21.
On the fifth morning of Draco's stay in hospital, Healer Grimsby-Jones announced to everyone's great relief that the mage would be discharged that afternoon. Harry wasn't totally convinced sie was well enough to leave the facility, but considering the health and well-being of everyone involved it was probably the best decision. Draco was a horrible patient. Sie sneered and insulted and intimidated all of the medical personnel other than Grimsby-Jones and Mediwizard Greydove. Sie'd sent more than one attendant fleeing from the room in tears and had actually exploded a tray of potions in a fit of temper and uncontrolled magic that had brought every healer on the floor running. Draco was snappish and irritable even with Pansy and Helene, though sie made an effort to govern hirself better during Anna's visits. And according to hir, what made everything worse was that sie was bored, and sie complained about that fact frequently, vociferously, to the point where it was driving Harry mad. He'd come to realise that Draco's usual poise and deliberation generally masked the wild pace at which hir mind worked. Sie was used to constant motion; it was how sie was able to split hir attention so effectively. Sie needed to be working or thinking or processing something pretty much at all times.
Because hir range of motion was limited, though the immobilisation spells were lifted on the second day, Draco took to analysing (and complaining about) hir potions, questioning the engineering of the medical equipment, and pestering any medical professional who came by with dozens of questions on the hows and whys thereof. Sie'd rattle off hir findings and suggestions at Mark, whose visits Harry had limited to one hour since both Director and hir secretary "talked shop" much more than was healthy for Draco's recovery. "You can jump right back in once you've been cleared to go home," he said when Draco complained about Harry's confiscation of Mark's work journal and Quick-Quotes Quill. "For now you need to be resting. Your mind, as well as your body."
The mage scrunched hir nose and pouted. "I have a corporation to oversee and a Foundation to run. The world hasn't stopped revolving just because I'm stuck here, you know, Harry."
Harry handed the note-taking materials back to Mark with a stern look. The secretary sheepishly put it all away as Harry nodded. "Let's pretend it has. It will take you no time at all to catch up. Or do I have to call Pomfrey?" He pulled out the threat Pansy had said would be most effective in getting the blond to cooperate. Harry didn't understand the relationship between his lover and the Hogwarts matron, but if the threat was enough to get hir to behave then he wouldn't question it.
Draco paled. "No! Eh—I mean no, it's all right...don't trouble her. Urgh-I'll hear it soon enough when I go for my follow-up. Grimsby-Jones evidently forwarded her my treatment charts." Sie sighed deeply. "Mark, everything's on hold until I'm cleared. There's nothing overly pressing at the moment. Just the holiday releases of the Orb upgrades, and the Heritage Holiday Party. Keep me summarily informed and delegate everything else to the committee and department heads. I'll be taking emergency calls only—" sie glared at Harry— "for the time being."
And of course Draco was barely through the doors of the car hired to take them to the cottage before hir AFR was reattached, and hir Signatus and miniOrb up and running. Healer Grimsby-Jones had given hir a clean bill of health, though sie needed to schedule time with a physical therapist to ensure sie did not lose range of motion in hir shoulders. Hir wrists and ankles were less of a concern, but the Healer was adamant about weight restrictions for the next week or so and Draco was not to lift things above shoulder height until sie'd been fully cleared by Madame Pomfrey. Sie was supposed to be careful of hir wrists and refrain from overly complicated wand movements—and typing. Harry had taken that last admonition to heart and seized the keyboard for Draco's Orb and miniOrb as soon as they entered the cottage.
He was amused by just how effective the Pomfrey threat was. Draco scowled and pouted and eventually spun off to hir room in a huff, but made no attempt to get the keyboards back. Of course, Mark would likely develop carpal tunnel syndrome from all the keyboarding he'd have to do to make up for Draco's temporary restrictions. And Harry was sure he'd seen Draco's Signatus actually smoking from transcribing hir oral notes so fast, but after another couple of days the magnate felt sie'd caught up enough to slow down once again and resume hir usual pace of things. Harry was particularly glad of this since his week's leave had ended and he needed to return to the Ministry. Besides, Anna would be home for the hols in a few days and he wanted to enjoy this first holiday season together, not play second fiddle to the Malfoy corporate interests or the obligations of Renaissance Foundation. Though there were several parties that he and Draco would be attending for the benefit of both, not to mention his obligations to the Ministry's social demands. And he still had some very special presents to buy.
Harry wasn't sure what to make of things when he returned to the Ministry. He'd taken an extra two days beyond the mandated leave to get Draco settled at the cottage and, if he were honest, to assure himself his lover would be safe there. The Auror's small office had been rearranged to accommodate another desk, one overflowing with parchment roll printouts, scattered file folders, and half-eaten pastries. The rubbish bin was nearly full of crumpled notes and paper cups, and many more hadn't quite made it into the bin but littered the floor surrounding it. Harry shook his head with fond exasperation; only one Auror he knew managed to work in such chaos.
"Hey, mate, welcome back!" Ron Weasley grinned as he came through the door, yet another cup and paper-wrapped pastry in hand.
"Hi, Ron." Harry smiled in spite of himself. It was good to see his friend healed and back to his general good humour, even if there was a serious rift they needed to mend before their friendship would be back on solid footing. And if Harry was a little annoyed that his office, which he'd earned through his own dedicated work, had been changed into a shared space without anyone asking his opinion, well, he kept that to himself.
"So Tonks has us all partnered up now. And it's you and me, yeah?" Ron stretched his long legs over his desk as he talked around his mouthful dropping crumbs on his robes. "Each unit is three partnered teams, one captain per unit. That'd be you, mate," he winked. "'S gonna be brilliant! Like how it was back in our training days. Seamus is partnered up with Draper now and Hetty's with that new bloke, Wingate. We've got a meeting for new assignments later this morning. And o' course we haveta go over the trial schedule, too."
That got Harry's attention. "When?"
"Dunno exactly." Ron shrugged. "Iscariot's slotted for sometime after the New Year. Wizengamot wanted it sooner, I guess, but really there just isn't time. Hired himself some fancy-pants barrister from Barry and Chase." The ginger nodded at Harry's frown. "Yeah, bad news that. But those creeps'll represent just about anyone. Too bad they're so damn good at what they do."
He was right; Barry and Chase Solicitors were the top criminal defence firm in Wizarding London, with a long history of getting the guiltiest clients cleared of all charges or reduced sentences based on technicalities. During the first Voldemort war many Death Eaters had employed their services. They were in fact the first to plead the "Imperius defence" that had set Voldemort's lackeys free. One of their best known tactics was to muddy the waters and put the arresting officers on trial. Harry grimaced at that thought; he knew they would go to town with his manifested magic. If Iscariot got off because Harry had screwed up, he'd never forgive himself.
"Hey, mate." Ron waved his attention back to their conversation. "Don't worry about it. We're going to bury them in evidence. Mione's unit is all over it. They've pulled all sorts of stuff from what you lot brought back from that cave, and with what we found at New Horizons there's no way he'll wriggle his way off the hook for this. Murdering bastard'll get what's coming to him, no matter what those sleazy bastards do.
"Anyways, that's it for that mess. I'm just glad it's over, you know? Bloke was mad, and that stunt he pulled on us with that gel-thingy..." Ron shook his head. "I just wanna know what Malfoy was doing with somethin' like that. You know? Makes you wonder what else he's got up his sleeve. I don't trust it. Sayin' the Ministry wanted it—I can't see that. I haven't talked to Dad about it yet, but I think we've finally caught him in a lie that'll send his arse to Azkaban where he belongs. I mean, c'mon, that's a terrorist weapon right there. Obvious proof the man's planning on taking a shot at the Ministry."
Harry sighed; it was too damn early for this. "Ron..." he started with strained patience. "I really need you to hear me on this." He looked up at his friend, who was staring at him intently. "Not just listen and have it go in one ear and out the other. Really hear me, because I'm getting tired of having to repeat myself. Draco is not working against the Ministry. Sie does not have some nefarious plan to take over Wizarding Britain. Sie is my lover, my life companion, and it really is ridiculous and disrespectful that you keep spouting all this nonsense every other conversation I have with you. I've said before that you and Mione need to get used to the fact that we're together. And you say 'yeah sure, all right,' and the next minute you go off with this crap again. It's gotten old, Ron. You're smarter than this, and more mature than you've been acting. I don't know what you and everyone else have been secretly hoping for me, but this is my life. I'm very happy with it. And I want to keep being happy with it, which means my lover and my best friends really need to try to get along and stop being so suspicious of each other.
"The ghelshield is like any weapon; it's the wielder who decides if it's put to good use. It was commissioned by the Ministry. And you can check with your Dad if you don't believe me, but Draco and I talked about it at St. Mungo's; Malfoy Manufacturing has contracts with several Ministry departments including DMLE to design and produce various useful devices. Some are like the ghelshield, others are to enhance analysis or increase protection or communication capabilities. These contracts aren't unusual; in fact several of hir competitors have similar contracts with the Ministry for new technologies.
"And the last thing—Mione was on you in the beginning, and Merlin knows I've been on you for it, and even Hetty has said it. I would have thought what happened with Mer. Blackforge would have been enough to get it through even your thick head," Harry growled at the gaping man. "Triarii are different. And it is ignorant and offensive that you keep trying to slot them into categories they don't fit into. Draco isn't a man; don't refer to hir as one." Harry raised a warning finger. "And don't even think about repeating the kind of crap you and Seamus were spewing before. Merlin's sake, Ron, you were raised a wizard. I don't understand how any of this is difficult for you. You've known triarii, or about them, your whole life!"
"You done?" Ron asked. At least he was calm. That had to count for something. Harry nodded. "Good. Okay, look, I've thought about this a lot, and I understand about the whole 'triarii are different' thing. I get that now, I do. I just slipped, okay? I didn't mean anything by it. Honest, Harry. I know I had some problems before, but what Hetty said really came home for me. I'm not a bigot and I needed to stop acting like one.
"The rest? It's Malfoy we're talking about, Harry. Malfoy. And Resonance or not, even knowing what I do—and believe me, I'm sickened by what Sirius did—I'm still suspicious of anything to do with that twitchy little ferret." He held up his hand as Harry made to protest. "I can't help what I feel, Harry. I don't trust hir. I don't know if I ever will. But sie's important to you and you're my best mate, so it may take a while, but I'm gonna try, all right?"
Some of the tension dropped from Harry's shoulders. It was a start, and as mule-headed as Ron was, Harry knew even that little bit was momentous. "All right."
"So—uh..." Ron massaged the back of his reddened neck, uncomfortable with the honesty of the moment; he really didn't do emotional scenes well. "We okay?"
"Yeah, we will be." Harry was resigned. Things would be awkward for a bit, but they'd get through it; they always did. Though Harry really wasn't looking forward to explaining about Anna's Blood Rite adoption, he wasn't sure how many more knocks to his staid worldview Ron could take.
Having regained their emotional footing to some degree, the rest of the day passed quickly for the Auror partners. They received their new assignments from Tonks. They were relatively minor cases, to Harry's surprise, but he thought perhaps they'd been given a lighter caseload to ease them into the new pulse of the department after the intensity of the Iscariot case.
Tonks also invited them to a small celebratory dinner her mother was hosting that evening to mark her promotion. A quick call over the AudioFloo revealed that Draco had been invited by the hostess herself and wanted to attend, even if Tonks wasn't hir favourite person. It was a chance to see Remus, sie said, and sie promised Harry sie'd make an effort at being polite to his friends.
He and Ron split up the interviews for the burglary at an antiquities shop that reputedly did brisk business in the sale of Dark artefacts, and Harry headed back to the cottage relatively early.
"All right, Harry, out with it," Draco ordered, folding the length of patterned brown and chartreuse silk around the Auror's neck into a knot as they finished dressing for dinner.
"Hmm? What do you mean?" Harry asked, trying not to fidget as Draco adjusted his stiff collar.
"Something is bothering you about Nymphadora's appointment to Head Auror. I can tell."
Harry shrugged on his robe. "She hates when people call her that, you know," he dissembled, tugging the mélange serge to hang properly. It was one of his favourite new purchases. Draco did have a great eye for what worked well on him but was still comfortable. They'd gotten it during one of their weekend jaunts into London on another one of Draco's infamous shopping sprees.
"Yes, I am aware. It is her name, however; and you still haven't answered my question," sie said doggedly, and turned around so Harry could seal the back seam of hir tunic. The mock-turtleneck was a Moon Frog creation from Lavender Brown's casual evening line. Draco took every opportunity to display the young designer's talents and this evening, though mostly a gathering of family and friends, was no exception. The seam, a wide swath of tone-on-tone embroidered ecru ribbon, was sealed magically rather than with a Muggle-style zip or manual fasteners.
Harry ran his wand up Draco's spine, smiling briefly at hir slight shiver. "Well?" the mage asked, undaunted, as sie straightened the long pleat that ran from wrist to shoulder, making sure the embroidery beneath peeked out as it should when sie moved hir arm.
"I just—I was surprised, is all. Tonks is a great Auror, Draco, truly she is, but she—there's more to being Head Auror than good field skills. She's not the most organised person," Harry admitted with a sigh. "Even I get my reports done before her and I hate paperwork. Tonks is just...she gets distracted by the low-level administriva duties required of every Auror; I don't see how she's going to handle the demands made on the Head Auror. I don't see it. And...and I should be happy for her. She's really wanted greater recognition in the department; I'm just not sure this is the right move for her. I don't know if she was the right choice," he finished softly, sadly, and looked away from his too-astute lover.
"You feel disloyal, guilty for your honest acknowledgement of her skills or lack thereof," Draco surmised, sealing the wide ribbons that served as cuffs for hir modified bishop sleeves. "Your silence is answer enough. Harry, I don't know if it will help or hurt to know this, but you're not the only one to doubt this appointment." Sie grinned wryly as Harry turned back to hir with a shocked look. Sie nodded. "I've managed to keep my ear to the ground despite your attempts at swaddling me, you know. Others are aware of Nymphadora's strengths, love, and they're well aware they do not lie in administration. Very little of this has to do with my cousin, actually. It's more what she represents as the daughter of a pure-blood matriarch who's tied to Weasley's opposition. Oh, don't look so surprised. Andromeda is a well-respected member of the Renaissance Party and active with the Foundation. My cousin was offered the position as Head Auror as a sort of olive branch...an invitation to coalition, and a sign that while Weasley's administration maintains its progressive Muggle-born integration policies it's willing to work with the supposedly more conservative factions that support organisations like Renaissance. The hope is to divide those factions so Davis' candidacy is no longer a threat."
"So this is all ploys and games? They're screwing with the department and my friend's life as some...political manoeuvre?" Harry spat in disgust. He hated this aspect of the Ministry. And with Arthur's election he'd honestly thought he wouldn't have to deal with it any more. This was the kind of politics that had plagued Fudge's administration, and Scrimgeour's, where it was more about how things looked than what got done.
Draco smoothed hir hands over Harry's chest, soothing. "I know it's frustrating. But these are the kinds of games that have always been played to some degree or another. True, Minister Weasley hasn't been the sort to reward personal affiliations with political gains or make appointments based on political pandering, but that was because he didn't have any serious opposition. Now that Davis and Blackforge have the kind of backing that could oust him from office, he's falling back on what he's seen work before, even though being so different from his predecessors is what's kept his administration honest—poorly managed at times, but honest.
"Truthfully, I think it's a bad move. The Davis campaign has staunch supporters and allies. And Nymphadora's position won't change their minds about supporting the status quo. I think the Minister's received very poor advice and was a fool to act on it, more than likely because it was recommended by Percy that utter lackwit he calls a son; now that the shifty little power-monger has finally wormed his way onto the Minister's Council. It will end badly, Harry. And I'm sorry for Nymphadora, as she'll be the one to shoulder the backlash."
Harry could see it spiralling into something awful, and given the way the press and public assigned blame and praise to the managers and heads of departments, he knew that if things did go badly it would be Tonks who was led to slaughter. What a wonderful attitude to bring to her celebration dinner. "Maybe...let's try to have a little faith, yeah? It might all work out."
Draco snorted. "My cousin is many things, Harry, but a leader to inspire loyalty and devotion to one's duty? No. She's a good fighter; the comrade you'd want at your shoulder in battle, following the command of your leader. I give it four months...perhaps less." Sie squeezed his arm. "You're worried about tonight aren't you? Don't be." Sie shook hir head. "Tonight we celebrate that she's accomplished something she wanted, deservedly or not. For now, that she is a poor choice is immaterial. Besides, Aunt Andy is serving roasted poussin with sage and apricot streusel, which is delicious, and I may actually manage a whole serving since I'm finally allowed to eat real food again. I'm much too excited about that prospect to let a little thing like the capacity of the guest of honour spoil the evening. So—" Draco looped hir arm around his— "shall we go?"
Dinner was an exercise in what Harry privately called Ministry manners. That he was actually surrounded mostly by friends and family and not attending a state dinner was a bad sign for the overall tenor of the evening, which Draco pointed out was precisely what his aunt had meant to accomplish; firmly squashing any hope that she would use her influence to bridge the political divide between her daughter's superiors and her own associates. She'd shrewdly invited key members of the Renaissance Party (Mr. Davis and Mer. Blackforge, of course) and several socially influential players on the political scene, as she'd no doubt been meant to when "that young upstart Weasley" approached her with the idea of a semi-public celebration of her daughter's achievement. The Weasleys were all there, of course, except Ginny who had meetings with her Mastery committee all through the week. Not that Harry had a chance to do more than say hello and briefly re-introduce Draco to the clan before they were ushered to their seats.
A few of the more politically minded amongst the Auror Corps had also been invited, and Seamus and Hetty as members of the task force were there. Kingsley, a couple of other department heads, and a select few highly decorated members of the Order of the Phoenix, including Headmistress McGonagall, were present. Andromeda Tonks had invited them all, used Wizard Space to expand her dining room to five times its usual size, then sat back and let them have at it.
By the time the main course was served Harry had lost count of the number of gaffes and slight missteps made on all sides. He cringed inwardly when Percy, trying for something obsequious, flat-out insulted Delegate Hawthorne's Italian wife. There goes his chance at being named representative to the International Confederation of Wizards. And he nearly groaned aloud when Tonks narrowly avoided knocking her wineglass over on one of the Renaissance Party's advisors. Luckily Remus' quick reflexes saved the moment, but it was obvious by the end of the night that Tonks was out of her depth. She just didn't have the political acumen to swim with the movers and shakers.
Kingsley often came to her rescue. Even Remus once or twice; having had the experience of negotiating these waters when fundraising for the Lycanthrope Refuge or mobilising against prejudicial and restrictive laws, he knew how to approach the myriad delicate conversations being held in the brief exchanges. Most surprising to Harry, Draco had smoothly cut in a time or two to redirect the flow of conversation to Tonks' impressive war record, reminding everyone of her courage and conviction. Harry squeezed hir hand in thanks, though by the look sie gave him he knew they'd be talking it all out later.
When the interminable evening was finally over Tonks closed the door behind the last guest and threw her head back hard. "Well, I made a hash of that now, didn't I?" she said miserably, her mousy hair dulling further.
"Nonsense," Andromeda snapped, and hugged her daughter. "Only now they know not to try to use us against each other in their political games. It won't work. I'm not going to provide a platform for them through you as they thought. And as you make your own way the rest will see how very much you are your own woman: strong and independent, not a puppet for anyone as some might have thought. All of this takes skill and practice, my dear. You'll soon be outmanoeuvring all of them—you'll see."
"Nymphadora, if you let them cow you now they'll think they've a ready marionette for anything they plan for the future. Listen to your mother. Aunt Andy is right. Hold fast; no doubt you will do your best." It was left unsaid that Draco thought her best would be nowhere near enough.
Tonks narrowed her watery eyes at the mage. "You're very smug about how things turned out, cousin. But don't think I won't be watching you too."
"Dora!" Remus scolded his wife. "Draco is only trying to help."
"I don't want hir kind of help. That's exactly the kind of thing they want, for me to go in quietly with all their backroom deals." She straightened and stomped away.
"Draco, love." Andromeda turned her hands out. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's come over her lately."
"Don't worry about it, Aunt. You know Nymphadora and I have never seen eye-to-eye on much. It'll be fine." Sie kissed her cheek. "Thank you for a lovely dinner and a most...enlightening evening. I enjoyed it. Now, I'll call when Anna comes to King's Cross and we'll have lunch, all right?"
"Yes, that's fine, dear. Have a good night." Andromeda turned her head and looked worriedly back down the hallway.
"Thanks again, Mrs. Tonks," Harry slipped in, and Draco nodded hir head toward Tonks' exit.
"Good night, Andy. Go see to Nymphadora. I'll call. The same to you, old man." Sie held out hir hand to Remus and was drawn in for a quick hug.
"We'll talk soon," the harried werewolf assured hir, and hugged Harry too before waking his mother-in-law down the hall.
They Flooed home in silence, Harry's heart heavier than when they'd arrived. Four months, Draco said. Not even. What the hell is going on with her?