They had sat on the cold stone floor of the shop for nearly an hour and Draco's patience was really starting to wear thin. There weren't many things in life that he hated more than being cold.

"Weasel," he nudged Ron in the side with his foot, "your esteemed side kick is clearly not coming to your rescue and I'm cold. Let's just agree to help each other out until we can get rid of each other."

Oh dear God. He had just offered to enter into a mutual beneficial agreement with a Wesley. These cuffs needed to come off before he started offering up his body. Draco shuddered at the thought. Clearly the spell hadn't developed quite that far yet, for which he was eternally grateful.

"I've already told you, your next stop is Azkaban."

Draco ground his teeth together. Really, he was amazed at how dim witted the Weasley clan could be sometimes.

"And I've already told you, that you won't be able to turn me in unless we get this," he waved his wrist in the air causing Ron's arm to jolt in response, "off. Understand?"

"Malfoy. You can't talk your way out of this. I'm not going to bargain with you. I'm an Auror now. That's not what we do."

Oh God. He was definitely going to kill him before the night was out.

"Weasel. For the last time and the love of God, your first priority here is to get these handcuffs off. Seeing as I'm attached to you, you're going to need me to come along."

"Don't call me that."

"Oh! For crying out loud! Weasley. Are you going to use what little brain you have and help me figure this mess of yours out?"

Ron laughed.

"Help you? You're saying the great Draco Malfoy needs help from a Weasley?"

"Yes."

Ron nodded from his position on the floor.

"Point to me Malfoy. Get this thing off me."

Draco rolled his eyes and untangled his legs from his sitting position.

"You push the shoulders," he said and braced his feet against the side of the armor, "and I'll shift the torso. Ready?"

A great clattering ensued as they both pushed on the suit of armor until Ron could free his legs. It really was heavy.

"Right," panted Ron, "you need to come with me."

"I think you'll have to put a bit more effort into it for that result Weasel," Draco wriggled his eyebrows.

"For the love of all that's sacred Malfoy," Ron screwed up his face in disgust, "shut up."

Draco shrugged.

"We need to get the directory up," Draco gestured to his wand still sitting on the other side of Ron, "to find this Argate wizard."

Ron burst into laughter.

"Do you really think I'm that stupid Malfoy? You're not going anywhere near that wand."

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Weasley. We need to get these handcuffs off. You might want to be stuck with me for the rest of your life but I've got much higher aspirations for myself."

Ron screwed up his face once more.

"I'll get the directory up. You just sit there and be quiet."

Ron scooped his wand up from its resting place on the floor, sat up and cast the incantation to view the owls and fireplaces registered to all of the wizards in the local area. Nothing matched 'Argate'.

"Maybe he's," Ron grimaced, "dead?"

Draco's face mirrored Ron's.

"Maybe he just isn't registered."

"All wizards have to be registered!"

"Not the ones involved in the dark arts, idiot."

"You would know, Malfoy."

Draco wiped his hands over his face and let out a sigh. This was going to be more complicated than he first thought. He'd have to take Ron to his library. There was no other way around it. Scrimgeour was going to have his wand if he blew his cover.

"Yes, Weasley. I would," he rolled his eyes, "we need to take a portkey. It's in here in the shape of a trinket box with a 'G' embossed on the lid. Help me find it."

Draco moved to get up but Ron pulled back on his handcuff.

"We don't need to go anywhere apart from the Ministry. They'll have code breakers or at least other scum bags like you who might know who this Argate is."

"Weasel, we need to find the portkey. It'll take us to my library. Now, wouldn't you like to get a look around that for evidence?"

Ron chewed on his lower lip, clearly thinking the proposition over.

"How do I know that's where it's headed to? You might be taking me to other Death Eaters who would gladly kill me."

Draco let out a yell of frustration and reached for the first sharp object he could get his hands on and swiftly brought it to Ron's chest, where it stopped an inch away from contact.

"I can't kill you," he dropped the pink dotted umbrella to his side and leant into a shelving unit and put his head in his hands, "unfortunately."

Ron curled his lip. He nodded in decision.

"And I can't turn you in then. Fine. Your library, what's so special about it?"

"Books belonging to the Dark Arts. There must be something about this," he lifted his wrist.

Ron nodded.

"If anyone has the books it'd be you Malfoy. Let's go."

Draco nodded.

"The trinket box has a 'G' embossed on the top."

Ron tried to stand and nearly collided face first into Draco. The tips of his fingers brushed Draco's chest as he put his hands out reflexively. Draco took a sharp breath. Ron quickly turned his back as much as the current situation would allow and was seemingly very interested in the odd items on the shelving unit.

"Like this?"

"That's a cup Weasley."

"Yeah… yeah you're right. Not this."

Ron put the ornate cup back onto the shelf and rummaged in a wicker basket nearly big enough to fit his whole head into.

Draco blew out a silent breath and composed himself. He was nearly as rattled as Ron appeared to be. They had to get these cuffs on, whether or not he lost his job in the process. Scimgeour be damned.

"Malfoy?"

Ron brandished a small wooden box with a brass handle on the front and a scratched brass plate on the top. It was embossed with the letter 'G'.

Draco nodded and reached for the box. His finger hovered over the brass plate.

"The top plate is the portkey. Grab the wands."

Ron leant over and scooped up both his and Draco's wand. He hesitated a second before offering Draco his.

Draco gave a curt nod of thanks and put his wand back in his robes.

"You ready?"

Ron nodded, his finger bending to touch the brass plate.

Draco welcomed the uncomfortable sensation of being dragged forward by the navel. Within seconds they were both falling towards the floor of Draco's library. He sent up a silent thanks that the designer he'd hired had adored shag pile rugs quite as much as he had. Draco had never really liked them.

"Maroon," Ron laughed, "really Malfoy? No Slytherin green?"

"The colour is in this season," Draco shrugged, "they came from the best designer that money can buy. I don't expect you to understand Weasley."

"Designer!"

"Yes Weasley. Stop drooling over things you'll never have the money to buy and get up so we can get on with this."

Ron's laugh twisted into a scowl.

Draco got to his feet and surveyed his library. Each wall was lined from top to bottom with books and the only window in the room held a lavish window seat beneath it. A small table sat beside the seat with a muggle telephone, note pad, pen and an empty mug. The view from the window opened onto lavish gardens which were clearly well-tended to. Draco hadn't seen them in months.

"The Dark Arts section is over here," he made for the far wall away from the window with Ron following close behind him as much as the handcuffs would allow, "we should be able to find something to help."

"'Secrets of the Darkest Arts', 'Magick Most Evile and 'Sonnets of a Sorcerer," Ron whistled, "quite a collection you've got here Malfoy."

Draco ignored him and pulled out the closest title.

"Just read Weasley."

Ron shuffled uneasily on his feet.

"Malfoy?"

"Yes Weasley."

"I need the bathroom."

"Third door on the right."

Ron shuffled with greater haste.

"Malfoy."

"Weasley. Do you need a map?"

"No," Ron glared, "but I can't get there on my own right now."

Draco felt his heart beat faster and he nodded slowly. He felt slightly nauseous.

"Right," he gestured to the door, "let's go. I'll stay behind the door."

"What!"

"Weasley, grow up. This is the situation. Deal with it or I'll get you a bucket."

Ron scowled.

Draco sighed.

"We'll use a silencing charm."

Ron didn't answer but made his way to the door of the library all but dragging Draco with him. It was Draco's turn to scowl. He just had to chance to drop the book he had in his hand back on the shelf.

The corridor opened up to reveal three doors each side in dark mahogany with brass handles. Various paintings lined the walls but none were moving. Draco did miss the wizarding paintings that had once graced the corridor, but it had been one of Scrimgeour's conditions of their agreement.

Ron opened the third door on the right and stepped inside the bathroom with Draco following closely behind him. The toilet was directly in front of the door with a small basin off to the left. Various grooming products were tucked into a basket attached to the wall above the basin. The room smelled faintly of Draco.

"Wait outside then," he waved his wand, "silencio!"

Draco rolled his eyes and stepped backwards out of the room with just his hand inside the door. On second thought, he poked his head back around the door with his eyes closed.

"Don't touch any of my Wizarding Man products Weasley."

Ron rolled his eyes.

"Why would I want to smell like you Malfoy? Get out."

Draco retreated once more. He leant against the wall as much as the odd angle of his arm would allow.

Ron stepped out of the bathroom after a few minutes looking more comfortable.

"Where do we get food?"

"What do you think this is Weasley," Draco threw his hands up in the air, the metal of the cuff pulling against his skin, "a hotel to cater to your every need?"

Ron shrugged.

"I haven't eaten all day."

"Weasley, it's barely one o'clock."

"You were the only who pointed out we can't hurt each other. Right now my stomach is hurting. I'm in pain Malfoy."

Draco ground his teeth together.

"I'm sure it won't kill you just yet. We need to find a book for these," he pulled his wrist up in front of Ron's face, "before you fill your stomach."

Ron was nearly pouting.

Draco rubbed his temples. An express ticket to Azkaban courtesy of Scrimgeour might be preferable to being stuck with Weasley. His house would never hold the same feeling of sanctuary again.

"But I'm hungry."