Oh Merlin, No...

Author's Notes: Part of the From Dusk till Dawn Severus Snape/Harry Potter Fuh-Q-Fest

Challenge: 'Life Moves On'

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Minister Bones looked up from her desk as the tall, black Auror entered. The Director of Magical Protection took a seat at her friendly gesture, his face revealing no discomfort at the summons.

"We have a special problem for your department, Kingsley."

The Auror didn't seem surprised at the straight to business approach. "I'm positive we can handle it. I have a most efficient staff."

The Minister smiled. "So the reports would indicate." She pulled a roll of parchment from the top of a pile and passed it across the desk. "I think it best if your Deputy handles this protection detail personally."

Shacklebolt frowned as he took the roll. "Are you certain? He doesn't usually handle direct protection."

"Yes, I know. His notoriety generally exacerbates any sensitive situation. But this time…" She trailed off before refocusing on the Auror. "The subject of the protection is being targeted by the last fugitive of the War Crimes Unit."

"My Deputy has made it very clear…"

The Minister cut off Kingsley's objection. "We're not asking him to hunt the fugitive. The Ministry is well aware of what we owe him. But he's the best we have."

Shacklebolt nodded, silent in his agreement with the last statement.

"I'm sure you will not need to impress upon him the importance of this assignment. The subject is a Muggle teenager. If he's attacked publicly with magic, the Statute of Secrecy may be irreparably broken."

"War Crimes has good leads on their target?"

The Minister nodded. "Malfoy won't escape this time."

Kingsley ground his teeth at the name. Draco Malfoy, the only remaining fugitive Death Eater. He unrolled the parchment, scanning over the specifics of the detail before freezing at the name. "Oh, Merlin…"

He met the Minister's eyes. "He's not going to be pleased about this."

She smirked in return. "Then you can advise him that I am not pleased at the constant rumors regarding his lunch-time occupation."

Kingsley's professional distance disappeared in an instant. "Now, Amelia…"

She interrupted with a gesture. "Relax, Kingsley. The Ministry isn't going to do anything to two of their war heroes. I don't care if they actually are screwing in his office, but the talk needs to stop."

There was little Director Shacklebolt could say to that. He merely stood, still holding the parchment that detailed the assignment. "I'll take care of it."

"See that you do."

As Kingsley left the office, he subtly checked the clock in the anteroom. Happily, he noted that his Deputy's lunch break should just be over by the time he got to that part of the Ministry. Unlike Minister Bones, he was well aware that almost all of the rumors were completely true.

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The body beneath him arched upward and Severus shoved a hand ruthlessly between the glistening shoulder blades. As his chest roughly met the cleared surface of his desk, Harry groaned in near agony.

"Severus, please…"

The Potions Master and decorated war hero growled in response to the plea. "Haven't you learned that begging will gain you nothing, Auror?"

The green-eyed wizard whimpered, writhing against the unforgiving boundaries of oak and professor. The older wizard thrust his still-clothed lower body against the Auror's bare ass to halt the movements.

"I thought you enjoyed it when I beg?"

Harry managed to pant out the inquiry, his needy flesh still seeking an increase of friction. The mocking sarcasm of the words morphed into a gasping cry as two elements of their interlude changed - the conjured restraints binding his arms to the far corners of the desk tightened and his husband of five years rubbed a digit firmly across his puckered entrance.

Any lucidity previously claimed by the Deputy Director of Magical Protection faded into memory. "Merlin, please. Fuck me, Severus, now."

Severus chuckled but sank the finger deep as he stroked and prepared his bound lover. Harry was a feast before him, restrained by magic to the desk with all his yards of skin, faintly marked by their play, bare to the eyes. One of the few conveniences of his husband's Ministry career and fame was the private office. That the Potions Master's free period consistently overlapped the Auror's lunch break was due to a blessing named Albus Dumbledore.

One hand still wrenching pleasured cries from his husband, Severus quickly freed his straining erection. They would have been a highly erotic sight it anyone had been able to break the wards on the office. The Potions Master, fully clothed other than his face, hands, and cock, leaned over the bare body of his mate whispering arousing profanities in his dark chocolate voice.

Harry whined when the fingers finally abandoned him, only to beg anew as they were replaced with a larger, blunt pressure. "Now, please. Take me, Severus, please!"

Not normally inclined to deny his spouse, the Potions Master found this occasion no different. He thrust hard, fully sheathing himself, and began a furious pace that left Harry breathless and gasping, as his body was aware of every inch of the penetration.

The self-restraint the professor had relied on while he'd tormented his green-eyed angel for the majority of their available time had disappeared. Finding himself at the edge of completion, Severus snaked a hand beneath the quiescent body to grasp his love's needy prick. The direct stimulation brought Harry in a screaming rush that took Severus across with a keening moan.

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The Director of Magical Protection smirked as he passed Hogwarts' Potions Master in the hall outside his Deputy's office. Severus nodded, his expression as steady and inscrutable as ever. "Kingsley."

Shacklebolt returned the greeting, resisting the urge to chortle as he entered the office. Harry had never been able to blank his expression. Rarely had that lack been more evident than now as he shifted in his seat and flushed. The creeping pink finally brought the Director's laughter to the surface.

"If you'd have asked anyone in the Order, no one would have predicted this outcome for the two of you."

The stutter when he spoke was decidedly uncharacteristic for Harry and a strong token of his nervousness. "K…Kingsley… I… We…"

Shacklebolt held up a hand to forestall the comments, having chosen to stop teasing the younger wizard. "I'm not here to give you shit, Harry."

Almost instantly the edgy nerves and touch of color disappeared from the youthful face. It constantly amazed Kingsley that Harry could face a duel without hesitation but be so tentative about the reactions to his personal life. He carried his message quickly and efficiently.

"But the Minister wants the rumors to end."

Something narrowed in Harry's eyes when he spoke. "Just the rumors?"

Kingsley smiled, knowing the other man had understood. "Let some of the talk settle down and she'll be happy."

Harry smirked, an expression he'd perfected but not one originally his. "I suppose it's time then that I actually use the Deputy's office space. Do you think they can find me a secretary who won't faint?"

His sarcastic query brought to mind the original reason he'd stopped using his official space. Kingsley just nodded in amusement. "I'm sure that we can find someone, especially after you finish this assignment."

He held up the parchment and Harry's attention was immediately focused on the job. "I suppose memories of my last field work have faded."

"Not quite."

"They'd have let me back in the field at any time if I wanted to apprehend. But why am I finally getting a protection detail?"

Kingsley looked at the roll of parchment then laid it on the desk. "This one needs your special touch."

Harry reached out, easily snagging the roll. "Why is that?"

The Director didn't really answer that question, side-stepping it with other information. "You'll need another Auror. Take whomever you'd like but the Minister wants you on site."

Harry started to unroll the document as his boss stood and moved to the door. "Did she say why?"

Kingsley paused a moment, chuckling. "You'll see."

After the other wizard had left, Harry stared after him for a long moment. Finally, he just read the details on the assignment. At the bottom of the page, convinced it was an odd joke, he rolled then unfurled the parchment again.

But nothing on it had changed.

Harry's eyes were locked on the name of the protectee, horror creeping across his face. "Oh Merlin, No… What did I do to the Minister to deserve this?"

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Ron stared at the walls of his cubicle. They weren't providing any inspiration on how to phrase 'paranoid old bat' into something that would be acceptable for his official report. The parchment was half-full, detailing the assignment he'd just finished. It had been much easier to finish the evaluation papers on his just-graduated, no-longer-a-trainee, partner.

Spotting Auror Miller across the room on a floo call to his latest girlfriend, Ron frowned. What insanity had possessed him that he'd offered to do the paperwork? He tapped the nib of his quill on the blotter, watching the ink decorate the surface.

"Hard at work I see, Auror Weasley."

Ron looked up, a grin already on his face. When he saw Harry leaning casually on one of his partition walls, the expression widened. "I could say the same, Deputy Director Potter."

Harry snorted. "I need you on a job, Ron."

"I'm just finishing the paperwork on mine and Miller's last…"

Harry held up a hand. "Just you, not Miller, and he can close out the file."

Ron handed over the parchment with a silently expectant look. Privately, he considered Auror Miller a bit of an arrogant berk. But if anyone could get an Auror to happily take the scut work, it was Harry.

Noting a glistening spot or two on the parchment, Harry dried it with a gesture. Ron only rolled his eyes, well accustomed to the innocent display of power that took almost all other wizards a wand and a word to accomplish.

"Miller!"

Harry's voice carried across the room, lowering the level on the usual din of conversation. The Auror in question, obviously not recognizing the voice, turned with irritation in his face and voice.

"What?"

The Deputy Director's face hardened, his eyebrow shooting to his hairline in incredulity. The annoyance bled out of the Auror's expression as he recognized the man who had called out to him. The silent exchange caused Ron to snicker softly, hiding his mouth with his hand as the other man hurriedly approached.

"I'm so sorry, sir. Auror Miller at your service, sir."

Harry let the slightly younger man hold himself at a classical pose of attention for an extended moment. After an evaluating glance which said clearly that the Auror had been found wanting, the Deputy Director slapped the parchment into Miller's hand.

"Take care of this, Miller. I've got an assignment that needs Weasley."

As the young Auror tried to process the situation, Harry was heading from the room with Ron at his heels.

"Is there an assignment or are you just rescuing me?"

Harry flashed a grin at his friend but held off answering as he stopped an Auror just returning to the room.

"Huffbent, take Miller in hand. He needs a little more work."

Moving on once more, Harry finally answered the question. "There's an assignment. I won't have anyone but you helping me on this one."

"They're letting you back in the field?"

"Yep."

"After that near riot caused by people wanting your autograph?"

"The Minister finally found an assignment with people more famous than I am."

"Is that even possible, Harry?"

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Ron tugged at the hem of his black Muggle suit jacket. As he fidgeted in what he felt were a ridiculous combination of items for a protective services uniform, he glared from behind dark sunglasses at his best friend and immediate supervisor. Harry, unlike Ron, had owned a Muggle suit in dark charcoal gray. The cut and fit were noticeably better but not truly surprising as he had dressed well since his marriage.

The redhead chuckled silently at Harry in his oh-so-Slytherin suit. The gray was set off by a crisp white shirt and matching emerald green silk tie and pocket-handkerchief. His eyes were more enhanced than hidden by a slim rectangular pair of Muggle sunglasses tinted a pale green.

"Would it be that hard to wear something either red or gold?"

The mildly sarcastic plea was about as critical as the youngest male Weasley got these days, his wife's influence probably. Harry held out his arm until his cuff peeked from the suit sleeve, a glint of gold showing.

"The cufflinks Mione gave me last Christmas. Satisfied?"

Harry grinned, taking the bite off his words. The tiny golden snitches were a favorite of his and something he did not often get the chance to wear.

Finally, one of the rampantly paranoid uniformed security guards returned to the claustrophobic waiting room to escort them further into the studio. Ron's curiosity grew as they moved deeper, Harry having flatly refused to disclose the name of their assignment.

They were eventually stopped before a man occupied by an extensively complicated electronic device and the security guard nodded before resuming his post. Harry waited, Ron patient behind him, until the man looked up. Then he stepped forward, hand already outstretched.

"Mr. Newell? I'm Agent James, this is Agent Billius. I've been told you were expecting us."

The Muggle frowned but returned the handshake with a firm grip. "I have been but no one's bothered to explain why."

Harry sidestepped the gentle query with a small smile. "If you'll show us the rest of the way in, we'll be sure to stay out of the way while you work."

With only a slightly suspicious look, the director had led them from the smaller chamber into a cavernous room bisected by wooden constructions and hanging cloths. Ron nudged Harry as they followed the Muggle a few steps back.

"If we have to defend someone here, it's going to be a disaster."

Harry's expression said he was entirely in agreement. Then there was no more chance for conversation as the man had stopped.

"If you'll wait here, I'll go get him."

Harry nodded politely and the man moved off. Ron, his vision filled and captivated by a reproduction of part of a Quidditch World Cup top box, spoke to his friend in a no-nonsense tone.

"I think it's time you told me what's going on."

Harry agreed. "They're finally going to capture Malfoy. We're here to make sure he doesn't harm a Muggle before then."

Ron turned, his face pale of color. "Which Muggle?"

At the sound of footsteps, they both turned. The man they'd already met, Newell, was escorting a short, dark-haired teenager into the room. Harry's lip twisted in a way that Ron recognized as a grudging acceptance of fate.

"That one."

Ron choked on his laugh, horrified fascination obvious for a moment before locked behind his professional façade. "The Minister heard about your lunch hours?"

Harry only had the time for an ineffectual death glare before the pair of Muggles reached them. The Deputy Director stepped forward, taking the lead.

"Mr. Radcliffe. This is Agent Billius and I'm Agent James."

The young man returned the handshake but seemed slightly disinterested in a teenaged fashion. "Mike mentioned you but I haven't received any threats."

Harry smiled easily, finally slipping the tinted sunglasses off his face and into an inside pocket. "That's the way we hope to keep it. Just go about your day as normal but make sure one of us can see you at all times."

When the boy had nodded and moved off with his director, Harry turned to Ron who seemed to be turning mauve in his attempts to control his hilarity.

"Breathe."

Ron sucked in a gasping breath, choking on the remains of a laugh.

"Now you know why I brought you and no one else."

The redhead's response was a harsh whisper. "Godric's Balls, Harry! This is surreal. If Malfoy attacks, we'll have to obliviate dozens of people."

Harry's voice was cold and impartial. "Essentially, yes."

"Isn't this bothering you?"

For just a moment, Harry allowed the torment of his emotions to show on his face. It had shaken him more than expected to see that scar etched on a young forehead. His own had disappeared with the final defeat of Voldemort.

"We just have to watch. No matter who he's pretending to be, no Muggle is prepared to face a Death Eater."

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Harry and Ron relaxed into their seats, watching idly as the film crew worked. Ron seemed fascinated by the repetition of close scenes between the Hogwarts' trio and the Malfoy family. After his initial disgust of anyone playing the blondes, he seemed to be entranced in a horrified way.

"Bloody hell! What's she doing here?" Harry's exclamation drew the redhead's attention to a blonde woman crossing the room.

"Wait a minute, isn't that?"

Harry snorted in disgust. "Yeah, Rita Skeeter. She changed her name and is responsible for this travesty."

Ron's eyes widened as he looked at his friend. "Don't you have a restraining order against her?"

"Yep. Unfortunately, she had the first book published before the Ministry found out. They," he sneered, "decided it would be less disruptive to let her finish under monitoring than suddenly disappear."

What appeared at a distance to be a mild temper tantrum by the actor playing Draco distracted Harry from his personal concerns.

"Looks like he was well-chosen to play the ferret."

Harry disagreed with his friend's observation. "That's odd, he's been reported to be nothing like…"

His voice cut off as certain observations of the day coalesced with his instincts into a picture of a possible problem. The Felton boy's unusual fussiness, his frequent need of a thermos for his 'sore throat' - it definitely seemed suspicious.

"Fuck. We have a problem. Call for backup."

Ron instinctively followed the order, pulling a coin out of his pocket and surreptitiously tapping it with his wand. The metal piece disappeared and the two men moved across the room towards the Muggles.

"Harry's where's the threat?" Ron's question was urgent but calm.

"Get Radcliffe and clear the room. Malfoy's been hiding right under our damn noses."

The two separated, moving fast.

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Ron strode across the set, interrupting a conversation between the three Gryffindor co-stars. Professionalism buried his need to chuckle at the interpretations of Ron and Hermione as he directed those two young actors.

"Mr. Grint, Ms. Watson, please leave the area quickly and quietly." They started to question him but stopped when he turned to his charge. "Mr. Radcliffe, come with me."

Ron turned with the Muggle, only to sigh as the blonde author followed the pair.

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Conversation between the director and three portraying the Malfoys stopped when Harry stepped up. Mr. Newell turned to him in confusion. "Is there a problem, Agent James?"

Harry watched as the eyes of the youngest widened and his hand drifted towards his pocket in a purposeful fashion. His suspicions confirmed, Harry never took his eyes off the young blonde as he said simply, "Yes. I need you to clear the set."

The director's earlier instructions had been very clear and he blew a whistle hanging from a cord around his neck. "Could everyone please move to the cafeteria?"

Most moved to comply, the director among them. The sneer looked very appropriate on the face of a pseudo-Draco Malfoy.

"Pining for Daddy, Agent James?" The sarcasm was thick but Harry ignored the jibe.

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As the movement of the Muggles obscured the exit, Ron halted. Radcliffe was pulled behind him as he turned back to face the cause of the problem.

"Stay behind me. No matter what happens or what you see."

His brow furrowing at the instructions, the teen nodded in compliance even as he asked, "Why aren't we leaving?"

Ron looked into the blue eyes that were the disruptive point below the faux-scarred forehead. He saw something familiar there and hoped the teen would understand.

"He's always been my best friend and I'm not leaving him to deal with this alone."

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"Draco Malfoy, you are under arrest for charges relating to activities as a Death Eater."

Jason Isaacs, clad in over-wrought robes to portray Lucius Malfoy, had remained to assist his younger colleague when the man approached. Now, he was rapidly regretting that decision. He pulled back on his arm but the surprisingly tight and insistent grip of Tom Felton kept it trapped behind his back.

"What the devil do you think you're playing at, Tom? And who the bloody hell are you?"

Neither man paid him any attention as they focused so thoroughly on each other with the Muggle actor caught between them.

"You were so quick to kill my father, Potter. But will you go through this Muggle to get me?"

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As the dark-haired teen nodded his understanding of Ron's words, the redhead turned to the blonde woman.

"Stay out of the way, Skeeter…. Or, I'll hex you myself."

"Back off, Weasley. I've got two books to go and I can still hurt you and that Muggleborn wife of yours."

As Ron growled at the threat, Daniel looked from one to the other. "Have you both lost your minds?"

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Harry took a step forward, causing Draco to brandish his wand threateningly over the shoulder of the actor. The green-eyed wizard smirked.

"Is that a prop?"

"Why don't you push your luck and find out?"

Harry turned his focus to the vastly confused eyes of Jason Isaacs. "Sorry about this…"

As both the actor and the wizard behind him spluttered, the first in annoyance and the second in worry, Harry held his hand before the Muggle's face.

"Sleep."

As he lowered his hand, his opponent was forced to deal with several stone of unconscious human shield.

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Ignoring the teenage Muggle, the Auror and the witch turned writer traded glares. Finally, Ron refocused on the young man.

"Just stay behind me."

He turned, wand drawn, and started to approach the impromptu hostage situation.

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Draco fought with the limp weight of the actor for a few short seconds before realizing that his borrowed form simply didn't have sufficient muscle mass. He released the man who fell to the floor with a thump that was sure to result in bruises.

Harry's opponent hesitated no longer, turning his wand to aim past the raven-haired Auror. "Avada Kedavra!"

He didn't turn, knowing it would be useless if the aim was true.

"Imperio!"

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Ron heard the deadly words and saw the flash of spellfire. He spun, dragging his two companions down and out of the path of the light.

It passed over their heads in a crackling rush to dissipate against the far wall.

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Unlike his opponent, Harry's spell was well aimed and effective. At the lax expression, he questioned the other man. "Where is Tom Felton?"

"In his dressing room closet."

"Did you curse him?"

"Yes."

"With what?"

"Petrificus Totalis."

Harry thanked Merlin for the narcissistic streak that had likely prevented Draco from killing the actor who portrayed him.

"Break your wand!"

The directive was ignored as the wizard broke free of the Imperious Curse. With a sneer at Harry, he turned his wand to the ground.

"Tectonic Destablare!"

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Ron rolled, his wand already pointed at the foe as soon as the green light had cleared them. He could hear the woman and teen rising as he did. When he saw the blonde break Harry's control, he acted.

"Avada Kedavra!"

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As the ground beneath them began to shake and the building creak and rumble, the bright green light hit its target. The wizard fell dead beside the sleeping form of the Muggle that had been such an inconvenient hostage.

Ron drew his two companions with him as he ran for Harry. When the ceiling above them began to crack and crumble, Harry extended his wand upwards and bellowed, "Protego Maxima!"

There was a cacophony of noise as the building collapsed around them, smashing against the magical barrier. Amazingly, the light blue shield between them and death held. The blonde author, Rowling or Skeeter - whichever you preferred, huddled tightly as she knew just how precarious their situation was currently.

Ron lit his wand with a quick, "Lumos." He looked each of them over quickly before focusing on Harry. The green-eyed wizard was kneeling, his eyes and magical effort focused on holding the shield. The Shield Spell itself had given them a domed tomb of space beneath the ruins of the building. It was hardly larger than a small room with only enough space at the center for the taller Auror to stand fully.

"Harry? Can you hold it?"

The response was in an already strained voice. "Yes."

There was nothing Ron could do but trust in the skill and power of his friend. He turned next to the Muggle teen that was kneeling with hands on thighs and staring at the writer. His voice was a stressed combination of disbelief and amazement.

"What the fuck is going on?"

Ron sighed but moved over, as it appeared the blonde was not going to respond. "Mr. Radcliffe."

His stare shifted to the Auror, the betrayal melting out of his gaze. "Dan, please."

Ron nodded, muttering a spell to diagnose any injuries in his protectee. "Then call me Ron. We may be here awhile."

"We wouldn't be here at all if he'd done things correctly!" The outburst from the witch was unexpected as she pointed at the wizard keeping them safe.

Ron answered with a scowl and his wand. "Stupefy!" The red light hit the woman, dropping her into unconsciousness.

"Ron…" Harry spoke in a warning tone, his attention wavering.

"Sorry, mate. But I can't take Merlin knows how long with Skeeter bitching in an enclosed space."

As Harry nodded, the teenager spoke again in wonder. "It's all true then?"

Ron didn't see any need not to answer, the kid would be obliviated later. "Most of it. The broad strokes as my wife would say."

As the Auror moved over to snap Draco's wand and then scan Jason Isaacs for injury, the questions continued. "Then you're really Ron Weasley and he's really Harry Potter?"

Ron shrugged. "Yeah."

He stepped over to Harry, touching his friend's shoulder briefly. "Isaacs has a concussion. I've put him in a healing trance for now."

When the redhead sat himself beside their teenaged assignment, the young man looked at him. "This is fucking weird, you know."

A pale sheen of sweat had picked up on Harry's face, glistening when he spoke. "Language."

Dan's mouth hung open, "Excuse me?"

Ron nudged the teen. "Just watch what you say. It's a habit he picked up living at Hogwarts."

"Do you teach?"

As Harry started to reply and his attention shifted, the shield above them flickered. Ron interrupted, "Harry, mate… You just keep us alive."

At the nod, Ron answered for his friend. "Harry is the Deputy Director of the Magical Protection Division of the Aurors. His spouse teaches."

Dan's gaze shifted to the body. "So Tom's dead?"

Ron patted the teen on the shoulder, the Weasleys having always been a comfort by touch kind of family. "That's not your friend. That really is Draco Malfoy."

"He looks like Tom."

"It's probably Polyjuice, give it an hour."

The small group was silent for a long time, the dim light and stuffiness wearing on their nerves. The stillness was broken when Harry muttered sharply, "Move closer. Now!"

Ron hooked an arm around the unconscious writer as Daniel scooted himself forward. They settled again, wincing as the shield shuddered and grew tighter around them. Harry was sweating profusely now, his grip white-knuckled on his wand.

"Can't you help him?"

The Muggle's voice was finally showing his fear. Ron looked at the shield before turning calmly to explain. "No, I can't. There are no shield spells that can do this."

The young man gestured in confusion. "Then what's this?"

The redhead smiled, the expression bittersweet. "That's Harry. He wanted and needed it to work, so it did."

"Then not even the wizards will expect to find us here."

Ron shrugged. "His spouse might."

Dan frowned. "Is Ginny powerful enough to find us?"

"Ginevra Weasley? My sister?"

"Yeah."

The Auror seemed to be suppressing his humor. "Harry's not married to Ginny."

Daniel stopped. "Oh." After a short pause, he spoke again. "But the books…"

Ron chuckled, understanding. "Rita never liked the idea of Harry's husband."

"Husband?!"

The Muggle teenager was gaping open-mouthed.

"Yeah, but don't worry about it. She'll write him as marrying Ginny or some rot like that and after we're rescued you'll never even remember meeting us."

Daniel finally closed his mouth, swallowing heavily. "So, uh… Two wizards can get married?"

Ron smiled at the teenager who was doing his best to adjust to the entire day. "I know that's weird to some Muggles… But my sister-in-law isn't even entirely human. I think that's a little more odd than two guys."

"So who is it?"

"My sister-in-law?"

"No, his husband."

Ron seemed poised to answer, then apparently thought better of that idea. "I think we should change the subject. He'll kill me for gossiping about him with a Muggle."

Daniel frowned. "He didn't marry a Death Eater, did he?"

Ron was slowly flushing red. "Uh… No."

Cooperating with the change of subject request, the teenager looked around. "Can't you apparate us out of here?"

"You can't apparate a Muggle."

"Oh. What about a portkey?"

Ron sighed. "Harry and I each have a two person portkey. There are five of us living and the body."

Harry spoke up, his voice faint and horse. "Ron, as your boss, I order you to take the Muggles and Skeeter and port out."

Something in the easygoing redhead's face hardened. "Fuck you, Harry. I'm willing to let Malfoy be crushed but you're in no shape to apparate after us."

"Ron…"

"No, Harry. You have to hold on…"

As the Deputy Director had neither the energy nor ability to insist, a tense silence fell over the space. The silence was finally broken much later by a tearing noise. With the Polyjuice potion finally worn off, Draco was returning to his normal state.

But no one yet had any words to say as their mortality hung heavy in the air. Another stretch of empty time passed before Daniel made a noise of discomfort. He shifted, trying to pop his ears by working his jaw.

"What's going on?"

Ron's attention was caught by something unseen. "Someone's attempting a focused apparition. The air they'll displace has nowhere to go which causes the pressure change."

The sharp crack of the wizard's appearance momentarily deafened the occupants of the shielded space. Ron was highly relieved. "Merlin, it's about time."

The man, clad wholly in black unchanged from his lunchtime garb, ignored the Auror to focus on his husband. "Harry?"

As he watched the severe and… well, ugly… man inspect the powerful wizard, the teenager gaped then turned to Ron.

"No way."

Ron ignored the incredulity as Severus Snape turned to him. "I've been given portkeys to a recovery station."

A thin, potions-stained hand reached out, offering a collection of what appeared to be plastic kiddie rings. Daniel found himself mentally shunted to the side as Ron moved. First to go was Malfoy's body, then the unconscious and injured Muggle actor.

As Ron resisted the urge to kick Rita Skeeter, Daniel found himself returning an inscrutable black gaze. "Uh… Professor Snape, sir." His nervousness carried a slight stutter.

The statement was met with a smooth query. "You know who I am, Mr. Radcliffe?"

The teenager flushed. "If this is real, then you're hard to miss, sir."

Daniel watched the man smirk as Ron closed his unresisting fingers over a bit of plastic and tapped it. Finally, the couple was alone with the Auror.

"Will you take him home to treat him or should I have a medi-wizard ready?" Ron's question was gentle and answered with obvious worry.

"I'm taking him to Poppy."

With a nod, the wizard prepared to apparate. "Then I have a few Muggles to check on and dozens to obliviate."

Another crack and the couple were alone. As Severus embraced his husband softly, the shield wavered.

"Shhh… I'm taking you home."

Harry fainted as they apparated out and the bubble of space collapsed on nothing but air.

Finis

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