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“But darling, you hate working with Aurors,” Draco said, dropping a kiss on Harry’s head as he sat. Harry put his feet in Draco’s lap, wriggling them until Draco began to rub one.
“Yes, but this case is fascinating.”
Harry explained that wealthy magical homes were being burgled and no one knew how or why.
“Some people might not ever admit to it,” Draco murmured, staring off into space. “Not everyone trusts the Ministry. Plus there’s their pride. Father would never dream of it.”
“Do you think he’s—”
“I’ll ask, but don’t get your hopes up. Since I’ve thrown my lot in with you, he’s hardly likely to tell me anything.”
* * *
Harry slumped over his files, yawning. Six months into his investigation, he’d found a single record in an old auction file that might match a set of stolen candlesticks. If he could track where the stolen items were going, then maybe…
* * *
“So I think I’ve made a break,” Harry said, staring down at the sausages. He heard Draco’s knife pause, then resume slicing. Harry closed his eyes.
“And just last week you sounded close to giving up. What did you find?”
Draco’s voice was the same as always: warm, interested, quietly amused. He pressed against Harry and kissed his temple as he dumped peppers into the pan.
“Well,” Harry said. “I tracked those auctions. I didn’t find much.” Harry could see Draco leaning against the counter, sipping his wine. “Then I saw a donation to the Hogwarts scholarship fund when I was helping Hermione plan that gala—it was the same amount as one of the auction sales. Five thousand, two hundred, seventy-three galleons exactly. A weird number.”
“Lucky coincidence,” Draco murmured.
Harry stirred the sausages and peppers. “So I started looking deeper at donations. All the thefts we know of are from wixen who never donate—publicly or privately—but can absolutely afford to. The potential targets who weren’t robbed? They all had money issues. I think the burglar knew. And all the donations are for progressive causes. House elves, medical fees, Hogwarts.”
“I suppose that explains my father,” Draco said lightly. “He’s been paying people to forget his crimes for years.”
Harry finally met Draco’s gaze. “Maybe the Malfoys have repaid enough.”
Draco swallowed; smiled softly. “What could ever be enough?”
Harry bit his lip. “Well, the Ministry’s dropped it. I’m thinking … I would too, if I could be sure no one was going to get hurt.”
“No one has yet, have they?”
“I’m concerned about the burglar. His loved ones. Surely he could find another way. So that the people he loves don’t need to worry.”
Draco watched Harry, silent. Eventually, he nodded. “I’m sure he could find some other way to use his skills; from what you’ve said, he’s rather brilliant.”
“One of the smartest people I’ve encountered.”
“Not smarter than me, surely.” Draco leaned around to stir the peppers, kissing Harry’s head again.
“About the same, I think,” Harry said, leaning into Draco’s embrace.