(I felt like posting early.)

30th June, 2005 - Thursday

"I may have a lead on Rosier's financiers."

Malfoy looked out of place on Hermione's floral sofa, despite his relaxed pose. The room seemed too small for him, somehow, as though his presence alone was too large to be contained. Or perhaps Harry simply needed more sleep. He had tossed and turned most of the night and had finally crawled out of bed just after 4 a.m. to make a cup of tea and pore over the layout of the grounds where the House-elf Freedom Fair was to be held.

They still had no idea how Rosier planned to infiltrate the place, which had been heavily warded and was now being patrolled by private security guards—hired by Harry—and undercover Hit Wizards—assigned by Kingsley.

"Financiers, plural?" Hermione sipped at her tea. She looked more uncomfortable than Malfoy, even though she sat in her own favourite chair across from him.

"It makes sense. I've tracked a number of recent payments to a corporation known as A.L.A.—I've no idea yet what that stands for—but so far I haven't had any luck in ferreting out whom or what fronts it. The A.L.A. Gringotts account receives a number of smaller payments trickling in from various sources, which leads me to believe that Rosier's backer is not a single entity, but is actually a collective. With that said, it would be a simple matter for Shacklebolt's people to locate and infiltrate them. Unfortunately for you, Granger, we haven't the time for that."

"Because he's going to strike in two days."

"Correct."

"Wait, you didn't bring him in before because you wanted him to lead us to the people who hired him. Now that you've got a lead on that, can't you just arrange another meeting with him and we can take him down?"

Malfoy shook his head. "He would never agree to a meeting this near to the event, and it would be difficult to concoct a valid excuse for one. If Rosier should disappear, then his employers would tip the cauldron and run. We might be able to track a few of them, but more would slip through our fingers. To collect the largest number of fish, we must allow the net to settle as planned."

"That's easy for you to say! You won't even be there!"

"Of course I will. Someone has to be there to identify Rosier."

Harry glared at him. "I can identify him. Believe me, I'll never forget that face after what he did to Eddie."

"Really? And what did he look like?"

Harry described Rosier in detail and Malfoy shook his head.

"Polyjuice, Potter. Rosier has black hair, shot through with grey, and very close-cropped. He has a short beard that he's obsessively proud of and a large nick in his left ear left by a near-miss with a Severing Charm."

Harry was horrified. "Then won't he just use Polyjuice again? How will any of us identify him?"

"Luckily for us, Ralston is clever, but not particularly imaginative. This is why I've sent Granger everything I know about his prior attacks—he will most likely repeat something he has previously used. You will notice something of a pattern of repetition. I've seen many of his Polyjuice disguises and can identify him on sight if he uses one that he's used before. With that said, he may come up with one I haven't seen, in which case we'll need to identify him by his wand. Have you put measures in place to perform a wand check?"

Harry nodded. "All guests will be required to enter through the front gate and present their wands for identification."

"With the wards in place and Anti-Apparition Charms set, he won't have any choice other than to enter with everyone else. Would you recognise his wand if you saw it?"

Harry thought about it and tried to remember how it had looked pressed against Eddie's throat. "I'm… I'm not sure. It was dark wood, a bit gnarled, I think."

"Yes. It is walnut. I would recognise it anywhere."

"Wouldn't he use a different wand?" Harry tried not to think about the fact that Rosier had his wand. It was doubtful he would be foolish enough to attempt to use that one, however.

"It's possible, but unlikely. He will want to have his best assets close at hand, and he's been out of the country long enough that it's unlikely someone would recognise it. Most of the snobs that will be in attendance were not exactly in Rosier's social circle."

"Hey!" Hermione looked affronted.

"Don't be hypocritical, Granger. You know the invite list contains those likeliest to throw their Galleons at your cause. Although I'm certain you peppered the event with enough rabble to disguise that fact."

Hermione's eyes narrowed to a murderous bandwidth. Despite the fact that Malfoy was attempting to help, he seemed to be giving her cause to have him thrown out bodily. Then again, that might have been Malfoy's intention. Harry intervened before she could explode.

"Speaking of the guest list, it's unlikely that any of Rosier's employers will show up, isn't that right? If they know his mode of operation, they'll stay as far away as possible." He gave Hermione a look that urged her to exercise restraint.

"True. I assume Granger has created a list of potential suspects already." Malfoy lifted a brow and Hermione gave a curt nod. "If any of them are on the guest list, you might make a note of them. And follow up on anyone that doesn't show. Provided, that is, that Rosier gives everyone time to arrive. As his primary target, you will be there most of the day, so theoretically, he could strike at any time."

"But you don't think he will," Harry guessed.

Malfoy shook his head. The motion caused a lock of his platinum hair to drop over his forehead and he pushed it back absently. "No. He likes carnage. It helps to disguise his real motive. Anyone outside of our immediate circle will assume it was either some bizarre accident, or that it was meant as a general act of terrorism or a dramatic political statement."

"An accident," Hermione repeated. "I've looked through your files—thank you for those, by the way—and he does tend to utilise the 'accident' method. Natural gas explosions, Muggle petrol trucks, simple spells gone awry, food poisoning… It's a fairly large list."

"Yes, but he isn't afraid of repetition and some of it we can rule out immediately. Natural gas, for one, is not an option as there are no naturally occurring sources in the area. And it's far enough from Muggle travel routes that it would be impractical to attempt an automobile explosion. It would also be nearly impossible to drive one through the metal gates and into the fortified Manor. The Farm is solidly built."

"Food poisoning?"

Hermione smirked. "We've eliminated that possibility, at least. The caterer was booked months ago and rather than alert Rosier that his plot might be uncovered, we will allow them to bring the food in and then immediately send it through a Vanishing Cabinet to the Ministry where it will be quickly analysed and returned. We should know within moments if any of it isn't safe."

"So that leaves a spell."

"Yes, and based on his prior history, it will either trigger an explosion or a lethal curse. We need to figure out which and how he plans to do it."

Setting all former differences aside, Hermione and Malfoy leaned over the table and began to hammer through potential attacks and how to counter them. Harry sat back and watched them go to it, feeling inordinately pleased with them both.

1st July, 2005 - Friday

Draco walked up the cobblestone path, wary of exposed edges that might catch on the soles of his shoes. It was tricky enough to walk on a flat surface; cobbles seemed built to sabotage such an endeavour, particularly when trying to avoid the collected puddles of water.

Blaise leaned close. "You're rocking those heels, Draco. Have you been practicing?"

"Every night. It's great for the gluteus maximus. You should try it."

Blaise snorted, but Draco suspected he was mulling the idea over for validity. Draco ignored him and sashayed up to the barred iron gate.

"Persephone Johnston, here with a delivery of bunting," he announced.

Auror Klein—the one Potter called Kay-Kay—flipped through a large sheaf of papers on her clipboard. Behind her, Seamus Finnigan stood with arms crossed and wand in hand. He actually looked intimidating and ready, which was a bit of a surprise. Draco hadn't thought the mild-mannered former Gryffindor had it in him. Both Aurors were dry; the rain cascaded over an Umbrella Charm that covered an area a good twelve feet across. Draco wondered which of them had cast it.

"Johnston, Johnston… what the hell is bunting?"

Draco heaved a dramatic sigh. "Merlin save me from the uncouth barbarians of the world. Bunting! It's decorative fabric for the chair seats. All forty-two of them. Shrunk for transport, of course." Draco indicated the box in Blaise's arms. Blaise currently looked like a caricature of Odin, with bulging muscles, a ridiculous beard, and an eye patch.

Auror Klein gave them both a hard stare. "You really need him to carry that tiny box?"

"Of course not. But I will need his help in setting up. You don't expect me to decorate forty-two chairs on my own, do you?"

"Open it up."

Finnigan looked even warier as Auror Klein pulled out her wand and poked through the box containing the shrunken lavender fabric. Finding nothing else within, she shrugged and then demanded their wands. Her eyes widened comically when Draco placed his wand on the clipboard and then she smirked.

"Nice tits, Malfoy," she murmured, barely audible.

"I didn't realise that was your preference, Klein. Duly noted."

Klein snorted, but did not refute his statement. She gave Blaise's wand a cursory glance and handed it back.

"No sign of Rosier?"

Klein shook her head. Draco had given them a detailed description of Rosier's wand, although it was nondescript enough that he worried the Aurors would let it pass. Wands were resistant to magical disguises, although it was possible to add a decorative grip, or encase it within another object, as Draco's father had done with his cane.

Few people were being allowed entry at this stage and Draco didn't think Rosier would chance an early arrival when the gatekeepers were fresh and alert. He would most likely turn up later to blend with the crowd.

"You may pass."

"I'll be back thirty minutes, before the guests are scheduled to begin arriving."

"All right. Good luck."

Draco passed through the gate as Finnigan held it open and then he and Blaise continued on the path towards the main house. Draco's eyes swept the grounds, alert for any possible threat. They had narrowed down a large list of options to several potentials, but they still were not positive from which avenue the threat would come.

Another Auror that Draco barely recognised opened the door to the manor for them with a clumsy bow. His eyes swept over Draco appreciatively and Draco treated him to a mild glare of reproach. The Auror was dressed as a doorman.

Draco strolled inside and noted that, despite the rustic name of Shepherd's Farm, the place had size and elegance to rival Malfoy Manor. The exterior grounds contained stables and barns and carefully tended vegetable, herb, and potion ingredient gardens, but the house itself was a marvel of tasteful furnishings, rich carpets, and an excess of marble and crystal. Draco paused and allowed a moment of nostalgia to wash over him. How long had it been since he'd been home?

He ignored Blaise's concerned huff and pulled out his wand to cast several charms, seeking any sort of Muggle devices. He knew that Granger and Shacklebolt had already done so, but Draco never liked to rely on others when it came to personal safety.

He continued on to the dining room and repeated the process, then stopped and clucked his tongue at the large painting displayed on the wall. "Van Gogh in the dining room? Honestly, and I thought these people had taste. I see now they are simply charlatans masquerading as their more cultured brethren. Such a shame."

"What's wrong with it?" Granger demanded from the doorway.

Draco lifted a brow. "Nothing is wrong with it per se, but if you choose to look at shapeless glops of colour I think a Monet would be a better choice. Such garish colours as this would put me off my meal at dinnertime. I think Monet's Beach at Pourville would be far more soothing to the eye, and draw the diners' attention during boring stretches of conversation as they will themselves into the scene and far, far away from what will, inevitably, be a typical Ministry dinner full of self-aggrandisement and talk of how enough Galleons can solve all of the troubles of the world."

"Malfoy?" she asked in a low tone and put away her wand.

Draco gave her a short sigh. "What gave it away?"

"Harry warned me about your cynical monologues. Is he with you?"

"I am not cynical. I am a realist. And yes, Blaise, please set up the bunting. Salazar knows this place could use some softer colours, although the lavender is going to clash horribly with this green. Perhaps we can remove this painting entirely? Or cover it with fabric? Possibly a banner announcing the purpose of this grand gathering?"

"Bunting? You actually brought bunting? Have you seen Harry?"

"Potter tends to be chronically late and I assigned Pansy to him, which may have been a mistake, in hindsight, as she takes chronic lateness to be her life's mission. She is quite serious about it. I don't expect them for another twenty to thirty minutes."

Hermione shook her head, obviously exasperated. "I am going to go and oversee the food transfer. It should be arriving shortly. Luna is bringing the flowers. I sent her to fetch them from the florist rather than risk another unknown delivery person. We've cut that list to a minimum, at least. I've checked every room of the house—twice—for Muggle devices, so I think we can rule that out, at least. Merlin, I'm stressed. Perhaps I should have cancelled. It's just so bloody important and this is our last opportunity before the vote."

Granger wrung her hands for a moment and Draco blinked at her, not having seen the unshakeable woman in such a state since their school days. Impulsively, he walked over and took both of her hands in his, girly as they were at the moment. He smiled into her surprised face.

"Granger. You are going to be fine. With me and the hero of the wizarding world on your side, how can anything possibly go wrong?"

She snorted, but a smile played at the corners of her lips. "You're even less convincing as a girl."

"I dunno. I'm convinced," said a familiar voice from the second doorway and they both looked over to see Weasley standing there. Draco gave Granger's hands a squeeze and then winked at Weasley before turning to help Blaise with the bunting. He was making a mess of it, of course.

"Not like that, Brutus, honestly, have you never seen chintz before?" He cast several spells to straighten the fabric and tie the ribbons properly.

"Brutus." Weasley chortled and then asked, "When's the food get here?"

"Hungry already, Ron?"

"Always. You got that Portkey handy?"

"It's in my pocket, but you know I'm not using it whilst anyone else is in danger, including you."

"Yeah, yeah. Which means we have to find this thing before hell breaks loose. Any luck with that? And where's Harry?"

"Running late, according to Malfoy."

"Persephone!" Draco corrected in a singsong voice.

"Right. Come on, Ron, and help me with the food. And don't eat any of it until we verify that it's safe! Persephone, you do…whatever it is you plan to do before Harry gets here." She exited with Weasley trailing after.

"The first thing I plan to do is get rid of those heinous floral arrangements," Draco muttered as Luna Lovegood entered through the opposite door. Trailing behind her was a veritable forest of potted chrysanthemums. Lovegood stopped short.

"Oh, but you can't. These are the table centrepieces. Four in here, two in the hallway, one in each bathroom, and this large arrangement here on the central dais near the stairwell."

"I know perfectly well what they are and I also know that they look absolutely dreadful against the lavender, particularly with that hideous painting as contrast. And opaque vases? Really?"

"Technically, it's a fundraising event to lift awareness of—who are you, exactly?" Lovegood levitated the flowers to the table and levelled a surprisingly cognizant stare on Draco.

"Persephone Johnston, interior designer."

Lovegood frowned. "Well, then, I supposed you would know best, but Hermione chose the arrangements herself." She shrugged. "I was instructed to deliver the flowers, so here they are. Do you know where Hermione is? I want to see if she needs anything else."

Draco waved Lovegood away towards the kitchen. She tucked her wand into her hair and then wandered that way, multi-coloured skirts billowing behind her. Draco shook his head. She was still an odd duck.

"These pink mums will have to go. We'll save the green ones to soften the effect of that unfortunate painting, but these…" He cast several charms that transformed the plump pink mums into slender snapdragons of purple and lavender. "I would prefer to enclose them in glass to prevent them from biting any of the precious guests, but c'est la vie. Apparently Granger chose the vases herself."

He looked at the dark blue glass critically and added a few sprigs of larkspur. "Blaise, help me with these." The next few minutes were spent in silence as they adjusted the floral arrangements to Draco's satisfaction.

"Was all that really necessary?" Blaise asked.

Draco smiled and surveyed the table with a satisfied nod. "Absolutely."

oooOooo

Harry was in a panic. He had spent the morning with Eddie, who was feeling stronger and was due to be released that evening, and then had popped into the Ministry to give Kingsley an update and go over every possible contingency plan. He had gone to Eddie's flat for a quick sandwich and then had Flooed to Grimmauld Place, where he'd nearly hexed Pansy Parkinson out of surprise when he'd discovered her lounging in his bathtub.

"What are you doing here? And how did you get in?" His voice had been several octaves higher than usual.

Parkinson had lifted her soapy arms and smirked at him; the motion had revealed more of her breasts than Harry had ever wanted to see, even including his bi-curious and sex-starved school days. "Taking a bath, and through the door."

"But this place is under a Fidelius Charm."

"Draco gave me the address. He told me to keep an eye on you and then to escort you to Granger's thing. You were taking forever, so I decided to bathe. Great tub, by the way. You should get dressed. We're late." One hand gripped the edge of the tub and Harry had feared she meant to rise and expose the rest of her sudsy body. He'd fled to his room.

A suit of clothing had been laid out on the bed. Too flustered to ask questions, Harry had changed into it. A Tempus Charm proved that they were, indeed, late. Hermione—and Malfoy—would likely be displeased. If only he could get the damned tie right.

Parkinson banged into his bedroom without knocking. She wore a red dress so tight it might have been adhered to her body with a Charm. Harry wondered how she could move her legs at all, much less wearing the hugely high black stilettos on her feet.

"Snap to it, Potter." She levelled her wand at him and his instinctive grab at his own wand was aborted when the tie around his neck snapped tight and then spun itself into a perfect knot. "Are you ready?"

"I… uh. Yeah."

She nodded and then produced a vial from somewhere. "Great. Bottoms up." She tipped it into her mouth and then waited expectantly. A moment later her features began to bulge and move. They rearranged themselves into a shape that was surprisingly similar to her own. Her hair had gone brown instead of black, and her eyes had lightened to pale blue. Her mouth was fuller and her nose was slender and straight instead of pug-like. A tattoo of a red rose decorated one breast. "I'm your date. I suppose the name Rose will do and you won't have trouble remembering it."

Harry nodded. "Rose. Got it." He kept his eyes fixed on her face. He was gay, but he wasn't sure she'd received that memo.

She took his arm. "Let's get going, Harry."

Taking a deep breath, Harry Apparated them away.

oOo

They checked in with Kay-Kay and Seamus at the front gate. Kay-Kay lifted a brow at "Rose" but said nothing beyond, "Harry Potter and guest."

"Has anyone else arrived?" Harry asked.

"No other guests. We don't expect them for another forty minutes."

"Stay alert." The words were unnecessary and he gave her an apologetic grin. Seamus opened the gate and Harry walked up the path with Pansy clinging to his arm. To his surprise, she pulled out her wand and cast a few spells; he recognised them as wards. "What are you warding for?"

"I don't like surprises. Ralston tends to work alone, but there is a first time for everything. He could have installed people here days ago, transfigured as trees or benches. This won't force them out, but I'll know the moment they cross my boundaries."

Harry nodded. Hermione had already thought of that, and she and Ron had spent some time taking precautions against such a thing. It was nice to see Parkinson behaving in a competent manner, however. Perhaps Malfoy had been wise to assign her to Harry's "protection" although he had rolled his eyes at the suggestion.

Inside the entry hall, Harry looked around whilst Parkinson primped her hair with a charm, complaining about the humidity. A whisper of sound drew his attention and he gripped his wand more tightly as a woman walked down the marble steps. Her footsteps were neatly muffled by the carpet, but her dress swished over her calves as she walked. She was quite beautiful; Harry had never seen her before.

"Do you know her?" Harry murmured.

"Quite well." Pansy had barely given the woman a glance; she was too busy adjusting the red dress over her breasts. "Salazar, why do these things never fit right no matter how much I practice beforehand?"

The newcomer reached the bottom of the stairs and then cocked her head and gave them both a critical stare. Something about the movement was instantly familiar and Harry felt his jaw gape open. The woman glided forwards until she stood before him, and then she pushed his mouth shut with a single finger beneath his chin.

"Now, now, Potter, don't catch any flies in there. It's unhealthy. Are you absolutely sure you're gay?"

"I'm sure," Parkinson said with a snort. "He caught me naked in his tub and fled like a pack of werewolves was on his tail."

Malfoy turned an icy glare on her. "You took a bath in Potter's tub?"

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Draco. It was a really nice tub and I was bored."

Harry coughed. "It was fine, really. Although it wasn't really necessary to send her as a bodyguard. And how did you get past the Fidelius, anyway? That's really disturbing."

"Like hell it wasn't. He'd still be there trying to knot his bloody tie. Where can a girl get a drink around here?"

"You're on duty." Malfoy was still glaring at her.

Parkinson stared him down and then broke into peals of laughter. "Bloody hell, Draco, sometimes you're so serious, especially when it comes to Potter. He's fine and he will continue to be fine, so lighten up. Where is Blaise?"

"Upstairs, locking every room that doesn't need to be open. Perhaps it would be best if you helped him."

"As you wish, boss." She smirked at him and then sauntered to the stairs and ascended.

Malfoy sighed heavily. "If she wasn't my best friend I would have killed her years ago."

Harry wasn't sure what to say about that. "You look…um."

Malfoy beamed. "Beautiful, I know. Thank you." He twirled in place and the skirt flared out around his—her—legs. Harry tried not to think about the fact that it was Malfoy under the sleek package. He failed.

"Any luck figuring out what Rosier has planned?"

"Yes. I suppose you would like a tour so that you may double-check all of our precautions." Malfoy pivoted and took Harry's arm before waving expansively. "This is the entry hall. By the way, trust none of the serving staff and please be certain to refer to me as Persephone or Ms Johnston. We have no way of knowing how many of them Rosier might have bribed or threatened."

Harry nodded and allowed Malfoy to escort him through the house, loudly pointing out features as though he owned the place, and giving him sotto voce information regarding security measures and steps already taken. It was obvious that Malfoy knew something; he was behaving far too smugly for someone nervous about possibly being blown to pieces.

The ballroom was empty. It had been lined with delicate-looking chairs and one wall was dominated by a huge, magical organ. Its bright metal pipes extended up nearly to the high ceiling. Harry spent extra time casting Detection Charms in the ballroom; it was where he most expected danger to originate. The room would be the initial gathering place for the guests. They would enjoy champagne and cocktails whilst waiting for the bell to announce dinner, and then they would adjourn to the dining room.

Malfoy tapped an impatient stiletto and Harry turned on him. "All right, tell me what you know. I'm getting damned nervous about trusting my best friend's life to you, when I don't even trust you with my own safety. Give me something concrete or I'm taking her out of here and cancelling this event.

Malfoy shrugged. "I think I know what he's planning. However, you want him captured, correct? We can neutralise the threat he poses right now, but it would alert him and he would be gone, only to strike again with more elaborate and careful preparation. It would be wise to allow this to play out and catch him in the act."

"The act of attempted murder."

"Well, yes. Anything less will give you nothing but circumstantial evidence. He would walk after his first meeting with legal counsel."

Harry scowled, knowing he was right, but that didn't mean he was willing to gamble with Hermione's safety. They had tried to convince her to allow one of the Aurors to impersonate her with Polyjuice, but she had refused to put anyone else in danger in her stead.

Malfoy stepped closer, until his (her?) breasts brushed the lapels of Harry's dress robes. He was slightly shorter than Harry in his current guise, and his bright blue eyes stared into Harry's. "I'm not going to let anything happen to Granger. I know she's important to you and she is, therefore, important to me."

"I still don't understand this weird fixation you have with me right now. It doesn't make sense."

Malfoy cocked his head and his red lips curved into a smile. "Maybe I just like you, Harry. Servant." With that, Malfoy wrapped his arms around Harry's neck and pulled him into a kiss. Harry was too stunned to react. The lips beneath his were soft and warm, slick with lipstick, and tasted of mint.

A throat-clearing sound behind them caused Harry to pull away with an intake of breath, and he turned to see a man in the doorway, staring at them through wide eyes. "I'm sorry, Mister Potter—I mean Auror Potter, sir. I'm here to stack the champagne flutes. I can come back."

Harry coughed. "No, it's fine. We were just. Um." He flushed, because it was obvious what they'd been doing, and he wondered how long before the papers received the story about Harry kissing a blond woman. It would likely cause a dramatic storm after he'd come out as preferring men and—Merlin! What would Eddie say?

Harry grabbed Malfoy's elbow roughly. "Come along, Persephone. We need to go and speak with Hermione now."

They walked past the man, who did not take his eyes from them, probably trying to place Malfoy, or at least memorise his current feminine features to describe them to the reporters.

"What the hell was that?" Harry demanded the moment they were out of earshot.

"Do I really need to explain the mechanics of—?"

"I know what it was," Harry hissed. "I want to know why."

A bright grin flashed at him and Harry realised it was all wrong. Malfoy's teeth were different. "Just a diversion, Potter. No need to fret."

A diversion for whom? he wanted to growl, but he figured Malfoy would only get more cryptic if he pushed it. He just… didn't want to be laughed at. Hermione nearly ran into them as they approached the door to the kitchen. Ron was at her heels, looking anxious.

"There you are. Finally. The guests are due to begin arriving. Are you going out?" Harry nodded and Hermione handed a sheaf of papers to Malfoy. "Here are the programmes you requested. Are you ready?"

"Relax, Granger, and don't forget to breathe. Stay close to Blaise. In his present state he's rather formidable."

"So am I," Ron interjected.

Malfoy chuckled and it came out as a girlish giggle. He was rather charming as a woman. "Of course you are, Weasley. Come along, Potter. I assume you have your cloak?"

Harry had worn a messenger bag with his invisibility cloak stuffed inside. He nodded and then headed for the nearest washroom where he slung it on. He crept back out and nudged Malfoy's shoulder. "Let's go."

"I'm off to greet the guests, then." Malfoy waved at Ron and Hermione and traipsed out. The Auror at the front door let him out and Harry followed close behind. "Careful not to tramp on my shoes, Potter. They are difficult enough to walk in."

Harry decided that silence was the better part of valour and he remained quiet until they reached the front gate. Malfoy cancelled his Umbrella Charm when they reached the invisible canopy of Kay-Kay's shelter.

Harry stood quiet and tried not to get bored as Malfoy engaged Kay-Kay and Seamus in a rousing discussion of the merits of Furnunco's Broom Polish. Fully three quarters of Malfoy's comments sounded like sexual innuendos and soon Seamus was chortling madly and Harry was struggling to remain quiet. Thankfully, it wasn't long before the first guest popped into sight just outside the gate.

Harry recognised the trio as minor officials from the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Kay-Kay waved them forwards.

Hello, Mr Blakesley. Mr Zirkle, and Mrs Hemingway. Right this way, and present your wands, please." Three wands hit the clipboard and Harry gave them a cursory scan. None of them resembled the wand that Malfoy had described.

Malfoy handed them each a programme and greeted them with a vapid smile. "Thank you for coming to the House-elf Freedom Faire. Here is a brochure explaining the upcoming Wizengamot vote with a list of the things you can do to help. Please make your way to the front entrance, there, and the doorman will assist you further. Thank you and have a lovely time." One manicured hand gestured towards the manor house and Harry wondered if Malfoy had shellacked his own fingernails, or if the woman he'd lifted the hair from had been as fastidious about personal grooming. The thought of Malfoy painting his own nails was… bizarrely attractive.

Harry scowled and shook off his Malfoy musings. He was here to catch a murderer, not moon over Draco Malfoy. It was rather annoying how the man was wearing a female form, and yet Harry couldn't help but see the man beneath.

When the three guests had tromped up the path towards the house, Malfoy leaned close to Harry. "And so it begins," he whispered.

"Three down and…fifty seven to go," Kay-Kay said cheerfully. Seamus groaned.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Harry murmured back into Malfoy's ear.

Malfoy only smiled.

~TBC~