The clock was mocking him. It sat on the bedside table obstinately displaying 4:03 am. Steve dropped back onto his pillow and stared at the dark ceiling. Though his body might not need more than four or five hours of sleep, he still missed it.

Harry had pointed out the kitchen after Hermione had left last night and said Kreacher would serve breakfast at six. It wouldn't take Steve more than fifteen minutes to dress and pack.

That still left just over an hour and a half. He didn't want to go poking around in Harry's house, but there was no way he could lie here any longer. He threw the covers aside and sat up, turned the bedside light on, and got started on his day. Going to the kitchen and making coffee wouldn't be too impolite, he didn't think.

When he walked downstairs, the door to the library was open, spilling light out into the dim hallway.

"Kreacher, I already have a fully stocked potions kit. I doubt I'll need a second," Harry said with a weary huff.

Steve leaned in the doorway and watched Kreacher slip a leather bundle in a messenger bag when Harry turned his back.

His breath caught in his throat when he saw what Harry was wearing. Black cargo pants hugged his legs, and a black tank-style undershirt clung to his upper body. Harry was all lean muscle and bone, not an ounce of flab to be seen. His hair secured in a bun at the base of his neck. There was a leather harness holding a long, slender knife between his shoulder blades. Draped over the drafting table was a dark green button-up shirt.

"Master should take pretty knives," Kreacher said, holding out a set of knives in a roll-away case.

Harry sighed. "Poison-tipped throwing knives might be overkill." He closed the bag and set it at his feet. "I have everything I'll need," he said firmly.

Kreacher sniffed, and with a snap of his fingers, the case disappeared. "Kreacher will bring coffee, even if it be an uncivilized hour." The elf disappeared with a pop.

"You can come in, Steve," Harry said as he shrugged into the green shirt and buttoned it up.

"I didn't want to get in his way," Steve said with a smile. "Poisoned knives?"

Harry laughed. "They were a gift." He rolled his eyes as he turned to Steve. "I have weird friends."

There was a hint of dark circles beneath Harry's eyes, but they were clear and bright.

"You're up early," Harry said lightly.

"Don't need a lot of sleep," Steve said. Harry started sorting through papers on the drafting table, putting some aside and bundling others. "I can get my coffee in the kitchen, get out of your way," Steve offered.

"I wouldn't banish you to the kitchen," Harry said as he looked up. "There's a few things to finish up, but I have some books for you."

Harry pointed to a table near the window seat. "There's a book for introducing Mundane-born students to the magical world and one on Occlumency."

A tray with coffee, cream, and sugar appeared on the table beside the books. "Can I bring you a cup?" Steve asked as he crossed the room.

"Black, please," Harry said as he scribbled something on a map.

Steve poured two cups, picked up one, and handed it to Harry.

"Thanks," the other man said in an off-hand tone.

Steve was beginning to see what Hermione meant by driven. Picking up the second cup, he sat on the window seat and picked up the books. A hair larger than a standard paperback, both books were leather-bound with embossed titles.

After his experience yesterday, Steve wanted to dive into the book on Occlumency. But he figured the overview of magic would make more practical sense. Steve reclined against the wall, sipped his coffee, and opened the book.

He'd made it close to halfway through the book when movement in the corner of his eye made him look up. Harry had stood up from the drafting table and stretched his arms over his head, his shirt rising up, showing a thin slice of tanned skin. Steve tore his eyes away before Harry caught him staring.

"Ready for breakfast?" Harry asked as he tucked the last of the papers into his bag.

Setting the book and his empty cup down, Steve got to his feet. "I could eat," he said.

"If you hand me the books, I'll put them in my bag," Harry said.

"Today is going to be pretty boring for you." Harry took the books from Steve and slipped them into his bag. "I have to set triangulating spells in likely places."

As they headed into the hall and towards the kitchen, Harry said, "You can wait in the tent or you're welcome to join me. It'll be a lot of walking and waiting if you do."

"I'd rather walk than sit in a tent," Steve said honestly. Besides, any time spent with Harry was worthwhile.

Harry pushed the door to the kitchen open and headed for the sturdy wooden table heaped with food. Scrambled eggs, sausage and bacon, fried tomatoes and mushrooms, and toast. Along with another pot of coffee. Harry hadn't been joking about Kreacher's ability to produce large portions. Sometimes Steve felt self-conscious about his metabolism, but that didn't seem to be a problem here.

They served themselves and set to eating. Harry seemed quieter this morning. Steve wasn't sure if it was early hour or if this was Harry's work mode. When they finished eating, they sat back with a cup of coffee.

Harry turned to him. "I've never allowed a client to accompany me before," he said quietly. "People who are emotionally involved can be unpredictable, and that's a worry I don't need in the field."

He met Steve's eyes calmly; his voice was soft but unyielding. "But you're not a civilian." Harry paused a moment. "So, I hope you'll understand the need to ask. Will you be able to follow my directions, even if they don't make sense to you?"

Steve took a deep breath. He knew what Harry was asking. Could he handle not being in charge? Could he let Bucky walk away and trust Harry's tracking charm? Could he see Bucky and not immediately go to him? Could he?

Harry was quiet as he sipped his coffee, giving Steve all the time he needed. He remembered his thought from the day before and it still held true.

"There is very little I wouldn't do to find Bucky," Steve said as he looked up, letting Harry see the truth in his eyes. "I stormed a Hydra base single-handedly last time; following your orders should be easier."

Their eyes held for a few long moments, then Harry set down his coffee. "Then let's go bring Sgt. Barnes home."

%%%

Harry had not exaggerated in the least; Steve was incredibly bored. After his first experience with apparition, which was disorienting, they had set up the tent and the wards. Then they walked. And walked. Harry would stop for a few minutes, lean against a wall, close his eyes, and set his spell. The only reason Steve knew that much was because he felt Harry's magic. Steve would read a few pages of his book while he waited. And then they walked some more.

Steve also discovered the quiet from this morning was Harry's work mode. He doubted they'd spoken more than a dozen words in the last four hours. It was approaching lunchtime and Harry had, at long last, sat down at a picnic table in a public park. He had his maps out again and traced the faintly glowing lines.

There were several street vendors nearby, and the smells of roasting meat and spices made Steve hungry. "Do we have time for a bite?" He asked Harry.

Harry reached into his bag and handed Steve a stack of Romanian leu. "Whatever looks good and a bottle of water," Harry said without looking up.

Resigned to playing delivery boy, Steve looked around at the carts. When he saw the skewers of meat and vegetables, he headed over. It only took a couple of minutes and he had a dozen kabobs and two bottles of water. He turned to make his way back to Harry and raised a brow at the sight of a slight blonde teenager standing at the table with his back to Steve.

Hurrying over, he could hear Harry speaking in rapid, harsh Romanian. Steve didn't speak the language, but the tone concerned him. Once Steve saw both men, he almost dropped the food. The teenager had his hand on the strap of Harry's bag but wasn't running away because of the knife held to his groin. By the time he made it to the table, Harry had stopped speaking and was staring at the kid.

With slow, careful movements, the young man released the bag and raised his hands to his shoulders. Steve practically threw the food on the table and grabbed both the boy's wrists and pulled his arms behind his back.

"Are we letting him go? Or waiting for the police?" Steve asked as Harry moved the knife.

Harry tucked the bag between his feet. "He's just a daft kid," he said with a frown. "I warned him about his career choices. Let him go."

Steve turned the teenager around and gave him a firm push towards the street. As soon as Steve let go, the kid took off running. Collapsing on the bench opposite of Harry, he watched as the knife disappeared into a pocket of Harry's pants.

"How many knives do you have?" Steve asked curiously as he divided the food.

With a wolfish smile, Harry said, "As many as I need." He turned back to his maps and ate the food Steve put in front of him.

It seemed every time he turned around, there was a new side of Harry to discover. Instead of finding it off-putting, Steve kept finding himself more and more intrigued. He opened a water bottle and put it in Harry's sight-line. Steve enjoyed his lunch and watched the park goers as he waited for Harry with all the patience he could muster.

Half an hour later, Harry folded up his maps and tucked them into his bag. He turned to Steve. "We need to meet an old friend with ties in this area."

Gathering the refuse from their meals, Steve tossed it in a nearby trash can and turned to Harry. "Lead on."

"He's meeting us at the tent, up for apparating again?" Harry asked with a grin.

Steve sighed. "I kept breakfast down, I should be able to keep lunch down."

Harry turned and began looking for a quiet spot.

"Does it ever get better?" Steve asked with curious dread.

With a shrug, Harry led him to an alleyway outside the park. "Not really, but you do get used to it."

He couldn't decide if he loved or hated this part. Harry held out a hand and reminded him, "Hold on tight." Steve gripped Harry's hand, took a deep breath, and held it. A heartbeat later, Harry's magic surrounded him and then he was squeezed, twisted, and spat back out in front of the tent.

He kept his feet and his food down. Harry held his hand while Steve got his balance back. With a last squeeze, Steve let go. If he didn't do it now, he might never.

An unfamiliar voice with a heavy Slavic accent broke into his thoughts. "First time?"

Steve turned towards the voice and saw a slim, dark-haired man. He was handsome in a sharp way, average height, wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

"Second," Harry said with a smile. The unknown man took the few steps to Harry and drew him into a close, back-slapping hug. "It's good to see you again, Viktor," Harry said with a smile.

Steve felt a stab of jealousy at how easily the other man touched Harry.

"And I you," the man said as he released Harry.

"Steve, this is Viktor Krum," Harry said as he walked back to Steve's side. "Viktor, Captain Rogers."

"I know," Viktor said as he held his out for Steve to shake. "He is more famous than I, I think."

Steve shook his hand, not giving in the urge to crush the fingers. He raised his brows at Krum's comment.

"Viktor is a sports star in the magical world," Harry said. "Did you get to the part about Quidditch yet?"

It surprised him that Harry had noticed him at all this morning, much less saw he'd been reading. "Yes," Steve said.

Harry motioned them both into the tent. When they were inside and sat down, Harry said, "Viktor plays seeker for the Bulgarian National Team. And knows half the world." He smiled at the other man. "Or he's related to them."

Viktor laughed. "My mother has large family, yes." He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Harry. "Many live here and some have seen this soldier you seek."

Harry glanced at the paper, pulled out his maps and spread them on the coffee table. "Can you show me where?"

"None saw where he sleeps but have seen him buy supplies here and here," Viktor said as he pointed to the map. "They say he does not speak much, but his accent is Russian."

Viktor looked at Steve and gave him a sad smile. "They also say he is, how you say, паднал духом?"

"Heartsick," Harry translated with a sigh.

"Da, and scared," Viktor said.

Steve closed his eyes and let his head fall back on the couch. Heartsick and scared. Steve's heart was sick. Bucky had always been resilient, taking whatever life threw at him with a smile and a smart remark. It hurt to think of him going through this alone.

There was a rustling of paper, and then Steve felt a warm body next to his. A hand took his own and squeezed. He held on and tried to rein his emotions back in. Steve was grateful beyond words at the silent support, no meaningless words of comfort, just a firm hand letting him know he wasn't alone.

He didn't know how long they sat there before Steve took a shuddery breath and opened his eyes. Harry squeezed his hand again but made no move to pull away.

Viktor stood and patted Harry's shoulder. "I have to go, you let me know if you need anything." He turned to Steve. "My niece will be happy I have met Captain America. I hope to see you again."

"Thank you," Steve said, voice rough but sincere.

Viktor nodded again and waved as he ducked under the tent flap.

"Was the information helpful?" Steve asked, knowing soon he'd have to let Harry go. He didn't want to, but Harry wasn't his to cling to.

Harry turned to face him. "Yes, it confirmed the earlier siting and gave a new location. Both are areas I've already set spells in."

He waved the hand not holding Steve's and two water bottles floated from the kitchen. "Now it's just a matter of waiting until he trips one of the spells."

He snatched a bottle from the air and handed it to Steve before taking the other. Reluctantly, Steve released his hand to open the bottle. He was pleased Harry didn't move away. Steve liked feeling Harry alongside him, his body warm and solid.

Wanting to keep sitting here with Harry beside him, Steve asked, "How long have you known Viktor?"

"Since I was fourteen," Harry said. "There was an inter-school competition and Viktor was the Champion from Durmstrang."

There was something sad in Harry's tone. Not wanting to bring up bad memories, Steve asked, "How many languages do you speak? I've heard Romanian and something not quite Russian?"

"Bulgarian," Harry said with a faint flush on his cheeks. "I'm fluent in nine but can get by in a couple more."

Remembering Hermione's advice, Steve accepted the information with a nod. "I think that's more than Natasha," Steve said. "Definitely more than me."

They sat in comfortable silence, drinking their water for several minutes. He knew it was coming, Harry didn't really sit still for long, so Steve didn't sigh when Harry returned to his maps. And if he felt colder when Harry left, well, he was the only one who knew that.

%%%

"Right, that's enough of that," Harry growled.

Steve paused in his pacing and turned to Harry.

"You have two choices," Harry said in a testy growl. "Sit here and learn to read the bloody spell, or I'll stun you and you can sleep till we find Sgt. Barnes."

Steve looked down and rubbed the back of his neck. Waiting patiently had never been his strong suit. He made his way to the couch and sat next to Harry.

"You're making me twitchy," Harry muttered as he adjusted the maps.

"Sorry," Steve said with a rueful smile. He'd tried to read but his mind wouldn't focus on the words, it kept turning to worries about Bucky.

Harry waved him off and pointed at the map. "Reading the spells doesn't require active magic, but you do need the ability to sense it," he said.

"It's the rarity of that ability that keeps me in contracts," Harry said with a grin. "It's also why Hermione was so intrigued last night. Less than one percent of wizards can sense magic."

Steve raised a brow, but before he could ask about it, Harry continued. "These lines show the boundaries of the spells I set earlier."

On the map, the glowing lines spread, dividing the city into pie slices. The slices laid out with obvious care, none overlapping and evenly spaced. Steve only needed a glance at the map to see the time and effort Harry invested in planning.

"Now concentrate on the areas inside the lines," Harry said. "I find it easier to let my eyes sort of unfocus." He paused and his brows furrowed. "I've never tried to explain this before."

"You created these spells?" Steve asked as he leaned over the maps. He let his eyes skim the area but tried not to concentrate on any specific place.

"The established spells were a pain," Harry said. "Overly complicated and had to be monitored onsite."

Slowly, Steve felt the magic, Harry's magic, though much fainter.

"You got it," Harry murmured. His voice low, Harry said, "Now, feel for a pull in that area. Similar to when I tugged on your magic. If you don't feel it, move to the next."

Steve swept the map with care, but didn't feel any pull.

"Pay attention to the borders as well," Harry said. "Especially in this area," he said as he pointed to a section of the map.

It wasn't a pull, but a subtle difference he couldn't quite put into words. "What is it?" Steve asked.

He heard a definite smile in Harry's voice when he said, "That's Sgt. Barnes."

Steve jerked his eyes off the map and turned to Harry.

"He hasn't crossed one of the borders yet, so I can't get a firm fix on him, but he's close," Harry said, still smiling.

The tiny well of hope Steve had clung to suddenly deepened and threatened to overwhelm him for a moment. Turning back to the map, Steve set a patrol schedule, systematically checking the area around the difference.

Steve had no idea how long he sat staring at the map, but when Harry shoved a plate with a sandwich in his hand, his back was stiff.

"Eat this, you ridiculous man," Harry said with a huff. "You were meant to be distracted, not obsessed."

Steve took the plate, but didn't look away from the map. "I don't want to miss him."

Harry sighed. "There's an alert charm. I'll know as soon as he gets in range."

"What?" Steve looked up at Harry.

There was a hint of color on Harry's cheeks. "The pacing was driving me barmy," he said with a stubborn tilt of his chin. "Now eat your dinner."

"That was mean," Steve said lightly and fought a smile.

Dinner was a huge sandwich stuffed with leftover lamb on what had to be homemade bread. "This is great," he said after the first bite.

"Kreacher makes the best sandwiches," Harry said as he sat with his own sandwich.

Steve noticed Harry glance over the map before tucking in. "If there's an alert, why do you check it?"

Finishing his mouthful, Harry looked up. "To see if he's come close to the borders and to make sure everything is functioning as it should," he said.

With a nod, Steve went back to his dinner.

After dinner, Harry brought a few books with another legal pad from his room and curled up in an armchair. He would read for a bit and then write furiously until he turned back to the book. Steve didn't ask this time. Those books were massive and full of strange symbols. The chances of Steve understanding were slim. Instead, he pulled out the Occlumency book and began reading. It was easier now that he could check the map every so often and know what was going on.

He'd gotten through two chapters when Harry leapt up, books and paper falling to the floor. His sudden movement prompting Steve to stand as well. Harry turned towards the flap of the tent and waved his hand. Steve blinked as the entire front wall of the tent became transparent.

And standing not fifteen feet away was Bucky. Steve knew him despite the hat concealing half his face in shadows from the setting sun. Steve didn't know which way to jump; after so long, Bucky was right there. He had a hard time thinking, never mind speaking. He had no idea how Bucky got around Harry's spells, much less see the tent.

"How the bloody buggering hell did he do that?" Harry murmured, waving his hand. The books and papers formed a neat stack before they floated back to his room.

He turned to Steve. "I'll leave the spell up so you can see, but do not step a toe out of this tent unless I call for you." Harry held his eyes until Steve nodded his agreement.

Steve watched as Harry rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath. But his eyes kept drifting back to Bucky. Bucky watched the tent closely, his body language tense. As Harry walked out of the tent, Bucky started. Harry must have seen it as well, because he stopped several feet away.

"You the one following me?" Bucky asked in a hoarse voice.

Steve found his feet pulling him until the tent wall blocked his path.

"Yes, Sgt. Barnes, I am," Harry said softly.

Bucky turned his head away. "Don't call me that," he growled.

"Would you prefer James or Bucky?"

"I don't have a name," Bucky said in a harsh growl. "Assets don't need names."

For a second Harry's shoulder drooped and Steve struggled to swallow the grief that crawled up his throat and threatened to choke him.

"I can call you, sir," Harry said, voice still light. "Though I'll feel rather foolish."

Bucky seemed almost confused by the words. He stared at Harry with his brows furrowed. "Who are you?"

"My name is Harry Potter."

With an open frown, Bucky took half a step forward. "You need to stop following me." It wasn't quite a threat, but close.

Harry held his ground. "A friend of yours hired me to find you."

"Assets don't have friends," Bucky said with a snarl.

Bucky snatched the hat off his head and Steve saw his eyes at last. Bucky's dark blue eyes seemed to waver between confused and furious.

"You tell your lackeys to stop following me, too." Bucky's hand balled into a fist around the hat. "I don't like it."

"Lackeys?" Harry asked with an urgent tone. "As in more than one?"

Bucky stopped and tilted his head. "The men in bad suits aren't with you?"

"Fuck," Harry growled as his eyes scanned the park. "Do you see any of them here?" He asked.

Bucky stared at Harry for a long time before he answered. "I haven't seen them today."

"There is a god," Harry muttered before he took a deep breath. "I have a way to hide this tent from most people," Harry said, his voice calm again.

"I know," Bucky said softly, he swept his hand towards the people in the park. "None of them see it."

"Well, you're the first person to see it without permission, so I think it'll stop the suits," Harry said. "And if you step forward about two feet, it will hide you, too."

Bucky's eyes darted to the people around them and back to Harry several times before drawing a shuddery breath and taking two steps forward. Bucky looked at Harry and raised a brow.

"That's perfect." Harry pointed to a small blue stone he'd showed Steve earlier. "Those stones mark the boundaries."

Bucky had tensed up again, and Harry waited patiently until he relaxed. "I don't know who the men in suits are," Harry said calmly. "But I can tell you why I'm here."

Harry continued to impress Steve. His voice stayed calm and even, but he didn't treat Bucky like some feral creature that needed careful handling. He didn't show any fear at all. It reminded him of Hermione's tone.

With a wary look, Bucky nodded, little more than a slight dip of his head.

"A friend of yours discovered you were still alive," Harry said softly. "Until recently, he thought you died in a fall."

Bucky reared back and stared at Harry.

"But he was injured and couldn't look for you until he healed." Harry's voice remained even and calm. "By that time, the trail had gone cold."

It was a very careful retelling of events. Nothing challenging or reproachful.

"So, he hired me. I have an unusual skill set that allows me to find people quickly," he said. "And if you'll let me, I can help you."

"Help me how?" Bucky asked in a rough growl, as his hands balled into fists. "You gonna unfuck my head?"

"Not personally," Harry said with a shrug. "But I know people who can. It's hard work, but it's possible."

"What would you know about it?" Bucky spat. He took another aggressive step forward, glaring at Harry, and Steve worried about Bucky's intentions.

Harry held his eyes levelly. "Because they did it for me."

Bucky recoiled and stared at the grass, but there was still a menacing air to his posture. There was a long pause and Steve was getting antsy by the time Bucky spoke again.

"What happened to you?" Bucky asked, looking at Harry through his lashes like he expected to be reprimanded.

"I'm going to sit down," Harry said.

Once Bucky acknowledged him, Harry crossed his legs and sat on the grass, leaving him dangerously vulnerable if Bucky attacked. When Steve got past his immediate concern, he realized Harry had done it on purpose, making himself less of a threat.

"A branch of the government discovered I had unusual talents, and they decided I could be useful to them." Harry pulled a blade of grass and began shredding it. "So, they used experimental treatments to make me stronger, faster, smarter."

He glanced up at Bucky. "It took me nearly five years to escape. Five years waiting for them to slip up." Harry dropped the shredded grass. "I only managed in the end because they weren't used to holding long-term prisoners."

Slowly folding his knees, Bucky knelt on the grass across from Harry. "Did they do stuff to your mind?" He asked brokenly.

Silent tears fell down Steve's face, and he watched Harry swallow several times.

"Until some days I wasn't sure what was them and what was me." Harry looked into Bucky's eyes as a tear slipped down his face. "In my nightmares, I still can't tell."

Steve no longer knew if he was crying for Bucky or Harry.

There was silence for several minutes. "And you think the people that helped you can help me?" Bucky asked in a whisper.

"I know they can," Harry said, his belief clear in his voice.

"I don't trust you," Bucky said softly.

Harry laughed. "I know." He tilted his head and watched Bucky. "Would you trust Steve?"

Bucky jumped to his feet like he'd been shot, and his eyes darted around anxiously. "He's here?"

Harry didn't move, his body language stayed relaxed. "In the tent."

His eyes flew to the tent, and Steve would swear Bucky could see straight through the canvas.

"I think I hurt him," Bucky said with a whimper.

Steve's eyes slid closed for a moment, he wished Bucky hadn't remembered that. He ached to go out and assure Bucky it was alright, that he didn't blame him, but he could see Bucky was one wrong move away from running.

"He understands why you did," Harry said with calm assurance. "All he wants is for you to be safe and get help."

Bucky looked away from the tent and back to Harry, there was another long silence as Bucky held Harry's eyes. Steve didn't know what he was looking for, but Harry sat and let him look. Slowly Bucky calmed, but he still glanced at the tent often. Bucky looked so torn; Steve could see how hard this was for him.

"Does he want to see me?" Bucky asked so lowly even Steve had to strain to hear him.

"Desperately," Harry said with a small smile. "Most likely, he's all but climbing the walls."

"That punk never had any patience," Bucky muttered.

Steve almost cried again. He never thought he'd miss Bucky calling him names.

Bucky looked away from the tent into the park. "You should tell him to come out before he hurts something."

Harry glanced back at the tent and held up a finger. Steve all but vibrated in place.

"You sure?" Harry asked.

"No," Bucky said with a huff. "I'm not sure of a damn thing." He looked at Harry and shrugged one shoulder. "Do it anyway."