Chapter 14
"Smile a smile that lights up all the room."
Deb Talan – Comfort

Draco hated the sun for many reasons. It was bright, therefore it caused him to squint, creating unsightly wrinkles. It was hot, making him sweat like a burgher. And, it was scalding, burning his pale flesh and painting him with unwanted colour. How could he be the Ice Prince with a sunburn on his nose? Tropical climates were never his destination of choice.

But here he was. Trudging under the Mexican sun, hot even in February, looking for some vague address that he had been certain he'd found twice, but later realised he stood on the wrong avenue or street or whatever these damned people called their roads.

He stopped in the middle of a heavily trafficked pedestrian area and sighed, dropping his leather bag to the dirt layered cobbles. There were Muggles everywhere, bumping into him and staring at his paleness. Not only were they Muggles, but they were Mexican Muggles, not even proper British folk who spoke the Queen's English. Draco was totally out of his element.

"Damn it Potter," he cursed under his breath. Scanning the crowd, he decided to give it one more try. He spotted a somewhat intelligent looking older man, picked up his bag, and approached him.

"Excuse me, sir," Draco said in his politest tone, which contained slightly less condescension than normal. "Could you help me find this address?" He thrust a piece of parchment at the man clothed in a blue business suit with stylish glasses resting on his nose. He took the paper and read the address, elegantly scripted in Draco's precise hand.

"Si, senior. Go up that street," he pointed to a road a few blocks down, "and go about three blocks, then turn left on Calle Gorrión and about two or three blocks up should be the building."

Draco offered the business man a small, yet heartfelt, smile, "Thank you."

"No hay problema."

Turning around the way he had come, Draco rushed through the crowd following the directions he was just given. He continued to dodge through the mass of people, seeming to grow even thicker as the population of stalls and shops lining the street doubled in number, hocking useless junk that Draco didn't offer a second glance. Did he really need a gourd with beads within it that made a raining sound when all one required was to cast a simple illusory spell to create such an affect? Sometimes the peculiarity of Muggles truly astounded him to no end.

Before too long, he stood below a run-down building five stories high with flaking plaster covering the front façade. Its layers of grime enticed a pained groan from Draco.

He seriously considered going home when he suddenly heard his name emerge from the cacophony of bartering from down the street.

"Oi Draco, that you?"

Draco turned sharply to see Harry, Ron and Remus walking up the street towards him. Harry waved, Remus grinned and Ron just looked confused. A sense of relief washed over him, though his back straightened and his controlled mask took up its usual position.

"Hello," he said simply after they caught up to him.

"What're you doing here?" Harry asked. Draco stiffened at the inquiry, a constriction developing in his throat like a headless beast with no other purpose than to suffocate. He was unsure how to take the greeting, so blatant and tactless. But then Harry smiled at him and he found he was able to breathe once more, realizing that this was just Harry, somehow exempt from simple social graces.

"I figured you might need some help and I haven't been to Mexico before," Draco explained, squinting at the low hanging sun. It was late afternoon, almost evening, but it was still bright out. "I'm not sure I like it."

Harry laughed and Draco, not seeing any mockery in it, offered him a small smile in return.

"No kidding," Harry said. "Even though it's technically winter, it's so hot here. Not used to it." Harry wiped some sweat off of his own brow, grinning all the while like Draco was some long lost friend he hadn't seen in years. "Well, why don't you come up? Or… we just ate… have you eaten? Did you want me to go and get something with you?"

Ron stared incredulously at them as Remus chuckled softly.

Draco continued to examine Harry's face for any insincerities or fractioned lies, but he saw neither, only open joy at Draco's presence. The look was almost off-putting, it made him feel out of his league—or perhaps it made him feel in a totally new league he never even imagined, honest and full of truth.

He almost missed the look passing between Remus and Ron--but didn't. He chose to ignore it anyway.

"Yes, thank you. I don't want to get lost again." This small admittance slipped out of his lips undirected and he hated that it had.

"Sure," Harry simply offered. "We'll meet you guys in about an hour or two?" Harry half stated, half asked.

Remus nodded, smirking. "Okay. We'll set up a place for you tonight, Draco. Want me to take your bag?" Remus asked.

"Thank you," Draco said, handing over his expensive luggage. Remus only nodded and turned to enter the building, though Ron continued to stare at him, a puzzled look upon his face that seemed to take up residence and claim the crease on the Auror's brow as home. Finally he too turned and followed Remus into the tenement building. Draco stood awkwardly, watching them disappear, hearing a very faint, "What was that all about?" as they entered the foyer of the building, the rest muffled behind smudged glass doors.

"Well, ready?" Harry asked, a little more subdued. His face looked red to Draco, perhaps due to too much time spent in the sun, but he was sure Harry hadn't seemed that pink just a few moments ago.

"Yes," he said with a thankful smile. Harry only nodded and they walked down the street. Draco wasn't sure of the last time he offered so much thanks in such a short span of time.

Harry seemed to know the way around the busy area and they soon stood before a small, yet clean, restaurant boasting a taste for world cuisine. There were a few wrought iron tables and chairs cluttered around the front door with plastic umbrellas striped white and green, shading them from the sun. A rich, enticing smell permeated the air of which Draco instantly approved.

"This place is pretty good, been here twice now." Harry laughed and ran his fingers through his hair, a movement Draco now recognized as one of uncertainty. Draco watched the man and wondered what exactly it was that made the Hero of the Wizarding World nervous. It certainly couldn't be him. This same man who only months before had thrown him against an alley wall and threatened him with his significant political and magical power. Could it be that Harry, this beautiful pinnacle of confidence, was nervous because he was interested? Fate had never been so kind to him before… and Draco didn't really believe in miracles.

Nevertheless, Draco's heart leapt.

"It smells good," Draco offered and was relieved to see Harry relax and deliver his radiant smile, one Draco seemed to earn more often these days.

The two men waited for a waitress to seat them in one of the tiny tables and give them each a menu, which Harry attempted to translate for Draco.

"This is chicken," Harry said, pointing to the pollo section of the menu, "and this is curry". A long list of Spanish words held position on one side of the page.

"Curry?" Draco asked, surprised.

"Well, it is world cuisine," said Harry with a smirk.

Draco, feeling very good indeed, decided on bravery and ordered something from the mystery curry list. He had no earthly clue what it was he ordered, but it promised to be spicy. Harry ordered a small portion of some sort of rice dish with eggs and beans.

"So… umm, Draco…" Harry's words tumbled out, and with what looked like a conscious effort, he paused, lifted his glass of some fruit puree to his lips, and took a sip. "What're you doing here? Not that I'm not glad you're here, it's just that I… well, we weren't expecting you."

"I just wanted to see how your research was going, Harry." Calling Harry by his first name still felt foreign on his lips, but it was a good kind of foreign like the first time he ate baklava and it melted on his tongue. Harry's name was like that, just melting on his lips, sweet and rich. "Seriously, I've been working on this project for how long? I couldn't very well leave you without my expertise."

Harry laughed and Draco soon followed. It was such a good feeling, to laugh with someone, that it caught him off guard. He dabbed at the corners of his mouth with his napkin, immediately aware of the comfort he felt in Harry's presence.

As he devoured his meal, the curry actually being passable—who knew he could find decent Indian food in Latin America—the two men talked and laughed. They avoided the hard subjects, such as their past animosity, but they found it easy to weave the conversation to pleasant topics and eventually back to their current mission.

"We'll be heading to Costa Rica tomorrow; you coming with us?"

"Of course," Draco said, as if there wasn't really any other option.

"Good." Harry's relaxed smile stole away the rest of Draco's rigid formality and most of his cognizant capabilities. A pregnant pause settled between the men as they lost themselves in the moment, narrow and directed and entirely them. Nothing else distracted or mattered. Draco almost forgot to breathe.

"So…" Harry started. The word held possibility, full of questions and promises and Draco held completely still, afraid to startle the already ruffled man. "When this is all over, when we're back in England… would you… I mean, do you think… Would you like to have dinner with me…?"

Draco almost choked on his flan. Was Harry Potter asking him out? On a date?

"Well, like now…" the other wizard trudged on, a fevered blush racing down his face, past the collar of his shirt. "We're having dinner now and it's nice. Right?"

"Yes, Harry. It is nice." Draco smiled in a way he hadn't since he was a lad sitting on his mother's knee casting his first Wingardium Leviosa, when Dark Lords didn't eat the soul of your family and the future held promise for bright, young minds. "I would love to." He realised he was drunk on Harry and he never wanted to be sober again. Perhaps Fate wasn't always a cruel mistress and miracles really did come true.

When the two wizards finally returned to the apartment, Harry could not conceal his smile. It blossomed over his face, so much like a spring bulb – thriving, fresh and completely beautiful. Remus couldn't help but return it.

The room was cluttered, no walking space to speak of, and Harry hopped from one furniture piece to another. Draco watched on, looking lost and uncomfortable. Remus had transfigured a little cot out of one of the metal framed chairs for Draco and it took up what little floor space remained. Harry had been sleeping next to Ron on the large mattress and Remus slept on the other transfigured chair. It painted a pretty picture reminiscent of a boys' sleep over.

"What, are we children?" Draco asked. "Why're we retiring so early?"

Remus was amazed he heard no condensation or bitterness from the aristocratic man over the shabby accommodations.

"We have to meet with Popicon at 7 a.m. tomorrow; I wanted to get an early start," Harry said. "'Early to rise, early to track down evil artefacts' is my motto."

They all rolled their eyes at Harry, but after some squabbles over space and misplaced feet—Harry accidentally stepping on Ron's arm—the four men settled down in the stuffy room.

Remus lay there, listening to the soft breathing of his companions. It took him a long while to finally fall to sleep, and when he eventually did, he dreamt of shimmering fabric shifting gently in a breeze.

Funny things happen when four men, sleeping in an enclosed room with the intention of getting up early for some important meeting in an entirely different country, forget to set the alarm fairy.

"Holy Hell," groaned Ron as he realised how late it was, well, early still, but later than they all intended. "Get your arses up! It's past 5."

Draco looked apoplectic. "What! I can't possibly prepare myself in less than an hour, Weasley. You must be joking."

Harry cast a quick Tempus spell and discovered it was 5:15 am. With the one hour time zone difference they had less than forty five minutes to get presentable, Apparate to San Jose and find Mr. Popicon's office. "He's not joking, Draco. You have twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes!" The blond jumped from his make-shift cot and sprinted for the bathroom. Ron groaned.

The other three men rushed around the confined space, dressing as quickly as they could, grabbing a cup of tea or coffee according to their preference and finally, when all other preparations were complete, they stood before the bathroom waiting.

"Draco!" Harry called. "Hurry, I gotta brush my teeth and use the loo."

"Yeah, could you hurry up in there!" Ron added, banging on the door. "Come on, get outta my bathroom." Ron never had been a morning person.

All they heard was the faint sprinkle of the shower.

"What the hell, Malfoy! You showering?!" Ron began banging on the thin door. Remus just threw up his hands to the air and went to lean against the edge of the tipsy table.

"Leave me alone," Malfoy called out at them. "You can't rush this kind of perfection."

"If you don't get out of there in one more minute, Malfoy, I'm coming in."

Harry danced around a bit, cursing himself for drinking that last cup of coffee. He checked the time again. It was 5:37. Time was running short.

"That's it!" Ron finally said. He placed his shoulder against the door, leaned away from it, and came in hard, cracking the frame.

"What the hell, Weasley!" Malfoy screamed from the bathroom. "Just give me a second."

"You've had your second. You've had twenty bloody minutes." Ron bashed at the door again, causing the flimsy door frame to break off and the door to fall to the side.

"Hey!" Draco's high piercing screech emerged like the scream of a little girl.

"God, Malfoy," Ron said, shock and disgust apparent in his words. He quickly turned away from the bathroom, moving faster than the rats in the walls.

Curious, Harry poked his head around the broken frame. The sight caused him to catch the unformed words he was about to speak and attempt to swallow them through a thick lump in his throat. Draco stood there in nothing but a towel, grasped loosely to his body like a flimsy shield, showing a fair amount of enticing skin. A faded tattoo stood out in contrast on his otherwise flawless arm, a remnant of a forsaken past.

Harry couldn't look away from the image before him. His gaze roamed up and down the slender figure and finally met Draco's face. His pale complexion glowed rosy with embarrassment, but he returned the stare with ease, head tilted slightly to one side. Harry couldn't stop gawking and soon became aware of a heat burning his veins, quickly heading south.

"Umm…" Harry said, coherency slowly reforming in the fried synapses of his brain. "I'll let you dress." And he darted away only to be scrutinized by the other male inhabitants of the room. "What?!" he asked.

Ron looked at Harry with a curious expression and then glanced over at Remus. "Malfoy? Harry fancies Malfoy?" The words were spoken in shocked calm.

Harry blushed furiously as Remus nodded. "It appears so, Ron. Come on now, take it like a man." Grinning, Remus winked at Ron as the redhead shifted uncomfortably next to him.

Ron looked over to Harry, a look of worry on his face. "Harry… Malfoy?"

With a perfectly sincere expression, Harry nodded. He wanted Ron to understand. Needed him too.

"What?" came the curious voice from behind him.

Harry jumped off the ground. "Don't sneak up on me," he admonished Draco, who stood there fully dressed and looking like a million galleons, per usual.

"Well, are you all ready?" he asked, nose in the air. Remus exploded in laughter.

"I still gotta use the loo." Harry dodged past Draco, waving his hand at the door frame causing it to mend itself. He slammed the door behind him after he entered and leaned his forehead against the steamed up mirror, fogging it up even more with his hot exhalation.

Merlin, what a way for Ron to find out.

Damn, Draco looked so good.

The wizards ended up being twenty minutes late to their meeting with Mr. Popicon.

They arrived in San Jose at the closest Apparition point to the office near the university, with five minutes to spare. Unfortunately, as Draco experienced first hand, the streets were not easily navigated and the four men ended up running around in circles until they found an unobtrusive alley that led them into the next section of town that housed the scholar's office.

"Mr. Popicon, I'm so sorry we're late. You see, we had this problem this morning…"

Draco, seeing that the Gryffindor was heading into a long stream of babbled truths, stepped in to redirect the conversation. The last thing he wanted was a recap of his betrayed privacy to this stranger. Though oddly enough, he didn't feel too indignant about it.

"We were unfortunately delayed this morning," Draco said. "I hope we didn't leave you with too much of an inconvenience by our tardiness." Draco held out his hand.

Argyle Popicon was a heavy set man with ill fitting clothes, but his breeding was good and Draco gave him credit for that, even if he was a careless slob. Plus the man was reportedly brilliant when it came to early Latin American magical practices. They couldn't afford to alienate him.

"Not at all, Mr.—"

"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

"Draco Malfoy, of the English clan?"

"Of course." Draco didn't think his name carried as much weight anymore; at worst it brewed an entirely different reaction from people who had heard of his father's actions during his later years. He always wondered how others would receive him upon introduction, not that it truly mattered to him. But he was proud of his name, his heritage, even if it was now more a stigma than a badge of honour.

"Pleasure," Popicon said. "You must be Harry Potter." The man looked over at Harry, who watched their greeting. Draco hoped he hadn't alienated Harry by cutting in.

"Yes. Thank you again for meeting with us." Harry shook his hand and introduced Ron and Remus. Popicon offered them each a seat and he settled his considerable bulk in an oversized chair on the opposite side of the desk.

"Quite the collection of war heroes I have here, isn't it?" Popicon seemed pleased.

"We only did what we had to do, sir," Harry offered in his most official tone. "What anyone would have done." Draco watched as Harry adorned himself in the mantles of the Boy Who Lived and Auror. His smiling, lighthearted Harry seemed to have jumped ship.

"Well, let's get down to business, shall we?" the scholar said. Remus and Ron seemed to be hanging back, letting Harry do all the talking. Draco decided to follow suit and remained quiet.

"Thank you." Harry handed a thin manila envelope across the desk. "This is all the information I have on the curse that I believe has been spread using a South American relic, more specifically a very old Aztec artefact. It seems to drain people of their magic. Initially it left anyone cursed a squib. But after more people had been cursed, research showed that its effects lessened in those previously cursed. They all started to get their magic back, but not fully."

"What do you know about the artefact itself?" asked Popicon, thumbing through the few pages Harry had given him.

"Not much, sir. What I know is that every other scholar I tried to talk to blew me off. I know that people have been killed over this. I also know that someone has set up a kind of area spell over some of our communities in London. I'm rather sure this is tied into the curse because most of the people of that area have been affected by it." Harry didn't want to tell this man that he thought the Ministry building was compromised, but he knew he needed to tell him as much as possible.

"This isn't much to go on," Popicon said, sounding disappointed. "But I will look into it for you."

"Thank you, sir. And if I find out anything more, is there a quicker way to contact you?"

"Ah, yes." The man stood and turned to rummage about in a filing cabinet behind him. He pulled out a small piece of paper, hard like a Muggle business card. Written out in block letters: Mr. Argyle Popicon, Research in Antiquities and Relics.

Harry glanced at the card, not sure what to do with it. "Is there a phone number?"

Popicon laughed. "It's one of my new inventions." He seemed quite pleased with himself. "I call it a Calling Card." The man snorted at himself, as if he thought he was the cleverest wizard around. Draco thought he spent far too much time with Muggles.

"How does it work?" Harry asked, a look of pure fascination on his face.

"You tap it with your wand and speak my name. We can talk through the card."

"Amazing! Why haven't we seen these in England yet?" Harry asked.

"My Magic Patent just went through. You know how it takes so long for international relations and product sales across borders. Just give it time."

"Well thank you, again. I am sure we will be in touch. Umm, you can contact me via Floo, to Hermione Granger, London England. Or owl at this address in Merida, Mexico. We will be there a little while longer." Harry scribbled down the address of Ron's tiny space in Mexico.

"Ah, Miss Granger. How's she doing?"

"Ah… cursed, sir. She's in a form of coma, apparently an experimental spell she had active interacted with the curse. Nothing new to report," Harry said dully.

"I'm so sorry to hear there's been no progress. She's such a brilliant witch. Experimental spell indeed… I hope to work with her again."

"You worked with her?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes, she visited a few years back and we worked on some new containment spells for destroying Dark Artefacts. Apparently she's had quite a bit of practice destroying ancient relics of a cursed nature."

"Yeah. She's destroyed a dark relic or two in her time."

With weighted hearts they all sprawled themselves amongst the ragtag furniture, except for Draco who sat rather primly on the edge of the wobbly desk.

"Well," said Draco, "that wasn't very productive."

Harry harrumphed, but didn't say anything.

"I'm sure that he'll discover something." Remus wanted to attach some optimism to the rather hopeless looking expedition they'd just returned from.

Ron looked like he was about to cry. "Can't you think of anything else, something you might have forgotten earlier? We can't leave her like this! Dark Relic from Aztec origins that siphons off magical energy. How popular is that?"

"Actually," Draco drawled, "you would be surprised. Magical vampirism is rather prevalent amidst megalomaniacs who only want to increase their own power." He gestured towards Harry, towards his scars, to make a point. "However, the fact that its effect lessens as more people are cursed is definitely unique. I haven't come across that in anything I've researched."

"Do lots of research on Dark Artefacts, huh?" Ron asked sullenly.

Draco looked over at the Auror. "Actually, yes."

Ron raised his eyebrows at Draco, but he didn't say anything more. They all fell into a quiet contemplation, none of them saying anything as they thought over what to do next. Each of them thought about Hermione, her survival being a foremost concern. Ron also worried about his Auror Team. Remus reviewed what he could remember of his recurring dreams. Draco rifled through his memories on all of the items in his inherited collection as well as kept an eye on Harry, who just felt lost.

There was a loud knock on the door that thrust each man out of his musings. The knock came again and Ron looked over at Harry, who already drew his wand. "You expecting anyone?" Harry whispered.

Ron shook his head and stood to one side of the door. Harry positioned himself on the other as Ron called out. "Who is it?"

"Uh, it's Goyle, Greg Goyle. Is Draco Malfoy there?"