Walk of Shame (16/?)
Title: Walk of Shame (16/?)
Author:
dracogotgame
Word Count: 6,000
Rating: R
Warning: Angst.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
Author's Notes: Part 16 of the Walk of Shame Series. I am so, so sorry about the delays, everyone. It just wouldn't come together. I hope you enjoy this installment. Thank you all for sticking by this fic (even when it just won't f**** move already) and have a wonderful 2017!
December 22nd:
At some point, Draco had resigned himself to the inevitable reality of his situation. He was never going to get his Library back to himself. One way or another, there would be an Auror present at all times. Of course, he definitely preferred Harry to Weasley, but company was company- and even though he was loath to admit it, Draco was thankful for someone to talk to.
“So we’re just going to sit here and play chess all day?”
“You’ve got something better to do?”
“Actually, I do. It’s called work. You Aurors should try it some time.”
“You’re just mad because you’re losing.”
“I am not…”
“Check.”
Draco scowled as his bishop was bludgeoned and dragged off the board. “Chess is for heathens,” he declared as he turned to file away the most recent batch of late returns. “And that’s the only reason you’re so good at it.”
“Sore loser,” Weasley countered. Another one of Draco’s pieces bit the dust. Weasley grinned and Draco gave him a flat look before promptly Vanishing the chess set. He had only just resumed his filing again when he heard the familiar crinkle of a candy wrapper.
Oh for Merlin’s…
Weasley yelped as Draco Summoned his Chocolate Frog and binned it.
“No food or drink near the books,” he snapped. “Honestly, did the DMLE train you people in a barn or something?”
“I see Harry’s been giving us a bad name,” Weasley groused.
Draco stiffened. It was just a joke, of course it was. He knew that but it still made him purse his lips and turn away again.
“He’s a good man,” he said quietly. “I know what he’s doing isn’t…right but he’s still a good man.”
“One of the best,” Weasley replied without hesitation. “That’s why we can’t let him do this.”
As always, the conversation had circled back to the person who’d brought them all together on this unlikely mission. Draco’s shoulders slumped as he thought about how little progress they’d made since the dead end with Fletcher. Granger was still pursuing the memory retrieval doggedly. The sluggish rate and minimal progress had yet to discourage her. Other than that, things had come to a virtual standstill. The plan was starting to fizzle, and it was worrying.
“Any luck with your leads yet?” Draco asked suddenly.
“No,” Weasley sighed. “I’m getting closer but these things…”
“…take time, I know,” Draco finished. If he had a Galleon for every time he heard that…he shook his head and went back to work. “Hand me that catalogue over there.”
Weasley tossed it over. He crossed his arms on the desk and watched Draco as he worked. “How do things look on your end?”
Draco shrugged. He supposed things were normal- for a given definition of ‘normal’ of course. Harry had been calm and relaxed. After the awkward tensions of the past week, he seemed more than willing to turn things around for them.
Draco blushed as he recalled his send-off this morning. Harry always lavished him with affection, but there was something about the kisses and touches they’d shared this morning- a fierce urgency, desperation almost. Harry had held him close and murmured sweet endearments in his ear, things that made his heart sing and his pulse thrum.
Of course, there was no way he was sharing any of that with Weasley.
“I think we’re safe,” he said finally. “At least for another week or so.”
Weasley nodded thoughtfully. “Well, that’s good news. I think a few leads might pan out by next week, so if we have time we might as well use it.”
Draco nodded as Weasley got up and palmed his wand.
“I’ll head back up and keep working,” Weasley told him. “And hey, don’t worry, yeah? We’ll figure it out.”
They said their goodbyes and Draco resumed filing. If he finished up early, he may as well go home. No matter how settled things seemed, he still felt better when he was around Harry and knew where he was. Just a few more hours, he decided, and then he would pack up…
The envelope swooped in and landed on his desk. Draco jumped, coming back to himself at once. The seal of Saint Mungo’s glazed across the envelope was instantly recognisable, as was the sharp, pointed script.
Granger. Maybe she’d finally found something…
Draco tore it open at once.
Malfoy,
Something’s gone wrong. I need you here now.
If you have any books on brain damage caused by invasive spell-work, bring them.
There’s no time to explain, please hurry.
-HGW
Draco stared at the note in horror.
Salazar, what the hell had happened?! Had Fletcher sustained brain damage? Had Granger’s spells gone wrong? Was he dead? Damn her for leaving him hanging like this!
Draco cursed and headed for the Medical Section. The Library’s collection of medical texts was certainly smaller than St Mungo’s but if Granger had turned to him for help, then things must be pretty bad.
It took him longer than he’d wished, but he finally selected a few books he thought might help. If Granger had only been more specific…but there was no time to think of that now. A man’s life was hanging in the balance, and he had to move. Draco gathered up the tomes, cast a Lightening Charm and palmed his wand. There was no way he could Floo without damaging or losing the books.
Apparition it is then, he decided as he cast the Spell and hurtled away.
****
Granger shrieked as he appeared in her office. Draco braced himself against a shelf, before heading to her desk and tossing his stack of books on it.
“Here. I got everything I could think of, it should be enough.”
Granger just stared at him with wide, bewildered eyes.
“Where is he? How bad is it?”
“Malfoy, why are you…”
“Look, you said we have to hurry. If we split the books, maybe we can…”
“Wait, wait a minute.” Granger stood up. “What’s this all about?”
Draco stared at her, incredulous and at a loss for words. Granger just stared back, waiting for him to explain.
“Are you serious?” Draco finally snapped. “Your note nearly gave me a heart attack and now you don’t even know what…”
“What note?”
Draco fell silent. An ominous feeling crept upon him, a sudden sensation that something was very, very wrong.
“Granger.” All of a sudden, his voice sounded hoarse. He felt like his throat was closing up. “Where’s Fletcher?”
Granger sighed. “We had to release him. We can’t exactly hold him against his will. There’s not much he can tell us anyway, but if the spell I’m working on can tune the memories we salvaged…”
“Granger.” Draco’s heart lurched in his chest. “Did you write to me? Today? Did you send me this?”
He thrust the parchment into her hands. Granger’s expression flickered as she read it. When she looked up at him, her face was pale. “It’s an exact match for my handwriting,” she whispered, “but I didn’t send you this, Malfoy. I swear it.”
No.
Harry. It had to be Harry. But that meant…
The buzzing started, loud and jarring in the silence. The low hum thrummed against his thigh, and echoed in the silence of the small office. Draco swallowed. He knew exactly what it was.
“What is that?” Granger asked, looking around for the source of the humming.
Draco retrieved his wand with shaky hands. It thrummed in his fist, the tip flashing red and green, red and green…
The Alarm Spell. It was happening.
“Harry.”
Granger stared at him, her brown eyes saucer-wide. She was frozen. So was he. The small part of him still functioning wanted to scream in frustration. All this planning, all this talk and now it was time to move and they didn’t know which way was up.
With great effort, he shook off the hysteria and turned to her.
“Call Weasley,” he ordered, his voice wavering a little. “Tell him we’re out of time. I have to go stop Harry.”
“What? But…”
“Granger, now!” he all but yelled, backing away quickly now. His wand felt thin and brittle in his fingers, he wasn’t even sure he could cast with it still buzzing. “We have to move! Head to my place with Weasley as soon as you can! I have to go. I have to go!”
“Malfoy, wait! We don’t know where you…”
Her shout faded away as he felt the familiar tug in his navel. Draco closed his eyes, said a silent prayer and Disapparated.
****
The flat was in a state of chaos. Draco Apparated in the midst of blinding lights and shrill screeches ringing in his ears. He waved his wand haphazardly and cancelled the spell. The sudden silence was almost as jarring as the noise. Was he too late? Had Harry already left? Draco cursed and ran a hand through his hair, struggling to regain his bearings. There was no time to fall apart. He had to move. He needed to…
“A secret alarm system,” a quiet voice spoke from behind him. “Clever.”
Draco whirled around again.
Harry strolled out of the kitchen, calm and unruffled. Like this was an everyday occurrence. He gave Draco another one of those damned, gentle smiles as he leaned against the mantle. To his right, the fire blazed a soft green- ready and primed for Floo Travel. Draco’s eyes darted from Harry to the hearth and his throat clenched.
“Don’t,” he whispered. “Please don’t.”
Harry sighed and shook his head. “You were never supposed to know,” he murmured, half to himself. “This is why I didn’t want you to know.”
“Step away from the fireplace.” His heart was racing, his eyes were burning. After all of this, he still couldn’t believe that this was really happening. “Please, Harry,” he tried again. He wasn’t above begging, not if it would stop Harry from doing this. “It doesn’t have to be you.”
Harry’s answering laugh cut right through him. “Of course it does, sweetheart,” he said. “Who else could it possibly be?”
His tone was gentle, but it held an iron clad conviction that made Draco want to cry. There would be no talking him out of this, he realised. All he could do was stall, and pray that Weasley and Granger made it here in time.
“You tricked me,” Draco accused shakily. “You tricked all of us. You wrote that note.”
“I did.” He didn’t sound the least bit sorry about it. “Your fireplace has a direct connection to the Ministry. You would have known in seconds if I used it. So I had to get you away from it, away from Ron and the DMLE. I…didn’t expect the Alarm Spell, though.” He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “You would have made a damn fine Auror, sweetheart.”
Draco swallowed convulsively. A part of him wanted to just give up, to break down here and now. But he couldn’t. Not like this. Not in front of this Harry- a Harry who was so different from everything he thought he’d known. This side of him- this cunning, mercenary vision- would not heed his pleas or tears.
He might have to fight this Harry. The realisation made him numb inside. Good. It would be easier to do this if he didn’t feel…
Harry was watching him intently- aware of his every move. Draco’s hands shook and his wand tightened in his fist. Green eyes flicked to the weapon in his hand. A flash of pain flitted across Harry’s expression.
“I told you I would never hurt you,” Harry whispered.
The tears finally came. They stung his eyes, blurred his vision. “You already have,” Draco whispered.
Harry’s eyes flashed with sudden anger. “You should have left it alone,” he hissed. “All you had to do was leave it alone.”
“And let you get yourself killed?” Draco snarled. “That’s the choice you’re giving me?”
“Nothing’s going to happen to me, Draco!” Harry replied, his voice rising. “Nothing ever does.”
He had said it before, Draco realised. He cursed himself. If he had only paid attention back then, maybe he would have seen this, seen what was happening to Harry.
“You’re not invincible,” he said softly.
“Neither are they.”
Despair welled up inside Draco. Why couldn’t he understand? Why was he doing this?
“Please,” he begged, his voice wavering now. “Please, Harry. For me. If…if you can’t stop this for you, then do it for me.”
Harry’s eyes softened. “I’m doing this for you, Draco,” he said gently. He took a step forward. Draco stared in helpless silence as Harry approached him. Green eyes filled with warmth and affection, soft hands wrapping around him… a hitched sob escaped Draco as he curled into Harry’s warmth, holding on to him desperately.
“I’m doing it for you,” Harry whispered in his hair. “They hurt you. They could have killed you if that dose had been just a little stronger.”
He couldn’t move. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t even breathe, he was so overwhelmed. All he could do was sob in Harry’s arms like a frightened child, and beg him not to go.
“Don’t,” he stuttered. “Don’t do this. Please, no. I love you, Harry. I can’t…please…”
Harry shushed him gently, tightening his hold and pressing soothing kisses to his temple. “I love you too,” he whispered fiercely. “I love you so much, Draco. That’s why I have to do this. Please sweetheart, please try to understand. I have to make sure they never hurt you again.”
“But I don’t want this!” Draco sobbed. “I want you here. With me.” His fists clenched into Harry’s shirt, holding him close, breathing him in. He had never felt so helpless, so scared- in the arms of the man he loved. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could offer Harry, but he couldn’t stop himself from trying.
“Weasley’s looking into it, he got the Ministry to cooperate. Tell him what you know. Please, Harry. Don’t do it alone. Please just let him help. Let the Aurors help…”
“Hush,” Harry chided, soft but stern. “Hush now and listen to me. I can’t involve the Ministry. They’ll find a way to fuck this up. They will, Draco. I can’t let them in on this. It’s easier this way, don’t you see? It will be over soon. It will be over for good. I’ll fix it, Draco, I promise…”
It was too much. The shock of anger went right through him and Draco wrenched his way out of Harry’s arms. “Don’t!” he snarled, backing away. He was shaking, the flat felt like it was closing in around him. “Don’t you dare promise me anything!” he all but screamed. “You lied. You lied about everything! I don’t believe you. And if you do this-if you leave now, I will never believe you.”
He wasn’t sure if he imagined the flicker of pain in Harry’s eyes or not. But the next second, it was gone. Harry’s expression hardened. His shoulders went back. He looked tense now- alert and combative.
“Then that’s your decision,” he said quietly.
He palmed his wand. Draco’s breath hitched. He was moving before he knew it, running straight for the fireplace and bodily barricading it.
“You’re not going,” he declared. “Do you hear me? You’re not going. You’re not leaving me!”
“I’ll be back soon,” Harry replied, sounding so infuriatingly reasonable that Draco almost hexed him on the spot. “I’ll be back by Christmas, sweetheart. And this will all be behind us. But you have to let me go now.”
“No!” He was screaming again, and he didn’t care anymore. Harry was going to hear him, one way or another. “You’re not leaving,” he hissed. “I won’t let you.”
Harry’s jaw clenched. “Draco, enough,” he growled. “You’re upsetting yourself over nothing.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“It’s nothing I haven’t done before.”
“It’s not your job!” Draco snarled at him. “It doesn’t always have to be you, you stubborn, unreasonable bastard!”
“Stop it,” Harry ordered, “and step aside.”
“No.” Draco lifted his chin. “I’ll fight you if I have to. I will.”
Harry was starting to fray, he could see it. He growled low in his throat and paced the small corridor restlessly. Draco stayed stock still until his boyfriend turned to face him again.
“You’re not going to stop me,” Harry said calmly. “I don’t need the damn Floo for this. I could easily Disapparate.”
“If you could, you would have done it already,” Draco belted back. “But Apparition trails can be traced, can’t they? You need a fire.”
Harry’s silence was answer enough. Draco felt the smallest tingle of relief travel up his spine. For a moment, he could almost see the light at the end of the tunnel.
And then Harry raised his wand.
Draco’s heart lurched. But he took a deep breath and raised his own wand.
“So this was how it was going to be…
“I won’t hurt you,” Harry whispered. He sounded pained. “I promised you I wouldn’t.”
Draco sneered and wiped his eyes. “Your promises mean shit,” he replied coldly. He didn’t allow himself a second to think as he fired off a Disarming Spell.
The element of surprise was the only advantage he could have had- especially in a duel with a skilled fighter. Sadly, it wasn’t good enough. Harry saw the spell coming a mile away. One quick flick of his wrist and the spell was blocked.
“You’re not going to win this,” Harry told him. “You won’t, Draco. Just step aside.”
Draco answered with a flurry of hexes. Body Bind, Stunner, Confundus…they came to him easily and in quick succession.
Harry blocked them all in one go.
“Stop,” he snapped. “Draco, stop it. Don’t make me fire back.”
Too easy, Draco realised. These were elementary level hexes. But what else could he possibly do? His goal was to stop Harry, not hurt him. Benign spells were his only recourse but if he didn’t think fast, he was going to lose this one. He had to think. There had to be a spell that could…
It was one moment of hesitation and it cost him dearly.
“Stupefy.”
The spell hit him immense force. Draco gasped as the breath was knocked right out of him. His head swam and his vision blurred. He couldn’t move his legs anymore- they collapsed under him and he didn’t even have the presence of mind to brace himself as he pitched forward…
Strong arms grabbed hold of him before he hit the ground.
“Shh,” Harry murmured in his ear, holding him up. “It’s alright, love. You’re alright. It will pass, I promise.”
Draco could only manage a strangled whimper as he grappled for Harry, latching on to him at once. Even in this confounded state, he found it in himself to hold on, to stop Harry from leaving.
“I’ve got you,” Harry murmured. He hoisted Draco up easily, carrying him and placing him gently on the couch.
Green eyes swam before Draco’s failing vision. He was going to pass out. He was going to let go and Harry would leave…
“No,” he mumbled.
“Shh.” Harry smiled down at him, carded gentle fingers in his hair. “Go to sleep now. Just sleep, sweetheart.”
“No, don’t…”
“I’ll come back soon. On Christmas and not a day later. I will, Draco. I love you so much…”
It was the last thing he heard before the world faded away. Draco managed a small sob as the gentle hands withdrew, leaving him alone and bereft. A soft blanket slipped over him and warm lips pressed one last kiss to his forehead. After that, there was nothing but the sound of fading footsteps and the telling whoosh of the Floo.
The fire blazed a bright green, and Draco slipped into unconsciousness.
****
The world swam back into focus. Slowly, painfully, Draco came back to reality. Someone was speaking to him, saying something…but his ears felt like they were full of cotton. He shook himself, trying to dispel the lingering feeling of nausea…
“Enervate.”
His vision cleared. His ears stopped ringing. Draco bolted up with a gasp, as it all came back. He would have toppled right off the narrow sofa if a firm hand hadn’t grabbed hold of his wrist.
“Malfoy.”
Draco turned, staring straight into calm, brown eyes. Granger watched him, cataloguing his every motion. She pocketed her wand and turned back to him, efficient and assessing.
“Malfoy, talk to me,” she ordered. “Does anything hurt? Are you dizzy or nauseous? Who is the Minister for Magic?”
“Harry.”
Draco’s breath stuttered. Even before he looked, he knew the fire would be out. The sight of the cold, blackened hearth made him want to curl up and scream.
“I know,” Granger murmured, squeezing his hand. “I’m so sorry.”
She looked genuinely sympathetic, and it was more than he could stand.
“Where were you?” Draco demanded. “I told you to get Weasley. I told you to…”
“I tried,” she cut in apologetically. “I tried to tell you before…I didn’t know your address, we never discussed where you live. You took off, and then it took me ages to find it in your medical records…”
Draco sighed in defeat and slumped back on the sofa. Of all the stupid, idiotic things that could have messed this up…
“And then your wards started acting up,” she went on. “I’m guessing Harry tuned them? I don’t know but I had to dismantle them, and by the time I got here you…were unconscious.”
He had failed. Harry was gone.
He might not come back.
He might never come back.
“My fault,” he whispered. He felt dead inside- numb and cold and lifeless. “It’s all my fault.”
“No, it’s not,” Granger said firmly. “You were unconscious.” There was a beat of silence before she turned to him again. “Did Harry hex you?”
Draco shook her hand off and got to his feet. He ignored all her protests as he grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder. He was nearly out, he realised. Harry must have used most of it. There was no time to think about this right now. He needed to act. The damage was done, but if there was even a chance it could be fixed…
“Come on,” he told her. “We have to go.”
“Malfoy…”
He gave her a sharp look and she wisely trailed off. With a sigh, Granger came to stand next to him as he got the fire going again. Draco averted his gaze, choosing to look right into the flames instead of her pitying eyes. He set his jaw and threw the last of the powder in.
And then, they were hurtling away to the DMLE offices in complete silence.
****
He didn’t wait for clearance when they tumbled into the office. He didn’t even wait to see if Granger was keeping up with him. Draco elbowed and pushed through a sea of blurred faces as he headed down the corridor. The hysteria was building up inside him again, and he thought his head might just explode from the force of his migraine.
Weasley had obviously heard the commotion, because he came out of his office. For a moment, their eyes locked and they just stood there- Draco flushed and well on the way to a panic attack, Weasley with an expression of dawning comprehension.
“Gone,” Draco croaked.
Weasley swallowed and nodded once. He scrubbed his eyes and that seemed to centre him. With a deep breath, he approached and gripped Draco by the arm.
“Come on,” he said in a low voice. “You can’t do this here, Malfoy. You hear me? Don’t lose it out here. It won’t do Harry any favours.”
From the corner of his eye, Draco spotted the curious crowd starting to mill around him. He took a breath to compose himself and nodded, allowing Weasley to lead him into the office.
Granger slipped in right behind them, and soundly shut the door.
The silence built up, until it was punctured by Weasley’s well-deserved bout of cursing.
“Fuck,” he muttered. His fingers tapped agitatedly at the desk. Draco watched blankly, both unable and unwilling to begin this conversation. After a beat of silence, Weasley turned to his wife. “What happened?”
Granger gave him a rundown of what she knew. When she got to the part where she’d found Draco unconscious, Weasley balked and rounded up on him.
“He attacked you?”
Draco flinched and shook his head. “I fired first,” he replied flatly. “To stop him. He was just…he didn’t…”
“He attacked you, Malfoy,” Weasley countered bitterly. “That’s what happened.” He sighed and held his head in his hands. “What the bloody hell’s wrong with him?”
Draco didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure he could. It was Granger who broke the tense silence.
“What now?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” Weasley replied quietly. “We’re…honestly, we’re out of options.”
No more moves. Check and mate.
“He took the Floo,” Granger pursued doggedly. “Maybe he’s using one of the DMLE safe-houses for scouting?”
Weasley considered that. “We can run a search, see if any of them were used recently. It might help to narrow down his location. Then again, he’ll probably be on the move by the time we figure it out…”
They talked softly for a while, mercifully refraining from involving Draco in the conversation. It was easier to tune them out and drift. He imagined Harry holed up in some safe-house, biding his time. He imagined him locating his targets and spying on them. It was the questions that wouldn’t leave him be. How many were there? How many Dark Spells and Curses did they know? What if someone got Harry with an Unforgivable? If something did happen, would they even know? If Harry didn’t make it back, would Draco find out or would it take days and weeks and months of waiting and wondering and never knowing…
His breath left in a gasping shudder. Both Weasley and Granger stopped talking and turned to him. Draco swallowed convulsively and stood up, pacing from one length of the room to another. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. Harry hadn’t even been gone a day yet and he felt like he was being buried alive. He was suffocating under the weight of all the uncertainty, the panic was enveloping him and he was choking on it. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t, he couldn’t…
“…calm down. Malfoy, stop it.”
A large hand landed on his shoulder, pulling him to a stop. Draco stared straight ahead, at the DMLE crest on the wall, ignoring Weasley’s concerned glance and trying to steady his erratic breathing. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t seem to inhale properly…
“You’ll go into shock like this,” Weasley warned. “Malfoy, are you listening to me? You…”
“He’s gone.”
Weasley fell silent. His fingers gripped Draco’s shoulder, a silent gesture of support. “I know,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s my fault.”
“Now we both know that’s not true,” Weasley replied, leading him firmly to a chair. “The only one at fault here is Harry.”
“Don’t, Ron,” Granger sighed. “This is not easy. What he’s going through…”
“Well, maybe I’m tired of it,” Weasley spat. “I’ve tried, Mione. I have, okay? And you have too. How many times did you beg him to speak to Healer Bones? How many times did I have to trick him into taking a day off, just to get his head on straight? Merlin helps us, we’ve been doing this for five years. And he’s not even trying. I mean, look at this! Look at…”
He gestured at Draco before trailing off.
Draco ducked his head. Granger looked away.
“It’s gone too far,” Weasley said quietly. “Okay? It has. This…this lone ranger shite he’s been pulling, all the lies, hexing his boyfriend, for Godric’s sake! He wasn’t like this and he’s not trying to come back anymore. Admit it.”
“He needs help,” Granger admitted in a small voice. “I know he does but…”
“Well, then that’s it,” Weasley declared. He sounded exhausted and angry and tired- and Draco knew exactly how he felt. “When he comes back, he’s got a decision to make. Either he gets help or I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. None of us can.”
If he comes back, Draco thought dully.
Was this because he hadn’t tried hard enough? Should he have asked Harry to get help? To see a Healer? To talk to him or Weasley or anyone before things spun so badly out of control? Maybe it was. Maybe he should have…
“And you stop blaming yourself,” Weasley added, rounding up on him again. “I’m sick of everyone taking the flak for Harry’s shite, except Harry.”
Silence descended after that. There was nothing more to do. Nothing more to say.
“What’s going to happen,” Draco asked suddenly, “when he comes back?”
If, the traitorous voice echoed in his head and he resolutely ignored it.
Weasley sighed and settled behind his desk again. “Well, like I said…if we can figure out which safe-house he was at, we’ll get an idea of his location. And we could, in theory, send a team after him. But honestly? At this point, I don’t know what good that would do. As for when he comes back…I really can’t say. Professionally speaking, carrying out a private investigation and withholding evidence from the DMLE is a serious infraction. I don’t even want to bring up shite like meeting informants in secret or hexing a civilian. It all adds up, makes a pretty strong case for…”
“Suspension.”
A new voice broke into their hushes conversation, startling all of them. Granger jumped and Weasley turned towards the door. Draco turned too, and immediately paled.
Head Auror Shacklebolt was standing at the door of Weasley’s office, the very picture of controlled rage. His dark eyes roved the small company before landing on Draco.
“When your boyfriend returns from his field mission,” he intoned in a low, deep growl of a voice, “you may tell him he’s fired.”
And that was it. That, right there, was what broke Draco.
He stood up so abruptly that his chair went crashing to the ground. He was vaguely aware of Weasley telling him to sit back down and Granger tugging his sleeve, but he didn’t care. All the helpless rage he’d kept bottled in crashed down on him, and just like that, he had no control anymore.
“This is your fault!” he shouted at Kingsley Shacklebolt. “This is all your fault, damn you!”
A few of the Aurors were starting to gather around, trying to get a glimpse of the show. Draco didn’t care. He knew he was going to bitterly regret this show of weakness in his calmer moments, but right here, right now, his only recourse was to scream until it didn’t hurt anymore.
“If you had just done your damn job in the first place, this would never have happened! You caved! You gave in to the Minister’s demands when you should have carried on investigating! You’re the reason he’s gone rogue! This is all your fucking fault! He might die out there because of you!”
Shacklebolt remained quiet through his tirade, seemingly shocked into silence. Draco subsided, head pounding and throat raw. He was breathing heavily. His head was spinning. He was only vaguely aware of Weasley’s tight grip on his arm, calmly telling him to shut up and sit down. He didn’t care enough to listen.
What did it matter anyway? What did anything matter now?
“Auror Weasley.” Shacklebolt turned to Weasley, still calm and composed. “See to it that Mr Malfoy is escorted home safely. We don’t want any more incidents tonight.”
“Yes, sir,” Weasley replied gruffly.
“And after that, see what you can do about retrieving ex-Auror Potter from the field. There is nothing more to discuss. Good day to you all.”
Shacklebolt left. The door shut behind him with a sound click. Draco shook off Weasley’s hand. He was so tired. So exhausted and broken up inside…
He didn’t even notice when he slid to the floor and curled in a heap, resting his head on his knees and ignoring Granger’s entreaties to rest or at least drink some water.
He couldn’t rest. He couldn’t do anything.
Except wait.
There was nothing to do but wait now.
Part 17
Author:
dracogotgame
Word Count: 6,000
Rating: R
Warning: Angst.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. This was written for fun, not profit.
Author's Notes: Part 16 of the Walk of Shame Series. I am so, so sorry about the delays, everyone. It just wouldn't come together. I hope you enjoy this installment. Thank you all for sticking by this fic (even when it just won't f**** move already) and have a wonderful 2017!
December 22nd:
At some point, Draco had resigned himself to the inevitable reality of his situation. He was never going to get his Library back to himself. One way or another, there would be an Auror present at all times. Of course, he definitely preferred Harry to Weasley, but company was company- and even though he was loath to admit it, Draco was thankful for someone to talk to.
“So we’re just going to sit here and play chess all day?”
“You’ve got something better to do?”
“Actually, I do. It’s called work. You Aurors should try it some time.”
“You’re just mad because you’re losing.”
“I am not…”
“Check.”
Draco scowled as his bishop was bludgeoned and dragged off the board. “Chess is for heathens,” he declared as he turned to file away the most recent batch of late returns. “And that’s the only reason you’re so good at it.”
“Sore loser,” Weasley countered. Another one of Draco’s pieces bit the dust. Weasley grinned and Draco gave him a flat look before promptly Vanishing the chess set. He had only just resumed his filing again when he heard the familiar crinkle of a candy wrapper.
Oh for Merlin’s…
Weasley yelped as Draco Summoned his Chocolate Frog and binned it.
“No food or drink near the books,” he snapped. “Honestly, did the DMLE train you people in a barn or something?”
“I see Harry’s been giving us a bad name,” Weasley groused.
Draco stiffened. It was just a joke, of course it was. He knew that but it still made him purse his lips and turn away again.
“He’s a good man,” he said quietly. “I know what he’s doing isn’t…right but he’s still a good man.”
“One of the best,” Weasley replied without hesitation. “That’s why we can’t let him do this.”
As always, the conversation had circled back to the person who’d brought them all together on this unlikely mission. Draco’s shoulders slumped as he thought about how little progress they’d made since the dead end with Fletcher. Granger was still pursuing the memory retrieval doggedly. The sluggish rate and minimal progress had yet to discourage her. Other than that, things had come to a virtual standstill. The plan was starting to fizzle, and it was worrying.
“Any luck with your leads yet?” Draco asked suddenly.
“No,” Weasley sighed. “I’m getting closer but these things…”
“…take time, I know,” Draco finished. If he had a Galleon for every time he heard that…he shook his head and went back to work. “Hand me that catalogue over there.”
Weasley tossed it over. He crossed his arms on the desk and watched Draco as he worked. “How do things look on your end?”
Draco shrugged. He supposed things were normal- for a given definition of ‘normal’ of course. Harry had been calm and relaxed. After the awkward tensions of the past week, he seemed more than willing to turn things around for them.
Draco blushed as he recalled his send-off this morning. Harry always lavished him with affection, but there was something about the kisses and touches they’d shared this morning- a fierce urgency, desperation almost. Harry had held him close and murmured sweet endearments in his ear, things that made his heart sing and his pulse thrum.
Of course, there was no way he was sharing any of that with Weasley.
“I think we’re safe,” he said finally. “At least for another week or so.”
Weasley nodded thoughtfully. “Well, that’s good news. I think a few leads might pan out by next week, so if we have time we might as well use it.”
Draco nodded as Weasley got up and palmed his wand.
“I’ll head back up and keep working,” Weasley told him. “And hey, don’t worry, yeah? We’ll figure it out.”
They said their goodbyes and Draco resumed filing. If he finished up early, he may as well go home. No matter how settled things seemed, he still felt better when he was around Harry and knew where he was. Just a few more hours, he decided, and then he would pack up…
The envelope swooped in and landed on his desk. Draco jumped, coming back to himself at once. The seal of Saint Mungo’s glazed across the envelope was instantly recognisable, as was the sharp, pointed script.
Granger. Maybe she’d finally found something…
Draco tore it open at once.
Malfoy,
Something’s gone wrong. I need you here now.
If you have any books on brain damage caused by invasive spell-work, bring them.
There’s no time to explain, please hurry.
-HGW
Draco stared at the note in horror.
Salazar, what the hell had happened?! Had Fletcher sustained brain damage? Had Granger’s spells gone wrong? Was he dead? Damn her for leaving him hanging like this!
Draco cursed and headed for the Medical Section. The Library’s collection of medical texts was certainly smaller than St Mungo’s but if Granger had turned to him for help, then things must be pretty bad.
It took him longer than he’d wished, but he finally selected a few books he thought might help. If Granger had only been more specific…but there was no time to think of that now. A man’s life was hanging in the balance, and he had to move. Draco gathered up the tomes, cast a Lightening Charm and palmed his wand. There was no way he could Floo without damaging or losing the books.
Apparition it is then, he decided as he cast the Spell and hurtled away.
****
Granger shrieked as he appeared in her office. Draco braced himself against a shelf, before heading to her desk and tossing his stack of books on it.
“Here. I got everything I could think of, it should be enough.”
Granger just stared at him with wide, bewildered eyes.
“Where is he? How bad is it?”
“Malfoy, why are you…”
“Look, you said we have to hurry. If we split the books, maybe we can…”
“Wait, wait a minute.” Granger stood up. “What’s this all about?”
Draco stared at her, incredulous and at a loss for words. Granger just stared back, waiting for him to explain.
“Are you serious?” Draco finally snapped. “Your note nearly gave me a heart attack and now you don’t even know what…”
“What note?”
Draco fell silent. An ominous feeling crept upon him, a sudden sensation that something was very, very wrong.
“Granger.” All of a sudden, his voice sounded hoarse. He felt like his throat was closing up. “Where’s Fletcher?”
Granger sighed. “We had to release him. We can’t exactly hold him against his will. There’s not much he can tell us anyway, but if the spell I’m working on can tune the memories we salvaged…”
“Granger.” Draco’s heart lurched in his chest. “Did you write to me? Today? Did you send me this?”
He thrust the parchment into her hands. Granger’s expression flickered as she read it. When she looked up at him, her face was pale. “It’s an exact match for my handwriting,” she whispered, “but I didn’t send you this, Malfoy. I swear it.”
No.
Harry. It had to be Harry. But that meant…
The buzzing started, loud and jarring in the silence. The low hum thrummed against his thigh, and echoed in the silence of the small office. Draco swallowed. He knew exactly what it was.
“What is that?” Granger asked, looking around for the source of the humming.
Draco retrieved his wand with shaky hands. It thrummed in his fist, the tip flashing red and green, red and green…
The Alarm Spell. It was happening.
“Harry.”
Granger stared at him, her brown eyes saucer-wide. She was frozen. So was he. The small part of him still functioning wanted to scream in frustration. All this planning, all this talk and now it was time to move and they didn’t know which way was up.
With great effort, he shook off the hysteria and turned to her.
“Call Weasley,” he ordered, his voice wavering a little. “Tell him we’re out of time. I have to go stop Harry.”
“What? But…”
“Granger, now!” he all but yelled, backing away quickly now. His wand felt thin and brittle in his fingers, he wasn’t even sure he could cast with it still buzzing. “We have to move! Head to my place with Weasley as soon as you can! I have to go. I have to go!”
“Malfoy, wait! We don’t know where you…”
Her shout faded away as he felt the familiar tug in his navel. Draco closed his eyes, said a silent prayer and Disapparated.
****
The flat was in a state of chaos. Draco Apparated in the midst of blinding lights and shrill screeches ringing in his ears. He waved his wand haphazardly and cancelled the spell. The sudden silence was almost as jarring as the noise. Was he too late? Had Harry already left? Draco cursed and ran a hand through his hair, struggling to regain his bearings. There was no time to fall apart. He had to move. He needed to…
“A secret alarm system,” a quiet voice spoke from behind him. “Clever.”
Draco whirled around again.
Harry strolled out of the kitchen, calm and unruffled. Like this was an everyday occurrence. He gave Draco another one of those damned, gentle smiles as he leaned against the mantle. To his right, the fire blazed a soft green- ready and primed for Floo Travel. Draco’s eyes darted from Harry to the hearth and his throat clenched.
“Don’t,” he whispered. “Please don’t.”
Harry sighed and shook his head. “You were never supposed to know,” he murmured, half to himself. “This is why I didn’t want you to know.”
“Step away from the fireplace.” His heart was racing, his eyes were burning. After all of this, he still couldn’t believe that this was really happening. “Please, Harry,” he tried again. He wasn’t above begging, not if it would stop Harry from doing this. “It doesn’t have to be you.”
Harry’s answering laugh cut right through him. “Of course it does, sweetheart,” he said. “Who else could it possibly be?”
His tone was gentle, but it held an iron clad conviction that made Draco want to cry. There would be no talking him out of this, he realised. All he could do was stall, and pray that Weasley and Granger made it here in time.
“You tricked me,” Draco accused shakily. “You tricked all of us. You wrote that note.”
“I did.” He didn’t sound the least bit sorry about it. “Your fireplace has a direct connection to the Ministry. You would have known in seconds if I used it. So I had to get you away from it, away from Ron and the DMLE. I…didn’t expect the Alarm Spell, though.” He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “You would have made a damn fine Auror, sweetheart.”
Draco swallowed convulsively. A part of him wanted to just give up, to break down here and now. But he couldn’t. Not like this. Not in front of this Harry- a Harry who was so different from everything he thought he’d known. This side of him- this cunning, mercenary vision- would not heed his pleas or tears.
He might have to fight this Harry. The realisation made him numb inside. Good. It would be easier to do this if he didn’t feel…
Harry was watching him intently- aware of his every move. Draco’s hands shook and his wand tightened in his fist. Green eyes flicked to the weapon in his hand. A flash of pain flitted across Harry’s expression.
“I told you I would never hurt you,” Harry whispered.
The tears finally came. They stung his eyes, blurred his vision. “You already have,” Draco whispered.
Harry’s eyes flashed with sudden anger. “You should have left it alone,” he hissed. “All you had to do was leave it alone.”
“And let you get yourself killed?” Draco snarled. “That’s the choice you’re giving me?”
“Nothing’s going to happen to me, Draco!” Harry replied, his voice rising. “Nothing ever does.”
He had said it before, Draco realised. He cursed himself. If he had only paid attention back then, maybe he would have seen this, seen what was happening to Harry.
“You’re not invincible,” he said softly.
“Neither are they.”
Despair welled up inside Draco. Why couldn’t he understand? Why was he doing this?
“Please,” he begged, his voice wavering now. “Please, Harry. For me. If…if you can’t stop this for you, then do it for me.”
Harry’s eyes softened. “I’m doing this for you, Draco,” he said gently. He took a step forward. Draco stared in helpless silence as Harry approached him. Green eyes filled with warmth and affection, soft hands wrapping around him… a hitched sob escaped Draco as he curled into Harry’s warmth, holding on to him desperately.
“I’m doing it for you,” Harry whispered in his hair. “They hurt you. They could have killed you if that dose had been just a little stronger.”
He couldn’t move. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t even breathe, he was so overwhelmed. All he could do was sob in Harry’s arms like a frightened child, and beg him not to go.
“Don’t,” he stuttered. “Don’t do this. Please, no. I love you, Harry. I can’t…please…”
Harry shushed him gently, tightening his hold and pressing soothing kisses to his temple. “I love you too,” he whispered fiercely. “I love you so much, Draco. That’s why I have to do this. Please sweetheart, please try to understand. I have to make sure they never hurt you again.”
“But I don’t want this!” Draco sobbed. “I want you here. With me.” His fists clenched into Harry’s shirt, holding him close, breathing him in. He had never felt so helpless, so scared- in the arms of the man he loved. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could offer Harry, but he couldn’t stop himself from trying.
“Weasley’s looking into it, he got the Ministry to cooperate. Tell him what you know. Please, Harry. Don’t do it alone. Please just let him help. Let the Aurors help…”
“Hush,” Harry chided, soft but stern. “Hush now and listen to me. I can’t involve the Ministry. They’ll find a way to fuck this up. They will, Draco. I can’t let them in on this. It’s easier this way, don’t you see? It will be over soon. It will be over for good. I’ll fix it, Draco, I promise…”
It was too much. The shock of anger went right through him and Draco wrenched his way out of Harry’s arms. “Don’t!” he snarled, backing away. He was shaking, the flat felt like it was closing in around him. “Don’t you dare promise me anything!” he all but screamed. “You lied. You lied about everything! I don’t believe you. And if you do this-if you leave now, I will never believe you.”
He wasn’t sure if he imagined the flicker of pain in Harry’s eyes or not. But the next second, it was gone. Harry’s expression hardened. His shoulders went back. He looked tense now- alert and combative.
“Then that’s your decision,” he said quietly.
He palmed his wand. Draco’s breath hitched. He was moving before he knew it, running straight for the fireplace and bodily barricading it.
“You’re not going,” he declared. “Do you hear me? You’re not going. You’re not leaving me!”
“I’ll be back soon,” Harry replied, sounding so infuriatingly reasonable that Draco almost hexed him on the spot. “I’ll be back by Christmas, sweetheart. And this will all be behind us. But you have to let me go now.”
“No!” He was screaming again, and he didn’t care anymore. Harry was going to hear him, one way or another. “You’re not leaving,” he hissed. “I won’t let you.”
Harry’s jaw clenched. “Draco, enough,” he growled. “You’re upsetting yourself over nothing.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“It’s nothing I haven’t done before.”
“It’s not your job!” Draco snarled at him. “It doesn’t always have to be you, you stubborn, unreasonable bastard!”
“Stop it,” Harry ordered, “and step aside.”
“No.” Draco lifted his chin. “I’ll fight you if I have to. I will.”
Harry was starting to fray, he could see it. He growled low in his throat and paced the small corridor restlessly. Draco stayed stock still until his boyfriend turned to face him again.
“You’re not going to stop me,” Harry said calmly. “I don’t need the damn Floo for this. I could easily Disapparate.”
“If you could, you would have done it already,” Draco belted back. “But Apparition trails can be traced, can’t they? You need a fire.”
Harry’s silence was answer enough. Draco felt the smallest tingle of relief travel up his spine. For a moment, he could almost see the light at the end of the tunnel.
And then Harry raised his wand.
Draco’s heart lurched. But he took a deep breath and raised his own wand.
“So this was how it was going to be…
“I won’t hurt you,” Harry whispered. He sounded pained. “I promised you I wouldn’t.”
Draco sneered and wiped his eyes. “Your promises mean shit,” he replied coldly. He didn’t allow himself a second to think as he fired off a Disarming Spell.
The element of surprise was the only advantage he could have had- especially in a duel with a skilled fighter. Sadly, it wasn’t good enough. Harry saw the spell coming a mile away. One quick flick of his wrist and the spell was blocked.
“You’re not going to win this,” Harry told him. “You won’t, Draco. Just step aside.”
Draco answered with a flurry of hexes. Body Bind, Stunner, Confundus…they came to him easily and in quick succession.
Harry blocked them all in one go.
“Stop,” he snapped. “Draco, stop it. Don’t make me fire back.”
Too easy, Draco realised. These were elementary level hexes. But what else could he possibly do? His goal was to stop Harry, not hurt him. Benign spells were his only recourse but if he didn’t think fast, he was going to lose this one. He had to think. There had to be a spell that could…
It was one moment of hesitation and it cost him dearly.
“Stupefy.”
The spell hit him immense force. Draco gasped as the breath was knocked right out of him. His head swam and his vision blurred. He couldn’t move his legs anymore- they collapsed under him and he didn’t even have the presence of mind to brace himself as he pitched forward…
Strong arms grabbed hold of him before he hit the ground.
“Shh,” Harry murmured in his ear, holding him up. “It’s alright, love. You’re alright. It will pass, I promise.”
Draco could only manage a strangled whimper as he grappled for Harry, latching on to him at once. Even in this confounded state, he found it in himself to hold on, to stop Harry from leaving.
“I’ve got you,” Harry murmured. He hoisted Draco up easily, carrying him and placing him gently on the couch.
Green eyes swam before Draco’s failing vision. He was going to pass out. He was going to let go and Harry would leave…
“No,” he mumbled.
“Shh.” Harry smiled down at him, carded gentle fingers in his hair. “Go to sleep now. Just sleep, sweetheart.”
“No, don’t…”
“I’ll come back soon. On Christmas and not a day later. I will, Draco. I love you so much…”
It was the last thing he heard before the world faded away. Draco managed a small sob as the gentle hands withdrew, leaving him alone and bereft. A soft blanket slipped over him and warm lips pressed one last kiss to his forehead. After that, there was nothing but the sound of fading footsteps and the telling whoosh of the Floo.
The fire blazed a bright green, and Draco slipped into unconsciousness.
****
The world swam back into focus. Slowly, painfully, Draco came back to reality. Someone was speaking to him, saying something…but his ears felt like they were full of cotton. He shook himself, trying to dispel the lingering feeling of nausea…
“Enervate.”
His vision cleared. His ears stopped ringing. Draco bolted up with a gasp, as it all came back. He would have toppled right off the narrow sofa if a firm hand hadn’t grabbed hold of his wrist.
“Malfoy.”
Draco turned, staring straight into calm, brown eyes. Granger watched him, cataloguing his every motion. She pocketed her wand and turned back to him, efficient and assessing.
“Malfoy, talk to me,” she ordered. “Does anything hurt? Are you dizzy or nauseous? Who is the Minister for Magic?”
“Harry.”
Draco’s breath stuttered. Even before he looked, he knew the fire would be out. The sight of the cold, blackened hearth made him want to curl up and scream.
“I know,” Granger murmured, squeezing his hand. “I’m so sorry.”
She looked genuinely sympathetic, and it was more than he could stand.
“Where were you?” Draco demanded. “I told you to get Weasley. I told you to…”
“I tried,” she cut in apologetically. “I tried to tell you before…I didn’t know your address, we never discussed where you live. You took off, and then it took me ages to find it in your medical records…”
Draco sighed in defeat and slumped back on the sofa. Of all the stupid, idiotic things that could have messed this up…
“And then your wards started acting up,” she went on. “I’m guessing Harry tuned them? I don’t know but I had to dismantle them, and by the time I got here you…were unconscious.”
He had failed. Harry was gone.
He might not come back.
He might never come back.
“My fault,” he whispered. He felt dead inside- numb and cold and lifeless. “It’s all my fault.”
“No, it’s not,” Granger said firmly. “You were unconscious.” There was a beat of silence before she turned to him again. “Did Harry hex you?”
Draco shook her hand off and got to his feet. He ignored all her protests as he grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder. He was nearly out, he realised. Harry must have used most of it. There was no time to think about this right now. He needed to act. The damage was done, but if there was even a chance it could be fixed…
“Come on,” he told her. “We have to go.”
“Malfoy…”
He gave her a sharp look and she wisely trailed off. With a sigh, Granger came to stand next to him as he got the fire going again. Draco averted his gaze, choosing to look right into the flames instead of her pitying eyes. He set his jaw and threw the last of the powder in.
And then, they were hurtling away to the DMLE offices in complete silence.
****
He didn’t wait for clearance when they tumbled into the office. He didn’t even wait to see if Granger was keeping up with him. Draco elbowed and pushed through a sea of blurred faces as he headed down the corridor. The hysteria was building up inside him again, and he thought his head might just explode from the force of his migraine.
Weasley had obviously heard the commotion, because he came out of his office. For a moment, their eyes locked and they just stood there- Draco flushed and well on the way to a panic attack, Weasley with an expression of dawning comprehension.
“Gone,” Draco croaked.
Weasley swallowed and nodded once. He scrubbed his eyes and that seemed to centre him. With a deep breath, he approached and gripped Draco by the arm.
“Come on,” he said in a low voice. “You can’t do this here, Malfoy. You hear me? Don’t lose it out here. It won’t do Harry any favours.”
From the corner of his eye, Draco spotted the curious crowd starting to mill around him. He took a breath to compose himself and nodded, allowing Weasley to lead him into the office.
Granger slipped in right behind them, and soundly shut the door.
The silence built up, until it was punctured by Weasley’s well-deserved bout of cursing.
“Fuck,” he muttered. His fingers tapped agitatedly at the desk. Draco watched blankly, both unable and unwilling to begin this conversation. After a beat of silence, Weasley turned to his wife. “What happened?”
Granger gave him a rundown of what she knew. When she got to the part where she’d found Draco unconscious, Weasley balked and rounded up on him.
“He attacked you?”
Draco flinched and shook his head. “I fired first,” he replied flatly. “To stop him. He was just…he didn’t…”
“He attacked you, Malfoy,” Weasley countered bitterly. “That’s what happened.” He sighed and held his head in his hands. “What the bloody hell’s wrong with him?”
Draco didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure he could. It was Granger who broke the tense silence.
“What now?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” Weasley replied quietly. “We’re…honestly, we’re out of options.”
No more moves. Check and mate.
“He took the Floo,” Granger pursued doggedly. “Maybe he’s using one of the DMLE safe-houses for scouting?”
Weasley considered that. “We can run a search, see if any of them were used recently. It might help to narrow down his location. Then again, he’ll probably be on the move by the time we figure it out…”
They talked softly for a while, mercifully refraining from involving Draco in the conversation. It was easier to tune them out and drift. He imagined Harry holed up in some safe-house, biding his time. He imagined him locating his targets and spying on them. It was the questions that wouldn’t leave him be. How many were there? How many Dark Spells and Curses did they know? What if someone got Harry with an Unforgivable? If something did happen, would they even know? If Harry didn’t make it back, would Draco find out or would it take days and weeks and months of waiting and wondering and never knowing…
His breath left in a gasping shudder. Both Weasley and Granger stopped talking and turned to him. Draco swallowed convulsively and stood up, pacing from one length of the room to another. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. Harry hadn’t even been gone a day yet and he felt like he was being buried alive. He was suffocating under the weight of all the uncertainty, the panic was enveloping him and he was choking on it. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t, he couldn’t…
“…calm down. Malfoy, stop it.”
A large hand landed on his shoulder, pulling him to a stop. Draco stared straight ahead, at the DMLE crest on the wall, ignoring Weasley’s concerned glance and trying to steady his erratic breathing. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t seem to inhale properly…
“You’ll go into shock like this,” Weasley warned. “Malfoy, are you listening to me? You…”
“He’s gone.”
Weasley fell silent. His fingers gripped Draco’s shoulder, a silent gesture of support. “I know,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s my fault.”
“Now we both know that’s not true,” Weasley replied, leading him firmly to a chair. “The only one at fault here is Harry.”
“Don’t, Ron,” Granger sighed. “This is not easy. What he’s going through…”
“Well, maybe I’m tired of it,” Weasley spat. “I’ve tried, Mione. I have, okay? And you have too. How many times did you beg him to speak to Healer Bones? How many times did I have to trick him into taking a day off, just to get his head on straight? Merlin helps us, we’ve been doing this for five years. And he’s not even trying. I mean, look at this! Look at…”
He gestured at Draco before trailing off.
Draco ducked his head. Granger looked away.
“It’s gone too far,” Weasley said quietly. “Okay? It has. This…this lone ranger shite he’s been pulling, all the lies, hexing his boyfriend, for Godric’s sake! He wasn’t like this and he’s not trying to come back anymore. Admit it.”
“He needs help,” Granger admitted in a small voice. “I know he does but…”
“Well, then that’s it,” Weasley declared. He sounded exhausted and angry and tired- and Draco knew exactly how he felt. “When he comes back, he’s got a decision to make. Either he gets help or I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. None of us can.”
If he comes back, Draco thought dully.
Was this because he hadn’t tried hard enough? Should he have asked Harry to get help? To see a Healer? To talk to him or Weasley or anyone before things spun so badly out of control? Maybe it was. Maybe he should have…
“And you stop blaming yourself,” Weasley added, rounding up on him again. “I’m sick of everyone taking the flak for Harry’s shite, except Harry.”
Silence descended after that. There was nothing more to do. Nothing more to say.
“What’s going to happen,” Draco asked suddenly, “when he comes back?”
If, the traitorous voice echoed in his head and he resolutely ignored it.
Weasley sighed and settled behind his desk again. “Well, like I said…if we can figure out which safe-house he was at, we’ll get an idea of his location. And we could, in theory, send a team after him. But honestly? At this point, I don’t know what good that would do. As for when he comes back…I really can’t say. Professionally speaking, carrying out a private investigation and withholding evidence from the DMLE is a serious infraction. I don’t even want to bring up shite like meeting informants in secret or hexing a civilian. It all adds up, makes a pretty strong case for…”
“Suspension.”
A new voice broke into their hushes conversation, startling all of them. Granger jumped and Weasley turned towards the door. Draco turned too, and immediately paled.
Head Auror Shacklebolt was standing at the door of Weasley’s office, the very picture of controlled rage. His dark eyes roved the small company before landing on Draco.
“When your boyfriend returns from his field mission,” he intoned in a low, deep growl of a voice, “you may tell him he’s fired.”
And that was it. That, right there, was what broke Draco.
He stood up so abruptly that his chair went crashing to the ground. He was vaguely aware of Weasley telling him to sit back down and Granger tugging his sleeve, but he didn’t care. All the helpless rage he’d kept bottled in crashed down on him, and just like that, he had no control anymore.
“This is your fault!” he shouted at Kingsley Shacklebolt. “This is all your fault, damn you!”
A few of the Aurors were starting to gather around, trying to get a glimpse of the show. Draco didn’t care. He knew he was going to bitterly regret this show of weakness in his calmer moments, but right here, right now, his only recourse was to scream until it didn’t hurt anymore.
“If you had just done your damn job in the first place, this would never have happened! You caved! You gave in to the Minister’s demands when you should have carried on investigating! You’re the reason he’s gone rogue! This is all your fucking fault! He might die out there because of you!”
Shacklebolt remained quiet through his tirade, seemingly shocked into silence. Draco subsided, head pounding and throat raw. He was breathing heavily. His head was spinning. He was only vaguely aware of Weasley’s tight grip on his arm, calmly telling him to shut up and sit down. He didn’t care enough to listen.
What did it matter anyway? What did anything matter now?
“Auror Weasley.” Shacklebolt turned to Weasley, still calm and composed. “See to it that Mr Malfoy is escorted home safely. We don’t want any more incidents tonight.”
“Yes, sir,” Weasley replied gruffly.
“And after that, see what you can do about retrieving ex-Auror Potter from the field. There is nothing more to discuss. Good day to you all.”
Shacklebolt left. The door shut behind him with a sound click. Draco shook off Weasley’s hand. He was so tired. So exhausted and broken up inside…
He didn’t even notice when he slid to the floor and curled in a heap, resting his head on his knees and ignoring Granger’s entreaties to rest or at least drink some water.
He couldn’t rest. He couldn’t do anything.
Except wait.
There was nothing to do but wait now.
Part 17