Harry Potter: Precious (ch. 2)
Title: Precious
Author: Reyn
Rating: M, will go up in later chapters
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Warnings: master/slave, EWE, dark elves
Word Count: ~4000
X-Posted: AO3 , FF.net
Summary: Harry knew he was the "Savior of the Wizarding World". He just wasn't aware that title was known across every magical realm in Great Britain. Combine that with Draco Malfoy's renowned expertise in magical beings, and, much to their mutual displeasure, they find themselves teaming up for a risky diplomatic mission deep underground in Dark Elf territory.
To further complicate matters, Malfoy must pose as Harry's slave if they hope to stand even the slightest chance of success and get out of this in one piece.
Chapter 2
“You’re joking,” Harry pleaded. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
He looked to Malfoy, hoping to find a mocking finger pointing in his direction or hear a scornful laugh, but Malfoy remained silent, his eyes still focused on the table before him. The only change in his demeanor was the pink tinge staining his pale cheeks.
“Your elder, Viknish Singh, has explained to us that this is an unprecedented idea amongst your kind, but we are quite sure it is the only way to ensure that the drow listen to you when you make your demands,” Fyrhe explained, her cloak rustling as she shifted within it.
“By making Malfoy my slave?” Harry refused to buy it.
“It will be seen as a mark of power,” Ellm tried to further clarify. “Draco Malfoy was on the opposite side of your magical war - the war that you won. The drow will see him as a prize you have taken and will feel as if you relate to them. It will help to open their ears when you dissuade them from attacking us.”
Ron snorted. “Even with a slave to help validate him, that’s still putting a lot of faith in Harry’s negotiation skills.”
The questioning tilt in Fyrhe’s head had her looking more doll-like than ever. “Is it not the skill of an auror to negotiate peace between the dark and light?”
“’Negotiate’, sure, that’s a good term to use,” Ron agreed easily enough. “Although our definition of negotiating usually involves something more to back up our words.”
Fyrhe nodded in understanding. “Yes. And this is why we believe it to be a good idea to send Draco Malfoy as ‘the something’, as you put it, to back up Harry Potter’s words. Out of all of your former enemies, he would have his best chance at success with a slave thanks to his knowledge in elven customs.
Ron drew in a deep breath, and after a brief moment, let it out in an explosive sigh. “Yeah, alright, you can’t really argue with that logic, mate,” he conceded, rolling his head so that he was looking at his friend.
But Harry still refused to have any of it.
“Can’t your lot just…move? Relocate, to place yourselves out of harm’s way?” he suggested.
The way the elves stiffened, along with the groan that came from Malfoy, let Harry know that probably had not been a very wise idea to voice.
“Their magic is tied to the land, Mr. Potter,” Singh explained with a hint of exasperation, making Harry feel like he was a first year back in potions class. “Over the generations, they have poured much of themselves into those woods, and the woods have, in turn, given much back. For them to leave would be as much of a death sentence as facing the dark elves. The only difference is this would be a long, drawn out death.”
Bringing his hands to his face, Harry slid his fingers up under his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. “Alright, what about-”
“We’ve exhausted our other options, Auror Potter,” Singh interrupted. “We’ve offered to seal off whatever entrance the drow are coming through. We’ve offered to help further strengthen the wards around their forest. Against Malfoy’s recommendation, we appealed to your department, asking to send out reinforcements for protection. And as they rightly pointed out, this falls outside any wizarding jurisdiction, and therefore, no, they will not.”
Adjusting his glasses back into place, Harry folded his hands on the table. “Have you tried asking someone else?”
Both elves seemed to startle at this.
“Are you saying you won’t help us?” Fyrhe’s cool façade had cracked in faint alarm.
“Er, no! No, I just…” Harry struggled to come up with a convincing lie. “I believe in - there’s always a choice when…Malfoy, can I talk to you for a second?”
He made it a point to avoid eye contact as he stood, refusing to give Malfoy the chance to gleefully deny the awkward request.
Once outside the conference room, he looked up and down the corridor, trying to gauge just how much privacy they would receive in this relocation. The sad answer was not much. The place bustled with the usual level of Ministry activity, leaving Harry to hope everyone was busy enough to not eavesdrop on what was sure to be an uncomfortable conversation.
“Really, Potter, I don’t see what’s stopping you from just telling our guests you don’t care if their homestead gets raped and pillaged,” Malfoy drawled as he stepped out, shutting the door firmly behind him. “It’s pretty obvious your level of caring falls in with the rest of the Magical Law Enforcement.”
Ignoring the jab, Harry turned around, grabbed the blond’s arm, and dragged him down several doorways. “Malfoy, there’s no way you could possibly be okay with this.”
Thin eyebrows arched in presumption. “Okay with preventing mass slaughter? With saving an entire species? With attempting to preserve some of the enriching history of our land and it’s magic?” Malfoy pulled his arm free and straightened his sleeve. “You’re right, it must be the former Death Eater in me.”
Gritting his teeth against the rise that Malfoy was successfully trying to get out of him, Harry forced himself to stay on subject. “No, I mean being my slave. Or even just being a slave in general, seeing as how your first time around serving under someone didn’t go so well.”
Malfoy’s glare was furious enough for Harry to wonder if they were about to come to blows. Instead, Malfoy took a moment to clench and unclench his fists before speaking.
“In case the message wasn’t clear earlier, I am the only wizard alive today with abundant knowledge on elves and their different customs. I am the resident expert, and pity for you if you don’t want to work with me, but sending in anyone else in my stead would make this a suicide mission. The dark elves are a suspicious lot, and if things don’t go smoothly, they’ll likely be incensed into a united frontal attack on the high elves, rather than the furtive operations that have been happening thus far.”
“Alright, but why can’t you pick someone else who fought in the war? Someone you don’t have a history with to help keep things professional.”
Malfoy’s lip curled in disdain. It took him a moment to answer, but when he did, Harry was floored.
“There might be, but out of everyone else, I know you won’t go abusing such a position of power. Besides,” Malfoy quickly continued before Harry could voice his shock, “considering your uncanny and utterly annoying ability to survive and triumph over every evil you keep encountering, I rather like the odds for my making it out of this alive.”
Faced with the now stronger feeling of obligation to actually see this mission through, Harry cursed, turned to kick the nearest wall, and began to hobble back to the conference room.
“I can’t believe you’re willing to go along with this farce,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair in agitation.
“How else would you have it?” Malfoy shouted after him, his arms spread wide. When Harry paused, he rushed forward and lowered his voice to ensure their conversation remained semi-private, despite the curious glances they were now getting. “Like the high elves said, drow society doesn’t work like ours does, so it’s a damn miracle we’ve even been able to come up with a diplomatic response. But if you think you have a better idea, that isn’t just an attempt at you avoiding this mission, but something that might actually be helpful, then by all means, let’s hear it.”
Jaw clenched, Harry took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself before answering. “If they really want me to go out there to talk, then we should be going as equals. You for lead negotiations and me for backup muscle if anything goes wrong.” He expected Malfoy would sympathize. Especially since this way, he would get to be back in the spotlight and get more of the glory.
“Merlin’s pants, Potter, what part of ‘drow society doesn’t work like ours’ do you not understand?” Malfoy looked so blown away by Harry’s lack of understanding that the auror couldn’t help but feel a bit stupid. “They are a different culture! A different species! They have no concept of equality! Every - every individual has a place! Has a rank! And if one wants more power, then they fight and kill their way up!”
His last words echoed through the hall, causing everyone nearby to stop and stare. Pursing his lips, Harry quickly threw up a Muffliato charm and sent Malfoy a pointed look, which went ignored.
“If we went in there as equals, the elves would see a scholar ordering around a soldier and laugh at how backwards humans are, then either murder us where we stood under the claim that we insulted them, or toss us into a pit with a dryder for amusement - in which our result would still be death.”
Fully ready to argue how knowledge always equals power and has been known to trump brute strength, Harry found his brain fixating on the new and unknown word.
“What’s a dryder?”
“The last thing you’ll ever see, should you happen to encounter one,” Malfoy dismissed. “Now are you done trying to take the high and righteous road, or do I need to walk back in there and explain to Fyrhe and Ellm that you refuse to help their people because the drow represent everything you despise and you can’t even stand the thought of being in the same room as them? Or I could be even more honest and tell them it’s because you can’t stand being in the same room as me.”
Harry winced. He had assumed the animosity would still go both ways, leaving Malfoy just as unwilling to go through with the mission as he was, but apparently Malfoy loved his job more than he hated Harry.
“No. No, I’m…willing,” that was definitely not the right word, but Harry refused to solidly agree to the assignment until he heard all the details. “I just don’t understand what difference I’m supposed to make when you all keep telling me the drow are so completely against diplomacy. I have half a mind to accuse you of trying to kill me off if you weren’t expected to accompany me.”
Malfoy’s sneer was full of disgust as he pointedly looked away. “Because to them, you’re still known as The Boy Who Lived. The Savior of the Wizarding World.”
Harry wanted to point out that he was, unfortunately, still known by those titles locally. But he had a feeling it would be highly detrimental to the conversation.
“Despite their isolation from humans, they’ve heard of you. And when someone’s name carries enough power to bridge the gap across entire realms of magic, it’s not something to be ignored,” Malfoy explained, glancing down at the floor before bringing his attention back to Harry. “If the high elves know of you, then the drow know of you, and will treat you as a guest so long as we tread carefully enough not to insult them.”
“Okay,” Harry nodded. His agreement was interrupted by a sudden thought. “But how do we know we won’t be insulting them by telling them to leave the high elves alone?”
“We don’t, and that’s a hurdle we’ll have to face once we’re there.”
Harry wasn’t sure he was entirely satisfied with that answer, but enough of his ire had died out to make him more open to suggestion.
“Fine,” he gave in shortly, and dispelled the Muffliato charm surrounding them before turning to reenter the conference room.
Once through the door, though, he stopped short.
“Where did the elves go?” he demanded, eyes locked on the empty chairs, barely noticing Malfoy elbowing him out of the way so that he could enter as well.
“Seeing as how there was so much dissonance, they decided it best to spare us the further embarrassment of being present for any more arguments and left.” Director Singh was noticeably irritated, and his level stare had Harry fidgeting. “Should we decide to get our act together, we have their permission to send word on the outcome of your decision. So what say you, Harry Potter? Would you care to grace us with your preferably passive and quiet presence, or should I save myself the trouble and declare this meeting adjourned?”
“Uh, no, that won’t be necessary.”
At Singh’s pointed look, Harry cleared his throat and moved to return to his previous seat, ignoring Ron’s curious glances between him and Malfoy.
“Sir, could we please hear the exact parameters of this assignment?” he asked, pulling a small blank scroll from his robe pocket and grabbing one of the Ministry’s quills and ink bottles from the table to take notes.
“Now he’s willing to act professional,” Singh sighed out, his eyes rolling heavenward and his arms spreading out with his palms facing the ceiling. His head tilted back, and his eyes squeezed shut while he began to silently mouth what Harry could only assume to be a prayer for patience.
Ron took the opportunity to snatch Harry’s quill and leaned over to write on the parchment.
‘We’re doing this?’
Harry bit his lip, taking the quill back to shortly answer, ‘Yes.’
Ron was quick to snatch the feather right back. ‘Brill. Tell DM I hate milk in my tea.’
Harry frowned at the message and was slow to take back the quill. Malfoy’s words of not abusing the power held over him were still far too fresh in his mind.
“H.A. Robards has agreed to loan you two out for this covert, and hopefully diplomatic, mission.” Singh’s words had Harry flipping over his parchment. “Potter and Malfoy are charged with the task of traversing into dark elf territory to try and persuade them against attacking their neighboring high elves by reminding them they are under the protection of the human realm.”
Harry frowned in confusion. Hogwarts may have had the most boring history class of all the wizarding schools in Europe, but from what he remembered, any dealings they had with elves were nearly nonexistent. A quick glance at Ron seemed to put him in agreement.
“Uhm, sorry, but do we actually have something to back up that claim?” Harry asked, tapping his middle finger against the table as he stared down Singh.
“Maybe,” Singh relented halfheartedly, leaning back in his chair. “There’s a chance we may find a treaty with the high elves somewhere in the archives. Probably something Merlin drew up, seeing as how he made it a point to make treaties with everything he could think of back in the day.”
Harry didn’t bother to hide his snort. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like a solid copy in my hands before I go making such a claim, thanks.”
“We’ll look into it,” Singh promised, casting a significant glance Malfoy’s way, to which he received a dark sneer in return. Ignoring it, Singh continued on. “Make sure you study up on the drow - basic politics and the like. Even though Malfoy will be with you, it will still be you who will be doing the majority of the talking, as well as making split second decisions that could heavily sway the drow’s opinion of you. Might want to brush up on your Elvish, too…”
“So what Fyrhe said is true?” At Singh’s silent inquiry, Harry elaborated. “You really plan on having Malfoy pose as my…slave?”
With a heavy sigh, Singh looked to his sullen member of staff, who had gone back to studiously avoiding eye contact with everyone.
“Should he choose to accept the mission, then yes.”
“And if he doesn’t, am I Harry’s backup slave or something?” Ron asked with a raise of his hand, bringing himself into the conversation.
The very idea made Harry feel even queasier than he had with Malfoy.
“No, Mr. Weasley, you will be their eyes and ears above ground. Depending on how negotiations go, we may be able to convince your department to send out another team or two for reinforcements, but despite what I’ve seen so far,” an unfavorable glance was sent towards Harry, “I’m clinging to the hope that things won’t deteriorate to that point.”
“And meanwhile, Harry will be at ground zero, alone with Malfoy as his only immediate backup.” Ron sounded less than impressed with the whole situation. “Considering what everyone seems to know of our past, do you really think that decision is wise?”
Harry blinked in surprise. Ron challenging a superior’s tactics was nothing new. He did it so often during mission debriefings that it would have been even more shocking if his hand hadn’t gone up at all. But he also usually did so without subtly questioning the superior’s intelligence or motives.
“Ron…”
“No, I’m serious,” Ron continued, stubbornly ignoring Harry’s warning whisper. “We’ve been on loads of dangerous missions since we were first years in school. But it’s always been with someone trustworthy. So he’s the expert on elves and knows how to get us in the door and seated at the table without making pants of it all, fine. Great. But that doesn’t mean a thing if he’s going to turn tail to save his own hide at the first sign of trouble.”
“Too scared to go on a long term mission without your girlfriend, Weasley?” Malfoy immediately countered at the insult.
“She’s my fiancée,” Ron corrected fiercely, his temper momentarily getting the best of him. He reined it back in with a challenging smirk. “Bet I could convince all in charge to replace her with you in a heartbeat.”
Malfoy sputtered, his outrage turning his entire face an alarming shade of hot pink. “You wouldn’t dare!”
Ron’s eyes narrowed. “When it comes to my best friend’s life, you bet your broomstick I would. Give Hermione a week to study up on the material, and we’d be more than ready to go.”
Harry’s wand was in hand nearly in tandem with Malfoy. But before he could get a shield up around Ron, the potted plant started to quiver and rustle and Director Singh finally, truly, lost his temper.
“That’s enough!” All three wands went flying into Singh’s waiting palm, leaving the owners to wince at the sound of the woods grinding together as Singh closed his fist around them with far more force that necessary. “In all my years dealing with unruly aurors, you-”
His rant immediately degraded into what Harry thought was Punjabi, but he was pretty positive he heard a bit of Mermaid screeching mixed in with what he would later guess to be Dragon…provided dragons even had a language, let alone one that could be deciphered.
Backs ramrod straight, Ron and Harry exchanged alarmed glances, both wondering just how much trouble they would be in once word of all this got back to Robards. Malfoy, on the other hand, seemed to be calculating the best way to get his wand back unnoticed. At least, he was until the potted plant burst into flames, nearly singeing his robes.
Fortunately, the fire worked as an immediate diversion, with Singh cutting himself off with a slammed fist to the table and shouted, “Damn! I did it again!”
He pulled out his own wand to extinguish the flames and wearily placed the others on the table before him. No one dared move.
“As the one in charge, Mr. Weasley, I am telling you now, I have no intention of replacing Mr. Malfoy. Just as you have been on many an adventure to earn your title and badge today, so has Malfoy in his quest for the knowledge that has made him the expert he now is.” Singh’s stern gaze swept over everyone. “Whatever happened between you all in the past is just that - in the past. You may not trust Malfoy with your life, that’s fine. It’s your job anyways when it comes to life or death, not his. But as for what you all are about to do, for him, it’s his job and passion, and you can damn well trust him to that.”
The following silence had Harry’s ears ringing.
“So-” Ron cleared his throat. “Sorry, sir. And…sorry, Malfoy,” he mumbled out.
Malfoy, on his part, looked far too astonished to even gloat.
“Now,” Singh began slowly. “I’m going to give back your wands. Do you think you all can handle continuing our discussion with rational minds and cool tempers?”
Everyone quietly nodded and murmured their thanks as their wands returned to their hands.
Singh waited until the wands were all tucked back in their robe pockets before nodding in satisfaction.
“Mr. Malfoy, do you think you could take it from here?”
“Yes…” Malfoy’s answer was a bit absent-minded. He seemed to be staring at his scrolls in an attempt to gather his thoughts. “The high elves may come off as a generally accepting bunch, but that’s mainly because they’re convinced humanity is a rather stupid race and are resigned to the fact.” He drew in a deep breath and brought his eyes up to meet Ron’s. “Weasley, I’ll owl you a copy of a few of my journals for you to read through so you can hopefully save yourself from lessening their opinion of us even further. Other than that, they’ll be more than happy to share with you any further information you may think you require while on location.”
Ron remained tight lipped as he gave a short nod.
“Potter…” Malfoy drummed his fingers against the tabletop in thought. “As loathe as I am to suggest it, you and I will need to set up another meeting so I can properly educate you on what we know of dark elf culture.”
Harry’s frown felt too much like a pout for his liking. “Why can’t I just have a journal like Ron?”
Malfoy’s answering frown was a tad closer to a sneer. “Because I haven’t visited any dark elves in order to have written one. All I know about them has been garnered from what I’ve heard during my travels and what I’ve managed to piece together in my research. Even if I were to have the time to compile all my data into an essay for you to read over before we’re expected to embark, judging by our discussion outside, I highly doubt the more relevant facts will make it through your thick skull.”
Harry could feel his defenses rising. “That’s-”
“But if you don’t need me to hold your hand, then fine,” Malfoy haughtily continued on. “Do the research on your own. Then meet with me next Tuesday to either personally hand in your parchment detailing everything you understand, or be ready to cancel whatever plans you may have for the day in favor of a very long, grueling lesson on how I expect you to do your job in making sure we live. Fair enough?”
Harry wanted to say no. Merlin, how he wanted to scoff and say no. But he couldn’t think of a single suggestion to counter it. So instead, he sulked back in his chair, stubbornly crossed his arms, and silently nodded his head.
Malfoy’s look of glee, and Singh’s exasperated eye roll told him he didn’t exactly succeed in not looking like a petulant teenager rather than a highly trained auror.
>>>
Author: Reyn
Rating: M, will go up in later chapters
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Warnings: master/slave, EWE, dark elves
Word Count: ~4000
X-Posted: AO3 , FF.net
Summary: Harry knew he was the "Savior of the Wizarding World". He just wasn't aware that title was known across every magical realm in Great Britain. Combine that with Draco Malfoy's renowned expertise in magical beings, and, much to their mutual displeasure, they find themselves teaming up for a risky diplomatic mission deep underground in Dark Elf territory.
To further complicate matters, Malfoy must pose as Harry's slave if they hope to stand even the slightest chance of success and get out of this in one piece.
Chapter 2
“You’re joking,” Harry pleaded. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
He looked to Malfoy, hoping to find a mocking finger pointing in his direction or hear a scornful laugh, but Malfoy remained silent, his eyes still focused on the table before him. The only change in his demeanor was the pink tinge staining his pale cheeks.
“Your elder, Viknish Singh, has explained to us that this is an unprecedented idea amongst your kind, but we are quite sure it is the only way to ensure that the drow listen to you when you make your demands,” Fyrhe explained, her cloak rustling as she shifted within it.
“By making Malfoy my slave?” Harry refused to buy it.
“It will be seen as a mark of power,” Ellm tried to further clarify. “Draco Malfoy was on the opposite side of your magical war - the war that you won. The drow will see him as a prize you have taken and will feel as if you relate to them. It will help to open their ears when you dissuade them from attacking us.”
Ron snorted. “Even with a slave to help validate him, that’s still putting a lot of faith in Harry’s negotiation skills.”
The questioning tilt in Fyrhe’s head had her looking more doll-like than ever. “Is it not the skill of an auror to negotiate peace between the dark and light?”
“’Negotiate’, sure, that’s a good term to use,” Ron agreed easily enough. “Although our definition of negotiating usually involves something more to back up our words.”
Fyrhe nodded in understanding. “Yes. And this is why we believe it to be a good idea to send Draco Malfoy as ‘the something’, as you put it, to back up Harry Potter’s words. Out of all of your former enemies, he would have his best chance at success with a slave thanks to his knowledge in elven customs.
Ron drew in a deep breath, and after a brief moment, let it out in an explosive sigh. “Yeah, alright, you can’t really argue with that logic, mate,” he conceded, rolling his head so that he was looking at his friend.
But Harry still refused to have any of it.
“Can’t your lot just…move? Relocate, to place yourselves out of harm’s way?” he suggested.
The way the elves stiffened, along with the groan that came from Malfoy, let Harry know that probably had not been a very wise idea to voice.
“Their magic is tied to the land, Mr. Potter,” Singh explained with a hint of exasperation, making Harry feel like he was a first year back in potions class. “Over the generations, they have poured much of themselves into those woods, and the woods have, in turn, given much back. For them to leave would be as much of a death sentence as facing the dark elves. The only difference is this would be a long, drawn out death.”
Bringing his hands to his face, Harry slid his fingers up under his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. “Alright, what about-”
“We’ve exhausted our other options, Auror Potter,” Singh interrupted. “We’ve offered to seal off whatever entrance the drow are coming through. We’ve offered to help further strengthen the wards around their forest. Against Malfoy’s recommendation, we appealed to your department, asking to send out reinforcements for protection. And as they rightly pointed out, this falls outside any wizarding jurisdiction, and therefore, no, they will not.”
Adjusting his glasses back into place, Harry folded his hands on the table. “Have you tried asking someone else?”
Both elves seemed to startle at this.
“Are you saying you won’t help us?” Fyrhe’s cool façade had cracked in faint alarm.
“Er, no! No, I just…” Harry struggled to come up with a convincing lie. “I believe in - there’s always a choice when…Malfoy, can I talk to you for a second?”
He made it a point to avoid eye contact as he stood, refusing to give Malfoy the chance to gleefully deny the awkward request.
Once outside the conference room, he looked up and down the corridor, trying to gauge just how much privacy they would receive in this relocation. The sad answer was not much. The place bustled with the usual level of Ministry activity, leaving Harry to hope everyone was busy enough to not eavesdrop on what was sure to be an uncomfortable conversation.
“Really, Potter, I don’t see what’s stopping you from just telling our guests you don’t care if their homestead gets raped and pillaged,” Malfoy drawled as he stepped out, shutting the door firmly behind him. “It’s pretty obvious your level of caring falls in with the rest of the Magical Law Enforcement.”
Ignoring the jab, Harry turned around, grabbed the blond’s arm, and dragged him down several doorways. “Malfoy, there’s no way you could possibly be okay with this.”
Thin eyebrows arched in presumption. “Okay with preventing mass slaughter? With saving an entire species? With attempting to preserve some of the enriching history of our land and it’s magic?” Malfoy pulled his arm free and straightened his sleeve. “You’re right, it must be the former Death Eater in me.”
Gritting his teeth against the rise that Malfoy was successfully trying to get out of him, Harry forced himself to stay on subject. “No, I mean being my slave. Or even just being a slave in general, seeing as how your first time around serving under someone didn’t go so well.”
Malfoy’s glare was furious enough for Harry to wonder if they were about to come to blows. Instead, Malfoy took a moment to clench and unclench his fists before speaking.
“In case the message wasn’t clear earlier, I am the only wizard alive today with abundant knowledge on elves and their different customs. I am the resident expert, and pity for you if you don’t want to work with me, but sending in anyone else in my stead would make this a suicide mission. The dark elves are a suspicious lot, and if things don’t go smoothly, they’ll likely be incensed into a united frontal attack on the high elves, rather than the furtive operations that have been happening thus far.”
“Alright, but why can’t you pick someone else who fought in the war? Someone you don’t have a history with to help keep things professional.”
Malfoy’s lip curled in disdain. It took him a moment to answer, but when he did, Harry was floored.
“There might be, but out of everyone else, I know you won’t go abusing such a position of power. Besides,” Malfoy quickly continued before Harry could voice his shock, “considering your uncanny and utterly annoying ability to survive and triumph over every evil you keep encountering, I rather like the odds for my making it out of this alive.”
Faced with the now stronger feeling of obligation to actually see this mission through, Harry cursed, turned to kick the nearest wall, and began to hobble back to the conference room.
“I can’t believe you’re willing to go along with this farce,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair in agitation.
“How else would you have it?” Malfoy shouted after him, his arms spread wide. When Harry paused, he rushed forward and lowered his voice to ensure their conversation remained semi-private, despite the curious glances they were now getting. “Like the high elves said, drow society doesn’t work like ours does, so it’s a damn miracle we’ve even been able to come up with a diplomatic response. But if you think you have a better idea, that isn’t just an attempt at you avoiding this mission, but something that might actually be helpful, then by all means, let’s hear it.”
Jaw clenched, Harry took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself before answering. “If they really want me to go out there to talk, then we should be going as equals. You for lead negotiations and me for backup muscle if anything goes wrong.” He expected Malfoy would sympathize. Especially since this way, he would get to be back in the spotlight and get more of the glory.
“Merlin’s pants, Potter, what part of ‘drow society doesn’t work like ours’ do you not understand?” Malfoy looked so blown away by Harry’s lack of understanding that the auror couldn’t help but feel a bit stupid. “They are a different culture! A different species! They have no concept of equality! Every - every individual has a place! Has a rank! And if one wants more power, then they fight and kill their way up!”
His last words echoed through the hall, causing everyone nearby to stop and stare. Pursing his lips, Harry quickly threw up a Muffliato charm and sent Malfoy a pointed look, which went ignored.
“If we went in there as equals, the elves would see a scholar ordering around a soldier and laugh at how backwards humans are, then either murder us where we stood under the claim that we insulted them, or toss us into a pit with a dryder for amusement - in which our result would still be death.”
Fully ready to argue how knowledge always equals power and has been known to trump brute strength, Harry found his brain fixating on the new and unknown word.
“What’s a dryder?”
“The last thing you’ll ever see, should you happen to encounter one,” Malfoy dismissed. “Now are you done trying to take the high and righteous road, or do I need to walk back in there and explain to Fyrhe and Ellm that you refuse to help their people because the drow represent everything you despise and you can’t even stand the thought of being in the same room as them? Or I could be even more honest and tell them it’s because you can’t stand being in the same room as me.”
Harry winced. He had assumed the animosity would still go both ways, leaving Malfoy just as unwilling to go through with the mission as he was, but apparently Malfoy loved his job more than he hated Harry.
“No. No, I’m…willing,” that was definitely not the right word, but Harry refused to solidly agree to the assignment until he heard all the details. “I just don’t understand what difference I’m supposed to make when you all keep telling me the drow are so completely against diplomacy. I have half a mind to accuse you of trying to kill me off if you weren’t expected to accompany me.”
Malfoy’s sneer was full of disgust as he pointedly looked away. “Because to them, you’re still known as The Boy Who Lived. The Savior of the Wizarding World.”
Harry wanted to point out that he was, unfortunately, still known by those titles locally. But he had a feeling it would be highly detrimental to the conversation.
“Despite their isolation from humans, they’ve heard of you. And when someone’s name carries enough power to bridge the gap across entire realms of magic, it’s not something to be ignored,” Malfoy explained, glancing down at the floor before bringing his attention back to Harry. “If the high elves know of you, then the drow know of you, and will treat you as a guest so long as we tread carefully enough not to insult them.”
“Okay,” Harry nodded. His agreement was interrupted by a sudden thought. “But how do we know we won’t be insulting them by telling them to leave the high elves alone?”
“We don’t, and that’s a hurdle we’ll have to face once we’re there.”
Harry wasn’t sure he was entirely satisfied with that answer, but enough of his ire had died out to make him more open to suggestion.
“Fine,” he gave in shortly, and dispelled the Muffliato charm surrounding them before turning to reenter the conference room.
Once through the door, though, he stopped short.
“Where did the elves go?” he demanded, eyes locked on the empty chairs, barely noticing Malfoy elbowing him out of the way so that he could enter as well.
“Seeing as how there was so much dissonance, they decided it best to spare us the further embarrassment of being present for any more arguments and left.” Director Singh was noticeably irritated, and his level stare had Harry fidgeting. “Should we decide to get our act together, we have their permission to send word on the outcome of your decision. So what say you, Harry Potter? Would you care to grace us with your preferably passive and quiet presence, or should I save myself the trouble and declare this meeting adjourned?”
“Uh, no, that won’t be necessary.”
At Singh’s pointed look, Harry cleared his throat and moved to return to his previous seat, ignoring Ron’s curious glances between him and Malfoy.
“Sir, could we please hear the exact parameters of this assignment?” he asked, pulling a small blank scroll from his robe pocket and grabbing one of the Ministry’s quills and ink bottles from the table to take notes.
“Now he’s willing to act professional,” Singh sighed out, his eyes rolling heavenward and his arms spreading out with his palms facing the ceiling. His head tilted back, and his eyes squeezed shut while he began to silently mouth what Harry could only assume to be a prayer for patience.
Ron took the opportunity to snatch Harry’s quill and leaned over to write on the parchment.
‘We’re doing this?’
Harry bit his lip, taking the quill back to shortly answer, ‘Yes.’
Ron was quick to snatch the feather right back. ‘Brill. Tell DM I hate milk in my tea.’
Harry frowned at the message and was slow to take back the quill. Malfoy’s words of not abusing the power held over him were still far too fresh in his mind.
“H.A. Robards has agreed to loan you two out for this covert, and hopefully diplomatic, mission.” Singh’s words had Harry flipping over his parchment. “Potter and Malfoy are charged with the task of traversing into dark elf territory to try and persuade them against attacking their neighboring high elves by reminding them they are under the protection of the human realm.”
Harry frowned in confusion. Hogwarts may have had the most boring history class of all the wizarding schools in Europe, but from what he remembered, any dealings they had with elves were nearly nonexistent. A quick glance at Ron seemed to put him in agreement.
“Uhm, sorry, but do we actually have something to back up that claim?” Harry asked, tapping his middle finger against the table as he stared down Singh.
“Maybe,” Singh relented halfheartedly, leaning back in his chair. “There’s a chance we may find a treaty with the high elves somewhere in the archives. Probably something Merlin drew up, seeing as how he made it a point to make treaties with everything he could think of back in the day.”
Harry didn’t bother to hide his snort. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like a solid copy in my hands before I go making such a claim, thanks.”
“We’ll look into it,” Singh promised, casting a significant glance Malfoy’s way, to which he received a dark sneer in return. Ignoring it, Singh continued on. “Make sure you study up on the drow - basic politics and the like. Even though Malfoy will be with you, it will still be you who will be doing the majority of the talking, as well as making split second decisions that could heavily sway the drow’s opinion of you. Might want to brush up on your Elvish, too…”
“So what Fyrhe said is true?” At Singh’s silent inquiry, Harry elaborated. “You really plan on having Malfoy pose as my…slave?”
With a heavy sigh, Singh looked to his sullen member of staff, who had gone back to studiously avoiding eye contact with everyone.
“Should he choose to accept the mission, then yes.”
“And if he doesn’t, am I Harry’s backup slave or something?” Ron asked with a raise of his hand, bringing himself into the conversation.
The very idea made Harry feel even queasier than he had with Malfoy.
“No, Mr. Weasley, you will be their eyes and ears above ground. Depending on how negotiations go, we may be able to convince your department to send out another team or two for reinforcements, but despite what I’ve seen so far,” an unfavorable glance was sent towards Harry, “I’m clinging to the hope that things won’t deteriorate to that point.”
“And meanwhile, Harry will be at ground zero, alone with Malfoy as his only immediate backup.” Ron sounded less than impressed with the whole situation. “Considering what everyone seems to know of our past, do you really think that decision is wise?”
Harry blinked in surprise. Ron challenging a superior’s tactics was nothing new. He did it so often during mission debriefings that it would have been even more shocking if his hand hadn’t gone up at all. But he also usually did so without subtly questioning the superior’s intelligence or motives.
“Ron…”
“No, I’m serious,” Ron continued, stubbornly ignoring Harry’s warning whisper. “We’ve been on loads of dangerous missions since we were first years in school. But it’s always been with someone trustworthy. So he’s the expert on elves and knows how to get us in the door and seated at the table without making pants of it all, fine. Great. But that doesn’t mean a thing if he’s going to turn tail to save his own hide at the first sign of trouble.”
“Too scared to go on a long term mission without your girlfriend, Weasley?” Malfoy immediately countered at the insult.
“She’s my fiancée,” Ron corrected fiercely, his temper momentarily getting the best of him. He reined it back in with a challenging smirk. “Bet I could convince all in charge to replace her with you in a heartbeat.”
Malfoy sputtered, his outrage turning his entire face an alarming shade of hot pink. “You wouldn’t dare!”
Ron’s eyes narrowed. “When it comes to my best friend’s life, you bet your broomstick I would. Give Hermione a week to study up on the material, and we’d be more than ready to go.”
Harry’s wand was in hand nearly in tandem with Malfoy. But before he could get a shield up around Ron, the potted plant started to quiver and rustle and Director Singh finally, truly, lost his temper.
“That’s enough!” All three wands went flying into Singh’s waiting palm, leaving the owners to wince at the sound of the woods grinding together as Singh closed his fist around them with far more force that necessary. “In all my years dealing with unruly aurors, you-”
His rant immediately degraded into what Harry thought was Punjabi, but he was pretty positive he heard a bit of Mermaid screeching mixed in with what he would later guess to be Dragon…provided dragons even had a language, let alone one that could be deciphered.
Backs ramrod straight, Ron and Harry exchanged alarmed glances, both wondering just how much trouble they would be in once word of all this got back to Robards. Malfoy, on the other hand, seemed to be calculating the best way to get his wand back unnoticed. At least, he was until the potted plant burst into flames, nearly singeing his robes.
Fortunately, the fire worked as an immediate diversion, with Singh cutting himself off with a slammed fist to the table and shouted, “Damn! I did it again!”
He pulled out his own wand to extinguish the flames and wearily placed the others on the table before him. No one dared move.
“As the one in charge, Mr. Weasley, I am telling you now, I have no intention of replacing Mr. Malfoy. Just as you have been on many an adventure to earn your title and badge today, so has Malfoy in his quest for the knowledge that has made him the expert he now is.” Singh’s stern gaze swept over everyone. “Whatever happened between you all in the past is just that - in the past. You may not trust Malfoy with your life, that’s fine. It’s your job anyways when it comes to life or death, not his. But as for what you all are about to do, for him, it’s his job and passion, and you can damn well trust him to that.”
The following silence had Harry’s ears ringing.
“So-” Ron cleared his throat. “Sorry, sir. And…sorry, Malfoy,” he mumbled out.
Malfoy, on his part, looked far too astonished to even gloat.
“Now,” Singh began slowly. “I’m going to give back your wands. Do you think you all can handle continuing our discussion with rational minds and cool tempers?”
Everyone quietly nodded and murmured their thanks as their wands returned to their hands.
Singh waited until the wands were all tucked back in their robe pockets before nodding in satisfaction.
“Mr. Malfoy, do you think you could take it from here?”
“Yes…” Malfoy’s answer was a bit absent-minded. He seemed to be staring at his scrolls in an attempt to gather his thoughts. “The high elves may come off as a generally accepting bunch, but that’s mainly because they’re convinced humanity is a rather stupid race and are resigned to the fact.” He drew in a deep breath and brought his eyes up to meet Ron’s. “Weasley, I’ll owl you a copy of a few of my journals for you to read through so you can hopefully save yourself from lessening their opinion of us even further. Other than that, they’ll be more than happy to share with you any further information you may think you require while on location.”
Ron remained tight lipped as he gave a short nod.
“Potter…” Malfoy drummed his fingers against the tabletop in thought. “As loathe as I am to suggest it, you and I will need to set up another meeting so I can properly educate you on what we know of dark elf culture.”
Harry’s frown felt too much like a pout for his liking. “Why can’t I just have a journal like Ron?”
Malfoy’s answering frown was a tad closer to a sneer. “Because I haven’t visited any dark elves in order to have written one. All I know about them has been garnered from what I’ve heard during my travels and what I’ve managed to piece together in my research. Even if I were to have the time to compile all my data into an essay for you to read over before we’re expected to embark, judging by our discussion outside, I highly doubt the more relevant facts will make it through your thick skull.”
Harry could feel his defenses rising. “That’s-”
“But if you don’t need me to hold your hand, then fine,” Malfoy haughtily continued on. “Do the research on your own. Then meet with me next Tuesday to either personally hand in your parchment detailing everything you understand, or be ready to cancel whatever plans you may have for the day in favor of a very long, grueling lesson on how I expect you to do your job in making sure we live. Fair enough?”
Harry wanted to say no. Merlin, how he wanted to scoff and say no. But he couldn’t think of a single suggestion to counter it. So instead, he sulked back in his chair, stubbornly crossed his arms, and silently nodded his head.
Malfoy’s look of glee, and Singh’s exasperated eye roll told him he didn’t exactly succeed in not looking like a petulant teenager rather than a highly trained auror.
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