Warning: Mention of the canonical bathroom scene - it is exclamation marked.

Tristan Floo'd in and smiled the moment he caught Harry's eye.
He had short black hair, was tall, fit, and he'd turned 32 at the end of October.

Harry remembered because that day in the field together had involved cake.

He currently wore jeans and a green sweater. These complemented his dark skin and made him look like a Slytherin. Was that a coincidence, or was he making a good first impression?

Either way, Johnny had been dressed casually, too.

Why had Harry decided to wear Auror robes?

"Mornin' Harry," Tristan said far too happily.

"Morning," Harry said groggily, feeling the night cloud his head. The buzz he felt left little place for thoughts.

"Excited to see me?" Tristan grinned.

"Huh?"

"You're shakin'. You okay?"

"Oh… Yeah I'm all right. Invigoration Draught."
He'd needed a second dose, as the Manifestations haunting the periphery of his sight had made him feel too exposed to risk dozing off.
He'd tried to read something off of Malfoy's shelf, but the only things in English had been schoolbooks and a fancy copy of Tales of Beedle the Bard.

Who put silverwork on a fucking children's book?

So he'd sat there, restless, reliving his sixth year homework while Malfoy slept, and the Residue around them echoed darkness of the past.
It had sucked.

"How's the last death eater? Still legal?" Tristan asked, amused.
His drunk-sounding Maine accent had taken some time to get used to, and hearing terms like 'death eater' said like that still caught Harry off guard sometimes.

"Yeah, I guess… " Harry trailed off, trying to think. "No real trouble."
He got out the FieldScroll and handed it over as he stifled a yawn.
"How was Quiesko?"

"Chatty until d'Errico showed up," Tristan passed him as he entered the entrance hall properly, placing his hands on his hips. "Phew, this place is Dark." He looked up and scrunched up his face, as if assessing the ceiling for water damage or something.
"Got anythin' done?"

"No," Harry sighed. "Didn't even get the tour yet."
Fuck, he should have asked Malfoy for that, instead of letting him play his stupid piano as soon as he got downstairs.
He hadn't had breakfast, though his mum would probably see to that when she —…

No.

He was not a fucking babysitter.

Harry decided to casually mention it anyway. "He hasn't eaten… and he should be giving you a memory later, to pass on to me."
Because he had been incapable of gathering it himself.

Monitoring shift one: Wasted.

"Okay Mary Poppins. Where d'you put him?"

"Huh?"

"…where is the charge?"

"Oh, right. Sorry."
Annoyed at himself, Harry started towards 'the drawing room'. The music coming from it was faintly familiar.

They'd only been downstairs for about half an hour — Malfoy'd woken up of his own accord and taken ages to dress in the bathroom. Since then there'd been nothing but the bloody piano.

'nowhere to be in the morning'

The only interaction they'd had was when he'd answered Harry's 'good morning' with an upwards nod that'd been more like an eyeroll. It hadn't seemed as vicious as he'd probably intended, considering how sleepy he'd looked.

Tristan snort-chuckled. "You British with your sorries… I haven't heard a wild 'cheerio' yet." He considered for a moment. "Maybe today's the day."

Harry chuckled. "If you get Malfoy to say that, do log it."

"I'll have him say so much shit I'm gonna need a Quick Quotes Quill."

Harry grinned, then decided to get to business.
"There's Residue everywhere so you'll want to be careful — and the floor in the drawing room is unstable. I walked on the walls yesterday."

Tristan looked at him incredulously. "You what?"

"Yeah, it wasn't great." Harry said, a little wryly.
Maybe that would have been a better first Assessment task than the damn chair. It'd be less personal, and it'd give him a chance to learn. Also, if he'd fuck up and the Manifestation got worse, they could always avoid the room entirely.

…but then the ogle-chair would have to wait.

Then again, if he'd fuck that up, he'd be forcing Malfoy out of his bedroom with a burning Phantom Mark.

…but did he really want to tell Malfoy that he was going to start not only later, but somewhere else? He didn't particularly look forward to that conversation…

…so he wasn't going to have it.

He'd dealt with Voldemort, he could take a chair.

It'd be fine.

The door was ajar, as it had been yesterday - was it kept like that for a reason?
Harry pulled it open.

"Hey Malfoy?" He asked, careful not to step over the threshold. "My relief is here."

The music stopped abruptly.
Harry hadn't expected to have a heart to heart in Italian, but Malfoy would have been allowed to finish his stupid tune.
Fucking drama queen.

He'd stood up from the bench and turned, raising his head as if to perform looking down on the Aurors who dared to do their jobs.
It was still weird to see his arm end and the neatly closed sleeve didn't help.

Harry was also struck again by his gauntness and the dark little veins.
He peered up at Tristan, who seemed unbothered. He'd of course not seen him before… must be weird, to have this mess as a first impression.

A smile broke on Tristan's face and he looked down.
"Is the floor gonna allow me to approach?"

Malfoy nodded a single time and Tristan entered — jovial, but with an air of professionalism.

"How are you; I'm Tristan, I'll be monitorin' you today," He offered his hand to shake and Harry held his breath.

Malfoy shook it.
"Draco. Pleased to meet you."

The hand shaking paused.
"I'm sorry for your loss," Tristan said seriously.

…Harry hadn't said that at all, had he?

"...thank you." Malfoy responded, fully composed.
They released each other.

"Anythin' planned for today?" Tristan asked.
As if they were equals.

"No, we shall remain in the manor. My Mother might be absent for a while, but I believe that her errands do not concern you."
Malfoy sounded as if all this was entirely normal - though to some extent it was, for him.

As if he was informing staff.

Tristan smiled. "My only concern is you."

It was weird to see Tristan treat Malfoy like… well, like how he treated everyone. Then again, why would Malfoy get special treatment?

Malfoy inclined his head sideways, his face carrying an unreadable expression.

Tristan continued more seriously. "If you have any 'grievances' to air, don't hesitate to inform me. Okay?"
As if this was a business-meeting.

Malfoy nodded.

"Is your mother around?" Tristan asked, "She owns the roof I'm under and I've got manners enough to say hello."

…and Harry didn't, apparently.
He hadn't considered to say a word to her until he'd triggered a Manifestation escalation, and then she'd spoken to him.

Fuck, Malfoy was going to talk shit about him the moment he'd left, wasn't he?

Harry knew protocol when it came to introductions to a charge, but then again, they fucking knew each other.
What should he have done?

Be professional.

But how?

His eyes stung, his head buzzed and was bolstered against thoughts, and he didn't fucking know anymore.

"I am afraid she is currently occupied… But you will have the opportunity to meet her later."
Malfoy'd said it without being a dick.

Did everyone just get along with him apart from Harry?

Or - everyone decent, at least?

Fucking probably.

"Okay, thanks." Tristan said, "I gotta speak to Harry for a bit — can I ask you to play somethin' until I get back?"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Any requests?"
There was a hint of snide in his tone but Tristan ignored it.

"Do you do jazz?"

Malfoy's face flipped from politely serious to crazy amused, but then melted back to normal.
Like a retreating sneeze.
"My chords are rather deficient… I wouldn't want to offend the art."

"Then play whatever suits you — I've never disliked a skillful sound."

Malfoy paused a beat, nodded gracefully, and then did as he'd been asked.

Tristan turned back to Harry and winked at him.
The Malfoy Whisperer'd probably gotten some pointers from Johnny.

The music escorting them as they walked back to the Floo sounded happier than what Harry'd heard earlier — or rather, more energetic.

"...he's actually playing jazz?" Harry asked.

Tristan laughed a bit. "Ayuh, this is a classic. Bit weird without the chords but… whaddya do. If I get bored starin' ahead, I might help him out."

"You can't touch the piano," Harry said mock-gravely. "It's holy or something."

"I heard, but my charm can be disarmin'."

Harry remembered the exchange about 'foreign guys' he'd had with Malfoy and stifled a snort.

Tristan smiled at him.
"Get some sleep."

"Yeah, I'll be back here at…" Harry cast a Tempus charm. "...ten?"

Tristan sighed as if he was giving in to something.

Harry looked at him, awaiting confirmation, his brain buzzing.

"You're gonna be doin' all the work," Tristan said, "There's no need to do it at night, too."

"Huh?"

"You carried a war and you got a girl at home, while I'm basically on vacation," He shrugged, "Lettin' you clean Dark Shit all night while I'm playin' sunshine nanny ain't fair."

"Yeah… I suppose not." Harry hadn't considered that. He'd figured that since this had been his idea, he'd be the one to take the shitty shifts. "What do you suggest?"

"How 'bout this: You go home and make sure your girl remembers how to scream your name, and I'll see you here at 0800."

"That's…" Harry had to pause to count "…twenty-two hours from now."
Fuck, that it took him that long to figure out was telling.
Why hadn't he even considered sleeping before coming here?

Sheer incompetence.

He'd just read about Manifestations.
…and still got screwed by two of them.

"Relax, I won't be workin' hard." Tristan grinned. "Water daily and keep out of direct sunlight, right?"

Harry nodded and pressed his lips together. " …don't underestimate it. I fought a floor, remember? And I spent three hours in a tunnel at some point."

"Ayuh, I'm not you." Tristan shrugged.

"Fair enough…" Harry sighed, gratitude buzzing through the fog in his head. "Thanks. But we take twelve hours each from then on, yeah?"

"Dude. Go home."

"But — … "

"Ginny's calling," Tristan cupped a hand behind his ear and leaned towards the fireplace.

"But — …"

"Harryyy~! " Tristan wailed in a mock-high voice.

"No, we've got to — …"

"Harryyy~ the night was cooollld without you~!" The shrillness didn't help the hideous British accent.

"Fine!" Harry grinned, face burning. "Fuck off, though."

"No, you fuck off." Tristan clapped him on the shoulder. "And save me from a floor at 0800."

The Floo startled Harry awake, but he relaxed when he realised he was in the kitchen at Grimmauld.
He cast a Tempus charm and put on his glasses to read it.

19:43.

It felt like five in the morning.

Ginny entered and without a word placed an enormous baking dish on the table.
Only a quarter of its contents remained, but it'd be plenty to sustain them both for days.
The bottom layer was mince meat smothered with pasta, sauce and vegetables, topped with a cheesy crust that looked divine.

His stomach informed him that he could finish this by himself in about ten minutes.

He'd not eaten anything since the bloody field snacks at midnight.

She summoned dishes and cutlery for them both and sat down opposite him.
"Your breakfast sir," she said, as she shoved his books aside and served them.

He yawned and stretched. "Sorry." He said as he blearily picked up a fork. "What's the occasion?"

"Dinner?" she grinned and gave him a look.
A persistent little thought crawled to the forefront of his mind and as it breached the lingering haze of sleep, he remembered Molly asking him whether he'd be joining them.

…at 19:00.

"Fuck! I'm sorry, I— … "

"…— have caught up on sleep." She smiled. "Eat up."

"I'm sorry though," Harry said, feeling his face burn. "Should I go over? I should go over and apologise."

"Nah, we all know you prefer Malfoy over us so it's too late," she said casually before taking a bite.

"…okay. Fuck." Shame and guilt were gnawing at him and he stabbed his fork into his food, feeling horrible.
The Weasleys meant the world to him, and he'd stood them up like that?

He was such a twat.

"Go on," She gestured with her fork, "It won't be as good if it's reheated."
Harry reluctantly started and wanted to say something else, but the sheer divinity of the flavour wiped his thoughts away.

Ginny looked at him and then focused on the contents of her fork. "One day you'll look at me the way you look at mum's cooking."

"Oi! I look at you -…better."

Well done, Romeo.

He stifled a yawn with his mouth full. "…and how did you know I was here anyway? I could have been out."

"I came in an hour ago and we made eye contact," Something sparkled in her eyes.

He vaguely remembered seeing her, but he thought it'd been a dream.

"… and then you drooled on your book and rested your head in it."
She shrugged and focused on her plate.

He choked on his food.

"It was hot," she added mischievously.

When he could breathe again, he flung a singular bit of pasta at her.

"Hey!" She picked it from her hair, placed it on his plate and swapped it for some of the golden brown cheese. "I only accept the crunchy bits."

She winked at him as she ate it, he grinned, and everything was great.
Comfortable.
Even the room felt 'warmer' somehow.

Was that the familial Residue of the house being reactivated?

"How was today?" She asked.

"Yeah, all right."
He was reminded of the Greyback chair and a shudder went down his spine.

She looked at him.

"When I got off I first went to headquarters for some paperwork…" He didn't mention he'd also attended Method in the Mad-Eye, as he'd been there, anyway. "I'll probably get to close a missing person's case."

Her fork froze half-way to her mouth as she gaped at him. "…there was a body?"

Harry shook his head.
"No… A Manifestation and half an unofficial witness statement… I need to get details, still, but… I think I know what happened to professor Burbage." He took another bite.

She lowered her fork.

He continued with his mouth full. "…and I walked in a tunnel for a few hours."

She didn't respond.

"And… Malfoy plays piano, apparently?" He shrugged. "He's got two of them…" He considered, "That I've seen."

The gleam in her eyes lit a spark in his abdomen.
"…You're really beautif-…"

Her glare killed the word in his mouth.

"It was a bad idea." She put her fork down.

Harry knew immediately that she was talking about the monitoring duty. She'd thought he'd been joking when he'd first told her.
He shrugged. "It's better than playing Spot the Death Eater."

"No it's not."

He was taken aback. "Why not?"

"You're fresh off a war and —"

"Aren't we all?"

"- and it's like you want to get back in." She was vehement but didn't seem angry.

"… I don't." He felt petulant and held her gaze when she glared at him.

"Why did you take this job?" She asked.

"I told you, it's an opportu —… "

"No," she interrupted him. "Why did you really take it?"

He'd unknowingly grasped his fork in his fist like a weapon — he hadn't pointed it at her, but he adjusted his grip and hoped she hadn't noticed.
"…not to continue a fucking war." He mumbled at his plate.

"Then why?" She was searching his face for something and it made him uncomfortable.
"Why did you take it?" she asked again.

The memory of Malfoy bleeding on the bathroom floor resurfaced.

! His mind helpfully cut off one of his arms.

! Blood everywhere.

"Fuck's sake Gin, you didn't make this big a deal of it before."

She looked miffed. "I stupidly thought there'd be no dead people involved, okay? Now answer the bloody question."

"…I nearly killed him, remember?"

"You saved him from burning AND from Azkaban. I'm pretty sure you've made up for it."

Harry's mind blanked.

It took him a few moments to regain his ability to think.
"I… overheard a conversation at headquarters…"

She stared into his eyes.

"…one of the Aurors monitoring him was talking about him as if…" He thought for a moment. "...as if he was filth. As if he should be dead."

She pressed her lips together but said nothing.
He was pretty sure he knew what she was thinking.

"I heard him — Malfoy, I mean, on the astronomy tower… He signed up to save himself. And now he's — …"

"He's not your problem." She said it matter-of-factly and stabbed an innocent noodle with her fork.

Harry was about to speak but she shushed him by pointing the aforementioned cutlery at him.

Was this 'brandishing'?

"Or he wasn't, until you made him your problem." She marked her words with stabs in the air.

It was becoming a little threatening, now.

"I've seen him, he's really fucked up." Harry wasn't sure why he'd said it pleadingly.

Fuck, he'd just woken up, couldn't she have given him a few minutes to prepare?

constant vigilance

Playing Find the Corpse for months had cost him his edge.

"Okay; how fucked up?" she asked.

Harry was silent for a moment, wondering if he was going to be worse at keeping personal details than the Daily fucking Prophet.

"Go on then," she said and took another bite.

"He's…"
Harry thought of how to phrase it and was reminded of the black veins. "scarred. Skin and bones. And the house is fucked… and of course his dad's dead… and his mum's been through the wringer…"

"Do you hear yourself?" She asked incredulously.

"What?"

"He's better off than some of ours!"

He bristled but his mind went blank and he took another bite.
His temper mellowed — it was hard to be mad while having food this good.

It wasn't comfortable here anymore, though.

They ate quietly for a few bites as the room became colder.

"…the Auror I overheard…" Harry started again after about a minute, "He seemed pretty sure Malfoy would top himself."

"That's his business."

He froze and stared at her. "Merlin."

Her shrug was like a statement, though she didn't seem as vicious anymore.
"Most of the Wizarding world agrees with him."

"Look... — he was raised into it, —…" He sighed, exasperated. "I just want to help."

"Why him?" She snapped.
A tiny droplet of saliva had landed on his glasses but this was not the moment to mention it.
"He's one of them, if you really want to help, focus on the kids who lost their parents to his dad!"

She made a good point, she really fucking did.
Then again — who could help who they were related to?

"But…" He started, struggling to think -

"It's fucked, I know that, all right?"

- to find a reason -

"But… they survived. Like... "

- …did he really have none?

"Everyone can just… Try to - …move on."

Where was he going with this?

What the fuck was he doing?

"…to… start over…"

…but…

"…it's not over for him."

That was the little 'click' he'd been hoping for.
He nodded, relieved that the thought had exposed itself in words.
"Everyone who was on his side is dead. The world is literally against him."

His Father was dead, his family name was ruined… Even his body wasn't the same.
"He's lost everything that made him… him…" Harry gazed off for a moment. He hadn't realised before he'd said it just how true it was.
"He was in my year, okay?"

Can't let someone die over being a dick.

She took a deep breath and held it, looking at her food. She didn't seem as angry anymore, though.

He placed his hand in the middle of the table. "Look, I just got this placement and it's really good training, all right?"

She exhaled as she glared from her plate to his hand, then looked him in the eyes.

"Besides, there's more than just babysitting... The house is full of Voldemort's leftovers… if I'm gonna 'vanquish a dark lord', the least I can do is clean up after myself."

He shrugged in what he hoped was a disarming way.

When she took his hand, he realised how worried he'd been that she wouldn't.

She looked into his eyes. "…you're sure you're okay?"

He squeezed her hand reassuringly.
"I'm fine."