August 2007

"Oh bloody hell," he grunted, pushing his hand under the cold water irritably. "I swear to Merlin I'll throw this fucking thing out of the window once my hand stops throbbing. What even is that monstrosity?" he practically growled.

Harry snickered in response and flicked his wand at the mess Draco had made of the cafetiere and the counter in the cramped kitchen of the DMLE by pushing too hard on the press. "You need to take your time with it, otherwise it will do exactly what it did today, counter the pressure. Physics, mate," he pointed out. "Err, that's a muggle subject-"

"Yes, Potter, I know what physics is, thank you very fucking much," Draco sniped back and cast a healing charm over the reddened skin of his forearm, seeing it finally calm down to only leave behind his usual pale complexion covered in black ink. "What I mean is why would you use something so primitive when you can have an actual coffee machine that will make your espresso and foam your milk? You know, like civilised people?"

Harry frowned. "You try to find some money in the department budget. Kingsley is already squeezing me for every fucking penny I can budge on."

Draco shrugged. "Fine, then I'll get one for the department. Sorted."

"Err, as generous as that is, Malfoy, I don't think that's a good idea," Harry rubbed the back of his neck uneasily.

"Why the fuck not?" Draco glared at the offending cafetiere and flicked the kettle on instead to make a strong cup of tea. It was that or the next perp who gave him trouble would really regret his ire.

"Gifts to the department means conflict of interest, and paperwork, it's a whole thing," he tried to explain but the words clearly meant little to the blond whose jaw was working over what were surely ground teeth. "Look, you've been here only a couple of days. There's a good café on the corner by the visitor entrance that does decent espresso. Just take your time, settle in and try not to wreck the place, alright?" he sighed and took his cup of now tepid tea to his office. Chances that he would get to finish the beverage considering the budgets he was due to look at were slim to none anyway.

Draco ran a hand through his blond locks and snagged the hair tie from his wrist, throwing it all up into a bun atop his head. Right, focus. He looked at the cafetiere with distrust and flicked the whole thing clean before gently pressing down on the top, meeting no resistance. Right, next time, try to go slow and see if the coffee is any good. If not, he will need to find the place Potter mentioned or his mood would be about as warm as the Russian tundra.

Instead he found the box of Yorkshire tea and wrinkled his nose. Tea bags, not even the loose tea leaves. Fuck me, this place is a dive , he thought to himself, thinking back to his office back in New York.

Six years in the US had done him a world of good. After the war he'd been a bit lost, glad to be forced into attending Hogwarts for an eighth year to finish his NEWTs as part of his sentence. It helped him create a bit of a distance from the gloom of his ancestral home. With his father in prison and mother dead by the hand of her own deranged sister, Malfoy Manor was not a place he wanted to stay at. It reeked of dark magic, the Ministry had pillaged it for all it could - 'confiscating' priceless books and antiques to contribute to the 'reparations' post war.

He was left with plenty of assets, his family was one of the top three wealthiest families in Britain after all, but what was the money good for when he had no home and no family left? Even his godfather was gone, though Severus was probably taking a much needed rest in the afterlife so he couldn't blame him for that. It was surprisingly McGonnagal who came through for him. She treated him neutrally and sat with him through career options until he settled on law enforcement. It was the best decision he could have made.

Auror training was rigorous and oftentimes he was shunned by the collective who had been on the 'right side' during the war. Funnily enough, he got paired with Potter and they very quickly worked out their hostility in physical combat while going out for a beer afterwards where they started becoming friends, especially after Weasley quit to go help his brother in the joke shop. And Draco began seeing the good side of life again. They were healing, he could enjoy the life he was able to live, and he even began dating. Astoria was one hell of a woman, with a bit of a temper on her but he liked her energy and she was good company.

He was hesitant when the opportunity first came to finish his last year of training as a transfer to the US under the mutual study programme. Astoria refused to even consider it and glared at him whenever he mentioned it. So he dropped it, thinking he would yet get a chance to collaborate with the Yanks during his career. Then he caught Astoria sucking Blaise's cock and he not only lost his girlfriend but one of his good friends as well. Needing a break from the toxicity of his life in England, he signed the transfer papers and landed in New York days later.

And he had stayed there even after graduation, working with the local team for five years before he once again sought to return to his homeland. Perhaps this would be his life, pending between the two countries from now on until he got blasted to smithereens by a perp. All of them ran out of luck one day or another. Just like his partner Garreth… He shook his head and sighed. Whatever had led him back here, this meagre supply of shitty tea wasn't it. He missed the coffee machine and lovely tea selection back at his department. This was just tragic in comparison. But he could always get an anonymous donation sorted perhaps. Or send one to Mungo's and ask Pansy to reciprocate and send something decent their way? She was always up for a good quid pro quo…

He shook off the melancholy and opened the cooling cabinet, raising a brow at the selection of milks. Geez Louise, no coffee machine but four different types of milk? And none of it from a cow. What fresh hell was this?

The clicking of kitten heels drew his attention and he looked up to see Hermione Granger pause in the doorway of the kitchenette, not looking exactly hesitant but clearly seeing the amount of space he took in the small room.

"Granger… Err sorry, just making some tea. There's enough water in the kettle if you fancy one as well?" he offered, looking at her for a moment longer.

She bit her bottom lip hesitantly before nodding. He looked around for the quick quotes quill or the handy little voice box she carried around with her these days but spotted neither. Hmm maybe she knew a bit of sign language?

Feeling like an utter prat and hoping she didn't punch his face, again, he silently set one of the milks down and turned towards her, lifting his hands. He made a C with his thumb and forefinger, bringing them up in an arch over his lips, before he pressed his thumb and forefinger tips together and stretched the rest of his fingers out, lifting the hand against his lips again for the tea sign. Coffee or tea , he asked and hoped these signs were pretty universal.

She blinked at him for a moment, frozen in the doorway as she was before responding, her gestures delicate and practised. Tea, please.

He didn't realise he'd been holding his breath until he let it out in a gush of air and nodded. He picked out the black tea and the peppermint tea boxes he found in the cupboard as well, offering them to her to pick.

She pointed at the peppermint tea and her whiskey eyes lifted to him once again, this time with curiosity. But he averted his gaze and poured the hot water into fresh cups before selecting some of the oat milk with a grimace and topping off his own cup with just a dash.

He held it out for her and she accepted it, her lips moving with a silent thank you before she gave him one more curious look and headed off. He watched after her for a moment before turning back to the cupboard, smacking face first into the open doors.

"Gods, I'm a fucking twat," he muttered to himself as he closed the door and headed to his new desk, glaring at Finnigan who was just passing and snickering at him.

"We all know that mate, good to know things haven't changed that much since you've been gone."

Draco flipped him off in a mature gesture that only made the Irishman snicker at him louder and prepared himself mentally for discussing yesterday's murder case with Susan Bones, his new partner.

Hermione watched him disappear around the corner and slipped into her own office, closing the door tiredly before making her way to her table. She kicked off her heels and dug her toes into the soft plush carpet she had installed a few months back for her comfort.

That had to be one of the most unusual encounters she'd had since the war. Her lack of voice used to feel absolutely devastating but it was much less of a barrier these days with all the tools at her disposal. And yet, Draco Malfoy, the man who taunted her for her hair, her teeth, and her blood as a boy, was thoughtful enough to use sign language and communicate with her in an equitable manner. How did he even know sign language?

Truth be told, this was the latest question in what appeared to be the puzzle that Draco Malfoy inadvertently was. She could still recall the thin young man at his trial and their last year of Hogwarts, and then sporadically throughout Harry's training years. He even formally apologised to her, which she at the time accepted with a nod before continuing to keep her distance. But then he disappeared to the States and no one heard from him until a few days ago when Harry welcomed him formally at the interdepartmental team meeting. And she nearly couldn't believe her eyes. Malfoy had grown, and not just grown, he was absolutely massive these days. Tall and broad in the shoulders, well fitted white shirt stretching over bulging arms and hinting at the amount of black ink covering the skin underneath. His hair was long, past his shoulders, and he oftentimes wore it in a bun at the nape of his neck or in a top knot and out of the way. His eyes were the same intense silver she remembered from their Hogwarts days, but they were different. Deeper, still guarded but no longer looking at her with hate or contempt. And when they were shuffling out of the briefing room, he even paused and motioned her through the door with a courteous nod. Eight years on from their Hogwarts days and he was a much different person. As he should be, she thought wryly and sipped her hot tea, surprised to see he had made it in her favourite mug. Yes, Draco Malfoy was indeed a mystery, but she liked solving puzzles, so maybe she would get to see what sort of a man he was these days.

Her intercom blinked and she tapped the box before her with her wand, focusing her mind to connect with it.

"Yes?" The slightly unnatural voice sounded through for her secretary.

"I have a Mrs Greengrass here to see you."

Hermione laughed silently before the box picked up her next question. "Which one?"

"Take two bloody guesses which one," sounded through the door and she grinned widely at Ginny's impatient tone.

"Ginny and Daphne are both always welcome, Althea, please send her through," she stood and smiled widely at the redhead as she came in and hugged her fiercely as always.

"Oh it's so good to see you Hermione! France was lush but my God am I glad to be home."

Ginny Weasley was a force of nature, working in the publishing world as the Editor for the Daily Digest, a newspaper that took over the slanderous Prophet in sales shortly after the war. Her wife Daphne was an investigative journalist herself and together they had set a new precedent and class of journalism and investigative reporting. And while her accomplishments would always be impressive, Hermione cared most about the happiness she could see in her friend's eyes.

"I'll want to hear all about it during lunch later?" she asked, the small wooden voice box speaking for her once again.

Ginny looked at her curiously. "It's one o'clock. I am here to pick you up for our lunch now," she pointed out, seeing the look of confusion on Hermione's face.

Hermione turned around and busied herself with putting her heels back on and fetching her tote bag to join her. "Sorry, not sure where my head is today. Are we going magical or muggle?" she asked, knowing it would impact her mode of communication.

Ginny looked a bit worried. "I was hoping muggle, as I have news to share that I don't want to be overheard. Do you mind?"

Yes , Hermione wanted to say, but instead she tapped the little box to disconnect from her mind and stored it safely in her drawer. Pen and notebook would have to do for conversation then.

"Congratulations, your first arrest back on British soil," Harry leaned against the small office that housed two desks facing each other and a mountain of filing he could see the blond glaring at with distaste before looking at him.

"Thanks, I think we'll all be sleeping better knowing this one is in Azkaban," he admitted, looking at the profile of the man before him.

Rory MacSheehy, thirty-four, four counts of battery and record of domestic violence. This time though his girlfriend paid the price and he successfully evaded them for two days. Draco noticed the lack of follow up on one of the magical signatures and found that it belonged to Shane Killean, MacSheehy's muggleborn friend whose family had ties to the IRA in the eighties. After getting approval to storm his flat, they found both men looking unwashed in the kitchen on an innocuous flat, planning their trip to Russia to get away from the law.

If Draco's magic was a bit forceful when the perp resisted arrest, no one said a word. He loathed violence against women and children, loathed it with every fibre of his being after what he witnessed during the war and in his job. And Susan was no more gentle as she escorted him to the cells earlier before shaking his hand and headed home for the night. Draco decided to stay behind to finish the paperwork but he did have a bit of a headache and he was absolutely starving, remembering he skipped lunch as they planned to storm Killean's flat.

"We all will," Harry agreed. "Come on, join us for dinner and drinks. I don't think you've seen everyone yet since you came back?" Harry asked, seeing him hesitate at the invitation.

"Who's everyone?" Draco asked, just to be on the safe side.

"Oh, you know. A bunch of us from the office, Seamus is joining us as his husband Dean owns the pub just on the outskirts of Hogsmead. And since we're so close to Hogwarts, Neville and Luna will join us. Theo messaged to say he would meet us there as well, and I think Hermione is picking up Pansy from her shift. So, coming?" he invited again, for some reason feeling the need to include the blond in their group. Something told him there was a reason for his hesitation.

Draco finally nodded and stood, reaching for his Auror robes which he shrunk and pocketed, leaving him in his slacks and shirt, and his leather shoulder holster for his wand. It wasn't a usual style here in the UK but he got too used to it back in the US to switch. "Fine, I'll come. I do have a question for you though," he began, not sure if Potter would respond.

Harry raised a brow, intrigued as they headed for the lifts. "Shoot."

Draco was silent for a moment until they were inside the lift, glad to have it all to themselves. "I bumped into Granger yesterday, in the kitchen. Is she still….is there no counter-curse or cure? Nothing to be done other than giving her a voice box?" he asked.

Harry's jaw tensed at the topic and his vibrant green eyes flashed to assess him. "Why do you ask?" he countered. He had a feeling Draco was a good man these days but Hermione was his best friend, she meant the world to him and he would always be careful about her.

Draco shrugged, leaning against the back wall. "I know it was my aunt's fault, I just wondered whether they finally found a countercurse. You're Lord Black and have access to their library. Was there nothing to be found to undo it?"

Harry sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. "Unfortunately, no. Even if we found a counter-curse, her vocal chords are so damaged they wouldn't heal now. She's stuck this way."

Draco frowned. "It doesn't seem right," he said softly.

Harry looked at him and waited for him to say something else but the blond remained silent.

"No, it doesn't. For someone with her mind to be silenced has been difficult," he admitted. Draco nodded and they stepped out of the lift, making their way in silence to the atrium and the floo network there.

Once the Hog's Head, now The Gryffin's Door, the pub boasted a solid oak door painted a vibrant shade of crimson, a colour that made Harry feel nostalgic and Draco scowl.

"A bit on the nose if you ask me.." he grumbled.

Harry grinned at his frown. "It was Seamus' idea."

"Why am I not surprised," he deadpanned as they entered the stone path leading to the pub. The once dreary pub was transformed, with outdoor seating, the sound of talk and laughter enveloped them as they made their way into the beer garden filled with people, most of whom Draco recognised from school or from his own friend circle.

He smiled fondly at Pansy who was surprisingly leaning into the side of a stocky man whom he recognised as Neville Longbottom, looking quite cosy. He felt a bump to his side and grinned at Theo who returned the smile and pulled him into a one-armed hug.

"There he is. No calls, no letters, mate I'm hurt," Merlin help them, Theodore Nott was pouting.

Draco rolled his eyes. "As if you would have had the time to reply with your current endeavours," he pointed out, gaze flicking up to the beautiful blond who was smiling at them dreamily. "How are things with Lovegood?"

"Good, good. We've just moved in together," he admitted. "I managed to wrangle a study space for my office, but Cynthia tends to leave books laying around and Terry has a habit of only half-finishing cups of tea and leaving them beside Cynthia's book because he likes to steal her reading," he rolled his eyes.

Draco frowned in confusion. "Terry as in Terry Boot? Why is he living with you?"

Theo shrugged. "He's my boyfriend."

"But, isn't Lovegood your girlfriend?" asked the rather confused blond.

"Yes, we're a poly household. Cynthia is our latest addition," Theo explained, frowning at his chipping aquamarine nail polish.

"Who's Cynthia?" Draco was lost.

"Luna's girlfriend," Theo pointed out like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Anywho, enough about my little unit. Anyone you're bringing home to introduce to us?" he teased.

Still a bit dazed, Draco shook his head. "Nope, just me. What are you drinking?" he prompted, hoping to change the subject from himself.

"Glenfiddich, better than Ogden's these days," he pointed out. "Let me get you something. Pint or whiskey?"

"No, thanks. Juice or something fizzy?" Draco suggested, watching him walk off back inside the pub.

He stood there for a moment, just taking in what just happened. Theo had always been different, incredibly smart and always forging his own path. And though this was new, one look at Lovegood and Boot, and he could tell they were all a happy little unit so as far as he was concerned, it was none of his business and he was glad they had their happy place.

Your mate has two partners and you can't even keep one… He gritted his teeth against the vicious thoughts that suspiciously sounded like his father's voice and shrugged out of his jacket, feeling the afternoon sun still hot on his head.

He shrunk it into his pocket next to his robes and rolled up his sleeves, glad to feel a breeze coming through from the top of the hill, ruffling the couple of strands that had escaped his bun. He looked around to find a seat and saw an empty chair at one of the tables beside Potter who was chatting to Granger and Finnigan. The brunette noticed him first and arched her hand at the empty seat in silent invitation.

His feet were carrying him over before he even considered it and he folded himself into the slightly tight chair.

"Jeez mate, make sure not to break the furniture," Seamus snickered as he managed to get comfortable.

"Says someone who never breaks anything but has a proclivity for pyrotechnics," Draco pointed out and nodded his thanks to Theo who set a can of blood orange San Pellegrino before him and sent them all an air kiss before going to his little unit.

Seamus flipped him off and got up. "Let's get the beer pong started, Harry," he grinned, eager for them all to have a laugh.

Potter gave a long-suffering look before he got to his feet and followed with a last wave to the brunette now seated across from him by herself. She looked a bit uncertain for a moment, as if she wanted to reach for her voice box, but he took the opportunity to lift his hands and began signing.

Hello, again.

She looked like she suppressed a smile and returned the gesture before her head tilted to the side in contemplation. How do you know sign language?

He had to take a moment to recall the next sentence, hoping he wouldn't botch it up. Had a neighbour with deaf daughter. She was learning, I learned with her.

Why? She looked curious as she asked, as if trying to figure him out.

Draco shrugged. Her dad was a friend. He was a - he paused, not sure how to sign 'single' so he spelled it slowly, watching if she would nod.

A single dad? She clarified, showing him the sign.

He repeated it and nodded. Spent time together, always included his daughter , he explained. When did you learn? He asked, trying to turn the conversation away from the pang of hurt still in his chest.

Years back, I wanted to speak in other ways than pen or box , she answered before taking a sip from her pint.

Anyone else here knows? He motioned around them. P-o-t-t-e-r? He spelled slowly.

She chuckled though it was completely silent, and lifted her fore and middle finger together, tapping them once to her forehead.

He looked at her in confusion. She repeated the gesture and her lips formed Potter's name. Oh, it was her sign for Potter. He repeated it and she nodded with a soft smile that clearly said she was pleased he picked it up so quickly.

Potter appeared beside them, his gaze narrowed at their interaction. "What are you two talking about?"

"Oh, this and that, definitely not talking about you," Draco drawled with a sweet smile, seeing her laughing at him from the corner of the eye.

He turned to look at her properly and she ran her half-folded hand beneath her chin. Liar.

Potter seemed to surmise as much and took Granger's hand, pulling her up to stand with him. "Let's get dinner orders in. Fish and chips or steak and ale pie?" he asked Draco who shrugged.

"Go for the pie, thanks," he nodded and watched them head to the pub.

He couldn't help but feel intrigued by the woman. She may be silent, but she had a powerful presence. She was still as petite as he remembered her, she came up about to his chest, but the wrap dress hugging her body left him with no doubt that compared to her starved frame after the war, she was very much a woman, trim but with gentle curves that he found himself admiring. Her hair, once a frizzy beast, was a bit more tamed these days but curled around her head in a wild arrangement. It made him want to grip it as he felt her press against him. He had to blink to clear that though, not sure where it had come from. You've been alone too long and she is interesting…

Shaking off the thought, he took a sip from his drink and closed his eyes for a moment. Being back in Britain felt like coming home. Or it should have, and yet he felt in between worlds, nothing really tethering him to any place. Whatever the definition of home was, he hoped to find it soon…