Over the past fortnight, gossip had spread that 'Harry Potter was staying in Diagon Ally', and the pub had been packed with Witches and Wizards wanting to see him. Harry had shut himself in his room, but even then he'd had ministry officials banging at his door, and reporters from the prophet looking for interviews.

For the most part, Harry avoided them, although he'd agreed to meet with a few. A few days ago he'd opened the door to a man from the Ministry - whose face unusually resembled a greyhound. He had wanted him to give a press conference, which would be written and organised by the Ministry.

"That's up to Kingsley," Harry had said firmly. "If he wants me, he can come himself."

"Kingsley is very busy," Greyhound had said disapprovingly as Harry motioned to the door. "Please drop in - or write - if you change your mind."

Harry wasn't really surprised he hadn't seen or heard from the stand-in Minister of Magic yet. He'd avoided reading the paper at The Burrow - Hermione had passed on interesting updates, sparing Harry the war stories. But Harry read it daily now, kicking himself for missing so much.

The Ministry was a bit of a mess. They had people to replace, hundreds of trials to schedule, Death Eaters and associates and suspected criminals to track down. The hierarchy was in shambles, and according to the Prophet, distrust and accusations had spread like wildfire through the building. Aurors were interrogating each other, and some of the interrogations had gotten violent.

Harry knew the Prophet was prone to exaggeration, although he wouldn't have minded a visit from a familiar Ministry employee to fill him in. Even Mr Weasley - on his occasional visits to The Burrow - had been tight lipped.

Leaky Cauldron life wasn't all bad, however. Luna had visited today, filling him in on Dumbldore's Army over tea in his room.

Seamus had been in the papers a few times; he seemed to be enjoying himself, and Harry didn't resent him for it. Neville and Hannah had stayed to help at Hogwarts for a few weeks, and had been with their families since.

Most interestingly to Harry, Cho, Katie, Lee and Dean had been protesting and petitioning the Ministry, meeting regularly in a flat owned by Cho's parents. Luna had met Katie for lunch last weekend, and learned they were currently protesting the 'unconventional methods' the Ministry were allegedly using to get information out of known Death Eaters.

"I had no idea," Harry admitted.

"They're quite passionate about it," said Luna cheerfully, sitting cross legged on a cushion the floor. "I told them we'd give them space in The Quibbler."

"Where do they get their information?" Harry wondered, leaning against the bed. He had a table and chairs by the window, but he didn't really want anyone to know he was home. And Luna preferred the floor, she said. The Leaky Cauldron furniture was supposed to be riddled with something Harry didn't quite catch.

"She wouldn't say, but said they have a couple of informants in the Ministry."

"Informants?"

"After the memorial, there was a bit of a scandal," said Luna, sipping her tea. "The ministry shut off access to - well, the entire building really. They locked everyone inside, and locked a lot of people out. It was all very hush-hush."

Harry nodded, remembering an article Hermione had shown him. He wondered if he should have taken it more seriously.

"Licklaster fairies," Luna added pointedly. Harry blinked.

"Anyway," she continued, leaning forward and dropping her voice to a whisper, "we never found out what happened, but a few Ministry officials contacted Katie after, wanting to support her. Then Katie contacted some of us and formed her team.

"I was in Romania at the time, but I might join them later."

Harry wondered why Katie hadn't written to him.

"Have you heard from anyone else?" he asked.

"Dennis is moving to America with his family. After the funeral, his mum sort of broke down." Luna looked away sadly. "A few of us went, but we were asked to leave." Harry knew 'us' meant Dumbledore's Army. Someone had found Collin's camera after the war, and sent - or possibly sold - the photos to the prophet.

"Katie's trying to raise money for a lawyer, saying the copywrite should have gone to his family."

As far as Luna knew, no one had heard from Susan or the Patils. "Lots of us wanted to be alone, like you," Luna said. "I'm sure they're fine."

Justin was staying with Ernie, and hadn't even told his parents about the War; they still thought he was at school. Witch Weekly had tried to do a stint on them being lovers, but Katie and co had shut it down. Luna wrote to Ernie sometimes.

Marietta's family was under Ministry investigation, but it looked as though the investigations were going slowly.

Harry had seen Angelina at Fred's funeral, but she had been quiet and distant. "She's doing okay," said Luna. "She lost a few people... Alicia visits her sometimes."

The conversation moved on to The Quibbler, and Luna left Harry with the latest copy and a kiss on the cheek.

"Keep in touch," she'd said.

Harry was sad to see her go.

Although seeing Luna had helped pull Harry out of his quiet depression, she had also filled him with an unusual, unsettling guilt. The Wizarding World, and Dumbledore's Army, were moving on without him.

Harry was alone now, enjoying a pint in the quiet of the late evening. He'd been approached a couple of times - shaken a few hands - but now the pub was almost empty. He sat in the armchair below the noticeboard, flipping through the latest prophet.

The old headlines of 'The Boy Who Lived Lives Again' and 'Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World' were mostly gone, replaced with talk of the ministry, Death Eater trials, Hogwarts and a bit of the Daily Prophet's typical gossip.

No one was really sure what was happening with Hogwarts. A lot of parents wanted it closed, with a record number signing up to Ministry's correspondence education program. But the Ministry had assured the press the school would re-open in September, encouraging correspondence in the meantime.

It was later announced, in an Interview with Slughorn, the Hogwarts faculty would be working with the Board of Magical Education to "ensure the education and graduation" of the seniors who missed their final year.

Harry had wondered that meant for him, but hadn't read anything about it since. He used a keyword charm to search the paper for 'Hogwarts', and jumped as someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"My my, if it isn't 'The Boy Who Lived'." A cloaked witch stepped in front of him. "Twice now, I believe! But of course, you wouldn't have survived the second time if it hadn't been for me!" The woman let out a croaky laugh, and stumbled into the chair next to Harry. She set a tall bottle of Goblin Rose on the table between them.

"Narcissa," said Harry uncertainly. "How have you been?" He hadn't replied to her letter.

"Excellent, Potter, just excellent. Our home is now our own again. And it's all thanks to you" She smiled wickedly. "And I suppose I helped. I think you owe me a debt."

Harry glared at her. "I saved Mal - Draco; we're even."

"Of course we're not!" Narcissa giggled. "Draco is in debt to you, and you're still in debt to me. This would all be less confusing if you had come to dinner."

She conjured another glass, and with a flick of her hand, moved Harry's pint to another table, replacing it with a glass of her wine. Harry was impressed by her wandless magic, and even more impressed by her ability to do it inebriated.

"Have some wine, Potter, it's the very best."

Harry ignored it. "Why are you here, Narcissa?"

"You have a debt," she said, clumsily refilling her glass. "I want to help you repay it. You're living here, in a cramped room, when we have a house of thirty guest rooms."

"How would that help you?"

Narcissa waggled her thin eyebrows. "It's a secret," she said with a wink.

Harry shook his head. What was she expecting? "You're crazy," he said with a sniffed laugh. He picked up the glass and sipped, out of habit. He was pleasantly surprised.

"I'm not, I just want some help with some... things." Narcissa finished her own drink - again.

"What things?"

Harry frowned down at his glass, realising it was nearly empty. He could only remember taking a sip, just second ago.

"I'm sorry you came all the way here," said Harry slowly, "but I think you should go."

Narcissa smiled. "I didn't come here for you, Harry," she said. "This is just a very pleasant coincidence."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "A Malfoy in a pub – a coincidence?"

"I needed to get out of the house," Narcissa sniffed. "Oh, you wouldn't understand, you always hated him."

"Malfoy?" asked Harry, confused.

"You mean Draco? No, Lucius!" she pouted as she refilled Harry's glass. "They've sent him to Azkaban!"

Of course they had; he was a little surprised she wasn't in there with him.

"I'm sorry," he offered. He looked down - his glass was empty again. He furrowed his brow.

"That's sweet of you." Narcissa smiled. Harry made to stand up, but his body felt heavy.

"Oh don't get up," she said, vanishing the now empty wine bottle. "I'll go fetch us some more!"

Harry relaxed into his chair and watched her go, his head buzzing. He was missing something, he knew. He tried to piece together the conversation from the start. He vaguely remembered them talking about peacocks. White peacocks. But when?

When Narcissa returned, Harry caught her eye, and noticed something unusual.

Glamour? said a small voice in his head. Narcissa looked different to how he remembered. Younger, more delicate.

Her hand brushed his as she topped up his glass. She didn't sit down but continued to hold his gaze.

"It's a bit crowded in here," she whispered into his ear. It wasn't crowded at all, but Harry let Narcissa take his hand and guide him towards the staircase. Harry couldn't remember the walk up, but he could still feel the warmth of her hand as they stood outside a room; number 16, five doors down from him.

It dawned on him, minutes later, as he tangled his fingers in Narcissa's soft hair, that he was kissing a Malfoy. He had her pressed against the door, which gave way behind them as Narcissa clicked it open, smiling against Harry's lips.

I shouldn't be doing this, said the voice in Harry's head.

Who not? He countered stubbornly as Narcissa's hand brushed the nape of his neck, sending a not-unpleasant shiver down his spine.

She's a Death Eater, the voice said.

Harry pulled Narcissa closer into his body.

I don't care. Go away, he thought, irritated.

"Harry," Narcissa whispered.

"What?" Her voice sounded so far away...

"Say yes."

"Yes," he whispered, as he slipped from her arms, passing out into darkness on the bed.

Note: You probably hate me! You do right? Please leave a review!

Are there any beta readers out there who want to help me tackle this chapter? There's a few things about it that bother me - I think I tried to throw too much information in. Please hit me up if you're interested!