Chapter2: Salvation

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NOT MY ORIGNAL STORY                                                                                                                                                   Credit goes to @quine on Ao3

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Seven years later

It was a rainy and dreary night. Harry stood in the shadows beneath a leaking canopy, shoulders hunched against the cold and hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his Auror issued coat. Clouds of breath formed in front of his mouth at a regular interval, a steady drip, drip overhead overlaying the rain hitting the asphalt.

A few feet next to him Hopkins shifted his weight again, cursing the icy weather before he rummaged through a pocket beneath his cloak, checking the communication coin for the eleventh time. Harry didn't react, instead, he continued to observe the backdoor to the derelict warehouse on the opposite side to the abandoned building they were using as shelter from the grisly weather. It was known to regularly house black markets where people could acquire various magical items as well as creatures and illegal potions. During the downtimes, it was housing all kinds of filth living on the streets. Someone who could be a homeless muggle or wizard - there wasn't much telling them apart in these kinds of places - lingered around the chain-link-fence near the metal door for a while. He didn't check his surroundings very thoroughly before slipping inside. But even if he had looked over his shoulder and stared past the stack of worn car tires, a strategically placed pallet and loosely strewn bricks, he wouldn't have spotted Hopinks and Harry.

Their wards hid them from sight, rendering even a desillusionment charm moot. At least as long as they didn't move too much and refrained from using excessive magic.

"How many hours more do they want us to stand here?" Hopkins complained, "We'll never find out whether Macnair is in there if they don't let us go in!"

Harry exhaled for a long moment. Then he spoke. "Even though the chance is slim - very slim, everything regarding marked Death Eaters has to be cleared by the higher-ups." His voice sounded monotonous even to himself. He cleared his throat and forced himself to sound a bit more chipper. "But I wouldn't mind them speeding it up either. I'm freezing my arse off here."

Hopkins snorted. "Not only you, mate... D'you reckon I'll get away with another warming charm? The wards seem to hold up so far..." Harry drowned out Hopkins's rambling, humming on occasion to keep up appearances. Mentally he was going through tomorrow's plans. He was due to visit Hermione and Ron again.

He could snow in at ten am, maybe push it further away to eleven. He would make small-talk for about fifteen minutes, maybe talk a bit about the fruitless stake-out. Yeah, that could work. He might be able to fill half an hour with it. Then tea. Meanwhile, he would listen to Hermione telling him about the kids. He would ask some questions, laugh and smile, and then Ron would relay a tale from his work with George, maybe elaborate on a new invention. Harry stretched his jaw in anticipation of the strain his cheeks would have to endure.

Something popped.

Maybe he'd be able to leave around twelve if he made up an excuse.

As soon as the thought had materialized, Harry rejected the notion.

He'd made a promise to himself. No skipping out. Else he would only end up on the shitty sofa of his flat, drunk once again and just as apathetic as he felt among people. It had become predictable, his routine, if he didn't force himself to keep one up by his choosing. And getting drunk in the privacy of his own walls was the more preferable option to picking someone up at a pub. Not that it really gave some substance to his drab life, but currently he had a good streak going with the tabloids, which seemed to please Andromeda. It had been a few weeks since the press had dissected his 'hedonistic lifestyle' on the front page, including some blurry picture of him making out with some odd witch or wizard in a back alley. And Andromeda was easier to be around if she was pleased.

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