Hello there! Yes, this story hasn't been abandoned. I still exist!

Thank you for all your reviews for the last chapter. Thanks to Tabitoo who popped a while ago to say they were missing the story. I had really bad writer's block and your comment got me writing again :)

Somebody a few chapters ago wanted to know what trouble Hermione and Ron could get into re the Draco Malfoy incident. There are a few things: Ron's actions could make Draco feel threatened (which is assault) and then there's the fact that they were talking to Draco in the first place. Ron, Hermione are witnesses in Draco's trial. They're also victims of his crime. There are all sorts of ways their behaviour could be interpreted: interfering with witnesses, course of justice etc. It wouldn't look good, whatever the case.

Scary thought: in a few weeks the Cursed Child previews are starting and we'll know what happens. I'm not mentally prepared yet.

If you're interested, I'm at .com. I like to ramble and write posts about life and Harry Potter. I also post updates about this fic and other stuff :)

This is a long one. Get yourself a cup of tea and a biscuit before you start reading.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter Seventeen

31st October- 1st November 1998

The Morgue. Location unknown.

The body was in a bad way. Even with her untrained medical eye, Amanda could identify the presence of the cruciatus curse. There were scorch marks over the face and torso. There were slashes across the arms and legs, thin lines that wrapped around the skin in a vice grip.

Muldover had been tortured for a long time.

As an ex Auror, Amanda had seen many dead bodies. The image didn't disturb her. She was drawn, however, to the look on Muldover's face; the horror of his last living second was recorded there. His eyes were wide, open and glassy. His mouth hung open in a slant and his nose was bent and damaged. She hoped the coroner would clean the body up before the family arrived.

She and Muldover had crossed paths before. When she joined the force he'd been a senior Auror, someone she was supposed to look up to. He had supervised combat training for the new recruits and, over the years, they'd been sent on a number of missions together.

She would never repeat it to anyone, but Muldover hadn't been the Auror the new starts looked up to. He wasn't a great Auror but he wasn't a bad one either. He sat somewhere in the middle; happy to do the bare minimum to get through the day. If you were sent on a mission with Muldover, he blended into the background with the noise. He wasn't remarkable, just run of the mill.

Amanda remembered that Muldover always been a grumpy man, misanthropic if he fell into a bad mood. He'd been part of a clique of older, male Aurors that dominated the force until the 1980s. He'd been welcoming to the young women who joined the Aurors but kept himself at a distance.

She had one bright memory of Muldover. It was strange to think about it now, at the time it hadn't stayed with her.

When Emily died she'd taken a few weeks off work. When Head Office asked her to come in for a review meeting, Muldover had been in the office at the time. She'd been waiting outside the Boss' office, despondent and drained, when he'd stopped in front of her and growled, "I'm so sorry Lyman." When she looked at him, he'd reached out and gripped her shoulder, his nails digging into her back. It was a small gesture, not dissimilar to sentiments she'd received from other people, but it had been comforting all the same.

"Did you hear me Miss Lyman?"

She blinked, looking away from Muldover's face. The Coroner was frowning at her. He stood on the other side of the slab near the chest of the body.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I was thinking. Can you repeat that again David?"

The MLE officer beside her chuckled.

David Burrows, the Coroner, frowned and continued talking. "I was saying that Mr Muldover appears to have been tied up for a few days. You can see the red marks on his wrists. Look."

She and the MLE officer bent down to inspect the hands. Thin red lines were visible around the wrists. He'd been bound, probably with a curse.

"So," said the officer grimly, "they were holding him. They were probably looking for information."

The MLE officer was a young, black woman called Sophie James. Amanda had never worked with her before but she knew her by reputation. Sophie was a few years older than Amanda but she had already managed to work her way up the MLE ladder to become a sergeant, the youngest in ten years.

"None of this makes sense," continued Sophie. "None of it."

"I think you have a very difficult crime to solve Sergeant," said Burrows. "Hopefully I can provide some further clarity when I hand in my full report."

"Difficult case is an understatement," growled Sophie. "This man was snatched randomly without a trace. We have no idea who did it and no idea of a motive."

"Surely being an Auror is motive enough for some people?" argued Amanda. Sophie said nothing, her eyes still on Muldover's body.

People forgot, thought Amanda, that being Auror was akin to having cross hairs on your back for life. She still didn't leave her home unprotected. She still looked behind her as she walked home at night.

"I can be more precise when I do my full autopsy but I can say with certainty that this man was killed today. His wounds are fresh."

That'll torture his family, thought Amanda.

"When you've finished the report I'd like an immediate copy sent to my desk," she told Burrows. "When did you think you'll have it?"

"With any luck by the end of today."

"Should I send a copy to the Auror office?" asked Burrows, looking between the two women. "I thought this was their jurisdiction?"

Sophie's looked mischievous, "Thanks to the reform act the Aurors need to be appointed before they take control of a case." She smirked. "Gone are the days of Aurors stealing cases from the MLE."

Amanda rolled her eyes at the typical arrogance of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad. The MLE thought they were superior to Aurors because they dealt with day to day crime. In conrast, Aurors "only dealt with dark wizards." She'd dealt with this snooty sort of attitude before.

"The Aurors will be appointed in a matter of hours," she told Burrows in a bored voice. "I'd send the report up."

Sophie threw her a sharp look but said nothing.

"There are indented curse marks around his head," Amanda said to Burrows, "were they trying to break into his mind?"

"Probably," said Burrows. "Whatever they wanted, he didn't give in too easily."

"What about the letters?" asked Sophie.

She pointed to Muldover's stomach. Under the bright lights of the room there was the faint outline of the letters TRAITOR.

"That's down to a simple colouring charm. It can stain the skin. It was put on the body after he died." Burrows looked up, curious. "What did this man do to earn the label traitor?"

"Who knows? Poor bloke."

"It's interesting that the same words appeared all over Malfoy Manor a few days ago," commented Amanda. "God knows whether that's linked to this."

"Could be the same group just picking on people they consider traitors," said Sophie. "There's an ongoing feud between Death Eater factions at the minute. Mind you, we've been trailing through Muldover's history for the past few days and found no link to the Death Eaters. He's clean."

Amanda had to agree. She'd heard reports of Death Eaters trying to kill each other in Azkaban. The Malfoys, who were greatly disliked, were just another target.

To her annoyance, Burrows was called out of the room by another member of staff. As was custom, one of his colleagues took his place as a security measure. Burrows' replacement was a young white man who looked near Hogwarts age. He watched Sophie and Amanda with a sour, solemn look on his face. If the morgue had hired security to intimidate people, thought Amanda, they weren't succeeding. She and Sophie could take the man down without a wand, if they wanted to.

The morgue was a large, underground complex housed off site from the main Ministry of Magic building. Amanda had no idea where it was located and nor, for the matter, did anybody else. The location of the morgue was so secret that the information was even withheld from Morgue employees. It was rumored that a select few, appointed by the Minister for Magic, were the only people told of the morgue's whereabouts; the information wiped from their memory when they moved on to another job. Dead bodies were a precious commodity for Dark Wizards and fraudsters and the Ministry took every precaution to restrict access to the building.

The Morgue was accessible via portkey only. If someone wanted to go to the morgue they had to put in a request. If this was accepted, the portkey was provided. The portkey was created via a single person in the Morgue and sent to the visitor under heavy guard. Employees traveled to work every day via portkey, none of them knowing where they were going.

All visitors to the morgue had their wands taken off them when they arrived. Every person, employees included, were scanned for concealment charms. All visitors and employees were held for an hour when they arrived just to rule out impostors using polyjuice potion. Amanda had often heard employees complain about this rule, as it meant they had to be up for work an hour early. It was common to find morgue employees sleeping in the holding room if you happened to be in the building first thing in the morning.

"So, you used to be an Auror then?"

Amanda, who had been studying the words on Mulover's body, looked up at Sophie. The MLE Officer was staring at her with a peculiar look across her face.

Amanda frowned at Sophie. They'd been introduced briefly when they arrived but she hadn't mentioned her previous vocation.

"How did you figure that out?" she asked.

"Your injury," said Sophie, nodding to Amanda's leg. "You don't get banged up like that unless you're in a tough line of work."

Amanda looked down at her leg. She'd damaged it during a raid in Lithuania a few years ago. They'd been tracking a squad of dark wizards through a forest and she'd been cornered by two of them near a lake. One had hit her with a strange curse that caused her to lose all feeling in her leg. She would have died had Emily and the other Aurors not come to her rescue. Through intensive treatment she'd been able to walk again, but the leg was damaged forever.

"I can tell you've been through the academy by the way you talk," continued Sophie, looking Amanda up and down. "''indented curses? Nobody talks like that unless you're obsessed with dark wizards."

"Aurors aren't obsessed with dark wizards."

Sophie snorted. "You've got to be to hold down that job. Is that why you left to become a lawyer, had enough of tracking down Death Eaters?"

Amanda blinked. For some people that was a straight forward question. Many people had trained as Advocates after the war: Ministry workers, ex MLE officers, pencil pushers from the Floo Department. Kingsley Shacklebolt had called for people all over the country to join the Advocate Program. He'd wanted people from diverse backgrounds to take the lead in defending justice and the rule of law.

For Amanda, the answer was more personal. Very few Aurors had left to become Advocates. It just wasn't the done thing. It was one thing to leave the profession to teach or be in a political position, it was another to pursue a different career altogether. Aurors considered their profession to be a job for life, something you didn't turn your back on. Some of her colleagues, friends of hers for years, still hadn't forgiven her for leaving. Her decision to leave had been a messy one. To explain that would mean explaining Emily.

"It's none of your business why I became a lawyer," she told Sophie, her voice rough. Incensed, she went back to studying Muldover's body. She could feel Sophie's perplexed gaze on her back.

They lapsed into silence again. Anyone else would have thought it uncomfortable but Amanda didn't feel that way. She'd always lacked that uniquely British fear of being rude. Sophie had been rude to her and now they had to stand in silence.

To her annoyance, Sophie spoke again a few minutes later.

"That's a lovely necklace you've got. Where did you get it?"

Really?

Sophie was staring at her neck. Amanda looked down and realised that she'd been playing with her silver locket, twirling the chain around her fingers.

She often found herself playing with the locket; sometimes she did it court without noticing. She was usually half way through her opening statement when she realised she was gripping the locket tightly, the metal digging into her palm. Nobody had ever brought up this strange habit, at least until now. Most people acted like nothing was going on; they saved their sympathetic looks for when she wasn't looking.

Most people knew better than to mention the locket.

"It was a gift," she told Sophie, the words painful in her mouth.

"It's beautiful. Goblin made?"

Amanda paused. "I don't know."

"It looks Goblin made," said Sophie. "My dad works at Gringotts and he used to bring back all sorts of jewelry for my mum."

Amanda turned back to Muldover.

"Who got you it then?" asked Sophie. "Boyfriend?"

"Girlfriend," said Amanda, through gritted teeth. Couldn't this stupid woman understand that she didn't want to talk about it?

"She's got good taste," said Sophie. "Being going out long?"

Pain, indescribable pain filled her from top to bottom. Was it always going to be like this, she thought. Was it always going to be this horrible?

"She's dead," said Amanda, her voice harsh.

Sophie recoiled. Her eyes widened and her mouth began to open and close rapidly like a revolving door. "I'm...I'm so sorry," she said, quickly.

Amanda glared at her. She turned away and fixed her eyes on the body.

"I really am sorry. I didn't realise and I shouldn't have...wait a second."

Amanda looked up. Sophie was staring at her, realisation dawning on her face.

"Your second name is Lyman. Your partner was Emily Shaw, wasn't it?"

It was lucky, thought Amanda, that Burrows chose that moment to arrive back again.

"Sorry about that," he said. "Somebody needed me to sign off on something. Are we done here? If so, shall I get the deceased's belongings?"

Amanda agreed. Sophie did too, her voice was now stiff and awkward.

Burrows took them to a room that lay to the right of the slab. It was filled with large shelves that rose to the ceiling. Burrows, who was one of the few people allowed a wand, waved it and a shelf from the far side of the room slid open. A box floated out of the shelf and flew across the room into Burrows hands.

"Here's his clothes," Burrows said to Sophie, handing her the box. "I'm sure you'll find something interesting in there."

Sophie took the box out of the room and set it on one of the units that lay around the slab. Burrows made the clothes float out of the box and hover in midair.

"Yuk," said Sophie.

Yuk was a fair way of summing up the clothes. They were bloody and filthy.

"Accio. Accio."

Burrows pointed his wand at different parts of the clothes. Sophie watched with great interest. Amanda knew she hoped to find further evidence to bag and take away.

A few things jumped out of the pockets: some keys, a wallet, a packet of mints and an envelope. He placed the keys, wallet and mints in evidence bags but Sophie stopped him before he bagged the envelope. At her request, he made the letter float down in front of her face.

"It's unaddressed," remarked Amanda.

"It's also not covered in blood," added Sophie.

They looked at one another. Somebody must have placed the envelope on the body after Muldover was murdered. Amanda's mind swirled as she considered the possibilities. Was it a message from the murderers? Something important Muldover had been carrying?

Burrows used his wand to open the envelope and make the contents fall out. It was a letter. They gathered together as it unfurled in mid-air, the words clearly visible.

There was a pause as they read the letter. Then stunned silence.

"Oh," said Sophie. "Well that's...I...OK."

"I think you've got your work cut out for you Sergeant," said Burrows. "Dear me."

Amanda blinked, shook her head then stared at the letter again. What was this, a joke?

"I, Anton Muldover was murdered by Narcissa Malfoy."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

London.

Somebody, Percy couldn't remember who, invited Robbin inside the flat. Robbin, looking shell shocked, stepped over the threshold and came face to face with the chaos of the party. Blinking, he looked incredulously at the muggles in their costumes and winced at the music that blared in his ears. There was a surreal moment when a man dressed as a mushroom walked past them and said hello (Percy understood that the man was dressed up as a popular cartoon character).

Audrey, who was helping Harry not to choke on his own vomit, told the boy who lived to get a glass of water, sober up and meet them in her bedroom. She gestured for Percy and Robbin to follow her, yelling at someone to clean up Harry's mess. They walked to the kitchen where the rest of the Weasleys and Hermione were standing around laughing.

"Perce! Audrey!" Charlie cried when they came over. He was stumbling on his feet and he looked very drunk. "There you are! Come on, we're playing a game."

He gestured to the kitchen unit. There were lots of cards laid out in a circle with a large pint glass in the middle. Ron and Hermione were sitting on chairs and clutching glasses. George was watching everyone play with a large bowl of crisps in his lap.

"Who are you?" Hermione asked Robbin, very loudly. She was swaying in her chair and looked confused. Robbin gazed around at the kitchen with stunned fascination.

"You need to follow me," said Audrey. Her voice was dull and slurred. "Let's go to my bedroom. We need to talk."

Ron's eyes swivelled between Audrey, Robbin and Percy. "What's happened?" he asked. "Who is he?" he added, nodding at Robbin. Despite the horror of the situation before him, Percy smiled. His little brother had always been sharp. In response to his question, Robbin could only blink back at Ron. He seemed to be in a state of shock.

"We'll explain in a minute," said Percy. "Bring Harry."

"Where is Harry?" asked George.

"Hopefully not drowning in a pool of his own vomit," muttered Audrey. "Let's go." She turned on her heel, grabbed a nearby bottle of wine and led the way across the living room.

"What's going on Perce?" asked Charlie. "Is something wrong?"

Percy wished he could spare his brother the next few minutes. Finding it hard to speak, he didn't answer but merely gestured for Charlie to follow Audrey.

There were a few chaotic minutes as the group attempted to cross the living room. A few people tried to get them to join the party again. Ella dragged Audrey to one side and demanded to know what was going on. The two sisters argued fiercely for a few minutes, Audrey refusing to tell Ella anything. Eventually Ella backed down, Audrey making her swear to keep a look out. Ella watched them cross the living room with an angry, worried look in her eyes.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were last to follow the group, Harry unsteady on his feet. Ron and Hermione were trying to bully him into telling them what was going on. Harry wasn't answering; he stared into space, his eyes wide and empty.

When they eventually piled in Audrey's room, Audrey locking the door behind her, there was a outbreak of yelling as everyone began to ask questions. Audrey sat on her bed and held her head in her hands. Robbin, who looked utterly bewildered, slumped on the bed beside Audrey and stared at the carpet; he looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him up.

"What's going on?" asked Ron, standing in the middle of the room with his arms folded. He spun on his feet, looking at Percy, Audrey, Robbin and Harry in turn. "Spit it out."

"Who the hell is this guy?" asked George, pointing to Robbin.

"This is George Robbin," said Audrey from behind her hands. Her voice was empty, so much so that it sounded like she was reading from a script. "He's Narcissa Malfoy's lawyer."

Silence.

"What are you doing here?" asked Charlie, his voice fearful. "What's wrong?"

Percy watched Ron and Hermione as they spun around to face Harry. He was leaning against the door and staring blankly into space.

Although Hermione was drunk, her voice was clear and forthright. Percy thought the shock of Robbin's appearance had sobered her up. "Harry?" she snapped "What's going on?"

Harry lifted his head and stared somewhere to the right of Hermione. He was swaying, his feet pointing in different directions.

"Muldover's dead," said Harry. His voice was slurred but composed. "The Auror that went missing. He's dead. They found his body."

"What?" shrieked Hermione.

"No," said Ron, his voice toneless. "No. They can't have."

George looked between Audrey, Harry and Percy, his mouth open.

"Tell me this is a lie Aud," said Charlie, who had gone white. "It's a joke, right?"

"Nope," said Audrey, her face still in her hands and her voice grave. "He's dead alright."

Charlie looked ready to implode. Ron was hovering somewhere between horror and anger.

George looked round at everyone, his eyes wide. He murmured, "I really should have gotten drunk tonight."

"They found him in the Ministry," continued Harry. "They dumped his body in the fountain of magical breathern."

"Oh my god." Hermione began to pace up and down. She gripped her face feverishly and ran her hands over her eyes. "Oh my god."

Ron, Charlie and George seemed unable to speak.

Percy was watching his family react to the news in some sort of dream state. The news that the Auror had been murdered was his worst fear come true. It was something he'd dreaded since agreeing to meet Mrs Malfoy. Percy was a logical thinker but he was prone to catastrophising. The night before they'd gone to meet Narcissa he'd sat up late thinking about the worst thing that could happen. At the top of his list had been somebody getting murdered and somebody, mainly him, being sent to Azkaban, his family disgraced. One of those things had happened and the other looked likely.

It felt like his body was suffering from the effects of a numbing potion. The reactions of his family and the news about Muldover were penetrating his mind but his body was frozen. He felt still and empty, robbed of the ability to form a single sentence. Blind panic gripped him from the inside. He felt like somebody had reached out, gripped him by the throat and started squeezing his windpipe. There were too many thoughts in his mind, too many horrible words. His mind was a mess, like a radio without any signal.

The only thing he could think about was his family: his parents, his brothers and Ginny. He pictured the Ministry coming to take him away, he saw the Prophet headline, the look on his mother's face, his father's humiliation.

Audrey looked like she was in the same state of shock. She had lifted her face from her hands and was staring around at the room looking lost. Every so often she took a large swig from the bottle of wine. Robbin, beside her, remained frozen in the same horrified position.

Finally, he found his voice.

"What the hell are we going to do?" he asked, his voice a few octaves higher than usual. "Fuck."

"We need to remain calm," said Ron, looking round at them all. "We need a plan."

"Give me a few minutes," said Audrey, her voice distant. She passed Robbin the bottle of wine without looking. He looked at it gratefully and downed a large amount.

"Remain calm?" said Charlie, his voice incredulous. "Percy just swore. That's how bad this is!"

There was a loud banging at the door which made them all jump. Harry yelped and nearly fell over. When he recovered, he opened up the door and came face to face with Ella. Audrey's sister stepped into the room looking apprehensive.

"Someone else is here," she told Audrey, shouting over the music. "Another Advocate? He says he needs to see you."

Audrey and Percy looked at one another, their faces falling.

As if this evening couldn't get any worse, thought Percy.

Audrey closed her eyes. "If you're about to tell me that fucking Entwhistle is out there..."

Ella swallowed. "It's somebody called Entwhistle," she said.

"Oh bloody hell."

Audrey grabbed the wine off Robbin and took another swig.

"You don't have a balcony I could jump from?" asked Robbin. "To get away from Entwhistle?"

"I do. But if you're going to jump I'm going with you."

"What the hell is Entwhistle doing here?" slurred Harry. "He doesn't know, does he?"

"Know what?" asked Ella, looking round at them all. "What's going on Aud?"

Audrey glared meaningfully at Harry. She didn't want her sister to know more than she already did.

"I can't talk about it," Audrey said. "Bring him in."

"Are you sure about this?" asked Robbin, sharply.

"Let's hear what the little shit has to say."

Entwhistle dashed into the room looking like he'd just ran all the way through London to meet them. His normally slick, stylish hair was askew; his suit was crumpled.

At first, Entwhistle only seemed to recognise Audrey. "Sheppard!" he barked, "we need to talk. I..." He paused, noticing the audience around him. "What the actual fuck?"

"Jordan," said Audrey, airily. "Do come in. Have a drink. Get yourself a beer. We're having a party in here."

Entwhistle gaped at Audrey. "What...are you...are you dressed as fucking Princess Leia?" he spluttered.

"Of course I am," replied Audrey.

"Who are you...what are you..."

Audrey acted as though they were all meeting for afternoon tea. "You remember Harry Potter," she said, gesturing with her hand. "And Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger."

Entwhistle looked in turn at Hermione, Harry and Ron. He looked visibly afraid and Percy didn't blame him. The trio were glaring at the Advocate with something close to menace.

"I'm George," interjected George, through a mouthful of crisps. He eyed Entwhistle with unflattering boredom. Jordan acknowledged George with a nod of his head.

"What are you doing here?" Robbin snapped. Entwhistle's appearance had slapped him into existence again. His face was red and angry. "Have you come to gloat again?"

"No I haven't, funnily enough. I was in the bar library and I heard a fucking commotion outside the door. I Followed a crowd of Advocates up the Antrium to find Aurors and half the bloody MLE surrounding a dead Auror, our Auror. I got your address from the Bar Library and got here was fast as I could"

Nobody reacted.

"That's why I'm here," said Robbin. "I came to tell Sheppard and Weasley."

"Didn't think to tell me though, did you?"

"No." Robbin looked like he would have gladly kept Entwhistle out of the loop forever.

"Well...well...what are you going to do about it then?"

"We only found out about it fifteen minutes ago," growled Audrey. "What do you think we're doing about it? I'm drinking wine out of a bottle," she snapped "We're at def con wine bottle."

"Well this is really fucking cosy, isn't it?" said Entwhistle, his voice cracking. "Here I am worrying about a dead Auror and you're all here dressed up like a bad version of the village people and..." he frowned turning towards the living room and the loud music, "Are you listening to Gina fucking G?"

Audrey rolled her eye. "Oh just sit down Jordan. Have a drink."

"Perce, shouldn't you head over to the Ministry?" asked Ron. "Maybe you can find something out..."

"He can't go over to the Ministry now!" Hermione's voice was hysterical. "It's only just happened. Kingsley will wonder how he found out!"

Percy sighed. "Knowing Kingsley he'll be sending out a patronus to me soon." He slumped down on to an armchair in the corner of the room. He felt awful, the alcohol swishing around in his stomach in an ominous way.

"We need a plan," said Entwhistle. "We need to figure out what we're going to do when they start asking questions."

"I'm sorry "we"?" snapped Robbin, his face red.

"Yeah, that wasn't clear when you got a Prophet reporter to screw over my clients."

"Yes," added Hermione, glaring at Entwhistle, "very nice to meet you in person."

Entwhistle flinched at the murderous look on Hermione's face. He held up a hand, like that would protect him from the bad feeing being directed his way. "Okay, okay," he said, "I get your point. I am right though. We do need a plan."

"What sort of plan?" hissed Robbin. "What do you want me to do? Get my partner to probe the Auror office even more and put his job on the line? Do something to draw attention to my client?"

"There's nothing out there to link us to that body," said Audrey. "Nobody saw Harry that day. The holding cells were empty. They have nothing."

"Audrey's right," said Percy. "It would take a huge leap of judgement for anybody to make the connection."

"Somebody knows though," said Entwhistle. "Whoever murdered that Auror and whoever told them."

"Yes," said Robbin, his face darkening. "I think we should focus on that. Who the hell told the murderers? Who knows? How do they know?"

Robbin gazed round at everyone meaningfully. When his eyes came to rest on Percy, they stayed there for several seconds.

"The only people who know what happened include everybody in this room, the Malfoys, my parents and Bill and Fleur," said Ron. "None of us blabbed."

"Do you really think that?" asked Robbin, his eyes narrowed. "You trust everyone?"

"I trust my family with my life," said Ron, angrily.

"Nobody is suggesting that anybody on our side talked Robbin," snapped Audrey.

Robbin shrugged, looking annoyed. For some reason his eyes kept flicking to Percy. Percy, still trying to pull through his drunken haze, opened his mouth to ask why when-

"Look!" gasped Hermione.

They all turned. A pearly white lynx had landed on Audrey's bedroom floor. Speaking with Kingsley's voice it said: "Urgent. Go to Ministry right away. Don't talk to anyone."

The Lynx disappeared. There was a moment of stunned silence, the noise from the party loud in the background.

"Shit," said Percy.

A tension crept into the room that hadn't been there before. Everything was suddenly very real. All their conversations and worries about Muldover turning up seemed laughable now. This was actually happening. They'd done a shady deal with Narcissa Malfoy and the Auror that helped organise it had been murdered. Now Percy had to walk into the Ministry of Magic and lie. It was game time.

His family looked fearful him, Harry looking positively ill. The Advocates' reactions were very different: Robbin's face was worried but guarded, Entwhistle was looking at him with foreboding.

For some reason it was Audrey's face he sought. She was staring back him with wide, worried eyes. There was meaning in her expression, something only Percy would recognise: look what we did.

Rather unhelpfully, everyone began to give him advice.

"Stay calm," ordered George.

"Be yourself" said Charlie. "Don't lose your shit."

"Let's go over what you're going to say," said Entwhistle.

"I'll help you go over what you need to say," said Audrey, glaring at Entwhistle.

"Make sure you cover your back," said Robbin. "It might not be a bad idea to go back to your office at some point and make sure that report you were working on isn't full of clues."

"You don't know what Kingsley is going to ask you," said Hermione. "It's probably better to just act casual."

After all of that, Ron, with a straight face, said: "Don't freak out."

Harry was the only who said nothing. He seemed to be stuck in a silent drunken state, unable to do anything but stare at around at them with a horror struck look in his eyes.

"You need to go now," said Audrey, her voice quavering. "Kingsley will wonder where you are. If you don't go soon that'll be the first red flag."

"What-what about you?" said Percy. "What will you do? Stay here?"

"I want to go home," said Hermione, looking fearful. "But we should wait a while." Ron, who stood at her shoulder, nodded and took her hand.

"We'll be fine," said Audrey. "We'll bunk up here. I'm sure there's a bottle of vodka we can drown ourselves in."

"Right. Right."

Percy went to stand up. He sat down immediately. "Oh no," he gulped.

"What?" asked Ron, looking wary.

"We have a problem...I'm really drunk."

Audrey ordered someone to get Percy a glass of water. Charlie marched Percy out of the room and into the nearest bathroom.

"Fingers down the throat," ordered Charlie. "Vomit yourself sober."

After vomiting and drinking copious amounts of water, Percy felt better. He was drunk but he felt like he could cope with it.

His family helped him leave. Entwhistle and Robbin ignored everyone and stayed in the bedroom. Hermione fetched his bags; Ron grabbed his coat while George helped Percy pull on his jacket. Charlie kept giving him instructions in a low, serious voice ("stay calm. Get your story straight.") Harry still said nothing.

When he went to leave, it was an odd moment. The party was still raging on, many people sat about playing drinking games. Nobody had any idea what was going on.

He had to go to the square to apparate so Audrey insisted on accompanying him. They walked down the apartment block stairs in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Percy felt like a man walking to the gallows. When he stepped into the Ministry and faced Kingsley, the little game he and Audrey were playing became real. They were crossing a line of demarcation. Percy was going to lie to the Minister of Magic. If anybody found out about Harry and Narcissa Malfoy they would charge him with interfering with the course of justice.

Audrey walked beside him with her arms folded and her brow furrowed. She looked serious and guarded. She'd put on a dark coat to go out in the cold, her long dress trailing behind her.

The square was packed with people. Young children ran about wearing costumes and waving sparklers. Some adults were sitting on benches drinking wine and cans of beer. Percy could hear fireworks in the distance.

When they reached the shops, Audrey led him to a secluded spot behind the newsagent. Her face was grave.

"If anyone asks where you were tonight," she said, "tell the truth. You were at my party. You got Kingsley's patronus and left."

Percy nodded. He felt light headed and dizzy, glad of the cool air that brushed against his face.

"When you're finished with the Ministry," said Audrey. "Go straight home. Don't talk to anyone. Go to work tomorrow then seek me out. I need to go over statements with Harry and Ron so I might be at the Burrow."

Percy memorised everything she was saying. He realised that they were starting to build a defence in case the worst should happen. They were getting their stories straight, organising their lies.

"When I left, I told you nothing," said Percy. "You have no idea what's happened."

"Yeah."

They looked at each other hopelessly. They hadn't signed up for this. Now they were falling off a cliff and the only way was down.

"I can't stop thinking about what Robbin said," Audrey whispered. "It sickens me to think that someone in our circle could have betrayed us..."

"Nobody on our side talked," said Percy, firmly. "You know nobody in my family did it. You didn't do it. I has to be someone on Malfoy's side."

"I know, I know," Audrey looked anguished. "I just...if we could figure out who blabbed then maybe we can stop things getting any worse. We need to make sure nothing gets traced back to us."

Percy agreed. He felt cold at the thought that, so far, they'd only been concerned for their own well being. They'd given little thought to Muldover himself.

That's what you do, said a voice in his head, that's what you do to survive.

"It's going to be fine," Percy told her. He tried to sound more confident that he felt. "We're going to be OK. We have to be OK."

Audrey snorted. "You're sure about that?"

"If it's not," said Percy, "I hear Azkaban's OK now. At least I'll know somebody there."

Audrey smiled wryly. "Go," she said, "try not to vomit."

As he apparated, Percy watched Audrey's face. She looked close to tears. He had the strangest urge to reach out and hug her.

It took only a few seconds before he disappeared into blackness.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ministry of Magic, Minister for Magic's Office

The Atrium was a crime scene. Someone had constructed a shield around the fountain of magical breathern and the hall was full of MLE officers. The officers, Percy noted, were taking pictures and waving their wands over every speck of dust.

The Ministry was on full lockdown. Apparating into the building was now impossible. He couldn't access the floo network when he tried it at home. It was only after trudging his way around to the public entrance and joining a cue to get into the mechanical lift that he arrived in the Atrium. Half an hour had passed since Kingsley's patronus had appeared at Audrey's.

I'm late, thought Percy, and I'm drunk. Kingsley is going to kill me.

Things only got worse.

When he tried to make his way across the entrance hall, he found the way blocked. He had to push his way through some disgruntled employees to talk to one of the MLE officers. When they refused to let him in, he had to beg to be let through

"I'm the Minister's assistant," he cried to one officer, "he's expecting me."

The officer, a tired looking white woman woman in her 40s, looked him up and down. Percy knew she was eyeing his dirty suit and the stains across his shirt. By the way she crinkled her nose, Percy knew she could smell the drink off him.

"A lot of people have told me they work for Kingsley Shacklebolt this evening," she mused. "You could be a Daily Prophet reporter. We turfed one out an hour ago and he's not happy. I've had three reporters try and worm their way past me."

"Why in god's name would a reporter turn up looking like this?" said Percy, gesturing to his appearance.

"Why would Kingsley Shacklebolt's assistant turn up looking like that?" she retorted.

Percy conceded that this was a fair point.

In the end it took a lot of arguing and the officer obtaining confirmation from Minister's office before anybody let him through. Percy, now an hour late, bounded through the MLE security wall and allowed himself to be guided through the Atrium by another officer.

"Aye,Entire area's a crime scene now," said the officer when they got in the lift. He spoke with a thick Liverpool accent. "We can't have you walking through evidence."

The time to start bluffing, thought Percy, was now.

"I can't get anybody to tell me anything," he said, in a good imitation of a worried voice, "I was at a party when I got a message to come in. It looks serious..."

The officer, a grim looking white man in his early 20s, looked around before leaning in to Percy."An Auror's been murdered," he said in a whisper. "His body was dumped in the fountain of magical breathern. Blood everywhere. Awful stuff."

"Oh my god," said Percy, gasping. The officer must have thought his reaction convincing because he nodded in agreement.

"You'll be in that office all night," he told Percy. "This is bad for the Minister. The Atrium wasn't busy when the body was dumped but whoever killed him managed to drag his body through security and past the night guard. Imagine, Death Eaters got into the Ministry and left without anyone noticing. Scary, isn't it? The press is going to have a field day."

Percy kept his tone light. "They-they think it's Death Eaters, do they?"

"Well, that's just me," said the officer. "But come on, who else could it be! All sorts of rumours are flying around that it has something to do with the Malfoys...oh here's your floor mate."

Percy stepped out of the lift. The officer waved at him as the doors closed. The lift descended back down into the Atrium.

"rumours flying around that it has something to do with the Malfoys..."

Percy's already very delicate stomach clenched. He felt like he was going to vomit again. He could still feel the wine he'd drunk in his mouth, bile hovering near the back of his throat.

What did the officer mean? How had the Malfoys been dragged into this? Had somebody blabbed? Had somebody said something?

Percy leaned against the wall and took deep, gasping breaths. He felt like he was going to have a panic attack.

Get your shit together, he thought. Think of Harry, your family, Audrey. Whatever's happened you need to go in there and find out.

The office was a place of chaos when he entered. The press officers were yelling at one another, firing spells across the room at various bits of paper. The assistants were running around the room clutching large files and sending out departmental memos at a staggering rate. Kingsley's diary secretary looked like she was going to burst into tears.

"WEASLEY! WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?!

Percy turned around to see Toby marching towards him with a look of thunder in his eyes.

"Toby I-"

"The shit hit the fan an hour and a half ago. Where the hell were you? What do you think you're doing..." Toby paused to lean into Percy and sniff. "Were you drinking jaegarmeister?"

Percy batted Toby away and took a step back. He had never been late in his life. He didn't deserve a bollocking like this, especially not from Toby.

"I was at a party," he spat, "I couldn't apparate into the building and had to practically beg to get past the MLE!"

"You were at a party?" one of other press officers had come over. She looked at Percy with interest. "You were at an actual party Weasley?"

"Are you sure it was a party?" asked Toby. "You sure it wasn't just you sitting in the house drinking tea?"

"Oh piss off," said Percy. He knew his work mates were only taking the mick but he wasn't in the mood for jokes.

"Good god Weasley you smell like alcohol," said Angie, wrinkling her nose.

That did it. "I'm going," announced Percy, turning and heading in the direction of Kingsley's office.

"Tell him the Prophet won't stop sending owls. Tell him we've practically got an owlery set up in the bathroom!" called Angie.

Percy waved them away and marched towards Kingsley's office. He tried to make himself more presentable. He fixed his tie, flattened his hair and tried to clean a dodgy stain off his jacket with his wand (he blamed Audrey for this. She'd insisted he try some crisps with guacamole).

When he arrived at the door, he was greeted with the sound of loud shouting. Somebody had forgotten to cast a silencing charm.

"...ridiculous circumstances that we have to deal with now! We know this is the work of a dark wizard but now I've got to go through a fucking anal probe before my guys can get in there and investigate!"

"You are being ridiculous Jack. This is perfectly reasonable. Stop being so..."

"You're an ex Auror! You know how fucking terrible this is. All because you can't say no to some upstart in the MLE! Thanks for your permission King. If you excuse me, I'm going to do my job."

The door wrenched open and one of the Senior Aurors marched out of the office clutching a number of papers. He looked furious. Percy had to jump out of the way to avoid getting hit.

"Weasley?"

Kingsley stood in the doorway of his office looking wretched. He looked tired and his robes were crumpled.

"Sir, I'm so sorry I'm late," Percy launched into his apology. "I couldn't apparate in and then I had to cue for the public entrance. The MLE officer didn't believe I was who I said I was and..."

Kingsley held up a hand to stop him. "It's fine Percy." He sounded drained. "Get in here. We need to have a chat."

Percy hurried in as Kingsley shut the door behind him. He knew his boss had been in the office since they last spoke a few hours ago, but Kingsley looked like the one who'd been on a four hour bender at a muggle Halloween party. His boss' face was ashen, his eyes were red rimmed.

"You smell like an ashtray Weasley."

Percy fixed his tie and kicked himself for not casting a cleaning charm. "I was at a party sir," he said, "a Halloween party. People were smoking."

Kingsley's grave face broke into a small smile. "So you did go out and enjoy yourself? Am I right in saying that you're a bit pissed Weasley?"

Percy opened his mouth. He considered lying but it was useless. He was drunk to high hell. "Yes sir. I'm sorry but I didn't expect to get called in. I was at a Halloween party. Audrey Sheppard's party, actually..."

"You went out drinking with Harry Potter's lawyer?!"

Percy gulped. "Well, yes. Charlie invited me. Harry was there too, actually..."

Kingsley's widened in shock. "Did they see my patronus?" he demanded. "Christ Weasley you could have told me that first..."

"Oh, well," said Percy, swallowing and talking very quickly, "they did see the Patronus sir but they didn't know what it was about. They just assumed you had called me to the office to do some last minute paperwork. Nobody is any the wiser about what's going on...whatever is going on."

He congratulated himself on his convincing speech. It was hesitant, fearful and humble with just enough brevity to convince Kingsley that he was completely clueless. He'd feared that his drunkenness would act against him, make him less likely to lie. To his surprise, it made him better at it. It was the perfect facade for the internal terror seizing him from within.

Kingsley sighed. He looked miserable again, his body collapsing into his chair. "I'm going to be honest with you Weasley, we're up shit creek."

Percy gripped the edge of his seat. Keep calm, he told himself, keep calm.

He molded his face into one of polite interest. "Sir?" he asked, the perfect image of worry. "The officer that took me up here says they found somebody murdered. Is it our Auror?"

Kingsley nodded, his eyes closed. "Yes," he spat. "It's our Auror."

Percy gasped. "I'm so sorry sir. I can't believe it. How-how did it happen? Why is the fountain of magical breathern closed off? The Atrium looks like a crime scene."

Kingsley spoke through gritted teeth. "They found Muldover's body here, Percy. In the Ministry. They dumped his body in the fountain of magical breathern."

"But-but...what?"

"Whoever killed that poor man walked through the Atrium and dumped his body in the fountain. Nobody noticed for a while until a woman in magical maintenance came downstairs after a late shift and noticed that the fountain was the colour of blood."

Percy felt like vomiting again. This was worse than he'd thought.

"How could this happen?" he asked Kingsley in a terrified, very well rehearsed, voice. "We have security here! What about the night watchman?"

Kingsley snorted. When he spoke next it was with controlled anger. "The night watch man saw nothing," he said. "He was reading his evening paper. He heard somebody apparate into the Ministry and saw someone, a single person, walk towards the fountain wearing a dark jacket. Then he heard somebody apparate out of the building."

Percy mouthed wordlessly at Kingsley. Who had done this? Who had the confidence to apparate right into the Ministry and dump a dead body?

Who knew about Mrs Malfoy and Harry?

"This is going to cost us Weasley," said Kingsley. "We're going to have to take the hit. This is a serious security breach. The public are going to be terrified. We need to assure people that nothing is wrong."

"Yes sir," said Percy, swallowing down fear.

"I'm going to need you to work with Toby and the press office," said Kingsley. "I want a press release sent out tonight for the papers. I want to contact his man's family and meet them in person tomorrow. I want a message sent out to the public that this has nothing to do with Voldemort. That everyone is safe."

"Of course."

"There's something else though," said Kingsley. "It's bad. Very, very bad. Nobody in the press knows but they're going to find out eventually."

Percy's mouth was dry. He leaned forwards in his seat. The Malfoys, he thought, his heart thudding.

"There was a note shoved into Muldover's pockets," said Kingsley. "It says that Narcissa Malfoy was responsible for this man's death."

His heart was thudding against his chest. He felt all the blood rush from his face. His neck was suddenly stiff and immobile. He didn't have to pretend to be shocked this time. "What?" he hissed.

Kingsley shook his head, grimly. "The MLE have the note. They're going to do all sorts of tests on it. This is bad. It's very, very bad."

I will not react. I will not have a panic attack.

"Is it-Is it true do you think?"

"Course it's not true," Kingsley remarked gruffly. "Narcissa Malfoy has been under lock and key for four months. It's an obvious lie put out to slander her."

"Why would someone want to slander Narcissa Malfoy?"

Kingsley snorted. "God knows. There's quite clearly a war going on with different Death Eater factions. Before Voldemort fell the Malfoys were on the way out..." He sighed and rubbed his hands across his face. "We're wondering if it's connected to the Manor burning down. Doesn't explain why they kidnapped and murdered the poor man though. It's just rubbish in my opinion. Whoever killed our Auror is just trying to distract us with a false trail."

Percy swallowed hard. It felt like trying to lodge a large gumball in his throat. "It's terrible," he said. "I can't imagine what his family is going through."

How can I ever look them in the face?

"I'm going to meet them tomorrow. They're devastated. Muldover and his wife separated some time ago but he had kids." Kingsley was silent for a moment. He looked mournful as he stared at a space on his desk. "This sort of thing was supposed to go away when we defeated You-Know-Who. I don't know how long they want me to stay in this position but I made it my mission to make our community feel safe again."

Kingsley was described in the papers as a "divisive figure." A significant part of the community had supported Voldemort during the war. Kingsley, a former member of the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's man, was seen as the embodiment of everything wrong with the winning side. His blatant liberal agenda and reforms were sneered at by some.

Percy didn't care. As he watched his boss fret over the safety of the community, he knew that Kingsley was a good man, the right man to be Minister for Magic.

He would never forget the olive branch Kingsley had given him when the war ended. He'd been in pieces after Fred's death. His career and outlook had been bleak. Kingsley had recognised his potential, given him the chance to redeem himself and be a better person.

And you've shit all over that.

The combination of guilt and drunkenness was overwhelming. Percy had to look away from Kingsley,

He felt like he was being pulled in two different directions, two versions of himself wrestling in his brain. On one side, the ambitious part of his personality knew he was trashing his career and reputation by helping Harry, Audrey and Mrs Malfoy. The other side, the largest part of himself, wanted nothing more than the love and respect of his family. He was prepared to do anything to mop out the betrayal of the past, to make up for what he'd done.

"Percy?"

He blinked. Kingsley was staring at him, concerned.

"I was just saying that you can go back to work now."

"Oh. Yes. Sorry, sir. My mind drifted away from me..."

Kingsley frowned. "Can I be honest? I'm pleased you went out and enjoyed yourself...but you look awful."

"I'm, well, I'm a bit drunk sir. If I'm honest."

Kingsley let out a low chuckle. "Go have a shower in the mess and get back here. I need you sharp and fresh."

When Percy got to the door, Kingsley spoke again. "Percy, I don't want this to worry Harry, Ron or Hermione."

It was a few seconds before Percy turned around. "Yes, sir," he said. "I'll let them know that they have your support."

"This might-I'm not saying it won't happen-but it could interfere with the trial, especially if Narcissa Malfoy is involved..." Kingsley shook his head, "she's not though, so I don't know why I'm saying that. Let's hope we catch whoever is responsible soon. Then we can move on with this mess..."

The air in the room was tight and compressed. Percy said his goodbyes and left. When he was on the other side of the door, he leaned against it and took deep, gasping breaths. He felt like he'd been holding his breath under water for two hours and emerged, exhausted on the surface.

Standing outside, he could already feel his head clearing. The air in the open office was brighter and cooler. The dim hum of yells and shouts in the distance were soothing compared to the oppressive silence of the Minister's close quarters.

Narcissa's name had been dragged into it already. Somebody knew about the meeting and wanted the world to know. Somebody was gunning for them.

He hadn't imagined that things could get worse. Muldover's body was bad but of itself couldn't be connected to them. That letter was going to lead to questions, inquiries. It was the worst possible thing to have happened.

He wanted to run and send an owl to Audrey immediately, but that would look suspicious. He had to act normal. He had to play the game and stick with the plan he and Audrey had agreed. He needed to get going. He would try and tell her first thing tomorrow morning.

Get a shower. Get washed. Freshen up. Get a coffee. Get back here and start to figure out what's going on.

He wasn't just here as Kingsley's assistant. He was here as a mole. He was helping Kingsley and working to undermine him at the same time.

Could he pull this off? Was he capable?

Toby yelled at him to come over and help draft a press release. He nodded, straightened his tie and went over to help.

He had no choice. He had to do this.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Burrow

"Stop talking Ron. This is a stealth operation not a fucking trip to Hogsmeade."

"I'm just saying..."

Another voice. A much louder voice.

"Ron Ssh! Listen to George."

"Hermione," George's voice was terse, "we had an agreement that you would be quiet because you can't keep your voice at a normal level."

"Oh yes! I'm sorry!"

Loud sushing noises. A mumbling of 'sorry.'

"I was only saying," Ron whispered, "that the house looks empty. Mum usually has the back light on if she knows we're coming home."

Silence.

"That's a fair point. Little bro."

"I'm not just good looking you know."

To Harry the voices were distant, as if they belonged on another planet. While his friends were preoccupied, he was somewhere else. In his eyes he was living on a drunk version of the earth where everything tasted like alcohol and the sky spun on its axis at 100mph.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Charlie and George were trekking their way back to the Burrow in pitch blackness. It was early in the morning and they'd just managed to apparate outside the wards. It was, as George had said, a stealth operation. The journey between the wards and the Burrow was short, but involved navigating the marshy, wet fields that surrounded the house. It was so dark that Harry couldn't see his feet. Given how late they'd stayed out, they had to try and get inside the Burrow without waking up Mrs Weasley. She was likely to be furious when she saw how drunk Harry and Hermione were. It a difficult task to manage at this hour while sober, never mind drunk.

George, the sober one, was the leader and commander of the mission. Ron, slightly drunk and clutching chips that he'd bought from a local shop, was his reluctant lieutenant. Charlie was First Mate, his only job to hold on to Harry and keep him upright. Hermione was the liability, likely to talk loudly at any point and render the entire mission void.

Wands held in front of them like swords, Ron and George were navigating the difficult path back to the house. Every so often someone would stand on some nettles or trip up over a tree root and they would all have to stall.

Harry was only dimly aware of what was going on. His surroundings were blurry. He was unable to concentrate on anything except the horror of his reality.

He supposed someone else would feel sad. A man had died. He was the father of two children. Somehow, Harry felt numb.

He wondered if he had fallen into such a state of shock that his body had shut down. Muldover's death brought everything that he'd done with Mrs Malfoy out into the open. If someone, anyone figured out what had gone on down in the holding cells his reputation was ruined. The Weasley family would live in disgrace. He would be sent off to Azkaban without hesitation. Everything he'd ever wanted would be gone, all because he'd tried to do the right thing.

Somehow, his mind was blank. The horror and shock he'd felt at the party had evaporated. He felt neither sad or fearful. Harry wondered if everything would hit him when he got up in the morning.

His mind drifted as Charlie helped him walk across the field. He thought about what Azkaban would be like. He wondered what Muldover's children were feeling, if they were experiencing the same grief he'd felt as a child when he realised his father wasn't coming home.

He thought about the Forest. The way the light from the moon had diffused through the trees and the dew of the morning had clung to the grass.

He always came back to the Forest.

In hindsight, the alcohol had been a bad idea. At first, he'd felt giddy and happy. Then the gin had settled in his stomach and the happiness had been replaced by loathing and sadness.

Why did alcohol magnify everything? Why was every emotion overwhelming when he was drunk?

When they got to the Burrow, George and Ron opened the front door, did a recon check of the kitchen and gave the all clear for everyone to enter.

The Burrow was deathly quiet. The air in the kitchen was still, like the room was recovering from the activities of the Weasley family. The tap at the sink was dripping. Cups and plates were still sitting on the table. Mr and Mrs Weasley had clearly gone to bed hours ago.

Forming a single line, the group walked tentatively up the stairs. Ron and Hermione took over from Charlie and guided Harry to his room. Ron put one hand on Harry's back and Hermione took his hand. Together, they managed to maneuver him up the steps.

Harry fumbled with the door handle for a few minutes until Ron stepped in to help. When the door flung open he tumbled through the door frame, knocking his shoulder off the wood.

"Right, get into bed."

Harry nodded, stepping forward and throwing himself face first on the bed. He groaned as his stomach lurched and the room began to spin.

"Shouldn't we, you know, undress him or something?"

Harry didn't have to be looking to know Ron was throwing Hermione an incredulous look.

"What? I'm just saying!" Hermione hissed. "He's wearing his shoes for goodness sake!"

"Good point."

Harry felt hands grab at his feet and tug off his trainers. Softer, smaller hands pulled at his coat and pulled his jacket off his back. Then, after some whispered arguing, he felt Ron and Hermione gently pull his jumper over his head. He didn't respond or communicate. All he wanted was sleep and the comfort of the mattress.

They tucked him into bed, Hermione pulling the covers up to his shoulders.

"Are you going to be alright?" asked Ron, his voice gruff.

Harry lifted his head. Hermione and Ron were standing over him, a slither of their faces visible in the dim light. Ron was eyeing him with the same irritable, suspicious look he'd worn earlier in Audrey's bathroom. Hermione looked worried and was clutching Ron's arm.

"I'll be fine," mumbled Harry, rubbing his face. His voice was slurred and gritty.

"Are you sure?" asked Ron. "Tonight's been pretty fucked up, for all of us."

Harry nodded. He didn't feel fine, but he couldn't tell Ron that. He felt like crawling into his bed and never coming out again.

"Do you think you'll be sick?" said Hermione. "I can conjur up a bucket?"

Harry shook his head. His eyes were getting heavy. His shoulders were relaxing...

"You-you don't seem like yourself these days," said Hermione, hesitantly. "We're all a bit worried to be honest."

"I tried asking him earlier," Harry heard Ron mutter. "He won't tell me a thing."

Harry sighed and pushed his face into the pillow. "M'fine," he said, his voice muffled. "I'm great."

He wasn't ready to talk to them yet. He was drifting off to sleep. He could smell, dirt and rain and blood. His mother was looking at him, she was smiling.

"Harry?"

"Mmmfine you two. Night."

He could feel their eyes watching him. They were whispering, arguing, but he couldn't make out their words.

Somebody gripped his shoulder. "Night Harry."

They left, shutting the door behind them.

The room was still and quiet, cloaked in the thick, black blanket of the night. There was no sound other than soft footsteps. Harry drifted off into sleep, his mind on his mother eyes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx