Walk of Shame (10/?)
Title: Walk of Shame (10/?)
Author: dracogotgame
Word Count: 5,300
Rating: PG 13
Prompt: slythindor100's 25 days of Draco and Harry: Prompt 11
Summary: Mess with the snake, you get the fangs.
Warning: Nil
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
Author's Notes: Wow. Long chapter is long. Guys, not gonna lie. I love how this one turned out. Writing it was a blast, and I really, really hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Part 10 of the Walk of Shame Series.
They walked to the Ministry that day. It felt good to be out, in the brisk cold with weak sunshine warming their faces. The snow was falling in earnest now, coating the world in a blanket of white.
Draco couldn’t help but smile as they approached the phone booth, and he made sure to hold Harry’s gaze as he punched in the code- 62442- with extreme deliberation. Harry succumbed to a bout of laughter and Draco wasn’t far behind.
They were still laughing when they stumbled into the Library.
“Well, look at this,” Harry commented as he stepped in. “It looks like the season’s finally upon us!”
Draco walked in, and promptly groaned.
His sombre, inviolable sanctuary of learning looked like Christmas just threw up all over it! There was a tree in the corner, bright with shiny tinsel and ornaments. There was a wreath of holly resting proudly just above his fireplace. A faint scent of peppermint hung in the air. And there, on the ceiling, just above his head…was that mistletoe?!
“Those thrice damned elves!” he growled. “I knew I shouldn’t have missed work. They took advantage of my absence and…and redecorated!”
Harry threw his head back and laughed. “Calm down, Ebenezer,” he said, giving Draco’s hair a playful ruffle.
“What?”
“You’ll get it when I give you the book,” Harry promised.
Draco huffed and set off to prowl the aisles. If the Ministry elves had so much as touched his books, they would all be getting scarves this Christmas.
Fortunately, everything seemed in order. Draco took a moment to relax and centre himself. He breathed in the familiar scent of parchment and ink. Even mildly tainted by peppermint, it brought him a sense of peace.
Yes, he was finally back.
Harry’s sharp whistle brought him back.
“Check it out,” he called, from the front. “We’ve got mail.”
Draco padded back out and made his way to the desk, where Harry was sorting out the mail. Not surprisingly, most of them were for him.
Harry shook his head and pried open a letter. Draco spotted the DMLE crest embossed on the envelope.
“I guess they’ve started forwarding my work files down here,” Harry said, frowning slightly. “Interesting.”
Draco nodded. He wasn’t sure what to make of it either. A subtle hint from Kingsley? Perhaps the Head Auror had finally tired of Harry’s continued absence from the office. Something in his chest twisted at the thought of Harry leaving, but he brushed it off. Back to the real world, he reminded himself firmly. Harry couldn’t stay here forever. Besides, Draco would see plenty of him at home. He hadn’t moved out yet, even though Draco was clearly better. The thought cheered him right up, and he went back to sorting the mail with a smile.
“That’s from Ron,” Harry commented suddenly. He was eyeing another envelope, right at the top of the pile. “Definitely his handwriting, at least.”
Draco eyed the envelope warily, half expecting it to explode or start screaming at him. Weasley had made no bones about his feelings at the Yule Ball. Whatever he had to say now, could hardly be pleasant.
He shrugged and tore his gaze away. “It’s your mail,” he told Harry. “Do what you want with it.”
Harry nodded tersely and tore it open. His eyes scanned the short note.
“He wants to talk,” he said finally.
Draco nodded thoughtfully. He wasn’t about to pry, but this did concern him. “What did he say exactly?”
Harry handed him the note.
Harry,
We need to talk.
Ron.
Well, that was helpful.
Draco rolled his eyes and handed it back.
He was just about to start on some actual work when a package caught his eye. “What’s that?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Harry said, reaching for it. “It’s a bit early for gifts…”
He trailed off and stared at the small tag on the parcel.
“It’s for you.”
Wait, what?
Draco frowned and took the parcel from him. Sure enough, his name was embossed on the small card in curly, sparkly pink letters.
Who on earth…?
“Do you want to open it?” Harry asked.
Draco hesitated. He shook the package gently. It didn’t rattle. Or implode. It was certainly heavy though. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “Nobody ever sends me anything. Especially not at work…”
Harry looked faintly concerned now. “Maybe I should open it,” he offered at once. He reached out to take the package, clearly eager to get it away from Draco now.
Draco huffed and pushed his hand away. He was a grown-up and he certainly didn’t need Harry to hold his hand while he opened a stupid package.
Still, he was extra careful as he tore off the wrapping paper.
A tin can fell out and rolled on the desk. Draco stared at it. So did Harry.
The can was round and bright purple, with big, bold letters proclaiming ‘Christmas Tinner!’ emblazoned over a festive roast.
“What the…”
Harry’s glare darkened and he snatched the tin, scowling like it had personally offended it.
“What in the world is that?” Draco asked.
Harry’s jaw tightened. “The Muggles call it hate mail,” he explained shortly. He didn’t seem to want to talk about it any further. “Give it to me,” he said firmly. “I’ll throw it out.”
None of this was making any sense, and Draco was starting to lose patience. He ignored Harry and Summoned a plate, setting it down smartly on his desk when it floated in. A few spells later, the tin was open and Draco turned it over on the plate, letting the contents settle with a soft plop.
They stared at the glop in silence.
“Okay, that’s disgusting,” Draco decided, frowning at the sludge. He poked carefully at one of the many layers with his wand. “Is that…supposed to be turkey and potatoes?”
Now that he was looking, he could identify what looked like…nine of ten different layers of what he assumed was food. That yellow paste on top was obviously supposed to resemble eggs. Then, some watery mince pie stuffing, the turkey and potatoes he’d successfully identified, what may or may not be a semi solid gravy, two sauces, two layers of vegetable mush and finally…
“Oh Merlin.” Draco shuddered and pressed his hand to his mouth. “Is that Christmas pudding?”
Harry’s mouth twisted and he Vanished the plate. Draco gaped at him in ill-concealed horror.
“Why would anyone do that?” he demanded. “What kind of person eats Christmas dinner out of a can?!”
Harry sighed and scrubbed his hair. “It’s a Muggle thing,” he explained slowly, unwillingly. “There’s this…idea that people who live alone eat canned food- because it comes in single servings.”
Draco raised an eyebrow.
“Go on,” he invited coolly.
Harry grimaced, but volunteered the rest of his explanation. “It’s sort of a…a mean joke. Like it’s funny because people who don’t go out much are sad and lonely.”
“I see,” Draco replied. A cold smirk was playing on his lips now. “So, someone thinks I’m lonely and pathetic,” he drawled. “Or should be. It seems our little entry at the Yule Ball didn’t go unnoticed.”
Harry looked reasonably upset now, and it just made him angrier.
“I’m sorry,” Harry murmured softly. “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t asked you to go with me…”
Draco waved him off. He wasn’t hurt. Oh, far from it. He was pissed. Somebody had taken offence to him being with Harry. Somebody thought he deserved to be alone.
Somebody was going to pay.
“Hand me the card. The one that came with my little…gift.”
Harry looked surprised but he didn’t argue. He fished the card out from under the paper scrappings and handed it over.
Sure enough, there was a note on the back. Draco smirked and commenced reading.
Dear Wallflower,
Here’s a little something to see you through the season!
Merry Christmas (for one).
Sincerely,
Your well-wisher
PS: Keep smelling salts handy for the next time you swoon. Harry Potter won’t stick around with the likes of you forever!
;)
Harry growled, low in his throat. “When I find out who sent you that…”
“That can be arranged,” Draco cut in smoothly. “You forget I’m an archivist.”
He was already plotting as he headed for the filing section. Obviously, whoever had sent this worked at the Ministry. They had been at the Yule Ball and besides, this gift had been sent straight to the Library instead of the Ministry’s Owlery. It was an internal transfer, ensuring that it couldn’t be traced back easily.
The sender had made one critical mistake, though. The note was hand-written.
Draco chuckled darkly, and reached into a small cabinet. He emerged with a book that spanned at least two lengths of his desk and sat half as wide.
“Whoa,” Harry blurted.
“Undetectable Extension Charm,” Draco explained offhandedly. His desk creaked under the weight of the book. “I have at least three more of these in that little cabinet.”
“Hermione had a purse like that,” Harry offered. He was approaching now, looking far more interested.
Of course she did. Draco pried the book open and waved away a cloud of dust. “Every single person in this building,” he started explaining, “has had to turn in an overdue book at some point of time. And each time they do, they have to fill in a little form and sign it.”
Harry nodded, comprehension dawning on his face. “I’ve filled a couple of those,” he exclaimed.
“More than a couple,” Draco drawled. “And you’re not the only one.”
And there were the Penalty Forms- Pages 44 to 2,799- all neatly cross referenced and secured with Sticking Charms. Draco turned page after page, his smile growing. Finally, his obsessive organisational skills had paid off.
“A simple Matching Spell should do the trick,” he said, carefully placing the note next to the book.
Harry watched in silence as Draco palmed his wand.
“Parem Exiges.”
The book shook. Pages fluttered. They started flipping rapidly, sending a small breeze through the Library. Draco watched dispassionately as the pages finally stilled at Page 2,384. The form on the page glowed a bright blue.
“Romilda Vane from Human Resources,” Draco declared. His eyes flicked to the note. It was an exact match.
Harry cursed under his breath. Draco raised an eyebrow.
“Ring a bell?”
“Something like that,” Harry offered with a weary sigh. “She was a few years behind us at Hogwarts. During Sixth Year, she developed something of a…crush on me. Ended up dousing Ron with Amortentia.”
Draco snickered at that little detail, but wisely refrained from commenting. “Well, it seems that little Miss Vane is still carrying a torch for you.”
Harry made a face. “Spiteful bint,” he muttered. “Don’t worry. I’ll have a talk with…”
“You’ll do no such thing.”
Harry gaped at him, but Draco held up a hand to silence him.
“What did we talk about yesterday? I can look after myself. I don’t need you fighting my battles for me.”
“But…”
Draco smiled and slipped his arms around Harry’s neck, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “Go talk to Weasley,” he ordered gently. “I have work to do.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to viciously humiliate this woman beyond all reason?”
“Possibly. Is that a problem?”
Harry’s grin would have made a Slytherin blush- and it did. “Let me know if you need help,” he offered. And then- with a fond kiss to Draco’s head- he left, making his way to see Weasley at the DMLE office.
Draco waited until the sound of Harry’s footsteps faded away.
And then he went out to prowl.
****
Vane’s office was laughably easy to break into.
It took him all of two minutes and one hastily cast Notice-Me-Not Charm to sneak past the bored looking receptionist and into Human Resources. Vane’s corner office was at the other end of the office. The door was slightly ajar, and one quick peak confirmed what he’d been hoping for.
She wasn’t in.
Draco smirked and stole in, shutting the door with a soft click.
Now, to business.
His mouth twisted as he took in the pink, frilly décor. Ugh. The sooner he got out of here, the better.
He made sure to keep from touching anything, instead choosing to use his wand to investigate. A few quick spells opened the drawers. Draco raised an eyebrow as he noticed a snipped article from Witch Weekly, safely stashed inside.
Harry James Potter: Boy Who Lived Twice, Star Auror and Our Pick for Sexiest Wizard Alive!
Draco had to purse his lips to keep from laughing. Harry glared at him from the picture, clearly annoyed with being photographed at all. He was wearing his official combat robes and holding his wand. They must have caught him on duty. Horrific excuse for journalism aside, it wasn’t a bad picture. Draco pocketed it without a second thought. He certainly wasn’t letting Vane keep it.
But he wasn’t done yet. He still needed a personal artefact for the spell to work.
Draco scanned the office, until his eyes landed on a coffee mug. It had clearly been used recently- there was a smudge of red lipstick at the rim.
Perfect.
He pocketed it and stole out, as silently as he had entered. Nobody batted an eyelid and Draco revelled in the subtle chaos of it all.
He felt…like himself again. Like the notorious, cunning, not-to-be-trifled-with Draco Malfoy he had once been, a long time ago at Hogwarts.
Oh, Romilda Vane was going to rue the day she ran afoul of the Slytherin Prince.
****
A few minutes later, he was making his way down the mistletoe infested Main Corridor, with a nervous International Relations employee by his side.
“Do you understand what you need to do?” Draco asked.
He cast a dispassionate eye on the young man shuffling alongside him. Sebastian Brook was an attractive fellow- if a little dim. Then again, Draco didn’t need him for his brains. The boy was lean and lanky, with curly blond hair, stark blue eyes and plush, pouty lips. It would be decidedly difficult for any woman to refuse him- no matter how obsessed she was with Harry.
“I understand,” Sebastian intoned morosely. “Romilda Vane, right?”
“That’s the one. Do me this small favour, and we can forget all about your…visits to the Erotic Arts section in the Library, hm?”
“How do you even know about that?” Sebastian whined. “I checked those books out under an assumed name!”
Draco smiled wickedly. “Nothing gets by me,” he replied cryptically. “Now run along. Unless you’d like your withdrawals to end up on the Notice Board in the Main Hall.”
Sebastian scuttled away, leaving Draco behind.
He had intended on going back to the Library, and he had taken two steps in that direction, when he faltered. Draco’s eyes drifted speculatively to the elevator.
Harry was in the DMLE offices right now. Talking to Weasley.
For a moment, he hesitated. It didn’t feel right, eavesdropping on a private conversation. But he knew that Weasley would most certainly be talking about him. Draco worried his lip. What would he say? Could he…could he possibly talk Harry out of…whatever they had? They were best friends, after all. If Weasley decided to bring up all the things Draco had done in the past…and why wouldn’t he? Would Harry listen?
No. No, he didn’t think so. Harry cared about him. Harry wanted him.
But still…
He hesitated another moment, before taking another step. And another.
He’d already done a good amount of sneaking around today anyway, he reasoned. And it was always wise to know where one stood.
Besides, he was a Slytherin. This was what he did. He wasn’t going to let Gryffindor principles weigh him down. Even if he did feel a touch guilty.
Making his decision, Draco quickened his footsteps and strode into the elevator.
****
The DMLE was far more secure than Human Resources. He knew he wouldn’t make it past the first level without being caught.
And he couldn’t get caught.
So, Draco improvised.
He headed down the corridor and to the Department of Magical Games and Sports. With Quidditch Season in full swing, this place was nearly empty. Almost everyone in this Department was out- either liasoning with the Prophet and other newspapers for maximum coverage or out in the field, organising matches and promoting the Ministry’s ‘continued interest in our proud sports heritage’.
All a lot of talk, but at least it left him with an empty office. And better still, the place was covered end-to-end in paintings- famous portraits of Quidditch stars, more specifically.
Perfect.
Draco stole in, barricaded himself in an office with a few Locking Charms and heaved a sigh of relief.
Fun fact about paintings in the magical world- they didn’t just hang around and make smartarse remarks. They also served as portals of communication. There was a reason that the characters inhabiting a certain painting could switch frames and visit other portraits. All the paintings were interconnected, existing in a realm of their own. He didn’t understand the exact science behind the magic- that was a question for the Department of Mysteries- but the point was, it could be done.
And with a little tweaking, Draco could theoretically look into Harry’s office at the DMLE from here- provided he had a painting in there.
He thought back to the last time he was in Harry’s office-to the crest hanging on the wall when he’d woken up. And there had been a painting right next to it, he was sure of it.
“Okay,” Draco murmured. “Okay, let’s do it.”
He took off the Notice-Me-Not Charm.
Immediately, someone protested- loudly and vociferously.
“Oi!”
Draco found himself face to frame with Gregory Cotton, famous Seeker for the Appleby Arrows.
“Go on now!” Cotton scolded, blustering in his frame. “Off with you, lad! Not s’posed to be here, are ya?”
Draco cringed, wishing he’d found a more amiable portrait to negotiate with. It was done now, though and he would have to work around it. The last thing he needed was for Cotton to create an uproar and send people barging in here.
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he hastened to explain. “It’s just…I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr Cotton, but I’m just such a huge fan.”
Cotton halted his tirade for a second. “Are you?” he demanded, raising a bushy eyebrow.
“Um, yes! I’ve been following your career for decades! Tell me, is it true you started out with the Ballycastle Bats?”
“Aye, that I did! Good times, good times. Had a good run with them Bats, I did. But the Arrows’ where I found my calling. Say, did you ever hear about my best match?”
Draco racked his brains, trying to remember any mention of Cotton from his several thousand readings of Quidditch Through the Ages.
“Pride of Portree, 1972?” he offered timidly, praying that was right.
“Aye, that’s the one!” Cotton boomed. “Finest match I ever played! There I was, Dougal McBride racing for the Snitch. I cut under him and boom! Snitch was mine. O’ course, Dougal turned me head into a cabbage afterwards, so the victory speech was cut short…”
Personally, Draco thought that could have only been an improvement. Nevertheless, he nodded along politely as Cotton rambled.
“So lad, what can I do fer ya?” Cotton finally, mercifully asked.
“Oh, nothing much,” Draco replied carefully. “I just wanted to say hello. Although…now that you mention it, I was wondering if…could I use your painting for just a minute?”
“Oh.” Cotton scratched the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. “That’s not really…that’s not allowed exactly.”
Damn it. Draco’s fists clenched.
“But for a fan, why not?” Cotton boomed. “Go on then. I have ta visit my other painting in the Quidditch League of Fame anyway. Good day to ya, boy.”
Draco heaved a sigh of relief as Cotton disappeared, vacating the frame.
Now, to work.
It took him a few tries, but he’d read enough books on the subject to know that it was possible. On the fourth spell, he saw results.
The painting shimmered and shifted, revealing an office. There, on the right, was Harry. And Weasley was with him.
Yes.
Draco cast a Silencio and a few other spells to keep hidden.
And then he settled down to listen.
****
“Kingsley’s pissed.”
Weasley paced the length of the office as he spoke, looking rather agitated himself. “He wants you back,” he went on, “working on real cases. He’s got a point, you know. We could use you back.”
Harry sat through it, only speaking up when Weasley had winded down. “Is that what he told you to tell me?” he asked.
Weasley exhaled sharply through his nose. “Are you investigating Devon?” he demanded.
In the frame, Draco’s fingers twitched.
Devon, again…
Harry’s face was blank, neutral. “No,” he replied offhandedly. “The case is closed.”
Weasley raised an eyebrow. “Do you really think I can’t tell when you’re lying?”
Harry shrugged. “Here’s a question, Auror to Auror. Do you think we shouldn’t look into Devon again? That there’s nothing to investigate?”
Weasley hesitated. “Kingsley said…”
“Ron.”
Weasley fell mutinously silent. But then he sighed and spoke again.
“Of course not. What happened there was…it was weird. Of course we should look into it again. I respect Kingsley and I know he doesn’t want to start a panic at the Minister’s Office, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t reinvestigate.”
“Exactly,” Harry agreed softly. His eyes were dark again. He was glaring at the wall-thankfully the one opposite Draco's painting- and clearly lost in thought.
“But there’s a way to do it and this isn’t it.”
Harry turned back to Weasley, who huffed and planted his hands on the desk.
“Come back,” he said firmly. “We’ll launch a Request for Official and Accurate Reinvestigation. Not with Kingsley. We’ll go straight to the Minister. With your name on the ROAR, he’ll listen. Kingsley won’t be able to say no.”
Draco found himself nodding along. It was a sound idea. Practical. Reasonable. Who knew Weasley could be so pragmatic?
“Maybe I don’t want to tiptoe around this,” Harry replied. His voice was soft, but the touch of menace was obvious. “Maybe it shouldn’t be so difficult to do the right thing.”
Weasley slumped back in his chair. “So you are looking into it,” he said flatly.
“I didn’t say any such thing.”
Silence. Mutinous silence. Draco’s eyes darted from one Auror to the next, wondering which of them would cave first. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be Harry.
“Is this about Malfoy?”
And there went Weasley, putting his foot in it proper.
Harry sat up, stiff and suddenly alert. “What about him?” he asked, the challenge clear in his tone.
“How is he?” Weasley asked. “Things got nasty at the Ball. He doing any better?”
Harry’s expression softened, just a touch. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “He’s…he’s getting there.”
“That’s…good.” Weasley looked uncomfortable now. If it was anyone else, Draco would have felt sorry for them. He watched as Weasley struggled, trying to choose his words carefully.
“Is that what this whole Devon thing is about?” he burst out finally. “You think it’s the same group and you want to get back at whoever hurt Malfoy?”
“How would I know if it’s the same group?” Harry retorted. “I’m not investigating, remember?”
Weasley closed his eyes. Exhaled slowly. He pursed his lips and looked away. “You’re living with him now?” he asked quietly.
Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me, Ron” he hissed. “Tell me exactly what you would have done if it had been Hermione instead.”
Weasley stood up at that. “Don’t,” he spat. “Don’t you dare compare our relationship to your obsession with that…”
“That what?” Harry demanded, standing up as well. “Go on and say it, Ron. Let’s get it all out. Merlin knows we’ve been dancing around it for way too long.”
Draco stared in horror, half wondering if he should intervene before the wands came out.
Weasley worked his jaw for a moment, red-faced and furious. “I’m not…trying to bring up shite that doesn’t matter anymore. But I’m worried, Harry. I’m your best friend, I’ve always had your back. This thing with Malfoy…”
“…is not your concern,” Harry bit out. “I have never interfered with you and Mione, Ron. Do me the same courtesy.”
“Harry…”
“No. I love you like a brother, but this is where I draw the line. I’ve made my peace with the things Draco did when he was a kid with no other choice. And if you can’t do the same, we have nowhere to go from here.”
Draco’s heart was pounding. If he hadn’t heard it, he wouldn’t have believed it. But here it was. Harry had fought for him, defended him, gone against his best friend for him.
He cared. Draco had known for a long time but this…this proved it beyond the shadow of a doubt.
He watched, eyes just the slightest bit damp, as Harry turned his back on Weasley and stalked out of the room.
“We can do this the right way, Harry,” Weasley called out.
Harry stopped and turned back to face him.
“The investigation,” Weasley explained. “We can do it the right way, without anybody putting themselves in the line of fire. Call me when you’re ready to talk.”
Harry didn’t say anything. He shook his head and left the office.
Weasley followed him with his eyes for a moment, before scrubbing his face wearily and leaving as well.
Draco took a moment to compose himself. When he was ready, he cast a Finite Incantatem and stole out.
****
His mind was still working a mile a minute, going over every bit of Harry’s conversation. He thought long and hard about the pieces he could put together, given what he knew.
Devon. Something had happened. Something bad enough to prompt an investigation. Nothing had come of it. The case was closed. Then the attack at the Yule Ball. Harry’s conversation with Kingsley. Then with Weasley. He clearly suspected something but was adamant that he wasn’t investigating.
He wasn’t. Was he?
If he was lying to both Kingsley and Weasley- and Draco had been there both times- then he was a damned good liar. The thought seemed absurd. Harry was many things, but he wouldn’t deceive people like that. If he knew something, he would be forthright about it.
Wouldn’t he?
He wouldn’t think about it anymore, he decided. Harry had said he wasn’t looking into it, and Draco was going to believe him. He’d already listened in on Harry once today- heard things that weren’t meant for his ears. The thought made his insides twist with guilt.
No. He would believe Harry. Stand by him. It was the least he deserved.
He had taken a roundabout route- down the stairs, instead of the elevator- so by the time he made it to the corridor, he was flushed and a little dizzy. He wasn’t really watching where he was going so it was no surprise when he ran right into something solid.
“Merlin’s beard, Draco!” Harry exclaimed, grabbing hold of him before he could fall. “Are you alright?”
Draco blinked. “I…yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”
Harry cocked his head. “What are you doing out here? I was just coming to the Library to look for you.”
Draco blinked as he realised they were in the corridor. Oh Salazar, how was he going to explain this?
Thankfully, the Fates were with him for once, because Harry inadvertently rescued him. “Wait, don’t tell me,” he said with a teasing grin. “You just put the finishing touches on your plan for Romilda, didn’t you?”
Oh, thank Salazar. He grinned and led Harry to a discreet corner. Rows and rows of mistletoe hung above them, spanning the ceiling. There were 556 of them in total. Draco would know- he had spelled each and every one, just for this moment.
“Actually, you’re just in time for the big finale,” he said. “Now watch carefully.”
Sebastian had shuffled into place, smack bang in the middle of the corridor. He was standing under one of the mistletoe sprigs, looking doleful and put upon. The corridor was gradually filling up as people passed by, preparing to go home. Wonderful. There would be an audience.
“How long do I have to wait?” Harry whispered.
“Just another minute,” Draco murmured distractedly. “She should be out any…”
And there she was. Romilda Vane sashayed out of the elevator, surrounded by a gaggle of giggling women. Draco smirked and leaned back against the wall, preparing to catch the show. The woman swept right past and her eyes landed on them for a moment. The bright smile she threw Harry faded almost immediately when she noticed Draco.
“Good evening, Auror Potter,” she purred. Her lips twisted as she gave Draco the once over. “Malfoy.”
“Good evening, Miss Vane,” Draco replied politely.
She smirked and turned her back on him. Clearly, she didn’t think him a threat whatsoever.
Foolish, naïve little girl.
“Romilda!” Sebastian called, right on cue.
Vane turned and her eyes widened as she spotted him. Sebastian played his part perfectly- gesturing to the mistletoe right above him and shooting her a flirtatious grin.
Vane smiled and tucked a curl behind her ear. Her colleagues giggled and whispered excitedly.
Draco held his breath.
If all went well…
Sure enough, the conceited bint took the bait. She tossed her hair over one shoulder and strutted over to Sebastian, hips swaying just a touch. He took her arm and guided her under the mistletoe. Vane smiled and tilted her head.
Draco grinned, sharp and eager.
Sebastian leaned in.
Vane puckered up.
And…
“Don’t do it, laddy!”
The horrified shriek rang out like a clarion call. Everyone stopped in their tracks. A few people jumped and dropped their folders.
Next to Draco, Harry stifled a gasp.
And Draco…oh, Draco had never been this happy.
“I said don’t do it!” the mistletoe wailed again. “She has fleas! Fleas, I tell ya!”
Vane went a vivid scarlet. Her jaw dropped and her eyes bulged. Sebastian yelped and took several steps back.
“And that’s not all!” the mistletoe went on. “You have no idea where those lips have been!”
Someone coughed to hide their snicker. Draco was quite sure it was one of Vane’s girlfriends.
“I saw her picking her nose yesterday!” another sprig of mistletoe barked.
“It’s true!” another chimed in. And then they were all screaming- 556 sprigs of mistletoe shrieking about the horrible, disgusting things Vane had allegedly done.
“She doesn’t wash her hands after the loo!”
“She left a comb in the bathroom yesterday and it crawled away!”
People were laughing now. A few were holding on to each other for support. Harry wasn’t even bothering to hide his chuckles.
Draco sighed happily, revelling in his symphony of destruction.
“She’s obsessed with Harry Potter!” an enterprising sprig started off again. “She keeps pictures of him in her desk drawer!”
Vane shrieked in outrage. “How do you know about that?” she demanded. Almost immediately, she realised what she’d just admitted, gasped in horror and clapped a hand to her mouth.
“Wait, it’s true?” one of Vane’s girlfriends gasped.
“I knew it!” another one shrieked.
“My word,” Harry drawled flatly. “How flattering. Unfortunately, I’m taken.”
Draco’s eyes widened in surprise as Harry wrapped an arm around him. The entire corridor burst into laughter. Vane gaped at them, and in that moment, she knew. Draco saw it in her horrified, flabbergasted expression. She knew what he had done.
And she knew there was nothing she could do to prove it.
Oh, victory was sweet. But he just couldn’t resist rubbing it in a touch more. Harry was his and this woman was going to get that simple fact through her thick head today.
“You promised to help me, remember?” he whispered discreetly to Harry.
Harry turned to him. “Anything,” he replied.
“Kiss me,” Draco ordered. “Kiss me now. Under the mistletoe.”
Harry grinned and leaned in. Just before his lips touched Draco’s, he murmured, “You monster.”
Draco smiled and closed the distance between them, revelling in the sounds of laughter, scattered applause and Vane’s blubbering wails as she fled for safety.
Part 11
Author: dracogotgame
Word Count: 5,300
Rating: PG 13
Prompt: slythindor100's 25 days of Draco and Harry: Prompt 11
Summary: Mess with the snake, you get the fangs.
Warning: Nil
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
Author's Notes: Wow. Long chapter is long. Guys, not gonna lie. I love how this one turned out. Writing it was a blast, and I really, really hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Part 10 of the Walk of Shame Series.
They walked to the Ministry that day. It felt good to be out, in the brisk cold with weak sunshine warming their faces. The snow was falling in earnest now, coating the world in a blanket of white.
Draco couldn’t help but smile as they approached the phone booth, and he made sure to hold Harry’s gaze as he punched in the code- 62442- with extreme deliberation. Harry succumbed to a bout of laughter and Draco wasn’t far behind.
They were still laughing when they stumbled into the Library.
“Well, look at this,” Harry commented as he stepped in. “It looks like the season’s finally upon us!”
Draco walked in, and promptly groaned.
His sombre, inviolable sanctuary of learning looked like Christmas just threw up all over it! There was a tree in the corner, bright with shiny tinsel and ornaments. There was a wreath of holly resting proudly just above his fireplace. A faint scent of peppermint hung in the air. And there, on the ceiling, just above his head…was that mistletoe?!
“Those thrice damned elves!” he growled. “I knew I shouldn’t have missed work. They took advantage of my absence and…and redecorated!”
Harry threw his head back and laughed. “Calm down, Ebenezer,” he said, giving Draco’s hair a playful ruffle.
“What?”
“You’ll get it when I give you the book,” Harry promised.
Draco huffed and set off to prowl the aisles. If the Ministry elves had so much as touched his books, they would all be getting scarves this Christmas.
Fortunately, everything seemed in order. Draco took a moment to relax and centre himself. He breathed in the familiar scent of parchment and ink. Even mildly tainted by peppermint, it brought him a sense of peace.
Yes, he was finally back.
Harry’s sharp whistle brought him back.
“Check it out,” he called, from the front. “We’ve got mail.”
Draco padded back out and made his way to the desk, where Harry was sorting out the mail. Not surprisingly, most of them were for him.
Harry shook his head and pried open a letter. Draco spotted the DMLE crest embossed on the envelope.
“I guess they’ve started forwarding my work files down here,” Harry said, frowning slightly. “Interesting.”
Draco nodded. He wasn’t sure what to make of it either. A subtle hint from Kingsley? Perhaps the Head Auror had finally tired of Harry’s continued absence from the office. Something in his chest twisted at the thought of Harry leaving, but he brushed it off. Back to the real world, he reminded himself firmly. Harry couldn’t stay here forever. Besides, Draco would see plenty of him at home. He hadn’t moved out yet, even though Draco was clearly better. The thought cheered him right up, and he went back to sorting the mail with a smile.
“That’s from Ron,” Harry commented suddenly. He was eyeing another envelope, right at the top of the pile. “Definitely his handwriting, at least.”
Draco eyed the envelope warily, half expecting it to explode or start screaming at him. Weasley had made no bones about his feelings at the Yule Ball. Whatever he had to say now, could hardly be pleasant.
He shrugged and tore his gaze away. “It’s your mail,” he told Harry. “Do what you want with it.”
Harry nodded tersely and tore it open. His eyes scanned the short note.
“He wants to talk,” he said finally.
Draco nodded thoughtfully. He wasn’t about to pry, but this did concern him. “What did he say exactly?”
Harry handed him the note.
Harry,
We need to talk.
Ron.
Well, that was helpful.
Draco rolled his eyes and handed it back.
He was just about to start on some actual work when a package caught his eye. “What’s that?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Harry said, reaching for it. “It’s a bit early for gifts…”
He trailed off and stared at the small tag on the parcel.
“It’s for you.”
Wait, what?
Draco frowned and took the parcel from him. Sure enough, his name was embossed on the small card in curly, sparkly pink letters.
Who on earth…?
“Do you want to open it?” Harry asked.
Draco hesitated. He shook the package gently. It didn’t rattle. Or implode. It was certainly heavy though. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “Nobody ever sends me anything. Especially not at work…”
Harry looked faintly concerned now. “Maybe I should open it,” he offered at once. He reached out to take the package, clearly eager to get it away from Draco now.
Draco huffed and pushed his hand away. He was a grown-up and he certainly didn’t need Harry to hold his hand while he opened a stupid package.
Still, he was extra careful as he tore off the wrapping paper.
A tin can fell out and rolled on the desk. Draco stared at it. So did Harry.
The can was round and bright purple, with big, bold letters proclaiming ‘Christmas Tinner!’ emblazoned over a festive roast.
“What the…”
Harry’s glare darkened and he snatched the tin, scowling like it had personally offended it.
“What in the world is that?” Draco asked.
Harry’s jaw tightened. “The Muggles call it hate mail,” he explained shortly. He didn’t seem to want to talk about it any further. “Give it to me,” he said firmly. “I’ll throw it out.”
None of this was making any sense, and Draco was starting to lose patience. He ignored Harry and Summoned a plate, setting it down smartly on his desk when it floated in. A few spells later, the tin was open and Draco turned it over on the plate, letting the contents settle with a soft plop.
They stared at the glop in silence.
“Okay, that’s disgusting,” Draco decided, frowning at the sludge. He poked carefully at one of the many layers with his wand. “Is that…supposed to be turkey and potatoes?”
Now that he was looking, he could identify what looked like…nine of ten different layers of what he assumed was food. That yellow paste on top was obviously supposed to resemble eggs. Then, some watery mince pie stuffing, the turkey and potatoes he’d successfully identified, what may or may not be a semi solid gravy, two sauces, two layers of vegetable mush and finally…
“Oh Merlin.” Draco shuddered and pressed his hand to his mouth. “Is that Christmas pudding?”
Harry’s mouth twisted and he Vanished the plate. Draco gaped at him in ill-concealed horror.
“Why would anyone do that?” he demanded. “What kind of person eats Christmas dinner out of a can?!”
Harry sighed and scrubbed his hair. “It’s a Muggle thing,” he explained slowly, unwillingly. “There’s this…idea that people who live alone eat canned food- because it comes in single servings.”
Draco raised an eyebrow.
“Go on,” he invited coolly.
Harry grimaced, but volunteered the rest of his explanation. “It’s sort of a…a mean joke. Like it’s funny because people who don’t go out much are sad and lonely.”
“I see,” Draco replied. A cold smirk was playing on his lips now. “So, someone thinks I’m lonely and pathetic,” he drawled. “Or should be. It seems our little entry at the Yule Ball didn’t go unnoticed.”
Harry looked reasonably upset now, and it just made him angrier.
“I’m sorry,” Harry murmured softly. “It’s my fault. If I hadn’t asked you to go with me…”
Draco waved him off. He wasn’t hurt. Oh, far from it. He was pissed. Somebody had taken offence to him being with Harry. Somebody thought he deserved to be alone.
Somebody was going to pay.
“Hand me the card. The one that came with my little…gift.”
Harry looked surprised but he didn’t argue. He fished the card out from under the paper scrappings and handed it over.
Sure enough, there was a note on the back. Draco smirked and commenced reading.
Dear Wallflower,
Here’s a little something to see you through the season!
Merry Christmas (for one).
Sincerely,
Your well-wisher
PS: Keep smelling salts handy for the next time you swoon. Harry Potter won’t stick around with the likes of you forever!
;)
Harry growled, low in his throat. “When I find out who sent you that…”
“That can be arranged,” Draco cut in smoothly. “You forget I’m an archivist.”
He was already plotting as he headed for the filing section. Obviously, whoever had sent this worked at the Ministry. They had been at the Yule Ball and besides, this gift had been sent straight to the Library instead of the Ministry’s Owlery. It was an internal transfer, ensuring that it couldn’t be traced back easily.
The sender had made one critical mistake, though. The note was hand-written.
Draco chuckled darkly, and reached into a small cabinet. He emerged with a book that spanned at least two lengths of his desk and sat half as wide.
“Whoa,” Harry blurted.
“Undetectable Extension Charm,” Draco explained offhandedly. His desk creaked under the weight of the book. “I have at least three more of these in that little cabinet.”
“Hermione had a purse like that,” Harry offered. He was approaching now, looking far more interested.
Of course she did. Draco pried the book open and waved away a cloud of dust. “Every single person in this building,” he started explaining, “has had to turn in an overdue book at some point of time. And each time they do, they have to fill in a little form and sign it.”
Harry nodded, comprehension dawning on his face. “I’ve filled a couple of those,” he exclaimed.
“More than a couple,” Draco drawled. “And you’re not the only one.”
And there were the Penalty Forms- Pages 44 to 2,799- all neatly cross referenced and secured with Sticking Charms. Draco turned page after page, his smile growing. Finally, his obsessive organisational skills had paid off.
“A simple Matching Spell should do the trick,” he said, carefully placing the note next to the book.
Harry watched in silence as Draco palmed his wand.
“Parem Exiges.”
The book shook. Pages fluttered. They started flipping rapidly, sending a small breeze through the Library. Draco watched dispassionately as the pages finally stilled at Page 2,384. The form on the page glowed a bright blue.
“Romilda Vane from Human Resources,” Draco declared. His eyes flicked to the note. It was an exact match.
Harry cursed under his breath. Draco raised an eyebrow.
“Ring a bell?”
“Something like that,” Harry offered with a weary sigh. “She was a few years behind us at Hogwarts. During Sixth Year, she developed something of a…crush on me. Ended up dousing Ron with Amortentia.”
Draco snickered at that little detail, but wisely refrained from commenting. “Well, it seems that little Miss Vane is still carrying a torch for you.”
Harry made a face. “Spiteful bint,” he muttered. “Don’t worry. I’ll have a talk with…”
“You’ll do no such thing.”
Harry gaped at him, but Draco held up a hand to silence him.
“What did we talk about yesterday? I can look after myself. I don’t need you fighting my battles for me.”
“But…”
Draco smiled and slipped his arms around Harry’s neck, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “Go talk to Weasley,” he ordered gently. “I have work to do.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to viciously humiliate this woman beyond all reason?”
“Possibly. Is that a problem?”
Harry’s grin would have made a Slytherin blush- and it did. “Let me know if you need help,” he offered. And then- with a fond kiss to Draco’s head- he left, making his way to see Weasley at the DMLE office.
Draco waited until the sound of Harry’s footsteps faded away.
And then he went out to prowl.
****
Vane’s office was laughably easy to break into.
It took him all of two minutes and one hastily cast Notice-Me-Not Charm to sneak past the bored looking receptionist and into Human Resources. Vane’s corner office was at the other end of the office. The door was slightly ajar, and one quick peak confirmed what he’d been hoping for.
She wasn’t in.
Draco smirked and stole in, shutting the door with a soft click.
Now, to business.
His mouth twisted as he took in the pink, frilly décor. Ugh. The sooner he got out of here, the better.
He made sure to keep from touching anything, instead choosing to use his wand to investigate. A few quick spells opened the drawers. Draco raised an eyebrow as he noticed a snipped article from Witch Weekly, safely stashed inside.
Harry James Potter: Boy Who Lived Twice, Star Auror and Our Pick for Sexiest Wizard Alive!
Draco had to purse his lips to keep from laughing. Harry glared at him from the picture, clearly annoyed with being photographed at all. He was wearing his official combat robes and holding his wand. They must have caught him on duty. Horrific excuse for journalism aside, it wasn’t a bad picture. Draco pocketed it without a second thought. He certainly wasn’t letting Vane keep it.
But he wasn’t done yet. He still needed a personal artefact for the spell to work.
Draco scanned the office, until his eyes landed on a coffee mug. It had clearly been used recently- there was a smudge of red lipstick at the rim.
Perfect.
He pocketed it and stole out, as silently as he had entered. Nobody batted an eyelid and Draco revelled in the subtle chaos of it all.
He felt…like himself again. Like the notorious, cunning, not-to-be-trifled-with Draco Malfoy he had once been, a long time ago at Hogwarts.
Oh, Romilda Vane was going to rue the day she ran afoul of the Slytherin Prince.
****
A few minutes later, he was making his way down the mistletoe infested Main Corridor, with a nervous International Relations employee by his side.
“Do you understand what you need to do?” Draco asked.
He cast a dispassionate eye on the young man shuffling alongside him. Sebastian Brook was an attractive fellow- if a little dim. Then again, Draco didn’t need him for his brains. The boy was lean and lanky, with curly blond hair, stark blue eyes and plush, pouty lips. It would be decidedly difficult for any woman to refuse him- no matter how obsessed she was with Harry.
“I understand,” Sebastian intoned morosely. “Romilda Vane, right?”
“That’s the one. Do me this small favour, and we can forget all about your…visits to the Erotic Arts section in the Library, hm?”
“How do you even know about that?” Sebastian whined. “I checked those books out under an assumed name!”
Draco smiled wickedly. “Nothing gets by me,” he replied cryptically. “Now run along. Unless you’d like your withdrawals to end up on the Notice Board in the Main Hall.”
Sebastian scuttled away, leaving Draco behind.
He had intended on going back to the Library, and he had taken two steps in that direction, when he faltered. Draco’s eyes drifted speculatively to the elevator.
Harry was in the DMLE offices right now. Talking to Weasley.
For a moment, he hesitated. It didn’t feel right, eavesdropping on a private conversation. But he knew that Weasley would most certainly be talking about him. Draco worried his lip. What would he say? Could he…could he possibly talk Harry out of…whatever they had? They were best friends, after all. If Weasley decided to bring up all the things Draco had done in the past…and why wouldn’t he? Would Harry listen?
No. No, he didn’t think so. Harry cared about him. Harry wanted him.
But still…
He hesitated another moment, before taking another step. And another.
He’d already done a good amount of sneaking around today anyway, he reasoned. And it was always wise to know where one stood.
Besides, he was a Slytherin. This was what he did. He wasn’t going to let Gryffindor principles weigh him down. Even if he did feel a touch guilty.
Making his decision, Draco quickened his footsteps and strode into the elevator.
****
The DMLE was far more secure than Human Resources. He knew he wouldn’t make it past the first level without being caught.
And he couldn’t get caught.
So, Draco improvised.
He headed down the corridor and to the Department of Magical Games and Sports. With Quidditch Season in full swing, this place was nearly empty. Almost everyone in this Department was out- either liasoning with the Prophet and other newspapers for maximum coverage or out in the field, organising matches and promoting the Ministry’s ‘continued interest in our proud sports heritage’.
All a lot of talk, but at least it left him with an empty office. And better still, the place was covered end-to-end in paintings- famous portraits of Quidditch stars, more specifically.
Perfect.
Draco stole in, barricaded himself in an office with a few Locking Charms and heaved a sigh of relief.
Fun fact about paintings in the magical world- they didn’t just hang around and make smartarse remarks. They also served as portals of communication. There was a reason that the characters inhabiting a certain painting could switch frames and visit other portraits. All the paintings were interconnected, existing in a realm of their own. He didn’t understand the exact science behind the magic- that was a question for the Department of Mysteries- but the point was, it could be done.
And with a little tweaking, Draco could theoretically look into Harry’s office at the DMLE from here- provided he had a painting in there.
He thought back to the last time he was in Harry’s office-to the crest hanging on the wall when he’d woken up. And there had been a painting right next to it, he was sure of it.
“Okay,” Draco murmured. “Okay, let’s do it.”
He took off the Notice-Me-Not Charm.
Immediately, someone protested- loudly and vociferously.
“Oi!”
Draco found himself face to frame with Gregory Cotton, famous Seeker for the Appleby Arrows.
“Go on now!” Cotton scolded, blustering in his frame. “Off with you, lad! Not s’posed to be here, are ya?”
Draco cringed, wishing he’d found a more amiable portrait to negotiate with. It was done now, though and he would have to work around it. The last thing he needed was for Cotton to create an uproar and send people barging in here.
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he hastened to explain. “It’s just…I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr Cotton, but I’m just such a huge fan.”
Cotton halted his tirade for a second. “Are you?” he demanded, raising a bushy eyebrow.
“Um, yes! I’ve been following your career for decades! Tell me, is it true you started out with the Ballycastle Bats?”
“Aye, that I did! Good times, good times. Had a good run with them Bats, I did. But the Arrows’ where I found my calling. Say, did you ever hear about my best match?”
Draco racked his brains, trying to remember any mention of Cotton from his several thousand readings of Quidditch Through the Ages.
“Pride of Portree, 1972?” he offered timidly, praying that was right.
“Aye, that’s the one!” Cotton boomed. “Finest match I ever played! There I was, Dougal McBride racing for the Snitch. I cut under him and boom! Snitch was mine. O’ course, Dougal turned me head into a cabbage afterwards, so the victory speech was cut short…”
Personally, Draco thought that could have only been an improvement. Nevertheless, he nodded along politely as Cotton rambled.
“So lad, what can I do fer ya?” Cotton finally, mercifully asked.
“Oh, nothing much,” Draco replied carefully. “I just wanted to say hello. Although…now that you mention it, I was wondering if…could I use your painting for just a minute?”
“Oh.” Cotton scratched the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. “That’s not really…that’s not allowed exactly.”
Damn it. Draco’s fists clenched.
“But for a fan, why not?” Cotton boomed. “Go on then. I have ta visit my other painting in the Quidditch League of Fame anyway. Good day to ya, boy.”
Draco heaved a sigh of relief as Cotton disappeared, vacating the frame.
Now, to work.
It took him a few tries, but he’d read enough books on the subject to know that it was possible. On the fourth spell, he saw results.
The painting shimmered and shifted, revealing an office. There, on the right, was Harry. And Weasley was with him.
Yes.
Draco cast a Silencio and a few other spells to keep hidden.
And then he settled down to listen.
****
“Kingsley’s pissed.”
Weasley paced the length of the office as he spoke, looking rather agitated himself. “He wants you back,” he went on, “working on real cases. He’s got a point, you know. We could use you back.”
Harry sat through it, only speaking up when Weasley had winded down. “Is that what he told you to tell me?” he asked.
Weasley exhaled sharply through his nose. “Are you investigating Devon?” he demanded.
In the frame, Draco’s fingers twitched.
Devon, again…
Harry’s face was blank, neutral. “No,” he replied offhandedly. “The case is closed.”
Weasley raised an eyebrow. “Do you really think I can’t tell when you’re lying?”
Harry shrugged. “Here’s a question, Auror to Auror. Do you think we shouldn’t look into Devon again? That there’s nothing to investigate?”
Weasley hesitated. “Kingsley said…”
“Ron.”
Weasley fell mutinously silent. But then he sighed and spoke again.
“Of course not. What happened there was…it was weird. Of course we should look into it again. I respect Kingsley and I know he doesn’t want to start a panic at the Minister’s Office, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t reinvestigate.”
“Exactly,” Harry agreed softly. His eyes were dark again. He was glaring at the wall-thankfully the one opposite Draco's painting- and clearly lost in thought.
“But there’s a way to do it and this isn’t it.”
Harry turned back to Weasley, who huffed and planted his hands on the desk.
“Come back,” he said firmly. “We’ll launch a Request for Official and Accurate Reinvestigation. Not with Kingsley. We’ll go straight to the Minister. With your name on the ROAR, he’ll listen. Kingsley won’t be able to say no.”
Draco found himself nodding along. It was a sound idea. Practical. Reasonable. Who knew Weasley could be so pragmatic?
“Maybe I don’t want to tiptoe around this,” Harry replied. His voice was soft, but the touch of menace was obvious. “Maybe it shouldn’t be so difficult to do the right thing.”
Weasley slumped back in his chair. “So you are looking into it,” he said flatly.
“I didn’t say any such thing.”
Silence. Mutinous silence. Draco’s eyes darted from one Auror to the next, wondering which of them would cave first. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be Harry.
“Is this about Malfoy?”
And there went Weasley, putting his foot in it proper.
Harry sat up, stiff and suddenly alert. “What about him?” he asked, the challenge clear in his tone.
“How is he?” Weasley asked. “Things got nasty at the Ball. He doing any better?”
Harry’s expression softened, just a touch. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “He’s…he’s getting there.”
“That’s…good.” Weasley looked uncomfortable now. If it was anyone else, Draco would have felt sorry for them. He watched as Weasley struggled, trying to choose his words carefully.
“Is that what this whole Devon thing is about?” he burst out finally. “You think it’s the same group and you want to get back at whoever hurt Malfoy?”
“How would I know if it’s the same group?” Harry retorted. “I’m not investigating, remember?”
Weasley closed his eyes. Exhaled slowly. He pursed his lips and looked away. “You’re living with him now?” he asked quietly.
Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me, Ron” he hissed. “Tell me exactly what you would have done if it had been Hermione instead.”
Weasley stood up at that. “Don’t,” he spat. “Don’t you dare compare our relationship to your obsession with that…”
“That what?” Harry demanded, standing up as well. “Go on and say it, Ron. Let’s get it all out. Merlin knows we’ve been dancing around it for way too long.”
Draco stared in horror, half wondering if he should intervene before the wands came out.
Weasley worked his jaw for a moment, red-faced and furious. “I’m not…trying to bring up shite that doesn’t matter anymore. But I’m worried, Harry. I’m your best friend, I’ve always had your back. This thing with Malfoy…”
“…is not your concern,” Harry bit out. “I have never interfered with you and Mione, Ron. Do me the same courtesy.”
“Harry…”
“No. I love you like a brother, but this is where I draw the line. I’ve made my peace with the things Draco did when he was a kid with no other choice. And if you can’t do the same, we have nowhere to go from here.”
Draco’s heart was pounding. If he hadn’t heard it, he wouldn’t have believed it. But here it was. Harry had fought for him, defended him, gone against his best friend for him.
He cared. Draco had known for a long time but this…this proved it beyond the shadow of a doubt.
He watched, eyes just the slightest bit damp, as Harry turned his back on Weasley and stalked out of the room.
“We can do this the right way, Harry,” Weasley called out.
Harry stopped and turned back to face him.
“The investigation,” Weasley explained. “We can do it the right way, without anybody putting themselves in the line of fire. Call me when you’re ready to talk.”
Harry didn’t say anything. He shook his head and left the office.
Weasley followed him with his eyes for a moment, before scrubbing his face wearily and leaving as well.
Draco took a moment to compose himself. When he was ready, he cast a Finite Incantatem and stole out.
****
His mind was still working a mile a minute, going over every bit of Harry’s conversation. He thought long and hard about the pieces he could put together, given what he knew.
Devon. Something had happened. Something bad enough to prompt an investigation. Nothing had come of it. The case was closed. Then the attack at the Yule Ball. Harry’s conversation with Kingsley. Then with Weasley. He clearly suspected something but was adamant that he wasn’t investigating.
He wasn’t. Was he?
If he was lying to both Kingsley and Weasley- and Draco had been there both times- then he was a damned good liar. The thought seemed absurd. Harry was many things, but he wouldn’t deceive people like that. If he knew something, he would be forthright about it.
Wouldn’t he?
He wouldn’t think about it anymore, he decided. Harry had said he wasn’t looking into it, and Draco was going to believe him. He’d already listened in on Harry once today- heard things that weren’t meant for his ears. The thought made his insides twist with guilt.
No. He would believe Harry. Stand by him. It was the least he deserved.
He had taken a roundabout route- down the stairs, instead of the elevator- so by the time he made it to the corridor, he was flushed and a little dizzy. He wasn’t really watching where he was going so it was no surprise when he ran right into something solid.
“Merlin’s beard, Draco!” Harry exclaimed, grabbing hold of him before he could fall. “Are you alright?”
Draco blinked. “I…yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”
Harry cocked his head. “What are you doing out here? I was just coming to the Library to look for you.”
Draco blinked as he realised they were in the corridor. Oh Salazar, how was he going to explain this?
Thankfully, the Fates were with him for once, because Harry inadvertently rescued him. “Wait, don’t tell me,” he said with a teasing grin. “You just put the finishing touches on your plan for Romilda, didn’t you?”
Oh, thank Salazar. He grinned and led Harry to a discreet corner. Rows and rows of mistletoe hung above them, spanning the ceiling. There were 556 of them in total. Draco would know- he had spelled each and every one, just for this moment.
“Actually, you’re just in time for the big finale,” he said. “Now watch carefully.”
Sebastian had shuffled into place, smack bang in the middle of the corridor. He was standing under one of the mistletoe sprigs, looking doleful and put upon. The corridor was gradually filling up as people passed by, preparing to go home. Wonderful. There would be an audience.
“How long do I have to wait?” Harry whispered.
“Just another minute,” Draco murmured distractedly. “She should be out any…”
And there she was. Romilda Vane sashayed out of the elevator, surrounded by a gaggle of giggling women. Draco smirked and leaned back against the wall, preparing to catch the show. The woman swept right past and her eyes landed on them for a moment. The bright smile she threw Harry faded almost immediately when she noticed Draco.
“Good evening, Auror Potter,” she purred. Her lips twisted as she gave Draco the once over. “Malfoy.”
“Good evening, Miss Vane,” Draco replied politely.
She smirked and turned her back on him. Clearly, she didn’t think him a threat whatsoever.
Foolish, naïve little girl.
“Romilda!” Sebastian called, right on cue.
Vane turned and her eyes widened as she spotted him. Sebastian played his part perfectly- gesturing to the mistletoe right above him and shooting her a flirtatious grin.
Vane smiled and tucked a curl behind her ear. Her colleagues giggled and whispered excitedly.
Draco held his breath.
If all went well…
Sure enough, the conceited bint took the bait. She tossed her hair over one shoulder and strutted over to Sebastian, hips swaying just a touch. He took her arm and guided her under the mistletoe. Vane smiled and tilted her head.
Draco grinned, sharp and eager.
Sebastian leaned in.
Vane puckered up.
And…
“Don’t do it, laddy!”
The horrified shriek rang out like a clarion call. Everyone stopped in their tracks. A few people jumped and dropped their folders.
Next to Draco, Harry stifled a gasp.
And Draco…oh, Draco had never been this happy.
“I said don’t do it!” the mistletoe wailed again. “She has fleas! Fleas, I tell ya!”
Vane went a vivid scarlet. Her jaw dropped and her eyes bulged. Sebastian yelped and took several steps back.
“And that’s not all!” the mistletoe went on. “You have no idea where those lips have been!”
Someone coughed to hide their snicker. Draco was quite sure it was one of Vane’s girlfriends.
“I saw her picking her nose yesterday!” another sprig of mistletoe barked.
“It’s true!” another chimed in. And then they were all screaming- 556 sprigs of mistletoe shrieking about the horrible, disgusting things Vane had allegedly done.
“She doesn’t wash her hands after the loo!”
“She left a comb in the bathroom yesterday and it crawled away!”
People were laughing now. A few were holding on to each other for support. Harry wasn’t even bothering to hide his chuckles.
Draco sighed happily, revelling in his symphony of destruction.
“She’s obsessed with Harry Potter!” an enterprising sprig started off again. “She keeps pictures of him in her desk drawer!”
Vane shrieked in outrage. “How do you know about that?” she demanded. Almost immediately, she realised what she’d just admitted, gasped in horror and clapped a hand to her mouth.
“Wait, it’s true?” one of Vane’s girlfriends gasped.
“I knew it!” another one shrieked.
“My word,” Harry drawled flatly. “How flattering. Unfortunately, I’m taken.”
Draco’s eyes widened in surprise as Harry wrapped an arm around him. The entire corridor burst into laughter. Vane gaped at them, and in that moment, she knew. Draco saw it in her horrified, flabbergasted expression. She knew what he had done.
And she knew there was nothing she could do to prove it.
Oh, victory was sweet. But he just couldn’t resist rubbing it in a touch more. Harry was his and this woman was going to get that simple fact through her thick head today.
“You promised to help me, remember?” he whispered discreetly to Harry.
Harry turned to him. “Anything,” he replied.
“Kiss me,” Draco ordered. “Kiss me now. Under the mistletoe.”
Harry grinned and leaned in. Just before his lips touched Draco’s, he murmured, “You monster.”
Draco smiled and closed the distance between them, revelling in the sounds of laughter, scattered applause and Vane’s blubbering wails as she fled for safety.
Part 11