When in Venice...(chap 10)
Title: When in Venice... (Chapter 10)
Beta: cool_september & aurora_1301
Rating: NC17 Eventually
Disclaimer: Only the flesh wands are mine - Everything, including copyright is JKs! Lucky bwitch...
Warnings: Slightly Crack!fic, graphic scenes, angst, language, drinking habits, UST, other pairings, original character, hufflepuff bashing, AU I suppose, obsession, voyeurism, torture, exhabitionism...and some other stuff.
Chapter Ten
“So let me get this straight,” said Draco, taking off his jacket and slinging it over the end of the stair rail, “Gryffindors aren’t taught Eyebrow?”
“No.” Harry couldn’t believe all the Slytherins could hold whole conversations with the filaments above their eyes. “You actually took lessons?”
“Naturally. I can even speak French in Eyebrow.” Draco gave a demonstrative wiggle of his right eyebrow and overall, looked like he was developing a facial twitch. “That meant ‘Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir’.”
“Oh…isn’t that part of a Muggle song?” asked Harry. He didn’t speak French and frankly couldn’t remember what Lady Jam or Marmalade or whoever was singing about.
Draco’s suggestive smirk fell from his face and he huffed. “Honestly Potter, you’ve been to France before. Surely you picked up some key phrases. That was the most key one of them all!”
Harry could feel the judgment in Draco’s tone and immediately went on the defensive as they moved towards Hermione’s office. “Oh, so you know loads of French then? All in Eyebrow?”
“…Well…no,” Draco cheeks turned pink again and Harry wanted to slather him in ice cream. “That’s the only phrase I know. But it's very handy…when people fucking understand it.”
“Let me guess, plucking your eyebrows has left you with a stutter or something, making you completely incoherent?” Harry smirked. It wasn’t often he smirked, and it was probably much more irritating when he only did it occasionally. Draco socked him in the shoulder.
“You wanker! My eyebrows have never even been near a pair of tweezers, they are shaped by the Gods. Right, let’s face the music.” Knocking on Hermione’s door, and then entering at her permission, they tracked dirt into her office.
“Did you find anything out?” asked Hermione immediately, looking up from her stack of papers. The bags under her eyes showed that she had pulled an all-nighter, waiting for them to get back. “Did you see the wands?”
“We did better than that.” Draco said, laying a flesh wand down on the table. Hermione gave a noise that could only be described as utter relief and leaned back in her chair, releasing a shallow puff of air.
“Well, you two have proven that you’re not entirely useless. Congratulations.” She smiled at them.
They proceeded to give her their report of the evening, and Harry had to fill Hermione in on the part where Draco had fallen into the crate of wands, because the blond wanted to omit that event to save his reputation of ‘regal grace’. Hermione seemed more concerned with the fact that they had been seen by the Death Eaters and therefore could no longer remain aloof as to their presence on the island.
“What did Snape say?” asked Hermione, completely ignoring the oddness that was Eyebrow.
“I don’t know. He was cryptic.” Draco rubbed the tips of his fingers along the edge of his lips thoughtfully, casting his mind back to the warehouse. “Something about how there was not much time, operations moving and that it was all about the ingredients. No idea what that meant. Problem with Eyebrow is that most words haven’t been invented, many have to be substituted.”
“Hmm…well the ‘operations moving’ probably means that they're going to be smuggling the rest of the wands soon. Especially if they have seen you two and know we’re on their tail.” Hermione picked up a bit of parchment from her desk and waved it at them. “The only way they can get the wands out is still through Customs, but the last report says that they still haven’t found anyone trying to sneak the wands through. A few boxes have been found but most of them empty or…” Hermione squinted at the page, “containing things like Mrs Miggin’s Magical Man-pieces. Other than that - quiet, Mister Malfoy. Some professionalism, please - other than that, the report has been pretty inconclusive. They're looking to us for answers. We’ve got to figure out how the hell they are doing it.”
There was a pause in which no one came up with any theories, and eventually Draco asked for them to be dismissed because not only was it late, but “because I want a bloody shower too. My whole suit smells of those rank wands.”
“Yes, yes. Fine. Go get some sleep. There’s not much more that can be done tonight.”
Draco left immediately, mumbling about the scent absorbency of Muggle Gucci.
“You okay?” asked Harry. Hermione nodded tiredly.
“Yes. Just stressed, you know. I didn’t expect to always be under pressure taking a supervisor job. Who knew supervising could be so demanding. Ron says I should have just stayed in research.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes closed, then opened them, trying to wake herself up a little. “Despite what Ron thinks, I’m still glad I didn’t stay in research. I’d be stuck in the Ministry instead of with you guys.”
Harry walked across the room and placed his lips to her brow, “I’m glad you came…even if you are a bossy boss.”
Hermione threw a quill at his head. “For that comment, I want the written report of tonight’s assignment on my desk by tomorrow.” Her voice was stern but she briefly gripped his hand with a smile.
Harry laughed and gave her a salute, leaving her to finish her paperwork in peace and then eventually crawl into Ron’s arms a few hours later for comfort, despite his opinion she should have never come to the field.
**
Harry had sat on his partner’s bed, listening to the off-key singing and sound of water hitting the plastic base for a good twenty minutes. Draco always took notoriously long showers. The man was utterly afraid of being unclean for more than the immediate moment of contact with dirty substances. Harry always chalked it up to Narcissa’s influence, because he could imagine her as the sort of mother that would use abrasive kitchen cleanser rather than spittle to wipe her child’s cheek clean.
Draco came out of the en suite in just a towel, which wasn’t unusual because that's what people with water dripping into their belly buttons did, but Harry felt unusually faint. He watched Draco locate underwear from his chest of drawers and put them on before towelling his hair dry. Once he was in boxers, Harry got up and went over to him. “Just popped in to tell you that Hermione still wants a written report on her desk by tomorrow.”
“Yeah, yeah. Tomorrow. Suppose you’ll be wanting me to do the actual write up, eh?”
“Yeah. That okay?” asked Harry, reaching out to stop Draco’s hand in motion from towel drying his hair.
“It’s fine.” Draco didn’t mind the report being foisted off on him, because at least the writing would be legible. “What are you looking at?”
“You have…something in your hair.” Said Harry. He raked his finger through Draco’s fringe. It felt like damp silk after a wanton dream, and he pulled out a few handfuls of some small blackened grains along with a couple of stands of pale hair.
They both peered down into Harry’s palm. “What’s that?” asked Draco.
“Don’t know. But you’re covered in it!” Harry went to extract some more from his partner’s hair, the scent of Draco’s shampoo getting under his fingernails. The feel of water-warmed chest pressing against his forearm as he reached up scalded Harry’s skin into sensitivity. He dropped his eyes from the downy fibres to Draco’s gaze.
For a long moment they looked at each other, and Harry felt his heart beat bang against his ribs and lungs. He could do it. The opportune moment had arrived. He could just lean down, and press his lips to Draco’s soft -
“I GOT IT!” blinked Draco suddenly, stepping away and consequentially letting Harry’s hand drop heavily from his hair. “It’s all so obvious! Quick! Call your beaver, get everyone in the kitchen!”
Harry’s heart halted out of hatred for his own cowardice, and his brain hadn’t quite begun functioning again from what was almost the best moment of his life. “Eh?”
“I’ve done it,” exclaimed Draco excitedly, running to find any old pair of jeans, “I know how the Death Eaters are smuggling the wands!”
Harry would have been impressed if he wasn’t too busy being internally crushed with disappointment.
**
Robert wore green pyjamas to bed, it appeared, because he was once again sitting on the breadbin, probably wondering why he had been pulled out of sleep for an official meeting run by the bane of his existence. It seemed that Draco’s animosity to Robert was slightly lessened by the fact that his six foot tall frame was decked in Slytherin colours, Harry mused, as he watched Draco walk towards the front of the crowd and briefly say, “Nice pyjamas, Jeff.”
Robert’s insistence that his Christian name didn’t begin with J was unheard as Draco made his swift route to the fridge. Standing at the front, pictures and plans of the mission pinned to the fridge with magnets behind him, Draco cleared his throat. Everyone was already silent because they were too tired to talk to their neighbour beyond the first complaint that one of the patients had escaped the third floor again.
“Well everyone, the moment has come. You all thought I was crazy,” said Draco, smirking at the room with irksome superiority, “And now it is time for me to prove that I have been a genius all along.”
From his seat by the table, Harry thought Draco was trying to sell himself a little too hard.
“Granger, lock the kitchen door please. I don’t want anyone leaving.”
Hermione gave Draco a questioning look but complied, uttering under her breath incantations that warded the only exit heavily. It set an ominous tone, and everyone began to feel a little more awake because of the edgy atmosphere.
“I have figured out how the Death Eaters are smuggling wands containing human flesh as core substances back to England to aid Voldemort in the hostile takeover.” Draco paused, trying to create some sort of tension. “It’s all to do with…”
Harry looked at Ron who was barely awake, trying to prop his head up on the table. Am I the only one who is on edge? thought Harry.
“…Tea.”
There was an immediate uproar and even Harry thought Draco had lost it.
“That’s it, I’m going back to bed. I knew he was obsessed!” exclaimed Ron, making towards the warded exit like many of the others. “Off his fucking rocker.”
**
“SIT BACK DOWN!” growled Hermione, her wand aimed at her boyfriend who was leading the resistance of people trying to leave. “No one is authorised to step over that threshold until Agent Malfoy has explained. Back to your seats!”
Everyone grumbled and moved to sit back down. They all knew none of them would have any great success getting through Hermione’s wards, and most of them had left their wands in their rooms. Ron ended up by the cooker, unable to claim back his seat next to Harry. Harry didn’t mind, George’s company was pleasant enough.
Once the crowd had settled down, Draco pinned a teabag to the fridge with a magnet in the shape of the island. “Tea.” He stated. “It’s been tea all along.” Taking out his wand, he used it to point to the picture that detailed the Portkey centre. “Like Granger is always saying, one cannot Apparate in or out of Venice, so the only way that the Death Eaters can get the wands out are through Customs.”
“We know this. Get to the point.” groused Tonks, her hair starlight blue to match the negligee she was sporting.
“I hear you ask yourself, ‘Why hasn’t Customs’ arrested Death Eaters, then?’” said Draco, ignoring the interruption. “Well, that’s because Customs officials use trained Nifflers to smell out any illegal substances and contraband being carried by the five thousand tourists and residents who pass through this hall every week. The reason that the Nifflers aren’t smelling the Flesh Wands is because they're being packed in boxes of tea.”
“…So?”
“Nifflers have one genetic defect that sets them back from being better than guard dogs, other than being dead ugly. They can’t smell tea. Potter can confirm this.”
Everyone’s head swivelled to Harry, but he was too marvelled at Draco’s genius to care. “It’s true. Me and Draco were stationed on duty at the centre a while back and he snuck over to a restaurant while we were supposed to be working, and brought back tea -”
“Malfoy!” cried Hermione, scowling at the unapologetic blonde. Her hair had frizzed up another dress size with rage.
“And Draco got paranoid that one of the officer’s Nifflers was trying to steal his tea. He told us that that was impossible because Nifflers cannot smell tea, but was probably after the milk that was in the drink.”
“Exactly,” nodded Draco, sparing Harry a smile before continuing, “You all thought I was obsessed, paranoid…even crazy for always complaining that someone was stealing all the tea. The Death Eaters have been stocking up on teabags and using the dried leaves to pad the wand cases and carry the weapons right under the noses of the Ministry’s Nifflers. Me and Potter were at the stock warehouse today, and in a moment of genius I looked inside a crate which held some of the wands,” Draco pulled out the flesh wand they had acquired earlier and held it up, “Like this one, but in the box were some unknown little black…things. I didn’t know it until now, but it was leaves taken from teabags. I was right, people! Tea is the answer to all of life’s problems!”
Everyone sat in silence for a moment. Stunned beyond belief. Then Hermione began to clap and slowly applause began to rise around the kitchen. For Draco. For Harry. For them. “Well done, Agent Malfoy. I shall definitely be putting your names forward for awards. You have served your country well with your madness and -”
Draco held up a hand to stop Hermione’s rewarding tones. “There’s more. It’s an inside job.”
Everyone stopped clapping and every head turned towards the breadbin. Draco’s suspicions and enmity had never been kept quiet. Robert stopped clapping, himself, and glared, “It’s not me!”
“That’s just what a traitor would say!” growled Ron, moving through the crowd to seize up the PJ-clad agent.
“Stop, Weasley. It’s not him.” said Draco after a moment, enjoying watching Ron try to shove Robert inside the breadbin. Moving around the room, Malfoy stopped behind Jessica and placed his hands on her trembling shoulders. “Now, Jessica.” He leaned down and placed a kiss to her cheek and then pressed his wand into the side of her throat, “I am placing you under arrest in the name of the Ministry of Magic, under suspicion of crimes against England. You are suspected of orchestrating the trading and exportation of weapons of mass destruction between your day job cover, and the charge of impersonating a member of the St Mungo’s psychiatric ward may very well be held against you before the Wizengamot. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can, and will, be used against you in a court of law.”
No one interfered and Ron watched with astonishment while his slackened fingers were still wrapped around Robert’s neck.
Harry remembered Draco’s face lighting up as he first met her at the Portkey centre, eyes caressing her smaller, attractive stature over her friends who appeared uncomfortable in their own skins. He suspected Polyjuice potion.
Harry thought about the rain that had drizzled into his leather trousers as he listened to a diminutive sized hooded figure command known Death Eaters with a high-pitched effeminate voice from a church courtyard.
He remembered the broken cup and frightened Franken-bird on the kitchen floor, with a panicking woman hastily picking up the shattered pieces of porcelain while he and Draco reported their first reconnaissance mission from the warehouse.
He also recalled the cup Snape had held a few hours ago, sporting the same slogan that Draco had hand-painted on Harry’s birthday a year ago. He remembered the cracked mug that had clearly been improperly magicked back into shape, and he was sure that Snape had never been partial to such statements like “I saved the world and all I got was this stupid scar”.
“I knew there was a reason I didn’t like you.” said Harry, glaring at Jessica.
**
TBC (soon, updates are going to becomes fast and soon)
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