Fic: Mr Potter Goes to Massachusetts - Part 3
Part three of "Harry goes to America"
When Harry finally woke the following morning he decided almost immediately that Champagne and his own constitution didn’t suit each other one bit. He didn’t usually get hangovers, but then he didn’t often spend the evening working his way though at least a bottle of the stuff. Fumbling for his wand, he tried to remember the spell Ginny had taught him the last time he’d woken with a head like this and a mouth that felt like someone had tipped in a tonne of sand.
The spell worked after a fashion and he finally hauled himself out of bed. Somewhere in the room there were things to make coffee and that was exactly what he needed right now.
It took him several minutes to make the brew and finally he sat down in a chair by the window and inhaled the coffee fumes deeply as he considered what had happened the previous evening. Looking back now, he decided that drinking all that Champagne probably wasn’t a good idea. He had, after all, been working so getting even slightly inebriated wasn’t really the professional thing to do. He was being polite in accepting the offered alcohol, but maybe he should have stopped after the first glass.
Hermione would probably blame the drink on what happened next and he could just hear her berating him over what he’d done. How on earth could you be so stupid as to get drunk ... you know what Malfoy’s like. He’d take advantage of anyone, especially someone too drunk to even remember their own name!
Maybe, Harry decided, he’d keep that bit of the evening secret.
There was no doubt in Harry’s mind that the drink had stopped him from finding Draco during the evening. Malfoy had clearly been at The Breakers all the time and he was never that hard to miss with his blond hair. Harry had, well, been too occupied with his own thoughts to look properly.
He sipped at the coffee. It really had been stupid sending him to collect Malfoy. The two of them had so much history already and Harry knew only too well from past experience that Draco could wrap him around his little finger. In fact, Harry was pleased he’d ended up just a little drunk ... he could blame what happened between him and Malfoy on that rather than on the fact he’d been missing the relationship they’d shared for months.
Harry stared absently out of the window. Even if he tried to deny it, he knew that what Draco had done to him had been good. Back when they’d been together Draco would often pounce on him at some unspecified moment and take advantage of Harry, and Harry had always loved what Draco did to him.
The only problem now was that they weren’t together and Harry was supposed to be bringing him back to England for Malfoy’s own safety. Shagging at unspecified times in anonymous places should not be part of Harry’s agenda. Hermione had been right ... Draco was dangerous, but not in the way she meant.
But he did need to get Draco home and the only problem now was trying to convince him of the fact.
Maybe he should just ask Hermione to assign someone else ... someone with no personal axe to grind, then he could get back to England on the next available plane and try to forget all about what happened. He loved Hermione, but having her as a boss was not something he particularly enjoyed. She was ... well ... ‘demanding’ of her minions. He stared at his Blackberry organiser. The little organiser’s ‘message received’ light was twinkling at him, which meant, no doubt, he was about to be castigated over the Internet by the woman yet again. There were actually two messages. The first was from Hermione and she did, indeed, reprimand him, demanding to know how on earth he’d managed to lose Draco so easily.
For a second he was tempted to delete the message and pretend it had never arrived, but the Blackberry had been magically enhanced and he was sure she’d included something that would let her know the message had been received and he’d read it.
Moving onto the second message, he’d expected more of the same. But it wasn’t from her; it was from Draco.
Harry frowned. How on earth had Draco managed to find his email address and, more importantly, since when had the man ever deigned to use Muggle technology? It wasn’t as if his email address was a normal Muggle one. He’d joked with Hermione about it being something stupid like Harry@ministryofmagic.com when she’d given him the device, but she and Dean had come up with some magically enhanced messaging system hidden in the coding of a website devoted to something called ‘fan fiction’.
Harry stared at Draco’s email address and his slightly overhung brain cranked into gear. Could Hermione have given Draco the address and if so just how long had the two been in contact with each other?
He finally clicked on the message. It was simple Meet me here, 6pm and there was a link to a map. Quickly Harry clicked on the map and brought up directions to a location in Massachusetts. Another link took him to a picture of a labyrinth at the place; on the picture, Draco had superimposed the words Don’t be late ... I won’t wait.
---
Harry arrived at the labyrinth some thirty minutes early. He didn’t want to risk missing Draco, but then he didn’t really want to make it obvious he was waiting for someone. Trying not to look too out of place, he sat down on one of the steps leading down to the labyrinth and pretended to read a book.
The path of the labyrinth had been laid in the paving in a huge circle and from where he sat, Harry traced the route with his eyes. It curled around the circle until it finally reached the centre and then curled back to the beginning again. He was following it for a second time when a voice spoke softly.
“Walk with me.”
Draco strolled down the steps and onto the paving. Harry quickly followed, trying to catch up, but noticed Draco’s hand gesturing for him to slow down.
“I’ve put up a shielding spell, so no one should be able to hear what we’re saying, but we might be being watched, so stick to the path and try to look like you’re ignoring me.”
“Okay.” Keeping a little way behind the other man Harry started walking the labyrinth path. He had to concentrate to not step from it and for several minutes neither of them spoke. It was Draco who finally broke the silence, his words clipped and straight to the point.
“What are you doing here?”
“You asked me to meet you here?”
“I don’t mean ‘here’.” Draco’s voice was full of exasperation. “What are you doing in America?”
Harry paused briefly as he nearly stepped off the path. “You need to come back. We think your cover’s been blown.”
“I’m not finished here yet.”
“And if you stay you’ll likely never finish anything ever again.” They passed close to each other and Harry met Draco’s grey eyes. They gave nothing away and he wondered what was going on in that complex mind.
“I’ve been working on this for over a year now, Potter. I’m not going to give it up just because you think my cover’s been blown.” They parted again, each continuing on their journey.
“If Voldemort realises you’re working against him, he’ll kill you.”
“Then you better hope he doesn’t.”
Harry could feel annoyance and anger building. Draco had become a spy for the Order about eighteen months ago and it was at that point their relationship had fallen apart. Harry still didn’t know what Draco had done to convince Voldemort he was on the Dark Lord’s side, but whatever it had been, it had worked. Since then Draco had been trying to find out what the elusive Horcruxes Voldemort had used actually were. He’d managed to locate several of them which Harry had then destroyed, but with each one Harry and been more and more worried about Voldemort finding out who was betraying him.
They paused in the middle of the labyrinth. “I’m so close to getting the last two, Harry, and then this will all be over.”
“And if he kills you?”
“Then that’s the price I’ll have to pay.”
Before Harry could respond, Draco set off again, weaving his way around the path. He wanted to scream and shout that he wanted Draco alive and home with him, not here three thousand miles away. And didn’t Draco realise things must be desperate if they were willing to get him out of his current situation?
“People are worried.” I’m worried
Draco didn’t pause in his walk. “What about?”
“That if Voldemort decides you’re a traitor he’ll probably torture you and that you have lots of information about the Order locked in that brain of yours.”
“I don’t.” Draco came to a halt. “All the important memories were taken out and stored in a Pensieve, remember?”
Harry took a deep breath. “Apparently not. Some of your memories were locked away because taking them out wasn’t an option.” He’d hoped never to have to tell Draco his memories had been altered. Draco was not going to be a happy man.
“What?” Draco looked stunned.
“Well,” Harry shuffled his feet a little. “They decided that because you’d have to put so memories into a Pensive it might change who ‘you’ were ... you know, the way you act, the way you are. So instead they decided to lock them ... that way your subconscious could still access them but your conscious wouldn’t remember.”
A storm was growing in those grey eyes. “What gave you the right to do something to my mind without asking?” Draco’s voice was cold and hard as ice, and Harry knew the man was just holding onto his temper. “How dare you.”
“I didn’t know ... not until recently.”
“And that makes it okay? Because you didn’t know?”
“Can we argue about this later?” Harry stepped from the path. He was desperate to take away the look of betrayal in those eyes, but for now he needed to get Draco somewhere safe. “The fact is, Draco, if Voldemort can get through the memory locks he’ll find out everything. If you remain here, you’ll be a danger to the Order. I’m going to take you back home.”
Draco’s expression hardened into a familiar smirk. “I’ll come when I’m good and ready, Potter ... just as soon as I’ve finished my job here. I’ll be in touch.” And with that, he disappeared with a loud crack.
---
When Harry finally woke the following morning he decided almost immediately that Champagne and his own constitution didn’t suit each other one bit. He didn’t usually get hangovers, but then he didn’t often spend the evening working his way though at least a bottle of the stuff. Fumbling for his wand, he tried to remember the spell Ginny had taught him the last time he’d woken with a head like this and a mouth that felt like someone had tipped in a tonne of sand.
The spell worked after a fashion and he finally hauled himself out of bed. Somewhere in the room there were things to make coffee and that was exactly what he needed right now.
It took him several minutes to make the brew and finally he sat down in a chair by the window and inhaled the coffee fumes deeply as he considered what had happened the previous evening. Looking back now, he decided that drinking all that Champagne probably wasn’t a good idea. He had, after all, been working so getting even slightly inebriated wasn’t really the professional thing to do. He was being polite in accepting the offered alcohol, but maybe he should have stopped after the first glass.
Hermione would probably blame the drink on what happened next and he could just hear her berating him over what he’d done. How on earth could you be so stupid as to get drunk ... you know what Malfoy’s like. He’d take advantage of anyone, especially someone too drunk to even remember their own name!
Maybe, Harry decided, he’d keep that bit of the evening secret.
There was no doubt in Harry’s mind that the drink had stopped him from finding Draco during the evening. Malfoy had clearly been at The Breakers all the time and he was never that hard to miss with his blond hair. Harry had, well, been too occupied with his own thoughts to look properly.
He sipped at the coffee. It really had been stupid sending him to collect Malfoy. The two of them had so much history already and Harry knew only too well from past experience that Draco could wrap him around his little finger. In fact, Harry was pleased he’d ended up just a little drunk ... he could blame what happened between him and Malfoy on that rather than on the fact he’d been missing the relationship they’d shared for months.
Harry stared absently out of the window. Even if he tried to deny it, he knew that what Draco had done to him had been good. Back when they’d been together Draco would often pounce on him at some unspecified moment and take advantage of Harry, and Harry had always loved what Draco did to him.
The only problem now was that they weren’t together and Harry was supposed to be bringing him back to England for Malfoy’s own safety. Shagging at unspecified times in anonymous places should not be part of Harry’s agenda. Hermione had been right ... Draco was dangerous, but not in the way she meant.
But he did need to get Draco home and the only problem now was trying to convince him of the fact.
Maybe he should just ask Hermione to assign someone else ... someone with no personal axe to grind, then he could get back to England on the next available plane and try to forget all about what happened. He loved Hermione, but having her as a boss was not something he particularly enjoyed. She was ... well ... ‘demanding’ of her minions. He stared at his Blackberry organiser. The little organiser’s ‘message received’ light was twinkling at him, which meant, no doubt, he was about to be castigated over the Internet by the woman yet again. There were actually two messages. The first was from Hermione and she did, indeed, reprimand him, demanding to know how on earth he’d managed to lose Draco so easily.
For a second he was tempted to delete the message and pretend it had never arrived, but the Blackberry had been magically enhanced and he was sure she’d included something that would let her know the message had been received and he’d read it.
Moving onto the second message, he’d expected more of the same. But it wasn’t from her; it was from Draco.
Harry frowned. How on earth had Draco managed to find his email address and, more importantly, since when had the man ever deigned to use Muggle technology? It wasn’t as if his email address was a normal Muggle one. He’d joked with Hermione about it being something stupid like Harry@ministryofmagic.com when she’d given him the device, but she and Dean had come up with some magically enhanced messaging system hidden in the coding of a website devoted to something called ‘fan fiction’.
Harry stared at Draco’s email address and his slightly overhung brain cranked into gear. Could Hermione have given Draco the address and if so just how long had the two been in contact with each other?
He finally clicked on the message. It was simple Meet me here, 6pm and there was a link to a map. Quickly Harry clicked on the map and brought up directions to a location in Massachusetts. Another link took him to a picture of a labyrinth at the place; on the picture, Draco had superimposed the words Don’t be late ... I won’t wait.
---
Harry arrived at the labyrinth some thirty minutes early. He didn’t want to risk missing Draco, but then he didn’t really want to make it obvious he was waiting for someone. Trying not to look too out of place, he sat down on one of the steps leading down to the labyrinth and pretended to read a book.
The path of the labyrinth had been laid in the paving in a huge circle and from where he sat, Harry traced the route with his eyes. It curled around the circle until it finally reached the centre and then curled back to the beginning again. He was following it for a second time when a voice spoke softly.
“Walk with me.”
Draco strolled down the steps and onto the paving. Harry quickly followed, trying to catch up, but noticed Draco’s hand gesturing for him to slow down.
“I’ve put up a shielding spell, so no one should be able to hear what we’re saying, but we might be being watched, so stick to the path and try to look like you’re ignoring me.”
“Okay.” Keeping a little way behind the other man Harry started walking the labyrinth path. He had to concentrate to not step from it and for several minutes neither of them spoke. It was Draco who finally broke the silence, his words clipped and straight to the point.
“What are you doing here?”
“You asked me to meet you here?”
“I don’t mean ‘here’.” Draco’s voice was full of exasperation. “What are you doing in America?”
Harry paused briefly as he nearly stepped off the path. “You need to come back. We think your cover’s been blown.”
“I’m not finished here yet.”
“And if you stay you’ll likely never finish anything ever again.” They passed close to each other and Harry met Draco’s grey eyes. They gave nothing away and he wondered what was going on in that complex mind.
“I’ve been working on this for over a year now, Potter. I’m not going to give it up just because you think my cover’s been blown.” They parted again, each continuing on their journey.
“If Voldemort realises you’re working against him, he’ll kill you.”
“Then you better hope he doesn’t.”
Harry could feel annoyance and anger building. Draco had become a spy for the Order about eighteen months ago and it was at that point their relationship had fallen apart. Harry still didn’t know what Draco had done to convince Voldemort he was on the Dark Lord’s side, but whatever it had been, it had worked. Since then Draco had been trying to find out what the elusive Horcruxes Voldemort had used actually were. He’d managed to locate several of them which Harry had then destroyed, but with each one Harry and been more and more worried about Voldemort finding out who was betraying him.
They paused in the middle of the labyrinth. “I’m so close to getting the last two, Harry, and then this will all be over.”
“And if he kills you?”
“Then that’s the price I’ll have to pay.”
Before Harry could respond, Draco set off again, weaving his way around the path. He wanted to scream and shout that he wanted Draco alive and home with him, not here three thousand miles away. And didn’t Draco realise things must be desperate if they were willing to get him out of his current situation?
“People are worried.” I’m worried
Draco didn’t pause in his walk. “What about?”
“That if Voldemort decides you’re a traitor he’ll probably torture you and that you have lots of information about the Order locked in that brain of yours.”
“I don’t.” Draco came to a halt. “All the important memories were taken out and stored in a Pensieve, remember?”
Harry took a deep breath. “Apparently not. Some of your memories were locked away because taking them out wasn’t an option.” He’d hoped never to have to tell Draco his memories had been altered. Draco was not going to be a happy man.
“What?” Draco looked stunned.
“Well,” Harry shuffled his feet a little. “They decided that because you’d have to put so memories into a Pensive it might change who ‘you’ were ... you know, the way you act, the way you are. So instead they decided to lock them ... that way your subconscious could still access them but your conscious wouldn’t remember.”
A storm was growing in those grey eyes. “What gave you the right to do something to my mind without asking?” Draco’s voice was cold and hard as ice, and Harry knew the man was just holding onto his temper. “How dare you.”
“I didn’t know ... not until recently.”
“And that makes it okay? Because you didn’t know?”
“Can we argue about this later?” Harry stepped from the path. He was desperate to take away the look of betrayal in those eyes, but for now he needed to get Draco somewhere safe. “The fact is, Draco, if Voldemort can get through the memory locks he’ll find out everything. If you remain here, you’ll be a danger to the Order. I’m going to take you back home.”
Draco’s expression hardened into a familiar smirk. “I’ll come when I’m good and ready, Potter ... just as soon as I’ve finished my job here. I’ll be in touch.” And with that, he disappeared with a loud crack.
---