Title: Good Morning New York City
Author name: reut
Category: Slash
Sub Category: Romance
Rating: R
Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OoTP
Summary: After the second war Draco moved to N.Y in order to forget. Harry moved to L.A because he can't forget. When they both receive an offer from a radio station at N.Y city what will open?
What do you think? Warning: this is a slash.
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Everything Harry Potter related is certainly not mine. All the credited belong to the wonderful JK Rowling don't sue.
Author's Note: It actually more pg13 rating but R just to be safe.

Chapter 2:

'Relax, Draco, relax. You can do it. You have faced Voldemort several times in your short life and managed to survive just fine. You can definitely survive two Muggles… okay, just don't call them Muggles to their face, that definitely wouldn't be a good thing.

He was waiting nervously for the secretary of Hot95 to call him in to the conferenceroom, where his interview would take place. He knew this interview was not going to be anything like the one he did for 'Rating', the TV guide he had worked at for the last 3 years. Eric, the editor of 'Rating', had been familiar with Draco's past. Therefore, Draco did not need to pretend he was someone else around Eric; there was no need to worry he might slip up and say the wrong thing or act the wrong way. For the first time in his life, he had been truly free to say what he felt when he felt for as long as he felt it. It had been great.

'So, why am I doing this interview, anyway?'

"Draco," Kelly interrupted his thoughts, "did we pay the electric bill this month? I don't remember."

'Oh, yes I remember now. A journalist's salary really sucks.'

"I hope so," he answered her.

They were both sitting in the Hot95 waiting room. Draco was reading a magazine, an expression of indifference playing on his face. Kelly was playing nervously with the rings on her fingers. She had come for 'moral support', she said. However, he had his own suspicion that what she really came for was to be a part of the glamour.

The waiting room was designed exactly as the entrance at the ground floor of the Hot95 building and probably the rest of the building, too. The light brown carpets matched the primrose walls, which stood almost completely bare, nothing hanging on them except for a few photos that can be seen in every office in town. It reminded him of the government office he had gone to when they forgot to pay the bill the last time.

He really didn't want to go there again. The bureaucrats there annoyed him with their ceaseless questions (half of the time he didn't even know what they wanted from him), and he hated the way they were dressed, all in the same boring unattractive suits.

At least the people who were passing by the waiting room did not look like these conservative clerks; almost none of them were wearing a suit, and most of them looked eccentric. Most of them crossed the hall in a rush, mumbling incoherent phrases, several passed with a confused expression as though they weren't entirely sure where they were or why exactly they were there. One of them even burst out in loud, manic loud laughter without any apparent reason.

'So, I used to write about weird people and now I am also working with some. It is not such a big difference.'

But it was a big difference. The situation was completely different. The roles of the game were completely different. Because that's what it was – a game.

'Simply a game,' he reminded himself.

Just as it had been when he was spying on Voldemort. And Draco had never before lost in a game. Well, he had never lost in a game that did not involve Harry- the boy who must catch the snitch in every single fucking game of Quidditch, - Potter, was more accurate, because he never beat Harry at anything.

"How can you be so calm?" Kelly asked him suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts again.

He did look tranquil. Despite his nervousness, he was lying loosely on the couch, turning pages in the magazine he was holding – the 'TV- Guide', their competitor with the so 'original' name. He looked like he did not have a care in the world.

"And how can you read?" she exploded.

Draco shrugged. "What is there to be nervous about?" he asked, not turning his face from the TV guide. "I enter, we talk, they sign me, and we're done."

'Yeah right, keep telling yourself that, and maybe eventually you'll believe it, too.'

"God, I envy your confidence. I would really be jittering right now if I were you."

"Really?" he said looking at her sitting there tensed up. "Who would have guessed?"

"And only my confidence do you envy?" he asked her, leaving the TV guide on the table. "What about my hair?" he smirked. "Don't you envy its beauty? And what about…"

"Nah. Right now… not really. It's messy because you are lying down."

The smirk vanished. "What …? Give me your comb!" he ordered her as he jumped up from the couch.

"Relax, it isn't a mess. I was just teasing you. It is perfect, it always is. Don't you know that already?"

Draco did not answer her. He just sat back and untied his beautiful, white-blond hair from its band, letting it fall softly across his face. He seemed lost in thought and after a long moment, he finally said, "Maybe untidy hair is not such a terrible thing after all."

"Okay," Kelly said, moving a little bit away from him. "Now you are frightening me. I think I was wrong earlier; maybe you are nervous more it seems."

He gave her a small smile. 'If she only knew … .'

Meanwhile the two managers of Hot95 were at Fred's, one of the managers, office.

"So Fred, tell me why this guy … what's his name Drack … is here?"

"Barny … Not again! We talked about it already. The morning show, remember? We need to interview Mr. Malfoy for the broadcast job. Are any of these things ringing a bell to you?"

"I'll have to say," Barny said after a while of consideration, "That … no, it doesn't ring a bell. When did we discuss that?"

"At that bowling game we went to on Saturday," Fred answered. "Don't you remember? Right after you dropped the ball on my foot, I said to you 'I think Draco Malfoy will be perfect for the broadcast job.' And you said, 'Sure thing, Fred.'"

"Is that what you said?"

"Yes, that's what I said. What did you think I was saying?"

"I yjthinyyk dddacyyyy… Broadcast job, something like that, anyway," said Barny.

"Arg arg arg …"

"Hey Fred, are you alright, pal?"

"If you didn't understand what I was saying," Fred said looking pissed, "why did you agree?"

"I always agree with you when you are grumbling. It's safer that way. But tell me one thing, Fred."

"What?" Fred asked.

"Why did you choose to remember Drack Malfoy precisely after I dropped that ball?"

"The pain reminded me of the pain in the ass his article about the station is," Fred said, grumbling. "And his name is Draco."

"Oh yes, yes. I remember that one – quite funny it was. The headline was… 'Welcome To The Dinosaurs' Station.' I didn't know Drack wrote it. But hold on a sec' – didn't Harry Potter already agree to do the morning show?"

"Draco, not Drack," Fred corrected him again. "And yes, Harry did accept the offer. He still needs to sign the contract, but I am not predicting any problems."

"Oh. So what do we need this Malfoy guy for anyway? We already have a broadcaster."

"We need him because, my dear pal, it is a well-known fact that every star needs his sidekick and Draco would be perfect for this job. In fact, if we play our cards right we might be able to kill two dino – I mean birds – with one stone."

"I am afraid you just lost me. What do birds have to do with anything? Say, we aren't doing this animal geographic style show again, are we? 'Cause let me tell you, I'm not cleaning up after the rooster this time, oh no way that is going to happen again ..."

"Don't worry, it's nothing like that," Fred said. "What I meant to say was Draco would make an excellent choice as sidekick for Potter because he has two qualities that will be good for us. One, he is kind of funny … in his own cynical … mockery, derisive kind of way, and while he worked at that 'Rating' magazine, he gained a rather large group of faithful readers. Though I don't understand why, New York loves him; they think his articles are hilarious".

"Because they are," Barny said. "That article he wrote about the station, I laughed so hard at the part when he described you as …."

"Spare me the details, would you, I'm getting a headache just remembering it."

"Okay, so what is the other thing?"

"The what? Ah, right, the other thing is that Draco happens to be a well-known gay. And you know how the Gays and Lesbians rights association are breathing down our necks accusing the station of being primitive and discriminative towards the homosexual community. Signing Malfoy will calm them down a bit."

"I agree with you on this one, Fred."

"It doesn't really matter because I already thought you agreed, and the guy is waiting for us, At This Very Moment!" Fred said.

"So let's stop the yapping and call this Drack to the …."

"For the last time it is DRACO!"

"Okay, let's call Draco to the conference room. I think we've kept him waiting far too long."

"Just do me a favor."

"Anything, Fred."

"Don't say the wrong name while we are in the conference room. I heard he is pretty sensitive about it, and one article about the station from him was quite enough for me."

Back in the waiting room.

'… You are a Slytherin after all, you were born to beguile people… you lied to Voldemort without a blink …."

Yes, Draco was still giving himself pep talks, and Kelly was still amazed by how serene he looked.

And the secretary still hadn't shown up.

Draco had finished the TV guide by now. He had even read all the days' scheduled programs, and now he was drawing a mustache on a very joyous-looking Harry Potter on the cover.

His patience was starting to run out, not that he had a lot of it to begin with.

"Mr. Malfoy, they are ready for you now," The red-haired secretary informed him at last.

"Finally," Draco said. "What were they doing in there, trying to solve the Middle East problem?" he asked her. He turned to Kelly, "Would you look at the time? I already missed 'That '70s Show'."

"'That '70s Show' doesn't air at four o'clock in the afternoon."

"Yes, it does," he said, opening the TV guide to show her. "See? It's on the Japanese channel."

"I didn't know you knew Japanese."

"I don't." Draco said, and when Kelly rolled her eyes he complained, "You just don't understand."

"What do I not understand? Your obsession with Ashton Kutcher? The fact that you would rather sit at home drooling all over the screen than be here discussing the coolest job offer you've ever gotten. Is this what I am not understanding?"

"Shut up would you, Harry Potter fan freak!"

They glared at each other until the secretary spoke again, "Excuse me, Mr. Malfoy, but they are waiting for you, sir."

"Yes, of course," Draco said, getting up from the couch. "Don't want to keep the important managers waiting, do we? Who knows how many more people they have to hold up, making them miss their favorite shows."

"Oh yes, I'm sure it's all a big conspiracy to make people stop watching TV," Kelly said sarcastically. "Come on, Draco, go to the meeting already, or are you scared?"

Draco snorted. "Scared …? 'Scared of forgetting something of the fake resume Eric helped me invent, saying the wrong thing, acting wired, letting something slip about me being a wizard … fuck fuck fuck. Yes, I'm scared. I'm bloody petrified!'

"What do I have to be scared about?" he said in his usual drawling - I-am-so-bored-with-your-stupid-questions-tone.

"Mr. Malfoy …."

"I'm coming … I'm coming." Draco said, "But let me tell you one thing, if I had known they make people miss 'That '70s Show', you can be sure I wouldn't have been so nice to them in the article I wrote about the station. You can't do a thing like that; it's just not playing fair.You know what I mean?"

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy," the secretary laughed. "By the way, I read that article. I thought it was fascinating." She blushed. "Then again, all of your works are."

'I feel like some sort of respectable professor, like I am writing on how to end nuclear war and not what kind of underwear Jude Law is wearing …. Okay great mental image, wrong time. Stop that, Draco. And you really shouldn't think to yourself on a third person level; it is not a very good sign.'

"Thank you," he said to the secretary, "I know they are."

"And he's very modest about it, too, didn't you notice?" Kelly said.

"So you said they are ready for me?" he asked the secretary.

"Yes, if you'll just follow me please."

'Okay.'

Draco started walking after the secretary.

'I'm calm, I'm relaxed, and I'm Draco Malfoy, a Muggle … no, no Muggles do not call themselves that. I am just an ordinary person. Right, as if they are going to buy that crap.'

Harry thought making dinner would be a nice way to thank Brian for all that he done for him. So there he was just about to finish setting the table when he heard two loud cracks coming from the living room, followed shortly by the sound of something heavy falling to the floor with a big crash. He smiled, knowing exactly what, or more accurately who, it was. Ron and Hermione, though they did not visit him that often, always did it with their own unique style. The reason was, as Hermione claimed 'Ron insists on Apparating from the exact same spot she just stood two seconds ago and therefore falls straight on her when they reach their intended location.'

Harry opened the door that joined the kitchen and the living room of the apartment. He did not see them but he guessed by the grumbling that they were probably behind the 42-inch Plasma Monitor that he had bought nearly two years ago.

Brian hadn't had a TV before that. Harry thought it was odd considering his job, but Brian explained that he didn't like to watch TV; it made him feel like he was still working. He preferred going out to clubs or something. Besides, he already knew what going to happen in most of the shows anyway (how exactly he knew that was beyond Harry's knowledge). However, Brian did not know what was going on in the news before it was aired (Harry wasn't even sure Brian knew what was on the news after it aired). So Harry bought the TV because he needed to know what was going on; there was some information he couldn't let slip through his fingers without notice.

"Ron, get off me!" he heard Hermione say from behind the TV.

Then Ron's voice, sounding embarrassed, "Sorry, I forgot …."

Ron's red hair appeared when he raised himself and then disappeared again from view when he ducked down to help Hermione.

"That's the problem, you always forget!"

"Maybe if you let me Apparate first it wouldn't always happen."

"Just don't stand where I was before I Apparated. It is that simple, why do you have to argue at every little thing? What difference does it make who Apparates first?"

"If it's so not important," Ron said, emphasizing the 'so', "then why does it always have to be you?"

"He's got a good point."

Ron and Hermione stood up, revealing themselves from behind the TV.

"Ha-Harry?"

"Yes, it's me" He smiled at them. "Who did you expect, Dumbledore?

Hermione ran to him from behind the TV and hugged him tightly.

"Hermione, let go," Harry said, trying to get away.

"Don't sneak up behind people back like that," Ron said, sounding a little irritated and a lot more embarrassed.

"It is my apartment you just Apparated into," Harry pointed out "And you were making a lot of noise."

Harry could see Ron's ears becoming gradually the same color as his hair.

"What were you doing down there? Besides falling on your wife that is," he asked, trying unsuccessfully to hide his smile.

Ron's face was now a giant ginger.

"About this being your home," Hermione said, finally letting go of him, "It's not for very much longer from what we heard."

"Who told ...?" Harry frowned, all the amusement now gone. "Brian …? Brian talked to you?I cannot believe it. Why would he do such a thing? I mean, he's never discussed my business decisions with you two."

"Maybe he felt that this particular decision of yours doesn't have anything to do with business" Hermione said. "And the truth is, neither do we."

Harry looked at her and then at Ron who nodded in approval. He moved his hand to his already untidy jet-black hair. He started rumpling it and then, remembering it was Ron and Hermione, the ones who knew every gesture he made when he was nervous, he stopped.

"Sorry to disappoint you, shrink, but your diagnosis is very off. It is purely a business decision," he said, and then added, "You should know by now that Brian thinks that anyone who considers a job with less salary than he had before should really consider checking into a lunatic asylum."

"Oh, don't worry, we do know that," Ron said. "But we also know that he would never have called in me and Hermione if that was the only case."

"But it is the only case," Harry insisted. "I just thought doing broadcasting would be fun. There is nothing more to it."

"Nothing … more… to … it," Ron repeated slowly. "So you just decided to move to New York because you thought doing broadcast would be fun?" Ron looked thoughtful for a while. "Sure, sounds reasonable," he said eventually.

"Wow Ron, does repeating exactly what I'm saying help you to understand it better?" Harry said sarcastically "Because if it does it is too bad we didn't know it during the war, it could have helped us."

"But there is something I don't understand," Ron interrupted Harry. "Don't they have local radio stations here in L.A.?"

"Of course they do, but none of them offered me a job."

"So that's why you are moving to New York, because they did?"

"Yes," he answered testily. "Is this inquiry going somewhere? Because if is it I would like it to get there sometime today. I still have to pack and I am Apparating to New York first thing in the morning tomorrow, so …."

Ron's face, which had already returned to its normal color and remained calm during the entire conversation, now twisted a little as he said bitterly, "Oh, don't let us bother you, we totally understand. It is such a drag to Apparate such a distance first thing in the morning, we should know. We only did it, what …."

"This morning," Hermione helped, looking incisively at Harry.

Harry felt stupid – here he was complaining about Apparation while Ron and Hermione had Apparated all the way from England to Los Angeles just to see him. Sure, they were nosy, but they were just worried about him. And wouldn't he have done the same thing for them?

"Er … look Ron, I'm sorry I didn't mean to …."

"Sound like a fart?" Ron suggested.

"Um … yeah, I guess you're right."

"That's okay. It was inevitable considering you're living with one," Ron said. "You were bound to catch a few things."

"In that case, I must wonder where you live?" came a drawling voice from behind Ron. "A burrow?"

Brian stood at the entrance of the living room, a smirk placed on his face.

"Oh, that's right, you do. I forgot …."

Harry couldn't help wondering how Brian could do such a good Draco Malfoy imitation when he had never met him in the first place. However, he had other things to worry about, so he didn't give it deeper thought.

Ron turned around slowly, his gaze stopping on Brian.

Harry swallowed a lump in his throat, expecting the assault that he knew was about to happen any minute now. Whether it was going to be a wandless attack or not Harry wasn't sure. Ron did not make a move, suggesting he was going to pull out his wand, but he also didn't show any sign of going for his pocket.

Still, Harry knew that any minute now ….

But no, Ron didn't do anything. He just smiled, and not even a spiteful smile that could have suggested he was about to make some snide comment but a sincere one.

Harry glanced at Hermione, who looked amused by the whole situation.

"Nah, we moved to a town near London not so long ago; it's more convenient since it's closer to Hermione's office and the Ministry. You should come visit us" he turned back around, "Harry."

Harry was confused. "What's Ron talking about?" he whispered to Hermione.

"What? You do need to come sometime," Hermione whispered back. "Christopher is almost three months old and you haven't even seen him once since his birth."

"Not that, I meant, why is he so calm?"

Brian also looked confused by Ron reaction. He opened his mouth trying to say something and closed it again without any utterance.

"Oh, that. Remember when you where a child and when you got too angry magic would just burst out of you and you didn't have any control over it? Terry and I are working now at a new method; it's something like psychoanalysis with Muggles but it's more complex and involved. It's like Legilimency but not precisely, because we don't really see all the patient's thoughts, we just …."

"Hermione, get to the point, please," Harry whispered, examining Ron's serene face with narrow eyes.

"What's the matter, cat got your tongue?" Ron asked Brian.

"Okay, okay but it doesn't hurt you to learn something, you know?" Hermione said. "So to make a long story short, we help wizards control their anger by interfering with their subconscious and showing them how to navigate the power that anger holds to a better use. Ron is our first patient."

Brian seemed to recover from his shock. "No, it's still there, see?"

"Close your mouth, git." Ron twisted his face with disgust but still there wasn't any sign of rage to his tone.

"So you moved from the burrow," Brian continued, "to where? A shantytown?" he said with malicious smile. "Hermione is a classy woman, she doesn't need it, and your child, the poor thing."

"No, it is a nice neighborhood. It not Bel Air, of course, but it's okay," Ron said. He moved his focus from Brian and chose to focus on the commode that stood near him. "I guess we can't all live in L.A., and have such pretty thing like …" he paused, reaching his hand to the commode and taking the crystal goblet which was standing there peacefully. "… this." he examined the goblet, moving it above his face and watching it change colors against the light of the lamp standing nearby. "Look Hermione and it's not even magic or anything!"

"That … that's nice, Ron." Hermione said.

"Oh, well it seems to be working." Harry said.

"Umm … No, not entirely, he'll be fine at first, yes. However, if Brian continues …."

But as she spoke Harry could see for himself what she meant.

"Don't touch that! Keep your filthy hands away from it."

Okay, that might sound nasty and a very Malfoy thing to say but it wasn't because it was Ron this time. Brian liked to tease him, yes, but he didn't hate Ron. He just really liked the goblet. On the goblet, there was an engraving in gold letters:

Award for Academic Excellence

In Law

'YALE UNIVERSITY'.

Harry once asked him about it and how he become an actors' agent if his major in college was obviously law. Brian just said, 'I don't want to talk about it and don't touch the goblet.' Not that Harry wanted anything to do with it – he had had enough about goblets, thank you very much.

"O.K.," Ron said. He moved his hand from the goblet letting it drop to the floor where it smashed to little pieces.

"Oops, it slipped," he said, smirking at Brian's shocked face. "But that's all right. I'm sure a simple repair spell could fix it."

"You little shit!"

"That's right, I forgot." Ron shook his head like he was recalling something. "You can't do spells. Oh well, sorry," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"You little shit," Brian repeated.

Harry found it amusing considering there was nothing little about Ron, who was both two inches taller than Brian, and a lot more muscular than him.

"Ron!" Hermione said, "Repair it right this instant. Do you hear me?"

"Arg … oh, all right!" he said. He pulled out his wand and muttered, "Reparo." The pieces of the glass gathered and rearranged themselves back into the form of the goblet.

"Here you go." he said, lifting it from the floor and throwing it toward Brian.

Brian's face was pure alarm before he reached up his hand for it. He breathed a sigh of relief when he did catch it.

Ron glanced at Hermione. "Sorry about that," he said to Brain as he passed him to put the goblet back in it place.

"That's okay." Brian, whose confidence returned now that the goblet was once again laid safely in the commode, seemed to gain back his vocabulary as well. "What else could I have accepted from the worst keeper Hogwarts has ever known?"

Ron gave Harry an accusing look

"What? I never mentioned it to him, I …."

"Weasley cannot save a thing …." Brian started singing suddenly.

"Yeah, right," Ron said.

"Honestly, Ron, I didn't. You think I even want to remember that year?"

"Weasley is our king …."

"Brian, stop that," Harry said, massaging his temples. "Look, let's just drop it. I made dinner. Ron, Hermione, you can join us if you want."

"Thanks Harry, but we just ate before we came," Hermione said. "Besides, we didn't come for…."

"Yes, but that was in the morning" Ron interrupted her. "It's evening now."

"It was an hour ago, Ron."

However, Ron was not listening to her anymore. He followed Harry to the kitchen.

"Well, honestly," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. She looked at Brian, who smiled at her.

"Ha, alone at last," he said. "What's up, beautiful?"

"I am fine" Hermione smiled back. "And you?"

"What do you say you and I …."

"I can still hear you from here, you know!" came Ron's voice from the kitchen. "I don't know how you can stand him, Harry! He's such an arrogant, slimy, thinks-he-deserves-it-all git!"

"I can hear you too," Brian said.

"…and even I, a wizard born, know that no Muggle radio station would have refused a TV star of your caliber. You could have signed with any station you wanted to, right here in L.A."

They were all back in the living room now. Ron was pacing the room, giving Harry a little rerun of his early conversation with Brian. Only this time Harry wasn't even slightly amused by it. He started seriously regretting that he had offered Ron food. Sure, it gave him half an hour to avoid the subject, but now he had to deal with a more focused and determined Auror.

"But you haven't asked any station in L.A, have you?" Ron asked. He stopped pacing the room to stand near Harry, who sat on the white Persian carpet. Ron leaned toward the commode, lazily shaking the two antiques vases that were on it just behind him.

No amused certainly was the wrong word to describe how he felt at this moment. It was funny how the same news that had brought him the dash of hope only yesterday, the news he had been desperately waiting for, and almost gave up on ever receiving, was now the one thing that could collapse all of his plans. It was like an unstable card in a house of cards, a card he didn't take into consideration and now it was too late.

"No, I didn't ask any station in L.A," Harry said, "the offer from the New Yorker was pretty good…"

Brian snorted, and Harry raised his head to look at him, remembering for the first time that he was there too. Sitting on the sofa Brian didn't look like the composed self-confident guy Harry used to know. No, right now he looked more like a shell of himself. He didn't move, he didn't blink, his eyes were wide open, and his right hand was clenched on one of the arm of the sofa, the knuckles starting to turn white, but he didn't move it. It seemed like he wanted to say more but the snort was the only thing he was capable of uttering.

He was petrified, Harry thought. 'But why? Why would Brian be scared unless he told them?' Ahorrible feeling overcame him. 'What if he did? What if they already know I lied to them and this speech Ron just gave me was all an act to make me come clear about it?' Harry tried to soothe his mind from these kind of thoughts,'Okay this can't be true because first of all, Brian doesn't know that I've been lying to Ron and Hermione about my moving to L.A., so there is no reason for him to mention it to them. And second, if Ron and Hermione did know about it and about Malfoy, they would have come to the logical conclusion and they wouldn't be here but in New York with dozens more Aurors looking for him.'

"Look at what you are giving up!" Ron waved his hands wildly and almost knocked down the work of art just two steps away from him. "For what? A shabby radio station in New York City?" He lifted his hand high enough just in time to avoid colliding with it. "That is crazy, mate!"

No! What was crazy was that it was Ron trying to convince him not to give it all up. Ron who had never been impressed with anything Muggleish, who didn't even know how costly that statue he almost broke was. Ron that with every chance he got tried to convince Harry to do just the opposite -to give it all up- to quit his ridiculous Muggle job and do something more interesting. "You do realize that what you are doing is not much different than being a portrait," he once told Harry in their many discussions about the subject. "Why don't you sign up for the Aurors training again? Maybe you'll pass it this time." And when Harry gave him a nasty look he was quick to add, "Or you could try out for the professional Quidditch league; I'm sure you'll be great at that."

"I am not giving it up because it was never mine. Nothing here is mine, well maybe except for the TV, but really it can easily be replaced." Harry said impassively. "Besides, why do you even care? Weren't you the one who was so delighted when I quit the late night show?"

"That was because I thought you'd finally come back to the wizard world, come back to us."

Harry saw Brian frown. Considering what he had been telling him about Ron sending him to L.A, he must have thought Ron was being hypocritical or really stupid or both, probably both. 'Okay there is no way I can keep lying to them when they're both here, and telling Ron the truth is really not an option so I better think fast.'

"I never left the wizard world; just because I'm working with Muggles that doesn't mean…"

"I know, I know," Ron said, waving his hand again, "and you know I'll sport and believe in you no matter what you choose to do. As long it makes you happy you can even work as a caldron inspector. But Harry honestly you aren't moving to New York because you think the radio job is an amazing opportunity. Something is bothering you, something that made him," he pointed at Brian, "call me – me! And that's what's got me worried. Just tell us why you're moving. If you have some serious problem we can help you; that's what friends are for."

That didn't fit Ron either. Usually it was Hermione who wanted to know everything, who wanted to help even when you didn't want help, or like in his case couldn't ask for help.

Harry thought she'd be the one to try to figure out what he was trying to hide. But she too was like Brian uncharacteristically quiet. She sat in one of the armchairs, her legs curled up behind her. Looking at her Harry noticed that even though she was very attentive to the exchange between him and Ron, she also looked pretty tired. He couldn't blame her; taking care of three month old baby was not an easy job, especially when you are full time working mother, and that baby happens to be a Wesley.

He didn't feel sorry for her though, he was much too jealous of her for that. Why was everything was so perfect in her life while his own was complete chaos? Was it something he had done? Everything was so simple with her and Ron; they had each other, and their son, and now apparently a new home, probably a warm and cozy little flat and what did he have?

For a brief a second their eyes met. Hermione gave him a faint little smile, and the jealous feeling disappeared as quickly as it had come. It was quickly replaced by guilt, because she was here instead of her little cozy house, she was here when she needed to be home with her child, and she was just wasting her time on him. They were all wasting their time; he wouldn't tell them, he couldn't tell them.

Harry didn't make the rules of this game- That's what Malfoy called it – a game, like he wasn't talking about human life but merely a child's hide and seek game. He still remembered every word of it even though it was three years since.

"It's simple, really. Don't tell anyone about Thomas, and find me before the Aurors do. Do it and win the game. And another thing – I know you're so fond of breaking the rules, but I have to warn you, Potter, break the rules and the game is over." He said that in his cold drawling voice, and Harry wanted to punch his smug face, but didn't dare because those words, "the game is over," resounded in his head. Their implicationwas so terrible, so bloodcurdling that he couldn't move. Even now the thought of them brought shudders of terror up his spine.

He didn't notice he was shaking until he felt Ron's hand on his shoulder. "Hey, are you alright?" Ron asked him, his eyes expressing his deep concern.

Harry tried to calm himself; he licked his dry lips and with some effort cut off the unpleasant scene that was rolling in his head, for the who knew what time. "I'm fine," he said, nodding.

"No, you're not," Brian said sternly, and Ron looked like he agreed with him.

'Great! Now they decide to cooperate! But why against me? Okay think, just think. You need to get rid of Brian and then you can give Ron and Hermione some sort of excuse for your actions, apologize for their trouble and blow them off; with Hermione so exhausted it shouldn't be a problem. Now, how can I get Brian to leave me alone with them?' Harry examined Brian, who was still looking spooked but less than before. His hand had abandoned the arm of the sofa and now was in his jeans pocket where he always put his 'Bingo!' "Brian?" he asked sweetly, "Don't you want to go out and have a smoke?"

"Like I'm leaving that klutz here alone?" Brian said. "Hell no! I can just imagine it. I leave for a minute and when I come back the living room will look like a tornado just went through here."

'So that's what was disturbing him,' Harry thought with relief. 'God he can be so stupid sometimes. Doesn't he get that Ron is acting that way intentionally to irritate him?' Likely Hermione was thinking along the same line because she said, "Don't worry, Ron will behave. Right?" she looked at Ron and he made a face but nodded unenthusiastically.

"Okay." Brian got up from the sofa. "I do need a cigarette right now; he was making me sweat bullets."

Harry was relieved; this was good, this he could handle. He would lie to them yes, but hopefully for the last time. Then he was off to New York City where he would hopefully find Malfoy eventually. He'll find him alive, not hopefully alive just alive because the other option he could not consider, would not consider.

"Harry this moving to New York thing …" Ron said nervously. "It's not… you didn't have another nervous breakdown, did you?"

Apparently it was too early to be at ease. Brian was two steps from the sitting area when Ron spoke. He froze for a minte and then he turned around slowly. "When," he hissed, "did Harry have a nervous breakdown?"

Ron looked like he wanted to vanish under the carpet. "I just put my foot in my mouth, didn't I?" he asked. "I thought you told him about it."

"No, he didn't," Brian answered for Harry. "So I'll ask again, when- did –Harry have- a nervous breakdown?"

"A little while after the final battle," Hermione volunteered since Ron was still trying to disappear from the face of the earth.

"Oh, you mean after he defeated that Dark Lord Voldy Voldmorte something?" Brian sounded more understanding now. Apparently he thought that defeating evil was a good reason for having a nervous breakdown so he dismissed it and turned to leave again.

'Okay, so far so good.'

"Hmm…no. Not after he defeated Voldemort," Hermione said, "after Malfoy escaped from Azkaban."

"What!" Brian jumped so hastily he bumped straight into Ron.

'Damn! Does that woman always have to be so exact?'

"Hey, watch your moves." Ron rubbed his head. "Merlin! And you call me klutz."

"Y-o-u!" Brian said his voice was somewhat dangerous, "You…nasty little…"

"What do you want? It was your fault anyway," Ron said angrily.

"I'm not talking about that, you big idiot!"

Harry stood up. He had to stop this now before Brian started talking. "That's enough, Brian. Shut up now," he said, moving toward him.

"Why are you defending him?" Brain demanded.

'I am not defending him, I'm defending myself,' Harry thought. "Because he is my friend," he replied.

Brian grimaced. "Some friend, sending…" he started scornfully.

But Harry cut him off. "I said shut up. Just shut up about it."

"No, no let him speak, Harry," Ron said, intrigued. "What is it that I do exactly? I send what?"

"Sending Harry here," Brian cried "when you knew he is the wrong man for the job, because he is so emotionally involved in it that he can't even think straight. But now I'm finding out that not only that, but you did it after he had a nervous breakdown because of this man."

"First of all, the one with the thinking straight problem is you, not Harry, and second of all I did what? I didn't send Harry here; he wanted to go. Not that it's any of your business but I'm one of the few who tried to talk him out of it."

"Well you evidently didn't try hard enough."

"What was I supposed to do, command him to stay?"

"Yes!"

"And how was I supposed to do that? I am not his boss."

"What do you mean you are not his boss? You were the high Auror in Harry's unit during the time of the war."

"That could be true if Harry was an Auror or if he actually was in some unit during the war. Where did you get the impression that he was?"

"From me," Harry said. "I told him that."

They were all looking at him now so he continued nervously, "Look I'm sorry it was just a little white lie, okay? You have nothing to worry about, I'm not going to New York to catch a Death Eater. I was just making it up because you were so eager after all those war stories and I didn't want to disappoint you by telling you I didn't participate in most of the combats."

He turned to Ron and Hermione. "I'm sorry that you had to come here for what appears to be just a misunderstanding. But everything's okay, so you can go now."

Ron shook his head. Smiling, he said, "It's not a problem, mate. It gave us a reason to see you. Listen, if New York doesn't turn out to be that great you can always come back to England."

"Sure thing," Harry said, and then looked at Hermione expectantly. She didn't look at him but at Brian, wrinkling her brow with concentration. She opened her mouth and was about to say something but then she bit her lip and hesitated.

"Hermione?" Ron asked

She shifted her gaze swiftly to Harry, adding cheerfully, "Yes, don't be a stranger," as she rose from the armchair.

"So you are not an Auror," Brian said. "It was all a lie."

"Yes," Ron derided him, "took you long enough to get it but you finally managed. Good for you."

Brian ignored him. "But the revenge part, that hasn't been a lie, now has it?" he asked resolvedly. "I didn't dream the detective you hired or the expression you had every time you mentioned …."

"Shut up!"

"You know Harry that is the third time you have told me that in the past ten minutes, and I wonder why? Is it because you have something to hide from your beloved friends?"

Harry took two steps backward. "Of course not. I just think we wasted enough of their time already."

"Oh, don't worry. I'm sure they could spare a minute or two of their time to hear that you were spending the past three years you were here to find a man named Malfoy." He looked at Hermione and Ron, waiting for their reaction. Harry too was looking at them with horror.

But Ron didn't look shocked, only confused. "Why would Harry spend three years searching for Malfoy, why should he hire a detective for it?" he questioned. "All he had to do is call the information line of New York City and ask for the address. We all know that he lives there."

"Not that Malfoy," Brian disdained Ron's reply impatiently. "Lucius – Lucius Malfoy," he said in a triumphant voice. "Or didn't you know he is hiding in the US? My personal guess – taking into account Harry's latest actions – is the Big Apple."