Give Me Wings to Fly With

Summary: Having Harry Potter locked up as a dangerous beast, the Ministry shows no signs of gratitude for the Defeater of Voldemort. Until there is a new threat to be considered...

Warnings: Violence (perhaps even some gore), cursing, established relationship (HPDM)

Disclaimer: Not mine but Rowling's.

A/N In this chapter, there is a flashback with Draco fighting against the Death Eaters alongside Harry even though he wasn't in Auror training or anything like that. But would you expect Draco to stay home with his Potions kit while Harry was out risking his life? Besides, it was war. Everyone was needed in the battles (author's excuses for her laziness, bear with me)

Thanks Cam! And thank you for the reviews, you guys have so great plot lines I sometimes regret this story is already finished and thus, harder to change.


Chapter VII – Unleashed

Draco jumped up so fast he nearly fell over, tangled in the bedsheets. "What? An attack? Where?"

"A small village near Milton Keynes. There are coordinates in the letter." Harry glanced at the sheet of parchment. "I guess Kingsley wants us to go there."

"Attacking in broad daylight," Draco muttered, frantically searching for his clothes. He threw Harry a pair of black trousers. "Here, put those on. We don't have time to modify your shirts to fit your wings now."

He turned, fully dressed, to see Harry still standing there, clutching the trousers in his hands. "Harry?" he said, slowly. "You are coming, right?"

"I don't know, Draco." Harry looked pinched. "I don't know if I'm ready -"

Draco grabbed his shoulders, shaking him a little. "Harry. You won't hurt anyone who doesn't deserve it. You aren't a danger, believe me!" He turned away and grabbed his wand from the bed. "Besides, I'm going. You want me to go alone?"

A shadow passed Harry's face as he thought of that possibility, and he had changed into the black trousers before Draco could walk through the door. Not exchanging any words, they rushed outside, beyond the Apparation wards and Apparated away, according to the coordinates provided.

Fire was the first thing Draco's senses registered when they landed. The heat and crackling noises of fire, the screams that echoed in his ears – it reminded him so much of the war he nearly fell to his knees from the shock. Then he felt Harry's hand touch his in a worried gesture. "Draco?"

"I'm fine", he said, rather stiffly, and looked around, taking in the scene around them.

They were at the outskirts of a small village that seemed to consist of one main road that had small buildings on both sides – Draco could see a bank on fire, a pub completely demolished. Several houses were in shambles, just pieces of smouldering wood and stone left scattered on the ground. Hysterical Muggles were screaming everywhere, running and trying to find a place to hide. Some had barricaded themselves into houses, pale faces peeking out through the windows. Like that could stop Nott and his misfits. And as if someone had heard Draco's thoughts, there was a great blast and a house went up in towering flames, drowning any sounds of possible screaming with its loud crackling.

Bitter smoke filled the air like poisonous fog, making it impossible to take a deep breath without coughing. The smell of smoke was mixed with something else, something Draco faintly remembered being called as gasoline – the liquid Muggles used for their cars. Draco also remembered that gasoline was highly flammable, just as there was another explosion and a massive chunk of metal blew up like it was a mere toy care, shards of sharp glass and pieces of debris raining down on the running Muggles who tripped and fell down on the street like rag dolls.

Already, there were motionless bodies lying on the ground, flesh covered with mud and grime. A man had been thrown against a car and there were bits of glass and metal glistering around the bloodied corpse. Another Muggle was gruesomely impaled by a piece of metal fence going straight through his chest. Draco's eyes detected ripped off limbs, mutilated remains of people, puddles of blood everywhere he looked.

It was as if a homicidal tornado had gone through the village. Draco thanked the Merlin he didn't have a weak stomach anymore; otherwise, he would have been sick dozens of times already. But the war had taught him well. Blood was not something he wasn't accustomed to.

And in the middle of the screaming Muggles, there were snarling werewolves, their fur coated in blood, scruffy witches and wizards with maiming curses ready on their lips, bird-like creatures that Draco didn't even recognize, blood-thirsty vampires, all creating havoc for all that was worth. They seemed to have no mercy, no compassion – just rage and vindictive willingness to destroy.

"Merlin," Draco breathed, staring. It's like the war again. But instead of Death Eaters, there are crazed magical creatures and those who won't ever fit in to the society, taking apart the world as we know it.

Then, there was a series of loud cracks in the air. Kingsley, alongside with a handful of Aurors, appeared at the other side of the village, their red Auror cloaks whipping in the slight wind that had risen. Nott's small army noticed them right away and shouts of warning and cries of revenge rang in the air. Violent spells were fired amid the chaos of fire and snarling, jets of all colours destroying everything on their way.

"We should go and help them," Harry murmured, his voice so low Draco had difficulties hearing it over the noise of the raging battle in the village. Draco nodded and gripped his wand, hardening his mind for the upcoming fight. That had been his defensive mechanism in the war – focus just on the battle in hand, cold and distant. Quite the opposite of Harry, who had fought with passion, a part of him always suffering with every death blow he delivered.

flashback – about two months before Voldemort was defeated

Draco smoothly stepped aside, avoiding the murky green curse shot at him. He gave an icy smirk at the Death Eater and flicked his wand once, uttering a curse. The Death Eater hastily raised a silvery shield that didn't hold – Draco's curse sliced straight through it like a knife though melted butter and the Death Eater went down.

Draco smiled in cold satisfaction and turned to his next opponent, swiftly and effectively forming a shield of his own to block the incoming curse. He held the shield for a second, then dropped it in one, graceful movement and struck back. The Death Eater avoided his attack by throwing himself to the side and Draco was forced to retreat, two new Death Eaters stepping in.

The more the merrier, that's what they say.

He brought his wand down and multiple curses burst out, flying towards the Death Eaters – blood exploded from the quickly appearing gashes and the Death Eaters screamed. Calmly, Draco wiped away the red liquid that had stained his robes and looked over his shoulder.

Harry was fighting nearby, his face set in fierce determination as he rolled on the ground to dodge curses. He rose to one knee, shouting out a curse that sent out a volley of flaming balls of fire, a snarl on his lips. Jumping up, he shot a curse at another Death Eater while physically grabbing another one that was aiming their wand against Weasley. Harry kicked, his legwork fast and strong, and the Death Eater fell with a wounded cry.

"Draco, behind you!" came a shout from somewhere and Draco cursed, whirling around. He narrowly warded off the Blasting Curse and glared at the Death Eater who dared to grin at him. Draco spun his wand in circular motion over his head to collect power, then stabbed the wand towards the Death Eater. Yellow tendrils of pure magic gushed out, entwining around the hapless Death Eater. Ignoring the shrill screams of the Death Eater as the magic burned them from the inside out, Draco turned away with both his head and shield raised high.

Harry came jogging at him, a trickle of blood running down his neck. He looked tired but relentless, the grip on his wand vehement. "Hey," he said, a little breathless. "You okay?"

Draco allowed a tiny smile. "I'm always okay, Harry."

"Greyback is here."

Sharply, Draco looked at the direction Harry was pointing at. Indeed, he could see the bulky werewolf in the distance, his long and sharp fingernails viscous as he tore his way through the Aurors and other fighters. He glanced back at Harry. "You want to take him down?"

Harry's lips tightened. "He's a killer," he said, as a justification. "He'll maim and kill others."

Knowing Harry wouldn't attack without a valid reason, Draco gave a curt nod. "Let's go, then."

And off they went, side to side, fighting their way to where Greyback was. Draco dealt with the defence, his spells and shields smooth and precise, while Harry handled most of the assaulting – his powerful and imaginative spells wiped their path clear from the Death Eaters in no time.

He may not like destroying the Death Eaters, but he's damn good at it, Draco thought.

"Fenrir!" Harry shouted out as they neared their target and the werewolf looked up. Greyback broke into a one-sided grin when he saw them, showing a mouthful of bloodied, sharp teeth. His ragged beard was matted with blood, as was his tangled mass of grey hair. Draco felt a strong bolt of hatred towards the werewolf. He had been the one who had had his hands – or claws – in killing Dumbledore a few years back, as well as many other wizards Draco had known. A filthy creature, that's what he is.

"Littlest Potter," jeered Greyback in a crooning voice. His black eyes flickered to Draco. "And his blonde little snake. How nice of you to drop by."

Harry bared his teeth, his wand raised. "I can't let you kill people anymore, Fenrir."

Greyback laughed, a horrible sound that grated on Draco's ears. "Maybe it is you, little Potter, who will die tonight."

And without any more waning, the werewolf launched himself at them with terrifying speed, his mouth wide open and claws at the ready. With their quick, Seeker-honed reflexes, both Harry and Draco managed to throw themselves away from his destructive path and Greyback's jaws encountered nothing but air.

Harry recovered fast, his wand held high as he leapt to his feet. "Stupefy!"

Greyback laughed again, mockingly, sidestepping the spell with surprising agility. "You should try something better than that, little one!"

Draco sent another curse at the rapid werewolf, a darker one than Harry had used. Greyback gave a high-pitched yelp, like a dog's, as the flesh in his left arm became raw and red, as if it had been cooked in boiling water. But his mad grin didn't waver and neither did his strength, apparently. With a growl, he sprang towards Draco and knocked the blonde wizard down on the ground. He had Draco pinned in seconds.

Saliva dripped onto his face and Greyback's hot breath stank of rotten meat as Draco struggled to keep Greyback's snapping jaws away from his skin, utter disgust and pricking fear surging in his mind. He strained his hands against the werewolf's chest, turning his head away to get a breath of fresh air -then Greyback let out a muffled yip, his eyes grotesquely bulging out, and he slumped down like a piece of meat.

With a revolted "ugh", Draco pushed the dead weight off him, and scrambled to his feet, wand at the ready. Harry stood rigidly over the collapsed form of Greyback and in his hand, Draco saw a long dagger, a fresh coating of blood trailing down from the dragger to the ground.

"Well done," Draco whispered into Harry's ear, squeezing his shoulder. "You did the right thing."

Harry looked up, both nausea and triumph in his eyes. He gave a weak smile, swallowing. "I know," he said, his voice rough. Emotions danced on his face and Draco was sorely tempted to tease him about his Gryffindorish transparency. But they had no time as a daring Death Eater decided to pay them a visit.

"No rest for the wicked, huh?" Harry suddenly grinned and swooped back to the battle with a loud war cry. Draco shook his head in dry amusement and followed suit, in a more subtle and cool-headed way.

end flashback

As Harry and Draco neared the heart of the village, the misfits, as Draco had them dubbed in his mind, took notice of them. Some seemed a little confused at sight of Harry, with his wings and all, but as soon as Draco fired off the first offensive spells, they snarled and attacked. A large werewolf with murky brown fur, tangled from mud and blood, bounded towards them first, its mighty jaws ready to give the fatal bite that cut through muscle and bone like water.

I hate rapid werewolves, Draco thought moodily, watching the animal approach with its yellow eyes glowing with mindless bloodlust. Especially when they use a potion to change into that form even without the help of the moon.

Raising his wand, Draco prepared to deal with the werewolf with one, simple curse that would get rid of it in a flash. Just as he was whipping down his wand to deliver the curse, the earth suddenly shook as a massive explosion took place in the nearest house, blowing it up as if it had never existed before. The violent trembling of the ground beneath him caused Draco to stagger as he wildly tried to regain his abruptly lost footing. His focus completely off, Draco was caught by surprise as the werewolf was upon him in seconds, the animal's stinging breath on his face.

But just as quickly the wolf has leapt on him, it was ripped off as if some invisible wind had blown it away. Draco gaped as he stared at the fearsome creature that rigidly stood in the werewolf's place, for a moment not even recognizing Harry.

Dear Merlin.

Harry had his wings fanned out, slightly inwards curled. Looking like a vengeful angel, he stood in a half-crouch, legs spread out for a firmer position. Dark shadows played around his bare upper body, dancing and slithering like a herd of wild snakes, making Harry look bulkier than he was.

The most intimidating part, however, was his face. It seemed distorted in its fury, just as dark and forbidding as the shadows fluttering around him, and his eyes were pitch-black, a spark of pure rage in them. His lips were pulled apart in a savage snarl, a row of razor-sharp teeth revealed as an extreme threat, and he spat out hissed words that suspiciously sounded like Parseltoungue. A gust of wind around him whipped at his hair and wings.

And as Harry stood over him, growling, Draco shivered. He's protecting his mate.

For the first time, Draco felt a little afraid. Not for himself, of course, but for the ones around him. "Harry?" he whispered, trying to get up. A fierce wind, however, came out of nowhere and gently pressed him against the ground, making it unable for him to raise to his feet. He was forced to lay there, protected by the wind, and watch as Harry jumped over him with a powerful flap of his wings, landing straight in the middle of misfits.

They had no chance whatsoever.

Harry, with a horrendous cry, brought his hands together with force, like he were about to clap. Instead of applauses, though, there was a high-pitched noise that ended on a low note, just like the noise a fast train does when it passes, and a blast of magic so powerful it cleared the area all around Harry erupted from his hands. Vampires and other misfits were tossed aside like toys, landing several feet away. They didn't get up anymore.

Screams broke out and misfits galloped towards Harry, determined to bring him down. A vampire leaped at the Valerius, its fangs bared, but Harry barely flicked his hand and the creature fell down in the middle of the jump, never rising again. A pair of wizards, massive in their stature, abandoned magic and attempted to grab Harry from behind, greedy hands viciously tugging at his wings. Harry gave an inhumane screech, whirling around so fast the men tripped over their own feet, and Draco almost chuckled at the look of dismay on their faces as Harry snarled at them.

Almost.

Hoisting the men up from their collars, Harry rocketed into the air like an arrow, effortlessly dragging the two beefy men with him. Several yards high, he swung his arms and the men flew screaming through the air until gravity did its trick. Draco doubted there was anything left from the men.

Easily avoiding a stream of curses shot at him, Harry landed with the usual grace of a hunting feline. This time, the misfits had gathered their remaining troops – Draco noticed the Aurors were just standing by, staring at Harry with wide eyes behind Kingsley's commanding form – and attacked Harry together, a swarm of werewolves, vampires, wizards and everything between, furiously trying to overpower him. Harry let out a shrill scream of rage again, spinning around in his place a few times, his strong wings knocking aside the nearest misfits. Then he raised his fists high, his face set in a fierce snarl as he raised a few feet above the ground before surging back down – Draco saw him slamming his fists into the ground and a small earthquake shook the ground, wild magic flaring up again in dark tendrils that burst through the earth, grabbing misfits left and right and slamming them back into the ground so hard Draco could hear the wet smacks and cracks as flesh was turned into bloody pulp and bone was simply pulverised.

Then, it was deathly quiet. Even the Muggles, or what was left of them, were quiet. No-one was moving around, save for a couple of misfits who had somehow survived Harry's trashing and were trying to crawl away. Harry waved his hand in a large circle and the misfits were suddenly bound in thick ropes from head to toe.

None of the Aurors were hurt. None of the Muggles had been injured by Harry's magic. It was just the misfits. For a short second, Draco felt like applauding. The wind holding him in place suddenly relented, and Draco shot to his feet, wasting no time in running over to Harry. The Valerius was standing in the middle of dead misfits, head and wings bowed in what seemed like great fatigue, not a smear of blood anywhere on his skin. His chest was heaving, his shoulders quivering.

"Harry?" Draco said in a whisper, not taking his eyes off Harry. He gently touched Harry's shoulder and he felt alarmingly hot skin under his hand, as if there were a fire burning just underneath Harry's skin. But as Draco's hold tightened, the feeling of intense warmth started to cool off, little by little. Harry's head turned and Draco was rewarded with the sight of dark green eyes – dark, but still green. "Harry, baby, are you okay? That was quite a fight you did."

Harry responded by grabbing Draco into his arms, his wings wrapping around them like a soft, protective blanket. He nuzzled Draco's neck, inhaling deep and long. "They almost hurt you. That wolf. I got so angry", he spoke with disjointed sentences, as if speaking coherently was still too difficult for him. Draco could feel his heart thundering in his chest.

"I'm okay," Draco murmured soothingly, his arms sneaking around Harry's waist. "I'm safe."

Through the gaps in Harry's feathers, Draco saw the Aurors still standing by, not even trying to approach Harry. Draco thought he detected a glimpse of red hair on one of the Aurors, staying back. Kingsley was ordering his people to gather up the few alive misfits while some were starting to put out the fires, rescuing any Muggles they could see in the ruins of the village. As Draco watched, Kingsley spared them a glance. The Head Auror nodded with a grim smile, signing they should go home before anyone else arrived at the scene. The Aurors were under Kingsley's control, but he couldn't vouch for others.

"Let's go home, baby," Draco whispered, holding tight as Harry Disapparated in a flurry of wings and fluttering clothes.

No-one noticed the pair of calculating eyes watching their every move, safely from the distance.

To Draco's mild surprise, they arrived straight into their bedroom, inside the wards that were meant to prevent Apparation. Well. After Harry's show, I'm not surprised by anything anymore.

Together, they fell on the bed in a tangled mess of feathers all around them. Harry's eyelashes fluttered in his exhaustion and he weakly kicked off his trousers, pulling Draco on top of him and holding him there, sniffing at his hair in a way of calming down. Draco hummed, trailing idle circles on Harry's smooth chest with his finger.

"Almost lost you," Harry mumbled into his hair. Draco lifted his head and gave him a tender butterfly kiss.

"Not even close." Draco smiled at the purr rumbling in Harry's chest. "It was just a werewolf. We've dealt those before, remember?"

"Unfortunately."

Draco went back to doodling on Harry's skin, his fingers serving as his pencils. He imagined drawing a lion of the Gryffindor with a snake curled around it.

"I didn't harm any Aurors or Muggles, did I?"

"No, you didn't." Draco's fingers dipped lower, on Harry's abdomen, where the tail of the snake would be. "Just the misfits. And they fully deserved what they got. I imagine they managed to kill quite a lot of those villagers."

"I'm surprised the Aurors didn't arrest me." Harry shivered under Draco's soft touch.

"I told you; Kingsley has our backs covered."

Harry's back arched a little as Draco trailed down onto his inner thigh. "I'm – I'm sorry about the earlier," he whispered. "I was a prat, yelling at you like that. It isn't your fault the Ministry is being so horrible. I'm sorry."

Draco looked up, a smile on his lips. He reached out to place a gentle peck on Harry's nose. "Oh baby, there's nothing to forgive. I shouldn't have yelled, either."

He kissed Harry on the lips, savouring the taste. He shifted his leg, intentionally brushing against Harry's groin and the Valerius groaned into his mouth, a sound of utter pleasure. Draco smirked lazily, allowing his hand to droop lower again, the tips of his fingers barely touching. Harry's back arched again as he pushed back into Draco's ghostly touch, a moan escaping his lips. "Draco... " he hissed.

"I'm right here," Draco whispered in a low tone. "I'm right here, baby."

He felt soft feathers against his back as the wings closed down on them again, and they were swallowed by the warm darkness.

The next morning, Draco woke up first for once. It was very early morning – which was quite understandable since they had fallen asleep in the afternoon yesterday.

He was cuddled in Harry's arms that were loosely curled around him, and Harry used his chest as a pillow, his black hair spilling all over Draco's pale flesh. Puffs of warm air tickled Draco's chest as Harry breathed in his sleep, quiet and content. His face was turned towards Draco as he lay there and with his eyes closed and his muscles completely relaxed, he looked exactly like the old Harry, the signs of wildness and wariness smoothed out by sleep.

But Draco wasn't fooled. He would remember the events from yesterday till he died. Playing with a strand of Harry's hair, he gave a sad little smile. He mourned the loss of the old Harry, but welcomed this new Harry with open arms nevertheless. They were, after all, the same person, a mix of two personalities that both deserved Draco's unconditional love.

Don't you worry, Harry. You'll be okay.

Draco placed a gentle hand on Harry's cheek, fanning out his fingers.

We'll be okay.


He shifted, carefully pushing with his arm and the wings draped over them like a living blanket fell away with a barely audible swish. Harry twitched, his eyes slowly opening to reveal a sleepy shade of green. "Hey," Draco said softly. "Want to go down for some breakfast?"

Harry yawned, his arms retreating away from around Draco as he stretched like a large cat on the bed, lithe muscles rippling. His wings shuffled, gathering behind Harry into their normal position as he rose to his feet and grabbed a pair of loose-fitting trousers from the closet. Draco glanced down at himself, at the boxers he was wearing, and shrugged. He always looked gorgeous, no matter what he wore, so why bother changing? And judging by the sideways glance, Harry didn't mind either.

"Did you sleep well?" Draco asked once they were in the kitchen that was filled with warm light from the bright morning-sun.

Harry, picking apart the peaches in the bowl to find the most ripe one, looked up with a raised eyebrow, a lopsided grin twisting his lips. "Yes, I did indeed. After you wore me out."

Draco snorted and carried a small basket of bread to the table. "What I meant," he said, buttering a roll for himself, "that are you still feeling the effects of the magical drain from the battle? That was some serious shit, Harry."

His eyes downcast, Harry sliced a peach into neat little pieces. "I feel fine." Still not meeting Draco's eyes, he snapped his fingers and a pitcher of ice tea came floating from the fridge. "See? My magic is fine, too."

Frowning at Harry's mild tone, Draco put the roll back onto the table. "Are you still angry at me?"

Harry's eyes snapped to him for a fleeting moment before they were lowered again. "I'm not angry at you, Draco. I'm angry at myself."

"Why?" Draco asked, honestly confused.

Harry sighed wearily. He stared at the sliced peach in front of him as if the fruit would give him all the answers he needed. "I couldn't control myself yesterday," he finally said, his voice strained. "I just... I attacked them without thinking. I saw the werewolf coming at you and I just.... " he shrugged. "I snapped."

"And that makes you angry?" Draco gave a small sigh of his own. "Oh Harry, sweetie. No-one is blaming you for anything. And you know why? Because you saved me, Harry. You protected not just me, but the Aurors as well. Without your help, some of the Aurors might have been killed or seriously injured." Harry was still staring down, and feeling a twinge of annoyance, Draco snapped, "Look at me, Harry."

Reluctantly, Harry looked up and met Draco's eyes. There was guilt and self-hatred swimming in his eyes, marring the green like ugly dots of grey. Draco took his hand into his own. "This, Harry, is a sign of your humanity. You feel guilty at attacking the misfits – but they were the enemy, Harry. They would have killed you, or me, or the Aurors without blinking. They wouldn't have felt any remorse, like you do now. And you know why?" Draco leaned closer, giving Harry's cheek a soft caress. "Because you're a better person they are. Believe me, Harry, you did the right thing yesterday."

There was a small pause. "And I guess the Ministry wants me to continue 'doing the right thing'", Harry murmured with resignation in his tone.

Draco kissed him gently. "I'm afraid so," he whispered. "But I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you."

Harry's response was interrupted by a screech of an owl. Slightly startled, Draco looked towards the window, and sure enough, there was a barn owl waiting behind the glass, irksomely glaring into the kitchen. The bird let out another loud screech.

"I'm coming," Draco snapped, walking to the window and slamming it open. "What do you have?"

The owl looked at him disdainfully and offered its feet with an agitated hoot. In its claws, there was the early morning edition of the Daily Prophet and Draco took it, paying the owl from the small case of coins he kept beside the window. "Bloody delivery owls," he muttered, turning away from the window with the paper clutched in his hand. "Just as moody as the Ministry owls."

"Draco." Harry was looking at him, his lips pinched. "Look at the headline."

Obediently, Draco splayed the paper open against the kitchen table and took one look at the front page.

The previously incarcerated Harry Potter sighted - took part in a bloody skirmish in Eastern England!

"Well," Draco said calmly, turning the pages to reach the whole story. "The public would have found out sooner or later."

"I would have preferred not to be found out in the middle of a battle, quite frankly," Harry dryly remarked. "What does it say? "Madman Potter slays all" ? "

Draco shot him a narrow-eyed look. "Of course not, you git. Let's see... A Ministry official who wishes to remain unnamed, reveals that Harry Potter, the defeater of You-Know-Who, has indeed been seen outside the Ministry where Mr. Potter has been confined for his own safety for the past months..." Draco snorted with contempt. "Yeah, right. For your own safety." He went on reading, "Mr. Potter, as we all know, is a victim of a dark curse and has been reborn as a Valerius, a dangerous and magically powerful magical creature... blah, blah, blah... there was a conflict between an Auror squad and a group of remaining Death Eaters... Bloody hell, don't they realize there aren't any Death Eaters left?"

"If the public doesn't want to realize it," Harry said softly, "then they won't. It's like with Voldemort; they want to live in ignorance rather than face the truth. It's easier that way." His voice took a wistful tone, as if he had himself wanted to be that ignorant one, living in the blissful dark.

Draco completely understood him.

"It was confirmed Mr. Potter was present at the battle and is single-handedly responsible for a very large death toll... however, there were no casualties among the Aurors or civilians... Well, no casualties among the Muggles by you, at least." Draco smoothed out the paper that was beginning to wrinkle in his tight hold. "They're describing your powers pretty vaguely; flying, tossing people around, pretty much shooting out bolts of magic out of your arse and such."

"Sounds rather familiar," Harry wryly commented with a crooked grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. But he was trying, really trying to be an optimist, and Draco appreciated the effort.

"It seems that Mr. Potter is not the sweet young man we knew before the destruction of You-Know-Who, but it remains unknown whether he's a threat to the Wizarding world. We at the Daily Prophet tried to reach his fiancé, Draco Malfoy, who was also sighted in the battle, and the Minister himself to get more information on why and how was Mr. Potter released, but to no avail." Draco sneered. "Funny, I think I would have noticed if someone tried to contact me. Not that I would tell them a thing, of course."

"It doesn't look very good for the Minister, does it?" Harry gazed at the newspaper. There was a large picture of him in his full Auror gear on the cover, probably taken just months before it all went to hell. "All this secrecy and sugarcoating. The public will catch on soon."

Draco folded the newspaper, casting it aside with a careless flick. "I sure hope so. And then they're ready to receive a new Minister. A leader they can trust to make things right."

A soft hoot interrupted them again, accompanied by a questioning knock against glass. "Hedwig!" Harry all but exclaimed, jumping up and rushing to the window. The snowy owl hopped inside, a letter clutched in its beak, and it hooted again, the sounds muffled because of the letter.

"Hey, girl." Harry stroked Hedwig's feathers, and if owls could smile, Hedwig would have most definitely grinned widely. Then it gave another hoot, reproachful this time. Harry nodded, as if he understood. "I haven't seen you for months, I know. I'm sorry."

"She's been staying with Ron and Hermione for the past few weeks," Draco said, a little ashamed at how he had almost forgotten Harry's owl. "I haven't exactly been the best pet caretaker lately."

"I'm sure she didn't mind. I think she has a crush on Hermione's Alfred." Draco stared at Hedwig, trying to imagine the owl lovestruck, daydreaming over Hermione's hawk owl that was named after some famous Muggle author. "What do you have me there, girl?"

Harry took the small scroll and opened it, his eyes glancing through the letter. "It's from Ron and Hermione. They've read the Prophet, too."

"What are they saying?"

"That they don't know who leaked the information to the papers and so on. Oh, and Hermione's attached a postscript." Harry leaned closer to see the apparently smaller writing. "She says that they will break through the wards of the house unless we let them now we're okay, at once."

Draco rolled his eyes. But he knew Hermione wouldn't give out empty threats, so he strode over the fireplace to relay a message of their well-being. As he crouched over the emerald flames, he didn't see the second owl that fluttered to a stop in front of Harry. He also didn't see the content of the letter the owl carried, the letter Harry crushed in his fist, small flickering sparks turning the parchment into ashes. The letter with the official Ministry stamps.

Potter,

good job so far. Keep going or suffer the consequences. You wouldn't want something to happen to a certain Malfoy, would you?