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Summary:

When Harry was forced to leave his house because he couldn't take the things happening there any longer, he realised he'd need to ask for help from the best curse breaker the Ministry had to offer—Draco sodding Malfoy.

He knew it wouldn't be easy, but nothing could have prepared him for what happened after he finally jumped over his own shadow.

A story about an unsolved mystery, a few minor accidents, and finally finding a home.

Notes:

Dear nerakrose,
I got the message that my assignment changed very late, and feared that I wouldn't find another match. But then the mods sent me the link to your sign-up and I got very excited! Not only that it fit, but that I could also change and twist a few things here and there to make the whole story better!
I really do hope that you'll be just as excited as I am, and that you'll like this fic that gave me the opportunity to dive right into the magical world in a way we obviously both enjoy.
Have fun with this!

Thank you to my betas keyflight790 and drarryismymuse, without your help and constant cheerleading I wouldn't have been able to finish this!

And thank you to the lovely corie who helped me with the britpick; thank you for helping me sort out my potted plants and nightstands!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Prologue

"I swear, something is wrong with my house. Either the pipes, or the static, the electricity—maybe all of it. It feels like Peeves himself moved in with me but the requested help from the Observation and Registration of Annoying Liaisons said there is nothing. Not even a tiny spirit to be found. So why can't I take a single shower without freezing to death one second and burning myself the next? Or sleep? Do you know the last time I slept for more than a few hours without being woken up by creaking stairs?" Harry was slightly out of breath by the time he ended his rant and looked across the table where Ron looked compassionately at him.

"You can always sleep here until this is sorted," Hermione said over a spoonful of stew.

"But I want to sleep in my house, Mione. I built it, I love it, so why is it terrorising me?"

"Mate, you know there are only two options. Either you move back in with us, or you ask him for help."

"My house isn't cursed, Ron. I don't need a curse breaker, especially not Malfoy. I’ve only lived there for half a year and it was perfectly fine in the beginning. Besides, he would never help me. Every time we have to work together it ends in a small catastrophe."

"Oh come on, you saved his life at Hogwarts. Now he can help you save Niffler's Den before it kills you," Ron huffed.

"It's been eight years since Hogwarts, and my house won't kill me."

"Probably not your house," Hermione said, looking worried. "But you are always tired and on edge and that's lethal in your position. You have to be well rested if they send you on a mission, and you're everything but."

He knew Hermione was right, but that didn't make it any better. Just the thought of asking Malfoy for help annoyed him beyond all means.

After a moment of silence, however, Harry had to give in with a loud sigh. "Fine. I'll do it. I'll ask Malfoy for help next time I see him at the Ministry. The sooner, the better."

"Good," Hermione said, visibly relieved. "Will you come to the Leaky tomorrow? Parkinson and Theo will be there too. It'll be nice. And maybe Malfoy will come with them."

"I'm not asking Malfoy to take care of my house while he's out with his friends!"

"Our friends, Harry. We're even invited to their wedding. It's about time you get over your childish rivalry and stop behaving like we're still in Hogwarts. Like you said, it's been eight years."

Harry looked at Ron, hoping for some kind of help from his side but he only shrugged before helping himself to a second bowl of stew.

"It's not like back at Hogwarts," Harry grumbled. "We both know that. It's just that he's an annoying git who still thinks everyone should worship the ground he walks on just because it's him. And he's not happy that I'm not falling for his tricks like everyone else who wets their pants whenever he's around because he's so charming and funny my arse. Kreacher has a better sense of humour."

"Oh, how is Kreacher?"

"Old. And bitter. He's not enjoying his retirement. His last card was a picture of a dying rosebush and the message that even though he was nearly blind he was still a better cook than whichever fool did the cooking at the retirement home you founded, and yet another wish to finally behead him. Preferably before his next dinner."

While Ron burst out laughing, Hermione only rolled her eyes, pushing her empty plate away. "I visited the home last month and found him organising a betting pool of some kind. He's more than happy there, no idea why he's pretending to hate that place."

"Because it's Kreacher. You know that saying 'being nice won't kill you'? I bet for him being nice for more than a few minutes would be lethal."

"Just like you with asking Malfoy for help. One could think it's lethal the way you always behave even though everyone knows that you're only annoying each other that much because of the unresolved sexual tension."

"What?" Harry spluttered, staring at Hermione with wide eyes while Ron hollered loud enough that it became too hard to hear his own thoughts. "There is no such thing as that, Hermione!"

"Sure. So will you stay here for tonight or try with Niffler's Den?" Hermione asked, amusement written on her face.

"I'll go home and sleep in my own bed, ta!" Harry grumbled. There was no unresolved sexual tension between him and Malfoy. There was nothing between the two of them. And Harry would be doomed if that changed anytime soon.

After Harry had helped clean the kitchen he said his goodbyes and left his friends’ cosy house to Apparate home.

As always, when he landed at the small gate in front of his garden a smile crept over his face. He still couldn't believe that this piece of land was his own. Everything from the trees he had planted to the chimney on top of the small cottage was his, and every time he thought about how he put this together, seed by seed, rock by rock, his heart swelled in his chest.

Looking at the cottage in front of him, Harry couldn't help but hesitate a second before stepping through the gate. Sending a fertilising spell over his garden, he walked up to the front door and opened it, peering into the darkness inside as if something would jump him any second. But nothing happened.

Sighing, he walked in and toed his shoes from his feet before making his way into the living room. Switching on the lights, he threw himself onto his sofa, enjoying a few minutes of silence before he had to start his nightly routine and get ready for bed. He just had to take care to not fall asleep before he got to bed, otherwise he'd miss his alarm and be late for work tomorrow.

If he was late on a Friday, Auror Robards would make him work the following two weekends and he wasn't too keen to do that. It wasn't that he didn't like his job, he just appreciated having two days off without a mission or a stakeout.

It wasn't even two hours after he finally had dragged his tired body to bed that his house decided to end the night early. Loud noises from the staircase made Harry jump up with a start, absolutely sure he'd have to face a burglar any second. Grabbing his wand from his bedside table, Harry got up and pointed it at the door, ready to hex whatever was coming his way out of his house.

Listening to the heavy steps, Harry tried to guess how big the thing coming his way was. The creaking and groaning coming from his stairs made Harry shiver, knowing that whatever it was had to be a lot bigger and heavier than him, even if it didn't make any sense. How did this thing get into Harry's house in the first place? It sounded big enough that it must have had trouble fitting through the door.

The noises suddenly stopped with a loud thud, and Harry let out a shaky breath, waiting for the thing to come crashing through his door.

But nothing happened.

Hesitating for a moment, Harry slowly crept to the door and opened it carefully to glance out into the small hallway, expecting to find a troll or something similarly horrible waiting for him.

But the hallway was empty. Everything looked like it always did. A sad houseplant in the corner and the other doors, hiding his guestroom and the bathroom, were closed as was the case most of the time. He couldn't find or hear anything off. Nothing out of the ordinary. Closing his door, Harry tried to shake the tension off. This was just another of those strange happenings that occured in his house.

He didn't mind the first few times that stuff like that had happened. Whatever this was, it had started out small, noises he couldn't explain, small inconveniences here and there, water changing temperature so it was slightly annoying. But whatever this was, it got worse with every day passing.

A bang coming from his kitchen made Harry jump into next week. Letting out an exasperated scream, he grabbed his uniform and something casual to wear before Apparating straight into Hermione and Ron's guest room. They were right. He needed help before things got worse, there was nothing left he could do against this on his own, and there was only one thing left that he hadn't tried yet. He had to ask Malfoy for help.



Chapter 1

"You look like shit, mate."

Dropping his head with an audible thud onto the table, Harry groaned and held his hand up to take the coffee Ron offered him. Even though he left Niffler's Den in a hurry to get at least some rest, he still wasn't able to get to sleep for hours. Adrenaline from the scare kept rushing through his body, keeping him away from any rest he could get. He didn't need to hear it from Ron to know how tired he must look.

"Don't know what you're talking about," Harry said, letting out a huge yawn. "I'm the image of blossoming life today."

"Was it that bad?" Hermione asked, trying to tame her hair by tying it into a massive bun.

"Worse than ever before. I thought a troll had broken into my house and was out to kill me."

"So you're going to—" Hermione started but Harry didn't need to hear the rest of the sentence to respond.

"Yes, I'll ask him today. I can't wait for that conversation to happen." Emptying his mug, Harry got up and looked at his friends. "I'd better be going. The sooner I can ask him, the better."

"Good luck, mate! I bet it won't be that bad!"

"No, it'll be worse. See you guys later."

Stumbling out of the Floo at the Ministry, Harry turned left and instead of going to his office, he went straight to the Office for the Removal of Curses, Jinxes, and Hexes to find Malfoy. He was probably charming Mrs Deeds, just to be the first one to get one of her 'finally Friday brownies'. And sure enough, when Harry rounded the corner Malfoy was emerging from Mrs Deeds' office, munching happily on a brownie.

A smug grin crept over his face as he spotted Harry walking towards him, "Too late, Potter. I won again. First brownie is mine, as always."

"I'm not here for a brownie, Malfoy. At least it's not my priority at the moment. I was looking for you."

"What do the Aurors need this time?" Malfoy asked, rolling his eyes. "And why always on a Friday?"

"Actually it's not the Aurors. Look, can we go to your office for this? I don't want anyone listening in."

"Oh Merlin, what did you do this time, Potter?"

When Harry didn't answer, Malfoy sighed, exasperated, and led the way to his office, waiting for Harry to come in behind him before pointing his wand at the door to spell it closed.

"Spill it, Potter, what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything! I'm here for help. And yes, before you ask, I’ve tried everything else. That's why I'm coming to you now."

"Why so defensive, Potter? All of this sounds very much like you did something stupid, once again. And now you need someone more competent to help sort out your mess."

"It's not—!" Harry was about to lose his nerve. He’d known beforehand that this wouldn't be easy; nevertheless, he wished he could punch the smug look from Malfoy's face. Taking a deep breath, he tried again. "Look, I don't know what's going on, but my house hates me. I got the Ministry in to check if it's haunted, tried everything I could think of to see if there is an active curse on it, even asked Hermione to come over and poke around. But nothing has helped. All attempts to find out what's wrong with my house have turned up negative. And I really need your help, because—"

"Because?" Malfoy asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest, clearly amused at where this was going.

"—because you're the most competent person I know in this department," Harry said through gritted teeth. "And because I really love my house, and I don't know what's wrong with it."

"Now now, Potter! Wasn't so hard was it? I'll think on it. You may go back to your department now."

"You'll—think on it?" Harry asked, not trusting his own ears.

"Yes, Potter, I'll think on it. I'm a busy man you see. I'll let you know if I can find the time to put your house somewhere in my schedule."

"Great! I'll just stay at Ron's forever then because my house is definitely trying to kill me!"

"Good that you have a place to stay then. Goodbye, Potter."

Harry felt himself being pushed out of the office, and he'd have been impressed by this obviously self-made, not-so-subtle piece of magic, if he wasn't so angry about Malfoy's answer. How could the git say he'd think about it when it was clear as day that Harry had to be in deep trouble before coming to him?

Stomping to his office, Harry threw the door behind him shut before dropping into his chair. Unbelievable. That was what this was, absolutely unbelievable.

Looking at the neatly stacked pile of files on his desk, he groaned loudly, not sure if breaking into tears at work would be enough of a reason for someone to send him home.

Opening the first of his cases, Harry skimmed the file quickly before getting up to investigate a burglary at Hogsmeade. At least he could get himself some treats at Honeydukes while he was there.

By the end of the day, Harry found himself in the examination room for Minor Injuries at the Ministry, under the watchful eye of none other than Pansy Parkinson.

"So just for the record, Auror Potter, how did this happen again?"

Harry saw that she could barely restrain her laughter, but he couldn't really be mad at her for it. If it was Ron sitting here, Harry would make sure he'd never forget it.

"I was called to investigate a case, file number Z96R12, attempted robbery." Watching the feather next to Pansy dance over the parchment to record his words, Harry braced himself for the rest of the story. "When I turned up at the scene I recognised it as a residential building, nothing out of the ordinary. An old man answered the door, Mr Mercure, he was the one who called for aid. Turns out the teenagers next door were stealing vegetables from his garden, and when he caught them in the act they laughed at him and told him he should be happy they weren't taking more than a few snacks."

"What happened after you checked the testimony with Mr Mercure?"

"We went into his garden to check if the suspects took anything else but vegetables. Finding nothing amiss, we went into the house to discuss if Mr Mercure wanted to press charges against the thieves. That is where I accidentally dropped my pen while taking notes and this happened." Looking at his hand, Harry frowned at the unnecessary bandage around his knuckles. He'd have put a plaster on it and forgot it ever happened, but no, protocol said he had to go and visit Pansy.

"What exactly happened then, Auror Potter?"

"You're enjoying this way too much. When I bent down to pick up my pen, a dog I hadn't noticed ‘til then bit me on the hand."

"What kind of dog was it?" At this, a snort escaped Pansy.

Furrowing his brows, Harry glanced at the feather again. "It was a Teacup Chihuahua. It had hidden under the sofa I sat on and I scared it."

By the end of his sentence, Pansy's face had turned red from the effort of not laughing.

"Patient Harry Potter, Auror, bite mark on his right hand, caused by a Teacup Chihuahua. No traces of magic in the wound, chance of infection minimal. Healer Parkinson cleaned the wound, and put a bandage on. The wound had already stopped bleeding by the time the patient arrived at 7.30pm, time of accident about 7pm. Patient is advised to come back for a follow up examination if he feels increasing pain or heat in his hand. End of examination."

The second the quill dropped, unmoving, onto the parchment, Pansy burst out laughing and didn't stop for a couple of minutes. By the time she regained some of her control, tears were streaming down her face and she was clutching her stomach.

"Only you, Harry. Only you manage to get wounded in the field by a Teacup Chihuahua. If this gets out to the department, people will have a field day."

"You're always so reassuring. I don't know why I'm even friends with you."

"You can't see someone on a near-daily basis, trusting them with your deepest secrets and most embarrassing wounds, without becoming friends. Besides, you get to attend my wedding, where you'll get tons of free food and booze. So it's a small price to pay."

"A small price for you, or a small price for me?" Harry huffed.

"I think we both know the answer to that one," Pansy laughed. "Now, get out of here. We're nearly late for the Leaky. You'll come, won't you? You have to show everyone that you survived that gruesome beast’s attack."

"I'm also surprised that I survived my visit here."

At that Pansy slapped him over the head with her small notebook, and Harry couldn't help but laugh while leaving her examination room.

Flooing to Ron and Hermione's house, Harry called for Hermione to waterproof his bandage with an Impervius so he could take a quick shower before they had to leave to meet the others at the pub. It was only due to him being late already that Hermione didn't make a fuss about it, but judging by the look on her face, Harry knew he'd get to hear his share about yet another injury later that night.

After a quick shower, Harry got dressed and hurried downstairs where Hermione and Ron were already waiting for him.

When they walked out of the Floo at the Leaky, they weren't surprised to see the others already there, nursing their first pints.

"You're late!" Pansy called over to them.

Walking to their table, Harry flipped her off with his non-injured hand. "If my Healer in charge would have hurried up a bit, we wouldn't be late. How come you're already here?" Pulling out a chair he sat down.

"A lady needs her secrets, Harry."

"She got home and screamed at me to look for her clothes while she jumped in the shower," Nott huffed. "And she didn't wash her hair."

"So you're carrying all those germs flying around your observation room here, just to call me out for being late?" Harry said with a reproachful look, reaching for the beer Ron had organised them.

"My observation room is very clean, ta. The only germs flying around here are dog germs, and it wasn't me who dragged them in."

"So is that the reason you're wearing a bandage?" Hermione asked. "A dog bit you? This could have ended so much worse!"

"Hermione, calm down. There is no chance this could have ended worse. I don't even know why I have to wear a bandage in the first place. It's nothing, really."

"It could have jumped to bite your face. That's bad, Harry. You have to finally sort out your house."

"Granger, there is literally no way that this dog could jump in Harry's face. But you're right with the house."

"Dogs can jump higher than you'd think! Our neighbour’s Husky jumped over their fence without batting an eye."

"It was a Chihuahua, Hermione. It was tiny, and hid under the sofa when I scared it. Nothing happened."

Just as he had suspected, Ron burst out laughing the second Harry had finished the sentence. But before Harry could find a way to stop him, a snarled voice behind him made his brain freeze.

"You got bitten by a Chihuahua, Potter? On an official investigation? Sounds like you didn't exaggerate this morning."

Turning around, he found Malfoy standing behind him, a smug grin on his face.

"Why would I come to you of all people if I didn't really need help? I told you it's bad but you have to think about it!"

Sighing, Malfoy sat down next to Pansy, who gave him a reproachful look, but he only shrugged as if he had no idea how anyone could resent him for not saying yes straight away. "I'll help you, Potter. Pansy has somehow grown fond of you, it seems, and I don't want her to be mad at me. Not tonight, obviously. But I'll come by tomorrow if you go to the bar and bring me a beer now."

"You're a pain in the arse, Malfoy." Harry couldn't believe the nerve this guy had. But nevertheless he got up to get a beer for the git. He had to if he ever wanted to go back to his house again.

When he returned from the bar, Harry shoved the pint over to Malfoy with a frown, proud of himself that he didn't spit in it on his way back.

Deciding to ignore the git for the rest of the night, at least as much as possible, which wasn't an easy task when Malfoy seemingly wasn't able to do anything with some human decency, he leaned back and listened to Hermione and Nott, who were discussing the upcoming wedding.

A few hours later, and after Pansy had bribed him to buy new robes for her wedding, Harry dragged himself to the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron, tired from this day's events. Calling out the address to Ron and Hermione's home, he barely managed to get out of his clothes and brush his teeth before falling into their guest bed and into a deep sleep.

The next morning, Harry woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs filling the air and pondered for a second over why he ever wanted to move out of Ron and Hermione's house. He was still trying to remember why when Ron started to sing, loud and wrong, while clattering pans around the stove before falling into an off-key whistle and Harry instantly remembered.

It wasn’t like he didn't love his friends, but he appreciated a bit of silence from time to time, and there wasn't anything like that around here.

Joining Ron in the kitchen, he filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove before gathering some plates to set the table.

When breakfast was ready, Ron called for Hermione before loading their plates with food and sitting down opposite of Harry.

"Did Malfoy say anything about when he'd be at Niffler's Den?" Ron asked.

"Nope. I'll leave after breakfast and wait for him there, hoping my house won't kill me in the meantime. Knowing the git, he'll leave if I'm not there and I don't want to give him the opportunity to back out."

"Draco isn't that bad, Harry. He's just—"

Looking at Hermione, who’d just entered the room, Harry waited for her to finish the sentence. It quickly became obvious that she didn't know how to finish it and Harry snorted into his tea. "He's Malfoy, Mione. No need to find excuses."

"It's not that," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "I work with him nearly as often as you do. He has changed. It's not always easy, I won't lie. But I’ve come to appreciate him. He's very clever, and funny if you get his humour."

"I don't want to be friends with him, I just want to be in my house without worrying that its cursed, that's all. And he happens to be the only one who can possibly help me."

"Don't worry, he'll figure it out."

Staring down at his breakfast, Harry hoped Hermione was right.

When he finished his meal, Harry carried his plate to the sink before he hugged Ron and Hermione goodbye, already expecting to find his house in shards when he got home.

To his surprise, the house looked normal when he opened the door. Stepping in, he found everything neat and tidy. Letting out a relieved breath, Harry threw himself onto the sofa and turned on the telly while he waited for Malfoy to turn up.

A surprising bang from his kitchen made Harry jump up before he realised what it was. Sinking back into his cushions, he pulled a pillow over his head knowing this would go on for some time. Once his kitchen drawers took on a life of their own, there was nothing he could do to make them stop.

By the time his doorbell rang, Harry had a massive headache that promised to get even worse with the guest waiting outside.

"It's open, come in," Harry called out while massaging his temples.

"What the fuck is going on in your kitchen, Potter?"

"I told you, my house hates me!"

"Excuse me for not taking you at your word, Potter," Malfoy snarled. "You tend to overreact most of the time. It shouldn't surprise you that I don't take you seriously."

"I overreact? You're the most dramatic person I know and I am the one overreacting?"

"Do you want my help or not, Potter?"

Swallowing down his reply, Harry stared at Malfoy for a moment before he pressed out a "Yes."

"Good. You stay here and out of my way while I check the kitchen. Seeing that there's a lot of noise coming from there it's best to start with that room first to maybe stop the riot temporarily. And then you’ll have to show me around and tell me what’s happened so far so I can get a better picture of what's going on."

Nodding, Harry watched as Malfoy pulled out his wand before he made his way towards the kitchen.

Harry didn't even try to listen to the mixed noises of the banging kitchen drawers and Malfoy's mumbled spells; as long as it got better he didn't need to know how. A short break was everything he wanted after waiting three hours for Malfoy to arrive.

It felt like an eternity but suddenly everything around him went quiet. Relieved, Harry looked towards the door where Malfoy appeared shortly after.

"I don't know what this is, Potter. But I can already tell you that this will be a pain in the arse to get rid of. Would you mind showing me around now? The sooner we start the sooner I can finish this and leave."

"That's exactly what I want as well. You saw the kitchen and my living room already, so let's start with the dining room."

Showing Malfoy around, Harry tried to think of everything that had happened to give the git an overview of what he’d had to deal with over the last couple of months.

After Harry had showed him the last room they went back to the living room where Malfoy sat down with a serious look on his face.

"So?" Harry asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

"I don't know what's going on here. Could be a curse, could be something else entirely. Tell me something about the house. How old is it? How long have you lived here? When did these things start?"

Sighing, Harry sat in his armchair and massaged his temples. "I set the first brick for this house about one and a half years ago and made the finishing touches one year later, before moving in. After about three months, I noticed the first oddities here and there. Water turning hot or cold, stairs creaking, drawers which I knew were closed stood suddenly open. Stuff like that. I didn't think much of it at first, but it has gotten worse over time."

"I'll cast some general detection spells to check if there's anything I can do without a lot of work. I need you to stay away from me and be quiet while I'm doing my thing, but until we know what’s causing this, you're not allowed to leave the house while I'm still here. So, best you go upstairs and pick some clothes for tomorrow because I'm pretty sure there's nothing I can do today."

Furrowing his brows, Harry looked at Malfoy, who already pulled some vials and little trinkets out of his pockets. "What do you mean with 'you're pretty sure there's nothing you can do today'?"

"I mean, Potter, that this is a job that I can't finish within an hour or two. It might take me days to get this place under control. And I'm not doing that unpaid. No matter how much money you have, you'd be even dumber than I already think you are if you think I’d take your money for this. The Ministry has a nice little statute that says they'll pay for things like this if the health of one of their employees is at risk. So if my first instinct is correct, and believe me it always is, we'll meet in my office Monday morning, fill out a form and take care of this afterwards."

"Fine! I'll go upstairs. Just call me when you're done."

Harry bit his tongue at Malfoy's dismissive hand gesture and went to his bedroom, suddenly feeling like he was back in Little Whinging again and Uncle Vernon had sent him to his room for breathing too loud.

Throwing himself onto his bed, Harry pulled his pillow over his head to muffle his exasperated scream. He had hoped for an easy solution, hoped that if he got Malfoy inat least he could do something to fix his house. But what Malfoy said didn't sound like fixing his problems, it sounded like making them worse by involving the Ministry.

After bathing in self-pity for a while, Harry got up and started to gather some clothes and a new set of robes to take with him. He was just considering sending a Patronus to Ron to update him about the situation when Malfoy called for him.

"Good news first," Malfoy said after Harry entered the room. "I don't think your house, or whatever it is that's going on here, is out to kill you. Bad news is that I still don't know what's going on. Even worse news is that I really will have to come back here."

"So the only thing you know is that whatever this is, it's not going to kill me on purpose?"

"I don't know it, I only think it. As long as we don't know what this is, I can't promise anything," Malfoy sighed annoyed. "Did you pack everything you'll need ‘til Monday? You know what, I don't care. You’ve had enough time. Let's go, and don't forget to come by my office Monday morning so I don't waste more unpaid time on this."

With that, Malfoy strutted out of the room and Harry had no choice but to follow him if he didn't want to stay back alone.

Deciding not to go to Ron and Hermione’s straight away, Harry closed the gate behind him and went for a walk instead.

He knew that this wasn't the end of the world, but it felt like it to him. He had to tell himself that just because Malfoy couldn't find a solution straight away didn't mean that they'd never find a solution to get his house back in order. He wasn't like his father. Malfoy knew what he could do and didn't need to bribe his way up anymore to make a name for himself. It was the only positive thing Harry could say about the git. He wasn't entirely useless.

After walking for about thirty minutes, Harry decided he’d had enough. Looking around to check if he was alone, he Apparated back to the Rabbit Hole where Ron and Hermione were already waiting for him with a plate of spaghetti and a bottle of beer.

"So how did it go?" Hermione asked carefully as Harry walked in and flopped down on the chair.

"Well, he thinks my house isn't trying to kill me. That's the good news. Bad news is that he has no idea what's going on and that he wants to take this as an official Ministry job because he's not going to waste his time for free."

"It's his right to decide that, Harry. Even though I'm sorry to hear that you have to wait another few days before making some progress on it…"

"Of course I know that it's his right! But it's still frustrating. I just want to have a quiet life for once but whenever I try, fate decides that I can't have that for whatever reason. And that's exhausting. I'm exhausted, Hermione."

At that Ron snorted. "Only a few hours with Malfoy and you already sound like a melodramatic git. He's rubbing off on you, mate."

"He's most definitely not rubbing anywhere, thanks a lot. You're such a great friend, Ron. Honestly." Rolling his eyes at Ron, who was currently choking on a spoonful of spaghetti, Harry took a sip of his beer and waited for him to finish dying before looking back at Hermione. "He wants me to come to his office first thing Monday morning so we can hand in the forms and start working on Niffler's Den."

"Yes, that's the standard procedure. You better owl Robards after you eat. He has to know that you won't be available for a few days. Oh, and while you were gone, Pansy was here. I promised her I’d let you know that you can take your bandage off, but you have to keep your hand clean and check for infection."

"That dog didn't do any damage, it merely grazed my skin! What is this fuss about? I’ve had worse while chopping onions!" Harry felt the headache return and closed his eyes for a few seconds. When he opened them again he saw that both Ron and Hermione had red faces from their attempt not to laugh at his outburst.

"Could be worse mate," Ron coughed to stifle a very obvious laugh. "At least you didn't get rabies from that brutal beast."

At that Hermione couldn't hold back any longer. Breaking down laughing, Hermione didn't even try to stop herself. Harry knew that it really had to be one of his most pathetic accidents if even Hermione couldn't keep herself from laughing.

"You're the worst." Digging into his spaghetti, Harry tried to finish his plate as fast as possible so he could get up and send a note to Robards. Maybe if he was lucky for once, he could spend the rest of the day finding a small group to play a friendly game of Quidditch at the Burrow tomorrow. That way he didn't have to sit in his small guest room and wait for the day to be over.