Shadow Walks |h.p/h.g|

ch. 3

Harry Potter strode down the corridors of the Ministry at a rapid clip, his navy Auror robes billowing impressively behind him. It was about an hour early for his lunch break, but Luna had sent him an urgent memo that had fluttered vehemently in his face until he had been forced to acknowledge it.

What he had read had made him slump in his chair until his forehead rested on the surface of the desk, swearing under his breath and crumpling the memo viciously in his fist. It had squawked in protest.

Ron had been removed from the team. Luna had taken a nearly incoherent Floo call from him, and then had scrawled the memo, obviously in great haste, beseeching Harry to go check on him. She said that they were in the middle of something important and highly classified, and her supervisor was already unhappy with the amount of time she'd taken off because of Ron.

She had sounded so upset that Harry had decided to run down to the Department of Mysteries to check on her before Apparating back to their flat to deal with Ron. He began to round the corner that would lead him to the door that had so often haunted his dreams during his fifth year, and crashed into someone else. He struggled to keep his footing, reaching out for support from the jutting corner, but he didn't have to look up to identify the person with whom he'd collided.

"Typical. Potter is a menace both in and out of his department," came a sneering tone that he had become all too familiar with many years before. "I guess like gravitates toward like - that would explain your continued association with that disgrace, Weasley."

"Malfoy..." Harry growled. "Get out of my way." He bit off each word, enunciating it clearly.

"What? Not even an apology for nearly flattening me? Weasley wouldn't apologize to me either, and you should've seen what he did to my robes." And your teeth, Harry thought sourly, able to detect the faint pink glow of residual healing charms around Malfoy's mouth. "Luckily, I happen to be a contributor to the British Quidditch Association, and ... well, let us just say that his manager understands the lay of the land."

"You got him sacked." Harry's voice was low and accusing.

"The fool got himself sacked," Malfoy said venomously. "A retarded Muggle child would know better than to cross me. Of course I wouldn't put it - "

"What did you say to him?"

"I was merely sympathizing with his ... er ... current state of affairs," Malfoy finished airily, as if he'd not been interrupted at all.

"I'm sure you were," Harry said, implying exactly the opposite. "He said you laughed at him."

"I tried to stop myself, but there's so much material," Malfoy responded with a jeer, obviously enjoying the brief hint of rage that flared up in Harry's eyes. He was fighting desperately to maintain control. "The pathetic sod was slobbering in his cups, moaning over the loss of the Mudblood. Such a great tragedy, that."

"You have no idea..." Harry struggled to get the words out, nearly trembling in anger and anguish. "And do not call her that," he ordered, moving so quickly to pin Malfoy against the wall that he saw a flicker of uncertainty and discomfiture pass quickly across the veneer of sophistication that the Slytherin usually wore. It was gone so rapidly that Harry almost thought he'd imagined it.

"You always get terribly agitated whenever anyone brings her up, Potter. And then there's poor, perpetually pissed Weasley... You know, everyone always wondered about the true nature of the relationship between you three," Malfoy said casually, seemingly unfazed that the most famous wizard in the world had a firm grip on his collar. "She must have been good, although you wouldn't be able to tell just by looking at her. Did she service both of you, or was it just - "