Angel on the cover

Ron stepped out of the fireplace and shook out his robes, trying to get the soot out of the fabric.



‘If that ponce was here he would give me that superior look, because damned if the blond came out looking pristine after traveling through the fireplace,’ he thought. ‘Dammit, now she’s got me thinking about him, too.’ He threw his suitcase carelessly on the sofa as he went toward the kitchen, certain he would find his wife inside.



“Hi,” she said and accepted the kiss he gave in greeting. “Put your suitcase away and take out the trash, please.”



“How do you know I didn’t already?” At her knowing look he sighed and went to do as she asked.



She reminded him so much of his mother sometimes; they were both really strong headed women who pretty much wanted their way. Both women had claimed the kitchen space as their own and ran in the way they desired. The differences between them were obvious: Hermione had traded mum’s wireless for her laptop and a smell of musty papers replaced the mouth-watering scents of his mothers’ kitchen.



Regardless of sacrificing his stomach, he had to thank Merlin that he was married to this incredible woman. He’d thought he had ruined his chances with her after the debacle with Lavender.



“That’s it! I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before; it’s so simple!”



“What’s so simple?” the red head asked as he checked on the slowly simmering pot roast.



“I need you to do something for me, Ron.”



“Huh?” he dipped a fork into the pot, trying to preview a dinner that seemed so far away.



“I’ve spent so long relying on magic that it’s only too easy to forget the solution can be very basic.”



Ron felt a little nervous at the determined glint in his wife’s eyes.





20 Minutes Later







“Why are you in fatigues?”



“Fatigues?”



“What you’re wearing, Ron. They’re called fatigues, and why do you have camouflage paint on?”



“For the research,” was his casual reply.



“Ron, when did I ever ask you to dress that way for research?”



“Mione, you’re not sending me to the library. You’re making me stay overnight in the bushes in front of Harry’s flat. Let me keep a bit of my dignity, will you? This way no one will recognize me. I’ll be hidden.”



She didn’t have the heart to tell him that the additions did nothing to distract from the identifying scarlet of his hair.



“I’m not doing this to torture you, Ron. You understand that, right ?”



“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled.



“I couldn’t set any surveillance spells to monitor Draco’s coming and goings; there are wards that prevent it. I’ve tried every counter spell I could think of, but I think Harry was the one who set them.”



He turned his back to her.



“Besides, it will be just like those spy movies you like to watch-- you could pretend you’re on a stakeout.”



“A stakeout?” he straightened to look at her, more enthusiastic about it now.



“You can even give yourself a code name,” she replied indulgently. “Now, on your way! Take plenty of notes!” She gave him a loving kiss on the lips and saw him out.“Oh and Ron, put on a hat: it’ll help you disguise better.”



* * *

23 hours later



“Blimey, Ron! What the bloody hell happened to you?” Dean asked as the red head collapsed onto the bar stool next to him, while motioning the bartender to bring him another round.



“What do you think?” he turned red, bloodshot eyes toward Dean.



“What’s the almighty Hermione up to now?”



“She has me stalking someone, and she lied it wasn’t anything like a stake out. It was cold and boring; nothing happened the entire night. My legs hurt from crouching, and some old hag tried to hex me this morning.”



Between laughs Dean asked, “What ? Stalking? A stake out? What time did you get home? And who are you stalking exactly?”



Ron ordered a drink. “I never got home, went straight to work. Hermione had a change of robes for me when I got there. I didn’t even get to bathe.”



“That would explain the green paint on your cheek.”



Ron rubbed at his cheek. “She has me watching Harry’s place for signs of Malfoy, but some crazy woman thought I was watching her so she tried to attack me. Let’s not talk about it anymore. I still have to go home and tell her I didn’t find anything out.”



“Sorry, mate. You sound like you had a horrible night with your reconnaissance mission.” He laughed again at Ron’s disgruntled look.



“Look at this-- I don’t know if it will cheer you up, but this has been the highlight of my day.” He slid something across the counter closer to Ron.



“Malfoy!” Ron sputtered, spilling some beer onto his hand.



“Looks just like him, doesn’t it?” Dean nodded understandingly at Ron’s surprised expression.



The glossy shot captured a candid melancholy pose of a blond man with those notable gray eyes.



“This isn’t Malfoy, is it?” Ron asked unbelievingly, taping the photo.



“Well, this was the only info that Rob gave me.” He flipped the photo over.



Dean ,

I’ve worked with him for a while now. Let me know if you’re still looking for a model. I think he’d be great!

- Rob



“Rob? That muggle photographer you work with sometimes?”



“Yeah, he knew that I was looking for someone for my new project, so he sent this recommendation.”



“He sent you Draco bloody Malfoy!”



“Well, Ron, aesthetically at least, the prat is a great specimen, but it can’t be our Malfoy.”



“Why not? I’d recognize that face anywhere!” Ron insisted.



“Because, Ron, I’m doing pieces on expecting parents and last I knew, Draco Malfoy wasn’t pregnant.”



Ron gaped at him, thoughts running through his mind faster than he thought possible. Malfoy pregnant? No, it couldn’t be him. Is that why Harry left? What was going on? It would explain why they hadn’t seen Malfoy in the Wizarding world. It was also something the Malfoy could actually do: stand there and look pretty.



Ron lifted his head quickly. “Dean, how could you contact him?”



* * *

30 minutes later



The cell phone rang for the eight time; it didn’t seem like the person was going to give up any time soon. Rob rubbed his eyes exasperatedly; he’d been working on editing photos all night and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep.



“Fine, fine! I’m coming,” he said aloud in the empty room.



“Hello?” he managed to drag out a greeting.



“Hello Mr. Johnson. I apologize for bothering you so late, but my name is Hermione Granger-Weasley. I’m a friend of Dean Thomas’s and I’m calling about the picture of pale blond young man that you sent him.” Her introductions were rushed.



“I don’t mean to be rude Mrs. Weasley, but I just finished a really tiring day. Could we maybe talk about this tomorrow?”



“No! Please! ”



His head recoiled in surprise to the passionate disagreement. He stared at the cell phone wondering if he should hang up.



“I’m sorry for yelling, but it’s very important. Please? Just a moment?”



He resigned himself to staying awake a while longer; the urgency in her voice called to him.



“Ok, how can I help you?” he said as he lay back down.



“Thank you. I just needed to know about the man in the photo: is his name Draco Malfoy?”



He closed his eyes. ‘Great…. I woke for this?’ “Yes, it is. Were you interested?”



“Yes, I’ve been looking for him. He’s my best friend’s boyfriend and it’s imperative that I get in touch with him.”



This made Rob sit up. ‘Boyfriend?’ Draco never mentioned a boyfriend… or friends of any kind for that matter.



“Ask him if the ferret is really pregnant,” he heard a loud male voice whisper on the other end of the line.



“Hush, Ron!”



He heard a moment of silence in the background as Mrs. Weasley probably chastised the other speaker. He waited for her to come back on the line.



“I’m sorry. I don’t know who you are and you sound really nice, but I’m not sure how comfortable I feel discussing this with you....”



“I know that this is highly unorthodox, but I went to school with him. I’m not trying to stalk him.” He heard a muffled laugh in the background followed be a soft cry of pain. She continued earnestly: “Harry went missing a couple of months ago and he left me something for Draco. I need to make sure he’s okay; he’s never been to the Muggle world alone before and I’m concerned about how he’s been making out.”



Rob always considered himself a good judge of character and the young lady on the phone seemed genuinely concerned for Draco.



“He’s been okay,” he said finally.



“You’ve really worked with him?” the excitement in her voice obvious



“Yes, I actually met him when he first came to the Muggle world, and I’ve been working with him since.”



“He’s been working as a model for you? Is he…is he really pregnant?”



“Yes, that’s why he can’t work in the Muggle world anymore.”



“I’m sorry for terrorizing you, but the time difference did not occur to me. Could I bother you for his address? I’d like to see him in person.”



“It’s okay. I was a little surprised to hear anyone ask for him on a personal level. He was a loner and never spoke of anyone while we worked together; I’m glad he has someone who cares about him, though. He’s a nice guy.”



He heard a choked response on the other line. “Yes… he is.”



Clearing his throat, he said, “Well, he’s actually leaving this weekend, but I have the address of the hotel he’s staying at. I can give it to you if you hold on a bit….”



“Thank you! Thank you so much!”



Rob made his way to his desk and grabbed his palm pilot, searching Draco’s information.



“Here, are you ready to write it down?”