Going back inside, he met Draco in the Entry Hall. The man looked conflicted.

  "Madam Malfoy not on board?" Harry asked.

  Draco shook his head. "No. No, she has more sense than I do. I hadn't even finished explaining, before she took over and started doing the planning."

  "How about you being in danger?"

  Draco's expression closed up again. Harry laughed, as the man realized what he was doing.

  "Spit it out," Harry urged. "Like Hagrid says, 'Better out than in.'"

  Draco had a slightly sour expression. "My dear life-mate seems quite sure that the safest place for me is right beside you." He shook his head, and broke out in a rueful grin. "I could not think of one blessed thing to say that wouldn't cut my legs out from under me."

  Harry nodded, "So, you went with, 'Yes,dear.'"

  "So, I went with, 'Yes, dear,'" Draco confirmed. "No, the problem is Scorpius. He was onboard, in a detached sort of way, until he thought to ask, 'What about Cook?'"

  Harry was taken somewhat aback. "She should be safe enough..."

  "Not safe enough for Scorpius," Draco said flatly. "It's the whole responsibility thing. He feels especially responsible for Cook."

  Harry said doubtfully, "Well, there's always room for one more." But he dreaded the thought of bringing another cook into Kreacher's domain. That could be bad on blackened toast.

  Draco wiped his hand over his face. "That's gracious of you, Harry, but Cook's problems are more convoluted than you can imagine. Ever since Scorpius brought her here, (Harry's mouth dropped open), she has been his responsibility. From the first day we knew she was in the house, Scorpius has stood as a bulwark between Cook and the world."

  Harry had no words. None. He finally managed to get out, "I am obviously missing something. Could you expand, explain, and/or otherwise elucidate whatever the hell you are talking about?"

  Draco massaged his temples with both hands. "Look, Harry. This is a sure and certain mess. Let's go back to the study and sit. I could use a good stiff drink about now." He looked wearily at Harry. "How about you?"

  ***

  Sitting across the card table from Harry, Draco looked a little better for the finger of whisky he had taken aboard. Harry was sipping at his own glass appreciatively. He really preferred highballs, but he could tell that doing anything to this liquid gold would be desecration of the highest order.

  Draco started without preamble. "The first we knew of Cook was when our four-year-old son wheeled a breakfast trolley into our suite. I thought perhaps he had put some fruits, or cereal on it, something to play waiter or chef with. He went over to the small table that sits in our bay window, and started laying out silverware and napkins. From the lower shelf, he brought two glasses of juice, and a small reed basket whose contents were covered by a tucked-in napkin."

  "Lastly, he carefully set two covered plates in the middle of his place settings. He used insulated cloths to pick them up."

  "Astoria and I did not know what to think. One thing we did not do was make light of the situation. Even at four, Scorpius had his dignity firmly nailed to his backbone. Yes, there were times for levity, and jokes, and teasing. But this was not one of them, that was obvious."

  "He then walked to the door, opened it, and turned to face us. "Mother, Father,' he said, as serious as a High Wizengamot judge. 'I have done something that exceeds my authority. I realize that mine is not the final say in this. I ask that you let me explain the circumstances and my reasoning, before you decide. After your breakfast, if you would join me in the study, we can then discuss the matter.'"

  "For a moment, the starch went out of his posture, and he looked like any other little boy in over his head. Then he straightened, his shoulders went back, his chin came up, and he met our gaze directly. He said, 'I have engaged a Cook.' He gave us a respectful inclination of the head and exited, closing the door behind him."

  ***

  Harry found his mouth was open again, and he shut it, embarrassed. Maybe, just maybe, he thought, James isn't the worst problem child in the world. Or, at least, he doesn't totally outclass the nearest competition.

  He was leery of speaking, but finally said, "What did you do?"

  Draco's expression was a treat. He raised a hand, then sighed and dropped it. Looking at Harry, he said, "We ate breakfast."

  He shrugged. "There was nothing for it. Scorpius is who he is. I could no more come the heavy father than Astoria could be the scolding mother."

  There was a moment of silence, then Harry asked, "How was the breakfast?"

  Draco smiled wryly. "Oh, excellent. I would add, 'of course,' but we were not familiar with Cook yet. There was a breakfast steak so tender, using a knife would be an insult. The basket held fresh-made hot rolls, and there was soft, creamy butter to go with them. There was a side dish I could only assume were fried potatoes from their appearance, but they, too, melted in our mouths. The juice was sweet and tart and completely unidentifiable."

  Draco spread his hands. "And the portions were perfect. Each of us ate everything we had been served, and it was just enough."

  "Astoria and I discussed the matter as we performed our toilettes and dressed for the day. The consensus was that we would hear Scorpius out, we would determine the facts of the matter, and then we would decide how to proceed. We had no doubts that Scorpius would accept our judgement, for or against him. He is a very punctilious boy, with an instinctive sense of right and wrong."

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "We entered the study to find him standing at one of the glass doors, looking out at the early morning flowers and flyers. He turned, and gestured us to our favorite chairs, the ones we sat in of the evening, before bedtime. He took position before us, like a little prisoner in the dock, and began speaking.

  'I found Cook in the garden. She was hiding in a shrubbery, afraid and alone. I did not try to speak to her at first. I just brought food and water, and left them outside the small place she had made for herself. I brought her other things, a blanket, a rain slicker to shelter under when the showers came. I would sit, leaning against a tree a small distance away, and I would talk, to myself at first. I told her about myself, and both of you, and what I thought of the world around us. It became mutual, and she began to share her story. This is what I have permission to tell you.'

  'Cook did a very bad thing, a very long time ago, and she was punished for it. She was sent away to a bad place, but they let her work in the kitchen, and after a long while, it was not so bad, because they began to appreciate her work. Then Someone came and talked to Cook. Someone told Cook she was not bad, and she did not belong at the bad place, but they could not prove it to the people that had put her there.'

  'One night Cook went to sleep, and when she woke, she was not in the bad place anymore. The Someone person said he had taken her away from the bad place. He found her a place with a nice lady, who would take care of her until Someone could prove she had not done the bad thing.'

  'And Cook was there for a long, good time. She worked even though the lady said she did not have to, and Cook was happy.'

  'Then a bad thing happened to the lady. A bad man came for her, but she had hidden Cook, and told her to leave after the bad man was gone. Cook did as she was told, and left before people could blame her again. And Cook wandered, and worked where she could when she could.'

  'Cook did not know if someone had ever proved she had not done the bad things. So she kept going and going, and going, until she found a big garden where no one ever came.'

  'She was tired of going, and tired of worrying, and tired of living, because Cook had spent so very long living. She found a good, dense shrub, and there were things to eat, not so good, and not very much. So she would stop trying.'

  'And then a small boy found her. And he talked, and he listened, and he took care of Cook. And, once, he asked her name. She told him Cook's name was Cook, because Cook had never done any bad things, and nobody was searching for Cook.'

  ***

  Draco took a deep breath, then let it out. "Scorpius was standing there in front of us. Tears were running freely down his face, although I don't think he realized. He told us he had to do something, and this was the only thing he could think of."

  "We said nothing, for a while, then Astoria asked him what he was thinking. He said, 'I think that if you come and meet Cook, you will find she is a good person, who will take very good care of us. And, if you don't want to meet Cook, then I will go and tell her my idea did not work, but I will always be her friend, and I will help her as much as I can.'"

  Harry sighed. "So, you went and met Cook." It wasn't a question. Harry did wonder what sort of person could go through all that, and still keep going.

  Draco nodded. "She was traumatised, and had bad dreams, but she got better, little by little. She is funny about money, but takes what I pay her, which is more than I pay my valet, to be honest. She saves, and splurges on things that make her happy, little knick-knacks and collectibles. I don't know where she got the Collecting Bug, but she definitely has it. Not kitsch, either, things that have actual value, value that will increase over time. We have to do the shopping for her, but it isn't hard. Even less so since Coraline started saving catalogs for us. Just Muggle things, but Cook loves them."

  Harry frowned. "Well," he said. "Scorpius is right. We have to figure out what to do about Cook. Do you think she would talk to me?"

  Draco grimaced. "If Scorpius, Astoria, and myself were all there to support her..., maybe? Look, let's go down to the kitchen. If you don't mind waiting in the hall, we can possibly ease her into the idea."

  Harry agreed, and they set off. They came to a dark wood staircase that wound its way downstairs. The wood glowed in the light of torches that neither smoked or gave off heat. The lower hallway was barely less grand than that of the main floor, with carpeting, plush yet firm. Their footsteps made no sound.

  At the end of the hall were two massive doors of the hinged type, not sliding like the ones to the study. One was open slightly. If Harry had to guess, it was just about enough to let a ten-year old boy pass through, if he wasn't over-nourished.

  Sure enough, Scorpius' voice came to them faint, but clear.

  "...no, Cook, that's all wrong. Yes, he is an Auror, but he is a good Auror. He helps people. He came here to help Father with the boojums you noticed."

  Harry almost missed the whispered reply.

  "...doesn't help people like Cook!"

  Scorpius chortled. "Oh, Cook, he does help people like you. He is famous for helping people exactly like you!"

  The way he said that struck Harry as odd. He and Draco had stopped in the hall, not wanting to interrupt what was obviously a sales pitch for the Harry Potter brand. Harry leaned slightly towards the gap, just enough so that one eye could see into the kitchen.

  Scorpius was sitting in a rocking chair, obviously sized to fit him. Sitting in his lap, arms around his neck and head buried into his shoulder, was the oldest and tiniest house-elf Harry had ever seen. Her skin, what he could see under her smock dress, was almost translucent, like parchment that had been scraped too thin. The dress was overlaid with the tiniest, cutest apron...

  Harry froze. Draco opened his mouth to say something, but Harry shot up an open hand to forestall him.

  He slowly leaned away from the opening. Turning to Draco, he raised a finger to his lips, and pointed back to the stairs. Puzzled, Draco led the way back up to the Main Hall, and into the study.

  Once the doors were closed, Harry cast an Impertubable Charm on them without so much as asking Draco.

  This drew a raised eyebrow. "Harry, is something wrong?" The closed expression was momentarily back again.

  My Stars, the man can't help it, Harry thought irrelevantly, then shook it off and answered.

  "No. Yes. No and Yes. Some things are definitely 'No,' but... What was the question?" Seeing Draco's worried expression brought Harry out of his spin.

  "Draco, I..." Harry suddenly thought of something. He took a long stride and snatched the folder up off the card table where he had left it. "Close File, As Per Procedure!"

  WHAT THE...? Red letters flashed briefly, then disappeared. Harry stuffed the folder into his dimensional pocket, then turned back to Draco.

  "Draco, I still can't explain, but I am now going to, as soon as you are sworn in."

  "Sworn in!?"

  "Yeah. Congratulations, you are now an Auxiliary Auror. Well, not now, now. But soon, yeah." Harry strode to the doors to the courtyards, Draco following like a duckling.

  Harry stepped into the center of the clear space, threw his head back, and bellowed, "ATH?NA!"

  Harry turned back to Draco, wearing a smile that could best be described as 'manic.'"

  "Yes, indeed! I'm going to tell you everything! Nothing held back, secrets you will wish you did not know. And they will be sealed inside you by the strongest magic the Ministry has, with consequences that you will also wish you didn't know."

  Draco scowled. "What kind of Light Magic can do that?"

  Harry had turned to scan the sky. "Oh, no, no, no!" he said. "You don't get off that easy. I never said a damn thing about what colour the magic was."

  He turned back and clapped Draco on the shoulder. "But, first, we need help."

  "What kind of help?" Draco asked suspiciously.

  Harry's manic grin was wider now. "Drake, old boy, when was the last time you were punched in the face by a girl?"