"With Different Hats" - Chapter Three - A Harry Potter Fanfic
Title: With Different Hats -- Chapter Three
Author: originalpuck / Morgan O'Friel
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2825
Pairings: Draco/Harry
Warnings: Character Death, Dub-con, Violence
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: When the Malfoys are murdered, Harry Potter is called in to find their killers. Unfortunately, the freshly undead Draco has deemed Harry incompetent, and decided to strike-out on his own. Of course, before avenging his parents he has to find some clothes, remember not to fall through walls, and prevent Harry from making things even worse. Previous installments are located here.
Chapter Three
“Harry Potter, so glad you could make it to our little bash.”
Draco glared in the direction that Potter was standing. After storming the stage, the balding bloke had still refused to address Draco in any way or form. For the umpteenth time that day, he made a mental note to learn to move and touch physical objects. Not being able to slug people was getting on his tit's end.
“Can we take a small walk, Fletcher?”
Potter seemed so damn calm. Well, of course he was. He probably agreed with the daftie.
Smiling, the guy excused himself, the crowd already buzzing as they stepped down from the stage. Before the bloke could get more than three feet, however, Malfoy shot in front of him. “How dare you talk about my family that way. I ought to have your head for that.”
Fletcher peered at him. “Does it make you sad, Mr. Malfoy? Knowing that you’re a relic in a dying age?”
“Don’t push him, Fletch.”
Draco boiled. He didn’t need Potter defending him. “Did you kill them on your own, or did you get some help?” He sniffed, taking in his wine-belly and the smile-lines around his lips. “You don’t look very capable, but that’s never stopped anyone before.”
“Kill them? Oh, dear me, no. Now why would I do that? Isn’t murder a Dark art?” He was smiling, peering from Draco to Potter. He frowned as he looked at them. “You can’t honestly believe -“
“Do you mind if I smoke?” Fletcher looked torn, but when he didn’t say no, Potter pulled out something that looked distinctly Muggle. He rhythmically smacked it against his chapping palm. So, the great Harry Potter was interested in ruining his health, and not even in the proper, Wizarding fashion. Fascinating, really. “Where were you this morning, Fletcher? Around, say, one am?”
The man waved a twenty-something, long-haired blond over to them. He came up, a frozen smile in place. Draco hated that smile. Kipling was his name. A half-blood whose wife had gotten in the way of Snape on one of the first nights after the Ministry had fallen. Draco’d heard that she’d recently been released from Mungo’s, and wondered if she was around there, somewhere. She must’ve been cheering when she’d heard about his family’s death - if she could still speak, that was. He bit back a shudder.
“I was with my wife, at home all night, and here since dawn, helping to set up for the rally.” Kipling nodded his agreement. Draco didn’t believe a word of it, but Potter seemed complacent. He’d lit a fag, and was inhaling deeply.
“If I were to Apparate over there, I’m sure she’d agree.” Nodding, Potter jerked his head towards the crowd. “And them?”
“Filtered in throughout the day. Sherry, the Kipling’s house-elf, can confirm that. ”
Draco hissed. Potter looked like he was buying this slag. “You’ll be sure to owl me a guest list, won’t you?”
Fletcher shook his head. The sod. Of course he wouldn’t - it would prove he was guilty. “You know the Wizarding Reformation League’s policy on disclosing our members. We have the same confidentiality as anyone else.” A small, silvery toad flitted into view. Potter stared at it, twitching his left hand slightly.
“Don’t play games, Fletcher. I’m not in the mood. You know that I’ll get a search warrant, and then, well, I’ll be so brassed off I might have to visit every single member, check into their belongings --” Fletcher opened his mouth, but Potter cut him off. “I’ve got to be going. If I don’t get that list by tonight, I’ll be back. Cheers, then.”
Potter tossed his fag on the ground, and glanced at Draco before turning his back on him. “Let’s go.”
His teeth ground. Potter was just walking away from the person who might well have killed his parents. Draco’d heard about the Reformation League - nothing good came out of them. They hated Dark wizards, and half the people at the rally held grudges against Draco’s family. He wasn’t about to let them Apparate away. Not that he could stop him. Even the toad Patronus had taken off, hopping after Potter.
Fletcher didn’t seem to acknowledge Draco as a threat, which miffed him even more. Glaring, Malfoy snarled at his back. “If I find out you did it, there won’t be a safe place on this planet for you to hide in.”
Whirling, he chased after Potter. He couldn’t hex him, but he’d find other ways of making him miserable. If his mother had taught him one thing, it was how to humiliate someone. And Draco wouldn’t let Potter rest for one second until he’d arrested the man responsible for his family’s death, and Draco’s eternity of ineffectuality.
---
Austin’s voice came out of the frog’s gaping mouth, starting with the usual lack of formalities. “We PI-ed the wand, and didn’t get much of anything out of it. Some basic levitation spells, a locator spell, some digging jinxes, the spell that brought Bellatrix back, and, of course, AK.”
Nodding, Harry watched the frog hop in place. Well, he didn’t expect that the murderer would’ve left a calling card. That didn’t mean that Harry wasn’t disappointed, though. “And make sure to send Malfoy to the Department of Magical Creatures. Ought to get his orientation underway and all.”
It seemed that Malfoy had caught up to Harry, because he was muttering over his shoulder at the frog. “Like hell am I going back to that place.” Malfoy’s cold brushed Harry’s skin in jerks, and Harry wondered if he was shaking. It didn’t seem appropriate to ask; it wasn’t like he’d own up to it, anyways. “Not now, not ever.”
“You don’t really have a choice, you know.” Malfoy sneered as the frog disappeared into smoke. “I’ll get you there, one way or another.”
---
Potter was going to pay, that much was certain. Immobilizing him so that he could Side-Along during a Disapparation was beyond the pale; Draco would find a way to get his revenge. Haunting would be too easy, Draco thought as his limbs suddenly snapped back to attention.
He blinked, realizing that he was inside the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Usually immobilization was a lot more painful to wake up from. So was Side-Alonging. Maybe this whole undead bag of wank would have its advantages.
Of course, one of them most certainly did not involve being pushed around by Potter as though Draco were some sort of common garden gnome. “Oy there,” a deep female voice called. “Potter!”
Potter had waved to acknowledge the stocky woman. She was dressed in shabby and slightly singed robes, her dark hair dangling down her back in a long braid. Her robes weren’t in style, and she wore no Glamours to conceal the numerous lines and wrinkles on her face. When she caught up to them, she turned from Potter almost instantly, taking in Draco. He tried his best to keep a grimace off his face. She smelled of owl excrement, as if the owls had done nothing but eat rotten corpses all day long.
“Smell that, huh? Had to oversee a rotten Chimaera autopsy, make sure its handlers weren’t neglecting it. Name’s Demelza Slingerton.” She smiled and then glanced at Potter, nodding her head. “I can take it from here. I’m sure you’ve got important duties to get to.”
Oh yes, Draco was beginning to think that he quite liked this woman. Particularly her brand of distaste for the no good Potter. However - “He hasn’t finished interviewing me.”
The smile on her face faded almost instantly. “And yet you’ll still be coming with me, or risk severe censure.”
Potter coughed into his fist. “Don’t worry, Malfoy. I’ll pick you up from daycare when I’m done.” Snickering, he took off at a stride for the nearest elevator, yelling ‘wait’ at someone that looked unnervingly like they were a member of the Weasel horde.
“Come along now. If we’re going to teach you how to handle objects before Potter gets back, we’ll have to hurry. He might be the Boy Who Lived, but he certainly didn’t get that way because of his astounding patience and consideration.” She’d have to rethink her tone, but other than that, perhaps this ‘orientation’ wouldn’t be such a bad thing, after all. Besides, what was the worst that could happen?
---
“Such a good thing you’re here, Harry. I - ah - needed to speak with you about your case.” Despite having spent considerably more time around Harry since the end of the Second War, Percy was as awkward as ever when he tried mixing family and work.
“Good to see you, too. I need a search warrant for the Wizarding Reformation Leagues’ records, housed at 29 Ellenbrook Lane.” He smiled when Percy grimaced.
“So you would consider it a lead, then?”
Harry shrugged. It wasn’t really a lead, no more than the fact that Draco hated Mudbloods had been a lead to where Lord Voldemort had hidden during the war. But it was something, and Harry had a feeling that Percy was happy to get any sort of answer at all. “It’s something I’ve got to look into. Not sure that it’ll pan out, though.”
Wrong answer, it would seem. The elevator slowed to the second floor, and Percy stepped out with Harry. “Harry, I think it’s in both of our best interests to be honest with one another.”
“Yeah?” He tried not to let old problems with Percy resurface in Harry’s memory. He actively worked to unclench his fists, and to take his hands out of his pockets.
“It’s just that the Minister feels you have somewhat of a tendency to go off on, well, wild Hippogriff chases, as it were.” Harry made a concession with himself, and crossed his arms over his chest. He ignored the curious look Ron was giving him as he ducked past them and into the elevator. He’d tell his mate later. “And, due to the nature of this case, the Minister and I feel that it would be best to work to close this as quickly as possible.”
“You want the right person to be apprehended, don’t you?”
Percy sighed, removing his glasses and cleaning them with the hem of his shirt. It was a habit that he’d picked up shortly after Fred’s death, and something that Harry found to be right patronizing. “Need I remind you of the hexed pacifier scandal? Or the situation with Cullingham, the Muggle Infiltrator?”
Harry’s face burned his pulse thundering in his ears. It had been over a year since he’d made that arrest! The Cunninghams had already moved out of Britain, after being given a hefty ‘apology’ payment. It wasn’t his fault that the guy had acted suspicious. When were they going to let these things go?! That's bollocks! “Look, Perce -“
“Harry, now, you’re family, and I’ve done my best to intercede on your behalf because of that. But, really, Ginny’s not around to yell me sick for bothering you anymore. And even if she were, there’s only so much unacceptable behavior I can allow you to get away with. The Minister agrees.”
“Kingsley wouldn’t ---“ Harry interrupted himself and took a deep breath. Percy was a right git, but he’d been trying hard to get along with everyone since the Second War, and even more so since Gin had gone off to pursue Quidditch with the Harpies. “I’ll do my best, Perce.”
“Good. And I’ll see about getting you that warrant.” He took out a small planner, and spelled it back to its proper size. “I have a meeting, but I should be able to owl it to you before four o’clock-“
“Warrant, eh?” Austin’s slow voice peaked behind Percy, making the red-headed Assistant Minister jump a good foot into the air. His quill indignantly scrawled across his hand. Harry bit back a smile, and then nodded.
“Yes, well, Harry, I’ll be owling you. And I’m sure you’ve heard that Mum wants to have you for young Theodore’s birthday party tonight, right?” Merlin’s beard! Harry knew he’d forgotten something.
Austin raised an eyebrow, taking the two of them in. As if sensing his discrepancy, Percy turned and promptly strode towards the steps. “Some sort of relative, hm?”
“We’re not really related,” Harry said. He shook his head and smiled. “So, Austin, how would you feel about doing me a huge favor?“
---
“What about my parents?” Draco was growling at the woman, who was slowly going over a list of his new rights as a ‘has-been.’
“Unfortunately, since you’re no longer with the living, it’ll be taken care of by some of your other relatives.”
“We don’t have any-“ He stopped himself. Yes, he supposed he did. Just because his side of the family had disowned his Aunt Andromeda didn’t mean that she didn’t have a legal claim to his family’s bodies. “But I’m here. I’m perfectly capable of handling something this simple.”
“I’m sure you are, hen, but this is how things go-“ Snarling, Draco tried to slam his hands down on the desk. He was up and down like a Tower Bridge, though, and they flew straight through, sending him tumbling.
He let himself flounder on the ground, his head stuck inside the wood of the woman’s desk. It wasn’t fair. His parents would want him to take care of these matters. For all he knew, his aunt would attempt to bury them in some sort of disgusting Muggle place.
“We also have to determine your new residence.”
Draco dragged himself back up. Sulking was not appropriate Malfoy behavior, and, as the last of his family, he had to ensure that he gave the best image possible. Demelza smiled and extended yet another bothersome form, a barrage of which had been handed to Draco to sign from the second he’d managed to concentrate hard enough to hold a pen. “I’m assuming you’ll want to remain at your old home? Or is there another place you’d prefer?”
Before he could respond, a rapid succession of knocks shook the small room. A balding, blond head appeared in the doorway, the detective from earlier. Draco turned, raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”
"Potter ditched you." He growled. “I’m your new escort, nancy boy. And, since I’ve been waiting for a good two hours, I think it’s time you lot wrap things up.”
Draco stared, unblinking, for several seconds before his insides burned. How dare Potter ditch him? He promised to pick him up, so that they could continue figuring out what had happened to his parents. What had he been thinking to trust that Potter would keep his word? Draco knew he was upset about his parents, but they’d be shamed into eternity to think that Malfoy had been thinking fondly of that git for even a second. Of course he’d ditch him at the soonest chance. If the situations had been switched, Draco would’ve done the same.
Just because the rest of the Wizarding world thought he was a genius, didn’t mean that Malfoy would play along.
And this, this was just too rich. He hated himself for feeling anything about being ditched, when his parents had died just a few hours ago.
Snarling, he focused all of his Malfoy-bred determination into clutching the pen, and signing away his rights to live anywhere but the home of the soon-to-be-haunted Harry Potter. If he was going to dwell on Potter, he might as well make sure that the Boy Wonder was properly miserable about it.
It wasn’t fair for Draco to be the only one with his life ruined, after all.
Next
Author: originalpuck / Morgan O'Friel
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2825
Pairings: Draco/Harry
Warnings: Character Death, Dub-con, Violence
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: When the Malfoys are murdered, Harry Potter is called in to find their killers. Unfortunately, the freshly undead Draco has deemed Harry incompetent, and decided to strike-out on his own. Of course, before avenging his parents he has to find some clothes, remember not to fall through walls, and prevent Harry from making things even worse. Previous installments are located here.
Chapter Three
“Harry Potter, so glad you could make it to our little bash.”
Draco glared in the direction that Potter was standing. After storming the stage, the balding bloke had still refused to address Draco in any way or form. For the umpteenth time that day, he made a mental note to learn to move and touch physical objects. Not being able to slug people was getting on his tit's end.
“Can we take a small walk, Fletcher?”
Potter seemed so damn calm. Well, of course he was. He probably agreed with the daftie.
Smiling, the guy excused himself, the crowd already buzzing as they stepped down from the stage. Before the bloke could get more than three feet, however, Malfoy shot in front of him. “How dare you talk about my family that way. I ought to have your head for that.”
Fletcher peered at him. “Does it make you sad, Mr. Malfoy? Knowing that you’re a relic in a dying age?”
“Don’t push him, Fletch.”
Draco boiled. He didn’t need Potter defending him. “Did you kill them on your own, or did you get some help?” He sniffed, taking in his wine-belly and the smile-lines around his lips. “You don’t look very capable, but that’s never stopped anyone before.”
“Kill them? Oh, dear me, no. Now why would I do that? Isn’t murder a Dark art?” He was smiling, peering from Draco to Potter. He frowned as he looked at them. “You can’t honestly believe -“
“Do you mind if I smoke?” Fletcher looked torn, but when he didn’t say no, Potter pulled out something that looked distinctly Muggle. He rhythmically smacked it against his chapping palm. So, the great Harry Potter was interested in ruining his health, and not even in the proper, Wizarding fashion. Fascinating, really. “Where were you this morning, Fletcher? Around, say, one am?”
The man waved a twenty-something, long-haired blond over to them. He came up, a frozen smile in place. Draco hated that smile. Kipling was his name. A half-blood whose wife had gotten in the way of Snape on one of the first nights after the Ministry had fallen. Draco’d heard that she’d recently been released from Mungo’s, and wondered if she was around there, somewhere. She must’ve been cheering when she’d heard about his family’s death - if she could still speak, that was. He bit back a shudder.
“I was with my wife, at home all night, and here since dawn, helping to set up for the rally.” Kipling nodded his agreement. Draco didn’t believe a word of it, but Potter seemed complacent. He’d lit a fag, and was inhaling deeply.
“If I were to Apparate over there, I’m sure she’d agree.” Nodding, Potter jerked his head towards the crowd. “And them?”
“Filtered in throughout the day. Sherry, the Kipling’s house-elf, can confirm that. ”
Draco hissed. Potter looked like he was buying this slag. “You’ll be sure to owl me a guest list, won’t you?”
Fletcher shook his head. The sod. Of course he wouldn’t - it would prove he was guilty. “You know the Wizarding Reformation League’s policy on disclosing our members. We have the same confidentiality as anyone else.” A small, silvery toad flitted into view. Potter stared at it, twitching his left hand slightly.
“Don’t play games, Fletcher. I’m not in the mood. You know that I’ll get a search warrant, and then, well, I’ll be so brassed off I might have to visit every single member, check into their belongings --” Fletcher opened his mouth, but Potter cut him off. “I’ve got to be going. If I don’t get that list by tonight, I’ll be back. Cheers, then.”
Potter tossed his fag on the ground, and glanced at Draco before turning his back on him. “Let’s go.”
His teeth ground. Potter was just walking away from the person who might well have killed his parents. Draco’d heard about the Reformation League - nothing good came out of them. They hated Dark wizards, and half the people at the rally held grudges against Draco’s family. He wasn’t about to let them Apparate away. Not that he could stop him. Even the toad Patronus had taken off, hopping after Potter.
Fletcher didn’t seem to acknowledge Draco as a threat, which miffed him even more. Glaring, Malfoy snarled at his back. “If I find out you did it, there won’t be a safe place on this planet for you to hide in.”
Whirling, he chased after Potter. He couldn’t hex him, but he’d find other ways of making him miserable. If his mother had taught him one thing, it was how to humiliate someone. And Draco wouldn’t let Potter rest for one second until he’d arrested the man responsible for his family’s death, and Draco’s eternity of ineffectuality.
---
Austin’s voice came out of the frog’s gaping mouth, starting with the usual lack of formalities. “We PI-ed the wand, and didn’t get much of anything out of it. Some basic levitation spells, a locator spell, some digging jinxes, the spell that brought Bellatrix back, and, of course, AK.”
Nodding, Harry watched the frog hop in place. Well, he didn’t expect that the murderer would’ve left a calling card. That didn’t mean that Harry wasn’t disappointed, though. “And make sure to send Malfoy to the Department of Magical Creatures. Ought to get his orientation underway and all.”
It seemed that Malfoy had caught up to Harry, because he was muttering over his shoulder at the frog. “Like hell am I going back to that place.” Malfoy’s cold brushed Harry’s skin in jerks, and Harry wondered if he was shaking. It didn’t seem appropriate to ask; it wasn’t like he’d own up to it, anyways. “Not now, not ever.”
“You don’t really have a choice, you know.” Malfoy sneered as the frog disappeared into smoke. “I’ll get you there, one way or another.”
---
Potter was going to pay, that much was certain. Immobilizing him so that he could Side-Along during a Disapparation was beyond the pale; Draco would find a way to get his revenge. Haunting would be too easy, Draco thought as his limbs suddenly snapped back to attention.
He blinked, realizing that he was inside the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Usually immobilization was a lot more painful to wake up from. So was Side-Alonging. Maybe this whole undead bag of wank would have its advantages.
Of course, one of them most certainly did not involve being pushed around by Potter as though Draco were some sort of common garden gnome. “Oy there,” a deep female voice called. “Potter!”
Potter had waved to acknowledge the stocky woman. She was dressed in shabby and slightly singed robes, her dark hair dangling down her back in a long braid. Her robes weren’t in style, and she wore no Glamours to conceal the numerous lines and wrinkles on her face. When she caught up to them, she turned from Potter almost instantly, taking in Draco. He tried his best to keep a grimace off his face. She smelled of owl excrement, as if the owls had done nothing but eat rotten corpses all day long.
“Smell that, huh? Had to oversee a rotten Chimaera autopsy, make sure its handlers weren’t neglecting it. Name’s Demelza Slingerton.” She smiled and then glanced at Potter, nodding her head. “I can take it from here. I’m sure you’ve got important duties to get to.”
Oh yes, Draco was beginning to think that he quite liked this woman. Particularly her brand of distaste for the no good Potter. However - “He hasn’t finished interviewing me.”
The smile on her face faded almost instantly. “And yet you’ll still be coming with me, or risk severe censure.”
Potter coughed into his fist. “Don’t worry, Malfoy. I’ll pick you up from daycare when I’m done.” Snickering, he took off at a stride for the nearest elevator, yelling ‘wait’ at someone that looked unnervingly like they were a member of the Weasel horde.
“Come along now. If we’re going to teach you how to handle objects before Potter gets back, we’ll have to hurry. He might be the Boy Who Lived, but he certainly didn’t get that way because of his astounding patience and consideration.” She’d have to rethink her tone, but other than that, perhaps this ‘orientation’ wouldn’t be such a bad thing, after all. Besides, what was the worst that could happen?
---
“Such a good thing you’re here, Harry. I - ah - needed to speak with you about your case.” Despite having spent considerably more time around Harry since the end of the Second War, Percy was as awkward as ever when he tried mixing family and work.
“Good to see you, too. I need a search warrant for the Wizarding Reformation Leagues’ records, housed at 29 Ellenbrook Lane.” He smiled when Percy grimaced.
“So you would consider it a lead, then?”
Harry shrugged. It wasn’t really a lead, no more than the fact that Draco hated Mudbloods had been a lead to where Lord Voldemort had hidden during the war. But it was something, and Harry had a feeling that Percy was happy to get any sort of answer at all. “It’s something I’ve got to look into. Not sure that it’ll pan out, though.”
Wrong answer, it would seem. The elevator slowed to the second floor, and Percy stepped out with Harry. “Harry, I think it’s in both of our best interests to be honest with one another.”
“Yeah?” He tried not to let old problems with Percy resurface in Harry’s memory. He actively worked to unclench his fists, and to take his hands out of his pockets.
“It’s just that the Minister feels you have somewhat of a tendency to go off on, well, wild Hippogriff chases, as it were.” Harry made a concession with himself, and crossed his arms over his chest. He ignored the curious look Ron was giving him as he ducked past them and into the elevator. He’d tell his mate later. “And, due to the nature of this case, the Minister and I feel that it would be best to work to close this as quickly as possible.”
“You want the right person to be apprehended, don’t you?”
Percy sighed, removing his glasses and cleaning them with the hem of his shirt. It was a habit that he’d picked up shortly after Fred’s death, and something that Harry found to be right patronizing. “Need I remind you of the hexed pacifier scandal? Or the situation with Cullingham, the Muggle Infiltrator?”
Harry’s face burned his pulse thundering in his ears. It had been over a year since he’d made that arrest! The Cunninghams had already moved out of Britain, after being given a hefty ‘apology’ payment. It wasn’t his fault that the guy had acted suspicious. When were they going to let these things go?! That's bollocks! “Look, Perce -“
“Harry, now, you’re family, and I’ve done my best to intercede on your behalf because of that. But, really, Ginny’s not around to yell me sick for bothering you anymore. And even if she were, there’s only so much unacceptable behavior I can allow you to get away with. The Minister agrees.”
“Kingsley wouldn’t ---“ Harry interrupted himself and took a deep breath. Percy was a right git, but he’d been trying hard to get along with everyone since the Second War, and even more so since Gin had gone off to pursue Quidditch with the Harpies. “I’ll do my best, Perce.”
“Good. And I’ll see about getting you that warrant.” He took out a small planner, and spelled it back to its proper size. “I have a meeting, but I should be able to owl it to you before four o’clock-“
“Warrant, eh?” Austin’s slow voice peaked behind Percy, making the red-headed Assistant Minister jump a good foot into the air. His quill indignantly scrawled across his hand. Harry bit back a smile, and then nodded.
“Yes, well, Harry, I’ll be owling you. And I’m sure you’ve heard that Mum wants to have you for young Theodore’s birthday party tonight, right?” Merlin’s beard! Harry knew he’d forgotten something.
Austin raised an eyebrow, taking the two of them in. As if sensing his discrepancy, Percy turned and promptly strode towards the steps. “Some sort of relative, hm?”
“We’re not really related,” Harry said. He shook his head and smiled. “So, Austin, how would you feel about doing me a huge favor?“
---
“What about my parents?” Draco was growling at the woman, who was slowly going over a list of his new rights as a ‘has-been.’
“Unfortunately, since you’re no longer with the living, it’ll be taken care of by some of your other relatives.”
“We don’t have any-“ He stopped himself. Yes, he supposed he did. Just because his side of the family had disowned his Aunt Andromeda didn’t mean that she didn’t have a legal claim to his family’s bodies. “But I’m here. I’m perfectly capable of handling something this simple.”
“I’m sure you are, hen, but this is how things go-“ Snarling, Draco tried to slam his hands down on the desk. He was up and down like a Tower Bridge, though, and they flew straight through, sending him tumbling.
He let himself flounder on the ground, his head stuck inside the wood of the woman’s desk. It wasn’t fair. His parents would want him to take care of these matters. For all he knew, his aunt would attempt to bury them in some sort of disgusting Muggle place.
“We also have to determine your new residence.”
Draco dragged himself back up. Sulking was not appropriate Malfoy behavior, and, as the last of his family, he had to ensure that he gave the best image possible. Demelza smiled and extended yet another bothersome form, a barrage of which had been handed to Draco to sign from the second he’d managed to concentrate hard enough to hold a pen. “I’m assuming you’ll want to remain at your old home? Or is there another place you’d prefer?”
Before he could respond, a rapid succession of knocks shook the small room. A balding, blond head appeared in the doorway, the detective from earlier. Draco turned, raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”
"Potter ditched you." He growled. “I’m your new escort, nancy boy. And, since I’ve been waiting for a good two hours, I think it’s time you lot wrap things up.”
Draco stared, unblinking, for several seconds before his insides burned. How dare Potter ditch him? He promised to pick him up, so that they could continue figuring out what had happened to his parents. What had he been thinking to trust that Potter would keep his word? Draco knew he was upset about his parents, but they’d be shamed into eternity to think that Malfoy had been thinking fondly of that git for even a second. Of course he’d ditch him at the soonest chance. If the situations had been switched, Draco would’ve done the same.
Just because the rest of the Wizarding world thought he was a genius, didn’t mean that Malfoy would play along.
And this, this was just too rich. He hated himself for feeling anything about being ditched, when his parents had died just a few hours ago.
Snarling, he focused all of his Malfoy-bred determination into clutching the pen, and signing away his rights to live anywhere but the home of the soon-to-be-haunted Harry Potter. If he was going to dwell on Potter, he might as well make sure that the Boy Wonder was properly miserable about it.
It wasn’t fair for Draco to be the only one with his life ruined, after all.
Next