Chapter Three—

"Mmm. It smells fantastic."

"—So fantastic."

In a kitchen filled with warm colors that sprung to life and wrapped around you in a feel of comfort and hospitality, a large group assembled together into a large wooden table; plates of cooked goods in front of them as the ceiling shone with the morning sun. Rays of bright orange and yellow flowed down to the dinning-room table, and even puffy morning clouds graced their way into the picture-perfect scene playing above the heads of the group.

"You outdid yourself."

"—Outdid yourself incredibly."

With a skeptical look upon her face, a brunette woman smiled timidly as she placed a pitcher of Pumpkin Juice on her table, moving the vase brimmed with sunflowers to the side; allowing more room for her guests to settle themselves.

"You have to show me how you make these muffins."

"—Yes, pass the secret, 'Mione. They're delicious."

Taking a second—a tiny fragment of it to look up at the two people talking, Hermione Malfoy had to bite her lip as she tucked herself in the seat right side of where her blonde husband sat. Both of them shared a knowing glance as a clatter of silverware splattered a few inches away from them.

"I'm an idiot."

"I'm a huge idiot—Oi, wait!" Stopping himself before he could shove a forkful of eggs into his mouth, Blaise Zabini paused with an incredulous look upon his handsome, dark face to glare at the witch next to him; scowling deeply as chuckles and sighs broke out at his expense. "You're going to start arguing with me so bloody early in the morning, Cho?"

"Why not?" Shrugging with sarcasm, the dark-haired witch, with a parenting-gaze that seemed to have taken residence on her face, lowered her silverware carefully on the sides of her plate to frown at her husband. "You've been annoying me endless for the past fifteen years, what's one morning that I don't let you eat your eggs peacefully?"

"Oh, give it up, Cho," being one of the many who sighed, Pansy Weasley expressed that irritation that was bubbling behind the masks of the others around; being the only one who didn't mind sharing her displeasure of having to hear the Zabini couple bitch every second. (Because, come on, fifteen years was enough for a lifetime.) "It's been two weeks since the drunken-incident, even I'm over it."

"That's because I took it hard," Ron Weasley mumbled, staring at his bacon resentfully as his best friends laughed. He felt the anger grow inside of him as he sensed their gazes upon his fading bruise underneath his eye. "She didn't even feed me for days. I had to go beg Angelina to toss me a chicken wing and endure George's teasing about losing my manly-bits to a Slytherin."

Shrugging, Pansy casually said, "well, you should've learned your lesson last year, Ronald." She took a graceful bite of her blue-berry muffin in that nonchalant spirit. "In fact, all of you should have."

Sitting on the opposite side of Hermione, Ginny Potter nodded her head aggressively in agreement with her sister-in-law. "Think about the example you lot are setting for your kids. What do you think they are learning from watching their fathers come home piss drunk?"

"That Weasley is easily bruised, Zabini is still a spineless git, and Potter just nods his head and takes it like a man?" Smirking with that trademark grin that has been defined as part of the Malfoy legacy, Draco Malfoy sat gloriously on the end seat of his table. "Or are you still grounded, Potter?"

"Don't feel so grand, Malfoy, because Hermione is less vicious than what we've got," Harry Potter retorted, scowling as he remembered the tickets to Puddlemere United's Quidditch match that he had to return. (Oh, the embarrassment he felt when he told Oliver Wood exactly why he couldn't go. The shame; the decaying of his manly-bits. He was sure Voldemort was laughing mockingly at him from his imprisonment somewhere in a muggle hell.) "Couldn't even go to a bloody match..."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "What was that, Harry?"

"Nothing," he responded quickly to the redheaded woman on his side, smiling as he drank his pumpkin juice without another mumbled remark. (The shame!)

Taking it upon herself to steer the conversation away from the idiotic things their husbands get themselves into, Cho cleared her throat and aimed a question at Hermione. "Any word on how the kids are settling in?"

"Well, Ariana has picked up her habit of writing to us once a week," Hermione began, watching with a brighten grin as her husband's eyes began to glow at the mention of his offspring. "She says everything is going smoothly. Classes are alright and that McGonagall sends her regards to all of us. And as for Scorpius, well, you know how he is. He prefers not to go into detail about anything. Not like I don't expect a letter from a complaining teacher or the Headmistress anytime soon."

Ginny laughed to herself, the irony of Hermione having a trouble-making son so humorous to her. "What does little Ana say about him?"

"That she wants to murder him. 'Murder him well,' as she puts it."

"See, I don't get that, 'Mione," Blaise butted in, raising his fork as the people around him began to roll their eyes. (Well, it seemed like Zabini was the only one who loved to hear his own words.)"You being all peacemaker and such, how is it that your kids ended up hating each other? With Malfoy as father it's pretty much expected, mind you, but it's you! Shouldn't they be hugging each other and planning a revolt for house-elf rights?"

Ron snickered, grinning with a mouthful of his breakfast at his best friend. "Or starting a study group that can takeover the entire castle? You know, the dynamic duo and all that rubbish?"

"Sticking their frizzy heads together to improve Hogwarts?" Pansy added, giggling along with her husband.

Draco glared, shooting daggers at the chuckling guests eating his food. "My kids do not have frizzy hair, Pansy."

"It's just a bit of sibling rivalry," Hermione informed with her oh-so-familiar know-it-all tone. "They argue like anyone else—You and Ron did it for years, Gin, remember? And James and Al are constantly at each others throats that you'd assume they've been enemies since the womb."

"Hey now, I was the nice one," Ginny retorted, glaring up from her potatoes. "I never did one sodding bad thing to this git. He was the one always pushing me away with his, 'No, Ginny! Harry's my best friend!' or 'No, Ginny, Harry loves me!'" She smirked as Ron frowned and turned red in the ears. "Which is terribly bad-mannered, I let him play tea-party with me all the time when we were kids."

"She was talking about James and Al, you wench!" Ron hissed, debating whether he should chuck a muffin at her. "'Ou bloodee 'itsh!" Crumbs of his delicious muffin rained down his shirt as he pointed an accusing finger. (They really were delicious! How can he throw it at her and risk losing that tasty bake-good as Ginny would transfigure it to a boulder and throw it at his head?)

Smiling peacefully and satisfactory to himself, Blaise said with a smooth voice, "I guess the only sane ones in the lot is our Angelo and Savanna." He peered up with his emerald eyes at his wife; watching with a bit of an internal happy-dance as Cho returned his sweet look. (Menopausal much?) "Salazar knows they get on just fine. In fact, the other day Savanna saved Angelo from a savage group of pixies."

Draco raised his eyebrow, not looking as interested as his best mate expected. "She only saved him because she took his wand and left him helpless and he was crying like you do when you watch muggle films."

"Lies!" Blaise shouted, tossing his fork. "And I don't cry during films, I cry during one film! And you can't tell me Titanic does not pull on your heartstrings, you insensitive prat, because it's the only film you constantly watch!"

"—Exquisite cooking, 'Mione."

"—Brilliant as always."

"—Really jealous."

Laughing lightly at the sudden compliments that the three other wives threw at her, Hermione placed a hand over Draco's. Dipping her fingers into the underside of his palm as a means to calm him down; watching as little by little his gray eyes lost their stormy effect. "So, how's work coming along, Harry? Draco tells me that the Aurors are thrilled that you finally took title as Head Auror."

"You should've seen Kingsley, 'Mione. He practically wet himself," Ron commented, sitting himself taller on his chair and began using his napkin with a little smugness in his bright eyes. "Can't blame him, can we? He's got Harry and I calling the shots now. He knows that safety is loads better now that he can settle down, take a vacation, and play with his cats."

Rolling her eyes, secretively of course, Pansy turned to smile proudly at her redheaded husband. "And it shows, Ron, it shows. Haven't felt this safe since Potter killed the Dark Lord off and I found my bedroom rid of Death Eaters taking it us a rest-stop."

"What are you on about, Pans?" Blaise, after much deep inhaling after getting his emotions stomped on, retorted at the dark-haired witch. "I killed that spider in your living room two days ago—saved both your asses!" He moved his finger from Mrs. and Mister Weasley. "That was protection right there."

" Erm...It's been brilliant, Hermione," Harry interjected, truly not wanting another feud that could ruin his breakfast. "Most of the cases have been tamed so far, nothing too over the top. Just enough to send one Auror per mishap."

Ron rose an eyebrow. "What are you talking about, Harry? Yesterday night—"

Bang.

"—Draco! Aunt Hermione!"

"—Don't yell, you troll."

"Why the bloody hell not?" Footsteps were heard a few yards away from the dinning room, interrupting Ron just in time before both Draco and Harry could aim their knives at him. "Draco, you've got some mail! Took it from the owl trying to peck his way in here! Got that letter I've been trying to hide from Mum for the past—" Stopping right on cue, like if today was good-luck for all those big-mouthed blokes, Teddy Lupin appeared at the entrance of the dinning room; looking startled as his hair started turning an embarrassing shade of pink. "Bullocks."

"And that is why, Teddy Lupin, we don't yell." Appearing right behind him, looking quite smug with a baby in her arms, Victoire Weasley grinned at the adults peering up at her. "Good morning, everyone."

Mrs. Potter raised her eyebrow, clearly not missing her oldest son's previous shouts. "What letter?"

"Did I say letter?" Teddy chuckled hesitantly, looking at his long-term girlfriend for desperate help. Help that never came. "No, what I meant, Mum, was...was erm..."

"Mummy!"

"Yes, yes." Teddy nodded vigorously as he took the dirty-blonde toddler from Victoire's arm, glaring at his girlfriend with red-colored eyes. "What I meant was, Demetria behaved herself brilliantly today." He bounced the girl on his arms, flashing the baby girl a tremendous smile as his mother's eyes began softening in distraction. (Well, obviously you can't count on your girlfriend to save you from instant death, but a baby will save your life with a gurgle and a bubble of spit without even hesitating.) "We took her for her usual early stroll at the park and she only attacked a muggle kid twice this time. That's improvement."

Looking a little curious, Cho asked, "how's that improvement?"

"Because in her defense that boy was rather obnoxious. If I was two years-old, I would've given that kid a go myself," Teddy responded to Cho. " But Merlin bless the baby-world that Hermione and Draco forgot to use a contraception spell and ended up having Demetria to throw sand at all bully-babies she can." He turned back to the little girl and ruffled her hair. "That sandbox is well protected due to her. So I say, all hail our favorite little mistake!"

Victorie reached over and smacked the now blue-haired wizard on the back of his head. "That's a horrible thing to say. Demetria is not a mistake."

"Of course not," Draco said in his sneering voice, squeezing the fingers of his wife as she frowned at his relative. "She was a slip. A very beautiful, life-changing, happiness-enhancing slip."

"Nice save," Hermione turned her frown towards the blonde man. "Well, as long as my daughter had her hour of distraction, I'll let it slip, Teddy, and won't curse you back to your toddler years. Back to when you were still cute and adorable to have around."

Teddy grinned at her, saying, "oh, you love me, Aunt Hermione," as he walked towards her and placed the two year-old into her open arms. "And, besides, I love spending time with my little Demi. It gives me practice for future years, you know?"

At his comment two loud snorts filled the air. Ginny and Victoire looking at the bloke as if he had just said he saw The Dark Lord rise from the dead wearing a tutu and dancing his way down the street singing a cheerful tune.

"Anyway," Teddy coughed, looking away from the women he feared, "you've got a letter from the Ministry, Draco. There's a meeting that you lot are supposed to be in twenty minutes."

"What meeting?" Malfoy asked, ripping the envelope from the boy's hands. "Did you know about this, Potter?"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, thinking back. "Kingsley mentioned something about a meeting, but he never said exactly when it was to be held. He said he would have one of the trainees send out memos a week before, though."

"Then why are they barely coming in now?" Draco retorted, waving the small, squared parchment at the Boy-Who-Lived.

Teddy raised a finger in the air, swallowing a chunk of muffin he had stolen from his mother's plate. "I may have...sort of, none intentionally, forgotten to send them three days ago...Sorry, Dad."

"Oh, for Dumbledore's gray-white beard," Ron scoffed, tossing his fork and standing up from the chair. "We better go now before the Minister makes an example out of me for coming in late. Again."

"Said I was sorry, Ron!" Teddy called, shrugging at his mother hopelessly as her brother grunted at him. "Well, what? I forgot. My bad! Victorie came in to bring me lunch that day and she was wearing the shortest—"

"Finish that sentence, boy, I dare you," Ginny hissed, interrupting her son as his eyes widened.

"Alright, we're off," Harry stood from his chair, his stomach grumbling as he never even got to move on to the waffles his best friend had cooked up. "Come along, Ted. I'm going to have to find you some other tasks to do when you aren't training because, clearly, sending post does not meet your focus-level."

"And no more visits from you, either, Victorie," Ron added, frowning at his niece. "Or I'll be sending Bill a memo about your little conjugal visits to the Ministry of Magic."

Victorie looked offended, her hands raised in a what-the-hell-I-didn't-do-anything way.

"I'll be home soon, Hermione," Draco whispered, leaning towards his wife and daughter as the teen veela argued with her uncle and the redheaded Mrs. Potter scolded her adoptive-son. "And by the time that I come back, promise me one thing?"

"Anything," the brunette smiled, her head filling with rushing affection as Demetria moved her little palm to Draco's face, patting his cheek as she giggled on her lap. She watched as Draco gripped her tiny arm and placed her palm onto his mouth, pressing little kisses onto her knuckles and turning them to fake-bites that made their daughter giggle even more.

Draco moved his neck a little to the side, giving him access so he could pass the tiny figure of his daughter so he could meet his wife. He looked into her bright, brown eyes for a quick second; one that could have even lasted a lifetime. It was a gaze burning with adoration, with intense love, and then, just to renew the deal that had been made fifteen years ago, Draco kissed his wife.

He pressed his lips in a strong peck—holding his lips there as he waited for the brunette to smile onto his. And once she had, he let her continue it on. He felt his blood run warmly, like it always did, and enjoyed the twists and turns that Hermione gave to his mouth. Filling him up to the brim of over-fill with complete bliss.

"Promise me we'll have a normal, quiet, family dinner," he said after Demetria's hands slapped them both on one cheek of their faces; signaling that they needed to remove each other before they tangled themselves and the poor kid lost even more space to breathe.

"—Where are you going, Blaise?" Cho's voice rang loudly, distracting Mrs. Malfoy for a split second. "You don't belong at the Ministry."

"But..." Blaise let his hands slip down from the collar of his shirt, forgetting that he was trying to fix it hurriedly before he apparated away with the Weasel, the Chosen One, and the Bouncing Ferret. "But I want to go."

"You can't, Blaise," Cho sighed, rubbing her temples as if she'd been explaining something to a child for the hundredth time.

"But I want to go!" Blaise whined.

"Blaise, you don't work at the Ministry, darling." She looked at him, clutching onto her sanity as her husband pouted. "Besides, even if you're thinking about crashing the Auror meeting, you honestly can't. You have a business meeting of your own at Zabini Corporations."

Her husbanded pouted again. "But I want to be a part of the action, Cho!"

"You're the ruddy owner of the corporation, Blaise. You have to go!" Pansy helped the former Ravenclaw, after removing her lips from a kiss-goodbye with her husband, of course.

"Please, tell me you didn't," Draco turned to Hermione, both of them looking away from another clever, childish scene his best mate caused.

Hermione patted her husband's cheek gently, looking a little too calm. "Savanna and Ariana's birthdays are coming up and Cho wanted to discuss mutual ideas for a party for the girls," Hermione began. "You know that Ana never wants any kind of celebration, but perhaps if it's conjoined with Savanna's then she'll agree to it."

But not looking too damn convinced, Draco kept a frown on his pale face. "Fine," he hissed, resigning to ever getting some sense of silence in his own bloody home. "Invite them to dinner—but, I warn you, if Zabini starts blubbering over his daughter growing up so fast, like the time you helped Chang plan Savanna's fourth birthday party, I will curse them back to their home and we are moving to Alaska."

Hermione scoffed, but continued her comment with a sigh. "See you for dinner, then?"

"You've ruined me," Malfoy replied with a scowl, pressing his lips lightly over Demetria's forehead. "Potter, Weasley, Ted, come on. We'll barely have enough time to get a good seat."

And grabbing the hem of her husband's blazer before he could follow pursuit of the walking men, Cho ordered in an irritated tone, "Blaise, sit."

Loud stomps on the Malfoys' dinning room was heard over distinct cracks.

X

"So, this is it, men," Kingsley Shacklebolt's deep monotone voice vibrated off from the large crystal-glass table in the middle of the room. A room that was completely made out of glass all around; making it appear as if they were trapped in the middle of an ice cube, the air quite freezing and the cold seriousness of the men invading all around. "In summary to this meeting, we will begin the monthly reports with other Ministers around the globe."

"—Take into consideration, though," Harry Potter, in all of his Head Auror splendor, rose from his chair to direct his words at the group of men looking towards him; giving him their undivided attention, "that the more information and ties we can make with them and their own Auror Departments, we can enhance the opportunities for some of our cases to close. We need some of their information to capture certain wizards or witches that are on the loose here and that is vital for their arrest."

Kingsley called for the attention of a sandy-haired man. "Johnson, you specifically need to formalize a comradeship with the Head Auror in Ireland. He is the only one that can pass you information on the Marie Fitzpatrick case. He has uncanny information on the woman's history that can give you more insight to how she operates and how to track her patterns based on her psychological past."

Crossing his arms over his chest and adopting that very important-looking feel, Auror Potter said, "it's a done deal, Johnson, if you get that Auror to blabber. He was married to the witch, after all."

Draco sneered, leaning against his leather chair and crossing his arms over his chest as well. The muscle in his arms popping against the rolled up sleeves of his pale-blue button-up shirt. "It's as good as ours, then. There's nothing like a bitterly, terrified ex-husband to bring down his lunatic, torturing, men-murdering wife."

Ron chuckled, snorting as he sipped on his goblet of water. "Do it now, mate," he smirked at Johnson. "He is probably shaking in his knickers thinking that Fitzpatrick is on her way to get him after she is tired of the bloodshed she's leaving for us to clean up here. The bloke is the Head Auror, but honestly, what's not to fancy about having one of Harry Potter's Aurors protect his skin—even if it is you."

"Then, it's going to be as easy as a Popsicle on a hot summer day, right, Mister Second-in-Command? "Johnson replied, rolling his eyes in his sarcasm as he turned back to the Minister and Potter. "You got it, boss. I'm on it."

"Alright, you all know your targets. All you have to do is use your charm to warm their hearts, and do your Auror magic," Kingsley rose from his chair, clapping his hands together. "Meeting adjourned, men."

And just as the others were rising up from their chairs and heading out of the office, Johnson aimed a leer at Ron. "Good luck with the Prime Minister, Weasley." His leer grew as Auror Weasley began to glare. "Make sure not to scare off the poor muggle man, again. We had to persuade him to let his request of having someone else talk to him about our connected affairs go."

"It was one bloody dragon!" Ron snapped, banging his goblet back on the glass table. "He needs to get over it and stop pretending like that heart-attack was major! I got him to the damn hospital quick enough, didn't I?"

"Ron," Kingsley called, his voice deeper than before as he stopped the redhead from bolting out the door and smashing Johnson's head against the glass wall. "Sit, will you? I've got some things to discuss with you, Malfoy and Harry."

Ron scowled. "About?"

"—Yeah, about?"

The Minister narrowed his eyes at the blue-haired trainee lingering behind. "Out, now. This is between Aurors and the Minister. Don't you have mail to send out?"

Teddy shrugged casually. "Dad's removed me from my post."

"Be my secretary for a few minutes, will you, Ted?" Harry sighed, his expression looking resigned at his son. "Hold my calls, stack my mail, and feed the owl."

"But, Dad—" Harry's emerald eyes hardened behind his glasses and Teddy groaned. "Fine, fine. I'll feed your bloody owl."

"Now I truly believe he's related to you, Malfoy." The Savior of the Wizarding World rubbed his temples, that headache coming back to surface.

Draco grinned, still seated in his chair looking quite on top of the world. "What can I say, Potter? We are charming people." His eyes met Teddy's grey ones outside of the glass window; both of them smirking at each other as Teddy dropped himself on the secretary desk outside of Auror Potter's office.

"So, what's up, Kingsley?" Ron asked again, diverging the conversation and sure reminiscing that would come up about Sirius Black and Tonks. "You've got our full attention."

And getting straight to it—because he was not a man of games—the Minister said, "there's a more specific reason of why all the representatives of the Wizarding Communities are coming together recently. A reason that's more than magical cooperation and peaceful ideals to come together." The Minister's dark eyes looked at the three men—at the men he has seen grown up and develop to the best Aurors he has seen in all these years. But his gaze wasn't warm, not trying to hold a memorable conversation; it was a dire, grave look.

"What reason?" Harry asked, noticing the stare.

"We don't know what we are looking for at the moment, Potter, but we know that it's happening." Kingsley dropped his arms from his chest, putting his palms on the surface of the glass table; his eyes still remaining on the three seated directly in front of him. "Attacks have been started on a few important members of society around our communities. These attacks have been the ones that catch people by surprise, that have been quietly committed."

"What exactly, Minister, do you mean by attacks and important people?" Malfoy's seriousness came to play and he forgot all about looking at Teddy stuffing the owl's mouth with a handful of crackers outside the glass walls. (Oh, the animal cruelty.)

The dark-skinned man rose back to his full height. "Cleverly calculated murders, Malfoy." He's expression was statuesque. "Murders that appear to be accidental, as if the victims were so carelessly going about their day and they all ended up dying out of thin air."

Harry's expression reflected the Minister's seriousness. "And the victims?"

"Let's just say, Harry, that they fancied being taught by you a few years ago." The Minister watched as the Chosen One's expression faded to an intense white mask. "Zacharias Smith has recently, it seems to be, fallen down a flight of stairs at his home three days ago. An accident that had his skull cracked open and traces of torture spells that were undetected by the muggle paramedics that found him."

With wide eyes, Ron looked incredulous. "Y-You...you don't think..."

"What, a reunion of Death Eaters?" Harry cut Ron off, scowling deeply as his heart began racing up his chest. "I highly doubt it. No one's stupid enough to attempt that. We've got mass numbers on our side now."

"Then what other bloody option do we have, Harry?" Auror Weasley reacted, his brows knitting together as he saw the answer clear on his best friend's face. "If it's not one of their movements, then who? The muggles?"

"Oh, I'm quite sure they've gathered their pitchforks and torches to come after us, Weasley," Malfoy hissed, standing up from his chair and glaring at the redhead man with all the fury and evil still left in his blood. "Think logically, if for once in your lifetime. There's no possible way that it can be a group of Death Eaters. Potter's right, they aren't stupid enough to even begin mobilizing. They have no feared leader, no supreme magic to help them with their killings this time."

Nodding, Kingsley said, "I think Draco's on to something." Trying to crush the moment of panic that seeped into the previous war heroes in front of them, even to the reformed Death Eater, he tried sounding reassuring. "This is much more than that, because it's not just your former classmates, but others from around the globe."

"We'll get into it, Kingsley," Harry said, his face still expressionless.

"I know you will, Harry. I have no doubt about that." Nodding his head in goodbye, the Minister made his way out of the office; not even bothering to look back as he let them comprehend the news completely.

"We are not, by any way, to let any of the other Aurors know, understood?" Potter said, his ordering tone kicking in. "This is kept between us. We'll figure where to start moving later."

"Do we tell Ginny and Hermione?" Ron asked, his voice several levels down of hysterical. (There was surely no time to be the little side-kick bitch at the moment.) "What if this gets bad?"

Bang.

"Absolutely not!" Keeping his fist glued to the glass, Draco Malfoy moved his infuriated silver eyes to the others left in the office. "Do as you bloody will with your respective others, but neither of you are to tell Hermione about this."

Ron narrowed his eyes at the blonde Auror. "Malfoy, 'Mione is implicated in this as much as my sister. It will be a security precaution just to inform her."

"We are to protect the people, Weasley," Malfoy's voice was still strained, still thick with fury mixed with a hint of fear, "not to go informing them about cases. I will protect my wife from anything, and I won't have you two panicking her to send my daughter away and for her to come back into saving the world. Those days of battle for her are long over, do you understand?"

Ron's glare intensified. "Malfoy—"

"No, Ron, stop." Harry raised his palm out to his brother-in-law. "Draco's got a point; we better not panic them. You know Gin, and I don't want another excuse for her to get worked up. Tell Pansy if you wish, but don't go telling anyone else."

And three, reluctant seconds of silence later, "Fine! I suppose you two are right."

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"An employee wants to talk to you." Interrupting the next three seconds in which the oddly three friends would make-up and call it a day, Teddy grunted as he held a note-pad and a quill as he entered the office.

Harry sat on his chair, his mind now too occupied to remember anything or anyone he was expecting. "Who?"

"Not you, Dad," Teddy huffed, scratching something off the paper. "This is sickle for handling your mail as well, Draco."

Before Draco could roll his eyes at the cousin that'd been blasted off his family-tree, his eyes caught sight of a tall, curvy woman walking into Harry's office.

The woman, who was dressed in classic robes, stared at the men with light green eyes—an almost clear color, as she smiled at them. A gesture that gave out the impression of friendliness, of some sort of warmth and charm. She had jet black-hair, curled loosely to her shoulders and parted in the middle to allow view of her pale face and rosy cheeks. She was the symbol of attraction, of instant comfort.

And just as her eyes landed on the blonde Auror, a twinkling, dulcet voice said, "good evening, Mister Malfoy, I'm Tanya Rowle. I'll be your new secretary."

Oh, no.

'What if this gets bad?'

Well, Mister Weasley, step aside and allow room for Draco Malfoy to evaluate the situation. It's about to get ugly.