Draco had stayed by Hermione's side throughout the day and for most of the evening. He'd sent a Patronus to Theo, cancelling his plans to visit Pansy, Primrose and the new baby in the hospital and instead spent his time ensuring Granger didn't choke on her own vomit. The young woman had been delirious with fever for many hours, Harry had stayed during these hours, both of them taking turns watching her, helping her until her fever broke and the witch slipped back into a peaceful sleep, the medicines finally working to ease her discomfort. Harry had slipped out of the house to go home but Draco hadn't had the heart to leave her, she'd looked so small amongst the sheets, Scorp nestled against her, and he hadn't wanted to disturb them. He set about making food, knowing that she'd likely be hungry when she did wake up. He slept for only a few hours that night as he helped her take potions every three hours and watched her for signs of the fever returning. Draco had been content sitting at her side and would have stayed their till she awoke in the morning but then Harry's patronus had arrived.

"Draco we've had a tip off, we know where he's hiding," his friend and colleague spoke, the emphasise on the he left no doubt in Draco's mind who Harry was talking about. Over a decade ago Draco had been a Death Eater acquitted of all the crimes he had committed under duress; in the name of a cause he didn't believe in. He'd sat his NEWT'S and enlisted himself into the Auror's determined to bring the sadistic bastards to justice.

It had become an obsession of sorts; there were some like his father who had done their time in Azkaban and since been released but Draco's obsession was bringing in the truly awful Death Eaters; the ones who raped, tortured and took pleasure in the suffering of others. He'd been forced to watch his so-called brothers in arms do evil things to innocents and he'd promised himself he'd get them all, every last one of them. He had kept that promise mostly at least; with Potter at his side they'd caught them all, bar one that is. They'd caught all but the worst.

Fenrir Greyback had evaded capture for over a decade. Draco had come close, had four silver scars sliced into his back from the monsters' claws that proved how close he'd gotten to the beast, but they'd failed at every attempt at bringing him in. Five years ago Kingsley had put out a kill on sight order on him; Greyback was more beast than man these days, ravaging villages and towns wherever the moon was full or not. Greyback was smart though, never staying in one spot for long enough to be captured, but always long enough to leave bodies, victims, newly formed werewolves. It was only Harry's quick thinking and a well-aimed curse that had saved Draco from that fate; the last time he'd faced the wolf who'd pounced at him mouth wide, ready to tare at his flesh with his sharp canine teeth.

That had been four years ago and not long afterwards he'd taken on less cases, less danger, choosing desk work, house calls, patrolling Diagon Alley and other simple tasks over missions that could be deadly. Greyback though was an obsession, a task he had to complete.

"I want in," he spoke firmly, sending his own patronus back to Harry as he hurriedly set about writing a note for the sleeping witch, and gathering Scorpius into his arms.

"Meet you in the tackle room," Harry's stag replied. Draco stepped into the floo, dropping Scorpius off at Malfoy Manor with his worried parents and flooed to the ministry. Ten minutes following the first Patronus from Harry, he strolled confidently into the tackle room, where Harry and a team of Aurors and Hitwizards were already booting up, ready for the mission.

"Nice of you to join us Malfoy," Head Auror Robards spoke as Draco pulled off his clothes off, changing into his leather battle gear.

"Sir," he nodded.

"We have conformation that Greyback is in Wales, near the Welsh Dragon Reserve in the Snowdonia National Park. We've tracked him to a small sheep farm," the Head Auror spoke.

"Kill on sight," he asked.

"That remains the objective," Robards confirmed.

"Lets get the bastard," he hissed. Of all the evil people he had known while living in the same home as Voldemort, none were as evil as Greyback. He maimed, raped, tortured, killed, infected and disfigured people regardless of blood status, age, gender or any other factor. To him everyone was a plaything, and he took pleasure in the chase, the hunt. Never had Draco met someone as deranged, not even his Aunt Bella who had been truly deranged and twisted; with her own unique sadistic ways but even she wasn't as bad as the monster they'd hunt tonight.

"Let's get him," Harry agreed as the others cheered. Draco smiled a grim smile, pulling out his Hawthorne wand.

"Partners," he asked with a smirk to his dark-haired friend.

"Aren't we always," Harry laughed, patting him on the back as the others in the room paired up.

"I've got your back," he said.

"I know you do, and I've got yours," Harry nodded.

"Last time you let it get shredded," he reminded.

"Yes, but I saved you from been bitten," Harry shrugged.

"That you did, thanks for that," he grinned.

"You've saved me loads of times," Harry grinned.

"Portkey's leave in one minute," Robards called. Harry and he met each other's eyes with a grin as they approached the nearest one, a green tennis ball.

"How's Hermione," Harry asked as they waited for the portkey to activate.

"On the mend, when I left, she was sleeping." He told his friend.

"You fancy her," Harry spoke, it wasn't an accusation or a question, it was a fact.

"I'd be an idiot not too," he confessed.

"Don't break her heart, she can't take more heartache," Harry told him seriously.

"I promise I won't, I want to fix her," he said.

"Good, I think you'll be good for her, Ron was wrong, they'd have never worked even if he wasn't a prick," Harry spoke.

"Remind me to punch the fucker, next time I see him," he said.

"Already have, multiple times, fucking idiot." Harry muttered. Draco agreed; only a moron would cheat on and leave a woman like Hermione. One man's trash is another one's treasure and if Draco had his way; Ronald Weasley would rue the day he let Hermione go, and she'd be the brightest jewel in his life. Draco smiled to himself, imagining Hermione kissing him, the redheaded plonker watching on with jealousy.

"Wipe that look off your face, it's gametime," Harry muttered, then Draco felt the familiar tug of a portkey as they were whisked away to Snowdonia.