Chapter Text
Parchments already covered Harry’s cubicle when he flood in on a dreary November morning. It had been raining for days now and his bedroom’s ceiling had began to drip. Mending spells hadn’t worked so Harry needed to hire a repair man to check the Grimmauld Place. He didn’t have time for any of that. He was already swamped with paper work after his lengthy mission in Ireland. On his table Harry noticed a letter with Ministry of Magic’s stamp on it. Shacklebolt was at it again.
Harry rubbed his face and sat down. Today would be another long day. He resigned to his fate and wrote a hasty note to Ron apologising for not showing up for yet another invite to catch up with friends. Every Thursday was the same but still each time Harry thought he might have the time.
It wasn’t that Harry didn’t like his job. He loved being an Auror and helping people. It was what he was good at. Harry acknowledged the fact that he was a great Auror. There was a reason why the most difficult and dangerous cases found their way to his desk. He just didn’t like drowning in paper. Even now more scrolls appeared on the overflowing basket and fell on the floor. They turned soggy next to Harry’s drenched robes. He had forgotten to put his robes to dry last night.
Harry summoned a sharpened quill and got to work. The office coffee tasted terrible as usual and Harry chewed on the coffee grounds. It was like drinking dirt but he desperately needed the caffeine after sleeping only three restless hours.
The floor secretary, a young wizard named Nick, knocked on Harry’s cubicle before popping his head in.
“SA Farrell is calling for you. He’s waiting in his office,” Nick handed even more parchments to Harry before walking back to his station at the centre of the room. Harry didn’t envy his job as he saw the speed of appearing and disappearing scrolls.
Senior Auror Gregory Farrell had been Harry’s mentor ever since he had joined the force, and a pleasure to work with. The plethora of scars marring the older gentleman’s face told a story of a long career. Harry respected the man and aspired to become more like him when he hopefully got that coveted SA title.
Farrell was sipping on a steaming cup of tea in front of the open window. The distinct smell of his cigarettes filled the air as it always did when the older gentleman was around. The acrid smell lingered on his person long after the cigarette had burned out. It was familiar enough that Harry was sure he could recognise the man from the smell of his cigarettes alone. His silver hair with darker streaks was neatly cut and he was dressed crisply. Farrell didn’t believe in jeans and refused to wear the official Auror robes unless absolutely necessary.
Harry always felt underdressed in his presence, especially now with his frayed jeans and dirty sneakers. He hadn’t had the time to do laundry and Kreacher still refused to help him around the house. Not that Harry really minded that. Kreacher could do what Kreacher wanted to do.
The older auror’s eyes crinkled in smile as he motioned for Harry to sit down and take a cup of tea.
“I know the swill Nick brews is horrendous. Nothing can beat a good cup of strong tea,” Farrell laughed as he poured a cup from his enchanted pot, “He is the best secretary I have ever had the pleasure to work with but he can’t brew a pot if you held a wand to his head.”
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Yes, yes Harry. You youngsters are always so impatient,” Farrell shook his head but did turn to his desk and rummaged through his considerable pile of scrolls and parchments. There were even more than on Harry’s desk and for a second Harry was glad he hadn’t reached that coveted position. It would mean more work for him.
When Farrell found the file he was looking for, he flicked his wand. Harry was familiar with the wordless spell coursing through the office shutting the window and glittering on all the surfaces like a wave. Farrell only did that for the most sensitive discussions. Or when he had a yet another special case for Harry. An exhausted sigh tried to worm its way out of Harry’s mouth but he mercilessly swallowed down any complaints. Logically Harry knew that Farrell was training him for a higher position. Testing to make sure he was up for it before any possible recommendations. Harry was grateful for it.
“Now, boy, you know already that this is sensitive information I am about to share with you,” Farrell patted the file before lowering it on the desk in front of Harry, “You must be worn after that absolute farce down in Ireland but this is bigger than any of us.” Compassion and understanding flickered in his eyes but Farrell was an old-fashioned gentleman. Duty came first.
“You’re the best man for this mission. It is like it fell from the sky for you, Harry,” Farrell explained.
Harry glanced at the papers in the file but didn’t get very far when familiar names caught his attention. His head snapped back up. Anger started to surface. Hadn’t George dealt with enough without this meddlesome business?
Farrell held his hands up. “Wasn’t my idea, boy. Mr. Weasley is an active member of the community and volunteered. I must commend his resilience. He’s the one who actually recommended you for the mission. In his opinion, you wouldn’t raise any suspicion there and we have to take into consideration the history between you and Mr. Malfoy. You have most knowledge about the man, so it is best for you to go.”
Farrell did make sense. Harry just didn’t want to drag the Weasleys into this, whatever it was. Farrell motioned for Harry to read through the file before he continued to lay out the operation.
“I didn’t know Malfoy had turned into a business owner. I always assumed he would take a position in the ministry like Hermione or turn into an alchemist. He was a natural in school,” Harry muttered mostly to himself. He couldn’t see Malfoy actually working a day in his life. Getting hands dirty and clothes messy working. It clashed against the pure-blood socialite image Harry had in his mind.
The file in Harry’s hands was similar to the ones he had been dealing with ever since he joined the force. On a larger scale it was called the operation House Cleaning. Even after almost ten years some death eaters wandered free wrecking havoc. A couple key players had gone underground and the whole department of Magical Law Enforcement had been working long days for years. The House Cleaning was kept highly confidential and all shared knowledge was on a need to know basis. They were hoping to flush out all corrupt officials, as well.
Harry shouldn’t have been surprised to see Draco Malfoy on the watch list for possible sympathisers and possible instigators. He wasn’t known for his love of muggles, and he was the only son of Lucius Malfoy. Not to mention the dark mark that had still been etched on his skin when Harry had last seen him in the court.
Still, Harry was surprised, disbelieving really. Malfoy had always been intelligent and a couple of steps ahead of everyone else. It was so plainly a stupid idea to start displaying disturbing acts of magic right in his own neighbourhood next to the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes where at least two powerful wizards spent their days.
“Are you sure the source is reliable on this? It doesn’t seem like something Malfoy would do,”
Farrell just nodded his head. Apparently the informant was anonymous then. Need to know basis.
“A long time has passed since school, Harry. Some people change, some people don’t. Perhaps he has just gotten cocky after quiet years. That’s what we need you to do. Figure it out for us and we can have one less death eater in our hands.”
Harry frowned at that but couldn’t really dispute it. He had said it himself a moment ago how strange it was for Malfoy to own a coffee shop instead of aiming higher. It was like seeing Hermione decide to become a house wife. Just out of character.
“The coffee shop could be a front. In the middle of everything to cause less suspicion. Hiding in plain sight,” Harry muttered and Farrell hummed in encouragement.
“You will catch him, Harry. You always do.” With that Harry was dismissed with his new workload.
~
The coming undercover mission didn’t lessen Harry’s workload. He had endless reports and mission summaries to write and appearances in court to rush through. The coffee was horrible but he drank at least a pot of it and Nick was more than happy to brew more. The man seemed to enjoy torturing them with that dirt.
“Hey, I need those scrolls back asap, Harry,” Nick came by for the nth time, “Madam Marilka really doesn’t want to wait. They’re essential for the weekly report. And we need the summary to give details to the press.”
“GET OUT!” The outburst had Nick lifting his hands up and taking a couple of steps back. “Can’t you see I’m already working? Can’t really get them to you any faster no matter what!”
Harry sighed rubbing his face. This day was a nightmare. And he could feel the pressure behind his eye growing. Soon he would have a migraine.
But it didn’t make it right to take it out on Nick. He was just doing his job. It was Harry who was flagging behind and needed to work harder.
It was nearing five when Harry finally had the documents for Nick ready. Harry plastered the best smile he could make in these circumstances and walked towards Nick’s desk. The man was absentmindedly reading through papers with his head resting on his hand. Harry couldn’t understand how he could look so put together after a long and busy day. Not a strand of his blond hair was out of order and his glasses had no smudges on them. Even his hands we free of ink. It was like the man had stepped right out of a magazine.
“I shouldn’t have exploded at you, Nick. My work shouldn’t be your problem,” Harry apologised while handing over the papers. Slight smile flickered on the corners of his mouth as he nodded.
“Apology accepted. We all have those days.”
The apology didn’t make Harry feel any better. He was still in a bad mood with a headache coming. Still feeling guilty over his uncharacteristic outburst. Not to mention that it was evident Nick had been waiting for Harry’s papers. He had almost immediately left the office with a dashing smile and a wave for those working night shift and overtime today. In all honesty, Harry felt like shit. He was still sore from Ireland and the cold weather was starting to creep into his bones. Harry wished he wouldn’t catch a bug next.
Exhaustion pressed his body, but Harry had still work to do. He always did.
The empty and cold Grimmauld place flashed in his mind and he felt no rush to go back. More than once he had pulled an all-nighter just for the sake of not going to the gloomy and quiet house he called home.
It didn’t feel like a home but Harry refused to give up. Leaks and unhappy house elves and all, it was still all he had left of Sirius. He needed to honour that. Needed to make something better out of it. A place where he could invite Teddy to stay over and have meals with his friends.
The Grimmauld Place just wasn’t there yet and right now Harry wanted to just forget that the world outside of work existed.
~
When Harry finally stumbled over the threshold into Grimmauld Place it was close to midnight. He had a sandwich in his hand and wordlessly made his way to the master bedroom. Probably the only room in the whole house where Harry really spent any time.
Water was still dripping from the ceiling but Harry was too tired to do anything about it. He wanted to just read over the file one last time before falling into dreamless sleep.
The informant had written outrageous things that Harry had difficult time believing. Slaughtered alley cats and people hidden beneath their robes coming and going at odd hours. Flashes of light and strange lingering smell of something poisonous. Harry didn’t really see how something could smell poisonous. It either was poison or it wasn’t but usually scent didn’t come to play. At least someone with Malfoy’s skills would mask the smell of any poisons he was brewing.
Or maybe he was more biased than Harry had initially thought. George had recommended Harry to come do surveillance in Diagon Alley and that meant something. George wasn’t one to get alarmed easy and if something had spooked even him, perhaps the informant was as reliable as Farrell had assured him to be.
While reading though the file, Harry shoved the sad sandwich in his face with alarming speed. He realised that he hadn’t had the time to eat anything during the day. An image of laughter and the sound of cutlery hitting the plate filtered to Harry’s mind. Warm food and good company. Someone who was there when he got home. Sometimes Harry found himself thinking that he might even take Hermione’s incessant nagging and the need to be always correct over the quiet of this house. He couldn’t shake the memory of Ron and Hermione’s wedding. They had looked so happy together, so in love.
Meanwhile, Harry had gone through a rather public breakup with Ginny. They hadn’t been in love.
‘It was the war, wasn’t it?’ Ginny had asked him. ‘It made me desperate, you know. Nothing was certain and we were terrified teenagers. I don’t regret it, though. Do you?’
Harry thought about the fear, the weak respite they had found. Something to fight for when he couldn’t lift his foot in front of the other. It had been survival instinct. They weren’t happy together.
‘I wanted this to work out. I really did, Ginny,’ Harry had said like any of it mattered. Ginny had tears in her eyes and there was nothing Harry could do to console her. She wasn’t what he wanted. He wasn’t what she wanted. ‘I don’t regret us. We tried our best.’
‘Hey, we did it. We’re alive,’ Ginny had whispered the parting words into his ear before briskly walking away, towards her future.
Harry seldom thought such maudlin things. There was a box for such thoughts in his mind and he would have been glad to throw away the key. Things were better now but Harry still caught himself thinking that something was better than nothing. But he knew that Ginny deserved better than just something. She deserved everything, and there just wasn’t enough of Harry to give her.
~
Things in Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes were just like Harry remembered them to be from the horrifying gargle of a sound when he opened the door to the quickly dissipating cloud from the back room. A mechanical bird flew by as George emerged from the back room with a vial in his hands and a smile on his face.
“Harry, the things I need to do in order to get you here!” George laughed throwing his arms around Harry and giving a quick squeeze. He wiped his hands on Harry’s back. He was the same as usual. At least there weren’t any signs of anxiety because of the situation.
Harry felt a twinge of quilt at George’s elation at seeing him. Had it really been so long since he had last visited? He couldn’t remember, which was a bad sign. It had been way too long. George just laughed at Harry’s grimace and threw him an apron.
“A stroke of genius, if I say so myself,” George said while keeping an eye out for whatever disaster he was brewing in the back.
“I hadn’t realised you were an ‘active member of the community’ as Farrell put it,”
“Doesn’t take much in this corner, really,” George shrugged, “Only a couple of stores and apartments above. It’s nice to have neighbours. Makes the slow days less boring.”
“Even Malfoy?”
George looked confused for a second before a grin stretched his face again. “Didn’t quite catch up just yet, Harry? Not so sharp in the mornings, I see! I only demanded protection and investigation to lure you here for a while. Ron said you have been busier than ever and I just couldn’t have it right before Yule. Consider it an early present!”
Harry frowned at that. It took him a second to piece to puzzle together before the picture was clear. It was so like George.
“You’re saying there’s nothing going on here?”
“I’m saying that whatever’s going on has nothing to do with Malfoy. And can’t honestly be that bad. Maybe some bored kids doing pranks in their rebellion,” George chuckled at that, sobering up a little. Harry could only imagine the mischief George was thinking about, “I know that at least Jeremiah from next door is an insufferable trickster, at least according to his mother.”
“So, there hasn’t been any weird sighting in the area?”
George shook his head at that and launched into a tale with little sense and many detours but Harry thought he managed to get the gist of it. Lingering magic all around the place and harmless pranks. Some of them had happened over Halloween and in George’s opinion that negated any possible malice.
Harry didn’t say anything to that but thought about the many cases he had dealt with that had started just like this. Only some of them had escalated into violence, and even murder in one case. He shuddered thinking about the mutilated body in the basement
“Not to mention that Malfoy makes a mean coffee and I would hate to get my daily pastries from Cup Cauldron. Their muffins are dry and taste of chemicals.” George finished his winding tale and nodded as if the whole ordeal was so dealt with.
“Malfoy can actually make coffee? I don’t believe you. Last I saw him, I’m pretty sure he couldn’t even boil water without a house elf,”
“Didn’t believe when I first saw it but when he brought me a cup I couldn’t get enough of it! He brings some over when he has a slow day. Some pastries, too. They’re way better,”
“Did you just admit taking bribes from the suspect, George?” Harry laughed but couldn’t help glancing curiously out of the window. He thought he could see the familiar head in there but at this distance it was hard to say.
George laughed at that and shooed Harry to go get his daily morning fix. On his way out Harry finally realised to what kind of mess he had really put himself. George was going to boss him around like this the whole time. He had essentially become an assistant to a chaos monkey. He didn’t really mind that, as he opened the door and was greeted with strong smell of cinnamon and coffee.
~
The door to the Brew didn’t make a noise like Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes but Harry didn’t think that Malfoy would have noticed either way. The scene was so familiar that for a second Harry was fifteen again and certain Malfoy was up to no good wherever he went. Harry had been right that time. Now he really didn’t want to be.
Malfoy was poised regally as always even in a heated argument with Pansy Parkinson. His sharp nose was pointed upwards in defiance as he squinted at whatever argument she was making. He had looked like that when they were in school. He was just missing his Slytherin green.
Malfoy looked polished. His long hair was tied back and his clothes were fitted and pristine. He was confident and not afraid to take his space. He seemed more relaxed than he had been back in school. There had always been tension on his shoulders that was evident only now that it was gone.
The two pictures of Malfoy connected in Harry’s mind and he wasn’t yet sure how to feel about it, how to approach this person who looked like Malfoy but not really. Apart from the ease there was something else different but Harry just couldn’t pinpoint what.
It became evident that Harry had just walked in on a private discussion and was about to make his presence known when he heard what they were talking about.
“I really don’t care, Pansy! This is how it is and nothing you can do about it,” Malfoy sounded frustrated. “I just gotta deal with it how I know how.”
“But it’s not right. It’s illegal, for Merlin’s sake!”
“Just drop it. I don’t want you getting in trouble. I’ll handle it.”
Maybe the discussion was innocent. Maybe Harry was misinterpreting this. Only that right now it didn’t really seem so. Harry moved and the footfall seemed to alert them both as their heads snapped towards the door. Harry’s hand was still on the door handle and he took a couple of steps in.
“Welcome to the… Potter?”