See disclaimer in Chapter 1. I don't own 'em. My undying gratitude to Kamerreon for the beta!

"Can you believe those people?" Blaise growled, winging the file folder across the table angrily. It slipped off the other side of the polished conference room table scattering parchment and statements across the floor.

Draco shrugged, lazily retrieving the spilled file with his wand. The papers were still out of order, but it hardly mattered. The Ataliers had just made it clear that Malfoy Industries no longer represented their businesses, so keeping their file tidy was no longer necessary.

He Summoned the contents, picking through the jumble of paperwork until he found the Gringotts statements they'd just been discussing. The Ataliers' son Cato had been steadily embezzling from them since he took the helm of their apothecary business a few months ago. Profits had been declining, but the Ataliers preferred to blame Draco's management of their investments and properties for the losses instead of their son's obvious duplicity.

"Talk to Jorgenson," he said, tucking the statements into a different file. He wanted to keep them close, in case the Ataliers tried to make trouble for Malfoy Industries. "Have him continue to monitor their accounts."

"Even though they're blaming us for bodging it up?" He wasn't really surprised at Draco's order – he wasn't the type of man to let his client get taken advantage of, even if it was by a family member. And that client was technically no longer a client.

"Even though," Draco answered dryly, scribbling a note to Madge on the outside of the new folder and sending it off with a waiting owl.

"It's a big risk, mate," Ron said, eying the package Harry was wrapping warily.

"It's not really a present, per se," Hermione said with a thoughtful frown, tying the twine around the plain brown paper with a spell when it kept slipping through Harry's fingers. "Are you sure it will count?"

Harry nodded, carefully placing the now-wrapped box on top of the mantle. He'd asked Neville to come pick up the gift, since he didn't want to send it by owl. He grinned, wondering if he'd finally get a chance to see Nev's house after he started dating Draco. The whole area was under some sort of protection charm and Harry had never been able to visit Nev and Daph because of it.

"It may not be a traditional present, but it is a present," he assured Hermione, touched that she worried so much about his courtship. True, it was annoying most of the time, but she did it because she loved him. And because she was desperate to find out more about the laws and traditions she didn't understand.

"If he doesn't like it –"

"If he doesn't like it, I'll deal with the fall-out when it happens," Harry said firmly, unwilling to be swayed from his choice. If Draco couldn't understand what he'd done, they probably didn't have much of a future together anyway.

"I don't know what it is," Neville said quickly before Draco could ask, handing him a slim box. "He just said he thought you shouldn't be alone when you opened it."

Draco frowned, turning the lightweight box over in his hands. He felt a pang of excitement as he studied the dimensions of the box – the very familiar dimensions. He'd had two strikingly similar boxes in his lifetime.

He swallowed, his hand trembling as he ripped away the simple brown paper. It couldn't be, could it? He had been certain the Ministry destroyed it years ago. It hadn't been listed among his other possessions when he'd been released from his brief stay in Azkaban nearly ten years ago. Of course, it hadn't been in his possession when he'd been arrested, ripped from his parents' side in the Great Hall the morning after Harry killed Voldemort. His frown deepened as he thought about the desolate month he'd spent in the wizarding prison, cold and terrified despite the absence of Dementors. He shivered, his insides clenching as he thought about his father, dying alone in a dank, dirty cell.

Pushing thoughts of his father out of his mind, Draco ran a finger over the nondescript box, unsure of whether or not he wanted to open it. Neville watched silently, unsure of what would evoke this reaction. Normally clear grey eyes were clouded with doubt and regret, and the man had gone as still as a statue.

"Draco?" Neville asked tentatively, wondering if Harry had known the gift would upset the man. Was that why he'd asked him to be there when Draco opened it? Why would Harry have sent something that would distress the man he was courting?

Draco's eyes rose to Neville's the resolve in them clear. He opened the box, joy and sorrow mingling into an overwhelming urge to cry when he saw his old wand nestled in the dark velvet. The wand he never thought he'd see again. The wand he'd never even thought he wanted to see again, since it represented a wholly different life than the one he lived now.

Neville watched as Draco cast the box aside, holding a slightly scuffed wand in his right hand. Why would Harry have sent Draco a wand? Wands were extremely personal, not something another person could choose for someone. Hell, that was the reason he'd had such trouble at Hogwarts. He'd been using his dad's wand, at his grandmother's insistence. Wands chose the wizard, not the other way around.

"How?" Draco whispered, caressing the worn wood with his thumb as he held it in his grip.

Harry was waiting in a comfortable armchair by the fire when Neville stepped through the Floo. He'd clearly been expecting him, since Nev's favorite Muggle beer was waiting on the table, chilled to the perfect temperature, and held there under a Stasis Charm.

Green eyes studied Neville wordlessly as Harry waited for Draco's reaction. He hadn't included a note of any kind, assuming anything he could say wouldn't have been enough to answer the myriad of questions he was sure Draco would have as soon as he recovered from the shock of seeing his old wand.

Neville took the chair opposite Harry, indulging in a swig of his drink before shooting questions at Harry rapid-fire. How had he come to have Draco's wand? Why hadn't he turned it over to the Ministry after the war ended? Why had he kept it all this time? Why hadn't he returned it after Draco was pardoned? Why give it to Draco now?

"I just –" Neville stopped, looking away. He was so angry at Harry and he didn't really have anything to do with the situation. How must Draco feel? "Why, Harry?"

Harry smiled sadly, watching Neville take another drink. He hadn't even tried to get a word in edgewise during the usually calm man's furious rant, correctly assuming Neville was looking to vent, not looking for answers. Now though, it seemed he was ready to listen.

"Because it was time," he answered easily, his tone at odds with the concern tinting his eyes. "Is he alright?"

Neville sighed, tired of cryptic answers. In truth, he didn't know if Draco was alright or not. He'd barely gotten more than a half-dozen words out of his friend before leaving him to question Harry.

"He's shocked, understandably," Neville answered after a moment, feeling better after seeing Harry was actually worried about the other man. "I think it dredged up a lot of painful memories for him. He tries not to think about – about that time of his life. Nothing that happened was his choice. Hell, you know that. You were there at his trial."

Harry nodded taking a sip of the Shiraz he'd poured himself earlier. Every time he drank it now he thought of Sly's assessment of the wine, calling it bold and spicy without being overly sweet. It was ironic, since that was how Harry would describe Draco. His favorite wine and his favorite man.

Neville almost growled in frustration when he saw Harry had no intention of elaborating on any of the questions he'd shot at him. He let the conversation drift to other things – Draco's reaction to the other gifts Harry had sent, an update on Daphne's pregnancy, Harry's ideas for his next book. He knew better than to press his former Housemate for more information than he wanted to give. Harry was surprisingly Slytherin in his views on sharing information – like Draco, he operated on a need-to-know basis most of the time.

"I just need to know that you're going to explain it all to him some day," Neville said suddenly as he made to leave, his gaze seeking Harry's assurances.

"Everything," Harry agreed, nodding solemnly.

It had been a gift, true. But it had also been a test. If Draco wanted to be with Harry, he had to be prepared to find out some disturbing things about the wizarding world's vaunted Savior. He'd never told anyone – not even Ron and Hermione – all the details of what happened that night, but it wasn't something he planned to hold back from his future husband. If Draco couldn't handle this, Harry figured he might as well cut his losses now.

Harry woke to a tapping on his window. It wasn't even light out yet, and he fumbled for his glasses, casting a quick Tempus before letting the owl in. Just after 3 a.m.

The bird nipped at him impatiently as his sleep-numbed fingers struggled to untie the scroll on its leg. The owl clearly wasn't any more pleased with its early-morning task than Harry was; he'd only gotten to sleep an hour earlier. He grumbled at the bird darkly before letting it go, slamming the window shut without watching it soar away into the inky blackness outside his window.

He rubbed his eyes, hoping to dispel the muddiness in his mind before reading the missive. He'd waited for hours for any word at all from Draco, finally giving in after midnight and retiring to his room to toss and turn for two hours before sleep finally claimed him.

He unfurled the scroll, his tight expression easing at the single word elegantly scratched across the page.

Alright.

Harry blew out a breath in relief, bringing the short note back to bed with him. He curled back under the covers, able to enjoy the soft blankets and comfortable mattress now that he knew Draco forgave him. Alright. One word, but it spoke volumes to Harry. He fell asleep quickly, a grin on his face and the crumpled parchment held tightly in his fist.

"I'm sorry you had to waste an afternoon, Weasley," Draco said, and Ron marveled that the man actually did sound sorry.

He nodded stiffly unsure of what protocol he should be following. There wasn't a chapter in the Auror Training Manual about how to address your best friend's love-interest-and-likely-future-husband while overseeing a Ministry-mandated search of said love interest's office.

Ron cleared his throat, waiting until one of the junior Aurors on his team had left the room, leaving him alone with Draco.

"It's hardly your fault, Malfoy," he said, his voice laced with sympathy. No one down at the Ministry actually believed the charges that had been levied against Draco and his company, but all formal complaints had to be thoroughly investigated. "I'm sorry for the disruption this is causing. We'll be out from underfoot soon."

Draco glanced around his office, grateful the Aurors hadn't trashed the place in search of proof that he had embezzled money from the Atalier Family. All they'd find, of course, was proof that Draco had discovered the problem some months earlier and recently started monitoring the business' accounts. Bloody idiots. They'd just ensured their son would do time in Azkaban for embezzlement. Draco hadn't reported his findings to the Ministry, hoping the Ataliers would be able to resolve it without the help of the courts. Once charges had been filed though, there was no way to go back. Cato would be held accountable for his actions now that his parents had filed a formal complaint of embezzlement.

"It's no trouble," Draco reassured him, signaling Madge to bring a tray of tea in. They may as well get comfortable, since the Aurors still had piles and piles of files to get through. Accommodating though he may be, Draco had no intention of allowing them to leave the building with files that were not expressly included in the Ministry search warrant. That meant wading through thousands of pieces of parchment. "No trouble at all."

Ron was still in Draco's office two hours later when Pansy came in with a large package. The redhead grinned when he recognized the familiar shape glad he was getting the chance to see Draco open one of Harry's gifts. This one was a big one, too. He hadn't been there when Harry purchased it, but he'd seen it the next day when he and Harry went over the spells and enchantments on it carefully, ensuring nothing dangerous was present.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Pansy asked, her brows furrowed when she saw Ron in his magenta Aurors robes.

"An official investigation," Draco offered with a wry smile, nodding his head toward the corridor, where three similarly attired wizards were sorting through boxes of files.

Pansy's frown grew as she turned to watch them, wondering how she'd possibly missed them on her way in. Of course, the box she was carrying was terribly heavy, so her attention had been focused on not dropping it, not on her surroundings, but still.

"A formality," Ron said, rolling his eyes and making it clear that he considered the whole exercise to be a farce.

Pansy's shoulders relaxed at Ron's dismissive tone, relieved she hadn't wandered into some sort of epic battle between the two former rivals. She thrust the box at Draco, sighing in relief when he took her heavy burden.

"Today's gift?" he asked, testing its weight with his arms.

"However did you avoid Ravenclaw with awesome powers of deduction like yours?" She snapped, grabbing Draco's sandwich from the desk and taking a bite. She was missing lunch to run this errand for Harry.

Draco rolled his eyes, focusing on the box he'd just set on his chair. He was a bit reluctant to open any more gifts from Harry after yesterday.

"Just open it so I can go," Pansy sneered, grabbing Ron's Muggle soda and taking a drink.

The press had backed off Harry, as per his orders, but they were still camping out on her doorstep daily and printing stories about how her marriage was in trouble. She and Oliver were handling it as best they could, but it still infuriated her every time she opened the Prophet and saw some new speculation about an affair she was supposedly having, or how Oliver was gay and had only married her because he needed to produce an heir.

Draco opened the box, holding his breath as he delved inside, batting away the layers of gauzy cloth wrapped around the heavy object. He was surprised at how small it was, expecting something two or three times its size given the weight of the box.

"Merlin," he whispered when he'd freed the stone basin of its wrappings. He ran his hands around the cool soapstone, tracing the carved runes with the pads of his fingers. "It's amazing."

Ron grinned, launching into an explanation of the protective spells on the Pensieve and details about the intricate runes that covered most of the rim. Draco and Pansy were both suitably impressed by the story behind the ancient basin, awed by the history and the obvious power that emanated from it.

"Why a Pensieve, though?" Draco asked, still stroking the soft stone. He could swear he felt it move under his hand, as though responding to his touch.

Ron paused, his expression uneasy. He knew exactly why, but he also knew Harry wanted it to be a surprise. Still, it was odd he hadn't included a note with the gift, at least outlining its provenance.

"No, wait," Draco said, holding up a hand when he saw Ron's discomfort. "Don't answer that. I'm betting tomorrow's gift will explain it. That git's too Slytherin for his own good."

Ron smiled again, laughing as he envisioned Harry as a Slytherin. It was ridiculous, of course. Who was a better embodiment of pure Gryffindorishness than Harry? He shook his head, turning back to his sandwich. If Draco thought Harry had so much as a single Slytherin bone in his body, maybe they didn't know each other as well as he thought they did.

TBC