CHAPTER TWO
Harry barely made it to the café on time, Mr. Weasley was already seated and sipping a tea when he ran in.
"Hello, Harry!"
"Sorry, sir, I stopped to chat with the Unspeakable."
Mr. Weasley laughed.
"Chatting with an Unspeakable—my boy, you delight in doing the impossible, don't you?"
"I suppose so."
"That aside, what will you be having?"
"Oh I don't know, maybe just a baguette."
"Just some bread? My wife would never allow it, Harry! Why don't you get the soup, the cream of broccoli is very good here."
"As you say, sir."
The waitress, a young redhead named Tracy, came to take Harry's drink order. He got water, but Mr. Weasley insisted he have tea.
"All right, cutie. I'll have that brewed in three snaps." And with a pat on Harry's shoulder, she strutted away.
"So Harry, now that we're away from the office, I don't feel bad asking you: when's the wedding?"
"Wedding?"
"Now, now, son! You and my Ginny have dated for nearly two months. Surely you've asked her, but she hasn't brought home a ring."
"No, actually, I've been really busy."
"Busy? Oh I see."
"No, Mr. Weasley, I do love Ginny, and I will ask her. I just think, now that the war's over, I can afford a few months to enjoy life."
"Before the ball-and-chain marriage, I see." Mr. Weasley clapped him on the shoulder, and Harry forced a laugh.
The rest of the lunch, Harry made polite conversation with the man who ran his life, and was thoroughly miserable.
That night, after an uneventful day at the office, he found himself lying on the couch, fingering the list of death eaters. And the one name that bored into his eyes…
Draco Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy.
Draco Malfoy.
The more he stared at it, the more it flowed together, until finally he shouted it aloud.
"DRACO MALFOY." The name had class.
He was sure Draco was there, in Room 17.
What was the Ministry keeping from him?
So, sliding on his sneakers and pocketing the list again, he set off to find out for himself.