Chapter 2

Harry woke with a start, sending papers flying everywhere as he frantically fumbled for his glasses.

"Relax, mate," said a familiar voice before he could reach for his wand. Ron stood by the doorway of the office they shared, shrugging off his cloak. "You look like shit," he added as though Harry didn't already feel like he'd been run over by a cement roller recently.

He didn't say anything as he waited till the sleep-induced fog cleared in his mind started to clear. Slowly he began to remember the four cups of coffee and the mountain of paperwork he'd managed to get through the night before. It had been two days since his dinner with Hermione and he had spent a decent chunk of it with his head buried under stacks of parchments inside this very room.

"Don't," he managed to rasp as Ron, being the complete git that he was went straight for the curtains and yanked them open. With a groan he let his head crash back down onto the table in front of him, screwing his eyes shut and willing the world to spontaneously combust.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," Ron chirped apparently choosing to ignore Harry's misery. "We have a big day ahead of us." When Harry risked a peek up, Ron was leaning casually against his desk on the other end of the room, hand absentmindedly tapping on the wood. His eyes narrowed when he saw Harry looking and his smile turned feral.

"What time is it?" Harry mumbled, attempting to stand up. It was obvious his so-called best friend was not going to let him get away with another quick snooze. His robes were a mess and he didn't even want to think about what his hair probably looked like.

"Eight," Ron informed him cheerfully. He rummaged through one of the drawers in the cabinet by his desk and emerged with a tie and shirt that Harry took gratefully. Sure, the tie was bright orange and the shirt a slightly off-purple colour but anything would beat wearing yesterdays clothes to the meeting he had with Robards at nine. There wasn't much he could do for his auror robes and trousers other than multiple cleaning spells and silent prayers.

"Coffee?" Harry asked, hopefully eyeing the flask Ron had settled on his desk.

Ron shook his head. "'Mione made soup last night. If I'd known you would be staying the night here," he raised his brows pointedly and Harry looked away sheepishly, "I may have brought you a cup of coffee on my way in."

"You know I wasn't planning on staying here, there was just so much-"

"Paper work, I know," said Ron, frowning. "Of course it was so important you couldn't just do it in the morning."

"I have a meeting with Robards at nine," Harry offered but it sounded weak, even to his own ears.

He hadn't spent the night in the office in almost five years. Not since the year after he (Harry refused to even think the name, it was bad enough that his face had to haunt him every time he shut his eyes), had left and his life had started to go spiraling out of control.

At the time he had been spending most nights sprawled on the couch he and Ron used to keep in their office, surrounded by papers and quills because it had been too damn painful to go home and face the empty house (it didn't help that even Kreacher had been giving him pitying looks).

Hermione and Ron for the most part had done everything they could, stopping short of actually inviting him to move in with them. When he'd walked in on Hermione crying into Ron's shoulder one night he had immediately booked an appointment with Tiana, the mind-healer Hermione had tried convincing him to see. It was quite possibly the best decision he had ever made. Tiana had given him his life back and for that he was grateful. Harry could only imagine how disappointed she would be if she knew how easily he had thrown it all away the second Draco Malfoy reappeared.

And just like that he'd said the name. He cursed inwardly at how easily years of healing had been so easily unraveled without even having laid eyes on Draco again. He finished fixing his robes, gripping is wand tightly as he cast the cleaning spells. "Alright, I'm going to go make myself a cup, do you want some?" he asked Ron.

The other auror shook his head. "Look, Harry, you-you've worked your arse off to get to where you are now. You can't just let Malfoy ruin it all again."

"I thought you wanted me to go see him," said Harry, pausing at the door.

"For Merlin's sake, Harry, of course I want you to see him!" Ron all but growled. The anger flaring in his friend's eyes was actually sort of soothing Harry realized. "I want you to show the bastard exactly how far you've come without him. I want him to see just how much you don't need him anymore and then I want you to make him regret ever walking out on you in the first place."

Harry swallowed down the surge of shame at the state Ron had found him in and let the overwhelming love for the man in front of him fill him. "Thanks, Ron," he said. It was easier than admitting that he might not need Draco anymore but he could still feel the dull ache his absence had brought every single second of every single day.

Ron gave him a stiff nod. "If you spend another night here though I will hex you till you can't work again, Harry," he added just before Harry slipped out of the office.

The Head auror's eyebrows shot up when Harry dropped the stack of brown folders onto his desk at precisely nine o'clock.

"Those are the last of the cases you wanted me to look through," Harry explained, taking the seat opposite Robards. "I've made some modifications to a few of the ones I thought the ethics committee may have challenged and I can finish reshuffling Boot's team by tonight."

Robards studied him for close to a minute and Harry had to fight not to squirm.

"I didn't expect these back until next week, Harry," Robards told him at last. He didn't look impressed but then again, the man rarely did. "I suppose you expect some field work now."

Harry wasn't going to lie, that had certainly been part of the motivation. He hadn't been out in the field in over a week and even then it was for petty cases that required more diplomacy than dueling. While he didn't exactly excel in in the skill, usually as long as he managed to restrain his temper, his name and the scar on his forehead was enough to close most cases.

"Very well," said Robards, taking Harry's silence as confirmation of his suspicions. He pulled out one of the folders that was sitting in a pile beside the one Harry had just brought in. "Diagon Alley," he said handed it to Harry. "Take Peters with you."

"Yes sir." Harry tried not to look too eager as he took the thick file. Hopefully it would be a long case and he would be able to leave the Ministry for a few hours at least.

"Now," Robards continued. "For the reason I called this meeting today. As you know, Barnes stepped down as Assistant Head Auror last week which was the reason I handed you those case briefings to run through." He gestured again to the folders Harry had brought in. "Kingsley and I have had a lengthy discussion on the matter and have decided to offer you the position." His voice was as dry and matter-of-fact as it had always been but it was followed by a slight twitch of his lips that Harry liked to believe was a smile. "Kingsley wished to be here in person however he was called away last night to a matter in Wales. He sends his congratulations however and asked that I hand you this."

It was a large red envelope with the Minister's seal in gold wax.

"Thank you, sir," said Harry, accepting it with a small smile. Robards was right; he wasn't surprised by the job offer. He wondered if he should add anything else. It might sound pretentious if he said 'it would be an honour', right?

Robards saved him the trouble. "I do not require your answer right away of course," he said, gesturing to the envelope that presumably held the offer. "Your job, should you choose to accept it, will begin in two weeks. You will be handling the more high profile cases and the hours will be longer but I believe you are more than capable of excelling at it."

He gave Harry a nod and what was most definitely a smile (although Ron probably wouldn't believe it) before dismissing him.

When Harry finally made it home it was nine and he already knackered. He didn't bother with dinner, shaking his head at Kreacher when the house elf tried to offer his assistance. "I'm not hungry," he told the house elf.

"Kreacher is being wondering if Master Harry is angry at Kreacher."

"Why would you think that?" Harry asked, confused and just a little bit irritated because his bed was only about fifteen steps away and all he wanted to do was crash.

"Master Harry has not come home since yesterday morning."

Harry could hear the challenge in the elf's voice. He had offered Kreacher his freedom as soon as he had returned to Grimmauld Place and the elf had refused immediately, going as far as to be offended by the gesture. Whenever Harry so much as tried to attempt housework whether it was cooking or cleaning, Kreacher had turned up with an ugly, pinched expression on his face, refusing to let him continue.

They had a long talk about this later and had come to a sort of compromise where Kreacher let Harry do the chores on the three days each week that the house elf spent at Hogwarts.

"I'm not mad at you, Kreacher," Harry sighed. "I've just been working and it's been exhausting so I think I shall head to bed."

"Does Master Harry want tea?" the house elf asked, sounding almost hopeful. Harry would have felt bad for the house elf but at that moment he wanted nothing more than for Kreacher to bugger off.

"Alright," he said to the elf. "But be quick about it."

Kreacher grinned, wide and toothy and disappeared with crack, only to reappear a moment later in Harry's bedroom just as he was pulling off his trousers. "Merlin!" Harry cursed under his breath but after pulling on his ratty pajama shirt and bottoms he remembered to thank the beaming house elf.

As soon as Kreacher left, Harry placed the tea on his nightstand and landed on the bed, flat on his face. He would wake up in the morning refreshed and ready to deal with the life that was falling apart around him he decided as he drifted off to sleep.

Of course that didn't happen. Harry should have known better than to plan anything by now. When he woke up, kicking and thrashing, sheets damp with sweat he felt his eyes sting and he let himself cry. He turned and sobbed, burying his face into a pillow as he tried to block out the images, of Remus and Tonks, Fred and Sirius, of Nagini poised to strike and Draco's face, pale and gaunt, grey eyes staring but not seeing as they had been at the Manor when he'd been asked to identify Harry. Then there had been the blood, the blood from the battle mixed in with Dobby's blood and the blood from Draco's writhing body as it turned the white tiles of Myrtle's bathroom crimson.

Kreacher was there when he finally managed to look up and Harry gratefully, reached out with shaking hands to grasp the glass of water the elf presented. He gulped it down as Kreacher stood watchfully at the foot of his bed, large ears twitching as he waited.

Harry followed dutifully as he was led downstairs. He took to the couch, letting the house elf drape a blanket over him. With a click of his fingers there were flames cackling in the fireplace, radiating blessed warmth until Harry finally managed to stop shivering.

After spending sometime bustling around in the kitchen, Kreacher brought him a sandwich and watched with satisfaction as Harry devoured it. He couldn't remember the last full meal he had eaten and he hadn't even realized he was hungry at all until then. Afterwards the house elf left him by the fire under strict orders that Harry must rest and summon him should he need anything.

Harry didn't know how long he lay there, refusing to go to sleep but his drifting thoughts were interrupted by a persistent tapping noise. He tried to ignore it at first and sure enough it stopped but then barely five minutes later it continued. Hoping this wasn't one of the unusual punishments Kreacher often inflicted upon himself no matter how many times Harry tried to forbid it, he sat up, rubbing his eyes and reaching for his glasses.

"Master Harry," said Kreacher appearing by his side just as Harry made to stand up. Harry almost jumped, landing back on the couch with a thump and an undignified yelp. He needed to have a talk with the house elf about giving some sort of warning rather than simply appearing everywhere.

"Kreacher," he said, staring at the owl that was perched on the elf's shoulder. It was a speckled pygmy owl carrying a note that looked much too big for it's tiny legs. As though sensing his thoughts, the small owl puffed out her feathers and spread her wings.

"Kreacher told the owl it must return to its master and bring the letter again in the morning but it will not leave, Master Harry," the elf told him before fixing a wide-eyed glare at the owl. She just hooted and pecked at Kreacher's ears.

Harry held out his hand and the little owl swooped daintily down to perch on him, hooting at him and nibbling at his ear. When Harry reached for the note, she obediently presented it before darting up and away through the still open kitchen window. Apparently the sender wasn't expecting a reply, Harry thought, staring down at the piece of parchment.

The words were written in a neat, elegant script that Harry would recognize anywhere.

'Harry,

Hermione tells me she has informed you however it would be remiss of me to not invite you myself. I will be at Flourish and Blott's all week. Please do stop by, although I understand if you do not wish to see me.

D.M'

It's short and neat and formal and it makes Harry's blood run cold.

7 years ago

In retrospect, Harry really should have seen it coming. Then again, that particular Tuesday morning had begun like any other and he had always been rubbish at Divination.

He watched the steam rise from his cup of coffee even as Draco made his way over, nose crinkling in distaste as he eyed the offending liquid. It was predictable and easy and everything Harry had ever wanted. He tried to steal a kiss as his boyfriend walked past but he was too slow, Draco tilted his head just out of reach, leaving Harry to stumble after him.

"Oh c'mon!" he complained but Draco just smirked.

"Kisses before coffee, Harry, we've been through this," he said, pulling his protein shake from the fridge (Draco had become surprisingly fond of muggle appliances). "And do stop pouting, it's unbecoming."

Harry (who most certainly was not pouting) decided it would be wiser to change the subject. For now. They would negotiate the kissing rules another time. "So, are you running with your new friend today?" he asked, going for casual. He knew he missed it by a long shot but the last time he had asked, Draco had pushed him against the counter whispering just how hot he thought it was when Harry was possessive. Then he'd slid his tongue along that spot just behind Harry's ear and well, they'd both been late that morning.

Draco just rolled his eyes this time. "Yes and we are going to have breakfast afterwards as well."

Harry narrowed his eyes over his coffee but Draco was already bustling about by the door. It was starting to get ridiculous. Draco refused to tell him who this new guy he was jogging with was. Not even a name. Something about a promise he had made to keep his identity secret and it being none of Harry's business. Harry had bit back the remark he had wanted to make about it being his business if it was Draco's business because it kind of came with the territory of being in a relationship. He knew the other man would just bring it all back to how Harry wouldn't have to ask if he made enough time to join Draco on these early morning runs instead of skipping off to work.

Harry sighed. It wasn't worth it.

Speaking of work, he glanced at the clock. He had all of five minutes. Finished his cup he began to rinse it by hand out of habit and almost jumping out of his skin when a pair of hands wrapped around his waist. He leaned back into Draco's chest for a beat before letting the other man turn him around.

A soft kiss had warmth spreading through him all the way down to his toes, working wonders even the coffee couldn't do. "I knew it!" he mumbled chasing Draco's lips as he pulled away. "You do like coffee, you just like being a prat more."

"No," Draco called over his shoulder as he headed out, "I just like kissing you, more."

Harry didn't need a mirror to know he was smiling like a goofy idiot as he heard the door shut. Perhaps that's why he ended up flooing the office to inform them he wouldn't be making it in that day. He sent Ron an owl as well because the last thing he needed was for his partner to burst in here demanding an explanation while he and Draco were going at it on the couch. Which is exactly what he had planned for this afternoon. The last time Ron had walked in on them he hadn't been able to look Harry in the eye for a week (a month in Draco's case).

Harry grinned again and it took him a second to work out what exactly had his pulse racing and why butterflies had invaded his stomach. He was finally breaking the rules again and it felt amazing. He's missed the mischief of his school days, more so when he was babysitting Teddy and the little boy crawled into his lap and demanded stories from Hogwarts. He paused just long enough to snatch the invisibility cloak from where it hung at the back of his wardrobe (because it just felt right to have it on him for this little adventure) and set off towards the small muggle café around the corner.

He couldn't wait to see the look on his boyfriend's face. Harry had finally made time for him and he could almost see the pride that would light up Draco's face. If he skipped and hummed cheerfully on his way over, well there was no one around to notice.

A/N: Hope you liked the chapter. Please let me know what you think :)