Keep Your Enemies Close (2/?)
Title: Keep Your Enemies Close (2/?)
All disclaimers found in part one.
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Draco awoke with a start, a sharp pain shooting up his arm. “Sonofabitch,” he growled under his breath as he massaged his chained arm.
He didn’t exactly expect to be greeted with warm tea and pats on the back when he showed up on Harry’s doorstep, but getting manhandled by Potter and then being chained up in his basement had never even crossed his mind. Who the hell even knew Harry Potter of all uptight blokes *owned* a pair of handcuffs?
He growled under his breath again, giving his arm another futile yank.
“You could always just chew it off.”
Draco looked up to see Harry coming down the stairs, a smug look of satisfaction on his face. And at the moment, Draco would have given anything to be free just so he could wipe the look off his face.
“Who taught you how to keep a captive, Potter?” he sneered. “I’d at least get water and bread if I was in Azkaban.”
Harry squatted at Draco’s feet. “I’d gladly send you to the Dementors in a heartbeat, Malfoy. Lucky for you Hermione talked some sense into me last night.”
Draco studied him for a moment before lifting his handcuffed arm with a smirk. “I never figured you for a handcuffs kinda guy, Potter. You use these on Granger?” His smirk intensified. “Or does she use them on you perhaps?”
Harry returned the smirk, unfazed by the taunts. “You know, I could leave you down here without food and water for days. Let you piss on yourself if I see fit.”
“I thought you were supposed to be a champion for good,” Draco frowned. “Doesn’t seem like a very champion-like thing to do to a fellow human being.”
“I wasn’t aware you classified as a human being.”
Draco laughed darkly. “Look at the big man on campus. Little Harry Potter all grown up,” he mocked in a pseudo-baby voice. “If I had my wand, Potter-” He yanked on his handcuffed arm. “-and I wasn’t chained to your wall like a bloody criminal, you wouldn’t be so tough, and you know it.”
Harry simply raised his eyebrow. “Is it a good idea to threaten the person you want to protect you?”
“I don’t want your bloody protection,” Draco snapped. “I want your *help*. There’s a difference.”
“Either way, I’d watch the tone if I were you.” He stood, removing a key from the pocket of his sweat bottoms. He unlocked the cuff that secured Draco to the plumbing. “Today is the day you convince me not to throw your fate to the highest bidder, Malfoy.” He yanked Draco to his feet by the handcuffs.
“Death Eaters versus Dementors, I take it,” he frowned as Harry pulled him up the staircase.
Harry glanced at him as he pushed the door open into the kitchen. “You take it right.”
Hermione, her robe cinched around her waist, stood at the counter, pouring herself a cup of juice as the two entered. “Morning, sunshine,” she smirked, sipping from her glass.
Draco glared at her as Harry forced him into a chair and then proceeded to handcuff his arm to the table leg. “I see you’ve picked up Potter’s lovely sense of humor.” He glanced down at his arm. “Dammit, Potter, when exactly will you stop chaining me to things?”
“When I trust you.” He paused with a raise of an eyebrow. “So I think you and your handcuffs should become better acquainted.”
With that, he walked out of the kitchen, Draco growling under his breath. Draco looked up at Hermione who was watching him with a mixture of suspicion and amusement. “Who do I have to curse for a glass of water in this place?”
“You could be getting your soul sucked out by a Dementor’s kiss right now,” Hermione replied as she retrieved a glass from the cabinet. “A little gratitude wouldn’t kill you.”
“Gratitude, yes,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Thank you, Granger, for allowing me the absolute pleasure of being handcuffed in your cold, dank basement without food, water, or a proper way to relieve myself.”
“Welcome,” she replied seriously, slamming a glass of water onto the table just within his reach.
“When the hell did *you* get an attitude, Granger?” he asked as he retrieved the glass and took a long drink.
She studied him, leaning against the kitchen counter. “About the same time you grew even more spineless and joined the Death Eaters.”
“Spineless?” he scoffed. “You wouldn’t be able to handle what I’ve seen, the things I’ve done.”
“There’s a difference between bravery and stupidity, Malfoy. If you were really brave, you wouldn’t have crept into our house to plead for our help.”
He sneered at her. “Draco Malfoy does *not* plead.”
“Either way, you’re here because all those things you’ve seen, all those things you’ve done?” she replied in a mocking tone. “Those things have come back to bite you in the ass, and you can’t handle it.”
“If you’re quite done pretending that you know the first thing about me,” he replied after a moment of silence, “I’d like to request a bathroom break.”
“Hold it,” she snapped, sipping from her juice.
“Bloody hell I will, Granger,” he said, the annoyance evident in his voice. “I’ll piss on your nice clean floor if I have to.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Look, Malfoy, Harry is getting dressed. When he gets back, he’ll unlock you and do the honors.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “And you can’t because…?”
“Because I’d rather not.”
“What’s the matter, Granger?” he teased with an evil grin. “Afraid you may like what you see and won’t be able to keep your hands off me?”
Hermione tilted her head at him. “If by that you mean wrapping my hands around your neck and squeezing the life out of you, then yes.”
With a sigh, Draco sat back in his chair, giving his arm another yank. “You know, Potter skillfully avoided the question when I asked about the origin of these little handcuffs.”
“He’s an auror. Sometimes muggle devices come in handy.” She motioned to him as she added, “Case in point.”
“Right,” he grinned. “No recreational use whatsoever.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind but found herself interrupted by the back door swinging open. Ron entered first, giving Draco a glare that could match the killing curse in the amount of hatred it radiated. Ginny followed, not even caring to look in Draco’s general direction.
“Look, the whole gang is here,” Draco replied with an annoyed roll of his eyes. “It’s like a bloody reunion.”
Ginny ignored him as she approached Hermione, gently touching the other girl’s arm. “Are you guys all right?”
Hermione nodded, giving the redhead a reassuring smile. “We’re fine, Gin.”
“I’m the one handcuffed to a table here,” Draco interjected. “Perhaps you should direct your question to the hostage, Weasley runt.”
In response, Ginny slowly turned her head towards him and then proceeded to flip him off. Draco gave an amused chuckle, but before he could form a verbal response to her gesture, Harry entered the kitchen.
“Harry, mate,” Ron said, approaching his best friend, “why is he still here? He should be off getting friendly with a Dementor somewhere.”
Harry glanced at Draco with a frown. “Because, unfortunately, it seems Malfoy may come in handy.”
“Malfoy come in handy?” Ron scoffed. “He’s about as handy as… well, something not entirely handy.”
“Brilliant analogy, Weasel,” Draco replied from his chair. “Take you all night to come up with that one?”
“Shove off, Malfoy!” Ron snapped back. “No one asked for your input.”
“I don’t need your permission for that,” the blond replied back evenly.
Hermione rolled her eyes, sensing that this was going to end in name-calling and insult-trading reminiscent of their Hogwarts years. “I’m going to get dressed,” she announced, leaving the kitchen with a shake of her head.
Ron gritted his teeth, turning back to Harry. “Are you sure you don’t want to kill him right now?”
“You couldn’t kill me if you tried, Weasel.”
Harry turned on Draco before Ron could reply. “Malfoy, shut your mouth now, or I go for the tape.” He turned back to Ron and motioned over his shoulder to the doorway leading out of the kitchen. “In there.”
Ron shot Draco another look before following Harry into the connecting room. Draco watched them go before turning his full attention on Ginny, who was watching him from across the table, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the kitchen counter.
“Do me a favor, Weasley,” he smirked, “go frisk Potter like I’m sure you’re dying to do and get the keys to unlock these things. A win-win situation for the both of us.”
Ginny remained silent, glaring at him.
“Looks like we’re not in a talkative mood,” he laughed under his breath.
“You are such a piece of crap, Malfoy,” she finally said.
He grinned at her. “Now *that*, young lady, is just uncalled for.”
“You’re nothing but a bully. You were nothing but a sniveling little bully in school, and you graduated to the ultimate of bullies afterwards,” she snarled. “*I* have to deal with what you and your Death Eater friends call fun. *I* have the joy of cleaning up your messes on a daily basis.”
Draco studied her, confusion settling over him. “Huh?” was all he managed.
“Did you know there’s an entire ward now for people you lot get your hands on? There were so many that St. Mungo’s was forced to open a completely new ward for survivors.” She paused with a frown. “If you want to call them that.”
“Ah, you work in the hospital then,” he replied with a nod of realization.
“Harry should have killed you,” she stated simply and walked out of the room, leaving him alone.
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“You should have killed him,” Ron said to Harry in the other room, unknowingly echoing his sister’s sentiments.
“I can’t, you know that,” Harry frowned. “Being an auror doesn’t give me free license to off people when I see fit--even people like Malfoy. Besides, I need to keep him around.”
“Why?” Ron gaped.
“Because he may know something about the next attack against me.” He paused, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not sure how much he knows exactly. I didn’t exactly stick around to interrogate him last night.”
“And he’s helping you why exactly?”
“He claims Death Eaters are trying to kill him.”
Ron shrugged. “Can’t say I blame them,” he said casually.
“So in exchange for keeping him safe and alive, he tells me what I need to know about what the Death Eaters have planned.”
“Don’t tell me you believe him, mate,” Ron replied skeptically.
“Not exactly, but at the moment, I’d rather play it safe than sorry.” Harry shrugged, “Either way, he still ends up in the hands of a Dementor. That’s a guarantee.”
Ron hesitated before nodding. “Just tell me what I need to do.”
“Babysit Malfoy.”
In response, Ron could only make a disgusted face.
“I want to check up on Malfoy saying he’s no longer one of them,” Harry replied to his friend’s silence, “and I’d prefer if there was more than one wizard in the house with him while I’m out. Safety in numbers and all.”
Ron continued to silently grimace.
“Just a few hours, Ron,” Harry replied, trying not to laugh at the look on his face.
“Fine,” Ron agreed with a groan. “But if I kill him in your absence, it’s because he forced me to put him out of his misery.”
“Of course,” Harry smirked, starting out of the room.
“Hey,” Ron called after him, “where are you going anyway?”
“Azkaban,” Harry said over his shoulder before disappearing beyond the doorway.
All disclaimers found in part one.
----------
Draco awoke with a start, a sharp pain shooting up his arm. “Sonofabitch,” he growled under his breath as he massaged his chained arm.
He didn’t exactly expect to be greeted with warm tea and pats on the back when he showed up on Harry’s doorstep, but getting manhandled by Potter and then being chained up in his basement had never even crossed his mind. Who the hell even knew Harry Potter of all uptight blokes *owned* a pair of handcuffs?
He growled under his breath again, giving his arm another futile yank.
“You could always just chew it off.”
Draco looked up to see Harry coming down the stairs, a smug look of satisfaction on his face. And at the moment, Draco would have given anything to be free just so he could wipe the look off his face.
“Who taught you how to keep a captive, Potter?” he sneered. “I’d at least get water and bread if I was in Azkaban.”
Harry squatted at Draco’s feet. “I’d gladly send you to the Dementors in a heartbeat, Malfoy. Lucky for you Hermione talked some sense into me last night.”
Draco studied him for a moment before lifting his handcuffed arm with a smirk. “I never figured you for a handcuffs kinda guy, Potter. You use these on Granger?” His smirk intensified. “Or does she use them on you perhaps?”
Harry returned the smirk, unfazed by the taunts. “You know, I could leave you down here without food and water for days. Let you piss on yourself if I see fit.”
“I thought you were supposed to be a champion for good,” Draco frowned. “Doesn’t seem like a very champion-like thing to do to a fellow human being.”
“I wasn’t aware you classified as a human being.”
Draco laughed darkly. “Look at the big man on campus. Little Harry Potter all grown up,” he mocked in a pseudo-baby voice. “If I had my wand, Potter-” He yanked on his handcuffed arm. “-and I wasn’t chained to your wall like a bloody criminal, you wouldn’t be so tough, and you know it.”
Harry simply raised his eyebrow. “Is it a good idea to threaten the person you want to protect you?”
“I don’t want your bloody protection,” Draco snapped. “I want your *help*. There’s a difference.”
“Either way, I’d watch the tone if I were you.” He stood, removing a key from the pocket of his sweat bottoms. He unlocked the cuff that secured Draco to the plumbing. “Today is the day you convince me not to throw your fate to the highest bidder, Malfoy.” He yanked Draco to his feet by the handcuffs.
“Death Eaters versus Dementors, I take it,” he frowned as Harry pulled him up the staircase.
Harry glanced at him as he pushed the door open into the kitchen. “You take it right.”
Hermione, her robe cinched around her waist, stood at the counter, pouring herself a cup of juice as the two entered. “Morning, sunshine,” she smirked, sipping from her glass.
Draco glared at her as Harry forced him into a chair and then proceeded to handcuff his arm to the table leg. “I see you’ve picked up Potter’s lovely sense of humor.” He glanced down at his arm. “Dammit, Potter, when exactly will you stop chaining me to things?”
“When I trust you.” He paused with a raise of an eyebrow. “So I think you and your handcuffs should become better acquainted.”
With that, he walked out of the kitchen, Draco growling under his breath. Draco looked up at Hermione who was watching him with a mixture of suspicion and amusement. “Who do I have to curse for a glass of water in this place?”
“You could be getting your soul sucked out by a Dementor’s kiss right now,” Hermione replied as she retrieved a glass from the cabinet. “A little gratitude wouldn’t kill you.”
“Gratitude, yes,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Thank you, Granger, for allowing me the absolute pleasure of being handcuffed in your cold, dank basement without food, water, or a proper way to relieve myself.”
“Welcome,” she replied seriously, slamming a glass of water onto the table just within his reach.
“When the hell did *you* get an attitude, Granger?” he asked as he retrieved the glass and took a long drink.
She studied him, leaning against the kitchen counter. “About the same time you grew even more spineless and joined the Death Eaters.”
“Spineless?” he scoffed. “You wouldn’t be able to handle what I’ve seen, the things I’ve done.”
“There’s a difference between bravery and stupidity, Malfoy. If you were really brave, you wouldn’t have crept into our house to plead for our help.”
He sneered at her. “Draco Malfoy does *not* plead.”
“Either way, you’re here because all those things you’ve seen, all those things you’ve done?” she replied in a mocking tone. “Those things have come back to bite you in the ass, and you can’t handle it.”
“If you’re quite done pretending that you know the first thing about me,” he replied after a moment of silence, “I’d like to request a bathroom break.”
“Hold it,” she snapped, sipping from her juice.
“Bloody hell I will, Granger,” he said, the annoyance evident in his voice. “I’ll piss on your nice clean floor if I have to.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Look, Malfoy, Harry is getting dressed. When he gets back, he’ll unlock you and do the honors.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “And you can’t because…?”
“Because I’d rather not.”
“What’s the matter, Granger?” he teased with an evil grin. “Afraid you may like what you see and won’t be able to keep your hands off me?”
Hermione tilted her head at him. “If by that you mean wrapping my hands around your neck and squeezing the life out of you, then yes.”
With a sigh, Draco sat back in his chair, giving his arm another yank. “You know, Potter skillfully avoided the question when I asked about the origin of these little handcuffs.”
“He’s an auror. Sometimes muggle devices come in handy.” She motioned to him as she added, “Case in point.”
“Right,” he grinned. “No recreational use whatsoever.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind but found herself interrupted by the back door swinging open. Ron entered first, giving Draco a glare that could match the killing curse in the amount of hatred it radiated. Ginny followed, not even caring to look in Draco’s general direction.
“Look, the whole gang is here,” Draco replied with an annoyed roll of his eyes. “It’s like a bloody reunion.”
Ginny ignored him as she approached Hermione, gently touching the other girl’s arm. “Are you guys all right?”
Hermione nodded, giving the redhead a reassuring smile. “We’re fine, Gin.”
“I’m the one handcuffed to a table here,” Draco interjected. “Perhaps you should direct your question to the hostage, Weasley runt.”
In response, Ginny slowly turned her head towards him and then proceeded to flip him off. Draco gave an amused chuckle, but before he could form a verbal response to her gesture, Harry entered the kitchen.
“Harry, mate,” Ron said, approaching his best friend, “why is he still here? He should be off getting friendly with a Dementor somewhere.”
Harry glanced at Draco with a frown. “Because, unfortunately, it seems Malfoy may come in handy.”
“Malfoy come in handy?” Ron scoffed. “He’s about as handy as… well, something not entirely handy.”
“Brilliant analogy, Weasel,” Draco replied from his chair. “Take you all night to come up with that one?”
“Shove off, Malfoy!” Ron snapped back. “No one asked for your input.”
“I don’t need your permission for that,” the blond replied back evenly.
Hermione rolled her eyes, sensing that this was going to end in name-calling and insult-trading reminiscent of their Hogwarts years. “I’m going to get dressed,” she announced, leaving the kitchen with a shake of her head.
Ron gritted his teeth, turning back to Harry. “Are you sure you don’t want to kill him right now?”
“You couldn’t kill me if you tried, Weasel.”
Harry turned on Draco before Ron could reply. “Malfoy, shut your mouth now, or I go for the tape.” He turned back to Ron and motioned over his shoulder to the doorway leading out of the kitchen. “In there.”
Ron shot Draco another look before following Harry into the connecting room. Draco watched them go before turning his full attention on Ginny, who was watching him from across the table, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the kitchen counter.
“Do me a favor, Weasley,” he smirked, “go frisk Potter like I’m sure you’re dying to do and get the keys to unlock these things. A win-win situation for the both of us.”
Ginny remained silent, glaring at him.
“Looks like we’re not in a talkative mood,” he laughed under his breath.
“You are such a piece of crap, Malfoy,” she finally said.
He grinned at her. “Now *that*, young lady, is just uncalled for.”
“You’re nothing but a bully. You were nothing but a sniveling little bully in school, and you graduated to the ultimate of bullies afterwards,” she snarled. “*I* have to deal with what you and your Death Eater friends call fun. *I* have the joy of cleaning up your messes on a daily basis.”
Draco studied her, confusion settling over him. “Huh?” was all he managed.
“Did you know there’s an entire ward now for people you lot get your hands on? There were so many that St. Mungo’s was forced to open a completely new ward for survivors.” She paused with a frown. “If you want to call them that.”
“Ah, you work in the hospital then,” he replied with a nod of realization.
“Harry should have killed you,” she stated simply and walked out of the room, leaving him alone.
---------
“You should have killed him,” Ron said to Harry in the other room, unknowingly echoing his sister’s sentiments.
“I can’t, you know that,” Harry frowned. “Being an auror doesn’t give me free license to off people when I see fit--even people like Malfoy. Besides, I need to keep him around.”
“Why?” Ron gaped.
“Because he may know something about the next attack against me.” He paused, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not sure how much he knows exactly. I didn’t exactly stick around to interrogate him last night.”
“And he’s helping you why exactly?”
“He claims Death Eaters are trying to kill him.”
Ron shrugged. “Can’t say I blame them,” he said casually.
“So in exchange for keeping him safe and alive, he tells me what I need to know about what the Death Eaters have planned.”
“Don’t tell me you believe him, mate,” Ron replied skeptically.
“Not exactly, but at the moment, I’d rather play it safe than sorry.” Harry shrugged, “Either way, he still ends up in the hands of a Dementor. That’s a guarantee.”
Ron hesitated before nodding. “Just tell me what I need to do.”
“Babysit Malfoy.”
In response, Ron could only make a disgusted face.
“I want to check up on Malfoy saying he’s no longer one of them,” Harry replied to his friend’s silence, “and I’d prefer if there was more than one wizard in the house with him while I’m out. Safety in numbers and all.”
Ron continued to silently grimace.
“Just a few hours, Ron,” Harry replied, trying not to laugh at the look on his face.
“Fine,” Ron agreed with a groan. “But if I kill him in your absence, it’s because he forced me to put him out of his misery.”
“Of course,” Harry smirked, starting out of the room.
“Hey,” Ron called after him, “where are you going anyway?”
“Azkaban,” Harry said over his shoulder before disappearing beyond the doorway.