THE DEVIL'S WHITE KNIGHT→h.p

chapter 1

The knock on his office door was just about the very last thing Harry was in the mood to hear. His stack of paperwork seemed to be breeding more—he swore when he left the parchment alone it got up to dirty business in his absence and bred faster than rabbits—and he had his boss breathing down his neck. The whole, I killed a dark lord excuse was wearing thin these days, and it had only been a bloody year and a half since he'd accomplished the task.

No more special favours. No more letting him skate by.

He ought to have been grateful for it, really. He'd spent the last eight years of his life trying not to be noticed for the scar on his forehead and the fact that as a baby he managed to survive the curse that left him orphaned and neglected. Now he would kill for just a little bit of leeway.

He glanced over at the wood as another knock came, more persistent this time, and he wondered if maybe he could just duck behind his desk and pretend like he wasn't in. All he wanted was a quiet weekend in—no friends, no Ginny, no Weasleys who were, "Just worried about you, dear. You don't look like you've been eating very well."

It was probably a second assignment he'd end up taking as much as he wanted to turn it down, because it would at least give him an excuse to avoid another family dinner.

What he was really craving was his flat, his godson's toothy, baby smile, and some muggle telly.

The Wizarding World offered a shockingly low view on mental health, and he was starting to feel the pressure of everything he'd gone through. Every time he looked at Ginny he would flash back to some of the worst moments. Of her nearly dying at the hands of a Horcrux. Her dead brother, her maimed one. Of Remus and Tonks and their infant son now as orphaned as he'd ever been. Sirius falling through the veil. The ghosts of them as Voldemort levelled his wand and cast the curse.

He was supposed to marry her, and he wondered how he'd manage to live an entire life whilst still seeing all of that.

But he was brave, if nothing else, and he was determined to get through it. He just needed some blasted time to...

"Harry James Potter, I know you're in there."

He knew that voice too well. Hermione. With a sigh, rubbing his eyes under his glasses, he reached for his wand and flicked it at the door. The unlocking charms shifted and it creaked open, and she walked in.

She was wearing work robes, letting most witches and wizards know it was best not to speak to her. An Unspeakable, and most were surprised she'd gone in that direction. She turned down Ron's proposal of marriage, "Just for now. I want to focus on my career," which he took to mean it was over forever and there was no hope for anyone ever, and she'd thrown herself into work.

Harry didn't see her often, in spite of them both working at the Ministry. He saw Ron more than that, who was still helping George at the joke shop, and Ron had been considering the offer to join with the Aurors. Harry partly hoped he would, because having a partner who understood what he was going through was a welcome thought.

Pushing his annoyance aside, Harry flicked his wand at the kettle, and motioned for Hermione to sit. "Well well, I didn't expect to see you today."

"Please don't take the piss," she said, sounding like she hadn't slept in weeks. She looked it as well, dark circles under her eyes, her mouth turned down into a frown. He hadn't seen her look so knackered since OWLs. "I'm here on business."

Harry raised a brow. "Business? You're allowed to speak to me about Business?"

Hermione sighed, then accepted the cup of tea with a small upturn of her lips. "You know I'm not. Not specifically. But I've come because my team knows you trust me, and I know you trust me."