Bit of Magic for Muggles

"I had a firm grasp on the mission the entire time, if she hadn't spent the first hour with her nose up against an old blue print, we could have saved those hostages a great deal of additional stress!" Harry shouted earnestly.

"Potter, this is the fifth time in two months I have had the pleasure of having remarkably similar conversations with you about your recklessness and inability to work well with others. I'm not sure what has produced this sheer disregard for your personal safety, but you had proven yourself a brilliant tactician prior to the ending of the Final Battle. I don't know why that has changed since your employment here. From now on, you are to guard Clarissa with your life and cooperate. I have been overlooking these indiscretions due to your streak of heroism and sacrifices during the war, but if you do not shape up, I'm going to demote you." Dawlish dared him with steady eyes.

Harry was absolutely livid. He tried not to grimace openly at the small man behind the desk as Clarissa stood with her arms crossed behind him. He could almost feel her smug grin clawing into his back. To avoid speaking out of anger and putting his job in a more precarious position, he turned his back on the two of them and strut out of the office. He walked through the throng of ministry workers and plopped down at his own work space. Taking a deep breath he started to go through the mail on his desk, sorting through the spam mail from the floo, the fan mail, and encountering Hermione's letter. It was rare that Hermione sent him mail anymore, he opened it and read the brief description of her current troubles. She explained that she was staying at a friend's house after nearly being kidnapped twice and the investigation they had launched. She was asking him to bring in Blaise Zabini for questioning, but he wouldn't be able to do that legally with the little evidence she was providing. He could research it himself, but that would take months of questioning and fact checking with the other magical ministries of the countries Zabini had visited. Not to mention conversations with the muggle legal enforcement agencies, to review their protocols for traveling individuals. The thought of it gave him a headache.

Fortunately, he had one of the more privileged levels of ministry clearance and could track Zabini's with ease and without having to ask for permission first. He rarely used that privilege, but it came in handy on occasion. After he found out where he was, he could black mail him into following him back to the ministry where Harry could question him in secret and label any information given to him as a confession when reporting it to Dawlish. Plan in mind, he stuffed the letter in his back pocket and opened the door to his office. Much to his displeasure, his new partner was standing promptly at the entrance, arms still crossed, scowling at him beneath her crazy blonde curls smoothed into an oppressive bun.

"Scowling is very unbecoming of a witch," he said as he shouldered past her.

"Jack-assery is very unbecoming of anyone," she quipped back, "Potter we need to talk about what happened back there."

"Despite what Dawlish may have you believe, I am quite competent with my work, and I have a great deal to do. If you will excuse me," he said trying to quicken his pace to discourage further conversation. The quicker he began his Zabini objective, he would have an excuse to take a short vacation from his oppressive new partner. Ever since the ministry made the reform that every Auror must travel with a partner for safety and accountability, he had been living in one long nightmare. He could already feel the migraine threatening him as she quickened her pace to pursue him.

"Your work is my work now," Clarissa said commandeering the letter from his back pocket, "It would do you well to remember that." He tried to snatch the letter back but she dodged out of his way and began to read it despite his efforts.

"What do you plan on doing with this information?" Clarissa quipped with her slight Parisian accent, "Dawlish's office is the other direction, so I take it you're not bringing it up to him. Think I should bring this to his attention? You might be in a great deal more trouble than you already are."

Harry stopped walking toward his destination and paused mid-step. He wasn't going to be able to get away with anything with her tailing behind him and watching over his shoulder. He was already caught, he might as well share his plan with her. He didn't have a lot to lose unless she reported the information Hermione had uncovered at this point. He gestured to her and they stepped into a nook in the ministry walls.

"Listen, Hermione isn't often wrong when she has a hunch like this. If we can find and bring in Zabini, we might have a solid lead on her criminal case. Not to mention all of the death eaters we could catch and incriminate with his help. He has to be brought in for questioning, but we–"

"Don't have the time to use the traditional methods if we want to get anywhere soon?" Clarissa finished with one eyebrow cocked upward at his line of thought, "So you want to bring him in. Then what? We write off everything he shares with us as a confession? How do you plan on getting him here, blackmail?"

"I am open to other suggestions," he offered plainly. She was much too perceptive for Harry's liking.

She looked away from him and sighed deeply. Pursing her lips and looking out at all of the ministry workers ambling about around them. She appeared to be considering it.

"Our jobs might be at risk. Mine more than yours. Your sheer identity protects you from any consequences that may befall you," she chewed her lip mulling it over, "I should just tell Dawlish about it now, Zabini is a free magical citizen. He's free to travel where he wishes without having to worry about having to answer for himself. It would be an awful infringement on his rights to privacy—"

"How many death eaters are left in the world?" Harry asked impatiently

"What? I don't know, maybe two thou—"

"Wrong. Five thousand. How many have we caught?"

"Well; projected from last year, about ha—"

"Not half, not even close to half. The truth is, we have absolutely no idea where most of them are hiding. Nor do we know what they're up to. Yet, some of them view Voldemort as a martyr, dying for his beliefs that only full, pure-blooded magicians deserve magic. How long do we have until they mobilize? How long do you think we have until they decide to start mass targeting muggle-born witches and wizards again? I don't want to find out. I have diligently been working since the war ended to do everything in my power to protect everyone's right to use magic without fear of blood status. When opportunities like this come around, I'm not going to suffocate them under the weight of bureaucracy and protocol. I'm going to take advantage of them. The days spent assessing Zabini's possible involvement could be the difference between the life and death of numerous muggle-born families. Tell Dawlish if you would like, but that won't stop me." Harry finished breathlessly as he turned to continue on his personal mission.

"Wait!" Clarissa shouted as she fell in step with him. "I'm coming with you. We are still partners, and you're right. Bureaucracy has a place but only as long as it is serving the public at large. I will follow you, but if Zabini proves not to show any involvement, we are letting him go free. No strings attached," Clarissa amended.

"Fine, that's fair." Harry agreed. The likely hood of that scenario playing out was negligible to Harry. Hermione was rarely wrong, he was simply agreeing to assuage her feelings of guilt on the matter.

"How do you plan on finding him? It sounds like he never settles anywhere for long," Clarissa commented.

"The Department of Magical Transportation," Harry responded flippantly, "They have tracking magic that taps into the wand of a witch and wizard. It's sort of like the muggle GPS tracking system, are you familiar with it?"

"Yes. I was curious about muggle technology when I was younger, and I have read my fair share about the workings of their world. My father wasn't the kindest man, but he accepted my brother and me for our quirks. He always brought us books back from his travels."

"Enchanting," Harry commented dryly, "I can trace Zabini's apparition back as many as five times. That should give us a solid base on where to start looking. After that, we should both return home and meet back up here after we have packed our bags. It should take a minimum of three days to find and apprehend him."

"Affirmative," Clarissa responded as they reached the Department of Magical Transportation, "where is this tracking system located?"

"Right… here." Harry said as they approached a lonely side door. It opened into a large room lined with alphabetized books.

"What are all of these?" She asked moving to pick up a monsterous copy with the letters "Sa" on it.

"Don't touch that," Harry scolded as he stopped her hand from reaching it, "only wizards with my level of access can touch these without setting off an alarm. It tunes into the wizard's magical signature so not just anyone from the Ministry can use them." He explained as her scowl lessened. He picked up an equally gigantic copy with the letters "Za" on them and began to flip through it.

"Gulping Gargoyles," Clarissa whispered awe-struck as she leaned over Harry's shoulder to peak at the contents of the volume, "how did the Ministry get enough access to people's information to orchestrate such a large collection of information?"

"It's actually quite simple," Harry mumbled as he perused the conglomerate of names and ever changing locations, "the moment a wizard chooses his wand, the name and the type of wand goes into the Ministry's magical records. After that, they're inexplicably linked to us through their wands and we can pull limited amounts of information from them. It even figures into hand-me-down wands and stolen ones. The fonts change colors to describe the change, there's a book around here somewhere with a color key."

"Fascinating," Clarissa replied awe-struck, "It's right there… Bangkok Thailand" She said gesturing to a name on the right-hand page.

"Well…" Harry said, "He's not going to make this easy on us is he? There's a lot of people in that city. We might need something more advanced than this to get close to him… I've never done this before, but I'm willing to try." He took out his wand and whispered over the book, placing the tip at the beginning of Zabini's name. "I have only seen this done once, and only in the most dire situation. It allows the user five days to track a person's location by creating a line of light between the caster and the target with a simple spell. I have clearance for using the Locators and that's the only reason I'm being permitted by the magic to complete this spell."

"Fabulous," Clarissa said growing impatient with him, "Now that we know where to start and we have the spell, let's go home to pack. I suggest brushing up on some chilling spells while you're home, it usually stays above 100 degrees there," Clarissa continued, "meet me back here at midnight. By the sounds of it, you have never been to Thailand. I will have to apparate us both there instead. Don't be late, punctuality is everything."

"Right," Harry said, "midnight." With that confirmation he watched her walk out of sight. He listened to her heels click down the hallway to take the floo. He took a deep breath and sighed deeply. Perhaps there was hope for their partnership after all. She hadn't thrown him under the bus yet at least. He internally fought the urge to groan aloud. It was time to return home. Harry dragged his feet and stuffed a newly shrunken "Za" book in his pocket in case Zabini decided to apparate elsewhere in the midst of their search. The spell would only work up to a certain proximity before the trail would be lost.

Mentally composing the list of items he would have to pack, Harry departed for home.

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Neville and Pansy sat close to each other on the couch as they jointly stared thoughtfully at the Anti-Imperious Drought recipe in front of them. The notebook paper was scribbled over in purple and blue ink denoting various elements from the order of the steps, the contents of the potion, the degree at which to simmer it, the frequency and direction by which it could be stirred. The Half-Blood Prince himself would have had a run for his money with this conundrum. They decided to take a break and she slid her legs on top of him and leaned back into the couch with her eyes closed.

Neville was shocked by the level of comfort she had been showing around him. He had experience not even the smallest amount of intimacy with a woman before Pansy. He had no line of reference to establish the normalcy of these actions by her or anyone else for that matter. Instead of questioning it too deeply, he decided to relax into it. He naturally began to gently stroke her calf with his thumb as he studied her perpetual frown. The bridge of her nose would gently scrunch up as she lightly chewed her lip in deep thought. She had the most delightful facial expressions, he would watch her filter through different emotions all day if she would allow him too. In the midst of his observations, he realized she was staring at him again and quickly averted his eyes away from her and toward the kitchen as he blushed a very Gryffindor red.

"Hey Pans," he said softly, "we still haven't decided what we're doing for dinner tonight, have you decided what you would-"

"THAT'S IT!" She said bolting upward and startling Neville. Much to his displeasure, she moved her legs and flipped over the recipe to the back side and started scribbling furiously in that lilting script of hers. "Neville, what if we tried using muggle ingredients to stabilize the potion? That's our biggest problem at the moment, is it not?" She beamed at him with a childlike glee he hadn't seen since the war had ended.

"I assume that between magical and non-magical ingredients there must be something that would be able to successful combine all of the components. I don't know where we would start with that process, there's so many. This isn't like cooking, you can't just throw in what sounds good at any increment off of a gut feeling. It depends on a great deal more than that," he reasoned as he watched her roll her eyes.

"I'm aware of the delicacies that define potion making, but there's a few different agents that naturally steady muggle medicine and food dishes. We'll make a list and try the most probable ingredients first. Simple process of elimination. As we go, we can discover the routes that are and are not working," she stated as she scribbled more notes on the paper.

"Okay… well we could try crushed egg shell. I've tried using it in the past with limited success, but this potion is nothing like I have tried to master before either," he finished lamely, "there's also tomatoes, melatonin, red pepper flecks, iodized sea salt, and sage. Also largely just guess work, but they're all tangible ingredients that I've toyed with before today."

"Fantastic," she muttered as her face lit up once more, "let's go shopping!"

"Oh, hey now," Neville said sternly, "you're not leaving this apartment. Your assailants are still out there, I don't want to risk them seeing you and following us back to the hotel. I won't give them another chance. You don't remember what they look like or how many there were, they could be anyone," he finished protectively. He watched as her expression darkened momentarily as she was reminded of that night, but it was quickly covered as she began mock pouting.

"But Neville," She said crawling across the couch to get closer to him, "I've been locked up in this hotel room for so long," he swallowed hard as she stopped inches away from his face, "don't you think I deserve a little more freedom this? It's a muggle grocery store, that's likely the second to last place they'll look for me." She was smiling shyly this time as she locked eyes with him, violet irises pleading earnestly underneath long lashes and a playful tone.

Honestly, he never had a chance.

Before he knew it, they were pushing a cart around debating the merits of rutabaga with crushed unicorn horn much to the concerned stares they were earning from all of the non-magical inhabitants of the store they were currently occupying. She flitted back and forth from heads of lettuce to ripe strawberries simultaneously discussing dinner and the potion. They decided on a shrimp alfredo with tomatoes as garnish. They picked up the various ingredients that might benefit their potion in no particular order and luxury ingredients he had no idea that she liked. They brought their wares to the front and smiled contentedly at each other as a young man systematically scanned their items.

"Wow, I love that jacket," commented a young woman that suddenly appeared from nowhere as she felt the fabric. Pansy was caught off guard and backed away toward Neville, "where did you find it?"

"A small Parisian boutique," Pansy stated strongly, "it's polyester, it was difficult to come across."

"Oh," said the spritely blonde woman, "I bet it wasn't that hard to find. It rarely ever is." With that she walked away and left the two wizards slightly perplexed. Neville picked up their groceries and they found an isolated area to apparate back to the hotel. Upon their arrival, a St. Mungos nurse was standing outside his door.

"Neville, what did we say about going anywhere other than the lab with her?" The nurse looked tired and rather peeved.

"You said not to?" He questioned hesitantly, "But honestly, it's not a big deal, we just went to the muggle grocery store in London for some things, it's not like it was swimming with nefarious looking wizards."

"Hold still," She demanded as she slowly ran her wand first over Neville and then over Pansy. It lit up as it ran over her jacket. "Take it off." She then promptly threw it in the air and set it on fire as it became nothing but particles in the atmosphere. Pansy was staring at her in horror.

"That was one of the only jackets they had brought to me here!" She said outraged, "I found that years ago, it's irreplaceable!"

"It was also being tracked," The nurse said steadily, "We put wards around Neville's hotel ever since the investigation was launched so we knew when you left, and the same with his lab. When we realized neither of you had gone to the lab, they sent me here to wait for you. It appears this investigation is a lot more important than a simple assault case. It's bigger than that, but the Ministry won't tell us why. You are to move hotels immediately before whoever was trying to find you comes looking for you here. And also," She said turning her somber gaze to Neville, "they know who she's with, Mr. Longbottom, you may also be in danger."

They both stared at her in shock as she continued.

"I suggest you pack all of your things immediately. Then I will apparate you both to the next safest location."

"Of course," Neville said, "wait here, we will get our things," he said as he pulled Pansy into the hotel suite and looked at her with concern.

The shock was evident on her face. He put a silencing charm on the room and pulled her with him to the bedroom so that they could pack. He began throwing things in bags as she sat dumbfounded.

"Listen Pans," he said softly and reassuringly even though he knew the following words were going to do nothing for her fear, "that nurse, I don't think she's from St. Mungos. Her uniform was wrong, they changed the protocol recently on dress code. She doesn't have the required patches for the out-patient consultants. I'm not sure who she is, but I don't think we should apparate anywhere with her."

I bet it wasn't that hard to find. It rarely ever is.

Pansy sat perfectly still on the bed with her head in her hands, facing the bedroom door. He saw the slight shudder of her shoulders as she tried to hold in whatever emotion was rocking her core. Neville stopped what he was doing and kneeled on the floor in front of her.

"Hey, Pansy," he whispered, "look at me." And she did. With those same stormy violet eyes from earlier, now devoid of joy and filled with terror. He held her hands as he looked up at the girl that had fully turned his life upside down in the matter of a few days' time.

"Do you trust me?" he inquired softly as he watched her tense up at the question. She gently nodded her head affirmatively, "then help me pack these bags and then I swear on my magical abilities that we will get out of here safely. I have a plan, but I need your help before the lady outside catches on." Neville stood and began to pack again and half a beat later, Pansy was beside him furiously throwing clothes and necessities into his luggage. Pansy didn't have a lot other than what the nurse had retrieved from her apartment so she mostly assisted Neville.

"What's the plan?" She asked breathlessly, bending down to recover some discarded clothes and running back to the luggage.

"We're leaving here and stopping by the lab, if I'm right, the wards there are much stronger than those here and they won't be able to get through for a while. We're going to grab enough ingredients for the imperious draught and I'm going to send a quick owl from there to a friend to see if we can bunk at her place for a few days. We are not close so I doubt they will think of checking her flat first. From there I will owl St. Mungos and Harry to tell him of the recent progression of our problems. In the mean time I can look at some heavily secured vacation homes that we could rent until we have another plan of action."

Pansy nodded dazed and continued to fumble about the room packing.

There was an aggressive knock at the front door and the old woman's voice asking if they were nearly finished. Neville hastily replied affirmatively as he threw the last remnants of his possessions from the hotel in his bag and grabbed Pansy's hand. She threw her bag over her shoulder and they tried to quietly open the window of the bedroom. It slid open easier than he had anticipated and made a loud bang. The old woman began beating on the door loudly and more impatiently as she battled with the lock.

"It's too late Pansy," the woman screeched, "you won't be able to run fast enough this time!" She began to cackle ominously and throw herself at the door as it splintered beneath her weight. Neville went back and locked the bedroom door as Pansy bolted out the window and onto the fire escape. He clutched her hand again as she shook and apparated them both to the lab once more.

"Here's the list," Neville said as he slipped her the supply list for the potion, "ask me if you need my help finding anything, but you know this place fairly well now. I'm going to write my friend to see if we can crash at their place."

Pansy nodded once more, silent all the while. Neville was perplexed by her secret past that brought the imposter St. Mungo's nurse to their door, but he knew now was not the time to dwell on it. Quickly quilling a note to Hermione he murmured the necessary spell that would send it directly to her and began gathering the tools needed to process the potion while he waited. Him and Pansy had a nice pile going in the middle of the table when Neville felt the familiar rub of parchment in the inside pocket of his jacket. Removing the letter, he conjured a bag big enough to hold everything except the cauldron, which he shrunk down. It maintained the same weight and mass in a more compact form. He went to sling it over his shoulders, but Pansy beat him to it. He raised an eyebrow amusedly as he watched her sling the large backpack four times her size and weight on her small frame. She looked steadily at him waiting for him to direct them to their next location. Grabbing both of their luggage, he went over to the fireplace to floo to Hermione's.

He was sorely disappointed when he realized it was disconnected.

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Hermione had woken up panicked again, this time before Draco, as the first rays of light greeted the room. She tried to close her eyes again, calm the ragged breathing, and ignore the cold sweat. She regained control of herself and looked at the man sleeping a few feet from her. He didn't look as severe when he slept. He woke up often during the night, which was evident by his constant tossing and turning. Inability to sleep soundly during the night was something she could empathize with. Yet, she noticed he always seemed most relaxed around dawn. As though the morning light burned away the terrors the plagued his nights.

His eye lashes brushed his lower cheeks and his hair laid haphazardly around his face, lips slightly parted and gently breathing. She watched his chest rise and fall to the slow rhythm of morning hours not yet realized and felt at peace in that moment suspended in time. When he woke up, their reality would come back once more. He would change into something more formal, start making coffee and continue to be perplexing. This is the only time he wouldn't appear guarded around her, when he slept. He had opened his home to her after what had happened, but that was all. He no longer treated her with hostility as he did in their youth, but he didn't treat her like a friend either. He was un-expectantly hesitant with his words. Sure, he would shoot back witty retorts to her sarcastic remarks. Overall though, he sat at opposite side of the room from her and remained tense and apathetic.

Not that she blamed him. She was living in a near stranger's flat in order to avoid a possible kidnapping. She second guessed all of her communications and actions. Not to mention that his living arrangements were so freakishly neat she was afraid to set her coffee mug down in the wrong place. Contrasted to her disheveled rustic apartment littered with books, notes and assorted quills, his was minimalistic and modern. If she hadn't seen him sleep and wake in this self-same abode, she would have imagined it was a suite the building displayed to perspective renters.

"Is there a particular reason you're watching me while I sleep, Granger?" He asked looking peeved as she broke from her revelry.

"I wasn't," she quipped back too quickly, "I was wondering when you were going to wake up and greet the day. For a corporation big wig you sure are a late riser."

He half-heartedly scowled at her and sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He ran lithe fingers through bed raggled hair as she watched the muscles in his back tense. He stood to begin his morning routine and she hers. Fully and formally clothed, he began brewing the coffee and straightened out his silver cuff links. She put her hair up in a messy bun and began gathering all of her things into her bottomless bag. She started to head for the door when he called out for her.

"Where are you off to so quickly this morning Granger?" Malfoy asked terse

"Contrary to popular belief, I have better things to do in preparation of this case than wait around for Blaise Zabini to magically appear on your doorstep." She responded.

"Perhaps you should rethink that before you forsake my company so easily," he warned, "do you not recall the last two times you went out gallivanting on your own? You were nearly kidnapped. Twice. I'm getting a little exhausted having to repeat myself, you are staying with me until we have sorted this all out."

"Why the hell do you care so much?" She asked shortly while moving toward the door to Draco's left.

"Because, Granger," Draco started quietly, "you're not prepared to face the consequences of what might happen to you."

"Alright," Granger cautioned, "then what would you have me do as I wait for Harry to track down Zabini?"

He paused for thought and tapped his fingers rhythmically on the kitchen counter. The coffee triumphantly announced its presence once more and Malfoy poured them both a cup.

"Come with me," he requested, "I'm going on an errand to check some of my company's subsidiaries today and you might enjoy it."

"Listening to office chatter all day isn't really my cup of coffee, if you don't mind." Hermione finished as she sipped the beverage he had offered her.

"Oh, trust me." Malfoy cracked a small smile, "there won't be much office chatter. Just go with the spontaneity of life for once, see where it takes you."

"Right," She deadpanned, "because spontaneity has done me so many favors recently."

Despite her reservations, she came with him on his business trip to a large four story building in the middle of Glencoe Scotland. Hermione was far from disappointed. She was surrounded by lush, vibrant greenery and backed by three towering mountains. It smelled like the summers she had spent playing in her front yard with her parents. She lost her boundless glee for a moment as she recalled them, but willed herself back into the present moment. Malfoy had already started making headway toward the building and she quickened her pace to catch up. The estate was large, tastefully surrounded by flowers of varying colors and carefully trimmed hedges. The building itself was nearly as majestic as its scenic location. The front jutted out further than the rest, two turrets decorated in slate gray stone with the white double door entrance in between them. The structure behind it consisted mostly of the same stone décor on the first floor and off white horizontal siding above it, sprawling out to her left and right. Hermione only wished that her business meetings took her to such lavish locations.

A young man with floppy dirty blonde hair opened the door, looking incredibly poised in a full suite. His goofy grin and caustic hairdo gave away his boyish nature, although he tried to compose himself as Malfoy shook his hand.

"Welcome back Mr. Malfoy," said the young butler, "the residents have sorely missed your regular visits."

"Cut the Mr. Malfoy bit Hal," Malfoy said cracking a genuine smile, "It's Draco to you. Why such formality?"

"Well," Hal smirked and shot Hermione a look, "Alfred said that I needed to address guests more formally. I have been practicing. How did I do?"

"Fairly well," Draco appraised, "However, you'll have to work on your hair." He said as he reached over and playfully roughed it up more.

Overall, Hermione Granger was stumped for the first time in a very long time. Who was this young man? Why did Malfoy appear so relaxed around him? She looked at the boy again. Too old to be an illegitimate heir of his, too young to have been in school with them either. Hal held himself carefully around Draco. He appeared to be enthusiastic to see him, but she also sensed a nervous energy about him. Eager to please was the thought that came to mind. He lead them into a small sitting room as the sound of laughter floated in from somewhere further in the house. She had deduced it was a home of sorts, it had the indicative picture frames, fireplace, comfortable atmosphere that most houses had. There were subtle signs of life that weren't commonly found in most places that business was conducted. There was a small wooden train next to the lamp, a water ring on the coffee table, a blanket folded on the arm of the couch. Draco and Hermione were instructed to sit as Hal exited the room to bring the tea.

"Alright, I'll bite," Hermione finally broke, "What is this place? How did you become so well acquainted with that boy?"

"Curiousity finally broke your awed silence, I see." Draco crossed his legs and looked around the room rather than at her spot directly across from him. "This is a new beginning, of sorts. Think of it as a half way home. People from all over the world line up to adopt children from here."

It seemed this line of questioning was simply going to prompt more questions from her rather than assuage her confusion. She decided listening might yield better results as she watched him flutter nervously as he explained.

"The war wasn't always," he paused looking faintly pained, "easy for the death eaters either." He said as his eyes darted toward her cautiously. She wouldn't deny him that truth. War is rarely fun or easy for any of its participants.

"I was in the midst of a mission. There were burning buildings, screaming, chaos; everywhere. It was my induction night. There wasn't much of… never mind that. I was running amongst all of this when I ran directly into Hal. There were tears streaming down his face, covered in soot and blood. I looked into his eyes and saw myself staring back. I grabbed him and apparated without even thinking. I hadn't realized until later how lucky I was that he hadn't been spliced. He wasn't even a wizard, he was completely unprepared. My body just took over, flight took in and I took us both away. I landed here." He recalled looking down.

"This used to be a Malfoy summer home, but we stopped visiting it after I began my schooling at Hogwarts. The Death Eaters had conveniently forgotten its existence, so I would apparate here sometimes when everything became too much. It was instinctual, me bringing us here… I set Hal up with the basics and then returned to the battle field. They hadn't noticed I was missing and my secret rescue was safe. They- We… tore down a city that night. Hal was the only survivor." Draco fell into a troubled silence.

"How did it go from Hal's home to an orphanage?" Hermione asked, having too much to process from his story to respond to immediately.

"Originally, it was just Hal, but I made him a deal. He could stay here as long as he needed if he helped me watch over other lost children. Slowly, I introduced selective others to help run it. Snape helped… He found me a teacher, a maid, a cook. Soon, there was a small family gathered here. I picked up the lost children as I went. I tried to smuggle away as many muggleborn children as I could by hiding them in safe places in the villages we raided before the main fray reached them. I couldn't save everyone… but at least I could help some of them find a new start. It was the best I could do, in the midst of all that madness. My own secret way of keeping myself sane…"

"No one ever discovered what you were doing?"

"There was so much else going on. The research into the school wards, the taking over of the Ministry, the search for Potter. No one was watching me that closely, and I was careful. I researched and researched wards for months, no one was finding this place unless I wanted them to. I wouldn't lose them, they were all the hope for the future that I had left."

Hall walked in with the tea as Hermione tried to quall her shocked tears. This was so much more than she had expected from the aloof Draco Malfoy. He sipped his tea as Hal waited expectantly for some sort of cue from him. He looked over annoyed and gestured for him to sit down. They began discussing some of the children, Hal's wellbeing, Draco's mother. The topics ranged and flowed as Hermione sat and let it all sink in. Her preconceived notion of Draco's character and these new revelations wouldn't click together into a cohesive whole. Instead, she stared at the man in front of her like a stranger. A stranger that saved orphans and housed them in a castle paradise in Scotland. She sipped her tea, hoping the mad hatter wouldn't emerge from the kitchen suggesting musical chairs. She wasn't quite sure where she sat on the character of Draco Malfoy any longer.

Was she another orphan in his eyes? Another person he felt compelled to save from the harsh war torn world? What were his motives behind all of this? Guilt? Shame? Redemption? Something more positively driven? The pursuit of happiness? She rolled her eyes. Malfoy finding happiness through the accumulation of misfit children in this isolated safe haven. My how far he had risen in her eyes over an hour time period. She snapped back to reality as a hand waved inches from her face.

"Yoohoo," Hal inquired, "you still in there? Would you like to stick around for dinner?"

"No," Draco laughed mirthlessly, "she would rather make faces at her tea. What's so fascinating about the flavor that so holds your undivided attention?"

"I've never tasted this type of black tea before," Hermione murmured blushing, "and the choice lies with Draco. I am simply a guest in this beautiful establishment."

"As much as I would love to stay," Draco replied, "I came to pick up the paperwork that needs to be processed and put in the mail by later today. So, if you could fetch those for me Hal?"

Hermione raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"I pick up all of the bills for this house once a month. Amongst other things, I get a tax write off for everything I pay for here. Coincidentally, this unnamed charity I contribute to so regularly over the year has also saved me a forture."

Hermione reconciled herself that his motivation behind this charity could still be backed by greed. She felt more comfortable with the idea that the selfish Malfoy she used to know might still exist. Believing otherwise was too much for her to consider in her current state of mind.

Hal, returning with the envelopes and receipts stared at her curiously.

"You've never brought a woman here before," he commented playfully, "this one must be something special."

"Yeah," Malfoy mumbled quietly as he began reading through the various papers, "A special pain in my ass."

Hermione frowned and Hal laughed. Despite his general hesitance and eager demeanor, she sensed no malevolence from his gleeful chuckle.

"Is Hal short for anything?" She asked trying to make conversation in order to distract herself from her current confusion.

"Halcyon. My mother didn't know it was a girl's name," he said through a more tense smile as he adjusted his hair, "it means 'time of peace,' according to Greek mythology."

There was a certain irony from that namesake that she decided not to comment on.

"It fits you well," she said flashing him a genuine smile as he blushed in response.

"Hey Hal," Draco said beneath troubled brows, "what's this medical bill from?"

"I would have told you sooner, but you said not to contact you unless it was an emergency," Hal fidgeted nervously, "I thought we had it under control, she's resting upstairs recovering if you want to see her. One of the parents brought a peanut butter cup for Jeremy when they came to sign the adoption papers for him, and when he went to hug Beatrice goodbye, she went into anaphylactic shock. The father was a doctor though and had bad allergies of his own. He took a chance and stuck her with his EpiPen and then I left Jordan in charge while I went with them to the hospital. She'll be okay. She's just a little weak…" He said trailing off as Draco rushed up to the stairs. Hal shot a fearful glance back at her and followed him up the stairs. Rather than keeping the clock on the mantle silent company, she also followed them upwards.

The upstairs was just as elegant as the rest of the home, well lit and decorated with subtle floral arrangements. She walked up to the second door on the right of a long hallway and glanced in. Inside the room were three single beds and a young olive skinned girl reclined near the window. Despite looking pale and exhausted, the brightest smile graced her face as Draco sat on the bed to talk to her. He looked genuinely interested in her health and wellbeing. Hermione felt like she was intruding somehow by seeing him so emotionally raw in front of this little girl. Beatrice handed him a picture she had drawn of her and the other children then threw herself around his neck to hug him. It was the first time she had heard him laugh unrestrainedly as he returned the contact and set her back against the pillows. He patted her head and told her to rest up as she nodded determinedly and rolled back over toward the window to watch the other kids play in the yard. Draco looked forlorn as he walked away from her and Hal followed him into the hall. He closed the door behind him and then carefully crafted a mask of indifference as he faced her again.

"There was nothing you could have done to prevent this, don't blame yourself," Draco said as he put his hand on Halcyon's shoulder.

"Thanks, I've been trying to keep her comfortable, I know the attacks take a lot out of her…" he replied desolate.

"It's alright. Keep up the good work. We really do need to return now though, tell Helga to give her extra strawberries tonight at dinner. I'll take care of the medical bills. Has anyone shown interest in adopting her yet?" Draco inquired.

"No, she's not quite as fast or healthy looking as the other children," He expressed with frustration, "that shouldn't make a difference but the right family hasn't come along yet."

Hermione watched as he tensed his shoulders and walked down the stairs toward the door. After the last farewells and reassurances that the rest of the children were still in good shape, Hal closed the door on them and they were left to walk to the apparition point.

"Where were the rest of the children?" Hermione asked concerned with the quietness of the estate.

"They've all been adopted," Draco replied curtly, "every last one of them except for her… There will be new arrivals in a few weeks and she won't be as lonely, but she's been stuck in this house for three years now."

"Is her peanut allergy that deadly?"

"If only it was just peanuts. She's allergic to a great variety of things. I've warded the house to detect most of it, but occasionally someone slips something through unintentionally. She's six, it's a tragedy that she can't live like the rest of the kids. Most families don't want to put up with a shy kid with such extreme health restrictions. It's easier for magic using families, but that doesn't stop them from picking other children to take home. I've thought about keeping her myself, but I can't care for her like she needs either…"

Hermione sat on that one in silence. Did he mean that he couldn't care for her in the sense that he was too busy to be bothered? Or did it go deeper than that? She expressed her condolences that there was nothing he could do and he shrugged silently, effectively cutting off further conversation. He apparated them to a restaurant that also appeared in Scotland and ordered them both the soup special, much to her displeasure. She resented people that tried to make decisions on her behalf, even if it was as simple as a choosing the meal at a restaurant. However, she was also too empathetic to call the poor waitress back and make her change her order. She sipped on the water brought to her as she watched Draco pull a checkbook out of his jacket pocket and begin to write.

"Go ahead Granger," he mumbled sardonically as he shuffled envelopes around and crunched numbers, "I know you must be dying to ask a thousand questions, so you might as well start before I begin eating."

"How did you come across Beatrice?" Hermione asked quietly.

"That," he said sealing and envelope and ripping open another, "is not a story I'm willing to share. Anything else?"

"Are you going to knock down all of my questions?"

"No, just the ones I don't feel are pertinent to answer. Are all of your questions going to be this invasive?"

She paused. He seemed extremely willing to tell the sordid tale behind Hal's rescue, but not Beatrice's? The waitress brought them their soup and silverware as Draco finished packaging the last check into the envelope. Hermione tried to meet his eyes as he curiously eyed up her satchel.

"Has that always been a gaudy red color?" He asked looking at it distastefully.

She had been so absorbed in the happenings of the day that she hadn't thought to check it. A few years prior she had come up with a spell that could materialize mail between select locations. She had charmed it to turn red when she received a letter from those using the same spell. Pulling the letter from the front pocket of her messenger bag, she inspected the name of the sender. Neville Longbottom? She remembered teaching him along with Ron, Harry and Ginny, but he never sent anything to her.

Carefully tearing it open, she was surprised to find only two complete sentences.

Dear Hermione,

A friend and I are in a tight spot, could we stay at your place for a few days?

Sincerely,

Neville.

P.S. Sorry that I missed our date, something came up.

With the way that night had turned out, she was half tempted to tell him to sod off and ask someone else. Yet, Neville never asked her for anything. It's not like she was getting much use out of it. Using the back of the same parchment, she penned her reply and returned it to the front pocket of her satchel. It returned to its original shade of brown and she explained the magic to Draco.

"I got the idea from Muggle computer IP addresses. I hypothesized if a witch or wizard could make a spell that gave something of theirs an IP address, theoretically you could send something anywhere sort of like apparition with objects. I charmed my purse to let me know if I have received any mail."

Draco simply raised an eyebrow and began to devour his soup.

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Harry Potter wandered into his home late that night. He quietly shimmied out of his shoes and began to walk on his tip toes to the bedroom where he flipped on the light. He quickly began to throw an assortment of summer apparel into a bag along with other necessities. Throwing his Invisibility cloak over the top of all his clothes, he closed the luggage and zipped it shut. Quietly he began to head for the front door, holding the suitcase up awkwardly to avoid further noise.

"Leaving again so soon?"

His worst fears had come true as a light revealed his adversary. He was caught trying to sneak out of his own home and he looked ridiculous. A very peeved Ginny Weasley sat thrumming her fingers on the large recliner in the living room of their apartment. He smiled sheepishly and set the bag down awkwardly wracking his brains for an excuse to his behavior.

"I didn't want you—"

"You didn't want me to what? Stay up late all night wondering when, no - IF- you would finally come home at some point in the evening? You didn't want me to know you were sneaking out AGAIN so I wouldn't pester you with questions about where you're going and whether not you're coming back? Did you not want me to ask how long you would be gone? Based on the size of that suitcase, I would say around a week. Am I wrong?"

"No, I mean—"

"Save it, Potter." She said rubbing her temples forcefully, "I just don't know why you have to be so secretive all of the time. The war is over, Harry! We've won! Stop acting like it's still you against the world, because it's not!"

"THIS. This is why I sneak out! Don't talk over me, and don't you dare presume to know what goes on in my head, because you don't Ginevra!" He shouted finally losing his cool.

She swiveled in her chair to avoid looking at him any longer and to quail her angry tears. Despite all of the years spent arguing with her brothers, the moment someone raised their voice at her, water would begin to blur her vision.

"Look," Ginny said trying to adopt a more amicable tone, "I'm not trying to mother you, or invade your privacy by asking these things. I just get worried… You disappear frequently, sleep at the office, and come home with scrapes and bruises. I don't understand what's been happening with you recently. I just want to be here to support you, and I don't understand why you've stopped letting me be a part of your life."

She sat in silence waiting for his response.

"Come on Harry, you can't be that—"

But he was already gone.

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Author's Note: I am so incredibly sorry for this extremely late update to the story. I had been working 40 hours over the summer and then college began again. Time got away from me very quickly. I also apologize for any formatting issues. For some reason the paragraph breaks in word don't transfer over very well so I had to go back and put those in again. I appreciate all of your patience and support as I continue to trudge onward in writing this story!