They apparated to St. Mungo's lobby, and headed down the narrow, moss-slick stairs to Dwindles' offices. The coroner was bent over Grindling's body when they entered the room, but he covered it with a sheet and removed his latex gloves, when he saw them come in.

"Auror Potter, enter!" He said. His eyes were shining. "Something is very interesting here."

Dwindles great enthusiasm for his rather gruesome profession was always a bit confusing when one did not know him well.

"Mediwizard Dwindles," Harry said, politely, as he nearly always was, "This is Mr. Draco Malfoy, you remember, who is assisting me on this case."

"Yes, of course, of course" Dwindles stared myopically at Malfoy for just a moment before wheeling around to walk towards the body. He probably saw Malfoy as another pupil to lecture too, and had very little interest in him otherwise. "Come and look at this."

He practically dragged them towards the body. Harry did what he could to maintain his distance, but Malfoy, seemed to show less compunction. He drew towards the body without hesitation – though his face did seem closed down, as he looked down on Grindling's pale skull.

"Have you identified the potion?" Harry asked, from his place several feet away.

"Yes," said Dwindles, "There was quite a bit remaining undigested. A unique potion, the signature is unmistakable. "

"Good," said Harry, with feeling. "Finally, perhaps, we're getting somewhere."

"However, I should say, something is interesting, quite interesting, about this particular brew…"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, sharply. Dwindles's eyes zeroed in on him, laser-like.

"Well, the potion in his stomach is Morbidius Manifestous, there's no doubt about that. Perhaps you recall its function…"

Harry waited crossly for the coroner to elucidate. However, Malfoy stepped in for him.

"It causes preexisting weaknesses in a victim to worsen. For example, it might lead a man with a heart condition to have a heart attack, or a man with poor arteries into a stroke. It was a common means of murder among wizards in the early twentieth century, because its victims died what appeared to be a natural death – until Sir Francis Widdlesbottom-Healthley discovered a detection charm in 1942.

Dwindles appeared delighted to have found a kindred spirit.

"Yes, yes, precisely."

Harry felt annoyed. "So what actually killed him was – "

"A heart attack, yes – or so it would appear to any muggle."

"And can you pinpoint the time at which it was administered?"

Dwindles frowned. "Well, within a twelve-hour window… I'd say after about four pm, and before morning."

"But then who? Who knew Grindlings enough to kill him, but also knew Timothy Wandsworth? Two gay wizards - that implies a lunatic, doesn't it – someone who hates gay wizards just for being gay – hates them enough, in fact, to want to kill them for it."Malfoy had gone very pale. "Someone," Harry went on, relentlessly, "who fed them poison, from his own hand, simply to enjoy the pleasure of watching them die."

Malfoy looked at him. "But before you said, it was someone who knew them both, it must have been, if the crimes were pre-mediated."

"Yes," Harry said. "What does that mean, do you think?"

Malfoy and Dwindles both frowned.

"What if the two murders are unrelated…?" Dwindles suggested, rather apologetically. "Morbidius Manifestous isn't a potion that's commonly used these days."

Malfoy grunted. "It's not easy to brew, either."

"Who would know it?" Harry asked sharply.

Malfoy held his gaze for a moment before answering. "Purebloods – it's the kind of potion passed down in family spell-books. Professional brewers would know it as well, but it would have been brewed to order."

"That's another link, then," Harry said, firmly. "Once we find the brewer, we'll find the killer."

***

They finished their discussion with Dwindles, and then flooed to the Ministry, Department of Estates, to look briefly over Grindling's will, although they did not expect to find very much of interest there. In fact, his possessions were extremely meager – everything that he owned was non-magical, and it had been left to the same sister Harry had read about before, the Beauxbaton professor.

It was already past eight o'clock when Harry finally decided that there was very little that could be done that night. Malfoy, surprisingly, stuck around for the boring foray into the Estates Department, and had was even helpful in deciphering the wizarding law that would determine the distribution of Grindling's minimal wealth.

As they finished, Malfoy ran his hands through his hair and yawned hugely. He seemed to have unwound from his tense state earlier in the afternoon. He seemed rather quiet, and thoughtful, and was looking at Harry as if he wanted to tell him something.

"Do you want to get some dinner?"

Harry stared for a moment. His first impulse was to politely say, "no, thank you", but he realized that Malfoy had just given up his whole day to stand in the damp and then go around and interviewed muggles, and that the blonde must be as bone-tired as he was. Furthermore, Malfoy had gotten him entrance to the club – and the WFA ball – and aside from a few snarky comments and the kiss, had done nothing thus far but be very helpful to Harry's investigation.

"Yeah, all right," Harry said. "What do you want to eat?"

Malfoy smiled mysteriously.

What Malfoy wanted to eat, it turned out, was curry. Harry was half mystified, and half amused, by the obvious pride with which Malfoy presented the small Indian restaurant to him: as if eating curry in London was a truly exceptional activity. To Malfoy, who had spent so little time in the muggle world until recently, Harry wondered if he didn't actually think that his discovery was impressive.

The look of pure delight on Malfoy's face when he took a bite of the steaming chicken vindaloo just placed in front of him was so comical that Harry had to laugh.

Malfoy opened one eye and gazed at him cooly, and Harry realized that the blonde was joking around, a bit. He was mildly shocked to realize that Malfoy now apparently felt comfortable enough with him to joke around.

"What is it?" Malfoy said, peevishly – but Harry still thought he could imagine that Malfoy was playing a bit.

"Oh, nothing," he said. "It's just, you, eating muggle food, in this muggle place, and looking so happy about it."

Malfoy sniffed, and managed to look a little offended. "What's wrong with that, may I ask?"

"Oh, nothing. Just that it's you, Malfoy. When you were a kid, I think accidently ingesting anything even remotely muggle would have had you sticking your fingers down your throat to get it out."

Malfoy put down his fork, and now he actually did look a bit offended. Harry felt glad. He had disliked, obscurely, the idea of Malfoy feeling comfortable around him.

"Well, what if I would have? People change," Malfoy added, softly.

"But not usually that much, Malfoy."

"Right."Malfoy looked at Harry. Harry had the uncomfortable sense that Malfoy was weighing him – trying to decide whether or not to say something to Harry, as he had earlier.

"Look," Harry said, "I think this is going fairly well, don't you? I mean, I was kind of unhappy when I heard I'd have to be working with you – figured we'd kill each other with in twenty-four hours. But it's been three days and I think we've managed so far fairly professionally."

Malfoy seemed to take interest in the last word. "Yes?" He said. "Professionally?"

"Yeah." Harry said. "I hope we'll catch the bastard who did this pretty soon, and then go back to our own separate lives." He looked uncomfortably at Malfoy. "I really won't tell anyone about you."

"Oh," said Malfoy, distantly. "Good. I wouldn't want to have to destroy your life, Potter."

It took Harry a moment to process the threat. He was taken aback. Malfoy's comment seemed a bit harsh, given that Harry was trying to be conciliatory. After a moment he scoffed. "As if you could."

"Oh, I could." All Malfoy's playfulness of a moment ago was gone, and he was eyeing Potter rather coldly now. If Harry hadn't known better, he would almost have thought that Malfoy was angry. What if I changed my mind about this secrecy business, for instance? Let word got out that I was gay… I could start naming names… claim to have had a famous lover, perhaps… how do you think that would read on the front page?"

He had picked up his knife, but rather than cut into his chicken he only looked at it dispassionately.

Harry gave a harsh bark of laughter. "Like what? You're saying you would tell people I was your lover?"

"I could," Malfoy looked at him penetratingly.

"No one would ever believe it." Harry said angrily.

"Oh no? We all know how the stories about you run in The Prophet. Poor Harry Potter, still single: they say you haven't had a girlfriend since Ginny Weasley…"

"That," Harry said, loudly enough to let Malfoy know he was serious. "Is Enough."

Malfoy leaned back in his chair, as if tired. "No, I don't really think it is. For the sake of this case, I've told you – a great deal, Potter. Harry." He almost hissed the name. "I've let you in on the biggest secret I have going right now, something I can't even tell my friends about. That's bloody terrifying for me – don't you dare think it isn't. I've given you names, and I'm – I'm – I'm being asked to put a lot of trust in you. And I know you don't like me and I'd like to laugh that off as silly and childish but I can't, because every single person judges me based on who I was when I was seventeen and scared."

His voice rose to a hoarse shout in the middle of this pronouncement, but trailed to a raspy whisper by as it ended. Harry didn't know what to say. Malfoy took another deep breath and began again.

"Since I've been observing you this week, let me say, Harry, how things look from my perspective. You try to act as if this case is just another day in Auror-Land for you, but sometimes you talk too fast and sometimes you talk too loud. At first I thought, typical nervous boring Gryffindor, but then I saw how you looked when we went to Cielo, how your eyes practically fell out of their sockets. I saw how you blushed when Sean flirted with you, and I felt how you reacted when I kissed you, like you were fucking terrified and not because some gay boy was making you uncomfortable. You're as bent as I am, Potter, I'd lay money on it. But, you don't want to level with me. Why should I be the one asked to put all my cards on the table, while you act so superior?"

He leaned back in his chair and glared mulishly at Harry. Harry felt that his whole face had gone as red as a lobster. He couldn't think, he couldn't think at all.

"I…" he said. "I…"

"Oh, shove it, Potter."

Neither spoke for some moments, and then Harry rose. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He didn't know what else to do. Malfoy's words were swirling around in his head, around and around, and he needed a moment to sit and clear his head, and he just couldn't do that with Malfoy in front of him, looking at him as if he was waiting for an answer.

"Fine, go home. Run away," Malfoy said, dismissively. "I know I'm right, though."

"I'm not – I'm not running away," Harry said, although the words felt hollow to him. "I don't owe you anything. Good night, Malfoy."

"Good night, Potter," Harry heard Malfoy said as he was already apparating away. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but he thought that the man sounded a little sad.

He didn't plan it – he had been thinking of apparating back to his apartment – but he found himself standing in Ron and Hermione's living room instead. He blanched to think how distracted he must be: apparating like that was a quick way to splinch yourself.

"Who is it…?" He heard Hermione call, and then he saw her entering the living room, and Ron following her.

"Hullo," he said, attempting to make his voice sound hearty. "I thought I'd stop by for a coffee, if it's not too late."

But Hermione knew him far, far too well. Harry didn't know what it was that gave him away, but immediately she was running to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders, squeezing him as tightly as she could around her own big belly.

"It's alright, Harry," She said, simply.

"You can stay the night," Ron added.

Neither of them asked any questions.

Thanks to readers! This chapter is dedicated to Jinko, thanks for reviewing! Sorry this chapter is so short – I just ended up dividing things up this way because it seemed to make more sense story-wise, but I have all the very last two chapters drafted now so I will put them up very soon.