New York, New York

Overview: When Harry's classmates are asked to return for an 8th year of schooling in preparation for Ministry positions, there was little idea that it would take place in New York City. But not everyone is ready to face the post-war reality, and Draco must come to terms with his beliefs one way or another. HP/DM slash. Not explicit until later chapters. M for language and sexual content.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own nor am I affiliated in any way with JK Rowling and her creations.

It was a Saturday afternoon. For many of the previous Hogwarts students, this meant the first weekend outing into an entirely muggle-populated community. There wasn't much of a chance for an easy transition into the scene, though, as the "community" was none other than the big city itself. For muggleborns and half-bloods, this might've been a much more leisurely visit, but for anyone of pureblood status, the experience was overwhelming. Ron Weasley insisted that the city was akin to "five hundred Diagon Alleys, but without Fred and George's place . . . blimey, Harry, these muggles sure are missing out."

Harry agreed wholeheartedly, as there was little that could possibly compare to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes in any world. But the city was hard to take in at first, even for him. There were just as many people on the streets as there were in London, but the city blocks were horrendous, and the endless rows of skyscrapers made him feel as though he were a miniature on one of Dudley's old train sets. He wasn't sure what he enjoyed more- the street vendors and the catcalling construction workers, or the expression on Draco Malfoy's face as he passed by them. That Little Lord Fauntelroy had mentioned time and time again about his family business visits to New York, but it hardly looked as though he'd ever stepped foot in the city.

"What are you gawking at, Potter? Didn't we agree not to acknowledge your godawful existence?" Malfoy said earlier, when Harry noticed a particularly hilarious instance in which a worker in a manhole commented on the "prettyboy's" graceful stumble over his helmet. One thing was for certain; Malfoy had a strenuous incapability to blend into the surrounding crowd. Even amongst the businesspeople, he was dressed far too sophisticatedly for someone his age, and a few times was mistaken for various popular muggle commodities.

The day had originally started out with a brief train ride to Grand Central, with Charlie Weasley spearheading the exploration into the city. After a bit of educated sightseeing (which included everything from the Museum of Natural History to a specified "study" of how muggles caught the attention of the passing taxi cab drivers. "It would be so much easier to take the floo, and I've never enjoyed it myself," Seamus had mentioned after they split into smaller cliques for the remainder of the day's enjoyment. Luckily enough for him, Charlie told them that at the end of the day they were to report to a wizarding office near Midtown in the business district to floo back to the town near the school. This left Harry, Ron, and Hermione free to enjoy the day as it naturally unfolded, occasionally indulging in apparating when they were certain no one was looking. "I'd walk, but I have to agree with Ron that it would be utterly ridiculous to bother," Hermione said when the boys raised their eyebrows at her willingness to break the rules. "I get in enough of muggle transportation during my summers at home anyway."

"Makes me glad I was raised on a broomstick," Ron said, right before the loud crack of the side-along interrupted him.

"If you were raised on a broomstick you would've caught a lot more passes than you did in quidditch," Harry joked, though he couldn't help but fully believe in the content of what he'd said.

"I caught the ones that mattered! Besides, its in my blood, look at Fred and George-"

Harry rolled his eyes. "You know, they were great at hitting things. Maybe you took one too many beatings from them growing up. Caused a fear of flying objects or something." He grinned. "Would've gone for more quaffles instead of hiding from them, I reckon."

"Oh, get off it," Ron said, shoving Harry aside, but smiling nonetheless. "Least I was better than Ginny."

"Not really. She handled pretty well."

"I'm sure she handled a lot of things pretty well," Ron commented, gaining the usual suspicious look on his face that showed up whenever he talked about the prospect of his sister dating his best friend.

Harry shrugged. "Its not like we've done anything, Ron. You and me went over this before, remember?"

Before Ron could answer, Hermione jutted into the conversation for the first time since she'd been trying to decipher her map. "I can vouch for that, Ron. And, by the way Harry, she's a little less than thrilled about that."

"What, that I haven't rushed her into anything? Sorry for giving her space, then," he said, slightly confused.

"You better damn well be giving her space," Ron mumbled.

Hermione sighed. "What I mean to say, or what she means to say, I suppose, is that you haven't been around much. She probably expects you to be more of a boyfriend and less of a, well, boy friend."

"You know I don't want to get her involved in anything crazy, Hermione. I've still got some anonymous death threats coming in by owl every now and then. Not that they mean much, but still . . ."

Ron momentarily paused, staring at a snack cart across the street in what Harry presumed was a decision about the deliciousness of its contents. He turned away after a few seconds' consideration, as he probably did not want a fourth hot dog at the moment. "I think Harry's doing fine. I'd be more wanked if he wasn't looking out for her safety," he said offhandedly.

"See? Ron knows what I'm talking about," Harry defended. It was an argument hardly worth using against Hermione, but two against one always won. Right?

"I know, I know, I understand where you're coming from. She doesn't. And that's just going to have to be something you two work out." She folded her map and stuffed in her sidebag. "If you want to continue the relationship, that is."

Harry felt his face redden a bit. "What? Of course I do. I can't help it that I'm a good few thousand kilometres away from her at the moment."

"Well, we're here, why not make the most of it? You'll see her soon enough." Hermione double-checked a street address. "Do you two want to meet up with Charlie for lunch? He said he had to meet up with one of his Romanian coworkers, but I think he'd be done by now . . . " she questioned, to neither of them in particular.

Ron gave Harry a pat on the back before they answered, because Harry was clearly still stuck on the previous subject. "Yeah, I'm up for that, Mione. Give him a message thing," he said, nodding to her cell phone (which everyone had been given prior to getting off the train, as an addition to the "muggle experience"). Hers, however, was her own personal cell, so it was a little less modern than the ones that had been conjured up.

"Alright. 'What are your plans for lunch? The three of us would like to know.' Smiley face." Hermione looked up for a second. "Do you think he'd understand the concept of emoticons?"

"Emoto-whats?" Ron asked.

"Emotico- oh, you know what, just never mind," she said, ticking backward on the text message to erase the last bit. Harry laughed. Though he'd never been given a cell phone before, he was given access to the television and computer at the Dursley's after he'd become "threatening" enough to jinx them otherwise (or whatever rotter they believed he would do if he didn't have his way). He knew enough about technology to catch onto Hermione's frustration.

His mind, however, was still on Ginny. Was she really as upset about it as Hermione made it seem? He'd never really pushed too much physical contact on her, out of respect, and he wasn't about to put her in the line of fire via a relationship more serious than the one they had. If you could call it that. Four months without so much as a letter could and would put a huge strain on them, and though he could easily say he was missing her, he was doing just fine without having her around. Was he really that lackadaisical about her? He tried to imagine what he'd do if she was here with him, right at this very moment. We'd probably eat lunch and have a nice chat. That was about it. And he felt perfectly fine with that.

Maybe, just maybe, he considered her more a friend. He loved her madly, of course, and he certainly enjoyed snogging her when the time called for it, but it was never much of a thrill. It was a very comfortable love that never threatened to break, but he occasionally wondered if that was all there was to it.

"Charlie said he likes the idea," Hermione said, interrupting Harry's stream of thought. "Where do you think we should go?"

Harry's mind traveled to his brief interactions with the travel specials on the Dursley's television. "Well, we're closest to Times Square, there's a McDonald's, if we want to go cheap."

Hermione's face lit up. "Oh, we've got to introduce Ron and Charlie to the fast food world! Trust me Ron, I'm sure you'll love it. You eat enough disgusting junk as it is, no doubt."

"Hey, at least I eat good food, not that rabbit chow you call salad."

"Yes, but keep it up and you won't be able to balance on a broomstick anymore," she recanted.

This carried on for quite some time, as the three made their way down Broadway, hardly noticing the bustling traffic and glittering billboards due to their shared laughter. Sure, they picked on one another on an hourly basis, but by now, they were family. Harry would never forget that matter. He'd known them for nearly a decade by now (a thought which allowed him a small nostalgic smile), and was not planning on deserting them anytime soon.

He'd honestly wished he'd paid attention to their surroundings, though, because they were now standing in front of a large-scale version of the restaurant's double arches. Harry's memory flicked back to his first meeting with Hagrid, in which the groundskeeper had bought him a hamburger before sending him back to the Dursley's on July 31st, 1991. Harry was sure he hadn't tasted a hamburger as good as that since.

And Ron, after ordering two Supersized meals and gawking at the value menu for nearly five minutes, would probably never taste food as "good" as his in a long, long time. "All this for only twenty dollars? This could feed my family for a whole ten minutes!"

"How could it possibly, Ron, when you yourself just annihilated it in five?"

He swallowed his last chunk of burger. "Hey, all I know is I gotta get in on some of this muggle food. Do we have this back home?"

"Yes, Ron, there's two near my house."

He stared at her with wide eyes. "I love you."

Their lunch with Charlie went well, most of it spent talking about training plans and travel ideas. He and Harry discussed Quidditch for a long while, a subject which easily began to bore Hermione, before Harry changed the subject for her sake.

"How's everything going with Bill?" he asked, as they hadn't heard much from him in a while.

"Or Fleur," Hermione added halfheartedly.

Charlie set down his chocolate shake. "Hell if I know. Haven't seen them since June, and that was a brief enough meeting itself."

"Is it true that Fleur wants to move? Back to France?"

"Yeah, but Bill doesn't seem too thrilled. Funny thing, though, he'd do it for her," Charlie said.

Harry nodded. "Ron here gets pretty barmy every now and then when Hemione's around."

Before Ron could answer in protest, Charlie spoke first. "I don't blame him. If I had me a girl, which mind you I would've if I'd stayed one more month in Europe, I'd take care of her like no other."

Both Harry's and Ron's face turned slightly pink in an expression of guilt. Ron hadn't been exactly cordial to Hermione as of late, and Harry, well, he was still working out his feelings for Ginny. He hope she hadn't complained about him to he rest of the Weasley family. That was one set of people he did not want to fall out of favor with.

The conversation carried on for another ten minutes or so before it was decided that they should start making their way back to the school. It was already late in the afternoon, and there would be more city weekends in which exploration could continue. Ron and Charlie both ordered food for the road, and Harry refilled his Pibb before making his way back to the street. He checked the time on his cell phone. It was already four o'clock, and the traffic was getting worse by the minute. Workers were jostling for their usual ways out of town, as nobody in their right mind would attempt to drive in the madness (Harry briefly thought of the Knight Bus, but that was another stomach-churning experience entirely). They began to walk back towards the way they came, and had Harry not fumbled when putting his phone back in his jeans pocket, he never would've had the chance to see Draco Malfoy briefly shaking a man's hand as he got out of a towncar. The scene was all too suspicious, as Malfoy then glanced around, reached for his wand, and turned on the spot in the midst of a large crowd of pedestrians. He was alone.

"Ron!"

Harry motioned ferociously for his friend to come over. "Ron, come here, did you see that?"

Quarter Pounder with Cheese in hand, Ron kneeled down to Harry's level. He took a bite, and looked in the direction Harry had pointed. He chewed. Harry thought that for a split second, Ron had seen it too. ". . . Blimey, those buisinesswomen have wicked behinds."

And Harry's hopes died. "No, moron, Malfoy! Did you just see what just happened?"

Ron gave Harry a look that suggested he was insane. "C'mon, mate, Malfoy again? Unless he's killed a bloke, or killed himself, I really don't give a fu-"

"- He might have, for all we know! I just saw him get out of a man's car, it looked really shady-"

"So what, Harry, then Malfoy's a prostitute, does it really matter?" Ron asked him in all seriousness. "Does it really matter?"

Harry's speech slowed to a halt. He looked at Ron. Harry already knew the answer that Ron wanted to hear. He wanted him to drop it. And even a small part of Harry told himself that his suspicions were ridiculous. "No. I guess it doesn't."

"Right then, mate, let's get going," Ron said in a lighter tone, slapping Harry on the shoulder and standing back up.

They walked ahead a few steps, Ron hurrying to catch up with his older brother. Harry wouldn't give up thinking about the subject, at the very least. What business did Malfoy have in the city? Then again, Harry couldn't think of a reason he or any of the Slytherins would've gone on the trip in the first place. They already had money coming out of their arses. Why would they bother with another year of training?

And then Harry found it. A small business card, right where Malfoy had gotten out of the car, was on the curb. Making sure neither Ron nor Hermione saw him steadily increasing his lag behind them, he picked it up. Both sides were blank.

He held his breath, and tapped it with his pocketed wand when he was absolutely sure no one was looking. Slowly, but just as Harry had hoped, words formed on the front face of the card, written in shining gold ink-

The United States Embassy of Magic

Department of Inter-Ministry Delegation

Leopold S. Rhiner, Chair

"What the hell were you doing today, Malfoy?"

Harry barged into the room, nearly throwing his things at the floor, before waiting for Malfoy to answer. The blonde was reclining on top of his bedsheets, still dressed just as nicely as he had during the day, and was currently investing in a novel.

"Excuse me, Potter, but you're not going to get a response from me when you shout like that," Malfoy said calmly, turning a page.

"Don't give me that, you git. You weren't with your usual blood-bretheren when I saw you earlier, and you're not with them now," Harry said in a demanding voice. True, this wasn't the way he wanted to corner Malfoy into talking, but he'd been obsessively thinking about the situation on the way back to the school, and on the way up to the sixth floor, and on the way to his door- point in case, he wasn't pulling this off as smoothly as he'd hoped.

Malfoy didn't look up. "I'm sorry, detective, but I happen to value my time alone, and they had other things to attend to."

Harry felt his blood rise to something of a boil, but he had to control his voice or else Malfoy was going to win this one. "I'm sure they did. Takes a lot to keep up with all the other slime out in the world, does it?"

"You would know better than I would, as you're so bent on eradicating all the slime like me," Draco said with a sneer. "And I don't much appreciate you spying on me, Potter."

Harry took a seat by the desk. "You make it too easy."

In truth, he did. Harry had spent his entire sixth year at Hogwarts watching the blonde's every move, and by now, he had become quite predictable. As far as Harry was concerned, he already knew exactly what Malfoy was up to in the city. It was just a matter of getting him to say it. Otherwise, Harry would go insane trying to get it out of him.

"Alright, Potter, let's assume you watched me participate in some sort of illicit affair. One, if you were able to spot me in a city as large as New York, I can assume you've been following me, which constitutes as harassment. Two, I was with my usual lot for the entirety of the day, which means you're a liar. And three, if I'd managed to set off your hero-alarm in any manner, you've got a horrible judge of character."

Harry knew Malfoy had a point with most of that, but he still had a nagging feeling that something was off. It was then that he remembered he still had incriminating evidence in his pocket.

"I don't suppose you'd know what this is, then." He flung the business card at Draco's bedspread, where it rested face-up.

Nothing happened for a second, until Malfoy's face gave away the card's recognition. He looked utterly shocked that Harry had found it, and wouldn't take his eyes off the card until he answered. "No. I don't."

"Come off it, Malfoy, don't be a liar. That makes you a hypocrite."

"I don't know what it is."

Harry was getting frustrated. "Shut the hell up, Malfoy, and tell me where you got it from!"

"GIVE IT UP, Potter!" Malfoy's voice was becoming ricketed with what Harry could only recognize as hurt. Still, he stepped towards the boy, and stood over him to get direct contact.

"Malfoy."

"Shut up! Get the bloody hell out of my face, will you?"

Never in a thousand years would Harry have predicted seeing what he was seeing now. The blonde wasn't looking at him, and was resting his forehead on his knees. "Please. Just . . . please." Harry couldn't believe it. He'd caught him crying.

Eight years had passed since Harry had met Draco Malfoy, and each and every one of those years held a load of contempt for the Slytherin that wouldn't pass even if the git saved a busload of children from a burning building. This was a truth Harry had upheld in the deepest parts of his gut- so why was he feeling so almost sympathetic?

" . . . You need to tell me what you were doing." Harry said testingly. Malfoy looked up at him in a jerk, a stinging expression on his face.

"Why, Potter? Why? So you can smear my name like you've been trying to do since Hogwarts? So you can have all the bloody fucking glory you want? You've already done it all!"

Harry didn't know what to say.

"You seem to think, Potter, that I'm on some sort of fucking dark mercenary mission to blast the world to pieces! You don't give a yellow rat's arse if I'm here to actually train or not- hell, you'd rather me be locked up with my father than consider that I'm trying to make a fucking future for myself-"

"- I never said anything like-"

"- Yeah, well, go ahead and deny it then, Potter!"

Again, Harry didn't know what to say.

"Alright. Fuck it. I'm done." And Malfoy rolled over on his side, sniffing the last few words out. His eyes were red and wet, and he shook his head. "I'll go home, then."

There was a moment that passed, occupied by Draco's stifled coughs and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. "Malfoy."

He didn't answer.

"Malfoy, come on. You can't blame me for not trusting you. Look at last yea-"

"I told you, Potter, I'm done

Another silence passed, and Harry nervously counted seventy-three ticks of the clock.

Malfoy spoke. It was quiet, almost as if it were to himself. "I got an offer. The Embassy. They offered me a partnership with the chair. To help me out with the Ministry back home, you know."

"You what?"

"Thank Granger for me, will you," he said passively.

Hermione? Hermione had set it up? Was that what had happened the other night in the owlery? Harry couldn't believe it. Why would she do something so drastic as putting a Malfoy back into the Ministry?

But then, as Harry thought about what Malfoy had just said, he considered it all. Maybe Malfoy was here for the same reasons he was. After all, Malfoy had always seemed drained by the war and scared to death of his family's "friends". Maybe, and this was a big maybe, he was okay with starting over. Just like the rest of them.

"And that's what this was all about?" Harry asked.

"Rub it in if you must." Draco's temperament was calming down.

Then, Harry realized, Malfoy hadn't been lying out of wrongdoing. He'd been lying out of subtlety.

"You're a git, Malfoy," Harry eventually said, but he gave him a small pat on the shoulder, his hand coming to a rest longer than it usually might've. Draco didn't cringe.

"Go to bed, Potter."

Harry almost smiled.

They had a long way to go before he would ever feel comfortable with him in the same room. But for now, it was a start.

Author's Note of Hallo-ing: Hallo! Planning on having Chapter 8 out soonishly. Internet where I'm at is down, so that'll delay it a bit (I finished Ch. 7 earlier this week, for example). Hang with me and you'll get goodies. And nachos. Mostly that. Thanks to everyone who's keeping the spirit going by reading and reviewing!