April 1999, London, England
"Here, some proper tea this time," Amanda put a steaming cup filled with warm milky brown liquid on the coffee table in front of him, "I don't trust a vampire to know much about tea-brewing."
Draco did not answer anything, he was curled up on the sofa with a scratchy fleece blanket draped to his chin and stared numbly in front of him.
"Hey, you did what you had to do..." she said almost comfortingly. "If you're worried about your wand, we'll get you a new one as soon as you settle down in the States."
They had to snap it in half. It was dangerous to make an inferius carry a wizard's wand let alone drive a car. But yet three of them, Amanda, Draco, and the coroner, stood on the highway and watched reanimated Vernon Duddley, or whatever his real name was, sitting at the steering wheel, holding the pieces of the hawthorn wand in his bluish fingers dumbly, and wreck his vintage, Mercedes Benz.
Two things that connected Draco to the people he loved were ultimately destroyed: a car that his father had bought him, and a wand that Harry had been using so much during his fight against the Dark Lord and in the recent months. They had shared it quite frequently those last 24 hours they spent together, passing it to one another. It listened to both of them without ever getting confused as though he and Harry were its two rightful owners. And now it was broken, ready to be found by confused muggle police and inexperienced uniformed Aurors to identify the body in the vehicle as Draco Malfoy.
The girl put a stack of books onto the table next to the cup of tea that was still untouched. Some of them were simple unlabeled journals, bound in black leather, however, the others were quite rare titles related to Legilimency such as "The Art of Mindreading" and "Mindworks".
"If you can't sleep, I thought you might find some of these useful," Amanda said, stroking the spine of one of the volumes absentmindedly. "These belonged to Elise."
The apartment in muggle London they were currently in had many of the items that reminded Draco of Auror Baelish. There was a mug with a golden letter M on it, probably nicked from the Auror's Office, a violin case, propped onto the mantelpiece and a couple of wizarding and muggle photographs on the wall showed Amanda and Elise together, smiling, hugging each other, looking completely carefree and in love.
"It is funny, we met here in England," the girl smiled. "It was my first day out in the big city before starting my apprenticeship at the Department of Mysteries. And I went to this pub, The Prancing Unicorn. It was ladies' night and there she was, parading her crimson uniform like she wasn't an Auror that just showed up at a queer establishment." Draco couldn't help but let out a quiet snicker at the recollection. "She was brilliant, completely insane with her methods sometimes, but absolutely brilliant. She'd once managed to hypnotize an entire roomful of muggles to dance to this ridiculous song because she needed to spot one potion smuggler."
"Did she ever look into your thoughts?" Draco asked carefully. He had never spoken with anyone who had been in a relationship with a legilimens and wanted to know what was considered to be normal and what was completely overstepping the boundaries. The situation with Harry was too complicated for him to even start comprehending. The Slytherin felt as though he had opened Pandora's box. Once Potter had let him into his mind, that door was never closed properly and it was just too easy to poke and prod at it until what little defense was left submitted to his juvenile attempts at mind-reading.
"We had a strict no legilimency policy," Amanda laughed, pointing at a well-read paperback of "Living With Legilimens" on top of the pile, "But she tried boy, did she try. Legilimens just can't stop snooping around, can they?"
"I don't think, I'll be needing that one," Draco commented bitterly while leafing through the self-help book. He still remembered that hurt look in Harry's eyes when he had told him to go back to Hogwarts. It felt like ripping off a scab and picking at the sore wound.
"I am sorry about Mr. Potter. But ultimately I believe you did the right thing, Draco," the Auror told him sincerely. "He needs help and we need to apprehend Yaxley, so it's better if he stays out of it."
"Do you even have a plan on how to do it?" he mumbled, finally taking a sip of already cold tea.
"Your funeral, darling. That's how," she replied cheerfully. "Do you have a preference for flowers? I was thinking daffodils, or is it too on the nose?"
***
"Harry, wake up!" he felt someone's hand shaking his arm lightly. "Madam Pomfrey asked me to make sure you take your potions".
He opened his eyes sluggishly. The world around him was unusually colorful, with morning light streaming through stained glass windows, unguarded by curtains. Hermione was in the boys' dormitory, taking out a vial after vial of medicine and setting them on his bedside table. All the rest of the beds were empty, so Harry realized that he must have slept in.
"Morning, Mione...." he croaked and sat up in his bed, taking one medicine after another without complaints.
Ron came into the room a few minutes later, still wearing his pajamas, a smear of toothpaste on his cheek.
"You're up," he commented glancing at Harry and proceeded to get dressed, "Good. Now, let's get you some breakfast and we have two periods of Potions afterward."
It was extremely unusual for his best friend to be concerned about their classes, however, Harry understood why he was making him go and face the school after everything. He had spent way too many days as a recluse, staying in his bed, curtains tightly shut, not replying when spoken to, and refusing to eat like a petulant child. The only things he was doing diligently were taking his medicine and collecting an obscene amount of research materials. His blankets were covered in parchments, copies of autopsy reports, and gruesome muggle photographs of a dead body, taken from different angles, one gorier than the next. The dark-haired boy was obsessing yet again over Malfoy. Only now it was his alleged corpse that fascinated him. He had probably studied every single shot at least a dozen times, matching the birthmarks and wrinkles and lines of his Dark Mark to what he remembered about Draco.
"Have you managed to find the contacts of the coroner, the one who did the autopsy on... on him... Did he confirm that it was really him?! Did they do all the tests... DNA and stuff?!" Harry ignored Ron's pleas about attending classes and looked at Hermione expectantly.
"You know, this is not how it works. It's not a murder, Harry," she said probably in the umpteenth time, "Narcissa Malfoy had identified the body and they found the hawthorn wand next to him. I am afraid, that was enough to confirm that it was indeed Draco."
"But it is muggle police..." he interrupted her, "They do so much more! I have seen it on the telly!"
"Okay, I'll humor you, if you promise me to come to class today," Ron exhaled warily, he picked up one of the photos from the pile on his bed and flipped it to the other side, not to see the bloodied body depicted. "My father has some connections with the muggle police, we can find out... But, mate, come on. You cannot sit there trying to summon his ghost with these bloody pictures!"
Harry understood that he must have looked utterly mad to them, even more than usual. But who could blame him? One day he was seeping with rage at how unfair Malfoy had been for leaving, as Hermione was trying to drag him through the streets of Hogsmeade towards the castle, and the next day he was summoned to McGonagall's office to receive the dreadful news about the traffic collision. And ever since then Harry never stopped searching for the truth. He simply couldn't believe that as skillful a wizard as Draco managed to get himself killed in a simple car accident. His obsession took over whatever feelings of loss and grief he might have had, only constant night terrors reminded him about it. About how much he missed Malfoy.
"Are you serious?" Harry was surprised that his best mate was not trying to dismiss his ramblings.
"Listen, if we can confirm that Malfoy is still out there, at least you will have peace of mind and I will have a chance to throttle that sleazy ferret myself for making you believe he's dead," the ginger clenched his fists in irritation and helped him out of bed and into his school uniform.
***
The mourning hall of Smith, Smith & Smith Funeral Home in Wiltshire was adorned with fresh white chrysanthemums and silk black ribbons, candles were placed instead of electric lights, and a couple of young muggles were trying to hook up the electronic organ at the back of the room. Everything about this funeral was meant to be as real as it was possible. The mourners received the invitations, the ushers were stationed at the entrance to guide them, even a muggle priest from a local Anglican church was hired to the service. The only thing that was lacking, and it was an extremely crucial part of any halfway decent funeral, was the deceased. He was nowhere to be found.
A blonde woman was waiting impatiently at the back entrance for any sign of the embalmer's van that meant to deliver a prepared casket with the corpse. Next to her, a bereaved widow stood, visibly uncomfortable in her mourning garb, a long veil covering her face and a cigarette smoldering between her fingers.
"How much longer?" the widow asked harshly, her voice low and raspy and very not lady-like. She yanked on the fabric of her lace blouse irritably. "And what is this shite made of? I feel like it's giving me a rash already."
"Rayon," the woman gritted through her teeth. "Can you not smoke? Mr. Smith is already under the third Confundus charm since we started."
"I am waiting for my body to bloody arrive," the widow hissed and lifted her veil a little to take another nervous drag of her cigarette. At that moment an observant onlooker would understand that the mourning woman was no woman at all, but rather a tall blonde and very anxious Draco Malfoy in drag. Or disguise, he definitely preferred the word disguise.
"Just bear with it for a bit, it's not like I have enough Polyjuice to last you the whole day," Amanda gave him another annoyed glance and sent a barrage of spells towards a curious undertaker who was bored waiting so instead he decided to eavesdrop.
That muggle agency was really on a budget when it came to pulling any of this off. So Draco had a mild suspicion that orchestrating this whole ordeal was solely Amanda's plan. There was not a single soul that was helping them out, except for the muggle staff who genuinely thought that they were doing a real funeral. And his mother had agreed to supply him with some of her hairs for the Polyjuice potion and even laid out a beautiful black gown with a matching hat, gloves and shoes. He currently wasn't able to wear any of it because of his still not transformed appearance, so he opted for whatever itchy nonsense the agent had found at a muggle charity shop and hoped nobody would clock him before he had the chance to properly disguise himself.
Finally, a refrigerated van pulled up to the back driveway. But instead of another Mr. Smith, the embalmer, Harry Potter stepped out of the vehicle along with Bob the coroner, who hurried to open a large parasol and shield himself from the sun. Potter looked manic, his eyes darting wildly around the narrow courtyard covered in cobblestones. He was wearing a simple black three-piece suit that looked as uncomfortable on him as tights, a blouse, and a pencil skirt on Draco at that moment.
"We might have a problem, Miss," the vampire mouthed quickly before Harry came closer to them.
"Auror Amanda Quimby, right?" the Boy-Who-Lived asked coldly and added looking at Draco, who held his breath in anticipation of being discovered. "I am sorry for your loss, Mrs. Malfoy." He gave the widow a once over and his lips slowly stretched into a smile as he realized who was behind the disguise.
"Merlin, Potter," the blonde scoffed, lifting the veil tentatively, "You won't even let me die in peace!"
"Stupefy!" red sparks of the stunner flew out of the vampire's wand and Potter suddenly went limp. Draco was quick enough to catch him before he sagged to the floor.
"I would have never taken the job if I knew, he of all people would be barging into my mortuary," Bob shook his head disappointingly.
"Come on, let's get him inside," Amanda commanded, and Draco obediently pulled Harry's unconscious body towards the entrance.
"Ahem," the coroner made an audible cough, still standing at the threshold and not making any moves to get out of the sun and into the shade of the funeral home.
"Oh, right... Imperio," the agent pointed her wand at the confused undertaker who was gaping at the peculiar guests, "Mr. Smith. Would you be so kind as to invite our pathologist, Mr. Robert, in?"
***
Harry didn't realize he dozed off for a bit. When he opened his eyes, he understood that he was still on a wooden bench in the hall of mourning. The calm solemn music from the electronic organ must have lulled him to sleep and there wasn't enough oxygen because of all the candles and the thick smell of fresh flowers and the faint odor of embalming fluid that was seeping from the casket on display. There were quite a few visitors, all clad in black and all under some sort of glamour spells and disguises because at first, he couldn't recognize any of them. However soon he found familiar faces among the present at the funeral. Astoria Greengrass was sitting next to someone who was presumably her mother, quickly dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. Andromeda Tonks was on one row in front of him, her head covered with a black lace scarf, wearing a simple muggle suit. Teddy was notably absent and Harry wondered who was babysitting him at that moment.
He couldn't muster even a glance at the deceased face, presented at the front of the chapel, resting in a lavish white coffin, adorned with a wreath of white roses. In a way, he understood that the body being mourned today could be real Draco Malfoy, but something just didn't feel right. And Harry was willing to follow that instinct even if it could lead him towards deep denial.
Earlier that day he confronted the coroner who had done the autopsy and he swore that he was just doing his job, something about him was off. He refused to show him the body before the ceremony took place, but the man did give him a lift to a funeral home which he was grateful for. Harry didn't feel too well about using an Imperius curse on a muggle. The fact that Robards and his lot were breathing down his neck was bad enough on its own. And then he saw that shrill blonde rookie that was eager to arrest him at St. Mungo's and would probably do it again if she wasn't busy harassing Narcissa Malfoy at that moment. The lady in question just walked down the aisle to where he was sitting with the annoying Auror insight.
"May I join you, Mr. Potter?" she asked quietly, giving him a tight smile.
"Yes, er... of course," Harry mumbled sheepishly and scooted to the side of the bench to let her sit next to him.
"That will be all, darling," Narcissa said, giving the female Auror, who still hovered next to her a sharp look. "I think being next to the Savior of the Wizarding World is a sufficient protection".
Harry felt extremely uncomfortable sitting next to a woman, whose son was presumably dead, not to mention his lover. And judging from the way Andromeda had been talking about the whole ordeal of two of the Malfoys living under her roof, Narcissa knew about the nature of his and Draco's relationship. She didn't say much after that, just sat there motionless almost like those life-size wax figures at the Madame Tussaud's, performing her role of a grieving mother.
He could smell her expensive but distinctively muggle perfume, something Aunt Petunia might spray on her when Uncle Vernon's supervisor was coming by for tea. But there was something unusual that Harry had noticed about her. He would have missed it but for his worsening lycanthropy symptoms that made his sense of smell so much sharper. There was that familiar hint of menthol cigarettes he had come to associate with Draco. And now that he had noticed it, he could definitely tell that the lady had smoked quite a few of them in the hours before the funeral. Maybe all of it was real and the fact that Narcissa had indulged in her son's bad habit indicated a true sense of loss.
"I shall be announcing my son's eulogy..." Mrs. Malfoy spoke to him quietly, "If you have anything to add, Mr. Potter, you are more than welcome."
She stood up and moved towards the pews, and then looked around the chapel, her blue eyes boring into the faces of the mourners. The electronic organ started playing something different. It sounded unlike most of the previous melodies Harry had heard and it was making him feel a bit queasy. There was this inexplicable fog in his mind and he tried blinking a couple of times to shake it off, but he couldn't. He noticed the whole congregation staring at Narcissa Malfoy, as though she was entrancing them.
And then something utterly strange happened, there was a loud crash, and a person who was supposedly a muggle priest took out his wand and fired a spell at Narcissa. As soon as Harry saw a flash of green light almost miss the woman, the hypnotic charm was broken, and he could move freely and leap off his seat with a disarming spell at hand. The female Auror was faster than him, she was already there, battling the man.
"It's him!" Narcissa yelled to her, "Keep playing!" she ordered to the organist and the ethereal melody started again, making Harry stop in the middle of the wand fight.
He felt someone's grasp on his forearm and somebody pulled him away from the stray spells that were whooshing past them. His knees scraped the floor and he felt something solid behind his back; a few flowers fell onto his head and Harry understood that he was crouched behind Draco's coffin, which shielded them from the duel.
"Alright?" someone asked and he could smell expensive perfume and menthol cigarettes on them. The music was still blearing in his ears and it was very difficult to concentrate on the person who had saved him. Harry nodded, he wondered if anyone else had noticed what was going on and why weren't those people fighting affected by the music. It felt almost as oppressive as the Imperius curse, but he could resist one with his magic, he knew that. However, those blearing sounds just kept pounding in his head, making him completely disoriented. He tried to cover his ears from the melody to keep his mind clear.
"Don't fight it, Harry." the person said, gently moving his hands away from his head, "It's going to be over... soon." Harry felt long fingers running through his hair, cradling his face, and then someone's lips touched his before everything around him faded to black.
***
"I think Veritaserum is going to be useless on you, holy father," Draco heard Amanda's voice coming from the undertaker's office.
"Miss, the Malfoy kid is here," another person said and the door to the room opened. Draco saw the priest tied to the leather chair and the vampire and the agent standing next to him, wands pointing at the man's scowling face.
"How're the visitors?" the agent asked.
"They're fine. They still think nothing happened and the cremation is taking place as we speak;" he replied. He was glad he managed to leave confused Harry with his Aunt and she would be there to take care of him. His fingers touched his lips absentmindedly.
"Good," Amanda smiled, "You must go back now before they start missing the grieving mother."
Draco made no effort to move. He was still standing at the door and eyeing the people inside suspiciously. He still couldn't believe that they managed to capture Yaxley without alerting the whole muggle town and half of the Ministry of Magic. But he was wary of the fact that there was no Witch Watcher squad coming into the funeral home to apprehend the Death Eater.
"Why wasn't he affected?" he asked, gesturing towards the impostor disguised as a priest. "You said the spell was only tuned to our magical signatures."
"Tell him then," the priest spoke, "The little Malfoy needs to know how you've played him, Miranda."
His heart skipped a beat, he was wandless and at the mercy of those people in the room. He looked at the agent and then at the vampire and suddenly everything clicked and the pieces of this elaborate puzzle were put into place.
"You've staged your own death," Draco muttered more to himself than to the girl. "Just like you did with mine... You made all of this mess! And I was hunted by the Ministry because of you!" Amanda moved towards him to calm him down. He shook his head irritably, trying to evade the thoughts she forced into his mind. It was indeed Elise and her typically not so subtle way of Legilimency.
"I didn't mean to get you involved," she said. "I've made a promise to keep my father safe, to smuggle him out of the country before the DMLE gets to him. But he decided it was more important to find the leverage on his former associates." She glared at the priest. "To stage another coup, so I had to stop him from knowing what I know."
Baelish had probably collected an extensive dossier on every person in the Ministry, no wonder it was better for her to be perceived as dead, so no-one could take her information and use it for nefarious things.
"So what?! Are you his accomplice?! And what about your offer to me then? Was that a lie as well?" Draco demanded.
"No. The offer stands. I do work for the CIA, have been working for them for quite a long time." Elise replied. "But we will be going to the USA with one more person."
The man tied to a chair gave her a short laugh, "I won't be going anywhere with you. You stopped being my daughter the moment you turned to Dumbledore!"
All those memories Draco had managed to retract from the house elf and from the Aurors herself made complete sense now. She worked for the Order of the Phoenix and spied on her father who had hoped that she would go in his footsteps.
"And you stopped being my father the moment you killed Amanda at the Department of Mysteries," her blue eyes turned black the very moment she said that. "You used Ollie. You knew he had schizophrenia, and you used him to do your dirty job! You destroyed everything I loved! My mother, Amanda, Oliver, Auntie! And now you are destroying yourself! Stop it already! The Dark Lord is gone! And you have nothing left, but me!"
Yaxley laughed even louder, his expression full of disdain, "Miranda, it seems that I lost you a long time ago. You are as filthy as those muggles you called your family..."
"Avada Kedavra!" she screamed and the priest stopped cackling, he sagged in his chair, lifeless.
Draco stood there completely speechless, he couldn't believe that a righteous Auror such as Elise was capable of murdering someone. Let alone her father, even though he probably truly deserved it.
"He had to be stopped..." the girl said, replying to his thoughts, her wand hand was still shaking, but Draco couldn't tell if it was from the shock or anger, "Bob... will you help me with the body?"
The vampire nodded and came over to transfigure dead Yaxley into the box, which he took and hid in his jacket.
"You alright there, lad?" the coroner asked, patting the blonde on the shoulder and steering him towards the exit, "Come on, best leave her alone. We need to finish that funeral."
***
It was a sunny afternoon in August and the Weasley family had gathered together to celebrate the birthday of their youngest daughter. Ron and George were helping with the set up of the tables in the garden. While Bill and Fleur and their three-month-old daughter Victoire were chatting with Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen.
Harry was sitting outside by himself. He was given a non-task of looking out for Charlie, who was coming over soon, and bringing a surprise present for Ginny. He understood that after those salacious articles had started to appear in the Prophet, his relationship with the Weasleys became a bit more distant. Of course, Ron and Hermione had supported him and discouraged everyone in their inner circle from believing in those lies. Two things remained painfully true in all the printed stories: he was indeed infected with the lycanthropy and he was romantically involved with Draco Malfoy. The latter had made the worse headlines and Mrs. Weasley still couldn't quite believe why Harry would leave her daughter to pursue a Death Eater's child.
The memory of Draco awoke a dull ache in his chest. There was no news from anyone in four months about his or his mother's whereabouts. He had sent countless owls to Narcissa Malfoy demanding to know the truth, reminding her of her son's life debt to him, awaking all the pureblood customs and traditions. Hermione had even found the clause in some old wizarding etiquette book that suggested that Draco Malfoy was obligated to marry Harry under the circumstances of their relationship. Ron looked a bit green after hearing it but proceeded to tease Harry mercilessly about that.
"Hey! Why are you out here being a stranger?" he heard a sharp young voice behind him.
"Trying to stay out of everyone's way," he replied.
"It's my birthday, Potter! You have to respect my wishes and come over to play a seeker's game before mum makes us all stuffed with food later," Ginny demanded playfully. "Charlie sent a Patronus, he is still getting something at the Ministry, so it's no use waiting for him here."
"Alright," Harry agreed, "Congrats on making it on the team. You will be..."
"The Youngest Hollyhead Harpie in the century, blah blah blah," she rolled her eyes at him. "You sound like my dad. I swear he will start making T-shirts with it soon."
They walked towards the field, exchanging jokes and friendly jabs at each other and Harry felt a bit better. He wished he had this kind of relationship with Ginny a year ago, where he didn't feel obligated to be her boyfriend but instead was her friend. It felt so liberating to spend time together without constant responsibilities towards her family gnawing at his conscience.
"So, when does your Auror Training Programme start?" Ginny asked after she successfully outmaneuvered Harry and caught the snitch.
"Next Monday. I think Ron is having a bit of a mental breakdown about it, he thought he wouldn't pass the test this year," Harry laughed.
"Don't let them give you grief about the whole... er, thing," she gestured vaguely in the air.
"Which one of them? Me being a queer, or a lycanthrope or the Chosen One?" he asked bitterly.
"All of them, I guess," Ginny snickered. "I know you can become one hell of an Auror, and if those bastards start at it again, I swear I will..."
"Thanks, Gin, I appreciate the sentiment, but I don't want the Youngest Hollyhead Harpie starting fights because of me," she rolled her eyes at him for saying that.
They noticed a person with signature Weasley red hair walking towards them, wearing a leather jacket and dragon-hide boots.
"Charlie!" Ginny shouted excitedly, running towards her brother and giving him a brutal bear hug.
"Hey! Birthday girl," the lad smiled, "Wotcher, Harry? I've got a package for you, had to stop at the ministry for it."
Harry shook his hand in a greeting and received quite a heavy cardboard box. It looked like those muggle parcels from the as seen on TV ads that had various bizarre household appliances in them. The letters on the seal read "Tibi et Igni".
"I am amazed nobody tried opening it," Harry commented, looking at the label. From his experience, those three words were an invitation for some not-so-sharp goon at the DMLE to pry.
"Probably didn't want to set their desk on fire," Charlie said.
"What's in it?" Ginny asked, eyeing the box suspiciously.
"There is one way to find out," Harry said and pulled at the seal.
The cardboard started magically unfolding and turned itself into a little set of shelves packed with vials of shiny liquid in them. Some of the containers were labeled with the names that Harry knew. Shacklebolt, Robards, Avery, Weasley, Proudfoot, Yaxley, there was even one that said Malfoy Jr. He picked up that vial and turned it around to see the date at the back, April – May 1999. They were recollections around the time of Draco's supposed death.
"Who would send you a bunch of memories?" the girl asked.
"Oh, I know one person," Harry replied with a smile. "Gin, do you know if there is a Pensieve somewhere around the house?"