A/N—

I was feeling lazy and was distracted by Fairy Tail (OMFG SO AWESOME!), so Harry and Draco don't get an in-depth date. They don't get a written date at all, just them making out. Forgive me, but I lost the mood and am now trying my hardest to get to the finale. I'm anticipating a sequel, 'cept I don't have any plot for it. -deskhead- -waves towards fic- Read on, review.

Actually (yes, still read on and review), it occurs to me; I gave you a hint for the killer's identity in chapter 10. It was so negligent I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have caught it if I weren't, you know, writing it, but we're getting nearer to the point where we will discover just who this madman (not a lot of chances to use that in super overly dramatic context) really is.

BY THE WAY! Creed and Valeria are Tracey and Skyler; their names were fillers.

Warnings: Pseudo smut immediately. Yes, pseudo. I'm a prude and a coward – I might not condemn sex, but I honestly don't see the appeal, and writing it would be…difficult.

Harry started when Draco kissed him awake, trailing his fingers down his sides, resting on his hips as he leaned into the kiss, kneeling between Harry's legs. He broke away to nibble his way down his throat, smirking as Harry began to purr, sliding his hands up his back and burying his fingers in his hair, mewling a little when the blonde scraped his teeth over his Adam's apple, shifting and draping himself over the brunette completely. Harry gasped and bucked up against him, whimpering when Draco began to lazily grind their erections together, relishing in the sounds his lover was making and the sensations jolting through his body as Harry squirmed. A particularly forceful buck shifted him off of Harry, and in one breathless moment, he was pinned beneath him, staring up into over-bright green eyes, breathing hard.

"Good morning, Harry." He bit back a cry of surprise when Harry dropped his head to his throat, tracing his collarbone with his tongue, hissing words of affection in Parseltongue against his skin, biting his shoulder gently, soothing the angry flesh with gentle kisses. Draco sighed and relaxed into the mattress, tangling his fingers in Harry's hair, eyes fluttering closed. The heat that had been plaguing him from the moment he woke was retreating against the onslaught of sweetness the other man's touch evoked, bits of ice laced lightning that skittered beneath his skin with every touch. He massaged his scalp absently, releasing him to return the hungry kiss Harry pressed to his mouth, twining his arms around his shoulders. The kisses shortened, lightened, morphing from the deep, breath stealing kisses to light, barely touching lips that almost didn't qualify as kisses at all. Eventually they stopped altogether, both men staring into each other's eyes, Draco releasing Harry's shoulders to twine his fingers with his, eyes saying everything he was too afraid to voice out loud. Harry rested his forehead against his, smiling a little, untangling his fingers from Draco's to lay his hand on his chest, whispering the words he'd once sworn he'd never open his heart enough to say.

"I love you."

Narcissa was not a woman prone to hysteria, hand-wringing, and fainting spells. She disdained such acts and expressions of what some men dared call the 'past times of the fairer sex', viewing them as a show of weakness unbecoming in anyone. She could not, however, dispel this discomfort, this numbing worry that twined around her heart and settled there like a blanket of gray snow.

"Narcissa?" Malachai had not been able to lose that accent that had lingered in his family even after so many centuries away from Italy, even after the accident. Those almost hissing syllables, combined with that accent, gave his voice a haunting, somewhat dreamy quality. She'd once fancied herself attracted to Malachi; the idea wasn't outrageous, but she'd eventually come to understand that her attraction to Lucius and their compatibility was more desirable. Malachai was too – remote. He was, as Lucius had once said, a throwback to the ancient Romans, lightning and stone bound by flesh and blood. She met his mismatched eyes, noting the crow's feet – barely there – and the weariness that sat like lead there, and most of all, the small redheaded child clinging to his hand, eyes wide and almost glowing with trust. She smiled, resting a hand on the child's head.

"Hello, Joan." She waved shyly, pressing her face into Malachai's leg. After the riot, she'd been even more reticent, barely even speaking to her parents. Hermione's terror that she could possibly be more traumatized than they'd thought was soon dispelled by her immediate attachment to Malachai. She tended to speak constantly to him, though constant contact with Malachai and Narcissa had morphed her speech patterns to something much more mature than she actually was. However, shyness stilled reigned supreme, especially with the posting of the Auror team Timothy had sent to them. Speaking of which…

"Joan, dear, have you seen Lorcán?" The small girl shook her head, curly pigtails bouncing adamantly. She sighed.

"Where—"

"Thoth and Minerva bless it, where the hell did he go?"

"I honestly don't think they care, Val. Lorcán will be fine. He's a lizard on steroids." The two speakers materialized on the other side of the hall, heading towards them. The shorter of the two was ducking a blow to the back of the head from the taller woman, dancing out of the way, smirking. The taller one had eschewed the usual Auror uniform for an all black ensemble featuring a leather trench whose back was graced by a pair of skeletal, serpentine dragons twisting around a blood red full moon, and boots that ended just below the knee, laced with silver and red laces that seemed to twist and weave like snakes through the mouths of the six sneering silver skulls, three on each side. She stalked down the hall, obviously frustrated, seeming to bring a blast of icy wind with her, though Narcissa knew from experience that the trench would have billowed regardless, just like her sleek ponytail wouldn't shift at all, remaining as immaculate as ever. Someone had once suggested that immaculate appearance was kept to showcase the two ear cuffs she wore; on the right ear, an elegant baroque style in white gold with delicate gold roses that seemed to drip from the metal, a single, slightly larger rose dangling from the lobe. The left ear bore a platinum cuff that resembled a rose vine and corkscrewed through the cartilage and ended piercing the lobe with a rose stud that was charmed to match her nail colour. Each thorn on the vine appeared to have a single drop on blood on the tip.

They stopped in front of them, the shorter woman collapsing with an odd lack of grace next to the wall, leaning her head back to stare up at the three taller people. Her taller counterpart folded her arms, revealing the fingerless black gloves, embroidered with a Latin saying – Veneratio Prosapia – around the wrist and the ends, in a neon green that matched the colour of her neon, almost obnoxiously so, nails that tapped a constant staccato beat on her arm. At her throat was a choker of crushed green velvet, a few shades darker than the green of her nails, from which an ivory cameo hung, the expression stoic with hints of frustration.

Her partner too had chosen not to wear the Auror uniform, opting instead for pale jeans covered in sketches and doodles – some moving, some not – and a top Narcissa was still rather uncertain about. Cream and long sleeved, the shoulders had been cut open, making it somehow both high necked and off the shoulder, revealing a small, circular silver scar on the left shoulder. Over this, much to Narcissa's alarm (despite the woman assuring her it was pseudo and did nothing to inhibit her breathing), was a corset in gold and dark green leather, the laces up either side held by tiny skeletal gold hands that occasionally shifted and even waved once. The macabre nature of these two was one of the first things Timothy had warned her about, but she was nevertheless disturbed, especially by the shorter of the two, who was a self-styled, somewhat grotesque mockery of a highborn lady. A nose piercing that echoed a miniature rose, white with a single, tiny drop of red, matched a similar tongue piercing, though the tongue piercing was held by yet another skeletal hand; chandelier earrings, still following the skeleton hands motif, chimed quietly from her ears. Each hand held a tiny old fashioned clock in gold. Her footwear seemed less suited to Auror work than her partner's; boots of the same height in white and green, with golden wings unfurling from the heel. She wore gold and emerald slave bracelets instead of fingerless gloves and her nails were not painted.

"Aurors Tanner, Jones." Malachai nodded even as the shorter woman, Jones, wrinkled her nose.

"Creed." Her partner rolled her eyes.

"Lady Malfoy is being polite."

"With no impudence or insult intended, Mrs. Malfoy, isn't it rude not to call someone by the name they request? And you're starting to slip into priss mode, Priscilla." The taller woman stiffened, and the tapping nails stopped abruptly. Narcissa watched her normally brown eyes pale to an electric blue, narrowed, and a soft hiss erupted from her throat, teeth baring to reveal greatly lengthened canines. Creed yawned, revealing her own formidable set of canines, and stretched lazily, rising with grace that had been lacking in her earlier descent, shaking her long brown curls out of her face.

"Oh, put them away, Val. No one cares about your admittedly considerable dental problems and name issues. However, I believe my point is made." She smiled a little at Narcissa.

"Again, no disrespect or insult intended – I just would prefer you called me Creed, and even though she defends you, Val prefers that or Valeria." She shrugged and ambled back down the hall, disappearing around the corner. Joan pulled on Malachai's hand and pointed after her, eyes questioning.

"Go on, little one. I am sure Auror Jones will not mind the company." He gently extracted his hand from hers and nodded in the direction the woman had disappeared in. The girl immediately ran after her, slowing only a little at Narcissa's immediate command of, "Walk!". Valeria shook her head, rubbing her jaw a little.

"I'm going to go look for Lorcán near the peacocks – call me when Potter shows, please." She didn't say anything after that, departing with a silence that was eerie even for a woman who had gone to school with Severus Snape.

Harry yawned again, trying in vain to cover it while Draco accepted Loki and Amber's effusive thanks for him, checking his watch for the third time.

"Loki, Amber, thanks again for having us, but we really have to go." Amber nodded rapidly, smiling widely (and reminding Harry unsettlingly of Nis).

"Of course, of course – we just won't ever be able to repay you—"

"And the key was fine, thanks." He smiled, slipping his arm around Draco's waist.

"We'll try to visit again soon enough. Have a nice day." Draco muffled a laugh by coughing carefully, letting Harry drag him onto the beach and Apparate them outside the Manor.

"That wasn't very nice, Harry."

"Do you want to meet this man or not?"

"…Not really." Harry snorted at Draco's almost sullen tone and pulled him in front of him, brushing a kiss across the bridge of his nose. The blonde wrinkled his nose in response, drawing a laugh out of the taller man.

"Found you." He looked up, watching the half vampire Auror slide off the roof and land lightly in a crouch, rising slowly and stalking across the small distance between them.

"Draco, meet one of the few Aurors who doesn't use magic and is arguably more deadly without it. Auror Valeria Tanner, Draco Malfoy."

"Charmed. Are you really a cross-dresser, or is it wishful thinking?" The blonde pouted a little.

"Is that all anyone cares about? Surely my debatable moral status isn't that entertaining." The woman raised an eyebrow.

"Your moral status isn't debatable, as far as I'm concerned, and since when does cross-dressing damage one's moral status anyway?" She paused, head tilted to the side, then loosed an earsplitting whistle, ignoring Harry and Draco's twin winces, eyes locked on something in the bushes. They rustled and instantly a bloodied albino peacock shot out of the foliage, a dark blur ricocheting after it, latching onto its back with a snarl and bringing it down, claws buried in its body. A triumphant yowl that was similar to a cat's left the small creature's body, but before it could sink its teeth into the body – as it undoubtedly had been preparing to do – Valeria strode across the yard and scooped it up, ignoring its thrashing and hissing, though it never once lashed out with claws or teeth.

"This is Lorcán." She held up the still hissing dragon, a small bundle of silver and dark green with equally dark red stripes, similar to a tiger's, and gleaming red eyes with silver pupils. Draco stared at the hissing miniature dragon, blood still smeared across its muzzle, teeth flashing every now and then. He nodded slowly, and barely opened his mouth to comment when he saw another blur, far larger than Lorcán, out of the corner of his eyes, and before he could say something to Valeria, it slammed into her back with a small keening noise that was barely heard over Val's yelp and Lorcán's yowl as he flew out of her arms and landed on his stomach, tail flipped over his head. The shorter woman 'meeped' and freed Valeria from her death hug, dropping into a crouch next to Lorcán.

"I'm sorry! Ani, are you okay?" Immediately, both women, as if Valeria hadn't been sneak attack hugged by the other, broke out into a sped up version of the Michael Jackson song (one of the many things Troy had introduced them to, with glee). Lorcán righted himself in a flash, scales ruffling and rising a little, like a disgruntled cat puffing up its fur, hissing at the two women, skittering back against Draco's legs, pupils growing to cover his iris, claws leaving furrows in the earth. Both women smirked at the hissing creature, unapologetic. Harry pried the small creature from the ground, soothing him with soft Parseltongue, ignoring Draco's glazing eyes and Creed's quiet translation under her breath. Eventually the dragon forgave his partner and glided the short distance to her arms, climbing onto her shoulders and draping himself around the back of her neck, purring. She stroked his head right between the two horns as she nodded to the shorter woman twirling a sun-gold laced brown curl around her finger, humming.

"This is my partner, Creed Jones. Creed—"

"Draco Malfoy, sole heir to the Malfoy family fortune, prefers poultry to red meat, wears amber and rain scent on the hollow of his throat, behind each ear, and the inside of the left wrist, all sparingly, thank the gods. Good taste in clothing, doesn't particularly like wine, prefers hard liquor, and—" She paused her onslaught of information, sniffing delicately.

"Has been in the vicinity of someone with lead poisoning, though I can't say how recently." Draco stared at her, torn between being disturbed by the detail of her knowledge and fascination, because unless she'd lived with him or spied on him, she couldn't possibly know all of that to such small details as where exactly he wore the scent. Harry cleared his throat.

"Creed is a werecat, and they're generally more obnoxious about their abilities than werewolves, though they are considered less of a threat." He looked at Valeria.

"Valeria is half vampire; we don't know when she bonded to Lorcán. In fact—" He paused.

"How old are you?" She gave him a flat stare, eyes sparkling with a particular brand of disdain Draco had thought died with the Roman Empire.

"Old." Creed burst into song at that, skipping up to the Manor, her voice floating back to them.

"Ring around the rosie, pocket full of posies. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down…" Harry raised an eyebrow at that and Valeria's expression, and nodded to the signet ring on her middle right finger.

"I'd bet anything that isn't yours." Valeria's eyes sparkled mischievously even as her features morphed into the picture of innocence.

"I assure you, I received this ring legitimately." The eyebrow inched higher, etched with skepticism.

"Really?" She smiled down at it.

"Yep. I'm even the legitimate heir."

"How? Your family has been dead for longer than that ring has been around, if our research is anything to go on." Her smile turned slightly feral, and Draco noted the flash of blue in her eyes.

"I have the family's blood flowing through my veins." Creed's song got louder, and Draco felt twin chills go down his spine at Valeria's words and the lyrics hanging in the air.

If Creed had some sort of ability to see the future, she never hinted at it, but Draco couldn't help but wonder when they strode in and came face to face with a man more imposing than he'd ever met before – he honestly managed to out glare Sev, and he wasn't actually glaring at them. Perhaps he felt like he was being glared at because of the mismatched eyes – one a neon green, the other cool brown. He had a hunch as to who this might be, and when he spoke, he knew he was right.

"Auror Jones – kindly lower the volume at which you sing so joyously of death; a solemness, though not required, is preferred as dusk falls." The Auror seemed completely untouched by the chilling whisper, merely nodding and skipping off without another word, her partner following in silence as well, leaving Harry and Draco to face their new roommate's infamous father.

"Malachai Del Toro."

"Draco Malfoy; Harry Potter. A pleasure." Those eyes glinted, and Draco unconsciously inched closer to Harry.

"Tell me, if you could – how is my daughter?"

Troy winced at the cold that twisted around her body, tugging the fur-lined cloak closer and burying her face into Elliot's shoulder.

"You don't need to stay."

"Troy, you've said you're not certain you can face your father alone."

"I won't be alone. I'll be with Harry, Draco, and the Weasleys."

"I just want to be sure." She laughed harshly and pulled away, hugging herself.

"I – I know. You've been a wonderful companion, and I thank you for the date – but like you said, it's unlikely we'll last." She rose onto her tiptoes to press a light kiss to his mouth, savoring the stolen warmth before it flitted away.

"We'll probably see each other soon. Don't worry about me."

"It's a hazard of affection in all its forms." He tightened his grip on her waist ever so slightly, searching her eyes earnestly.

"I spoke out of frustration. I think…I think if we try, we could succeed, and Troy, I truly do want to try. I have struggled to express my feelings since we met, but any amount of words is inadequate. I'd like to be something more than an amusing acquaintance." She laughed, face turning pink from cold and a blush that refused to be held back, her eyes darting around, looking anywhere but at him as she struggled to contain her panic. Cool fingers caught her chin and forced her to look up.

"I'm not asking for a promise."

"But you want one."

"It would be nice." She shivered, pulling away again.

"I – I need time – now really isn't a good time—"

"I know." He let go and stepped back, smirking a little.

"Just remember that if you return to America without so much as a goodbye, I will come after you, and I have no doubt in my mind that Draco and Harry will assist me." She laughed, the sound watery, but the emotion was positive at least.

"I have no doubt…" He slipped an arm around her waist again and produced a handkerchief, pressing it into her hands as he led her up the way to the Manor. She dabbed at her eyes, glaring at the gleaming stones as if it was their fault she was so weepy lately. I really need to work on that. She snorted and shook her head, making Elliot pause while she produced a small mirror and checked her appearance. Satisfied, she calmly returned the handkerchief to him and straightened completely, eyes glowing with determination. Elliot smiled, pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, and moved away, preparing to return home.

"We'll call if we need you." He nodded.

"I'll be waiting."

A/N: I went a little nuts with Creed and Valeria. -snirk- O, the jokes. That I can't tell you. Because…I just can't. XD WE'RE APPROACHING THE END GAME! Which means, this fic may only last for a few more chapters, I'm not sure. We'll see. I WILL finish it. REVIEW!