A/N: Thanks for the reviews, Lori94 and Guest! I'm glad you're looking forward :). I hope everyone else is liking the story so far. It's been a pleasure to write it. I can't promise all the updates will happen this frequently, but I can promise that I'll do my best to post regularly. I'm still not sure exactly how long this fic will be, so bear with me. Hopefully nobody will mind if it winds up being longer than I intended at the off.

Anyway, here's chapter 2!

Draco's training was nearly complete, and Harry was gobsmacked as to how his new secretary had managed to go through his training without making one single mistake. Harry hadn't had to correct him in anything in the weeks he'd been training. It was so incredible, in fact, that Kingsley had asked for a meeting with the two of them. That was where he and Draco were headed now.

"You're sure he's not upset with me, for some reason?" Draco asked under his breath. Harry could understand why he might think so, with how many people glared at the wizard as they made their way to the Minister's office. Draco probably thought everyone was upset with him all the time, aside from maybe Harry.

"He's got no reason to be. Like I told you, you've done exceptionally well here," Harry responded in kind. "I don't think I've ever had a secretary who didn't make any mistakes during training. Hell, Monica made mistakes on a near daily basis, even after training."

"You've only had two other secretaries," Draco pointed out. "And I still don't see why it took you so long to fire the last one. From the sounds of it, she wasn't fit to work in any position in the Ministry." Harry chuckled at Draco's insult, even though it was mild, as far as insults went. He doesn't know the half of it.

"I guess I'm just a pushover, in the end. Afraid of hurting anyone's feelings." Draco glanced at Harry sidelong and sent him a playful smirk.

"From my experience with you, that's far from true."

Was that a joke? Harry wondered as he laughed quietly. It's the first one I've heard him tell since he started working here. Maybe he's getting more comfortable. Harry couldn't help but be glad. He'd been sure Draco would struggle at least a bit with being made to follow orders. In fact, Harry had often wondered how frequently his secretary had to bite his tongue to keep from snapping back at him, and the others in the department, on some of the less pleasant work days. But, even with the pranks the other employees tried to play on Draco━ trying to get him to do their work, directing him incorrectly to other offices and nearly getting him lost on several occasions, and giving him false files to sort through on people who didn't even exist━ he had held his piece, if he had one, and made sure to inform Harry of every incidence instead of lashing out.

It was far from the behaviour Harry was familiar with from the Slytherin he'd known in school. Draco had become more reserved, less inclined to get revenge, as far as Harry could see, and was genuinely… not bad to be around. It was something Harry hadn't been anticipating, but was glad to find out as the weeks passed. Harry had to wonder why Draco was so different now. What had caused the once petty, mean, and overall sour man to change his ways? Was it that his family had fallen from their status? Was it that he'd finally grown up and decided not to act in the childish ways Harry had assumed he still did? Or was it something else? Maybe he's just pretending to be like this, since he works for me, Harry considered. How much can I really know about him, if the only time I see him and interact with him is at work?.

As the two wizards reached the door to Kingsley's office Harry heard Draco let out a soft exhale. It shouldn't have bothered Harry that Draco was nervous, but it did. He patted Draco's shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture before he knocked on the large oak door.

"Come on in!" Kingsley called from inside. Harry opened the door and swooped his arm in a gesture that told Draco to lead the way. "Have a seat, have a seat."

"Kingsley," Harry greeted.

"Minister Shacklebolt," Draco said, not appearing nervous in the slightest. Either that pat on his shoulder had worked wonders, or Draco was an excellent actor, which led Harry to believe that his last notion might be more accurate than false. Harry wasn't able to decide before they were both seated and the meeting was commenced.

"Draco," Kingsley began, making his fingers steeple as he peered at the blond seated across from him. "I must say, I had my doubts when I agreed to hire you." Harry noticed the way Draco's shoulders subtly stiffened and wondered why he was paying so much attention in the first place.

"My apologies, Minister," Draco began, but Kingsley shut him down before he could continue apologising.

"Nonsense. You've shown that you have the real prospect of being an asset to the Ministry. Not one mistake━ not a single, minute mistake━ have you made so far. It's been a long time since I've witnessed that sort of competence."

"I━ thank you, sir."

"Harry, you've done a wonderful job training him." Kingsley leaned forward in his seat and lowered his voice, as if there weren't silencing wards all over his office. "I don't normally do this so soon after we've hired someone, but I think you deserve a raise. That's an extra galleon per hour, Draco. And another two for you," he said, switching his gaze to Harry.

"Kingsley," Harry began frantically. "That's a bit much, don't you think? I don't need a raise, you pay me enough already."

"I'll decide whether you make enough or not," the Minister replied half-seriously. "The amount of work your department has gotten done these past weeks is impressive, and not one complaint from the sister-departments." He paused and then said, "Well, no complaints of validity."

Harry thought he knew that Kingsley meant. Harry had been privy to more than his fair share of complaints about the fact that it was a Malfoy, or a 'Death Eater,' who was working with them. He hadn't been able to convince everyone completely that Draco wouldn't be a bother, but after the way Draco had shown himself to be a good employee people had stopped complaining. Or they just stopped complaining to me when they realised I wouldn't fire him simply because he's a Malfoy.

"We should've rid ourselves of your last secretary much sooner," he said with a smile directed toward Draco.

"I don't know what to say," Harry said as he blinked rapidly. "I'm grateful." Kingsley waved him off, as though to say it wasn't a big deal.

"You two can have the rest of the day off. Go get some drinks, celebrate a bit."

"Thank you," both Draco and Harry said at once.

Never in Draco's life did he think he'd wind up at a pub seated across from Harry Potter, and yet… here he was. This was, of course, something his mother would be especially glad to hear. The sick feeling returned as that notion came into focus, though, changing his mood entirely.

"You alright?" Harry asked with concern. Draco inwardly grimaced. Of course he has to pay attention at the worst of times.

"Fine," Draco said firmly. "I'm wondering about the quality of the fish, however." Hopefully that would get Harry off his back.

"Not as good as you're used to?" Harry teased. Draco narrowed his eyes and quelled the desire to spit back a scathing retort, as was his common way of dealing with the dark-haired wizard across from him. We're not at Hogwarts anymore, he told himself. There's no need to start a fight, when things are going so well.

"No, it's not," Draco deadpanned before taking a sip of the third firewhiskey he'd ordered.

"You'll get pissed if you keep drinking like that."

"And what if that's the plan?"

"Then you probably shouldn't be Apparating by the end of the evening," Harry explained in a serious tone.

"I can walk, from here. It's no skin off of my back. I trust you not to take advantage of me in the meantime," he joked. Harry sputtered and butterbeer foam splashed from the sides of his mug. It hadn't been an accident that Draco had said that at the same time as Harry took a drink.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry laughed as he wiped the foam from his face. "I'd like to think I have better morals than that, thanks."

"You probably do, when you're not face-to-face with such perfection." What am I doing? he asked himself, not for the first time since he'd started interacting with Harry. Why am I flirting with him, when I know exactly where this will lead? But there was no way around it. His mother wanted this, and while Draco didn't want what this would inevitably lead to, Draco wanted this too. It didn't stop bile from rising into his throat as he recalled that his mother wanted Harry dead, sooner rather than later. But maybe this plan won't work out the way she thinks it will. Draco tried to comfort himself with the thought, even though that would mean that Draco's wish to be with Harry would remain unfulfilled. He would prefer that over the alternative.

"I wouldn't call you perfection," Harry said as he pretended to contemplate Draco. Or maybe he really was contemplating him. "More like… up to par." It was Draco's turn to sputter, then.

"I beg your pardon? 'Up to par,'" he repeated with a scoff. "Those specs of yours are in need of replacement, if you can't see just how horribly that fails to describe me."

"You're attractive, I'll give you that," Harry said before taking another swig of his beverage, "but perfection is a very strong word." Draco was taken aback by Harry's statement, and the casual manner in which it was given.

"I wasn't aware that you found men attractive," Draco said, hoping that his statement would lead Harry to reveal more about himself.

"It's all relative," was the vague response he was offered instead.

"What do you mean by that?" His interest and curiosity was piqued by Harry's supposed indifference.

"I mean that it's all relative. I find people attractive because I do, not because of their gender."

"That's an interesting way to look at attraction." He couldn't help but follow that up with, "But it does bring about the question of why you've only dated women up until this point. Unless you've been dating others in secret, that is."

"I suppose it does," was all Harry said before he looked away and picked up his drink again.

Draco decided that was his que to stop asking personal questions, but he wasn't sure what else to say. Now that this topic had started, he didn't know how to get off of it without sounding uncomfortable. In the silence that followed that short sentence, Draco's mind went back to what he was doing here, and why. He felt his neck heat up as he thought about whether he was doing this for selfish reasons, or because he had no other choice. Do I really have no other choice? he asked himself desperately. Is there even a difference between being selfish and being stuck? No, there wasn't, he decided. It was the same concept, not two separate options. Not only was he being selfish, but he didn't have another choice. It was this━ wind up dating Harry, as it looked like he had the possibility of doing, and wind up killing him in the end━ or lose everything he had, including a roof over his head. Which wasn't an option.

"I should probably head home," Draco said abruptly, getting up from the barstool he'd been sitting comfortably on for some time. Harry's head swung around to face him.

"You're leaving?" he asked, sounding confused. "I didn't mean to make things awkward, I just don't feel like talking about… certain things."

"That's not really━" Draco cut himself off and shook his head. "I'll see you tomorrow." He fished several galleons from his robe pocket and placed it on the table next to Harry's elbow, then swiftly left the pub.

Really, he had no idea how he was going to manage staying sane as well as following his mother's instructions. Every single part of Draco, every molecule in his body, was begging him to give this up, to forfeit, to tell his mother that he didn't care what the punishment would be, to just stop this awful charade and get rid of the anxiety that hardly left him these days.

Except for the small part of him that was the boy his parents had raised, the part that said he was being ridiculous and weak. That was the part of himself that took over every time he was in the presence of his parents, or those they associated with. Hell, even those they didn't, but could catch gossip from. He was forced to act on a regular basis, to keep up the pretense that he was a good little Malfoy, that he exists purely to follow in his parents' footsteps and abide by their every order, no matter how small. So, with that in mind, why couldn't he act in this case? Why couldn't he pretend that he was pursuing Harry and that he didn't have ulterior motives?

Because you do want to pursue Harry, and you don't want to kill him. he reminded himself, as if he could forget. Only half of this is a pretence, and it isn't the bit where you hope to develop something deeper with Harry. Only it'll never happen, if you go through with Mother's plan. You'll ruin everything, and along with that you'll remove one of the best parts of this world. You'll kill the person who enabled you, along with millions of others, to live a free life.

As Draco walked the long way home, feeling completely sobered despite the drinks he'd consumed, he struggled to accept the task he'd been given, struggled harder than he had the first day he'd come home from work. He needed to make his mind up about what he would do, and he needed to figure out a way to keep himself from going mad, regardless of what he chose.

Flabbergasted, Harry sat alone in the pub as he finished up his butterbeer. Draco had called it a 'child's drink,' but Harry still loved the frothy beverage. He still couldn't figure out why Draco had left in the hurry he had. Probably what I said, even if he doesn't want to admit it, Harry reckoned. He probably doesn't like it when people don't answer his questions. Not that that bothered Harry. It wasn't his problem if Draco got upset because he wanted to keep his private life just that; private.

But if it wasn't something Harry said, then it was something he was unaware of, which did bother him. It shouldn't have, because he shouldn't care, but it did, and he couldn't figure out why.

"Are you finished, dear?" Helga asked sweetly as she took his empty plate and mug.

"Yes, I am," he said with a smile as he scooted Draco's money towards the barmaid. The three galleons would more than cover the drinks and leave a considerable tip as well. There was no sense in using his own money, but he had half a mind to give Draco his money back at work the next morning. "Thanks for the excellent service, as always, love."

"You're too kind." Helga winked at him, which exaggerated her crows feet tremendously. "Safe travels, and good evening." Harry nodded in reply as he got up to leave.

The following workweek went smoothly for both himself and Draco; all their paperwork was sorted and filed, several appointments had been made and several more had been gotten out of the way. Draco brought Harry coffee refills without needing to be asked, as always, and they had even started having lunch together in his office. The small talk throughout the rest of the day was bearable. It was becoming normal, for Harry. He had even started looking forward to seeing Draco every morning. Without meaning to, or Harry assumed so, Draco had made his work life much more enjoyable. He was typically in a good mood, and if he wasn't he kept his behaviour neutral. Well, for the most part. Harry had started to notice that something was off with his secretary. Draco would go from being chatty and amicable one moment to being closed off and seemingly bothered by something the next. He never explained what was wrong to Harry, when he asked, always putting it off to something unimportant causing the sudden change in behaviour. It was something he wanted to ask Draco about, but he didn't exactly know how to make him explain. If anyone could understand wanting to keep things to themselves, it was Harry.

Harry had been pondering how he could approach Draco with his concerns without being pushy when Draco came barging into his office with perspiration dotting his paler-than-usual forehead. Draco slammed the door behind him, which only added to Harry's concern. He'd never done that before.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, standing up from his chair and crossing the room to Draco. He didn't appear to be hurt, at least.

"No," Draco answered simply. "I think… I think I need to go home early today." Harry nodded quickly.

"Of course you can. Is there something wrong? Are you sick? Did someone attack you?"

"Yes, something is wrong, but it's nothing you can help with." Draco sounded miserable, and looked worse than Harry had seen him in a long time. "I just need to go home."

"Go ahead," Harry agreed. "Let me know if there's anything I can do, alright? Feel better." Draco's face seemed to twist in pain, but he only turned around and left without saying another word. I hope he's okay…

Feeling strangely attached to the scene that had just unfolded in his office, Harry tried to focus on the work he had to do. There was a meeting in fifteen minutes with Josephine Wilburns to worry about. Draco would be fine.

Draco was not fine. He was not even close to alright. He'd been sitting at his desk, trying to keep his mind on the paperwork in front of him, but he couldn't stop obsessing over his mother's plot to murder Harry.

I don't think I can do this, he'd told himself suddenly. His eyesight had begun to blur and sting, and he knew he had to leave before anyone saw the weakness he was about to show in front of the entire department. So he'd requested the rest of the day off, and was no longer at work, but he knew he couldn't go home in this state. Instead, he was walking through a park near his house with a glamour on his face that made him unrecognizable, letting tears stream freely down his face.

I can't kill him. I can't do it. I need a way out. I need a way out.

But he honestly couldn't think of one, and it was driving him mad. Of course I'm mad! I'm wandering around a fucking park, crying publicly! He had considered writing a letter anonymously to Harry, letting him know what his mother planned to do with him, but he knew that with Weasel in the Aurors Harry would easily be able to ask him to investigate. There were ways to find out who had written a letter, even if they'd never touched the parchment or quill used. 'Write it, regret it. Say it, forget it,' his father had always said. Except that wasn't even completely true, unless you planned to Obliviate someone. Draco wouldn't put it past his father to do such a thing.

That's just it! Draco thought, startling himself with how abruptly the idea came to him. I can Obliviate Mother and Father, so that they have no recollection of this repulsive plot! But then, he'd never been good at Obliviating anyone. The only time he'd tried, it had nearly cost him his life. And they would see it coming as soon as the plan formed in my brain. Or Mother would, at the very least. No matter how good Draco became at Occlumency, his mother still knew what he was thinking more often than not. It was a bad plan, and Draco felt just as helpless, just as hopeless, as he did when he left the Ministry.

No matter what he thought of, no matter what plans he conceived, it would end badly. His parents would end up in Azkaban, or Harry would end up alive, but hating Draco even more than he had before, or Draco would be homeless and━

Homeless, Draco thought. I work as the secretary of a social worker. If I wind up without a home, Harry would make sure that I don't stay homeless. A smile grew on Draco's face as he realised that he did, in fact, have a way out. And a moment later, the smile was gone again. If he chose this path, if he chose to disclose everything his mother planned to Harry, he was simultaneously saying 'good riddance' to his parents, his upbringing, and what was left of his old life. Not that I have much of that left anyhow, he reasoned. He couldn't imagine going through with this, he didn't want to have come as far as he had. Too late for regrets, Draco, he warned. But it's not too late to change what happens next.

"See you tomorrow," Harry called out to Tom as he left the practically deserted department. He sent his identifying spark over to the receiver across the way, clocking out, and went down to the Floo Room.

Harry was exhausted, not only because he'd wound up working four hours overtime because Draco had gone home early. He didn't realise he'd started caring so much about his secretary, but he had spent the remainder of the day after Draco had left worrying about him. No matter how many times he told himself that Draco was a prat and that he shouldn't care what was the matter with him, he couldn't convince himself that he really felt that way anymore. The truth of things was that Harry didn't think Draco was a prat anymore. He had changed dramatically since his unfinished Hogwarts years. That had been unexpected, certainly, especially with the way Draco had glared at him during that meeting, the first time they'd seen each other since the war. Harry thought that Draco was the same as always, that he would hate Harry until the day he died. Not a single thought in Harry's mind, over the years since the war, had considered that maybe he would end up enjoying Draco's company.

Things change as time goes by. He sighed as he tossed a handful of Floo powder into one of the many Ministry connections and called out his own address. When he landed in the fireplace of his house and felt his immaculate, secure wards pop comfortingly around his person, he relaxed even more. Maybe Draco had just caught a stomach bug, or something like that. He was pale and sickly looking before he'd left. You really need to stop thinking about Draco, he thought firmly.

Harry thought it would do him some good to take a long, hot shower to take his mind off of things. Instead of clearing his mind, however, it only made him more able to concentrate on Draco and his strange display at work that day. There's something really wrong, Harry decided. He's never acted like this, aside from sixth year. It wasn't often that Harry thought back on that year, or any major details of his schooling, but he couldn't help letting his brain conjure up the strange way Draco had acted that year. Catching the Slytherin crying in the bathroom had been the only time he'd seen Draco so distraught. I hope he's okay, he thought for the second time that day.

Out of the shower, dried off, and in clean pyjamas, Harry took a handful of Floo powder from the jar near the hearth and tossed it in to call Ron. The scorched logs released a few sparks as the flames turned from their typical orange, yellow, and red to green. He waited a few moments until Ron's head finally appeared before him in the fire.

"Harry," Ron said with a smile. "You're calling pretty late, you know." His smile transformed into a look of concern. "Everything okay?"

"For me, yeah," Harry said, and scowled before composing his demeanor. "How was work?"

Ron analyzed Harry's face for a moment before saying in a measured way, "Work was alright… What's going on? Who are things not okay for?"

Cursing himself for his lack of subtlety, he reckoned he might as well talk to Ron about his worries. "Draco freaked out at work today."

"Mate, I told you it was a bad idea to hire him," Ron started, not bothering to ask how Draco had freaked out. "It was only a matter of time before something like this happened." A pause. "What did happen?"

"Nothing like you're thinking. Something's bothering him lately, I can tell." Harry went on to explain all the odd things Draco had been doing the past week and then told his friend what exactly had happened at work that day.

"Sounds to me like he's got a stomach bug, or something." Harry didn't think it was possible for Ron to appear more detached. "You're thinking too hard on it."

"No, Ron, I can tell something serious is going on," Harry said resolutely. "He was fine the past three weeks, but this week he's been flip-flopping between being normal and being… weird."

"Malfoy's a weird bloke, though," Ron brushed off Harry's concern with a wave of his hand. "Listen, mate, just stop thinking about it. It won't fix anything to sit here worrying about him. Malfoy's an adult, he can handle himself."

"You're right," Harry agreed with a sigh. "I don't know what's got into me. I can't seem to stop caring about things I shouldn't."

"You've gone soft. If you'd just done Auror training with me, maybe you'd still have your edge." Ron raised his eyebrows and pinched his lips together before shaking his head. "But you decided to be a social worker instead. Why, I still haven't been able to work out. Seems like you're always stressed about something. S'not worth it, if you ask me."

"Well, I didn't ask you," Harry laughed. "You know why I chose this job instead. Or you should, with how many times I've had to explain myself."

"Right, right, I know." Ron took on the silly voice he always did when he was making fun of Harry. "'I need to help the victims of the war,' 'they're suffering without their hero, Harry Potter.'" Scoffing, he resumed his normal voice. "I've heard it all. Again, I say, you've gone soft."

"If wanting to help people means I've gone soft, then I've been a feather all my life," Harry joked, feeling better just laughing with his best friend. "Though, I'm not sure how being an Auror would make my life any less stressful."

"Well…" Ron trailed off and appeared to be struggling to come up with a decent counter argument. "Alright, maybe it wouldn't, but we would be able to hang out more often."

"I miss you, too, Ron," Harry said in an overly sweet way, and imagined that the darker green tint to Ron's cheeks was actually pink on the other side of the flames.

"I never said I missed you, just that I never get to see you," he said defensively. "Hermione's the one who misses you, not me."

"Sure, my mistake." There was no conviction in his tone whatsoever. "How's she doing, by the way? It's been a while since I've seen her. Or talked to her, for that matter." Harry actually felt somewhat guilty for not making more of an effort to reach out to his other best friend.

"Ask her yourself," Ron said before disappearing from the flames. He was replaced only a moment later by Hermione's stern looking face and bushy hair.

"Harry," she began in a tone just as reproving as her face. "Have you been avoiding me? You know I would've given you the chance to explain yourself for hiring Malfoy. As much as I don't understand your decision━ because you never bothered bringing it up━ I'm sure you've got your reasons━"

"Hermione━"

"━ And I don't see why you never Floo me to chat," the incensed witch continued. "I know you're busy with work, but if you've managed to find the time to Floo Ron, there should be no━"

"Hermione!"

"━ reason you can't find a moment for me. I can't tell you how many times I've tried to Floo you and got no response. It really seems like you're avoiding me, though I can't see why..."

Harry resigned himself to patiently waiting for Hermione to finish her harangue, no longer feeling as bad as he had for not contacting her sooner. Though I probably could've avoided this if I had tried harder to talk to her.

"Now, if you would please," Hermione said with a huff of breath, "explain yourself, Harry Potter."

Thankful that she was no longer shouting at him, Harry said, "I'm sorry for not trying to talk to you sooner. I should've told you that I planned to hire Draco, or at least told you when he was hired. That's my fault, and you've every right to be upset with me, though I wasn't intentionally keeping information from you. And no, I'm not avoiding you." He tilted his head in warning as Hermione made to interrupt him. "I'm not," he repeated firmly, "I'm just forgetful. You know this."

Hermione seemed to consider his apology a moment before relaxing her pinched mouth into a small, hesitant smile. "I can see you mean that. I didn't mean to yell at you, Harry, I just missed you. It's been more than a month since we've spoken. And you don't really have to explain why you hired Malfoy; Ron told me you only did it to help him financially and to get revenge." Her face became calculating at her own mention of Harry's nonexistent revenge. "Though I'm not sure that's a smart way to go about things. You really should let go of the past. He's probably nothing like he used to be, and if he was you'd have fired him by now. I know you better than that."

"Er, actually," Harry started, trailing off after a moment as he tried to find the right way to explain. "I'm not really… Ron's mistaken about the revenge. I sort of just let him think that I was planning revenge so he'd stop whinging about me hiring Draco."

"What the fuck, mate?" Ron's shout came from somewhere far-away sounding.

"Sorry!" Harry called back. He saw Hermione was stifling a laugh by biting her lip and had to prevent himself as well. "Anyway, I'm not completely sure why I hired Draco, aside from the financial thing, which is true. But he's been a great addition to the department. Kingsley already gave him a raise, he's been doing so well."

"Hmm," said Hermione thoughtfully, an air of surprise present in her tone. "That's quite different from how I anticipated things going. No offense, but I thought you two would be at each other's throats in no time at all. I'm glad I was wrong, in this case."

"Me too."

For a while Harry and Hermione talked about Draco, though Harry didn't bring up his worries again throughout the entire conversation, until their talk moved on to other things. It was nice catching up with his friends after so long going without it. Harry hadn't realised how stressed he'd been until he finally had the chance to release some of it with his friends. I'll have to keep in mind that they're still here for me, even if we do have our own lives and problems.

Harry went to bed that night with a much more positive outlook on life, though he couldn't seem to prevent his thoughts from straying back to Draco before sleep finally took him. Ron's right, though. He's grown enough to handle whatever is going on. Best to mind my own business.

"You're trying to ruin us, Draco," Narcissa said, her voice barely above a whisper. The volume of her words was no comfort, however; Draco knew his mother never yelled. Instead, her voice would become softer and more threatening the more upset she grew. Draco also knew that right now he had made her dangerously irate.

"I would never," Draco defended, trying to keep the whine his mother loathed from entering his voice. "Mother, there has to be another way to regain our financial stability. I can't go through with this━ I can't kill him."

"You can, and you will." Narcissa rose from the armchair she'd transfigured to mirror the one she used to love, but had to sell. "You play a very treacherous game, threatening to disobey me this way. I won't have it." She turned to face the doorway to the sitting room and said with a vicious grin, "Ah, Lucius. Our son has just informed me that he doesn't intend to follow through. Surely this displeases you as much as it does me."

Draco turned around to face his father, doing his best to keep his mother in his periphery. He may not be in immediate danger━ who am I kidding? I was in danger the moment I decided to do this━ but his instincts told him not to let Narcissa go completely out of view.

"Father," he began, pleading with his eyes for the man to see reason. "Surely you can understand why I can't finish this task." Please, please understand, he silently begged.

But Lucius wasn't even acknowledging Draco's presence. His eyes stayed on his wife, his expression unreadable. This was also a sign that things were not going well for Draco; though Lucius kept his innermost feelings from exposing themselves to others, his son was usually privy to them in some way, whether it be the miniscule twist to his lip, a twitch of his eye, or something to that tune. It was becoming painfully obvious that Draco was in more trouble than he had previously predicted.

"You jest," Lucius said without inflection. "We have raised him to be better than this, stronger than this… Smarter than this."

"I'm afraid Draco has taken it upon himself to disappoint us, darling. He's refused."

"We can't have that, now can we?" Lucius asked in faux solicitude. Finally his eyes landed on Draco, and the younger Malfoy thought that, for a split second, he may have a chance to level with his father. That is, until he heard the word, "Imperio."

"Morning, Draco," Harry said as he passed by the secretary desk, stopping for their morning chat. "Are you feeling better today?"

"Perfectly fine," Draco said in a mellow tone. He did seem much more relaxed than he had before, that was certain. "Shall I go get your tea?"

Harry felt his eyebrows tilt downward. "I don't drink tea in the mornings, Draco, you know that."

"Right, how stupid of me." Draco rolled his eyes at himself and stood up from his desk. "How would you like your coffee this morning?"

Something's off about him, Harry thought as he gazed curiously at his secretary. It's not my business. Harry continued looking at Draco, attempting to discern what was different. For a split second he thought he could see Draco's eyes take on a strange, milky tint, but it was for such a short moment he couldn't be sure he'd seen properly. I really shouldn't be paying this much attention to him. It's not my business, whatever he's going through, Harry tried to reason. But it couldn't hurt to test something out… "The same as usual, please."

"Of course," said Draco with a chuckle. "I'll have it for you right away."

So much for our morning chat. Harry let his eyes follow Draco's movements, which were just as they'd been the day before, until he was out of sight. Maybe he was overthinking things, but he could swear he had seen something in Draco's eyes glaze over in that short spec of time. You're losing it, Harry, he told himself firmly before shaking his head and unwarding his office.

He'd just begun sorting through files and writing a list of people to Floo before lunch when Draco returned with a mug of black coffee. Harry did his best to keep his expression neutral while Draco set the mug down and waited expectantly for approval.

"Thanks, Draco," Harry said, flashing a short-lived grin. "That's all for now."

"Not a problem. Let me know if you need anything else." Draco left the room, not even bothering to try sparking a conversation to make up for the one they hadn't had a bit earlier.

Suspicious as ever, Harry decided that one more major difference in Draco's behaviour would give him an excuse to confront him about it. If he doesn't bring me a refill without prompting, I'll know.

In the meantime, Harry had work to do. He stood up from his desk and went to the fireplace to Floo Brasch Blithers. Though Harry's mind was occupied with the man in front of him in the flames, it didn't go unnoticed that Draco failed to bring him a coffee refill when he normally would.

If Draco tried any harder to push off his father's control, he was sure to suffer permanent brain damage. A large portion of Draco didn't even want to bother trying to take over; it felt rather nice, not having to feel stress about, well, anything. All of the terrible sickness he'd been feeling about having to go through with… something important that he couldn't bring himself to recall, had gone the moment his father's curse had struck him, leaving him with the lovely sense of floating freely within himself. He could still see what he was doing, he could hear every order his father gave him through the connection of the Imperius Curse, and somewhere, deep in his subconscious, he knew it was wrong to give in. It feels so good to let go, though, he thought as he watched his hands flip through files.

NO! You have to get your body back! the more-aware Draco screamed. You can't let this continue! Fight back, damn it! Fight back!

He would, he promised himself. Just… maybe later, when he felt like he'd had a long enough break. It really did feel marvelous. Perhaps he would thank his father for relieving him of the pain he'd been in. He couldn't remember why it was so important that he fight back, or why he'd been in pain, anyhow. Was it really so detrimental that he had to stop feeling this wonderful? Perhaps not.

"Draco, I thought you said you'd give Esther these papers." Harry's voice sounded more distant than it usually did, but Draco wasn't worried about that. He looked up at Harry's face, which was full of concern mingled with something else he couldn't identify. In his hands he held several papers.

Apologise, Lucius' voice demanded. His voice was much closer. Tell him you'll take care of it immediately.

"My apologies," Draco said pleasantly. "I'll go deliver them now." He stood up and reached for the papers Harry held, only for Harry to pull his hand away at the last moment.

"Wait, Draco…" Harry seemed to have something important to say. Draco waited eagerly to hear it. Well, as eager as one could feel when they were seemingly floating down a river made of pure silk. Draco felt he could wait for anything, for as long as he needed to, so long as he felt like this while he waited. "Can I talk to you a moment in my office?"

Go with him, Lucius directed.

"Of course." Draco followed Harry back from whence he'd come, forgetting completely about Esther's papers in the process. He watched as Harry sat down behind his desk and heard the clicking of a door closing, somewhere. Harry is so handsome, Draco thought in a distracted way. Such pretty eyes… hair…

"Er… you can sit down, you know." Harry's voice penetrated the fog Draco had entered once again.

Pay more attention! Lucius shouted. Draco's vision suddenly focused more, his hearing went back to normal. Or what he thought was normal. Talk to him, but do not tell him anything of your condition.

"I'm sorry," Draco said as he took the chair across from Harry. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't know, is there?"

"What do you mean?" He means you've been a complete wanker all day, fucking up at every turn! Draco yelled at himself. Try harder, please! You need to snap out of this! He promised the angry part of himself that he would, he really would, just not right now.

"You've been acting strangely all day, Draco," Harry began, his eyes showing that he was disturbed in some way. "I know it hasn't been very long since we got here, but… what happened to you? You left work yesterday in a panic, looking like hell, and you come back today seeming better, but forgetting the simplest things. You didn't make a single mistake for weeks, and in one day you've managed to make five, that I've counted so far, and it's not even lunch." Draco's head tilted to the side a bit as he listened to Harry. He did make a good argument. Maybe something was wrong with him.

Tell him that nothing has changed, came his father's voice again. Sooth his fears; he must not know.

"Nothing's happened, Harry," Draco said in a manner he thought sounded convincingly genuine. "I'm just having an off day, I think. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset, it's just…" Harry paused, then seemed to think better of whatever he'd been about to say. "If you need to talk to someone, I'm here. You don't have to worry about anything you tell me getting spread around; I know what it's like to have personal information exploited."

"I really appreciate that, Harry, but━" Nothing is wrong. Tell him, Lucius ordered. "Nothing's wrong, so I don't have much to discuss with you." For a while, Harry stared at Draco as if he were debating whether or not he had been told the truth. Tell him the truth, you blundering prat! Angry Draco screamed. Tell him Father's commanding you! Tell him! Draco suddenly had a clear passage of thought. His face twisted in despair and he knew he didn't have long before Lucius would regain jurisdiction over his faculties. "Harry, I'm being━" SILENCE! Lucius thundered, from everywhere inside Draco's mind, and once again Draco was enveloped in the calming sensation of the curse. He didn't know if he would get another chance like that again, but did it really matter? Trying to overpower Lucius had been painful, and hadn't he experienced enough pain to last a lifetime already? Yes, I have. It feels so much better to just let this go. So much better…

"What is it?" Harry leaned forward, urgency painting his words and attitude alike.

Make an excuse━ a believable one, his father said.

"I'm being an idiot. I'm not sure why I've been so forgetful today, but I'll bring those papers to Esther and try not to mess up anymore." Harry's face fell in disappointment, but there was still a lingering fear in those green eyes.

"You're sure?" He reached a hand towards Draco, only to let it fall to the wooden desk halfway. His fingers curled into a tight fist, speaking his vexation wordlessly, but Draco didn't think that was as important as Angry Draco probably would. "If something's wrong, please tell me."

Nothing is wrong. "Nothing is wrong." Take the papers and go. Draco took the papers and left the office.

"Kingsley, I have some disturbing information." Harry spoke quietly into the green flames, not trusting the muffling charm he'd cast completely.

"What is it, Harry?" the Minister asked, leaning forward, as if that would allow him to hear better.

"I've noticed that Draco's been acting oddly this past week. Like he has something he's struggling with, but he won't talk about it. Yesterday he went home early, as you know, and was in a right state before he left. Ron told me he was probably just ill, but he came in to work today looking as chipper as always. Then, just a few minutes ago…" Harry struggled to put into words, what had just happened in his office.

"Go on, Harry." Kingsley didn't sound as though he cared an awful lot about what Harry was telling him. He hoped that would change by the time he finished explaining.

Sighing, Harry decided it would be best to start with what had happened that morning. He told Kingsley about all the things Draco had done wrong, starting with the morning chat and ending with the documents that hadn't been delivered to their proper destination.

"Well, it sounds to me that he's simply distracted," Kingsley said with a shrug.

"No, it's more than that. I just had a conversation with him, and there were a couple times when his eyes would turn… I don't know how to describe it… Whitish? Like he had a film over his eyes, or something." Finally, Kingsley seemed to take what Harry was saying seriously. His brows tilted down in the centre at the same time that he frowned. "I confronted him about his mistakes today and he seemed sort of dazed. When I told him he could talk to me about whatever was wrong, even though he said nothing was, he declined at first. Then, after a moment, he started looking as if he were in pain and he said 'I'm being,' but cut himself off." Harry shook his head. "He got that passive look back and told me he was being an idiot."

"Don't leave your office, Harry," Kingsley said gravely. "I'm going to send some Aurors to your department to handle the situation."

"Aurors━ do you really think that's necessary?" Panic flooded Harry's system at the Minister's statement.

"If my guess is accurate, and I fear it might be, Draco is under the Imperius Curse." Harry felt his eyes widen a great deal. "You said that he had a sort of film over his eyes?"

"He did, but only once or twice━"

"That's what happens when someone attempts to fight against the Imperius, Harry. We can't know who's doing this to him, or if they intend to harm you or the other employees."

"Then shouldn't I━"

"Stay where you are," Kingsley told him firmly before the Floo disconnected.

What the fuck? was all Harry could manage to think. Could Draco really be under the Imperius curse? It seemed as likely a possibility as any, at this point. Harry couldn't imagine that Draco would act this way so suddenly without being forced to, so maybe he was being controlled.

Thinking over the oddities of the past week, and particularly the past day and a half, Harry waited in his office and listened for the sounds of Aurors. It didn't take longer than a couple minutes before he could hear the sounds of multiple pairs of dragon hide boots jogging towards his office. He heard one of them shout something, then heard a loud bang. Glass shattered somewhere outside his office and a man could be heard screaming in fear as Harry brandished his wand, taking up a defensive position behind his desk, just in case. For extra precaution, Harry cast a ward around his office. He didn't like thinking of Draco as the enemy━ I wonder when that change took place━ but if he really was under the effects of the Imperius, Harry couldn't be too careful.

"Get down!" someone screamed, and again a crash resounded.

A metallic object smashed against Harry's office door and then everything went silent. Deciding he needed to know what was happening, he slowly crossed the room to the door of his office, his wand at the ready. Quietly, Harry cracked the door open, just wide enough that he could peek out. Through the gap, he saw that Draco's desk had been flipped over, Laurelie was crouching down near the water cooler, and Draco was unconscious as he was dragged from the department. Worry caused a pit to form in Harry's rib cage when he noticed the trickle of blood flowing from Draco's forehead.

Pain was all Draco could feel as he opened his eyes. Bright lights caused him to instantly shut them again, however, and his head throbbed with a vengeance. He could feel, though, and that could only mean that Lucius had finally let go of him, even if he had been forced to.

"Ah, you're awake finally," someone said. Draco attempted to speak, but his throat was too dry, his pain to intense. "You might want to drink this, if you want to get this over with sooner."

A glass bottle was pressed into the palm of Draco's hand, and he managed to find the strength to grip it. His entire body was sore, as though he'd been run over by a hoard of centaurs. Not even bothering to ask what was in the bottle, he brought his arm up and pressed the mouth of the glass to his own. It didn't matter that some of the liquid trickled down his jaw and neck, not when his pain was subsiding with every gulp.

"Go ahead and try again," the man said. Yes, it was a man, and he sounded familiar, though Draco couldn't quite figure out why.

Draco opened his eyes, expecting his headache to return full-force. It didn't, thankfully, which allowed him to search out the person who had been speaking to him. Confusion turned his brain even further to slop as his gaze fell on Neville Longbottom.

"What are━" Draco cleared his throat when the only sound he'd made was a rasp and tried again. "What are you doing here?" Longbottom chuckled.

"I'm here to interrogate you," he explained calmly. Who is this person and what has he done with Longbottom? "You won't mind answering a few questions, will you?" Draco shook his head, not quite able to trust his voice yet. "Right. You were under the Imperius Curse, weren't you?" In fear, Draco was about to shake his head once more, but Longbottom held up a hand. "Don't bother trying to lie. We'll have to use Veritaserum, if we think you might be. I'm not sure if you know this, but if you have been under the Imperius, taking Veritaserum could lead to extensive brain damage." Longbottom paused a moment to let that information sink in. "So I'll ask a final time: were you under the Imperius Curse?"

"Yes," Draco croaked.

"Thought you might be more willing to cooperate, given that tidbit of information," Longbottom said with a lopsided grin. "Mind telling me who cast it?"

Draco closed his eyes, not because of pain, but because he knew there was no way of avoiding telling the truth, unless he wanted to become a braindead fool. "My father."

"Well, now. That's not the answer I was expecting, though I wouldn't put it past him. Can you tell me why he did this?"

"I… I don't remember… Why can't I remember?" he mumbled to himself. He searched his brain for something that felt just out of reach. It was like there was a black hole living in the timeline of his memories.

"Try again, Malfoy." Draco looked up at Longbottom, his eyes wide in fear.

"I can't remember. I know it's important, but it's not there." Draco's breathing began to pick up as he strained to pick apart the black spot in his mind. "Something happened━ someone's taken an important memory from me."

"Why should I believe you? What if you're just telling me this to stretch out the interrogation process? You do realise that it won't do any good. It'll only make matters worse for you in the long run." Longbottom grinned, as though this was inconsequential.

"I can prove it," Draco said urgently. "I wrote━ something? I wrote a note about… the thing that's missing." He shook his head as words began to fail him. "It's in my room, I can picture it, I just━ I can't━ fuck!" His hands clutched the side of his head as the pain potion Longbottom had given him began to wear off. It was either a weak potion or trying to access the absent memory had caused it to lose potency more quickly.

"We'll see if you're telling the truth, I suppose," Longbottom said as he began walking towards the exit of the small room. "For your sake, I hope you are."

It was with a heavy heart that Harry made his way to the Minister's office. One day had passed since Draco's arrest, but Harry still couldn't stop wondering what was really going on. Had Draco been under the Imperius the entire time they'd been reacquainted? Was the Draco Harry thought he'd come to know not really who he seemed? It was hard to believe that Draco had changed so much in a year and a half, so maybe he had been forced to act that way. Harry didn't want that to be true; he'd started to enjoy the company of the once-snobbish wizard. As far as he knew, however, Draco didn't have a very strong will when it came to anyone besides his family or himself. If his father really had put him under the Imperius Curse, Draco would most likely have no reason to fight against him, and wouldn't be able to conjure up the willpower to do so. At least, the Draco that Harry used to know wouldn't. I don't think… Maybe he only acted that way in school because of his parents. Maybe he did or said something recently that his parents didn't approve of, and that's what got him into this situation. But why would they need to go to such lengths to make sure he did their bidding? Harry stifled a sigh as his knuckles met the door to Kingsley's office. I suppose I'm here to find out more. No use worrying, as Ron would say.

"Come in, Harry," came the Minister's reply, muffled by the wooden door between them. Harry stepped into the office, expecting the intense look on Kingsley's face before he saw it.

"You wanted to speak to me?" Harry inquired as he took his usual seat. "Do you have anymore news about Draco's situation?"

"I do," he confirmed. Harry felt his stomach tie itself in a knot as he awaited more explanation. "Neville disclosed that he believes Draco's memories have been stolen. Or one of them has, at the very least. A team of Aurors has been sent to the Malfoy home to investigate, but they haven't come back as of yet."

"He's been Obliviated? Why would his father Obliviate him?"

"That's what we're trying to find out━" A knock on the door interrupted the Minister. "Come in," he bellowed.

Turning around, Harry saw two older Aurors step in. They stood stiffly near the now closed door and waited for permission to speak. Harry wondered why he wasn't expected to act this way with the Minister, but decided it had to do with their involvement in the Order. Not many people━ at least living people━ knew Kingsley on such a personal level.

"Well, boys?" Kingsley asked, sounding a bit impatient. "Go on, fill me in."

"Yes, Minister Shacklebolt," the two Aurors said in unison. Even with the weight of the situation, Harry wanted to laugh at the dour manner of the Aurors. Though, when one of the Aurors stepped forward to give the report, Harry paid close attention.

"We searched the Malfoy house top to bottom. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy allowed us to do so with no fuss or fight, thankfully. We only found these. It's the only solid evidence we could get." The Auror levitated over a piece of torn parchment and a phial containing some silvery liquid, letting them land on the Minister's desk.

"Sir, if I may…" The other Auror stepped forth, then, before Kingsley could take the parchment in front of him.

"Yes?"

"Before you read that, I think it's important to explain why we didn't arrest the Malfoys on the spot." Kingsley's brows dipped in befuddlement, but he waved the Auror on. "We can't know whether these were planted there for us to find. In my most respectful opinion, Sir, I feel we need to research the nature of this letter and view the memory, maybe even question Malfoy a bit more about it, before we take action."

"Allow me to read before I comment," Kingsley said in a low voice as he picked up the parchment.

For a moment, all was silent in the office, aside from the soft sounds of several people breathing. Harry grew anxious with every lift or fall of Kingsley's expressive eyebrows, and he wondered what he could possibly be reading. Then Harry's eyes moved to the phial in front of him. It clearly contained a memory, there was no mistaking that. Harry hoped that it was the memory Draco was currently missing, but didn't let his hopes get up, even as the Minister handed the parchment over with a cryptic sigh.

Harry looked down at the parchment in his hands and began reading, knowing he wouldn't stop feeling trepidation about these things any time soon.

I'm writing this in the hopes that, should anything happen to me, this will protect me and Harry, both. I've decided against following my parents' wishes, and I can't know what the repercussions will be, though I know they won't be beneficial to either of us.

Harry, please know that I never wanted to hurt you. In all these weeks, I've been granted the ability to know you better, to see what you're like when we're not in the midst of a childish rivalry… It's too bad that it hasn't been done with honest intentions. How I wish I could've done it of my own volition, with no ulterior motives. You don't know how much I wish…

And now I'm faced with the decision I've made, I find myself dreading the moment when you see the memory I've left with this note and discover what I've been made to do, what I had to agree to do. You'll never trust me again, if you've already started to. I know this. Still, isn't that better than the alternative?

I don't think I could live with myself, had I gone through with things. I know I couldn't. And so I'm writing this to you, I'm giving you the memory that I hope will ensure your safety, no matter what happens to me. If you never want to see me again, I'll understand. Just as long as you're alive, I'll survive.

-Draco Malfoy

Harry looked up from the letter, his brain addled due to the message in his hands. What did Draco mean when he wrote 'Just as long as you're alive, I'll survive?' Did he think Harry was going to die for some reason? And what alternative was he referring to? Harry's death seemed the most likely candidate, but he didn't want to believe that Draco could possibly have the wherewithal to actually kill him. Apparently, Draco didn't want to believe it either.

"Well?" Kingsley asked, drawing Harry's gaze away from the neat handwriting that had consumed his thoughts. "What do you think this could mean, Harry?"

"I━ er, that is, I━" Harry tried to sort himself out mentally before speaking again, not wanting to sound more like a git than he already was. Taking a deep breath, he started again. "I'm not certain, and I don't think any of us will be until we view the memory here."

"You said that Draco hadn't spoken to you about the thing that was bothering him." It wasn't a question, but Harry nodded in affirmation anyway. "Then you don't have an idea about what he's referring to when he mentions going through with things."

"I don't."

"I'd like to view the memory," Kingsley said, standing up from his chair. "And I'd like you to accompany me."

Harry stood up as Kingsley dismissed the Aurors and thanked them for providing adequate information to work with, then followed him from the office. Together they took a lift to the nearest courtroom, going silently all the way. Meanwhile, Harry's mind was running rampant, stuck on the letter he'd read, which he still held tightly in his hand. If he could've walked as read at the same time, he would be doing so, but Harry was clumsy at the best of times, even when he was paying full attention to where he was headed.

When they reached courtroom four Kingsley led the way to a small chamber that was connected to the room. Inside was a single Pensieve hovering above a wooden desk, and nothing else. Harry cracked his knuckles as he watched Kingsley pour the memory into the basin, letting it mingle with the liquid inside it for a moment.

"Ready?" The Minister turned towards Harry expectantly and Harry forced himself to step forward towards the Pensieve.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

They plunged their heads into the Pensieve and were pulled down into it. Harry closed his eyes during the falling sensation. When he opened them again he was back in the Malfoy household, watching dinner take place, he and Kingsley standing near Draco. He could see the look of utter subservience on Draco's face, but now that he knew Draco a bit better, or so he thought, he had a hard time being convinced by it. Narcissa began speaking to Draco, first bringing up her new subject carefully, trying to see how he would react to it. Draco didn't react at all, as far as Harry could see. There's no way he acts like this all the time around them, Harry thought. It's unnatural, like he's emotionless. It was sort of creepy to witness the way Draco responded to Narcissa's subtle hints with 'yes, Mother,' and 'of course, Mother.' That wasn't what Draco had probably intended for Harry to focus on when he witnessed this, but in the end that's what took up most of Harry's attention.

Until Narcissa began outrightly explaining what she wanted Draco to do, that is. The way her eyes shone with pride in her thought-out ploy to get the Malfoys back on their feet was sickening to Harry.

"Do not think me blind, son. I have seen the way your eyes lit up when you spoke of him during your years of education," Narcissa said, her mouth twisted in a grin fit for a goblin at Gringotts catching a thief.

Harry's face took on a look of bewilderment at her words, but before he could think too hard on it, she went on.

"I have witnessed the difficulty with which you refrained from speaking his name. I am also aware of the possessiveness that is in the Malfoy man's nature━ something you must control in this, a situation so delicate. You will capture his attention, make him seek you out without knowing why. Give no hint that there may be hidden motives behind your efforts."

"So that's what he's been doing," Harry whispered to himself.

He felt like he was about to be sick. How could he have been so stupid, so blind? His eyes moved to Draco's face. Harry was searching for some sign, even a small one, that Draco felt this was wrong, abusing Harry's trust this way. There was none. Harry's mouth bent in disgust. No, he didn't feel strongly attached to Draco at this point, but he very easily could've gone down that route, with the way Draco had played him. In the back of Harry's head he could hear Narcissa's irritating laugh. She had said something about marrying him. Harry barely paid attention to Narcissa's rambling as he scrutinised Draco's face, intent on finding one single shred of his true feelings about his mother's words.

"... his untimely death."

"What?" There it was! Draco let his wineglass go too early and with it his mask of indifference. An anguish similar to the one Harry had witnessed when he's tried to question Draco in his office sparked fiercely in Draco's sterling eyes, and showed no signs of going away.

Narcissa had continued speaking by this point, but Harry couldn't look away from Draco's tormented expression. This was what he'd been searching for; some kind of confirmation that Draco could be trusted, that he meant what he'd said about not wanting to hurt Harry… that Harry hadn't been wrong to care for him.

"There's no other way," Narcissa said, and the memory faded out, allowing Harry and Kingsley to remove their heads from the Pensieve.

Kingsley collected the memory and replaced it in the glass phial Draco had put it in, then turned to regard Harry.

"It would appear that the Aurors made a lapse in judgement when they refrained from arresting the Malfoys." Harry was too stunned by the contents of the memory he'd witnessed to respond verbally and nodded his head slowly in agreement. Kingsley began walking and talking, Harry following behind him in a daze that allowed him to listen, though just barely. "I'd like you to set Draco up with secure housing, somewhere unbeknownst to others. It will be put under Fidelius, and you'll be the secret keeper. He'll be kept in holding until you've managed that." Kingsley threw a glance over his shoulder at Harry and halted, suddenly. "Are you alright?"

Trying to speak, Harry's voice came out as a catching sound. He cleared his throat and said, "I'll be fine."

"If it helps you feel any better, I'm going to have a team of Aurors ward your house more strongly, and one or two will be made to keep watch. We may be able to arrest the Malfoys with no trouble, but until they've been caught I don't want you wandering outside of home or work without protection. Is that clear?" It was rare that Kingsley used such a stern tone with Harry, and the fact that he was using such a tone now spoke volumes to him.

"Crystal," Harry confirmed. "Though… I'd like to visit Draco before I get back to work, if that's alright." He needed time to think about what he'd just seen, but he had too many questions. Those questions would go unanswered until he spoke to Draco, which would inevitably distract him from getting any work done.

"Take this with you. I have a feeling you'll need it." Kingsley handed Harry the phial with Draco's memory enclosed before turning and walking away.

A/N#2: If you would leave a review I'd be grateful! It's really nice to hear from readers about their thoughts, not to mention it helps the writing process.