"How's your injuries?" she asked. "Though it does beg the question, how did you let him get the drop on you?"
"I got careless and made a rookie mistake. Didn't think he'd actually attack me so I let my guard down."
"Did you have to shoot him in the knee?" asked Hermione as Harry walked down the hallway towards the DSA office.
"Did I have to? No, not really," he replied. "Was it the most effective way to get what I needed? Most definitely."
He stopped several paces from the door that led to the office.
"Why didn't you tell me about the trace?" he asked.
"Director Shacklebolt told me not to," she replied, voice going soft. "Harry, you know I would have told you if I could have. Hell, I put off actually doing it for as long as possible."
"We're partners, Hermione. Partners tell each other everything."
"He threatened to fire me if I told you," she protested. "What was I supposed to do?"
He sighed and shook his head. He couldn't be mad at Hermione, especially since she was just following orders. She wasn't afraid to step outside the book to go with him on a hunch, but there were limits to her leniency. He'd learned that in the years since they'd been partnered. The boss threatening to fire her was one such limit, though he couldn't help but wonder if the man would have actually followed through with it.
"I'm sorry Hermione, I know it's not your fault and I'm not blaming you. It's just frustrating, but I'm going to get answers. I'm about to enter the office. I'll call you later."
He ended the call and slipped the phone back into his coat, walking the remaining distance to the door and staring up at the camera. The door clicked and he entered. Immediately he could feel the tension in the air. It was subtle, as if everyone were just over the edge of nervousness, but it was there nonetheless. He walked towards the Directors office, various members of the department sneaking glances at him.
He looked at Tonks as he approached, stopping in front of her desk.
"Seems I made a bit of a stir," he observed.
Tonks snorted.
"I think you did more than that," she said, nodding her head towards the door to the Director's office. "I think the rep from the Werewolves is in there with him now. We're supposed to send you in directly once you arrive. Is it true you kneecapped a wolf with silver bullets?"
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"Is that what they're saying?"
She nodded her head.
"That's what we heard. Is it true?" she asked.
"That depends on if it's a good thing or not," he replied.
Tonks shrugged.
"I'd have probably gone with something a little less drastic, but I didn't have to clean up after, so my opinion probably doesn't matter much." She frowned. "You might as well go in and get it over with."
Harry sighed and nodded before continuing his walk. Shacklebolt's secretary didn't say anything, just nodded at him before turning his attention back to his computer screen. Harry opened the door to the office and slipped in. Immediately, he felt the impact of a large fist with the side of his face. Stars shot through his vision as he fell to the ground. The door slammed shut and he looked up, a large wobbling form glaring down at him.
"Good morning to you too, Greyback," he grunted and he pushed himself into a sitting position. "Where the hell is Lupin?"
Fenrir Greyback was the largest, nastiest Werewolf in all of the country. As far as Harry knew, he was the most powerful as well, even outside of his transformed state. He was also a complete arsehole and decidedly not the Werewolf liaison. Harry rubbed his jaw and felt the swelling beginning to form. Maybe Hermione had something that could keep it from bruising. He could always stop by the water Nymph he usually bought his healing supplies from.
"When one of my own gets put into the hospital by an agent I'm going to come down here myself," Greyback said. "I'm the Alpha, not Lupin, and I don't need him as an intermediary."
"Still trying to make that one stick, huh?" Harry said as he stood up. He teetered slightly before finding his footing. He looked back at the taller man. "You're not wolves, you're Werewolves, and Werewolves have never called their leader the Alpha. It smacks of someone trying desperately to make a nickname stick."
"You little shit," Greyback hissed.
Kingsley stood from behind his desk but Harry held up a hand.
"Maybe your grasp on your pack is slipping, Greyback?" he asked with a cocky smile. "Last time I checked your kind had cleaned up their act. Got tired of people like me putting them down. Then, Gregory Goyle goes and breaks into a dead man's apartment and attacks an agent. Tsk, tsk. Sloppy, Greyback, very sloppy. Perhaps they need a new Alpha?"
Greyback stepped closer to Harry, towering over him, but Harry simply glared up at the older man. He wasn't afraid of Greyback, and even if he was he'd never show it.
"Keep away from my pack," Greyback threatened, poking Harry in the chest with a meaty finger. "Or I'll be the next wolf you see."
The bulky man stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him. Harry let his shoulders relax and the tension left him. While he wasn't afraid of Fenrir Greyback, that didn't mean the man wasn't intimidating. He let out a long, slow breath. He'd have Hermione reach out to Remus to see how the rest of the werewolves were taking last night.
"Now that your dick measuring contest is over," Kingsley said from behind his desk, narrowing his eyes. "Perhaps you want to tell me what the fuck you were thinking yesterday?"
"No," Harry said, turning to face the Director. "First you're going to tell me why the fuck you had my partner put a trace on my service weapon."
Kingsley waved his hand dismissively.
"That's standard procedure, Agent Potter. The primary field agent always has a trace on their weapon that notifies me immediately when it's fired."
Bullshit. Harry stared at him for a long moment, watching to see if Kingsley would flinch. When he showed no signs of backing down, Harry spun on his heels and pulled open the door.
"Tonks!" he called. "Get in here."
He stepped back into the office as the shapeshifter walked over, a hesitant look on her face. She entered the office and nodded at Kingsley before turning to Harry.
"What can I do for you?"
He gave her an apologetic look.
"I'm sorry for this," he said sincerely.
Just as she opened her mouth he grabbed her by the forearm and bicep. Quickly he used his own body to flip her over and slam her into the ground. She gasped as the air was pushed from her lungs. Harry pulled her service weapon from the holster and looked up at Kingsley. Without breaking eye contact he stretched out his arm, aimed at the side wall, and pulled the trigger twice.
The silence that followed the two shots was deafening as the two continued to stare at one another. No messages or calls came in. No cell phone or email pings. Nothing. Without words, Harry dared the other man to say something, question him, but Kingsley simply sighed and sat down in his chair. The door behind them was thrown open as Cedric entered, weapon drawn.
"What the fuck is going on?" he asked, looking around wildly.
Harry pulled the slide on Tonks' weapon, caught the bullet that was ejected, and tossed it at Kingsley in defiance. Still neither man spoke, but the message was clear. Kingsley sighed and broke eye contact.
Harry stood and looked down at Tonks, offering a hand to help her up. He flipped around her service weapon and handed it to her. She glared at him.
"Wanker," she said as she slid the weapon back into its holster. "I'd have just given it to you if you'd asked."
"Sorry about that, I needed to make a point," replied Harry, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked over at Cedric. "Sorry to make you worry, buddy."
Tonks and Cedric looked over at Kingsley.
"You two are dismissed," the Director said.
The other two agents left, closing the door behind them. Harry turned back to Kingsley and walked to the chair in front of the desk, plopping down with a sigh.
"So, now that we know what's bullshit and what isn't," he started, "let's try again. Why did you put a trace on my weapon?"
"You know I could fire you for that?" Kingsley asked.
Harry shrugged.
"Hermione is the best information agent you have and she works best with me," he pointed out. "If you wanted to fire me you'd have done it by now, I've fucked up enough times for that to be justifiable. I've done far worse things than put a couple holes into a wall that needed to be repainted anyway. Think of it as redecorating."
Kingsley pinched the bridge of his nose.
"It wasn't my call," he said after several moments of silence. "The order to put the trace on your weapon came from up top."
"How high?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.
"The very top," replied Kingsley with a sigh. "You're a bit of a walking disaster, Harry. Not entirely of your own fault, of course, but it wasn't a completely unreasonable request given your history. Also because you do shit like firing rounds into the wall of the Director's office."
If he were being honest with himself, Harry couldn't disagree with the assessment. His time with the DSA had always been interesting, but also troublesome as well. Part of it was his own fault for taking cases nobody else wanted. The ones that everyone knew led to trouble but someone had to be left holding the bag. He thrived on that type of work, but it made trouble for the Director. On the other hand, he'd often just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Must be his rotten luck.
"Fine," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "It wasn't entirely unjustified. I still don't have to like it."
"I don't expect you to," replied Kingsley. "The stunt you pulled yesterday is a perfect example of why the trace was put there. Now, perhaps you can tell me why you shot Goyle in the knee?"
Harry shrugged.
"He attacked me first."
Kingsley sighed.
"Harry, he says you put him in a chair and then shot him in the knee. How is that anything other than excessive?"
"I like to think of it as aggressive diplomacy," Harry said with a smile. He held up his hands at the flat look Kingsley sent him. "Alright, alright. I may have gotten a bit out of line, but he threatened and attacked me while fully transformed. Even dislocated my shoulder. He was there, on someone's pound, looking for something specific. Plus, he wouldn't have talked otherwise. Goyle's an idiot, but he also responds well to violence. It's in his nature."
"You didn't report to any of our field offices for treatment," Kingsley pointed out. "Did you treat yourself?"
Harry shook his head.
"No, the Veela madame fixed my shoulder then had one of her girls patch me up."
"How is she?" asked Kingsley.
"Hell if I know," Harry replied with a shrug, wincing slightly. His shoulder was still a bit tight after yesterday's events and flipping Tonks hadn't helped. "She handled herself well enough last night though. Goyle couldn't hit her. Never seen a Veela move that fast before."
"Are you going back today?"
"Do I have a choice?" asked Harry. Kingsley shook his head. "Then yeah. Though she's got two Trolls working for her doing security, so I think she's going to be just fine. The Bulstrode sisters. Millie has been loyal to the madame for years, so she's in good hands, I think."
"Trolls are good," Kingsley said, nodding his head. "Regardless, let's keep an eye on her. I'm guessing going to Bennet's place was her idea?"
Harry nodded.
"That's what I thought. We found the connection a while back but didn't put it in the file just in case we had any leaks," explained Kingsley.
Harry wondered if he should reveal to his boss that the connection between Fleur Delacour and Luc Bennet went deeper than he thought. That the corpse sitting in a coroner's office somewhere in the country wasn't the CI he believed him to be. Technically, his job required him to let the Director know about the link, but at the moment he was about to open his mouth a dull ache ran through his shoulder. He massaged it slightly and reminded himself that he was still mad about the trace on his weapon.
It didn't matter much anyway. Luc Bennet was dead. Who cared if he had been reporting to someone else?
"In any case," Kingsley said, breaking Harry from his musings, "you'll go back today at least. There's going to be a formal investigation conducted by Internal Affairs regarding last night."
"Greyback really went and cried to IA about it?" Harry asked with a sigh.
"Afraid so. You know how it goes, Harry. If a supernatural makes a complaint we're obligated to look into it. Rules keep us on good terms with the community. It's the only way we can maintain our sources and be effective at our jobs. Half the community already sees us as bullies, we don't need to give the other half a reason to join them." The Director offered a small smile. "I'll call Remus today, see if I can't get him to make sure Greyback stays away from this one. Goyle was a favorite of the Fenrir's, but Remus can't stand the kid."
"Probably because Goyle's got about four brain cells and is always a single thought away from breaking the Secrecy Act," Harry said as he stood up. "I'm heading to R&D and then I'll go over to the pub to check in on the madame."
He turned and looked over at the two holes in the far wall.
"I'm not sorry about the wall."
"I'd be disappointed if you were, Agent Potter," Kingsley said with a chuckle.
Harry left the office and was immediately greeted by a glaring Cho Chang.
"Chang," he said with a nod, attempting to step around her. She moved to remain in front of him.
He sighed.
"Look, I'm sorry about that, but like I told Tonks, I needed to make a point."
She punched him in the shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain. The blow, while not the heaviest of hits he'd taken, sent shockwaves of pain into the deep bruises still yet to blossom on the surface. He grabbed his shoulder to try and dampen the pain and winced when his grip proved too tight, only adding to experience.
"Don't be like that, Cho," Tonks said from her desk.
Cho took a deep breath and then smiled at him.
"I think we have an understanding," she said as she turned around and made her way back to her desk.
"Damn, you hit harder than Goyle does," he muttered.
"And don't you forget it," Cho replied with a grin.
Harry walked over and stood in front of Tonks desk, an apologetic look in his eyes.
"We good?"
"We're good," she confirmed with a nod before laughing. "When I looked at it from the outside, it was kind of cool. Forgot to mention: you remember that woman from the pub a few months ago? The one you hit it off with?"
Harry groaned.
"Morgan?" he asked.
"Yep," Tonks confirmed with a smile. "Ran into her yesterday and she asked about you. Said you never called again after she woke up in an empty bed."
He shook his head and rolled his eyes, not bothering to dignify it with a response. They'd been drunk and blowing off steam, not looking for a relationship.
"I know that look. Where are you running away to?" Tonks wondered in amusement.
"Down to R&D," he replied. "Do either of you need anything?"
Tonks shook her head.
"No, I think we're good."
Harry looked around, frowning.
"Where are Cedric and Viktor? I'd have thought they'd have stuck around to see if I got fired or not."
He heard what sounded distinctly like a growl come from Cho. He looked over but she simply kept staring at her screen, hands moving across the keys as she typed her report.
"They left once you were in there more than five minutes," explained Tonks. "Something about an unregistered Golem being reported outside the city."
Harry nodded and continued walking, throwing a wave behind him as he made for the stairs. Walking down two floors he made it to the sublevel. Half the sublevel was dedicated to the medical lab, maintained by the always unpleasant Snape, while the other half was R&D. Harry smiled as he reached the wide archway, "Research & Development" painted above it. Just as he made it to the opening a small explosion sounded, followed quickly by black smoke billowing into the hall. Peaking in, he shook his head as a fire extinguisher was being used to put out a fire.
The room looked more like a shady lab than a proper workshop. One wall was dotted with large tables, each containing various instruments and equipment used to shape, form, and even brew whatever was needed. Various beeping and grinding noises could be heard from further back in the room where all of the dangerous equipment was. The other side of the room was lined with shelves containing raw materials and even some supernatural items.
"You two do know that there are no windows down here, right?" he asked. "That smoke is just going to linger."
"Harry!" Fred and George Weasley said at the same time, matching smiles spreading across their faces.
The Weasley twins were, as far as Harry was concerned, both the smartest and craziest people he'd ever met. They'd been at the DSA since before he arrived, having been making the gadgets and various weapon modifications that field agents needed to do their jobs for years. Everyone knew they were brilliant, coming out with new products consistently, usually something nobody knew they needed but everyone wondered how they lived without once it was put into the field.
What most people didn't know was that both men were certifiably insane.
"Please tell us you've gotten a chance to use the new Vamp-B-Gone," George said.
"And that you tested the Zap-Zap-Twitch on Goyle yesterday," Fred followed.
"Oh, and the new Werewolf Ouchie's were effective," continued George, pulling off his rubber gloves and approaching Harry.
"What about Unnamed Formula #16?" asked Fred, following his brother's lead.
Harry laughed.
"Yes, yes, yes, and it worked like a charm," Harry replied, causing both men to high five each other. Harry reached into his coat and produced the pen that had contained the inhibitor, handing it to Fred. "I'll need a new one, but it worked quickly. Way quicker than you thought it would."
"Ah, yeah, we were afraid of that," Fred replied. "Our test subject said he had headaches off and on for a few days afterwards. We think the inhibitor toxins were too strong. In an attempt to make it fast-acting, we forgot to account for the body chemistry of a Werewolf also being that of a pretty typical human. We've got a fresh batch mixing now that should fix that. It'll increase how long it takes to work, but not by much."
Harry reached into his holster and pulled out the taser, handing it to George.
"That's at half charge. It worked beautifully, and was even visible like you hoped."
George pulled the slide off the weapon and tossed it across the room, landing into a pile of junk. Reaching into his apron he pulled out a new one, sliding it back onto the weapon and handing it back to Harry.
"Good as new," he said as Harry placed it back in the holster. "We even added an extra thousand volts to it. How about the Vamp-B-Gone?"
"Couldn't even tell the body had been bitten," Harry said with a smile. "Whatever magic you two idiot savants put into that thing was amazing."
"Good, good," Fred mumbled, nodding his head. "We can start mass producing them then. The Director will be happy, though I'm sure Slimy Snape will have something to say."
He snapped his fingers and retreated further into the room, returning with two chairs. He placed them onto the ground and both twins took their places, looking up at him expectantly.
"So, give us all the information on the bullets," George said. "Don't spare any details."
"Were they supposed to be so…violent?" asked Harry. "His knee exploded."
Fred nodded.
"Yeah, it had a tiny explosive in it."
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"You'll have to explain that one to me," he said.
"It's like this," started George, a look of concentration entering his face. "We were at our flat with one of our Dwarf friends…having a good time and discussing the finer points of how to tame Werewolves."
"So you were getting high with a friend and divulging government secrets?" Harry guessed.
"Good, you're keeping up," George confirmed with a smile. "Anyway, when we told him about the silver bullets he said 'needs more boom' just before deciding he needed a stronger drink and left. Two days later we received a package with some glowing orange liquid and a note attached that said to mix it with the silver."
Harry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Please tell me you tested the bullets after you made them."
"We did…last night when you put one in Goyle's knee," Fred admitted sheepishly.
Harry shook his head. The twins were great, but they tended to get a little overzealous when it came to their toys. Though he couldn't fully blame them as he hadn't specifically asked if they'd been tested when he loaded them into his weapon. He should have known better than to assume anything when the twins were involved. A ding sounded from in the back of the room. Fred got up and walked over to what appeared to be a heavily modified centrifuge. Like the kind you'd find in a hospital, but with special modifications of the supernatural variety. He opened the top and pulled out a glass tube filled with clear liquid as he unscrewed the pen Harry had given him. He poured the liquid in and tightened the pen once more.
He smiled as he made it back to Harry, handing him the pen.
"Another batch of inhibitor, as requested," he said with a flourish. "Though we really ought to name this thing now that we've seemingly gotten it fixed. Any ideas?"
"I'll leave the naming to you," Harry replied, "I do need more bullets. And a favor."
George reached into his apron and pulled out a new clip.
"Here you go. What's the favor?"
Harry unholstered his service weapon and handed it to George.
"I need the trace on that removed," he explained.
"Technically," George said as he walked to one of the tables. Fred moved to the other side of the room, searching the shelves for something. "We're not supposed to remove traces from weapons. It's against department policy and is, in the Director's own words, a fireable offense."
Fred tossed George a small brown bottle. He unscrewed the cap and poured some onto a dirty rag, coating roughly half of it in the substance. Placing the bottle down, he picked up the weapon and began rubbing it with the wet rag, making sure to get the liquid on every part of it. After a few minutes he nodded, tossing the rag back onto the table and screwed the cap back onto the bottle. He tossed it to Fred and then handed the weapon back to Harry.
"Which is why we have decidedly not removed the trace from that weapon," George said.
"But…" Harry said.
"But there's nothing in the policy that says we can't coat the weapon in a substance that makes the trace completely stop working by disrupting the magic involved in said trace." George smiled as Harry re-holstered the weapon. "Not that we've done such a thing, of course. We're just the R&D guys, we wouldn't know anything about doing that."
Harry nodded.
"Of course not, why would you?"
Fred walked back towards them and held out another pen to Harry.
"New morphine injector," he explained as Harry took it and slid it into his pocket. "We got some help from one of the Fairies down in records whose family used to be healers, so it also contains a bit of extra juice for helping injuries heal. Won't regrow knees, but it'll help wounds heal more rapidly. Oh, and it's now good for three injections instead of one."
Harry smiled and clapped Fred on the shoulder as he looked between the two.
"You two are, as always, geniuses," he praised. "By the way, I ran into your brother yesterday."
"Ron?" asked Fred.
"Charlie?" George tried. "Wait, no, he's still in Romania. Please don't say Percy."
Harry shook his head.
"No, Bill," replied Harry. "Ran into him at The Bloom."
Fred and George nodded knowingly.
"You know what? Good for him. He's been all broody since he got turned, it's about time he got laid." George frowned before looking back up at Harry. "Though he did have to pay for it, but I guess progress is progress?"
Harry laughed and nodded his head.
"Wasn't there to judge," he said. "Though he was being incredibly rude to the Veela madame."
He turned to leave and the twins followed.
"He's been different since he got bit, though we've been doing our best to get him to stop being so moody. Mum's been trying to get him to talk to Remus more but he's stubborn." They stopped at the entrance to the lab and Fred sent Harry an apologetic look. "Do tell the Veela madame we're sorry if he caused any issues."
Harry waved them off as he turned to leave.
"I'm sure she's already forgotten Bill Weasley. You gentlemen have fun."
"Come back soon, Agent Potter," they called after him, "we've got more stuff for you to test!"
.
.
Harry stamped out his cigarette as he blew the last of the smoke. He didn't know why he'd gotten more tense the closer he got to the pub, but now that he was standing in front of the door he could feel it in his neck and shoulders. He glanced around, checking the surrounding area for anything out of the ordinary. He shook his head. No, that wasn't it. He was stalling and he knew exactly why.
He'd avoided coming back to the place for a multitude of reasons, but they all stemmed from a single night years ago.
His mind wandered, drawing forth the memories of a drunken evening.
"Would you like some company?" a sultry voice asked.
Harry looked up from his drink and his eyes widened briefly. She was beautiful. Long, flowing blonde hair and striking blue eyes. The smile she wore was playful and friendly, but the feeling he got from her was warmth. Even his alcohol-hazed mind could feel the air around them shift in that distinct way it did around Veela, yet his mind didn't clear. Cedric had told him the allure of a Veela cleared the mind.
He shook his head.
"Not particularly," he grunted, picking up his glass and tipping the remaining content into his mouth. "And I'm not looking for an appointment."
Her smile widened, reaching her eyes, and his stomach fluttered. He didn't know who she was, though considering where he was he knew she must be working, but there was something in the way she smiled that made his heart beat just a bit faster.
"Well it's a good thing I'm not offering one." She dropped onto the stool beside him and motioned to the bartender. "Millie, another round for Mr…" she looked over at him.
"Potter," he murmured.
"Potter," she finished. "I'll take one as well."
Two shots were placed in front of them and she picked one of them up. Her movements were graceful, as if from royalty, so unlike his own that she might as well have been from another world. He chuckled at the thought. She was a Veela, so she was from another world. She raised an eyebrow at him.
"Something funny, Mr. Potter?"
Harry picked up his shot and shrugged.
"Just wondering why a Veela is hanging out with me." He tapped his glass against hers and downed the contents, hissing slightly. "I don't believe I caught your name."
"Fleur," she said as she threw back the glass. He smiled as she hissed. "Fleur Delacour. It's nice to meet you."
She tapped the bar again and two pints were placed in front of them.
"So tell me, Mr. Potter," she began, lifting one of the drinks and taking a sip, "what's got you out here so down?"
Harry shrugged again and grabbed his own mug.
"Had a bad day at work," he offered.
"At the DSA?" she guessed, eyes sparkling with mirth.
"Very perceptive," he replied, taking a sip from his drink. "Yeah. I fucked up and let a suspect get away. One of my coworkers got hurt."
Her eyes filled with concern and he furrowed his brow. Was she actually concerned or was she working an angle? He knew about Veela, at least what they taught at the DSA, but he'd never spent an extended amount of time around them, so he wasn't sure what, if any, game was afoot.
"Was it serious?" she asked.
He shook his head.
"No, not particularly. He was fine when I left."
"So why are you brooding in a pub over it?" she asked, eyes still filled with humor. "Let me give you some advice that my mother gave me. If you've made a mistake and have it in your power to fix it, then do so. If your mistake has already been fixed, then apologize and move on. Life is too short to dwell on things that have already been resolved."
"I'll drink to that," he said, tapping his pint against hers and taking a sip.
She laughed, and his stomach flipped again at the melodic sound. He looked at her as she tilted her own glass to take a drink. She sat straight, yet he could tell she was comfortable. Her eyes were soft, but there was an awareness to her that told him she knew exactly what was going on in the entire room. Despite her carefree nature, the bartender would look at her with respect.
"Do I know you?" he asked, taking another long gulp.
She raised a single well-manicured eyebrow.
"Do you really not know who I am?" she asked.
"Should I?" he asked.
The bartender snorted and shook her head. He turned back towards the blonde and she patted him on the cheek.
"Don't worry about who I am, Mr. DSA," she said as she raised her glass. He raised his own. "Let's just drink and you can tell me about yourself."
"To…drinking?" he said, unsure.
Her laughter rang out again and he smiled widely, sure that he would never get tired of the sound.
Harry sighed.
His feelings for Fleur Delacour were the reason he eventually decided to stay away. There was no sense in lying to himself. DSA agents were forbidden from pursuing romantic relationships with supernatural beings as well as using the services offered by The Playground. The latter was never followed, agents went into the establishment as an unspoken rite of passage and everyone looked the other way. Relationships, however, were very strictly forbidden.
Their department had to be impartial to the community at large. Their job was to keep the regular world from finding out about the supernatural one, and that required a certain level of distance between them. An agent could be compromised if they got emotionally attached to someone who might fall into the focus of an investigation, so the department didn't allow that to happen.
It's why Harry had stopped going to The Bloom. He didn't know what to make of his feelings, but he knew that, after every one of his failed relationships or one night stands, his mind wandered back to their evening together. His inability to figure out what that said about him led to putting distance between them. He knew she flirted with him on purpose and that she was attempting to get a reaction out of him. He didn't mind it and flirted right back, but it could never go past flirting.
He pulled open the door and stepped into the pub.
He walked to the bar and sat down, smiling as Millie approached.
"Afternoon, Millie," he said. "Everything good here?"
"Hey, Harry. Yeah, everything is fine," she said with a nod. "My sister and I made some adjustments to the runes on the building this morning. Though I'm hesitant to admit it, Fleur was right. Nobody is going to mess with her while she's here."
"I kind of figured that," he said. "I think her mum added extra protection to the place just before she died, yeah?"
Millie nodded as she sprayed the bar and began to wipe the cleaner away.
"Yeah. Mrs. Apolline made sure the girls would always be safe here, but I don't take any chances when it comes to Fleur."
She nodded at him as he heard the door to the back open.
"You want a drink?" Millie asked.
"Oh my," a voice called from Harry's right.
Turning, he saw an unknown Veela with long blonde hair walking slowly towards him, a distinct look of what he could only describe as hunger in her eyes. She was dressed in tight-fitted clothes, designed to show off her…assets, yet he could tell they weren't cheap. She stopped next to him and gripped his shirt as he turned the barstool to face her.
"Where have you been all my life you tall drink of water?" she purred before pulling him closer and slamming her lips into his.
He froze. This was new, and he was pretty confident that patrons had to pay to kiss the women at The Playground. And that you needed an appointment. She pulled away, licking her lips as she winked up at him. His brow furrowed as he opened and closed his mouth several times, attempting to get the right words out.
"What do you say, big boy? How about you and I go into the back, put on some music, and have the best sex of your life?"
"You need to leave, right now," Millie whispered to the unknown woman. He looked over at the hulking barkeep and saw the disapproval in her eyes.
"Easy there, Millie, we're just getting to know each other," the woman said, looking back up at him. He opened his mouth, but again he couldn't find the right words. "Isn't that right, tiger? Come on, I'll treat you just right."
"I'm serious," Millie hissed. "Go to the back before Fleur gets-"
"GABRIELLE DELACOUR," a voice roared from the door to the back.
Briefly, just before she masked it, Harry saw fear enter the woman's eyes as she turned around. He leaned out from behind her and saw Fleur standing in the doorway, murder in her eyes. She stormed over and, despite the fact that he was in no way supernatural, even he could feel the storm rolling off of her. Fleur grabbed the woman by the arm and yanked her away forcefully.
"Get your arse back to your room right now," she hissed.
The other woman rolled her eyes.
"Oh calm down, Fleur, I was only having a bit of fun."
"Now!" Fleur commanded, glaring daggers at her.
"Fine," she said, pulling herself away from Fleur and folding her arms across her chest. "You're just like mum."
"I will decide your punishment later," hissed Fleur as she pointed at the door.
Millie hit the button to open the door and the woman stormed through, slamming it shut behind her. Harry turned back to Fleur and saw her close her eyes. She took a deep breath and counted to ten before she turned to him with an unsure smile.
"That was my sister, Gabby," she said.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, Harry found his voice.
"Does she always use tongue when she kisses for the first time?"
"Ugh," Fleur said, turning towards the bar as a shot appeared in front of her. She downed it in one fluid motion before looking back at him. "The Playground is closed today and she overheard Millie and I talking about you. I made some adjustments to everyone's schedules a week ago and she's been upset ever since. This was her way to get back at me, though she's going to regret it."
"Kissing me was her way to get back at you?" he asked.
Fleur grabbed his hand and pulled him off the stool.
"Come on, let's go back to the office so we can chat."
Before he could protest he was being pulled through the hallway of The Playground, though he thought he saw the hint of a blush on her cheeks before they entered the dimmed hall. They reached the back room and she kept them going, all the way until they entered a small office tucked away in the corner. Large enough for a desk, two chairs, and not much else, Fleur finally released him and slipped to the other side of the desk.
"Did you get in trouble?" she asked as she sat down.
"Eh, Internal Affairs is going to run an investigation but by and large I think I'm in the clear," he replied as he sat down. "Had a chat with the Director about my service weapon. I think we hashed out those differences."
"The Werewolves filed a complaint?"
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"How do you know DSA operating procedures?" he asked.
She smiled at him.
"Your agents are sharers, lover. Especially when Maddie offers them half off appointments if they provide information that's worth something."
He shook his head. He should have thought of that.
"In any case, yes, Fenrir Greyback filed a complaint. Apparently Goyle was a favorite of his." Harry looked down at the papers scattered across the desk. "Were you working before I got here?"
She nodded and sighed.
"Yes, though it was mostly paperwork related to the business." She picked up a stray piece of paper and shook it slightly. "Bills, contracts, and work orders. Honestly, I don't know how my mother did all of this."
He'd seen the look in her eyes before and knew there was something else bothering her. Fleur kept a cool public persona, a detached sort of confidence that was required of her station in the Veela hierarchy. Despite his best efforts, however, he'd been around her often enough that he'd picked up on some of her tells. The way she bit her bottom lip ever-so-slightly. How her smile didn't quite reach her eyes when she was stressed. The way she held a barely-there frown, just like she had at the moment, when she was unsure.
"But there's something else bothering you," he said.
She raised an eyebrow.
"What makes you think that?"
"Madame, I've been around you enough to know when something is bothering you," he stated simply.
Her face turned upwards into a smile.
"I can see something that gets me bothered right in front of me, lover."
He rolled his eyes.
"If I wanted to get you bothered you'd know it. It's fine if you don't want to talk about it."
Fleur sighed and stood, turning around to look out the window of the room. The busy London streets were alive with activity, and for several moments, she said nothing. He was content to let her think, knowing she would speak her mind when she was ready.
"The girls are…scared," she said quietly. "Some of them are quite young and are just starting out in life. Now we've got these disappearances hanging over our heads and they're all looking to me for guidance and…"
She turned back to him.
"I don't know why they follow me," she admitted, looking down at the desk, apparently unwilling to meet his eyes. "My mother inspired loyalty through strength and action. She bettered everyone's lives and carved out our place in the country despite the obstacles. What have I done that can compete with that?"
"I think you're doing the best you can," Harry said, "and that you're being too hard on yourself. You've helped the people here more than you remember."
"Oh? Please explain that to me."
"Take Millie," he said. "She's been here, what, a decade and a half?"
Fleur nodded.
"Yes. She stumbled into the pub one night and didn't have anywhere else to go. I looked after her and gave her a job to help her get back onto her feet."
"You know what the world thinks about Trolls," he continued, "you know how they get treated unfairly. Yet, you helped her without a second thought. She's loyal to you because you accepted her in a world where most wouldn't."
"Yes, but that's just one-"
"What about Madeleine?" he interrupted. "You told me years ago you saved her life when you were kids. She's been by your side ever since, right?"
Fleur nodded.
"Yes, but we were childhood friends."
"Does that really matter?" he asked. "If you hadn't been friends, you would have still saved her life."
She nodded again. He pointed towards the door.
"You've turned this place into a safe haven for Veela and extended the information hub. Your mother made the girls safe, yes, but you solidified that safety and made them indispensable to the world. You're struggling with this right now, but you'll figure it out. We'll figure it out."
She smiled at him before taking a deep breath.
"On that front, I think I found something," she said, opening a drawer in the desk and pulling out a stack of papers. "This is everything we recovered from Luc's flat. I've been going through them. They're mostly…personal notes, but this was noteworthy."
She handed him a single photograph of what appeared to be the back entrance to a building. There was gold lettering above the door but he couldn't make out the words. In the back of the photo were two trees. He looked up at her.
"What am I looking at?" he asked.
"Turn it around," she instructed.
Flipping the photo around he saw, in messy scratch, the words "Fae Connection" written in black ink.
"Fae Connection," he recited, looking back up at Fleur. "Any idea what it means?"
"No," she answered with a shake of her head, "but I intend to find out."
"How, exactly, are you planning to do that?"
"By asking the Fae," she replied flatly, "let's go."
"No."
She stopped and narrowed her eyes at him.
"Excuse me?" she asked dangerously. "What do you mean by that?"
"I mean exactly what I said. No," he replied, standing up to face her. "I have a job to do, Madame, and that's to protect you. We got lucky yesterday. We're not going to go off on another wild hunch without a proper plan."
"I don't need your permission to do as I please, Agent Potter," she shot back, her voice rising.
"And I don't need you trying to get yourself killed, Madame." He glared at her. "The Fae are dangerous, Madame, far more than Werewolves, Vampires, or any other supernatural beings out there."
"Oh, thank you for telling me about my own world, Agent, I truly appreciate that."
"Dammit, will you listen to me!?" he yelled. "You have an entire building full of women who depend on you. We didn't anticipate Goyle at Bennet's flat, but walking into the proverbial lion's den isn't going to help anyone."
"So I'm just supposed to sit on my hands and pretend like my kind aren't being taken?" she asked hotly. "Just let you do all the looking while I what? Do what I'm good at?"
Harry sighed and shook his head.
"That's not what I-"
"Then what do you mean, Agent?"
A knock at the door interrupted. It opened and Millie's towering form filled the frame.
"I can hear your argument from the bar," she said. "Either shag on the desk or shut the hell up. We've got paying customers up front who just want to drink in peace."
She looked at Fleur and took a deep breath.
"I agree with Harry," said Millie. Fleur opened her mouth but the bartender held up a hand. "Neither of us think you're incapable, Fleur, but Harry's right. The girls need you. Hell, I need you. And you don't fuck with the Fae."
She pointed at Harry.
"Let him do what his agency does best. What his job is. Once he has something, he'll bring it to you before acting on it, right Harry?"
He nodded and looked at Fleur.
"I promise, Madame, as soon as I find something I'll bring it straight to you." He looked up at Millie. "Can you and your sister check the supernatural underground for any strange activity involving the Fae?"
Millie nodded.
"Yeah, we can do that. Might take a bit of time, but I've got people who owe me favors."
Harry slipped the photo into his coat and looked at the two women.
"I'll hit up my contacts, see if any of them recognize the photo. Between the three of us, I'm sure we'll have something in no time."
"I don't like this," Fleur protested, looking between Millie and Harry. "I'm not some helpless damsel. I can take care of myself. And I'm not scared of whoever is behind this."
"Nobody said you were," Harry said softly before sighing. "Just give me some time, please? You know Hermione is the best at information. Let me try to get something for us to prepare."
A moment passed before Fleur nodded.
"Be careful, lover," she said with a small smile. "I want my tall drink of water in perfect health."
He smiled at her, recognizing that she'd slipped into their comfortable back-and-forth. A mask, he knew, to hide the fact that she was concerned. It was touching, and his stomach fluttered just a bit.
"Aren't I always?"
.
.
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AN: Thanks for reading!