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"James! You're needed in waiting room number three!"
James groaned and turned around to see Robins waving a scroll and speedwalking toward him. "I'm going on my lunch break. Can't it wait?"
"No sir, it's Lucius Malfoy, sir. I need to contact either Auror Shaklebolt or you, and since you're right here..." Robins trailed off, handing James a piece of parchment.
James agreed to the job, but whined to the closest cute little secretary about his lack of a lunch break for a few minutes longer than polite.
When James slouched into waiting room number three, also known as the interrogation room for when purebloods didn't or couldn't get themselves out of trouble, his pockets were a scribbled Floo code heavier and his mood was a great deal lighter. The waiting rooms weren't bad, to say the least. There was a comfortable sofa and two chairs. The room was even accented in pale greens and silvers; Slytherins would feel at home.
Malfoy had taken one of the chairs and looked more unperturbed than any criminal had a right to.
"Right," James said, plopping down on the second plushy chair (better than the one in his office, actually) and opening the sealed parchment. "You are here on... one count of muggle harassment?" If he wasn't mistaken, it was Malfoy's first time in a waiting room.
"False charges," Malfoy smoothly corrected, still acting completely undisturbed. James got ready for another long day.
"Of course. Can you tell me about what happened? Would you like a lawman?"
"No. I have full confidence the charges will be cleared. You see, this morning the muggle repelling wards on my country cottage failed. I was thankfully there for the weekend with a friend of mine, so I replaced the wards in a matter of hours. But in the meantime, a muggle got into the lake on my property."
James blinked. "Then what? That can't be all."
"Very astute," Malfoy murmured, leaning onto the right side of his chair, closer to James. James edged away. "When I re-energized the wards, they petrified any and all muggles on my property. As the muggle was in my lake, it drowned, and I was charged with muggle harassment."
"Muggle harassment? That's what they charged you with?" James rubbed his temples. "Why are you here, Malfoy? You could've easily dismissed the charges... unless the muggle was a child?"
"An man of about fifty. I believe the muggles think of that age as elderly."
"So it's—excuse me, he's—not a child, elderly, and it was an accident. I repeat, why are you here?"
"Perhaps I wanted to get in touch with a former classmate."
"I hope you don't mean me, as I was in my first year when you were in your seventh."
Malfoy nodded and his expression morphed into something between a smirk and a smile. "A schoolmate, then."
James jumped off his chair. "I'm great, you're great, you can go. If you don't get the charges dismissed by Monday, I'll need to come to your country house to talk to the other witnesses check out the lake and the body."
He didn't need to get involved in Malfoy's convoluted political games.
x
After work, James Floo'd to his London flat, grabbed a beer, and read the newspaper for two hours. It was difficult adjusting to the fact that Harry would be at Hogwarts for the next nine months, James privately admitted. Sure, he'd see the kid during Christmas holidays, which Harry would spend with him, and over the summer, but it wasn't the same as being able to drop by whenever he wanted. He sent letters almost daily to Hogwarts, but that didn't change the fact that he wasn't a major part of his son's life anymore. Harry was growing up. Had his own parents felt this way when James had started Hogwarts? Of course, his own parents had never divorced (even though he'd sometimes thought they needed to), so maybe that made the difference. They had each other to keep company. Perhaps he needed to get a wife.
Or on the other hand, no, he didn't. After the wreck of his first marriage, he didn't need another wife to complicate his life. Instead, he decided to Floo to Sirius' place and start a bachelor's drinking club with him.
x
"Bills, paperwork, insurance, nonsense, more nonsense," James muttered, shuffling through the papers that had collected on his desk over his month-long Auror case.
"Here, you need to follow up on the Malfoy case." Robins dropped a thin file onto James' desk.
James opened it and read, Auror visit scheduled for Monday at ten. Requested Auror: James Potter. As it was neither Head Auror's handwriting nor James' (they were the only two people authorized to authorize Auror cases), he could only assume Lucius bloody Malfoy wrote the request himself.
"Bloody hell." James groaned. "What does he want with me?"
"Dunno," Robins answered. "But have you heard he's divorced his wife? Rumor has it he's left her because he's interested in someone else. Any idea who it might be?"
"Who the hell cares? I just wish he'd get over himself and stop giving me busywork."
James shuffled around his paperwork for the next two hours, coming up with a mental list the size of Britain of reasons why Malfoy should get himself checked into St. Mungo's instead of bothering honest hard-working Aurors.
x
"Country cottage my arse," James huffed to no one in particular. As a Senior Auror, he had no partner to whine to, but even if he had, this sham of a case wouldn't have needed another pair of hands. Pity, because he would have liked complaining to someone about certain too-rich bastards who called the huge building in the distance a cottage.
Malfoy's estate was located in the country, but it was better described as a manor house than a modest country cottage. James had apparated outside the wards, then decided to screw politeness and apparated again to the main house. There was a square mile of land between the edge of the wards and the manor...for the purpose of breeding albino peacocks, James surmised, seeing a few walking around. It was a pointless and gaudy display of wealth, that's what it was.
After knocking on the door, James was unpleasantly surprised to see Malfoy himself open it. "Do you greet all your guests personally?" Strictly speaking, it wasn't done unless the visitor was a personal friend of the residing pureblood. A house elf could do the job more efficiently.
"Only the more favored ones," Malfoy drawled.
James scowled, but ignored the comment in favor of getting the case over more quickly. "Where's the body, the lake, and where can I find the other witness?"
Malfoy waved him inside. "Are you always this rude to us honest, law abiding citizens?"
James snorted with laughter. Malfoys, law abiding citizens? Nargles would appear first. "Only to the more unfavorable ones."
As Malfoy led him through the house and to the lake outside the property, James considered telling Malfoy his shoes were dirty from all the mud built up outside the wards, but decided not to bother. Malfoy's pristine carpets needed a bit of mud on them.
Soon, they were at the lake. It was rather large, James thought, but it fit the property well. "So, this is it? Where's the body?"
"There it is." Malfoy pointed to a body-shamed lump covered by a light green sheet. James lifted the sheet and prodded at the body with his wand, letting a few spells give him the information he needed. It-he-was a muggle man of about fifty years old. He'd drowned. There was most likely no foul play, as he was sure Malfoy would have done something much more creative than drowning a muggle had he wanted to torture one.
James sighed softly, crouching down and staring at the body. Had Lily been here in his place, she would have kicked and screamed until a real investigation was conducted. She would have brought this man's body to the muggle authorities, made sure his body was returned to his family, then would have arranged to pay for his funeral, as it was the 'least she could do.'
"Right, that's done with. Return the body to...someone," he ordered halfheartedly, knowing that Malfoy could burn the body as soon as James' back was turned and the courts wouldn't give a care. Neither would James, much to his own displeasure. But he was tired of hating himself for not being Lily's perfect husband, so he just followed a silent Malfoy to one of the Manor's sitting rooms. Maybe Malfoy had more tact than James had given him credit for.
Lounging on a sofa in a flower-covered sitting room was Snape, who looked as greasy and unwashed as ever.
"Of course your friend had to be Snape," James said, forcefully grabbing the man's hand and shaking it. "It's been a while, Snape. Heard you're a professor now. Didn't think they let you lot out of school during the year." He plopped down on Malfoy's offered sofa.
Snape sniffed, looking at James as though he was seeing something incredibly distasteful. James wondered if he could get away with turning Snivellus' hair pink again. Probably not, as he was in polite company.
"Potter. You need my statement?" Snape gave a lengthy monologue and James pretended to listen while writing down every third or fourth word.
"That's it. Well, I'm sure this is quite enough to get your charges dropped, Mr. Malfoy," James said, quitting at subtly hinting that Malfoy could and should quit the farce and bribe his way out. He'd probably lined the Minister's pockets with enough gold that Fudge was already willing to help his old political buddy out.
Malfoy smirked. "Actually, Auror Potter, I wanted to speak with you about some dark artifacts I came across."
"Where, in your dungeons? Next to the torture devices and the screaming muggles?"
"Hmm, maybe to the right of our poison collection." Malfoy gave Snape a long stare, to which Snape huffed and waved his hands in exasperation.
"Fine! I give up. But on your own head be it, Lucius, when you're faced with rejection for once in your life." Snape left the room in a huff, slamming the door behind him.
After a strained, silent moment, James coughed awkwardly. "You were admitting to having a poison collection?" he prodded. Every self-respecting pureblood family had a poison collection, usually kept near the wines in cellars, but he'd be damned if anyone would speak of it.
"A joke," Malfoy murmured, staring at him until James began to feel hot and uncomfortable.
"Okay." James gave up the ghost of politeness and stomped out of the room, yelling, "We're finished!" to the probably scowling man behind him.
As expected, the front doors wouldn't open for him until Malfoy came along himself and opened them for James.
"Potter," Malfoy began, and James turned around and waited for another stupid request, but instead he found Malfoy's lips pressed against his own. This close, James could smell Malfoy's cologne and a sweet-smelling tea Malfoy must have had earlier. But as soon as the kiss even registered in his mind, Malfoy had already pulled away. James' lips felt a bit too cold, and he hated that he felt that way after a only a millisecond of a kiss.
"What the hell, Malfoy?"
"Perhaps you could call me Lucius," Malfoy offered, shutting the door in James' face. "I'll see you at the court hearing."
James stared at the door, gobsmacked. "What the hell? Why aren't you getting the charges dropped, you arsehole?"
This time, James walked the mile to the edge of the wards, all the while grumbling about stupid men who had more money than sense.
And who had very soft lips.