A Click (Patreon)

24th March, 2004.

High-heeled sandals clicked against the granite floor of the ministry's atrium as a blonde woman in her early 20s strode toward the ministry elevator.

She held a black envelope in one hand and a purse in the other. Her eyes took in the crowd of people spread across the atrium.

The elevator chimed as the green light on top of the structure lit brightly. It was still early morning, so not many employees were in the ministry building.

Still, the people present stared at her, at least most of them. A number of them looked down on the ground as she passed them, while a few looked on with hungry eyes.

She was beautiful. At the age of 23, her pale blond hair was similar to her mother's. Her high cheekbones, credited to her mother's family, were complemented by red, luscious lips and a good figure. It wasn't an hourglass shape, not with her diet and passion for Quidditch, but the curves were right where they should be.

Though her family name wasn't worth much nowadays, what with her father being revealed as a prominent ally of former Dark Lord, Voldemort.

Delphine Narcissa Malfoy was the apple of her mother's eye, yet her father wasn't too fond of her lately. The reason was her disagreement with him about public support for the Dark Lord. Her parents had ingrained the pureblood ideology into her, and her siblings from a young age.

Her younger brothers, Draco and Leo, had picked up the ideology readily and believed in it. It was also the reason that Lucius' eldest son was also a listed Death Eater. Both her brother and father were out of Azkaban due to the lie that her mother told the Dark Lord.

The lie that had saved Harry Bloody Potter's life. She should have strangled the bastard. He was a complete nightmare; the boy had defeated the Dark Lord twice.

He had made sure the second time that Riddle wouldn't return again, by any means. Her mother had lied for him in the forest; in return, he had helped them to keep Lucius and Draco out of Azkaban.

He was a celebrity in the public eye, the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived, and the hero of the second British Civil War. Yes, that was what the ICW called the war: a civil unrest.

Still, Harry Potter was a legend. A hero. He had completed his N.E.W.T.s and joined the Auror Corps at the age of 19. In three years, he was a Captain and the top contender for the position of Head of the D.M.L.E.

His record was impeccable: 30 captures, 14 exterminations, and 4 diplomatic missions in the first two years. It wasn't a guess who had taught him; he must have done a great job.

The rumor mill at Hogwarts said that he had been trained by Alastor Moody, the Mad Auror, and Albus Dumbledore. Nobody needed to be told about him.

Not only that, but Potter was also in direct contact with the Russian and French Ministries. The Veela daughter-in-law of the Weasleys was the daughter of the Head of the D.M.L.E. in France, and her being a good friend of Potter benefited him greatly.

Additionally, it wasn't a secret that Potter had dated Rubina Peltrov for two years during his fifth and sixth years at Hogwarts. And despite their breakup in the seventh year, they remained on friendly terms.

The girl is the current Head of International Magical Cooperation at the Russian Ministry, and she trusts Harry for advice from time to time.

But she wasn't here to recall Potter's past flings. She was here due to the envelope. Her focus returned, and she entered the elevator, pressing the button for the level on which Potter's office was.

The iron gates crashed as they closed, and the elevator jerked back before falling down quickly. The movement of the damn elevator was more erratic than usual, which made her already upset stomach lurch.

In a minute, she was deposited on the second level. She adjusted her dark green robes, shaking off imaginary dust and dirt.

She continued walking toward Potter's office. At last, she reached the door to his office, and by the flickering lights coming out from beneath the door, Potter was in his office as expected.

She had reached Grimmauld Place, but Kreacher had simply told her he wasn't there, in quite a rough tone. That was unexpected; normally, the old elf was all too happy to serve her, her mother, or any pure-blood guest.

But recently, he had been ignoring Narcissa's calls and refusing to admit anyone to the Black's townhouse without explicit permission from Potter.

She knocked on the door lightly before turning the knob to open the door; two pairs of eyes looked up at her.

Seated behind his desk, looking as if he hadn't slept for days, was the man she was looking for: Harry James Potter. He was an expected presence, but the other one wasn't. Seated on his desk, a folder clutched in her hands and a frown on her face, was none other than Hermione Granger.

Her arch-nemesis, her rival, and the woman she hated the most during her school years. The animosity between them had decreased over the years, but the mutual feeling of loathing remained.

"Malfoy!" The man said in a tight voice, eyeing her with conflicting emotions. There was a hint of suspicion in his eyes, but the nervousness in his voice couldn't be concealed.

She turned her eyes to the man behind the desk, the anger from last night returning tenfold. Instinctively, her wand was in her hand, and she pointed it at Potter.

Hermione took a deep breath and withdrew her own wand from her robe, already aiming it at her.

"You did this!" She gritted out.

Harry stood up hastily, shoved Hermione's wand down, and walked forward to stand between them, while her wand followed his movements.

"Put that down, Malfoy. We can talk about whatever it is," He said in a steely voice, but there was a hint of apprehension in his voice.

"What's there to talk about? You did this, you utter bastard!" She spat, taking a step forward, her wand now right in his face.

Hermione shuffled behind him, and he glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

"You should go, Hermione. We need to talk about this in private," He said it lowly.

"No way! Not with her threatening you like that," Hermione said.

"I will handle this, please?" He pleaded, still not facing her.

"Are you sure? I don't think so..."

"You need to trust me on this. We will talk about it later," He said confidently.

Hermione looked between them before frowning at his back. But in the end, she decided to accept his words.

She turned back, collected her folders and bag before storming out of the office, her wand clutched in her hand.

Meanwhile, Delphini had not lowered the wand to that point.

"Could you drop that?" Harry asked, waving his hand, and the door clicked shut behind her.

"I won't. You did this, and I'll kill for that," She hissed, stepping forward.

Harry didn't look concerned, though; he simply eyed the wand before sighing.

"What did I do? The last time we met was in the bar, and I don't recall doing anything that would upset you so much," he said.

"This," she said, throwing the envelope at his face. He caught it just inches away from his face. Damn those Seeker reflexes.

He eyed the envelope curiously before making a slashing motion with his finger; the envelope cut open. She could admit that she was grudgingly impressed by his wand-less skills.

He fished out a same-colored letter. The words were written in white, and they seemed to float above the letter.

"What's this? Subject A or Subject B? What is this letter about?" the Scarhead asked confusedly.

"It's a DNA test, magically carried out by a local healing clinic," She snapped.

"Oh, so mind telling me who these subjects are? And what does 96% mean?" He asked, looking at it with a critical expression.

"Subject B is me, and Subject C is you, and this right here," She pointed at the words Subject A, "...is the fetus inside of me."

"Congratulations, Potter. You've made me pregnant!" She snapped, stepping closer to him.

"I—I, What?" Confusion was clearly written on his face. "How? I mean we..."

"If you don't remember, you literally had your way with me a week ago."

"Hey, it wasn't like that. I never forced myself upon you," He protested vehemently.

"You seduced me," She accused.

"It goes the other way, normally, doesn't it, Malfoy? And I don't think you coming on to me was my mistake."

"You used your powers somehow and seduced me; there's no way I would have slept with you in my right mind," She exclaimed, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

Harry conjured a handkerchief and offered it to her.

"I don't need your charity!" she yelled, throwing the handkerchief back to him. "You did this. You seduced me."

"I didn't do anything like that. You were drunk and out of yourself, so I tried to help you, but you started kissing me, and then..." He left the words hanging.

"And then you used me, taking advantage of my drunken state."

Harry stepped forward. "I didn't. It was the next morning, when you were sober."

"You're lying," She hissed, but her ears turned red from remembering the next morning.

Yeah, that was one of the greatest mornings of her life. She wasn't a virgin by any means, but she didn't have much experience. Her only relationship was with Ashok Patil, the elder brother of the Patil twins. That relationship lasted for a whole year in her fifth year, and then he was out of the school and returned to India.

"I'm not. You know that," Harry said, bending down to give a wry smile.

"You...you.." The words fell out of her mouth as her cheeks reddened. Damn Potter and his boyish charm.

Harry diverted his eyes from the paper. The results were clear, and magical DNA testing was hard to fool.

"Where did you get my blood, by the way?" He frowned over the detail.

"You don't care where you let your blood go," she replied coldly.

"I actually do. After fourth year, I know what my blood in wrong hands could do. So, I ask you again, where did you get my blood from?"

Delphini's cheeks reddened further as she mumbled something.

"What? Can you speak a bit louder?" he asked.

"I snuck it out of the blood donation camp you attended a week ago."

"You were stalking me," Harry said in a teasing tone.

Malfoy's wand was already in her hand as she pointed it at his chest. "Don't be absurd, Potter. I wouldn't look twice at you if you were to pass by me any regular day of the week."

"Yet, you took out time from your busy schedule to torment me every so often while we were at Hogwarts," Harry replied with an easy grin, and Malfoy looked away with a huff.

"Although your annoyance is endearing, what should we do about this?" Harry asked, pointing to the envelope in his hand.

"We? There's no 'we' in this, Potter!" Malfoy retorted heatedly, snatching the envelope from his hand.

"I will handle this. I was merely here to tell you about this."

"Don't be foolish; you can't take care of a child by yourself," Harry replied, with anger evident in his voice now.

Teasing was a part of riling up Malfoy, who became quite the spitfire when angered. Harry liked that; he liked her.

It was a truth that he had accepted. Malfoy's personality was more like a Gryffindor than a Slytherin. She was sly, there's no doubt about it, but she was also brash to a certain extent. That's why she didn't side with Voldemort; his ways and ideals were too blurred for her liking.

It was her and Narcissa's deeds that had saved the Malfoys from a long stint in Azkaban. And she was thankful for that, because although Draco was a year younger than them, he was a right bastard. And Leo Malfoy was plainly strange.

"Don't doubt my ability, Potter. I am not a damsel in distress who needs your saving. I don't care what you say, I will birth this child and raise it by myself," She snapped.

"You misunderstood me. I simply don't want to put the whole responsibility of the child on you; I am as much responsible as you are," Harry said in a steady voice.

Malfoy still glared at him with those dull grey eyes, and Harry noticed she looked quite tired.

"Will you?" She asked in a suspicious voice.

"Of course, I will. I will do whatever I can to help you raise our child," He replied earnestly.

Malfoy's shoulders sagged with relief. She had thought he would refuse to acknowledge the child and would force her to abort. But she should have expected this; Harry Potter was too kind-hearted to do something like that—something that her father would do without a doubt.

Her father's thought awakened her from the relief-induced state. He was still to know about this, her mother too, and she didn't think they would like the news.

Harry waved his hand and summoned a chair to her. She glared at him but took the seat.

"So—yeah, I think it wasn't the right choice. But I thought you said you were on birth control," He tapped the bell on his desk.

"Master called Kreacher," The old diminutive elf appeared from thin air, half-bent due to his old age.

"Yeah, Kreacher. Two cups of tea, please," Potter ordered, eyeing the elf kindly.

The creature nodded, its face lighting up. It vanished back into thin air.

"The potions aren't completely safe; sometimes their effects wear off early," Malfoy admitted.

"Oh," Harry let out with a smile.

"You're to blame, Potter. If you hadn't dragged me to your bed that night, nothing would've happened," She said angrily.

"I wasn't myself either, If you don't remember. I was drinking with you and never figured that Boot, Brown, and Patil would leave us like that," Harry said.

"I did the right thing, as well as I could do."

"You seduced me, and I was foolish enough to fall for your fake charm," She replied with a grimace.

"It wasn't fake. I don't do that. Faking emotions isn't in my skill-set," Two cups of tea appeared out of thin air and hovered in front of them.

"Sugar?" He asked.

"Three," She replied automatically.

"You shouldn't eat so much sweet," Harry said with a teasing smile.

"Shut up!"

"So—yeah, it wasn't fake. It was the morning drowsiness," Harry admitted, taking a sip of his tea.

Morning tea is the best.

"Have you told your family?" He asked, placing the cup on the desk.

"No. I don't think father will be happy with it. Neither will Draco, for that matter," She said nonchalantly, but Harry could recognize the tell-tale sign of nervousness in her expression.

"I didn't think you talked to them. You gave off that expression while in the D.A."

"It was different. I was to become heiress of House Black, so it didn't matter much. But as you know, you are Lord Black, so I have to keep in touch with my father and brother," She placed the cup on the desk as it emptied.

The cups vanished the next second.

Harry nodded. "What's next then? What's your plan?"

Malfoy looked up at him with wide eyes. "My plan? I don't have a plan; I fucked up. I have to own it now. I want to bring this child into the world and would do it."

"Have you been to a healer? You should, right?" He asked.

"No, but I will. I need a healer who can hide this. I don't want the news to be public so soon that you're the father," She said with a frown.

"I think I know someone like that," Harry said, stood up, tracked back to his desk, and opened the first drawer on the right.

He ruffled through it for a second, his wavy, mussed hair falling over his face and his tongue sticking out. Malfoy looked away. There went her chance to remain apathetic toward him.

"Here it is," He yelled as he fished out a small green card with a white cross in front.

He retook his seat and passed it on to her. "She's a trustworthy healer. I know she has a history with your mother, but she's one of the best."

"Andromeda Tonks!? Are you kidding me?" She looked up at him suspiciously.

"Stop being so paranoid. I am not out to get you. She is the grandmother of my godchild and one of the best healers out there," Harry defended.

"I can't go to her because she doesn't talk to my mother. What if she uses this as an opportunity to get over my mum?" Delphini looked nervous.

"Please, she wouldn't hurt a fly. Or she would," Harry said, rubbing his jaw.

"She could be a bit vindictive, being Black. But I don't think she would do something like that."

"What do you mean by 'She's a Black'? Mind you, if you don't remember, my mother is also a Black," Malfoy gritted out, annoyed.

"No—I don't mean it like that. Don't forget that Sirius Black was my godfather," He lifted his hand in surrender. "It's just some of them are more passionate than others. Take Bellatrix as an example."

"That's an extreme example. Aunt Bella was a mad bitch. I think even mother feared her; she could snap anytime," Malfoy shuddered at the memories of Aunt Bella teaching her Occlumency.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Harry rubbed the back of his head nervously.

"What—is it that great hero Potter is apologizing? I think the sun has risen from the west today," Malfoy snarked with a grin.

"I am not that arrogant. It's you who doesn't apologize for her mistakes," He replied back, annoyed.

"Oh, yeah? I don't remember you asking for an apology when you cut my wrist with that Diffindo in Moody's class," She raised her hand, pulling the sleeves back, and sure enough, there were stitch marks from a healed cut on her wrist.

"You forgot that your interference in the potion class nearly cost me my left hand," Harry retorted. "I was lucky that only my pinky was removed, all thanks to Madame Pomfrey."

Really, the pinky finger of his left hand wasn't in its place.

"Don't blame your horrid skill in potions on me, Potter." Malfoy replied.

"You threw those rat tails into my potion while I was helping Ron," Harry pointed angrily back.

"I didn't."

"You did."

"I didn't."

"Don't lie. You did that."

"It was Pansy, not me, you big dumb loaf," She snarked.

"Don't lie. Hermione saw you throwing that—" His reply was interrupted by her insistent voice.

"Granger wasn't looking," Malfoy said confidently.

"Maybe she was mistaken." Harry let it out without any sort of sincerity in his voice.

"She was most likely." She replied icily.

Harry shuffled a bit. "Now, onto Andi, I think you should go and see her."

"I will see about that," Malfoy said, standing up, the air around her going stiff. Harry, noticing the atmosphere, stood and nodded.

"Meanwhile, this is just between me and you, Potter. If I get a tiny hint that you blabbered in front of that Weasel or Granger, you won't like my reaction," She threatened, but her being shorter than him looked like a petulant child, ruining the effect.

Harry nodded again, and the girl huffed and walked out of his office.

A terrible situation, actually. Teasing aside, Harry didn't have many people who would rebel against his decision. Malfoy, on the other hand, had a few relatives who would object to this.

He didn't envy her position at all. He sighed to himself. Due to her most recent threat, he couldn't call Hermione or Ron or even Neville to talk about this situation. He had that whole history with Ginny, and Luna was just Luna; half of the things she said didn't seem to originate in this world.

He liked to tease the blonde spitfire, but it became a problem when the girl literally started putting him on fire. She had tried that a few times; he still had the mark on his right cheek all because of his careless teasing.

No, Delphini was only a trophy wife on paper. In reality, she was a total spitfire. And now Harry understands why his father was smitten with his mother, who was just as impulsive.

(:-:)

25th March, 2004.

Harry wiped the blood from his face; disgust was clearly visible on his face. His eyes found the prone form of his victim, a magical child trafficker who had many popular clients across the world, even in Europe.

He was wanted by many nations across the map, and he was one of the top suspects for abducting a magical child from London. Harry crouched down beside him and began inspecting his pockets.

There were a few crushed cigarettes, a lighter, and a piece of parchment that seemed blank at first. He picked up the paper, which was probably a magical parchment to hide his crime. He would go through it the next day.

For now, he had to return to the office and hand over the evidence to the forensic team. "Flint, take this and hand it over to the forensics team. I want it back tomorrow; it's an important piece of evidence. I would like to inspect it more closely."

Flint nodded and picked up the evidence bag before vanishing with a nearly silent pop. Harry followed him, signaling his team to return. The work was done here.

Devon was assigned to bring the culprit's body to the interrogation room. His job wasn't done yet. He will likely work till late at night again, but this was necessary. The life of an innocent child was on the line here.

"Tie him to the magic-nullifying table. Wand out, Milsa. You'll heal him the moment I signal it; nobody interferes," He passed the orders in quick succession.

He shook off the black blazer, hanging it on the rack by the door. He bit his wand between his teeth as he folded the sleeves of his white shirt, a bit of Muggle torture to do good with such types of offenders.

Milsa didn't like it, nor did Bentley. But in their line of work, this was a crucial learning opportunity. Harry Potter wasn't just a revered hero; he was also a feared Auror. An effective interrogator on top of that.

There was a rumor in the Auror Corps that Harry Potter had personally interrogated Mulciber Jr., one of the cruelest Death Eaters, and forced him to admit his crimes.

"Wake him up," He ordered. Devon threw a glass of water at his face.

The man blinked out of unconsciousness, clenched his eyes shut, opened them wide, and looked around.

"Thap!" A slap to the face; the sound echoed around the room.

The man looked up dazedly, with a bloody mouth due to the previous beating Harry had given him.

"Dectecwive," The man mumbled dazedly.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." Another slap to the face.

Harry signaled to Devon, who brought his tool kit, a handkerchief dipped in sterilizing liquid, and a marble slab.

His face showed that he wasn't happy to be a part of this interrogation. Most purebloods have a very lavish lifestyle and avoided violence. At least, purebloods of today (or the present) are not as cruel or violent as those who used to support Voldemort.

Harry started by placing the marble slab beneath the man's left hand. The man seemed quite afraid to be in his company. He bent down to retrieve the screwdriver from his toolkit. He washed his tools with sterilizing alcohol on a regular basis; as a result, it was as clean as it could be.

"Now, Fredrick Block. That's your name, isn't it?" Harry asked.

The man didn't answer; he was too busy gawking at the screwdriver to even speak.

Harry frowned and pushed the driver hard against his skin. The man grunted, "Yes, I'm Block."

"That's like a good boy, isn't it? I ask you a question, and you answer me. Nobody's going to get hurt that way," He warned.

"Your area of work extends from Portugal to France, branching off into Britain. Am I right?" The man shook his head in denial.

"I don't know what you're talking about. You must have mistaken me for someone else," The man said loudly.

"Come on, Block. Don't make it tough for both of us. You work in these countries; they all have warrants against you, right?" Harry asked again, this time applying a bit of pressure in the middle of his hand, drawing out some blood as a result.

The man whined, not having the courage to tell Harry in front.

"I swear, I don't know anything about that. I am not lying; believe me," The man begged loudly.

"I'll tell you this right now: You brought this on yourself," Harry said as he drove the driver into his skin, piercing it. He quickly applied a wet handkerchief with alcohol on it.

The man's yelling rattled the windows of the room; Harry's companion looked on in disgust and apprehension. Magic could be used to cause much more pain, but it needn't be so bloody.

Harry's method, on the other hand, was swift and quick; it did make a mess but has worked efficiently till now. Fear is turned into excruciating pain with the help of simple metal tools. Alcohol applied to fresh wounds, especially deep ones, makes the pain much worse.

By the time he was done, the smuggler had spilled all his dark secrets. Who were his clients? How did he set a target? Where did he sell them? Price, consumers, demand, and his supervisor.

Harry knew he had struck gold. In his hand was a whole network of human traffickers, magical child smugglers to be more precise. His guess of the area controlled by this man was also underestimated. This man was the supplier for the whole of Southwest Europe, including Britain, Ireland, and Scotland.

Harry noted all of this, plus the information regarding other smugglers, their usual haunt, and their appearances. Even this man's supervisor won't be able to leave his grasp; he will catch the man eventually.

Devon was beside him, looking a bit peaked but noting the findings with urgency. Milsa has already excused herself out, after he had started using pliers. She had returned to help the man after a few minutes, but the screams had been too raw for her liking.

Flint had no such problem; he was the younger cousin of Marcus Flint, and could digest this much violence.

"Send two teams to Kelsey park, West Wickham. He's sure the child kidnapped from London will be auctioned there," Harry said to the current Head of D.M.L.E., Titus Slughorn.

"Two teams, don't you think that's too much, Potter?" His boss asked.

"The smugglers don't work alone. Also, we could actually catch the buyers if we were to send a third team. A team of Unspeakables could bring down any wards," The pot-bellied man nodded.

Surprisingly, Slughorn was a good Head of D.M.L.E.

He wasn't the healthiest of the Aurors of his time but was a good strategist. He worked neatly with Shacklebolt and didn't shy away from taking advice from his juniors.

Harry was frequently asked for inputs in the cases. Sometimes his advice was taken to heart, while other times it was rejected. But the man didn't stop taking advice from him; it was his way to motivate Harry to take the lead in strategies.

"Your plan sounds right. I will quickly dispatch two teams of Aurors as soon as I get the requested team from the D.O.M." The man said.

Harry sighed the breathe of relief; his duty was over today. The guys on night duty should take the lead for rescue; he was always on call for backup.

"You'll stay on moment's notice for backup. Answer your Floo if I call you. Dismissed." Harry gave a short nod, and exited the office.

He returned to his office. A wave of his wand, and his belongings were packed in his briefcase. A snap of fingers, and Kreacher swept them away.

He was about to leave through the Floo when a knock interrupted him. He frowned, looked at his watch.

It was fifteen minutes past ten, quite late for visits.

The door opened and in walked Delphini Malfoy, looking a bit teary and dragging a suitcase behind her.

Harry looked at her worriedly. He could count on one hand how many times he has seen the girl cry.

She didn't, not often. And here she was, looking every bit miserable and teary. He didn't ask any questions and simply led her to a chair.

A glass of water was handed to her, which was returned after she drunk a few gulps.

Kreacher was ordered to bring two cups of tea, and Harry used the restroom to freshen himself. When he returned, Malfoy was seated on her seat while the cups of tea were left untouched.

He placed her cup in her hand, and she started sipping it slowly.

"What happened?" He asked softly.

The girl looked up at him, back down to her cup of tea before placing it down on the table. "My father informally disowned me."

She said in a quiet tone. Harry winced. He knew how much Delphini treasured her family, especially her mother and father, despite their differences.

Him disowning her couldn't come at a worse timing. Her emotions were already high due to ragging hormones. Pregnancy hormones messed up the mood cycle of a woman. Add the rejection of her father to it, and Harry knew why she felt so miserable.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. This situation was getting worse by the day.

"Do you have a place to stay tonight?" She shook her head in negative.

"I don't currently have a place. I will contact Millie or Daphne tomorrow. They have spare apartments around Diagon Alley," She replied.

"You don't need to. Stay in Grimmauld Place. Considering your situation, it is not advisable to stay alone," Harry said, meaning it fully.

"No, I am not dependent on someone. I could buy an apartment in Diagon Alley, and stay there," She refused, determined.

Harry frowned, "Really, Grimmauld Place is too big for a single person, and I think Kreacher would love your company considering you're a Black from your mother's side."

Truly, Kreacher did his best to serve Harry, which Harry really didn't want. His time with the Dursleys had taught him to be independent. He could easily cook and clean, and never had any problem with laundry. But Kreacher was insistent on serving him, as he was the new Lord Black as per traditions.

However, the elf was too accumulated with Black family magic that his magic must rub him wrong. The Black family traditionally used Dark Magic; as a result, their core had adapted to store more magic as dark spells needed motive with magic to work properly.

His family, on the other hand, were light. Their magic was more secured toward using powerful but not traditionally dark spells.

So, Delphine's core, which was likely to be a bit more like Black. Add Malfoy family's inclination toward using dark magic to that, and you have a core that Kreacher would feel comfortable around.

Malfoy frowned, weighing her options. She didn't want to be dependent on Potter anyhow, but if she didn't have to spend her salary on rent then she could have quite the sum to use.

She was a Potioneer by profession, and a novice Potioneer earned very less compared to an Auror Captain.

Additionally, she didn't want the information that she was informally estranged from her family to become public knowledge, and asking for help from Millie or Daphne would easily do just that.

On top of that, she was carrying the child of the man in front of her. He surely had some liabilities toward her and their child.

"Okay, but you keep your distance. I don't want a repeat of that night," Delphine said.

Harry grinned, raising his hand in a gesture of surrender. He brought them down the next moment and called Kreacher.

The elf appeared with a pop, "Take Miss Malfoy's luggage to the third guestroom on the first floor and prepare it for her stay."

The diminutive elf nodded and vanished with her luggage.

"Did you have dinner?" Harry asked curtly.

Delphine's cheek reddened as she shook her head.

"Then we should retire to Grimmauld Place. My shift's over. We could have dinner there," Harry asked, throwing Floo powder in the fireplace.

"Grimmauld Place!" He gestured Malfoy to take the lead, who walked into the fire, vanishing the next moment.

Harry quickly followed her lead and exited in the drawing room of the Black townhouse.

"It looks different," Delphine said.

"I got it renovated. The wards are still intact, but the interior was refurbished. Also, I replaced all cursed furniture and artifacts with genuine replacements," Harry took the lead and led her to the dining room on the ground floor.

"How much did it cost?" Delphine asked, taking her seat just opposite Harry.

"Around 5200 Galleons, and some changes," Harry said as the food appeared on the table.

"Your taste is not too bad. It looks kind of fresh, if you really ask me," She picked the fork and spoon to eat. The table manners were taught to her by her mother.

"You don't need to follow all of that here. I don't do formal dinners often," Harry said, picking the chicken legs with his hand.

"And gulp down my food just like a pig? Never. You would like Weasley's nonexistent table etiquette, but I have standards," She rebuked.

"Your loss." He said, and kept eating in silence.

The girl was brought up in a posh lifestyle, and wouldn't understand the necessity of food. It was Harry who understood how hard it was to get good food. Nutritious meals were something he was unfamiliar with for the longest of time.

So, here he was, letting all etiquettes drop and eating in silence, comfortably. The girl maintained her posture for the whole meal.

Truly, his back would hurt if he sat straight for that long. His work required him more on field than sitting in an office chair.

His office was basically his archives of the cases he had handled, and the reports he has submitted.

The girl finished her meal at the same time as him. The utensils floated and deposited themselves in the sink.

"Kreacher, did you have your dinner?" Harry asked in the air. The old elf appeared and nodded in affirmative.

"Good. Wake me up at six in the morning," Harry said. After the sudden absence of nightmares after Voldemort's defeat, Harry used this an as opportunity to sleep long.

Alarm clocks were something he hated, and wouldn't use even if his life was dependent on them.

"And please show Miss Malfoy to her room." Harry left the room with those words, and retired to the comfort of his bed.

He had taken up the personal room of Orion Black. He didn't have the guts to sleep in the same room as Walburga and Orion did. So, he took up the room the latter used before his marriage.

The dark wallpaper in the room were stripped off, and replaced by warm blue wallpaper. The bed was replaced, and he added a cupboard, a trunk and a coat hanger for his comfort.

All in all, it was a very comfortable adobe for a bachelor like him. He settled under the blanket, and closed his eyes. He didn't know until when he could rest. The raid tonight could get bloody, and he could be called in.

As he predicted, it only took his boss four hours before his Floo was engulfed in green fire, and for Kreacher to wake him up.

"Wake up, Master Harry. Wake Up! Your boss is calling you, the Floo is active!" The elf said in a loud voice.

Harry woke up with a start, and pulled his bathrobe together as he climbed down the stairs to the drawing room.

There was smacking of feet behind him, maybe Kreacher. As he entered the room, he found his boss' face looming into the fireplace.

"Potter. It's urgent. The raid was a success, but the Aurors are stuck now as the culprits are far more in number. Your team has been contacted, they would meet you at the location." A parchment slipped from the fireplace.

Harry picked it up to read the address before burning it to crisp, "Get there as fast as you can!"

"On to it, Director." Harry said hurriedly as Slughorn's face vanished from the fireplace.

He turn around to hurry to his room but came face to face with a sleepy-looking Delphine.

"Malfoy, what are you doing awake at this hour?" He asked.

"I was not awake, you dolt. Your running around the house woke me up, I just came here to check on all the commotion," She admitted.

Harry rubbed his cheek, "I am sorry then, to wake you up. I am used to being alone, so I don't use a Silencing Charm. From now on I will."

"Yeah, please do that. By the way, what was all this about?" She asked, not too curiously.

"A case I've been handling, magical child trafficking among others." He said, walking out of the room.

"You should go and sleep. I am hardly going to return now for the day. Kreacher, bring me my gear, spectacles, and wand please." He requested.

His gear was in front of him the next moment, the wand placed on the living room sofa, and his glasses folded beside it.

Delphine turned the other way, as Harry redressed and placed the glasses on his face. "Give some warning, when you're about to do something like that."

"Apologies, old habits die hard. Bye." The man said, not apologetically, and vanished into thin air with a silent pop.

(_-_-_X_-_-_)

"Dive, you bloody idiot." Devon screamed as the spell-fire passed.

Harry was running away the next moment. He ducked under a red spell, and took a cover behind a fallen sofa.

"Expluso!" He yelled. The wall exploded in itself sending shrapnel around.

Harry was already protected by sofa, but his victims weren't that lucky. "Get them!"

His scream pushed his team, and auror team to move forward.

"Expelliarmus Forte!" The wide arc of spell-fire snatched away a number of wands toward him. While the team captured the culprits in thick ropes, and chains.

"Hands behind your back. On the ground now." The words faded behind him, as his job was done here.

He was the backup, and his team has done greatly by capturing the remaining culprits. He need not to stay for the report filing, Devon would do that on his bequest.

He crossed the room and walked to Devon, "Clean this all up, and file the report. Put a recommendation for anyone you notice doing exceptionally."

The man nodded, gave a regular salute, and got back to his job.

Harry flooed to the ministry from the nearest magical building. His quick steps brought him to his office, he sent a missve to his assistant for a coffee and sat down behind his work desk.

It wasn't untill eleven o'clock that a knock disturbed him, "Come in."

Hermione walked in a briefcase in hand, she placed it on the sofa chair and sat infront of him.

"So, what's with Delphini? She seems furious with you, not lik she isn't most of the time. But this time it seems serious," She asked with raised brows.

"Nothing that I cannot handle, some issue within her family," By the scowl on Hermione's face she didn't buy his excuse.