Chapter 4

19 July, 1998

Ron and Hermione,

I've just realized that probably no one told my aunt, uncle, and cousin that Voldemort's dead and I'm alive. They deserve to know that they can go back to their home. So I'm going to go tell them that. I don't know where exactly the Order hid them, so it make take a bit to find them.

Don't worry about me.

Harry


21 July, 1998

Harry,

While we think it's very admirable that you want to go let your family know you're alive, you can't just disappear like this. There are still Death Eaters out there who would love to get revenge on you.

We have no idea where you are, but owls were always good at finding Sirius when we didn't know his location. Hopefully this letter finds you well.

Hermione.

P.S. Ron says hi.


11 August, 1998

Harry James Potter,

It has been three weeks since you left, and you can't send an owl to let us know you're okay? If you can't find your aunt and uncle, then just come back. I'm sure Kingsley can send someone out to find them. He might even know where they are already.

Let us know you're okay.

Hermione


3 November, 1998

So you've just run away, then? I don't know what else you expect us to think now that you've been gone this long, Harry. I refuse to think that something's happened to you, so I'm just going to have to assume that you're out there somewhere ignoring these letters and the fact that we're all worried about you.

Ginny's with Neville now, did you know? She got tired of waiting. She said that you're always running off on her and that that isn't likely to change. I'm beginning to think she has a point.

We're your friends, Harry. If you needed time, you could have just told us.

Hermione.


25 March, 1999

Hermione,

I'm fine. Please stop.

H


2 May, 1999

Draco,

I'm sorry. Please don't tell anyone about this letter; I'm not really planning on coming back, but I remembered that a year ago, I promised to look after you. A letter is a lame way to do that, but it's all I can think of right now.

You're better than anyone, including yourself, gives you credit for, Draco. You're smart and funny, and you're a survivor. I know things are hard right now because people are morons. They can't see past your name or your Mark enough to realise that you are not the enemy. Ignore them. You can do anything, Draco. I believe that.

Harry


It was about an hour after Draco and Captain Pritchett had Apparated back to the BOMA, and Draco was frustrated. He'd had to argue with the captain and a few others, but he'd finally gotten them to agree to let him question Potter when he woke up. He didn't think that Potter had attacked those Muggles, but then, he hadn't seen the other man in about eight years.

They were in one of the interrogation rooms. Draco had transfigured the table into a cot, and Potter was resting on it. He was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, staring at the other man. Of all the ways he'd thought he would see Potter again, this was not one of them.

When they'd first arrived, Draco had taken time to examine Potter. A quick spell assured him that this was the real Harry Potter, not someone using a glamour or Polyjuice. It looked like he had grown a few inches, and his hair certainly had. It was shaggy and fell over his forehead, the fringe parted to show the familiar lightning bolt scar. They had found a pair of trendy glasses next to Potter's unconscious body, and Draco had brought them back, placing the frames next to Potter on the cot.

Draco grew tired of sitting in the chair, so he started pacing the room, wondering what on earth he was going to say when Potter woke up.

Nice to see you aren't dead, Potter. Now tell me, did you do to a street full of Muggles what you did to me about ten years ago?

Or perhaps: So this is where you've been hiding. I have to admit, I thought you could do better.

But certainly not: You fucking wanker, you said you were going to look after me, and you bloody disappeared. You can't just do that. I had to be friends with a Weasley because of you. Multiple fucking Weasleys, in fact. How could you?

A soft groan jerked Draco from his musings, and he turned to look at the cot. Potter was blinking his eyes open and making to sit up.

"You'll want to be careful," Draco said. "We're not sure how long you've been out or why, so you might have some head damage."

Potter frowned, sitting up fully and blinking blearily at Draco. "Malfoy?" he asked in a whisper.

"Oh so you do remember me," Draco drawled flatly, ignoring the pleased fluttering in his stomach. "I'm so terribly flattered."

"Where are my glasses?"

"Next to you."

Potter squinted myopically at the cot and closed his hand around the black frames before shoving them onto his face and staring at Draco. "Merlin, it is you. Either that or I have a concussion and I'm hallucinating all this. What the fuck are youdoing here?"

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Do you even know where here is?"

"Er...no, I guess I don't," Potter responded, looking around. "What's going on?"

"I was rather hoping you could tell me," Draco said. "We're at the Bureau of Magical Affairs. And you're being held for questioning. Luckily for you, the powers that be are letting me do the questioning."

Potter snorted. "You call that luck? Wait, questioning for what?"

"For the street full of nearly eviscerated Muggles."

"I didn't do that!" Potter said vehemently.

"Well someone did it, and you were the only wizard at the site. Andthe spell used was one you're familiar with."

"You're familiar with it, too."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Yes, I know that. Just what are you suggesting?"

Potter shrugged. "It's just strange that you turn up here at the same time that a bunch of Muggles are attacked."

"I'm here for my job, you bloody moron."

"Someone gave you a job?" the brunette asked, surprised.

"No one gave me anything," Draco snapped, a bit hurt and confused as to why Potter was acting this way. "I'm an Auror."

"Oh Merlin, they must be hard up."

"Fuck off. Look, just answer my fucking questions, alright? And then you can go back to whatever hole you were hiding in before and pretend you never saw me."

With a sigh, Potter crossed his arms and met Draco's eyes. "Fine. Ask away."

"Thank you ever so much. Now. What did you see?"

"You mean aside from the Death Eater that cursed all the Muggles?" Potter asked innocently.

"Which Death Eater?" Draco wanted to know.

"I don't know. He had on a mask and a hood."

"Potter, why would a fully garbed Death Eater be waltzing around in the middle of Muggle New York? That doesn't even make sense. Most of them are dead or in prison, and the ones who are missing aren't that stupid."

"Except for you, apparently."

Draco would have flinched if he weren't skilled at hiding his reactions. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asked, voice low.

"You have the Mark, and yet you're just waltzing around free. And you've somehow gotten into the Auror Corps. Pay someone off, Malfoy?"

"What are you talking about? I helped the Order in the war, Potter," Draco said, frowning. "You know that. You were there."

Potter snorted disdainfully. "Right. Pull the other one, Malfoy."

Now Draco was really concerned. Potter sounded so convinced that some of the most defining moments of the war for him had never happened. He furrowed his brow. "What's the last thing you saw me doing during the war?" he asked.

"Pointing a wand at Dumbledore and threatening to kill him," Potter answered, anger filling his eyes. "Going on about how you had been chosen to end his life."

Draco blinked. "So you've no recollection of me turning up at Grimmauld Place with Severus and offering up information about Voldemort and the Death Eaters? Or of me helping you, Weasley, and Granger back into Hogwarts before the final battle?"

"No, because that never happened," Potter spat. "You ran and hid like a little coward after sixth year. I don't know what you did during the war, but it certainly wasn't helping the Order. Or me."

The conviction, the...loathing in those words cut Draco somewhere deep and personal. He had worked so hard to get Potter and his friends to trust him all those years ago, and now...Well now it was as if all of that work had never happened. At least as far as Potter was concerned. Which might have been the worst part of it. "You really don't remember," he murmured, mostly to himself. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing happened to me," Potter said firmly. "I left England because I was tired of being hounded by the press."

"So you ran and hid. Like a little coward?" Draco couldn't help saying.

"Fuck you, Malfoy! I'm not...I'm not hiding. I just needed a break."

"Eight years isn't a break, Potter. Eight years is hiding." He held up a hand to cut off whatever angry protest Potter was about to make. "Can we please just get back to the questioning?"

"Fine. Whatever."

Draco forced himself to focus on the matter at hand. He could deal with whatever was going on with Potter's memories after he'd done his job. He grabbed the notepad and quill that had been left in the room for such purposes and used a transcription spell to make the quill record what Potter said. "Alright," he remarked. "Start at the beginning and tell me what happened. Be detailed. Even information that doesn't seem important-"

"I know how it works," Potter snapped, cutting him off.

"Then get on with it."

Potter rolled his eyes and made himself more comfortable. "I was going to the cafe like I do everyday, and-"

"Why do you go there everyday?" Draco interrupted.

A flush lit Potter's cheeks. "I work there," he ground out.

Draco arched an eyebrow. "From boy hero to barista. I mean, please continue."

"You really are a massive twat, aren't you?"

"According to you," Draco replied. "Keep going."

"Arse. Anyway. I was going to work for my eight a.m. shift, and I felt like someone was following me. I guess he was using a Disilluisonment or something because I couldn't see him. He followed me all the way to the cafe, and I knew I couldn't let him inside, so I turned around and told whoever it was to show themselves. He lifted the spell, and I saw that it was a tall wizard in black robes and a hood with a Death Eater mask."

"How do you know it was a wizard?" Draco asked.

"Because he did magic. Remember all the magically injured Muggles?"

Draco clenched his fist at his side, praying for strength. "I meant as opposed to a witch."

"Oh. Because of his build. He was bulky and had a masculine shape." For some reason Potter's cheeks went faintly pink.

"Right. Continue."

"There were Muggles about, of course, and they stopped when this great hooded and masked idiot seemed to appear out of nowhere. I asked him what he wanted, but he just cast a wandless Sectumsempra, taking out the small crowd of Muggles. I...I can do wandless magic too, so I threw up a shield in front of myself and tried to stun him, but he ran. I chased after him and he hit me with something. It was a nonverbal spell, so I don't know what it was." Potter shrugged. "Then I passed out."

With a frown, Draco thought all of that over. It didn't make sense for there to be a Death Eater in full regalia just attacking people in broad daylight. None of the ones who were missing were that stupid. An imposter, perhaps? But what would be their motive? "Was this the first time that you've been followed?" he asked.

Potter shook his head. "No, it's happened once or twice before. Usually on my way home from the cafe. Whoever it is is usually gone by the time I make it back to my place."

"Hm. Learning your habits, your route, perhaps," Draco muttered, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "No one back home knows where you are?"

"No. Just you," Potter replied. He scowled then. "And you had better not tell anyone you saw me, either. I like my life now."

Draco waved that away. "Always so full of yourself. I have more important things to do than gossip about your whereabouts, idiot. Like the nutter running around slashing up Muggles. What I want to know is how he would know that spell."

"Snape didn't teach it to you all at the Death Eater socials?"

"Oh grow up, Potter. The war is over. No. Severus never taught it to us. The first time I ever saw it was when you used it on me in that bathroom." Draco took a deep breath and pushed his hair back. "Look. I'm not going to sit here and argue with you about this. I know you didn't curse those Muggles, but there's a whole team of Police-wizards out there who think you might have. So if you want to walk out of here today, I suggest you stop making cracks about my past and let me do my job. Got it?"

Potter's eyes were wide. "Yeah. Okay."

"Good. Stay there while I go talk to Pritchett." With that Draco swept from the room, slamming the door behind him.