Finally, a bit of a longer chapter! I really, truly despair of reading some of your reviews :( It always brings a little touch of magic to see proof that the words I'm writing in my quiet little corner of the world is being seen and hopefully enjoyed by others...

Some love would be incredibly appreciated!

Chapter 20.

New shoes

Instead of answering Draco's question immediately, Harry wrote two more names on his list, then read everything through, making sure he hadn't forgotten anyone. Only then did he lay the sheet of paper on the coffee table between himself and Draco.

Draco looked at the paper as if it were someone's severed hand lying in the middle of his living room. He'd rather have had to examine the hand. It felt like his arm was made of lead as he reached out, picked it up and started to read the 30 or so names listed.

"Up to the dotted line are current clients. After the line, past clients, like Staunton." Harry spoke. When Draco glanced at him, he saw with horror that Harry had started writing on another sheet of paper.

"These aren't mine." Harry explained as he wrote. "Some of the girls also have regulars in high places. We're not allowed to talk about who we see, but we do it anyway. These are all the men I ever heard them mention. But since Cho disappeared, I haven't had much contact with them, so it might not be up to date. For some I only have last names, for some only the first, but I've added all other information I know about them so you can identify them."

Draco didn't want to ask what he was about to ask, but he had to know.

"Who among these did that to your face?" He indicated the cut on Harry's forehead with a nod. Not only would the answer tell him who had dared cause his friend harm, but also who Harry had been with just before coming to his flat.

"First name on the list." Harry said without looking up from his writing.

James Ward

The name didn't ring a bell for Draco, but then again, he really only knew the top politicians by name, the ones that were on the news, or the ones that were relevant for his job.

"Ward's in Parliament", Harry explained, "though he barely has any influence, I think. But with SH's help, he'll gain more of it quickly, and Riddle will have a powerful man indebted to him."

"Why did he hurt you?" The question was out before Draco had been able to contain the thought.

"To be fair, he didn't do it on purpose-"

"Fuck fair!" Draco burst out before Harry could finish.

He stood up and started pacing the room. This wasn't good, he wasn't succeeding at keeping his emotions in check. The strong coffee hadn't given him nearly enough lucidity to be able to handle this situation. But he had to. There was no other option. There was work to be done, and it had to be done now, for Harry's safety.

Thinking of that last part, to remind himself that Harry's life depended on him being able to keep his feelings regarding Harry's clients to himself, seemed to help.

Forcing himself to take another couple of deep breaths and rearrange his thoughts, Draco turned back to Harry, who had -thank the lord- finally stopped writing. The second list was done.

"I'm going to ask you one last time, Harry. Are you absolutely certain that you want to do this? Be an informant? You are aware that informants tend to have short life expectancies."

"I'm not dying before Riddle does."

Stubborn as ever.

Draco glanced at the clock. There wasn't much time anymore.

"Then before we discuss anything else, we need to establish a contact protocol. How do we reach one another and how do we exchange information while avoiding suspicion?"

"I don't think I can return here any time soon. Coming here tonight already cost me this." Harry gestured to his forehead. It was sure to leave a scar.

"How are they watching you?"

"I'm supposed to be back at the house within a set time, allowing only for bringing or retrieving packages, or for visiting clients."

"How did you come here tonight?"

"I made a deal with Ward to let me leave earlier without telling Riddle."

"In exchange for?" Draco winced as soon as he'd asked. He didn't want to know what Harry might have promised. It was too late to take back though, and it was necessary information, to judge how likely it was for Ward to keep the deal and keep Harry's visit tonight a secret.

"I said I'd lie about how my face got cut. He'd be in trouble if Riddle found out he's responsible."

There was a momentary silence while the policeman thought this over. On the one hand, he felt relieved that Harry's promise hadn't been of another nature, but it brought on another concern. It wasn't the first time he'd talked with prostitutes in his line of work -the world of drugs and the world of sex work were so tightly intermingled, they could hardly be told apart- and he'd heard this rule mentioned before. Of course, when the attractiveness or sometimes appearance of purity of the physical body determined the monetary value of the business, it was imperative for the business owners to protect it severely in order to maximise income.

"Will you get in trouble for it?" Draco voiced his concern.

"Not much." Harry shrugged nonchalantly, but it looked a little too forced to Draco's trained eyes.

"What will he do?"

"Shouldn't we discuss the contact protocol?"

The abrupt change of subject and Harry's determined tone made clear he wasn't going to say anything more on the matter. Even if he had, what could Draco have done? Until he got Harry out of SH, there was very little he could do. He despaired at the prospect of that kind of powerlessness. Only the reminder that from now on, they would be actively pursuing the destruction of SH, bringing them closer to Harry's safety, helped lift his morale a little.

Besides, Harry was right. They did have to discuss the protocol before they parted.

Draco took the notepad, wrote a phone number and handed it to Harry.

"You already gave me your phone number before. I have it memorised."

"This isn't mine. It's a number to a curry restaurant. If you call or text, asking if Dhiren is running the deliveries, it will initiate the contact protocol. I will immediately come to our agreed meeting place, or if I'm not available, someone else from the force will be there within the hour."

"I'm not allowed to have a phone."

Draco took out his wallet and handed Harry a bill.

"I don't want your money." Harry frowned, refusing to take it.

"It's for change, to use the phone booths if you can't get to a phone somewhere else."

"I don't need that much." Harry scoffed at the amount of the bill.

"Buy something else then."

Harry appeared on the verge of retorting, but thought better of it. He was extremely hungry and could use a few extra meals, or maybe a coat. He could lie and say he'd received it from a client. It was extremely rare, but some of them could be nice sometimes.

"Where do we meet if the protocol is initiated?" He asked instead, pocketing the money.

"Where is the house? The headquarters where you live?"

Harry remained silent.

"Didn't you say you would tell me everything?" Draco insisted.

"I don't... I don't want you coming near there. It's dangerous." Harry remembered Cedric's death, in the park near the house. His body had been covered in bloody stab wounds. The image still haunted him. He couldn't bear to see the image with Draco substituted as the victim.

"I can take care of myself, Harry. I won't come too close. But the special police force has been searching for SH's headquarters, for Riddle's location for a very long time now. We need that information. And..." he hesitated, but decided he might as well be honest, at least with Harry, "I need to know where you are. If I don't hear from you by our appointed time of contact, I will come looking for you."

That might serve as a warning to keep contact, Draco thought. But it wasn't an empty threat. If Harry disappeared without warning again, he would go looking this time.

"Besides, I need to know because our meeting place can't be too far that you don't have time to make it undetected, or too close that we risk being spotted." Draco continued. "We can only decide on the safest meeting place if you tell me where the house is."

Finally, Harry gave in and wrote down the address, below the number for the curry restaurant, which he'd also already committed to his memory.

"Really?" Draco was surprised as he read the location. "Interesting", he muttered to himself. It was clever, very clever. A low-income neighbourhood, which was to be expected, but in the middle of some important touristic landmarks, guaranteeing a lot of traffic, but also police presence. It wasn't all that far from the political centre of London either. How had they remained undetected?

It suddenly struck Draco. "This is practically a two-hour walk from here! You've been doing this on foot all this time?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm used to it. Besides, with your money, I can finally afford a bus ride tonight."

"Let me take you at least three quarters of the way." Draco finally located his car keys, which had really been lying in plain sight all evening.

"Draco, it's fine." Harry protested. "I can take the bus."

"There aren't many buses at this time of night."

"It's fine. I'm still on time even if I walk."

"The more reason to let me drive you. We still have things to discuss and it will buy us some time."

With another strong coffee for the road to keep the drowsiness at bay, Draco refused to take no for an answer and almost dragged Harry down to his car. Once inside however, something other than the caffeine was keeping his senses on high alert.

The tightness of the space and the darkness of the night made it feel like they were in much closer proximity than they'd been before. Harry's skin hadn't been as close to Draco's since they had slept together in the same bunk bed at boarding school. Except for the kiss earlier that night... But that memory was blurry from the effect of the sleeping pill. His mind hadn't been clear enough to truly absorb as much of the moment as he'd wished.

How was he not going to lose his mind? Draco wondered. He was at that very moment driving Harry back into the devil's den, towards the very last place he wanted him to be. It was just bonkers if he thought it through.

"I have one condition", he spoke into the silence that had settled within the car. Only the noise from the heating vents could be heard.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Harry looking up questioningly at him from under his purple wool beanie.

"If I, or anyone else from the force, deems it too dangerous for you to stay, you will listen. I know you think you know everything, know the world. And I'm sure it's mostly true", he added gravely, thinking of all the things Harry had already experienced, and he was just barely of age. "But we have a lot of experience in this field, in this world you live in. If you want to be an informant, you have to respect our opinion, and do as we say."

Draco knew this would be a tough pill to swallow for the wilful adolescent. Harry enjoyed the little freedom he had, and rightly so, but for his own safety, that freedom had to be curtailed.

"Fine." Came the response, so softly whispered in the dark that it startled Draco. He'd expected more resistance.

The rest of the way, the pair discussed and agreed on the best place for them to meet, at least for now. The meeting place would have to change regularly to avoid patterns. Draco tried to give Harry as much information as possible on how to defend himself when the necessity arose -Harry assured him he knew what to do, and Draco in turn assured him there was still much for Harry to learn- on how to lie effectively, how to evade questions or divert attention. How to recognise if he was being followed, and how to shake off said stalker. What to do when faced with an armed opponent, to disarm someone with a gun, or with a knife.

It was a desperate attempt, Draco knew, for it was impossible for Harry to learn all this just by oral instruction, and in just half an hour, but he couldn't help it. He had to try and give Harry every possible tool to stay alive. No matter what, he had to stay alive.

It was harder than even Draco had anticipated when the drop-off finally came, when he had to watch Harry's slight form, bundled in layers of thin sweaters in the freezing cold, retreat into the darkness of an early winter morning. He'd known it would be hard, but... it felt like his heart was shattering. He couldn't help thinking, what if this is the last I see of him?

Still, it had to be done. Harry walked away from the car, and Draco had to force his muscles to move. He didn't go home though. He drove straight to the office, calling Chief Moody on the way to inform him he had crucial information to share regarding the SH case. Moody was already at the office, but he said he'd call in detective Bones to join them.

The ride was short, for at this hour, London traffic was at a minimum. It was just enough for Draco to swiftly go through the events of the night through his mind.

"Can I still call you on your personal phone?" Harry had asked when they'd discussed the contact protocol, his tone reflecting insecurity of some kind.

"Of course! Anytime, day or night." Draco had answered, trying to infuse his voice with as much encouragement as he could. "As long as it's not a phone that anyone from SH can trace. If in doubt, always use the curry restaurant number. Even if they trace it, they won't find anything to it."

Please be safe, Harry, Draco prayed silently as he entered his office building and headed straight for Moody's office, where Susan Bones was already sitting comfortably on the sofa, sipping coffee and handing Draco a fresh cup.

Feeling the weight of sleep deprivation and medication hanging on his eyelids after all the caffeine and adrenaline of the night, Draco accepted the cup gratefully.

"Well, Malfoy, speak up! We haven't got all day." Moody grunted impatiently when detective Bones started to inquire about Draco's health.

"Yes." Draco turned away from the considerate small talk initiated by detective Bones and laid out the pieces of paper, full of Harry's handwriting, on the desk in front of the Chief.

"What's this?"

Detective Bones approached and took a seat at the desk as well, picking up one of the papers. It was Harry's client list.

"Harry Potter has volunteered to become an informant for us." The young policeman announced to his superiors. "He visited me tonight for that purpose. I established a protocol with him. First contact will be initiated by him within the week."

"He did?" Detective Bones expressed her admiration, perusing the list of names more closely now.

For a while, Moody remained silent, but his eyes were unnaturally and uncomfortably focused on Draco.

"What exactly is his role within the organisation?"

Draco proceeded to relay everything that Harry had told him, and explained the content of the papers. Though not as difficult as what he'd had to deal with that night, it was still hard to speak the words aloud, to share Harry's darkest secrets with his colleagues, even if he trusted them completely. It still felt like a betrayal. He felt an urge to protect Harry, and was prepared to defend him in case either Moody or Bones had anything to say against him. Thankfully, they didn't. They only showed utmost respect, acknowledging Harry's sacrifice and the risks he was taking.

When Draco finally revealed that the address jotted down on the papers was the headquarters, the actual SH headquarters from which Riddle himself operated, Moody's face lit up like Draco had never witnessed before.

"Are you quite serious!" He exclaimed. It hadn't been a question. There seemed to be no doubt in Moody's mind that Harry Potter was speaking the truth. It made Draco respect his boss all the more. "There! I must've walked past a dozen times! Most brilliant, I cannot quite..." Moody turned away from Bones and Draco, the paper held to his penetrating blue eyes for closer examination.

What he might hope to see by studying it so closely, Draco couldn't guess. It took a few minutes for Chief Moody to regain his composure and address the two team members present.

"Malfoy, I have to admit, I only expected you to be a fraction of the usefulness you've proven yourself to be."

Susan Bones' mouth dropped open at this outward and downright praise, for though the words could be construed as a compliment with an edge, for all those who knew Chief Moody, it was clearly the best anyone could hope to receive. Chief Moody was known to have nothing but criticism and warning of impending doom to bestow.

"It's not me, sir." Draco squirmed in his chair. Several years...nay, several months back, he might have felt the praise to be fully his due. Modesty wasn't one of his many qualities, and he didn't particularly wish it to be. But it truly wasn't fair for him to take the credit in this instance. He'd done nothing but be asleep, awoken by his friends who'd poured into his flat tonight and handed him the most precious information on a silver platter.

This brought him to Hermione's findings, and Draco proceeded to relate this as well, making sure to give credit where it was due.

This could only excite Moody and Bones further, and soon they had plans to bring the team together and draft up documents and action plans. Finally, in almost a decade, they had new and promising leads to pursue.

With the instruction from Moody to write up a full report immediately, and a remonstrance from detective Bones to allow Draco to get some rest first after what had clearly been a long night, Draco retreated to the sofa in the break room. Consciousness was slipping away from him even as he walked, and he only had the time to check that his phone was on the loudest setting, to be awoken if anything urgent came up, before his eyes closed and exhaustion overtook him.

Playing off the head wound as a mugging hadn't been too difficult for Harry. For some miraculous reason, Lestrange hadn't been around when he'd come in after Draco had dropped him off about half an hour's walk from the house, and Riddle had been out on business as well. Harry had only had to explain his appearance to Dolohov, and one of the girls who'd had basic nurse training in a former life had been able to stitch him up as best she could. It didn't look pretty though, and that was a bit of a problem in Harry line of work.

Not my problem, Harry had thought cheerfully. It gave him a few days off, as long as he looked like Frankenstein's monster, at least. During that time, he got to catch up on some sleep and eat more food, though he had many more package errands to run, and much farther away. So much so that the soles of his shoes were finally starting to come loose.

"I need new shoes." Harry had told Dolohov after returning from a 10-kilometre round trip.

"Not my problem." The square-faced sadistic man had answered, buttering his morning toast in the kitchen. The place was always deserted when Dolohov ate. The girls were disgusted with the noise he made when he chewed his food.

Harry tried hard to ignore the revolting sounds himself, but he really needed new shoes. His soles would simply fall off if he walked any more.

"Fine. Let's see how inconspicuous I look when I walk around London barefoot." He shrugged as he poured himself some cereal with milk.

He didn't have the time to get a first spoonful into his mouth before the bowl was slammed to the floor, splashing ceramic shards and milk everywhere, and Dolohov's hand gripped his collar, almost lifting him off the ground.

"I wish I'd made that hole in your head. I would've done a better job, too." Dolohov sneered spitefully. "Clean this up and I'll get you your bloody shoes." He indicated the mess on the floor.

It was a bargain, Harry thought. He only had to clean up some spilled milk. Too easy.

It was ridiculous how proud he felt of his new shoes. Look at me, 18 years old and still as giddy as when I was 7 over a new pair of trainers. But it was such a rare occasion, and they felt to soft and springy, though they still had to mould to the shape of his feet. At least one item of clothing he was wearing looked new and shiny. So rare.

It was with these new shoes, and the confidence boost that they gave him, that Harry walked to his meeting place with Draco. He'd just called the curry restaurant from a telephone booth half an hour before, asking the code question of whether Dhiren was bringing round the deliveries that day. They'd answered him "of course", and that was that.

Everything was going so well. He had new shoes, he had quite some pocket money to buy food or clothes, he'd gotten away with visiting Draco and lying about how he'd received his head injury, and he'd gotten time off from seeing clients in the bargain. It felt so good in this moment, Harry knew it couldn't last. Something was bound to go terribly wrong soon. He hadn't felt so good since his time at St-James boarding school, surrounded by his friends every day.

He arrived at the small square and headed for the clothing shop on the west corner. This was their arranged meeting place, at least for now. He only had 20 minutes or so to spare, which he could reasonably explain away to Dolohov by walking slower on his errand, or forgetfulness or any other excuse. Any longer than that would seem too suspicious.

Harry ducked inside the middle fitting room of the clothing store with a few items he'd picked at random. He tried them on, just to seem busy, but also because he liked the feel of the fresh, new fabric against his skin. He had so rarely had the occasion to wear entirely new clothes in his life. Never at the Dursleys, when he'd had to wear hand-me-downs from his cousin Dudley, and rarely since he'd joined SH, where Riddle only allowed for new garments when the old ones were too small to fit him or worn threadbare.

"I'm here." Draco's voice came from the fitting room next to his.

It all seemed a little too much to Harry. Surely, no one from SH would be following him into the store, as far as into the fitting room. Then he reminded himself of what Riddle and Lestrange were capable of, and considered that one could not be too cautious. Especially if this kind of informant relationship was going to last a long time, which it probably would considering the huge task at hand, it was imperative to avoid any kind of recognisable pattern, anything that could raise suspicion.

"Okay", was all Harry found to say. It was strange, having a conversation with someone you couldn't see.

"How are you, Harry?" Draco asked, his whisper laced with concern. "Did Riddle give you trouble for your head?"

"I'm fine." Harry replied automatically. It was true though. He felt great.

"Are you sure?" Draco insisted.

"Yes." Harry said with gratitude for his friend's concern. It felt kind of nice, he considered, to have someone to talk to. Someone on the outside of SH, but who understood more or less what he was going through.

"I've told everything you told me last week to my superiors." Draco explained. "Your intel has given us a lot to work with. We're looking up all the clients, uncovering the wide network of Riddle's influence." He paused there for a short breath. "We had no idea, Harry. We feared it was bad, but we had no idea how far Riddle's corruption reached."

Harry swallowed. Draco's statement brought him down from his giddy state. There was an enormous load of work to do, risky work. He sat down on the narrow bench of the fitting room, feeling his strength fail.

"What's next?" He asked.

"Just keep a low profile for now." The voice from the neighbouring booth was grave, pleading almost. "You said that a woman called Lestrange is there to keep an eye on you. How dangerous is she?"

Harry stared at himself in the mirror. Speaking in this way, without seeing Draco, it had one advantage. It would be easier to lie, if he so chose. But did he wish to lie? One the one hand, he didn't want to worry Draco more than was necessary, nor Ron or Hermione, with whom Draco might share this information. On the other hand, their relationship had turned professional, and it was imperative that Draco and the team behind him understood what kind of person Lestrange was, what she was capable of. If Harry wanted to be a good informant, he had to inform as accurately as possible.

"A year or so ago, one of the girls, Abby, had been having contact with someone she wasn't supposed to. I think she might've had a boyfriend who was trying to convince her to escape with him. Lestrange was there at the time. She stabbed Abby in the hallway one morning when we were all coming back from work, right in front of everyone. We aren't allowed to call an ambulance, so we tried to help her, to stop the bleeding. It was no use, it only prolonged her pain. It took over an hour for her to bleed out. And then another hour for her body to be taken away. Cho, me and two other girls tried for several more hours to get the blood out of the hallway carpet, but it never came out. It's still there, right in front of Cho's old room."

It took so long for a response to come that Harry hesitated whether Draco was still there.

"I'm so sorry." The expression of regret was accompanied by a loud thump, though Harry couldn't guess what had produced the sound. "Please be careful, Harry. If anything happened to you, I... Ron and Hermione..."

Harry nodded, though no one could see him but himself.

"You can leave first, I'll wait here a while. Be sure to make contact again within the week." Draco instructed, and Harry left the fitting room.

Just as he passed the counter on the way out, an employee stopped him. "Sir," said a young woman in her early twenties with a long reddish braid, "this is for you. It had already been paid for." She handed him a bag.

Curious, Harry peered inside. It was a beanie, dark midnight blue, with a tiny metallic owl stitched into the side. Hedwig, he thought immediately as he saw it, and he glanced toward the changing rooms. It could only have been Draco.

Muttering his thanks to the store employee, Harry hurried out of the shop and on his way to the person he was to bring the envelope tucked under his clothes. His heart felt oddly large and warm.