Chapter Eleven of 'The Auror Method'- Shatterstone's Outrage
Chapter Ten.
Title: The Auror Method (11/?)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Harry/Draco (mostly pre-slash), mentions of past Draco/others
Warnings: Manipulation, slight angst, slight violence
Rating: R
Summary: Draco has constructed the perfect cover for his activities as a con-man specializing in thefts from a distance: Draco Malfoy, the redeemed Death Eater and Recluse of Malfoy Manor. But now there’s evidence that some people are onto him, and as a consequence of the death threats issued to him, he gets an assigned Auror guard. Maybe Harry Potter, their leader, could be a problem when it comes to Draco’s latest con. Although how could he, when he’s getting all distracted by Draco’s fluttering eyelashes? Updated every Saturday.
Author’s Notes: This is a mostly humorous story that will probably be between twelve and fifteen chapters.
Chapter One.
Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Eleven-Shatterstone’s Outrage
“I can’t help you if you won’t tell me anything.”
That was what Potter said, his head bowed over the teacup in front of him. Draco sniffed a little. Potter had made his own tea, or perhaps brought it and had the house-elves make it. The smell was thick, and Draco wasn’t sure that he would want to taste it.
“I’ve told you as much as I can,” said Draco, and let himself shrink and whine, only partially because his persona would do that and partially just because that was the sort of mood he was in. “I’ve told you about the letters, and the warnings. What else can I do? There’s nothing else to tell.”
Potter spun around in his seat to face Draco, and his lips were compressed in a hard line. Draco would have tried what kisses could do to open them, but he knew as well as Potter that this wasn’t the time.
“That’s bollocks,” said Potter. “A load of complete and utter bollocks, and I’m more than a little upset that you’d tell me that.” His voice was rising.
Draco made a little placating gesture and turned back to his plate of food. He was starting to wonder if courting Potter’s attention had been more trouble than it was worth. Yes, they had spent a very nice night together, and it was pleasant to match wits with Potter when he didn’t know Draco was aware of his plans. But the pleasure was starting to pall.
Potter’s hand grabbed his. Draco turned around and stared. Potter had been so careful not to touch him since the night before.
“Listen,” said Potter, his breath like a prayer. “I really think that something’s about to happen. The goblins need a few more days for their next spell, but they know the strength of the wards this time, and they know there’s someone here who’s prepared for most of the magic they can cast. They’ll send it soon, and it’ll be powerful. If you can tell me what you suspect, what you’re doing or what you know, then it’s all the more likely that we’ll survive this.”
“We? Both of us?” Draco made his eyes wide and innocent.
“Look,” said Potter, with the air of someone who had decided to throw everything to the winds, “I know, okay? About certain things. About the goblins having a reason for targeting you. Shatterstone barely concerns themselves with humans unless they think that human can benefit them or has hurt them. I really don’t think you can benefit them, especially when they have almost no involvement with Gringotts most of the time.”
“That doesn’t make sense, though,” said Draco. “The plan that Elian Greengrass-Rosier came up with-”
“There was no plan from him!” Potter all but shouted. “He said it! He said that he’d never been in touch with you, and that you were lying!”
Draco drew himself up, the picture of haughty dignity. “And he said this under Veritaserum, did he?”
Potter paused, and Draco saw him raise a hand as though he was trying to paddle back up to the surface of a dark sea. “Not-not in so many words. But of course he meant it. Why would he lie?”
Draco looked off to the side with a little sniff. “Why would I? You know that I can’t handle the goblin magic by myself. I need an Auror to save me. And it would be to my benefit to tell the Auror everything I can to save my life. Which I did.”
Potter sighed long enough and loud enough that Draco really expected some of the stones in his walls to rattle loose. “You do need me,” he agreed softly. “Which is why it doesn’t make sense that you’d put off telling me the whole truth.”
Draco folded his arms and scowled at the tabletop. “That’s the way it is, right? You’d rather believe an Auror who you know lied and was trying to sneak back through my wards to do me harm over me. Why? Was Greengrass-Rosier your lover first, and you retain some kind of twisted loyalty to him?”
“I’m done.”
Draco lifted his head quickly. Potter was walking away from him, across the length of the dining room, his steps as heavy as though he was climbing a sideways mountain. Draco nearly stood and went after him, but he remembered the pretense of his bad leg, and instead he turned and called softly, pathetically.
“What happened? What did I do? I just asked you a question.” He huddled down in his chair as Potter turned to him with empty eyes. “Do you not like being asked about your past lovers? Okay, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise-”
“Draco. Don’t.”
The use of his first name, more than the dry and dusty tone in which Potter spoke, shut Draco up, and he eyed Potter cautiously as he shut his eyes and shook his head. His hands had fallen to his sides, and he took his wand out and carefully ran it along his palm, as though he was rolling up spells that had collected in the lines of his hand.
“I’ve tried and tried to get you to see that you can trust me,” Potter whispered. “I’ve saved you from goblin spells and comforted you and-and slept with you even though it was against my better judgment.”
“You wanted it, too,” Draco reminded him. He wasn’t going to let Potter forget that he had been a willing participant in sex that had been some of the best of Draco’s life.
“But you still won’t trust me,” Potter went on, only a blush on his cheeks showing that he acknowledged what Draco had said. “I don’t know what else I can say. So I’m done. I’ll patrol the wards and keep you safe from goblin spells, but that’s it. I’m done-consorting with you. Trying to get you to tell me the truth. It’s useless anyway, so I’ll just do the job I was given and no more.”
“I don’t want you to just do the job you were given.”
Draco was stunned to hear his own voice come out so tiny and so needy. From the way he paused in the doorframe with one white hand on it, so was Potter.
But he didn’t turn back when he replied, “You know the way to change that. All I need is the truth. It can’t do as much damage as those spells that the Shatterstones keep sending through your wards.”
Draco thought about what he was hiding, and nearly laughed aloud. Potter was wrong about that. It could land Draco in Azkaban, and that would be the end of his dreams, his thoughts, his life.
But he said nothing, because he could say nothing, and Potter nodded a little, as though that was so straightforward and clear, because everything was in his little world, and walked out of the dining room with firm steps.
*
Draco had put it off long enough, he decided. And whether they had gained the knowledge from Jared or elsewhere, the Shatterstone clan had proven that they knew what his plans were. They had given him the exact countdown to the day that he’d planned to strike at Gringotts.
How else could he confuse them and avoid their traps, except by going early?
Draco touched the whip that lay coiled around his neck. He touched the crystal cufflinks that he had received as a gift from a long-time ally last year, and felt them hum with magic. He wrapped his cloak around him-an inferior Invisibility Cloak to the one that Potter possessed, this one only being made of Demiguise hair, but new and not likely to decay in the next few hours-and nodded.
He was ready, or as ready as he could be when he was up against a goblin clan that possessed powers he still didn’t understand and didn’t know how to fend off.
Draco left through a tiny hole in his wards located right next to a fireplace in the main library. No one else would think anything of it if they did find the hole, because they would assume the opening was the connection to the Floo network. But in reality, it was a small Apparition point that Draco could use to get outside or inside instantly, and Draco was confident that even the prowling Potter hadn’t discovered it. If he had, then he would have said something to Draco about strengthening the wards, Draco was certain.
If nothing else, he believed in Potter’s desire to protect him.
The thought was distracting. Draco closed his eyes and Apparated with a whirl through the darkness that consumed him, leaping and flexing his muscles, and coming down with utter silence in the Apparition point that would allow him to see Gringotts.
It was concealed behind what looked like an ordinary shop façade in Diagon Alley, but was really the remains of a shop destroyed during the war and only supposedly rebuilt. Draco’s kind of people were the ones who noticed it, who could get inside the façade, and who knew its secrets. Everyone else would assume that it was locked and exclusive before losing interest and wandering off, thanks to a more sophisticated version of the spell on the Leaky Cauldron.
Draco knew the goblins knew about it, as well, but they had never indicated their displeasure with it. Probably they had never thought that something small and insignificant, a building constructed by humans, would be used against them.
That was as much a reason to take them down as any other, Draco thought as he eased open the shop’s door and slipped out into the middle of the deserted alley. They were so arrogant, and thought they were so righteous, keeping wizard money and threatening its rightful owners. It would be a pleasure to make them pay for that arrogance.
The moonlight was weak, mostly hidden by coming rainclouds, and Draco was smiling. This was his game, this was his place. His mind was surging now, in a way that made him walk across the alley almost literally on his toes, and he knew that he would see movement in a second now, and be able to deal with it faster than even Potter could move.
Draco should know. He had dueled an Auror or two in his time, without them ever knowing who he was.
As he approached the entrance to the bank, he folded his hands down so they touched the crystal cufflinks and whispered the word that would make them do their work. “Leo.”
The cufflinks shimmered, and two enormous crystalline shadows leaped to the ground on either side of him. Lion-shaped, they stalked towards the bank’s façade, their tails trailing behind them and their mouths open in roaring challenges that were entirely silent.
Draco grinned a little as he watched them pass their paws over the front steps, under that inscription that warned thieves of the curse that would befall them. That curse was real, and this goblin magic, Draco could respect. Any research he did, even stories that everyone had heard of and which had run in the Prophet, was enough to convince him of the reality of goblin vengeance.
But even curses that powerful had a limit, and Draco had found this magic’s easily once he knew what to look for. In breathless excitement, he watched as the lions paced towards the door.
The light that struck them was as silent as their roars. It illuminated the front steps of the bank, convulsing the darkness, and Draco heard the sound of ripping and tearing claws, although no sign that they existed. The cufflinks went flat and cold against his wrists as the magic drained from them, and Draco nodded when the light faded and the lions were gone.
The curse took effect on those who approached the bank intending to steal something from it-but it took effect on the first ones to set foot on those steps. And it only reacted this violently, and this strongly, to magical creatures who approached the bank, since the goblins perceived them as greater threats than wizards. Wizards were more likely to receive the curse of lingering misfortune.
While the curse recovered from its unusual effort, it was the work of a moment for Draco to slip under the elaborate façade and inside the front doors of the bank, which were never kept locked.
Inside the bank itself, he felt magic come alive, turning seeking towards him. But Jared had told him how to defeat these spells, and Draco still trusted that information. He reached out and stroked his fingers down the air, flicking his wand under his sleeve. A goblin would have a different method of disarming the spell, but this was really just a wizard spell repurposed for the goblins, and Draco could use his wand movement.
"Incognitus," he whispered.
The heavy feeling of magic, clasped over his head like a hood, abruptly dissolved. Draco smiled and stepped boldly past the silent counters and stools, the everyday business of the bank that most wizards saw, towards the tunnels that led down towards the vaults.
A soft snarl and sound of padding paws in front of him was the only warning he had.
Draco was falling under the attack of a beast that was all softness where it hit his face and all sharpness down to the claws poised to rake his belly out, but he had the whip out, and he was swinging it, and it coiled around what would be the neck of a beast like a nundu but not a nundu. Jared had told him that, for certain. Even goblins found it hard to control a beast that could take down a hundred wizards, so they employed powerful illusions now instead of a nundu.
"I do not believe," Draco whispered, ignoring the pain against his belly, "in any big cat that can be controlled by a whip around its neck."
For an instant, wizard magic and will fought goblin magic and, probably, the long spells that Potter had told him goblins used and which Draco had never known about. The odd thought that he should do more research flickered through his head, and disappeared under the pressure of those enormous claws.
The pressure increased until Draco wondered if this trick would work after all. Most wizardly illusions couldn't be dissipated simply by disbelieving in them, he thought, while his pulse accelerated and filled his head with its thunder. He held his breath and kicked out, and then realized his mistake. That would imply he believed the cat was real.
But it couldn't be. It hadn't eaten him yet, and it would have if it was real, just fastened its jaws around his face and torn it off. So Draco forced himself to relax, and gradually the weight on him began to shred and change in odd ways, and then it disappeared altogether.
Draco nodded and stood up. Jared had told him those illusions could kill; it would just be in other ways that they looked like they were killing. So Draco would have thought he was being disemboweled, but really he would have died of a heart attack.
So reassuring, Draco thought, and slipped further down the tunnels.
They curved so sharply downwards so soon that Draco knew he would have to use another of his tricks earlier than he had thought he would. He sat down and touched his wand to his shoes, murmuring soft spells that would help him here without disrupting the other charms that kept his footprints and scent undetectable.
The sensation of the spell was always odd, like a wriggling tail growing through the back of his shoe. But it was really a small wing, and Draco smiled in pleasure as he stood up and flexed his feet again. The pair of wings paused, and then began to beat together, in measured time. Draco rose slowly from the floor. All he had to do was aim his body in the direction he wanted to go and steer with his arms.
The wings bore him up all the way down the tunnel and past the closed doors of vaults he wasn't interested in. Draco tensed when he heard the sound of rushing water ahead. Jared had told him about this particular trap, too.
Draco whipped off his Invisibility Cloak and spent a few minutes checking the enchantments on it and their strength, while the wings carried him closer and closer to the waterfall that would wash away all magic.
The enchantments were as strong as they were going to get. Draco nodded, muttered something that would have been a prayer if he'd believed in any power or fate that would help a thief stealing from a goblin bank, and then flung the cloak out above his head, rocking backwards so he could stop flying.
The waterfall gushed down on the cloak, but the demiguise hair on it bounced it off like regular water, keeping it from washing away the magic for a few crucial seconds. Then the cloak, growing all the while, attached itself to the roof of the tunnel, hooking into the stone, and blocking the waterfall for a few further crucial seconds.
Draco bent forwards and zoomed under the waterfall like a skater. The cloak loosened as soon as it was soaked enough for the water to destroy its magic, and then blew away like a leaf as the waterfall came back down. Draco half-smiled. The nice thing about that particular trick was that the goblins would find a cloak that had been washed clean of all traces. They wouldn't be able to tell how it had been used, or what was important about it.
Draco knew he would have to pass the waterfall on the way out, too, but luckily he had another trick that should take care of that.
He turned a few more dazzling corners, already counting in his head. Jared had warned him that some of the vault doors here were false, leading not to real vaults but to rooms where traps waited. The distance between the waterfall and the first trap room could be measured in terms of numbers of doors.
Thirty-four, thirty-five...
Draco lost his count as something snatched him out of the air, surrounding him with a cloud of beating darkness. He gasped and flung his hands up, striking out with a fire spell on his wand, but nothing happened except the wand clattering away. Draco found himself spun upside-down, and a few extremely complicated wingbeats later, he was dangling in the grip of something that clutched the ceiling.
A giant bat, he realized as it spread its wings out and Draco could make out the ceiling and floor of the tunnel around him.
And beneath him were a small number of goblins, stepping forwards to stare up at him. They had thicker skin than Draco was used to seeing, greyer skin, and they held long rods that lit up at the end like wands.
"Ah," said the nearest goblin, in so calm a voice Draco went still. "My name is Oldridge Shatterstone, and I have long wanted to meet you, Draco Malfoy."
Chapter Twelve.
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