Out of the Night that Covers Me

Out of the Night that Covers Me

by Mephistedes


.:.

VI. The Special Delivery, Part I

.:.


Two weeks later, Harry’s longing for a break from volunteer tedium started with one simple sentence.

“Right, we’ve got an unusual delivery.”

Harry looked up from feeding Headlamps, the blind tabby. “Can’t you handle it? I’m busy.”

He could almost hear Malfoy’s eyes rolling in their sockets. “Fine. Just thought you ought to know there’s a giant rat out front.”

“Giant rat, right, I’ll...”

Harry spun around in shock, nearly dropping the food bowl. “Giant rat?” he quietly repeated as he followed after Malfoy into the main lobby. “What are you playing at? There aren’t any giant rats...in....”

He’d reached the front area, and true to Draco’s word, there was a large, furry, silver and grey creature huddled in a cage, perched on the reception desk. Its black, disc-like eyes fixed on him, and it twitched its nose, perking its large, bat-like ears. Harry vaguely noticed the bottlebrush tail jutting out of the cage bars.

“It’s a ... giant rat,” he said to Malfoy, who stood on the opposite end of the room, farthest away from the cage, his arms folded defensively across his chest. Draco nodded absently, eyes honed on the whiskered rodent. “What is a giant rat doing here?”

“No idea.” Malfoy replied with an uneasy look. “It just stares at me.”

“Must be a giant evil-sensing rat, then. Who delivered it?”

Draco shook his head, frowning. “Not a clue. Went to open the shade and saw the cage. The better question is, what are we going to do with it?” Malfoy asked him instead, bending over to look at the strange creature. “There’s nothing in the handbook about this.”

“Dash the handbook,” Harry murmured, moving closer to the cage. The creature didn’t recoil, so he took it as a good sign. “For once, Ma — er, Seiker, trust your instincts.”

“This, from the man who runs headlong into danger on a weekly basis?”

Slowly, Harry slid onto the stool behind the reception table and hesitated slightly when the humongous rat-creature’s head followed his movement. Vaguely wondering if animals could construe smiles, Harry grinned calmly at the furry rodent and gently prised the lock off the cage door.

“Are you insane, Potter?” the blond hissed from across the room. “You don’t know where that thing’s been, or what diseases it has; you don’t even know what it is, but you’re practically sticking your hand in its mouth?”

“Powell, and it’s called trust, Seiker,” Harry said gently, so as not to disturb the wide-eyed rodent. He calmly extended his hand, fingers inches from the furry face, whose nostrils twitched. “When I had Hedwig, my owl, I did this a lot when I first got her; acclimated her to my presence and touch right away.”

“Well, in case you put on the wrong glasses today, that is not an owl.”

“I’m aware,” he softly shot back. “But the only way it’s going to cooperate is if we — WHOA!”

Harry yanked his hand back just in time as the rodent barked loudly and lunged, threateningly snapping its long teeth at him. Staring in wide-eyed shock at the once more innocuous-looking creature, Harry exclaimed, “The giant rat tried to bite me!”

A scowl found its way on his face as Draco threw his head back and laughed. “Great judge of character, that one. And you might want to close the cage before it seizes another opportunity.”

“Oi! What’s all the fuss about?” Rhys’ paunch crossed the threshold first, then his humorless mug, as Harry hastily fastened the lock back on the cage door. “What’s that chinchilla doin’ ‘ere?”

“Oh, is that what it’s called?” Draco sniggered, scratching at his livid acne. “According to Powell here, it was an owl.”

“Sod off; you didn’t know what it was either.”

“Yes, but among the number of creatures it undeniably could never be,” the blond’s eyes danced with mirth, “I would’ve thought owl topped the list.”

“Stop jokin’ about and get back to work,” growled Rhys, his beady little eyes resting on the chinchilla’s cage. “This is no place fer a creature o’ that sort. I’ll call round to the local shops, see if anyone’s willing to take him. Now, back to work, both o’ yeh.” The manager gave them each a stern look before leaving, the door thudding shut behind him.

“Well,” Harry began as he backed away from the unassuming rodent’s cage. “That’s awfully nice of him, given his recent mean streak. What d’you suppose he’s up to? Think he’ll warn the other shops about the viciousness of that creature? Seiker?”

When Harry turned to see why the other man was ignoring him, his jaw nearly fell out, stunned.

The furry beast was sniffing at Malfoy’s pale index finger without even attempting to bite him!

“Doesn’t seem vicious to me.” He smugly replied, and Harry fumed as the rodent allowed Malfoy to gently rub its nose.

Harry quietly seethed, “Of course he’d be close to you, Malfoy: one in the same, aren’t you, ferrets and chinchillas?” he grinned as he made his way to the back corridor. “I’ll bet he senses your ferrety presence.”

Passing the lively kennel by, Harry crept down the passage all the way to the end, to Rhys’ office. Something was going on beneath their noses, and with or without Malfoy’s aid, he was going to find out what.

Sliding along the wall, Harry glanced down each end of the corridor before pulling out his wand, and Spelling the floor to cancel out the squeaks of his trainers. As he slinked past the tiny canteen, he heard Rhys’ voice drifting out from his ajar door.

“...got yer message, aye. What were yeh thinkin’, puttin’ it out there.... Yeah, I’ll be there round Corrie time.... All set, just need to.... No, they’ll not be a problem.... Reading, yeah.... Stonebrook Flats? ... Aric at Roath.... Calon Lân....” was all he could distinguish beneath the noise of the nearby kennel. His brow creasing, Harry moved back into the lobby, canceling the spell.

“Listen, Mah — David: Rhys is acting kind of suspicious,” said Harry as he entered the lobby. “I think we should watch....”

To his great annoyance, Malfoy ignored him in favor of perusing the newspaper, with one bent finger petting the rodent’s fur over and over again.

“It’s really soft,” the blond said softly. “Reminds me of a pashmina I once gave Mother for Christmas. That, and I need a new hat for this winter.”

Harry was a tad surprised to note longing in Malfoy’s tone as he spoke of his mother. Perhaps Draco was human after all. The Stealth Auror wryly smiled and leaned against the reception desk. “Does that mean you’re naming it Pashmina?”

The blond scoffed loudly and pulled his hand away; Harry thought he could almost see the Slytherin folding back into himself. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not falling for that ploy: name them, then get too attached, like you.”

“I’m not attached.”

“Attached,” Draco hummed.

“I’m not — ”

“Oi! Powell!” Harry flinched as Rhys barged into the room again. He looked even surlier, if that were even possible.

“Y-yes, sir?”

Rhys smacked his lips and crossed his beefy arms. “Do, uh ... dogs walk themselves?”

Harry furrowed his brow in puzzlement. He cast a fleeting glance at Malfoy before answering their manager. “Well, they’ve got ... legs, so yes, I suppose they can — ”

“Well pretend those dogs in there are stupid and legless!”

“Pre...? Oh....” Harry wet his lips and stared at his hands, perfecting his manufacture. “Do you ... want me to walk the dogs?”

“They aren’t gonna walk themselves, Powell!”

“Right, sir, right,” Harry gave a nervous laugh as he moved around the fuming manager to the back kennel. He had barely escaped Rhys’ scowl when he spun around and asked, “What about the chinchilla, sir? Should I run a full physical and tag — ”

“There’s no need, Powell. It’s not stayin’ here. Got a nice place lined up fer it aw’ready, so be about yer business,” Rhys dismissively waved him away to point a porky finger at Draco. “And you, Seiker — ”

“But, sir...” Harry warily butt in, gripping the doorframe tightly as Rhys shot him an impatient look. “I thought that ... every animal, regardless of whether they’re long-term or not got physicals and tags — ”

“Not this one.” He said it with such swift conviction even Draco looked up from petting the rodent.

“But ... company policy....” Harry lowered his brow even more and held his ground as Rhys loomed over him menacingly. He turned away when Rhys’ hot, moist (and terribly rank) breath fogged his lenses.

When he spoke, the brusque manager’s voice was a low growl. “I said leave it, Powell,” Rhys haltingly warned, leaning over him. “That rat’s to be left alone; doan question, er I’ll dock yer pay!”

“But I don’t ... get paid?” Harry protested weakly as a flustered Rhys rushed past him to his office. He cringed when the sound of Rhys’ door slamming echoed throughout the Shelter and set the animals barking and mewling, especially that fuzzy rodent.

“Nice work, Powell.” Harry rolled his eyes and turned to glare at Malfoy’s smug expression. “It’s a wonder you ever became a S.T.A.G., what with your interrogation talents.”

“I wasn’t interrogating him,” he wearily countered, grabbing a fistful of worn leashes off the nearby hat rack. “Watch him, will you? Something doesn’t smell right about all of this.”

“You’re telling me, Merlin!” the French attaché groused as he held a sleeved arm to his nose. “You’d better walk those dogs now or we’ll smell something far worse!”

The day passed uneventfully with Harry minding the animals in the kennel and watching for any more suspicious behavior from Rhys. He’d barely said two words to them after their exchange that morning, and only left his office once to hand out more instructions. During that time, Harry couldn’t help but notice as he spoke, Rhys’ eyes seemed to land on their furry visitor quite frequently.

When he brought up his concerns with Malfoy, the blond merely brushed off his suspicions. Harry had never envisioned Draco Malfoy being as attached to such a charming (but vicious) creature before, and despite Draco’s argument to the contrary, he was attached. Harry said nothing to him as he carried Pash to the staffroom with him, though he was absolutely bursting to bring it up. No doubt that wouldn’t be what Kingsley meant by getting along with him.

“The only way he’d murder someone is if they’d stolen his lunch,” Draco unkindly justified when Harry brought up Rhys’ behavior. He was stroking the chinchilla’s side again at reception; Harry sat at the other end of the desk. He didn’t like the way those round black eyes stared levelly at him. “Jones is not a murderer.”

Perhaps Draco was right; despite being unbelievably apathetic to the animals, Jones didn’t seem to be the murderer. And if Rhys was, Harry thought, he would have certainly noticed something off about it, as would the animals. Harry was keen to let the subject drop from there.

Until Rhys approached them just after Lloyd the control officer dropped by with a new boarder for their kennel. As Harry injected the identification chip (and Draco poked grain through the chinchilla’s cage bars) into the stray’s shoulder, Rhys’ form filled the doorway. He wore a pinched expression that reminded Harry terribly of his Uncle Vernon when his Aunt Petunia would remind him of Mrs. Number Seven’s yearly garden party.

“I’m goin’ home early to Corrie Street, so you cun leave after yeh’ve done yer closin’ tasks: feedin’, walkin’ the dogs an’ the like,” Rhys instructed as he squeezed into a jacket. “I’ll just be droppin’ the rat over to Readin’.”

Arching an eyebrow in slight wariness, Harry asked, “Reading? That’s the closest shop nearby? That’s an hour away.”

“It’s the closest shop,” Rhys maintained, though his eyes were narrowed. “All the others were full up.”

“Of chinchillas?” Draco asked, and Harry was somewhat glad to note even he sounded unconvinced. Or it could have been that he was about to part with his companion. Harry just knew it was the latter.

Rhys nodded hastily and held his hand out for the enclosure. The chinchilla made a grumpy noise and huddled in the corner of its cage. “Yes, now hand tha’ over or I’ll be late.”

“Late? You had to make an appointment to see them?”

“Oi! I’ve had a bellyful o’ yer inquiries, Powell. Back to work with yeh.”

“I’m curious, that’s all,” Harry quickly replied, easing back on his questioning. If Rhys got too suspicious of him, he’d shut down completely and whether Draco thought so or not, the man might be valuable to their case.

Instead, Harry affected Hyde Powell’s standard apologetically edgy face and idly shook his head, fidgeting. He could almost hear Malfoy’s eyes rolling. “It’s just — I’m just ... this is what I want to do, yeah? So I just want to know what to expect, and, well, this never happens: you carting around animals — ”

“Small enough, innit?” rumbled Rhys, peering into the cage. The chinchilla grunted loudly with its large ears resting on its back. “What am I gonna bring them all the way over here fer a — a bleedin’ ... fuzzball, yeah?”

Harry nodded fervently as he stood up, dusting off his trousers. “Of — of course, of course. D’you need any help — ?”

“No, no; if one of yeh could video Corrie for me and doan ferget to lock the doors and cages, roll the blinds, et cetera,” Rhys quickly delivered as he backed towards the door, turning around. Harry was slightly annoyed to hear the chinchilla fussing as well. “I’ll see you in the mornin’, then?”

Before either of them could answer, Rhys left, the sound of the front door slamming arousing the creatures’ ire once more.

Frowning, Harry moved to quiet the dogs and cats, before returning to the front. “Right,” he growled aloud, crossing his arms. “He’s up to something.”

When he received no response from Draco, Harry peered in his direction, annoyed to find the blond idly reading the paper.

“I’ll bet he is,” Draco skeptically murmured.

“Oh, come on, Malfoy!" Harry growled, exasperatedly throwing his hands in the air. "Even you were suspicious of him earlier.”

Draco shrugged in response. “Chinchillas aren’t that popular a familiar in Muggle Britain.”

But Harry wasn’t convinced of Draco’s passiveness. There was absolutely no way he was going to sit still while Rhys went off to do something suspicious. He was going after him; problem was, he couldn’t go anywhere without Malfoy unless he wanted to get sacked. They needed to agree on a plan of action ... as partners. The word still had the bitter aftertaste of bile bubbling in his throat.

With a serious expression, Harry entreated the bored blond, “Something important is going on here, Malfoy. We need to follow him, see what he’s up to. You heard Rhys: first he’s going home to watch the telly, then he wants one of us to record it.”

“I nominate you.”

“Malfoy!”

“No.” The hard-faced man growled with finality, lowering the paper with a loud ‘smack’. “We’ve got to stay here and mind things, Potter. As well, I refuse to go along on one of your half-cocked schemes based solely on the fact you have a hunch.”

“I’ve got more than a hunch — ”

“No, Potter.”

“And what about Pash?” he threw out, rounding the desk to stare a miffed Malfoy in the face.

“What, exactly, is a ‘Pash’?”

“Well, the...” Harry gestured feebly and shook his head. “The nasty rat-chinchilla ... thing.”

Malfoy blinked. “You named it.”

“...yeah.”

The blond stared at him incredulously before scoffing. “Incredible. The creature despises you and even snapped at you, and you’re still concerned for it. That’s so touching, I’m nauseous.”

Harry opened his mouth to jeer at Malfoy but closed it, pinching the bridge of his nose instead. He’d get nowhere by being short with the other wizard and feeding his petulance. Calmly folding his hands on the table and meeting Draco’s cold, grey gaze, Harry rationally began to make his case.

“There is something going on here,” he said gently with a decisive nod. “I know it, and whether you want to admit it or not, you feel the air’s amiss round all of this. Your sixth sense is telling you something doesn’t smell right.”

“That could also be the new dog’s cage, as you haven’t walked him yet.”

“Malfoy,” Harry softly prodded, catching his eyes as the blond grabbed a magazine. “There’s no harm in checking things out. And if you’re anything like me, you’ll never be able to rest if you found out afterward that you could have stopped things right now, when you have the chance.”

He held his breath as Draco stared pensively at the pet periodical, his eyes unmoving. The blond said nothing to his plea, only absently fingering the badge-tesseracts he wore on the front of his shirt. It certainly hadn’t escaped Harry’s notice Draco idly toyed with the shiny green and silver badge he’d vowed weeks ago was empty.

Harry waited with bated breath for what seemed like an eternity when Malfoy nodded in answer. “Fine; I will admit Jones has been acting oddly of late, and a small — very small reconnaissance, Potter — would not prove unreasonable.”

Harry chuckled gleefully and without thinking, clasped Malfoy’s pale hand and squeezed gently. Naturally, he froze in shock, as did Draco, before pulling his hand away and shoving it in his jumper pockets. He hadn’t a clue why he’d done that, let alone why his palms were so hot and sweaty. Embarrassment? Yeah, that was it; he was just embarrassed....

“So, um, ahem — how are we going to get to Reading?” Harry asked once he was sure his blush disappeared.

“Like I said: half-cocked scheme,” Draco gibed, but didn’t meet his eyes. “We Apparate, of course.”

Harry rolled his eyes and replied, “I know that, but how are we going to find Rhys? He could be anywhere in Reading and we wouldn’t know the first place to start looking.”

He frowned as the blond arched an eyebrow at him. “Honestly, Potter, how you even survive without Granger is beyond me,” Malfoy fussed as he turned to the computer.

“I stay away from pointy objects and take it one day at a time.”

Draco gave an airy snort in response as he sat in the glow of the computer’s monitor. Harry vaguely wondered if he’d been taught how to operate computers whilst here at the Shelter or as part of his Directorate training. It had been the focus of many a S.P.O.O.K. curriculum during lessons on blending in with Muggles. Harry, of course, had an advantage over several of his colleagues, having come from a Muggle home; especially one where his cousin got everything he ever wanted (and broke).

“Not that I’m not astounded by your sudden proficiency in all things ‘filthy and Muggle’ — namely computers,” Harry grinned roguishly at Draco’s sharp look, “but what are you doing?” the Stealth Auror posed, craning his neck for a good look at the screen.

A smile threatened to break across his face as he watched Malfoy slowly tap the keyboard’s letters and numbers with an intense, focused expression. Never had he anticipated the pure-blood to turn to Muggle tools willingly and without a wand at his throat. Although, Draco worked slowly, his forefinger trembling slightly as if fearful the unit would blow up if he rushed.

“This come-pewter, Potter, is a gipiss system.”

Harry blinked, straightening in his propped position. “A gip — d’you mean Global Positioning System: GPS?”

There was a crinkle in the corner of his eye, but Draco said nothing. “Even if you can get it working, what are we supposed to track? I haven’t Spelled Rhys or his car — which is, admittedly, stupid of me — ”

“I’m glad you finally see things my way.”

“ — so what use is it to us?” Harry finished, frowning.

His attention focused on Malfoy when the blond made a noise of accomplishment and faced him with a proud smile. Harry bemusedly shared in Draco’s sudden infectious behavior and grinned.

“Question: what is the number one rule of the Shelter?”

“Erm,” Harry swallowed and scrunched his eyebrows together pensively as he wracked his mind for the answer. “I know this. I know this....”

“Apparently not,” was Draco’s dry response. “Think, Potter: what happens to every creature that passes through that door?”

“I, uh...” Harry shook his head, rapping his fingers rapidly across the chipped lacquer of the desk. “Err ... aha! Immunizations!”

By the comical way Draco blinked, Harry knew he’d been dead wrong.
“Close, but not exactly. What else?”

“We feed them, that’s a given, though.”

Malfoy shot him a dark look. “Granger willingly put up with this?”

“Well, we walk them and deworm them and — ”

“I say you’re close with ‘immunizations’ and you go in the complete opposite direction,” griped Draco. “How do you manage to navigate a broom?”

“Hey, I’ve only worked here a few weeks, bugger off,” he angrily returned. “The only other immunization I can think of is the identification tag, but unless you’ve stuck one in Rhys’ bum — ”

“That is a mental image that does not even warrant mentioning,” the blond distastefully said, “but no, I’ve not tagged Rhys’ rear.”

“Then — ” Harry’s eyes widened and he gaped at Draco’s smug expression. “You tagged Pash?”

“The nameless chinchilla? Yes, I did.”

“But that microchip is huge!”

The Slytherin rolled his eyes. “It’s about as big as a grain of rice, Potter. It’s not going to hurt her.”

“But ... when? And where was I?” And how did Malfoy manage to do all of this under his nose?

Draco crossed his arms and replied, “This morning. You were out walking the dogs. The bitch walking the bitches.”

“Don’t forget the two goats,” said Harry, ignoring the insult. He smirked and threw the blond a knowing look. “And you say I’m attached.”

The grey-eyed wizard gave him a peeved look. “Unlike you, I don’t go out of my way to comfort every stray that walks in here, or give them ridiculous names that were I a dog or cat, would make me want to take my own life.”

“Get on with it, Malfoy,” Harry growled, stretching to look at the computer monitor. “So you implanted Pash with the microchip and you can see her on the screen?”

Draco nodded once and hesitantly punched a few keys. “Registered the chinchilla with the national day-to base through the manufacturer, Tiberius Incorporated — ”

“Database.”

“ — and scanned the giant rat to activate the microchip while both you and Jones were busy.” Draco finished with a satisfied smirk.

“That’s smart and all, but it still doesn’t explain why you, who proclaimed to not care about said giant rat,” Harry judiciously began, “would go out of your way to implant it with a microchip.”

Malfoy shrugged. “Jones was acting suspicious.”

“You told me it was all in my head.”

“I had my suspicions, Potter,” Malfoy drawled as he withdrew his wand. With a simple flick, the volcanic acne covering his face was gone, and his hair lightened to its natural white-blond. Harry raised his brow when Draco leveled him with a glare. “Just because we work together does not mean we’re partners. I don’t share everything with you.”

“A small mercy.”

“Therefore, you are privy to absolutely nothing: no doubts, no misgivings, and none of my personal and professional notions on Jones,” Draco hissed. “I am here solely to solve these crimes, not to fill your slot for partner.”

“I didn’t ask you to fill any slot, Malfoy,” Harry took aim with a scowl. “And I certainly don’t want you filling any of mine. I work alone.”

The blond stood with a quiet laugh. “And you work so well when you’re by yourself.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want a partner.”

“I’m not filling your slot, Potter, so don’t work yourself into a state,” Draco leered at him unkindly.

Feeling his neck and ears grow hot, Harry growled, “Malfoy — ”

“We’ll be able to locate whereabouts Jones and the chinchilla have gone,” the blond dutifully resumed. “And he also has a handheld radio frequency tracking device-thing in his office that is apparently ‘worth more than my life.’ It also registers through to the database, so — ”

“We can pinpoint their location in Reading. If they actually went to Reading.”

“Right. We wait until the chinchilla’s signal is stationary for a while and then we Apparate.”

Harry absently nodded with a less than thrilled expression. “Sounds like a plan. Hate to say it, but...” he paused to swallow with distaste, before, “...good work, Malfoy.”

He could’ve died of mortification simply by Malfoy’s haughty sneer. “Oh, Potter,” the blond cooed mockingly, “you don’t have to tell me that.”

“Right,” Harry winced, tasting bile at the back of his throat. “I’m just going to rinse my mouth out with shampoo, shall I? Don’t want any more of that crap coming out of there.”

:::


“Do you ... hear a ... ringing sound?” Harry asked Draco after they’d Apparated to a dimmed Reading side street. He could hear traffic in the distance, but this road held no signs of life.

Malfoy distractedly shook his head as he pulled out the portable GPS. “We haven’t even Apparated that far, Potter.”

He absently rubbed at his scar, a habit he still hadn’t been able to break. As usual, he felt nothing, and was glad. His ears still rang faintly, and for the life of him, Harry had no idea why. He decided he’d ask Hermione the next free moment she had about possible Spell Damage revisiting after all these years. Perhaps that Killing Curse he’d survived again wasn’t without its consequences?

When something furry and damp brushed past his ankle, Harry started, his wand poised and ready. “What was that? Did you feel that?”

“Probably a cat, Potter, calm down. Ringing ears and paranoia? Picked a winner for this job, didn’t they?” Draco slighted as he pulled the portable GPS system from his pocket. “There,” he pointed out a red arrow on the screen. Harry budged closer in to get a good look around Draco’s shoulder. “That must be where Rhys is.”

“‘Reading, Stonebrook Flats, Aric at Roath,’” Harry whispered. “That’s what Rhys said in his office. The signal’s coming from northwest.”

“All right, we go in, have a quick look around and get out, Potter, understood?” the Slytherin demanded, his pale face cast in yellow-green shadows from the GPS’s glow. “If there’s any trouble, you call Cottenham.”

Harry scrutinized him closely. “And what will you be doing? Playing hero?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the blond scoffed as he slunk along a low partition near an outed streetlamp. Harry followed behind also, diving behind rubbish bins with the Slytherin. “Recklessness and stupidity are not in my vocabulary.”

It was Harry’s turn to snort in contempt as they crept down the quiet street to crouch against a wall. “Oh really? I seem to remember of a particular moment in sixth year when someone let Death Eaters into our school through Vanishing Cabinets....”

Draco seemed to hesitate before answering. “It was survival.”

“It was cowardice.”

Harry held his ground as Malfoy’s face held the purest look of loathing. To his surprise, he felt a small twinge of ... regret? Sympathy? Harry wasn’t sure, but he was quite positive he didn’t like the feeling. In fact, he blamed it on his ringing ears weakening his resolve.

Draco finally replied and when he did, his voice reflected his bitterness. “You could never understand, Potter. Don’t attempt to rationalize what your narrow mind can’t comprehend.” He hissed, standing to trot along the shadows toward the tall building of flats. Harry sighed and followed after, also dodging the orange streetlamp glow, and wondering beyond the ringing in his ears why the area was way too silent.

He noticed the rotted sign indicating the Stonebrook Flats and spotted Rhys’ car not too far down the road hidden in the shadows. From the dilapidated look of the building, Harry assumed it was condemned. There were no lights in the windows at the front of the building, but Harry knew Rhys was here. And then, he heard it; very faint, but he was sure he recognized the baying sound.

“D’you hear that?” he whispered to Malfoy, his brow creasing. “Sounds like ... barking.”

Malfoy glanced at the GPS in his hand one last time before replacing it with his wand. Harry followed suit, and together they stole up the footpath overrun by weeds and stringy grass, careful to look all around them.

Harry shot a spell to muffle the groaning door hinges and hoped he Silenced them in time. Once the door was open, he could hear the weak barking and was immediately assailed with memories of this morning. The Stealth Auror determined to let Malfoy handle the infernal rodent this time around, no questions asked.

Inside the grimy foyer, a bare bulb gave off a sickly yellow glow, lighting the discolored walls and layers of thick dust. Harry pointed out the notices of condemnation and imminent demolition scheduled three days from today’s date. “Perfect for whatever sordid scheme he’s got planned.”

“We go in and out quickly,” Draco outlined. “I don’t want to spend more time than is necessary here.”

For the life of him, Harry didn’t know what prompted him to respond, “If I’d wanted an account of your sex life, Draco, I would have asked.”

Harry froze on the creaky stair with a grimace. He was seriously considering turning his wand on himself right now. Maybe finish what Voldemort started all those years ago in a puddle of melted humiliation on this derelict staircase. Then maybe he’d begin to understand why in Merlin’s soiled nappies he would say such a stupid thing.

With a pained expression Harry chanced a look at the blond, awaiting his response.

He expected Malfoy to be offended, maybe even decry a foulness Harry didn’t know he possessed. Harry even anticipated the French agent would hex him on the stairway and leave him at Rhys’ mercy.

But Draco simply drawled, “This is hardly the ideal time to chat me up, Potter.”

Face twisting in horror, Harry growled, “Excuse me! I am not chatting you up.” He was seriously contemplating turning Draco into that puddle of mortification when he airily laughed in response.

“Right; because asking me about my sex life constitutes as normal conversation.”

Just as Harry’s ire flared within him, Malfoy pointed his wand at the staircase and whispered a Charm to muffle their footfalls. Swallowing the urge to retort and any other innuendo that might unwillingly spew from his mouth, Harry suggested, “We should check for any other surprises he might be hiding; don’t want to be caught unawares.”

An impatient glare was his initial answer from the blond before Draco held his wand between his fingers vertically and murmured, “Homenum revelio.”

A gentle pulse of magic throbbed in the air and Draco bodily froze. There was a brief flash in his grey eyes before they became unfocused, but Malfoy soon came out of his trance. Harry was met with a cocky grin. “Just him, Potter. Happy?”

“Ah-ah! Wait,” he grabbed Malfoy’s sleeve as he half-faced the stairs. Wetting his lips, in preparation, Harry breathed deeply before looking up at the staircase winding into the darkness. Raising his wand aloft, he whispered, “Spiritum revelio.”

Suddenly, he wasn’t in the room anymore; he couldn’t feel the cotton of Draco’s sleeve beneath his fingers. His senses were heightened, if only slightly, and Harry felt as though he was zooming high in the air on his Firebolt, pushing the limits of its maximum speed.

In a flash, what felt like tons of fusty-scented air rushed past his nostrils before Harry was back on the foyer stairwell clenching Malfoy’s sleeve in his fist. He grabbed the wall as a sense of dizziness overcame him for a moment before his wobbly world righted itself.

As he pushed himself into a lone stand, Harry realized where his wandless hand was and hastily let go of Draco’s sleeve as if burned. He consciously flattened the wrinkles in his jumper and averted his glance before mustering the courage to look at the Slytherin.

Though Draco turned around at once, Harry was slightly taken aback by the thinly veiled concern he thought he’d seen on the blond’s face. Before he could study it more closely, Draco cleared his throat and arched an eyebrow. “Fancy.”

He gave Malfoy his own smug look and said, “Isn’t it? A spell to reveal anything that breathes. Hermione created it especially for — ”

“Shut up, Potter. You’ll blow our cover.”

Harry obeyed, though affronted, and followed the focused blond, wand aloft. The building wasn’t much better as they ascended, and Harry noticed large cracks and missing chunks in the walls and floors. Saying the place looked like a war zone was the nicest way to describe it.

“So ... what’d your fancy spell tell you?”

“Well — ”

They ducked low and pressed themselves against opposite walls as a loud crash and yelled swear echoed down to them. Harry stared at the above darkness before faintly answering. “Rhys, plus Pash, and many, many more.”

“Insects?” asked Draco. Harry shrugged in response. He only knew the spell targeted living beings that were oxygen-rich, but not the exact count. He jerked his head to indicate they should go, and let Malfoy assume the lead once more.

As they neared the top and the incessant barking got louder, a grim realization dawned on Harry. “D’you think he came all the way out here to do unmentionable things to Pash? You know, where no one can hear him scream?”

A nauseous look came over the blond’s face and Draco scowled at him over his shoulder. “Potter, I don’t know which warrants my disturbance more: that you’ve named the beast, or that you have these sick fantasies.”

“Well, you’ve seen firsthand how Rhys treats the strays,” he hissed in return, rolling up his sleeves. “So you know I’m not completely off the mark.”

They climbed the rest of the stairs in silence and unopposed, the butterflies in Harry’s stomach morphing into wasps with each step closer. It wasn’t nervousness; if he couldn’t hold his own in a duel he wouldn’t have been chosen for the Stealth Aurors. No, Harry was more fearful for what he wouldn’t find: Rhys not enlisting some sort of cruelty with Pash. Harry may not have liked the fuzzy beast, but no creature deserved mistreatment.

They reached the penultimate floor, where the strange noises were loudest. At once, Harry spotted a yellow glow beneath the door at the end of the corridor. He crouched low and flattened himself against the wall, nodding at Malfoy to advance. The noise definitely coming from here, as well as Rhys’ swears; and most unusual, there seemed to be different sounds coming from everywhere as opposed to just Pash.

Once he and Draco flanked the doorway, Harry flicked his gaze to Malfoy and took a deep breath. It was now or never.

His wand clasped tightly in one hand, Harry reached for the doorknob with his other — and was immediately unsettled by Draco’s thwarting hand on his bare wrist.

“Stop ... touching ... me.”

“You’re such a child, Potter,” Draco sneered in as he released his wrist. “We’re not barging in there like you’re used to.”

“Well, you’re the mastermind of this operation; what do you suggest? Cover ourselves in Instant Darkness Powder and whip out your clever Hand of Glory to guide the way?” Harry scorned.

“Facetiae doesn’t suit you.”

“Face-what?"

“Look it up later and shush, Potter! Do you want Jones hearing us?”

Harry gestured wildly at the door. “If he can hear our whispering over all this barking, he deserves to.” As he opened his mouth to continue berating the blond, Harry froze, leaning closer to the chipped door. “Malfoy ... don’t you think that’s an awful lot of noise for one chinchilla to make?”

A thoughtful look crossed Draco’s face and he nearly pressed his ear to the door as well, his nose barely brushing Harry’s. “Now that you mention it....”

Their eyes met in the sparse corridor light at the same time they drew their wands. Harry moved away from the door, same as Malfoy, whose lips were pressed in a thin line. When the blond didn’t move Harry gave the door a pointed look. The barking and chirruping reached fever pitch.

“Whenever you’re ready, Potter.”

“Me? I thought you wanted subtlety.”

Draco sniggered and assumed the dueling stance. “Who’d know subtlety better than you? You did stalk me for a year, remember?”

Harry followed suit, dryly muttering, “Let’s not bring that up right now. How’s this for subtle?”

Harry reared back and kicked the door in, bursting into the room with his wand held high.

“STEALTH AURORS: DON’T MOVE!”

“Well, that completely defeated the concept of ‘stealth,’” Draco murmured.

When Harry heard a loud clatter, he leveled his wand at a startled Rhys, only to look down and see —

“Potter?” Malfoy called to him, his voice strangely muted.

“Yeah?”

“You see what I’m seeing?”

“Unless I’m not really seeing it.”

“A room full of hats?”

Harry blinked owlishly. “They’re moving.”

“So they’re moving hats.”

“Oi!” Harry’s gaze went from the unbelievable sight on the floor to their purple-faced manager. “These arn hats, lad! I’ll fight yeh if yeh’re thinkin’ that!”

“Rhys,” Harry calmly began, though his tone was still staggered and his wand was still directed at the enraged Muggle. “Wha.... Where did all these chinchillas come from?”

The dusty floor was littered with dozens of chinchillas colored black or grey or Pash’s off white. So much so that Harry was amazed he hadn’t harmed any when he’d broken the door open.

“You’ll not be killin’ naught fer yer retail fancies, I tell yeh!” Rhys shouted at them, his beefy fists poised and ready to fight his way out. “I been through too much to let that ‘appen! I woan let it!”

Harry held up a hand as he tucked his wand away. “Whoa, Rhys, you need to calm down.”

“I woana!” the pudgy Welshman roared. Harry cringed as the chinchillas excitedly doubled their barks and chirps. “Who are yeh? How’d yeh find me an’ what d’you want? Yeh carn have ‘em!”

“Rhys, it’s us.”

“I dunno yah!”

Harry frowned in bewilderment and when he looked at Draco, he saw the problem. They’d returned to their normal facial features; Rhys had no clue at who he was looking.

“It’s us, Hyde and David,” Harry tapped his chest and gestured to Malfoy respectively. “We just look different, see? My hair’s just darkened and my glasses are still the same. And David, well ... actually, he looks a right sight better with the acne, but he’s all there, the same person. It’s us, just ... different.”

But Rhys still narrowed his eyes, skeptical, and tightened his fists even more. “Uhh ... David, a little help?” he asked, but received no response. Flitting his gaze to the blond, Harry cuffed him in the arm and hissed, “Malfoy!”

Draco, who had been preoccupied surveying the animated rodents with an alarmed expression, glowered at him for the strike before facing Rhys. After giving the defensive Muggle a quick look, Draco evenly said, “You’re fat.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Harry hissed between gritted teeth.

“You’re really fat. There, are you happy?”

“That is not helping.”

Harry tried and failed to give the blond a serious look as he gently shook a fuzzy grey chinchilla off his left foot. “DOAN YEH HURT ‘EM!”

“I’m not! I’m just — he’s really holding on...!”

As Harry bent down to nudge the insistent rodent off his trousers, Rhys bellowed, “I WARNED YEH! DOAN—!”

“Oh, for — Stupefy!””

Harry looked up just in time to see Rhys fly backwards onto a squashy sofa, causing the chinchillas on the armrests to squeak in anger. Huffing himself, Harry set the wide-eyed grey ball of fluff with its mates and rounded on a visibly peeved Draco.

“What’d you do that for?”

He crossed his arms and scowled at Draco’s pointed expression. “You asked for help, Potter,” the blond clarified, motioning to the slouched figure on the sofa. “This is what I call ‘help.’”

“We need answers; Stunning him isn’t getting any answers.”

“That’ll make you think twice before asking me for help, then.”

“Do not Stun him again. We’ll have enough trouble as it is explaining our changed appearances, not to mention we used magic on him.” Harry shot the smirking Slytherin a glare as he carefully stepped over and around the chirping critters scuttling across the floor and rolling in dust. “What d’you suppose he’s doing with all of them? And where’s Pash?”

“No clue.” Malfoy replied, scrunching his nose into his familiar sneer.

Harry made a noise of disgust, either for Draco’s expression or the strange pile he just stepped in. “Ugh! This wasn’t in the S.T.A.G. instruction! And you’re incredibly repulsive when you make that face, by the way.”

“There you are again, chatting me up,” the arrogant blond chuckled roguishly. “Honestly, Potter, if you keep throwing yourself at me, what’s little Miss Weasley going to think?”

Harry teetered on one foot before an ebony chinchilla zipped off, leaving an empty space. “A, I’m not chatting you up; your hideousness is already fact,” he gently set his foot down and sighed, “B, I’d rather snog Cottenham than throw myself at you, and C, Ginny and I haven’t been dating for over four years.” As he trudged carefully to the unconscious Rhys, Harry paused, realizing how desolate he’d painted himself out to be. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“Desperation?”

“You wish,” he countered with a smirk. Leaning over Rhys with his wand in hand, Harry met Draco's gaze one last time before receiving a grim nod in turn. This was it. They were ready.

Gripping his wand tightly, Harry swished sharply at Rhys' temple as he murmured, “Rennervate.”


.:.


A/N: Sorry. I just didn't think I could finish out the week without one last update before the weekend. I'll be revamping the next part a bit, so I've no clue when it will arrive here safe and sound. Keep a sharp eye out. Thanks to all who've read and reviewed. I'm glad you are all liking the story thus far.

Have a safe, lovely weekend!

.:.