"Harry, wait!"

Harry turned to see Jace walking quickly down the length of the foyer. He'd just walked in the front entrance of city hall, and he was shivering slightly from the early morning chill that still clung to him.

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked as Jace approached.

"Not exactly," Jace said, catching Harry's arm and keeping him from moving towards the stairs. "It's more that we need to keep a low profile." Something seemed to catch his eye over Harry's shoulder, and the next second Jace was dragging him by the arm over to Darryl's office.

"Where are we—"

"MACUSA's in the building," Jace muttered.

"What?"

"Yeah," he said. "It's a good thing I caught you on your way in. We're trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Gabriel's licensed to work a muggle job, but if they catch even a whiff of magic in the office, they'll start digging. And from there it won't be hard to uncover the whole operation."

"Licensed?"

"Oh, yeah, MACUSA's got a death grip on everything that wizards do. That's why the underground business is so successful. Lots of rebelling to do when the government is so restrictive. And America's big enough that as long as you don't call attention to yourself, they'll usually turn a blind eye."

"So we're out of the office for the day. What about Selena?"

"I already caught her, talked her through the whole thing. Even though she knows about magic, a muggle presence will help offset suspicion. I'd stay but I've been cursed and healed my fair share of times. I don't want a random whiff of magic to give Gabriel away."

"Has Gabriel done anything to attract attention?"

"What do you mean?" Jace asked.

"You said MACUSA will usually turn a blind eye, as long as wizards don't attract attention to themselves. Why are they showing up now?"

Jace began making for the front doors, and Harry followed him.

"Gabriel likes to dabble in conspiracy," Jace said. "It's not just the smuggling. MACUSA likes to control information, and America is riddled with magic trails that they don't want civilians stumbling across. MACUSA's come to see Gabriel once or twice before, when he got a little too interested in something they wanted to hide. Like the clues we found in the Delacour papers—that's the kind of thing you're supposed to turn into the government."

Harry stopped in his tracks. "He knows about them."

"What?"

"Last night. I showed him the clues from the Delacour papers."

Jace stared at him. "But you still have the papers, right?"

"No. Gabriel took them. Said something about how they were a secret MACUSA wanted to keep and it was best to stay away from them."

Jace swore, running one hand through his hair. "If Gabriel said that," he said slowly. "Then the Delacour papers are much, much more than I originally thought. Especially if he thought they were too dangerous to stay in your hands." He stared longingly at the staircase for a few seconds.

"Are you going to go back to get them?" Harry asked.

"No," Jace said after a moment. "Going back now would hurt more than it would help. No, we just keep our heads down for the day and trust Gabriel. He's been caught in messier scrapes before. I'm sure it'll all be fine."

But he continued to stare at the staircase, and Jace's agitation over the lost papers was making Harry more and more uneasy. What secrets was Louis Delacour (and now MACUSA) so desperate to hide?

The front door swung open again, and Harry and Jace moved simultaneously, stepping forward without thinking.

"Jace Cavalli."

Harry looked up. A man was standing just inside the front door. He was a few years older than Harry, and his face was defined by the sharp lines of his cheekbones and jaw, his hair a messy light blond that was just a little too long.

A myriad of emotions crossed Jace's face—disbelief, confusion, anger, frustration—and he opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no words came out. "Yes?" he finally said, and he was clearly working hard to keep his tone even.

The other man laughed a little. "It is you! All that hard work paid off. You know, it was a good thing my parents set up cameras on their property earlier this year. And a good thing I have connections in the government. I'm still impressed that it only took them a day to figure you out."

"Excuse me," Jace said, "but I don't know who you are." He grabbed Harry's arm again and dragged him towards the door.

The man laughed again. "I highly doubt that," he said. "Seeing as I spoke to you yesterday."

Jace looked the man straight in the face. "I don't know who you are," he said, and he said it so clearly and forcefully that Harry almost believed it.

"Then this doesn't belong to you?" he asked, holding up his right hand. Around his wrist was a worn bracelet braided with silver.

Jace's eyes widened when he saw it. "Excuse me, I need to get my brother home. Please stay away from me."

He tried to push past the man, but he caught one of Jace's wrists and pulled him around. "Let's talk, yes?" he said, and dragged him down the nearest empty hallway.

"Let go of me," Jace hissed, trying to pull away from the man. He continued to march down the hallway, dragging Jace, who in turn was dragging Harry.

The man stopped, pulling Jace around to face him. "Now, before we start, are you sure this is a conversation you want him to hear?" He tilted his head toward Harry.

"He's my security," Jace muttered. Harry caught the sarcasm, but he wasn't sure if the other man did.

"Some security," he muttered, eyeing Harry.

Jace rolled his eyes and took a few steps back the way they'd come.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. After all, I'm sure you've heard about the missing Dadd painting that disappeared from a Boston mansion yesterday. The owners tried to keep it on the down low, seeing how most people think this painting is still in a gallery in Britain."

"Are you here to threaten me?"

"Why would I do that?" the man said, stopping and turning to face Jace. "Did you have something to do with it?"

"You'll have to do much better than that to drag a confession out of me."

The man laughed again, his hands stuck in his pockets, his stride easy and graceful. "Oh, no," he said. "I have no interest in dragging a confession out of you. Which is one of the many, many reasons you should consider yourself grateful that it was I you ran into on the lawn of my parent's house and not somebody else. It would have taken half as long for my parents to find you and they wouldn't have been nearly as kind once they did."

"Let's consider for a moment that I was, in fact, in Boston yesterday," Jace said. "Why do you care?"

"Because a famous and expensive painting disappeared from my parent's house yesterday, and you were the only person anyone saw on the premises around the time of the incident. I'd love to know how you got past the interior cameras though—there wasn't a trace of you. Of course, the exterior cameras weren't as kind."

"You can't prove I had anything to do with it," Jace said, which Harry thought was a pretty dumb thing to say. "I was with my brother all day," he continued, motioning to Harry. "We work in the same department in city hall. Our coworkers can tell you we definitely didn't spend the day in Boston."

"I don't care about the painting," the man said. "That's my parent's wild-goose chase, not mine. And I have to admit, you did good. If it wasn't for the exterior cameras, I would never have been able to track you down. Well, probably. I'm good at finding people."

"I had nothing to do with that painting," Jace insisted, "and no matter how you try to twist my words, I won't say otherwise."

"Like I said, I don't care about the painting. I was wondering if you could do something for me."

"Like what?"

"Pick up an old family heirloom."

"Why would I do that?"

"A multitude of reasons! I can pay you, for one—not a lot, but enough to make it worth your while. And like I said, I'm very good at finding people. You strike me as the kind of person who has a past he doesn't want people looking into."

"I don't work with people who threaten me."

"It's not a threat. Not if you don't want it to be."

Jace looked up and down the empty hallway, a few chattering people passing by the opposite end. "No deal," he said finally. "But good work at least making me consider it." He turned to walk away, pulling Harry with him.

"Wait," the other man said. Harry glanced back. "There's something else."

"What?" Jace said wearily.

"This," he said, pulling a flash drive out of his pocket. "This is the exterior camera footage from yesterday. You're all over it."

"Another threat?"

"An offer," the man said. "You help me, it's all yours. You leave it in my possession, I can't promise who might end up with it. I'm sure you have lots of enemies in the world of fine art."

Jace stared at the flash drive. "I already have a job and a team I work with. I'll do this job for you. I'll do one job for you. And then you'll leave me alone."

"Deal," the man said immediately. He stuck out his hand and they shook on it. He grinned at Harry, then looked back at Jace. "I'll come by your office in the next few days to sort out the details. You work in building and zoning, right?"

"You give me the bracelet first," Jace said.

The man shrugged. "Sorry, no caveats. We've already shaken on it. You can have it back with the flash drive."

Jace looked ready to launch himself at the man. Murder in his eyes, Harry listened to him take a few measured breaths. "I look forward to working with you," he said finally, and turned to walk back down the hallway.

The man watched them walk away. Just as they reached the end of the hallway, he called after them. "The name's Liam," he said. Jace ignored him.

They made a sharp turn for the front door as soon as they made it to the end of the hallway. When they got outside, Jace whirled on him. "I thought you had the cameras!"

"I did! And as Liam mentioned, I did a flawless job. If you had told me about any exterior cameras, I could have done something."

"Shut up," Jace muttered, and Harry realized that he was taking the failure to heart. "It was the first actual job I've done in over a year."

"Well, on the bright side, you actually are quite lucky he's not turning you in."

"No, Harry, lucky is when I don't have my face caught on camera immediately after stealing a highly prized painting. I was just—I was just being a complete idiot. But yes, I suppose things could have been worse."

"Harry?" someone called from the bottom of the steps. Jace and Harry turned simultaneously, and Harry couldn't help the grin that broke over his face.

"Hermione?" he called as she approached, dragging a suitcase behind her.

"Harry!" she said. She ran up the steps and met him halfway, throwing her arms around him tightly. "It's so good to see you," she said breathlessly. "Who's this?"

Harry glanced back to see Jace lingering awkwardly behind him. "Oh, right," he said. "This is Jace, my—" he was about to say friend, but at the last second decided against it. "My coworker," he said. "Jace, this is Hermione, an old school friend of mine."

"Nice to meet you," Jace said, then turned to Harry. "I'll see you in the office tomorrow."

Jace turned and walked away, and Harry turned back to face Hermione, a grin breaking over his face. "I'm headed home," he said, picking up her suitcase. "We can walk together. I wasn't expecting you until tonight."

"I know," Hermione said. "But I couldn't stand being around my parents any longer. All their questions, and concerned looks—I just needed a bit of space. So I thought I might as well come out here early and see you and your work."

"State government came in for an inspection," Harry said, surprised by how easily the lie came. "They sent home most of the office early."

"Oh, well, that's too bad," Hermione said.

"I'm surprised you even have enough energy to be disappointed," Harry said.

They chatted as they walked, the walk taking a few more minutes than usual as Hermione was walking slowly and Harry was dragging her bag. But it was a beautiful day, and he was walking with an old friend, and Harry found that he didn't mind.

"It looks nice," Hermione said sleepily when they finally turned the corner and made their way up the walk to his apartment.

"You can take the bed tonight," he said, holding the door open for her.

"Oh, Harry, I don't need—"

"You do," Harry said. "Trust me. Sleeping on the couch won't kill me, and you need a good night's sleep. You look exhausted."

"I am," she said, giving in and following him into the bedroom, where he dumped the suitcase on his bed. "And I guess I can't feel too bad since it's just the one night."

"You can stay as long as you want, Hermione."

She shook her head. "Work," she said. "I've become important to the department. Important enough that they'll give me time off but also make it clear they want me back as soon as possible."

"Well, I'm glad they value you," Harry said. "Be right back—bathroom."

When he re-entered the room a few minutes later, Hermione was sound asleep on the bed, the suitcase open beside her, jacket and shoes tossed idly on the floor.

She slept through the rest of the morning and the afternoon, not making an appearance until after Harry had finished cleaning the dinner dishes and settled onto the couch to re-read Quidditch Through the Ages.

"Hey," she said, yawning, as she padded into the room.

"Hey, sleeping beauty," he said, smiling and patting the couch next to him. "You have a good nap? I think you slept for seven or eight hours."

"Well, I haven't slept at all since I broke up with Ron, so it's well deserved."

"I'll make you an egg," Harry said, standing. Hermione followed him into the kitchen and watched him crack the egg into the pan.

"I didn't know you knew how to use a stovetop," Hermione said.

"Living in America has taught me a lot of things," Harry said.

When he scooped the egg out of the pan, she accepted it silently, pulling out a chair and settling in.

"Do you want to… talk about it?" Harry asked eventually, sitting across from her.

"No," she said firmly. "I do not. Because you are not only my best friend, you are also Ron's best friend. And the last thing we need is to drag you into this break up to make it even messier." She choked on the last few words, and Harry could see that her eyes were filling with tears. Then she was suddenly sobbing over the remains of the egg, and Harry sat helplessly, unsure what to do.

What would Selena do? he asked himself, because he was the least emotionally intelligent person he knew and she was the kindest. Mechanically he stood and walked around the table. He put his arms around Hermione, hugging her tightly and letting his body shake with hers.

The sobbing subsided after a few minutes. "Thanks, Harry," she said, wiping at her eyes. "Why don't you tell me about your life?"

"Oh," Harry said. "I'm not even quite sure where to start."

"Well, tell me about the people you work with. You mentioned one of them was a wizard in one of your letters."

"Oh, yeah," Harry said. "That's Gabriel, my boss. He keeps it on the down low, though. Just trying to make things work in a muggle job."

"That's so interesting," Hermione said. "Since he was educated at Ilvermorny. You'd think he'd be one of the elite. Do you know how he ended up working a low paying job in the muggle world?"

Harry did not know, and he also did not want to get into the subject of Gabriel's work with Hermione. He didn't feel bad about the smuggling, but he had no doubt that Hermione would find a way to make him feel guilty, or at the very least take the side of MACUSA.

"I'm really not sure," he said.

"And Jace?" she asked. "That guy I met outside city hall?"

"Oh yeah," he said. "He's pretty cool."

"Do you get along? He seems a little stiff."

"We get along well enough. He's just having a bad day," he said, because it was true. "There's this girl I work with, too. Her name is Selena."

"And?"

"And what?"

"What about her? You wouldn't have brought her up if there wasn't something worth mentioning."

"Oh," Harry said. "I don't know. She's really nice, I guess." He didn't say, When I'm around her I forget about my pain and my past, or, I ruined any chance of becoming good friends with her when I threatened her yesterday.

Hermione was looking at him curiously. "Have you been writing Ginny at all?" she asked suddenly.

"What? No."

"That's good," Hermione said, standing and taking her dish to the sink. "Do you feel like you're moving on?"

"I think so," Harry said. "I hope so."

"That's good," Hermione said, smiling at him, and for a few seconds the dark kitchen was warm with their friendship, and breathing came easy.

Eventually, one of them broke the silence and they wandered back into the other room and settled onto the couch. And Hermione pulled out a book and they spent the evening chatting and reading intermittently until Harry's eyes slid closed with Quidditch Through the Ages on his lap, a friend by his side, and a smile on his face.

….

Harry woke the next morning to someone knocking at his door. He was stretched out on the couch in his jeans and a t-shirt, his book lying on the floor and a blanket pulled clumsily over him. The door to his bedroom was closed, and Harry assumed Hermione was still sound asleep.

He pushed himself upright and made his way to the front hallway, combing his hands through his hair and rubbing at his eyes. He stifled a yawn as he reached to pull open the door. Bright daylight spilled into his apartment, and Harry blinked uncertainly in the light.

"Ron?" he said.

Ron was loitering on the step, a bag thrown over his shoulder.

"Hi, Harry," he said uncertainly, watching Harry's face for his reaction.

Harry's mouth worked wordlessly for a few seconds. "Well, come in," he said finally, stepping aside to let his best friend in.

"Thanks," Ron muttered, filing past him. Harry closed the door behind him and flicked on one of the overhead lights.

"Sorry, I just woke up," Harry said. "Do you want breakfast? I'm going to make some for myself."

"Uh, sure," Ron said, following Harry into the kitchen.

"So," Harry said, mind working in overdrive as he tried to figure out what to say to Ron, and praying that Hermione would stay in the bedroom until he could figure out how to diffuse the situation. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Harry asked, cracking an egg into the pan. Fried eggs were getting old, but it was one of the few things he could make with confidence.

"I would think it was obvious," Ron said darkly. "I'm sure Hermione told you about the break-up."

Something creaked behind them, and Ron turned just in time to see Hermione emerge from the bedroom, eyes sleepy and hair a tousled mess.

They both froze, and Harry was glad that he was hidden somewhat, tucked back into the kitchen, watching over a frying egg. He poked at it with a fork, listening to it crackle, and trying to ignore the intense silence between the other two.

"Really?" Ron said finally, and his voice seemed too large inside of all that silence. "Really?" He said again, but this time he turned on Harry, directing the question at him.

"What?" Harry said tiredly, turning away to dig out a spatula.

"Ron—" Hermione began, taking a step towards the kitchen.

Ron whirled on her instead, which was a relief to Harry. "You break up with me, and two days later you're sleeping with my best friend?"

"Ron!" Hermione shouted. "How dare you—"

"And you!" he yelled, turning to face Harry. "You break my sister's heart, ditch me and my family, and then sleep with my girlfriend."

"Ex-girlfriend," Harry said, even though he knew it would only make things worse. "And I didn't sleep with her."

"I'm so done with you, Harry Potter," Ron said, and his voice was frighteningly even. Ron always yelled, and now that he wasn't, Harry could already feel that something had shifted in their relationship.

"Ron," Hermione said firmly. "We didn't sleep together. He's one of my best friends. In case you forgot, I just went through a bad break-up. So I came to talk to him."

Ron ignored her, still glaring at Harry, seething.

Hermione gave a hopeless sigh and muttered something under her breath. "I've got to get going, Harry," she said.

"Wait, Hermione—"

"I really need to get back to work, and fighting isn't going to solve anything for us," she said, motioning between her and Ron. "But thanks for letting me crash. I'll write soon."

She disappeared into the bedroom, and a few seconds later, Harry heard the small pop that meant she had disapparated. Harry scooped the slightly burned egg onto a plate and pushed it towards Ron.

Ron just stared at it. "I don't know," he began slowly. "I don't know if things will ever be the same."

"They won't," Harry said.

"That's a shame."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Voldemort's gone, after all."

"But our friendship was never quite the same."

"That's because you're just starting to become what you're supposed to be, Ron. You're coming into your own. But I was trying to escape my identity. And I've done a pretty good job of it here."

Ron accepted that silently, nodding and poking at his egg.

"In your last letter, you mentioned that the one thing you missed most about England was flying. You didn't even mention anything about me or my family, or any of your other friends. And that's when I realized you really were changing and distancing yourself. And then when Hermione broke up with me, I thought maybe I could come out and commiserate and salvage what we had. That I could somehow force it to work."

"I'm sorry," Harry said. "Really, I am. And just so you know—there's nothing between Hermione and I, and there never will be."

Ron nodded silently, then stood and withdrew his bag, throwing it over his shoulder. "I'm sorry that things have changed," he said, "but I understand."

He turned and made his way to the door, the egg left abandoned on the kitchen table.

"Oh," he said, turning around and reaching into his bag. He pulled out an envelope and dropped it onto the table. "Mum wanted me to give that to you. You better come. You'll break her heart if you don't show up."

And then the door opened and shut, and he disappeared in a flash of bright morning sunlight.

….

Harry was late to work. He didn't make it into the office until a few hours later, climbing the stairs at city hall just before noon. He'd sat and stared at the egg for a few minutes before finally choking it down cold. The he washed the dishes, and made the bed, and showered, and put on some clean clothes.

Finally, when it couldn't be avoided any longer, he picked up the envelope that Ron had left on the counter and ripped it open. Inside was a thick piece of creamy stationary, embossed with silver letters.

You are cordially invited to the wedding of

Audrey Simmons

To

Percy Weasley

He stared at it for several seconds, then stuffed it into his bag, threw it over his shoulder and ducked out the front door.

He plopped himself into his desk, just as he'd done a dozen times before, but he couldn't make himself do his work. Instead, he stared at the pages blankly, thinking about the wedding invitation buried in his bag and the man who had threatened Jace yesterday and the papers he'd surrendered to Gabriel and the best friend that had crossed an ocean and continent to see him only to walk out five minutes later.

"What's wrong?"

Harry looked up. Selena. Of course.

"Don't worry about me," he said, and turned back to continue staring blankly at his work.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked.

Harry looked up. "Really," he said. "You are the last person in the world who should feel obligated to worry about me. I'll be fine."

"I have no doubt you'll be fine eventually. I'm asking if you're fine right now. It doesn't seem like it."

Harry looked at her. She remained glued to her seat, and there was still a certain uncertainty, a fear lingering in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry I pulled my wand on you the other day. That was not a good way for me to react, and I promise I won't ever try something like that again."

She looked at him for a long moment. "Thank you," she said, but she didn't get up and make her way to the chair that she used to occupy next to his desk, and Harry understood that it would probably take a long time for her to find her way back to it, if she ever did. "But really, what's wrong?"

"I just got an invite to a wedding," he blurted out, before he could think about it. "And I'm not sure if I should go?"

"Is it for an ex or something?"

Harry blinked, suddenly overtaken with the thought of attending Ginny's wedding. He shuddered. "No," he said. "My ex's brother."

"Oh," she said. "Why'd they invite you? Sorry—not to be rude."

"I'm really close to the family. Grew up with them, side by side."

"Well, you have to go," Selena said. "Not going will just make things worse since you're probably going to see the ex in the future. When's the wedding?"

"This weekend."

"That's soon."

"Yeah. I knew about it, I just—forgot. A lot has been happening lately."

"Amen to that," she muttered.

"So I should go?"

"Definitely. Take someone with you, though. These things are better with a friend."

Harry blinked and opened his mouth, suddenly overtaken with the urge to ask her. He could do it, right now, without thinking about it too much. But then her eyes slid away from his, and she fumbled with some papers in her hands, and Harry remembered that any trust between them had crumbled when he'd pulled his wand on her just days ago.

Maybe someday, he thought. Maybe someday all this mess will be cleaned up and I'll be able to ask her to a wedding and she'll say yes, and we'll drink champagne and waltz terribly and make small talk with Hagrid. But not today.

"Do you have a good friend you could ask? I'm sure there's someone you went to school with," she said.

"You're right," Harry said, and a rueful smile broke over his face. "There is."

Dear Luna,

I'm sure you recently received an invitation for Percy and Audrey's wedding. I was wondering if you would like to go together? You could catch me up on the latest edition of the Quibbler.

Your good friend,

Harry

AN: Wow, that chapter was a doozy. Longest chapter so far, but there was a lot that needed to happen! As always, thank you for your interest and please consider leaving a comment on how you feel about the story-it really makes my day to receive feedback. love you all! stay safe!