Chapter Two

Less than a week later, Harry found himself standing in a part of the Ministry he had never been in before: the holding cells. They were used for less serious criminals or those who hadn't yet been sentenced, in order to prevent Azkaban from overflowing. And this was where Draco Malfoy was being held.

"This way, sir," a young security officer said, gazing reverently at Harry and ushering him towards one of the doors. Harry sighed. He would never get used to this ridiculous hero worship. It just got more and more annoying.

Stepping through the door that was being carefully held open for him, Harry found himself looking down at a small, huddled figure. Draco Malfoy was a mess. Harry knew for a fact that his treatment while here must have been excellent, and yet he was very, very thin. His robes were slightly tattered and his hair was dishevelled, as though he didn't really care what he looked like. When he looked up at Harry, his cheeks were hollowed and he had dark circles under his eyes.

"Ummm … I've come to take you back to Grimmauld Place," Harry explained. Draco nodded silently and stood up. He followed Harry back down the corridor and into one of the Ministry fireplaces, from which they travelled back to Grimmauld Place. Apart from Kreacher, it was completely empty, Hermione still being at work. In the few weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, several Hogwarts students with nowhere else to go had stayed there, but they had all left now, though people occasionally dropped by if they needed somewhere to spend the night. It was a little tiring sometimes; having his home used as some sort of hotel, but most of the time he didn't really mind. He might have to discourage it, however, while Draco and Dudley were living here.

"That's the kitchen," Harry said, gesturing to it, "You're welcome to help yourself to food whenever you like. Or if you prefer, I'm sure Kreacher will fix you a meal, if you ask him nicely." Draco nodded, still not speaking. In spite of years of calling this boy "Malfoy", Harry now couldn't help referring to him as "Draco" in his head. Perhaps it was because this meek, obedient young man was so different from the arrogant, big-headed boy who he knew as "Malfoy" that it was hard to believe they were truly the same person.

"This is your bedroom," Harry continued, showing Draco into a spare bedroom on the top floor. He had decided it would be best to keep Dudley and Draco as far apart as possible, and believed Dudley would prefer a room further down, closer to the kitchen.

"The Ministry paid for a bunch of new clothes, because yours are still being held as evidence," he told Draco, "But if there's anything else you need just let me know. Ummm … I think that's everything. Obviously you're not allowed to leave. Oh, and my cousin's staying for a while. He's a Muggle, so if you can't be polite to him then just avoid him. Any fighting between the two of you and I'll chuck you out, which probably means the Ministry will send you to Azkaban. I wouldn't pick a fight with him, though, now that you don't have a wand. He's pretty big." At the mention of a Muggle, Harry saw a little of the old arrogance flash in Draco's eyes. It was a bit of a relief, to be honest. Having Draco so quiet and docile was a little unsettling.

Suddenly the doorbell rang, making Harry jump and setting off Mrs Black. Hurrying down the stairs and muttering a useful little charm he had learnt to silence Mrs Black, Harry reached the front door just as Kreacher opened it to reveal Hermione and Dudley standing on the doorstep.

Dudley looked different. He was thinner, for one thing, but surprisingly that wasn't the first thing Harry noticed. He looked … older somehow, more mature. Harry had become accustomed to seeing kids all around him who'd been forced to grow up too fast, who'd seen things no one of their age should ever see, and the change was always obvious in their faces. He hadn't expected to see that in Dudley, though, the one person he knew who'd been sheltered from this terrible war.

"Um … hi … why don't you come in?" Harry said awkwardly, standing aside to let Dudley and Hermione into the hallway. Kreacher appeared at Dudley's side and took his suitcase from him, and Harry waited for Dudley's reaction. Harry didn't even bat an eyelid, however, but merely handed over the case.

"Thank you," he said politely. Harry stared. Had he heard that right? Was this the real Dudley Dursley? For a moment he considered the possibility of Polyjuice Potion, then dismissed it as ridiculous. Then again, what was more ridiculous: Polyjuice Potion or Dudley with manners?

"Right," Harry said eventually, remembering where he was, "The kitchen's through there on the right; the living room's through that door, and I'll just show you up to your bedroom. Try not to make too much noise when you go past that painting; you really don't want to disturb her. She doesn't like Mug- I mean, non-magic people very much."

"Harry, you can use the word Muggle," Dudley said patiently, "I know what it means, and I won't find it offensive."

"Oh. Okay. Um … yeah. Well actually she doesn't like anyone very much, particularly me. Um … so your room's just up here …" Harry knew he was talking too fast, but he'd been put off a little by Dudley's uncharacteristic behaviour, and was subsequently very confused. Dudley followed him up the first flight of stairs and into a bedroom to the left, which Kreacher had prepared the day before. The case was already sitting by the bed, and Dudley knelt down and began to open it. As Harry turned to leave the room, Dudley glanced over his shoulder.

"Harry," he said quietly, "Thanks for having me." Harry pretended not to hear him. First a quiet, well-behaved Malfoy, and now a polite Dudley? It was all too much to cope with in one day. He was beginning to doubt whether this was actually happening. Perhaps he would wake up in a minute to discover that it had all been a very strange dream, and that his new house-guests were actually the arrogant, cruel bullies he had thought they were.

To his great relief, Harry realised that he was due at the Ministry in half an hour. It was the first time he'd ever been relieved to go to work. Hermione accompanied him back to the Ministry, before they split up and headed to different departments.

Harry's relief lasted all of five minutes, before Kingsley asked him to come and help with something. That was when the endless paperwork and trivial decisions began again. With a sigh, Harry settled into the usual routine, hoping desperately that when he arrived home that evening his new guests wouldn't have killed each other just yet. He wasn't sure how the next few months were going to go, but he knew one thing for certain. They weren't going to be boring.