Touch and Go

A/N: I've tried for a while to put together a story of decent length, but I just can't seem to stay focused and coherent for long enough. Decided to try something shorter and see how it turned out. Also, The requisite 'I don't own HP, no profit, etc' – just taking JK's creations for a spin for the enjoyment of myself and (hopefully) others.


Harry Potter was not the happiest of aurors with his current assignment, and his annoyance bled through into the tone of his voice. "So tell me again – why are we patrolling this stretch of muggle London?"

Harry and his partner were walking down what appeared to be a thoroughly normal street. Apartment rises dotted the row, with an occasional storefront to break up the monotony. They, to the casual observer, appeared to be just another young couple enjoying the exquisite evening on their way home.

Not being a casual observer, Harry knew better. He and his partner were not romantically involved, no matter anyone's thoughts to the contrary. He and Daphne Greengrass had been partnered together in the massive hiring wave following the end of the war with Voldemort. He had joined the force because he really hadn't had many alternative career ideas at that point, and she had signed on due to some convoluted combination of family PR and the rather sizable salary offered in an effort to replenish the force.

Of the dozen and a half new aurors, Harry had been paired with Daphne because the powers that be had decided that she was the only one who was "not intimidated by Harry to the point of dysfunction" (their words, not his). He did grudgingly have to admit that they had been right, and that her skills complemented his well. Their record spoke for itself, really – nearly four times as many captures as any pair of new recruits, and almost twice as many as the most senior group.

"Is it this –" she said, pointing at the ground, then waved her hand about in a vaguely all-encompassing gesture to accompany her proposed alternative "or the fact that we're out patrolling someone else's route again…or something else entirely?"

"Little of everything," Harry said with a grimace. "I know we're here because the Prime Minister or some such asked for a favor, and we need to make an effort to stay on his good side…but you can't tell me that you wouldn't just rather be somewhere else? Oh, bloody hell. I don't mean to take it out on you." He kneaded his temples. "It's just been a long week, I guess."

"Well, twelve patrols will do that to you…and me," she said with a wry smile. "Besides, what else would you be doing, playing quiddich for the aurors in the game against the rest of the ministry?"

"That was a low blow, Greengrass." He gave her a mock-stern glare, but his heart wasn't in it. Once a year, the MLE gathered a quiddich team together to face the team built by the rest of the ministry's departments, and the two played in a charity event watched by much of the wizarding public. Harry still loved quiddich, but it neither playing nor watching had been the same since injuring himself while playing the year after Voldemort's demise. The slight chance of a crash (and the ensuing damage) was enough for the healers to declare him unfit to play after they had magically reconstructed his shoulder following a crash in the Quiddich World Cup.

How Harry had even come to be playing in the cup was something of a set of freak circumstances. England had already qualified for the Cup, and England's starting seeker had been killed during a raid (he had the misfortune of being a high-profile half-blood they had made an example of). In a PR stunt, England had asked (forced, really) Harry to play seeker for the reformed team over his objections that there were more qualified players to be had. Nevertheless, he had played, and done quite well for himself, carrying England through group play with a 2-1 record, then leading them to the quarterfinal. In the quarterfinal match against Brazil, however, the opposing beaters and seeker had taken advantage of Harry's inexperience and baited him into a horrifying collision. To make a long story short, Harry's injury was so severe they hadn't wanted to risk the chance of losing the use of his shoulder entirely, and hence, he was banned from any form of possible aerial contact – and to boot, England had taken a 420-110 thrashing in the game.

"Wonder how the boys are doing, though…" Harry wondered aloud. His musings were cut off by the burning sensation he felt from his pocket.

Daphne leaned into Harry, ostensibly to whisper something in his ear befitting their cover, and murmured, "Looks like the PM may have been right after all. Rumors of muggle terrorists and wizards working together in this area, plus a magical density detector going off in a muggle area is too much coincidence to ignore. Where, do you think?"

Harry scanned the buildings around them. They were decidedly ordinary. Except… "Not sure, but let me try something real quick."

During the seven years since Dumbledore's death, Harry had come across some of the headmaster's work on theoretical branches of magic. Much of it was dismissed by scholars as "a load of old tosh", but Harry, who had seen the old man in action, knew differently. Plus, the headmaster had managed to leave a book with a few 'extras' exclusively for Harry. Dumbledore likened detecting magic to a sort of second sight or touch, as he had demonstrated in the cave the night he had passed away. Harry, while practicing the procedures put forward in the texts, felt it was more like a second set of ears, processing noise that seemed like an undercurrent of whispers. He concentrated…and heard a faint murmuring from the building one up and on the left.

"That one," he whispered into Daphne's ear as he inclined his head toward a slightly tarnished looking apartment building.

"Your voodoo again? Never mind, don't bother answering that," she said with a shake of her head. She whispered a spell under her breath, and Harry felt the slight rush proceed from her wand. It engulfed the building in a nearly invisible glow before returning to her wand.

"Good call," she said wonderingly. "At least 2, maybe 3 wizards in there. I'd guess two, as most wizards working with terrorists don't exactly lack power, just common sense."

It was Harry's turn to shake his head. If he hadn't known exactly what he was watching for, he never would have even noticed her spell. Sure, he might have a grasp on some of the most esoteric magic out there, and he could power out flashy spells with the best of them…but Daphne had a control over subtleties he could never hope for. And she had the brains and power to match.

"I'll take scout then, if you don't mind playing counter-ward. Unless you'd rather we did it the other way," Harry said with a grin. Daphne grimaced, no doubt remembering his last attempt at breaking down wards and setting up some of his own. He had been quick, remarkably effective…and spectacularly noisy, turning a simple scout, snatch and grab into a full-fledged war zone.

"Guess I can take that as a no. Take, say, fifteen minutes." They made their way to an alley set next to the building. Harry set about preparing to scout by placing his wand to an intricately detailed, Auror-issue, palladium ring and whispered "tempus", then tapped himself on the head and said "fugit", transfiguring himself into a black-crested hawk. Although he was not an animagus, this combination of transfiguration and a charmed object to force himself out of the transformation on a delay worked nearly as well when you knew about how long you wanted to be something else.

He spread his wings and lifted away to begin looking through the windows for any sign of their quarry, but not before giving Daphne a playful nip on the ear on his way up. She couldn't help but grin at both his antics and his choice of words for his spell.

Ever since he had been drilled in non-verbal casting at the Auror Academy, Harry had delighted in using nonsense words to accompany his less complex spells to throw others off. It had the added effect of tricking unwary opponents in duels from time to time, as well.

Daphne casually walked into the building's foyer and found a shadowy alcove to begin breaking down any wards that might be here. She rolled up her sleeves, and set to casting the series of spells for ward detection.

Meanwhile, Harry was soaring around the building, using a combination of his enhanced avian senses and his "voodoo" to scout for anything out of the ordinary. On his second pass around the building, he felt a tug on his magic, for lack of a better term, coming from the corner window of the floor below the top one. Harry glided onto the windowsill, but found no hint there as to what was going on inside the room.

From his perch, hawk-Harry felt a distinct aura of unwholesomeness about the room, but saw nothing. He needed a more appropriate location to observe, and found one by soaring into a nearby open window. The room, thankfully, was unoccupied, and Harry waited the minute and change for his transformation to end.

Once human again, Harry crept down the hallway to the room he suspected contained some sort of magic. As he walked down the hallway, he felt the subtle shift of wards falling and being reorganized. Daphne was clearly doing her job well. Harry proceeded to draw a circle on the wall and jabbed it with his wand. A jolt of light shot out, and suddenly there was a window into the next room, though distorted as if through a mirage. In addition, faint noise emerged from the room.

"…if you're finally finished with whatever abracadabra you're up to over there, could we get to work?" spat an obviously muggle clad in a suit. Another muggle, similarly attired though more at ease, sat on the small bed studiously. Two of what Harry assumed were wizards strolled around the edge of the room, inspecting recent handiwork.

"This work is harder than it looks, " one of the wizards said defensively. Harry recognized him as Scott Azler, a two-bit "dark" wizard who was primarily concerned with money. He'd been caught for minor crimes - nothing so serious that he'd ever done time in Azkaban, however.

A second wizard performed a silent walk around the room, apparently satisfied with whatever warding had been performed. Harry did not recognize him…and especially did not like the dark glint in his eyes that reminded Harry violently of Snape (especially when in the Dark Lord's employ).

The second muggle - Harry mentally assigned him the moniker 'Easy' - sat down and asked, "To business, then?" He hauled a pair of small crates from under the table and pointed to a much larger one in the corner.

"Certainly," Snape-clone said, producing a pair of wallet-sized objects from his pocket and enlarged them. One was a rather large crate; the other was a smaller, more delicate looking crate that gave off a faint clinking as it was placed on top of the other. Azler placed a fair-sized burlap sack that was likely full of gold next to the two containers. The muggles countered with a pair of crates, one clearly labeled more fragile than the other.

"As agreed, then." Easy said with an air of satisfaction."I've never asked - what we're doing here is at best a grey area of the law, as you aren't exactly a foreigner that we're exporting to…how does the government handle what you're giving us?"

"Half the ministry of magic is collecting two paychecks, and the British government isn't far behind – we don't even have to cover up our payments there, as they call them 'campaign contributions'. It's almost too easy…" Azler reflected, shaking his head.

"That doesn't cover those 'uruors', or whatever they're called? If they are anything like the dogs from five, they don't always obey when their masters pull on their chains." The first muggle was pacing the room as he delivered this warning.

"No worries, mate. Most of the aurors couldn't find their way out of a paper sack if we gave 'em directions. The only one we might've had to worry about was Harry Potter, and I slipped the chief a little extra to keep him clear of anything important." Azler grinned a bit too slyly. "It was easy, too - seems like there are some in the ministry tired of dealing with his way of doing things - folks up high don't seem to like getting shown up by people that don't care."

"Whatever. Lets just get on with it -" the unknown wizard cut off the muggle's response, much to the latter's chagrin.

"One moment. Something is a little off with the protections we put up. Let me check them before we discuss anything interesting…just in case." He sent out a pulse from his wand…and suddenly Harry's window into the next room was all too transparent. Instead of running, he decided to take advantage of the opportunity Daphne's wards offered by jumping into the room and attempting to incapacitate them while they were off guard. Getting to the bottom of whatever this was by catching them would certainly put Harry's mind at ease.

Unfortunately, Harry's impromptu assault did not go as well as planned. Both wizards quickly pulled their wands, and the muggles weren't far behind, each unsheathing some sort of dart gun. Fire of all sorts flew in both directions.

Harry ducked, scrambling towards the scant cover that the end table offered. Jets of light flashed from his wand as he did so - red for a stunner, violent golden for a percussion hex, faint blue for a discombobulating hex. He crouched behind the table and the assault coming from his wand doubled. Hexes and jinxes flew in such a variety of textures and colors it became impossible to distinguish one from the next. One muggle and Azler went down quickly, but the other muggle and the Snape-esque wizard were not so easily taken. The dark wizard sent spells aplenty at Harry, while the muggle pulled a small dart gun and began to fire.

Return fire from the wizard let up for a moment, but resumed after a muttered curse as he called out "Damn! The place is warded against magical escape - we'll have to deal with Potter, then get out of here the hard way…" Muggle number two said nothing, simply scowling and scrambling over to one of the large crates he'd delivered to the wizards. He rapidly began assembling the odd contraption inside.

Harry and the remaining wizard continued to exchange spellfire, with Harry slowly gaining the upper hand and driving the wizard further behind cover.

"Give it a few seconds to warm up," the muggle panted. Harry wondered what would happen in a few seconds, attempting to press his advantage in order to not find out. As it appeared he was finally going to incapacitate the wizard a loud whirring spat from the device; as a result, Harry's auror-grade stunner slowed down, turning toward the device and disappearing long before it found its target. His follow up nauseating hex was similarly ineffective.

As Harry stood momentarily dumbfounded, a dart from the muggle's weapon struck him and Harry crumpled. Whatever drug was in the dart didn't knock Harry out, but did dizzy him as he stood up to hold off the dark wizard rushing him. Auror combat training was of little help to a groggy Harry Potter, and he reeled from the assault.

Suddenly, the door broke in, surprising everyone. A pair of ineffective spells flew from the wand of a very angry and confused witch. Instead of puzzling over what happened, Daphne simply went to what she assumed was the source of the phenomena (based on the abrupt, altered flight of the spells) and jammed a knife into the device.

The muggle and wizard recovered from their shock, to very different reactions. The muggle pulled a second dart pistol from a briefcase and shot at Daphne; she was up to the task of stopping a pair of solid objects with a shield. This, unfortunately left her open to an unidentified nasty jinx from the wizard, which she managed to block only part of. She let out a soft "oof", but returned with a stunner that dropped the muggle.

The dark wizard, sensing that discretion was the better part of valor, leapt out the window. Am I hallucinating? Harry asked himself, groggy after the tranquilizer and bodyblows he had taken. It appeared even more so as the window yielded the sight of a rapidly shrinking black-cloaked figure flying away.

Daphne simply shook her head at that. "Whatever would you do without me, Potter?" She began the task of cleaning up, tagging the two muggles and Azler , as well as the crates with a teleportation tracer in order send them to detention and evidence, respectively, to take care of.

"No idea," Harry said, still punch drunk. He got up slowly and began to walk shakily toward the door. "Thanks a million for the assist, but I had them right where I wanted 'em," he said, a teasing grin on his weary face.

Daphne snorted. "At least I know you're the real Harry Potter, with that lame quip." Nonetheless, she entwined her arm with his as an ostensible extension of their cover as they left the room. "You looked like you could use a little help, there," she answered his querying glance at the gesture. "And we certainly aren't apparating home with the symptoms you're showing."

Harry gave a resigned look at this, but proceeded down the stairs and out of the building arm-in-arm with her. As they exited the building, he whispered in her ear, "Thanks again…but you know I'm going to make this cover painful on the way back now, don't you?" He gave her neck a light nuzzle, laughing all the while. It was Daphne's turn to sigh resignedly.


Daphne and Harry finally made their way back to the auror department, leaning on one another for support all the while. Harry, in particular, was favoring his left side, and walking somewhat unstably.

"And you're sure you don't want to check in with the healers? You started out looking awful, and its only getting worse," Daphne said, a not of reproach in her weary voice.

"No, but I want to deal with the associated paperwork even less. Not to mention no one in the department is back from the game yet, which means any healers we might've had assigned here are on station there." Harry shrugged, and tried to inject a false note of cheer into his words. "Nothing a few controlled potions and a stiff drink can't handle, anyway. Speaking of, care to join me after we finish up reports?"

Daphne glanced at him curiously out of the corner of her eye. "Isn't our usual weekly outing tomorrow night?"

"Yeah. So? You could sure use a drink or four after tonight, I'd guess."

"Too right." Daphne thought for a second, then responded "I think I'll take a raincheck, though. By the time I finish with tonight's report, I'll be late for my date with Michael. We'll still be on for tomorrow, though, right?"

"Sure," Harry said dismissively, failing to hide the little bit of disappointment he felt in his voice. "See you tomorrow," he said, shrugging, and turned and walked back to his desk area.

Harry made his way around the clutter of his small office, and glared at the folder he needed to fill out and have on his superior's desk by the next morning. His after-action reports were notoriously brief, and although they omitted nothing, they often understated to the point where reading between the lines became a necessary art form for anyone interested in what he did. As Harry strongly suspected that all anyone did was read Daphne's reports when they were interested in what he did, his simply scratched a few meaningless lines about the fight and closed the folder. He stood up to go drop the report off in his boss's office, but thought better of it and sat back down.

Considering what he had overheard tonight, in combination with the feelings he had been having about the job, what he was considering was certainly not out of the question. He pulled out a sheet of parchment and began to write. The only question, Harry thought, was how to put it to the boss…

An hour later, Daphne was putting the finishing touches on her after-action. She knew that one of them had to do it properly, and it certainly wasn't going to be Harry. Daphne resented the fact that she ended up being burdened with the bulk of the paperwork, but then reflected that it was mostly Harry's doing that they had so little paper work compared to the rest of the department. She hadn't done desk work in months, mainly because she and Harry were nearly always first call for any remotely dangerous patrol. An hour's report every other day was a small price to pay.

She got up, and headed down the short hallway to the boss's office. Gavin Davies was singularly unsuited as a field auror, but he got the job done well enough in the office. She leaned over and placed her completed report on his inbox, eager to leave, but was sidetracked by the letter on top of Harry's report. As they had been the only two people in the office during the past hour, it almost certainly had to be from him.

She knew that she shouldn't, but bent down and picked up the letter, unfolding it as she did so. After all, she reasoned, I am Harry's partner, and anything that makes him write extra is certainly strange enough that it is my best interest to read.

Captain Davies,

It has come to my attention that someone among the powers-that-be has come to distrust me. It is also my understanding that this lack of trust has been responsible for the dead-end shifts and full time patrol alert status my partner and I have been on. My standing in the wizarding community notwithstanding, I do feel my performance on the job merits at least some consideration when meting out assignments. Today was the seventh full patrol shift we've worked in five days, and we ran into yet another group of aspiring dark wizards who seemed to have at least some support from within the ministry, which raises some troubling questions. At least have the decency to inform me what I might run up against.

If for some reason you are incapable of respecting me, at least respect Daphne. We both know that she is among the hardest working, most capable aurors; this, apparently, is not good enough for her to be promoted or to be given assignments fitting her performance, either.

All of this being the case, I not-so-respectfully submit to you my resignation from the Auror Corps, effective tomorrow morning.

Harry Potter

Daphne stood, dumbfounded. This letter must have taken Harry forever to write in such…legalese. It was a good minute or two before her brain starting processing things rationally again. Looks like I may need to go have that drink, after all.

Daphne made her way to the disapparation point reserved for auror use, headed to tell her fiancée she would have to reschedule their date for another time. She turned on the spot, and found herself in an empty kitchen. A note was propped up on the table in plain view.

Daph – sorry, but I'm going to have to cancel our date. My clients want to go over the new arrangement and pound out all the details tonight. See you tomorrow morning – MC.

She scowled. Should've known, that's the third time this week. Now I don't even feel guilty for skipping out.

She headed upstairs for a quick change of clothes and to freshen up, and twenty minutes later, she disapparated to head to the bar.

The Eagle and Lion, to any casual observer, appeared to be an average blue-collar pub with a smaller town feel, being just outside of London. Inside, too, it appeared to be thoroughly ordinary, with a standard bar setup and one telly tuned to the news and another, larger one displaying football highlights from earlier in the day.

It did, however, contain its not so normal aspects, as well. Harry Potter sat near the end of the bar as evidence of that – his 'sparkler' drink, containing soda, whiskey, and firewhiskey, seemed to glow in swirls as it emitted intermittent spits of soda from the top. The double dollop of firewhiskey gave the drink its character; the bar's owner, one 'H. Prongs', explained its presence in a muggle bar. While the bar made a decent enough return on investment, it had more than paid for itself as a public place where Harry and his friends could unwind without being noticed.

Harry was nursing his second drink, well on his way to ordering a third, when a familiar presence sat down on the stool next to him and nudged his shoulder in a friendly greeting.

"Forget to tell me something, Mister Potter?" Daphne asked, one eyebrow upraised.

"Absolutely no idea what you are talking about, Miss Greengrass," he said formally, giving the bar a quick tap and holding up two fingers when the bartender glanced his direction. He looked over at her, falling into a more causal form of speech as he did so. "Glad you could join me, after all."

"Cut the crap, Harry. I read the letter you wrote on Davies's desk-" at this, Harry made a tsk-tsk motion with his hands, a weary grin on his face "-and you have a lot of explaining to do. Ever think that maybe you should consult your partner before you go jump off the deep end like that?" She said all of this with a hint of acid in her tone, and snatched up her drink as soon as it arrived, taking a long pull.

Harry, to his credit, had the decency to look a little abashed. He explained to her what he'd overheard before they had fought earlier and his suspicions of what that entailed; she merely gave him an inquiring glance and motioned for him to continue. He supposed, after a moments reflection, that she knew him at least as well as he knew himself, and added: "Well, as you can probably tell, I haven't really been all that happy with the job lately anyway. It isn't that I hate being an auror, just that I hate feeling like I'm being used. And we are definitely being used."

Daphne made to cut in, but Harry was on a roll, and she subsided and let him continue at a glance. "There is a big difference from doing our job and doing the entire department's job. Even if I might not be able to stand the dark wizards being out and about, I just don't feel like the rest of them deserve to have all their problems bundled up and taken care of. And don't even get me started on what they're doing to you – I might not deserve the promotion, but you sure do and maybe having me out of there will get them to get up and notice you," he uttered, a note of apology in his voice. He reached for the fourth drink that had arrived without asking.

Daphne didn't know whether to hit him or hug him. She compromised by giving him a little wry smile and gently reprimanding him with "Next time, try talking with someone involved. I might've joined the force because I was hard over for money and daddy wanted the family to look like we were making strides towards becoming 'more accepting' wizards, but I stayed on because of you. I like the job I have – a promotion might be nice, but I'd rather be out busting bad guys and enjoying myself with my partner, not 'the great Harry Potter'. All I have to do is write a couple of reports per week and I get a more exciting job than anyone else on the planet – and a decent paycheck to boot. Still, I'm not saying this is the wrong decision – the schedule the last few weeks has been…bloody awful."

Harry grunted, and each of the two picked up another drink. "The worst part is, I have no idea what I'm going to do now."

"You certainly don't do nothing well…or at all," Daphne said, sniggering into her drink as she did so.

"Well," Harry said pensively, "I was thinking – and don't you dare tell anyone else this, except maybe Ron and Hermione – that I might follow some leads the old codger left in a couple of his books and see where they lead. Maybe channel the obnoxious, powerful savior of the world side of me on the way out."

Harry gave her a wink, and Daphne could've sworn she noticed his eyes twinkle just a bit as he did so. She laughed uproariously at this, drawing attention to the normally quiet area of the bar.

"Sorry – its just I can so see you as the Headmaster of Hogwarts in 30 years after that little display." Harry affected a look of mock surprise and a 'who, me' face at this. "You said Ron and Hermione – what about little miss Weaselette?"

"Funny you should ask – I hope that 'on again, off again' is finally off for good, as of today." It was Daphne's turn to be surprised as Harry said this with an air of finality.

"Oh, really?"

"Yep," he said, leaning back with his hands steepled behind his head. "Got tired of the business of having to be two or three different people for someone else. She didn't make life terrible by any means – but 'not terrible' and 'what I want' are two different things."

"Well, then," Daphne said with a gulp as she finished her…fourth? Fifth drink? "I think it's about time we took the 'clear our heads' walk for tonight. Tell me again why we're still doing this job?" She asked as she stood up from her stool with just a bit of a stagger.

Harry gave her a hand getting up, and they made to walk to the door. "We ask that question every time we're here. I have an answer this time – I'm not still doing this job. What are you going to do now that there's only the money and no 'exciting Harry Potter' to do the job with?" He gave her a smug grin as he opened the pub's door for her.

"Prat." Daphne gave him a not-so-playful swat on the arm as she walked out the door. "Lets see if we can't cause any more trouble in this part of town tonight…"


Daphne awoke the next morning to the shrill buzzing of her magical alarm clock. The noise did nothing to quell her blazing headache.

"Son of a…" She reached over to quiet the offending device, and to her surprise found a small vial of vivid green potion atop a note on her nightstand.

DG – That's the last of the good hangover remedy batch that I had Hermione brew me ages ago – she seems to think that I'll learn my lesson if she makes the stuff not work as well. Little does she know…Figured you needed it a little worse than me, as I practically carried you home after you got me into that brawl with "harmless" flirting. Not your normal MO for a night of carousing – you must have been further gone than I thought -

Brawl? Daphne struggled to suppress a grin while she dredged up hazy memories of the night before; yes, they had gone into another bar; yes, she might have had the intention to let Harry let off some steam in a fight…but she could remember none of what had happened. Pity, that.

-…Anyway, I bet you will find something of interest in this morning's Prophet. Just saying. I'll be in touch. –HP

Daphne shook her head and headed to the kitchen windowsill to collect the morning's Prophet, and gasped as she read the headline.

Peerless Potter Shows Up Ministry!

Rita Skeeter

The Ministry of Magic was treated to a shock this morning as renowned auror, bane of He-who-must-not-be-named Harry Potter turned his resignation to Head Auror Davies. Reports of the scene that followed ranged from a full-fledged duel to a muggle brawling match, and a variety of things besides. Early this morning, Mr. Potter was gracious enough to grant a rare interview to me exclusively. He refused to give specifics on the circumstances of the dispute, but did state that "whatever the rumors, the truth is even crazier." He also responded to a request for his future plans with "I'm not really sure yet. I'd like to have a little fun, maybe disappear for a while," upon which he promptly did just that. For a full transcript of the interview, see page 7…

No kidding I might find something interesting…Her morning surprises were not finished, however. As she turned from the window, a scrap of paper appeared in a flash of white-gold fire on her table. She rushed over to read it.

Traveling. I'll keep in touch - make sure you make our weekly, ahem, meetings. Maybe I'll bring back souvenirs. Yours,

HP

Daphne grinned. Today would certainly be fun at the office…and although she no longer had her work interactions with Harry to look forward to, she knew at least she lived in interesting times. And, she thought somewhat guiltily, there's always the next trip to the bar with Harry to look forward to…


A/N - This is meant to be a simple open-ended one shot, but if there's enough response for this, I might have to write a couple of stories around this. Either way, hope everyone enjoys reading this as much as I did writing it.