Chapter 3:
Friday morning found Harry at Rosa Lee Teabag, a tiny yellow store on the outskirts of Diagon Alley owned by one Madam Rosa. He sat, sipping a cup of tea and pretending it wasn't scalding his throat. Beside him Auror Owen Peters wasn't having much better luck, almost dropping the tiny cup he held in his too-large hands on more than one occasion. Harry could see him biting down curses under Madam Rosa's disapproving looks and tried not to smile.
Apparently an entire sack of tea bags had been stolen from the store recently and when Rosa had reported this to the Magical Law Enforcement Control office that usually dealt with threats they had done nothing save for 'asking ridiculous questions and insinuating that it was all some prank by teenagers!'. When the bags had later reappeared her niece Henrietta had tried to make herself a cup of tea and had immediately collapsed having to be rushed to St Mungo's.
Rosa had blown into her handkerchief and continued shrilly, "I warned them it was dark magic, Auror Potter but they refused to believe me and now my darling Henrietta is in St Mungo's." Harry had tried to pacify her, assuring her that the auror department would conduct a thorough investigation and get to the bottom it.
Rosa nodded, looking up at Harry then and fluttering her lashes. "Well I suppose if they are sending a hero like yourself around here, Auror Potter they must be taking it very seriously." Peters had snorted and Harry had turned to fix him with a glare, ignoring the irritatingly smug smirk on his colleague's face.
Harry had been surprised to find that he actually liked Peters. He was young, sure, one of the newer batches of recruits but he didn't have that air of arrogance Harry had come to associate with the newer Aurors. He didn't blame them of course. They had been too young to fight during the war and most had been sheltered from the grim reality of it but it also made them more dangerous in the field as they believed they were indestructible. Peters had none of that. He was easy-going and self-assured but careful and meticulous. He had speedily climbed the ranks of the Auror force through the results he achieved on the field alone. If the grim determination on his face as he checked for traces of dark magic was anything to go by he would be going even further.
Once Madam Rosa returned to the front of the shop to take care of her customers, Harry turned to him. "Find anything?" he asked, eyeing the kettle with the allegedly poisoned tea.
"There's definitely some traces of dark magic," Peters told him, pointing to the streaks of deep purple that surrounded the kettle, brought up by the identification spell. "Though I can't quite tell what the spell is,"
"Hmm," hummed Harry, "Perhaps we should wait till we can question the niece. The healers did say it wouldn't be long now."
Peters nodded his agreement.
Madam Rosa hadn't been too thrilled that they were leaving so soon. "Are you sure you don't need to have another poke around?" she asked. "Just in case."
"We have everything we need for the moment Madam," Peters told her with a reassuring smile.
When they reemerged into the street, Peters laughed. "You know I've never actually been offered tea on a case before," he mused, smirking at Harry again. "Happen to you often, does it?"
Harry groaned. "I wouldn't know, I usually don't make it out of the office. I have a pile of paperwork waiting for me right now actually."
Peters made a face. "Field work is the only reason I even took this job," he said, leading Harry towards the busier side of Diagon. "If I was stuck in an office all day I'd probably end up quitting and moving to Romania or something."
"Romania?" Harry asked if only to silence the voice in his head that was telling him exactly how much the feeling resounded with him.
"I've always been fascinated by dragons," Peters said with a shrug.
"They're impressive," Harry agreed. "But I can't say I'd like my life to revolve around them. The last time I saw dragon it wasn't exactly under the best of circumstances."
Peters laughed. "So it's true then?" he asked. "You actually set that dragon free from Gringotts!"
"We rode it out actually," he said, trying to hide his surprise at the question. That particular stunt had been all over the Prophet. Perhaps the Peters was muggle-born.
"I was staying with my Muggle grandparents during the war," Peters explained like he had read Harry's mind. "I only know pieces of what happened."
"You know, I was thinking," said Harry, after a while of companionable silence. "Perhaps the DLEC were right and this is all a prank by a teenager. The traces of dark magic we found weren't exactly strong."
Peters shrugged. "Probably is. In fact I might even know who did it."
Harry stopped in his tracks and gaped at him. "You know who did it?" Peters nodded. "Merlin, why didn't you say so before? We should tell Rosa! We could still go back now."
"Relax, Potter," said the other man with a smile. "How do you think dear Rosa will react when we tell her a couple of school children stole her tea and poisoned her niece?"
"At least she might feel safe."
"She'll feel patronized. Trust me, Potter I know what I'm doing."
Perhaps it was the self-assured tone he used or the way he'd stretched out the name, Potter, long and lazy but Harry felt an inexplicable rush of anger as he rushed to catch up to the man who had already turned away. He was about to snap something back when a massive line of people caught his attention. Even Peters stopped to stare.
Flourish and Blotts was known to be one of the busiest stores in Diagon Alley but it had never been like this before. Not even for Gilderoy Lockhart. The queue of people that stretched out was long and winding and reached all the way to Madam Malkin's. They were all buzzing with excitement, chatting and laughing, most clutching a copy of the book Hermione had pressed into his hands the other day.
"Merlin," said Peters beside him. "I knew that book was popular but this-"
"Let's go," Harry muttered. He didn't stop to make sure Peters was following him as he hurriedly dodged the crowd and made for a corner to apparate from. He knew he was being ridiculous but just knowing Malfoy was through those doors had him feeling sick to the gut.
It took all of fifteen seconds for Harry to realize he had slept in. He glanced at the time and all but jumped out of bed, stumbling downstairs ten minutes later. Apparently trying to pull on your second sock while buttoning your shirt at the same time was not a good idea because Harry almost landed in a heap on the floor.
"Master Potter!" cried Kreacher, appearing in front of him looking alarmed but also menacing as he waved around a frying pan.
"Kreacher, I'm late! Why didn't you wake me?" He scuttled around the house elf and made for the kitchen, staring longingly at his coffee cup before opting for toast instead.
"Master Potter!" Kreacher squeaked and this time he looked angry. "It is Saturday! Kreacher is in the kitchen on Saturdays!"
"Saturday?" repeated Harry. Oh. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. He let his head fall onto the kitchen counter and groaned.
Kreacher ended up making him several cups of coffee that he accepted gratefully, followed by pancakes and scrambled eggs. It was an odd combination but he didn't have the heart to tell that to the house elf. Instead, he wolfed down the meal and lay on the couch, staring up at the ceiling glumly.
It kept him busy for all of about five minutes.
"Kreacher!" he called after considering his options. Teddy was going to lunch at Malfoy Manor this afternoon so his customary Saturday excursions with the boy had been postponed to tomorrow. He joined them at the Manor sometimes, enjoying Narcissa's company especially when she indulged him with stories of the Marauders or Sirius's many attempts at rebellion in his childhood. However he would rather spend the day with his house elf than face the prospect of running into Draco.
"What can Kreacher be doing for Master Harry?" asked the house elf, clearly surprised at the summons. Harry usually only saw him at meal times or when he was late for work in the morning because he had slept in.
"Do you know how to play Uno?" Harry asked, pulling himself up into a sitting position.
Kreacher shook his head, eyes widening in the way they always did when he wasn't able to obey Harry's instruction. "Kreacher has been taught by Master Regulus to play chess," offered the elf.
"That requires thinking and strategy," Harry complained, rolling back over and slumping on the couch again. "Fine, how about I teach you?"
"Kreacher shall go fetch the card," said Kreacher, disappearing with a snap. Harry vaguely remembered throwing the pack of cards violently across the room in one of the earlier days when Draco had just moved out. He'd picked them up again soon after and left them in the attic with the rest of the rubbish that reminded him of his ex.
The first game went by slowly because Harry had to backtrack every few moves to teach the house elf new rules that he had hurriedly skipped over when he had first explained the game. To his credit, Kreacher listened intently, never repeating the same mistake. His huge ears twitched as he stared intently at the cards he held.
As the morning wore on the games began to grow longer because neither of them would let the other win. They talked as they played as well, Harry asking Kreacher about the games he had played with Regulus to which the house elf had eagerly supplied all the details. He learned about Sirius's tantrums and what it was like to work for Orion Black ("an honour it was Master Potter, truly").
It was just past lunch and there was still another six or seven hours before Harry could properly justify calling it a day and heading to bed when his floo chimed. He almost fell off the couch, cards flying everywhere as he jumped in surprise.
"Harry!" cried Ginny."You're alive!"
"I told you he was fine, Gin," a voice said behind her. "'Lo Harry," Neville joined his wife by the fireplace with a crooked smile. "How's things?"
"Kreacher and I were just playing cards, actually," Harry told them, already reaching for his wand so he could wave off his wards. "Do you want to come through?"
"Don't mind if we do," Neville smiled. "Hope we're not interrupting."
Harry looked over at the house elf who had gathered up the scattered cards. Kreacher almost looked relieved for the interruption. "No, we were just finishing up," he said, almost staggered back when the two stepped out into his living room and he was greeted with an armful of Ginny Weasley. Neville was next although perhaps not as violent.
"I swear if you missed pub night because of work Harry Potter-" Ginny began but Harry cut her off before she listed all the potential punishments. It wasn't fair really. It's not like Harry used work as an excuse every week. In fact he hadn't missed a pub night in months!
"It was my first field case in ages," he said instead. "I was completely knackered afterwards, I'm sorry Gin." That wasn't quite true. He'd been at the office till eleven. Again.
Ginny pouted but before she could object Neville (bless his soul) stepped in. "Well, we're glad you decided to take the day off," he said warmly. "I hear you've been working over time again."
Harry narrowed his eyes at that. "Did Ron send you? Because if he did, you can tell him to shove off- I'm fine!"
"Ronald, didn't tell us anything, Harry," Ginny sniffed. "You look like shit." Even Neville didn't disagree with that.
Harry sighed. Ron had definitely sent them. He couldn't actually find it in himself to blame the guy though. After everything had gone to shit it had been Hermione and Ron who had been left to pick up the pieces. They had done an exceptional job and Harry owed them everything. Thanks to them he had his life (mostly) in order now. His best friends had never stopped worrying though. It was probably the whole protective parent thing. Harry blamed the parent thing.
"It's been a tough week," he said with a grim smile. "Tea?"
Kreacher popped into the living room like he had been waiting for the instruction. He probably had been. Before long the house elf was levitating in a small teapot and three cups as well as an array of biscuits and scones and cakes that Harry had no idea they even had at home.
"So, Hermione said you had an announcement," he said once the various food items had been distributed. "You're not moving to America again are you?"
Ginny laughed and Neville smiled into the scone he was eating. "Actually, no, quite the opposite actually." Harry caught her winking at Neville whose smile somehow grew even wider. "Nev and I have bought a new place-a house, actually. Our apartment isn't big enough for three, you see…"
Harry frowned. "Three? What do you-" Oh. Oh! As soon as it clicked he was on his feet. "Congratulations Gin!" he cried, hugging her tight before moving to Neville. "You're going to be a Dad, Nev!"
"It still hasn't sunk in yet," Neville told him sounding just a little bit shaky but also very, very happy.
They had come a long way from that first tentative relationship they had started just after the war. Harry can still remember the way Neville had looked, playing with his hands before finally sitting up straight and looking Harry in the eye, explaining to him that while he had been hunting horcruxes, Ginny and Neville had turned to each other for comfort. At first he had blamed himself for not being there and then he had blamed Ginny for not waiting but then after a night out in one of those trashy muggle clubs drowning his sorrows in alcohol and a man (slim, blonde and posh) he had realized it was really just fate. He had given Neville his blessing.
"You two will be wonderful," Harry assured him. He didn't doubt it. Sure, they had moved around a lot in the beginning with Neville travelling for research and Ginny with her Quidditch but those days were behind them now. Neville had a steady job at Hogwarts and Ginny had taken over for Madam Hooch. And they loved each other more than anything else.
"Thanks Harry," Ginny said with a soft smile. "It means a lot to us. Both of us."
Harry grinned. "I could probably just quit my job now and open up a babysitting service for the Weasley children soon."
Ginny snorted. "Speaking of quitting your job," she said with a pointed look at her husband, "I think Nev has some news for you as well."
"Um, yeah, yes," Neville cleared his throat. "Minerva was looking for someone-an auror- to give guest lectures on Defence. I told her you would be the man for the job and she seemed thrilled."
"Nev, you know I'd love to go back but I have a lot on my plate at the moment and-"
"She's spoken to Robards already and he's cleared it," Neville told him.
"C'mon Harry," Ginny added. "It will be a nice change from all that paperwork Ron says you keep complaining about."
Harry nodded warily. "It hasn't exactly been the most exciting few weeks," he offered.
"Well there's nothing more exciting than a classroom full of first-years, trust me."
Harry raised his brows and Neville smiled sheepishly. "Okay, fine. It's never dull at least. Plus it's only a few lectures. Shouldn't be long."
"Fine," Harry sighed. He had to admit, it did actually sound more appealing than endless days in the office tied down by paperwork.
"Excellent!" Neville grinned. "I'll let Minerva know as soon as we get home." He paused to take a sip of tea and very unsubtly studied Harry. "You know," he said, playing with his hands till Ginny thread her fingers through them. "Minerva did also say this was going to be Jeremy's last year which would leave his position-"
"Thank you, Neville but I'll be fine," Harry told him before he could finish. "I'm sure Professor McGonagall can find someone else more suitable."
Neville shrugged. "It was worth a shot I guess. I did tell her you would say something like that."
The rest of the afternoon passed quite pleasantly. When the two stood up to leave, Harry asked them to stay for dinner but apparently they had reservations at some fancy place in London. They apologized profusely and Harry could see them wavering when they took in his state. He ushered them into the fireplace and promised he would relax and not think about work.
When he sat down on his couch alone, again he decided to get pissed.
Half an hour in and he was well on his way to a pleasant buzz. The old stereo he had bought from a muggle store a few years ago was blasting and the painful aching loneliness he hadn't quite managed to shake for years seemed to have abated for the time being.
In fact, he thought looking around the room in wonder, perhaps he could even apparate into town and hit the clubs. Yeah, that was exactly what he needed. He could lose himself to the too loud music and drown in sweaty bodies and maybe even get a quick fuck out of it.
Feeling immensely pleased with himself he put the lid back on his whiskey. It wouldn't do to get shit-faced before he even made it to town. Even if he could convince the bouncers to let him in, if he wanted any action tonight he needed to at least appear coordinated.
So when his toe hit the side of the little coffee table he yelped, dropping to his knees and cursing his bad luck. And really it was just his luck because something caught his eye just as he was about to drag himself to the couch again. He reached out and pulled a book from under the table where it must have fallen the night Hermione had handed it to him.
The cover was nothing extraordinary. A plain gray interrupted with the bright blue of a bunch of forget-me-not flowers. He hated it immediately.
He hated how plain and unassuming it looked. This book in its neat little package had effectively ruined his life in the course of one week and yet it had the nerve to look so mild and unobtrusive. He wanted to rip it to shreds and yet he found himself tracing the letters of the name printed in gold underneath the title.
Fuck Draco. Him and his stupid words.
He opened the book almost unconsciously, settling back into the cushions as he began to read. Just one chapter, he decided. He had time for one chapter before he could drown away the rest of the night with music and booze and a warm mouth.
He had expected apologies. Perhaps he was even looking for apologies. He knew the book was about the war. Perhaps he had been looking for an unmerciful retelling of what happened within the Death Eater ranks. Draco himself had offered Harry some of the details. Back before he had started giving his, "I'm trying to move on, Harry, I'm trying to put it all behind me," speech. Whatever he had expected from the book it was not this
It was unmerciful, sure, but there was no apology. There was remorse in every single line but there was no apology. Harry read on.
It wasn't a retelling of the war, at least not in the way the Daily Prophet published with the gruesome details splashed across the front page in bold to outline the horrific nature of it all. It wasn't obnoxiously trying to grab his attention like those articles and yet once he started reading he could not stop. The raw recollection had pain written into every word and even the occasional moments of joy, making it seem more real than anything Harry had ever read.
Family love and loyalty was woven throughout as well as honour and duty and an ever-present moral compass that was repeatedly ignored. It didn't make excuses nor did it try to justify, leaving the ultimate judgment up to the reader instead.
The tone changed as he read further. The struggles Draco had faced as he tried to move on after the war were artfully painted anonymous but Harry recognized it. He didn't finish the book, leaving off just before the first anniversary of the war, that also happened to mark the day Harry had run into Draco for the first time since the Death Eater trials. By the time he had drifted to sleep he had read enough.
When Harry woke the next morning, still on the couch, the book fell to the floor with a soft thud. Wiping at his eyes, he stared down at it blearily before bending to pick it up. He had made up his mind after the first page and had only become more resolute as he kept flipping. If Draco had finally found closure in this book it was only fair after all that Harry had some of his own. Placing the book carefully on the coffee table he managed to pull himself up and stagger to the kitchen. If he was going to face Draco Malfoy he was going to need all the caffeine he could ingest.
A/N: I know it has been a little slow but bear with me! We finally get to meet Draco in the next chapter and to say I'm excited is an understatement :)