**Portions of Draco and Épiphanie's subconscious conversation in the hospital is taken from Romeo & Juliet

Épiphanie nodded her head absently to the driving reggae beat that filled the record store as she flipped through a stack of CDs, occasionally picking one for closer inspection. Today, she felt entirely in her element—comfortably dressed in an oversized hoodie and baggy sweatpants with her favorite sneakers. Her hair fell in twin French braids. She felt the sensation of being watched and turned.

"Hey, Seamus!" she smiled.

"Hiya, Épiphanie!" he exclaimed. "What are ye doin' here?"

"No training today," she shrugged. "Draco had a Quidditch League meeting at the Ministry, so I decided to come into the city. Wiltshire is pretty, but a girl like me needs tall buildings and traffic noise from time to time."

"Ah! Bored with life at The Manor already?" Seamus chuckled.

"Well, let's just say country life is not for me. And I don't live at the Manor, I live at Dragon Grove Players' Village. So, is this place responsible for that kickass reggae mix you threw down the other night?" She looked around the store.

"Yah! Dean thinks I spend too much money on records, but he seems to forget to complain after he sees the door receipts every week."

"I bet," Épiphanie laughed.

"Fancy joining me for elevenses?"

"Sure!"

"…and Hermione said, 'it's not Levio-SAR, it's Levi-OH-sa!" Seamus giggled.

Épiphanie laughed over a cup of coffee as Seamus regaled her with stories of some of the happier times her friends had at Hogwarts, like the incident in their Charms class, in which he'd caused a feather to explode.

"I can totally see her doing that. I can be intense that way myself on occasion, but I worried about her sometimes. Do you remember, she was so outdone the first day in Potions class when Draco and I made a practically perfect Shrinking potion? After class she practically accused me of cheating.

"She didn't!"

"Well, we smoothed it over. I guess y'all old-heads still struggle with house prejudices. I think that's what inspired it, but I can understand her motivation. When you've been the top dog, it hurts to see the newcomer show you up." She sipped her coffee. "This is an interesting place," Épiphanie said, looking around the coffee house where they sat, and admiring its eclectic décor. Her eyes landed on the rainbow flag hanging in the window behind Seamus. He shrugged.

"Yer catholic, yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah, why do you ask?"

"The way ye responded when Hannah moved to sit with ye the other night. When she wrapped her arms around ye, ye looked right scundered."

"Oh. Heh. Well, it's not that. I mean, that's what I was taught, but that's not the way I think, obviously." She gestured between himself and her. "I was just kinda thrown off. Like I said, I've never."

"Ah. Well, ye've a right conundrum then." Seamus refreshed his tea.

"How's that?" Épiphanie asked.

"Because she certainly wanted to try it on with ye. Hannah might be a sub, but Neville's spoiled her. Whatever she wants, she usually gets."

"Really? But Draco—"

"Aw, macushla! Draco would do whatever Neville asks of him. Ye didn't notice?"

"Well, I—but Draco's not—"

"Nah, Draco's no ponce, but—"

"Well, actually, I was going to say Draco's not a submissive."

"No, he's not, but I wouldn't be surprised to discover he's a switch. Besides, I know Neville. He's not the same wizard we grew up with. The old Neville was practically afraid of his own shadow. Since he slayed Nagini in the battle, he's gained a lot of confidence. I'm not saying tha's a bad thing. Neville's as caring and loyal as they come, but as a Dom, he's so convincin' he could sell ya the eye outta ye head! That was no simple reconciliation gift Draco gave him, returning his remembrall. That was a tribute, that was."

"A tribute?"

"A gift given to a Dominant to show one's honor and reverence."

Épiphanie was quiet. She fingered her spoon. She thought of the way Draco's behavior changed when he was in Neville's presence.

"Ah, don't worry, love." Seamus reached across the table and took her hand. "Ye know Draco's got the glad eye for ye. Even if Neville did ask him to let ye play with Hannah, he'd consider your feelings about it."

She nodded and gave a shrug. "So, Ginny and Dean, huh? What about you? Have you ever been with a woman?" Épiphanie gave him an inquisitive look.

"Oh, clutch me pearls, no, love!" Seamus pressed his hand to his chest and gave her a look of feigned astonishment. "Is tha' an offer?" he winked conspiratorially.

"Oh!" she let out a mock gasp. "Clutch my pearls! Without our doms' permission?" she laughed.

"You in pearls?" Seamus rolled his eyes. "I can't picture it."

"Dahling! I'm the very picture of a devout Catholic Creole lady. Catch a sista on Easter Sunday!" she grinned.

"Now tha' I kin believe!" he winked.

They left the coffee house and continued to talk as they made their way up the street towards the Underground.

"So, I have to have a mixtape! Your set was off the hook, Shae!"

"Ye think so?"

"Absolutely! Nobody's ever asked you for a tape?"

"Well, one or two muggles have asked." He shrugged. "But I don't know. It's the music that keeps 'em comin' to tha club."

"You have a point. Soon as you start giving them out, folks will make copies for their friends," she replied thoughtfully.

"I'll still make ye one, though. Long as ye promise not to start pressing CDs in Malfoy's cellar," he teased. Épiphanie suddenly grabbed Seamus' arm. He looked at her strangely. "I was only kidding, love!"

"We're being followed. Keep walking," she said when he faltered and started to look over his shoulder.

"Shit. We're in a muggle street!" he hissed, his hand going immediately into his pocket. "We can't do magic! It's against the statute!"

"We need to find a place to apparate."

"I know. C'mon!" Seamus quickened his pace and Épiphanie followed him a few more yards up the street until they stepped into an alley between two tall buildings. "Behind the skip!" Seamus pulled her sleeve, but suddenly she felt herself being choked by the neck of her shirt as her hood was grabbed from behind.

She twisted around in time to see Seamus shoved roughly to the ground. Three young men about their age held him with one hand pinned behind his back, and his head pulled up by his hair. Seamus clutched at the hand that pulled his hair with the other.

"Your lot's not welcome 'round here!" said the one who had grabbed her shirt. He held her tightly about the waist and wrapped his fingers about her throat. The cool metal of her collar began to warm between his palm and her neck.

Épiphanie studied the group that had Seamus. They were all rather heavily built, wearing jeans, some ripped, and hoodies or leather jackets and sweatshirts. What caught her eye was that they all had clean-shaven heads and wore heavy boots. Her heart dropped.

Please don't speak, Seamus! Please don't speak!

"Oh, yeah! What lot is tha'?" Seamus challenged.

"Bloody hell! The poofter's a clover!" one of them said.

"What did ye call me!" Seamus growled. His head was pulled back further and he groaned.

Épiphanie took a breath. Her body trembled with the effort to control her magic. "We're just walking to the tube." She pulled at the hand around her throat. Her collar was getting hot. She squirmed. It wasn't safe to use magic here, and the balance of power was three on one.

"You his bodyguard, are ya?" His breath on her cheek smelled sour with beer. "She your bodyguard, faggot?"

"Let her go!" Seamus demanded. He was met with a punch to the face that sent blood pouring from his nose.

"Seamus!" Épiphanie shrieked. She elbowed the man holding her hard in the ribs and grabbed his crotch, squeezing hard.

"Oof! Fucking nigger dyke!" He shoved her down on the filthy pavement and kicked her hard in the ribs.

Épiphanie felt a searing pain that brought tears to her eyes. She gasped, and tried to crawl towards Seamus, who was being pummeled now. If she could grab him, they could apparate to safety. Just as her fingers reached out for his ankle, she felt a cracking pain in the back of her head and everything went blurry. She lost her grip on Seamus and her hands dragged over the rough pavement, broken glass and debris cutting into her palms, as she was pulled away from him. Hands tugged at her pants and she grabbed her waistband, kicking desperately at her attackers.

"…show her what it's like to be with a man…what the—"

"Stupefy! Impedimenta! Flipendo!" Were those voices real? She blinked, trying to clear her vision.

"Seamus!" She gasped. A hand suddenly gripped hers, fingers tightly curling around hers, just as a hard blow landed against her back and she felt a searing pain in her chest. She lost her grip on Seamus' hand.

"Épiphanie, no!" There was a flash of green and everything went dark.

"Dean!" Draco exclaimed, as he and Harry stepped from the floo into the Leaky Cauldron. "Join us?" The wizards shook hands and headed to the bar.

"Hello, boys. Neville's upstairs for lunch. I'm sure he'd be delighted to have you join him." She smiled warmly and touched Draco's arm.

"That sounds excellent. Shall we, gentlemen?" Dean nodded and Harry shrugged. They followed Hannah up to a private dining room where Neville sat with a cup of tea and an open book.

"Harry, Dean, Draco! Do join me!" Neville set his book aside and stood, clasping all of their hands. "There's drinks on the sideboard."

"Did I see you earlier at the Ministry?" asked Harry taking a seat and helping himself to a cup of tea. Draco went to the sideboard and picked up a bottle of wine.

"Glass of Syrah, Neville?"

"Thank you, Draco. I can probably get away with a sip or two without becoming too befuddled before afternoon classes."

Draco poured two glasses of the dark red wine and handed one to Neville, giving his shoulder a squeeze before pulling out the chair beside him. Harry raised a brow, but no one appeared to notice.

"Just filling out some paperwork. It appears our petition to have the courtyard of Nightshade open onto Diagon Alley will be approved. They just want to do an inspection to be sure that muggles won't accidentally find their way through."

"That's brilliant!"

"Congratulations, Dean." Draco reached across the table to shake Dean's hand when suddenly the ring on his little finger burned.

"Thanks, Malfoy." Dean extended his hand.

Harry noticed that both wizards, suddenly drew back as they reached out to shake hands and Malfoy gave Thomas a hard stare.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked.

"Could—could they be together?" Dean asked.

"They must be!" Draco exclaimed, grabbing Neville's wrist tightly.

"Draco?" Neville gave him a concerned look.

"What's going on?" Harry demanded.

"Épiphanie's in trouble!" Draco gasped.

"So's Seamus!" Dean said, leaping to his feet.

"What? How do you—" Harry began.

"Let's go!" Neville grabbed Dean's wrist.

Harry didn't have time to ask any more questions before Draco grabbed his arm and they all disapparated.

The quartet of wizards landed in a narrow London alley to find Seamus and Épiphanie being set upon by five large thugs. Three of them were beating a bloody Seamus, who was attempting to crawl away. He was reaching for Épiphanie, who was being dragged behind a garbage skip by the two others. She was kicking valiantly at them and trying to hold on to her pants as they tried to remove them. The fire escapes of the surrounding buildings rattled violently as if they were about to come crashing down.

Dean, seemingly forgetting his magical powers, hurled himself at Seamus' attackers. He grabbed one of the men, just as he raised his boot to stomp the Irishman and threw him against the wall, punching him hard in the face repeatedly until he collapsed. Harry and Neville cast spells that immediately incapacitated the other two. Draco hurled a stunner that knocked out one of Épiphanie's assailants and raised his wand towards the other just as the entire space filled with green light.

"Épiphanie, no!" he screamed as the man fell dead in front of him.

The silence in the alley was deafening. Draco blasted the garbage skip out of the way and launched himself at Épiphanie, falling to his knees at her side. She was barely conscious and when he lifted her head, he felt the large lump at the back of her skull.

"Merlin and Salazar!" he murmured. Then he felt sticky heat of blood on his trousers as he knelt. His eyes fell upon the bloody knife near her back and he let out an unearthly howl.

"Neville, Dean! Get them to St. Mungo's I'll deal with this mess!" Harry commanded. He cast several patronuses and sent them to the ministry. Next, he levitated the garbage skip to obscure the alley opening and cast a charm to keep away any curious onlookers. Neville and Dean disappeared with Draco, Seamus and Épiphanie.

Draco held tightly to Neville's hand as they sat in the waiting room of the strange building. The smell of antiseptic offended his nose, as did the unbelievable quiet of the place. The mediwizards at St. Mungo's had informed them that her injuries required surgery and recommended that she be transferred to a muggle hospital.

"No! No! What the hell do you mean she has to go to a muggle hospital?" he screamed at the wizard.

"Mr. Malfoy, Miss Glapion-Shacklebolt has been stabbed and has a punctured lung that is collapsed. These are non-magical injuries that are best treated by a healer trained in muggle surgery. We have healers at University College Hospital who are highly proficient in this type of surgery, and I've already contacted one. She's The Minister's Daughter. Everything possible will be done to care for her."

Harry entered the waiting area, looking bothered. He was followed by Ron and Dean, the latter of whom immediately sat down on Draco's other side and patted his arm gently. Ron looked at them curiously.

"Any word on Épiphanie?" Harry asked.

Neville shook his head. "The only thing the healer said was that she had something called a pneumothorax. How's Seamus?"

"He'll be okay. He has a concussion, broken nose, a couple of fractured ribs and lots of cuts and bruises—the doctors want to keep him overnight to make sure his head is okay. He's not happy about that though. He doesn't quite understand muggle medicine either, but I promised him it was for the best and that he'd be closer to Épiphanie here than at St. Mungo's. He's really torn up about what happened."

"What did happen?" Neville asked.

"According to Seamus, he ran into Épiphanie in a record shop and they went for lunch in Soho. They were walking to the tube station when Épiphanie told him they were being followed, so they went into the alley hoping to apparate, but they were grabbed before they could do anything. Apparently, they're some type of muggle gang that preys on minorities and gays. Seamus said they made homophobic remarks and called him a clover. They also hurled some epithets at Épiphanie when she tried to fight them off. He doesn't remember much after they started beating him, except he was trying to grab hold of her to try to apparate. Then we arrived." Dean retold Seamus' account of what happened. "Harry why did the muggle police question Seamus?"

"What?" Draco's head snapped up. "Why?"

"It's over my head. Kingsley ordered the Aurors to call them in. Had the one attacker not been killed, we might have been able to obliviate them and create a convincing cover story, but…"

"What's going to happen to Épiphanie?" Draco asked anxiously. He squeezed Neville's hand until both wizards' knuckles were white.

"Nothing right now. The first priority is to make sure that she's physically okay."

"But—"

"I don't know, Draco. I'm not a Senior Auror. Kingsley has Gawain Robards himself officially heading up this investigation. Ron and I were sent to oversee Épiphanie's security detail."

The door opened and they looked up to see Kingsley entering the room with Angelique, whose face was puffy from crying. Before anyone could speak, a short thin man wearing surgical scrubs entered the room. He looked around the room.

"Are you all here for Miss Shacklebolt?" he asked.

"Yes," said Kingsley. The doctor closed the door and drew a wand from a slender pocket on the leg of his pants, waving it.

"Muffliato." He turned to the expectant wizards and The Minister's wife. "Épiphanie is critical, but stable. She suffered a pneumothorax as a result of a puncture wound to the back, between the seventh and eighth ribs on the right side. We've repaired the injury and inserted a chest tube to remove the air in the chest cavity, and reinflate that lung. Since we are in a muggle facility, she must remain for a little while under that treatment. I have already cast a spell in order to slow the flow of blood from the wound. I like to take it in steps so that my colleagues don't become suspicious. She should be good as new by the end of the week. Give us a little while longer, Minister, and you and your wife will be able to see her." He shook Kingsley's hand and accepted a hug from Angelique before nodding at the others and taking his leave.

"Harry." Kingsley indicated for Harry to follow him into the corridor.

"What's with the hand holding?" Ron asked, suspiciously when they'd gone.

"Weasley! Show a little decorum in the presence of The Minister's wife!" Draco snapped, jerking his head in Angelique's direction. He released Neville's hand and went to her, taking her hand gently in his as he sat.

"Madame." He conjured a silk handkerchief and passed it to her. "I am told that the doctor is the top healer available."

"I'm—I'm still learning all of this. I—is he a wizard, like you all?" she sniffled. "He said something about a spell to slow the blood. I don't—this is all so far beyond anything I've ever—it's not like my—"

"He's a wizard, madame, like us. I believe the spell he refers to is Vulnera Sanentur. It's a healing spell. It slows the flow of blood, removes any residue and closes the wounds."

"How—how do you know it? Have you ever—"

"I erm—no, ma'am. I—I've been healed by the spell myself after being struck by a curse that this spell counters."

"But they said Épiphanie was stabbed, she—"

"She was not hit by any curses. The people who attacked her and Seamus weren't magical." Angelique wailed, softly. Draco sighed and took a breath. "I know it's difficult, Madame, and I'm not sure what you've been told about our laws, but wizards and witches are prohibited from using magic among muggles—erm non-magical people—and I'm sure that Seamus and Épiphanie thought that they could escape without using magic. She would never intentionally harm anyone. I'm sure of it."

Angelique did not reply to this, but turned to Draco, burying her head in his chest, and began to sob. He nervously held the distraught woman, trying desperately to maintain control of his own emotions. Kingsley and Harry returned to the room a few minutes later and The Minister helped his wife to her feet, quietly whispering reassurances to her, all the while leveling a stern gaze at Draco. They reached the door before Kingsley looked back at Draco.

"Are you not coming, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes, yes of course!" He leapt to his feet to follow.

"Draco."

He turned to Neville with a curious and agitated look. "Your robes." Neville held out his hand. Draco hurriedly removed the robe, which had become stiff with dried blood, His tailored pants and shirt underneath were largely free of stains and Draco adjusted his cravat, smoothing his waistcoat as he followed Angelique's parents.

They entered a small glassed-in room about halfway down the corridor. Angelique lay motionless on the narrow bed. Draco was startled by the machines beeping around her and the bizarre, clear plastic contraption with a tube running from it that was strapped over her nose and mouth. There was an angry bruise along her cheekbone and the knuckles on her hands were raw. He dug the nails of one hand into the palm of the other as he watched her mother swoon at her father's side.

Ma Zirondelle! Please don't leave me! I can't live without you!

Why would I leave you, Draco? You are me, and I am you.

"Épiphanie?" he fell to his knees at her bedside, and took her hand. "Merlin, please tell me I'm not imagining this!"

Are you really there, my love?

We were on a muggle street! Please don't blame Shae. We couldn't use magic!

Kingsley and Angelique stared at Draco in astonishment as he clung to her hand.

"Draco?" Angelique looked at him curiously. "Can she hear you?"

"I'm here, Ma Zirondelle." He squeezed her hand. It's okay, love. It will be okay.

"He's distraught, Angelique. Mr. Malfoy—" Kingsley began.

They were beating Seamus! There was nothing he could do! He couldn't reach his wand! We tried to apparate!

The monitors began to beep insistently as her heart rate accelerated.

"Shhhh, please calm down, love!" Draco's voice was barely a whisper. Don't worry about that now. Seamus will be okay. I love you so much! Please try to calm yourself. You're upsetting your mother.

"Kingsley, wait! Look!" Angelique grabbed her husband's arm as he stepped towards Draco. She pointed to the monitors which were beginning to quiet as Épiphanie's heart rate returned to normal. "She can hear him! My God! She can hear him!"

"I'm afraid you'll have to leave now," said a nurse from the doorway.

Draco squeezed Épiphanie's hand and kissed her fingers.

Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat. The vaulty heaven so high above our heads: I have more care to stay than will to go.

Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, Hunting thee hence with hunt's up to the day. O! now be gone; more light and light it grows.

"Rest, my love. Farewell! I will omit no opportunity that may convey my greetings, love, to thee."

Draco refused to leave the hospital, returning reluctantly to the waiting area each time the nurses shooed him out of Épiphanie's room. Neville purchased him some fresh clothing, and took turns with Dean to sit with him and check on Seamus. Harry and Ron had been tasked with providing for her security and one of them remained outside her door at all times. Hermione and Ginny arrived with a meal sent by Mrs. Weasley and Neville encouraged Draco to eat a little.

"What's going on?" Draco asked Harry. He saw the doctor enter the room and draw the curtain around Épiphanie's bed as he made his way up the corridor to peer through the glass wall at her.

"I don't know." Harry turned around. "He didn't seem agitated, and there's no nurses following him, so it can't be an emergency."

Draco pushed open the door. He felt the magic in the air the moment he stepped in, and drew back the curtain. The doctor lowered his wand.

"If you're going to remain, please pull the curtain. We don't want the muggles to see." The doctor looked at him calmly. Draco held his gaze a moment, and turned. He met Harry's eyes briefly. The young Auror gave him a nod and Draco pulled the curtain. The doctor nodded and lifted his wand once more. He waved it, and the thin blanket and sheet drew back.

"Vulnera Sanentur!" His voice was melodic as he carefully moved his wand over Épiphanie's wound.

Draco's breath hitched as the beeping of the machines intensified briefly and Épiphanie stirred lightly. He looked at the healer expectantly.

"That is a good thing. She will probably awaken at some point tomorrow. We'll remove the chest tube then." He gave Draco a smile. "We are fortunate that this wound was not magical in nature. Few survive the curse that this spell was intended to counter."

"I have every faith in the spell. As I stand here, a survivor, so shall she." Draco turned his gaze to Épiphanie, and missed the look of shock on the wizard's face.

"Is everything alright, doctor?" Harry asked, seeing the look of disquiet on the wizard's face as he left the room. He looked over his shoulder, but the curtain was still drawn around the bed, and he could see neither Draco nor Épiphanie.

"The gentleman there, that's…Lucius Malfoy's son, yes?"

"That's right. Why do you ask?"

"He's familiar with the spell—the healing spell. He would have been cursed—"

"By Sectumsempra."

"That's a relatively obscure curse. Most Aurors aren't familiar with—" He looked at Harry, who gave him a measured stare.

"Mr. Malfoy and I became well acquainted with the curse and the counter-spell on the same night," Harry said, coolly. "The war has left more than just myself and my comrades with scars sir."

"I—yes, well—erm, good evening, Mr. Potter." The doctor turned and hurried down the hall.

"It doesn't make sense, Harry." Ron stood beside Harry and stared down the corridor to the waiting area where Draco dozed with his head on Neville's shoulder. "How did you all get there so quickly? How did you even know where to go?"

"I dunno, Ron. Draco and I met Dean and Neville at the Leaky Cauldron after our meeting at Magical Games and Sports. We were just sitting down and Draco was congratulating Dean on getting the portal approved for his club, when they both suddenly drew back and said Seamus and Épiphanie were in trouble. They seemed to know that they were together. Neville and I went side-along with them. You're not still on about what happened that night at the club are you?"

"Harry, he drew his wand on me when Neville had his girlfriend hemmed in a corner! Doesn't that seem odd to you? Look!" he gestured at the pair in the waiting area at the end of the corridor. "Is he really sleeping on Neville's shoulder? Draco Malfoy?"

"Ron, let it go, mate. This is not our case. Our only responsibility is to keep an eye on Épiphanie. Why don't you take a walk, maybe go home and catch a nap. You don't have to take my place for another few hours."

Ron glowered at Harry for a moment before he turned and stalked in the direction of the elevators. Instead of taking the lift to the lobby, Ron got off one floor down and made his way to Seamus' room. The usually bubbly Irishman was moving stiffly as Dean helped him into his shirt. His torso was bound tightly in a bandage and his face was purple about the eyes. He slapped Dean's hands away as he fussed with the oxford.

"I can still button a shirt, 'cushla. Ye'll have plenty o' time ta baby me when we get home." He captured Dean's chin in his hand before he moved away, and gave him a peck. "'M countin' on it!"

"Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt!" Ron faltered when he saw them.

"Ron! Come in, mate! Is Épiphanie okay?" Seamus sat on the edge of the bed and continued to button his shirt. Ron noticed a burn-like mark on Seamus' wrist as a slender bracelet adorned with a single sapphire slid over it.

"It looks like she'll be okay. She hasn't woken up yet, but the healer—erm—doctor says that she should open her eyes any minute. Her mother is with her right now."

"Oh, tha's grand! I've been so worried. I feel responsible fer this whole affair. 'S me they were slaggin' on." Seamus sagged against Dean, his eyes on the floor. Dean gently wrapped an arm around him. "They thought she was too. Called her a dyke and a—a—" He looked at Dean.

"It's alright, my darling." Dean kissed his temple. Ron gave them an inquiring look.

"I don't understand."

"They called her a—a…nigger, Ron." A shadow crossed Dean's features as he spoke. "It's a hateful term that muggles use to describe us—blacks. It's like…mudblood."

Ron's eyes widened in shock. "I—I'm—" Dean waved his hand.

"I—I kept hoping that she would disapparate and leave me. I never wanted—should'a stunned 'em—I couldn't reach my wand!" Tears poured from his still somewhat puffy eyes.

"It's okay, love. What could you do? There were three of them on you. Both of you fought valiantly. You did. I saw you trying to reach her. We all did." Dean stroked Seamus' back gently.

"Um, Dean?" Ron began.

"Yeah?"

"How did—how did you and Draco know that they were in trouble?" Dean looked startled at the question and he stiffened.

"I—uh. We just—Seamus and I have this connection. I just know when he needs me. I supposed Draco has the same sort of relationship with Épiphanie. Haven't you ever noticed that they seem able to have conversations without speaking?" He rubbed his thumb against the silver band on his little finger.

"Are you certain there's nothing else you—never mind. I should know by now, that magical bonds between those in love are not like—" Ron shoved his hands in his pockets, fingers curling around the deluminator that he'd inherited from Dumbledore. "I should go."

"Ron? I was half-blind and delirious from being kicked in the head, but I know I saw a flash of green. Did someone—I mean, did I?"

"No, mate." Ron heaved a sigh. "It was Épiphanie." He gave a troubled shrug and left the room.

The Prime Minister glowered at the painting on the wall opposite his desk. Normally, he only had to deal with the strange image of the white haired man speaking to him once in a while, particularly since that bizarre business barely one year into his office. Apparently, the efficient gentleman who'd briefly served as his assistant was now the Minister of this odd otherworld in which magic was supposed to exist. The Prime Minister should have been suspicious from the start that a member of the peerage would elect to accept such a position. As sorry as he was to see Kingsley go at the time, he figured that the job had become tedious and he'd moved on to another challenge. He was quite shocked to learn that this man had been acting covertly all along, but grudgingly accepted the explanation of the entire ruse when he learned that an end had come to all of the strange and disturbing occurrences for which he had been blamed by his constituents for not taking swift enough action to address.

Now the painting had come to life in the middle of the day, to announce Kingsley Shacklebolt's impending arrival. He hoped that this other minister was not arriving to bring him more bad news. He had enough on his plate at the moment, with the news of a vicious brawl between a gang of white supremacists and several youngsters in Soho that had left one of the thugs dead, a young Irish lad badly beaten and a black girl in critical condition with a stab wound. Even after more than a year, the public was still on edge about the David Copeland attacks, and here was an anti-gay, anti-Irish, anti-Black assault just steps from Old Compton Street!

He turned to the fireplace in anticipation, when a knock came at his door.

"Enter!" he snapped, testily. Now was not the time for interruptions.

"Sir, Lord Worthing is here to see you about an urgent matter. He says that he is expected." His secretary appeared very agitated.

"Yes, yes. Send him in—and push back whatever pending appointments that I have. Thank you."

The secretary withdrew and shortly, Kingsley Shacklebolt entered his office looking tired and unsettled.

"Minister."

"Kingsley—ah, Minister." The Prime Minister extended his hand, and Kingsley gave it a firm and curt shake. "Please, have a seat. What brings you to see me today? Shall I call for tea?"

"No, thank you, Tony. This business in Soho—" Kingsley began.

"It was quite a terrible incident. I do hope that's not the reason that you've come to my office today." He smiled, but his expression faltered when he took in the dark look on the other man's face.

"The young woman who was assaulted is my daughter."

"Your what—I mean to say—oh, Dear Lord!" the Prime Minister declared. "I had no idea—well of course I would have no idea that—is she—"

"I am told that she will recover. Her condition has improved considerably. As you well know, we have access to forms of healing that your people do not."

"Minister Shacklebolt, you have my sincerest regrets! I will ensure that our law enforcement will pursue the matter with utmost attention."

"Minister, there is a matter regarding the incident that must be handled delicately. The young man who died—"

The Prime Minister sat up. Reports of the incident said that the medical examiner could find no specific cause of death. There was only a superficial head wound that was assumed to have been caused when he hit the ground.

"We know that the cause of death was magical in nature. We can't be certain, as we haven't had an opportunity to speak to her, but our people believe that Épiphanie may have been responsible for his death."

The Prime Minister sank back in his seat. "I see," he said, slowly. "Well, this does certainly change things, doesn't it?"

"I beg your pardon?" Kingsley sat up now.

"Well, when the clash was done, only your people were left standing. In fact, my intel says that your daughter and the other young man had already been spirited away by the time law enforcement arrived, and they found only one young man standing in the alleyway with a garbage skip blocking the way. Interestingly, even the CCTV seemed to malfunction at some point, so there is practically no footage of the attack."

"Are you suggesting that my child and her friend are responsible for attacking five, clearly armed Neo-Nazis?"

"On the surface it would seem rather absurd, wouldn't it? But I am sure that you can appreciate that these are no ordinary young people."

"We have laws regarding the use of magic in the presence of your kind, Minister!" Kingsley bristled. "I know Seamus Finnegan personally. He was tortured during our war for refusing to do harm to the magical children of your kind! Neither he nor, Épiphanie would instigate an attack on anyone without provocation."

"And yet, still a man is dead."

"He is dead because he and his cohorts attacked my daughter and her friend because she was black, and he was Irish, and they were leaving a gay-friendly establishment! Let us not forget other recent events on that very street, Minister!" Kingsley was on his feet and the other minister was taken aback by the imposing figure of the six-foot-two gentleman towering over him. Registering the look of alarm on his face, The Minister of Magic resumed his seat and pressed his palms together, closing his eyes briefly before he spoke again. "The surviving assailants have no knowledge of the death of their cohort. They assume that he died when he fell and struck his head struggling with my daughter. My people would like permission to speak with the medical examiner prior to the inquest, in order to be sure that his report corroborates that fact." He gave the other man a pointed stare. "I should not like to remind you that the relationship we have goes beyond ensuring the peaceful co-existence of both of our worlds. I was here to protect you at a time when a man very much like David Copeland, but infinitely more dangerous, was terrorizing both of our realms. With that in mind, I am asking you to extend some level of mercy to my daughter. She and her friend were so horribly injured because they tried to place the safety of our communities above their own."

The Prime Minister pursed his lips then let out a long sigh. "I shall see that the appropriate people are contacted. You have our complete cooperation in the matter."