Chapter 14 – Meetings

Submitted Friday 9 March 2012

Every attempt was made to get in contact with Narcissa Malfoy but each of Harry's messages were turned away. After some checking around, Harry found that Narcissa, as a member of the Breeder's Board for House Elves, would visit the Ministry for a meeting. It was held at the offices for the Department for the Regulation and Control for Magical Creatures on the second Wednesday of every month. It was Hermione who was able to dish out the details, "You may call it the Department for Magical Creatures if you prefer. We've taken to the name in an effort to save our voices," she explained matter-of-factly.

The Polyjuice investigation had met resistance. The Department for Magical Law Enforcement refused to issue warrants allowing Harry to enter the house or interview the owner involved. Robards met personally with Harry, Ron, Ewan and Rowan and explained, "I've been told that the Wizengamut and the Director for the MLE wants us to leave this alone. The Director insists he knows the owner and that what is going on there is likely harmless."

Harry groaned, "Harmless? Polyjuice Potion? This bloke is making loads of Polyjuice Potion and is either using it or distributing it. The Director just dismisses this without looking into it at all?"

Ewan looked sceptical as well, "Sir, I know this is a sensitive subject but the Director is a Pureblood." Despite the steely expression that met his observation, Ewan pushed on, "If there was a conspiracy wouldn't he be the perfect person to deflect any suspicions."

Robards tone could have cut glass, "We have a chain of command for a reason. But, if any of you would like to question Director Donnelly's intentions then feel free to go directly to him. I'm sure he would be all to happy to provide his thoughts on the matter. Considering he was chosen by the Minister himself I will take him at his word." The Head Auror looked directly at Harry, "You are not given permission to enter the residence and you may not speak to the owner regarding this matter. That is a direct order from the Director."

Robards softened his tone a little, "I was told that this bloke has contacts with members of the Wizengamut and this might prove embarrassing for some of them. I was assured that whatever is going on is harmless but it still makes me uncomfortable as well. If you do decide to pursue this and I find any written reports I will have you charged with harassment. I'd never stop any Auror from pursuing a lead he felt strongly about – we must follow our guts. You are hereby warned not to enter the house or to speak to this bloke or any Wizengamut regarding the matter. Otherwise, you pursue any investigation where you may suspect a crime. That is all."

As the Aurors left Robards's office they shared a look. Harry acted as if he were going to ask Ewan a question but the Trainer shook his head. I don't want to know. I believe Robards was very clear what he would and wouldn't allow. Now go do your jobs. Oh, and mates, it's official. I'll be letting all of you know at the next meeting, the trainees shall be assigned full status as of July First. You will all be rated as Aurors Fourth Class." Rowan slapped the two Trainees on the back as congratulations. They were sworn to secrecy but for the rest of the day nothing could ruin Ron's mood.

Once Ewan left earshot, the other three Aurors dissected the Head Auror's directions carefully. They decided a full on stakeout was useless. Instead they began to interview contacts that had dealings with the owner trying to find out if he had any dealings with any groups or individuals that were known to cause trouble in the Wizard or Muggle worlds. They decided a full independent work up on the owner was necessary as well.

Harry decided an occasional visit to the residence would suffice and he'd bring either Ron or Rowan with him for an hour at a time. They'd watch as wizards and witches apparated to and from a place near the property line. Harry noted to himself that there was probably a charm that kept anyone from apparating directly in or out of the home - less surprise visitors that way.

While most of the witches and wizards did not seem dangerous, Harry could tell that they were nervous. Nervous usually equalled guilt. The visitors would stay about an hour – two at most. The visitors ranged from well connected pure-bloods to members of the Wizengamut. A vast majority of the visitors were well off financially.

Ron took their time together as a chance at guy talk. Harry cringed when the subject of Eliza came up, "Mate, if you'd asked me last year what I'd say if you'd gone through with snogging that bird. I said it then and I'll say it again. She is Cracking!"

"Sshhh..." Harry looked sternly at his mate, "You're going to bring attention to us."

Ron rolled his eyes, "Mate, if I wanted to sit a stakeout with Hermione then I would have invited her. Now tell me, she's like a lynx, isn't she?" The obvious attempt at buffoonery on Ron's part forced Harry to lighten up. Ron kept at it, "Come on, this is your best mate asking and there aren't any birds here to take the piss out of you for your answer. Just between us. Is she as wild as she lets on?"

He knew Ron wouldn't let it go. Really, it wasn't so bad. He knew Ron was just trying to get him to talk. Amusement crept across his face, "Mate, a lynx might be a fair description. She's certainly playing cat and mouse with me. I don't know what we are but I can't help but look at her. And she..." Harry was looking for words, "she knows how to make me insane. Just with a look sometimes. She's not modest – not one bit. You lot will be downstairs and I'll be waking up for work and she'll begin dancing just to get me wound up..." Harry shivered when he thought about it. "...She's got it."

Ron smiled knowingly, "She's seven years older than you. You'd think she'd know a thing or two. I just can't see why she's all worked up about you."

"I couldn't tell you. Maybe the whole 'Chosen One' bit. She goes back and forth between seducing me and mothering me..."

Ron's face screwed up, "Mothering you?"

"Honestly, it's when she's the most...lovely. When I come in angry or upset she'll undress me and put me in my pyjamas. She'll calm me down. Then she'll..."

"Blimey Harry!" Ron looked ready to wretch, "Do you hear yourself?" Harry shook his head no. Ron considered a polite way to explain. He decided there was none, "Mate, she's your mum."

Now Harry was the one with the screwed up look, "I don't understand. I just said she calmed me down. How does that make her my mum?"

"Forget it mate. Not important right now. For now it's important that the most cracking bird in the Auror Department is into you. And by your account she's so hopelessly into you she'll do whatever sordid thing you ask of her." Ron now had the sly grin, "And I can live vicariously through you. Which means, mate, that it is your responsibility to do some awfully sordid things and share every detail. Remember, the most important thing is to share."

Harry couldn't help but let a 'guffaw' escape at Ron's sudden exuberance. Unfortunately, this caught the attention of a couple who was leaving the residence and gave Harry and Ron reason to make a quick exit before they were recognised.

In his off hours, Harry had began another unrelated and unauthorised stakeout of sorts. He began to search for where Rita Skeeter was getting off to recently. He was determined that she was at the bottom of the whole mess with Hannah. He couldn't fathom why she'd give the story to someone else but his gut told him that she was the only one that could have listened in at the Cauldron and not been caught. Maybe that was the key? If she published the story then it would have been obvious how she had gotten it?

Her flat was a closely guarded secret so he began to ask around to see if she was following any particular stories. At first he had no luck but then he remembered a young lady that he had met the last time he visited the Daily Prophet. Young Miss Flanagan was still a receptionist for Editor Quilvash. As such, she was in regular contact with all of the writers. After a week of fruitless searching for Rita on his own he decided to visit the Daily Prophet and call on Miss Flanagan. The door jingled as Harry entered. Immediately Harry caught the eye of the receptionist and she blushed when he smiled.

Miss Flanagan had such a lovely inviting smile that Harry wondered how she ever got caught up in such a business. To him, The Prophet was the lowest of the low. Miss Flanagan was quite the opposite – a portrait of delicate classical beauty that dressed smartly and wore a caring expression as if she was always listening to what you were saying. Her hair was the colour of mocha chocolate. If you were to look into her eyes you'd first swear they were pale blue but small flecks of green would make them change in the right light. Harry shook his head annoyed at himself when he caught himself once again admiring another witch.

He decided he first should make sure they were alone. Once she explained that everyone else was away for lunch he explained the reason for his visit, "I don't want to get you in trouble but I was wondering if you could share with me what Miss Skeeter is working on presently. She isn't working on any stories about me, is she?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but I can't share that information." She seemed to sympathise with his plight and she looked genuinely sorry that she couldn't be more helpful. When she saw Harry's brilliant green eyes droop like those of a sad puppy, she couldn't take it. He could see the wheels in her head turn furiously as she considered what she could and couldn't say. He was surprised by the boldness of her next suggestion, "Of course, if you were to invite me to lunch some time then I'd be a simple young witch and not a receptionist for 'a heartless old rag that has lost its way.'" He seemed to remember using those very words a few years back in an interview with the Quibbler when describing the Prophet.

Harry considered the witch's offer. What she was offering was borderline unethical but no less so than him asking her to share confidences between herself and her employer in the first place. He decided he was fine with it, "I'd be happy to take you to lunch...but you do know I have a girlfriend?"

"Oh, every witch in England knows that." She pushed the very thought away with an open hand, "Pictures of the two of you have covered the front page for nearly a month. I know a fine Muggle restaurant if you'd like to meet tomorrow...say noon?"

And arrangements were made. It seemed too easy, really, but Harry didn't think much of it.

Before Harry began his shift that evening he had dinner with Eliza. This had become a regular thing. By now, she had been provided with access to the Floo and Harry's room at Grimmauld Place. She was keyed to the handle and it was common for her to sleep in his room. They rarely slept in the room at the same time – she'd go to sleep sometime after he left following "dinner" and she'd wake up to find that he'd slipped into bed with her just as she woke up. She'd often take a late lunch and slip into bed next to him that final half hour for a quick nap which allowed her to wake up next to him. He noticed that since this arrangement had begun he was sleeping much easier.

They rarely ate alone. The Dining Room at Grimmauld Place was nearly always full for dinner. Seamus and Dean had standing offers as did the Weasleys, many members of the DA and several of the single Aurors. Harry's home had the feel of a small social club and witches and wizards would come and go as late as midnight. He enjoyed the company but found that he actually spoke with very few of the visitors. This never surprised anyone – it was more surprising on the odd night when he included himself in the fun.

Hermione was listening to the Auror who was staying in the guest room on the second landing. She was the one who'd had issues with her husband and they were thankfully working through them. As she happily announced to Hermione that she expected to move back in with her husband over the weekend, Harry quietly got Eliza's attention, "I thought I should tell you that I'm having lunch with a young witch tomorrow."

Eliza was taken aback, "Growing tired of me already?" Her tone gave away a real concern hiding behind her cheeky smile.

"No. No, of course not," Harry insisted. "I need to ask her some questions for that matter with...well, you know...we've been talking about it."

Eliza nodded understanding and asked quietly, "Anything I need to be worried about? You know, with this witch? Is she pretty?"

"No and yes." Harry answered. Everyone else's attention still seemed to be on the Auror and her news.

"Well, then good luck." She had a difficult time hiding her relief, "And thanks. You know, for telling me."

Harry nodded.

His shift was painfully slow that evening. The job of an Auror had grown incredibly dull. He was nearing the day when he'd be a full Auror but it just wasn't the same as the nights when he'd stalked the halls of Hogwarts looking for danger. There were no dragons or three headed dogs hiding in the shops of Diagon Alley at 2am. The occasional wizard pissed drunk was not his problem. MLE had their own wizards for those chores. The Aurors were more a combination of elite detectives and bodyguards for Ministry officials than they were patrollers. But Harry had elected to pair up with Rowan and Rowan was one mark away from being sacked.

Rowan lazily strolled along the Alley as they kept an eye out for suspicious shadows, "I'm requesting reassignment," he announced dully.

"Why?" Harry asked as he peeked a careful eye into George's shop. Empty.

Harry's partner explained, "You're wasting your time with me. Besides, I'm not really made for this. They're itching to be rid of me and they'll find an excuse soon enough. Better I go to MLE before I'm shown the door." Rowan didn't really seem too interested in looking around.

"Magical Law Enforcement won't be any better. Why don't you just quit altogether?"

Rowan shook his head, "Oy, Harry. Are you thick? I was in MLE for twenty-seven years. They only promoted me to Auror because they were short after they sacked half the Ministry for being Death Eaters. Another two years and I rate a full pension at Auror pay. Not every bloke has gobs of gold sitting around begging to be spent. Before my promotion I had to watch every Sickle. I'm going to ask to be reassigned with my pension intact – considering the rumblings I think they'll agree.

Harry nodded. He'd considered returning to days anyway. Now that Eliza was staying over it made sense to at least be able to keep the same schedule.

He spent much of the rest of the shift thinking about Eliza and how fast they'd moved. He felt lucky that she never used the "L" word. How would he respond to that? He had grown rather fond of her. Even now he could smell the hint of cherry blossoms that he knew was the scent of her shampoo. He knew this because he had run out of his own shampoo and Kreacher had not bothered to replenish it. He wondered if Kreacher thought the shampoo Eliza now kept in his bath was for him as well.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" Rowan finally asked as they neared the end of their shift.

"Cherry blossoms," Harry answered without thinking.

"Is that what I've been smelling all night?" the older Auror replied. "I was wondering if perhaps you were considering..." Harry's glare was enough to stop him mid-sentence.

It had come to light that Harry did not take disparaging comments about other's preferences lightly when he challenged a fellow Auror to a duel one afternoon. Thinking he'd take the Auror off guard during the duel he cast, "Serpent-semptura!" The giant snake that leapt out of his wand chased the Auror right out of the duelling chamber. The onlookers couldn't help but howl with laughter. One finally explained, "The bloke is deathly afraid of snakes. He probably knew the counter curse but was too afraid to remember to use it."

The hours crept by. Harry didn't bother to return home to sleep. He piddled round London until noon the next day. Finally, when the sun was high overhead, Harry found himself sitting in a Muggle restaurant by the name of J. Sheekey with the young Miss Flanagan. They finished lunch. She'd decided to indulge in caviar as a start and then somehow still finished her entire meal of foie gras with scallops and buttered carrots. She convinced Harry to try a bite of the caviar but it wasn't to his taste. He was quite happy with his meal of haddock and chips. He noticed that the chips weren't quite right – it was like they used the wrong kind of potatoes or something. Otherwise the haddock was brilliant.

Soon the meal was cleared away and tea was presented with a dessert menu. When making reservations, he'd elected for one of the smaller quieter rooms rather than the horseshoe table in the signature dining area. He'd agreed to pay extra to have the remaining tables cleared out and have the small room just for them. As she looked over the desserts she remarked, "Harry, you may call me Eva. 'Miss Flanagan' makes me feel old. I'm likely younger than you, I suspect."

"Sorry Eva." Harry wondered how to get started. He was desperately short on sleep, "Forgive my being forward but you mentioned we might speak about certain things."

They were interrupted by the waiter. She ordered the crème brulee. He couldn't imagine where she'd put it. He decided on the treacle tart. When the waiter stepped out she answered, "I'll answer a few questions but it'll come at a cost." Harry was at a loss for words. He'd never considered she would bring him here for bribery. He'd paid sources for information before but that was as an Auror. Being that this was personal it seemed a tad unseemly.

"I don't know," he stammered. "Maybe this was a bad idea."

"Oh, no," her eyes got wide when she understood his reluctance. "Not gold...I'll answer a question if you answer a question." Her smile returned and it had mischief written all over it. "But we must promise to answer whatever question is asked and we must promise to answer truthfully."

Harry considered. Before he could answer the desserts arrived. Harry jumped when the waiter pulled out a torch and a small flame flared up from Eva's dish. Her giggle and light clap let him know that this was likely how the dessert was normally served. Before answering, he took a bite of his treacle tart and...blech. The taste was all wrong. The haddock had been excellent, but he decided he should have Molly send the chef her recipe for tart. So much for nice restaurants.

"All right, I'll do it," Harry finally agreed, "and I swear to tell the truth. But," She looked very interested as he explained, "I will not answer any questions that would betray a confidence at my job or of a friend. In addition, neither of us may share our answers with anyone else. At all."

"Agreed," she exclaimed excitedly. "First question," she said after a bite, "Are you in love with this witch you've been seeing?"

"No," he answered much more easily than he would have expected. He ventured another bite of the tart and wished he hadn't. As he chewed he noticed she had expected more of an answer. He swallowed, "At least not right now. She is lovely and she puts up with me and I really enjoy being with her. I suppose I could fall in love but...no." He decided to ask his own, "Do you know if Rita has been listening in on my conversations lately?"

"No," Eva replied, "I mean, no she has not. Seeing that Harry was still hopeful for more she continued, "She was beside herself that this Sean bloke beat her to the stories about you and that witch...she was furious about the elves. She was searching all over for your mystery girl from the time that picture was published." Feeling she had given a lot of information with that question she followed up with, "Have you ever..."

"...Never," came the emphatic reply, "I'm still a..." Her disappointed look forced him to stop and ask, "What?"

"You didn't let me finish," she grumbled. "That wasn't the question...but duly noted." She seemed to concentrate on a single point between his eyes as if this was now hard for her to get out. She asked it as one word, "Haveyoueverthoughtofmelikeher?" Before he could answer she qualified the question, "Snogging, maybe dating," she blushed, "not the other."

Forward. Very forward. How did he answer this? "Why do you ask?"

"Technically that's another question but...well...I got the impression you agreed to this lunch more to interrogate me than a proper date. It's why I loaded up on all this fancy food and now I have a dreadful stomach ache. I'd always heard this place was nice so when you offered I took advantage. If I was going to be used..." she didn't have to finish the sentence. Harry's shamed look said enough.

This was enough to get Eva to spill everything, "Rita doesn't have anything on you yet that I know of. Quilvash has placed a large bounty on any story that paints you in a bad light. He considers Ginny off limits but he wants anything he can get 'to take you down a notch.' There's a bloke named Vincent that has a story that's stagnated about some married witch that he says you have shacked up with you at Grimmauld Place. He's trying to portray you as a playboy with a harem that is breaking up homes but he went to the wizard she's married to and asked a lot of questions. When her husband realised what Vincent planned on writing he threatened to personally chase the bloke down and curse him into oblivion. One writer has a source in the Ministry prepared to leak the details of your elves but he wants gold. Quilvash isn't prepared to pay what he's looking for." She looked at him expectantly, "Is that what you wanted to know?"

He could only nod. She'd let the whole thing out in one rush as if she just wanted it all off of her chest. She stood, "I should probably get on. It's best you didn't walk with me back. If people were to see..." Harry understood.

When she stood up Harry had followed suit out of courtesy. He placed two fifty pound notes on the table and made to say good bye. The look of disappointment on her face was too much for him and without provocation he finished his answer to her question, "I did ask you to lunch solely to get information from you. But you are stunning. The reason I felt so ashamed is that I do find you attractive and could see myself dating...or snogging you. I feel guilty because I promised Eliza there was nothing to this and I am trying desperately not to make myself a liar. I'm not sure what Eliza and I are, really. But I do like her and I am dating her and I wouldn't be much of a bloke if I were to make a move on you too."

Somehow this cheered her up. Her eyes brightened - if he'd been able to look behind her he'd of understood the phrase 'like a bushy tailed rabbit' much better. She stretched up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. He bent down with the same plan and the unlikely result was he kissed her on the lips...just a peck...he laughed awkwardly not knowing what to say. She squealed with delight and hugged him tightly. You'd have thunk she was celebrating her birthday and Christmas all at once. He heard her giggle "bye" as she raced out the door.

He was split between feeling happy that he'd made her happy and feeling guilty that he found her attractive. With one last look at that awful treacle tart he decided it was time to head home.

A few days later, Harry found Narcissa Malfoy at the Ministry. It was the second Wednesday of the month and she was between meetings at the Department for Magical Creatures. Surrounded by a group of fellow members of the Breeders' Board and a few high placed officials in the Department, it was awkward when he tried to approach her with a casual, "Might I have a minute with you in private?"

Her response sent him reeling, "What for, Potter?" She turned on him in front of everyone, her voice loud enough that the entire Department could hear, "Do you really expect to curry favour with me? What, you wish to speak privately so you can remind me that you put in a few good words on my behalf at my hearing?" Narcissa glared at him through narrow cold blue eyes. She still had much of her beauty but it was lost on Harry as she snarled, "You honestly have the gall to come to me and ask for mercy after you first ruined and then buried my husband? You left my son without a father!"

Harry was at a loss for an appropriate response. He hadn't expected this. He'd thought Draco's comments were simple anger and bravado but she made her intentions clear, "I will assure you of this, if I am chosen to hear your case then I will be fair and I will follow the letter of the law. That's more than you deserve you half breed scoundrel." With that she waved him off.

What he witnessed next was disconcerting. To a one, everyone within earshot had a look of pride. They would have applauded if they dared. What he hadn't noticed was the reporter who had witnessed the entire exchange.