Walk of Shame (3/?)
Title: Walk of Shame (3/?)
Author: dracogotgame
Word Count: 2,000
Rating: PG 13
Prompt: slythindor100's 25 days of Draco and Harry: Prompt 3
Summary: Potter isn't backing down. Draco isn't going out without a fight.
Warning: Nil
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
Author's Notes: Thank you, everyone who's sticking by this story. I'm really happy you're enjoying it, even if I don't know what I'm doing :) Part 3 of the Walk of Shame Series.
In the end, there was nothing to do but go. For a moment, he’d considered a stab at rebellion but one simply didn’t snub Head Auror Shacklebolt. So, Draco sucked it up, headed to the third floor and sat through an uncomfortable briefing.
At least, the meeting was short and to the point. Shacklebolt wasn’t one to mince words. He made no bones about his distaste for involving ‘civilians’ in Auror business but evidently, his star Auror had been very insistent. Kingsley had explained that ‘Auror Potter’ was ‘concerned’ about a sudden rise in hallucinogenic draughts on the black market. Naturally, he needed to conduct extensive research on the subject…
Draco saw an opening and jumped right in.
“I’ll make a list,” he blurted out. “In fact, I’ll personally send over every copy of Magical Draughts and Potions in the library! Really, there’s no need for Auror Potter to bother…”
“Oh, it’s no bother at all.”
Draco stiffened as Potter slipped into the office like he belonged there. His combat robes were wrinkled and loose at the front, revealing a casual shirt and those strange Muggle denims Muggles favoured. His boots were scuffed and his hair was atrocious, even by Potter’s lax standards. He was obviously just coming in from a mission or something. Draco’s hands clenched and he viciously stamped down the flicker of interest that Potter’s ruffled appearance had elicited.
“Harry,” Kingsley greeted with a terse nod. “Everything went well, I presume?”
Potter straightened up and nodded at his boss, suddenly focused and intent. “It’s all under control, Head Auror,” he reported briefly. “We shouldn’t have any more…incidents in Devon.”
What had happened in Devon, Draco wondered. A rogue werewolf, perhaps? A stint of Potion racketeering? Had Potter engaged with a dangerous criminal or…oh, for Salazar’s sake, what did he care?! Potter was ruining his life and nothing he did- no matter how dangerous or intriguing or oddly titillating- made any difference whatsoever!
“Excellent,” Kingsley replied. “Now, to this research business. As Mr Malfoy was saying…”
“Oh, I heard,” Potter cut in smoothly. He cocked his head at Draco, a smile playing on his lips. Draco scowled and hunched his shoulder defensively.
“And I appreciate the consideration,” Potter went on, looking so sincere that even Draco almost believed him. “But I believe Malfoy’s expertise in Potions would be beneficial to my case. I’m sure I’ll have a lot of questions, and I would hate to take him away from his work. Unless of course,” Potter paused and turned to Draco, his eyes glinting with mischief, “you would rather relocate to my office temporarily?”
“No!” Draco snapped, shooting up in his seat. The idea of spending two entire weeks sharing a tiny office with Potter was unfathomably horrifying. Who would look after his books while he was gone? “I have things to do,” he bit out. “I simply can’t leave the Archives unattended.”
“Of course,” Kingsley put in dryly. “No doubt the magical world would fall into chaos without your exceptional cataloguing skills, Mr Malfoy.” Draco bristled and opened his mouth to respond to that, but Kingsley was already talking over him. “I suppose it’s settled then. Auror Potter will relocate to your turf for the next two weeks. I trust you’ll see to it that he has everything he needs?”
“Oh, Malfoy is very good at what he does,” Potter drawled. “I’m sure he’ll see to all my needs.”
Draco’s breath hitched. For a moment, all he could do was gape soundlessly as Potter smirked at him.
Kingsley eyed both of them, looking less than impressed. “I don’t know what’s going on here,” he declared finally, “but you better get some work done in that damn monastery. Harry, I’ll expect a full report when you return.”
“Understood,” Potter obliged easily.
“Fine,” Draco muttered. Honestly, what else could he say? Clearly, nobody cared about what he wanted so what was the point?
“Off you go then,” Kingsley said, waving them off. “Good day to you both.”
Draco stood up, making sure to shoot Potter a withering glare as he did.
“After you,” Potter offered courteously. His green eyes glinted and Draco just knew he was thinking about the last time he’d said those exact words- in that blighted phone booth, just this morning.
He set his jaw and brushed past Potter, just barely suppressing the urge to slam the door on his way out.
He didn’t look back when he heard Potter’s footsteps following right after him.
****
The walk back to the Archives was tense and silent- mostly because Draco refused to say two words to the manipulative, scheming Slytherin-in-Gryffindor’s clothing walking alongside him. Eventually, Potter took the hint and stopped trying to make small talk, instead choosing to whistle a tune as Draco led him to the lower levels.
They entered the library and Potter shivered. “Merlin! Is it always this drafty in here?”
Draco scoffed. Some Saviour, afraid of a little chill. He was about to tell Potter he was free to leave anytime he liked, when he realised the prat was palming his wand.
Draco froze in horror, then reacted on immediate instinct.
“No fires in the library!” he all but snarled, snatching Potter’s wand with a snake-like reflex.
Potter blinked at his wandless hand. “But…you have a fireplace,” he countered, pointing to said fireplace.
Draco glowered at him until he took a prudent step back. “It’s for Floo travel only,” he bit out. “There will be no open flames in my library, Potter! Do you hear me? Some of these books are centuries old! I won’t have them destroyed just because you’re feeling a little nippy.”
“Okay, okay,” Potter conceded, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “I’ll use a Warming Charm, alright?”
Draco huffed and tossed the wand back, feeling a little disgruntled when the prat caught it neatly. He turned to scan the shelves, looking for the books Potter needed. He hoped the prat enjoyed scoring through text after text without Granger to help him. At least this nightmare had one silver lining.
Draco smirked and carted an armload of the thickest, dullest and most convoluted Potions tomes he could find to the desk where Potter had plonked himself.
“Everything you need to ‘research’ should be in here,” he informed Potter with a smirk. “If you need to consult another book, ask me first. Don’t touch anything without my permission, understand?”
“Interesting,” Potter retorted, leaning back indolently in his chair. His eyes tracked a path down Draco’s body. “I was allowed to touch last night.”
Draco froze. His eyes widened and- not for the first time that day- he was rendered speechless. Potter’s audacity and those damned eyes practically undressing him sent him into a spiral of justified anger. He growled and slammed his fist on the table, preparing to tear Potter to literal shreds.
“Alright, you wanker! Listen up because I have just about had enough of your…”
“Malfoy, lower your voice,” Potter admonished solemnly. His lips twitched though, and it was obvious he was fighting to keep a straight face. “This is a library, you know.”
The smug bastard. Draco was seething now. He took a deep breath and fought to regain his composure.
“Listen carefully,” he hissed. “Last night was a mistake. Do you understand me? It was a momentary lapse of judgement which I have no intention of repeating whatsoever. I never want to speak of it again.”
“Which part?” Potter asked earnestly. “What we did, or how many times we did it?”
Draco was a hair’s breadth from pulling his own wand, rules be damned. “Just read your books,” he spat. “And don’t disturb me if you value your life.”
“What if I have questions?”
“Look it up!”
Potter ducked his head- presumably to hide his ever present grin- and started reading obediently. Draco glared at him for a few minutes, wondering just how long it would take Potter to break character. But Potter just went on reading. His brow knit as he scanned the text, he Summoned a Quill and started jotting down a few notes.
Well. Maybe Potter had finally tired of his little game.
Draco gave him one last glare and went back to his desk. His duties beckoned and he immersed himself in the familiar and comforting practice of returning books to their correct places. As he checked and rechecked the catalogue, Potter’s presence and the constant scratching of the quill faded into background noise. It was almost nice, in a way.
“Malfoy?” Potter’s voice broke into his reverie.
“Hm?” Draco murmured distractedly.
“Can Monkshood extract cause hallucinations?”
Draco mulled it over. “Only if it’s blended with lacewing,” he replied.
“Okay. Thanks.”
There was silence again. Draco’s brow furrowed. Okay, so…maybe Potter had given up after all. Without too much of a fight, apparently. Good. That was good. It seemed a bit out of character but then again, Draco had made his intentions perfectly clear. He could hardly blame Potter for backing off. It’s not like he was disappointed or anything. No, of course not. That was just…
“What about powdered Bicorn Horn?”
“Not really,” Draco mumbled distractedly. He flicked his wand and a few more books flew back to the shelves. “You’d have to use three cauldrons’ worth and blaze it over a high flame.”
“Mm hm. Hey, Malfoy?”
“Yes?”
“Were you born this bendy or do I have Quidditch to thank for that?”
“What the…?” Draco sputtered and jerked back so violently, his wand nearly splintered in half. “Potter!”
Potter threw his head back and laughed. “I just wanted to see if you were still paying attention,” he said. He chuckled and shook his head. “You know, Malfoy, you’re making this a lot of fun.”
“Stop it,” Draco snapped. “I’ve already told you I’m not going to…to...”
“To wrap your legs around me and moan my name again?”
“Potter! You utter bastard! What will it take to…”
“Have dinner with me.”
Draco blinked. “What?” he managed.
Potter snapped the book shut and turned to him, looking rather serious all of a sudden. “All this reading is making me hungry.”
“You haven’t even been reading an hour!”
“Come to dinner with me,” Potter repeated. “Nothing fancy. We can just grab something at the Three Broomsticks or something.”
Draco pressed back against his chair. “No,” he declared stubbornly. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Potter shrugged. “Fine then,” he said, rummaging in his pockets. “I guess I’ll just have to eat here then.”
Draco craned his neck to take a look. “What have you got…”
“A Chocolate Frog,” Potter answered casually. He started peeling the wrapping slowly. “A half melted, sticky and very messy Chocolate Frog which I’m going to eat right here, next to your precious book…”
“No food or drink near the books!”
Potter laughed as the Frog whizzed out of his hand. He turned back to Draco and grinned shamelessly. “Wouldn’t it be much easier to just go to the Three Broomsticks with me?” he asked. “Honestly Malfoy, it’s just one dinner.”
And last night was ‘just one drink’. Draco cemented his resolve and binned the Chocolate Frog resolutely. “No,” he intoned, and this time his voice held steel. “I don’t care for your childish games, Potter. I said I’m not going anywhere with you, and I mean it.”
“I think you might change your mind,” Potter challenged.
Draco managed a half hysterical laugh. “Why is that?” he demanded. “Why on earth would I do that to myself?”
Potter’s grin widened. His eyes sparked with challenge. Draco felt a sudden chill travel down his spine.
“Because,” Potter said quietly, “I have something you want.”
Part 4
Author: dracogotgame
Word Count: 2,000
Rating: PG 13
Prompt: slythindor100's 25 days of Draco and Harry: Prompt 3
Summary: Potter isn't backing down. Draco isn't going out without a fight.
Warning: Nil
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
Author's Notes: Thank you, everyone who's sticking by this story. I'm really happy you're enjoying it, even if I don't know what I'm doing :) Part 3 of the Walk of Shame Series.
In the end, there was nothing to do but go. For a moment, he’d considered a stab at rebellion but one simply didn’t snub Head Auror Shacklebolt. So, Draco sucked it up, headed to the third floor and sat through an uncomfortable briefing.
At least, the meeting was short and to the point. Shacklebolt wasn’t one to mince words. He made no bones about his distaste for involving ‘civilians’ in Auror business but evidently, his star Auror had been very insistent. Kingsley had explained that ‘Auror Potter’ was ‘concerned’ about a sudden rise in hallucinogenic draughts on the black market. Naturally, he needed to conduct extensive research on the subject…
Draco saw an opening and jumped right in.
“I’ll make a list,” he blurted out. “In fact, I’ll personally send over every copy of Magical Draughts and Potions in the library! Really, there’s no need for Auror Potter to bother…”
“Oh, it’s no bother at all.”
Draco stiffened as Potter slipped into the office like he belonged there. His combat robes were wrinkled and loose at the front, revealing a casual shirt and those strange Muggle denims Muggles favoured. His boots were scuffed and his hair was atrocious, even by Potter’s lax standards. He was obviously just coming in from a mission or something. Draco’s hands clenched and he viciously stamped down the flicker of interest that Potter’s ruffled appearance had elicited.
“Harry,” Kingsley greeted with a terse nod. “Everything went well, I presume?”
Potter straightened up and nodded at his boss, suddenly focused and intent. “It’s all under control, Head Auror,” he reported briefly. “We shouldn’t have any more…incidents in Devon.”
What had happened in Devon, Draco wondered. A rogue werewolf, perhaps? A stint of Potion racketeering? Had Potter engaged with a dangerous criminal or…oh, for Salazar’s sake, what did he care?! Potter was ruining his life and nothing he did- no matter how dangerous or intriguing or oddly titillating- made any difference whatsoever!
“Excellent,” Kingsley replied. “Now, to this research business. As Mr Malfoy was saying…”
“Oh, I heard,” Potter cut in smoothly. He cocked his head at Draco, a smile playing on his lips. Draco scowled and hunched his shoulder defensively.
“And I appreciate the consideration,” Potter went on, looking so sincere that even Draco almost believed him. “But I believe Malfoy’s expertise in Potions would be beneficial to my case. I’m sure I’ll have a lot of questions, and I would hate to take him away from his work. Unless of course,” Potter paused and turned to Draco, his eyes glinting with mischief, “you would rather relocate to my office temporarily?”
“No!” Draco snapped, shooting up in his seat. The idea of spending two entire weeks sharing a tiny office with Potter was unfathomably horrifying. Who would look after his books while he was gone? “I have things to do,” he bit out. “I simply can’t leave the Archives unattended.”
“Of course,” Kingsley put in dryly. “No doubt the magical world would fall into chaos without your exceptional cataloguing skills, Mr Malfoy.” Draco bristled and opened his mouth to respond to that, but Kingsley was already talking over him. “I suppose it’s settled then. Auror Potter will relocate to your turf for the next two weeks. I trust you’ll see to it that he has everything he needs?”
“Oh, Malfoy is very good at what he does,” Potter drawled. “I’m sure he’ll see to all my needs.”
Draco’s breath hitched. For a moment, all he could do was gape soundlessly as Potter smirked at him.
Kingsley eyed both of them, looking less than impressed. “I don’t know what’s going on here,” he declared finally, “but you better get some work done in that damn monastery. Harry, I’ll expect a full report when you return.”
“Understood,” Potter obliged easily.
“Fine,” Draco muttered. Honestly, what else could he say? Clearly, nobody cared about what he wanted so what was the point?
“Off you go then,” Kingsley said, waving them off. “Good day to you both.”
Draco stood up, making sure to shoot Potter a withering glare as he did.
“After you,” Potter offered courteously. His green eyes glinted and Draco just knew he was thinking about the last time he’d said those exact words- in that blighted phone booth, just this morning.
He set his jaw and brushed past Potter, just barely suppressing the urge to slam the door on his way out.
He didn’t look back when he heard Potter’s footsteps following right after him.
****
The walk back to the Archives was tense and silent- mostly because Draco refused to say two words to the manipulative, scheming Slytherin-in-Gryffindor’s clothing walking alongside him. Eventually, Potter took the hint and stopped trying to make small talk, instead choosing to whistle a tune as Draco led him to the lower levels.
They entered the library and Potter shivered. “Merlin! Is it always this drafty in here?”
Draco scoffed. Some Saviour, afraid of a little chill. He was about to tell Potter he was free to leave anytime he liked, when he realised the prat was palming his wand.
Draco froze in horror, then reacted on immediate instinct.
“No fires in the library!” he all but snarled, snatching Potter’s wand with a snake-like reflex.
Potter blinked at his wandless hand. “But…you have a fireplace,” he countered, pointing to said fireplace.
Draco glowered at him until he took a prudent step back. “It’s for Floo travel only,” he bit out. “There will be no open flames in my library, Potter! Do you hear me? Some of these books are centuries old! I won’t have them destroyed just because you’re feeling a little nippy.”
“Okay, okay,” Potter conceded, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “I’ll use a Warming Charm, alright?”
Draco huffed and tossed the wand back, feeling a little disgruntled when the prat caught it neatly. He turned to scan the shelves, looking for the books Potter needed. He hoped the prat enjoyed scoring through text after text without Granger to help him. At least this nightmare had one silver lining.
Draco smirked and carted an armload of the thickest, dullest and most convoluted Potions tomes he could find to the desk where Potter had plonked himself.
“Everything you need to ‘research’ should be in here,” he informed Potter with a smirk. “If you need to consult another book, ask me first. Don’t touch anything without my permission, understand?”
“Interesting,” Potter retorted, leaning back indolently in his chair. His eyes tracked a path down Draco’s body. “I was allowed to touch last night.”
Draco froze. His eyes widened and- not for the first time that day- he was rendered speechless. Potter’s audacity and those damned eyes practically undressing him sent him into a spiral of justified anger. He growled and slammed his fist on the table, preparing to tear Potter to literal shreds.
“Alright, you wanker! Listen up because I have just about had enough of your…”
“Malfoy, lower your voice,” Potter admonished solemnly. His lips twitched though, and it was obvious he was fighting to keep a straight face. “This is a library, you know.”
The smug bastard. Draco was seething now. He took a deep breath and fought to regain his composure.
“Listen carefully,” he hissed. “Last night was a mistake. Do you understand me? It was a momentary lapse of judgement which I have no intention of repeating whatsoever. I never want to speak of it again.”
“Which part?” Potter asked earnestly. “What we did, or how many times we did it?”
Draco was a hair’s breadth from pulling his own wand, rules be damned. “Just read your books,” he spat. “And don’t disturb me if you value your life.”
“What if I have questions?”
“Look it up!”
Potter ducked his head- presumably to hide his ever present grin- and started reading obediently. Draco glared at him for a few minutes, wondering just how long it would take Potter to break character. But Potter just went on reading. His brow knit as he scanned the text, he Summoned a Quill and started jotting down a few notes.
Well. Maybe Potter had finally tired of his little game.
Draco gave him one last glare and went back to his desk. His duties beckoned and he immersed himself in the familiar and comforting practice of returning books to their correct places. As he checked and rechecked the catalogue, Potter’s presence and the constant scratching of the quill faded into background noise. It was almost nice, in a way.
“Malfoy?” Potter’s voice broke into his reverie.
“Hm?” Draco murmured distractedly.
“Can Monkshood extract cause hallucinations?”
Draco mulled it over. “Only if it’s blended with lacewing,” he replied.
“Okay. Thanks.”
There was silence again. Draco’s brow furrowed. Okay, so…maybe Potter had given up after all. Without too much of a fight, apparently. Good. That was good. It seemed a bit out of character but then again, Draco had made his intentions perfectly clear. He could hardly blame Potter for backing off. It’s not like he was disappointed or anything. No, of course not. That was just…
“What about powdered Bicorn Horn?”
“Not really,” Draco mumbled distractedly. He flicked his wand and a few more books flew back to the shelves. “You’d have to use three cauldrons’ worth and blaze it over a high flame.”
“Mm hm. Hey, Malfoy?”
“Yes?”
“Were you born this bendy or do I have Quidditch to thank for that?”
“What the…?” Draco sputtered and jerked back so violently, his wand nearly splintered in half. “Potter!”
Potter threw his head back and laughed. “I just wanted to see if you were still paying attention,” he said. He chuckled and shook his head. “You know, Malfoy, you’re making this a lot of fun.”
“Stop it,” Draco snapped. “I’ve already told you I’m not going to…to...”
“To wrap your legs around me and moan my name again?”
“Potter! You utter bastard! What will it take to…”
“Have dinner with me.”
Draco blinked. “What?” he managed.
Potter snapped the book shut and turned to him, looking rather serious all of a sudden. “All this reading is making me hungry.”
“You haven’t even been reading an hour!”
“Come to dinner with me,” Potter repeated. “Nothing fancy. We can just grab something at the Three Broomsticks or something.”
Draco pressed back against his chair. “No,” he declared stubbornly. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Potter shrugged. “Fine then,” he said, rummaging in his pockets. “I guess I’ll just have to eat here then.”
Draco craned his neck to take a look. “What have you got…”
“A Chocolate Frog,” Potter answered casually. He started peeling the wrapping slowly. “A half melted, sticky and very messy Chocolate Frog which I’m going to eat right here, next to your precious book…”
“No food or drink near the books!”
Potter laughed as the Frog whizzed out of his hand. He turned back to Draco and grinned shamelessly. “Wouldn’t it be much easier to just go to the Three Broomsticks with me?” he asked. “Honestly Malfoy, it’s just one dinner.”
And last night was ‘just one drink’. Draco cemented his resolve and binned the Chocolate Frog resolutely. “No,” he intoned, and this time his voice held steel. “I don’t care for your childish games, Potter. I said I’m not going anywhere with you, and I mean it.”
“I think you might change your mind,” Potter challenged.
Draco managed a half hysterical laugh. “Why is that?” he demanded. “Why on earth would I do that to myself?”
Potter’s grin widened. His eyes sparked with challenge. Draco felt a sudden chill travel down his spine.
“Because,” Potter said quietly, “I have something you want.”
Part 4