"With Different Hats" - Chapter Five - A Harry Potter Fanfic
Title: With Different Hats -- Chapter Five
Author: originalpuck / Morgan O'Friel
Rating: R
Word Count: 2704
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 Five
It had taken another hour and a half for Malfoy and Harry to explore every coffin in the room, making sure that everyone else was dead and lying exactly where they were supposed to be. Other than Bellatrix and Rodolphus, no one else was missing from their resting place.
Harry had bagged the bit of brown robe that he’d found on Bellatrix’ tomb, was now leaning against the wall of the mausoleum, exhausted and still trying to figure out what exactly another missing body meant. He knew what he thought it meant, and he could tell from Malfoy’s wide eyes and shallow breathing what he thought, but he couldn’t help but remember Percy’s insistence that he handle this case and keep it as simple as possible.
And Harry couldn’t afford another cock-up.
Still, the Minister couldn’t yell at him for being thorough, could he? Harry knew that a missing body was something of interest, particularly in the midst of an Inferius case. He would be considered a pretty bad Auror if he let a potential Dark wizard’s corpse go unaccounted for.
Considering his last experience with Inferi had included hundreds of them, he wouldn’t be surprised if Rodolphus rose too. Sure, the only other Inferi Master in years had been Voldemort, but that didn’t mean it wasn't possible. History showed that it was common enough among the Dark Arts.
Running his hand through his hair, Harry sighed. “Alright, I’ll check on Rodolphus’ body. But no more than a glance, alright? Don’t go panicking, Malfoy.”
Almost instantly, the Malfoy who’d been peering about worriedly stopped swiveling, and rose to his full height. Which, as a ghost, was far more substantial than it had been when he was alive. Both heights were still several inches taller than Harry. “And where do you think it’s gone, Potter? For a walk?”
Rolling his eyes, Harry shook his head, and shoved around Malfoy. He suppressed a shiver when his shoulder ghosted through him. “Maybe somebody moved it.”
“And failed to tell me?”
“You’re right. I forgot the world had to line up for your approval.” Harry was pushing through the main door, out into the darkness of the night. The moon was strong, and Harry wondered if Bill and Teddy would be alright together, ripping apart some raw steaks and potentially each other.
“Our family sticks together. If someone was moved, they’d tell us. Wouldn’t everyone?”
Harry didn’t respond, and he definitely didn’t let Malfoy know that he had no clue where half of his family was buried. Instead, he cleared his throat and shrugged. “I’m going to Azkaban.”
“Visiting hours are over.”
Malfoy had emerged into the night, and was shutting the creaking door. He grunted, and Harry wondered if it was hard for ghosts to touch things, or if Malfoy was just weak. He had a feeling it was the latter, and was tempted to say so aloud. Instead, he turned in the dark night, seeing Malfoy’s glow illuminate the small distance between them. Other than the moon, it was the only light on the cold night. “I think they’ll make an exception for me.”
Shaking his head, Malfoy stared him down. He was the first to look away. “Fine.”
Harry bit his lip. Malfoy was still panting from moving the door, and all of the humor of it was fading. Malfoy’s sallow skin didn’t look so good, even if he was dead. Harry’d been around enough ghosts to know that they didn’t normally sweat, and that their once-painful wounds didn’t usually bleed anymore. He tried not to look at Malfoy’s cheek. His fingers itched with the desire to spell it better.
“Why don’t you go back to my place, if I’m in charge of you.” Harry stepped closer, until he was inches away from Malfoy. The desire to touch him was stronger than before. “I live at 12 Grimmauld Place. It’s Unplottable and I like it that way, so don’t go giving the address out to anyone.” He paused, considering. Malfoy was staring at him, his gray eyes narrowing. “Tell Kreacher I’ll be fine, that -“
Malfoy interrupted him with a sharp, melodic laugh. “You’re not ditching me that easily, Potter.” Harry raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know anything about prison life. If you want to get them to talk, you’d better bring me along.”
Harry narrowed his own eyes. He had plenty of ways to convince people to talk to him. It wasn’t like Malfoy was particularly trustworthy, either. He connected eyes with Malfoy, peering into the bright gray of him, and then ran his fingers back through his hair. It was a late night, and he had a feeling that Kreacher would beat Malfoy up sooner than look at him - being that he’d been on the other side of the Battle at Hogwarts, and Kreacher was nothing if not loyal.
An owl hooted in the background, the trees rustling with a late winter breeze. They were supposed to get another storm in later that night. Readjusting his glasses, Harry sighed. “It’s your family, anyways. Who knows what sort of secret handshakes you lot have.”
Malfoy wasn’t looking at him, but he nodded his head anyways. His lips were pursed, and Malfoy was gazing at the large mansion in front of them. Anger surged inside Harry. What did he want from him, anyways? “Potter?”
“What?” Harry tried not to wince at the harshness in his voice. Malfoy did, though, and his eyes hardened over the distance. Sighing, Harry repeated himself, this time with less anger. “What do you want, Malfoy?”
“Promise me that you won’t abandon me there.”
Harry grimaced. “What? Of course I won’t, why would -“
“Just make the damn promise, Potter.” Malfoy’s eyes were wrinkled and squinting, empty of the glow of the rest of his body. The owl was hooting again, maybe mating, maybe chasing its prey. Harry found both thoughts equally soothing.
“Yeah, alright.” Malfoy’s eyes zeroed in on Harry’s lips. He licked them self-consciously. “I promise not to ditch you. Now let’s go. I want to get some sleep before morning.” He popped away almost instantly, trying politely not see Malfoy shaking in the wind.
---
Well, as it turned out, the prison guards weren’t exactly thrilled to have a ghost on the premise. Perhaps more delightful, to Draco, at least was the fact that they didn’t seem particularly thrilled to see Potter, either.
And while Draco’s skin crawled at the scent of the place, he was willing to shove that down in favor of his smirking at Potter. He was at the welcome desk, a place that Draco’d only visited once, on his way out of the home of his own personal hell. Everyday he was there he was worried someone would off him once he fell asleep, would poison his food, would kill his parents, that his mother would get into some trouble that she couldn’t handle on her own ---
“I don’t care that there wasn’t any warning. This is official Ministry business!” Potter was yelling now, as if the workers here didn’t see aggression everyday.
Draco rolled his eyes. One of the things -- among the millions -- that Potter didn’t possess was an ounce of finesse. And Draco wanted this over.
“Look, Marilynn, if you let us in now, we’ll be a few minutes and then you can go back to reading your bodice-ripper.” Malfoy wanted to lean against the desk, but he didn’t think he had the energy to prevent himself from falling through it. Instead, he put on his most reassuring smile.
It was common knowledge what the guilty pleasure of every worker at Azkaban was, as well as what sort of contraband they’d let slip through, and which prisoners they’d fuck late at night when they thought nobody important was looking.
It was, Draco’d been informed, leagues better than when they’d had Dementors as the main guards. The new Minister didn’t trust them again, not farther than he could throw them. Instead, they’d been imprisoned in their own wing. Sometimes, if the prisoners fucked-up enough, they’d be sent up there for a pleasant little visit. Draco’d struggled to prevent a kiss of his own after a month in the joint.
Marilynn shook her head. “I don’t want to deal with the fall-out.”
“Oh, come on!” It was Potter again, and while Draco agreed with him in sentiment, he knew that the more she was pushed, the less she conceded. Marilynn was a dominatrix in her spare time.
“I could go in on my own, you know,” Draco purred. He leaned in, away from Harry, until he was feeling her body heat against his chin. The source sickened him, but it was nice to feel something, anything. “But I won’t. I’ll wait for you to let me.”
Marilynn’s brown eyes narrowed. “And if I don’t?”
“I’ll stay here, with Potter.” He tilted his head, so that his damaged cheek wouldn’t show. His long blond hair fell into his eyes, and he blew it out with a whisper in her direction. “Please?”
“You were better at this when you were alive, Malfoy.” She shook her head. “Is it important?”
“Life or death.”
Twirling her wand in her hand, Marilynn tossed it into the air, caught it, and smiled. “You’ve got to wait to get in. Those are the rules.”
Fighting the urge to scream, he turned around and nodded his head towards Potter. He glided up towards the wall, and Potter followed him. “What’d you say to her?”
“I know tact isn’t something you were taught at home, Potter, but why don’t you give it a try?” Draco saved his gritted teeth for Potter. He’d done more than enough in his lifetime to deserve a few snarls. “We’re going to wait right here.”
“Are you kidding? This could go bad, and I’m not -“ Potter turned, but Draco willed his hand to catch him. It worked long enough to tug on his shirt sleeves, before phasing through him. Potter whirled, scowling. “What?”
“Trust me. We’ll get in.” Potter stared at him, hard, for a few minutes, and Draco stared back. He gave it a few seconds, and then crossed his arms over his chest, looking away, disinterested. “Why don’t you owl your partner or something, get him over here? We’ll have the time.”
He felt Potter settle along the wall beside him. Draco risked a glance over his shoulder, glad to see that Potter was using his brain for once. “Austin doesn’t work this late.”
Unable to help himself, Draco chuckled. He bit it off quick, glancing over at Marilynn. Thankfully he didn’t seem to have noticed. Her head was stuck in her book. “What now?” Harry looked more than a little cross.
“Just what the Wizarding world needs: an Auror who’ll give up the chase as soon as it’s meal time.”
To his surprise, Potter cracked a small smile, too. He really hoped Marilynn wouldn’t catch them enjoying themselves - it would only mean that it’d take them longer to get in. He turned his head to hide his own smile, both from Mary and Potter.
Silence fell between them, broken only by the ticking of a large clock, and the turning of pages in Marilynn’s book. Feet shuffled, and Draco raised his head from where he’d been studying the tile floor, counting the amount of small green smudges the marble had, and trying not to think about how similar they looked to the Killing Curse from a distance.
It was just Potter, watching him. “I’m sorry about your folks.”
Draco’s stomach twisted, and he stared at Potter long and hard. What right did he have to offer his condolences? Particularly when Draco knew damn well he probably didn’t mean it. “I-“
He was saved from having to formulate any more of an answer by Mary, who was waving them over. “You can see Rabastan now, but only for twenty minutes. Any longer and you’ll need an official, signed request.”
Potter nodded and moved forward, seeming to immediately forget their discussion. Draco swallowed hard and followed, for once glad that he could glide, because he wasn’t sure that he trusted his legs to support him.
---
“What do you mean, ‘did I move him?’ Of course I didn’t. I’ve been a bit busy, Potter. In case you can’t tell.” Rabastan was being the exact opposite of helpful. Malfoy was standing behind him, Harry having his wand out and standing inside the cell, next to a shackled Rabastan. Harry wasn’t sure what he expected - more concern, maybe - but the cold, calculating stare that he’d been met with wasn’t it.
“You have no idea what happened to him?”
“Even if I did, boy, I wouldn’t tell you.” Glaring, Harry wished he’d had some sort of truth serum on him. Not that the Ministry would’ve sanctioned it, not when they already thought that Harry spent most of his time on wild goose chases, but it still would’ve been nice.
Rabastan reminded Harry of his brother. He was all brute strength that was barely restrained; ready to pounce the second he figured he had his chance. Harry hated visiting Azkaban, and he hated the unrepentant Death Eater in front of him almost as much. According to Lee Jordan, Rabastan was the one who’d killed Colin Creevey.
“Perhaps if I can speak to the Malfoy boy alone I’ll be able to help you.” He smiled, his bad teeth glinting in the single bulb hanging from above them.
Harry didn’t need to turn to see the glow from Malfoy. He ran his hand through his hair. Harry didn’t trust the two of them together, but at this rate, it might be the only way to get some information. And Harry was getting sick of chasing a Snitch that was always just out of his reach. “Fine.”
Nodding towards Malfoy, he stepped outside of the cell,giving a small wave towards the guard. Keeping his back to them, he waited until he heard the low growl of Rabastan talking to whisper a hearing spell on himself. Instantly the growled mess separated itself into clearly distinguishable words.
“-you’re sure he’s not using you, boy?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t allow it.” Malfoy paused, inhaling sharply. “I saw the empty coffin with my own eyes.”
“You’re dead. Can your eyes be trusted?”
Malfoy growled. “So you’ve got nothing.”
Chains clanged, and Harry wished he could peer over his shoulder. He was taking a risk, keeping has back to them. He was trusting the guard to give him a warning should one of them come charging at him. He ignored the prickling on the back of his neck. “Come back here, Malfoy. Draco. Come on. I’m family. You can help me.”
“Family? Ha. I wouldn’t say that, necessarily.”
Rabastan growled, but didn’t comment on that. “You know what it’s like in here. You can get me out, get me free. There’s no way they can stop you, not when you’re dead. We can look for my brother together. Take on the world, even.” More clanging made Harry’s fingers tense and tighten their grip on his wand. “Just get me out of here.”
There was silence for several seconds, and Harry’s heart started pounding. This was a bad idea, he knew it. He started turning, only to feel the air being ripped from his lungs. Harry nearly fell forward when Malfoy phased through him, seeing him all of a sudden popping out of his guts. He was well on the other side of the cell by the time Harry caught his breath. “We’re leaving.”
The chains were clanging, and Rabastan was roaring. Wincing, Harry spelled his hearing back to normal, and chased after Malfoy, insults and warnings of what happened to blood traitors bouncing around inside his head.
Author: originalpuck / Morgan O'Friel
Rating: R
Word Count: 2704
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 Five
It had taken another hour and a half for Malfoy and Harry to explore every coffin in the room, making sure that everyone else was dead and lying exactly where they were supposed to be. Other than Bellatrix and Rodolphus, no one else was missing from their resting place.
Harry had bagged the bit of brown robe that he’d found on Bellatrix’ tomb, was now leaning against the wall of the mausoleum, exhausted and still trying to figure out what exactly another missing body meant. He knew what he thought it meant, and he could tell from Malfoy’s wide eyes and shallow breathing what he thought, but he couldn’t help but remember Percy’s insistence that he handle this case and keep it as simple as possible.
And Harry couldn’t afford another cock-up.
Still, the Minister couldn’t yell at him for being thorough, could he? Harry knew that a missing body was something of interest, particularly in the midst of an Inferius case. He would be considered a pretty bad Auror if he let a potential Dark wizard’s corpse go unaccounted for.
Considering his last experience with Inferi had included hundreds of them, he wouldn’t be surprised if Rodolphus rose too. Sure, the only other Inferi Master in years had been Voldemort, but that didn’t mean it wasn't possible. History showed that it was common enough among the Dark Arts.
Running his hand through his hair, Harry sighed. “Alright, I’ll check on Rodolphus’ body. But no more than a glance, alright? Don’t go panicking, Malfoy.”
Almost instantly, the Malfoy who’d been peering about worriedly stopped swiveling, and rose to his full height. Which, as a ghost, was far more substantial than it had been when he was alive. Both heights were still several inches taller than Harry. “And where do you think it’s gone, Potter? For a walk?”
Rolling his eyes, Harry shook his head, and shoved around Malfoy. He suppressed a shiver when his shoulder ghosted through him. “Maybe somebody moved it.”
“And failed to tell me?”
“You’re right. I forgot the world had to line up for your approval.” Harry was pushing through the main door, out into the darkness of the night. The moon was strong, and Harry wondered if Bill and Teddy would be alright together, ripping apart some raw steaks and potentially each other.
“Our family sticks together. If someone was moved, they’d tell us. Wouldn’t everyone?”
Harry didn’t respond, and he definitely didn’t let Malfoy know that he had no clue where half of his family was buried. Instead, he cleared his throat and shrugged. “I’m going to Azkaban.”
“Visiting hours are over.”
Malfoy had emerged into the night, and was shutting the creaking door. He grunted, and Harry wondered if it was hard for ghosts to touch things, or if Malfoy was just weak. He had a feeling it was the latter, and was tempted to say so aloud. Instead, he turned in the dark night, seeing Malfoy’s glow illuminate the small distance between them. Other than the moon, it was the only light on the cold night. “I think they’ll make an exception for me.”
Shaking his head, Malfoy stared him down. He was the first to look away. “Fine.”
Harry bit his lip. Malfoy was still panting from moving the door, and all of the humor of it was fading. Malfoy’s sallow skin didn’t look so good, even if he was dead. Harry’d been around enough ghosts to know that they didn’t normally sweat, and that their once-painful wounds didn’t usually bleed anymore. He tried not to look at Malfoy’s cheek. His fingers itched with the desire to spell it better.
“Why don’t you go back to my place, if I’m in charge of you.” Harry stepped closer, until he was inches away from Malfoy. The desire to touch him was stronger than before. “I live at 12 Grimmauld Place. It’s Unplottable and I like it that way, so don’t go giving the address out to anyone.” He paused, considering. Malfoy was staring at him, his gray eyes narrowing. “Tell Kreacher I’ll be fine, that -“
Malfoy interrupted him with a sharp, melodic laugh. “You’re not ditching me that easily, Potter.” Harry raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know anything about prison life. If you want to get them to talk, you’d better bring me along.”
Harry narrowed his own eyes. He had plenty of ways to convince people to talk to him. It wasn’t like Malfoy was particularly trustworthy, either. He connected eyes with Malfoy, peering into the bright gray of him, and then ran his fingers back through his hair. It was a late night, and he had a feeling that Kreacher would beat Malfoy up sooner than look at him - being that he’d been on the other side of the Battle at Hogwarts, and Kreacher was nothing if not loyal.
An owl hooted in the background, the trees rustling with a late winter breeze. They were supposed to get another storm in later that night. Readjusting his glasses, Harry sighed. “It’s your family, anyways. Who knows what sort of secret handshakes you lot have.”
Malfoy wasn’t looking at him, but he nodded his head anyways. His lips were pursed, and Malfoy was gazing at the large mansion in front of them. Anger surged inside Harry. What did he want from him, anyways? “Potter?”
“What?” Harry tried not to wince at the harshness in his voice. Malfoy did, though, and his eyes hardened over the distance. Sighing, Harry repeated himself, this time with less anger. “What do you want, Malfoy?”
“Promise me that you won’t abandon me there.”
Harry grimaced. “What? Of course I won’t, why would -“
“Just make the damn promise, Potter.” Malfoy’s eyes were wrinkled and squinting, empty of the glow of the rest of his body. The owl was hooting again, maybe mating, maybe chasing its prey. Harry found both thoughts equally soothing.
“Yeah, alright.” Malfoy’s eyes zeroed in on Harry’s lips. He licked them self-consciously. “I promise not to ditch you. Now let’s go. I want to get some sleep before morning.” He popped away almost instantly, trying politely not see Malfoy shaking in the wind.
---
Well, as it turned out, the prison guards weren’t exactly thrilled to have a ghost on the premise. Perhaps more delightful, to Draco, at least was the fact that they didn’t seem particularly thrilled to see Potter, either.
And while Draco’s skin crawled at the scent of the place, he was willing to shove that down in favor of his smirking at Potter. He was at the welcome desk, a place that Draco’d only visited once, on his way out of the home of his own personal hell. Everyday he was there he was worried someone would off him once he fell asleep, would poison his food, would kill his parents, that his mother would get into some trouble that she couldn’t handle on her own ---
“I don’t care that there wasn’t any warning. This is official Ministry business!” Potter was yelling now, as if the workers here didn’t see aggression everyday.
Draco rolled his eyes. One of the things -- among the millions -- that Potter didn’t possess was an ounce of finesse. And Draco wanted this over.
“Look, Marilynn, if you let us in now, we’ll be a few minutes and then you can go back to reading your bodice-ripper.” Malfoy wanted to lean against the desk, but he didn’t think he had the energy to prevent himself from falling through it. Instead, he put on his most reassuring smile.
It was common knowledge what the guilty pleasure of every worker at Azkaban was, as well as what sort of contraband they’d let slip through, and which prisoners they’d fuck late at night when they thought nobody important was looking.
It was, Draco’d been informed, leagues better than when they’d had Dementors as the main guards. The new Minister didn’t trust them again, not farther than he could throw them. Instead, they’d been imprisoned in their own wing. Sometimes, if the prisoners fucked-up enough, they’d be sent up there for a pleasant little visit. Draco’d struggled to prevent a kiss of his own after a month in the joint.
Marilynn shook her head. “I don’t want to deal with the fall-out.”
“Oh, come on!” It was Potter again, and while Draco agreed with him in sentiment, he knew that the more she was pushed, the less she conceded. Marilynn was a dominatrix in her spare time.
“I could go in on my own, you know,” Draco purred. He leaned in, away from Harry, until he was feeling her body heat against his chin. The source sickened him, but it was nice to feel something, anything. “But I won’t. I’ll wait for you to let me.”
Marilynn’s brown eyes narrowed. “And if I don’t?”
“I’ll stay here, with Potter.” He tilted his head, so that his damaged cheek wouldn’t show. His long blond hair fell into his eyes, and he blew it out with a whisper in her direction. “Please?”
“You were better at this when you were alive, Malfoy.” She shook her head. “Is it important?”
“Life or death.”
Twirling her wand in her hand, Marilynn tossed it into the air, caught it, and smiled. “You’ve got to wait to get in. Those are the rules.”
Fighting the urge to scream, he turned around and nodded his head towards Potter. He glided up towards the wall, and Potter followed him. “What’d you say to her?”
“I know tact isn’t something you were taught at home, Potter, but why don’t you give it a try?” Draco saved his gritted teeth for Potter. He’d done more than enough in his lifetime to deserve a few snarls. “We’re going to wait right here.”
“Are you kidding? This could go bad, and I’m not -“ Potter turned, but Draco willed his hand to catch him. It worked long enough to tug on his shirt sleeves, before phasing through him. Potter whirled, scowling. “What?”
“Trust me. We’ll get in.” Potter stared at him, hard, for a few minutes, and Draco stared back. He gave it a few seconds, and then crossed his arms over his chest, looking away, disinterested. “Why don’t you owl your partner or something, get him over here? We’ll have the time.”
He felt Potter settle along the wall beside him. Draco risked a glance over his shoulder, glad to see that Potter was using his brain for once. “Austin doesn’t work this late.”
Unable to help himself, Draco chuckled. He bit it off quick, glancing over at Marilynn. Thankfully he didn’t seem to have noticed. Her head was stuck in her book. “What now?” Harry looked more than a little cross.
“Just what the Wizarding world needs: an Auror who’ll give up the chase as soon as it’s meal time.”
To his surprise, Potter cracked a small smile, too. He really hoped Marilynn wouldn’t catch them enjoying themselves - it would only mean that it’d take them longer to get in. He turned his head to hide his own smile, both from Mary and Potter.
Silence fell between them, broken only by the ticking of a large clock, and the turning of pages in Marilynn’s book. Feet shuffled, and Draco raised his head from where he’d been studying the tile floor, counting the amount of small green smudges the marble had, and trying not to think about how similar they looked to the Killing Curse from a distance.
It was just Potter, watching him. “I’m sorry about your folks.”
Draco’s stomach twisted, and he stared at Potter long and hard. What right did he have to offer his condolences? Particularly when Draco knew damn well he probably didn’t mean it. “I-“
He was saved from having to formulate any more of an answer by Mary, who was waving them over. “You can see Rabastan now, but only for twenty minutes. Any longer and you’ll need an official, signed request.”
Potter nodded and moved forward, seeming to immediately forget their discussion. Draco swallowed hard and followed, for once glad that he could glide, because he wasn’t sure that he trusted his legs to support him.
---
“What do you mean, ‘did I move him?’ Of course I didn’t. I’ve been a bit busy, Potter. In case you can’t tell.” Rabastan was being the exact opposite of helpful. Malfoy was standing behind him, Harry having his wand out and standing inside the cell, next to a shackled Rabastan. Harry wasn’t sure what he expected - more concern, maybe - but the cold, calculating stare that he’d been met with wasn’t it.
“You have no idea what happened to him?”
“Even if I did, boy, I wouldn’t tell you.” Glaring, Harry wished he’d had some sort of truth serum on him. Not that the Ministry would’ve sanctioned it, not when they already thought that Harry spent most of his time on wild goose chases, but it still would’ve been nice.
Rabastan reminded Harry of his brother. He was all brute strength that was barely restrained; ready to pounce the second he figured he had his chance. Harry hated visiting Azkaban, and he hated the unrepentant Death Eater in front of him almost as much. According to Lee Jordan, Rabastan was the one who’d killed Colin Creevey.
“Perhaps if I can speak to the Malfoy boy alone I’ll be able to help you.” He smiled, his bad teeth glinting in the single bulb hanging from above them.
Harry didn’t need to turn to see the glow from Malfoy. He ran his hand through his hair. Harry didn’t trust the two of them together, but at this rate, it might be the only way to get some information. And Harry was getting sick of chasing a Snitch that was always just out of his reach. “Fine.”
Nodding towards Malfoy, he stepped outside of the cell,giving a small wave towards the guard. Keeping his back to them, he waited until he heard the low growl of Rabastan talking to whisper a hearing spell on himself. Instantly the growled mess separated itself into clearly distinguishable words.
“-you’re sure he’s not using you, boy?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t allow it.” Malfoy paused, inhaling sharply. “I saw the empty coffin with my own eyes.”
“You’re dead. Can your eyes be trusted?”
Malfoy growled. “So you’ve got nothing.”
Chains clanged, and Harry wished he could peer over his shoulder. He was taking a risk, keeping has back to them. He was trusting the guard to give him a warning should one of them come charging at him. He ignored the prickling on the back of his neck. “Come back here, Malfoy. Draco. Come on. I’m family. You can help me.”
“Family? Ha. I wouldn’t say that, necessarily.”
Rabastan growled, but didn’t comment on that. “You know what it’s like in here. You can get me out, get me free. There’s no way they can stop you, not when you’re dead. We can look for my brother together. Take on the world, even.” More clanging made Harry’s fingers tense and tighten their grip on his wand. “Just get me out of here.”
There was silence for several seconds, and Harry’s heart started pounding. This was a bad idea, he knew it. He started turning, only to feel the air being ripped from his lungs. Harry nearly fell forward when Malfoy phased through him, seeing him all of a sudden popping out of his guts. He was well on the other side of the cell by the time Harry caught his breath. “We’re leaving.”
The chains were clanging, and Rabastan was roaring. Wincing, Harry spelled his hearing back to normal, and chased after Malfoy, insults and warnings of what happened to blood traitors bouncing around inside his head.