The Auror
Late June, 1998
Harry sat at his desk, going over the files on Malfoy Manor. After a week of sorting through cursed items, he hadn’t even put a dent in the extensive collection. It was a bit disheartening on its own. Malfoy’s company made it that much worse.
“You’re going have to redo every one of those files,” Malfoy said.
“Could you not hover over me? I don’t appreciate being scrutinized,” he leaned back in his chair to look up at the man beside him.
“Well, I can’t really leave until you finish this.”
“Then grab a chair. This will be a moment.”
Malfoy stole a chair from another desk and sat down beside Harry. His cold eyes were still focused on the files.
“I’m warning you,” Malfoy said. “No one can read those notes. Where’d you learn to write? A school for the blind?”
“My handwriting is fine,” he said under his breath as he attempted to continue his work.
“I think we have different definitions of fine.”
“I really need to focus on this if either of us are going home before dinner.”
A smug look crossed Malfoy’s face as he leaned back in his chair. “What’s for dinner, Potter? Is the she-weasel cooking you the finest? Or is it takeaway again?”
Harry let his quill fall to the desk. “You know, you should be thanking me,” he turned to face Malfoy.
“And why is that?” He raised a pale eyebrow.
“Because if I wasn’t assigned to this, another Auror would be.”
“Yes, that’s how the Ministry works. I’m pleased to know you understand that basic concept.”
“Another Auror might not be so kind.”
“This is kindness? I almost feel sorry for your friends.”
“Do you realize that most of the other people in this building would be happy to lock you up in Azkaban?”
“And you wouldn’t?”
“No. If I did, I wouldn’t have said what I said at the trials, would I?”
For once, Malfoy didn’t seem to have an answer for that. He glanced around the room at the other Aurors. Very few were left. Most had gone home for the day.
“Just let me finish this paperwork and we can both go home,” Harry said.
“Fine, but if it comes back to you with the note ‘cannot read’, don’t blame me.”
Harry rolled his eyes and returned to his bookwork.
Minutes felt like hours.
Malfoy was far from patient as he sat in the chair, waiting to be dismissed. Harry would have happily let him go back to the Manor, however, the Slytherin was still under house arrest. He had to be escorted by an Auror any time he left the house. Harry had to finish the files before he could return Malfoy back to his mansion.
When Harry finished his paperwork, he was more than ready to return home. He glanced over at Malfoy who was idly reading a book he had stolen from one of the other Auror’s desks. Much to his horror, the book appeared to be a rather steamy looking romance book.
“Your coworker is rather desperate for any show of intimacy, Potter. If things don’t work with the weasel, you could always go for-”
“I’m ready to leave. Let’s go,” Harry said before Malfoy could finish his sentence.
Malfoy placed the book back on the desk and stood. The book cover depicted a chiseled, dark-haired wizard who had conveniently forgotten to wear a shirt. Harry knew his face was red from the glance at the book.
“Well, are you ready?” Malfoy raised an eyebrow.
Harry shook off any desire to deny the glance at the book. “Um, yes, let’s go.”
Harry apparated to the front yard of Malfoy Manor. As always, the large building loomed over them like a dark omen. The dark skies only magnified the ominous effect the large, stone building had. Heavy clouds disrupted the moonlight, making the shadows of the yard hard to see.
Despite spending his entire week at the Manor, Harry still felt a shiver run down his spine. Malfoy didn’t seem to share this sensation. He walked up to the front steps of his house before glancing back over his shoulder.
“Are you staying on this case?” He asked.
“Yes,” Harry replied. It wasn’t like any of the other Aurors were willing to do it. At least not if they had to be civil towards Malfoy and his mother.
Malfoy gave a small nod before disappearing into the dark house.
Harry wasted no time with apparating back to Grimmauld Place. He felt a wave of relief wash over him upon returning home. It was raining in Islington, but not enough to soak through his cloak before he made it up the steps and unlocked the door. As Harry stepped into the familiar home, a strange sensation ran down his spine.
Someone was in his house.
Harry grabbed his wand. The lights turned on and a chorus of voices yelled, “surprise!”
Harry stood frozen at the entrance to his house, his wand drawn and his eyes wide. Hermione, Ron, Ginny, George, Luna, and Neville were standing in his living room. A sign floated in the air above them, enchanted to say “congratulations, Auror Harry Potter!”
Ginny was the first to pull him into a tight embrace. “Sorry,” she whispered in her ear. “Ron really wanted to do a surprise but maybe that was-”
“No,” he smiled at his girlfriend. “No, I’m…I was surprised. This is lovely.”
Despite the immediate sense of fear the party had evoked in him, Harry quickly found himself enjoying the celebration. Ron and Ginny had made a lovely spread of appetizers and Hermione made a beautiful cake. George had done a bit of decoration (that mostly involved balloons that insulted you if you popped one). Luna and Neville had brought several houseplants to ‘liven things up’.
Since the war, this was the first time that Harry had his friends over to Grimmauld Place. While the old house was cold and often a bit depressing, it felt warmer with his friends. They ate and drank, laughing together about simple things. For once, the war wasn’t looming over their heads.
It was well into the evening when Hermione finally cornered him in the kitchen. The others were deep into a card game. The moment Harry saw his friend walk into the room, he knew what she was going to say.
“Ginny told me,” Hermione said. Her expression was blank, as if waiting for his reaction before showing her own.
Harry gave a small smile. “Yeah, I…I still haven’t really gotten over it,” he felt blood rush to his face.
Hermione smiled at him and pulled him into a tight embrace. “You’re going to be a great dad. It makes sense that you took the job with the Ministry, now. I’m so happy for you.”
He couldn’t help but feel comforted by the comment. He let himself relax into the embrace. “Thanks, I…I’m kind of terrified, honestly.”
Hermione pulled away and smiled up at him.
“You should be,” she laughed. “Children are…crazy. But they’re also pretty great, especially one with you and Ginny as their parents. You’ll be great, really. Besides you’ve got all of us.” Her hands slipped from his shoulders but not before the pads of her fingers graced the skin of his elbow.
Suddenly, Harry felt Hermione’s mind force its way into his. His stomach churned and his vision blurred.
“No, I’m sorry,” a younger Harry gasped. “I didn’t mean to.”
“I don’t care what you meant to do, boy. My jacket is pink. Pink!” His uncle shouted.
Uncle Vernon’s hand reached around Harry’s arm as he dragged in towards the cupboard. He tried to resist it. He didn’t want to be locked away in the dark again. However, Vernon was bigger and stronger.
Harry reached out and grabbed hold of the railing beside the staircase. Vernon was quick to tear him away. With a sudden and violent motion, he opened the door to the cupboard and shoved Harry inside. His head hit the wall with a deafening thud and the door was shut. He heard it lock from the outside.
Harry let out a sob as he sat on his lumpy mattress, rubbing his head where it had hit the wall. He was alone in the dark.
Harry returned to the present moment with his heart beating wildly in his chest. His knees felt weak. He had to reach out and grab hold of the countertop to steady himself. In front of him. Hermione looked terrified. Her cheeks were wet.
“Harry, I…”
“It’s alright,” he reassured her.
“I didn’t know…was that your uncle?” Her words were quiet. “Sorry, I…I shouldn’t have asked. I shouldn’t have seen. I-”
“Hermione,” he placed his hands on her shoulders, careful not to touch any skin. “It’s alright. I know you didn’t mean to see that.”
“I knew your childhood was…I just didn’t know…”
“It wasn’t great,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t think about it much but…now that Ginny is pregnant, I can’t stop thinking about it. What if I’m like him?”
“No,” she said quickly. A sense of knowingness crossed her face. “You’re not like that. Not even a little. Your child will have a wonderful life. I’d give you a hug right now but…”
“I know,” he admitted.
He could see the pain in her eyes. She wanted to comfort him, but she was too scared to touch him. It had been over a month and Hermione had yet to find anyone who could help her with her problem.
Harry wondered how much pain she was hiding from him. He had moved in with Ginny and gotten a job at the Ministry. Ron lived with George above the joke shop and helped his brother run the store. Hermione, however, was still in limbo. Apparently uncontrollable Legilimency wasn’t an easy thing to ignore. He felt guilty for not being able to help her.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“No,” she stepped forward. “Don’t apologize. I…I need to control this. I can’t keep traumatizing people every time I accidentally touch them. I should be wearing gloves at least.”
“Did you ever find Professor Snape?”
She let out a long sigh. “No. He doesn’t live at Spinner’s End.”
Harry nodded. After what he had seen of Snape’s life at Spinner’s End, he didn’t blame the man for leaving.
“Maybe someone at the Ministry knows where he moved to. I can ask around if you’d like.”
Hermione nodded. She wasn’t the kind of witch to give up easily, but Harry could tell this new predicament was taking its toll on her.
“When you…have visions,” he began. “Are they always bad?”
“No,” Hermione said quickly. “I mean all of us have been through some pretty intense times, so yeah, sometimes they’re bad. But sometimes they're good too. I’ve accidentally seen marriages, births, and the beginning of friendships. I think I just see the most powerful moments in a person’s past.”
“And a lot of powerful moments are bad.” Harry didn’t want to acknowledge his fear of the dark had been rooted in his uncle’s abuse.
Hermione nodded. “But even the good ones are uncomfortable to see. Some memories are not meant to be shared.”
Harry wanted to argue, just to try to make her feel better, but she was right. Some things were not meant to be seen by others.
That night after everyone left, Harry found himself lying in bed with Ginny. She couldn’t get comfortable–a clear sign she was thinking too much. He couldn’t blame her. Lately, he’d been thinking too much, too.
His mind had been spiraling ever since he learned that she was pregnant.
“Harry,” Ginny’s voice was small, something rare for her.
“Yeah,” he looked over to see her staring at the ceiling.
The dim light from the streetlamp outside their window illuminated her profile. Her red hair looked dark in the shadows of night.
“I don’t want you to take your first job offer just because of me.”
“No,” he said carefully. “It’s not like that. I think I could do good as an Auror.”
She turned to face him. “You’ve already done good,” she pleaded. “And you’ve got plenty of money at Gringotts. Why did you accept the Auror position?”
“I thought you were happy about that?”
“I am,” her vivid hazel eyes met his. “Really, I am. Harry I’d be happy about anything you chose so long as you were happy with it.”
“You’re too good to me,” he said with a smile as he rolled onto his side to face her better.
Ginny let out a long sigh. “I can tell when something’s off with you. Is it the baby? Is this a mistake?”
“No,” he said as clearly as he could. “I’ve always wanted children. And so have you. I just…I feel a lot of things, I guess.”
“Me too. I feel excited and scared. I wonder if I’ll be a good mum or if I’ll be wicked. I-”
“Gin, you’ll be a great mum.”
“And you’ll be a great dad, but there’s more to this, isn’t there?”
Harry said nothing.
“Why the Ministry?”
He took a deep breath. “I have this vision in my head of what a ‘good’ family ought to be,” he said slowly. “And I want to fit it.”
Ginny gave a slow nod. “And what does this family look like to you?”
“Happy,” he said with a sad smile. “The father has a good job, something with good hours and benefits. The mother is beautiful and strong, and she cares for the children. The children are happy and safe.”
“Well, that’s a little outdated, don’t you think?” She said bluntly.
Harry couldn't help but laugh. “What?”
Ginny sat up and leaned over him with a grin. “Do you think I’m going to be your fragile little wife who stays home and cleans up the messes of everyone else?”
“I didn’t mean-”
“Or what if your job doesn’t work out but mine does? Can I be the breadwinner? Is that allowed in your vision? And I hope you don’t assume our children will always be happy. Not everyone is always happy–most people aren’t and there’s nothing wrong with-”
“Stop, I get it,” he groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’m not saying it’s right for me to have this vision. It’s just that…I don’t know what a proper family looks like.”
Ginny seemed to consider this. “I know,” she said gently. “But there isn’t one way to be a right family. I don’t want you to feel pressure to do anything differently just because we’re having a kid.”
“Your mum thinks differently.”
Ginny laughed. “Yes, she wants us to get married, but if we’re not ready, we’re not ready.”
“Are we ready?” Harry looked at his girlfriend with a hopeless expression.
“No,” she said simply. “I know for sure I’m not. I want to have this child but there are still some things I…things I’m unsure of. I’m sorry.”
Harry reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I understand.”
This time it was Ginny who let out a long groan. She collapsed beside him onto her side of the bed. “I’m such an idiot. I’m dating the man of my dreams. Now, I’m about to have his child and yet I’m…”
“Getting cold feet.”
Ginny let out another long, unflattering groan, this time directly into her pillow. “I don’t want to talk about this again,” she said stiffly. “I’m…I’ll come around to the idea of marriage, I’m sure.”
Harry looked over at her. He couldn’t judge her, not really. She was seventeen. She might have loved him but being married at seventeen was still no small thing.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Gin,” Harry replied. “Don’t be. I’m not really sure I’m ready for all that, either. And about the whole perfect family thing, I…I know there’s no right way to be. I just…there so much I don’t know.”
Her eyes met his once more. “We’ll do this together,” she said with a small smile.
Monday arrived and Harry found himself back at Malfoy Manor sorting through an entire library of books and artifacts. It was a tedious process that started with checking each and every item for curses, hexes, and any signs of dark magic. Most of the items had some level of dark magic but not all were dangerous.
Currently Harry had three separate piles: not hazardous, slightly hazardous, and incredibly hazardous. So far, most of the artefacts had been sorted into the ‘slightly hazardous’ pile.
Malfoy was little to no help. Sometimes he sorted the books with Harry, other times he disappeared for hours at a time. Mostly, he seemed more like a specter than a real, living person. He wandered through the mostly empty halls of the Manor with no set destination.
Harry almost felt bad for him. Almost.
“Potter,” came a posh voice from behind him. “I don’t suppose your Auror friends know when you’ll be finished up here?”
“I’ll be done when I finish documenting everything in this house,” Harry replied. It was the fourth time he had explained essentially the same thing.
Malfoy wandered further into the room, sipping on a cup of tea. He hadn’t bothered to make Harry one and Harry wouldn’t be caught dead asking Malfoy for anything.
“You’re not terribly quick at this, are you?” Malfoy raised an eyebrow.
“It’d be faster if you helped like you said you would,” he grunted as he moved a large, stone tablet into the ‘not hazardous’ pile.
“I think I’d rather watch,” he replied.
Malfoy summoned an overstuffed velvet chair with a matching ottoman. He sat down and kicked his feet up, watching as Harry worked. He sipped casually on his tea. Harry had to bite back the desire to tell him to get off his ass and help. That would only be feeding into his game.
“So, I hear last week was your first week of work. How exciting,” Malfoy said dryly. “It’s surprising that even hero’s need to work an office job every once in a while. I figured you’d be living in luxury somewhere interesting.”
Harry looked over at Malfoy. “Yeah? Like where?”
He gave a small shrug. “Someplace poor boys think is upscale–America maybe?”
“I’m quite happy here.”
“In my library?”
“No, with my friends.”
“Ah, so you live with Weasel and the know-it-all.”
“I live with Ginny and Hermione. Ron lives in an apartment in Hogsmeade.” Harry was tempted to ask Malfoy if he ever saw his friends, but he already knew the answer and he wasn’t that cruel.
“Is the she-weasel the reason you work as an Auror? I’ll bet she just loves your uniform,” he added in a suggestive way.
Harry hated that the implication sent blood to his cheeks. He rolled his eyes. He knew that Malfoy was just trying to get under his skin.
“So, you’re an Auror. What about the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio?”
“Are you asking me about how my friends are doing?” Harry looked over at Malfoy in shock.
He gave a bored shrug. “I haven’t got much else to do. I hope they’re both failing miserably.”
“They aren’t,” he muttered. “Ron has his own business and Hermione is…studying.”
Malfoy lifted a pale brow. “Studying what exactly.”
“Whatever she likes.”
“Unemployed then.”
Harry desperately wanted to launch one of the bookshelves at Malfoy. However, he held his temper, realizing that the other wizard might be able to help him.
“You know at the end of the war,” Harry said, watching as Malfoy flinched slightly. “It was Hermione who found Professor Snape. She saved his life.”
“I’m sure she got an award.”
“Yes, well, she wanted to know how he was. She asked me about him the other night. I don’t suppose you’ve seen him?”
Malfoy hesitated. Harry took that as a good sign. For a moment the room was quiet apart from the diagnostic spells Harry was performing on the artifacts and books.
“He moved,” Malfoy said at last. “She won’t find him.”
“Do you know where he moved? She’d like to at least send him an owl.”
“I know where, but I doubt he’d want the likes of you knowing.”
Harry placed a pile of books on the table in front of him and turned fully to face Malfoy.
“What do you want for the information?”
“You want to buy me out? How terribly…Slytherin of you,” he gave a cruel smirk. “Tell me about the baby and I’ll tell you where to find Severus.”
Harry nearly knocked over a vase. “What baby?” His voice was incredibly too high.
Malfoy’s wicked smile grew. “Yours I’m assuming. Tell me about who it’s with and I’ll tell you where to find Severus.”