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Episode number and title: 10 – All Good Things
Episode writer: [livejournal.com profile] writcraft
Episode editor: [livejournal.com profile] drarryisgreen
Warnings/content: *None*
Episode summary: Harry and Draco are closing in on those responsible for the Squib murders. The boys try to put their own tensions aside while they bring their cold cases to a climactic conclusion. In the aftermath, will they finally be able to work out their feelings for one another?



“You were right. I need you to come back to the Ministry”

“Bugger off.” Harry blinked sleepily at the fire, just in time to see Draco turn his head in the flames.

“Now, Potter!”

“Bloody git.” With a glare at the fire, Harry stood and pulled on his clothes. He didn’t feel the need to dress in his work clothes when it was three o’clock in the morning, and he grabbed some jeans and a green woolly jumper which Molly had given him three years prior and which he had only just grown into. He chose his scruffiest things more to annoy Draco than anything else. Idiotic, self-centred prat that he was. He squinted at the clock and groaned when his suspicions were confirmed. “Can’t a bloke get a moment’s rest around this place?”

Draco disappeared from the fire without answering, and with a yawn, Harry made his way to the Ministry, hoping Malfoy had at least had the courtesy to make him a coffee.

“You took your time.” Draco sniffed when Harry arrived in his office. Somewhere between their argument and now, he had changed and looked as well turned out as ever. It infuriated Harry more than he cared to mention. “You look like shit,” Draco finished, not helping matters.

“I don’t particular care what I look like. Why the fuck am I here at stupid o’clock in the morning?”

“I’ve spoken to Benjy. There’s not a kneazle in hells chance he did this, and we’re going to have to be the ones to prove it.”

“You dragged me out of bed again to save your boyfriend’s arse?” Harry clutched his wand and counted to ten to stop himself from hexing Malfoy’s backside across the room.

“He’s not my boyfriend, but yes.” Draco eyed Harry again, eyebrow arched. “What is that, anyway?”

“Oh.” Harry looked down at his jumper and furrowed his brow. “It’s a broomstick.”

“I see.” Draco’s lips twitched and he stepped closer to Harry. “You do know it looks like something else entirely?”

Harry gave Draco his very best glare and folded his arms because having Draco this close was really rather distracting. “Perhaps you just have cock on the brain, Malfoy.”

“Perhaps.” Draco gave Harry the kind of look which made his cheeks heat. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and reminded himself he was bloody angry, for reasons which were becoming increasingly less obvious as Draco shifted closer.

“We’re investigating a series of murders, not hosting a fashion parade. Maybe we should focus on why you’ve changed your tune about Benjy.”

“I’m well aware of what we’re doing, Potter. If we were hosting a fashion parade you are quite clearly the very last person I would have called for help.” Draco folded his arms and put more distance between them. “I knew as soon as I went to see Benjy that he didn’t do any of this. He’s hiding something, I’m damned sure of it, but he’s no killer. If you put him in Azkaban just because you’re jealous, I’ll never forgive you.”

Harry rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to throttle Malfoy. “That sounds like just the sort of thing I would do, doesn’t it? Funny how quickly you’ve forgotten that less than twenty four hours ago you were asking me for help to chuck him into Azkaban, not get him out.”

Draco made to respond, but whatever he was intending to say was lost as the door opened and Parvati hurried into the room.

“Harry, Malfoy asked me to come into the office on urgent business and…goodness, whatever are you wearing?” Parvati stopped still and wrinkled her nose.

“A green jumper with a very large cock on it apparently,” Draco muttered.



“Why on earth would you do that?” Parvati’s eyes widened and Harry gritted his teeth.

“It’s a broomstick, for fuck’s sake. What did you want to tell me?”

“Just to let you know that Benjy Williams is free for interview now. Auror Dawlish said you could go ahead and get whatever you could out of him, because he’s not getting anywhere.”

“He did, did he?” Harry looked at Draco.

“Might as well take advantage of it.”

“Right then.” Harry opened the door and gestured down the corridor. “Lead the way.”

* * *


“Just remember, play nicely.” Draco glared at Harry and pushed open the door to the holding cell.

Benjy looked as if he hadn’t slept in days, his chin dark with stubble and his eyes downcast. He looked up and eyed Harry warily.

“Potter.”

“Benjy.” Harry sat and bristled when he noted Benjy managed to muster a smile for Draco. He tried to ignore the way Draco went to Benjy’s side and murmured something which seemed to reassure him. As a hot rush of jealousy overwhelmed him, Harry had to wonder if maybe he was exactly the sort of bloke who would chuck someone in Azkaban in a fit of anger. He huffed and pointedly pulled the seat next to him out for Draco. “Who brought you in?”

“One of your lot.” Benjy shrugged and shifted in his place. “They’re saying I’m a murderer.”

“You haven’t exactly helped yourself.” Harry pulled the case file towards him and read the arresting Auror’s notes before closing it again and watching Benjy closely. “Care to explain what the hell you’ve been doing hanging around crime scenes?”

“Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?” Benjy folded his arms. “I want legal representation.”

“Is that really necessary?” Harry’s voice tightened and he matched Benjy’s stance.

“I’m not going to talk.” Benjy glared at Harry, his eyes narrowing. “Not that you lot are above using Veritaserum if the mood strikes.”

“That’s not the way I do things,” Harry replied.

“He’s right – Potter is disgustingly noble. Me, I’m quite comfortable using Veritaserum to get someone to talk.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Benjy blanched and flinched back from Draco, who was sliding his wand through his fingers, a calculating smirk on his face.

“No – he wouldn’t dare.” Harry nudged Draco and gave him a look which he hoped was sufficiently disapproving. “But you’re not exactly doing yourself any favours. I don’t know who you’re protecting or what you’re hiding, but it’s only making you look like you’re guilty of something I’m pretty sure you had no involvement with.”

“So kind of you to say so.” Benjy crossed his legs and fixed his lips in a thin line, before relenting. “Do you have any idea how much witches and wizards gamble on Quidditch matches?”

“A bit more than a sickle or two, I’d say.” Draco’s arm brushed against Harry’s. “Is that what this is about?” He looked smug and gave Harry a nudge, lowering his voice. “Money – I told you it was about money. It’s always about money.”

“Not for all of us.” With another glare at Draco, Harry gestured that Benjy should continue.

Benjy lowered his gaze to the table, where he had twined his hands together. “I might have been throwing a few games. Not all the time, mind, just here and there. My contact always tells me where to meet him, and I go where I’m asked. That’s how I ended up at the scene of the crimes. I didn’t ask any questions, I just took the money and got on with it.”

“Do you have any idea why he wanted you to meet him at those locations?”

“Dunno. He was up to something, that’s for sure. Probably killing two birds with one stone, so to speak.” Benjy gestured to the door. “Am I free to go?”

“Not yet. Tell me about this bloke.” Harry looked across at Draco who was eyeing Benjy with a look of disdain and tried to focus on the job at hand, ignoring the fact that Draco’s cold demeanour gave him more pleasure than it probably should.

“I’ll do better than that. I’ll give you his name.” Benjy paused for dramatic effect. “Mundungus Fletcher.”

“I might have known.” With a growl, Harry stood and reached for Malfoy. “Come on, then.”

“Where are we going? It’s three thirty.”

“Yes – and I know just where to find Mundungus.”

With a last look at Benjy, Harry gripped onto Draco’s arm and Apparated them into the darkness.

* * *


“Harry Potter! What are you doing here at this time?” Mundungus wrapped his robe around himself and looked shiftily from side to side.

“We thought we’d make a house call.” Harry pushed past Mundungus into the small property and took a seat on the battered couch.

“Can I offer you gentlemen a drink?” Mundungus followed Harry into the living room, while Draco looked around the room disdainfully.

“Not now.” Harry gestured to the armchair and waited for Mundungus to take a seat, noting how he appeared to be looking for some kind of escape route. “Mundungus Fletcher, I am placing you under arrest for the murder of –”

“Hang about, Harry.” Mundungus held up his hands and looked pleadingly at Harry and Draco. “I’d never kill anyone, you know that.”

“No?” Harry glared at Mundungus and tapped his wand against his knee. “Then you’d better start explaining why you’ve been asking Benjy Williams to meet you next to so many crime scenes of late.”

Draco had remained quiet since their arrival at the small cottage, and when he eventually spoke, his voice was cold and furious.

“You might also want to explain why you have a Malfoy signet ring on your left hand. I know that nobody in my family would have willingly gifted you with such a thing.”

Harry watched as Mundungus clenched his hand into a fist before toying nervously with the ring.

“It’s just a silly trinket, Malfoy.”

Not to me.”

“Come on, then.” Harry gestured that Mundungus should begin speaking and made to stand when he was met with silence. “Okay, I’ve had it – I’m taking you in for questioning.”

“There’s really no need – I’ll talk.” Mundungus looked across at Draco, his expression bellying his nerves. “It’s just a bit of business on the side. Muggles who want to buy magical items, there’s nothing illegal about borrowing property from someone who has no use for it anymore.”

“The Wizarding Theft Act 1863 begs to differ.” Draco glared at Mundungus. “Grave-robbing is no more legal than an Unforgivable.”

“Not to mention you’re in violation of the International Statute of Secrecy.” Harry snorted and matched Draco’s glare. “Why is it always you?”

“I’m just lucky.” Mundungus let out a short bark of laughter which was quickly silenced by the expression on Draco’s face.

“I’m taking you in to the Ministry.” Harry stood and gestured that Draco should help, watching as he hauled Mundungus up to a standing position. “You’re under arrest.”

Mundungus sneered at Harry and his face twisted into an unpleasant grimace. “You’ll regret this, Potter. You might want to look a bit closer to home – who do you think tips me off about these things in the first place?”

“One of the Aurors?” Harry tried to keep his expression smooth, but he saw a flicker of surprise cross Draco’s features.

“Yes, one of the Aurors. Bloody Ministry.” Mundungus turned to face Draco, his expression gleeful. “And you, Mister Malfoy…I know all about your family. All about them. Rotten to the core, each and every one and you’re no different. Not afraid to kill, you Malfoys. Take pleasure in it, don’t they? Do you like watching someone bleed dry? Your father used to enjoy that game.”

“Take him.” Draco’s voice was tight and he pushed Mundungus towards Harry, his eyes dark and his face expressionless. “Take him.”

Harry gripped Mundungus’s arm and nodded once to Draco, before Apparating them back to the Ministry.

* * *


“I’m sorry about Fletcher.” Harry perched on the end of Draco’s desk and watched, as he moved paperweights gloomily around his desk with a flick of his wand.

“Why?” Draco placed his wand down. “The Malfoy family name is hardly what it used to be. I know very well what kind of things my father used to do and the causes he supported.”

“People can change.”

“Perhaps.” Draco pushed a file across to Harry and he saw the name etched across the front.

Sarah Longbottom.

“You’re still thinking about this?”

“Difficult not to, when you’ve been inside her head for a while.” Draco frowned and drummed his fingers on the desk. “There’s Malfoy money behind the Muggle Born Registration Commission. I did some more digging after we visited Umbridge.”

“It might not have been your father.” Harry swallowed as he watched Draco start moving the paperweights again, his expression blank.

“Who else? Helena was no better than a Squib herself by all accounts, and given the state we found Septimus and Aurelia in, I hardly think this was their doing. This has my father written all over it.”

“Perhaps he didn’t know what Umbridge was doing?”

Draco’s hand trembled and he placed his wand down carefully, clenching his hands together.

“Father would have known exactly what Umbridge was doing. Sending Dementors to administer the Kiss to innocent victims – to children. I went through the files from Umbridge’s time at the Ministry. They were sending Dementors to eradicate the world of Squibs and Mudbloods, just like she said, and Father was in it up to his elbows.”

“I’m sorry.” Harry knew it was a weak response, but he didn’t know what else to say. He couldn’t defend Lucius Malfoy, largely because he suspected Draco’s summary was correct. He reached over to squeeze Draco’s hand. “Why don’t I get us a drink? We can sit up for a bit and try to sort things out.”

“Why not?” Draco focused on their hands twined together and didn’t meet Harry’s eyes. “I’ll just have a tea.”

Harry made his way swiftly to the canteen, Malfoy’s words swimming around in his head. He felt that they were so close to cracking the case and he knew that somehow the trail which kept leading them back to Squibs was the key. While he waited for the drinks he tried to recollect the details from the files of Jacob Wilfing and Opal Leach, as well as the marks observed on the victims Iris had found.

“Draco? I’ve been thinking about Opal Leach…”

But when Harry opened the door to Draco’s office, there was nobody there.

He placed the cups down and looked at the note on the desk, sitting heavily.

Potter

I’ve decided to call it a night. I might be in a little late tomorrow, feel free to do what you need and I’ll join you as soon as I can.

Draco.


When Harry finished reading the note, all thoughts of the crimes left his mind. This time when he closed his eyes, Harry’s mind filled only with Draco.

* * *


After leaving the Ministry Harry fell into bed in his jumper and jeans, only just remembering to kick off his shoes before he settled into a deep sleep. When he heard a persistent banging at his door and saw it was five o’clock in the morning, he groaned and pulled his pillow over his head.

“Potter!”

Harry groaned again and yanked the duvet almost off the bed. He opened the door with a glare, and stepped back to let Draco stumble into the house.

“You’re drunk.”

“Don’t be such a bore.” Draco pulled Harry into his arms and covered his face in messy, Firewhisky kisses.

“I thought you were going home.”

“Decided to try the Golden Hinde, take my mind off things a bit.”

Fury coiled in Harry’s stomach and he stepped back, clenching his fists at his side.

“You went where?”

“The Golden Hinde, to have a drink and a dance.” Draco veered alarmingly towards Harry who kept him at arm’s length. “I wanted to take my mind off the fact my father is such a bastard.”

“And you thought that fucking a stranger was the perfect way to do that, I suppose?” Harry’s eyes stung and he blinked them hard. He wanted to punch Draco to stop him from smiling like that, as if everything was alright. In the end he punched the wall instead.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?”

“Breaking my fucking hand, apparently. Godric that hurts.” Harry clutched his hand with a wince and Draco stumbled closer.

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“Because I’m angry, Malfoy – you don’t just go off to some club and hang off the arm of anyone that’s available, while I’m sitting in your office watching your cup of tea going cold.”

“It doesn’t matter, I didn’t want to hang off the arm of anyone.” Draco sobered and moved closer to Harry. “Apart from you, I mean. Obviously.”

Harry looked up to see Draco watching him carefully and he slowly unfurled his hand with a wince. “It’s five o’clock in the morning. I’m knackered and you’re drunk. Just come to bed and try not to hog all the duvet. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“You might want to get that hand seen to,” Draco provided, helpfully, as he followed Harry upstairs.

“Do you think?” With a growl of irritation, Harry pulled off his jumper and jeans and got back into bed.

He shut his eyes tightly and within moments, he felt the heat of Draco’s body pressed against his back. It was typical that after finally managing to get Draco in his bed, he was half-pissed and snoring as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Harry lay awake for longer than he should, and listened to Draco sleep.

* * *


“Salazaar, I’m never drinking again.”

Harry woke up to the sound of Draco moaning, and not in the kind of way he enjoyed.

“Well it’s your own fault. We’ll get you a strong coffee and a pain au chocolat on your way into work. That should do the trick.” Harry turned and faced Draco, propping himself on his elbow. “You said last night that you’re not interested in anyone else. Apart from me. Apparently.”

“Did I?” Draco feigned innocence. “I also sang Weasley is Our King a few times before people started throwing glacier cherries.”

Harry harrumphed and glared at Draco. “A bit easier to admit to things after a few whiskies, I imagine.”

“Possibly.” Draco raised his hand and ran it through Harry’s hair, watching him carefully. “How’s your hand?”



“Not too bad – nothing broken, that’s for sure.” Harry clenched and unclenched his fist again and shrugged. “I’ll live.” He leaned into Draco’s hand on his hair and shifted closer. Draco’s body was warm and firm and Harry wished they could snog under the duvets together for the rest of the day.

“We should probably get to work.” Draco grimaced, as if the idea displeased him.

“I suppose.” Harry rolled onto his back and looked at the ceiling. “I was thinking about Opal Leach last night.”

“Oh?”

“I think we’ve missed something, there. I want to go and have another look at her flat.”

“Now?” Draco wrinkled his nose.

“No – first we speak to Mundungus again. We’ve got to try to get to the bottom of who we can and can’t trust with this case. There’s obviously something going on inside the Ministry, and I can’t help feeling Mundungus knows more than he let on” With a sigh, Harry threw back the duvet and began pulling his clothes from the wardrobe. “You take the first shower. I think you need it more than me.”

Draco hesitated, opening his mouth to say something, and then he stopped. With a nod, he got out of bed and left the room.

* * *


“How was your night in the cells?” Draco’s seat scraped and he sat down. His hair was still damp from his shower, and Harry tried his damnedest to focus on the task at hand, instead of the way Malfoy smelled like his favourite shampoo.

“Bloody awful.” Mundungus looked harangued and glared at Harry. “I’d expect this from a Malfoy, but not from you.”

“You’re hardly here without due cause.” Harry tapped his quill on the parchment he had laid out to make notes. “You mentioned that you had been getting tips from people inside the Ministry?”

“I’m not sure when I mentioned that. You must have been hearing things.”

“You know damn well what you told us.” Draco folded his arms. “We can use the Veritaserum if necessary.”

“Stop bloody saying things like that.” Harry nudged Draco again and was met with an innocent smile.

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” Mundungus muttered. “If I give you a name do I get to leave?”

“I don’t think so – we’re not just letting you get away with this without trial – but I think the Wizengemot will view things a bit more favourably if you cooperate.”

“Fine.” Mundungus shifted in his seat and sighed. “Savage. He’s the one you want. He told me when they had news of something and kept people away for long enough so I could get what I needed. Just trinkets, mostly.”

“And the Malfoy ring?”

“From Chrysos Hall,” Mundungus replied.

“Did you loot things there?” Harry wondered what Draco was thinking as he saw him shiver.

“Nope. Not a jot. I went to the Hall thinking there’d be all sorts, but I heard someone else rooting around. I managed to take a couple of things but I left pretty sharpish. It’s a miserable place – full of death and Dark magic.”

“Sounds familiar,” Draco muttered.

“You didn’t have time to take anything?” Harry watched Mundungus closely.

“’Course not – I was in and out quickly like I said.”

“Of course you were.” Harry rolled his eyes and glanced at Draco, who looked equally unconvinced.
“Do you know who was at the property?”

“Couldn’t say – it was dark.”

“What sort of build was he?”

“I never said it was a bloke. I know that much.” Mundungus looked pleased with himself and Harry met Draco’s gaze. He knew they were both thinking about Penbrooke and the interview which had implied a woman might have been involved in the crimes.

“You said you took things from the properties before the rest of the Aurors got to the scene.” Draco frowned at Mundungus and spoke with disdain. “You did a thorough job on the Leach property. Why did that get special treatment?”

“Leach?” Mundungus shook his head and looked pleadingly at Harry. “Nothing to do with me. I didn’t have time to get to her before the Ministry was crawling all over the house. She was a good lass in any event. I wouldn’t steal from her.”

“No, just the other victims of murder. How honourable.” Harry sighed, pressing his quill to the parchment. “Right, then. You can give us a list. I want every victim, every item and everything else you can tell us about the scene of the crime.”

And with that, Mundungus Fletcher began to talk.

* * *


“I know who sent this.” Harry reached into his robes and pulled out the note he had been given which alerted him to Helena’s case.

“Who?” Draco perused the writing for a moment and then looked up with a flicker of recognition. Savage. It’s his writing.”

“Yes, it’s his writing.” Harry sat down opposite Draco, raking a hand through his hair. “I spoke to Dawlish after the interview with Mundungus. It looks as though this little racket of his might have been going on for some time. I reckon Savage knew I was going to be working with you and they wanted to distract us from looking too closely into things going missing from crime scenes.”

“Pointing you towards a file with the Malfoy name on it would have been a sure fire way to keep our attention elsewhere,” Draco agreed.

“Funny they chose that file of all the things they could have picked.”

“All the files on the Malfoy family, you mean?” Draco bristled noticeably and Harry shook his head.

“No, just…” He paused and then steadied himself, keeping his voice level as he contemplated Draco. “I think she’s mixed up in all of this – Helena, I mean.”

Instead of responding with protestations and anger, Draco looked deflated and sat back in his chair, giving Harry a curt nod. “I’m inclined to agree.”

“Darjeeling?” Harry gave Draco a sheepish grin and reached out to squeeze his hand. “Tea makes everything better, Molly always says.”

“I’d thank you not to give me advice from a Weasley.” Draco shook his head and winced. “I’d prefer a Bloody Mary. My head is killing me.”

“I might have something along those lines.” Harry flicked his wand with a muttered Accio and a lurid pink bottle flew into the palm of his hand. He shut the door and grabbed two glasses, putting the bottle down on the desk. “It’s strawberry schnapps. George Weasley sent it to me for my birthday.”

“It looks vile.” Draco eyed the bottle with trepidation. He poured the clear liquid into two glasses and giving it a tentative sniff before downing one of the drinks with a grimace. “It is vile. I think I’ll stick with Darjeeling.”

“It’s not so bad.” Harry sipped the schnapps, rather enjoying the sweet, sticky liquor. “Although it’s probably not the thing for this time in the morning. I’ll ask Parvati if she’s able to grab us a couple of hot drinks.”

“You’re such a child sometimes, Potter.” The look Draco gave Harry was almost fond, and he felt his cheeks heating under Draco’s gaze as the mood in the room shifted.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Hm?” Draco arched an eyebrow and his lips twitched into a smile.

“Distracting me,” Harry clarified.

“We couldn’t have that.” Draco looked pointedly at the chair Harry was sitting on and a rush of memories of Draco writhing in his lap made his cock twitch with appreciation. He shifted in place with a growl and tapped the open papers.

“We’ve got to work.”

Draco relented, opening one of the files and pouring over the writing, squinting a little in the dim light. “Opal Leach…there’s something we’ve missed there, I’m sure of it. The place was ransacked and that idiot Fletcher doesn’t seem to have had anything to do with it.”

“It’s time to go and take a look?”

“Yes.” Draco frowned. “I think we should.”

* * *


“Look at this.” Draco gestured for Harry to come closer as he cast a Lumos to give light to the dark living room. The room was just as it had been when the Aurors found out Opal Leach had been abducted. The crime scene was still perfectly preserved, while the Aurors tried to get to the bottom of the case.

“What is it?”

“Papers – notes she made about Squibs and their position in society. It looks like a thesis of sorts, although I don’t know how far she got with it. A lot of pages seem to have been removed from the document. It doesn’t make much sense.”

“There’s a file like that over here.” Harry held out the empty file to Draco who studied the cover. “It’s labelled ‘Missing Squibs’ – she was campaigning about their cases getting overlooked by the Ministry because of the magical status of a Squib. She must have collected a lot of information, but the rest of the file is empty.”

“Do you think Opal discovered something she was never meant to find?” Draco looked up at Harry with a frown and he nodded, as a chill in the air caused him to shiver.

“I’m certain of it.”

* * *


“Have you found anything?” Draco plucked the file Harry had been pouring over from his hands.

“Nothing much.” Harry rubbed his eyes with a sigh. “Dawlish has been with Savage all afternoon, but he reckons there’s no new information on the killings. He wasn’t involved in the deaths, we’re sure of that much. I told Dawlish we had been back to Opal’s flat and taken some of the papers. After all of this, he seems prepared to let us run with it.”

“Well that’s something.” Draco pondered over the files and then looked at Harry. “I just don’t understand how Helena is tangled up in all of this.”

“Neither do I, but I think the link which pulls everything together is magic – or lack of it.” Harry rubbed his chin, speaking urgently. “Think about it – Helena believes she lost her magic, and at the same time there are geneticists working on trying to find a magic gene. Then Opal Leach goes missing after she begins to investigate Squib disappearances. The bodies which Iris alerted us to all have connections to the Wizarding world and they all appear to have been experimented on. It’s all tied together. I reckon Opal Leach found out that Squibs were being experimented on, although Merlin knows for what purpose.”

Draco shuddered at the thought of the experiments and nodded slowly. “We have to remember that Helena is, to all intents and purposes, a Squib herself. I’m not sure whether she has the agency to do any of this and she hardly strikes me as the mad scientist type.”

“Perhaps she was lying about not being able to do magic?” Harry offered.

“I think if she could still use magic she would have done so, more than once. I expect she would have done a better job of hiding herself too.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense.” Harry groaned and banged his head on the table. After a moment he looked up at Draco again. “I wonder if we need to speak to the scientists again? If people are doing experiments on Squibs and then Dr. Lautner is tortured for information, there must be a link between their research and the crimes. If we have a motive – a purpose – then we could maybe find who’s responsible.”

“I never liked that Roger Davies chap. Although he’s always had the opportunity to conduct experiments as he wished, claiming it was part of his job. I’m not sure why he would end up resorting to murder.”

“Perhaps he wasn’t working alone.” Harry furrowed his brow and thought back to the interview with Roger. “He talks about wizarding genetics as if he’s almost fanatical about finding a gene – the greatest intellectual challenge he’s ever attempted and all that rot, even though his boss seemed pretty clear that he’s not going to find something like that. Maybe he got desperate. You asked him yourself if he would consider killing for it.”

“I’m very astute.” Draco settled back in his chair, a smug look on his face. “Perhaps I had this case solved from the very beginning. I hate to bring this back to money, but Davies isn’t exactly an old Pureblood name, and scientists don’t get paid much considering the hours of work they do.”

“Davies might not be an old name, but Malfoy certainly is. Besides, even if Helena isn’t involved, we know from interviewing Dung that there are Muggles out there prepared to pay a fortune for magical trinkets. Who knows how much a Muggle would pay for magic.”

“A small fortune, I imagine.” Draco tapped his finger to his lips thoughtfully. “Not to mention the prestige for Davies if he made that kind of unprecedented breakthrough.”

“I think we need to ask Helena to help us with our enquiries. I’m still certain she’s the link.”

“Let’s bring in Davies again too,” Draco agreed. “When should we speak to cousin dearest?”

Harry closed up the files and stood, stretching. “In the morning.”

“Right. Well, see you tomorrow.” Draco made a pretence of clearing up the desk they had been sitting at and Harry paused by the door.

“We could have a quick pint first, if you’re game?”

Draco hesitated and then chuckled, winking at Harry. “The Golden Hinde?”

Harry grinned and nodded. “Where else?”

* * *


Roger’s demeanour had changed since Harry and Draco had last seen him. Gone was the arrogant, boastful confidence and instead he seemed twitchy and nervous. Draco’s elbow poked into Harry’s side, telling Harry that Draco saw exactly what Harry did – a man who was guilty of something.

Roger’s eyes flicked from Harry to Draco and back again. When he laughed, it sounded forced. “Harry, why am I here?”

“We want you to help us with the Squibs murders we’ve been investigating.” Harry noticed Roger visibly pale and resisted the urge to pump his fist into the air in satisfaction.

“It’s probably worth mentioning at this juncture that cooperation will be viewed favourably when the Wizengamot decide on the length of any Azkaban sentence.” Draco’s cool tone made Roger flinch and he looked wildly at Harry at the mention of Azkaban.

“I can’t go to that place – people lose their minds there. Don’t you understand? I can’t be sent to prison – I have so much left to do.”

“No?” Harry pressed his quill to his parchment. “If you want to stand any chance of avoiding it, you’re going to have to talk.”

Roger looked harried and pressed his lips together in a tight line. “I never intended to kill anyone, you have to believe me. Everything I did, I did for the good of our society.” He looked animated and leaned forward in his seat, his eyes gleaming. “Just imagine the possibilities, if a magical gene could be found. Squibs could be cured of their disease and the brightest and the best Muggles could be allowed to join us in our world.”

“I beg to differ. Purebloods have been using genetics to argue some have an entitlement to magic because of their lineage which is somehow superior to the magic of Muggle borns and half-bloods. I imagine it hasn’t been so long since the war that you’ve forgotten the most vocal champion of that kind of argument?” Draco arched his eyebrow at Roger, who flinched.

“What I do is nothing like You Know Who. I’m a scientist – a brilliant one at that. I simply want to help our society gain a better understanding of magic. One day, all disease will be eradicated as a result of my work.”

“Disease?” Harry frowned as Roger repeated the word for the second time. “You believe Squibs have a disease?”

“Clearly.” Roger looked confident again and waved his hand airily as if he was talking about the weather. “At some stage we have to use real patients to assess the utility of the cures we discover through our work.”

Not without first being assured that the so-called cures won’t threaten lives, and certainly not on unwilling victims.” Harry gritted his teeth. “Are you aware of the things you have done in your quest for brilliance?”

“I have tried to help.” Roger’s mouth set in a firm line. “The reactions to the introduction of the magically refined blood into the Squibs has been unfortunate, but we are so close. So close.” Roger’s eyes gleamed again and bile rose in Harry’s throat. He was relieved when Draco spoke up, because he wasn’t quite sure he could manage to do so himself.

“You introduced some kind of refined magical blood into the systems of the Squibs in order to try to trigger any kind of latent magic, I assume?” Draco snorted and scribbled quickly on his parchment, pushing it across to Harry.

That explains the puncture wounds on the bodies.

“Yes.” Roger’s brow furrowed. “The first few attempts resulted in acute organ failure almost instantly, but with time the impact became less, although not flawless – not yet.”

“Far from flawless.” Harry shook his head and stared at Roger. “Innocent people died during your experiments. Were they conscious?”

“Of course not.” Roger looked horrified at the thought. “The pain would have been intense. We - I - simply placed them into a magical coma and kept them fed and watered with various nourishing potions. They wouldn’t have felt a thing. I didn’t enjoy experimenting on Squibs. I was fortunate enough to have access to DNA samples as part of my work, and I used that for the most part.”

“Otherwise the death toll would have been higher?” Draco grimaced.

“What happened to Jacob Wilfing and Opal Leach?” Harry watched Roger carefully for his reaction and noticed a flicker of emotion cross his features before his face smoothed.

“Wilfing tried to escape and it seems he was unlucky. I had no involvement in his death or the death of Opal Leach. I am a scientist, not a cold-blooded killer.”

“Yes, I’m sure you can convince yourself of that.” Draco nudged Harry. “Are we done?”

“Yes, nearly.” Harry rose to his feet and gathered his papers. “Do you know Helena Malfoy?”

“Malfoy?” Roger looked startled and glanced at Draco. “I don’t know who you’re on about.”

With a nod, Harry closed the door behind them. “Well, what do you think?”

Draco frowned at the closed door. “I think he knows exactly who Helena is.”

* * *


Helena Malfoy looked around the small interview room with displeasure. She was as well turned out as ever, with an expensive string of pearls looped around her neck and her hair pulled back into a neat bun.

“I don’t really understand why I’m here.” Helena sniffed and examined her nails. “You can’t have any evidence against me and I have already been acquitted of the crime you tried to convict me for.”

“The crime you confessed to committing.” Harry clenched his hands and Helena let out a peal of laughter.

“That doesn’t sound like something I would have done.”

“We’re not here to talk about that.” Harry gritted his teeth and counted to ten before moving on. “We have a witness placing you at a crime scene.” Harry elaborated a little on the information they had gleaned from Mundungus and he tapped his fingers on the table. “I want you to tell us again about the night in Muggle London.”

“I have told you all you need to know.”

“Did you take anything when you went out?” Draco’s expression was unreadable and Harry wondered where the line of questioning was intended to lead.

“A little something – given to me by one of the Muggles I had decided to spend the evening with.” Helena sounded bored and raised her eyes to the ceiling.

“I see.” Draco scribbled something on a piece of paper and pushed it to Harry.

I think the Muggle drugs suppressed her magic.

Harry crumpled up the paper, pushing it into his pocket when he saw Helena watching him curiously.

“We know you didn’t leave the country to be schooled abroad.” Harry took a punt which was a reasonable one, given Shandy’s insistence his mistress had never left Chrysos Hall, and the fact Helena enunciated he words as if she had never spent more than a few weeks overseas. “What were you doing between then and the death of your parents?”

“My, my, Auror Potter.” Helena smiled and shook her head. “You have been doing your detective work.”

“It’s his job and he’s bloody good at it. Just answer the question,” Draco snapped.

“I suppose you would understand more than most, what a family like ours would do to a child that lost their magic.” Helena’s smile took on a cold edge and she flicked her gaze to Draco. “My parents knew all about the poor, dead, Muggle boy. They believed my association with Muggles had led to my losing my magic, and they kept me locked away in the house for years to help me get it back. They pretended I had gone missing while their private Healers tried to heal me.”

“But you can’t just lose magic.” Harry banged his fist on the table and Draco reached across to brush his fingers lightly against his hand.

“Certain families might disagree. They would view magic as something different to you.” Draco’s voice tightened. “How did they attempt to heal you?”

“Oh, it’s quite simple. They tie you down, you see. Then they use magic – shocks of magic which burn through your veins – in the hope they will fix whatever failing has caused an otherwise healthy witch to become so abnormal.

“I’ve heard of it. It’s a form of therapy.” Draco winced and looked at Harry, his face pale. “Pureblood families used it in the past to try to eradicate homosexuality.”

“That’s barbaric.” Harry shuddered at the thought, his heart constricting. “How many years were you kept in the Manor?”

“Until the night my parents died during the second war. Around seventeen years,” Helena responded, coolly.

“And your parents were killed by Dementors?”

“Yes.” Helena fixed her gaze on Draco and spoke softly. “My parents were asked to fund the committee established by Dolores Umbridge. With such a generous Malfoy benefactor already funding the committee, it was assumed that my parents too would offer their support. In support of me, they did not. That night the Dementors came. I hid and watched every moment. Do you have any idea what it is like to watch somebody you love receive the Kiss? Do you have any idea?”

“I might have some.” Harry thought of Sirius and tried to process everything Helena had told him. He noticed Draco’s face had paled and decided to go with his hunch. “We have Roger Davies in the other interview room. He told us everything.”

Helena sneered and settled back in her seat, her anger clear. “Stupid, arrogant fool.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed and he began to take notes. “When did you meet Roger?”

“He was so very young. Just twenty one years of age.” Helena paused and looked away, reminiscing. “I sometimes take the time to go to Diagon Alley and just sit – watching the world and all of its magic walk by. Roger joined me once, and he began to talk about his research. He was proud and boastful, rather convinced that he was going to change the world.”

“That sounds about right,” Draco muttered.

“You set up a facility together?” Harry thought back to the experiments Roger had talked about, knowing full well he must have had a private space to carry out the tests. He just hoped Helena would be forthcoming with the details of where the facility was located.

“We had a laboratory on some unused private land which has been in the Malfoy family for generations. We protected it with the usual charms so to the untrained eye it appears to be nothing more than a dilapidated cottage.”

Harry thought about Wilfing – or a shadow of him – looking around barren land, trying to find a way to go to seek out freedom, flinching away under the light of the sun after so long in a small laboratory filled with horrors. A rustle of paper pulled him from his dark thoughts and he noticed Draco had pushed another scribbled note across the table.

If it’s Malfoy land, I know where it will be. We can notify Dawlish once we finish here.

Harry’s heart lightened as he noticed with a small smile that Draco had been doodling lightning bolts in the margins. He shook his head to clear his mind of the images which now seemed imprinted there, focusing as best he could on the task at hand.

“What was your incentive?” Draco looked hopeful and Harry wondered if he was hoping Helena would give him some sort of reason which might help him understand how she could do these things.

“I wanted to get my magic back and I was sure Roger could help me do so.” Helena smiled at Draco. “I used a little Malfoy charm - you would know all about that, cousin.”

Harry noticed how Draco’s lips pursed and his face whitened and he spoke gruffly to divert Helena’s attention from Draco.

“And Penbrooke? I assume he helped to fund the endeavour.”

“Goodness, no. I had plenty of Muggles who were prepared to offer funding in the hope of one day, being able to do magic.”

“Then what use was he to you?”

Helena smiled in response.

“He was prepared to get his hands dirty when one of our Squibs escaped, and he took care of the nosy little activist who began to ask too many questions. Roger never much enjoyed that side of things. I do believe he had to force himself to think of the Squibs as nothing more than the rats he would experiment on day to day.”

“Why would you do all of this?” Draco’s voice was tight and he had clenched his hands together tightly to stop himself from launching forwards or reaching for his wand.

“I simply wanted to get my magic back.” Helena laughed and the sound made Harry flinch. “Of course, there came a time when I simply started to enjoy watching people die. It was such a rush. There’s power in it, more than I can ever describe.”

Draco looked disgusted. “That’s it, then. Case closed.”

When Harry followed Draco from the room, he could still hear Helena laughing as the door closed behind them.

* * *


Sometime later, Harry and Draco found themselves bowed over their files, writing up a report on their case for Dawlish.

“What made you make the connection between Muggle drugs and Helena’s magic?”

“It happened to Blaise once. It’s what made me think of it.” Draco looked up and dropped his quill down on his parchment. “He told me about a big night out when he experimented with this and that. Afterwards, he couldn’t do magic at all for about twenty four hours. It spooked him sufficiently to tell me all the gory details shortly after he was able to cast basic spells again and it put him off that kind of thing once and for all. It doesn’t explain why she still can’t do magic, however.”

“I think I know why,” Harry offered.

“Oh?” Draco looked intrigued.

“Dumbledore told me once about Merope Gaunt – Riddle’s mum. She suffered mental and physical abuse and her family thought she was a Squib. Because of the abuse, her magical abilities were suppressed and when she was in a new environment, she was perfectly capable of performing magic. Neville didn’t have the same kind of home life as Merope, but he also struggled with his magic when he was around his grandmother, because he was so terrified of her.”

Draco listened carefully and nodded his understanding. “You think the magic her parents used on Helena caused her magic to be suppressed for a prolonged period?”

“In essence, yes.” Harry nodded and his brow furrowed. “I’m not sure how it continued once her parents died however. That doesn’t fit with Merope’s story.”

“I disagree.” Draco shook his head. “I think if magic can be suppressed in the way you describe, then it’s entirely possible Helena’s inability to do magic is psychosomatic.”

“I’m not sure I follow.” Harry rubbed his forehead.

“It’s simple,” Draco continued, eagerly. “Helena is unlikely to ever forget the night of her parents’ murder and she likely blames herself for their death. That coupled with the belief she has lost her magic and reliving her experiences with the Healers long into adulthood, has kept her magic weak.”

“If someone could have told her that, all of these deaths might have been avoided.” Harry frowned and flipped through the files on the desk.

“And if Davies hadn’t been so pig-headed about finding something he was never going to find, I doubt he would ever have become involved with something like this.” Draco looked tired. “It’s all so bloody senseless.”

“Murder usually is.” Harry gathered together his papers and arranged them into a neat pile. “I’m sure Helena is going to Azkaban, Roger and Penbrooke too.”

“Good riddance. Did Helena reveal the names of her Muggle investors to Dawlish?”

“Yep. I’ve given them to Iris. I only spoke to her briefly, but she thinks she’s going to be able to charge them with something Muggle. It’s going to get her a promotion, she reckons.”

“Good news.” Draco seemed quiet and after signing his report with a final flourish of ink, he gathered his files under his arm, before holding out his hand for Harry to shake. “It’s not been all bad working with you, Potter.”

“No, not all bad.” Harry gripped Draco’s hand and shook it firmly. “What have you got planned next?”

“I think I might get back to some of my research. I’m bored of spending time with petty thieves and murderers.” Draco brushed his hand over his robes. “Although I suppose it was fun while it lasted.”

“Are we still on about the case?” Harry’s brow furrowed and Draco nodded, smoothly.

“If you like.”

Harry watched with confusion as Draco tidied up his things. Before he could stop him, Draco had swept out of the room and when Harry tried to follow him, Malfoy was nowhere to be seen.

* * *


“What happened with you and Malfoy? I thought you were love’s young dream.” Ron snorted into his pint and settled back in his seat. “Dawlish said he was going to bring you back to the team to replace Savage. Good to have you back, mate.”

“Good to be back.” Harry shrugged in response to Ron’s query. “I don’t know about Malfoy. I haven’t seen him in over a week. He was supposed to be back in the office, but I think he’s been avoiding me.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because he’s a prat.” Harry grabbed his coat and gestured to the Floo. “I’m off. I’m going to try and find him.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Harry chuckled. “I’ll need it.”

* * *


When Harry got into the Golden Hinde, he quickly spotted Draco sitting at the bar, looking morose and clutching a copy of the Prophet.

THE WORST FAMILY IN WIZARDING BRITAIN?

A picture of Helena Malfoy in Azkaban adorned the front page, and below it pictures of Lucius Malfoy during the war accompanied another vitriolic article by Rita Skeeter.

“I’m sorry.” Harry squeezed Draco’s hand and was relieved when he didn’t pull away.

“I have decided to have a discussion with Father – I’m not particularly looking forward to it.” Draco winced and turned to face Harry. “What brings you here? I suppose you’re looking for a bit of fun.”

“Not really. I was actually looking for you.” Harry grinned and his cheeks heated when he realised how that might sound. “Not that you’re not any fun.”

“Wonderful. Thanks, Potter.” Draco turned back to the paper. “You’re back with the rest of the Auror team I heard. You and Weasley must be happy about that.”

“It’s alright.” Harry shifted his stool closer to Draco. “I was actually thinking about asking Shacklebolt if he had anything we could work on together, if you’d be interested. I think we make a good team. On and off duty.”

“You do?” Draco finally looked at Harry again. “I’m not sure I fancy arresting more family members.”

“We’ll find something else to do.” Harry brushed a strand of Draco’s hair from his face. “I’ve got a few ideas for starters.”

“Is that so?” Draco’s breath ghosted over Harry’s lips and he chuckled. “Care to share these ideas of yours?”

“Perhaps.” Harry captured Draco’s lips in a heated kiss and pulled back when they were both breathless. “In private, though – I’m not inclined to share.”

“No. Neither am I, it seems.” Draco moved from the bar stool and held his hand out to Harry. “Fancy a dance?”

“Alright.” Harry grinned. “That’ll do for starters.”

* * *


Harry groaned when he woke to feel Draco pressing rather insistently against his backside.

“Morning, Malfoy.”

“You’re awake, then?” Draco’s voice dipped into a self-satisfied purr and he ran his hand over Harry’s chest and down to the waistband of his underpants. “Good – I like a willing participant.”

“I’m pleased to hear it.” Harry chuckled, breathlessly and let Draco push down his pants, kicking them off. He wasn’t sure when Malfoy had undressed himself, but as every line of Draco’s body flexed and arched against his bare skin, Harry could tell without turning around that Draco had divested himself of his clothes at some stage. Not that he had any complaints about that.

“We should go to work soon.” Draco lazily stroked Harry to full hardness and continued to press against his backside. “Don’t you think?”

“Bit difficult to work when my cock feels like this.” Harry laughed, deep and rough-edged and ground a little shamelessly back against Malfoy’s cock.

“It must have been hell for you these last few weeks, then.”

“Bugger off.” Harry grinned at the teasing note to Malfoy’s voice and rolled over onto his front, stretching his arms out above his head and enjoying the release in his aching muscles. “Is this your way of begging forgiveness for being a prat and buggering off as soon as our case closed?”

“It might be.” Draco hummed thoughtfully and pressed hot kisses along Harry’s neck, down to the base of his spine. “I’m not saying sorry, though.”

“Merlin forbid.” Harry rocked against the mattress as he heard Draco whisper the now familiar spell. He sucked in a breath when Draco’s fingers trailed into his crease and shifted his legs a little wider apart.

“You’re eager this morning.” Draco pressed his lips to Harry’s ear and worked a slick finger inside him. “Very nice.”

“And you’re a filthy bastard.” Harry groaned again as Draco pumped two fingers hard inside him in response. He pressed back to Draco and rocked into the bed. “I’ve been wondering when you were going to fuck me since I saw you giving Williams a good seeing to.”

“Please don’t mention that cretin when we’re fucking.” Draco slipped another finger alongside the second and bit down on Harry’s neck. “I can’t say I’ve given much thought to the whole thing.” Draco thrust his fingers again and rubbed them in a way which made Harry practically claw at the sheets. “Well, maybe just a little.”

“Get on with it, then.”

“Shift up.” Draco slipped his fingers from Harry and pulled him up onto all fours, his hand caressing Harry’s arse. “I’m not sure I’m ready just yet…”

“No?” Harry held his breath and released it with a rush when Draco worked his fingers back inside him. He clutched at the sheets and rocked back towards Draco, not really caring about how he must look anymore as Draco’s touch sent sparks of pleasure through him.

“I love watching you like this.” With a low growl, Draco finally slipped his fingers from inside Harry and aligned his slick cock with Harry’s hole. With one rough motion he pressed into Harry, almost knocking him back down onto the bed.

Fuck.” Harry’s voice cracked and he clutched the sheets more tightly, the burn of Draco buried deep inside him causing him a little discomfort. After giving him a moment to adjust, Draco’s slim fingers wrapped around Harry’s cock and he began to move with slow thrusts.

Harry found himself bucking into Draco’s fist then back towards him as the motions quickened, and Draco used his free hand to grip Harry’s hip, hard.

“Touch yourself.” Draco’s voice had lost the cool edge and his breathing began to come ragged, as Harry groaned and replaced Draco’s hand with his own.

The shift in position allowed Draco to grip on to both of Harry’s hips, his angle shifting until Harry cried out sharply, at which point Draco began to fuck him in earnest. Harry stroked his cock while Draco fucked him until Harry found himself spilling his completion over his hand and clenching down around Draco.

Draco kept moving until he finished, his thrusts becoming more erratic and less controlled, and when he came – hot and damp – inside Harry, he slipped from Harry and rolled onto his back with a satisfied groan.

“Fuck me.”

“I’ll need a minute.” Harry grinned and moved onto his side, squirming at the unfamiliar sensation of having someone come inside him. “If it’s all the same to you.”

“Just a minute?” Draco looked thoroughly shagged out and he gave Harry a lazy smile, trailing his fingers along the come on Harry’s stomach and then sucking one into his mouth, licking it clean.

“Less, if you keep doing that.” Harry captured Draco’s lips in a heated kiss, tasting himself on Draco’s lips. “You’re very distracting.”

“No time for distractions, Potter. There’s work to be done.” Despite his words, Draco curled against Harry with a sigh. “In a little while.”

“No need to rush,” Harry agreed.

Harry wrapped his leg around Draco, pulling him close. With a smile, he tugged the duvets around them and pressed against Draco, allowing sleep to claim him once more.

~Fin~
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