Do You Still Believe?

The Second Star to the right
shines in the night for you
To tell you that the dreams you plan
Really can come true
-- Jesse McCartney - Second Star to the Right
-o0o-

Luna's words were haunting him.

Draco was lying on the decadently large bed he'd taken from the Manor when he'd rented a smallish apartment in London - to cut down on the commute, he said, but what he really wanted was time to himself with no house elves and no family for a while - and staring up at the ceiling, trying to sleep. He'd been there an hour, lying motionless, occasionally counting backwards or meditating to clear his mind from the thoughts that churned continually through his head, but thus far, it was a lost cause.

He blamed the Ravenclaw. Harry's cubicle needs a woman's touch, but Harry himself needs a man in his life. They damning words had been spoken in a frank, matter-of-fact voice - or as matter-of-fact as the day-dreamy Luna ever got - but they simply chased themselves through his brain, trying to make sense of the message. He'd often joked while in school that Ravenclaws were simply Slytherins with better study habits, but he'd never actually applied it to any of them - not Cho Chang, not Terry Boot, and certainly not Looney Lovegood.

But the mental treasure-hunt she'd sent him on was not only worthy of being called Slytherin, it would have outclassed many of them. Draco refused to let a little blonde slip of a girl outwit him over his own partner.

He admitted that he'd known Potter less than seven years, and then not all that well, where-as she'd clearly been as close to him as anyone had been these last eight years, and was in the most qualified position to be offering advice on what Potter needed. If only she'd made it clearer, he whinged to himself, and then whinced as his father's voice crackled through his mind, drowning out Luna for a moment. "Malfoy men are powerful, Draco. Never let slip any weakness before any witness - not even the night.

That was before the disasterous return of the Dark Lord, skewing their carefully laid plans and tearing their family apart forever. He forcibly returned his thoughts from the past, and tried futilely to muddle through the answer to Luna's words.

-o0o-

Several kilometers away, nearly on the other side of the city, Harry was also lying awake, but for an entirely different reason. His sheets were tangled around his legs from spending the last two hours tossing and turning, trying to find a comfortable position into which he could relax.

His thoughts kept his body from unwinding, however, and the coiled knot of tension in his chest sat like an unwelcome stone. There's got to be something there. The magical signature is our only clue. But short of testing every single person in the wizarding world, there's just no way of following it up. Nothing else is left behind. No footprints, no weapon, no fingerprints - Luna's already told me she's gone over every site with special muggle machines designed for crime solving, and hasn't been able to come up with anything from that.

The Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries, she'd explained once, acted something like muggle forensic scientists, looking for details and invisible clues otherwise overlooked. "Of course," she'd added in that distant way of hers, "We have access to a great deal more than the muggles, and don't have to rely so much on time-consuming machines."

The Auror corps worked closely with the Unspeakables in the line of duty, and since Shacklebolt had taken over the department, the success rates of both the Auror Corps and the Unspeakable department had seen an increase of nearly twenty five percent.


Nothing they did was helping solve this case, however, and Harry turned himself violently over once more, twisting his sheets around his midsection. There was just no motive! No reason behind the killings. He knew how they were done, he knew who was being targeted, and he had a single clue - the residual charge of magic in the air. The unfortunate part was magic was traced through wands - if they could find the wand used to create the spells found used on the victims, then they could trace it back to it's owner - their suspect. But the more he thought about it, the more hopeless it seemed.

Harry flipped again, pounding his pillow with a fist in frustration he would never have shown in front of anyone else. Here in the privacy of his home, he was free to allow his emotions their proper expression, and he struck the pillow again with enough force to leave a deep depression in it.

"Damn!"

-o0o-

The next morning, Malfoy was already there when Harry arrived at seven. The blond didn't look as though he'd gotten any more sleep than Harry himself had, and blinked blearily at him over his coffee.

"Morning," Draco mumbled.

"Sleep sometimes Malfoy," Harry said curtly. "Otherwise you're going to get yourself killed."

"Sod off."

Harry couldn't be bothered with a reply; instead, he flung himself into his seat, taking in the changes Malfoy had wrought in his cubicle out of the corner of his eye. It was more than a little disoncerting to see plants in his cubicle. There was absolutely no way he would ever admit to the fact that they sort of brightened the dinghy little three-walled box up a bit; hell would freeze first. But it didn't detract from the overall strangeness of it.

This is going to be one bloody long year.

-o0o-

By noon, they'd made no considerable headway into the case, and it was almost with relief that Harry noted Luna's sudden appearance in his cubicle.

He opened his mouth to greet her in as friendly a way he ever managed these days, when her expression turned serious, and he stood. "Another one?"

She shook her head as Malfoy also rose to his feet. "Hello Lovegood," the blond said politely, and glanced at Harry. Harry ignored his look, wondering what would bring Luna all the way over from the Department of Mysteries two days running.

"Harry, I need to speak to you in private, please," she asked, flicking Malfoy an apologetic look. Harry strode out of the cubicle, more than happy to leave the useless theories and list of possible suspects to Malfoy.

When he'd lead her to a private room, used mostly for friendly questioning, she took up a position near the far wall and gazed and him steadily. Harry allowed her the time to collect her thoughts, or whatever it was she needed to do.

She didn't disappoint. "Harry, we've been doing some digging into your past," she said without preamble. This was stunning enough that he unintentionally gave her the necessary silence to continue. "There's something come to light that we think you ought to know about."

"Why?"

She offered him a vague smile and lifted one shoulder. "It gets boring. Harry, you're a pureblood." Both statements were delivered in the same general, dreamy tone. "That puts both you and Auror Malfoy squarely on the list of possible victims. We have other Unspeakables on duty watching the homes of other purebloods who live alone and have little to no family. The same measures will be accorded to the two of you, so please don't feel frightened by someone following you."

After a few minutes, Harry managed to get his brain in motion again. "Of course I'm not a pureblood," he said, his tone dropping into dangerous levels. "My mum was a muggleborn-"

"Your mother was adopted, Harry. We've found the papers to prove it." Luna's gaze was unwavering; he wasn't even sure if she'd blinked.

"Excuse me?"

"Lily Evans was born Liliana Grey. The Greys were a small, desolate pureblood family, and when she was born, they found themselves unable to take care of her. Voldemort was beginning to gain power in those days, and they feared for her safety if she remained with them, as they were unable to protect themselves, much less a newborn baby. She was put up for adoption in the muggle world, and the Evans' adopted her into their family. She then grew true to her magical heritage, attended Hogwarts and married James Potter. The Potters were, historically, close friends of the Greys, though a falling out between the two bloodlines some years past lead to a rift in the friendship that was almost a blood feud. By that time, the Greys had all but died out - Lily was the last, and now she's gone too." She turned her eyes away finally, settling them on the wall. "I'm sorry you have to find this out now, Harry," she said softly, "and in such a way. I was concerned for you; if this leaks out, your popularity is going to double. The famous Harry Potter, a pureblood! Not to mention, you're all alone. This makes you a prime target for the killer, and we wouldn't be able to keep the murders away from the press any longer if you were targeted."

Speechless, Harry let her walk past him. "Malfoy, too, is in danger. His past makes him just as much of a public target as you are, and with the both of you working on this case, you're in twice as much danger." She left the room after that, and Harry felt his legs give out from beneath him.

Adopted, he thought, and looked down at his pale arms, the ghostly blue of the veins beneath the skin clearly visible. Pureblood.

They could possibly be targeted. Harry could take care of himself, but anything could happen to Malfoy, so new to the Aurors and living in London on his own, instead of in Wiltshire with his family. Part of him wouldn't mind Malfoy's demise; it would rid him of the partner he so despised, and his life would return to normal.

Or rather, as normal as it ever was. Was he even normal any more? Tomorrow was the day he visited Hermione. For the first time in eight years, he found that he didn't want to.

Part of him wouldn't have minded Malfoy's death, no. But the rest of him screamed that Malfoy had to be protected at all costs. Luna wasn't enough to keep him, but Malfoy's presence these last few weeks had drawn him back from the edge of the apocalyptic madness he'd begun to feel creeping along the edges of his mind. It was madness in and of itself, that Malfoy could affect him thusly, but it had always been so; no matter where he was or what he was doing, Malfoy had always affected him.

Christ.

-o0o-

Draco saw Luna exit the room without Potter, and make a beeline straight for Shacklebolt's office. She was in and out of there much quicker than she'd been with Potter, and then he found her coming straight at him.

"Malfoy," she said pleasantly. "I'm sorry I was rude earlier, but I had to inform Harry of something very serious. Shacklebolt has asked me to tell you as well, as Harry might be some time in coming to terms with it."

He waited expectantly, wondering if she would dance around it all day.

"You and Harry are both possible targets for the serial killer," she informed him bluntly, and then smiled sweetly. "Have a nice day." She turned and walked away, somehow seeming to make it look errant and meandering while she neatly avoided everyone in her path and went directly towards the door.

She'd said it so vacantly that it took Draco a moment to catch up with the actual words. Targets? Potter? What? What the hell have I gotten myself into?

-

Logically, he knew he'd be a target whether or not he was in the Aurors, and after an hours contemplation, he'd come to that realisation. That still didn't explain Potter, however, and he went to Shacklebolt's office, seeing as how his partner hadn't seen fit to return to work after Luna had spoken to him.

"I wondered when I'd see you in here," Shacklebolt said, resignation evident in his voice. "Harry's gone home. He's had a bit of a shock today, and tomorrow he won't be in, so I saw no harm in it."


"A shock? What? Won't be here?" Draco was fully aware that he was gibbering like an idiot, but he was getting fed up with having things only half explained to him. "Explain," he demanded, seating himself in one of the chairs before Shacklebolt's desk.

"Luna did some investigations into Harry's family history on my request. The things she's discovered were quite a surprise to us all. Lily Evans, as it turns out, wasn't muggle-born after all."

Draco put two and two together rapidly. "She was adopted out of a pureblood family by muggles," he deduced. Shacklebolt nodded, steepling his fingers under his chin.

"Not an uncommon practice in old families with no money back then," he said. "Though generally the child was given into the care of other wizards. However, now it does present more than a few problems, most specifically with the case the two of you are working on."

"Lovegood told me we were both possible targets," Draco agreed. "I'm sure we'll be in no trouble, however."

"What's this about Potter?" The voice didn't come from Shacklebolt, and the door was securely closed; for a moment, Draco was startled, unsure of who was speaking or where it was coming from. Shacklebolt's forehead wrinkled briefly as a shadow passed over his face, but it passed quickly and he turned to look into the fireplace behind his chair.

"Hello Mrs. Littlewood," he said politely. "I'm afraid you've called at a bad time."

"Potter's a pureblood is he? Good," she said. "Best news I've heard all year. But I didn't call to snoop," the woman snapped, as if Shacklebolt had accused her. "I want them back here right now. It's nearly the full moon, you know, and all sorts of disreputable garbage comes out of the woodworks at that time. I'm afraid I've become the target of an unhappy werewolf, because there was another prowler in my garden just last night."

"Thank you for your call, Mrs. Littlewood," Shacklebolt said. "Someone will be around to check it out shortly."

"See that they are," she said sternly. "I'm an old woman, you know, and I'm all by myself here in this house. Very dangerous to be alone in this day and age, all sorts of ruffians lurking about."

"Thank you, Mrs. Littlewood," Shacklebolt said again, louder. She withdrew from the fire, and he buried his face in his hands with a loud sigh. "This is the worst possible time for her to be monopolising my men," he muttered.

"Sir?"

"Go home, Malfoy," he said. "I'll send someone else to appease her this time."

Draco rose to his feet. "Yes sir," he said quietly, and made his way to the door. "Shacklebolt," he started, and was pierced with a sharp stare.

"Leave Harry alone today," he ordered. "Give him today and tomorrow, and then ask him all the questions you want. This is not the time for it."

His plans thwarted before he could even consider them seriously, Draco scowled. "Yes sir," he replied, and let himself out of the office. The fact that he'd even been considering asking Potter about his family - as if he cared, no less, and not just out of curiousity - spoke volumes about his involvement with his partner. Suddenly it seemed much less of a good idea to have gotten himself into the Auror Corps, family plans be damned. Too deep, he decided. Gotten myself in much too deeply with this.

-o0o-

kori is listening to: Tiziano Ferro - Sere Nere

Harry gives me so much trouble! Draco rolls right out of my brain like he's on wheels, but Harry can't decide if he's happy and talkative or moody and reclusive, or any combination of those, or something else. ;; Again, I apologise!

(The majority of the review replies and the above author's note were written... months ago, when I was still actively writing HP fics. I took a long break in which I was focusing solely on my original novels, for which I have two books - TWO! 8DD - to show for my neglect of my beloved fandoms. You guys are champion for keeping up with my many disappearances, and you all get cookies, homemade and slightly charred on the bottom. If you notice a difference in my writing style from here on out, it's because I've spent the last six months or so focusing solely on novel writing, and researching writing itself, so I have a much better idea of how to present a realistic story, rather than just slapping some words down onto the page and flinging it to the wolves. I'm also not happy with Harry's characterisation any more, and his wild moods, so I'm going to work on evening that out, and I may even go back one day and rewrite this, in order to keep him more in character to the story.

One more thing. Snivelly is Awesome Of The Year. Go read her story Serpent Tales, it's definitely worth it!)

bloodsoakedninja: Thanks~ Luna was something of a surprise to myself, but she really is perfect. The reason behind the parseltongue bothering Draco will be revealed... in a chapter or two, I think. I have no idea how long this is going to be. Between ten and fifteen chapters, I think, at the least. When my brain supplied the identity for the serial killer (it keeps things like that secret, even from myself) it was shocking. I think you're going to be completely surprised. x3

js: Thanks for reviewing. I hope I live up to your expectations.

thrnbrooke: You have no idea. x3

Kyle Evadne: It's a relief to know that you're still enjoying it, despite the potential off-putting-ness of Harry's moody self. Thank you for reviewing!

Mr Spears: Yay! I like people who like what I write. ♥ I believe it's going to be between ten and fifteen, but I could be wrong. It depends on where the plot goes. (I have no control over it. It's like trying to catch a dog who doesn't want to be caught.)

hieisdragoness18: Hahaha, sorry darling~ Forensic details like that are a petpassion of mine, so I tend to forget that other people may not be as interested by it as I am.

SP777: I hereby solemnly swear to do my best to live up to your parseltongue expectations. And wow, you've got patience. I've always been finicky with what I read, and so many good ideas are written so badly (I'm aware that I'm guilty of this myself, so I'm not just shit-slinging here) that they're not worth reading.

VilleP: Oh~ Thank you! I certainly will email you about it when this chapter's up (but by the time you get to this point, you'll already have known about it. I'm writing review replies before I knuckle down and start actually writing, so that I can catch up.) And lmfao~ I love some of the captchas they give me.

SecondStoreyStairwell: Thank you for reading, and taking the time to review! It means a lot to me as a writer to know what people think of it. I'm sorry I made ya'll wait so long for the next update, so hopefully this is as good as you were hoping it would be.