"Let's get this over with, Malfoy. We'd like to get on with our day."
"You're the ones who waited until afternoon to come by," Draco closed his ledger book and toyed casually with his quill.
Ron glared at him but couldn't argue. He towered over Draco's desk with little Rose dangling from his chest in a strange front-side knapsack with leg holes. Judging by the materials it was certainly muggle made.
"What do you need from us?" Hermione shifted a heavy nappy bag from one shoulder to the other. Draco flicked his wand and levitated it across the room to hang from a wall peg. Two stools obediently danced forward and bumped the backs of their knees, effectively seating them both without fuss.
"I want to document the agreement that I'm doing this job free of charge in exchange for your vow that I discharged my life debt to Potter." His quill scratched his words in long, scrolling text on a slip of parchment.
"Only if you bring him home," Hermione said.
"I don't have to bring him home to find him and save his life," Draco reminded her. "I'm a Tracker, not a Labrador retriever."
"Bring him home," she folded her arms across her chest and glared at him.
"It's not enough to know he's alive and happy? Maybe he doesn't want to come home."
"Right," Hermione looked to Ron for help. He was looking down at their daughter and gently stroking her chubby arm with one finger.
"Five hundred Galleons," he said.
"I already said it's free of charge," Draco said. His cat jumped up on the desk and flopped down on top of his parchments.
"Five hundred if you bring him home," Ron looked up. "And you'll need to figure out a way to prove you found him and saved him if you can't."
"I can prove I found him easily enough. How do I prove I've saved him?" Draco asked. "Saving him means he won't blow up. Does it count if I show him not blown up? How do I prove a negative?"
"Show him doing magic," Hermione said. "That's what he needs to do."
"Fine," Draco rolled his eyes.
"He's going to need to do a lot of magic," Hermione added. "He's very powerful, you know."
"Yes, yes," Draco rolled his eyes again.
"Malfoy," Ron said sharply. "Listen to her. He's more powerful than you remember."
"I'm sure it seems that way," Draco tickled Hairy's paws with his quill.
"He really is," Hermione said. "He's done nothing but get stronger since you-know-who died. It's like it unlocked something in him."
Draco eyed her closely and took a quick dip into her mind, correctly assuming she would be unguarded. She was telling the truth. He could see Harry in her memory, both physically magically stronger. If she was correct, his situation was more dire than Draco had imagined.
"If you're telling the truth," he said. "Then I'll not only pay my life debt to Potter, but I may end up with several muggles owing a life debt to me." He leaned forward and pointed with his quill, "If he's as powerful as you say and he's not using his magic, when he blows he could take out everyone around him."
"That's why we're here," Ron said soberly.
"Then let's get this signed," Draco sat back. "Tracking and saving at no charge, five hundred galleons for returning him."
"Fine," Hermione nodded.
Draco nudged the cat and tugged the parchment agreement free. "Come on, Hairy, move it," he said without thinking.
Ron and Hermione stared at each other and then back at him.
"You named your cat Harry?" Hermione asked, her voice a little too neutral to be neutral.
"Not like that," Draco swallowed a grimace. Of course it would look that way. "She's a Persian. Long hair. Hairy."
"Come on, mate," Ron curled his lip. "It's a coincidence?"
"How would it be anything but a coincidence?" Draco tried not to panic. Of course it looked like no coincidence.
"So it's a coincidence that you named your black haired, green eyed cat Hairy," Ron's lip curled further.
"Yes," Draco said. "It's been nearly a decade since school. How could it be anything but a coincidence?"
"Six years," Ron corrected him. "And that white slash above her right eye? Also a coincidence?"
"I didn't even name her," Draco said too loudly. "She was a gift from Millicent. She chose the name."
"Millicent Bulstrode?" Hermione asked dubiously.
"Yes, she's a very dear friend, and you can wipe that look off of your face because she is a very lovely girl who you haven't seen since school," Draco's voice was still too loud.
Hermione looked stunned. "Well I wasn't-"
"And she happens to be a very successful healer now. And she shagged a handsome bloke last night." Draco wanted to slap himself for that last bit.
"Draco, I don't-"
"No!" Draco lurched to his feet and pointed accusingly. "You two come in here, still the old Gryffindor trio minus one, and he treats me like nothing has changed, and you were doubtful that I would be Millie's friend, and it's like you never left Hogwarts!" He glared down at them. He knew he had escalated too quickly but he couldn't reign it in. And that sodding black-haired, green-eyed cat was still sitting on his parchments like evidence at a crime scene.
"Well," Hermione was taken aback. "I'll admit I was surprised about Millicent. It's perfectly natural to think of people as you last saw them, you know."
"And it's perfectly natural to expect you to still be a bloody awful prat," Ron added.
"Shall I assume you're still poor and she's still a know-it-all?" Draco sneered. He hauled himself up short as he realized how close he had come to saying mudblood. Not even after six years, not even to make an intellectual point would it be okay to use that word.
"Please sit down," Hermione said softly. She reached over and touched the top of Rose's head. Miraculously the baby had slept through his ranting.
The wind went out of Draco's sails. He dropped into his chair and picked up the agreement parchment again. "I apologize for my outburst," he said with as much dignity as he could muster.
"I apologize for our assumptions," Hermione said with equal dignity.
"Please sign here," Draco handed her the quill. She signed, then passed it to Ron for his signature.
The front door chimed and a school-aged boy poked his head in. Draco waved him over and pointed at a potion rack in the corner. The boy hefted it and eyed the labels.
"All to the same address today," Draco said. He lofted a coin across the room and set a second one on the desk. "Make it back in under an hour and i'll give you a third one."
The boy dashed for the door, the bundle of potions braced under his arm. Ron and Hermione turned back to him expectantly. Draco smiled slyly.
"A certain secret society of swingers like to indulge in a bit of aphrodisiac play once a month," he said casually. "I can't say who, of course."
"Of course," Hermione murmured.
"As for your job I anticipate that finding him will take between one and five days," Draco said, relieved to finally be talking about the task at hand. "However, given our history, as well as my assumption that his inability to get over the past is similar to yours, convincing him to return to magic and the Wizarding world may take a bit more effort. I don't anticipate that this will be easy." He folded the parchment and set it aside. "If you have a need to contact me you may direct an owl here, and my house elves will deliver the message to me wherever I am," he raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Any questions?"
"How did you get to be the best Tracker in all of England?" Ron asked, shaking his head in disbelief.
Draco shrugged as though it were obvious. "I'm a very powerful wizard, too, Weasley."
oOo
"I'll take good care of Hairy," Millicent cooed into the slack cat's face. Hairy had gone limp, as she always did in Millicent's presence. No one pampered a cat like she did, and Hairy knew how to elicit the most scratches and treats from her.
"She got me into trouble today," Draco said. "You both did." he sipped his Firewhiskey and tried not to think too hard about it.
"Oh no," Millicent stifled a laugh. "You didn't call her by name in front of the Weasels, did you?"
"I did," he said.
"I'm sorry," she snickered again. "I guess my little joke backfired."
"It's not your fault," he sighed. "I could have changed her name."
"Why didn't you?" she asked, stroking the cat's belly.
"I don't know," he lied.
Draco knocked back the rest of his drink and strode to the bedroom. He brought back the T-shirt and the letter.
"You're leaving today?" Millicent asked.
"Yes," Draco nodded. "I need to get back over to that greengrocer's to see if I can get anything out of his old boss."
"Good luck," Millicent stood and cuddled Hairy close to her chest. "I'll give her lots of treats. Check in when you can, okay?" she dropped a kiss onto Draco's cheek and stepped through the Floo.
She was out of Draco's mind an instant later. He slipped the T-shirt on and pulled a light button-down over the top so he wouldn't appear to be wearing the same thing twice. He then pocketed the letter and focused his mind on the Muggle shop from the day before.
With a squeeze and a pop he was there, just outside in a small cul-de-sac he'd spotted on his last visit. He patted his short blond hair into place and went straight to the produce department.
His mind was sharp, searching for any whiff of Harry's magic. Everything he had interacted with was signatured by his touch, just like everyone else. The trick to Tracking was to learn what that signature felt like, what it smelled and tasted like, and to pick it out among the noise.
The grocery store held almost no trace anymore. In eight months any residue of his presence had been worn down to virtually nothing. That didn't mean the trail was cold, however. Draco was too skilled to be stopped by something as minor as no signature. There were ways of picking it up again, if one was sensitive enough. But better than that was a personal contact. It was possible that Harry's old boss could connect him directly to his quarry, and that would save both time and effort.
"Hello, I'm looking for the produce manager," Draco said to a young man who was stacking apples. "Is she in? I was told she might be able to put me in touch with a former employee named Harry Potter."
No recognition of the name registered on the boy's face, but he did go into the back to deliver his message. A moment later a heavy-set woman in her mid-thirties appeared at the swinging door and invited him to her office. He followed her through the produce cooler and sat in the offered chair in her tiny, cluttered office.
"I'm Diane," she said. "Harry worked for me for two months."
"Do you know where he is now?" Draco asked hopefully.
"He hasn't worked here in quite some time," she sat back in her chair. "So I'm guessing you haven't been in touch in a long time."
"We haven't," Draco said. "We were friends in school and I've been trying to find him."
"Ah," Diane regarded him suspiciously. "And what did you say your name is?"
"Ron Weasley. He was my best mate in school."
"Here's the problem, Ron," she leaned forward and laced her fingers together. "Harry told me he was in trouble. He said he had fallen in with a bad crowd and needed to get away, make a clean break. He told me his old friends might come looking for him, and I promised him that I wouldn't tell them where he went."
"Have you talked to him recently?" Draco asked. "It's been a long time. He might not still feel that way."
"He sublets a flat from me," she smirked. "So yes, we've spoken recently."
Draco quickly dashed out and probed her mind while she was thinking of the flat. There it was, clear as day, easy enough to Apparate from that image if necessary. He smiled in return, knowing she hadn't detected a thing. As far as he knew, he was the only Tracker in England who was also a Legilimens. It was what gave him his edge.
"What I can do is call him and ask him if I can tell you where he is," Diane was saying as she fished a cell phone out of her pocket. She dialed and rotated in her chair in an ineffective show of privacy.
Draco reached into her mind again and shamelessly eavesdropped on her conversation. Piggybacking inside of her head meant he could hear Harry's voice as clearly as she could. When Harry answered Draco found himself overwhelmed by a sense of familiarity, so much so that he almost lost his connection with Diane.
"How are things, Harry?" Diane asked warmly.
"I'm well, how are you?" Harry's voice was equally warm "I haven't forgotten the rent, have I?"
"No, of course not," she chuckled. "Listen, I have a very handsome lad in here who's asking about you. Says you were mates in school. Quite fit, seems very interested in reconnecting." Her voice dropped with implication. Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes. What was the point of speaking in code when it was that obvious?"
Harry was quiet for a moment. Draco could hear the sound of traffic behind him and tried to focus on his location. Unfortunately Tracking didn't work over muggle phone connections.
"What's his name?" Harry asked softly.
"Ron Weasley."
"Oh," Harry infused that one syllable with complex layers of sorrow. "No, he's not an ex, if that's what you're thinking."
"I take it you don't want me to give him your number?" Diane peeked over her shoulder at Draco.
"No," Harry's voice was almost a whisper. "Please don't. Tell him I'm very sorry. Tell him I miss him but I just can't."
"Okay, dear," Diane said. "Don't worry, I'll handle it."
"Thank you."
"Are you meeting us for pints on Saturday?" she asked, unconcerned that Draco was waiting behind her.
"We'll see," Harry's voice brightened. "I'll let you know. I have to get back inside so we can close up."
"Okay then, take care of yourself," she said, then they said goodbye and disconnected. Draco quickly retracted from her mind and smiled ruefully.
"I take it that's a no?" he asked.
"No, sorry," she pocketed her phone. "He's been through a lot. I don't know if you know about it. He doesn't say much but I can tell it's heavy. Best to not press him too hard."
"I understand," Draco nodded. He thanked her for her help and showed himself out.
If only it was as simple as leaving him alone the way he wanted to be left alone. Diane was right, in any other situation the best option would be to not pressure him. But that was an option Harry didn't have. If Hermione and Ron were correct, if Harry was no longer using magic, he was a ticking bomb with very little time left.
Draco didn't hesitate. As soon as he was out on the sidewalk he headed straight for the cul-de-sac and focused his mind on the flat he'd plucked from Diane's mind. Harry had said he was closing up, so surely there was time to have a look around before he got home. Time Draco could use to figure out how to approach him. He closed his eyes and Disapparated straight away.