Next chapter (finally) uploaded! :D Hopefully people will start to see where I'm going with this now. Cyber cookies all round!

A week earlier…

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, highly esteemed Auror and conqueror of Lord Voldemort, was fast asleep. His head, glasses askew and his jet-black hair slightly untidier than usual, was slumped over a fairly handsome oak desk, its wooden surface almost completely hidden under the scattered piles of parchment spilling out from a tray bearing the half-hidden name 'Inbox.' Broken quills and dried inkpots lay around Harry's feet, a few feet away from an overflowing bin, full with scrunched-up balls of paper bearing the same illegible handwriting.

The only noises in the room were the sound of Harry's snoring and the rhythmic ticking of the old grandfather clock in the corner, as well as distinct echoes of swiftly approaching footsteps and the quiet snatches of quick conversation, both coming from the corridor outside.

"- sneering, blonde haired snob. He hasn't changed one bit…"

"He's supposed to be on our side now, Ron."

"So what? He's just a good git now? Strutting around the place as though he owned the Department, sucking up to Kingsley… I'll bet he just sees right through him…"

"It's only for a couple of weeks, it won't kill you…"

"Course it will, unless I kill him first…"

"Ron!"

"Just wait until Harry finds out… Where the hell is he, anyway?"

As those words were spoken, the door on the far side of the room was flung open, and Ron Weasley burst into the room, his shockingly red hair and freckles vividly standing out against the black of his robes. Slinking in behind him was Hermione, her bushy hair tied back off her face, wearing a set of deep plum robes emblazoned with an elaborate silver "W".

"He's asleep," she said, hesitating by the door as Ron strode forward. "Don't wake him- he'll find out soon enough…"

But Ron had already crossed the length of the room, and was now shaking Harry's shoulder, causing him to jerk awake, spilling an inkpot across the desk as he did so.

"Wazgoingon?" mumbled Harry incoherently; shaking himself awake slightly and pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

Hermione swept away some of the mess on the desk with a sweep of her wand, then tapped an empty mug and filled it to the brim with coffee. She pushed it towards Harry and sat down on a chair on the other side of the desk- Ron, meanwhile, just sat on the piles of parchment. Harry took a sip of the coffee, still trying to clear his head.

"God Harry, you look terrible," Ron said, slightly scrutinizing the darkened rings below Harry's eyes. "When was the last time you slept in a bed?"

"I wasn't sleeping!" Harry mumbled indignantly. Ron and Hermione exchanged sceptical looks. "Not much, anyway."

"Your desk's an absolute mess," remarked Hermione, sweeping away a few pieces of parchment splattered with ink stains. She Vanished several purple memos stamped with The Ministry of Magic that were still feebly fluttering, and cleared the contents of his bin and the projectiles that had missed by a few feet. "Have you been home at all this week? You always seem to be here when we come up…"

Harry yawned widely, half covering his mouth with one hand. "Been here for the last few days," he said, "Helping Kingsley deal with the anti-goblin raids. Only a couple of protesters against the new wand regulation wars now, we think we got most of the violent opponents arrested in the last week… You just came back from arresting Grunnar, didn't you?" he asked Ron.

"Yep. Me and Dedalus Diggle, to be exact. Crazy nutter, I swear… almost took me out with a badly-aimed Stunners. Wish I had you there to back me up."

Harry gave a grin and picked up a sheaf of parchment. "I ought to finish this off and get home soon- Ginny's been stuck with James for nearly half a week now. I'd be surprised if he hasn't driven her insane yet."

Ron's arranged his features into a very unconvincing smile; it looked more like a grimace. "Actually, Harry, we got some news…"

"Another assignment?" Harry groaned, recognizing the look on his face. "Going after a motley group of anti-goblin protesters?"

"Worse," said Ron. "Many, many, many times worse. You see…"

Ron didn't finish his sentence; the door has opened again, and in walked a man in dark green robes. He had blonde hair long enough to be pulled back into a low knot, light grey eyes and a pale, pointed face. Draco Malfoy in his mid-twenties, was already the spitting image of his father.

Harry tried to suppress the sudden urge of dislike and loathing he felt rising within him. Malfoy was as smug as ever, even though he and his family only managed to escape arrest like their fellow Death Eaters by the skin of their teeth. Harry had justified that Narcissa, for whatever motives, had saved him in the forest clearing, and the Malfoys had gotten off with only a year of house arrest- more of a protection from their former Death Eater friends than anything.

Eight years had passed since Voldemort's death, and yet the Malfoys were as influential and as powerful as ever. Draco, despite his background, had been able to gain a job as an Auror under Harry, and there were certainly times that he wished that he'd not protected his family from further repercussions at the time.

Times exactly like this one.

"Potter," Malfoy said smugly, slightly sneering. "Shacklebolt wants to see you in his office."

"Right," Harry replied, in a somewhat strained tone. "I'll be right there."

Malfoy raised one eyebrow and gave a haughty sniff. "Now, Potter. The Minister doesn't tolerate tardiness."

He turned on his heel and left, closing the door with a small slam behind him.

"Git," Ron muttered, staring at the closed door with plain dislike in his eyes. "Idiot snob. The Minister doensn't tolerate tardiness… Honestly… He's only angling to get promoted to the Head of the Department. Not that he's been putting much work in- you know he hasn't done a bit of work on hunting down those anti-goblin protesters? Bet all of them are old friends of his…"

Harry looked at his dented watch and groaned. "Better get going then, if Kingsley wants to brief me. Maybe I'll be able to go home and catch a few hours sleep before I go…" he yawned again, drained his cup of coffee, and eased himself up off his chair. "Later then, I suppose."

He swayed dangerously on the spot before Ron grabbed him by the arm and half-wrenched him to his feet. "We're part of this too. Both me and Hermione. We're going on this assignment with you."

Harry blinked, surprised. "You and Hermione? What kind of anti-goblin group is this?"

Hermione gave a slight laugh, and slid off her seat. "I don't think this is anything to do with wand regulation protesters," she said grimly, opening the door to let Ron and Harry pass.

***

The Minister's office was a handsome room, with bookcases lining each wall, portraits of previous Ministers sitting in their frames, a bright fire was crackling in the grate, and a desk facing away from the wide window on the other side of the door. Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, looked up from a sheaf of parchment as they entered, and motioned to them to sit down in the empty chairs opposite him. One chair was already occupied; Draco Malfoy sat with his back to them, clearly looking at ease, filing his fingernails.

Harry, Ron and Hermione sat. Kingsley finished reading the piece of parchment and threw it down on his desk, which surface was noticeably neater than Harry's. He surveyed the four in front of him, his eyes slightly lingering on the dark rings below Harry's eyes. He heaved a great sigh.

"That was a just a letter," he said in his deep, reassuring voice, "From the President of Magic of the United States. He has a small problem that he requires our help to fix."

He sighed again, and then continued. "Usually, in such times, especially with the anti-goblin uprisings around the country at the moment, I would refuse his request, but the matter is of a certain need. The President also called to mind the substantial amount of gold he graciously donated to help rebuild Hogwarts nine years ago."

"What's the problem, sir?" asked Harry, curious despite his tiredness.

Kingsley pulled a bundle of papers from a pocket in his robes, passing it to Harry. Ron and Hermione peering over his shoulder, he unfolded it to find an American Muggle newspaper, dated only a few days ago. "THE TERROR TERRORIZING SEATTLE" blared the front page headline. Underneath, in a smaller font, it read "47 deaths over three months- Gang work suspected".

Harry skimmed through the article. "You think dark wizards are behind all of this?" he asked. Kingsley shook his head slowly.

"Then why should such a matter of Muggle killings in the United States affect us?" Malfoy, apparently finished with filing his nails, was also looking at the article over Harry's shoulder.

"The President and the Head of the Auror Department in America have a certain theory about the killings which all evidence seems to point to. I agree with them. There seems to be no coincidence to the method of the murders- how the bodies were burned beyond recognition, the casual dumping of the corpses, the pattern of acceleration… added, of course to how all the murders occurred at night…"

Hermione let out a small gasp, but Harry was still left in the dark. He exchanged a confused look with an equally confounded Ron. Malfoy, apparently bored, returned to filing his nails.

"We both think," Kingsley said, "This is the work of vampires."

The room was silent; the only noise the occasional crackle from the fireplace and the sound of Malfoy and his file.

"Vampires?" breathed Harry, looking back down on the article to see if there was a clue he'd missed.

Kingsley nodded. "Relatively newborn vampires, at that. America has had a history- a particularly bloody history, when it comes to vampire feuds, but they've never had a situation that's run unchecked for so long, nor one so far north."

He sat back in his chair and heaved a sigh. "So I'm sending you four as representatives of the British Ministry of Magic to help stop these killings in Seattle. If you are ready to leave tomorrow, I can arrange a Portkey at nine o'clock to take you to the post of the United States Ministry of Magic in Seattle for your briefing with the Head of the Auror Department on this mission."

"All four of us?" asked Harry, glancing over at Malfoy.

"Mrs. Hermione Weasley will be joining you as a representative of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," said Kingsley, completely misunderstanding Harry's question.

Harry nodded his head, not really taking the words in. It was just another mission, far across the Atlantic, facing somewhat more deadly foes than angry protesters, with Malfoy, of all people, watching his back. Feeling drained, he sank back into his chair and sighed.

"Who will be leading this mission, Minister?" asked Malfoy, looking up from admiring his polished nails.

"Harry will take control of this assignment. I place my full confidence in him," Kingsley said, shooting Harry a fleeting grin. Harry gave a half-hearted one in return as Ron muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "Thank God," under his breath. Malfoy's face looked mutinous.

Kingsley ignored them both. "That's all," he said, "I'll be expecting you at nine o'clock tomorrow, then."

Harry knew a dismissal when he saw it. Ron, Hermione, Draco and him all rose from their chairs as well, and began to make their way out of the room. Harry caught Ron's eye, who gave him a small grin. He felt a chest slightly uplift; at least he'd have both of them on his side, especially if Malfoy decided to jump him.

Ron opened the door, and held it open for Harry and Hermione. Malfoy stalked past them, into the corridor, the ugly look still on his face.

"Upstart jerk," he sniffed, sparing Harry a glare.

"Bitch," Harry muttered back despite himself.

Malfoy, who had heard, looked as though he was about to retort when the door swung open again, and Kingsley poked his head around the door.

"A private word, Potter, if you wouldn't mind."

With another victorious glance back at Malfoy's furious face, Harry stepped back inside Kingsley's study. He was seated at his desk again, and Harry sat down in one of the chairs opposite, subjecting himself to Kingsley's scrutinizing gaze.

"As you've probably heard," he said, after a moment's silence, "Old Gawain Robards is set to announce his retirement at the end of the year."

Harry nodded. Robards had been Head of the Auror Department since Scrimgeour had succeeded Fudge as the Minister of Magic ten years ago. Rumours had surfaced that he was comtemplating ending his career, but none had known for sure."

"Perhaps tradition would dictate me to give Williamson, Proudfoot or even Savage the promotion, but thinking about it…" he heaved a sigh. "It's obvious that the successor to his position should be you."

"Me?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Not really much other competition," Kingsley said, sparing him a grin. "Even not mentioning your defeat of Lord Voldemort, your record speaks for itself. Every single mission successful completed since you joined the Ministry eight years ago. But…"

"There's always a 'but'," said Harry, grinning in return.

"You'd be the youngest Auror appointed to this post in one hundred and nine years. I know you're a confident leader amongst your friends, but I need to know how you'll cope with authority over people you don't really like."

"Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"Exactly. You two don't get along at the best of times…" Harry gave a slight cough, "…And I need to know that you'll be able to keep control of yourself, and your temper, at the same time. Especially when you'll be Head of the Department, you be working with all kinds of people, some you won't get along with, I'll guarantee it."

Harry nodded.

"You three- you, Weasley, and Malfoy are the best out of the young Aurors here. We need fresh talent in our field, and it helps if most of you get along."

"I understand," said Harry. "Is that all?"

Kingsley nodded. "Only I'm sorry I have to send you away now. You've been an outstanding help with the rounding up of the anti-goblin groups- I've worked you to the bone, day and night," he said, gesturing to the dark rings underneath his glasses, "And I know you've got a wife and a newborn son at home," he smiled. "How is little James, anyway?"

"He got a very healthy set of lungs on him," Harry admitted truthfully. Kingsley laughed.

"Tell you what. After you complete this mission, take a month off. You've never been to America before, have you? You'll be able to take a trip with your James and Ginny. And after you get back, we'll be able to talk about this promotion."

"Thanks, Kingsley," Harry said, a smile breaking out on his face. "Are you sure you'll be alright with the anti-goblin uprisings?"

"The worst is over now. I'll be able to put Dawlish on following up the rest of them- or maybe I won't," he added, chuckling as he caught a look of disbelief fluttering over Harry's face. "That's all then," he said. "See you tomorrow at nine o'clock."