Chapter 7
"Remember how I made you crazy? Remember how I made you scream?"
Don Henley – Boys of Summer

"Relax, Potter," Draco drawled. "I certainly am not here to attack you." He stood in the open, arms held away from his body proving he wielded nothing in his hand and had no means to attack or defend.

"You're a fool, Malfoy. I asked you a question. What are you doing here?"

"I was waiting for you."

"How'd you break Hermione's wards?"

"Well, I admit it took a little effort, but it really wasn't that much of a challenge."

Harry growled at Draco's pompous attitude. "And imagine this; you, out of your little domain without your minion. Impressive. A rat in open water. Better watch out for sharks," he ended menacingly.

"Oh, I've no worries. Only guppies here. Potter, why don't we quit with the badly veiled threats and confer like mature adults, or are you incapable of that?" Draco scolded, causing Harry to clamp his mouth closed before he spat out more invective.

With a shudder, he realised Draco had a point. "Fine. We'll talk. Why are you here?"

"Care to point that thing elsewhere?" Draco asked, keen eyes darting toward the tip of Harry's wand.

Harry sighed, pointing his wand towards the floor; well slightly more towards the floor, anyway. The small chuckle that escaped from his adversary's lips came so unexpectedly Harry couldn't hide his shock.

"Well, I guess that will do," Draco said, in an almost friendly tone, at least a tone that didn't suggest Harry was something Draco found on the bottom of his shoe. Harry's jaw dropped open, a furrow of concern burrowing between his eyes.

Draco laughed.

Continuing to stare, Harry felt totally unsure how to deal with this almost cordial man in front of him. He wondered what exactly Draco had up his sleeve and it put him on higher alert than a snarling Draco would have any day. Harry decided that Draco Malfoy seemed far too amused by the situation, so resolved to take this bull by the horns.

"Are you going to tell me how to decode the rest of Hermione's messages or are we going to continue wasting time?"

Draco pulled his arms across his chest and leaned his hip against the wall, a half quirk to his lips. "Yes, wasting time… You think about that Debt, then?"

Harry's eyes narrowed, a snarl marring his own lips as he addressed his adversary. "Yeah… you want me to owe you big for helping me find out what happened to Hermione." Draco shrugged one shoulder. "Malfoy, why don't you just tell me what you want?"

"I'll know it when it strikes my fancy, Potter. No need to rush things."

"No need to rush things?" Harry exploded. "You show up at Hermione's hospital room pushing this Debt in my face, offering me a deciphered scroll then walking out. You show up here, asking about that damned Debt again. What the hell do you want? You sure as fuck don't act like there's no need to rush whatever twisted agenda you have in the works."

A tingle of magic zapped through the air as if the entire room was cast in a halo of static electricity. All of the hairs on Harry's arms lifted, his mop of a hair style frizzing to new heights as his anger stoked and his gaze bore into Draco, trying to read his soul. But to Harry's perception it looked like Draco meant no wickedness. Mischievousness sure, but he got the feeling that maybe this time, Draco was playing fair. Well as fair as he could.

Harry immediately deflated.

With his wand slowly lowering to his side, his heart sunk too as he realised that there was no winning against Draco Malfoy when it came to conniving and manipulating and the only way he could win this game was to charge through with determination and his integrity.

"Fine, I'll owe you, but not carte blanche. I won't do anything that will undermine my ethics. Got it? You won't turn me into you."

"Oh, Potter, what makes you think I would ever request anything of you that would dirty your little hands."

"You're a Slytherin… and a Malfoy."

"Good point, but you have my word." He walked forward, lifting his wand towards Harry. "Harry Potter owes Draco Malfoy some favour equivalent to saving the life of Hermione Granger. He will not be required to perform any act that he deems too unscrupulous or that violates his sense of ethic." He cocked an eyebrow, waiting.

It seemed fair. Harry quickly tried to rifle through the pros and cons (mainly owing Draco) of this situation but the vow was so vague and he seemed to have an out for any request too nasty, so he decided to complete the spell. How could he not if this was his one chance to help Hermione? Didn't he owe it to her to do anything in his power? He lifted his own wand and touched the tip to Draco's as a small burst of crimson flame tickled the joined ends. "I do so agree." And then as an afterthought, "so long as Hermione's life is returned to normal, I do so owe Draco Malfoy." A small puff of blue smoke replaced that of the crimson flame and the minor vow was complete.

"Well then," Draco said as he tucked his wand away and removed his outer cloak, "shall we get started?"

After an hour of more arguments, scathing insults and stiff moments of silence, the two settled down around Hermione's large desk, foraging through piles of scrolls, papers and parchments all covered with the enigmatic code. Each hosting a simple algebraic equation in the bottom corner of the text. After three more hours there emerged two piles: one pile, perhaps containing a dozen or so pieces, included the scrolls Draco could immediately translate, the other pile, enormous in proportion, remained unreadable.

"Malfoy, I thought you said you could decipher Hermione's code. Why can you only decipher these?" He flipped through the documents, trying to see how the code from one pile seemed any different from those on the pages of the other pile.

"Well, Potter, I could decipher them all if I had the key. Apparently you don't seem to have a clue about that, so these are the ones where I actually remember what the key was."

"What is this key?"

Draco sighed wearily as if a huge burden was placed on him. "Severus and I had an obscuroused book that listed them. Only he and I could read it. It involves the solution, or potential solution, to the equation in the corner. Initially I worked a few out, but then after Severus figured out I cracked the code and hadn't taken it to Voldemort, he brought me in. So I would assume Hermione's key is somewhere around here, hidden in plain view. The key connects the equation to the actual spell that translates the code."

"You broke Hermione's code?" he questioned incredulously.

Draco made some indistinguishable noise. "Yes, I did."

Harry decided rather than flame this ego any larger than it already was, to just move on. "So, the key's a book? Where did yours go?"

"Lost when you destroyed Voldemort's headquarters. Proving, by the way, that subtlety has never been your strong point. Most of us escaped the inferno, but much was lost. I suppose in the long run that proved a good thing. The Dark Lord's experiments were lost too." Harry watched him to see if he would notice the slip of the old name. Apparently he didn't.

Harry didn't want to think about that battle. He didn't want to think about any of the battles. He had to confess though, that the attack on the Death Eater command centre could have been planned better. "We didn't warn you?" he asked, concerned. He knew that Snape had survived and figured they had informed him of the surprise air strike.

The other man snorted. "Even if you had, Severus and I could not have left without drawing attention to ourselves. I am guessing that Granger understood that… Though, as I recall that last message, I think she did attempt to warn us in her own way. We just didn't realise what she was trying to do." He seemed thoughtful.

Harry pulled himself back from those unwanted memories to focus on the task at hand. He scanned the miles of books neatly categorized away within Hermione's flat and moaned at the daunting task. "How do we know which book?"

"Do I have to do everything for you, Potter? You must know whatever spell Granger might have used to hide something of such importance. And anyway, it doesn't have to be a book, it could be anything. Something transfigured even."

Pain and worry latched onto him like a niffler to a galleon as Harry realised that he really had no idea what spell she might have used to hide such an object, let alone what the key might be hidden as. He rose and stood before the closest bookshelf. Running a finger along the spines of the books, causing some of them to purr in delight and others to shudder in disgust, he finally settled on one book.

This had to be it. It could be no other book.

He picked up the well-read copy of Hogwarts: A History and ran an analytic collection of spells over it, casting detecting magic, revealing spells, magic suppression and an array of other spells to no definitive answer. The book simply was just a book, at least to anything Harry could sense, and if Harry couldn't sense anything odd about it, he trusted that the text was under no magical sway.

Frustrated, he moved to the centre of the room and sent out his feelers. Like thin, long tentacles, they invisibly slithered over the room, through the bookcases, over the furniture and into the walls of the flat. His eyes were closed and his breath came in deep, slow measure. When he found a magical signature he focused, concentrated his efforts until he either understood the magic or tagged it for further research. Finally, he pulled back his consciousness, his magical bloodhounds returning home, and opened his eyes to a dumbfounded blond.

"What the hell…" Draco sputtered before he collected himself and his mask of indifference slipped into place. He didn't take his eyes off of Harry as the powerful wizard began creating a small heap of random objects in the centre of the living room. Harry would go to one bookcase, grab a book and place it in the pile, then add a clock that was on the mantel, then fetch what looked like a toaster from the kitchen and added that as well.

After the construction of the mound appeared to be finished, Harry looked to Draco. "Well, not sure what these things do." He gestured to the jumble and shrugged. "Maybe it's one of these."

Sitting on the floor next to the pile he picked up one item after another, casting spell after spell on them to determine their function. A thin, arched disk, deep red and highly polished, was the next item to examine when Draco finally spoke up.

"That's a Salamander Chip."

"A what?" Harry traced the warped concentric circles on the disk with the tip of one finger. They reminded him of rings in the wood of a tree. It warmed to his touch.

"Oh, Potter, do tell me you know what a Salamander Chip is. A Sally Chip?"

Harry shook his head, confused.

"'If your bed's too cold just slip a Sally under the covers.'" Draco sounded like he was quoting some advert or slogan, even adding a little singsong to the end.

"Still not getting it," he admitted.

"Oh, for Heaven's sake. It's a bed warmer, Potter. You stick the Salamander Chip under your bedsheets on cold nights. Every old wizarding household has them." He sniffed, almost aghast at Harry's ignorance. "New ones are illegal to create, some idiocy about some salamander species disappearing. Every suite in the Manor had one." He stared off into space for a while, eyes unfocusing as a strange look Harry might almost akin to thoughtfulness appeared on his face. It transfixed Harry. Could Draco be a real person? Not simply some being sent to test his patience by some trickster god? "But none of that matters much now, does it. They're all gone along with the portraits, the artefacts, the library… the Manor." Draco turned away and looked out into the night through the frosted window.

"Why would Hermione have something like this?" Harry flipped the small scale between his fingers like a poker chip.

"Well it certainly is a useful little item. I'm impressed Hermione learned to embrace life's little conveniences. Smart girl."

"Did you just compliment Hermione?"

"Well she is trying to learn about a superior culture. You must commend her for that."

"Malfoy," Harry warned.

"Oh Potter, do stop treating me like an errant schoolboy. I certainly had enough of that from McGonagall. Anyway, perhaps she wants to embrace the world she exists in, wants to know more about its everyday wonders instead of just learning how to be a servant of war." Draco sat down in a high-backed chair across from where Harry sat on the floor surrounded by the sundry of magical knickknacks.

"Wha… Malfoy, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Always so quick to lash out, Potter. Perhaps you need counseling. What I mean is that you don't even know about basic household charms and utilities. You focused so much time learning how to kill the Dark L…" he stopped this time and cleared his throat with a small smile, "Voldemort, that you don't even know about laundry charms or –" he looked around and picked up the toaster impersonator.

"What do you think this does?" Draco asked Harry.

"I don't know… toasts bread."

Draco burst out laughing. "You really do have a lot to learn. If you care to. Or you can continue to wallow in your own Muggleness."

"There's nothing wrong with Muggles, Malfoy."

Draco stood from the chair and gathered up the papers in the 'can be decoded' pile. "Perhaps it is time I go and we can continue this little parley at some other time. And for the record, no, I don't like Muggles, but please be so kind as to remember whose side I worked for. I don't need persecution from the likes of you." With a small flourish, Draco bowed and Disapparated.

Left alone in the vacant air following Draco's Disapparition, Harry slowly turned the unknown metallic device over and over in his hands, wondering what it could possibly do.

"Ginny!"

Harry jumped from his usual chair, excited to see his old friend peek her head into the hospital room. Ginny had been down in Africa studying ancient wizarding culture and spells, a font of knowledge left mostly untouched by European scholars. Her hair fell long with fine layers of braids down the entire length, each with an earthen coloured bead at the end. They hadn't seen each other since she left England following the fall of Voldemort. In fact, she hadn't returned to England at all since then.

"Harry, sorry I couldn't come earlier." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and looked down at Hermione lying in her institutionally white room, wrapped up in her institutionally white blankets. Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears-- for Hermione, her father, or him, Harry he wasn't quite sure.

"Oh, don't worry about it Ginny, there really isn't anything you can do. The Healers have no idea what could be wrong, other than it's a curse."

He watched her as she watched their comatose friend. The silence spread thin between them.

"So… how's Africa?" Harry asked the first thing that came to mind.

"Oh, fine really." She tore her eyes away from Hermione and looked up at him. "Oh Harry," she sniffed.

"Is there anything I can do?" he offered.

"No, I just… Oh… Things in Africa are great. I've been learning so much from the witches down there. I just… Oh I don't know. I guess I wasn't ready to come back here. I haven't been home yet. I just couldn't go there—" she broke off, stifling whatever breakdown pranced imminently on the edge.

Meaning to offer comfort, Harry crossed the room and took her in his arms, calmly soothing her, rubbing her back and repeating "I understand" or "It's okay" until her silent shivers ceased. But when she tilted her head towards him with that look in her eyes, he froze, unsure if he had the grace to pull out of this without hurting her.

Her soft lips brushed his causing his whole body to tense and after he felt the soft swipe of a tongue he knew he just couldn't sit back and allude that anything could ever happen between them.

With firm hands on her shoulders he slowly pushed her back. Her large eyes shone with unshed tears and embarrassment.

"Harry, I'm so sorry. Oh my god, how humiliating." She buried her face in her hands. "I just thought… Are you…" she exhaled a small breath, "with anyone?"

"No Ginny, I haven't had time for any men in my life." He stressed the word 'men' and watched as she flinched, wells of regret bubbling over from them both as she looked back up to him. Never afraid to face danger. He wished he could love her that way.

"I'm sorry." With slumped shoulders her gaze fell down to the floor. "I should go."

"Ginny, don't go. Really… Hermione would want you here. I want you here. I'm sure your mum wants you back for as long as you can stay…" he trailed off, not sure what else to say. He wanted to scream and yell, not at her, but at their situation. He knew Ginny still cared for him when she left, but he had thought after all these years a childhood crush would have faded under the weight of true experience.

He hated hurting her.

She straightened her posture and wiped at her eyes. The smile she offered him was weak, but honest and he smiled back. "Thanks Harry. I want to go see mum, I really do. We talk often, you know. And I see Ron sometimes when he's out of the country— It's so hard. Do you know? Can you understand?"

Harry nodded, shocked. How could she think he didn't understand? "Yeah, Gin. I understand." He went to hug her again, but stopped short, unsure. She snorted at him and went to hug him, a short, sisterly hug. Perhaps things would be all right.

"Ah, look at the two lovebirds."

The unexpected visitor surprised the two embracing friends.

"Malfoy," Harry said. Startled, Ginny pulled away and stared at Draco, a fierce glint developing in her eye. Harry grinned at her; she always was a fighter.

"Potter, Weasley. If I'm disturbing something, I can certainly return at some later time." He had a leather attaché case hanging over one shoulder and a rolled up scroll held neatly in one hand. He turned to leave with an amused look.

"No, come in Malfoy," Harry said while Ginny gawked at Harry. "He's helping find out what happened with Hermione," he offered, knowing it would do nothing to appease his friend's curiosity.

"Malfoy is helping? Helping Hermione?"

"Yea, it's shocking isn't it," Harry said, stifling the urge to laugh. Draco just raised one finely sculpted eyebrow at them. "I'll be right back, okay Ginny? Let you have some time with Hermione. Talk to her. I like to think she can hear us."

Ginny nodded, watching as they left the hospital room.

"I didn't know you and the little Weasley chit were still so close, Potter. One moment comforting a broken friend, the next wooing lost love. It is pure romance. You're such the white knight."

"Shut it, Malfoy. What ya got?" He indicated the case and papers with a jerk of his chin.

"No small talk? My, my Potter, already past the niceties of social convention I see. Well, I must say I do approve. Let's get down to business. I have translated these papers. A whole bunch of unconnected gibberish, if you ask me." He handed the rolled up scroll he carried in his hand to Harry.

Draco watched as Harry read over the scroll. The Gryffindor was so open; every thought that went through his mind reflected on his face. With careful awareness, Draco immediately knew that the translation meant nothing to Harry either.

He handed over the case. "Within you will find the rest of the scrolls I translated. If you find the key or wish to discuss anything within these documents, contact me at Rain. I'll leave you to your girlfriend, then," he said with a snicker.

"She's not…" but Draco had already turned his back and was walking towards the Floo Centre, leaving Harry to let his words fall upon deaf ears.

For five days Harry stationed himself at Hermione's, just trying to make sense of the new information he'd received. His first order of business though was to reset all of Hermione's wards to allow only him, Ron and Hermione through. He hoped that with his expertise in this field of magic there would be no more unexpected visitors at the flat.

None of the documents really connected to any of the others. Draco had translated 14 of them and they ranged from more information about a curse she was researching to some shielding spellwork she was developing to, of all things, a shopping list of potions ingredients, albeit some stretched the definition of legal. One page was definitely some form of personal diary and Harry felt like he abused a bit of her trust by reading it. He never knew she quite felt that way about him in their early years in school. Luckily she found Ron to be far more endearing.

And then there was that surreal event at the Ministry Ball. What did that mean? He had mulled over the odd feeling of dampening, there really wasn't a better word for it, trying to discover what might have triggered it other than the Minister's handshake, but nothing became clear, even after he spent an evening on his roof, stargazing.

It was obvious to Harry that he needed to find our more before any of it would truly fall into place. He needed to find out that key and without Draco's help, he doubted he would ever find it. It wasn't obscuroused or magically hidden in some other way, not within Hermione's home anyway. It was either locked up somewhere far away, and therefore probably lost forever to them, or hidden in plain view as Draco suggested earlier. But nothing jumped out at Harry. He needed a new set of eyes, someone who knew what he was looking for.

So finally, on Friday night, he decided to go to Rain to admit he couldn't do this alone.

And whether it was a lucky break or not, Ginny offered to go with him.

"So you need his help to find some key to decipher Hermione's notes about the curse that were in some cryptic code she developed during the war and Draco knows how to decipher them because he was a spy for the Order?" Ginny burst out in one breath as they stood outside within the neon glow of the nightclub's sign.

"Yep, pretty much." A gaggle of witches and wizards in their trendiest wizard and Muggle wear stood outside of the club, waiting to get in. Some stood sans warm outerwear, which Harry thought was ridiculous because it was early January. Not the warmest time of the year for England in the least. Lucky for them it wasn't raining.

"You sure you want to wear that?" she asked for the third time that night.

"Well, I'm not here to go dancing, Ginny." Ginny was wearing a very flattering pleated skirt and low cut blouse with some African jewelry that accentuated her hairstyle and her cleavage. She looked quite lovely; Harry could admit that even if it did little for his hormones. He was wearing faded black jeans and an emerald green T-shirt. The only attention he paid to his appearance was to spell his hair to behave, falling just right to hide his scars.

They both wore waterproofed outer cloaks, at Harry's insistence.

"Well, might as well make the best of it." She'd been very 'good' with Harry after their initial meeting, but a tension still remained between them. She told him she had met with her mum and they apparently had a healthy, long talk. Some of the issues she had bottled up seemed to have bubbled to the surface and she faced the raging pain when before she had only run. But Harry knew losing a family member wasn't something you faced and recovered from in only a few days.

She told him she still loved him, which broke his heart, but she knew it wasn't his fault or her fault or anyone's fault and she always wanted to remain his friend. She would find someone new, someday, though she admitted she had been waiting for him, ignoring other men's advances all together.

Harry didn't quite know how to relate to that, but offered his friendship and his arm as they walked up to the bouncer to enter the packed wizarding club. They were immediately escorted in after whispering to the bouncer his identity. Others standing in line gawked to see who it was who entered Rain with such ease. Harry tried to hide behind Ginny, who stood almost a half foot shorter than he.

"It's so great knowing you, Harry," she said dramatically, if quietly. "Don't have to wait through lines when you hang out with the Hero of…"

"Oh please, do stop," he interrupted as she giggled at him. Her laugh was cut short as she soaked up the ambiance of the club and let out a little noise of awe.

"Wow. This place is amazing."

"If you say so."

"I do," she insisted. "Well, have a good talk with Malfoy. I'm gunna go and get a drink, don't leave without me!" She waved as she easily left him behind. He looked after her with a warm feeling in his heart and silently wished her the best.

But he wasn't here for drinks or hanging out with Ginny. Business called and he scanned the crowd for either Draco or his gorilla bodyguard. It was Bledsoe he saw first.

"Hello, Mr. Bledsoe," Harry said politely.

The huge wizard looked down at Harry, eyes narrowing as they saw the man who could crack walls with a slip of his temper. "Mr. Potter," he said in his deep voice, adding a slight nod.

"I'm looking for Mr. Malfoy. He should be expecting me."

"I will inform him you've arrived. He's currently engaged. Please enjoy the club until he has finished with business."

With no expectations that arguing would get him anywhere, Harry turned back to the main club and surveyed the crowd. The dance floor was packed, the music roared and the beat commanded the bodies to move. He spotted Ginny chatting with someone he remembered from school, a few years ahead of them. What was his name, McNealy, McPhearson? Wasn't he a bit old for Ginny?

He watched them a little while longer and since Ginny seemed to be enjoying herself he decided not to play … what, jealous boyfriend? Protective brother? He better cool it or he might send mixed signals.

Grabbing a whiskey sour he found a tiny table in the back of the club and sat to sip his drink under a hovering blue light. Not five minutes passed before a hot, tall brunette stepped within the pale blue glow and smiled. Harry let his eyes run over the other man's body and felt himself smile back.

It was an odd mystery of the universe: Gaydar. Hermione had told him all about it and it amused him to no end. He certainly had no such internal sense of someone's sexual preference. He had to do it the old fashioned way. Either blatantly eyeball them or start up a little chat and see where conversation led. And apparently he was either sending out 'gay vibes' or this guy was definitely ballsy.

"Hey," said the brunette. "Haven't seen you here before."

"Don't come here." Harry scanned the crowd and noticed quite a few same sex couples in the club.

"Too bad. I need more hot men to dance with." His eyes roved over Harry's body appraisingly.

"Don't dance," Harry offered, faintly blushing at the compliment. "Plus, there appears to be quite a collection to choose from."

The brunette carelessly waved his hand at the crowd, as if to suggest they were all insignificant, like last year's automobile models. "You don't dance? Now that's a shame. Doesn't take much, just feel the beat in your bones and let it control you." The other man slipped into a seat. He smiled, sharp and brilliant, causing Harry to want to smile back.

"I like to stay in control." Harry took a sip of his drink.

"Sometimes it is nice to just let loose. I'm Aiden."

"Harry."

Two more drinks later and an endless stream of lively conversation from Quidditch to the dating scene to music, Aiden finally dragged a protesting Harry out onto the dance floor. Harry noticed Ginny out there dancing with McPhearson or McLaughlin or whoever he was. She didn't appear to notice him.

"Are you checking out that pretty redhead?" a seductive whisper asked. Aiden was close, Harry could feel every ridge and plane of the other man's body and he arched into it. Hell, it'd been a long time.

"Ah no, she's a friend. Just making sure she's okay."

"She's a big girl, I'm sure she can take care of herself."

Remembering Ginny training for war, taking out Death Eaters in the final battle, he acknowledged that she certainly could.

The beat was strong and the music demanded bodies to writhe and contour around each other, hugging tightly like a fine set of leather trousers. Harry and Aiden danced close, groin to thigh as hips undulated to the pounding base of the techno song. Aiden's hand was on Harry's back in a way that was possessive, but not controlling and Harry absently wondered if he was a top or a bottom before he felt a hard tap on his shoulder.

"I would ask to cut in, but unfortunately we have business to discuss."

Harry immediately jumped away from Aiden as he looked over to those piercing, gray eyes. The usual cool façade burned away by an inner fire that sent an unexpected spark down Harry's spine.

"Malfoy," he said, unsure if he should be embarrassed or annoyed.

"We can meet at a later date if you would prefer," he sneered, taking Harry aback.

"No. I want to talk with you now. Just a sec, okay."

He turned back to Aiden, who was watching the exchange with interest. "It was a pleasure, maybe if you're arou…"

But Harry was interrupted, "I don't wait 'just a sec', if you want to talk, we talk now." And Draco turned away, walking towards the office hallway.

"Go on, seems your boyfriend's the jealous type," Aiden said.

"My what? Oh no, you got that wrong." But it was too late to explain; the hot guy, the most action Harry had got in months, walked off as Harry watched on in lament.