Archive of Our Own

Blood, Harry thought, was one thing he would never get used to.

Back when he had first started Auror training, he and the other new recruits were warned that the job might become gruesome, especially if they were chosen for fieldwork, but being warned about it and having to confront it in real time were two very different beasts. You might think that having gone through the war he would be better about these things, but blood still made him queasy.

Even so, there was a difference between blood and this. The scene in front of him was one out of a low budget muggle horror film. When he had first laid eyes on it, he had a moment where he was sure it wasn’t real. After all, the human body couldn’t have that much… liquid in it, could it? The shocked look on Ron and William’s faces told him that he wasn’t the only one thinking it, but the shaken demeanor of their witness was as damning a reality as any.

Sarah Wilson had been walking home late one night with a woman she had picked up at a bar, later identified by magical blood tests as one Marcy Davis, a 22 year old witch working as a new journalist at Witch Weekly when she had heard a loud growling noise in a nearby alley and turned to see wild, animalistic eyes trained right on them. The minutes that followed would have scarred a war-torn veteran, so poor Sarah was in quite a state when they found her, badly injured, covered in the blood of a woman she barely knew, and only just alive.

She was weeping and shaking when Ron knelt by her, carefully casting stasis charms and reassuring her while Williams called a healer. This gave Harry a chance to take in the scene in the alley before him.

There was a fine spray of blood covering all the walls, the body on the ground was completely unrecognizable, and it was more than clear by the bite marks and scratches that whatever had done this was not human.

Behind him, he could hear the telltale sounds of popping that signalled the rest of the team on duty for the night arriving, so he didn’t feel bad about calmly walking to a different alley and losing his meager dinner into a drainpipe.

There was no way for him to know at that moment that this was the first in a long line of murders and a tense investigation, one that would ultimately end with him falling in love with Draco Malfoy.

---

“There’s been another one.”

Harry let out a low groan and let his head fall with a dull thump onto his cluttered desk. “Are you serious? Could you have waited to tell me that until I had at least sat down?”

Ron shrugged, “Sorry mate, Robards wants us in his office for a briefing in ten. He's in a real mood.”

“I’d be in a real mood too if the case I was in charge of had no leads and people kept dying.”

Ron snorted, “Better keep quiet with stuff like that around him, you know how sensitive he's been lately with the Wilson case.”

The Wilson case, as it had become to be known as, was actually a string of brutal murders starting with that of Sarah Wilson and continuing with whatever poor fellow they had just found. All of the victims had the same cause of death, torn apart as brutally as possible. Witnesses were limited and the ones they did have all had fuzzy memories and conflicting stories. It was a real conundrum of a case, one that had gone straight to the top of the Auror food chain to Robards, who had been handling it for the past six months without any new leads.

Harry took a quick moment to find the necessary paperwork with his mundane assignments and down a quick cup of tea before making his way over to the briefing room, a large half moon room where Robards made announcements and handed out cases. It was already quite full, and he went to grab a seat with Ron and Williams.

When he had first started his job as an Auror, he was instantly relieved to find that he and Ron would be paired, but apprehensive to know that they would be a part of a trio. Their third was a man named Jon Williams, a tall, thin man who was on loan to them from the Investigative Department. He was several years their senior but mostly not suited to fieldwork and usually let them take the lead. He did most of their combined paperwork, and was actually happy to do it, and was key to talking to shaken witnesses. He was quiet and reserved, but Harry quite liked the man. If either of them had been a little less awkward they probably could have been good friends, but as it was, they were simply good coworkers.

When Robards entered the room, all small talk ceased. His expression was entirely irritation, which was itself quite worrying. Normally, he had quite the poker face. He was almost always set in neutrality, and everyone in the office knew how much it took to make him angry enough for it to show on his face. Whatever the news was, it was sure to be awful.

“I’ll keep this brief.” he said, voice echoing throughout the silent chamber, “The Wilson case just reached its eighth murder last night. We at the Ministry are shifting into crisis mode. Our only goal is to catch this killer and put them behind bars.”

There was a resounding noise of agreement throughout the room. Every single person had worked at least a little bit on the Wilson case, and every single one of them was eager to see it done. There were too many dead and too many blood-spattered onlookers for it to go on any longer. The collective mood in the office was that of a dark cloud, perpetually hanging over their heads and threatening rain.

“However,” he continued, face still grave, “my time has been requested by the Minister to work on a project for him, so I won’t be able to handle it full time. That's why I’ll be handing the case off to Williams’s team. You should all do your best to aid them in their investigation as often as possible, and they will be delegating their current cases as they see fit.” He locked eyes with the three of them, expressions carefully schooled into stoicism but with the shock still showing in their eyes, “Meet me in my office to discuss the details afterwards.”

The meeting proceeded with some other minor announcements, but Harry was still left struck from the initial announcement. He, Ron, and Williams almost always handled dark magic and renegade wizards working with illegal spells. They were a very good investigative team, but murders like this usually didn’t get high enough up in the system to bother them. Was there a new development in the case that Robards wasn’t telling them about?

A quick look shared with Ron showed that he wasn’t the only one thinking that. Whatever it was, it had to be secretive enough, or perhaps small enough, for Robards to not mention it.

---

“Our latest witness claims to have seen a man following her and her husband on the street about an hour prior to their attack. She says she swears that the man had a massive tattoo spanning up his neck and that she could see a dark shape under the fur of the beast that attacked them in the same place that looked about the same. We think it's possible that an Animagi is using dark magic to warp their given form into something stronger and harder to identify.” At this, he leaned in close, “I would like to handle this matter myself, but the Minister has me working with the Unspeakables on something, well, unspeakable. You three are the most experienced at recognizing dark magic. Give your current cases to other people; this is now your main priority.”

Harry and the others nodded their affirmatives and Robards dismissed them along with copies of the latest case reports and a scathing demand to do their job well. Robards was a right bastard when he wanted to be, but damn, was he a motivating boss.

“Shall we take a look at these and then grab some dinner? ‘Mione’s making meatloaf tonight and little Rose hasn't seen her favorite uncle in too long.” Ron waved the papers at Harry, a dopey grin on his face at the thought of his daughter.

Harry smiled. Ron and Hermione’s daughter was the cutest thing on this planet, and certainly a better motivator than Hermione’s meatloaf. “I’ll come over so long as you keep Hermione away from the meatloaf.”

Ron barked out a laugh. “I think I can make that happen. You want to join us, Williams? I know Hermione would love to talk your ear off about blood classification like last time.”

Williams gave them a small smile. “Sorry boys, not tonight.” He held up two vials full of pensieve memories of the crime scene with a wry smirk, “I have a fun night planned.”

Ron shuddered, “Better you than me pal, better you than me.”

---

“An Aminagi, hmm? How curious.” Hermione had a glass of wine in one hand and a book in the other, the exact picture of a relaxed academic that she was when she was at home.

“Wild, isn’t it? Do you know anything about Animagus magic?” Ron asked as he pulled the meatloaf out of the oven

Harry snorted. “Is there anything she doesn't know about?”

Hermione laughed at that. “Well cooking, for one thing, continues to elude me,” she said, gesturing with her glass at the burned chunk of what had probably been meatloaf at one point, the casualty of Harry and Ron staying late at the office to go over their new case. “But I do know a little bit about this, though I would suggest asking an expert.”

“Well, since you're the smartest witch I know, how about I ask you?” Harry suggested, taking a sip of his own wine while he jiggled Rose on his knee, watching her giggle and grab at the sleeve of his sweater.

Hermione leaned back in her chair, looking contemplative. “Well, the process is well-documented. You all know how it goes, we learned it back at school. Mandrake leaf, full moon, lightning storm, and so on. The most interesting thing is that it actually depends very much on the will of the wizard. You can complete all of the necessary steps and still not be able to change, simply because your will isn’t strong enough. It requires intense training of the mind and body, and there are many examples of transformations that have gone horribly wrong. It is a very unpredictable form of magic and one of the most regulated.”

“Yeah,” Harry responded, “We checked the registry and we had a few possible suspects, but none of them take on the right form for this sort of thing.”

Ron gave a snort from the kitchen. “Yeah, I highly doubt a man that turns into a tree frog is going to be on the top of our suspects list.”

“How many people do you suppose aren’t on the registry but who can actually do it?” Harry asked. He knew that his father and his friends had completed the transformation back and school and were never registered, but there couldn’t be too many cases like that.

Hermione gave a shrug. “I don't think anyone could tell you that. If you are an Animagi that spends more than a month off the registry, you have to go to court. People have ended up in prison for withholding that information. Most people never come forth if they don't register.”

Harry let the breath out through his nose harshly. “Well that's shitty. It's going to be tough to find someone if there are no records to follow.”

Hermione shot upright in her chair. “Oh! I just remembered, you should go to one of those schools!” At Harry’s blank look she continued her explanation. “You know, one of those places where you pay to have a master teach you how it's done? They don’t work within the Ministry, but they have to keep records of all the people they see for security purposes. Maybe you can check if they have any students or former students that meet your description.”

Ron leaned over and gave his wife a loud kiss on the cheek, setting down a plate of steaming meatloaf in front of her. “Brilliant dear, absolutely brilliant. Why don't we make you the detective?”

Hermione snorted, beginning to pick into her food. “Because you’d hate it when I upstaged you both; now, enough work talk. Let’s actually try and pretend like we have lives.”

Harry smiled, starting into his meal. He really did have the best friends in the world.

---

An owl arrived from Hermione the next morning with more information for them about the various schools and teachers in the country, it was short, but contained enough to fuel them for weeks.

Harry,

Good morning! It was wonderful to see you last night, promise me that when I give you this you won’t hide away trying to solve it all at once? We miss you!

There are three schools in Britain in total, and I think only two are worth looking into.

The first is in Liverpool, it’s called Metamorphosis, and it's one of the most popular and mainstream options. It has good press and good advertising and it gets lots of customers.
There’s one in London, but apparently they do a really bad job and cut corners a lot, so they produce very unsuccessful results. They're almost close to closing their doors, but it's called The Quiet Mouse if you still want to check it out.

The last one is in Wiltshire and it’s called Snap Dragons, and it's where you’ll find your richer, more private clients. I would suggest you look into this one yourself. You’ll thank me later, just don't get too caught up in it.

Good luck with the investigation! Come visit again soon!

Love,
Hermione

Harry felt a smile creep onto his face. How Hermione could be so smart and so kind, he’d never know, but he was thankful for it anyways.

He sent a quick memo to Ron and Williams with the names of the schools and jotted down the address to Snap Dragons quickly, curiosity moving him faster than usual. What was it about this place that made Hermione think he would be interested in it? Why did she think he’d get too caught up in it?

He was in the floo less than an hour after he had arrived for work, excitement burning low in his belly, the scent of an adventure ripe on the wind of Wiltshire.

---
Snap Dragons had a quaint little storefront in the wizarding district of Wiltshire that was as unassuming and quiet as anything. When Hermione said it catered to private clients, she wasn't kidding. From the outside it looked simply like a set of offices; the windows were tinted black, and the only indication that it was the place he was looking for was the sign written in silver script on the glass.
Snap Dragons
Transformative magic for the ambitious magic user
Inquire inside
The ambiguity and secrecy of the whole thing made Harry feel that same buzz of excitement as earlier. These places were so interesting to him, tiny little enigmas that he could crack open and dig into, see what secrets they held in their depths. Something about this place, whatever it was, was setting every nerve in his being on edge.

Luckily, there was a tiny coffee shop positioned diagonally to the store with a clear view of the front. It was warm and welcoming, a perfect reprieve from the biting cold of the fall breeze outside. There was a perfect seat by the window that allowed him to look at the storefront easily. He pulled out one of his many cluttered journals that he used to take notes for cases and began doodling mindlessly, keeping an eye on the place while making it look like he was working. He wanted to get a read on the place before he approached the owners. If their murderer was a client, he would only scare them away by coming on too fast.

In the hours that he sat there he went through three cups of coffee and watched the same number of people enter and exit the building, each spent about two hours in total on the premises. The first was a short, dark haired woman; the second, a tall, red headed woman; and the last was a washed out-looking blond man. Harry took down sketches of each of them in his journal, but none of them matched the description of the man they were looking for.

Around five, the sun had just started to set, and Harry was beginning to feel the jitters that accompanied a day spent sitting doing nothing. He was already planning his trip home and what he would grab for dinner when there was movement near the front of the store again. This time, someone coming from the inside headed out, likely the owner leaving for the day.

He snapped his head up and immediately felt his jaw drop at what he saw. Backlit by rays of the setting sun, hair set aflame by its golden rays, was Draco Malfoy.

Harry choked on his mouthful of coffee, watching it splatter across the careful sketches of the clientele. Shakily, he dropped his head back to face the table, careful not to draw too much attention to himself as Malfoy walked away from his shop passed the cafe and down the street, out of Harry’s sight.

As soon as he was safely out of sight, Harry bolted straight from the cafe and into the street, apparating out of sight into the brisk night as soon as was possible.

---
“Did you know Malfoy ran that shop when you sent me there?” Harry demanded loudly, bursting into the Weasley household.

Hermione looked up with a cocked brow, gesturing down to the sleeping baby in her arms with an unimpressed look on her face.

“Oh shit, sorry,” Harry whispered. “But seriously, did you know he was the owner?”

“Of course I knew he was the owner. Why else would I send you?” she whispered back, stepping towards Rose’s room. By the time she had put her down for her nap, Harry had made a cup of tea and was staring absently out through the window.

“So why did you think I should go? Why not Ron or Williams?”

Hermione shrugged and started heavily doctoring her tea. “Well, that's obvious. You’ve always been keyed into what Malfoy is up to, and if he knows anything, I think you’ll have the best sense for it.” She chuckled, “Also, you’ve always been obsessed with him. I thought you might enjoy it.”

Harry was quiet.

“Did you enjoy it?”

He shrugged, but the smile on Hermione’s face said that she knew anyway.

“So, what did you find?”

Harry sighed. “Oh nothing much, I just did some surveillance; my next step is to actually talk to Malfoy and see if I can get my hands on his client list.” Harry gestured angrily with his hands. “But it's Malfoy! He’ll never give them to me! He hates me!”

“Well, you don't know that; he's a real adult now and he's a business owner. If you're polite about it, you should be fine.”

Harry went quiet for a moment, sipping his tea contemplatively. “How did he get into this line of work? Doesn't seem in character for what he was like in Hogwarts.”

“He’s not the same person he was when we were at school, Harry, none of us are,” Hermione said gently. “I know quite a bit about his job, actually. I consulted him for that book I wrote on the theory of will in magic.”

Harry motioned for her to continue with his mug.

“Well, after his trial, he and his Mother ended up travelling out of the country for a little while. Apparently, he met a master of the craft who took him under his wing and taught him the craft. One of his old friends from school wanted to learn and he taught them, and for a while, he just did it for friends. I guess after a while he decided to get paid for his efforts. He does coaching for people and leads them through the whole process and gets paid by the hour. He’s very successful and all of his reviews are great; he prides himself on keeping things private and confidential, so you might not be able to get too much out of him.” At Harry’s unimpressed look, she continued. “He was very accommodating when I spoke to him. You’ll be fine. If not, just have Ron or Williams do it.”

“No way, it has to be me,” he interjected instantly.

Hermione gave him an inscrutable look and continued to sip her tea.

---

The next day dawned bright and early, and Harry once again ended up in that little cafe in Wiltshire. He was on his second cup of coffee, contemplating the state of his investigation when he heard the bell of the shop ring. He didn’t look up until the chair pulled away from the table in front of him and when he did he found himself arrested by a pair of steely gray eyes.

“What are you doing skulking around here, Potter?” Malfoy asked, sliding into the chair across from him.

Harry’s mouth gaped open and he found himself at a loss for words. “Uh, um, well, uh-”

Malfoy cocked a perfectly sculpted brow on his perfectly sculpted face and gave Harry an amused look. “What? Does the boy detective not have anything to say?”

Harry straightened up in his chair. “I’m looking into a case that I think you can-”

Malfoy held up a single hand, Harry was struck for a minute by the perfection of that hand. It was pale and smooth and perfectly manicured. Did Malfoy get manicures? Where would he even get one? How did those hands feel when they touched you? Malfoy interrupted his train of thought with a single comment. “Save it, I already know.”

“Wait, what? How do you know?”

Malfoy gave a shrug. His shoulders were accented by a plain grey sweater that was slightly oversized but still stylish and relaxed, whereas Harry’s oversized sweaters always made him look like he crawled out of the garbage. “Granger told me. She and I occasionally consult each other on academic ideas, and she said you might be sulking around here. She didn’t say what it was about, but I can put two and two together. There’s only one ongoing case big enough that might have something to do with my wheelhouse.”

“Well, can I ask you a few questions?”

Malfoy gave him a lazy smile. “You may, but you’re going to have to wait. I have an appointment soon, come by in an hour and we can talk.”

Then, in a swirl of movement, he was gone. Harry could have sworn that he could smell a whiff of peppermint on the wind as he turned, something light and fresh signaling his exit.

For a moment, Harry was left speechless. Then, a slow smile started to spread across his face, and he couldn’t quite place the reason why.

---

Harry waited a few minutes until after he had seen Malfoy’s client leave. Yesterday, it had felt justified and correct, but with an appointment with Malfoy in just a few minutes, his surveillance felt a little voyeuristic.

The Snap Dragon had a quiet, well-decorated lobby with no receptionist desk or other administrative equipment. It was filled with couches and comfortable looking chairs along with pretty looking rugs and cushions. Harry thought for a moment of his own apartment, sparsely decorated and dim and felt a momentary burst of wistfulness for this warm, bright room.

At the sound of the bell, a blond head poked through the doorway and gestured him through into the office.

Malfoys office was eclectic as well, but very neat and put together. He straightened some papers and gave Harry a piercing stare. “What is it I can help you with?”

“Well, if at all possible, I’d like to see a copy of your client list and ask if you have anyone on it who matches our description of the possible perp.”

Malfoy folded his hands in a steeple under his chin. “And I suppose that if I don’t give you that information, you’ll come back with a warrant, hm?”

Harry cringed. He hadn’t wanted to pull the warrant card, and he knew that Malfoy would be touchy about giving over information. He had wanted to do this in a manner as easy as possible with the least amount of hostility he could manage. .

“I will.”

Malfoy breathed out deeply and leaned back in his armchair, exposing the long column of skin at his neck. “I do not want to have any problems with the law. But of course, I do have to keep some things private for my clients. I can give you the bare minimum of information, but I think I can help you out in another way.”

Harry cocked an eyebrow, probably not nearly as nice as Malfoys had looked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I have an opening in one of my classes. If you come by in a disguise you can meet some of my clients and get familiar with the process, maybe that will help you learn more about your suspect. I won’t make you pay, but in return, I expect you not to strong-arm me into revealing any details about my clients, that would destroy my business.”

Harry leaned back in his chair, stunned for a moment. “You’re making this way too easy. What are you hiding?”

Malfoy laughed. He sounded much less stuck up when he laughed now compared to when they were back in school. There was genuine humor in his voice, not sarcasm. “Well, in truth, I have some personal interest in seeing this case closed. Many people have put two and two together once the papers got wind of the last murder, and I’ve already had three people drop out of classes. I’ve been fielding questions all week from people wondering if they’re going to lose control and kill people when they change. It's destroying my business.”

Harry snorted. “Tell me about it. We’re getting more pointless concerned calls from people every day, and each one is just more time away from the case, but we have to investigate each one. I never knew murdering could be so annoying and inconvenient.”

“Well now, seems you’ve lost some of that spirit that made you so annoying at school. Are murders alright so long as they’re not annoying and inconvenient?”

Harry laughed, surprised to find himself enjoying their conversation. “If you can find a way to murder someone without it being annoying or inconvenient we’ll talk, but until then I’m afraid I'm strictly against murdering anyone.”

Malfoy smirked. “Even me? I distinctly remember you wanting to murder me for a while.”

“If you can help me catch my killer I swear I’ll never want to murder you again.”

“Well, I’m glad that we, as adults, have moved past our childish squabbles onto not wanting to murder each other. That's quite big of us.”

Harry found himself struck for a moment by the image of Malfoy in front of him, smiling freely. He looked so different from what he’d expected, but it was a welcome surprise.

Malfoy cleared his throat and continued. “Well, I have an opening in my nine am class. It’s the basics, we have a few people just learning and some people revisiting it to hone their technique. Have you achieved your form before?”

Harry felt a momentary flash of embarrassment. “Uh, actually, no? I just never could figure it out, and I didn’t have enough time with all my Auror training…”

Malfoy laughed. “Finally, found something the golden boy isn’t perfect at, have we? I’ll have you whipped into shape in no time.”

Harry grinned. “I'm excited to give it a try, can't be all that difficult, can it?”

---

Two days later as Harry sat in his first Animagus training class, he was regretting saying such a thing. He knew that magic really didn’t work that way, but he felt a little like he had been cursed by his choice of words. Then again, maybe magic did work that way. He’d have to ask Hermione.

For the tenth time in half as many minutes he fidgeted around, switching the way his legs were crossed and absentmindedly cracking his knuckles.

Malfoy, perched on a large floor pillow, cleared his throat pointedly and gave Harry an unimpressed look, raising an eyebrow as if to mock him for his hubris. In turn, Harry rolled his eyes. The room around them remained quiet save for the soft sounds of breathing and gentle shifting of cloth on cloth.

Harry hadn’t been sure what to expect from his first lesson with Malfoy, especially when the other wizard specified that he should bring ‘comfortable clothes and a heavy dose of patience.” Now, however, he was starting to see why that was. Apparently, the first half of this lesson was a guided meditation led by Malfoy. Harry had never been so good at sitting still, but in a room full of a half dozen strangers led by his old enemy, he was having more trouble than usual.

He shifted again, this time earning a glare from the older witch beside him. He’d expected a classroom of sorts, perhaps accompanied by a lecture, but the reality was quite different. Malfoy had led him back into the building, which was much larger than it appeared on the outside, and sat them all down in a room filled with colorful tapestries, pillows, and rugs, all strewn about in a haphazard but welcoming fashion. He then invited them to take a seat or lie down and close their eyes, visualizing their goals and ideas.

Harry had gotten about a minute in and realized that he had visualized too quickly, and didn’t have any goals left. So now, about 20 minutes later, he was just awkwardly sitting and trying to be still.

The others were deep in their meditation, eyes still closed, so Harry took a moment to look carefully around at the other participants.

There were six of them in the room plus Draco, which Harry was told were all the people he usually took on at one time. They were all at different stages in their transformation, but it wasn’t like you could tell any of that by looking at them.

Three of them were the ones that Harry had seen before coming in and out of the shop when he was surveying, but the other two were new to him. One was an older woman, probably in her 60s, who had been giving Harry dirty looks before. Harry had learned early on not to read a book by its cover, but Helga, as she had introduced herself as, was clearly no serial killer. The last person that he didn’t know was a tall, dark-haired man named Alexander who had a very charismatic smile and personable demeanour. He had the right build for what they were looking for, but so did a few people in the room. There were no visible tattoos anywhere in sight, but those things could be easily changed.

Then, of course, there was Malfoy. He looked perfectly comfortable, legs folded across each other delicately and arms resting calmly in his lap. Like Harry, he’d had his eyes open for most of the experience, watching the whole group and occasionally taking a note down with the floating pad of paper and quill next to him. Every time their eyes met, Harry would feel a zing of awareness go through him and quickly avert his eyes. Something about sitting with him like this set him right on edge. He felt so open and exposed, and his heart was beating faster than it needed to while he was supposed to be meditating.

Malfoy cleared his throat suddenly, breaking off Harry’s train of thought. “Wonderful session, everyone. If you could please come form a circle around me now, that would be wonderful. No rush, take your time.”

As they all gathered closer Malfoy glanced down at his paper and addressed the room. “There seems to be a very frustrated energy in the room today, shall we talk about that?”

Piper, one of the women that he had seen the other day, was the first to speak up. “I’ve been having some trouble with my visualization lately. I felt like last week, I had a grasp on what I’d look like but now I feel like it's slipped away from me.” She huffed lightly, blowing a curly dark strand of her afro out of her face. “I don't want to have to start back over, but I’m afraid I might have to.”

“Oh, I understand that. When I first learned I had the easiest time with visualization, but now that I’m trying again, I feel like I have a different image of myself in my head.”

“That's completely alright, your form won’t be decided until the moment you take it on. You may feel confident in your form at one time and have it slip away from you, but that's natural. Imagine it's like flipping to find a certain page in a book. You have to go back and forth until you find what you want, and in this case, there's no table of contents to help you.” Draco cut in, offering the group a warm smile.

Alexander laughed. “I’d say you act as a fairly good table of contents.”

“Well, I’m glad you all see me as useful as a single page in a book,” he answered dryly. “I’d rather hoped I was more like a chapter.”

The conversation went on for a while, a simple discussion of what they were working on and how their training was going. Throughout, Harry learned several interesting things about the participants.

For starters, Helga had learned to achieve her form when she was younger, but she had completely forgotten how to do it and was looking to get it renewed. Ansley, the redhead woman from two days prior, was in the final stages of her training. She only had to wait for a lightning storm and then she could complete the final stage. Piper was a beginner, barely a week deeper into it than Harry. Alexander had taken this class a few times, but was having trouble making any change at all. Samuel, the lanky blond from earlier, was a few weeks into his training but was having trouble with the entire process and found himself very frustrated.

To Harry, it seemed like this should be a group that was angry and upset at their instructor for their troubles advancing. In contrast, they almost seemed to revere Malfoy. He was respected and treated like an expert. This shouldn’t have surprised Harry, but somehow it did. He had seen countless people treated terribly for the mistakes of others during the war, and somehow he thought Malfoy would be having a harder time of things. For once, being wrong left him with a pleased feeling instead of a disgruntled one.

As they were leaving for the day, Harry started at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder and turned to find Malfoy standing behind him. “Do you mind coming to my office for a moment, James?”

Harry was struck with confusion for a moment before he remembered the fake name to go with the slight glamor on his person. “Of course, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco gave him a little smile. “It's Draco to my students.”

Harry nodded, for some reason his throat not allowing him to actually say the name.

Once they were back in Malfoy’s office, doors locked and silencing charms in place, Harry was free to ask questions. “So how long have you had this particular group?”

Malfoy shrugged. “Oh, some of them only a couple weeks, but Ansley, Alexander, and Helga have been seeing me for private lessons for months.”

Harry made a note of that in his journal. “And none of them have shown any unusual behaviors that may have concerned you?”

“Well, an eighty-two -year-old woman looking to change into a tiger is a little concerning, but probably not in the way you mean.”

“A tiger, huh?”

“Oh yes, that was the form she held back when she was a girl, and she's eager to have it back again.”

“Well damn, Malfoy, now I’m obligated to add her to my suspects list.”

Malfoy gave him an indecipherable look. “You can call me Draco, you know.”

Harry swallowed awkwardly, feeling suddenly like the room was much smaller and he and Malfoy were a lot closer. “Well, uh, I’m not really a student of yours, am I?”

“Of course, you are.” He paused for a moment, looking abruptly closed off. “Well, if you’d rather not, that's fine, I won’t force you.”

For some reason, that expression was what did Harry in. “No, no, it's not that! I just wanted to make sure you’re alright with it. Uh, well, Draco it is, then. And of course, you should call me Harry when we’re not in class.”

Malfoy, or perhaps it was Draco now, smirked. “Don’t you think that's a little inappropriate?”

Harry gave a low hum and leaned back in his chair, an overdone look of thought on his face. “Well, I have given it several hours of thoughtful deliberation, and I have decided that I don’t give a fuck.”

That was enough to draw a laugh out of Draco again, another one of those crystal clear, genuine chuckles filled with joy. “Well, in that case, it's nice to meet you, Harry.”

Harry grinned, reaching out to take his offered hand. “It's a real pleasure, Draco.”

---

There was a distinct feeling of head in the clouds when Harry finally joined Ron and Hermione at their house for dinner that night. Eating around the mandrake leaf was hard, and the bitterness of it was almost overpowering at times, but Draco had promised that the taste would go away soon and he’d barely notice it after a while.

He and Ron had caught up on the case before dinner, which still wasn’t enough to put a damper on his good mood, but it sure tried. There had been no new attacks, but no further leads. The case was practically at a standstill. Apparently, Williams hadn’t found anything of interest in any of the memories and their witnesses had the same conflicting descriptions as they always did.

“I have a good feeling about Snap Dragons, you know? I just have a gut feeling that I’ll learn something there.”

Ron raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Mate, are you sure that's not just your Malfoy sensor going crazy? You’ve always had a bit of a skewed perspective on him.”

Harry shook his head vehemently. “No way, there's definitely something there that I just need to draw out.” He took a sip of his wine. “Oh, and it's Draco now.”
That got him skeptical looks from both of his best friends.

“I hate to say it and refuel the obsession, but are you sure he’s not...up to something?” Ron suggested, looking sheepish at the unimpressed look Hermione gave him as he was speaking.

“I doubt it. He just seems very, uh, happy. Like with his job, and all that. I don't think he’d do anything to risk that. He's a different man now.”

Hermione and Ron shared a look of disbelief and then turned it on Harry.

“What? What is it?”

Hermione sighed. “It's nothing, you’re just clueless. Tell me about the training you’re doing…”

Harry spent the rest of the evening feeling like he was missing the joke, but if he just thought about it a little harder, he might be able to get it.

---

The next two weeks went on in the same fashion. He went to training with Malfoy, couldn’t focus on sitting still during meditation, managed not to swallow his mandrake leaf, and continued to have no leads on his case.

All of this came to an abrupt, screeching halt when the next murder came. There was a sense of anticipation, almost tense restlessness in the Auror office when Harry went home for the night, almost as if everyone knew something was going to happen. Harry had trouble getting to sleep that night, and he had just drifted off into a fitful sleep when he heard an ungodly screech coming from his floo.

The emergency system was set up in the floo of every Auror, and Harry had only had it used on him twice. It was jarring enough to send him downstairs in a flash, only to find a simple letter on the ground in front of his fireplace. It had an address on it, and a single word: Hurry.

Harry was dressed and out in record time, apparating onto a London street filled with panicked-looking pedestrians being controlled by Aurors. Williams was standing on the steps of a modern-looking apartment, hands curled nervously in front of him, twisting in anxious patterns.

“Another one?” Harry asked, more than a little breathless.

“Sure is.” Williams nodded. “Someone called in an anonymous tip that there was screaming in one of the apartments. When we arrived, the landlady had already found her.” He gestured to a shaking, shivering woman in her late fifties, looking for all the world like she had just seen a ghost.

Harry sighed. “Show me.”

The scene upstairs was awful. There was blood spattering the walls and it had been tracked all down the stairs, probably by the concerned landlady. But nothing, nothing could have prepared him for the scene inside.

Lying splayed on her back, eyes open wide and devoid of light, was Ansley.

Harry had a brief moment of denial. He had just seen her alive and well this morning, she had been fine then. Harry felt a sudden hot flash of realization. Just that morning, she had been talking about how she was seeing someone new, someone she had met through Snap Dragons. Merlin help him, the murderer was someone at the school. Someone Ansley had trusted. Someone she had opened up to.

And here she was now, throat clawed open, body limp and lifeless on her own kitchen floor.

Harry wasn't able to stop himself. He ran down the hall and out into the brisk night and promptly vomited, feeling tears well in his eyes and spill over onto his cheeks. Everything went fuzzy and dark for a moment, sending him into a soupy, dark limbo. When he came back to awareness, Ron had a strong arm around him and was gently dragging him away from the scene. Harry took a deep shuddering breath and, for the first time in a long time, allowed himself to cry.

---

“Robards wants to see us when you’re ready, mate.” Ron said gently from the doorway of Harry’s office. Harry shakily set down his quill and stood. It had only been a couple of hours since they had arrived on the scene, the night sky only just starting to threaten light. Harry had been promptly sent back to headquarters to begin filling out paperwork and prepping for questioning. It was something that could have easily been left to a grunt worker, but Harry needed more than anything to be away from there, and so he was.

He staggered to his feet, dragging a shaky hand across his face. “I’m ready. Let’s go.” He wondered if Ron could hear the lie in his voice.

Williams was already in Robards office, and the door was quietly closed and the room silenced as soon as he and Ron arrived. Robards looked exhausted, maybe even more so than Harry, and he didn’t mind saying it.

“You look terrible, sir.”

Robards cracked a humorless smile. “I could say the same about you. And I will. You look terrible.” He took a big gulp out of a glass that Harry suspected wasn't all coffee. “So I hear you knew our victim.”

Harry felt his throat close up but he swallowed down harshly. He owed it to Ansley at the very least to keep it together right now. “Yes sir, she was a member of one of the Animagus training groups I’ve been looking into.”

“It's safe to say this was no coincidence. This is the only murder so far that happened in someone’s home, so we can assume that she knew her killer. We will be operating under the assumption that one of the people in that class is likely our killer.”

Harry nodded grimly. He’d expected this, but it was one thing to expect it and another to accept it. “I agree, sir. Would you like us to launch a full interrogation of the clients of Snap Dragons?”

Robards shook his head. “Not at all, I want you to continue doing what you’re doing. I don't want to spook our killer. Just keep on doing your investigation undercover as you have been.”

Williams cleared his throat awkwardly, clearly hesitant to interrupt. “Sorry, but I’m afraid I'm lost. What undercover investigation are we talking about?”

Harry cringed. Had he really forgotten to report this to Williams? Fuck. “I’ve been taking classes at Snap Dragons for a few weeks now under an alias while disguising myself. I haven’t seen any suspicious behavior, but it seems I somehow missed a murderer.”

“We need you to keep up the act. If the killer knew that there was an Auror in that class, they never would have killed another member, so your cover is still safe. You have an opportunity here to get close to our killer without arousing suspicion, and I’ll need you to take it.”

Harry felt numb, but he nodded anyway. When the meeting was up, Ron practically had to drag him out. Harry finally shook his arm off when they reached his office. “There’s something I’ve got to do.”

Ron looked concerned. “What you need to do is sleep. You’ve had a hell of a night, whatever it is can wait till tomorrow.”

Harry shook his head. “It can’t. They’ll break the story to the media in the morning, it has to be before then.”

Ron gave him a deep, searching look and Harry knew that Ron realized exactly what Harry was going to do. “Alright then, you bastard, let’s track down Malfoy’s address. You want me to come with you?”

Harry smiled for the first time that day and felt suddenly and desperately grateful for his friends. “I’ll be alright, Ron, you should go back to Hermione and Rose, she's gotta be worried sick about you.”

True to his word, Ron helped him find Draco’s new address and then sent him off alone, but not before extracting a promise that Harry would get some real sleep before he came into the office the next day, or rather, the same day since it was now starting to get light out.

Draco’s house was surprisingly just a mile or so down from the old manor. It had been closed up a few years after the war, and as Harry passed the great looming structure, he felt a surge of pity for it. It was beautiful like this, grand and intimidating, but soft and beautiful in the early morning light, much like the man that still owned it.

The tracking spell sent him down a little path in the woods past the manor where he found a tiny little cottage nestled into the forest like it belonged there. It was still and silent, but Harry knew exactly what it held inside its walls.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door. He gave three strong pounds before pulling away, a part of him hoping that Draco wouldn’t come. He waited a minute and was about to leave when the door swung open, revealing tousled blond hair and a bleary-eyed expression.

“What in the blazes are you doing here?” Draco groaned, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Harry found himself unable to get the words out and Draco must have noticed that something was wrong, because all of a sudden his eyes focused. “Is everything alright?”

Still unable to speak, Harry shook his head.

With that, Draco ushered him inside and began to furiously heat his kettle, watching Harry out of the corner of his eye like he was a bomb about to explode. The kettle was halfway to boiling when Harry finally spoke.

“There was another murder tonight.”

Draco stopped his fiddling with the mugs and turned to face Harry. “You wouldn’t have come here if it was just another murder. Who was it?”

“It was Ansley. It looks like she knew her attacker, from here on out we’re operating as if someone in the class killed her until we have further evidence.”

Draco sank heavily into one of the kitchen chairs, putting his head in his hands. When he raised it, Harry expected to see sadness, but instead, his eyes were filled with anger.

“Damn it. Damn it all. I’m going to fucking kill the bastard that did this to her.”

Harry gave a humorless smile. “I don’t think you should be threatening murder in front of an Auror.”

Draco waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t give me that. I know you well enough to know that you want him dead too. If anything, you’ll be my greatest ally.” He leaned forward, suddenly very serious. “I changed my mind, this is personal now. I’ll do anything to see this fucker rot for as long as they live. What do I need to do?”

The rest of the night was spent discussing the details. More than a few tears were shed over their lost friends, Draco sent out some owls to their class regarding the whole thing and cancelling their classes for the next few days.

Eventually they agreed that Harry should continue to work undercover, but in turn, Draco would give over his clients confidential files with their progress and his notes on the matter. There was some concern for the legal aspect of it, but Harry was an Auror after all, so they should be fine. They talked for hours, and when Harry finally resurfaced from the conversation he realized that it was approaching nine in the morning.

He rubbed a hand across his face harshly feeling a wave of exhaustion crash down over him. “I uh, I should get going. It's late, I mean, uh, it's early.”

“You’d be a madman to apparate when you’re this tired. Take my couch for a few hours and when you wake up, I can show you what I do during my private lessons.” Draco gestured him towards the sitting room which, now that the sun was up, Harry could tell was decorated in the same style as his office. It was bright and eclectic and welcoming, and Harry felt a sudden urge to curl up right there on the floor and go to sleep. His own sparsely decorated apartment with its empty walls and bland coloring was the last thing he wanted to go back to, so he let Draco draw the curtains and fetch him a large woolen blanket. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he started to drift, the long night and early morning catching up to him finally.

When he was somewhere between sleeping and waking, he could have sworn that he felt the gentle touch of lips on his brow, but before he could even think to process it, he was out.
---

When Harry woke, it was to the gentle sound of movement further into the house and the smell of something cooking. A quick glance at the clock on the wall, a cat with a twitching tail of a metronome, he was surprised to see that it was already past two. He’d gotten plenty of sleep, but he’d also slept on Draco’s couch.

The thought was enough to make him blush, but he didn’t know why. After a moment to gather his surroundings, he sat up and walked into the kitchen.

Draco was a true sight to behold. The afternoon sun was coming in through the windows, and his hair was glowing in the light. He was softly cursing at a pan of bacon, and he looked up and smiled as Harry walked into the room.

“Did I wake you?”

“No I woke on my own, I suppose I slept for longer than I thought I would.” He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, you certainly needed it. I actually just woke up as well. The news broke to the Prophet this morning, so my clients have all owled me back. I think it was the right call to cancel for the rest of the week, everyone is very torn up about it.” He cleared his throat, obviously trying not to become too choked up. “Now sit and eat some breakfast, and then I can teach you a little more about the Animagus training process.”

Harry grinned. “I don’t suppose you can call it breakfast when it's at two in the afternoon.”

Draco brandished a spatula at him in protest. “Nonsense, breakfast is just a type of food, not a time.”

“You're completely wrong, you absolute…”

---

An hour later, Harry found himself standing outside the cottage feeling utterly exposed in Draco’s modified clothing. It was better than the clothes he had been wearing the night before, but the joggers and t-shirt left him feeling quite...domestic.

“I’ve talked about this in class before, but visualization is one of the most important parts of becoming an Animagus,” Draco said, confidently leading Harry into the woods behind his house. “It isn’t taught as one of the things you must do to achieve your form, but it makes things easier and not painful. Do you remember how we spoke the first day about how your ideas will change form? If you don’t do that in meditation your body will do it all at once when you change for the first time. The addition of visualization in Animagus training has decreased the amount of accidents hugely.” He turned to Harry, who was trying not to trip on anything. “Have you had any luck with visualization?”

Harry flushed a little in embarrassment. “Well, uh, no actually. I guess I don’t have a very active imagination.”

Draco snorted. “Not at all. You just need a little bit of a different approach. I’ve noticed you have some trouble with the traditional meditation technique.”

“I just can’t sit still like that.”

Draco smiled. “No need to worry, I think I have something that will suit you perfectly.”

A few more minutes of walking brought them to a small stream running through the property. They walked along it for a moment, and Harry watched as it began to shallow out into a bubbling bed full of flat river rocks and sparkling water. There was a small footbridge to the side but Draco promptly passed it, heading straight towards the stream.

He paused for a moment to remove his shoes and socks before stepping into the shallow water and just lying down in it.

Harry was struck with surprise and, for a moment, he wondered if Draco had gone mad. As he sat, Draco motioned him forward to join him.

“Come along now, it's just water, it can’t hurt you.”

Harry wordlessly took off his shoes and went to stand next to Draco, unsure if he should just lie in the stream like the other wizard was doing.

Draco just rolled his eyes. “Don't be a baby. It's not cold, and it's shallow enough that you won’t drown unless you fall asleep.”

Harry did as he was told and took a seat straight into the water, startling for a moment at the feeling of water seeping through his borrowed clothes and around his body as he laid down.

“So why are we here laying in the stream like madmen?”

Draco turned his head and smiled from where he lay, just a few inches away. Harry became abruptly aware of how close they were. They were almost touching, just a short movement away from contact, and Harry found himself suddenly yearning to be just that much closer.

“This is how we’re going to meditate. Don’t feel any pressure to be completely still or silent. Let the water move your limbs and flow over you. Focus on the feelings around you and the movement, make that the focal point of your meditation.”

Harry took a deep breath. “Okay, yeah, I think I can do that.”

He could still feel the heaviness in his limbs from his long nap and the awful night before, so slowing down was easier than it had been.

The water around him was cold but not nearly as cold as it should have been for the season. In fact, the whole area wasn’t as cold as it should have been. The world around them was still undoubtedly autumn, but the bubble they were in seemed to be a much different climate.

“I like to come out here and meditate sometimes, so I have heating charms up to keep the place nice during the winter,” Draco said as if he had been reading Harry thoughts. “It’s fun to watch the snow come down and melt when it hits the charms, seeing it build up around this spot.”

Harry hummed. “Maybe I’ll come see it sometime.”

Draco didn’t say anything else, but Harry could almost sense his pleasure.

Now that he was focusing on it, the sensation of the water flowing around him was incredibly calming. His limbs floated gently in the stream, keeping him from feeling the need to be too still. The sound of the bubbling brook covered the sound of his breathing, taking away that distraction.

This was infinitely better than the technique they learned in class, and Harry could feel himself relaxing in the water and his mind slowing down. He took a deep breath and began to visualize to the best of his ability.

He took a moment to think of Sirius, feeling the usual twist in his heart whenever he did so. His godfather had been wild and loyal and loving all at the same time, and that reflected in his Animagus form as well. Harry thought of all that he had heard of his father. Proud, strong, and caring, all of it in the form of a stag.

Would Harry turn into a stag as well? It was his Patronus, after all, and he did seem to have a connection to his father in a very different way than most people.

“Hey, Draco?”

“Yes?”

“Will my form be the same as my Patronus?”

Draco turned to look at him. They were almost nose to nose now, and Harry could see each individual eyelash adorning his stormy grey eyes. He was beautiful, and Harry was struck for a moment by a sudden unknowable feeling filling his chest.

“Shouldn’t be. The form of your Patronus and your Animagus come from different places. Your Patronus is formed when you think of your happiest memory and it's conjured from that moment. However, your Animagus form is the essence of who you are condensed into another body.”

“Ah.” Harry was quiet for a moment, working up the courage to ask his next question. “What’s your form?”

Draco grinned at Harry, showing a straight row of pearly white teeth, an expression that suited him quite well. “Why don't I show you?”

The process was both beautiful and horrifying. Dracos body warped and changed all at once until what lay in front of him was no longer a man but something else.

A pure white cat was sitting right where Draco had been. It was shaking out its fluffy body like it had just awoken from a long nap. It had the same intense gray eyes and piercing stare as Draco, but it looked as soft and fluffy as anything. It didn’t seem to mind the water at all, which Harry thought was a little strange. Instead, it looked as comfortable as anything standing in the stream up to its belly.

Harry sat up in order to look at it better and those piercing eyes followed him. They seemed to be waiting for something, a reaction of some sort, maybe rejection? Humor? Harry simply smiled.

“Amazing. You’re beautiful.”

The cat practically preened. With delicate steps is carefully picked its way across the stream to Harry where is stood expectantly. Harry reaches out a hand but hesitated. “May I, um-“

As if reading his mind, Draco pushed his face into Harry’s hand with a purr. Harry grinned and began to pet the cat. He knew, in a sort of detached way, that this was probably strange. But he couldn’t bring himself to care very much and he continued to enjoy stroking the cat in front of him.

As it turns out, meditating with a cat in his lap in the middle of a stream is Harry’s favorite way to relax.

—-
They spent about an hour meditating before Harry quietly excused himself. Draco slid easily out of his animal form and began to dry off before leading Harry back into the house.

Harry bid him goodbye before heading into the office to pick up their witness statements and check in for the day. Williams had taken all the statements, and Harry found them difficult to understand and hard to read. They had all given conflicting versions of the events that transpired. Some were sure Ansley hadn't been alone when she arrived home, some were sure she had. Some said that they had heard unholy screams, others that the night was totally quiet. Some saw a monstrous creature leaving down the stairs splattered in blood, others saw a man exit onto the streets without a speck on him.

It was becoming increasingly obvious that whoever was doing this had an accomplice. It would have been too hard for one person to commit the crime they had committed while also properly confounding all the people in the radius.

Harry spent only an hour at the office in the end, his final destination for the night was Ron and Hermione’s house. He had something more important to discuss.

As always, their home was warm and welcoming. Harry secretly wondered if the Weasley’s had some sort of special magic that made their houses more comfortable than most, but he kept that thought to himself. Ron had gone home a few hours earlier and Harry found him at the stove with Rose perched on his hip while Hermione poured over a book bigger than Harry’s head.

He sat down heavily and groaned, rubbing his eyes roughly. “I need a drink.”

There was a glass of firewhisky in his hands in record time, and with a word of thanks, he was downing it like his life depended on it. The burn hadn’t yet subsided from his throat when Harry said what had been on his mind for the past few weeks. “I think I might be in love with Draco Malfoy.”

Ron dropped a pan, cursing.

Hermione just looked at him, a smug grin on her face.

“Damn it! You couldn’t have waited until after you finished your training? I had twenty galleons on you not realizing until then.” Ron groaned, reaching down to pick up his fallen cookware.

“Wait, you knew? And furthermore, you were betting on it?”

Hermione gave him a soft squeeze on his shoulder and smiled. “Harry, you do tend to be a little oblivious about these things. It was obvious you had a crush on him at school, and I had a feeling that might ignite again now that he’s a decent adult.”

Harry opened his mouth, a billion questions on the tip of his tongue, but quickly closed it. “He’s more than decent, ‘Mione, he's amazing.”

Ron groaned as he joined them at the table. “Oh, Merlin save us, this is going to be just like school, but in reverse.”

“He’s somehow a totally different person and the same as he was at school and he just...he's so confident and beautiful...how did…?” Harry trailed off helplessly, looking to his two best friends pleadingly. Maybe they could explain how this love just crept up on him.

Ron gave him a pat on the back. “Poor guy. You’ve got it bad.”

Harry groaned and put his head in his hands. “Ugh. So bad.”

Hermione leaned forward and wiggled her eyebrows playfully. “So have you told him how you feel?”

Harry shot up in surprise. “What? No! We’ve only really known each other for a few weeks now, and how can I be sure he even likes me?

Hermione laughed. Ron snorted. “Did you, or did you not, stay at his house last night?”

Harry blushed. “That's different. He was just being nice.”

“Or maybe he likes you back.”

“No way. We barely know each other, and I was awful to him as a kid.”

“He was pretty awful to you too, and somehow you still have feelings for him.” Hermione pointed out.

“It’s not the same thing.” Harry griped.

Both Ron and Hermione rolled their eyes. In fact, Harry could have sworn at that moment that little Rose rolled hers too.

“Well, you’ll have to act like an adult someday,” Ron announced, “but until then, why don't we try and solve this murder case?”

---

The days proceeded in a similar fashion as the ones before them had, and suddenly Harry found that the thirty days with his mandrake leaf had passed nearly incident-free (he had almost choked on it while sleeping once) and it was time for him to work on the next step of his Animagus transformation.

His visualization was coming along nicely as well. At this point, he had the beginnings of a form in mind. He could almost see the powerful, shadowy shape emerge in his mind when he began meditating these days. Whatever he was, he was large and strong, capable of protection and destruction. He found it very fitting indeed.

He was spending more and more time at Malfoy’s house which, he learned upon his second visit, used to belong to the manor gardener, but Draco had moved in because he hadn't wanted to live all alone in the big empty manor up the hill. Apparently, wizarding houses had a sort of bond with a family, one that didn’t change when it was sold. Draco explained that he would take care of the manor until one of his descendants moved in, or someone from a closely related family line. Either way, Malfoy Manor would belong to the Malfoys for a while longer, but Draco didn’t want to have anything to do with it.

Harry thought that the little garden house was very cute and homey. It had, of course, a garden in the back which was lovingly tended to and cared for by one handsome blond gardener. It backed up to a forest that was dense and beautiful and always dark and quiet, the perfect place for meditation. Sometimes Harry would arrive to find Draco nowhere in sight and eventually stumble upon his cat form (a Siberian, he learned later on) curled up in the garden or in the woods by their stream.

Harry would often go to class with Draco and simply go home with him at the end of the day as well, usually to practice, sometimes just to enjoy a bottle of wine in the garden. That week with Draco was almost blissful, but Harry could feel the weight of his unsaid confession holding him down.

One day, just over a month after he had Draco had re-met, Harry was leaving class for the day and felt a gentle tap on his shoulder.

Draco had a bright smile on his face. “Are you excited?”

“For what?”

“Well for that of course.” Draco gestured to Harry’s mouth and he felt a sudden blush color his face before he realized what he had meant.

“Oh! The potion. Yes, I am more than excited to get this thing out of my mouth.”

Draco laughed. “I understand that feeling all too well. Why don't you come over tonight, and we can prepare it together?”

Harry nodded, still struck a little speechless by the unintended innuendo and Draco’s twinkling laughter. “That sounds wonderful.”

—-

Harry felt unreasonably nervous as he approached Draco’s home that night. There was some… something in the air filling him with anticipation and excitement but also causing his stomach to twist into nervous knots and fill with butterflies.

He felt odd arriving empty-handed, but Draco assured him that he had all the potion components ready and that Harry needn't worry about anything because he “collected dew religiously”, whatever that meant.

A very large part of him was nervous to make it because he hadn't done any potion-making since school. If he was as bad at it now as he was then, he didn’t have much of a chance. Maybe he’d improved? Probably not.

Draco had equipped his basement with a little at-home laboratory, which Harry thought was perfectly adorable. It was mainly stocked to complete the Animagus potion, but Harry could see perfectly organized little shelves with potions labeled ‘dreamless sleep’ or ‘pepperup’ in neat, precise handwriting. Harry was struck for a moment by this quaint little window into Draco’s life. He could imagine him in here perfectly, hunched over a cauldron, a little frown on his face and a crease between his brows as he studied whatever concoction was in front of him. Harry imagined coming down here in the mornings, bringing Draco a cup of tea or breakfast. Maybe he’d have to lure him back to bed in the dead of night away from his work. He could see, for just a second, a beautiful life with Draco unfolding before his eyes.

He was pulled from his daydream by the clank of a phial hitting the table in front of him. He jumped slightly, almost having forgotten what he was here to do. Draco had carefully set up a propped phial in the center of a sturdy oak table. Harry watched as he carefully positioned it over a marked spot, curious as to why.

Draco cleared his throat. “Alright, let me just check one thing before we begin.” He walked briskly over to wall, and Harry watched as he opened a small slot in the wall right at the top of the basement that he had not noticed before. Immediately, a beam of moonlight shot through the room, coming to land perfectly in the center of the table, reflecting off of the phial.

Draco smiled at Harry’s awed expression. “I have a set of mirrors in the garden that helps guide the light at certain times of the night so I don't have to go outside to do something time-sensitive. Moonlight is very important for some potions, but so is total darkness.” With that, he waved a single hand and every candle in the room extinguished itself with haste as if commanded by an invisible wind.

That left Harry and Draco, alone in a quiet room, illuminated only by moonlight.

“Alright. You can go ahead and place your leaf in there now and we can begin.” Draco said, moving to stand across from Harry at the table, careful not to disrupt the beam of moonlight.

Harry pulled the now soaked leaf from his mouth with a grimace. “This is, perhaps, the worst thing I’ve ever had to do.”

Draco laughed. “Really? You’d rather fight the Dark Lord again than put another mandrake leaf in your mouth?”

“Absolutely. No evil dictator in history holds a candle to having one of these in your mouth for a month.”

The leaf was quickly joined by a single strand of Harry’s own hair, a single teaspoon of dew, and a rather large chrysalis. Draco was delicate throughout the whole process, careful not to rock the table or handle the ingredients roughly. He always handed Harry the ingredients and had him put them in himself, something about the potion reacting to his magic. Harry did as he was told and took great care in not messing it up. When they were finished, he corked it and brought it to a cabinet in the darkest corner of the room to rest next to another similar potion, though, to Harry, this one seemed a slightly different color and somehow was more liquefied.

“Is that the same potion?” He asked curiously, voice hushed.

“It is. Alexander and I made his last week. I hope to be able to have the two of you do your transformations together. Waiting for a good storm is no fun. There’s one in the forecast for next week that I think will be perfect, and it will give time for your potion to mature. Some say it can be used the next day, but personally, I find that it works better when it's had some time to sit.”

“Has anyone told you that you’re quite smart?”

Harry hoped he didn’t imagine the faint hint of pink on Dracos cheeks. “Plenty, but thank you, nonetheless.”

Draco invited him up for dinner once they were done with their potion. It was dark and cold out, but there was a bit of firewhisky and a hot meal to keep them warm, so Harry didn’t mind the weather. Once they were done eating, they retired to the cozy little sitting room that he slept in his first time here with a glass of wine and a companionable mood each. Now, there was a steady fire going in the grate, casting the whole room with a soft, flickering glow.

“I really can't thank you enough for helping me. It's been great for the investigation, and I’ve enjoyed learning under you.”

Draco smiled. “I’m happy to help.” His expression darkened a bit. “I know you likely can't tell me all the details, but has there been any progress on the case?”

Harry sighed. “Not much, I’m afraid.” In reality, there hadn't been any progress on the case, and he wanted desperately to be able to say that there had been. They were now sure that it involved a corrupted Animagus, and the speculation was that there was a potion being used to corrupt their killer’s natural form. He should ask Draco about that sometime, but not now. He didn’t have the heart to break this soft moment.

“I suppose that's to be expected. It has been rather quiet for a while now.” Draco sighed. “But, you know, I’m almost glad for it. At least it brought you into my shop.”

“Well, hopefully you’ll think of keeping me around a while without the threat of a murder at our back,” Harry suggested quietly.

The blond froze. “Would you like that?” He asked hesitantly, swirling his wine nervously in its glass. “You know, to stick around for a while. With me?”

Harry nodded, suddenly choked up. “Yes. I’d like that very much.”

Suddenly, the foot of couch between them felt like nothing at all, and Harry gulped, feeling abruptly put on the spot. The room was full of a tension that he didn’t understand but that he was starting to be able to recognize.

“So would I,” Draco coughed, sounding a little choked up. “It's uh, been a while since I’ve enjoyed spending time with someone this much.”

“For me too. You’re special.”

Draco laughed. “Oh stop it, you.”

Harry leaned in closer. “No, really. You’re special because you help people and you’re kind and you want nothing more than to right your wrongs. And… you’re special to me too.”

There was less than a few inches between them now and Harry felt it, the classic Gryffindor courage rising in him. It was a feeling he knew all too well from school, and at this point, he knew better than to try and stop it. So instead of trying, he ran with it. He leaned in slowly and pressed his lips to Draco’s.

It was soft and gentle and full of everything he had ever wanted. They melted towards each other, hands reaching out to grab waists and limbs going slack. For a moment, everything was perfect, then, the Gryffindor part of Harry reared its head once more.

“I love you,” he whispered, pulling back from their kiss.

Draco’s eyes widened in shock, and Harry could have kicked himself. Coming on strong? No. Harry somehow managed to do something much worse than that.

“I uh, I’m sorry, that was too much,” he quickly explained. “I don't want to spook you, and that was a little too much too soon.”

Draco’s face split into a grin, eyes full of mirth now instead of shock. “You idiot. It's not too soon. Not when I’ve been in love with you for years.”

“You have?”

“Absolutely. I fell in love the day you died and came back again. I have loved you from far away for so long I thought I’d explode from it when I had you in my office. I have loved you in the most inane, incomprehensible way imaginable, but I have loved you,all the same.”

Harry could say nothing to that, instead, pressing forward to capture Dracos lips again.

The fire burned down eventually, but neither of them realized.

---

Draco’s side of the bed was still warm when Harry woke up, but the man in question was nowhere in sight. Distantly, he could hear sounds in the kitchen of someone shuffling around, but he was too tired to get up and do anything about it. He was in bed for about fifteen more minutes, simply basking in the light of the early morning, when a loud noise interrupted his peace.

There was a loud banging coming from the door. It might have been nothing but an overzealous neighbor, but the words that the visitor shouted sent Harry out of bed in a flash.

“Aurors! Open up!” Shouted the gruff voice from behind the door.

When he got to the kitchen, barely dressed, wand in hand, he was immediately blocked by two guards. Robards was there as well, and he and a few other Aurors had Draco restrained and on his knees in the hall.

“What in the absolute fucking hell do you think you’re doing?” Harry demanded, wand in his hand, unwavering.

Robards held out a hand, a motion for him to relax. “None of that now. I know this is all very confusing, but you need to hear it.”

“I’ll hear nothing from you until you let him go.” Harry snarled.

“No.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because he’s our murderer, Harry.”

Robards words barely processed before Harry laughed, his voice sounding slightly unhinged even to him. “Haha. No. Now let him go.”

Robards just shook his head. “I know this is hard to hear, but you need to listen. While Mr Malfoy was not our first suspect, he wasn’t our last, either. We were keeping an eye on him, and after last night, we believe he is our only possible suspect. All the evidence is there, especially after last night.”

“Wait. What could have possibly happened last night? He was here with me the whole time.”

Robards gave him a look that could have been pity, were he a man more prone to the stuff. “He freely admitted to you that he found this whole thing working in his favor. He has a laboratory outfitted with all the ingredients needed to make a corruption potion. He has seduced our very best Auror so that this exact situation might happen. Not to mention, his record with erratic and homicidal behavior as a teenager.”

“How—how do you know all that?” Harry stuttered out, shaken. His wand fell to his side, and he turned to look at Draco, eyes frightened and face pale, but his lips remained tightly shut. Harry did not have to guess to know that he had been magically silenced.

Robards cringed. “We had you bugged. Not our finest moment, but after Williams brought your obsession to our attention, we knew something had to be done.”

Williams shrunk back from where he stood next to Robards, probably because of the uncontrollable violent lurch Harry made towards him. Not a second later, he felt magical bind from three different sources wrap around him to keep him still.

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” he said, looking upset. “I never wanted to betray your trust, but after Ron told me the other day about your crush on him, well, I knew it all seemed a little wrong. It didn’t take long to put it all together once I knew what I was looking for.”

Harry shook his head violently, refusing to accept this horrible flood of information. “No. No. He would never do such a thing. I’m your best Auror, you have to trust me on this.”

Robards shook his head slightly and stepped towards Harry, placing a hand meant to comfort on his shaking shoulders. It did nothing but turn his stomach. Then, he raised a single hand and gave a nod to the other officers.

Then Harry was treated to a sight he never thought he would see, the man he loved being dragged away in chains.

---

He was in ‘protective custody’ when Ron found him, a look of sadness on his usually jovial face. “Oh, Harry. I am so, so sorry.”

Harry kept his face completely still. “You told Williams about us?”

Ron cringed. “I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this, I thought I was just chatting. But Harry, maybe it isn’t such a bad thing. We have to consider the safety of the people.”

Harry gave him a wounded look. “Not you, too? Ron, there’s no way he would have done this.”

“Harry…”

“No. And you know what? I don't even have to argue this. When they give him Veritaserum for questioning, you’ll all be eating your words.”

“Oh mate. They can't give him that. Since they suspect he used potions, they have to assume that he is immune or could skew the results of the truth potion. I’m afraid there will just be a trial.”

Harry growled. “That's outrageous! This whole thing is a sham!”

Ron sat down next to him. “I can't imagine how awful this must be for you, but you’ll do nothing but make it worse for you if you drag your feet like this.”

Harry knew the truth of those words. Already, his limbs were heavy and his head aching from the stress of the day. He dropped his face to his hands and groaned, slightly muffled by his own flesh. “I'm just so tired.”

Ron rubbed a hand consolingly over his back. “I know. Why don't we go back to mine for a bit and you can lie down? I’ve been given permission to take you home with me.”

He got the expected number of pitying glances as he left the office, and being outside was, quite literally, a breath of fresh air. Ron and Hermione’s house was warm and welcoming as always, but he longed for a different hearth.

“Ron?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry about this.”

“Sorry about wha-?”

“Petrificus totalus!” Harry shouted, extending one hand and pouring all of his focus into the spell.

Ron fell over with a quiet ‘eep’ of surprise and Harry caught him out of instinct, not wanting to let his friend hit the ground.

“I'm really sorry, Ron, I just don't want you to have a conflict of interest. I know you’d follow me if I asked, but I don't want you to lose your job. This is for your own good.”

“Oh, you're such a bastard.” Ron groaned through gritted teeth. “I’m making you cook me dinner for a month after this, you idiot.”

Before Harry could respond, he was startled by the sound of a throat being cleared just ahead of him. Hermione stood on the porch, one hand on her hip and the other wrapped around Rose.

“Your wandless magic is coming along nicely.” She said.

Harry shrugged. “I’ve been working on it for a while. Mind just saying you didn’t see all that?”

Hermione laughed. “Oh, what do I know, I’m just the dumb housewife of a famous Auror. Nobody cares what I think. Now go prove your boyfriend innocent.”

Harry grinned. “Will do. I’ll work on dismantling systemic sexism next, okay?”

She waved a hand nonchalantly. “Oh, don't worry, I’m already working on it.”

Harry gave her a quick wink and was gone in a whirl.

---

The awful truth was that Harry really had no idea what to do. He had no leads, no ideas, and was almost certainly being hunted down by the Aurors. In a normal crisis, he would have gone to Draco. Instead, he settled for the next best thing: Draco’s house.

He knew from experience that the house would be guarded at least a little, so he’d have to sneak past the guards, but he could possibly find something helpful in Draco’s lab to prove him innocent.

It was a bit of a shock to find the guards in question unconscious in the front hall, but not enough for Harry to make a sound. He quietly pulled his wand, stepping over the sleeping forms of his colleagues. He could just make out the slightest sound of shuffling coming from the basement. It felt like the stairs went on for ages, in fact, it felt like the longest walk he’d ever taken.

Standing in the basement, wand also drawn and looking as surprised as Harry felt, was Alexander.

“What in the blazes are you doing here?” He snapped, still not daring to lower his wand.

Alexander didn’t have the same problem. He immediately relaxed when he saw it was Harry. “Oh, thank Merlin it's you. I just saw the news, I’m trying to prove him innocent, just like you. But, uh, well….” His voice wavered uncertainly and Harry noticed the one arm still hidden behind his back.

“What did you find?”

What Alexander pulled out made Harry’s blood run cold. It was a simple phial similar to the one housing his Animagus potion, but this one contained a dark, viscous liquid with tiny flecks of red. Harry’s stomach turned.

“What is that?”

Alexander shrugged. “I don't really know. I studied potions a lot when I was younger, but this is the only one I don't recognize in the whole room.”

“Fuck,” Harry said simply, still refusing to accept the answer that it felt like the world was throwing at him.

“But! We don't know for sure if it's a bad thing, right? The report said it was an unknown potion that had negative effects and that could be anything, really. Besides, I’m no expert.”

“How can we be sure?”

“We need to give it to an Animagus.”

Harry’s brain halted. “Are you insane?”

Alexander shrugged. “Maybe. And certainly not all of it, of course. One of us should change and see what the effects are. The other can make sure they don’t hurt anyone.”

“Neither of us have achieved our forms yet.”

“Not quite, but both our potions are ready, right? Have you been doing your mantras?”

Harry had been, though it had only been a day since he’d started. His potion had to mature, didn’t Draco say something about that? The plan was insane. It was crazed. But the itching feeling in his mind that he got when he was close to solving a case was on fire. So instead of exercising common sense, he nodded.

Alexander grinned, teeth brilliantly white even in the dark room. “Then let’s go.”

---

Alexander explained that they’d have to make their own thunderstorm, since it wasn't safe for them to travel very much to get to a real one and that was too risky anyways. The real question to answer was where to do it.

“How about here?” Harry suggested. “It shouldn’t take very long, and we can do it out further in the woods to hide a little better. But it's far away from everything, so nobody should get hurt.”

That is how they ended up back in the woods behind Draco’s cottage. Harry conjured a thunderstorm fairly easy enough. The night was starting to settle upon the woods, and the suddenly cloudy skies didn’t help with anything. The sound of sporadic raindrops becoming heavier sounded almost like a death toll to Harry.

As the sun went down, they completed their final mantra for the day: Amato. Animo. Animato. Animagus. The wand pressed over his heart felt heavier than any piece of wood should.

His conjured storm was well on it's way to becoming a real one. He did weather magic very badly, but bad was just what they needed at this point. His bad spell would make a storm severe enough for their needs, but hopefully not severe enough that he couldn’t stop it when he needed to.

Alexander handed him his potion. It was clear that his was still new, not quite as mature as Alexander’s.

“I’ll do it.” Alexander said with an air of finality. “You’re a better wizard than me, and you should be here to make sure I don't hurt anyone.”

Harry nodded. “That sounds fine.”

Alexander smiled at Harry, a winning grin on his face. He looked almost… smug, but Harry couldn’t quite tell in the dim light. There was a flash of lightning and the potions in their hands suddenly became as red as night. The same red, in fact, as the flecks in the phial that Alexander was still holding.

The other man turned around and Harry saw his head tip back and his shoulders quiver as the potion soaked into his system.

Draco had gone over this moment a dozen times. There would be pain and a vision of his form and finally the form itself manifested in his body. There was none of that with Alexander, just a shiver.

Then, a snap as he cracked his neck.

A jerk as something inside him moved.

A whisper of a growl as he turned to look Harry deep in the eyes with a pair of glowing red eyes that stopped him in his tracks.

In his hand was a still full bottle of his Animagus transformation potion and an empty bottle that had once held the strange black liquid.

“Shit.” Harry groaned, reaching immediately for his wand which was smacked away almost immediately by the man in front of him.

Alexander wasn't quite a man anymore, however. All his features were elongated in a grotesque manner, his hands tipped with gleaming claws, and his body taut with muscle and energy. Standing before Harry was not a man, but a monster.

Alexander grinned, those perfect white teeth no longer charming and pretty, but threatening. “Finally figured it out, did you? For the world’s best Auror, you’re pretty dumb.”

Harry stepped back, and the creature followed him. His wand was just out of reach, if he could only get to it he could call for help and fight off this beast. Alexander tracked his line of sight.

“Oh, I don't think so. Besides, who knows if the Aurors would even come? Williams should be keeping them busy with his wild goose chase.”

This caught Harry by surprise. “What do you mean?”

The creature that had once been Alexander responded with another terrifying grin. “Oh, your little friend has been helping me from the beginning.” He snarled, stalking forward. “We went to the same school, you know. He missed the thrill of the hunt, so when I got back into town, he was almost begging to help me out again.” The creature laughed, a raspy, wheezing sound that put his nerves on end. “Twisted little man, isn’t he?”

He reached out with lightning-fast talons and flung Harry backwards, sending him flying through the air. He was lucky he didn’t hit a tree at that speed, but the landing was hard enough. Harry groaned as he stood up. Alexander was about fifteen feet away. Between them were Harry’s thrown wand and his blood-red phial. A sudden spark of an idea made itself known in Harry’s brain.

He stood, shaking, to his feet. He had to keep Alexander talking.

“Why did you kill Ansley?”

“Well, because she figured it out, of course. Or at least, she was close to it. She knew I had already achieved my form, and it was only a matter of time before she put the pieces together. I invited her out to dinner and tore her apart when we got back home.” Alexander sneered. “Clever girl. She was better than any of you investigators. Pity I had to tear her throat out.”

Harry didn’t have to fake his cry of rage. He leapt forward, arms outstretched, and managed to get in one punch before Alexander knocked him down, this time just at his feet. There was something warm running down his face. Harry felt the sting of pain from those claws and thought he could guess what it was.

“You bastard,” he choked out through gritted teeth. “I am going to destroy you.”

The monster smiled. “And how are you going to do that?”

Harry didn’t answer. He reached out as quick as a whip and grabbed the phial that was lying next to him, throwing it down his throat as quick as possible.

There was a flash of burning pain the moment it slid, still slightly solid in some places, down his throat. It was agonizing, burning it's way up through his body in a flash. For just a moment, he could have sworn that he heard two hearts beating in his chest, then his bones were stretching and changing and something that was buried deep was suddenly alive. He could see himself in his mind’s eye for just a second. He had a strong, lithe body. He was wreathed in shadow. His eyes were the same vivid green he saw in the mirror every day. It was no longer Harry Potter that stood before the monster, it was a massive panther.

Harry stood before the monster with shaky legs, still uncertain of his every move. The world around him was brighter, sharper, and just so much more than it had ever been. He could hear the cacophony of animals taking shelter from the rain, the strong heartbeat of the monster in front of him, and the sound his own claws made when they tore through its flesh.

Alexander howled with pain and lashed out. Harry was fast now, fast enough to dodge the blow and take a few steps back. Alexander growled low and horrible and began to change once more. The human part of Harry wanted to run, but the animal part of him kept him cool, told him to hold steady. In front of him, Alexander was all but gone, there was only an indescribable beast left in his place.

In a flash, they met with teeth and claws, frantically hacking away at each other. Harry couldn’t really remember why they were fighting anymore, the animal side having taken over completely. All he knew was that he had to win this fight. He had to kill the thing in front of him even if he died doing it.

His muscles burned, and he could feel blood matting his fur, but he grit his teeth and continued on, fierce and unstoppable even in his fatigue.

It took him a minute to notice that the beast was changing. It was drooping, becoming slowly more like a man. A frightened man. Something was happening. His warped form was, at last, failing him. For Harry, it was an opening, and one that he gladly took.

Alexander died with an aborted scream, Harry’s teeth sunk deep in his throat. He died alone in the rain at the hands of someone he considered inferior. Harry found that quite poetic.

The change back was natural. Before he knew it, he was lying alone in the woods covered in his own blood and that of the former Animagus. All at once that animalistic fog was gone, replaced by shock. The corpse in front of him was in ribbons, and it had been Harry’s doing. A shudder of horror shook his body, but Harry knew he needed to move on and deal with it later. If Williams knew he’d been made, there was no telling what he might do.

What he might do to Draco.

---

Making his way to the Ministry was the easy part, getting through once he was there proved to be more difficult than expected.

The sight of a blood-splattered Harry caused most people to reel back in shock, but several seemed intent on figuring out what happened and approached quickly. Harry found himself snarling at the first person to grab his shoulder for attention, a tiny bit of fang peeking through. It must have been frightening because the person in question turned white and fled with haste.

Every single eye in the Aurors office was on him the moment he stepped inside, and more than a couple of hands went to wands too. Harry didn’t know what look he had on his face, but it caused even veteran Aurors to go pale and sit back down.

One of the younger recruits encountered him coming out of the break room and yelped, nearly spilling coffee all over himself in the process. Harry recognized him as one of the officers that had been at Draco’s house and growled. “Where is he?”

“Wh-who, sir?” the kid stammered, backing up quickly against the wall to get out of Harry’s way.

“Don't be stupid, you know who I’m here for.”

The kid gulped and pointed down the hall. “He’s in interrogation with Williams, sir.”

Harry shoved past him and started down the hall quickly. He could hear a commotion behind him, probably of people calling for help or for someone to explain what had just happened.

Williams was standing in front of the interrogation room when Harry arrived, and he was leading a bound Draco away when he caught sight of Harry. Draco’s eyes went as wide as dinner plates, as did William’s, but his expression was more like horror than surprise.

In a flash, Williams pulled his wand, but instead of shooting a spell at Harry he turned and placed it roughly against Draco’s throat. Harry felt his heart stop.

“Let me go or I’ll kill him,” Williams demanded. “I swear I’ll do it, and you don't want his blood on your hands.”

“What about the blood on your hands?” Harry growled, all the rage that had been pressed up inside him finally leaking out. “You killed all those people, and you still dared to call yourself an Auror?”

Williams laughed a little hysterically. “All I did was give him locations where patrols would be sparse!”

Harry stepped forward, cringing as the wand was pressed harder to Dracos throat but refusing to back down. “Why did you do it?”

Williams’s face took on a substantially creepier expression, the one Harry thought of as the typical ‘serial killer’ face. “Because it was fun. It was thrilling. This system is so broken that none of you even realized what I was doing, so why shouldn’t I take advantage of it?”

At this point, more people had come closer, drawn in by the shouting and the wand pointing and were now warily circling Williams, who was starting to act like a cornered animal.

He pressed the wand even harder to Dracos neck, and Harry saw a flash a pain cross his face. “Now let me go, or I’ll fucking kill him.”

Harry shook his head, stepping closer again. “You’re not going to touch him.”

Williams’s face twisted with rage and Harry could see his lips start to form a spell, could feel his own heart leap in his chest, and then, Williams was falling limply to the floor, having been struck by a blinding beam of white light.

Robards stood behind him, visible from where Harry was standing but in their target’s blind spot. He directed two officers to the man's unconscious body, giving Harry a considering nod. “Good work. Now get out of here. You look like a crazy person.”

Harry made short work of Draco’s binds and pulled him into his arms, savoring the weight and warmth that he offered, uncaring of the mess he was making between the two of them.

“Harry,” Draco asked, voice a little shaky. “What the hell just happened?”

Harry took a deep breath and nuzzled his face into that beautiful blond hair. “It's a very long story. I was incredibly dumb. Can I just hold you for a moment?”

Strong arms wrapped around him and he felt a kiss get pressed onto his shoulder. “As long as you’d like, dear.”

---

“You absolute idiot,” Draco said the moment Harry finished his explanation of the past couple of hours. “You barely completed a successful transformation. You’re lucky you don't have six arms and a foot where your head should be.”

“That's what you're worried about? Not the serial killer that you had lunch with once a week?”

“A homemade thunderstorm, really? And you barely waited a day for that potion to mature!”

Harry held up his hands placatingly. “I will freely admit that I did not make the best decisions today.”

“That is an understatement,” Draco said, throwing his hands up in the air. “Ugh! You—you insufferable man!”

Harry leaned in closer, suddenly very grateful for the moment he had taken to remove the blood from his person and pressed his lips to Draco’s. “I’m your insufferable man.”

Draco’s arms wrapped tightly around him. “And I wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

The moment was interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Robards was looking down on his, unimpressed, but Harry could see the slightest hint of softness in his eyes. “Join me in my office for a moment, Potter. Then you’re free to snog your boyfriend all you want.”

Harry rolled his eyes but followed him nonetheless. Robards led him into his office and closed the door behind them, sitting down with a huff of exhaustion. “You're extremely difficult, you know that?”

Harry nodded.

Robards just sighed and began to flip through a folder on his desk. “Williams cracked the second we took him into interrogation. Apparently, he and Alexander Hill have been crime buddies since school. He has so far admitted to extortion, theft, assault, and rape, and he doesn't seem to be done with that list. How he made it into the Ministry, I don’t know.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Damn. That's a hell of a thing to slip through the cracks.”

Robards nodded. “It sure is. That's why I’m putting you in charge of shaking up recruitment from here on out. I want you to figure out how we can make the process better to stop this from happening again.”

“Of course, sir.”

“I understand you’ll be registering as an Animagus.”

It wasn't a question, but Harry responded as such. “Yes, sir. Turns out all of that meditation paid off eventually.”

Robards shook his head. “Well, go and register now, I won’t have any of my men breaking the law for a while yet. Then take yourself and your man home for a good rest. You deserve it.”

Even after so long on the force, Harry still preened when Robards said stuff like that. “Thank you, sir.”

Draco was still waiting for him when he came out, and Harry walked towards him with a smile. Serial killers and monster be damned, he was in love, and nothing was going to stop him.

---

The little grey box he used to call home is empty now. He lives in an adorable little cottage in the shadow of a manor. It has a garden in the back that he and his partner utilize often. Draco says that vegetables taste better when you grow them yourself, and Harry agrees wholeheartedly.

The woods out back are deep and dark and full of things for him to discover when he pleases. They have picnics out there sometimes, when the weather permits.

Mostly, as the winter draws closer, they enjoy spending time at their hearth. Sometimes Draco will curl up there in his smaller form and Harry will join him, just two lovebirds braving the chill together.

If you had told Harry a month ago that he would be living in domestic bliss with Draco Malfoy after solving one of the most prolific serial killer cases in the history of the Wizarding World, he would have laughed.

But here he is.