Chapter 2
It’d been three years. Three years of carrying this pain in his chest. Three years of reliving memories.
Harry couldn’t forget her no matter what he did. He volunteered for every Auror mission that required travelling to Germany in the faint hope that he would find any news of her. Perhaps catch a glimpse of her name, or a mention of her in his pursuit of the remaining Death Eaters, since her family had supported Voldemort during the war. Thankfully, they had not contributed quite so much to earn them Dark Marks, and the family members were only given probations after the war. Unfortunately for Harry, this also meant that no intensive and detailed investigations were launched, like in Malfoy’s case, and he had not much of a trail to chase. All he had were memories of their long conversations, faint flashes of her startling blue eyes or her dark brown hair when he saw someone similar… and dreams of their passionate trysts that kept him up at night.
He’d tried to make things work with Ginny after she left. It didn’t work out, mostly because they didn’t quite see things the same way. They had both lost someone dear to them in the war, that was true, but a distant godfather could not compare to a close brother. She had bouts of sadness, but there was always her warm home waiting for her, and her other brothers. A real family that loved her. She was broken by the war too, but not in the way Harry was. Not in the way he and she were. Damn, he missed her so fucking much.
They had all suffered enough in the war, and had matured enough to not dwell on past childhood disagreements, to put it mildly. And it’s because of her that Harry was more open to the idea of Slytherins being just as tortured by the poisoned ideologies Voldemort spewed. It’s because of her that he began to see how badly the war had affected the Purebloods themselves.
He threw himself into Auror work instead, channelling his energy into rounding up the remaining Death Eaters after the war. He still remembered to check in with his friends, of course. Ron and Hermione had been through so much with him that it would be impossible to shut them out, despite the wreck he was inside. It also helped that Hermione worked in the Ministry of Magic with him. As an Auror, he worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, while Hermione was doing her best to better Muggle and Muggleborn relations and understanding in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. They met for lunch once a week, and were sometimes joined by Draco Malfoy, who was now working for the Ministry as their resident ex-Death Eater and pureblood consultant. His input and family connections had been instrumental in tracking down and arresting the remaining Death Eaters.
Harry looked up from his musings as Hermione pulled out a chair to sit opposite him at a table in the Leaky Cauldron. A white-blonde head came into view, and Malfoy’s posh dulcet tones greeted him warmly.
“Potty.”
“D-man.”
They nodded at each other amiably.
“Harry! How has your day been? I’m so glad we could meet before I get absolutely buried by what’s coming… Sorry, I got ahead of myself there.”
Hermione leaned in to kiss Harry on the cheek, and he hugged her in greeting. She took a seat at the table, then started rummaging in her bag. Harry grinned as she slid a formal cream envelope embossed with silver leaves across the table to him.
“You’re one of the first people we thought of when writing the invitations,” said Hermione. Malfoy’s slight raising of his eyebrow was the only sign of his barely-concealed amusement as Hermione beamed at Harry.
Hermione had made the newspapers quite literally fly off the shelves when she went public with Malfoy two years ago. She’d confided in Harry after she was confident that it was not just a fling, and was pleasantly surprised when Harry gave her his full support. Harry thought Draco Malfoy was a prat, but he was the right prat for Hermione. He matched her in wits, and wasn’t intimidated by her bossiness or her confidence in herself. Harry also knew from what his lost love told him of Draco that the Malfoy heir had done much of his work for Voldemort under duress, and obligation to his family.
Damn the Purebloods’ duty to the family! None of the examples of familial duty Harry had seen ended up in happiness for the people involved.
Harry rubbed absently at the phantom pain in his chest, and opened the envelope. He unfolded a card that looked and even smelled expensive.
“Congratulations! You’re getting married in three months, huh?” Harry scanned the flowing script of the wedding invitation.
“Thank you. We want to keep it small and invite only our closest friends to our wedding,” said Malfoy.
Your closest friends? From Slytherin?” asked Harry, careful to keep his tone casual.
“I’ve written invitations to Theo, Blaise, and Daphne.”
Hermione glanced sharply at Harry, studying his neutral expression. Malfoy, noticing this, subtly shot a questioning look at her.
Being the clever witch that she was, Hermione had figured out that the woman Harry pined after was from House Slytherin thanks to his surprising support for her own relationship with a rather notorious Slytherin Prince. She had made attempts, of course, to coax the name out of him but he was tight-lipped. She also tried to help him forget her by setting him up on dates with nice witches, but he couldn’t bring himself to show any enthusiasm on the dates.
Harry smiled brightly. “It would be nice to catch up and see how everyone’s been doing years after the war.”
“Yes, we’ve all changed quite a bit since Hogwarts.” Hermione smiled wryly at Draco, and he smirked back.
The conversation quickly returned to more mundane topics, and some minor updates on the happenings in their lives while they enjoyed their lunches.
“By the way, we’re having drinks at the pub to celebrate the engagement. It’s a bit of an ice-breaker before the official engagement ball Narcissa’s holding for the press. We’re letting her go all out for this in exchange for a more intimate wedding. Let me know when you can make it?”
“Any evening will do. I’m working on my paperwork backlog for the next two weeks so I’ll probably need a drink.” Harry winced.
Hermione reached over to pat Harry on the shoulder. “Hey, it might be fun!”
“Only you would say that, Granger,” drawled Malfoy, with a slight roll of his eyes. “We’d best get going. See you at the pub.”
Harry raised his hand in a half-wave as Hermione and Malfoy stood to leave. Malfoy’s hand went to the small of Hermione’s back, a light yet intimate touch. Ever the gentleman, he opened the door for her before stepping out into the street behind her.
Harry sighed as the sting of jealousy spread from his heart. He wondered if he would have that with her too, if she’d stayed. He drained the last of his Butterbeer and tossed sickles on the table to pay for his lunch.
He went to the Leaky Cauldron’s fireplace and took a pinch of Floo powder from the little jar on the small table next to it, then threw it into the fire.
“Ministry of Magic!” called Harry, and he stepped into the green flames. He stepped out of the Ministry’s Floo, shaking soot off his robes, and was almost immediately accosted by the receptionist witch, a wide-eyed buxom blonde who seemed determined to sink her claws into The Boy Who Lived.
“Hi, Harry,” purred Rosemary Jones. “You should tell me when you go for lunch. I can be your dining companion.” She batted her eyelashes flirtatiously. “Any time.”
He pulled his arm out of her clutches. “It’s so kind of you to offer, Rosemary, but I’m busy.” He increased his pace, practically jogging to the lifts to escape her attentions, and hopped into one before the doors closed. A Ministry Memo zipped in after him.
“Mmm, I would love to get myself a slice of that pie. Care to share, Harry?”
Harry looked to his left to see Cormac McLaggen and his smarmy grin.
“You can have the whole pie, Cormac. I don’t care for it.” He pressed the button for the Aurors’ office floor multiple times, wishing the ride would go faster.
Cormac’s grin slipped, and he reddened. “Robards wants all available Aurors in the meeting room in ten minutes.”
“Got it, thanks.” Harry nodded goodbye to Cormac as he stepped out of the lift. He paid the ostentatious wizard no further mind as he smiled and muttered polite greetings to his floor mates on the way to his office. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cormac scowl and flounce into his own office, which he had earned more through Ministry connections than hard work.
Harry would like to believe that he had earned his own office partially through hard work too, but it had become rather obvious that he would not be able to be a completely normal Auror when people kept popping by to gawk at him. Closing the famous Boy Who Lived off from public view was as much for his privacy as for everyone else in the department to be able to focus on work.
Harry let out a sigh as he shut his office door behind him. A stack of documents awaited him, and five more Ministry Memos had fluttered in above his head before he had shut the door. He sat at his desk, checked the time, and counted the Memos. He really ought to respond to at least one Memo before the meeting. Instead, he was snapped out of his daydreaming by a knock on his door.
“Meeting in Room Two, Auror Potter.”
Harry groaned. He hadn’t gotten anything done. “I’ll be right there, thanks!”
He trudged past the desks of his fellow Aurors and found himself a seat in Room Two.
Robards looked even stormier than usual, if that was possible. This was bad news. Very bad news.
He cleared his throat. “There’s a new prophecy going around, and the Death Eaters are targeting children.”