Harry went to Nadine first thing. There was a line, longer than the one he used to stand in waiting for the strip club to open. When it was finally his turn, her door was almost slammed in his face. "Wait!" Harry cried. "I'm ready to find him, bond him, and marry him. I'm ready to accept all of him. You and I both know he's chosen me, you can't keep me from him, I'll find him anyway!"

Nadine scoffed, but opened the door the rest of the way from when she'd nearly closed it. "Prove it," she challenged.

"I'm here." He stated firmly.

"Do you know what is needed? What you are to do?"

"I do. I'm here to tell you about my plans for prayer and offerings, and then go after Draco. Once I find him, I'll bond him. Then he's mine, and we'll marry that day, if I have my way."

"And you won't run from him again? Or lie to him at another's behest, even mine?" She glared, as if to stare into Harry's soul and judge the truth of his words.

"I won't. He may be a git, and a prejudiced git at that, but he's a good man at heart and doing good things. More importantly though – he's MY git."

Nadine laughed delightedly. The musical sound died off eventually, though, ad after a deep breath, and with a knowing smile she asked, "So what are your plans, then?" So Harry told her.

A day later found him on his knees at the alter of church. It was, of course, a Church of England and not a Catholic, and empty this time of day during the workweek. Coin, of course, could be given as an offering at the church, but Harry thought something related to marriage might be more appropriate. Had a Catholic church been involved, a donated statue to the saint of Marriage (whomever that was) might have been a worthy choice. As it was, Harry was donating a new wing – for a wedding chapel, in Draco's name.

After a couple hours negotiations, paper signings, and the like, he was let go. Fortunately, the sun was just going down so the doors to Constellations ought be just opening. Perfect timing to go get his Veela.

Sure enough, just after his magically speedy arrival, the door was opened, the lights shining out as the crowd pressed forward and in. The same doorman/bouncer was there, and Harry waited impatiently for his chance to speak to the man. When he approached the door, finally, he flashed his white card and asked "Is the owner in again?"

"Not tonight," was the bored reply.

""Will he be here tomorrow?" Harry asked, surprised and worried.

"No."

"When will he be in next?"

"Look," the doorman looked Harry in the eyes for the first time in the conversation. "I read the papers. I know you know who he is, and I know what you're looking for. He isn't here. I don't know when he'll be back. Good guess but no dice, good luck elsewhere buddy." With that, the bouncer turned to the person behind Harry, and continued one with his job, ignoring Harry standing there, stunned.

After a little while, Harry went home to think. Eventually, like most people, he slept. But dawn the next morning found him flooing Malfoy Manor, to talk to Narcissa, whom was sure to know where her son was, and not be under any blocks against talking like the other competitors/suitors were. Also, she was the same mother that saved Harry's life once just for information about her son, so she might be willing to give out her information for his well-being.

Or so Harry hoped.

The realities were slightly harsher, once he was granted entrance and asked.

A house elf let him in, led him to a small parlor filled with lovely furniture, some of which Harry recognized from his brief visit to Draco's furniture store. He suspected the entire thing was furnished by Draco. Mrs. Malfoy was drinking tea. She did not offer Harry any. After a few moments of silence, Mrs. Malfoy looked at Harry with one delicate eyebrow raised, which was all the encouragement he needed to stammer out his request.

"You want me to tell you, the man whom twice, twice now, broke my Dragon's heart were exactly you may find Draco?"

"...Yes?"

"Why should I do such a thing? Why exactly should I believe you to be the best option for my son? What assurances can you give me that you will not break his heart again?"

"I love him, Mrs. Malfoy, and I believe he loves me. I can not promise eternal happiness, or that I won't make a mess of things nor can I ask him to promise the same. I can only promise that when all is said and done, he's got my heart and I will always come back to him and he will always come back to me."

"Alright." She said grudgingly. "That is all I require – an honest love." Then she smiled. She stood, ad began walking towards the door of the small parlor she had met with Harry in, at the doorway she paused, placed a hand on the jam, and glanced back. "Well, don't you want to meet with Draco?"

"HE'S HERE?!" Harry bolted up.

"Not exactly, Harry. But I can lead you to him."

Harry's green eyes began to gleam with excitement. "Thank you Mrs. Malfoy!" He jumped up, and all but ran the short distance to follow her.

The pair walked down an almost endless hallway, down a flight of stairs (thankfully stationary), and into a large open room that but for the restored chandelier and huge fireplace, he wouldn't have recognized. He felt more than a little apprehensive to be back in the room Hermione had been tortured.

"This fireplace is the only one in the world connected to Draco's Muggle apartment. That flat he found when he was looking for new ways to earn us money after the war is where he is hiding now. Either use this floo, or go the long way by foot, your choice."

Narcissa Malfoy had seen, and had little compassion for, Harry's discomfort, apparently. Harry straightened his shoulders and nodded. He walked over to the fireplace, grabbed a little of the green floo powder from a small dish on the mantle, and awaited her instructions. "Just say 'Draco's flat'."

He stepped into the fireplace, and said, "Draco's flat!" tossing down the powder, and disappearing in a flash of green fire.