Draco opened the latch of the elaborate custom habitat that filled the room, and reached in for the mustelid perched on the nearest landing. The ferret scrambled over his arm and settled on Draco's shoulder.

"Hello, Moody, my friend." He stroked the animal's head and wrinkled his nose. "It's a bit rank in here, don't you think? Tsk. Your housekeeping skills are quite atrocious." He waved his wand, vanishing the ferret's old bedding and detritus. "Let's go get you fed, shall we?"

He held the ferret over his forearm as he descended the stairs to the kitchen.

"Tia, my love! Are you there?" he called out. "Oh, you are home," he said as he entered the kitchen to find Adrestia at the counter placing basil leaves over slices of Roma tomato and mozzarella as she prepared a panini sandwich. He moved to her side and leaned in for a kiss, placing a restraining hand on Moody, to keep the ferret from leaping into the food preparation on the counter. Adrestia turned her head. "What's all this?" he gave her hair a tug. She said nothing, only flicked her eyes across the kitchen as she opened the panini press and removed a hot sandwich before placing the one she'd just prepared onto the grill.

"Pravus." Draco looked up at the voice coming from across the room and noticed for the first time that they were not alone.

"Paellax. When did you get here?" he asked the man sitting at the table.

"Just this morning. I must have missed you. Thank you, love." He accepted the sandwich that Adrestia placed in front of him along with a glass of ginger ale. Draco carefully sat down at the table across from him. "Well, well, well! Does that mean you were finally successful in bedding the Boy-Who-Lived?" he took a bite of his sandwich.

Draco stroked Moody's head. He looked over his shoulder at Adrestia. She sat at the counter with her back turned, flipping through a magazine. He turned back to his partner.

"We had an…encounter."

"An encounter? Don't play coy with me right now, my friend. Just say you had a proper shag." He took a bite of his sandwich.

"What are you angry with me for? Jealous?" Draco arched a brow. The other man scoffed.

"Hardly. You know I'm not bent."

"And yet, you shagged me."

"That was different."

"How?"

"You asked me to—practically begged, more like it," he replied wiping his fingers on a napkin.

"Then why all this attitude, and what's wrong with Adrestia?"

"I thought we agreed about the absinthe. You know, that it is not for us."

"Tia seems to have no trouble consuming it," Draco replied. The other man sighed and waved his wand to cast a privacy spell.

"Merlin, what is wrong with you? First of all, Adrestia drinks Sazerac—the absinthe is just a wash for the glass. And how can you even throw her name into this discussion in such a way after what you did to her?"

"I apologized already! Why is everyone upset about a little absinthe hallucination?"

"A little absinthe hallucination, Pravus? Fortunately, you passed out before you could follow through, but you left her under a fucking Freezing Charm! Isn't it your good luck that she can perform nonverbal spells?" The other wizard glared at him angrily. Draco sat back, dumbfounded.

"I—" he turned back to Adrestia. She was quietly eating her sandwich, but he could see the tension in her shoulders from where he sat. Draco placed Moody on the floor and removed the privacy spell. "Is that why you won't speak to me? The absinthe? It's not because of Harry?" He heard her sigh.

"The world doesn't revolve around Harry Potter, you know." She turned to face him. "May I speak freely, sir?"

"Please do." She slid from her barstool and moved to stand in front of the table where the two men sat.

"Harry seems like a nice guy—he's got an amazing dick and knows what to do with it!" she smirked. "But if he's going to fuck with your head to the point that you're turning to the green fairy, that's a problem. You see how Brian nearly ruined the job with the safety deposit boxes, and how he totally botched the situation with the paintings? It's the same thing. Sir, Master Paellax, we can't do what we do if our mind isn't totally focused on the task at hand. I'm only saying you need to either consummate this thing with him, or let him go."

Draco sat back and let out a sigh. They were right. He was becoming reckless all because he couldn't shake off his obsessive thoughts about Harry. He was so accustomed to simply getting his way with everything. Yet, he seemed to have forgotten that nothing was ever easy when it came to Harry Potter.

"I understand."

"Good. However, Pravus…you know that you will have to atone for your mistakes."

Harry sat down heavily on the garden steps outside of the library at twelve Grimmauld Place. He removed the lightweight jumper he wore and swiped a grimy hand across his brow. Despite a comfortable temperature of ten degrees, he'd worked up a sweat clearing the overgrown courtyard and garden. Even with the use of magic, it had taken him the better part of the morning to remove the ivy that had wound its way over nearly every surface like Devil's Snare. He sipped the water that Kreacher had brought him and surveyed the space, delighted at the discoveries he'd made beneath the parasitic greenery.

A modest stone fountain sat in the center of the courtyard. It was topped with a gilded mermaid holding a conch shell which poured the water over three tiers and into the lowest basin. In the southeast corner of the garden, Harry had been nearly overcome by the powerful scent of the Flutterby bush that had managed to flourish beneath the creepers. The fluttering flowers were in full bloom and their overwhelming scent of sandalwood nearly drowned Harry in a panic attack sparked by powerful and unbidden memories and fantasies of Draco. Fortunately, Kreacher had arrived just then with refreshment, and pulled him out of range of the plant's scent. With the elf's help, he was able to calmly prune the bushes to a manageable size, immediately vanishing the fragrant clippings.

Harry looked away from the quivering bush to the southwest corner of the lawn where the aviary stood, looking frightfully neglected and ready to collapse now that the ivy had been removed. He studied the ornate scrollwork that formed the dome of the bird sanctuary, and the arched openings around the top of the structure's walls. Behind it, thick vines of Japanese wisteria climbed the back wall of the garden. Harry figured that he would take care of that before lunch and call it a day. He would worry about the structural repair the next day. He turned up his glass and emptied it, picking up his wand as he stood.

There were only a few feet of space between the back of the aviary and the garden wall. Harry pointed his wand at the thick, ropelike vines near the base of the wall.

"Perputo!" He flicked his wand in a diagonal slashing motion and the vines began to draw back into themselves, reshaping against the wall. In the shadow of the overhanging plant, Harry could just make out an object that was nearly overtaken by the invasive vine. He cast the pruning spell again and pushed his way into the narrow space. As the vines drew back, Harry recognized a large, spoked wheel and drew in a breath. He tugged on the wheel as he continued magically pruning the plant until the machine was free.

"Merlin's broom!" he murmured. Harry dragged the motorbike out into the open garden. It wasn't the same bike that his godfather had given to Hagrid. That one currently lay in pieces in Arthur's shed at The Burrow. Still, he knew without a doubt that this bike could only have belonged to Sirius. He ran his fingers over the torn leather seat and used his hand to brush away some of the grime coating the tank, revealing a two toned paint detail in scarlet and gold. Harry simply stood staring at the motorbike in awe.

He could still hear the roar of the engine that had lulled him to sleep on the night his parents were killed, and the rush of sound and wind in his ears as he and Hagrid left Privet Drive for the last time, just over two years ago. Since the end of the war, he'd considered collecting the remains of Sirius' bike in order to repair it, but each time he thought to ask Arthur about it, something inside his chest tightened, and he couldn't get the words out to make the request. He was still standing before the bike when Kreacher appeared in the garden with a fresh glass of water.

"Kreacher sees Master Harry has found Master Sirius' motorbike." Harry nodded, accepting the glass of water. "Mistress was most distressed when Master Sirius brought it home. The noise that it made!" Harry chuckled softly.

"I wonder why he left it here," Harry mused.

"Master Sirius hid the motorbike from his parents when he left home. He wanted to retrieve it, but he was forbidden to return to the house."

"That must be why he got the other one." Harry sipped the water thoughtfully.

"Would Master Harry like to eat lunch in the garden?"

"No, Kreacher." Harry finally shook off his deep reverie. "The kitchen is fine."

Although from the basement kitchen all he could discern were the wire-spoked tires of the bike, Harry stared up at the high windows above the kitchen sink as he washed his hands, as if afraid it was all a vision and the motorbike would disappear.

"It'd probably look amazing all cleaned up! I wonder if it works." he murmured to himself, reaching for a towel.

Kreacher set a platter of pork pies and a large tossed salad on the table and disappeared. Harry reluctantly tore himself away from the window and took a seat, pulling the plate over. He was on his second pie when Ron sauntered into the kitchen.

"Merlin, man! You're filthy!" Ron exclaimed. "What have you been up to?"

"I did tell you that I was going to clear the garden. It's quite nice now that all of the ivy has been cut back. You wouldn't believe all that I managed to find underneath the foliage."

"The petrified skeletons of the Black family's muggleborn enemies?" Ron chortled. He snagged a pork pie and took a bite. Harry rolled his eyes and summoned a plate and fork from the cupboard.

"Don't be such a philistine, mate."

"Gee whiz! You sound like Malfoy. When did you get so poncey?" Ron teased.

"I'm not poncey!" Harry huffed indignantly. "I can't believe you compared me to Malfoy!"

"Well, you were being a bit fastidious, mate. Though sitting there in that shirt, rather begs the question doesn't it?" Ron chuckled. "Okay, I'm sorry. What magical treasures did you find in the greenery of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black? Did you find an aviary?"

"Oh, yeah." Harry's eyes lit up suddenly. "But wait until you see what I found behind the aviary!" he exclaimed, leaping from his seat. Ron followed reluctantly curious.

"Harry, I swear, if you're dragging me out here to look at an infestation of flitterbies, I'm going to send you a—" Ron stopped short as if he'd been immobilized the moment they stepped out of the library.

"I knew you wouldn't bel—" Harry too found himself at a sudden loss for words.

Instead of the grimy abandoned vehicle that he'd left in the garden before lunch, they found a shining, pristine machine, gleaming like new in the afternoon sun. Kreacher peeked over the top of the newly polished motorbike.

"Kreacher, you did this?" Harry asked with astonishment?

"Master Harry said he wanted it cleaned up. Master Harry would like to ride it maybe?" Kreacher snapped his fingers and the bike roared to life.

"Merlin! That's brilliant!" Ron exclaimed.

"Amazing!" Harry declared. "Thanks, Kreacher!" The elf snapped his fingers again, and the black leather jacket that Harry had cherished appeared in his hand. He held it out to his master. Harry looked at Ron, who gave him an enthusiastic and encouraging nod. He slipped the jacket on and straddled the bike. The vibration between his legs sent a thrill up his spine, reminding him of the first time he'd ridden a broom. He revved the engine and disengaged the kickstand. The bike lurched forward, and he pointed his wand at the garden gate, roaring into the narrow alleyway behind the row of houses.

Harry let out a whoop as he sped down the backstreet. It had been quite some time since he'd even been on his broom, and the feel of his hair blowing in the wind was exhilarating. He turned the bike around and returned to the house, coming to a stop at the foot of the garden steps, where Ron stood waiting, a look of wonder and mild envy on his face.

"Wanna give it a go?" Harry asked.

"Ah, mate! It's not a broom." Ron shook his head, but Harry noticed the wistful expression on his face.

"Hop on!"

"I don't know." Ron still looked somewhat reluctant.

"Oh, c'mon, mate! I'll give you a lift back to work!" Ron pursed his lips for a moment before relenting, and climbing onto the bike behind Harry.

"Mum and 'Mione are gonna kill me," he muttered, placing his hands on Harry's waist. Harry laughed and took off, the front wheel lifting from the ground as they started forward. Ron let out a girlish shriek and wrapped his arms more tightly around Harry's waist. Harry hooted, and they sped up the alley and into the street, the tails of Ron's robes flowing behind them.

When Harry pulled the motorcycle to the curb beside the disused phone box and shut off the engine, Ron climbed off with a slightly shaky stagger.

"That was fucking brilliant, mate!" he exclaimed.

"Almost as good as flying, yeah?" Harry agreed, leaning against the bike, arms crossed.

"Do you think it can fly?" Ron

"I don't know. Kreacher didn't mention. Anyway, I wouldn't want to attempt it in the middle of the city if I didn't know for sure. Remember what happened with your dad's car?" Harry smirked. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Don't remind me! I wonder if it's still in the Dark Forest."

"It's done. Hagrid said Grawp sat on it during sixth year, and it was finally smashed by another giant during the Battle."

"Merlin!" Ron pulled a face. "Probably for the best. Hey, why don't you bring the bike by The Burrow? Dad would love to see it, and you could check it for any magic."

"And how do you suggest we keep Molly from skinning us all alive for even thinking of riding it, let alone flying on it?" Harry gave him a measured, but amused look.

"Easy. Mum's visiting Ginny in Holyhead until Sunday." Ron grinned.

"And she trusts you and Arthur alone with his muggle collections?" Harry laughed.

"Of course not! She placed a spell on the shed to lock it and alert her if anyone tried to get inside."

Harry doubled over with laughter at that.

"Okay. Give me a fire-call when you get home. I'll bring dinner."

"Excellent! I'll let Dad know."

Harry returned to Number Twelve and parked the motorbike inside the gate. He vanished the remaining debris from his yardwork and went into the house for a shower. As he pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and his most recent Weasley jumper, his eye fell upon one of the posters on the wall. When Harry moved into Number Twelve to make it his home, he and Hermione constructed frames around the pictures and posters that Sirius had permanently affixed to his bedroom wall. Harry noticed that the poster nearest the desk, above a photo of the Marauders, was an illustration of the newly discovered motorbike. At the bottom of the picture, in a youthful scrawl was the phrase "One day!"

Harry shrank the bike and took fish and chips to The Burrow for dinner with Ron and Arthur. Halfway through the meal, George showed up, and was ecstatic to learn of the new bike. The bike could not fly, but Harry wasn't disappointed. The idea of flying on the motorcycle stirred up memories he'd just as soon prefer to keep suppressed. However, he did allow George to talk him into placing a charm on it to render the motorbike invisible and mask its engine noise, so Harry could ride with his invisibility cloak.

The sun had long ago sunk below the horizon when Harry and the three Weasley men finally stepped back into The Burrow.

"That's amazing, that was!" George exclaimed. "Mum's going to have a kitten when she finds out you have it!"

"Who's gonna tell her?" Ron chuckled.

"Just be sure to get the appropriate muggle licenses, and you should be fine," said Arthur.

"Well, I doubt I'll ride it every day, but I'll make certain to do that."

George left and Arthur retired for the evening, leaving Harry and Ron at the kitchen table, pinching greasy crumbs from the newspaper their dinner had been wrapped in at the chippy.

"You're not coming back to the DMLE, are you?" Ron asked abruptly. Harry sighed, folding a small piece of torn newspaper into a tiny square.

"I seriously doubt it, Ron." Harry shook his head.

"So, what's your plan?"

"C'mon, mate. You know what happens when we do plans." Harry shredded the paper. They were silent for a while.

"What are you looking for, Harry?"

"Honestly, Ron, I don't know. I just feel like there is something else out there for me, and I won't be settled until I find it."

"But if you don't know what that is, how will you know if you'll ever find it?"

"I'll know because it will be a part of me and I'll wonder how I ever survived without it." He thought of the green card in the top drawer of his desk and knew just where he was going to start.