House of The Rising Sun

Chapter Twelve

Now

Draco kept his head high, his hand firm in hers, and felt every inch of power within his being as he walked through the Atrium. Ministry workers noticed him quickly, stumbling out of the way as if his mere presence were parting the seas.

They gawked and stared - despite the grime in his hair, it was all too striking, and Macaria's remarkable ability to shut someone up with a look - their shocked whispers still rang out in the large room.

"Is that Draco Malfoy?"

"I thought he was dead!"

"Who's that with him? Another Death Eater?"

"Malfoy!"

Draco's brow furrowed, his steps faltering as they neared the elevators. The final voice was distinct and for a moment he was ready to fling a curse, seeing the bloke in the blasted spectacles making his way through the crowd.

"Harry," Macaria remarked, looking as bewildered as he felt.

"You should come with me," Harry Potter himself beckoned, leading them toward a vacant elevator as a familiarly shrill reporter's voice came closer and closer. As the lift doors closed on the three, an uncomfortable silence permeated over its screeching rails and sways. Potter unsubtly glanced over at them, shaking his head slightly.

It was then that Draco noticed the Auror's uniform, the golden trimmings catching the light under his robes. For once, he felt a little less sophisticated as he looked down to the muddied t-shirt and denims. Macaria's dress was a little worse for wear, though the continued trail of blood down her leg caught his eye and he bent to one knee next to her without a second thought. He missed the widening of her eyes as he pulled out his wand and muttered a healing incantation, the dried and fresh blood retreating back into the wound as it closed seamlessly. He stood up again and she took his hand, her other wrapping around his bicep as she leaned into him and seemed to take a steadying breath.

"Macaria," Potter broke the silence, nodding at her.

"Been awhile," she offered him half a smile. He tapped his fingers against his robes for a few seconds.

"I'm taking us up to the Minister. They were sending me out with the team that got your patronus, Macaria. I thought it'd be better if I caught you before the press did," he shrugged.

"Thanks," Draco said dryly.

"I'm not sure if you heard, but Parkinson-"

"I heard."

"Alright," the other green-eyed wizard muttered.

Silence settled over the three of them again - as much as he wanted to talk to Macaria - he didn't fancy the idea of that conversation happening in front of Potter. There was something about what Theo said that wasn't adding up in his mind.

The lift finally slowed to their destination, Potter exiting first down a hallway of expensive wood, to a door with a gold plate with its occupant's designation.

"Do you have an appointment?" A young secretary called from an open office next door, her resonance low and nearly bored.

"I have Draco Malfoy with me."

"Oh-"

"Does 'The Boy-Who-Lived' not work on them anymore?" Draco sighed as Potter snorted.

The secretary fumbled around with some parchments for a moment, speaking into a direct line to the other office to alert Shacklebolt of their presence. Macaria shifted uncomfortably next to him and he was struck with the memory of her giving up Auror training and being tasked with protecting him by the Minister himself, not only his mother.