"I'm sorry, Draco." Brody was inflexible. The blond had found him in the main office, signing some police documents so that he could leave. "You can't take Megan."

"Why not?"

"Because she's already been placed with a perfectly nice family in Quebec."

"Quebec!" Draco blurted out indignantly. "That's in an entirely different country."

"I don't make the arrangements," Brody stated calmly.

"Then who does? Coleman Black?"

Brody shook his head. "He doesn't get involved at that level."

Draco brushed his hands down his face. "This is a nightmare."

"That's only because you've lost your objectivity."

"Thanks for the reminder, Brody. That's ever so helpful." Draco's attempt at a sarcastic drawl failed because his voice was thick with tears as he turned out of the office with Brody following.

Megan was still in the lobby where she'd been left. At the sight of Draco, she slipped off the chair, looking small and defenseless. "Its okay, Mr. Malfoy," she whispered. "Mr. Paine's doing what he has to."

The tears Draco had been fighting slipped past his lashes, burning hot. The sight of Harry handing a file over to the dispatcher didn't help any. The blond knelt down and put his arms around Megan's thin shoulders. How quickly he'd let the girl under his skin. "You can call me, or write. It's probably too far to owl, but the muggle post will get it to me."

Megan hugged him back. "I don't think they'll allow that," she whispered sadly. The young girl stepped back, her chin trembling. "Thank you for my blouse. It's the nicest thing anyone's given me since...since..." She broke off, looking down at her feet.

Brody muttered something under his breath and surprised everyone when he picked Megan up. "Come on, kid, before we're all crying in our soup." He tossed Megan's coat around her shoulders and carried her out of the police office. Megan's solemn eyes looked over his shoulder and she lifted her fingertips in a small wave. The door closed behind them as they disappeared into the night.

Draco covered his face and when arms surrounded him, he turned against Harry and let the tears come even though it was the Gryffindor who held him and even though he normally would have been mortified to show such a weakness in public. He just couldn't control himself any longer.

Harry's hands smoothed down the blond back. "I'll take you home."

The words just made Draco cry harder. Like Megan, home for him was not here in this muggle world, it was somewhere else; somewhere the blond was no longer welcome. He felt as if a piece of his identity was missing and had been missing for a long time, but he had no idea how to get it back.

Harry finally let go of Draco long enough to push a wad of tissues in his hand and wrap his coat around his shoulders pretty much the same way Brody had done with Megan. Then he nudged the Slytherin outside and into the cruiser he'd left parked outside the door, saying a quiet goodbye to Ron who had turned to go into the office that had the direct link to the Ministry of Magic.

When he parked behind the blond's house, Draco's tears had slowed, leaving him feeling numb and empty. Not even the tight lipped expression he got when Harry pushed open the unlocked back door made an impression on Draco. The blond tossed his coat on the kitchen table and walked through the darkened house, dropping down on his bed.

A moment later, the mattress dipped as Harry sat beside him. "Draco..."

"Go away, Potter," Draco sniffed quietly, laying back and throwing one arm over his eyes. He was so tired. Harry was silent, torn between leaving and staying.

Draco's eyes burned as he moved his arm enough to look at the Gryffindor. "Please go, Harry. I can't take any more tonight," he said in a lost voice.

Harry slowly pushed himself to his feet, but didn't move to the door. Instead, he moved to the end of the bed and lifted Draco's foot, slowly pulling off his boot. He set it on the floor beside the bed.

Draco swiped his cheeks with the heel of his hand.

Harry pulled off the other boot and set it next to the first. Then he unfolded the blanket at the foot of the bed and slowly drew it over the blond wizard. His hand shook as he smoothed down butter blond locks. "I'm sorry. There're so many reasons that I'm sorry," he sighed, no longer just talking about the young girl.

Draco should have been out of tears, but they filled his eyes.

Harry walked to the doorway, stopped once more and looked back at the fragile person on the bed.

"I'm sorry," he apologized again before finally leaving.

--------------------

Harry walked through the halls of the Ministry of Magic towards Rufus Scrimgeour's office. He found the tawny haired man, looking tired and worn, leaning back in his chair behind his desk.

Rufus's eyes tracked his Auror's entrance and watched silently as Harry paced the room like a caged dragon. Finally, The-Boy-Who-Lived stopped, placing his hands on the desk before him and looked the older man head on in a direct manner. "I quit."

Scrimgeour eyed the young wizard. He wasn't surprised, really. Potter had made no bones about the fact that he didn't like the way things were run and the older wizard was just getting too damned tired and too damned old to try and convince Harry to stay. "Sure you want to do that?" he asked in a resigned tone.

Harry wasn't sure about much of anything, anymore. "Yeah," he stated after a short pause.

"Shame," Scrimgeour murmured. "I was hoping you would find a reason to stick with us."

"I think I've done enough," Harry responded. He tried to keep his anger out of his voice. Hell, he had defeated Voldemort for fucks sake. He had chased down and caught almost all the errant Death Eaters. He had made the wizarding world safe. What else did they want from him? Suddenly, a vision of him chasing after Snape endlessly came to his mind and he found he just didn't feel like continuing after the Potions Master any longer, especially if it meant losing Draco, again. Let someone else chase after the greasy git, he was done.

"Why? Because you followed a lead that didn't pan out?" Scrimgeour questioned.

It was a gross simplification of all that Harry had, and hadn't done. "You can just send out another Auror. I'll make sure they get all the information I have." Harry turned and walked out the door, returning to Little Whinging with a loud pop.

When daylight rolled around a few hours later, Harry was still awake, sitting in his kitchen while his son and the babysitter were sleeping soundly in the rooms on the floor above him. At least he had assumed he was the only one up and about.

Bundled in a thick robe that she had brought with her, Genma Scalise hobbled into the kitchen and stopped short at the sight of him. "I didn't realize you were here. I didn't hear your vehicle come home last night."

She wouldn't have, Harry had walked home last night.

The older woman sat down at the table across from him.

"Eli and I will be leaving," Harry informed the woman.

"Oh? I thought you liked it here," Genma returned, slightly confused by her employer abrupt confession.

"Coming here was a mistake. I knew it and I came anyway."

"Sounds like you're running away from something. If something's wrong, I'd be willing to help," the old woman offered, reaching her wrinkled hand across the space of the table and placing it on top of Harry's in a comforting and motherly gesture.

Harry's emotions were raw and he couldn't resist that caring offer. "I screwed up," he told her.

Genma stared into his face, leaning forward in her seat. "It's very simple. Make it right."

Harry gave a sad, non-committal shrug.

"It can't be that bad," the old babysitter intoned. "Did you lie? Cheat? Steal?"

"Of course not," Harry stated.

"Well I'm not going to pry, but if you think you messed up somehow, you make it right." Genma gave Harry's hand a final pat and then clasped her hands before her on the table.

"Some things can't be made right," Harry sighed.

"So you face it and you apologize and you move forward." The muggle woman's voice was tart, but her eyes were soft. Harry had the distinct impression she'd have made a great Gryffindor. "That teacher, Draco is it? He loves you. Don't give up."

"What?!" Harry exclaimed, sputtering. Perhaps he'd been wrong; maybe she'd have been better in Ravenclaw.

"I may be old, but I'm not blind," the old woman stated. "I've seen your eyes when you look at him. You never look at anyone else that way, man nor woman. And I've seen his face when he talks of you. Your car being parked outside his house at all hours is a bit of a giveaway as well," she finished with her eyes sparkling as much as Dumbledore's ever had. "Now then, you go and talk to that teacher and sweep him off his feet."

Harry felt his face flush. How could this woman make him feel as if he was no older than his son? Amazingly, after the miserable night, the miserable day, the miserable years, he felt a smile tug his lips. He pushed out of the seat, feeling stiff from sitting there so long. "Thanks, Genma," he said. "I'm going to talk to Eli for a bit first." He pressed a kiss to the old woman's forehead and left the room feeling better.

Upstairs, Harry looked in on Eli. The boy was sleeping face down on the mattress, one foot stuck out from beneath the quilt. Harry pulled up the quilt and tucked it over his son's toes.

Eli mumbled and stuck his foot right back out, like it was searching for freedom. He rolled over and blinked blearily. "Am I late for school?"

Harry sat down, nudging the boy over. "It's Sunday."

That seemed an even worse fate than it being a school day. "You're gonna make me go to church."

Going to church had been the one place that Harry had been able to go to with the family when he was with the Dursley's. Vernon thought that a good dose of religion would keep Harry on the straight and narrow path.

Surprisingly, instead of being the punishment that Harry thought it would be, listening to the old minister had given the Gryffindor a sense of peace when he had been younger. He wanted his son to experience that as well and when the boy was older he could make up his own mind as to what he believed or didn't.

"There are worse things," Harry said as he eyed his boy. He was so much like Ginny. "How would you feel if we didn't go back to Ottery St Catchpole?"

Eli squinted. "Ever?"

"Not forever. We'd visit Grandma Molly and Grandpa Arthur and all the others, of course."

"You wanna live here?" the young boy asked, blinking. "For good?" Eli stared as his father for a few moments, thinking. "Are we going to stay with Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry stared back, slightly shocked. He was pretty sure that living with Draco Malfoy wouldn't have been a conclusion his son would have made. "What makes you think I want to live with him?"

Eli blushed and fidgeted on the bed. "You like him, don't you? Genma explained stuff to me. She says you're in love."

Harry jerked a little in surprise. "She does, huh? What do you think about that?"

Eli scrunched his forehead in thought. "It would be okay. Genma told me about boys liking other boys. She says it's not bad."

"This, uh, doesn't mean I didn't love your mom," Harry told the boy softly. He was feeling awkward trying to discuss this when he hadn't really been prepared.

"I know, Genma says that, too," Eli returned.

'Genma says a lot' Harry thought, relieved and irritated at the same time with the old woman. "So, would that bother you? If Draco were...in our lives?"

Eli rolled back over onto his stomach. "If it keeps him from making me stand next to Chrissy Tanner in the pageant, I guess its okay."

--------------------

It was about the last thing in the world that Draco wanted to do that morning, but he dragged himself into and then out of the shower, dried his hair and cast a quick glamour on himself to hide the circles under his eyes. He pulled on a white shirt, a green tie and a pair of black trousers, and took himself to church. If he didn't, he knew Dee would just come calling afterward to bug him about why he hadn't joined her as he usually did.

He would have driven, but his car was still parked at the police station. So, he pulled on his boots and walked. They were singing the first hymn when he finally got there, and he pulled off his coat and slipped through the narthex doors, quietly sliding into the pew beside his friend. Dee gave him a glance, then a second sharper one, before she handed over the opened hymnal she'd been holding.

Draco stared hard at the page, and tried to pretend he was unaware of his friend's eagle-eyed once over. By the time the service ended nearly an hour later, he thought he might have passed Dee's muster. But as they all filed out of the sanctuary, Draco felt a finger latch in the back of his collar.

"Not so fast," Dee stated. She had a smile on her face as she nodded and greeted everyone around them, more than a few of whom were part of her large family.

Dee waited until their pew was empty before she spoke. Even then she kept her voice low. "I had an interesting conversation with Pamela Rasmussen this morning. Why do I have to hear from her that you spent hours at the police station last night?"

Draco groaned internally. He had no idea that Dee knew the police dispatcher. "Pamela better learn to keep her mouth shut or..." The Slytherin mumbled under his breath, thinking of all the lovely hexes he knew.

"What was that?" Dee questioned. "Never mind," she said instead, shaking her head. "Don't try to hedge, Draco."

Draco tugged down sleeves of his shirt distractedly. "It was all a misunderstanding. I accidentally got in the middle of an investigation of Mr. Potter's.

"Mmm. So if it was all a misunderstanding, why do you have circles under your eyes?"

Draco flinched. Dee always seemed to be able to see right through him. He wondered about her ability to see though a glamour for a moment before deciding he must not have performed the spell well enough. "I'm just tired," he replied a bit sorely.

"Draco!" Eli was weaving his way through the departing people like a salmon going upstream. He finally stopped next to his teacher and seemed to be vibrating with energy. Maybe that was why his shirt was half untucked and he had a cowlick standing up at the back of his head.

"I can call you that now, right?" The youngster shot Dee a look. "Oh, hi, Miss Crowder."

Dee's lips twitched. "Hello, Eli. Who are you here with today?"

The young boy looked behind him. "I'm with Genma, She's out there talking to everybody," he complained.

Dee covered her mouth, hiding her chuckle. She shot the blond a look though; one that said their discussion wasn't finished. "I'll leave you in young Mr. Potter's fine hands here, Draco."

Eli grinned and held up his palms. "They're even clean," he stated proudly.

Despite himself, Draco smiled. He sat on the wooden arm of the pew and watched his friend walk away. "Didn't want to come to church, huh?"

Eli shook his head fervently. "Well, its okay once we're here, but I had to get up early and everything."

Draco nibbled on the inside of his lip. "I-is your dad here, too?" The boy would surely have known if Harry had been present in the church.

Eli shook his head. "He's at the office. So, do I get to call you Draco? Everyone in class is gonna be so ticked."

It ought to have alarmed the blond to see how much the youngster relished the idea, but Eli was nothing if not an energizing factor in the classroom. And no matter what had happened between his father and himself, he was crazy about the kid. "Well, I think Mr. Malfoy will still be good in the classroom," he admonished lightly. "But, yes, you may call me Draco in private."

The boy gave a choking laugh. "That's a good one." His head swivelled when he heard his name being called. "That's Genma. Gotta go." He darted off again, his shirttail flapping.

The church was now nearly empty and Draco picked up his coat and pulled it on with a puzzled grin on his face, wondering lightly what the young boy had been on about. He headed out the rear door rather than facing the gauntlet of people standing around out front drinking their hot coffee while they critiqued the worship service and traded gossip.

Walking back home didn't take long and he went in through the kitchen, only to stop short at the sight of Harry sitting at his kitchen table. Draco slowly unwound his old school scarf, trying to will his heart back into some normal rhythm. "What are you doing here?"

"Proving what happens when you don't lock your doors. Anyone can get in."

Draco slid out of his coat. He didn't want to recognize that he felt even more tired than he had before he'd left to meet Dee. "Taking your police duties a little seriously, aren't you?" the blond sneered. "Oh, that's right. You're not really a police officer."

"I'm also not an Auror. I resigned this morning," Harry told the blond, tossing his badge onto the table as proof.

Draco stared at Harry's face, looking for deception. "Why?" he finally asked.

"Because we're staying here, in Little Whinging, Eli and me."

Draco's coat was a bundle against his waist as he hugged it to himself. "So that's what he was going on about at church," the blond mumbled softly.

Harry's gaze sharpened. "You saw him?"

The Slytherin rolled his eyes. "I saw half the town," he countered. "Or so it seemed."

"What did he say?" Harry asked nervously.

"He wanted to know if he could call me Draco from now on."

"That's all he said?"

Draco lifted his shoulders. "Pretty much. What else should he have said?" the blond questioned as his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Nothing," Harry responded quickly, rising to his feet, looking oddly restless. "I just wanted to tell you. That we're not leaving."

"Okay," Draco replied with a bit of a shrug.

"Just like that...okay."

Draco wasn't sure how long he could keep up the façade. "What else do you want me to say? You're staying. For now. I get it."

"Not for now. For good," Harry proclaimed.

The knot in the blond wizard's chest felt like it was choking him slowly, painfully. "Right," he scoffed.

Harry exhaled a long breath. "You don't believe me."

"You're not going to be happy playing at muggle law enforcer for long."

"Maybe I won't be. Maybe I'll be the chief, maybe I'll be something else completely," Harry stated firmly.

Beneath the cover of his coat, Draco's fingernails dug into his palms. "What about your case?"

"It's still open, but someone else can chase down Snape now."

Draco pressed his lips together. "Why now?"

"Don't you know?" Harry stopped in front of the blond, tucked his knuckles under his chin and nudged the Slytherin's face upward. "Because Little Whinging is where you are."

Draco swallowed with an effort. "I don't need you feeling sorry for me, Potter."

"That's good, because I don't." Harry's thumb brushed over Draco's cheek. "I feel sorry about everything that's happened, but you're talking about pity and that I don't feel, except maybe for Chrissy Tanner because Eli definitely has a bee in his bonnet when it comes to her." The Gryffindor's half-hearted attempt at humor died.

"I'm sorry for what you lost. I'm sorry that I didn't even know what we'd lost, until now. I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you, but I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere again. Not unless I have to follow you somewhere else, and I will."

Draco's knees felt weak. "The past is over, Harry. You don't have to do this, trying to make up for it with typical Gryffindor stubbornness. It's done."

"There's no way I can make up for what happened in the past," Harry said quietly. "And maybe it's done, but neither one of us will ever forget it happened. Maybe you'll understand in time that I would have cut off my arm to keep from hurting you as badly as I did. But my staying here now isn't about what happened then. It's about us, now, here." The raven haired wizard lowered his head, brushing his lips over the blond softly and gently. Draco shuddered, steeling himself against the Gryffindor, against letting himself believe.

In the past, he'd barely comprehended how much he could love this man that used to be his enemy, and his heart had been shattered. Now, he did comprehend it. He knew, truly knew, what kind of man Harry Potter was. Draco knew, and he loved the Gryffindor all the more for it. He also knew that when Harry moved on, this time it would destroy him.

"It's about us from here on out," Harry stated softly. "I love you, Draco. I want to spend my life with you." The Gryffindor dragged the coat out from between them and closed his warm hands over the Slytherin's cold ones. "Say you'll stay with me."

Draco bit his lip and looked into eyes that were so green and so beautiful that they made him want to weep. He slowly pulled his hands free. "I'm sorry, Harry, but...no."

Harry's skin paled. He stepped back shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. "I can't say I blame you," he replied sadly, trying to hide his hurt.

Draco looked away, dashing his hand over his face.

"I don't want to make you cry, Draco. I never wanted that."

"I know." Draco pressed his hands to his stomach nervously. "I...just...I need you to..."

"Sshh," Harry soothed as he reached out and thumbed away another tear from the blond's cheek. "I know. I'll go." And a moment later he did.

Draco watched Harry close the kitchen door after himself, heard his boots walk down the steps. The blond stepped forward and slowly turned the lock, then he sat down with his back against the door and wept.