A/n: Happy New Year, everyone! I can't say I've been the best with updating this fic, but life gets in the way sometimes. Here's to hoping it won't get in the way too much this year! Also, I'll be uploading a Drarry one-shot every fortnight as part of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition (go check it out if you're interested), so definitely look forward to that!

Much love,

Arty xx

Chapter 16: The Friend

Draco stands across the street from the cafe called The Bluejay, watching the various comings and goings with a sense of detached interest.

The day is grey and morose, with storm clouds rumbling overhead and threatening to turn the light sheet of rain into a downpour. Londoners are cloaked in weather-proof coats and shielded by umbrellas as they scurry to their destinations, intent on escaping the weather. Draco clutches the handle of his own umbrella as he stands at a crossing, waiting for the lights to turn green.

A car zooms past in an attempt to beat the changing traffic lights, splashing pedestrians, who yell after it angrily. Draco glances at his shoes and trousers idly, uncaring of the wetness soaking into them and the cold seeping up his legs.

He feels frozen from within already. It seems apt that he should be frozen from without as well.

Once across the street, he makes his way into the cafe with no real sense of purpose—feeling oddly defeated and resigned to his fate. His eyes sweep the crowd, landing on a ginger-haired man who raises his arm in greeting, and Draco walks to the far table, plastering a friendly smile on his face.

"Healer Greene," Ron greets, shaking Draco's hand. Draco studies the wizard, but nothing in his expression nor his tone of voice betray any malice. Ron seems as well-intentioned as his letter had sounded.

"Apologies to call you out so suddenly on a weekday," Ron says good-naturedly as he waves to a waitress. When she approaches, he says, "One cappuccino for me." He looks at Draco. "Would you like anything?"

"I'll have a masala chai, please," Draco says.

Once the waitress leaves, Ron shifts in his seat, leaning closer and fixing Draco with intense blue eyes. Draco inadvertently sighs.

"I apologise if me accepting your invitation has caused a misunderstanding," Draco says. "But I only came here to say that I don't feel comfortable breaking my client's confidentiality."

Ron sits back and crosses his arms. He continues to watch Draco without speaking, and Draco resists the urge to click his tongue. He recognises the intimidation tactic, and it won't work on him. Finally, the redhead uncrosses his arms and speaks.

"I apologise for putting you in a difficult position—that wasn't my intention." He smiles disarmingly. "All I wanted to know was if you'd be willing to give us a heads up if Harry shares any tidbits related to the case." He leans forward and drops his voice. "I think it's in both our interests to ensure that Harry doesn't put himself in danger's way once again."

"If I feel that Harry is putting himself or anyone else in harm's way, I can be expected to break confidentiality then as that is the legal protocol to follow," Draco says evenly. "But unless I suspect risk of harm to either Harry or anybody else, I am not required to share any information, be it related to the case or otherwise."

Ron nods. "Of course. But I'm sure you understand the sensitive nature of our work, Healer Greene."

"And I'm sure you can understand that I am not duty bound to the Ministry in any way besides a mutually benefitting agreement. That agreement does not extend to acting as a double agent for the Auror Force at the expense of my clients' good faith."

The tension in the air is palpable. Draco can tell that Ron is attempting to maintain a pleasant facade and not lose his temper, and while Draco would have normally done the same, he is in no mood for games right now. As though sensing the need for an interlude, the waitress arrives with their drinks.

"Would you like any food to go with your drinks?"

"I think we're alright, thanks," Ron responds, and the brunette disappears as quickly as she had come.

Draco takes a long sip of his tea and sighs. He inhales a deep breath, taking in the subtle notes of the spice blend, and allows it to calm him. He refocuses on Ron, who is staring pensively at his coffee.

"I'm sorry that I can't be of more help," Draco says, gentler this time. When Ron looks up to meet his gaze, Draco continues, "I know that Harry being your best friend raises the stakes and that you're coming from a place of concern, but I hope you can believe me when I say that I only want what's best for him. And breaking his trust is going to do more harm than good." He smiles. "I think you know that already without me having to say it."

Ron chuckles. "You don't have to tell me twice." He drops his gaze to his cup again, staring into its murky depths with a thoughtful expression on his face. "If I have to be honest with you, the fact that we had no idea that he'd had a near-death experience until days later has shaken both Hermione and I to our very cores." He shakes his head and looks up at Draco. "Harry's more of a brother to me than my actual ones, Healer Greene. The thought of losing him breaks my heart like nothing else."

His voice broke at the end, and he dropped his gaze quickly. Draco himself has to swallow the lump that has formed in his throat. He can't say he understands the depth of Ron's emotions, but he knows them to be the truth. He'd seen with his own eyes how Harry's death had devastated both Ron and Hermione—how it had destroyed their relationship.

Suddenly, he feels guilt beyond reason. Why is he the one here, getting a second chance with Harry, when Ron from the future would never? What right does Draco have to this life that would trump any chance Ron may have had?

Why did Hermione choose to bring me here and not Ron?

Draco can't bring himself to look at the man sitting opposite him, whom he feels he has deeply wronged. His previous conversation with Hermione runs through his mind, and he feels like even more of an interloper than she had claimed to be. He wants to run back to tell her that she should stay while he returns.

He can feel himself spiraling, vignettes clouding the edges of his vision, his breaths turning into short gasps, and his chest tightening. He closes his eyes tight and focuses on his breathing, willing himself to calm down, willing the panic attack away, willing rational thought to take over.

When he finally opens his eyes and looks up, Ron is watching him.

His heart sinks, and he suddenly feels exposed, as though his disguise has slid off his face to reveal his true self. Ron's gaze is intense, boring into him, piercing through his facade and peeling back the lies and deceptions.

"I know asking you who you really are is meaningless," Ron says quietly, "but you know Harry, don't you?" He doesn't wait for Draco to respond before asking, "You can't reveal your identity for some reason—is it because you'll be in danger if you do? Are you here to warn Harry—to protect him from whoever's after him?"

Draco holds up his hands. "Those are difficult questions to answer," he confesses. "But I will say that you're not wrong in your line of questioning."

It isn't entirely a lie. It isn't the truth, either, but that's besides the point. Draco would benefit from letting Ron believe him to be Harry's protector than his destroyer.

Ron nods, although he seems begrudging. "Well, whoever you are, Harry seems to listen to you. He's moving in with Hermione and I tomorrow, and he's far more willing to engage in conversation than before."

"That's good to hear."

They lapse into silence as they sip on their respective drinks, Draco having calmed down a considerable amount. After several minutes, Ron says, "Whoever was with Harry in that accident must've been really important to him. I've never seen him that devastated before—not even when he broke up with my sister." He sighs. "No, I think the last time he was that devastated was when Sirius died."

Draco mulls over that. Although Harry never mentioned his godfather too much when they were together, Draco could tell Sirius meant a lot to Harry. He reckons he should be chuffed, knowing losing him caused Harry so much pain—that he meant enough to Harry to warrant that reaction. But he remembered how he had gone down a similar spiral after Harry's death himself. How, over time, his pain had turned from something as pure as missing the actual person to something darker and more sinister, an obsession fuelled by society's loathing of him and his own hatred of himself.

Perhaps that was another reason Draco wanted to remain behind—so he could save Harry from the fate he himself had suffered.

"Looking into the accident isn't going to bring him any closure," Draco mutters ruefully.

Ron nods. "But that's just like him—to throw himself into something to keep him sane. If he doesn't have something to focus on, he'll just drown in the weight of his emotions."

Draco observes Ron for a moment, surprised by his insight. Ron scoffs. "You seem surprised. Let me guess, you consider me too boorish to be thoughtful?"

"Not at all," Draco says quickly. "I was surprised because I reached the same conclusion regarding Harry's insistence with pursuing this case despite the obvious danger."

Ron sighs. "He's changed a lot in some ways, but in other, more problematic ways, he remains the same."

Draco can't help but smile at that. Ron checks his pocket watch.

"Well, Healer Greene," he says, rising. "I seem to have enjoyed our chat so much that I lost track of time. I really should be on my way."

Draco rises as well, shaking Ron's outstretched hand, relieved that their meeting has ended. Ron pulls out his wallet.

"Let me pay for your tea," he says, and Draco immediately declines. "I insist. Think of it as a token of gratitude for having to bear my demands and questions."

"I suppose that's better than an apology," Draco says, allowing Ron to pay for his drink.

They say quick farewells, and Draco decides to take a walk around town, to have a think about the conversation with Ron and reflect on some thoughts of his own. With the weather being as bad as it is, most people seem to be indoors, and Draco decides that the rain pattering down on his umbrella and the nearly desolate streets is a perfect setting for his melancholic thoughts.

He walks for a long time, losing track of where he was or where he's going, and as the sun begins to set, he realises he's strayed into a familiar part of town. The main street is more crowded than the others, and as Draco walks along it, he suddenly comes to a halt outside a particular mint-green cafe.

Peering in through the shopfront, Draco comes to a startling realisation.

Hermione and him weren't the only ones in possession of Time-Turners, he remembers. There, right before his eyes, the gears finally click into place.

A third Time-Turner.