mundane existence in which they would miss out on every opportunity through their own obtuseness.

'Good choice,' he was forced to admit. 'But how do you know Skater Yoof?'

'Who?'

Harry searched for the name … 'Derrick.'

Malfoy looked at him with an eyebrow raised. 'Skater Yoof. Really? How long have you been a valuable part of the local community, Potter?'

'The only time I have anything to do with him is when I am retrieving bags he's nicked.'

'Derrick and his brother Phil live in a small flat with their three younger siblings and single parent mother, who was laid off from work four months ago and has been getting by on benefits and what she can win at bingo, usually the meat tray. His petty larceny is the only way for an unskilled youth to contribute to the family.'

'Or he could get a job,' Harry said, disturbingly aware that he sounded a bit like Uncle Vernon.

'He's still at school,' Draco said.

'He's always down here with his board.'

'He's theoretically still at school.'

Harry shook his head. 'I cannot believe you know these people.'

'Phil likes to come and have a chat with Mr McAuley. They both like dogs. Mr McAuley lets Phil take his for a walk sometimes.'

Harry looked around. 'What dog?'

Mr McAuley opened up the top of his bag so that Harry could see the dog within. It was the smallest chihuahua he had ever seen, wearing a little vest of red and blue and shaking nervously.

'This is Blossom. Those lads nearly scared her to death,' Mr McAuley said gently, but defiantly.

Harry nodded his head. Here at least was something he understood. 'We have a pet-friendly policy at the Centre,' he said. 'She can stay with us, and I can call a vet in to look her over if you'd like. It won't cost anything.'

Mr McAuley couldn't hide his surprise. 'You'll still let me come? With my little dog?'

'Yeah, of course. You can't ask people to choose between their dog and a bed. That's inhuman.'

Mr McAuley pressed his lips together and nodded shortly. Clearly he had been asked to make that choice on any number of occasions.

Harry turned back to Malfoy, pretending he did not see the emotion on the old man's face. 'You did a good job here,' he admitted.

'No need to sound so surprised.'

'I'm pretty sure that you helping Muggles is surprising, Malfoy.'

'I'm just rendering assistance to a client. It's a professional courtesy.'

The van arrived then, before Harry could press the matter. Rob, the Centre's junior doctor, had come with the driver and was quickly out and tending to Mr McAuley.

'Did you give him anything?' he asked them both, seeing that McAuley's wounds had been cleaned up.

Malfoy sat with him for a moment, giving details. Rob nodded his approval, and patted him on the shoulder before returning to his patient.

Dismissed, Malfoy stood up and looked around. He stood close to Harry and whispered, 'You should probably get everyone out of here fairly soon, before the two you Stunned wake up.'

'Good idea,' Harry agreed. Then, because he thought he ought to, he added, 'You really did do well. That was brave, fighting off those thugs by yourself.'

Malfoy frowned at him, but when Harry kept his face perfectly straight, he nodded, accepting the compliment. 'It seemed appropriate,' he said, with a tone less formal than his words. 'You're all sorted here, I'd better go before I'm missed. I'll leave you with Potter, Mr McAuley, you can trust him.'

'Cheers, Draco, you're a good boy.'

Malfoy smiled, though he dropped the expression as he turned back to Harry. 'I'll try and come by your Centre tomorrow, to check that he's all right.'

'OK. We're open to visitors after ten. I'll make sure he's well taken care of.'

'Thank you.' Malfoy turned to leave, then paused for a moment. 'That was good of you. About the pets. Decent.'

Harry was so startled, by the time he found words to speak, Malfoy had gone.

––––––––––––––––

It took longer to settle Mr McAuley in than Harry had anticipated, mostly because Jan spotted him carrying the trolley through the front door and snaffled him for the purposes of form signing. By the time he managed to escape, he had had to Apparate home, and even then he had only just enough time to wash and change before Ron and Hermione arrived.

Kreacher had organised dinner, cooking all of Hermione's favourites. Though he still referred to her as Master's Muggleborn Friend, Harry was beginning to suspect it had taken on the tone of an affectionate nickname.

She and Ron had bought a bottle of wine, it was handed over with hugs all round.

'I thought you were getting a haircut,' Hermione teased Harry.

He brushed the offending tangle back from his face. 'I keep meaning to, but things happen and I run out of time.'

'No, it looks good, mate,' Ron said supportively. 'Few more months and it'll be just like Romilda Vane.'

Harry poked out his tongue.

He turned pointedly to Hermione. 'Thanks for coming. I know you have a lot of revising to do for exams.'

Hermione exchanged a quick embarrassed look with Ron. 'Yes,' she said. 'Though I've been trying not to be too obsessive. It turns out I'm pretty well across everything, so there's time for a bit of a life.'

'That's great!' Harry grinned as he led them into the dining room. 'What about you, Ron? Still enjoying work?'

'Yeah. Yeah, work's great. Probably going to stick with it for a bit longer, wait till George is on his feet properly, then I'll go and work in the Ministry with Hermione.'

'Sounds great. Something to drink?'

'May as well wait for dinner,' Hermione said. 'Hello, Kreacher! That smells delicious!'

Harry turned in time to see Kreacher make a stiff nod in Hermione's direction. 'Is Master ready to dine?' Kreacher asked him,

Ron and Hermione both nodded, so Harry agreed that he was and led them through. He was happy to see them, but aware that they would have The Conversation soon, and wishing that just once they could avoid it.

Ron opened the wine poured three glasses – none of them had ever let a wine breathe when there was the option to drink it. Then he shot Harry an appraising glance. 'Still Muggling?' he asked.

'Still Muggling,' Harry agreed.

The tension left the room at that. Harry did not suppose that he would ever be able to make the two of them fully understand his reasons, but they accepted his actions. And he hadn't been alone in bunking off …

'Ginny and Dean send their love,' Hermione said. 'They're up in Donegal. They say they saw Neville and Luna last week.'

Harry laughed. 'Has she played Quidditch in every stadium in Ireland yet?'

'Two left when she wrote,' said Ron. 'Then they're off to Portugal to start there.'

'It is a fine and worthy mission,' Harry agreed.

'Mum keeps yelling at her to finish school, but I've been telling Mum what you told me about Gap Years, so she's coping.'

Harry had failed to convey the fact that Gap Years usually happened after school, but given the last few years, he didn't think it worth pressing the point.

'Mum says that she wants to come by more often, says it's ridiculous that she and dad see you less often than they do Charlie, and he's in Romania. Can you find a day or two soon?'

'Yeah, of course,' Harry promised.

'What about you?' Hermione asked. 'What's been happening at the Centre?'

Kreacher appeared at that moment with a tureen of soup, so Harry's carefully edited stories of the last few days were conducted around serving and slurping.

'How many people are you housing now?' Hermione asked.

Harry did a quick mental count. 'Over fifty, but I'm not exactly sure. We do more work with the training and food programmes, really. But it feels good to make a difference. Jan wants to roll out an anti-school-bullying project in September, I have to say, I'm quite keen on that one.'

Ron grinned, and Hermione reached across the table to squeeze Harry's hand. Harry had told them stories of his accidental childhood magic use escaping Dudley and his goons before he came to Hogwarts. For Ron they were stories of normal childhood adventure, having grown up with five older brothers, two of whom used him as a guinea pig. For Hermione, they were outrages. Harry found his own opinion somewhere between the two, but knew that he would have been far more in line with Hermione's thinking had there been no magic involved.

'That's good,' Ron said. 'You're really getting stuff done.'

'Yeah,' Harry agreed, glad they had stopped suggesting that his work might be able to take care of itself now. Unlike last year, there had been no mention of the memorials coming up in May, though he supposed there was still some time to go.

'Do you two need to go home tonight?' Harry asked over the roast lamb that followed the soup. 'I thought we might go shopping tomorrow, or just hang about in town.'

'Oh, we'd planned to stay,' Hermione said brightly. 'I need new shoes.'

'Great! I had Kreacher make up a couple of rooms, just in case.'

'We don't need …' Ron started to say, but was interrupted by Hermione, who spoke more loudly and quickly than was usual for her.

'Excellent. This really is marvellous lamb, Harry. Kreacher's outdone himself. Oh, did you hear about Seamus Finnigan?'

––––––––––––––––

They stayed up far too late, and so it was past ten before Harry came stumbling downstairs. Kreacher had laid the table ready for breakfast, but wisely left off even boiling the kettle before he saw signs of life from upstairs.

'Master's friends enjoyed themselves last night,' he observed.

'We all did, Kreacher. Thanks for such an excellent meal.'

The house-elf waved his hand modestly. 'It was nothing special. Kreacher enjoys cooking proper meals rather than beans on toast.'

'Sorry. It just seems silly making a fuss for one person. Should I go and wake the others up?'

'Kreacher will see to that, Master.' He handed Harry a cup of tea. 'Drink this, Kreacher will return with Master's friends and everyone will eat together.'

Good to his word, Kreacher returned with Ron and Hermione a few minutes later. Hermione was energetic and cheerful, Ron smiley and sleepy. Breakfast saw their conversations pick up right where they had left off the night before, and in the hour it took them to get ready to leave the house, Harry felt as though nothing had changed.

Until Ron stopped at the door and asked, 'So, how are we getting there?'

Harry paused. He hadn't stopped Apparating – far from it, given how late he often found himself running, but at the same time, he usually tried to at least start the day without magic …

'Don't be silly, Ron, we're taking the Tube,' Hermione said. 'I've got change for our Travelcards. Harry, can we get off at Leicester Square? There's a bookshop …'

She swept them out the door, and they found themselves travelling in her wake for the next few hours. There were in fact several bookshops, and just as many shoe shops. Ron found himself the happy owner of a completely unadorned jumper, and even Harry bought a new jacket, his friends having agreed that his old one was less 'cool student' and more 'found on street'.

Hermione restricted herself to one bag of books and two pairs of shoes, and Ron was laughingly trying to convince her that she did require a pair of long black boots when Harry's phone rang.

It was Celeste, and Mr McAuley was demanding that Harry come and see him right now. Harry asked to speak with him on the phone, but McAuley would have none of it. He looked up, from their faces, it was clear that Ron and Hermione were following the conversation. They both nodded approval, and Harry told Celeste he would be there within the quarter hour.

He was about to apologise as he hung up, but Hermione started laughing instead.

'All right, we're definitely Apparating this time,' she said.

Harry was grateful. 'Still time for you to try on those boots. Or I could leave you here with Ron, I think they're more for him, anyway.'

'He'd never fit into them,' she teased.

'A boy can dream,' Ron sighed, a sentence behind. His brain caught up just as they began laughing. 'Oh, very funny. It's fine, I'm perfectly happy with my dreams. Anyway, should we get moving? Or do we have time for a last hot chocolate?'

They compromised, and bought takeaways.

Celeste had met Ron and Hermione before, so quick hellos served in place of introductions. Harry left the three of them in the cafe and took himself off to Mr McAuley's room.

To suit Blossom, the room faced onto the garden. This part of the Centre had been student accommodation before Harry had bought it, and they had kept the tiny kitchenettes in most of the rooms. Mr McAuley was sitting in his, peering out the window as Harry came up to the door. He opened it before Harry could even knock.

'Come in, come in!' he said. 'There's a seat left.'

Harry came in. Bill Knight was already there, having a cup of tea.

'Hello, Harry,' Bill greeted him. 'Cuppa?'

Harry lifted his paper cup of chocolate in reply, but took a seat at the table. 'Good to see you looking better, Mr McAuley,' he said. Malfoy had done a good job, the bruises were already fading, and the cut was healing far faster than would be expected on someone of Mr McAuley's vintage. 'I'm glad Mr Knight's been able to help you out.'

'Bill and I go way back,' Mr McAuley said. 'Our boys were at school together.'

'That's right,' Mr Knight agreed. 'Known you over thirty years, haven't I, Frank?'

'Close to forty, I'd say.'

Harry nodded politely, and became aware that Blossom was chewing absently on his shoe laces.

'She must like you,' Mr McAuley said, noticing at the same time. 'Pick her up and give her a pat, if you like. She won't bite.'

Harry was more concerned that he might accidentally hurt the tiny animal, but Blossom responded to being lifted up by squirming onto her back and presenting her belly for rubbing, which duty Harry duly met, and was rewarded with an enthusiastic licking of his chin.

'You wanted to see me,' he reminded Mr McAuley, trying hard to retain some semblance of dignity.

'Yes, I need you to find your friend for me.'

Harry looked up in surprise. 'Which friend?'

'Draco. He said he was coming to see me today, but he's not here yet, and I'm out of my sleeping medicine. He was going to give me more yesterday, but then everything else happened. Used the last of it up last night.'

'Draco Malfoy?' Harry replayed as much as he could recall of yesterday in his head. He supposed it would make sense to believe they were friends, if one had had a knock to the head early on in the proceedings.

'How many Dracos do you know, boy? He makes me a herbal thing, says it's all natural. It tastes a damn sight better than anything the doctors have ever given me, and it does the trick, too. And I don't feel groggy afterwards, or if I have to wake up in the night. I need my wits about me, you see.'

'Can't you just get in touch with him the way you normally do?'

Mr McAuley shook his head. 'He comes to find me. I've never had a number for him. No phone, either.'

'Right.' Harry concentrated on Blossom for a moment while he thought. He wanted to give Malfoy the benefit of the doubt, but … 'OK, I'll go and find where Draco is, but do you have the bottle left from your last batch?'

'Course I do, he recycles.'

'Could I have a look?'

Mr McAuley excused himself for a moment and went into the bedroom. His mutterings as he looked for the bottle among his possessions were easily heard – the wall was more of a partition than any serious attempt at soundproofing – as was his satisfied exclamation when he found it.

'Good quality glass, that,' he declared, handing it over to Harry and taking Blossom in return.

'Nice looking bottle,' Mr Knight agreed.

Harry uncorked it and took a tentative sniff. The odour was similar to Dreamless Sleep, though the blue glass bottle gave no clue as to the colour of the potion it had contained. But there was a definite edge of magic to the fragrance, something soothing and comforting beyond the simple powers of scent. Herbalist my arse, Harry thought, though he couldn't say whether he was angry or just disappointed.

'How long have you been taking this?' he asked.

'A bit over a month,' Mr McAuley replied. 'First time I've been able to sleep properly in years. You go and find him and tell him I need more, today if he can, I'm not looking forward to tonight.'

'I can give you a pill if you need it,' Bill Knight offered. 'They're over-the-counter, so you needn't give me a look like that, Harry.'

'What?' Harry was startled. 'Oh, no, sorry, Mr Knight, I was just thinking.'

'So you'll go and get him?' Mr McAuley asked.

'Yeah, absolutely.'

Mr McAuley smiled broadly. 'Good lad! Off you go then, sorry to bring you in on your day off.'

'That's all right. We'll get you Malfoy's phone number and you can call him yourself in future.'

Bill Knight followed Harry as he walked back inside to the cafe. 'Will you be able to find this Draco person?'

'I think so,' Harry answered.

'That's good. Frank wasn't always like this, you know. He had his own business. But his wife was killed a few years ago, he was there … he sort of fell apart after that.'

Harry nodded sympathetically. He couldn't judge, he'd been tempted to fall apart himself after the war, and probably would have if he hadn't found something big enough to occupy most of his thoughts.

Bill patted Harry on the arm. 'So you go and find your young friend and his magic medicine. It's probably all drugs he makes in his shed, but I don't really care, do you?'

'I'm sure it's all harmless,' Harry said, startled at Mr Knight's unwitting accuracy. 'I'm going to have to see my friends off, we were out shopping when Celeste rang …'

'Off you go, son. I'll see you when you get back.'

Harry walked on ahead. Celeste was explaining to Hermione how the cafe could operate at a profit with the centre cafeteria only a short walk down a hallway.

'If you'd tried the free coffee … Oh, Harry! Everything all right?'

Harry sat down at the table and stole a bite of Ron's pastry.

'Yeah, he's fine. But I've somehow promised to head off on a little job for him. Sorry.'

'Give us a minute to finish up and we'll help,' Ron offered.

Harry would have loved to say yes, but he had promised Malfoy. 'Best done alone, I'm afraid.'

'Told you,' Ron said, winking at Hermione.

'Be fair, it's only ever happened once before,' Harry replied. Seeing their amused looks, he hastily added, 'In this job. And I seem to remember dragging the both of you along most of the time on the last one,' he finished with grim levity.

'It's fine, Harry,' Hermione reassured him. 'We packed everything this morning. You go off and we'll pop back into town before we head off to the Burrow.'

'Of course you did, you and your bags.' Harry grinned at her. 'But still, I feel as though I've hardly seen you both, and it's been weeks.'

Hermione exchanged a quick look with Ron. 'Actually,' she said. 'We were going to ask a favour. I'm going to take a study break over the weekend and Monday and Tuesday. Ron's taking a couple of days off work. We were hoping we could stay at yours?'

'You don't even need to ask.'

'Great. Well, you head off on your secret mission, we'll finish up here with Celeste.'

'I've been saying lovely things about you,' Celeste chipped in.

'Terrible lies,' Ron confirmed.

Harry laughed, said his goodbyes and headed off. He knew they all worried about him, even Celeste, but none of them were wearing the forced smiles he had grown used to in his first months away from the Wizarding world. If there was some sort of test, he was passing these days.

Now all he had to do was find Malfoy and ask him what the hell he thought he was up to. At least there, he knew one likely lead.

Skater Yoo… Derrick. Derrick was outside the library, keeping a very close eye on his brother. For once, he wasn't presenting any sort of public menace, rather, regaling his friends with the tale of how he and Phil had run off a horde of menacing thugs out hassling a poor old man. Parts of the story Harry heard were even true.

Derrick paused briefly as he saw Harry walking towards him, but Harry's smile encouraged him. 'It was massive,' he said in finishing. 'Ask Social Worker Boy, he saw it all.'

'Huge,' Harry agreed. 'That old bloke would have been in serious trouble if you two hadn't come along.'

'Told you,' Derrick said. Behind his back, Phil grinned and winked at Harry.

'Can I have a quick word?' Harry asked.

'I'm not interested in a bravery award,' Derrick replied, receiving the requisite laugh from his mates.

'Just trying to track down a mutual friend.'

'Yeah, all right.'

They wandered a little away from the others. 'So, Draco Malfoy, do you know where he lives?'

'Why do you want to know?'

'Mr McAuley's after him. Needs his medicine.'

Derrick's suspicious expression evaporated. 'Right, yeah. OK then. I don't know where he lives, but I've seen him up around The Queen on Bellefields Rd. I reckon you could try there.'

'Cheers, mate.' Harry shook his hand and turned to leave.

'Hey …' Derrick stopped him.

'Yeah?'

'What's your name?'

'Harry. Harry Potter.'

'Right.' Derrick put his hand out. 'I'm Derrick Adebayo. Good to meet you properly. And, you know, thanks again.'

'We're cool. Good to meet you properly, too.'

Harry set off up Brixton Road. As he walked, he kept an eye out for white-blond hair, but there were only a few flag-bedecked Swedish backpackers.

It wasn't a long walk to the pub, nor was it the sort of pub he associated Malfoy with, rather, one that made the Hog's Head look like the poshest of gastropubs. Harry made a mental note to mention it to some of the people at the Centre who were always complaining about encroaching gentrification.

There was no sign of Malfoy outside, so Harry headed in. Once inside, his nostrils were assaulted by the smell of old smoke leavened with stale beer and a faint edge of piss. His first inclination was to turn and head back out, but he forced himself to walk over to the bar, looking around as he did so.

At three on a Saturday afternoon, there were a surprising number of people there drinking. Harry recognised a few of them from the regular soup kitchens they ran at the Centre, a couple even nodded hellos to him, which he returned before moving his gaze on. And there in the corner stood Draco Malfoy, leaning down and talking urgently to someone at the table … Harry took a step to the left to see, and then hurriedly stepped back.

It was Lucius Malfoy, head in his arms, a collection of empty glasses beside him.

Harry shrugged a quick apology to the barmaid and turned to leave. He could brew up a passable Dreamless Sleep himself if it came to that, and Mr McAuley was safe enough at the Centre. He could tear a strip off Malfoy the next time they crossed paths, he need never know …

Harry glanced back over his shoulder and saw that Malfoy already knew. It was just as well that looks couldn't kill, and that Malfoy didn't seem inclined to use the words and wands that could at this very moment. Harry pointed to the door, and Malfoy nodded curtly.

Once outside, Harry drew a deep breath. He leaned against the wall and waited. All of the crossness that had sent him out in pursuit had evaporated. It wasn't as though Malfoy had hurt Mr McAuley in any way, he'd helped him, really. And then he'd helped him again yesterday.

Harry would probably have done the same if he saw someone suffering and thought he could ease it. In fact, he realised as he thought of Transfigured flowers, levitated push chairs and innumerable small acts of assistance, he had done the same, over and over.

'What the hell do you think you're doing?' Malfoy demanded, storming out of the pub.

'I was looking for you.'

Malfoy frowned. 'I told you to stay away from my family, Potter. Seeing you is the last thing he needs.'

'I'm sorry. I had no idea … but I'm sure he didn't see me, I left as soon as I …' Harry ran out of words.

'As soon as you what?'

'As soon as I saw him,' he finished.

'Disgusting, isn't it?' Malfoy asked, lifting his chin proudly.

Harry shook his head. 'It's not disgusting … it's … it's pitiable.'

'I'm sure my Father will be ever so grateful for your pity, Mr Potter. I'll pass it onto him at the first available opportunity. Are we done?'

And Harry's anger came back. 'Get over yourself, Malfoy. I'd feel sorry for anyone in that state, because I know that's where you end up after everything else has fallen apart. And what you seem to be forgetting is that I know exactly what fell apart for your father, and exactly how badly it fell.'

Malfoy's hand went to his hip – his wand, Harry guessed – then stopped. With an effort, he composed himself. 'You'd know better than most,' he said, tight-lipped.

'Yes. I bloody well would,' Harry said, only just able to stop himself from shouting. 'And you can stop pretending he's a victim, he made every single choice that brought him here.'

Malfoy winced. Harry realised he had been cruel.

'You didn't,' he said, in fairness.

Malfoy snorted. 'Of course I did. I just didn't know what those choices meant.' He drew a breath. 'You came looking for me. Why?'

Harry took the proffered neutral ground. 'Mr McAuley. He's run out of the potion you made for him.'

'Ah.'

'Yes. Ah.'

Malfoy looked at him expectantly for a full minute. 'I'm waiting for the lecture on the Statutes of Secrecy and how you will be forced to call the Aurors.'

Harry rolled his eyes. 'Shut up, Malfoy. Are you going to help him?'

Malfoy gave Harry a long look before nodding. 'I'll be there in half an hour or so.'

'Good. Thank you.' Harry hesitated. 'Do you need any help …'

'… With my father? I have money, there are taxis. No, thank you.'

'Right, well …'

'I'll see you at the Centre. In half an hour.'

Aware he had been dismissed, Harry turned and walked away. As he made his way back to the Centre, a series of witty and incisive comebacks occurred to him. It was probably just as well none of them had appeared when needed. He and Malfoy seemed only to ever be a few seconds away from nose-breaking or Unforgiveables.

He met up with Celeste on Kellett Road.

She waved at the sight of him. 'I'm off for a cuppa with Melly. Rob's on for the rest of the weekend and Monday, see you Tuesday.'

'Have a good one,' he replied. 'Did Ron and Hermione get away?'

'Not long after you left. I like those two, they're good value. Tell them to come round more often, tell them to bring Justin, too, I haven't seen him in ages.'

'I'll see if I can get everyone in for dinner next weekend,' Harry offered.

'That'd be grand. Not Friday night, though, Mum's got a fundraiser on and I promised I'd be there.'

'Saturday, or Sunday lunch.'

'Lovely. Catch you, Harry.'

'Catch you.'

In a better mood, he finished the trip and stopped by Mr McAuley's room to let him know Malfoy would be here soon.

'You're a good boy,' Mr McAuley told him. 'Now bugger off, Blossom and I are watching the game.'

Jan had left a pile of papers in Harry's office for his signature, and several letters she had drafted in his name, including one to a local school that had expressed interest in the anti-bullying programme. Harry signed away, then scrawled a few notes in the margins, and then paused, remembering.

He took his phone out and pulled up a number, then pressed call. 'Dudley? Yeah, Harry. Just ringing to say good luck with your game tomorrow. Yeah? So the other team are all Engineering students, too? No, sorry, won't be able to make it, but I'll try for the final, yeah? Course you'll be in it. OK, got to go. Yeah, take care of yourself. See you.'

Harry put the phone down. Neither he nor Dudley had made their way up to being comfortable around the other yet, but they exchanged phone calls once a week or so, and saw each other every couple of months. It was an unlooked for sort-of friendship, but Dudley's genuine relief and pleasure that Harry had survived the war would have made it churlish not to try.

He looked at his watch. Nearly time. He stood up, and determined that he would try again, though he liked his odds far less where Malfoy was concerned.

Fifteen minutes later, he was walking up and down outside the Centre to keep warm and wondering whether he should have just hexed Malfoy and called for the Aurors. He turned at the sound of running feet, it was Malfoy, hair flying and satchel bouncing with each step.

'You're late,' Harry said.

'My father is six foot two, he's harder to move than you might think.'

'Did you bring it?'

Malfoy put his hand on the satchel he was carrying. 'Of course I did.'

'All right. He's through here.'

Harry led the way, not pausing to let Malfoy stare, though he was clearly interested in what he saw.

'Nice garden,' Malfoy said, as the door slid open in front of them.

'It was here when we bought the place. We did it up a little when the renovations were put in, but it didn't need much.'

'And you own the place behind?'

'Yep. Mostly young people in that building, and our substance abuse clinic. Oldies and families in the Front Building, plus the community hall and soup kitchen.'

'So this is Harry Potter's dream project?'

Harry hesitated. 'I funded it. It's more Celeste's dream, Dr Fletchley. She's Justin's cousin.'

'Justin?'

'Finch-Fletchley, from school.'

'Oh, right, the Hufflepuff. And she's a …'

'Muggle, yep. And a good doctor. Mr McAuley's in this one.' Harry stopped outside the right door and knocked.

They were both invited in, and offered tea. Harry noted that the television was turned down in honour of Malfoy's visit. When Mr McAuley asked for his medicine, Malfoy looked at Harry, who nodded.

'I've got it for you here. Nice big bottle in case I don't see you for a while, now you've gone up in the world.'

'You're a good lad,' Mr McAuley said, taking the bottle into his bedroom. 'Hang on and I'll get you something for that.'

'There's no need,' Malfoy sang out.

'Nonsense,' said Mr McAuley, returning with several sheets of paper. 'There you go.'

Malfoy spread the papers out on the table, and a smile spread across his face.

Harry looked over his shoulder. They were drawings: two of Blossom, one of a rosebush in bloom, one of Malfoy walking past the library. They were all very good indeed.

'I can't take all of these,' Malfoy said. 'They're excellent.'

'I owe you for the last lot,' Mr McAuley insisted.

Malfoy picked up the drawing of himself and one of Blossom. 'I'll take these two now, and you can pay me with the others for the next batch. You let me know how this lot goes, I've made it a bit stronger now you've got somewhere safe to sleep, you should get a solid eight hours straight.'

'Thanks to your friend here,' Mr McAuley said, indicating Harry.

'I'm pleased,' Malfoy said, sincerely as far as Harry could tell.

They chatted a little longer, and then left him to watch the last of the football.

'I want to talk with you,' Harry said as soon as the door had closed behind them.

'Must you? Oh, fine. Where?'

Harry led Malfoy to the cafe, and ordered tea. As soon as it was on the table, he leaned forward.

'What was in that potion?' he asked without preamble.

'It's my own invention,' Malfoy replied, with a touch of pride. 'I based it on Dreamless Sleep, but it's more natural, so it can be used long-term, not just in emergencies. It lets people have dreams, it just makes sure they're happy ones.'

'So it's harmless?'

'Of course it's harmless, what do you take me for?'

Harry looked away first, embarrassed. He knew exactly what he had taken Malfoy for in the past, and he also knew how far from the truth that had proven to be.

'You said you were a herbalist.'

'It's mostly herbs,' Malfoy said. He looked at Harry defiantly. 'All potions are mostly herbs. Just with a bit of magic, and a few esoteric ingredients. It's better than the rubbish they hand out in Muggle hospitals, and it doesn't hurt anyone. I don't charge those customers. I charge the girls who want something to make their spots go away, or to help them study, and the boys who want to be better on the sports field, or in the sack, and no, I do not give them potions, just perfectly legitimate herbal remedies.'

'But Mr McAuley …'

'He's different.'

'Why?'

'Do you know how his wife died?'

'No.'

'I suggest you find out.' Malfoy sighed, and stood up.

'I was rude to you earlier, and I apologise,' he said, looking somewhere to the right of Harry's head. 'My family's problems are of our own making, and you weren't to blame. I'm sorry.'

'That's … there's no apology necessary,' Harry managed.

'Well, it's made, regardless. No doubt I'll see you again, since the universe seems to have turned against me. Let me know if Mr McAuley needs anything, I'm usually out and about around town in the morning, doing my deliveries.'

Malfoy took a couple of steps, then stopped and turned back.

'Potter,' he said. 'If this isn't your dream, what are you doing here?'

Harry was more prepared this time. 'I'm helping,' he said.

'You've already helped enough. Go back. They must miss you.'

Harry snorted.

'Well, you must miss them. You forget, I saw you on your first day in Diagon Alley. The first time you touched a broom. You loved it. Go back.'

He turned again and resumed walking. This time he was gone before Harry could find anything to say.

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