To Protect and...Service

To Protect and...Service by The Coven

Author: Graballz

Beta: Miss Nikki, Slytherine

Special thank you: ZooArmy and Miss Nikki (for starting the ball rolling that led me to the perfect chapter title!)

Author's note-- I'm sorry that this chapter took the full two weeks to write and post (I seriously finished writing it last night...turns out I work better on a deadline lol) but it's 26 pages in Word, so does that make up for it?

Thanks to everyone who is reading, and I hope you enjoy!

~Graballz

Edit: For those who didn't know, I had the hardest time coming up with a chapter title I was happy with. I know, *stupid* right? Well, I had some really lame suggestions, and I finally posted it with one of my dumb ones, thinking I'd come up with a better one. And I have, actually. The current title that you see, "Undercover Trouble", finally clicked today! You know how some just 'click'? Well, mine have to, and I didn't have any clickage when I was posting...but here it is! ~Graballz

Chapter 2

Undercover Trouble

The young blonde witch who was sitting at the welcome table positively lit up when Harry and Draco walked into the reception hall. She looked younger and rather familiar, but her eyes took on a flirtatious gleam as she sat up straighter, fluffing her hair and smiling at them.

“Well, hello, there,” she cooed, holding her hand out. “May I have your invitation please?”

“Here you go,” Harry smiled back in a friendly manner. “We’re with the Minister.”

“Harry Potter?” The witch’s mouth fell open and her head shot up to look at him. “THE Harry Potter? I WONDERED if that was you, but then I was thinking, ‘no, it’s just some OTHER devastatingly handsome wizard who looks like him.’ But it IS you!”

“Um, yep, it’s me,” Harry shifted uncomfortably, while he noticed his new partner glaring at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh. My. Gosh. They won’t believe I actually MET you,” the girl’s voice went up a decibel or two as she squealed. “Will you sign my hand?”

“…Okay,” Harry hesitated, caught off-guard. He picked up one of the pens on the table and nervously took the girl’s outstretched hand, scrawling his name across the back. She looked like she was going to faint as she stammered out a thank you.

“Uh, can we go in now?” Harry asked after a moment. She blinked and rustled her paperwork, looking down at it again.

“Oh, yes, of course, let me just check you off the list,” she bowed her head, looking for his name, trying to hide her rising blush. “Here we are! ‘Harry Potter and Guest’.”

“Thank you so much,” Harry smiled faintly and tried to maneuver Draco past the table, but the blonde did an incredulous double-take and leaned over, smacking his palms facedown on the table. The girl jumped a mile, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“What?!” Draco was outraged. “My name’s not on there?” He was a nameless ‘Guest’? He was HARRY POTTER’s nameless ‘Guest’?

“Um, I can check, sir,” she said timidly. “And your name is?”

“Draco Malfoy,” he replied, rolling his eyes. His hand itched for his wand to hex the annoying and quite obviously mentally incompetent witch who was currently combing the checklist for his name with shaking hands, as well as the prat who created the list in the first place.

“I’m sorry, Mister Malfoy, but I don’t have you listed by name,” the witch squirmed uncomfortably. “But you’re with Harry Potter, so you can just go on in.”

“Unbelievable,” Draco muttered, throwing up his hands and turning away. “Un-fucking-believable.”

The young witch looked like she was about to cry, and Harry gave her a sympathetic smile.

“I’m sorry about him,” he gestured towards Draco’s back as the Slytherin moved towards their table. “He’s…touchy.”

“That’s okay,” she said, smiling up at him again, but Harry could see she was still vexed. “It was really great to meet you, Mister Potter. And thank you for signing my hand.”

“Happy to oblige,” Harry replied, patting her hand comfortingly and walking away. He didn’t see the little sigh she gave as she watched him leave the table.

**********

Harry found Draco making polite small talk with Amos Diggory and his wife. Laurel Diggory, Cedric’s mother, had made sure Harry had known that they didn’t blame him for Cedric’s death, and he felt ashamed that he hadn’t kept in touch better over the years. Amos still worked for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and rumor had it that he was training to take over the department once Newt Scamander decided to retire, with Hermione as his assistant. He was focused on the blonde, but Laurel broke away from her husband to meet Harry. He noticed that her eyes were filled with tears, but she looked overjoyed to see him.

He let her hug him, giving her a slight squeeze back, trying to suppress the guilt that he felt every time he saw them. She gave him a motherly kiss on the cheek and then threaded her arm through his as they walked back towards Amos and Draco.

“How’ve you been, Mrs. Diggory?” Harry asked formally.

“Harry, dear, how many times must I ask you to call me Laurel?” She reached up and fondly wiped away the smudge her lipstick had left on his cheek. “We’re doing much better. Amos is still working at the Ministry, obviously. You remember my little hair dressing hobby?”

Harry didn’t, but he nodded anyway to be polite.

“You remember how I used to cut hair out of my home,” she continued, not seeing Harry’s ‘smile and nod’. “I used to cut Cedric’s hair all the time. Well, I finally opened my own little salon down in Ottery St. Catchpole, and business is thriving! I absolutely love it, and I’ve even started a couple of girls who are training with me and learning on the job.”

“That’s wonderful, Mrs. Diggory,” Harry replied, and his head snapped around as he heard Malfoy mention Cedric.

“—just amazing what Cedric did with the dragon in the first task,” Malfoy said, and Harry was rather surprised that Malfoy sounded SINCERE. Of course, the Slytherin had supported Cedric from the start during their fourth year for the TriWizard Tournament.

“Thank you again, lad, for your kind words about our son,” Amos replied, and Harry noticed with pity and guilt that his eyes seemed a little glassy. Even six years later, apparently, Mister Diggory still got emotional when speaking about Cedric and Laurel drifted back to her husband’s side, smiling graciously at Malfoy.

“Yes, thank you, Mister Malfoy,” she said, and Harry was surprised as the blonde took her hand gently and brushed his lips over her knuckles in a truly aristocratic gesture.

“Please, call me Draco,” he murmured. “While Cedric and I weren’t really friends, I DID look up to him, especially in Quidditch.”

“Draco, you’re too kind,” Laurel said, her voice beginning to sound choked up. She held her free hand out to Harry, and the Gryffindor stepped forward. Draco jolted, not realizing Harry was behind him. “And Harry, we still can’t thank you enough for what you did for our boy.”

“No, please, Mrs. Diggory,” Harry’s protest trailed off as she squeezed his hand firmly. “Well, we should probably be finding our seats, Malfoy.”

“Oh, are you two together?” Laurel sounded surprised, and Harry and Draco shared a quick moment of panic.

“Well, it’s complicated,” Draco began to reply, but just then Amos interrupted politely, having spotted someone else with whom he needed to speak, apologizing but sweeping his wife away to another table, and Draco sighed gratefully. They noticed that everyone was sitting except for a straggling few.

“That was close,” Harry mumbled as they quickly walked to the table. He took the seat next to the Minister, while Draco sat on his other side. Odessa’s husband, Andrew, sat on her other side, a polite but empty smile on his face as he looked around the room with vacant eyes.

**********

Several little old witches hobbled up to him almost immediately, not caring one whit that they were among the last ones standing as doors at the far end of the room opened and waiters began appearing with the first course of the meal. The elderly witches took turns holding his hand in their fragile ones and pinching his cheeks predictably with the other ones, cackling among themselves about how young and handsome Harry was and just who was the dashing gentleman he was with. Harry blanched for a second, still not having a good answer for that question, glancing at Draco with slightly widened eyes for help.

“I’m the new beau,” Draco said smoothly, taking their hands one at a time and brushing his lips across the backs of them, quelling his shudder of disgust at their knobby, wrinkled skin. He shot Potter an irritated look that said, You should have thought of that. Idiot.

“Oh, how long have you two been together?” One of the little witches got misty-eyed, turning back to pat Harry’s hand in approval.

“It’s recent,” Harry said with a forced smile.

“Yes, it was one of those secret, childhood crushes,” Draco got a rather Slytherin inspiration, grinning wickedly. “It was quite pathetic, really. He just pined and pined away for me his entire life until work finally threw us together, and he was able to admit how in love with me he’d been. Obsessed, actually, is probably a better way to describe it.”

Glee worked itself over Draco’s handsome face while something akin to horror covered Harry’s, and Draco had to work at controlling himself so as not to giggle aloud at the way Harry’s mouth dropped open slightly and his eyes narrowed. Luckily the little old witches seemed to be too enamored with them, or perhaps more blind and deaf than they wanted to let on, because they didn’t find anything amiss, exclaiming among themselves the beauty of young love.

“What are you doing?” Harry hissed, mouthing the words rather than actually saying them.

“Just having a bit of fun, my love,” Draco replied audibly, sweetly, while their audience swooned at the pet name. Harry’s stomach gave a little flutter, as well, but he attributed it to his growing homicidal tendency rather than anything so Hufflepuffly as ‘swooning’. “Oh dear, I’ve embarrassed him, telling you that.”

“You’ll be making it up to him in the bedroom, no doubt,” one of the little old ladies said quite matter-of-factly, causing them all to titter while Harry’s and Draco’s eyes bulged at her bluntness at a public function. Choking sounds came from next to Harry, and the Gryffindor spun around to see Odessa choking on her water while her husband put his arm around her back.

“Minister?” Harry asked in a businesslike voice.

“I’m fine…Harry,” she said, coughing in between the words. “Just…drank at the…wrong moment. Go back to your conversation,” she gave him an amused grin that meant she had been listening, and then turned back to the conversation she had been having with the higher-ups sitting across the table from them as the waiters made it over to their table, swift and silent in their graceful placing of the appetizer plates in front of each diner.

Of course she was listening, Harry realized. She has to reap the benefits of what she’s sown. Bloody hag. Then he felt guilty for calling the most powerful woman in all of Britain a hag, even if it was just in his head, and he blushed, turning back to the conversation with Malfoy to find all of the little old witches staring at him with undisguised, heartsick expressions as Malfoy was apparently giving them a blow-by-blow (no pun intended) of Harry’s obsession with him throughout their childhood. He smiled uncomfortably while he let his hatred shine through his emerald eyes, sending silent death threats to his new partner if he didn’t shut up. Malfoy seemed unperturbed, which gave Harry his own Slytherin inspiration. If the git wanted to play dirty, Harry would show him dirty.

“Oh, snookums,” he interrupted, leaning forward and putting his hand on Malfoy’s knee, rubbing it JUST A LITTLE WAYS up his thigh. “We’ve forgotten the time. Let’s go take your medication, okay, sweetie?” He batted his eyelashes at Draco, fighting down the intrigued interest his cock had taken at where his hand currently was. Harry mentally patted himself on the back in victory when Malfoy’s voice abruptly grew colder, whereas before it was that sickly-sweet fakeness.

“I don’t take medication, DEAR,” Draco replied through clenched teeth. Harry just gave a small laugh and stood. The little old ladies nodded in understanding as Harry grabbed Malfoy’s hand, not giving him a choice but to stand next to him. The blonde seemed to forget their cover as a ‘happy couple’ as he glared ferociously at Harry, who smirked back, snaking his arm possessively around Malfoy’s slender waist so that he couldn’t run off or sit back down.

“He always says that,” Harry winked at their audience, playing to them just as effectively as Draco himself had, and Draco found himself hating the Gryffindor all the more while admiring his matched Slytherin tendencies. “Excuse us.”

Harry forgot that they were supposed to remain in the vicinity of the Minister at all times and began dragging Draco towards the bathroom. Draco allowed himself to be pulled along, smiling graciously at the different people they passed and occasionally giving a small half-wave at someone another table over. Harry marched them into the men’s loo, and as soon as he had checked to ensure their privacy, he cast a Locking Charm on the door and Silenced the room so that no one could overhear them.

**********

“What the fuck are you doing, Malfoy?” Harry shoved the blonde into the middle of the room, glaring furiously, all pretenses gone.

“Having a bit of fun, Potter,” Draco smirked. “Oh, come on now, SNOOKUMS, don’t be like that.”

“Bite me, Malfoy,” he growled, but the homicidal urge had passed. Harry preferred to think of it as the obvious fact that he would never get away with murdering Malfoy in the bathroom of this function rather than ACTUAL mercy.

“Tell me where, Potter,” Draco’s eyes lit up as he found a new way to mess with Harry’s head. He moved closer to the Gryffindor, whose emotions showed plainly on his face. Potter had that ‘Snitch-in-the-headlights’ look.

“Get…get away from me,” Harry said uneasily as the Slytherin smiled, reminiscent of a shark, and came closer to him. To his surprise, Malfoy threw back his head and laughed.

“You don’t mean that,” he challenged, and Harry swallowed hard. “Besides, it wasn’t like it wasn’t true. You WERE obsessed with me!”

“Only sixth-year!” Harry protested automatically, thinking of the fights he, Ron, and Hermione used to have about how Harry had lost interest in Quidditch, academics, and pretty much everything else in favor of following Malfoy around under his Invisibility Cloak. He suddenly realized the implication of what he said, and Malfoy’s triumphant grin showed that HE had caught Harry’s admission, and he flushed, trying to undo the damage. “I mean, um, I was NOT obsessed with you!”

“Liar,” Draco chuckled, and to his surprise, he found that he wasn’t angry at the Gryffindor in the least for spying on him all those years, the way he expected to be. Instead, he felt something more akin to satisfaction that Potter HAD been paying attention to him, even when Draco had thought that he wasn’t.

Harry’s body stiffened visibly when Malfoy began fingering his bow tie in what Harry would call a seductive manner. He willed his cock not to betray him.

“Oh, and Potter,” Draco purred. “You look adequately handsome.”

“Th-thanks,” Harry stuttered, thrown off-balance by the change in his former rival’s demeanor. He knew that Malfoy saw his Adam’s apple bob as the Slytherin tugged his tie loose and began unbuttoning the top three buttons of Harry’s dress shirt, but mercifully, he didn’t comment. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“You’ll see,” was the mysterious reply, and Harry’s breath caught in his throat. It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable being in such close proximity to a guy; he WAS gay, after all, and comfortable with the notion. It was the fact that it was MALFOY who was making Harry’s breath come in quick pants, made doubly so after the prat dipped his blonde head unexpectedly, and Harry let out a ‘whoosh’ as a wet tongue swiped across his neck, just below his jaw bone.

He struggled to remain still, frozen in mingled horror and fascination up against the wall where Malfoy had pushed him, as his partner’s lips quickly followed in the wake of his tongue, and Harry’s knees nearly gave out. He fought to remain actively conscious as his cock twitched and lurched in response to the kisses and nibbles that Malfoy was placing down the side of his neck, teasing just below Harry’s ear and then moving down to his collarbone, shirt pulled aside.

“Ahhh, Ma-Malfoy,” Harry gasped, his hands rising to the blonde’s shoulders of their own accord, but they didn’t push him away. The pleasurable sensations continued to send jolt after jolt of electricity straight to his nether regions, and he knew that he would come in his pants if Malfoy didn’t cut it out. Harry’s head sank back and connected with the wall, but he couldn’t be arsed to care because Malfoy’s mouth was working over his skin, and Harry never wanted him to stop.

“Close,” he whimpered, warning the blonde just as the game took a turn for the worse when he clamped his teeth onto the space between Harry’s neck and shoulder and BIT him HARD! “Augh! FUCK!” Harry screamed, his eyes flying open as he jerked away reflexively. At least the problem of his hard-on had been taken care of, and Harry glared at Malfoy dangerously.

“Don’t tell me to bite you, Potter, if you don’t ACTUALLY want to be bitten,” Draco smirked. Suddenly there was a pounding at the door, and they could hear Kingsley Shacklebolt’s voice calling their names. Confused and hurt, Harry pushed his personal problems away as he dispelled the Locking Charm. Draco walked over to the door and opened it, letting Kingsley in.

The black man looked furious, which was alarming to Harry more so than Draco.

“Just WHAT are the two of you doing?” He said in a low voice. “I come over to the table, only to find the Minister alone and with just her husband for protection SHOULD something happen—not that we expect it to tonight, but better safe than sorry—and when I enquire as to where my two best Aurors are, I’m told they’re ‘indisposed in the restroom’ with a wink and a sexual innuendo!”

“No, sir, nothing like that,” Harry said quickly, belatedly forgetting that his shirt was undone. Kingsley raised his eyebrow and pointed to Harry’s collar.

“Then why are you unbuttoned?” Their supervisor asked, and Harry flushed. Luckily, Draco had pulled his shirt back over so that the bruise Harry KNEW he would have wasn’t visible.

“Potter’s undershirt wasn’t straight,” Draco jumped in. “I was helping him fix it, and I was just about to put him back together. Honestly, Kingsley, you know him; what a slob he is. I just couldn’t let him sit through the entire evening with a crooked undershirt.” The blonde moved back over to Harry, who barely managed not to flinch at the last second as pale hands stole out to button him back up. He was waiting for excessive force that would exacerbate his secret wound, but the long-fingered hands were exceedingly gentle. Draco kept his eyes on Potter’s throat, expertly retying the bowtie.

“We’re rivals,” the Slytherin said, turning his back to Harry as he addressed Kingsley again. “We hate each other, but SOMEONE thought it would be a good idea to make us act like a couple for SOMEONE’s own sick and twisted amusement. Excuse US for pausing a moment to get used to the concept.”

Their supervisor coughed indelicately, flushing at his Auror’s self-righteous tone, knowing that it HAD been unfair to spring this on them. It wasn’t like they would’ve taken the news any better with more preparation, Kingsley reasoned, though, not feeling too badly that his decision to tell them last-minute had thoroughly shocked them.

“Ah, yes, well, even so,” he stammered. “Your first priority should be the Minister’s safety, and not pissing with each other to find out who’s better. And Malfoy, good story, really. It would’ve been plausible if only Harry had been WEARING an undershirt.”

With that, the Head Auror turned his back and left the restroom. Draco smacked himself on the forehead, having blurted out the first thing that popped into his head.

“Nice going,” Potter’s sulky tone made Draco’s head shoot up. “You got us in trouble.”

“Me? You’re the one who got us in trouble!” Draco snarled, but there was no real malice in it. It was more a reflexive counter-argument than an actual accusation.

“Might I remind you that I am the one who just got bitten? And that fucking hurt, Malfoy!”

“Good,” Draco sneered. “Maybe it’ll teach you to THINK before you open your mouth.”

“What about YOU, throwing that hissy fit at the welcome table? It wasn’t HER fault your name wasn’t on the bloody list!” Harry interrupted.

“How would YOU like to be referred to as the great and glorious Harry Potter’s ‘guest’?” Draco seethed. “As if I were a bloody girl! If anything, YOU are the girl in this relationship, Potter!”

“For the record, I really like having a penis,” Harry replied, trying to diffuse the blonde’s anger since Harry was tired of fighting.

“Shut up! I don’t care about your penis,” Draco huffed, blushing. “And don’t try to be a Slytherin, Potter. It’s unbecoming of a Gryffindork.”

He whirled around and left the restroom before Potter saw the admiration for his Slytherin tendencies that were in direct contradiction to his assertion. Harry gaped after him, trying not to think about Draco thinking about his penis, but he pulled himself together quickly, dispelling the remaining charms on the room and returned to his seat.

**********

The blonde had already started on his calamari appetizer, ignoring Harry as he sat down. Odessa and Andrew were mildly glaring at each other when Draco had returned to the table; he frowned but didn’t say anything. By the time Harry sat, they were each engaged in conversation with someone else. Harry had to admit that the appetizer; the artichoke heart, walnut, and parmesan salad with raspberry vinaigrette dressing; and the main course of roast duck in a light, tangy orange sauce with mashed potatoes and crispy vegetables were delicious.

The courses passed uneventfully once Harry and Draco got used to someone interrupting their eating every few bites to shake one or the other’s hand, lamenting someone who they both knew and had a connection to. Draco noticed with alarm that the Gryffindor’s face grew darker and darker with each person that stopped to talk to them. After the umpteenth person turned to make small talk with the Minister before returning to their seat, Harry stabbed his fork viciously into the meat, cutting it vehemently with his knife.

“Relax, Potter,” Draco nudged Harry’s shoulder with his own, leaning his blonde head in closer. “Take deep breaths; that’s it. Calm yourself. We have to stay alert, remember?”

Harry was surprised at the compassion in the Slytherin’s voice, but he closed his eyes, following instructions, and felt his rage slipping away, much to his surprise. He gave himself a mental kick, reminding himself that Malfoy was right. Harry couldn’t afford to let anger or regret cloud his mind; the people he loved that they were here to remember were dead, and nothing would bring them back. Harry had to stay focused on his job—protecting the Minister—because she was still alive and needed to remain so on Harry’s watch.

The sound of someone clearing their throat jolted him out of his reverie, and his head snapped up to see a rather rotund wizard standing behind a podium on the stage that was almost directly in front of their table, but that Harry had failed to notice until just then. The people sitting across from them had to turn their chairs to look at the opening speaker, the head of the organization committee that planned the Remembrance Ball.

“Welcome, everyone,” the wizard jumped in shock as his voice boomed through the room when he spoke into the Muggle microphone that Arthur Weasley had (before his untimely death) successfully adapted to wizarding situations that required a loud voice. “Thank you to everyone for attending the fourth annual Remembrance Ball as we gather together to celebrate our newfound freedom, thanks to our very own Mister Harry Potter,” Harry tried not to roll his eyes as the room broke into spontaneous applause. Even four years later, people still referred to Voldemort’s death as ‘recent’.

“And also to remember those who were taken from us much too soon, but remember, people, this shouldn’t be a mournful occasion. In that spirit, once the speakers have concluded with their remarks, I would like to invite you to the ballroom just through that doorway there for a bit of after-dinner dancing.

“I would like to take a moment to recognize the committee that organized this wonderful event, of which I am the head,” the wizard paused expectantly while the audience chuckled politely. Harry frowned as Odessa got up, motioning for the two of them to stay put. He ignored the chocolate mousse dessert that the waiter placed in front of him, watching as the Minister made her way to the side of the stage and waited patiently while several other witches and wizards stood for recognition.

“And now, as you all enjoy coffee and dessert, let me introduce our very own Minister of Magic, Odessa Tamber,” the wizard concluded, beginning the applause as Odessa walked up the steps, shook the committee chair’s hand, and took her place behind the podium with the grace of the seasoned politician she was.

“Thank you ever so much, Hal,” she said, smiling sideways as the portly wizard nodded and left the stage. “I would also like to extend my welcome to you, as well as my gratitude for your support this evening. As you know, all of the proceeds from this event go to help defray the medical costs for those who are still in the care of St. Mungo’s due to a war-related injury.” She paused as everyone nodded and murmured.

“Obviously, there are no words that can undo the damage He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has inflicted upon our country, upon our families, upon our hearts. There are few words that can soothe the grief over the loss of a loved one. But I know without a doubt that those who are no longer with us are watching us from above. They have become our guardian angels, protecting us and giving us the strength to carry on with their memory, their blessing. Please raise your glasses with me in a moment of silent tribute to those who sacrificed so unselfishly so that our children might grow up in a world free from tyranny.”

Odessa raised the water glass she had taken with her, while Draco raised his coffee mug. Harry, too, picked up his coffee, his eyes blurring as he tried to suppress the faces of the people he had lost to Voldemort. Blindly, he heard Odessa keep speaking as he took a big gulp of the burning coffee, yelping softly as his tongue was singed. Harry felt the tip of Draco’s wand pressing into his cheek immediately, and not a second later, the burning sensation was replaced with the cool tingling of healing magic. He didn’t dare look at his partner, but he inclined his head and gave a tight, sideways smile, hoping Draco would take it as a ‘thank you’.

He blinked several times and tried to refocus on what Odessa was saying. She introduced two people to speak whom Harry didn’t know: a woman who talked about her husband’s brutal murder at the hands of the Death Eaters in Northern Ireland, as well as the man who had single-handedly led the Wales’ wizarding rebellion against Voldemort.

“And now I would like to introduce to you two very brave soldiers whose gadgets aided immensely with capturing several dozen Death Eaters in the aftermath of that monster’s death,” Odessa said, and Harry had a moment of panic that it was him and Draco. “Fred and George Weasley have suffered grave personal losses, but the fact that they are the proprietors of one of the most successful joke shops—as well as one of the defense suppliers for the Ministry—in all of England shows that they know the importance of laughter.”

Harry was stricken as he watched the pair of identical redheads enter the stage from the opposite side that Odessa had. She shook their hands and then stood back as they flanked the podium. The audience clapped politely as murmurs began when George solemnly turned his head so that his missing ear was prominent.

“Thank you, Minister,” Fred said. “As you can see, my brother George here gave the Dark Prat an ear, which is more than can be said for the cheek he gives his wife.” Fred grinned knowingly as the audience groaned at the bad pun. “They say that we were given two ears and only one mouth because we’re supposed to listen twice as much as we talk.”

“But now this means I get to talk more, and Fred has to listen,” George finished, a comical smirk appearing. “It’s probably a good thing he didn’t lose his tongue or else we would’ve had a devil of a time coming up with good tongue-in-cheek routines.” There were more friendly groans.

“We also have two eyes and only one nose because we’re supposed to see twice as much as we can smell,” Fred continued.

“Which is also good for me since his feet are RIPE,” George replied, inclining his head towards Fred as the audience broke out into open laughter. “But I gotta say, no one beats our brother in that department. Ronnie, it’s a good thing Hermione’s always got her nose stuck in a book, because if she could smell you, man, you would’ve been dateless tonight.”

Harry’s head, Draco noticed, whipped around in the direction that Fred and George were smirking, and sure enough, Granger and Weasley were sitting at a table on the far side of the room, along with the remaining Weasley family members and appropriate spouses. Granger was giggling behind her hand (which Draco thought a most unappetizing sight and pushed his half-finished dessert away) while the Weasel was red in the face, raising a hand to acknowledge the good-natured ribbing he was taking. Since the back of Harry’s head was to Draco, the blonde DIDN’T see the hurt look that crossed Harry’s face whenever anything Weasley was mentioned, but he sensed a level of fragility in Harry’s aura with regard to that particular blood-traitor family.

“And we were also surprised to see the amazing ferret in attendance tonight,” Fred said. “Glad he could take time off from his busy schedule to ‘bounce’ by.”

“Well, Fred, rumor has it that he’s been one of the most successful Aurors at catching the renegade Death Eaters,” George smirked. “But you know all he has to do is issue them an invitation to dinner, since he knows them all by name.”

“That’s right, Georgie, but watch out for that mead,” Fred’s sneering face matched George’s; it was only because Harry knew them so well that he noticed the cruel nature of their smirking. Harry bristled with anger on Draco’s behalf. He was grateful that they didn’t actually call him out by name like they did Ron, but they had dropped enough hints that anyone with half a brain could figure out who they were mocking.

He peeked around, noticing that most of the people surrounding them were glancing surreptitiously at Draco, whose face had hardened into an unreadable mask. He looked at the blonde, noticing the muscles of his jaw twitching, and on impulse (and to help their cover as dates, he rationalized to himself later) Harry reached over and tried to take Draco’s hand. The Slytherin jerked away, purely out of instinct and reflex, as if Harry had scalded him, so he settled for resting his hand supportively on Draco’s thigh under the table, hoping that Draco wouldn’t think he was trying to grope him.

“Alright, folks, enough taking the piss,” George bowed his head, turning serious. “As the Minister said, laughter helps, but it doesn’t take away the fact that everyone in this room has suffered. We are grateful that you allow us to help bring some cheer into your lives.”

“And we’re grateful for your Galleons that support us,” Fred smiled a little, which helped to lighten the sudden heaviness that George initiated. “And tonight we’d like to mention a small tribute to four people who couldn’t be here.” Harry’s heart began to beat wildly in his chest. “A lot of you remember our mum and dad, Arthur and Molly Weasley, who died four years ago Easter.”

“We still think of you every time Fred blows something up, Dad,” George inclined his eyes toward the ceiling as the audience chuckled sadly. “And Mum, Ron’s definitely lost a lot of weight over the years. From what I understand, Hermione’s a good cook, but no one could match you in the kitchen.”

Draco pulled himself out of his own angry thoughts to cover Harry’s hand with his own, rubbing soothingly as he covertly glanced over to the Weasley table to see Granger’s head buried in her fiancée’s shoulder, sobbing. He grimaced, thinking that it was only perhaps slightly less disgusting than her laughter had been, but he tactfully kept that comment to himself.

“Charlie, we hear that Romania just isn’t the same without you,” Fred said, his voice noticeably thicker than before. “And we are forever grateful to you for talking us out of trying to follow your lead and become dragon-keepers because it’s been proven that George would rather wrestle his little Adelinda than an ACTUAL Hungarian Horntail.”

“Her name means ‘dragon’ in German, folks, if you didn’t catch that reference,” George broke in, elbowing Fred as he smiled at his wife, sitting next to Fred’s wife, Angelina. The audience tittered appropriately, responding with small laughs to the light humor without breaking the somber mood.

“And last but absolutely never least, our little sister, Ginny,” Fred’s voice broke as he and George put their arms around each other, but still faced the audience. “Believe it or not, she actually DID date quite a bit, despite having six fiercely protective older brothers.”

Draco felt Harry tremble, and he tried to be inconspicuous as he scooted his chair closer, keeping one hand on Harry’s (which was still on Draco’s knee) as he patted Harry’s shoulder with the other hand, knowing that this couldn’t be an easy time for the Gryffindor. The blonde glared at the stage, willing the Weasel clones not to call attention to Harry.

“And though she was taken from us needlessly and way too soon,” George grimaced, and Draco clenched his jaw again, itching to hex the prat for indirectly alluding to Harry’s failure. “I know she’s up there, playing a mean game of Quidditch for Heaven’s team. We love you, Sis. Thank you, everyone.”

Draco was furious as the room broke into applause as Fred and George made their way back to their seats. Everyone was wiping their eyes or blowing their noses as Odessa took the podium again.

“Thank you, Fred and George,” she said, a tear trickling down her cheek as she smiled at their backs. “The next guest will be our final speaker, and I would like to remind you that once he’s finished, you are all invited to retire to the ballroom for a bit of dancing. Without further ado, our concluding speaker tonight is none other than the Chosen One himself, Mister Harry Potter!”

Harry’s head shot up as his name was called; he was in no condition to speak, but his body got up jerkily. He cast a terrified look at Draco as he stumbled toward the stage, having had no idea he would have to speak. He HATED speaking with a passion (which was the reason Odessa hadn’t mentioned it to him beforehand for fear that he would refuse) but especially now, he was wounded and vulnerable after hearing Fred and George talk about their dead family, HIS former family.

It was Draco’s turn to look stricken as Harry cast a pleading glance over his shoulder at him, but there was nothing Draco could do. He glared at the Minister who was smiling serenely as she met Harry halfway, shaking his hand. It looked like they exchanged quick words—her smile slipping a bit—as she made her way back to her seat and Harry went up to the podium, sweating and holding onto the edges with shaking hands.

“Odessa, what are you doing?” Harry hissed as the Minister reached for his hand, shaking it for the audience.

“I’m sorry, Harry, but you’ll do fine,” she whispered back.

“I don’t want to speak,” he said.

“You don’t have a choice,” she replied as she tried to ward off the frown that threatened to overtake her politician’s smile. “Now, go! Everyone’s waiting and watching.” And with that, she brushed past the Auror, smiling and nodding to people on her way.

While Odessa and Harry were having words, Andrew slipped from his seat and leaned down, speaking in Draco’s ear.

“I’m going to the bathroom; I’ll be back,” he whispered, and Draco jerked in surprise, recovered, and nodded, turning his attention back to Harry, who was looking out at the audience with a sheepish half-smile. Draco briefly glared fiercely at Odessa as she sat down in her seat, Harry’s empty chair between them, but if she noticed, she didn’t let it show.

“Th-thank you, Minister,” Harry stammered, trying to calm himself. “My apologies, I wasn’t made aware beforehand that I would be speaking.” He tried to smile as he watched Andrew get up from the table, speak to Draco, and walk towards the exit, slipping out into the hallway.

“I think that everyone else here has already said pretty much what I would have said. The war was unfair and marked us all. Some marks are more visible than others,” he joked, nervously carding his fingers through his fringe, pushing it aside to reveal the lightning bolt scar. “But just because you can’t see a scar, doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Everyone here has been incredibly brave, whether it was resisting Voldemort,” he couldn’t refrain from rolling his eyes as the room gave a collective gasp. “Or trying to rebuild your lives once he died. I admire everyone’s strength, and I’m proud to call you—Attack!”

Harry didn’t have time to notice the confused expressions on everyone’s faces as he interrupted himself, but his face went white and his eyes widened as he saw a wand poke through the doorway, aiming upward. The enormous crystal chandelier that was on one side of the room (opposite the Weasleys) broke free from the ceiling and sailed over to drop directly over where the Minister was sitting.

Harry’s split-second warning was all Draco needed, and as the chandelier fell, he lunged over Harry’s empty chair, tackling Odessa hard and sending them both tumbling over Andrew’s empty chair and onto the floor as they rolled. Luckily, there was an open area right in front, so they didn’t crash into another table or anyone’s chairs, but people were already on their feet, gasping and backing away in horror. Several women screamed as everyone shielded their faces when the chandelier shattered on the chair that Odessa had been sitting on. Draco landed on top of the Minister, and he curled around her protectively, covering his own face as well to avoid the flying glass.

Everything seemed to happen all at once and in slow motion. Harry had his wand out and was watching as the middle chandelier, directly above Draco and Odessa now, ripped free from the ceiling and dropped.

“Accio chandelier!” Harry screamed, pointing his wand and putting all of his strength behind the falling chandelier. It obeyed, changing direction in mid-air and came soaring towards him. Harry ducked and jumped off the stage as it crashed into the wall behind him, stepping up and over empty chairs, yelling for people to get out of his way as he took off after the holder of the wand in the hallway.

Kingsley jumped forward to haul Draco up as the blonde shakily tried to get to his feet while avoiding the glass that surrounded them. He looked just as shocked as Odessa as he helped her up as well. They exchanged worried glances while Draco pulled his wand, looking around to see if he could suss out the threat. He figured that Harry had taken off after the suspect, and part of him wanted to run and help his partner while another side demanded that he stay by the Minister’s side, even though the attack seemed to be over.

Hal, the committee chair, hurried up to the microphone, huffing and puffing as he tried not to slip on all of the glass, asking for everyone to please remain calm, to not panic, and to proceed into the ballroom in an orderly fashion so that they could safely leave once the authorities had investigated the area. There was a minor stampede as everyone turned and ran, but as they realized that there were no more attacks, they slowed down, though tempers still flared as everyone was on the edge and waiting to panic.

**********

Harry blasted out of the banquet hall, nearly tripping on an old man with a cane who was sprawled against the wall.

“Don’t bother with me!” The elderly man growled as Harry recovered himself and tried to reach down and grab the man’s arm. “He went that way! I’ll be fine, lad! Go get him!”

“What did he look like? Did you recognize him? Are you sure you don’t need help?” Harry asked the questions in a rapid-fire manner, half of him itching to continue the chase while the other half made him double-check that the little old man was okay before he just left.

“Tall, darker skinned, Greek-looking, even,” the man croaked. “Go!”

Harry didn’t waste another second and took off like a shot, rounding the corner like a pro. Down the next hallway, he came to a split. To his left, the front entrance of the building was three strides away. Straight ahead, it looked as if it went around to the side of the building. Harry made a split-second decision and continued straight. He pounded down the hallway, praying that he made the right choice. If the man had run out the front, there would HAVE to be witnesses, but if he made it out the back, where the alley was…

Harry burst out of the only exit at the end of the hallway, and several alley cats yowled in protest, scattering faster than cockroaches, tipping over a couple of random garbage cans. Feeling as if his lungs might explode, Harry stalked a few feet into the alley, trying to see if there were any nearby hiding holes. The small back-street itself seemed to be deserted, and Harry growled, creating a quick Anti-Apparition ward over the immediate vicinity, hoping that he might get lucky.

He went back into the building, doubling back on his tracks, where he ran into Andrew coming in from the front entrance. He nearly collided with the man, his arm shooting out to steady the Minister’s husband.

“Whoa, Harry, easy there,” Andrew grasped Harry’s arm back, his friendly smile fading as he took in Harry’s appearance. “Are you okay?”

“Attack…Odessa…culprit escaped…” Harry clutched his side as his lungs protested the adrenaline letdown and began to cramp.

“The dark-haired man that ran out of here five minutes ago?” Andrew thumbed over his shoulder, indicating the front entrance. Harry groaned, sagging just a bit. He had made the wrong decision.

“Did you get a good look at him?” He forced the sentence out without gasping as he tried to get his breathing back under control.

“Pretty good,” Andrew’s brow furrowed. “What about Odessa? Is she…”

“She’s fine, I think,” Harry paused. “Draco—I mean, Malfoy is still with her; I went chasing after this guy. I mean, I assume she’s fine, since she was fine when I left the room. Did you see which way the guy went?”

“Whoa, hold on,” Andrew stopped Harry as he tried to push past to go to the front door. “He’s long gone. He almost ran me down as I was coming back in, and I watched as he crossed the street and Apparated.”

“Damn it,” Harry swore, but Andrew’s wording sparked something in his memory. “Ran you down…the old man! Come on!”

Harry took off down the hallway again back to the reception room with Andrew hot on his heels, in surprisingly good shape for a man of his age. He rounded the corner and skidded to a stop. The old man was gone! He sensed Andrew stop behind him, and Harry turned to him, pointing at the spot where the old man was.

“The guy knocked an old man down as he was trying to get away,” Harry said quickly. “Did you see him?”

“The old man?” Andrew screwed up his face. Harry nodded, waiting for his answer.

“I did not,” the Minister’s husband replied, shaking his head sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s okay,” Harry said. “I just thought…if you’d have seen him, you might know who he was. I didn’t know him.”

“Well, he probably wasn’t that important anyway,” Andrew tried to reassure Harry, who threw him a quizzical look.

“Not that important? He’s the other eyewitness who could possibly identify our suspect,” Harry said shortly.

“Oh right,” Andrew frowned and then shrugged. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”

“No, you can,” Harry tried to shake off the irritation he felt at letting the bad guy get away. It wasn’t Andrew’s fault, and Harry knew he shouldn’t take it out on him. “You can look at photographs of current suspects to see if you recognize the guy, and if that doesn’t work, we can set you up with a sketch wizard. You said he had dark hair? Anything else in particular that you noticed?”

Andrew’s brow furrowed as he thought. He kept glancing to the closed door of the reception hall, and Harry realized he was probably worried about his wife. “His skin looked a couple of shades darker than yours,” the man answered finally. “If I had to guess, I’d say he had dark eyes too…but I’m not positive on that.”

“Tall, darker skin, dark hair and eyes, Greek-looking,” Harry muttered, running through a list of mug shots in his mind to see if any of the ones he remembered popped.

“Greek? Huh, that’s a fair way to describe him,” Andrew nodded.

“That’s what the old man said,” Harry replied distractedly. “Hey, maybe he went to the bathroom!” Harry pulled open the door and Andrew followed him in. They stopped short, watching the last of the crowd walk from the wrecked reception area into the ballroom. Andrew began to pick his way across the shattered glass while Harry headed for the men’s loo.

“Don’t disturb anything!” Harry called. “Oh, and tell Malfoy what you told me, alright?” He saw Andrew nod, concentrating on not slipping, while Harry ducked into the empty restroom to check for signs of the old man. Nothing. Disappointed, he caught sight of his reflection as he was about to head to the ballroom.

“You’re losing it, Potter,” he berated himself. “Way to fuck it all up. Get it together, you wanker.”

**********

Draco eyed the crowd, sticking close to the Minister’s side, as she engaged in a heated yet almost completely silent argument with the Head Auror. Being a Slytherin, eavesdropping was second nature to him, and he couldn’t help but sidle closer. He only caught bits and phrases.

“What was that?” Kingsley’s deep voice wasn’t as quiet as he thought, but Odessa’s reply was lost as Hal began speaking. He cursed, trying to tune the crowd out and focus on their conversation.

“—not part of the—”

“—discontinue—”

“No, it was working!”

“—too dangerous…turned serious now, Odessa,”

“—fluke, Kingsley…little while longer.”

“I don’t like it,” the black man folded his arms and glared. Odessa stared hard at him, suddenly noticing that Draco was trying to appear as if he weren’t listening.

“Nothing changes,” she said firmly, eyeing their supervisor. Draco wasn’t stupid or dim-witted. He had enough practice with deceit and lies to recognize it, and Odessa was expecting Kingsley to read between the lines of her seemingly-innocent statement. He also knew that questioning them about it would do no good, but he resolved to tell Potter as soon as he could.

“Minister, I think we should go ahead and get you into the ballroom, just to be on the safe side,” Draco said, taking her carefully by the elbow as he glared at Kingsley, trying to send the Head Auror a silent message that he knew something was up between the two of them and he didn’t appreciate being left out of the loop.

“Good thought, Draco,” Odessa replied, casting one last look around. “Where is Harry?”

“He took off after the suspect,” Draco said, praying that it was true enough. “Are you injured, Minister?”

“Just minor cuts from the glass,” Odessa smiled wryly. “And possible bruises from gymnastics and rolling I haven’t attempted since I was seven.”

“My apologies,” Draco flushed a pastel pink, remembering how he had dived into the woman.

“Not at all,” Odessa replied. “I’m still alive, and that’s the most important thing.” She took Draco’s arm, allowing him to maneuver them into the crowd heading into the ballroom. Draco kept his wand at his side, watching all around them with a sharp eye, hoping that keeping the Minister in the midst of the large group of people would thwart any possible sniper attempts by not giving them a clear shot. Kingsley followed them, still upset over the conversation.

**********

There were several other Aurors in attendance, including Tonks, who made their way over to Shacklebolt once the trio had staked out a place in the ballroom. The men made Odessa sit while Draco stood guard over her protectively. Draco nodded grimly to his fellow Aurors; of them, only Tonks gave him a friendly wink. The others either didn’t like him or didn’t trust him; Draco wasn’t sure which, but he didn’t really care. There were a couple of the junior Aurors who he got along with passing well, enough to be partners for a short time, but on the whole, Draco preferred working alone to working with someone who glared at him all the time.

“Wotcher, Kingsley!” Tonks exclaimed. Her hair was snow-white, a sign of her being shocked. “That was some excitement! What do we do?”

“All of you, split the crowd into groups,” Kingsley turned away from Odessa and Draco to dole out orders. “Get the name of everyone in your group and then start taking statements as soon as possible. Anyone we don’t get to right now will be brought in for questioning tomorrow. Keep your ears open for similar descriptions OR conflicting evidence, and we’ll start cross-referencing everyone’s statement with where they were sitting and our own memories of the event.”

The Aurors nodded and spread out, doing as Kingsley asked, while he stayed with Odessa and Draco. The blonde kept an eye out for Harry, beginning to get anxious to find out where his partner was. He shook his head, trying to dispel the image of Harry lying on the floor in some deserted corridor, bleeding from an ambush because Draco didn’t go to back him up.

He started when Andrew walked up to them, looking quite grim.

“Andrew!” Odessa exclaimed, jumping up from her chair, and Draco noticed the surprised tone in her voice, as if she had forgotten about him until he appeared in front of them.

“Odessa! Are you alright?” Andrew’s face showed concern, but as he got nearer, Draco noticed that he dropped his half-raised arms as if not expecting a hug. Then as an afterthought, they both partially glanced around and embraced, but it was stiff and seemed staged. Draco made a note of that to ponder later.

“Where were you?” She asked.

“I was going to go to the bathroom, as I mentioned to Draco,” Andrew inclined his head towards the blonde Auror, who nodded in agreement. “But then I got really hot and just needed some fresh air. I went out to the front of the building, and when I was trying to come back in, your suspect pushed past me and Apparated. I’m so sorry, ‘Dessie. I would’ve stopped him, but I didn’t know until I came back inside and ran into Harry that he was even important.”

“Wait, you saw Harry—I mean, Potter?” Draco interrupted, eyes narrowed.

“Yeah, he said to tell you that the guy is Greek,” Andrew replied, shifting uncomfortably under Draco’s scrutinizing gaze. “Tall, dark hair and eyes; I’ll be glad to help to see if I recognize his face and give you a sketch if I don’t.”

“Thanks,” Draco replied suspiciously. “So where is my partner now?” He was so focused on Andrew that he missed the fleeting look of triumph that Odessa shot Kingsley.

“He went to the bathroom,” Andrew replied, turning and looking over his shoulder. “There he is, just now.”

Draco craned his neck, spotting Harry making his way through the crowd just as Andrew pointed him out. He fought down the urge to berate the Gryffindor for charging after the suspect without backup, but the angry, self-loathing look in Harry’s eye said it all.

“Potter,” he said, inclining his head. A cursory inspection showed that Harry didn’t LOOK injured, at least on the outside, minus minor cuts, again from the shattered glass. “Any luck?”

“No,” Harry huffed, and Draco’s guess that Harry was frustrated with himself proved correct. “He got away.”

“We’ll get him,” Draco leaned in and spoke softly. Harry practically did a double take, but after his blink, the blonde’s caring attitude had been buried again, and he was all business. “If he was here, he had to be on the guest list. We’ll figure out who he is.”

“Unless he was just listed as ‘guest’,” Harry replied sharply, not needing to add ‘just like you’ to make his point.

“In that case,” Draco said, controlling his temper and reminding himself that they needed to work together, and if he snapped Potter’s head off, that couldn’t happen. “One of the invited will give us a matching description, and then we can get his name from them.”

“Do you remember seeing an old man with a cane?” Harry asked suddenly, and Draco couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes at his partner’s apparent randomness.

“Potter, it was a REMEMBRANCE event,” Draco said dryly, trying to control his scathing tone. “That describes a good portion of the attendees. Look around you.”

Harry obeyed, seeing that Malfoy was, indeed, correct that there seemed to be an exceptional amount of men with canes, but considering that a lot of these wizards had fought and been injured in one of the wars against Voldemort, it wasn’t all THAT strange when he thought about it.

“Right, thanks,” he mumbled absently, starting to drift away from his partner as he intently scanned the faces of the nearest men, trying to remember clearly the little old man from the hallway. He had been lying down, so Harry hadn’t gotten a good indication of how tall he was, but he had seemed frail enough that Harry needed to help him up. Still, the old man HAD refused his help…

Draco’s brow furrowed as Harry turned away and was about to go wandering aimlessly through the throng of people. He reached out and grabbed Harry’s wrist, plucking the Gryffindor back and causing him to stumble into Draco as he was yanked from his thoughts.

“Oi, what?” Harry blinked, finding himself almost nose to nose with Malfoy. He tried to step back, but Draco still had hold of his arm and was glaring at him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Draco said. “You’re supposed to be here, helping me guard the Minister!”

“The attack is over,” Harry pointed out. “You’re doing fine on your own; I don’t need to be here to relieve you, so stop whining.”

“I’m not whining…” Draco trailed off, realizing that Harry thought he was trying to get Harry to do his job for him.

“Anyway, this little old man is another witness, and I want to find him before he leaves,” Harry said, not noticing the stricken expression on Draco’s face. “Tough it out for a bit longer, ‘kay? I’ll be right back.”

“Git,” Draco muttered, glaring daggers at Harry’s back as the Boy Who Lived slipped off into the crowd. “Little old man, my arse.”

“I know,” Draco jumped as Andrew spoke right in his ear. “I told him that the old man probably wasn’t important, but he doesn’t listen.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Draco agreed, fuming. “He just charges in like the stupid, noble Gryffindor arse he is—” Draco abruptly cut himself off, realizing that he was revealing too much, especially with Kingsley standing right there and still glaring at him.

“Well, you seem fairly logical and reasonable,” Andrew replied, falsely cheerful as if he were trying to maintain a positive attitude despite their current situation. “He should listen to you. You can probably get him to understand.”

“He doesn’t listen to anyone,” Draco murmured. “Least of all me.”

“You’re one to talk of ‘understanding’ and ‘logic’, Andy,” Odessa spoke up sharply, and Draco blinked, forcing Potter from his mind to observe the harsh look that crossed the couple’s faces as Andrew turned to look at his wife.

“I’m very logical, Odessa,” Andrew said through gritted teeth, and Draco got the distinct impression that they were having a deeper argument than it appeared on the surface. “And you know I HATE that nickname.”

“Just as much as I loathe ‘Dessie’,” she spat back. “But for someone so smart, you don’t understand. And then your assumptions lead you to do foolish things.”

“It takes one to know one,” Andrew said quietly, and Odessa’s mouth dropped open as her face drained of color. Just as quickly, she snapped it shut, glaring at him.

“We’ll continue this later,” she muttered, smoothing her face back into a politician’s smile as Hal and several other committee members approached them, asking for her to say a few words about cooperating with the authorities and when she thought they would be released to leave.

“Can’t wait,” Draco heard Andrew breathe back. “You unfaithful bitch.”

“What was that?” Draco curled his lip into a sneer as he looked at Andrew, who appeared guilty for a second before the expression was wiped away.

“I said, she’s an ungrateful witch,” he repeated. “She didn’t even thank you for saving her life, did she?” Draco pursed his lips as he surveyed her husband but finally shook his head. Just then, Harry reappeared, looking doubly frustrated.

“No sign of him anywhere,” he huffed. “He must have left right after I talked to him. Slipped out a side door or something.”

“Oh, come off it, Potter,” Draco snapped, glad to at least have a small outlet for some of his irritation that suddenly overwhelmed him again. “We have more important things to worry about than your nonexistent old man.”

Harry gaped at the Slytherin, wondering what his malfunction was. He had appreciated Draco’s surprising empathy over the suspect’s evasion, but the cause or reason for his sudden mood swing completely escaped Harry.

“What crawled up your arse and died, SWEETIE?” Harry shot back, putting a sarcastic emphasis on the pet name since they were ‘supposed’ to be acting like a couple, if their cover wasn’t blown already.

“Your pathetic little pin-dick, DEAR,” Draco was pissed and didn’t miss a beat, batting his eyelashes back at Potter as they glared at each other as fiercely as Odessa and Andrew had been eyeing each other moments ago. He allowed himself his trademark sneer (that he knew Harry HATED) when the Gryffindor blanched, thrown off-balance by the allusion to anal sex with Draco.

They were interrupted when Odessa called the room to attention, asking for everyone’s cooperation with the Aurors and respectfully asked that anyone who hadn’t already given their statement to please come to the Ministry tomorrow (Wednesday) to do so in the hopes that the guilty party or parties might be identified and apprehended swiftly. Kingsley gave permission for those who had spoken to an Auror to leave, as long as the Ministry knew the fastest way to contact them, and Astoria Greengrass, along with her older sister Daphne and several of her Slytherin girlfriends, was asked by her father to return to the welcome table and get contact information for everyone who wished to leave.

Draco eyed the high-ranking Ministry official with something akin to contempt as the man kissed his daughters on the cheek. William Greengrass was a pureblood whose oldest daughter, Daphne, had been in Slytherin with Draco and was friends with Pansy Parkinson. Her younger sister, Astoria, had been in the same House two years their junior, but she looked remarkably like Daphne, which was why she had seemed familiar when they walked in the door. Unlike Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco, whose fathers had all been known to be Death Eaters, William Greengrass and Edward Parkinson were never proven to have joined Voldemort’s followers, though the Ministry had investigated them just after his death. Greengrass, especially, was thought to have partially funded some of the Death Eater activities while Parkinson appeared merely sympathetic to their ideas about blood status.

Luckily for Draco, the formal enquiries took place before and during his Auror training, so he wasn’t required to go out and question his former friends’ parents. Otherwise, Pansy, Daphne, and Astoria might have refused to speak with him altogether. There were many, Draco knew, who disagreed with Greengrass’ presence at the Remembrance Ball, but he had managed to keep his nose clean enough to stay off of the radar and thus allowed to retain his rank and occupation within the Ministry. The Parkinson family, Draco had noted, was not in attendance tonight, and Draco made another mental note to discreetly owl Pansy to see if there was any connection.

**********

It was nearly midnight before Kingsley called an end to the first round of statements. He collected the parchments from his exhausted team, telling them to continue in the morning with the witches and wizards in ‘their’ group while the Aurors who weren’t in attendance started going over the statements and compiling them. Odessa told Harry quietly that she would be fine and that they could go home and get some sleep. Harry had protested, but she had asserted that she would be accompanied by Andrew, and that she was relatively safe in the Ministry. Kingsley didn’t think that the attacker or attackers would move again so soon, so Harry and Draco would be free to head up the investigation until their presence was required at another function to protect the Minister.

They had avoided speaking to each other since their argument was cut off by Odessa’s speech. Harry was polite enough, while Draco came off as stiff and formal whenever they were forced to interact. Gradually, they softened as the night went on, and by the time Kingsley practically threw them out, they had reestablished a fragile cease-fire, though neither had forgotten the other’s words, and Harry had steadfastly avoided the thoughts of his dick (tiny or no) up Draco’s arse.

“Alright, I guess this is good night, Potter,” Draco turned to his partner and dutifully held out his hand. Harry, meanwhile, had focused on a spot across the street and brushed past Draco, ignoring the outstretched hand in favor of stomping across the street. “Potter?”

“This is where Andrew said the suspect Apparated,” Harry replied with a frown, pulling his wand and waving it. “I can’t detect any traces of magic here, even faint ones.”

“Let me try, then,” Draco heaved a sigh, knowing that the Gryffindor probably wouldn’t be able to let it go. “Merlin knows you’re probably casting the diagnostic wrong.” He pulled his own wand. “Actually, it’s inconclusive. It’s possible that the magical residue from Apparition has evaporated, but the other theory is that no magic happened in this spot tonight.”

“But why would Andrew lie?” Harry screwed up his face in thought.

“I didn’t say that he was lying,” Draco replied in what he hoped was a patient voice. “I’m just telling you that the diagnostic is inconclusive as evidence that magic took place here.”

“Is that normal?” Harry stopped and looked at Draco, instead of looking THROUGH him like he had done ever since he got back from chasing the suspect. “I mean, does the magic fade so quickly?”

“I guess, Potter,” Draco refrained from rolling his eyes yet again, ignoring the hope that flowered in his chest, soothing his irritation at not having been able to get Potter’s attention. “Sometimes the combination of multiple magics or heavy-duty magic can produce the opposite result, which would be almost a magical vortex, or the absence of magic.”

“So what is this ‘heavy-duty magic’?” Harry smiled briefly at how ‘Hermione-like’ Draco sounded in his explanation.

“Um, probably the Muggle-Repelling and Invisibility Charms that are on this building,” Draco replied, not even attempting to hide his ‘Potter you’re such an idiot’ tone.

“Oh, right,” Harry trailed off. “Sorry, I knew that. Really. I just really, really wanted to catch this guy, especially after he slipped right out from under my nose.”

“It’ll be okay, Potter,” Draco said, uncharacteristically gentle. Whenever Harry’s voice took on that burdened tone, it made Draco empathize and want to help shoulder those burdens. “We’ll get him. He’s not smarter than the two of us put together. Stop blaming yourself; it doesn’t help anything.”

“Why are you being so nice to me, Malfoy?” Harry asked. He was sincerely curious, though he figured he probably sounded suspicious to the Slytherin.

“I’m not being nice to you,” Draco protested defensively. “I’m trying to get you to stop being the lonesome Savior who thinks he has to be perfect. You are SO not perfect; that’s MY job.”

“Oh really?” Harry raised his eyebrow as Draco prepared himself for an insult. “Well, you’re pretty damn good at it.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and Draco was mystified.

“What?”

“Good night, Malfoy,” Harry grinned, glad that he was finally able to throw the blonde off his guard. He figured he had better leave while he was ahead.

“What? Potter, no! Wait!” Draco made a grab for the Gryffindor, but Harry had already Disapparated. Draco’s hand closed on thin air, and he growled at the sheer frustration and mingled intrigue that had him wrapped up in Harry bloody Potter! Musing over Potter’s last statement, and all implications thereof, Draco realized that he hadn’t even explained his new working situation to his boyfriend, who surely would be upset over it all. It was not a conversation he was looking forward to having, but he Disapparated back to their shared flat to get some sleep before having to face his annoying and yet captivating green-eyed partner again in the morning.

**********

Author's note--I know it might be confusing, but that's okay! It's supposed to be and going to be! You can guess all you like, but we can neither confirm nor deny...*wink*

Oh, and just to avoid confusion, neither canon nor the HP Lexicon tell us what Cedric Diggory's mother's first name is. We liked 'Laurel', and thus, she is. Same with Misters Greengrass and Parkinson. We needed first names for them, and those seemed to fit. While in canon (grrrr!) Astoria is married to Draco, as you can see, we have taken the pleasure of demoting her to 'welcome table girl' who gets yelled at by Draco! (Take THAT, crapilogue!)

Thanks for reading and thank you to those who have reviewed so far!

~Graballz

Lilith--*confession* We DO like whips! *smirk* Thanks for your review!

thrnbrooke--Sorry, honey, but you don't find THAT out in Chapter 2! Soon, though! Thanks for your review!