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blamebramptonDecember and January hated me. And the person who laughed at my theory I would finish in two parts was wholly right. Part three is well underway and I am off on holiday for a week with my computer for company! And probably no internet to distract me! You do not want to hear about the action scene angst. If I ever finish the scale model I will post a photo. So:
Title Fathers Who Could Do with a Spot of Sinning, Part 2/3
Author blamebrampton
Words 6975
Rating PG violence this part
Characters Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione, Narcissa, the next-gen crew, sundries, the odd Muggle extra.
Summary After their sons fall in large amounts of teenaged love at school, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter decide it's finally time to talk like adults about their own ties to each other. If only they could. Meanwhile, events of national importance conspire to distract them.
Notes Absolutely nothing to do with Jo Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic or any other media titans. But affectionately nicked from all of the above.
Thanks tojadzialove for her beta-ing skills! And to anthimaeria and calanthe_fics for encouragement and niceness above the call of modern humanity.
And, after a few comments from part one, the Thames Barrier is, as the name suggests, a barrier that protects the Thames from flooding caused by storm surges. It is one of the most beautiful pieces of modern engineering I know and it is also extremely cunning. There is talk of having it replaced by 2020, but since it will be a public work, I think I'm safe leaving it unfinished in 2023. The current Barrier looks like this:
Part One
Draco's team put their Disillusionment Charms in place before Apparating to the carpark beside the Barrier Control building. In the afternoon sun, anyone who is looking will see just another heat haze off the tarmac as the individual charms merge to form a field. There are thirty-one of them in addition to the nine Aurors; their ten time specialists are down past the ferry. Draco hopes that they can slow the next forty minutes enough to make the difference they will need.
He looks at the river. The six large gates will be the targets; it's the only logical plan. The smaller gates wouldn't cause the immediate catastrophe that his readings predict. And there, on the nearest steel shell, he spots a wavering of the light that must be a concealed figure. In four minutes the Aurors will move – he needs to deploy now.
"Fotherington, take Madden, Wright and Eccleston, I want you inside and on their systems. Tell them you're from … whoever it is who does the computer things."
"Environment Agency's engineering management, sir," Fotherington supplies the name without sarcasm. "But sir, we'll be closing the gates too late, it's at the wrong part of the tide …" Fotherington holds up his hand to forestall the protest he can see beginning on Draco's lips. "We'll still stop the surge, but we'll set up a wave that will be dangerous. You need to leave some people free to quell it. The waters by the Barrier will be pretty turbulent no matter what, but there's nothing on the water here, so that should be all right."
"Good thinking. Abbott? Who are your best two at environmental charms?"
The Auror thinks for a moment. "Leamington and Entwhistle, you're Malfoy's."
"Cheers. You two, over here. Speke, Keily and MacDonald, you work with them. I want it calm, I want it quiet. I want a five-year-old child in a toy rowboat to not notice the difference."
"A five year old? On the river?"
"Shut up, Keily. I know you can do it." Draco strides towards his remaining troops. "You six, north bank, I want you in the park so that Weasley is covered with Disillusionment from behind. Peters, you're on communications. Watch everything, alert as needed. Stanersley, you do the same from this side, you five will manage the Disillusionment Field. Right, curse-breakers, I need two of you in the air with me, and one inside with Fotherington. Who's your best tech person?"
A small witch raises her hand. "Johnson, sir."
"Take care of her, Fotherington. Who does that leave? Jessup. You wait with Stanersley and fill any gaps if we fall. You three, you're on brooms with us – let the curse-breakers concentrate on the flying while you set up the field, then drop us on the gate shells, we can Apparate between them. Abbott, your Aurors will need to be protecting us at the same time as attacking, can you manage it?"
"With ease," she replies, grimly.
Draco turns to the remaining Unspeakables and Aurors. "You three," he motions to the curse-breakers. "Team up with the Blackcoats. You're our reserve. I want you ready to move anywhere at a moment's notice. Listen to Jessup, he'll call you in if he sees a need, otherwise you respond to me or Fotherington. And if you have to choose, go to Fotherington, he'll only call if it's the operation on the line. That leaves you, Delacroix, you're monitoring all communications, we're counting on you to make sure nothing vital is missed." Draco's voice rings out: "Are we all clear? Are we all understood?"
"Understood, sir!" comes the chorus of replies.
Abbott looks at him with a small smile. "Impressive," she admits.
"On your broom," he replies, grinning. "Boothby, you're with me. Ready? Go!"
In a co-ordinated wave they spread out, Apparating, running, flying into position. The disillusionment field cast is from new charms, and, as it is designed to, it reveals the shimmering figures that have previously been hiding in the areas it now covers. Draco, low to his broom, with the wind beginning to whip at his hair, is close enough to hear Abbott's mutter of "Balls" as she sees the numbers of their opponents. There are eighteen in the air. Another six on the gates. Draco wonders what idiotic name this set will be going under. In the last three years he has heard far worse than Magical Action.
The nearest wizard aims a Stunner at him and Draco wheels his broom left to avoid it. He can see the Aurors flying in from the park side – Ron's hair unmissable. And that streak of black flying wildly through the sky from the east and aiming hexes at his opponents – Draco doesn't even need to think to know who that is.
And that little part of him that has learned to love the practical side of his work is laughing with glee.
Abbott smacks the nearest Dark wizard with a Body Bind, and he falls stiffly to the concrete pier.
"Thanks," Draco shouts at her. He scans the gate for signs of tampering, and there it is, a small Shield Charm on the electronics, not enough to move anything out of place, just enough to stop signals moving through. "Boothby, take over, I'm going down," he yells to the witch behind him. She takes control of the broom as he Apparates to the gate. Once there, he realises how simple the charm actually is. He touches his wand to his throat and projects his voice to the other curse-breakers. "It's just a Shield here. It's just holding the command messages out. Stay vigilant, but I think they were relying on surprise and strength rather than sophisticated spellwork."
With that gate cleared, Draco looks to the next. His other curse-breakers are both on the Silvertown-side gates, and the fight is happening far above him. The Dark witch on the next gate is distracted, following the hexes as the fly over her. Draco Apparates to the pier below her and catches her with a Stunner. The magic on this gate is more complex; it is a shield again, but overlaid with a hex. Before he can say a word, he hears the voice of Thompson: "This gate has a security hex overlaying the original."
"Mine, too," Draco announces. "Amundsen?"
"No, simple shield."
"Move on to the next gate once you're done. Thompson, take your time, get it right." Draco speaks again: "Jessup, send one of our reserve breakers to Thompson, and another one to me."
Draco looks closely at the spells layered onto the gate's mechanisms. Amundsen's voice chimes through to let them know that he has de-hexed his first gate and is moving on to his second. Hexes and shields are flying thick and fast in the sky above them, which provides cover for Amundsen as he Apparates to the next gate.
Bakhtin appears beside Draco. He takes a quick look at the complex spellwork. "There's a Blasting Charm worked in," he declares.
"Can you sort it?" Draco asks.
“Yes, but it will take me a few minutes. Go to the next one.” He manages to not quite make it sound like an order.
Draco nearly laughs. He knows that he is the least talented of the curse-breakers in his department, and that they only tolerate him because his breadth of knowledge has very occasionally taken them to solutions that their tightly focused expertise could not. “I’ll disarm the wizard, and see if I can break the spell,” he says. “Let me know if you have problems here, and broadcast your solution, it could be helpful. This one was not cast by the same person as the first one; I think they took a gate apiece for maximum complexity, but there might be a pattern.”
“They’ll have put their best people on the centremost gates,” Bakhtin yells above the noise. “Where they’ll do the most damage.”
“Protego!” Draco leaps over him to cast a shield. The Dark wizard whose spell it blocks swings his broom about in readiness to cast another. “Locomotor Mortis!” Draco adds, and, unable to steer his broom properly, their opponent careens away towards the shore.
“Thanks,” Bakhtin says. “You’re excellent at the field work.”
Draco does laugh at that, and Apparates to the next gate. The wizard here is hiding low, under the steel shell and near the electronics that he has disabled. Draco sneaks up behind him and opts for the low-tech solution of Incarcerous. After a moment, he adds a Silencing Charm, because there is only so much time one can spend listening to “You will never defeat us!”
Bakhtin’s voice comes across on broadcast then: “Clear at this gate. I’m coming over to help you.”
Amundsen declares that his second gate is clear and offers to help with the last one. “Come over,” Draco replies. “Unless Thompson needs you.”
“I’m all but done,” Thompson assures them.
“We’re ready inside,” Fotherington’s voice can be heard by everyone. “They’d taken the computer down, but it’s back now, and we’ve sped up the transmission speeds a little. As quickly as you can, gentlemen.”
Draco steps out of the way to allow his two best men to finish the job. He looks up to where the Aurors are still securing their victory over the criminals. No shields are needed this time, no one is paying attention to what is happening below. It’s almost insulting to see how little effort the criminal mind is prepared to put in these days.
He watches Ron, who is affecting not to even see the attacker ahead, so casual … “Shit!” Draco realises his mistake a second too late. Weasley has been distracted by another attack from his left and not seen the one in front of him. The hex catches him full, and sends him spinning towards the water. Draco shouts a Hover Charm, and catches Ron and his broom in mid-air.
“RON!”
And this is exactly what he doesn’t need. Harry is flying down fast, oblivious to everything around him, unthinking again, so of course there are three enemies closing in on him. Abbott takes one out, and Fawcett another, but the third has his wand raised … “Sorry, Ron,” Draco mutters, as he lets him fall and hurls a shield so strong that Harry’s remaining attacker is thrown back forty feet.
“Harry!” Draco screams. “I’ll take care of Ron, you take care of them!” and he points his wand at the remaining six assailants who have started to hurl Unforgiveables at the Unspeakables holding up the Field. Harry nods tersely, and joins the defence.
Draco has already kicked off his shoes and takes a short run to dive clear of the pier, casting a Bubblehead Charm as he does. The river is freezing, which is good. Ron will have been too shocked to breathe in much water. He sees him ahead and slowly sinking, and summons him with a wandflick. Ron’s fingers are still tight around his wand. Typical. Clutching the Auror, Draco kicks off for the surface.
Ron does not draw a breath as their heads break the water. Draco Apparates them onto the nearest gate. He tips Ron upside down to clear out what water he has aspirated, then he breathes five quick lungfuls of air into his mouth. It’s enough. Ron coughs weakly and moans.
“Amundsen, can you work out what he’s been hit with?” Draco yells, swapping places with the curse-breaker to help Bakhtin with the last of the gate de-hexing. There is only a small power-sucking Charm left to defuse before they are finished there. “Good work,” Draco tells him.
“Fotherington, close the Barrier!” Draco orders.
“Is everyone clear of the water?”
“Yes, and on safe parts of the gates.”
“Rightio, sir!”
Draco looks about to see that Harry and his team have nearly subdued the last attackers. He remembers just in time – “Accio Ron’s broom!” – before the Barrier begins to move and the water to roil.
He turns back to the wounded Auror. “It’s serious, sir,” Amundsen tells him. “A mix of paralysing and blood thickening Curses. He’s stable, but we need to get him to St Mungo’s.”
“Go.” Draco doesn’t bother waiting for more information; seconds count. They Apparate away.
Still holding Ron’s broom, Draco turns to Bakhtin. “Come on, I’ll fly you over,” he offers.
“Yippee, sir,” Bakhtin replies.
“If you can’t be polite, I’ll let a hex or two through next time,” Draco threatens, but he is grateful for the distraction from his worry.
Jessup is already co-ordinating the Obliviating of the Barrier staff when they land. “It was an unexpected surge and there was a freak equipment failure, but your technicians rerouted the commands before there was any real danger, using one of the system’s many built-in redundancies. Everyone worked very well.” As the various engineers and others walk away from the Ministry staff who are repeating the story, they all wear a smile of quiet pride.
Fawcett is the first of the airborne Aurors to touch down at the command post. “We’ve caught the last of them. Thanks for leaving all yours wrapped up so neatly,” he smiles at the Unspeakables.
Then Harry is there, landing a foot in front of Draco, who doesn’t wait for him to speak. “He’s alive, and he’s stable, but it’s serious cursework. Amundsen has taken him to St Mungo’s. I’ll tell the kids. Do you want me to find Hermione?”
Harry sags and Draco holds him with a hand to one shoulder. He takes a breath, and covers Draco’s hand with his own. “No, I’ll go to her first. Give me half an hour before you bring the kids, they’ll want news, and we should give the healers time enough to have some.”
Draco nods. “Go.” He does.
Abbott is there at his side. “You did well, Malfoy,” she says. “It was good intelligence, and the operation was smart.”
“How many did we lose?”
“Two minor injuries on our side, and Ron. As for them, I think Fawcett may have seriously damaged his collar and Potter broke a few bones in the four he took down.”
“Are any of them up for questioning?” Draco rubs his eyes tiredly.
“I’ll have them down in Mysteries by the time you’re there. Usual place?”
“Usual place,” he agrees.
“My father sends his regards, by the way.”
Draco smiles at that. “How is he?”
“Yeah, good. St Mungo’s say another year and he’ll be okay to come home.”
“Wish him well from my mother and me. We want you both to visit as soon as he’s out.”
Abbott nods with a smile. “I will. And I expect pheasant.”
“Hannah, for you we’ll serve peacock,” Draco tells her with a grin.
“Sounds disgusting,” she grins back at him.
“True,” he admits, “but it’s always good to get rid of another one.”
“Sir?” That’s Fotherington.
“Yes?” Draco moves away to the quiet part of the car park the young wizard is pacing. “What’s up?’
“Um. I’d like a favour, if I could,” he says, hurriedly. “There’s this engineer who was terrific help and she’s a Muggle but she’s really nice and I was having a really good conversation with her and … and I was wondering if we could make her not really forget me?”
Draco notices the woman standing near them looking about at the robed figures with frank astonishment. "She's the engineer?" he asks.
"Alice Peters, sir," he replies. "She's ever so smart, she was the one who helped me over-ride the codes."
Draco looks at him sharply. He nods, understanding. He turns to Alice. Waving his wand gently at her face, he mutters the charm and follows it up with: "You have spent the evening averting a minor crisis with the help of Fotherington here – Fotherington, do you have a first name?"
"Sebastien, sir."
"Seb Fotherington," Draco continues, "Who you met once at a party some months ago and who you ran into by chance on a walk to clear your head just as the emergency began. Remembering his reported genius for computing and engineering, you roped him into doing some of the grunt work to help you and your team. You have agreed to have dinner with him on Saturday, but still haven't made up your mind as to whether you find him attractive or not. He’ll remain after the rest of us leave and make sure you have his contact details."
Fotherington is looking at Draco with what may be love. "Thank you, sir," he whispers.
"You're on your own from here," Draco tells him and walks back to Jessup at the water’s edge.
“Rundown,” he snaps.
“Just watch, sir,” he says, nodding out towards the river.
Draco sees it; a wall of water running up the tide, fast and raging and slapping straight into the Barrier, where it is stopped dead. The heavy shipping to the East will be bounced about, but the ferry has been warned and precautions taken. He watches the foam rise and slap against the steel, and bleakly counts the bodies that would have been caught in it as it climbs. In five minutes it has made it to four inches below the lip of the protective wall, and there it stops.
They are all watching, he realises, Muggles and Ministry staff alike. “Fuck …” says a uniformed Muggle to his left. “Good thing Peters got that working again.”
And they nod. It’s a very good thing.
Draco pushes his hair back wearily. “I need to go, can you clear things up here?”
“We’ll be out in ten.”
“Excellent, I’ll see you back at the office in an hour or so.” Draco raises his voice so everyone can hear him. “You’ve all done magnificently and I will be laying on dinner and drinks down in Mysteries. I’ll cab you all home, so don’t hold back. And I’ll have some people from Law come down for the first interviews, so you Aurors can indulge, too.”
Abbott laughs at him across the heads of their staff. “Populist,” she accuses.
“Shameless,” he admits. “I need to pick up Weasley’s children.”
She nods. “Send word of how he’s doing?”
“I’ll bring it myself once I know.”
And with that he Apparates to the Manor, and of course all six children are flying across the front park as he arrives, and it is only now that he realises that he is still wet and spattered with sundry muck.
They see him and land, expectant and worried.
“No deaths,” he begins with the key phrase they all learn at work. Then he turns to Rose and Hugo. “Your father is stable, but he was hurt in the op. It’s a complicated hex. They took him to St Mungo’s as soon as possible, I haven’t heard anything, but Harry asked that we meet him there.”
Their faces are serious but accepting, and inside he is furious. Another generation of children are watching death walk too close to them. He had thought they were past this.
“We’ll clean up first, give the Healers and Mum a few minutes with him,” Rose says briskly. “Can the Potters and Scorpius come, too?” Her voice wavers only slightly on the last word.
Draco quickly gathers her and her brother into a damp hug. “Of course they can. Run inside and get ready, we’ll leave in quarter of an hour.”
Rose gives a very small smile. “Come on, Hugo,” she takes his hand and walks quickly into the house.
James looks about panickedly, Draco jerks his head after Rose, and James runs to catch up with them.
“Will Uncle Ron really be all right?” Lily asks.
“I think so,” Draco replies, “but I can’t say if he will be straight away.”
“Are you all right?” Albus asks, knowing that Scorpius is dying to, but doesn’t want to seem childish.
“Fine, just wet. We had an emergency down by the river, it’s all fine now.”
“Dad,” Scorpius’s voice is gentle. “Shower and change. We’ll sort some tea for the others.”
“You are good boys,” he tells them. “Give Lily the biscuit tin and see if she can get some sugar into Hugo and Rose.”
“They’ll want chocolate,” Lily informs him.
“Scorpius, break out some of the stash,” Draco allows.
“You have a chocolate stash? How could you not have told me that?” He can hear Lily’s voice as the children precede him into the Manor.
“If we’d told you that, we wouldn’t have a stash …” Albus’s reasoned reply fades away as they walk in ahead of him.
Draco sits on the front steps for a moment. He breathes in and out slowly.
“Dad?” Scorpius is there behind him. “Are you worried about Mr Weasley?”
Draco smiles before he looks up at him. “No, I’m not too worried about Ron, I’m certain he’ll be all right, even if it takes a little time.” And he’s telling the truth. He wasn’t thinking about Ron at all.
*********************************
Hugo’s face is suspiciously pale and shiny when he and Rose come out of his room. She has packed them a small bag in case they are able to stay at St Mungo’s. Draco takes it from her and carries it, squeezing her shoulder with his other hand.
Albus and Scorpius have a basket of pasties, sandwiches and a thermos of tea, and seem to have packed enough for a short siege. Lily and James have spent the last ten minutes Owling their uncles and letting sundry family friends know the basic details, with promises of more to follow. Draco has had to use his oldest spare to Owl his catering order through to the Leaky. The three Potter children seem very prepared, and Draco realises with a sinking heart that is because they are, because they have spent their lives expecting to need composure at a moment like this.
“Ready?” he asks them. They nod, and he, Albus and James Apparate the younger four to the hospital.
Draco has been here too many times to ever feel comfortable. He wonders if it is the architecture or the scent that causes his stomach to tighten. They are waved through by the Welcome Witch and are met at the lifts by Aurors, who take them directly to Ron’s ward. Draco’s stomach tightens further; Ron is in the Mungo Bonham Ward for Catastrophic Curses.
There are three Weasley brothers waiting with Harry in the corridor, with another three Aurors and Amundsen. The Potter children run to the Weasleys, automatically choosing one each to talk to, listen to, distract, maybe even comfort. Rose and Hugo walk straight to Harry, who gently explains that Ron is stable, that he is doing as well as anyone could hope, that his blood has been thinned, but that it will be a couple of months before he will walk properly.
Draco watches Rose. It is too painful to look at Harry’s face. Rose is nodding. “But he will walk again, won’t he?”
“He will, yes, he will,” Harry insists.
The door to the ward swings open and there is Hermione, pale, but smiling. “Hello darlings,” she says as her children cling to her. “Daddy said he heard you.”
“He’s awake?” Hugo’s face is shining again, this time is better.
“He is, and he’s been asking for you both.” She ushers them through the door, which swings shut behind them.
Draco finally looks at Harry, who is looking at him. Draco turns to his son. “Can you keep an eye on everyone here?”
Scorpius nods. “Mr Potter looks like he needs a walk and a drink.”
Draco kisses his son’s forehead gratefully.
“Come on.” He steps forward and takes Harry’s elbow. “I need to fill you in on the end of the op. You can fill me in on Ron before I head back to the Ministry.”
“Make sure he eats something,” George Weasley tells Draco.
Nodding, Draco leads Harry down the hallway.
Harry walks briskly and straightly until they are out of sight of the group outside Ron’s ward. Draco takes Harry’s arm as his steps slow down. By the time they reach the toilets, Harry is leaning against him.
“I think I’d like to throw up now,” he says.
Draco walks him in, and cleans the whole lav with a sweep of his wand. There is a rubber mat in front of the nearest loo now. “For your knees,” Draco jokes weakly.
Harry half-smiles, then dashes past him and makes use of the improved facilities. Draco conjures a glass and a face flannel, fills the former with water and wets the latter. Harry is sitting back as Draco enters the cubicle.
“Here.” Draco passes him the flannel, drops the toilet lid and flushes away the vomit. He sits down and leans against the opposite wall, passing Harry the glass of water once he seems ready for it.
“Will he really be all right?” he asks after a few minutes.
Harry nods. “Yes, but it was close.” He tilts his head back against the timber partition.
“It’s my fault,” he says after a few breaths.
“No,” Draco disagrees. “He didn’t see his attacker in time. I didn’t, either.”
“You had a hold of him when I distracted you and you let him fall into the water,” Harry reminds him.
“The freezing cold water which would have slowed his pulse and minimised damage to his brain,” Draco counters. “In fact, you’re right, it’s my fault for choosing to save you rather than him.”
Eyes full of hurt, Harry nods.
“Shut up.” Draco kicks Harry’s hip beside his foot. “Weasley obviously wasn’t dead, he could afford to get wet. You’re the highest profile target there is, you couldn’t afford to be hit by Merlin knows what.”
“I just feel …” Harry’s voice trails off.
“Seventeen again?” Draco supplies. Harry nods. “I know. Every time we think we can relax something triggers that old fear.”
Draco thinks for a moment before going on. “Every time I see George Weasley, I think how relieved his brother must have been when he saw it was just an ear, and then I think: what must George’s own grief have been like … Because he’d have been lulled into thinking they’d already paid their war price, wouldn’t he? Except that’s not how it works.” Draco takes a breath. “That’s why I let Ron fall, really. He’d have killed me if I let you die.”
Harry’s eyes are very tired. “I just want to have a day without fear. Just a moment to relax.”
“You stay here,” Draco tells him. “Abbott can handle things, and I can run the liaison with Legal. Besides, you have children. You will never really relax again.”
Harry snorts a laugh. “Can’t stay here, someone will need the loos soon.”
“You are hilarious.” Draco sighs. He knocks his knees sideways against Harry’s, who knocks his back.
“Do you think I should stop going out into the field?” Harry asks after another minute. “I distort things out there. I make everything less safe.”
Draco shrugs. “You do make one hell of a target,” he agrees. “But you’re also one of the best there is. Your teams love you. They go home and tell their families that they flew beside you. You make them all better Aurors, and that keeps them alive.”
“Just battered,” Harry mutters grimly.
“They lost an average of five a year before you and Ron,” Draco reminds him. “You two trained them more intelligently, made them more of a unit, demanded more cooperation from them. They were happy to give it. You never hesitate when it’s your neck, they’re the same.”
Draco looks at Harry, then knocks his knees again. “Stop it,” he says.
Harry looks up at him in surprise. “Stop what?”
“I know that look. You’re counting your casualties. I know it’s hard for you to accept this, but people were quite happy to fight against both Voldemort and against serious crime without you, you know. Something along the lines of social responsibility, if I remember rightly.”
“I just wish I could do more for them …” Harry mutters.
Draco has a ready response. “Learn some halfway decent healing spells.”
He is surprised when this makes Harry laugh. “You’ve been telling me that for nine years,” he says.
“And yet do you listen?” Draco smiles, pleased that the message has been recalled, if not acted on. “It was the first thing we talked about when we started as Departmental Liaisons, and you’re still to do the advanced course.”
“I did mandate it for all trainees,” Harry offers in his defence.
“So you’ll absorb it by osmosis, I suppose.”
Rude hand gestures are made.
Draco’s thoughts reach a conclusion. “I think we need to develop a good field stasis charm, so that we can reduce the effects of curses until casualties can reach a Mediwizard. The water was surprisingly cold today, and I think that helped Ron; if we add a chilling charm …”
Harry is nodding. “That could work, you’d just need to balance it carefully so you don’t stress the system further.”
“Exactly, and that way your agents would be less exposed, they wouldn’t need to stop mid-op for life-threatening injuries, they could just put the injured member into stasis and come back when it’s safe.”
“I have some research funding available if you have people spare to investigate it.”
Draco grins. “I always have people spare to investigate. It’s why I need such a big department.”
“I should get back and start the interrogations.” Harry’s vigour starts to ebb again.
“You should get back to Ron and work out my funding. I’ll work with Legal on the interviews and you can have the transcripts tomorrow. There’s no point you going in, half your team are knackered and the other half are down in Mysteries drinking on my tab.” Draco stands up and offers a hand to Harry.
Harry shakes his head in amusement. “You are such a micro-manager.”
Draco flicks the top of Harry’s unruly hair. “Language, Potter! Come on.”
Harry takes the hand and allows himself to be dragged up and out of the cubicle. He stops at the door to the loos and pulls Draco back to him, enfolding him in a chaste hug. After a moment, Harry’s hand slips lower, and Draco skips backwards.
“I will have to apologise to Lily,” Draco muses.
“Why?”
“I thought she was an opportunistic minx, but apparently it’s genetic.”
Harry grins at him in that fashion that Draco is finding increasingly hard to resist. Draco shakes his head. “Get yourself something to eat, I’m headed back to the Ministry. I’ll be back at ten to collect the kids. Give Ron and Hermione my best, I’ll pop in if he’s still up.”
Harry’s expression softens. “He said thanks, Draco.”
“Course he did.” Draco is the one grinning now. “Have you seen the state of that river? Tell him to just get well, and I’ll be in as soon as I can.”
“You’re going?”
“I’m going.” And Draco does, because if he stays, things that should happen won’t, and things that shouldn’t happen will.
***********************************
As Draco expects, there are drunk Aurors on the floor of his meeting room. He steps over two before spotting Hannah Abbott sitting cross-legged on the table, consuming pumpkin pasties and holding back her laughter. He follows her eyes. Naturally, there is Fotherington, performing an interpretive dance rendition of the tidal surge.
“How much did they drink?” he asks, resignedly
“Relax,” she reassures him. “You can afford it.”
Several of the other Aurors spot Draco then, and questions regarding Ron rush at him. “He’s stable, he’s doing well, he’ll need some time to recover, but they think he’ll be all right,” he answers. “No visitors for a couple of days, but I’ll be stopping by later tonight and can hand messages over to Harry and Hermione.”
There are cheers, and as Draco attempts to make his way through to his office so that he can confer with Abbott, Fawcett grabs his ankle and assures him, from his prone position half under the meeting table, that not only is Draco a good bloke, really, he is also dead fanciable and he, Fawcett, really, really loves him, mate, and is happy for that to be spiritual and meaningful if Draco already has a shag.
Draco thanks him and hurries away, ignoring Hannah’s snorts of laughter from behind him. She follows him into his office and pats his shoulder. “It’s not your fault, Malfoy. It’s the heady scent of power. You should see what he’s like when Potter is around.”
“Spare me.” He shakes his head to dispel the mental image. “So, done anything about interviews while I’ve been gone?”
Hannah rolls her eyes at his lack of faith, but answers: “Yes, I have a team from Legal on their way down. Granger-Weasley’s obviously not available, but we have her top three and a few juniors. One of them was at school with your boy – Biggs, I think.”
“Lester?” Draco is pleased. “He must be freshly back from Spain, he hasn’t even popped by the Manor.”
“He flew in specially, says he thinks there’s an international connection.”
Draco sighs. Just what he needs. Domestic idiocy isn’t enough, clearly Britain could do with some of the foreign variety. “What about you, Hannah, want to sit in?”
Abbot’s eyes gleam very slightly. “I would love to. Would you like me to stand behind you with my wand out, or are you aiming for something more subtle?”
Draco grins. “I have something a little different in mind, though I wouldn’t call it subtle.”
It takes half an hour to set things up. Draco has time for a few words with Lester, mostly confirming the news that Ron will make a full, if slow, recovery, and Abbott takes the opportunity to find her black coat and tape her knuckles. There are two of the attackers who are ready to be interviewed. Several of the others remain unconscious, four are claiming Imperius and the rest have wounds and hex-damage enough to claim medical sanctuary.
Draco is pleased to see that his would-be assailant from the first pier is one of the interviewees. He stops at the door to his interview room with Lester, Abbott and Savage and Williamson in tow. The two senior men from Legal are old, foul-tempered, and former Aurors.
“Can you mind this one for five minutes while we set the other one up for interrogation?” Draco asks Abbott at the open door.
“No visible bruises,” she replies with a wink.
The prisoner blanches. “I know my rights,” he says. “There has to be an advocate here for me. You can’t leave me alone with her.”
Savage smiles benignly at him. “You won’t be alone, I’ll be with you. And it won’t be for long; she’s off to interrogate him next door. Stupid lad wouldn’t answer questions that were put to him.”
Draco listens to the conversation continue as he closes the door. “You’ll keep her away from me?” he hears the assailant ask.
“As long as I am watching you, you’re safe,” Savage replies.
“Where are you going?” The young voice is tremulous now.
Draco hears Abbott laugh softly.
As he closes the door, he can hear the panic: “Turn around! Turn around!!”
Lester has one eyebrow raised as they walk down the hallway. Draco shakes his head slightly. ”Abbott will be giving him her Look, the one that has guaranteed her peaceful drinking for the last twenty-five years, despite being one of the hotter Aurors known to the Ministry.”
Lester winces. “I’ve seen that look,” he admits.
“Ooh, you didn’t …”
“Try and pick her up in the Leaky? Only the once.” Lester’s eyes unfocus as he takes a brief terrified sprint down memory lane. “She looks fantastic for her age …” he murmurs.
“Well, that’s true,” Draco concedes. “But she’ll rip your arm off and beat you with it if you come between her and a bottle of Ogden’s.”
Lester nods, and also smiles. “Almost worth it for the Older Woman Wisdom.”
“You’re a disturbing lad at times, Lester.”
“Thank you, sir, I aim to disconcert.”
“How are the girls in Spain?”
Lester positively grins. “Dark and bad-tempered, sir, just the way I like them.”
Draco can’t help laughing. “Shame Abbott’s out of your league, she’s really your ideal woman.”
“Armed, cranky and slightly crazy? Spot on, sir. How’s Scorpius?”
“I’m going to assume that was a non sequitur, not a segue. He’s well. When was the last time he wrote to you?”
“I know all about him and Potter.” Lester grins. “Took them long enough. I was about to write a sternly worded letter if he hadn’t tweaked.”
“You’re a good lad, Lester. Think it’s been long enough?”
“Five minutes, Mr Malfoy, should do.”
“Excellent, let’s head back.”
When Draco opens the door to the interview room the prisoner’s voice rises in desperation. “Make her stop! Make her stop!” The face he turns to them is panicked.
Draco and Lester walk in to find Savage seated opposite the prisoner and Abbott leaning casually against the wall opposite. “What have you been up to, Abbott?”
“Just chatting, Malfoy.”
Savage is smiling gently. ”So far, we have heard about Ms Abbott’s childhood castrating sheep on her uncle’s farm, the foot and mouth epidemic of ’01, and now we are onto menstrual cramps.”
“Hot water bottle and chocolate are the only known cures,” she asserts.
Lester’s eyes shine with barely contained devotion. “Genius,” he whispers.
“They’re ready for you next door, Abbott,” Draco tells her.
She stretches, managing to crack her shoulders as well as her knuckles. “Excellent,” she says, smiling. And, with a leer at the prisoner, she saunters from the room.
“What’s she going to do?” the prisoner whispers.
Lester sits on the edge of the table and looks at him sympathetically. “Your colleague is refusing to answer questions. Abbott has gone to change his mind.”
A shiver runs across the shoulders of the young man. “You can’t make me tell you anything. Not my name, not our purpose, nothing.”
Draco is impressed at his veneer of bravado, but he can see Lester smiling.
“Your name is Michael Hindley, you were four years ahead of me at Hogwarts,” the young lawyer says. Hindley’s shoulders slump.
Draco sits alongside Savage and takes the opportunity to begin his questioning. “Why the Barrier, Michael?”
Things proceed slowly for the first twenty minutes. After ten, a rhythmic sound from the next room can be heard. It is dull, like something partially soft hitting a wall. Draco, Savage and Lester ignore it. Hindley becomes increasingly unnerved as it goes on.
“Who worked the weather magic, Hindley?” Draco continues to ask questions, despite Hindley’s silence.
The prisoner cracks, though not helpfully. “What’s that sound?”
Draco shrugs. ”I’m not sure,” he says.
“Sounds like a body hitting a wall,” Savage comments.
Hindley looks at him with wild eyes.
“Nah,” Lester drawls the syllable. “You’d hear the screams.”
“If he was conscious,” Savage points out. After a moment he adds: “Or alive.”
Hindley starts to talk at that point. There are thirty names in all. The group doesn’t have a name, they don’t have a manifesto, they have controlling interests in development firms and steelworks.
“You did it for the money?” Draco is appalled.
“It was worth billions,” Hindley protests.
“What about the people you’d kill?” Draco’s voice rises.
“A few thousand, worth it for the price!”
Draco stands up suddenly and walks quickly from the interrogation room. He can hear Lester following him, but he doesn't care. He walks to the nearest wall and punches it. It lacks the satisfying crunch of bone, so he punches harder, imagining a nose splaying under his fist. That feels better. He draws back his arm again, inhaling sharply, and surprised that he can hear his breath so clearly through the pounding of his blood rushing through arteries. He can hear something else.
It is Lester's voice. "Sir? Mr Malfoy?"
Draco powers the next punch from his hips, his shoulders carrying the momentum up into his arm. This time he visualises Hindley's ribs … a large hand captures his before it can be driven into the plaster.
"Draco!" Lester is all but shouting in his ear.
Draco looks up at him evenly. "I wanted to kill him. This is …" he takes a deep breath. "This is preferable."
"Yes, sir," says Lester gently. "But you need to let me heal your hand."
Draco breathes some more, and allows Lester to take his hand and charm away the damage. “I could live better with political idiocy, you know,” he mutters.
“It’s less cold,” Lester agrees. “But at least you’ll have no concerns about locking this lot away for years.”
“Makes me miss the Dementors.”
Savage walks out and joins them at this point. “He wants to cut a deal,” he tells the two younger men. “I’ve offered him protective custody in return for his testimony.”
Draco nods. “Sounds good.”
Savage pats him on the shoulder. “Go home. Biggs and I have this one sorted. We won’t be needing any of your potions.”
“I’m headed back to St Mungo’s. Harry will want an update, the kids are all there.”
“Go,” Savage smiles as he speaks. “You’re no use to us here. I’ll call Hannah in if we need to menace anyone.”
“Thank her for me,” Draco says. “Tell her she can claim for any damage to the medicine ball.”
“Tell Scorp I’ll be by tomorrow to catch up,” Lester adds.
“We’ll look forward to it,” Draco declares as he walks up the corridor.
Part 3a
Title Fathers Who Could Do with a Spot of Sinning, Part 2/3
Author blamebrampton
Words 6975
Rating PG violence this part
Characters Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione, Narcissa, the next-gen crew, sundries, the odd Muggle extra.
Summary After their sons fall in large amounts of teenaged love at school, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter decide it's finally time to talk like adults about their own ties to each other. If only they could. Meanwhile, events of national importance conspire to distract them.
Notes Absolutely nothing to do with Jo Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic or any other media titans. But affectionately nicked from all of the above.
Thanks to
jadzialove for her beta-ing skills! And to anthimaeria and calanthe_fics for encouragement and niceness above the call of modern humanity.And, after a few comments from part one, the Thames Barrier is, as the name suggests, a barrier that protects the Thames from flooding caused by storm surges. It is one of the most beautiful pieces of modern engineering I know and it is also extremely cunning. There is talk of having it replaced by 2020, but since it will be a public work, I think I'm safe leaving it unfinished in 2023. The current Barrier looks like this:
Part One
Draco's team put their Disillusionment Charms in place before Apparating to the carpark beside the Barrier Control building. In the afternoon sun, anyone who is looking will see just another heat haze off the tarmac as the individual charms merge to form a field. There are thirty-one of them in addition to the nine Aurors; their ten time specialists are down past the ferry. Draco hopes that they can slow the next forty minutes enough to make the difference they will need.
He looks at the river. The six large gates will be the targets; it's the only logical plan. The smaller gates wouldn't cause the immediate catastrophe that his readings predict. And there, on the nearest steel shell, he spots a wavering of the light that must be a concealed figure. In four minutes the Aurors will move – he needs to deploy now.
"Fotherington, take Madden, Wright and Eccleston, I want you inside and on their systems. Tell them you're from … whoever it is who does the computer things."
"Environment Agency's engineering management, sir," Fotherington supplies the name without sarcasm. "But sir, we'll be closing the gates too late, it's at the wrong part of the tide …" Fotherington holds up his hand to forestall the protest he can see beginning on Draco's lips. "We'll still stop the surge, but we'll set up a wave that will be dangerous. You need to leave some people free to quell it. The waters by the Barrier will be pretty turbulent no matter what, but there's nothing on the water here, so that should be all right."
"Good thinking. Abbott? Who are your best two at environmental charms?"
The Auror thinks for a moment. "Leamington and Entwhistle, you're Malfoy's."
"Cheers. You two, over here. Speke, Keily and MacDonald, you work with them. I want it calm, I want it quiet. I want a five-year-old child in a toy rowboat to not notice the difference."
"A five year old? On the river?"
"Shut up, Keily. I know you can do it." Draco strides towards his remaining troops. "You six, north bank, I want you in the park so that Weasley is covered with Disillusionment from behind. Peters, you're on communications. Watch everything, alert as needed. Stanersley, you do the same from this side, you five will manage the Disillusionment Field. Right, curse-breakers, I need two of you in the air with me, and one inside with Fotherington. Who's your best tech person?"
A small witch raises her hand. "Johnson, sir."
"Take care of her, Fotherington. Who does that leave? Jessup. You wait with Stanersley and fill any gaps if we fall. You three, you're on brooms with us – let the curse-breakers concentrate on the flying while you set up the field, then drop us on the gate shells, we can Apparate between them. Abbott, your Aurors will need to be protecting us at the same time as attacking, can you manage it?"
"With ease," she replies, grimly.
Draco turns to the remaining Unspeakables and Aurors. "You three," he motions to the curse-breakers. "Team up with the Blackcoats. You're our reserve. I want you ready to move anywhere at a moment's notice. Listen to Jessup, he'll call you in if he sees a need, otherwise you respond to me or Fotherington. And if you have to choose, go to Fotherington, he'll only call if it's the operation on the line. That leaves you, Delacroix, you're monitoring all communications, we're counting on you to make sure nothing vital is missed." Draco's voice rings out: "Are we all clear? Are we all understood?"
"Understood, sir!" comes the chorus of replies.
Abbott looks at him with a small smile. "Impressive," she admits.
"On your broom," he replies, grinning. "Boothby, you're with me. Ready? Go!"
In a co-ordinated wave they spread out, Apparating, running, flying into position. The disillusionment field cast is from new charms, and, as it is designed to, it reveals the shimmering figures that have previously been hiding in the areas it now covers. Draco, low to his broom, with the wind beginning to whip at his hair, is close enough to hear Abbott's mutter of "Balls" as she sees the numbers of their opponents. There are eighteen in the air. Another six on the gates. Draco wonders what idiotic name this set will be going under. In the last three years he has heard far worse than Magical Action.
The nearest wizard aims a Stunner at him and Draco wheels his broom left to avoid it. He can see the Aurors flying in from the park side – Ron's hair unmissable. And that streak of black flying wildly through the sky from the east and aiming hexes at his opponents – Draco doesn't even need to think to know who that is.
And that little part of him that has learned to love the practical side of his work is laughing with glee.
Abbott smacks the nearest Dark wizard with a Body Bind, and he falls stiffly to the concrete pier.
"Thanks," Draco shouts at her. He scans the gate for signs of tampering, and there it is, a small Shield Charm on the electronics, not enough to move anything out of place, just enough to stop signals moving through. "Boothby, take over, I'm going down," he yells to the witch behind him. She takes control of the broom as he Apparates to the gate. Once there, he realises how simple the charm actually is. He touches his wand to his throat and projects his voice to the other curse-breakers. "It's just a Shield here. It's just holding the command messages out. Stay vigilant, but I think they were relying on surprise and strength rather than sophisticated spellwork."
With that gate cleared, Draco looks to the next. His other curse-breakers are both on the Silvertown-side gates, and the fight is happening far above him. The Dark witch on the next gate is distracted, following the hexes as the fly over her. Draco Apparates to the pier below her and catches her with a Stunner. The magic on this gate is more complex; it is a shield again, but overlaid with a hex. Before he can say a word, he hears the voice of Thompson: "This gate has a security hex overlaying the original."
"Mine, too," Draco announces. "Amundsen?"
"No, simple shield."
"Move on to the next gate once you're done. Thompson, take your time, get it right." Draco speaks again: "Jessup, send one of our reserve breakers to Thompson, and another one to me."
Draco looks closely at the spells layered onto the gate's mechanisms. Amundsen's voice chimes through to let them know that he has de-hexed his first gate and is moving on to his second. Hexes and shields are flying thick and fast in the sky above them, which provides cover for Amundsen as he Apparates to the next gate.
Bakhtin appears beside Draco. He takes a quick look at the complex spellwork. "There's a Blasting Charm worked in," he declares.
"Can you sort it?" Draco asks.
“Yes, but it will take me a few minutes. Go to the next one.” He manages to not quite make it sound like an order.
Draco nearly laughs. He knows that he is the least talented of the curse-breakers in his department, and that they only tolerate him because his breadth of knowledge has very occasionally taken them to solutions that their tightly focused expertise could not. “I’ll disarm the wizard, and see if I can break the spell,” he says. “Let me know if you have problems here, and broadcast your solution, it could be helpful. This one was not cast by the same person as the first one; I think they took a gate apiece for maximum complexity, but there might be a pattern.”
“They’ll have put their best people on the centremost gates,” Bakhtin yells above the noise. “Where they’ll do the most damage.”
“Protego!” Draco leaps over him to cast a shield. The Dark wizard whose spell it blocks swings his broom about in readiness to cast another. “Locomotor Mortis!” Draco adds, and, unable to steer his broom properly, their opponent careens away towards the shore.
“Thanks,” Bakhtin says. “You’re excellent at the field work.”
Draco does laugh at that, and Apparates to the next gate. The wizard here is hiding low, under the steel shell and near the electronics that he has disabled. Draco sneaks up behind him and opts for the low-tech solution of Incarcerous. After a moment, he adds a Silencing Charm, because there is only so much time one can spend listening to “You will never defeat us!”
Bakhtin’s voice comes across on broadcast then: “Clear at this gate. I’m coming over to help you.”
Amundsen declares that his second gate is clear and offers to help with the last one. “Come over,” Draco replies. “Unless Thompson needs you.”
“I’m all but done,” Thompson assures them.
“We’re ready inside,” Fotherington’s voice can be heard by everyone. “They’d taken the computer down, but it’s back now, and we’ve sped up the transmission speeds a little. As quickly as you can, gentlemen.”
Draco steps out of the way to allow his two best men to finish the job. He looks up to where the Aurors are still securing their victory over the criminals. No shields are needed this time, no one is paying attention to what is happening below. It’s almost insulting to see how little effort the criminal mind is prepared to put in these days.
He watches Ron, who is affecting not to even see the attacker ahead, so casual … “Shit!” Draco realises his mistake a second too late. Weasley has been distracted by another attack from his left and not seen the one in front of him. The hex catches him full, and sends him spinning towards the water. Draco shouts a Hover Charm, and catches Ron and his broom in mid-air.
“RON!”
And this is exactly what he doesn’t need. Harry is flying down fast, oblivious to everything around him, unthinking again, so of course there are three enemies closing in on him. Abbott takes one out, and Fawcett another, but the third has his wand raised … “Sorry, Ron,” Draco mutters, as he lets him fall and hurls a shield so strong that Harry’s remaining attacker is thrown back forty feet.
“Harry!” Draco screams. “I’ll take care of Ron, you take care of them!” and he points his wand at the remaining six assailants who have started to hurl Unforgiveables at the Unspeakables holding up the Field. Harry nods tersely, and joins the defence.
Draco has already kicked off his shoes and takes a short run to dive clear of the pier, casting a Bubblehead Charm as he does. The river is freezing, which is good. Ron will have been too shocked to breathe in much water. He sees him ahead and slowly sinking, and summons him with a wandflick. Ron’s fingers are still tight around his wand. Typical. Clutching the Auror, Draco kicks off for the surface.
Ron does not draw a breath as their heads break the water. Draco Apparates them onto the nearest gate. He tips Ron upside down to clear out what water he has aspirated, then he breathes five quick lungfuls of air into his mouth. It’s enough. Ron coughs weakly and moans.
“Amundsen, can you work out what he’s been hit with?” Draco yells, swapping places with the curse-breaker to help Bakhtin with the last of the gate de-hexing. There is only a small power-sucking Charm left to defuse before they are finished there. “Good work,” Draco tells him.
“Fotherington, close the Barrier!” Draco orders.
“Is everyone clear of the water?”
“Yes, and on safe parts of the gates.”
“Rightio, sir!”
Draco looks about to see that Harry and his team have nearly subdued the last attackers. He remembers just in time – “Accio Ron’s broom!” – before the Barrier begins to move and the water to roil.
He turns back to the wounded Auror. “It’s serious, sir,” Amundsen tells him. “A mix of paralysing and blood thickening Curses. He’s stable, but we need to get him to St Mungo’s.”
“Go.” Draco doesn’t bother waiting for more information; seconds count. They Apparate away.
Still holding Ron’s broom, Draco turns to Bakhtin. “Come on, I’ll fly you over,” he offers.
“Yippee, sir,” Bakhtin replies.
“If you can’t be polite, I’ll let a hex or two through next time,” Draco threatens, but he is grateful for the distraction from his worry.
Jessup is already co-ordinating the Obliviating of the Barrier staff when they land. “It was an unexpected surge and there was a freak equipment failure, but your technicians rerouted the commands before there was any real danger, using one of the system’s many built-in redundancies. Everyone worked very well.” As the various engineers and others walk away from the Ministry staff who are repeating the story, they all wear a smile of quiet pride.
Fawcett is the first of the airborne Aurors to touch down at the command post. “We’ve caught the last of them. Thanks for leaving all yours wrapped up so neatly,” he smiles at the Unspeakables.
Then Harry is there, landing a foot in front of Draco, who doesn’t wait for him to speak. “He’s alive, and he’s stable, but it’s serious cursework. Amundsen has taken him to St Mungo’s. I’ll tell the kids. Do you want me to find Hermione?”
Harry sags and Draco holds him with a hand to one shoulder. He takes a breath, and covers Draco’s hand with his own. “No, I’ll go to her first. Give me half an hour before you bring the kids, they’ll want news, and we should give the healers time enough to have some.”
Draco nods. “Go.” He does.
Abbott is there at his side. “You did well, Malfoy,” she says. “It was good intelligence, and the operation was smart.”
“How many did we lose?”
“Two minor injuries on our side, and Ron. As for them, I think Fawcett may have seriously damaged his collar and Potter broke a few bones in the four he took down.”
“Are any of them up for questioning?” Draco rubs his eyes tiredly.
“I’ll have them down in Mysteries by the time you’re there. Usual place?”
“Usual place,” he agrees.
“My father sends his regards, by the way.”
Draco smiles at that. “How is he?”
“Yeah, good. St Mungo’s say another year and he’ll be okay to come home.”
“Wish him well from my mother and me. We want you both to visit as soon as he’s out.”
Abbott nods with a smile. “I will. And I expect pheasant.”
“Hannah, for you we’ll serve peacock,” Draco tells her with a grin.
“Sounds disgusting,” she grins back at him.
“True,” he admits, “but it’s always good to get rid of another one.”
“Sir?” That’s Fotherington.
“Yes?” Draco moves away to the quiet part of the car park the young wizard is pacing. “What’s up?’
“Um. I’d like a favour, if I could,” he says, hurriedly. “There’s this engineer who was terrific help and she’s a Muggle but she’s really nice and I was having a really good conversation with her and … and I was wondering if we could make her not really forget me?”
Draco notices the woman standing near them looking about at the robed figures with frank astonishment. "She's the engineer?" he asks.
"Alice Peters, sir," he replies. "She's ever so smart, she was the one who helped me over-ride the codes."
Draco looks at him sharply. He nods, understanding. He turns to Alice. Waving his wand gently at her face, he mutters the charm and follows it up with: "You have spent the evening averting a minor crisis with the help of Fotherington here – Fotherington, do you have a first name?"
"Sebastien, sir."
"Seb Fotherington," Draco continues, "Who you met once at a party some months ago and who you ran into by chance on a walk to clear your head just as the emergency began. Remembering his reported genius for computing and engineering, you roped him into doing some of the grunt work to help you and your team. You have agreed to have dinner with him on Saturday, but still haven't made up your mind as to whether you find him attractive or not. He’ll remain after the rest of us leave and make sure you have his contact details."
Fotherington is looking at Draco with what may be love. "Thank you, sir," he whispers.
"You're on your own from here," Draco tells him and walks back to Jessup at the water’s edge.
“Rundown,” he snaps.
“Just watch, sir,” he says, nodding out towards the river.
Draco sees it; a wall of water running up the tide, fast and raging and slapping straight into the Barrier, where it is stopped dead. The heavy shipping to the East will be bounced about, but the ferry has been warned and precautions taken. He watches the foam rise and slap against the steel, and bleakly counts the bodies that would have been caught in it as it climbs. In five minutes it has made it to four inches below the lip of the protective wall, and there it stops.
They are all watching, he realises, Muggles and Ministry staff alike. “Fuck …” says a uniformed Muggle to his left. “Good thing Peters got that working again.”
And they nod. It’s a very good thing.
Draco pushes his hair back wearily. “I need to go, can you clear things up here?”
“We’ll be out in ten.”
“Excellent, I’ll see you back at the office in an hour or so.” Draco raises his voice so everyone can hear him. “You’ve all done magnificently and I will be laying on dinner and drinks down in Mysteries. I’ll cab you all home, so don’t hold back. And I’ll have some people from Law come down for the first interviews, so you Aurors can indulge, too.”
Abbott laughs at him across the heads of their staff. “Populist,” she accuses.
“Shameless,” he admits. “I need to pick up Weasley’s children.”
She nods. “Send word of how he’s doing?”
“I’ll bring it myself once I know.”
And with that he Apparates to the Manor, and of course all six children are flying across the front park as he arrives, and it is only now that he realises that he is still wet and spattered with sundry muck.
They see him and land, expectant and worried.
“No deaths,” he begins with the key phrase they all learn at work. Then he turns to Rose and Hugo. “Your father is stable, but he was hurt in the op. It’s a complicated hex. They took him to St Mungo’s as soon as possible, I haven’t heard anything, but Harry asked that we meet him there.”
Their faces are serious but accepting, and inside he is furious. Another generation of children are watching death walk too close to them. He had thought they were past this.
“We’ll clean up first, give the Healers and Mum a few minutes with him,” Rose says briskly. “Can the Potters and Scorpius come, too?” Her voice wavers only slightly on the last word.
Draco quickly gathers her and her brother into a damp hug. “Of course they can. Run inside and get ready, we’ll leave in quarter of an hour.”
Rose gives a very small smile. “Come on, Hugo,” she takes his hand and walks quickly into the house.
James looks about panickedly, Draco jerks his head after Rose, and James runs to catch up with them.
“Will Uncle Ron really be all right?” Lily asks.
“I think so,” Draco replies, “but I can’t say if he will be straight away.”
“Are you all right?” Albus asks, knowing that Scorpius is dying to, but doesn’t want to seem childish.
“Fine, just wet. We had an emergency down by the river, it’s all fine now.”
“Dad,” Scorpius’s voice is gentle. “Shower and change. We’ll sort some tea for the others.”
“You are good boys,” he tells them. “Give Lily the biscuit tin and see if she can get some sugar into Hugo and Rose.”
“They’ll want chocolate,” Lily informs him.
“Scorpius, break out some of the stash,” Draco allows.
“You have a chocolate stash? How could you not have told me that?” He can hear Lily’s voice as the children precede him into the Manor.
“If we’d told you that, we wouldn’t have a stash …” Albus’s reasoned reply fades away as they walk in ahead of him.
Draco sits on the front steps for a moment. He breathes in and out slowly.
“Dad?” Scorpius is there behind him. “Are you worried about Mr Weasley?”
Draco smiles before he looks up at him. “No, I’m not too worried about Ron, I’m certain he’ll be all right, even if it takes a little time.” And he’s telling the truth. He wasn’t thinking about Ron at all.
*********************************
Hugo’s face is suspiciously pale and shiny when he and Rose come out of his room. She has packed them a small bag in case they are able to stay at St Mungo’s. Draco takes it from her and carries it, squeezing her shoulder with his other hand.
Albus and Scorpius have a basket of pasties, sandwiches and a thermos of tea, and seem to have packed enough for a short siege. Lily and James have spent the last ten minutes Owling their uncles and letting sundry family friends know the basic details, with promises of more to follow. Draco has had to use his oldest spare to Owl his catering order through to the Leaky. The three Potter children seem very prepared, and Draco realises with a sinking heart that is because they are, because they have spent their lives expecting to need composure at a moment like this.
“Ready?” he asks them. They nod, and he, Albus and James Apparate the younger four to the hospital.
Draco has been here too many times to ever feel comfortable. He wonders if it is the architecture or the scent that causes his stomach to tighten. They are waved through by the Welcome Witch and are met at the lifts by Aurors, who take them directly to Ron’s ward. Draco’s stomach tightens further; Ron is in the Mungo Bonham Ward for Catastrophic Curses.
There are three Weasley brothers waiting with Harry in the corridor, with another three Aurors and Amundsen. The Potter children run to the Weasleys, automatically choosing one each to talk to, listen to, distract, maybe even comfort. Rose and Hugo walk straight to Harry, who gently explains that Ron is stable, that he is doing as well as anyone could hope, that his blood has been thinned, but that it will be a couple of months before he will walk properly.
Draco watches Rose. It is too painful to look at Harry’s face. Rose is nodding. “But he will walk again, won’t he?”
“He will, yes, he will,” Harry insists.
The door to the ward swings open and there is Hermione, pale, but smiling. “Hello darlings,” she says as her children cling to her. “Daddy said he heard you.”
“He’s awake?” Hugo’s face is shining again, this time is better.
“He is, and he’s been asking for you both.” She ushers them through the door, which swings shut behind them.
Draco finally looks at Harry, who is looking at him. Draco turns to his son. “Can you keep an eye on everyone here?”
Scorpius nods. “Mr Potter looks like he needs a walk and a drink.”
Draco kisses his son’s forehead gratefully.
“Come on.” He steps forward and takes Harry’s elbow. “I need to fill you in on the end of the op. You can fill me in on Ron before I head back to the Ministry.”
“Make sure he eats something,” George Weasley tells Draco.
Nodding, Draco leads Harry down the hallway.
Harry walks briskly and straightly until they are out of sight of the group outside Ron’s ward. Draco takes Harry’s arm as his steps slow down. By the time they reach the toilets, Harry is leaning against him.
“I think I’d like to throw up now,” he says.
Draco walks him in, and cleans the whole lav with a sweep of his wand. There is a rubber mat in front of the nearest loo now. “For your knees,” Draco jokes weakly.
Harry half-smiles, then dashes past him and makes use of the improved facilities. Draco conjures a glass and a face flannel, fills the former with water and wets the latter. Harry is sitting back as Draco enters the cubicle.
“Here.” Draco passes him the flannel, drops the toilet lid and flushes away the vomit. He sits down and leans against the opposite wall, passing Harry the glass of water once he seems ready for it.
“Will he really be all right?” he asks after a few minutes.
Harry nods. “Yes, but it was close.” He tilts his head back against the timber partition.
“It’s my fault,” he says after a few breaths.
“No,” Draco disagrees. “He didn’t see his attacker in time. I didn’t, either.”
“You had a hold of him when I distracted you and you let him fall into the water,” Harry reminds him.
“The freezing cold water which would have slowed his pulse and minimised damage to his brain,” Draco counters. “In fact, you’re right, it’s my fault for choosing to save you rather than him.”
Eyes full of hurt, Harry nods.
“Shut up.” Draco kicks Harry’s hip beside his foot. “Weasley obviously wasn’t dead, he could afford to get wet. You’re the highest profile target there is, you couldn’t afford to be hit by Merlin knows what.”
“I just feel …” Harry’s voice trails off.
“Seventeen again?” Draco supplies. Harry nods. “I know. Every time we think we can relax something triggers that old fear.”
Draco thinks for a moment before going on. “Every time I see George Weasley, I think how relieved his brother must have been when he saw it was just an ear, and then I think: what must George’s own grief have been like … Because he’d have been lulled into thinking they’d already paid their war price, wouldn’t he? Except that’s not how it works.” Draco takes a breath. “That’s why I let Ron fall, really. He’d have killed me if I let you die.”
Harry’s eyes are very tired. “I just want to have a day without fear. Just a moment to relax.”
“You stay here,” Draco tells him. “Abbott can handle things, and I can run the liaison with Legal. Besides, you have children. You will never really relax again.”
Harry snorts a laugh. “Can’t stay here, someone will need the loos soon.”
“You are hilarious.” Draco sighs. He knocks his knees sideways against Harry’s, who knocks his back.
“Do you think I should stop going out into the field?” Harry asks after another minute. “I distort things out there. I make everything less safe.”
Draco shrugs. “You do make one hell of a target,” he agrees. “But you’re also one of the best there is. Your teams love you. They go home and tell their families that they flew beside you. You make them all better Aurors, and that keeps them alive.”
“Just battered,” Harry mutters grimly.
“They lost an average of five a year before you and Ron,” Draco reminds him. “You two trained them more intelligently, made them more of a unit, demanded more cooperation from them. They were happy to give it. You never hesitate when it’s your neck, they’re the same.”
Draco looks at Harry, then knocks his knees again. “Stop it,” he says.
Harry looks up at him in surprise. “Stop what?”
“I know that look. You’re counting your casualties. I know it’s hard for you to accept this, but people were quite happy to fight against both Voldemort and against serious crime without you, you know. Something along the lines of social responsibility, if I remember rightly.”
“I just wish I could do more for them …” Harry mutters.
Draco has a ready response. “Learn some halfway decent healing spells.”
He is surprised when this makes Harry laugh. “You’ve been telling me that for nine years,” he says.
“And yet do you listen?” Draco smiles, pleased that the message has been recalled, if not acted on. “It was the first thing we talked about when we started as Departmental Liaisons, and you’re still to do the advanced course.”
“I did mandate it for all trainees,” Harry offers in his defence.
“So you’ll absorb it by osmosis, I suppose.”
Rude hand gestures are made.
Draco’s thoughts reach a conclusion. “I think we need to develop a good field stasis charm, so that we can reduce the effects of curses until casualties can reach a Mediwizard. The water was surprisingly cold today, and I think that helped Ron; if we add a chilling charm …”
Harry is nodding. “That could work, you’d just need to balance it carefully so you don’t stress the system further.”
“Exactly, and that way your agents would be less exposed, they wouldn’t need to stop mid-op for life-threatening injuries, they could just put the injured member into stasis and come back when it’s safe.”
“I have some research funding available if you have people spare to investigate it.”
Draco grins. “I always have people spare to investigate. It’s why I need such a big department.”
“I should get back and start the interrogations.” Harry’s vigour starts to ebb again.
“You should get back to Ron and work out my funding. I’ll work with Legal on the interviews and you can have the transcripts tomorrow. There’s no point you going in, half your team are knackered and the other half are down in Mysteries drinking on my tab.” Draco stands up and offers a hand to Harry.
Harry shakes his head in amusement. “You are such a micro-manager.”
Draco flicks the top of Harry’s unruly hair. “Language, Potter! Come on.”
Harry takes the hand and allows himself to be dragged up and out of the cubicle. He stops at the door to the loos and pulls Draco back to him, enfolding him in a chaste hug. After a moment, Harry’s hand slips lower, and Draco skips backwards.
“I will have to apologise to Lily,” Draco muses.
“Why?”
“I thought she was an opportunistic minx, but apparently it’s genetic.”
Harry grins at him in that fashion that Draco is finding increasingly hard to resist. Draco shakes his head. “Get yourself something to eat, I’m headed back to the Ministry. I’ll be back at ten to collect the kids. Give Ron and Hermione my best, I’ll pop in if he’s still up.”
Harry’s expression softens. “He said thanks, Draco.”
“Course he did.” Draco is the one grinning now. “Have you seen the state of that river? Tell him to just get well, and I’ll be in as soon as I can.”
“You’re going?”
“I’m going.” And Draco does, because if he stays, things that should happen won’t, and things that shouldn’t happen will.
***********************************
As Draco expects, there are drunk Aurors on the floor of his meeting room. He steps over two before spotting Hannah Abbott sitting cross-legged on the table, consuming pumpkin pasties and holding back her laughter. He follows her eyes. Naturally, there is Fotherington, performing an interpretive dance rendition of the tidal surge.
“How much did they drink?” he asks, resignedly
“Relax,” she reassures him. “You can afford it.”
Several of the other Aurors spot Draco then, and questions regarding Ron rush at him. “He’s stable, he’s doing well, he’ll need some time to recover, but they think he’ll be all right,” he answers. “No visitors for a couple of days, but I’ll be stopping by later tonight and can hand messages over to Harry and Hermione.”
There are cheers, and as Draco attempts to make his way through to his office so that he can confer with Abbott, Fawcett grabs his ankle and assures him, from his prone position half under the meeting table, that not only is Draco a good bloke, really, he is also dead fanciable and he, Fawcett, really, really loves him, mate, and is happy for that to be spiritual and meaningful if Draco already has a shag.
Draco thanks him and hurries away, ignoring Hannah’s snorts of laughter from behind him. She follows him into his office and pats his shoulder. “It’s not your fault, Malfoy. It’s the heady scent of power. You should see what he’s like when Potter is around.”
“Spare me.” He shakes his head to dispel the mental image. “So, done anything about interviews while I’ve been gone?”
Hannah rolls her eyes at his lack of faith, but answers: “Yes, I have a team from Legal on their way down. Granger-Weasley’s obviously not available, but we have her top three and a few juniors. One of them was at school with your boy – Biggs, I think.”
“Lester?” Draco is pleased. “He must be freshly back from Spain, he hasn’t even popped by the Manor.”
“He flew in specially, says he thinks there’s an international connection.”
Draco sighs. Just what he needs. Domestic idiocy isn’t enough, clearly Britain could do with some of the foreign variety. “What about you, Hannah, want to sit in?”
Abbot’s eyes gleam very slightly. “I would love to. Would you like me to stand behind you with my wand out, or are you aiming for something more subtle?”
Draco grins. “I have something a little different in mind, though I wouldn’t call it subtle.”
It takes half an hour to set things up. Draco has time for a few words with Lester, mostly confirming the news that Ron will make a full, if slow, recovery, and Abbott takes the opportunity to find her black coat and tape her knuckles. There are two of the attackers who are ready to be interviewed. Several of the others remain unconscious, four are claiming Imperius and the rest have wounds and hex-damage enough to claim medical sanctuary.
Draco is pleased to see that his would-be assailant from the first pier is one of the interviewees. He stops at the door to his interview room with Lester, Abbott and Savage and Williamson in tow. The two senior men from Legal are old, foul-tempered, and former Aurors.
“Can you mind this one for five minutes while we set the other one up for interrogation?” Draco asks Abbott at the open door.
“No visible bruises,” she replies with a wink.
The prisoner blanches. “I know my rights,” he says. “There has to be an advocate here for me. You can’t leave me alone with her.”
Savage smiles benignly at him. “You won’t be alone, I’ll be with you. And it won’t be for long; she’s off to interrogate him next door. Stupid lad wouldn’t answer questions that were put to him.”
Draco listens to the conversation continue as he closes the door. “You’ll keep her away from me?” he hears the assailant ask.
“As long as I am watching you, you’re safe,” Savage replies.
“Where are you going?” The young voice is tremulous now.
Draco hears Abbott laugh softly.
As he closes the door, he can hear the panic: “Turn around! Turn around!!”
Lester has one eyebrow raised as they walk down the hallway. Draco shakes his head slightly. ”Abbott will be giving him her Look, the one that has guaranteed her peaceful drinking for the last twenty-five years, despite being one of the hotter Aurors known to the Ministry.”
Lester winces. “I’ve seen that look,” he admits.
“Ooh, you didn’t …”
“Try and pick her up in the Leaky? Only the once.” Lester’s eyes unfocus as he takes a brief terrified sprint down memory lane. “She looks fantastic for her age …” he murmurs.
“Well, that’s true,” Draco concedes. “But she’ll rip your arm off and beat you with it if you come between her and a bottle of Ogden’s.”
Lester nods, and also smiles. “Almost worth it for the Older Woman Wisdom.”
“You’re a disturbing lad at times, Lester.”
“Thank you, sir, I aim to disconcert.”
“How are the girls in Spain?”
Lester positively grins. “Dark and bad-tempered, sir, just the way I like them.”
Draco can’t help laughing. “Shame Abbott’s out of your league, she’s really your ideal woman.”
“Armed, cranky and slightly crazy? Spot on, sir. How’s Scorpius?”
“I’m going to assume that was a non sequitur, not a segue. He’s well. When was the last time he wrote to you?”
“I know all about him and Potter.” Lester grins. “Took them long enough. I was about to write a sternly worded letter if he hadn’t tweaked.”
“You’re a good lad, Lester. Think it’s been long enough?”
“Five minutes, Mr Malfoy, should do.”
“Excellent, let’s head back.”
When Draco opens the door to the interview room the prisoner’s voice rises in desperation. “Make her stop! Make her stop!” The face he turns to them is panicked.
Draco and Lester walk in to find Savage seated opposite the prisoner and Abbott leaning casually against the wall opposite. “What have you been up to, Abbott?”
“Just chatting, Malfoy.”
Savage is smiling gently. ”So far, we have heard about Ms Abbott’s childhood castrating sheep on her uncle’s farm, the foot and mouth epidemic of ’01, and now we are onto menstrual cramps.”
“Hot water bottle and chocolate are the only known cures,” she asserts.
Lester’s eyes shine with barely contained devotion. “Genius,” he whispers.
“They’re ready for you next door, Abbott,” Draco tells her.
She stretches, managing to crack her shoulders as well as her knuckles. “Excellent,” she says, smiling. And, with a leer at the prisoner, she saunters from the room.
“What’s she going to do?” the prisoner whispers.
Lester sits on the edge of the table and looks at him sympathetically. “Your colleague is refusing to answer questions. Abbott has gone to change his mind.”
A shiver runs across the shoulders of the young man. “You can’t make me tell you anything. Not my name, not our purpose, nothing.”
Draco is impressed at his veneer of bravado, but he can see Lester smiling.
“Your name is Michael Hindley, you were four years ahead of me at Hogwarts,” the young lawyer says. Hindley’s shoulders slump.
Draco sits alongside Savage and takes the opportunity to begin his questioning. “Why the Barrier, Michael?”
Things proceed slowly for the first twenty minutes. After ten, a rhythmic sound from the next room can be heard. It is dull, like something partially soft hitting a wall. Draco, Savage and Lester ignore it. Hindley becomes increasingly unnerved as it goes on.
“Who worked the weather magic, Hindley?” Draco continues to ask questions, despite Hindley’s silence.
The prisoner cracks, though not helpfully. “What’s that sound?”
Draco shrugs. ”I’m not sure,” he says.
“Sounds like a body hitting a wall,” Savage comments.
Hindley looks at him with wild eyes.
“Nah,” Lester drawls the syllable. “You’d hear the screams.”
“If he was conscious,” Savage points out. After a moment he adds: “Or alive.”
Hindley starts to talk at that point. There are thirty names in all. The group doesn’t have a name, they don’t have a manifesto, they have controlling interests in development firms and steelworks.
“You did it for the money?” Draco is appalled.
“It was worth billions,” Hindley protests.
“What about the people you’d kill?” Draco’s voice rises.
“A few thousand, worth it for the price!”
Draco stands up suddenly and walks quickly from the interrogation room. He can hear Lester following him, but he doesn't care. He walks to the nearest wall and punches it. It lacks the satisfying crunch of bone, so he punches harder, imagining a nose splaying under his fist. That feels better. He draws back his arm again, inhaling sharply, and surprised that he can hear his breath so clearly through the pounding of his blood rushing through arteries. He can hear something else.
It is Lester's voice. "Sir? Mr Malfoy?"
Draco powers the next punch from his hips, his shoulders carrying the momentum up into his arm. This time he visualises Hindley's ribs … a large hand captures his before it can be driven into the plaster.
"Draco!" Lester is all but shouting in his ear.
Draco looks up at him evenly. "I wanted to kill him. This is …" he takes a deep breath. "This is preferable."
"Yes, sir," says Lester gently. "But you need to let me heal your hand."
Draco breathes some more, and allows Lester to take his hand and charm away the damage. “I could live better with political idiocy, you know,” he mutters.
“It’s less cold,” Lester agrees. “But at least you’ll have no concerns about locking this lot away for years.”
“Makes me miss the Dementors.”
Savage walks out and joins them at this point. “He wants to cut a deal,” he tells the two younger men. “I’ve offered him protective custody in return for his testimony.”
Draco nods. “Sounds good.”
Savage pats him on the shoulder. “Go home. Biggs and I have this one sorted. We won’t be needing any of your potions.”
“I’m headed back to St Mungo’s. Harry will want an update, the kids are all there.”
“Go,” Savage smiles as he speaks. “You’re no use to us here. I’ll call Hannah in if we need to menace anyone.”
“Thank her for me,” Draco says. “Tell her she can claim for any damage to the medicine ball.”
“Tell Scorp I’ll be by tomorrow to catch up,” Lester adds.
“We’ll look forward to it,” Draco declares as he walks up the corridor.
Part 3a
