Do You Still Believe?

Hope and pray that you'll never need me,
But rest assured I will not let you down.
I'll walk beside you but you may not see me,
The strongest among you may not wear a crown.
-- 3 Doors Down - Citizen Soldiers
-o0o-

With the print casts and hair strand in the hands of the Unspeakables, Harry found himself with nothing to do. He almost wished for his apathy back; now that he'd begun caring, he couldn't stop. This was possibly the most important case in hundreds of years, and there was just nothing he could do about it.

When Kingsley finally got fed up with his pacing, he sent Harry home. "The results of the tests will be back later today, tomorrow at the latest," he said. "You're not doing anyone any good right now. Get out of my office."

Harry complied without complaint, and then found himself pacing back and forth in his living room. He was preparing to floo over to St. Mungo's and check on his partner, when his front door opened, and a cheerful voice called out to him.

"I'm back, Potter, did you miss me?"

Harry flung the powder back into the bag on his mantleplace and then turned to scowl at his partner. "Didn't your mum ever teach you to knock?"

"Mi casa es su casa," Malfoy said, shrugging and helping himself into Harry's kitchen. Harry heard him put the kettle on and prepare two mugs.

"What the devil does that mean?"

"It means my house is your house. And vice versa." Malfoy poured instant coffee into one of the mugs, and then eyed the level in the jar. "You need more of this," he said.

"You drank it all," Harry pointed out. Malfoy flashed him a brilliant smile.

"It's good," he said. "So, aren't you going to ask me why I'm here? How was my stay in the hospital, and all that jazz?"

Harry leaned against the door-frame, and watched Malfoy make coffee and tea simultaneously. He'd gotten good at it, and Harry wasn't sure if he appreciated that Malfoy was here often enough to know where everything in his kitchen was or not. "Alright," he said at last. "How was your stay in the hospital?"

"So glad you asked," Malfoy said. "Miserable. Hospital food tastes like it was taken out of the garbage three weeks ago and then left in the back of the fridge before it was brought out and cooked. I'm perishing for a cup of decent coffee and something that's actually edible." He paused in his search of Harry's cupboards and gave his partner a searching look. "You do have edible food in this flat, do you not?"

Harry shrugged. "I suppose so," he said uncertainly. Malfoy twinkled at him, all smiles once again.

"Good. Now shoo. Have you eaten yet? I'll make us something for..." He checked the clock quickly. "Lunch."

Harry found himself sitting on his couch, listening to Malfoy bang about in his kitchen, and wondered how he'd let the blond man bully him into submitting. "Martha Stewart," he muttered again. First the cubicle - plants, Harry thought despairingly - and now the cooking. Is he going to come and do my laundry as well? It's like having a wife around.

Malfoy appeared behind him, and reached out with a mug of tea. Harry froze mid-reach as his own thoughts caught up to him. He stared up at Malfoy, suddenly picturing him with a ponytail holding up long blond hair and a frilly apron as he swept up the dust that had collected-

"Potter?"

Harry came back to himself with a jerk, trying to ignore how ... home-like the imaginary scene had seemed, and reminded himself that he'd broken it off with Ginny for a reason, and that she had married a bloke from Beauxbatons and currently resided in France with him. "Sorry. Thanks," he added, and accepted the mug. He stared into it, watching the way it slopped up the sides of the mug as his hand shook slightly.

Malfoy seated himself on the couch facing Harry, and took his mug in both hands, not drinking it. He fixed Harry with a piercing stare. "Alright Potter, talk."

"Pardon?"

"Something's bothering you. Now talk."

Hell would freeze first, Harry asserted silently, and then briefed Malfoy on what they'd found while he was in St. Mungo's.

"Fan-bloody-tastic," Malfoy muttered. "I'm out of commission for two days, and you go off and prove how much better you are without a partner."

"I had a partner with me," Harry argued. "Luna was there acting as stand-in-" because no one else can stand me- "and it was Creevey who found the hair in the first place."

"Creevey? Colin Creevey, head-of-your-fanclub Creevey?"

"I don't have a fanclub."

Malfoy's tone was bland. "Do you not?"

"No, I do not."


"Suit yourself. So this means we have a lead to a suspect." He sounded excited, and Harry realised that no one had bent his arm into joining the Auror corps, either. He insisted it was just to pass time until his Potions Mastership, but he could have done anything - or nothing.

"Why did you join the Aurors?"

"I told you; I had a year to kill before I can take the Potions test again and-"

"I know that. But you could have spent the time practising, or doing nothing. Why the Aurors?"

Malfoy stared broodingly into his cup. "I wanted to," he said after a while. "My family doesn't have... the best reputation. With Lucius still in Azkaban, my mother is in disgrace. After everything I did at Hogwarts-" He flinched at his own words, then forged onwards. "After everything I did as a child, it was the least I could do to make amends."

"I see."

-o0o-

There was something different about Potter, he realised. It wasn't something specific that he could put his finger down on; just a general air of differentness around him.

Draco sipped at his coffee, and watched Potter from beneath his lashes. His partner seemed different, there was no doubt about that. It was his eyes, Draco decided after a moment. They'd brightened, as though a veil had been lifted from them. He wondered if he'd had anything to do with that; Potter's reaction to seeing the Killing Curse flying towards him had been to cast a Patronus charm. Should I take offense to the fact that he managed to dredge up a happy memory at seeing my imminent death? Or had Draco's imminent death been the happy memory? No, he decided. Potter would have simply allowed it to strike if he'd wanted his partner dead that badly. He could have done nothing and written it off as an accident, but intsead he'd thought quick enough to cast a spell - one that ought not to have worked, but did - to at least try and save Draco.

I nearly died, he thought suddenly.

"What are you thinking about?"

"I nearly died," Draco said automatically, and then flicked his eyes back to Potter. The other man was pale, and his eyes were searching as he stared into Draco's.

"You should have," he said, then flinched. "I didn't mean it like that," he added quickly. "I meant... a Patronus should not have stopped the Killing Curse."

Draco buried the flash of hurt that flared up with Potter's words, and then nodded slowly. "You were saved by your mother's love," he said. "I was saved by ... your good memories. Good things," he added. "Love and happiness - it makes sense."

"There's actually talk of calling you The Man Who Lived," Potter said, somewhat off-handedly. Draco did the undignified thing and gaped at him.

"There's not," he said incredulously, and then had the second biggest shock of his life as a smile spread across Potter's face.

"No," he agreed. "I'm having you on."

"Wanker."

"Prat."

Draco laughed in spite of himself. "My mother owled me in the hospital," he said suddenly. "I'm to invite you for dinner at the manor."

Potter sobered abruptly. "Tonight?"

Draco shrugged. "Whenever you'd like to come over. Preferably within the week."

There was a hesitant pause. "Tonight's fine."

Draco smiled again, and then lifted his coffee in a toast.

-o0o-

Narcissa leaned in and kissed Potter's cheek when they came in through the floo. "Thank you for saving my son's life," she said warmly. Potter looked slightly flabbergasted by the motion, but recovered his wits with aplomb.

"He would do nothing less for me - er - ma'am," he said stiffly. Draco smiled again involuntarily as Narcissa opened the door out of the floo room. Potter leaned over, and out of the corner of his mouth, whispered to Draco, "You have a floo room?"

At least a dozen fireplaces lined the walls, but Draco spared it barely a glance before shooting Potter a helpless look. "It's been Malfoy Manor since it was built," he explained. "Each succeeding Malfoy tried to outdo the last by adding more onto the main building."

Potter looked uncomfortable, but strode bravely into the hallway after Narcissa. "You have a beautiful house, Mrs. Malfoy," Draco heard him saying as he hurried to catch up.

"Thank you Mr. Potter. Please, call me Narcissa."

"Harry, then."

"Harry," Narcissa agreed. "Would you like to see the rest of it?"

Potter shifted his feet, and then turned a dazzling smile on her. "I would love to," he said with perfect charm, and proffered his arm for her to hold. Narcissa turned and shot Draco a knowing look coupled with a secretive smile as she took his arm, and began leading him on a tour of the house.

Draco, who'd been exploring the vast halls of his own home since he was old enough to toddle around, excused himself gravely and retired to the dining room to wait.

-o0o-

Narcissa lead him on a detailed tour that didn't take as long as Harry had expected it to. He was keen on the library, but flushed embarrassedly when she picked up on it.

"I see I have something that captured your interest, Harry," she said gracefully. Harry felt like a perfect clod beside her, but nodded politely, hoping that he wouldn't make too much of a fool of himself.

"Hermione would have loved it here," he said, and then flushed as he recalled the last time she'd been in Malfoy Manor. "The library," he clarified for his own sake. "She always loved books most of all. I never understood it until she was gone, and I found myself reading more to fill the time."

Narcissa's expression was reminiscent of Luna's in its mystery. After a moment, she said, "You may return to the Manor whenever you'd like and make use of our library."

Harry gaped for a moment before recovering himself. "I-I couldn't," he began, but she cut him off.

"Tut tut. With Lucius - gone, and Draco away in his own flat, the house is miserably empty with just myself to fill it. I would ... appreciate the company once and a while, if you've the time."

Well, when she puts it like that, he thought, and then gallantly plastered a smile on his face. "Then I accept your invitation," he said. "You'll probably be sick of me before long."

"I highly doubt that ... Harry." She offered him a smile in return, and for a moment Harry could see the beauty she had been in her younger years. Now that he thought of it, all of the Blacks had been beautiful. Sirius' was more masculine, and had been twisted by his time in Azkaban, but was clear in pictures Harry had seen of him during Hogwarts. Even Bellatrix was beautiful, though he was loathe to admit that, even silently. Narcissa interrupted his thoughts by offering to show him to the dining room.

"Thank you," he said again, and wondered at the strangeness of it all. Ron would probably have a heart attack at the thought of me visiting with Narcissa Malfoy, if the shock of my being partnered with Draco didn't kill him outright.

"Sickle for your thoughts?"

"Oh," Harry said, and then stumbled slightly over a rug. "I was thinking of Ron," he finished uncertainly.

"A tragedy that he was taken so young," Narcissa said, and Harry could detect no trace of mockery in her aristocratic tone. "I realise that my family and you have never been on the best of terms," she she began. "But I am glad that you have been able to put some of it behind you and speak so frankly with me."

"It's ... I've needed someone to talk to, as well," Harry admitted. "Luna and Mal- er- Draco... we went to school together. There's history there. There's not a lot of history between the two of us." Even as the words were coming out of his mouth, he remembered a dark forest, and Narcissa leaning over him and then proclaiming him to be dead.

Narcissa gave him a grateful look, and then two large doors swung open to reveal a grand dining hall, the first quarter of a long table laden with food. Malfoy stood at their entrance, and Narcissa ushered him over to the table. They sat in unison, and began eating, Harry surreptitiously glancing over at Malfoy to see if he was doing anything wrong.

When they were done, Narcissa neatly folded her hands in front of her, and then coughed politely. "Harry," she said quietly. "It's recently come to my attention that the Potter house has been rediscovered. I bought it immediately, of course, but haven't touched it - if you'd like I can hand the deeds over to you and you may go through it at your leisure."

Harry stared at her uncomprehendingly. "The... Potter house?" His first thought was that in Godric's Hollow.

"The Potters were purebloods, Potter," Malfoy said easily. "Most purebloods have a family estate. Malfoy Manor is ours."

"You'd... do that?" Harry couldn't seem to get his jaws to work correctly. He was glad Narcissa had waited until they were done eating to drop her bomb in his lap - he'd worked so hard to keep his manners up to par that he didn't think half-chewed food visible in his gaping mouth would have been a splendid end to the evening.

"I did," Narcissa said, and withdrew a small packet of papers from her robes and handed it to him. "It's the very least I could do to... repay you, for everything you've done."

Keeping Draco out of Azkaban so many years ago, Harry realised. Getting Lucius' sentence commuted to life instead of the Kiss. Stopping the Curse from striking. "I... Thank you." He was utterly shamed by the tears that began welling up in his eyes, and he surreptitiously wiped them away. "Thank you."

-o0o-

When Harry returned to his flat after dinner, he set the papers down on the coffee table and stared at them. He could hardly believe what Narcissa had done for him.

He sat down immediately and penned two notes, one to Kingsley and another to the Minister, asking them to find a way to reintegrate the Malfoys into polite society. A public pardon, an invitation to the most influential parties, anything he could possibly do to repay them for what she'd done. It's not much, he told himself. Giving them their reputation back won't pay for my ancestral home, not by half. But it's what Draco wants, and Narcissa needs to be able to socialise again. It's a start.

After Hedwig, he'd never bothered to get another owl, and he Apparated to the Owl Post to send them off. When he returned, a strange black owl was fluttering at his window, tapping spastically. He opened the window and it flew in, leaving a dropping on his couch with a dirty look. Harry scowled at it, but took the letter from it's foot.

My dearest Mister Potter, it started. I have some... rather interesting information as to the whereabouts of the Pureblood Killer. Meet me behind Knockturn Alley, in Per Petyu Alley. I'll give you the name of the person you're looking for.
Cheers,
A Friend

Harry was stunned. He looked up to check the owl out again, but it was gone. There was no specific time mentioned, and he drew his wand and Apparated. Just before he vanished another owl swooped in through his window, hooting in alarm, and then his flat was replaced by the dark, run-down Per Petyu Alley. The fore-runner of Diagon Alley, Per Petyu Alley had been abandoned for years.

He lit his wand with a quiet lumos, and leaned against a broken lamp post to wait. He wasn't there long before a quick set of footsteps alerted him to the fact that he was no longer alone.

"I'm so glad to see you here, Harry," the person said. "I've been dying to tell you for so long."

He frowned; the voice was familiar, but he couldn't place it. "Who are you?"

A quiet chuckle. "I'm the Pureblood Killer," the hooded person whispered. The tiny slip of a figure before him put both hands to the massive hood covering their face. Harry tightened his grip around his wand, prepared for any eventuality when the face of the murderer was revealed.

The hood drew back. Delicate elfin features framed by turquoise blue hair greeted him, and he nearly dropped his wand in abject surprise.

"Silena Sinder?" he gasped out, and found that every single spell he'd ever learned had suddenly abandoned him in his shock. How could Sinder be behind those murders?

"Anita Littlewood will be greatly pleased that you will no longer be a thorn in our side," Sinder said icily.

"I don't-"

"Of course you don't understand," Sinder crooned madly. "It's love, Potter. Someone like you could never understand love." She reached for something inside her robes, moving quicker than he thought possible. He suddenly found himself staring down the barrel of a muggle gun. "Say hello to Granger and Weasley for me, okay?" She tittered, and the Killing Curse was on the tip of his tongue. Before the words formed in his mouth, however, a thunderous rapport echoed in the small space and fiery heat blossomed in his chest.

He fell backwards in what seemed like slow motion. She shot me, he realised. Draco... The world around him went grey, and then faded to black.

-o0o-

Apparently all my muse was waiting for in order to write was me to post the last chapter. I waited a few days and tried to write more on it, but just... couldn't. Then I finally gave in and posted it, and suddenly this chapter started flowing out like water. I make no excuses; I have weird muses. And I think I've mentioned before that my muses have lives of their own. I have absolutely no control over them.

Also, I just wrote this in the story - I have no excuse for the Per Petyu Alley. XDDD If you're a keen reader, you'll have noticed that Jo makes a wonderful play on words in her books; Grimmauld Place - Grim, Old Place. Diagon Alley - Diagonally. Knockturn Alley - Nocturnally. When I was trying to think of a new -ally word, the only thing that came to mind was perpetually. XDDD Thus: Per Petyu Alley.

LMFAO. CLIFFIE~~~~ And now you know the killer! WHOO HOO! But stick around! There's more coming soon to an AFF near you!
-
yaoiObsessed: Oh, stop, you're making me blush~ And LMFAO. XDD I apologise most sincerely. I actually didn't consider that a cliff-hanger, and the short chapter...well, at least it was longer than some of my earlier chapters, yes? As I'm answering your questions before this chapter has actually been written, I'm not sure how much will be revealed in this chapter and how much I can talk about freely so... you'll just have to wait. ♥ I promise it's not going to be but another chapter or so before you find everything out and it all winds down. Is this one long enough? ♥

polka dot: I think it's about the same, if the methods are a bit different. Possibly a bit faster, too.

Mr Spears: I actually have a sign that says those things. XD It doesn't change automatically of course; I have to change it myself. But it sits next to my monitor, and I flip it to reflect my mood. (Right now it says Not a morning person doesn't even begin to describe it) But I thought it'd be cute. It'll probably start showing up in other fics of mine now. And you're welcome! I hope it's a surprise.

Dragon: I know! I read Surrender the Grey while I was attempting to get more of the last chapter written out. Love those stories so much. Thanks! I certainly hope you guys never expected it. I think the end's pretty much in sight, so there might not be any unexpected twists like I'd hoped (I'm just no good at twisting the story unexpectedly. I'll practice at it, though.) ... Unless of course, I have managed to deflect suspicion from the true killer... and the reasons, of course, are probably a bit strange. Maybe I'll manage to surprise you lot anyway. 83

Random Story: Let me start off with I've always believed in the supernatural. Ever since I was a child, I've believed in ghosts, and I even think I saw one when I was a kid, in my great aunt's house. (I could be making that up; it may or may not have just been my great aunt walking around her own house, but at the time, I thought I'd seen a ghost, and the impression's stuck with me my whole life.) I enjoy reading stories about haunted places, and watching the tv programs about them. As I was writing this chapter, I was watching something called Haunted History, kinda giving it half an ear while I was writing, and now it's ten past one in the morning, and a show called Ghostly Encounters just came on. But that's not what I wanted to talk about. (I'm just dying to talk about this. XD) Two months ago, my dad was flown home from overseas (he's been in the Navy for twenty years, and he's retiring in a few weeks; in order for him to find a job and get his civilian life started, he was flown home early from a five month deployment before he retired.) We went up to the airport on one of the local military bases to get him, and we got there... several hours early, so I spent the majority of the time there sitting outside reading.

I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't alone in the little park outside the building, but every time I looked up, there was no one else out there. At one point, I heard foot steps walking up behind me, so I turned around to see who was sharing my space, but there was no one there. I wrote it off as my own over-active imagination, and returned to my reading, when over the top of my book and sort of out of the corner of my eye, I saw a soldier walking towards the building. When I looked straight up at him, there was no one there.

I saw a ghost. A real ghost! It was so exciting. And I've been thinking about it for the last hour, watching all these ghost shows, and just had to share it. One of my life's dreams is to visit Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. I have a bone-deep, unshakable belief that in a past life, I died in that battle. I just want to go see if I remember anything, I guess. Alright; I'll shut up now and post this. If any one wants to chat, hit me up on MSN at korizilla@hotmail.com (I don't use that as an email, so don't bother emailing me there; if you want to email me, I'm at bombayesper@aim.com, which is also my AIM account name.) I'm still on Twitter: author_in_prog. See ya 'round.