"I understand your position, Auror Malfoy, but you can surely see how this looks," Captain Pritchett said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "There was a major attack on several Muggles in broad daylight, and the only wizard at the scene claims to be innocent. We have to be sure before we can just release him."

Draco sighed. "Yes, I know, Captain. But he didn't do this. He's Harry bloody Potter. He doesn't do things like this."

"Well, according to you, he's been missing for the last eight years. No disrespect meant, Auror Malfoy, but how do you know he hasn't changed?"

Draco fought a wince as he remembered the words Potter had spat at him back in the interrogation room. "I just know," he answered firmly. "This wasn't his doing." He thought for a moment and then perked up. "What if you looked at his memory of the event?" Draco asked.

"We could do that," Pritchett murmured. "Is there any way Potter could tamper with the memory to support his story?"

"No," Draco replied, shaking his head. "Well, yes, but it's easy to tell when a memory has been tampered with if you know what to look for."

"And I suppose you do?"

Draco smirked at the woman. "We're very well trained in Britain."

Pritchett rolled her eyes. "Fine. It'll take me a couple of days to get clearance for use of a Pensieve in this case."

"What will happen to Potter until then?"

"Usually a suspect stays in our custody unless there's a good reason why they shouldn't, but since this is somewhat of a special case, I would be willing to release him into your custody, Auror Malfoy. That's the best I can do. He has to stay in the country, and someone has to keep an eye on him."

Oh joy. Potter would just love that. Draco let out a breath. "Fair enough. I'll go see which he'd rather do."

"You do that. Are you going to report to your Ministry about all of this?"

Draco closed his eyes. Fuck.Of course he should be sending regular reports back to Weasley about how everything was going, but this...this was something that wasn't as easy to just write down and send. "I...yes. Yes, I will be in contact with Head Auror Weasley once I get Potter situated," he answered, rising from his chair. "Thank you, Captain Pritchett, for you help."

The woman nodded. "It's nothing. I just want to get to the bottom of this."

"Don't we all?" Draco muttered, heading back to the interrogation room where Potter was waiting. He pushed the door open, swallowing hard when he saw Potter stretched out on the cot. It had been so long since he'd seen the other man. So long since they had laughed and joked about their situation while they were holed up at Grimmauld Place, and unless Potter was a better liar than he had ever been before, he had no recollection of them being friends.

Potter cracked open an eye. "So? What's the verdict?"

Draco blinked and schooled his face back into neutrality. "Well, there's good news and bad news," he said.

"They still think I did it?"

"I don't think so. But as you're the only suspect they have right now, they have to be careful."

"So, what, I'm being arrested?" Potter wanted to know.

"No. I convinced them to view your memory of the event since it would be evident if it were tampered with. They can use that to verify your story."

"Oh. Thanks, Malfoy," Potter said, frowning. "What's the bad news, then?"

Draco sighed. "It's going to take a couple of days for Captain Pritchett to get approval to use a Pensieve in this case. Until that time, you have a choice. Either you can stay here under their custody, or be released into mine."

He could see the irritation flare in Potter's eyes, and he really couldn't blame him. But he had done the best he could, and the git would just have to deal with it.

"Do I have to go back to England if I'm in your custody?" Potter asked softly.

Draco shook his head. "No, you can't leave the country until this is resolved."

"So you'll be staying here?"

"Yes, Potter. Even if you decide to stay in Pritchett's custody, I have to stay here until the case is solved, as per Weasley's orders."

That gave the other man pause. "Which Weasley?" he whispered.

"Ronald. He's head Auror, and I'm his unofficial second in command."

"Wow," Potter said, blinking as his lips curled into a smile. "I always knew he could do it. Way to go, Ron."

"Yes, well, it helped that he was partnered with me, and that we were brilliant at what we did. I am still one of the most successful field Aurors currently working for the Ministry."

Potter bit his lip and frowned harder, rubbing his temple. "I...why did you become an Auror, Malfoy? What made you think you could do it?" The words weren't harsh. They were somewhat frustrated, and definitely curious.

Draco looked away. Obviously he couldn't give Potter the real answer. Well, he could, but that probably wouldn't end well. "I just...I wanted to do something that mattered after the war. Someone close to me told me that I could do anything I wanted, that they believed in me. So I went into training, and I was good at it." He shrugged. "It's not much of a story."

Potter sat up and squinted at him for a moment before shaking his head. "Whatever. I don't actually care. What happens if I go with you?"

"Then I go find us a hotel to check into," Draco replied, trying not to regret that they had returned to business.

"I do have an apartment here, you know," Potter protested. "Why can't I just stay there?"

"Because the whole point of you being in my custody is for me to actually be there, you idiot."

"I know that, you arse. You can come too, if you must."

Draco blinked. "You want me to stay at your apartment?"

"No. I'd rather you be as far away from my apartment as possible, but I don't want to stay at a hotel either. I'm caught between a rock and a hard place."

"What does that even mean, Potter?" Draco asked derisively.

Potter rolled his eyes. "It's a Muggle saying; don't worry about it. Look, it's just for a couple of days, right? We can probably handle that. We're adults now."

With cool, grey eyes, Draco observed Potter. It was probably a bad idea to go to Potter's apartment. In fact, it was probably a bad idea to get involved with him at all. He'd worked quite hard to let go of all of his emotions regarding Potter's disappearance, and this was not helping. Still, he couldn't deny that he was curious to find out what Potter had been doing for all of these years. So, against his better judgement, he nodded. "Alright. I suppose we can manage to coexist for a couple of days without hexing each other." We've done it before, after all.


Potter's apartment was sparse, but it fit with Draco's image of the man. It was messy, but not horrendously so, more cluttered than anything. The furniture was worn, but it looked comfortable, and there were all manner of Muggle devices in the kitchen and living room.

Potter dropped his keys into a bowl on a small table near the door, and snapped his fingers, turning on the lights in the living room. "I've a spare room, so you don't have kip on the couch or anything. It's not much, but..." he shrugged.

"It's fine, Potter," Draco said, dropping his bags by the couch. It had been a long, trying day for him; not to mention the fact that his body was sure he should have been asleep hours ago. It had taken another hour and a half to clear everything with Pritchett and her team for Potter to be released. He should have been thinking about writing a report for Weasley, but all that was on his mind was a shower, a soft bed, and perhaps a cup of tea.

He was startled from his musings by Potter opening cupboard and running water. "Tea?" he asked. "I probably don't have anything fancy like you're used to, but you look like you could use a cup."

"Potter, I work insane hours, and I live by myself," Draco said, stifling a yawn behind one elegant hand. "My standards for many things have been considerably lowered."

"You still talk like a ponce, though," Potter returned, setting the kettle on what Draco recognized as a stove top.

"And you still have all the social grace and manners of a Confunded troll. Nice to see some things haven't changed."

Potter snorted, pulling out the milk and sugar for the tea. The kitchen was quiet for a while then. Draco was busy trying to figure out how he was going to write a report for Weasley while leaving out the fact that Potter was involved. Trust the inconsiderate wanker to show back up and immediately start making things hard for him.

"How do you take your tea?" said wanker asked, pouring water from the kettle.

"Just with a splash of milk," Draco replied, without thinking. "Not with five bloody lumps of sugar like you take it."

There was a sharp inhale from Potter, and Draco looked up, realizing what he had said. The brunette had a strange look on his face, and he was rubbing his temple again.

"How do you know how I take my tea?" he murmured.

"Er...lucky guess," Draco said quickly. "You seem the type to make tea like an-"

"Utter plebeian," Potter whispered, eyes landing on Draco's face and holding there. "Why is that familiar to me?"

Draco swallowed. It was clear that something had happened to Potter's memory, but it seemed like flashes of it were trying to come back, probably due to his proximity to Draco. It was also becoming clear that it was going to take some work to figure out what was going on. But he would think about that later. Perhaps when he'd had a decent night's sleep and had a clear head with which to formulate a plan.

He got to his feet with a groan. "I don't know, Potter. Perhaps you know instinctively that you are, in fact, an utter plebeian. While you ponder that, I'd like to get some rest."

"Oh. Yeah. Right." Potter shook his head quickly. "Come on, I'll show you where everything is and you can drink your tea in bed or whatever."

That sounded good to Draco.


"Draco? Draco, are you awake?"

"Do I bloody look awake? What time is it?"

"Early."

"What do you want, Potter?"

"I...can I stay in here with you?"

"Why?"

"Nightmare. Bad one."

"Fine. Get in. But if you kick me, or try to steal the blankets, your arse will end up on the floor."

"Thanks, Draco."

"Shut up; I'm sleeping."

Waking up that next morning was a struggle for Draco. His body was still trying to adjust to being in another country, and it wasn't like he had had an uneventful first day in America. He rubbed a hand over his face and through his hair as he remembered the dream he'd had.

It made sense that he was dreaming of Potter and the past since he was in the man's bloody apartment. It would have been much easier to try to forget about whatever was going on with Potter and to focus on this case, but it seemed like the two of them were probably linked. The fact that Potter didn't remember Draco's role at the end of the war, or the couple of months that they had spent living together at Grimmauld Place screamed foul play,especially when coupled with the fact that he seemed to be remembering little snippets of things.

But who would want to Obliviate Potter? And why would they remove his memories of Draco? Perhaps it was the same person who was stalking him.

Draco sighed and shook his head. He needed to send a message to Weasley about the case, and he wanted to find something eat, and to do either of those things, he had to get up.

He pulled on some clothes and exited the spare room into a silent apartment. There was a note on the kitchen counter, and Draco sighed. He was so tired of reading notes from this idiot.

Malfoy, it read.

You never said if I could go to work today or not, so I'm going anyway. Especially since I never made it in yesterday. I should be back around 4. Food and stuff is in the fridge. DON'T BURN MY APARTMENT DOWN!

H

Draco rolled his eyes and incinerated the note with a wave of his hand, just because he could.

In the end, finding food was the easy part. He even managed to put together a cup of tea, shuddering at the large collection of sugar cubes Potter seemed to have. The hard part was sitting at the table with his toast and eggs and staring at the piece of parchment he was meant to be writing his report on. Weasley would be anxious for news by now (or asleep; Draco actually had no idea of the time difference between London and New York), and he had to write something.

"I'll just write what happened, and leave Potter's name out of it," he murmured, putting his quill to the parchment. He felt bad about lying, even by omission, but he had to figure out what was going on here.