A/N. As always, I don't own anything. Harry Potter is JKR's. Adam, Chelsea, Yvette and Margot are all mine though, I take full credit for their existences.

In this chapter, though, we will see an original character that previously made an appearance in The Last Marauder. Some of you MIGHT remember her, most of you probably won't. Regardless, in this chapter you will meet Coraline Thatcher, shamelessly plugging TLM.

For Halloween, Remus's body was a dragon egg, and his head was a little dragon popping out of it! Cutest friggin costume ever, if I do say so myself (I made it). We were all dragons, actually, it was a really adorable group costume!

…~oOo~…

Chapter Two: In Which the Bug is Caught

"What do you want, Potter?" Draco asked. "Let's get this over with quickly."

Harry Potter sighed, scratching the scruff on his jaw, taking his time. This was already going the opposite of "quickly". Draco had to force himself not to roll his eyes or make a snappy comment. Draco wondered absently if Potter was growing out his whiskers to look more adult ever since he revival because he hadn't aged whilst dead. It worked, truly. He looked older, but perhaps that was just the fact he'd been weather-beaten by the winds that life whipped at him.

"See, Hermione and I have been talking a lot lately –"

Draco tried not to cringe at the sound of her name.

" – and she reminded me recently that… well, Snape was your godfather, wasn't he?"

Draco nodded slowly. Where was this going?

"Well, since I've been back from the dead and everything, I've been trying to find more out about my parents…" Harry said, his words drawing out longer than necessary.

"What do the two have anything to do with one another?" Draco asked, arching an eyebrow.

"My point is that you spent time with Snape," Harry said. "Did he ever say anything about my mom?"

For a length, Draco considered how he would answer. Draco's father, during Snape's life, made many a quips toward the potion's master about Potter's parents, particularly his mother. Lily Potter had always been this entity in the back of Draco's mind, mostly because her love was supposedly the shield between the curse that was supposed to kill Harry when he was born and the Dark Lord. Draco was unsure whether he believed such a fairytale, it sounded too fluffy and perfect to be true. But it was still curious and Draco's curiosity only intensified when he watched his godfather die and heard his last word…

"I'll… be… with my own beacon… now," he'd uttered with the last bit of energy in his body. "Lily…"

Draco didn't want to think about it. He had his own drama going on without the weight of his godfather's. But it continued to nag his subconscious.

"Why would he have?" Draco asked, deliberately avoiding the fact that his last words were Harry's mother's name.

"Maybe you don't know, but Snape…and my mother were close as…children…?" Harry prompted, waiting for some kind of reaction from Draco. Draco did not deliver.

"And?" Draco said with emphasis, getting quite bored.

Harry huffed. "Maybe I should just show you the memories. After all, he was your godfather… Everything he did was to protect you just as much as me." He seemed to be mostly talking to himself.

"You're losing my interest quickly, Potter. What memories?" Draco demanded.

Before Draco got his answer, the door behind them creaked open and a voice he knew too well said, "Oh! Sorry, didn't realize anyone was…" The sentence trailed off and evaporated in the now-awkward atmosphere. "Hello, Malfoy," said the far less enthusiastic voice.

"Granger," Draco said with a polite nod.

"I didn't know you'd actually come when we said it was mandatory," Hermione said flatly, her lips pressed. "We thought we were going to have to hunt you down at the Ministry."

"Well, I'm here, aren't I?" Draco said tensely.

"You are," Hermione said back, her tone hard. "Harry, we're all prepared for the meeting. We're ready when you are." And she walked out.

Taking a deep breath, Draco turned back to Harry and said, "Are we done here?"

Draco was a little disconcerted by how Harry stared at him for a while. It was…strange. It was like he was trying to work out a puzzle. "I'm sorry," Harry said eventually.

Scoffing, Draco said, "What does Boy Wonder have to be sorry for?"

"When I was…dead… I told you to push her away," Harry said slowly, his brow furrowed. "I had no clue it would break your heart or make Hermione the Ice Queen."

"Shut up," Draco snapped, clenching his teeth. Everything came flooding out quickly than he had intended. "You don't know anything. As if I would follow orders from you. The decisions I make are my own, you have no weight in them. Understand? Never apologize for anything to me, ever again, especially all of this is your fault to begin with. You've lost all rights to forgiveness."

Wide-eyed behind his glasses, Harry pushed them higher onto his nose and said, "Erm…?"

"Don't act like you don't know," Draco sneered. "Innocent Potter. Do No Wrong Potter. Well, guess what? This entire war is because the 'savior' did naught in the Saving Department. You had one job – stay alive. If you'd just fucking performed a miracle like you were supposed to, this would all be over."

Frowning deeply, looking angrier as Draco went on, "You can't know that –"

"I can, and I do," Draco hissed. "I'll never forgive you. Not for anything. It's your fault this war is on."

"For someone who thinks so little of me, you do expect big things from me."

"If you can survive the Killing Curse twice, I have a reason to."

Harry shook his head, his lips pressed together, but he did not explode. He was a changed man since returning from the dead. Draco remembered something Harry said while he was still possessing Hermione from the afterlife, something about the piece of Voldemort inside him dying making him feel lighter and less angry. It couldn't be maturity, because Merlin knew he had none of that.

None of that mattered, though. Potter's temperament meant little to Draco.

"I've had enough of this conversation," Harry said, his mouth screwing into a frown. "Just stay after the meeting so I can show you those memories, will you?"

"If it means you'll get off my back and never mention Granger to me again, then fine."

…

"Has this space gotten smaller?" Adam griped, wiggling far too much.

Chelsea just rolled her eyes in her head. She wanted to say, No, we've just gotten bigger. But she didn't say things like that. She wasn't sarcastic. That was Adam's job. She just sucked in her belly and pressed herself up closer to the wall of the enclosed space. It was a little nook right on the opposite side of the dining room wall. It happened to have a mouse hole in it and a crack in the drywall, allowing sound through easily.

Now, of course the Order sound-proofed their meetings with charms and enchantments, but this nook was special. The cracks allowed sound through and when she touched them, they felt warm under her fingertips, humming with magic. She had a suspicion it was thanks to the person whoever carved Padfoot into the wall. She wasn't sure what or who a "padfoot" was, but it made it possible to eavesdrop on the grown-ups.

"I'm officially calling this meeting to order," Harry Potter said over the low chatter of the room. It seemed to be the magic words since everyone silenced immediately, turning all of their attention to him.

"What makes him so special?" Adam groused. Chelsea wanted to smile. Because Mr. Malfoy disliked Mr. Potter, Adam disliked him just on principle. And he resented the fact that Mr. Potter had become his new flying instructor, thus eliminating all the time Adam spent with his original mentor.

"He did come back from the dead," Chelsea whispered, but then motioned for him to me quiet so they could listen to what was going on in the dining room.

"… he's definitely alive." That was Malfoy's smoothly snide voice.

"No, he can't be," Mr. Ron griped. "He wasn't anywhere to be seen during the last half of the final battle."

"Of course," Malfoy said sarcastically. "Because in the past that logic worked so well. Weasley, he hid in your family's pocket for more than a decade. He was undetected for a dozen years and he could do it again – only this time, we know what to look for."

"'We' being the Order, or 'we' being your Death Eaters?"

"Shut up, Ron, will you, for a few minutes?" Potter said in a way that wasn't entirely harsh but definitely had underlying tension. "Malfoy, how do you know Pettigrew is alive?"

"The Dark Lord is looking for him just as we are. The Dark Mark is a kind of…energy source, I suppose you could call it? Because we're all linked to the Dark Lord, he can sort of feel us. And since his return, he's been feeling traces of Pettigrew. It's been made my job to find the stupid rat." He did not sound pleased about this. "Undersecretary to the bloody Minister and I've been given the duty to set mouse traps."

"Why you, though?" Miss Ginny asked. Chelsea liked Miss Ginny – she was funny, sweet, but also an amazing duelist. She did demonstrations for them with her brothers or Professor Granger from time to time. She moved like water, but she struck like lightning.

"Indeed," McGonagall added. "You said yourself, you have duties as Undersecretary. Why such a menial task as tracking down a deserter?"

"I spent some time with Pettigrew during my initiation days," Draco said vaguely. "Unfortunately, I know him well. As I imagine, though, you will all want his hide first, so I thought I'd give one of you the opportunity to go poking around sewers for a fat rat with a missing toe."

"What would be the advantage to having Pettigrew, though?" Percy Weasley asked cynically.

"You Know Who not having him," Potter said glumly. "That would be the advantage. And that's all we have right now, so I say why not? Who wants to track Pettigrew?"

The woman who answered was someone that Chelsea only ever saw fleetingly. She showed up at some meetings and was missing at others. From what Chelsea knew of the Order of the Phoenix, it was quite wide-reaching, but not big enough to dream of overthrowing the Ministry.

Chelsea leaned her face close to the crack to be able to see some of the scene in the dining room.

"I'll look for him," the woman said, her cornsilk blonde hair cut at a sharp angle.

"Miss Thatcher," McGonagall said with a smile. "Thank you for volunteering."

"I was an Auror, once upon a time," Miss Thatcher said. "What use am I here if I don't do my thing?" Chelsea wasn't sure why, but there was a definite sadness to Miss Thatcher's eyes. She was a very pretty woman, kind of on the small side, with an angelic face marred only by crow's feet. She must have been in her late thirties, if not early forties, but still shamelessly gorgeous.

"Animagi are hard to track," Miss Thatcher added. "But I'm up for the task."

"Animagi," Professor Granger abruptly said aloud. Everyone looked to her immediately. Her eyes were wide and she seemed to be in the middle of an epiphany. "The Minister is cracking down on Animagi registration."

"Yes," Malfoy said with a nod. "He wants to be aware of anyone's strengths. To become an Animagus…it takes a powerful wizard. Snow wants to make sure he knows who those powerful wizards are."

"But…she hasn't registered," Professor Granger said absently. "Minerva, you were saying only a few days ago that you wanted to finally make a move on the board. That this stasis has gone on long enough. That we need to have our morale restored."

"Yes," McGonagall agreed, tipping her spectacles higher on her nose. "I do believe showing the wizarding world that not all hope is lost would be beneficial at this juncture."

"I have an idea," Granger said slowly. "It's quite possibly the worst idea I've had in a long time, but it just might work. And while I hate mimicking anything You Know Who did, it's practically poetic. If I can fine-tune the details, it could make Snow green in the mask with envy."

"She's starting to creep me out," Mr. Fred said stiffly.

"You can say that again," Mr. George added.

"Mimicking old Voldie? Is she barmy?"

"It's not what you think," Hermione said. "I think I can get Kingsley back."

There was a length of silence.

"Kingsley's in Azkaban," Mr. Percy said.

"Yes," Hermione said, a glitter in her eyes. "Nothing like a prison break to raise morale."

Chelsea and Adam exchanged very similar looks. Their mousy, bookworm of a professor was proving to be a lot more interesting than they had every anticipated.

…~oOo~…

On nights where Chelsea couldn't sleep, or was too afraid to, she found herself in the cellar. No one ever went there anymore except her. Mr. Malfoy had done his best to lock it up to make sure she or anyone else could never get back it, but that hadn't kept her out for long. It was scary, but…the room responded to her. More and more, she believed it to be sentient. A living, breathing entity.

Its library seemed to grow on its own. One day she'll be down there and see a gap in a shelf and the next it would be filled with exactly the sort of text she'd been looking for. Things were constantly being moved, sometimes right before her eyes. More than once a jar just picked itself up into thin air and put itself somewhere else. She wasn't sure why, maybe the jar just wasn't comfortable there anymore.

This night Chelsea sat at the lab table reading a book about poisons, antidotes, anti-venoms, and bezoars. It was fascinating. She was learning about Acromantula venom, about its rarity and properties, when she heard a thump from behind her. She jumped and looked over, just to find a glass orb rolling itself off a shelf. Chelsea braced herself for the crash and shatter, but it just hit the ground with another heavy thud and continued to roll.

Chelsea watched it roll across the cold floor, past her, eventually stopping when it hit into the trunk, thankfully not cracking or breaking still. Chelsea looked to see if the ball made any more moves before going over to pick it up.

But she stopped to stare at the locked trunk. She'd sworn not to open it again after she had the first time when she'd only been eleven, but she wondered sometimes. This wasn't the first time an object from the room rolled its way over or a favorite book of hers found itself on top of the lid. It was suspicious, weird, but intriguing.

She still had the key…

No. No, no, no. The lack of sleep was getting to her, making her foggy. She had to stay sharp when she was in the room or else she would easily give into its many mysteries. She'd started by swearing never to go in the cellar again, but that had changed. When she started visiting, she'd made a promise to herself never to brew there because it was unsupervised. That too changed when she became overwhelmingly curious about Draught of Living Death. And she had sworn not to open that trunk again, but she was cracking under the pressure.

Tea. She needed tea. Shaking her head, she put her book of poisons down and walked back towards the stairs. Before she closed the door behind her, she cast back one more look at that old trunk.

She wondered if the curiosity could literally kill her.

The door was almost closed when it got hard for Chelsea to breathe. Her vision dimmed. She braced herself against the wall, but stumbled and kicked the door back open. Suddenly it felt like she had a pillow over her head, but there was no pillow there. She slowly slid down to sit on one of the steps, feeling a thrumming between her ears.

Panicking, Chelsea gripped her wand tight and forced herself to take normal breaths. But when she opened her eyes, she gasped and her breaths came in short, sharp spurts. Right there in front of her, in the room, she saw a man at the lab. The cauldron was bubbling and sparking and the man had goggles on. He was tall and blonde and beautiful and she did not recognize him. He wore trousers, a tailored shirt, and a waistcoat. He was barefoot and the chain of a pocket watch was dangling from a button on his waistcoat to his pocket.

The man didn't even seem to see Chelsea there. He just went about his brewing, eventually pulling out his pocket watch to check the time

But Chelsea knew that pocket watch. She recognized it from the one glimpse she had inside that trunk more than a year before.

As it became easier to breathe, Chelsea blinked again and just like that, the man was gone. The room was empty once more and the cauldron was empty. She ran to it in her panic, touched it tentatively only to find it cold and a little dusty from disuse since her own last experiment. Spinning around again and again, Chelsea was sure no one was there.

Sinking to her knees, Chelsea took a moment to calm herself, counting to ten in her head. What had happened? Did she imagine it? Was that man a ghost? Was it a vision?

Oh God. Not another vision. She couldn't take those, not again. Those dreams had put her off prophetic visions forever.

Dragging her hands down her face, she decided that she needed to get to the bottom of whatever was happening to her. And if the answer was in that trunk, well, she was going to break another promise to herself sooner than she thought.

…~oOo~…

"Miss Skeeter."

Giving a delicate little jump, Rita Skeeter turned around. An absolutely wicked grin curved her cherry red lips as she found the source of that sinful voice to be quite pleasing. When she'd gone to the Ministry to try to coerce an Unmentionable into an interview, she never expected to hit the journalist jackpot and be summoned by the sinfully handsome and eligible Undersecretary to the Minister himself. Draco Malfoy may have had to do more with lawmaking and government than even Snow.

Normally he hid in his offices. But today he was there in the Ministry halls, looking even more delectable than usual, and calling her name. He even hastened to catch up to her, his hands in his pockets.

"Why, hello, Mr. Malfoy," Rita purred, popping her hip and resting a hand on it. "It's been quite a while since we last chatted, hmm?"

"It has been," Draco Malfoy replied, his eyes as cool and calculating as they were in every picture the Prophet ever snapped of him. "I heard you'd be around the Ministry today and thought I could entice you to have tea with me. I have a story I'd like to be run in the Prophet most urgently and you would definitely be the witch for the job, I think."

"Sir, when it comes to fast, you'd be hard-pressed to find a woman faster."

"Excellent. If you'll follow me." He offered her his arm and she accepted instantly.

Rita smirked and trailed alongside Draco, looking like the cat that got the canary. Her day out to the Ministry proved to be even more profitable than she'd ever expected. It was the perfect opportunity to make nice with the Undersecretary, maybe even to seduce him. Men absolutely sang after a good shag. Nothing like pillow talk to get a politician to talk. It was Rita's specialty. And what she couldn't get from sleeping with a man, she could get from eavesdropping.

And with Draco Malfoy it was sure to be fun. He was certainly a pretty bauble to add to her collection and rumor was he had peculiar tastes in bed. She was too curious not to try.

Once they arrived at his office, he opened the door for her like a true gentleman and invited her to sit in one of the luxurious red chairs in his office.

"If you'll excuse me for just a moment, I'll ask my secretary to fetch us our tea," he said, walking out and closing the door behind him.

Brilliant! Rita jumped up from the seat and lunged for his desk to see what current affairs were passing through the Undersecretary's attention these days.

Just when she was about to read the details on a piece of vampire legislation, she felt a shift in the world around her. It was like she was spinning and falling and…

She was abruptly in her beetle form. There was only a few people who knew her secret, and even fewer who knew and would dare to use the spell to force her transformation.

Looking up from her spot on Draco Malfoy's desk, she saw that ghastly hair and cheeky grin before a jar was closed over top of her.

One of these days, Rita thought to herself, she would get her revenge on that insolent Hermione Granger.

…~oOo~…

~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~