Thursdays are usually quiet days in Draco's life. When there are no unexpected disasters to occupy his time, they tend to be days of peaceful research and paperwork at the Ministry. So it is a minor shock to the system to find himself in charge of six unruly young people in Diagon Alley.

"Fortescue's!" Lily is demanding. Despite the eponymous ice-cream manufacturer having not been seen for a quarter century, the parlour still bears its old name, and every year or two the Prophet reports a possible sighting of Florean.

Rose and James support Lily's plan, as it will allow them to sit together with ankles entwined for a good half hour. Hugo is loudly complaining that he has developed lactose intolerance, while Scorpius and Albus are agitating for a visit to Abercrombie's Astronomy Market.

Draco cuts them off. "Ice-creams first, sorbet for Hugo, then you can all have some shopping time, while I hide."

The sundaes have only just made it to the table when Fotherington bursts through the door. Draco ducks under the table, but he is too late, and is rewarded with the sight of an upside-down Fotherington looking at him below the tabletop, concerned.

"Have you lost something, sir?"

"I'm on holiday," Draco complains.

"Yes, sir, I'm here for ice-cream for me and Lester. We're still working our way through all those papers."

"Oh." Draco looks at his shoe. "Excellent! Laces still tight, I was worried." He takes the conversation back above board. "I thought you'd established that the papers were all authentic and suspects had been hauled in accordingly."

"Yes, sir, but I think there's more information we can learn from them. Doesn't it bother you that they exist at all? And that they were so conveniently there?"

Draco can't help himself. "It does."

"I'm heading back to do some analysis now. And I've been working on the explosives, too. I'll let you know my findings as soon as I have them if you'll tell me where you're off to next."

Scorpius is shaking his head, but Albus and James have that Pottery look about them, where things can be put to one side for the sake of a case and no one thinks it odd. "I'm on holiday," Draco repeats weakly.

"Dad," Scorpius says, resigned. "We're old enough to take care of ourselves. We can shop for a few hours. I won't tell Mum. And we'll all keep Lily and Hugo from destroying anything."

Draco frowns. Then looks from Rose and James to Scorpius and Albus. "You four are going to pair off, one set of you take Lily and the other Hugo."

"Dibs Lily," says Rose quickly.

Hugo isn't even surprised.

Draco turns back to Fotherington. "I'm going to finish eating, then I'll pop by the Ministry to see how you're going. Try not to get dairy product over any of the more expensive instruments."

"No sir. Hope to have some results for you by the time you get there."

"Good lad. Off you go."

James waits until Fotherington has picked up his order and left before he speaks. "Should we be worried?"

"Of course not. Why would you think that?"

"Only your person mentioned explosives."

Draco nods. "Fotherington is one of my leading young researchers. We're working on a case for your father where some wizards and some Muggles seem to have planned a crime together. There were some explosives left at one of the crime scenes, but it's nothing to be worried about."

"Is this connected to the attack at the Barrier?" Albus asks.

"It is. It looks as though either that conspiracy was broader than most members realised, or else there was another one behind it."

"Why did they have explosives?" Scorpius asks.

"To get rid of evidence," Draco replies quickly. "That's all." And while that may not be wholly true, it is close enough.

Scorpius looks at him closely. "So they're not targetting anyone?"

"Sometimes criminals are just in it for the classic motives, Scorpius. In this case it was money. Certainly there could have been an horrific death toll, but we were lucky. Now it's just a case of unwinding all the threads and catching all the culprits. Unspeakables will find the clues, the Aurors will go out on the hunt, and Legal will ensure that the criminals are locked away. Nothing to fret about for any of you, only for them. It's not always a personal vendetta, son."

"Not always," Scorpius smiles.

"Eat up, your sundae is melting."

A good three-quarters of an hour pass before Draco makes it into the Ministry.

As he comes out of the lift, he runs into Bakhtin and Amundsen battling each other with brooms. They pause in their fencing to let him pass through the corridor.

"Aren't you on holiday?" Amundsen asks, as Draco goes to open the door.

"Yes, but you're not."

"Testing an hypothesis," says Bakhtin quickly. "You inspired us at the Barrier and now we are trying to see whether Amundsen is correct when he postulates that physical danger focusses the mind."

"Get back to work soon, or I will administer a more effective experimental model," Draco says, stepping through.

The Entrance Chamber spins about him and he steps through the door that leads to the Room of Futures.

"Sir!" Fotherington's voice sings out the minute Draco walks in.

"Any results, Fotherington?"

"The test results are just in. The paper is Muggle, but the ink isn't."

Draco stops. "Magical ink? But you said the documents were real."

"They are, sir."

Lester joins in. "We've checked them against the bank records and titles, every single one of them is authentic, it's just …"

"They were printed using a wand, not a printer," Fotherington finishes.

Draco comes over to look at their results. "So, what, someone's gone to a Muggle's house and stood there spelling information out of a computer?"

"They might have, sir, but they could have done it even more easily." Fotherington holds up the ballpoint pen that he insists is faster than a quill. "You could copy everything that was in those files wirelessly onto the key in this pen 25,000 times, at least, and all in about two seconds. There's probably a spell for doing that, but I've never bothered to find out because it's so easy to just use technology. Then you can take it anywhere you like. As for printing it out, all you'd need to do is encode computer styles into your spell, otherwise it's as simple as an Automatic Letter Charm."

"What about the explosives?"

"They're one hundred per cent Muggle," Fotherington says. "The detonators are a bit old-fashioned, though the plastic explosive is new. Fawcett is off with Muggle Liaison now, talking to their police about where someone would source that sort of thing. He says it's likely that they will be able to come up with a very short list of suspects."

"Excellent work," says Draco. "I'm very impressed with both of you, and with Fawcett."

Lester beams. Fotherington frowns. "Really?"

"Yes, Sebastien."

"But we haven't solved the case yet."

Draco shakes his head. "Relax, you young perfectionist. Cases aren't solved by single discoveries. They're solved by the piling up of facts. You've given us some excellent details today. Both of you have."

Fotherington smiles then.

"I do praise him occasionally," Draco tells Lester.

"You do," Fotherington agrees. "Last December and the March before that."

Draco holds in a laugh. "That was remiss of me, Sebastien. I meant to praise you on Tuesday, too. You did excellent work at the Barrier."

"That's a significant increase in praise frequency, sir."

"Try not to let it go to your head. Right. Thanks for the update. Can the two of you write up your report and get copies off to Harry and whoever's running Legal while Granger-Weasley is away?"

"Savage, sir," says Lester.

"Really?" The word slips out. "No wonder you're trailing after me, Lester."

"Oh that's instructions, sir. When all this turned out not to have any connection to my Spanish case, he told me to make sure you and Mr Potter didn't accidentally kill anyone."

"We never kill people," Draco protests.

"No, but I was also to look out for maiming, terrifying, detaining and dropping off things."

"Savage can talk, he was all over the plan to use Abbott in the Hindley interrogation."

"Yes, sir, that's just this side of ethical, according to Mr Savage. I'm to make sure everyone stays on the right side."

"We …" Draco is about to protest when he remembers what he had wanted to do to Hindley's face the other night. He has always been able to stop himself, as has Harry, but perhaps one of the reasons they can is that they know there are eyes watching. This is, after all, what the Ministry should be. Accountable, self-policing, and all those other words he has used in meetings since he became a department head. "We appreciate the extra set of eyes. And the help along the way."

Lester smiles. "Thank you, sir. I'll be sure to tell Mr Savage."

"And I'll let Mrs Granger-Weasley know her lectures on procedure have actually had an effect in her department. She'll be thrilled."

Lester pretends he is hurt, but Draco catches the smile before the younger man looks away.

"When we tested the explosives …" Fotherington begins.

Draco cuts him off. "You what?"

"Tested the explosives, sir."

"Here? In the Ministry? Muggle explosives?"

"Just a very small amount. In a safety chamber. I did loads of research to make sure it was safe first."

"Fotherington …"

"Are you taking back the praise, sir?"

"Just tell me what you discovered."

Fotherington walks over to the other side of the room, where a small cube of transparent material stands, its inside smeared with black residue. "I modified the detonator to work on a timer and used one fiftieth of the explosive amount that was in each original charge."

"And?"

"And that house would have been blown to smithereens, along with several on either side. But the detonators are very robust and hard to set off unless you're really trying, so I'm not certain it was actually meant to blow up. I had an idea for another test … "

"Sebastien," Draco keeps his voice calm. "Did you keep all the explosives from that house?"

"Oh no, sir, that wouldn't be safe. I only took one charge and three detonators." Fotherington pulls a bag out from under the table behind them and opens it to show his stash. "Fawcett handed over the rest to the Muggles for safe disposal."

Draco holds out his hand, and Fotherington gives him the bag.

"I've written up a report, sir," Fotherington says in a small voice.

"Thank you. And don't be nervous, I'm disappointed in Lester, not in you. You were acting in the proper spirit of scientific inquiry, whereas Lester should know better. What did you use to make the box?"

Fotherington pulls his report from the table behind him, cheerful again. "Some of the MPP that came in for trial. Its stronger than we thought it would be, so if you can hold it together with a charm from the outside, it makes a good testing vessel."

"MPP?" asks Lester.

"Magic-Proof Polymer," Draco explains. "It's spelled to create an area that stops all magic inside an enclosed zone, while not affecting what happens outside the enclosure. We've been warding off areas so that we can use Muggle tech inside the Ministry, but it takes up a lot of time and energy. A room of MPP will give us all the research space we need. And, apparently, solve some of our other testing difficulties as well. Good work, Fotherington, no you can't have your bag back."

Draco shrinks the bag, and Fotherington's report, and pops them both into his pocket. "I'm off to find a band of ravening adolescents. Anything else you need before I'm gone?"

"Are you going back to Wiltshire? I'm still working on the ink. Where should we send updates if we have any?"

"I'm going to pop in and say hello to Ron first, then I'll be home with the hordes. Try to keep it to a minimum, I'm on holiday. And yes, I will say hello to the Weasleys for both of you."

Amundsen and Bakhtin are still battling as Draco leaves the office, but, as a mark of respect, they have brought out a junior researcher to take notes.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

The door of Abercrombie's Astronomy Market jingles merrily as it opens, thanks to a string of bells looped across its back. Scorpius is standing in the middle of the shop comparing two telescopes, and explaining to Hugo why bigger is not always better and how that joke wasn't even accurately smutty, let alone funny. Draco assumes Albus is somewhere among the shelves.

"Can I help you Mr Malfoy?"

The owner, Euan Abercrombie, appears from the back of the shop, books in hand.

"Just here to pick up the boys," Draco says. "We're off to St Mungo's to see Hugo's father."

Abercrombie nods. "Please pass on my best wishes to Mr Weasley."

"I will," Draco says with a polite smile. He knows that Abercrombie does not really like him, hasn't since school, but the man has been polite to him in recent years. Whether because of Draco's position at the Ministry or because of the amount of money Malfoys have spent in his shop, it may never be clear. Since the feeling is mutual, Draco does not care.

"Dad, can we come back next week?" Scorpius asks. "I want to talk with Grandmother before I make up my mind."

"Yes, of course we can. Hugo, pleased to see you haven't done anything appalling. Where's your cousin hiding?"

Hugo looks about vaguely. "He was right here a minute ago …"

Scorpius wanders through the maze of shelving that lines the back half of the shop. Draco pops his head into the storeroom at the back, and Abercrombie, showing willing, goes through into the private parts of the shop. After a minute, they begin to call out Albus's name. There is no answer.

Draco is not panicking. At least, he is not letting Scorpius and Hugo see that he is panicking. Let alone Big Ears Abercrombie.

Scorpius, on the other hand, is looking decidedly worried. "I wasn't paying attention, I was focussed on the telescopes …"

"Deep breaths," Draco tells him. "It's Albus, he probably saw something fantastically interesting, went off in pursuit, and is even now rushing back to tell us about it."

"I'll keep an eye out here," Abercrombie says. "Which way are you headed if he shows up?"

"Back to Fortescue's," says Draco. "We're meeting the others there, he's probably just gone on ahead, grew tired of waiting."

"Very probably," Abercrombie agrees. "My daughter Cressida gave me a heart attack last week, just like the one you're having, I found her having a nap under the blackout curtains after a quarter-hour of looking. I'm sure he'll turn up."

"Thank you, Euan," says Draco, not disliking the man in that instant.

Hugo and Scorpius run ahead as they make their way back up Diagon Alley. Draco looks about with more care, into every shop, every corner and every shadow. He is beginning to fear that he has lied earlier, and that someone is targetting them, or at least targetting Harry, through the cruellest method possible. He forces himself to take deep breaths.

"Albus!" Scorpius shouts ahead of him. And, thank you Merlin, the lad appears, bright-cheeked and bubbling with news.

"I was just coming to get you! I saw Aurors, so I followed them. There's been a break-in at Uncle George's!"

"Mr Malfoy thought you'd been kidnapped," Hugo tells him.

Before Draco can say anything, Scorpius has punched his boyfriend in the arm. "I thought you'd wandered off without saying a word to me like an inconsiderate bastard."

"Sorry." Albus takes Scorpius's arm. "But Uncle George is furious and the place is crawling with MLE. Come and see!"

Draco nods his assent, and the two boys run off. Hugo looks after them, then back to Draco, who waves him off in pursuit. Alone for a moment, Draco leans against a streetlamp and sighs with relief. He rummages in his pockets and pulls out a notebook and pencil. There was a time, not long ago, when he carried nothing in his pockets out of respect for the lines of his clothes. Now they are authentically cluttered. He cannot remember if he picked this habit up from Harry or Ron. Both, probably.

He scrawls two quick notes, then calls over a passing boy he vaguely recognises as the son of some Ministry employee or other. "What's your name?" he asks the child.

"Bradley. Why?"

"Can I hire you for five minutes to run a couple of errands?"

The boy smiles. "If it's only five minutes, I can help you out for free."

Draco smiles back at him and hands over the notes. "Can you deliver this one to Mr Abercrombie at Abercrombie's Astronomy Market, and do you know James Potter?"

"Of course I do."

"Excellent. He should be at Fortescue's. Can you give this note to him? And do take a few Galleons, not as payment but just to make my pockets lighter."

"There's no need, really."

"I insist."

"Cheers. One for Abercrombie and one for James, yeah?"

"That's right, James first if you don't mind."

"You're right!" The boy has already run off in the direction of the ice-creamery. And if he delays there to spend some of the money Draco has just given him, it will not cause a problem as the note to Abercrombie merely sends thanks, and news that Albus has been found.

In fact, the lad is so fast that James, Rose and Lily are running into view just as Draco arrives at Weasley's. Albus has not exaggerated, the premises are filled with MLE personnel. George himself is standing out the front, in a fury, a dark bruise covering one side of his forehead and a red flush of anger working its way up his cheeks.

His look turns to relief when he sees Draco. "Thank Merlin you're here!" he shouts. "Come and take some samples before these numbskulls wipe away all traces of the thieves."

Draco hurries down the street. "What happened? Are you all right?"

"I was in the labs out the back when I was jumped. They didn't hear a thing in the shop. When I came to, thousands of Galleons worth of new products were missing." George closes the remaining distance between them and lowers his voice to a whisper. "Including some on order from the Ministry. Your designs, I'm afraid."

"Bloody hell," Draco mutters. "All right." He raises his voice so he can be heard above the officials and the crowd who have gathered for the show. "If everyone could leave the premises immediately, that includes all MLE personnel. We'll need to run a few tests and see if we can find any traces left behind by the perpetrators. Won't be long. Give you a chance to interview this lot and see if there are any witnesses. And if someone could run up to the Leaky and order a few urns of tea and trays of pies, I'll settle the bill later."

George mutters some words of thanks and Draco pats his shoulder gently. "Have someone look at that bump on your head. Radford's over there, he's good at Healing."

Scorpius and Albus are up near the window, talking to the two young wizards who work in the shop. No one, it seems, heard or saw a thing. Draco apologises and pulls Albus aside. "I think we need your father here," he says. "Some of the things that have been taken are highly classified. If you could ask him to pick up Speke, Peters and Stansersley from my department, too, and tell them to bring testing kits with them."

Albus looks at him questioningly. Too much like his father, this one.

"It's a crime, Albus," says Draco. "That's all I know at the moment. Don't make it into a conspiracy before you have to."

"I'll be quick," says Albus.

"Thank you." Draco watches the boy Disapparate then turns to look at the shopfront. So much for being on holiday.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Ron is not in his room when they finally make it to St Mungo's. Draco is not concerned, the bed sheets are thrown back and there is a marked absence of Weasleys, which can mean only a jaunt into the garden. A duck-line of offspring follows him through the twists of the hospital's corridors to its centre, where they dive out into the sunlight of the Tudor courtyard.

Ron is sitting up in a wheelchair, parked in the dappled shade beneath an apple tree. On the chamomile bench beside him Hermione and Helene are discussing whether the more complex spellcraft required to make a three-dimensional object two-dimensional at the same time as a folding it into a packing spell is worth it for the extra capacity it grants. Molly and Arthur Weasley are tracing the lines of a thyme maze, with Molly comparing it unfavourably to other mazes she has known.

Two other patients are strolling about; happily both are ambulatory enough to dodge the stream of young people who run past.

"There was a robbery!" Albus announces.

"At Uncle George's!" Hugo adds.

"Dad's there now, with Unspeakables, and Uncle George is fine, but the burglars whapped him over the head with something, it's an outrage!" Lily finishes.

By virtue of angles, Draco is the only one looking directly at Ron as the news spills out. He sees the Auror's hands clench and his legs not move, despite the urgency that tenses through his frame. "George was working on research projects for Mysteries," Draco says, going straight to his colleague while the children are snaffled by parents and grandparents and ordered to report. "They're among the stolen goods."

"I'm not a fan of coincidences," says Ron.

"I don't leap straight to conspiracies," Draco replies, with a smile.

"Three scenarios," Ron says, grinning back. "One: it's a completely unrelated robbery that just happened to pick up a swathe of your materials. Two: there is a far more complex conspiracy afoot than anyone has yet uncovered and it all ties together in some hideous fashion. Three: you've got an opportunist out there who knows that most of the MLE and half the Unspeakables are tied up with the Barrier case and is taking advantage."

"I like three," says Draco.

"It's where I'd put my money. Now, the question is: did this opportunist have some prior knowledge, or were they able to put the whole thing together in 48 hours?"

"You could pull together a blag like that quickly, but it would be better to have more time."

Ron grins. "Listen to him. 'Blag'. Bless, you Malfoy, you're so easy to corrupt."

"Be taught by experts, Weasley, not corrupt. And if you're right, we should be starting our search with connections of the Barrier set. Someone who will have known when to swing their own plan into action."

Ron frowns a little as he thinks. "Do we have all of them, yet? Every time you or Harry comes in, it seems the list has grown."

Draco nods. "From what the lads have pulled together out of that ridiculous paper trail, I think we're still looking for where the money starts, but all of the actual actors in the plot seem to have been hauled in. The Aurors and Legal are well into questioning our lot, I'm told the Muggles are at the same point."

"Good, one less thing to worry about."

"You should be worrying about getting well," says Hermione, who has left Helene with Scorpius and quietly joined them.

Ron reaches out and takes her hand. "I'm not going anywhere – obviously – but I would like a chance to put my brain to use."

She kisses the top of his head. "How could I refuse that?"

Ron pulls her down into his lap, despite the awkward angle the chair forces. "No question as to what brain? I must have really worried you."

"You did," she says, almost playfully enough to cover up the truth of it. "I worry about you constantly. But someone has to keep the world in check, and you have Harry and Malfoy to keep you in reasonable shape."

"I have an entire department," Ron corrects her. "They're just slower than those two. I blame their training."

Draco blames their training, too. The war kept them all on edge for years, shouldering adult responsibilities when they should have been children. These two had been caught up in Harry's plans to first save, then rebuild the world, while he, he had spent years rebuilding himself before Harry's plans caught him, too. None of them came out of school exactly normal. Luna travels the world looking for wonders, Neville travels the bedrooms of a generation of witches and Hannah travels her own strange path.

That these two should be able to sit here, smiling at each other, still filled with affection after so very long is nothing short of miraculous.

"Draco?" Ron is looking at him. "You've gone to the vague place, mate."

"Sorry. Was wondering about the case."

"Ah," says Ron.

"It's the Muggle involvement. It still doesn't make sense to me. Why bring them in?"

"More money?" Ron guesses. "It's a lot easier to scare up a large amount of financing from Muggle banks than from Gringotts."

"Better reason than any I've come up with," Draco admits. "I think I'll be happier when there's an established link. Fawcett's liaising with the Muggle coppers today while they do their interviews. Fingers crossed something will come up out of his report."

"I'm sure it will," Hermione says.

"I just keep thinking I've forgotten something …"

Ron laughs. "You're developing case brain: that feeling that you almost have the whole picture and just need to make sense of one last piece."

"Yes!"

"I'm cutting you off. Lunch with your own department. We need your brain to be inventor brain, there are more than enough Aurors already!"

Draco pulls a face, but Ron is right. He has spent all week trying to solve mysteries, and devoted not a moment to any of his actual research. Which reminds him … "Did Harry tell you I had an idea about a stasis spell thanks to you?"

They bounce ideas back and forward until Ron is claimed by his children and parents. Hermione and Draco take a turn on the chamomile bench while Helene is escorted on a loop of the garden by Scorpius and the Potters.

"He looks well," Draco says.

"He is, every day he's stronger." She keeps half an eye on her husband the whole time they talk.

"You look more rested today."

Hermione smiles at that. "I am. I had a lovely lunch out with Helene and she made me laugh the whole time. Thank you for insisting she come."

"She wanted to anyway, she was just nervous. Hospitals aren't her favourite places."

"They're not anyone's," Hermione agrees. "But if we're lucky, they're going to let Ron out tomorrow. Which brings me to a tiny favour. I hate to ask, but you're on holiday, and everyone else seems so busy. Would you be able to pop by the house in the morning and just check that we're good for groceries, general tidiness so we can get the chair through places for the next few weeks, and all that sort of thing?"

A long moment passes.

"Draco?" Hermione turns her gaze away from her husband. "Is that all right?"

"Yes, of course, happy to help." He has his face well under control before she sees it. She need never know that her favour is a gift. This is what Harry cannot understand, Draco thinks, the preciousness of such a gift, and that it cannot be risked, not for anything. No matter how desirable the temptation.

"You're miles away," Hermione teases him. "Thinking about the case again?"

"Thinking about twists and turns," Draco agrees.

"It must be coming together, you have such a smile on your face."

It is coming together, Draco thinks. And he is even beginning to have a few thoughts on the case.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

Friday morning sees Draco stop dead halfway through the kitchen door due to an unexpected Harry Potter at the table inside.

"Morning," says Harry. "I'd half-planned to head home last night, and was just going to pick up my things, but by the time I had had a wine or two with your ex-wife, and a cup of tea with your mother, and some of Lily's pot of hot chocolate, it was too late to bother going home."

"That's fine," says Draco, making it all the way inside. "You're welcome to stay for as long as you like."

He turns to the countertop as the grin spreads across Harry's face. The kitchen is more notably clean than it had been the day before, as though the house-elves have given it a thorough scrubbing. This has happened before. "Did Scorpius try to cook something?"

"Worse," says Harry. "Lily. Pancakes and dozens of them. It was like a Catholic holy day, but with more mess. Sorry about that. We did tidy things as best we could."

"I'm sorry I missed it."

"You got in late."

"Dinner with friends," says Draco, bringing his cup of tea to the table.

"Your monthly dinner with Goyle?"

"Sometimes, your Auror habits can be distinctly unappealing." Draco takes a sip of his tea before he goes on. "As it happens, yes. Pansy and Blaise were in town, too. They're well. Their little boy starts at Hogwarts this year."

"Oh." Harry returns to his breakfast, though Draco can see him biting back words.

It is appreciated. Draco may no longer be close to his old schoolmates, but they are a part of his life. And Greg needs the outside world to come to him if he is not to drift off altogether. Once a month, Draco brings the world into that too-lived-in house. And if he leaves out some of the names of the Aurors who appear in his adventures, it is a kindness, not an evasion. Greg does not deal well with change these days.

"Fawcett asked me to give you a copy of his report," says Harry, moving on. "I left it in your study."

"Excellent. I have a few things to get done this morning, but I'll read it over lunch."

"Ron said he was talking with you about the money."

Draco nods. "He thinks the Muggles were brought in for financing."

"Exactly," says Harry. "The house was in the name of Patrick Tanner, a senior broker. He's the one who put together the funds and made the investments in construction firms, as well as a few choice properties and insurance packages. He brought a lot of his clients into it, sold it as a high-percentage return."

"So he's our man?"

Harry shrugs. "He's denying things at the moment, says he was only operating on orders, but can't tell me who they came from."

"Imperiused?"

"Or lying. Won't know for a day or two. Some of your lads are running tests, you really need to come up with something faster there."

"I'll add it to the list."

Harry looks up brightly. "You have a list?"

"Of Auror requests? It's three feet long. You are by far the most annoying department in the Ministry."

"We thought you would appreciate the intellectual challenges. It's all to keep you interested in your work, really."

Draco throws a bread roll at Harry's head.

"That's better," says Harry. "Nothing says I care like airborne objects."

There are running feet in the hallway outside and Scorpius, Albus and James appear at the door, each claiming victory in the race.

Draco considers bustling them all into the breakfast room and summoning house-elves, but since the boys have already put together another pot of tea and begun toast preparations, he retakes his seat at the kitchen table instead. The house-elves can go off and polish something.

"We thought we might get a scratch Quidditch game up before we go to visit Uncle Ron," James says. "Three a side and Scorpius's mum said she'd ref if you're busy. No Snitch, just Catchers and Keepers."

"What are you going to use as hoops?" Draco asks, afraid he already knows the answer.

"I thought the yew topiaries in the Old Garden," says Scorpius.

Draco forces himself not to frown. "If you damage them, play is suspended immediately until you repair the tree. And I want a perfect repair, even if one of you has to call in Professor Longbottom."

"Yes, Mr Malfoy!" James promises. "Thanks!"

"And you'll need to start with Helene at least, I have an appointment this morning, but should be back by lunch."

"Mysteries?" Harry asks.

"Hermione asked me to check in on their place," Draco replies. "Everyone's been caught up at the hospital." He leaves out the possibility of Ron being released today, that's Weasley's good news to share.

"Off to water their flowers?" Harry smiles.

"Something like that," says Draco. But he smiles, too, because Harry can be taught.

The Granger-Weasley family home is easy to Apparate to. A former farm, it was made over by the previous owners into a sprawling family residence, and Ron and Hermione have kept up the tradition. Several fat ginger cats – Kneazles now Draco looks more closely – are littered about, basking in the bright sun and cheerfully ignoring him.

He pulls the key out of his pocket and goes to the back door – which is open. Draco puts the key away and pulls out his wand instead.

Chances are that it's a Weasley who's popped in to do a spot of tidying off his or her own bat, but then, Ron is one of the nation's leading Aurors. Still, operating on the theory that it is never good to stun the relatives of one's friends, Draco sings out a cheery hello.

"Hello?" a voice calls back, followed by footsteps. "Ah," says the voice from within the dark house. "Malfoy."

"I thought you were off doing something to puffins," Draco says as Ginny Weasley opens the door.

She pauses. "You make that sound tremendously wrong somehow. I got in last night. Thought I'd come around and make sure the house is ship-shape, then lie low until Ron wants me to see him."

"He's doing very well," Draco tells her.

"So they say. And what are you up to? Guarding my brother's demesne?" She points to the wand still in his hand.

Draco hurriedly stuffs it away. "Hermione asked me to pop in and make sure everything was fine here. But you're more than capable, I'll head off."

Ginny smiles at that. "Hermione asked, did she? Well, you'd best come in, then,"

"No, it's …"

"Malfoy, you're fine. I could do with a hand."

And though Ginny is shaking her head at him, she is also holding the door open, so Draco walks through and into a large family room, with an even larger kitchen off to the side.

There is a pervading sense of tidy clutter to the place. Piles of books are neatly stacked beside many of the chairs, strips of parchment and paper protruding at places the readers have marked in most. A basket of bright orange wool balls and what looks like the start of a scarf has been appropriated by one of the Kneazles, who is sleeping soundly around the knitting needles.

Draco feels the smile bloom across his face. He could drop the Granger-Weasleys into this scene with absolute accuracy, helped by the fact that Hugo has left his second-best broom and polishing kit draped across his chair.

Ginny looks about the room. "I thought that if we moved the books back onto the shelves, or even just one consolidated pile, then we could shift the furniture a little. Three feet should be ample for pathways."

Draco nods. "And if we turn this table, there'll be room for him to get through the door."

"Exactly." Ginny takes herself through the door and they begin to wander through the house.

"The hall is fine, plenty of space, even with all the shelves. I've already moved most of the spare brooms and kit out to the lumber room. I was thinking we could ensconce Ron and Hermione in the good spare room until he's able to do the stairs rather than see about tackling them in that bloody chair. No matter how good a floating charm we put on it, there's always the risk of gouging either wall or knee."

She opens up a door off the hallway and they step into a light, bright room that Ginny has obviously aired. There are bunches of blue and white flowers in the vases scattered about and a selection of books and Quidditch magazines on the bedside tables.

"This is lovely," says Draco. "It will be like holidaying, only downstairs."

Ginny laughs. "Yes, I was going for Cornish seaside. I did bring them some fluffy towels from my place …"

"Ah."

"You too?"

"My former wife insisted. Along with scented candles and some toiletry items. I don't want to know what she thinks they are planning for rehabilitation …"

"Malfoy!" Ginny's laughter is accompanied by head shaking this time. "Oh, that's horrible. I am going to get a start on clearing up the books."

"I'll check he can make it in and out of the bathroom and loo safely, I can widen the door a bit if needs be, and put in a rail. Then I'll come out and give you a hand."

"Good plan. See you shortly."

Draco sets about his work. The small bathroom off the guest room has a separate WC, which is simply hopeless, so Draco charms the dividing wall back against itself, leaving the loo in the corner of the bathroom. A rail along the folded wall, and another for getting in and out of the bath, plus a fractional widening of the doorway is enough. The basin was apparently left at its original low height – Draco can imagine a household full of basins at this level, with Hermione and Rose using them comfortably, and Ron and Hugo never complaining about the need to stoop.

Adding Helene's towels to Ginny's, and leaving the basket of suspiciously scented jars and bottles on one of the bedside tables, Draco does a quick lap of the rest of the ground floor. Hugo's bedroom is nearby, and it is hopeless, but Draco imagines Ron avoids it at the best of times. The large family bathroom is so very large that Draco can't imagine anyone crashing into anything there. The formal sitting room on one side of the front of the house, and less formal on the other, are both mostly fine, though he folds away a few of the more extreme rugs and tablecloths that could otherwise come to grief with a wheeled Ron. That leaves only the study and the library, and the rooms are near-mirrors: lined round with shelves and scattered with comfortable chairs. The only difference is the large desk in the former and the smaller writing tables in the latter. Draco adjusts a few chairs and considers his work finished, so goes in search of Ginny.

"Done?" she asks.

"There wasn't a lot to do. Can I give you a hand?"

"Grab Hugo's bits, would you. I'm nearly done with the books."

Draco packs away Hugo's broom polishing kit, and bundles it and the broom into a corner, where a pile of Quidditch gear is already neatly stacked.

"It's like cleaning up after the Harpies in here," Ginny grouses.

"I had no idea the team was so literate," Draco jokes before he can help himself.

To his relief, Ginny laughs. "Wasn't much else to do in the middle of training," she says. "Coach frowned on boys. Even Harry had a hard time getting in to see me before a big match."

Draco smiles at her. "I am sure he was the picture of patience."

"He disguised himself as Augusta Longbottom once."

Draco barks with laughter. The redoubtable Mrs Longbottom has been planning her centenary of late, despite it being a few years away, and caterers the length of England are considering careers in Dangerous Animal Training in a bid to escape her inquiries. He is not sure whether to hope she heard about Harry's escapade, or hope she never does.

"It would have worked," Ginny continues, "except Madam Marchbanks was visiting her granddaughter that day. Even she was playing along, but Harry panicked and fled, declaring he had an appointment to have his vulture re-stuffed."

Draco sits on the floor, holding his ribs, and trying very hard to breathe.

"There," says Ginny. "That's done. Shall we see if we need to bring anything in in the way of food or drink?"

"Give me a moment."

Ginny pauses to help Draco to his feet before continuing into the kitchen.

"I hear Hermione went to the Manor," she says, with her head in the pantry.

"Yes, she dropped the children off with Ron."

"We need more oranges. And got on very well with your mother."

Draco makes note about the fruit. "You have good sources."

"You need them in this family. Bread, bacon, some fish and eggs wouldn't hurt. Definitely sausages. Most of the veg are still good, but some little squash and tomatoes. Oh, and milk and cream. So … So falls the last bastion."

It takes Draco a moment to realise that the conversation has gone back a step. "Ah," he says. "Not quite the last."

Ginny smiles. "No, the last. I have been resigned to you for years, Malfoy. And anyway, your mother did save Harry, which to my mind cancels out your father trying to kill me."

Draco does not say anything.

"Should we have a cup of tea? It seems as though we ought."

"That would be lovely, thank you very much."

Ginny favours him with a smile. "Sit down, Malfoy, and stop looking so nervous. If I was going to hex you, I would have done it years ago."

"I seem to recall you did, at least once."

"Oh! So I did. Well that's taken care of, then. Milk? Sugar? Lemon?"

"Just lemon thanks."

"Here you are. So how are the boys?" She sits opposite him and blows gently over the lip of her cup to cool her tea.

"Albus and Scorpius?"

"Unless there's something you haven't told me about Hugo and James."

"James still with Rose, Hugo still looking hopefully at most girls. No, Albus and Scorpius are doing well. Disgustingly in love, but also still good friends. It's unnatural seeing such happy young people, but I suppose life is better when you grow up without constant civil war."

Ginny smiles wryly. "Regular near-death is not conducive to good mental health. Really, we're all masterpieces of coping."

"I've heard the boys say something similar."

Ginny clears her throat. "You know, I used to say such awful things to Harry about you. I know they weren't true. It was just so much easier than saying horrible things about the two of us."

Draco gives a measured answer, not sure how honest he should be. "It's all right. I know exactly how hard it can be facing the truth when things are going poorly. I let Helene blame everything on me, though if truth be told, that woman holds a grudge!"

"Well, she's French, of course you're at fault."

Draco laughs again. He had not expected Ginny Weasley would ever care about making him laugh.

"That and she could never be sure if you were going to cause an international incident."

"It has been years!"

"Another cup?"

Draco shakes his head. "I should go home, the kids have a scratch Quidditch game planned, and I promised I'd ref."

"Fair enough."

"Do you want them to come over to your place for the weekend?"

"I can wait till Monday. Rose and Hugo will want to spend a bit of time with their dad, so it's best that my lot be distracted at your place over the weekend. If you can keep quiet about me being back early, they won't be put out. Come on, I'll see you to the door."

"You're very kind."

"Not at all." Ginny pauses as she walks him through the back door. "Malfoy, thank you. It was kind of you to come and help, and you were very pleasant to work with."

"We're not going to be friends are we?" Draco asks carefully.

"Merlin no!" Ginny declares. "That would be wrong."

"I agree. But not enemies, either."

Ginny smiles. "I was thinking polite disdain, with occasional amicable periods, like this one."

Draco grins. "Perfectly judged. It was a pleasure spending time with you, Ginevra."

"Do call again, Draco."

And he is about to leave when he remembers there is something he always meant to tell her. "For what it's worth, I could always see why he chose you."

And she is clearly surprised, but she is a Weasley, so she gives an honest reply. "For what it's worth, we ran our course. Harry's ready to move on, and you could do a lot worse."

Draco can't reply to that. Instead, he panics. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead."

"You and Luna Lovegood … are you really …"

Ginny laughs merrily. "Of all the questions! Luna and I are just good friends. Travelling together has been enormous fun, and I've been able to help her with her work."

"Of course. Right. Well, see you."

She waits until Draco has taken a few steps before she adds: "The occasional sex is just a brilliant bonus."

After Draco has finished coughing, he turns an appraising eye on her. "I should have known. Lily had to get it from somewhere."

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o