Thanks to my beautiful wife Paula, who gave me the date destination for this chapter. I'm honestly not sure she intended it as a serious suggestion, but it worked, so I went with it.

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Previously: ""Our office is the largest," Elladora offers. Draco nods and gestures for her to lead the way."

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As Draco relates the story for the second time, he watches as the faces of the other four grow more and more somber. He watches the flickering glances between Thomas and Finnigan and makes a mental note to watch the interactions between them — there's something there, but he can't quite pin down what in the brief glance.

The entire time Draco speaks, Harry sits in a chair at the desk and traces the woodgrain with his fingertips. He doesn't look up.

"Do we need a lead?" Waters asks carefully.

"Lead?" Finnigan asks. "Can we just conjure one out of the air? What does it matter if we need one or not? 'S whether we have one or not that matters."

Ella shakes her head. "Not a lead on the suspects, Seamus. A lead for the case. Lead partnership. Somebody in charge."

Harry shrugs. "Seamus and Dean took the call. Draco and I have worked the case. You guys have the most experience."

While Harry speaks with his mouth, Draco and Waters converse with their eyes. Finally, Waters nods.

"Draco and Harry will take point," Waters says. It isn't a suggestion. Draco ducks his head in respect, knowing that Waters is choosing it because he knows they need the independence and experience. Knowing it won't exactly be easy for the man to defer to those who've only just graduated beyond his tutelage. He appreciates the gesture.

"Right, so," Draco says carefully. He's choosing his words even more precisely than usual, trying not to sound… entitled. "Someone needs to interview our girl, but I don't think it should be all of us. Six people interviewing sounds a bit overwhelming for her, at this point."

Thomas nods. "Shay and I'll handle that, if you like."

Draco nods, knowing Thomas has that sort of steady, calming personality that will probably be good for the woman. Finnigan might be a bit overwhelmingly enthusiastic, but Thomas tempers him.

Turning to Waters, he says, "The interrogation of Gregory Bane…"

That's all he needs to say. Waters nods. "We're on it."

Waters and Elladora leave the room, followed moments later by Thomas and Finnigan. Draco is trying to figure out what that leaves for them to do when Elladora re-enters the room.

"You're going to want to see this," she murmurs, beckoning. Harry and Draco exchange a glance and then follow her to the interrogation room.

They don't even have to cross the threshold. Harry sucks in a startled gasp of breath.

Gregory Bane is hanging from his own tie, somehow looped around the inset light fixture.

"He killed himself rather than go to prison?" Harry asks. Waters shakes his head slowly.

"I don't think so. I think he killed himself rather than risk being set free. From what Draco said, his bosses don't take kindly to those who speak to Aurors. Probably didn't even matter how much he told us. The minute you took him in, he knew he was a dead man. Wanted to do it on his own terms."

Harry shakes his head, and Draco doesn't have to ask to know why. He knows from spending seven years in school with the boy. Harry has one of the strongest survival instincts Draco has ever seen. Even when escaping death should be impossible.

The four of them spend the rest of the shift sorting through every detail of Gregory Bane's life, trying to find any hint of how he spent his time, or who they might talk to in order to find out. Finnigan and Thomas return just before shift's end, both looking very drawn.

"Compare notes tomorrow?" Waters asks. Thomas nods tiredly.

Everyone compiles end of day reports and they spell out one by one. Draco finishes his report early, but he stays, resting his head on the back of the chair and closing his eyes. Giving the outward appearance of calmness. Pretending he's not mere hours away from the first date that he's actually cared about the results of in… as long as he can remember, honestly.

His eyes shoot open at the feeling of fingertips on his shoulders. They are alone. Harry smiles at him faintly, and Draco allows himself a small but genuine smile in return.

"Where are we meeting?"

Harry shrugs. "I'll be at the Manor at seven?"

Draco nods, both because he understands the reasoning and because he agrees. Harry beams, and then disappears.

Draco kneads his fingers into his temples, trying to decided if this is going to be a catastrophic disaster or not.

Eventually, he makes his way home. Checks up on his mother — she is up, alert, and reading a book. Draco smiles, and she looks up and smiles back. Faintly, but it's there.

"I'm going out tonight, Mother. Did you need anything before I do?"

"No, thank you, Draco, dear. Have fun." There's that sort of knowing glimmer in her eyes and Draco wonders, but he doesn't ask and she doesn't offer anything else.

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Draco has absolutely no plans to share with Harry exactly how long he stared at his closet.

Far longer than he should have needed to.

And this, this is what he hates: this damned vulnerability, the insecurity. He isn't used to it and it makes him feel uneasy, off balance, wrong. And he wonders again why on Earth he's doing it, why on Earth he's taking this risk. But he reminds himself that he's already weighed this out, reminds himself that there is no going back from this point, and he pulls the dark blue button-up over his shoulders with steady hands.

Even if he cannot remain calm, he can at least manage a facsimile of it. For tonight, that must be enough.

He forces himself to stop pacing the length of the kitchen like a nervous wreck and instead settles on the stool at the counter, case file spread out in front of him. Pretending to be productive.

For the millionth time, he wonders if this is the right decision or if this will ruin him, because he's already losing focus and–

But he tells himself that the only reason his concentration is as skewed as it is, is because this is the beginning of everything and so it matters that much more, and he forces his eyes to read the words on the page, forces his mind to digest them, and promises himself that whatever way this goes, he will not allow himself to be this distracted after tonight.

A shiver runs down his spine as someone crosses the wards. He stands, making his way to the entryway just as a faint knock sounds at the door.

Draco opens it.

Harry looks almost… uncomfortable in his skin. His shoulders are curled slightly, hands stuck deep in the pockets of his black slacks. He's wearing a green shirt — almost exactly the same green as his eyes — and it's more formal than is his typical.

But then said green eyes look up from the ground and meet Draco's gaze and Harry just beams, and whatever insecurity was there just… melts.

"Hey," he says softly. His eyes dart rapidly across Draco's face, looking for something. He finds it, whatever it is. "All set?"

And the question means so much more than it otherwise would have because of yesterday.

Draco just smiles faintly and dips his head, a silent yes. Harry's smile — Draco hadn't thought it was actually possible — grows. "Good."

A breif, semi-awkward silence — which is actually good in that it assures Draco that Harry is as out of his depth here as Draco is — and then Harry speaks again. "Er… shall we, then?"

Draco nods. "And, where exactly might we be going?"

Harry grins. "That's a surprise."

"That's mildly alarming," Draco states as they set off down the drive.

Harry merely continues to grin. The silence this time is comfortable as their footsteps crunch on the gravel. They reach the end of the drive and Harry offers his hand. Draco takes it without the slightest bit of hesitation.

They reappear in an unfamiliar alley. For a long moment, neither of them lets go.

Then, "This way," Harry says, gesturing with his head. His steps are sure. They round the corner, exit the alley, but the street isn't a major improvement. Narrow, dingy. A large building with a flickering sign that once read Marcos and now just says M r s. Draco snickers, and Harry grins at the sound before pushing open the door.

The first thing Draco notices is the noise. It sounds like a troll thrashing around in a kitchen, between the crashing and the banging and the cheering and the booing. Voices are pitched loud to override the crashing, and Draco almost wants to clap his hands over his ears.

The second thing he notices is the smell, a strange combination various oils — sweat, cooking grease, and another type of oil Draco can't quite identify.

Harry appears to have been hear before, as he takes a moment to appreciate Draco's expression and then makes his way straight toward a counter.

Draco catches his wrist before he makes it to the counter. "What are we doing?" he hisses.

Harry grins. "Ever been bowling, Draco?" Draco shakes his head. The grin grows. "Then this'll be fun."