Everybody's Hero - Part 2 of 3
Title: Everybody's Hero (part 2 of 3)
Summary: With his new job as Deputy Head Auror, Harry is assigned an old task - to watch Draco Malfoy. When threats against Malfoy escalate, Harry finds himself torn between doing what is expected and doing what's right.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Harry arrived at the shop to find Malfoy deeply engrossed in the final preparations of a potion he'd told Harry took eight weeks to complete. His back to the door, Malfoy didn't notice when Harry entered the room. Harry took advantage of the opportunity to observe. He watched as Malfoy painstakingly chopped one last ingredient - some dried internal organ, no doubt. Malfoy's long fingers worked the knife gracefully, before lifting the chopped material and measuring it. The potion hissed as he dropped the perfectly diced substance into the cauldron. Malfoy picked up his wand and began stirring.
Harry looked around the room while he waited quietly for Malfoy to finish. He knew how finicky potions could be, and didn't want to cause any problems with the final product. The room, though dark, welcomed you in, unlike Snape's dungeon which dared you to cross the threshold. Malfoy kept everything in its place, and yes, bottles of disgusting animal parts filled the shelves, but in a pleasantly subtle manner. Interesting that when he wasn't talking, Malfoy struck Harry as pleasantly subtle too.
Harry stepped a little further in and returned his attention to Malfoy. His skin coated with a light sheen of sweat, and his hair starting to curl from the steam, Malfoy looked relaxed, content. He really had found his calling. No wonder he had such a great reputation. He clearly loved his work.
When he put down his wand and began making notes, Harry approached. "Malfoy."
Malfoy nearly jumped out of his robes. And wouldn’t that be an interesting turn of events? Harry pushed that wayward thought aside.
"Potter, what are you doing sneaking up on me?" he shouted. "You could have ruined this potion I've been working on." He returned to scribbling in the journal. "And how did you get in here anyway?"
Harry smiled. So much for pleasantly subtle. "Actually, I've been here for a while now," he told Malfoy. "I let myself in when you didn't answer," he explained. "You adjusted the wards to allow me access. I disabled the rest myself." Malfoy glared over his shoulder. Harry cleared his throat. "Auror, remember? But I waited until you were done before saying anything, precisely so I wouldn't cause any trouble."
Malfoy laughed, then made another note. "You always cause trouble," he shot, but with no venom.
Harry stepped forward, leaning over Malfoy's shoulder to look into the cauldron. "Only for you," he said into his ear.
He felt Malfoy's body stiffen. Whether in discomfort or … something else, Harry had no idea. Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, Harry stepped back and cleared his throat. "Do you have a few minutes?"
Malfoy turned around, leaning his weight against the large, marble table, his hands spread lazily over the surface. He tilted his head, and gave Harry a questioning look. "For what, exactly?" Harry noted the raspy tone and wondered if he or the potion were the cause.
"I wanted to talk about your case," Harry replied.
Malfoy's face hardened and he crossed his arms over his chest. "What about it? Do you have some news?"
"No," Harry said, wishing it weren't true. "I wanted to know if you kept the emails."
Malfoy nodded. "Of course."
"Great." Harry sighed with relief. Now maybe they could get somewhere. "Would you forward them to me?"
Malfoy scowled. "Don't you already have them?"
Shit. "Only the printed copies." No sense lying. No sense telling the whole truth either, though. "I need the electronic versions to try to figure out who sent them."
"It was someone named imwatchingyou."
Harry knew his look screamed give me a break!
"Please, Potter. I'm not an idiot. It's clearly a made up name."
"Obviously. But there's more information about the sender that doesn't show up on the email you see."
"Like what?"
Harry decided to give Malfoy the abridged version of his discussion with Hermione. Not that he could remember all the details anyway. "Like an IP address for starters."
"An address? So you know where the person lives?"
"Not exactly," Harry corrected him. Malfoy frowned. No, he pouted. Harry suppressed a grin and ignored his instinct to … well, do something to take away that look. "It's not that easy," he continued. "The address isn't a physical location, but it's a place to start. And I need you to send me the email so I can have an expert check."
"Didn't the original investigators already do this? I received letters stating that they couldn't find the origin."
Harry hesitated. He didn't want to cover for anyone, but he likewise didn't want to lay blame prematurely. "This is Muggle technology we're dealing with. To be honest, I'm not sure they knew what to look for, or that any more clues existed."
Harry felt the weight of Malfoy's piercing stare, his grey eyes holding Harry in place. "Thank you," he said.
Harry was taken aback. "Thanks for what?"
"For not lying to me, or trying to cover that up. I appreciate your honesty." He looked down and fidgeted with his robes. "I don't get that very often." Malfoy surprised Harry with his candour. "I didn't know either," he admitted.
"We'll do our best to find whoever did this."
Malfoy nodded and looked like he was about to thank Harry again. "If you give me your email address, I'll send them to you tonight."
Harry pulled out a business card, then scribbled on the back. "I won't be in the office until Monday, but I don't want to wait. This is my home email." He pointed to the card. "And the Floo at my flat. I'll make sure my wards let you past."
"Your home email and Floo coordinates?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow and cast a playful look towards Harry. "Sure you trust me with these?"
"Yes," Harry said without hesitation. "If you need to reach me, now you can." He thought about how Malfoy's requests had been handled in the past, and added, "If there's anything else you need, just ask."
Pansy Parkinson chose that precise moment to walk in. Her mouth gaped momentarily before it became a grin. "Oh Draco, darling." She looked Harry up and down. "I can think of any number of things you should be asking for." She winked at Harry. "And if you don't, I just might."
"Pansy, really!" Malfoy whispered, breezing past Harry, and turning her away.
"Oh, please," Parkinson scoffed. "You can't tell me you haven't thought about it."
Malfoy looked horrified and his face turned red. Right. So he wasn't amused. Of course he hadn't thought about it, but there was no need to look positively ill at the suggestion.
"Honestly, Draco. Look at him. Tall, lean, muscular. Dark hair, tan skin, and eyes you could lose yourself in." She turned back towards Harry and allowed her eyes to give him a thorough once over. "And fuck me if he doesn't positively radiate power, even without the Auror robes."
Harry could feel the blood rushing to his face. He knew well enough that he'd left that scrawny image from school behind, but Parkinson looked ready to devour him. He suppressed a shudder. Malfoy looked uncomfortable.
Parkinson leaned towards Malfoy's ear, and whispered loudly enough for Harry to hear. "He's just your type." And as she visibly undressed Harry once more, her eyes went wide.
"Leave it," Malfoy growled. Obviously he wasn't amused by Parkinson's idea of a joke. Harry watched Malfoy's hand to be sure he didn't reach for his wand and hex his friend.
Pansy whipped her head back round. "Oh my God! How did I not --"
Malfoy grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out of the room. "I'm very busy, Pansy. Much to do. We can chat another time. Mother would love to see you. I'll Floo you later."
While Malfoy escorted Parkinson from the premises, her words caught up to Harry. Just your type. Well, obviously that wasn't true, but … Harry let his mind wander over Ron's comments, over his own obsession as Ron called it. Sure, he'd noticed Malfoy. Did this mean Malfoy had noticed him too?
"You're gay?" Harry blurted out when Malfoy returned.
Malfoy narrowed his eyes as though sizing up Harry and his question. He'd recovered his usual calm demeanour. "Seriously, Potter?" Malfoy looked less annoyed by the question than confused. "We did attend the same school, did we not?"
Harry thought back to Hogwarts. He frowned. "But Parkinson was your girlfriend."
Malfoy laughed. "She was my cover."
"Your what?"
Malfoy considered Harry for a moment, like one might consider a child that couldn't grasp a concept. "How was it that you killed the Dark Lord again?"
"Excuse me?"
"Honestly, Potter." Malfoy sauntered past him to the storage room. "Did you notice anything that went on around you?"
Harry scowled. "I was preoccupied, I suppose." He recalled sixth year, and being preoccupied with Malfoy. All year. How had he not noticed?
"Yes, yes. You were always fighting evil, weren't you?" Malfoy sighed dramatically. "Keeping us all safe from ourselves."
Harry cringed. "It wasn't like that."
"Wasn't it?" Malfoy asked. "Do tell, then. Enlighten me." He stepped into Harry's personal space and ran a finger down the front of Harry's shirt. "What was it like to be the Great. Harry. Potter?"
"Don't." Harry batted his hand away, stepped out of reach, and reined in his emotions. He'd thought they'd been getting on well enough. He should have known better. "Just … don't."
"Oh, but why not? Surely you wouldn't want to miss the chance to wax poetic about how you saved us all." His classic sneer returned. "Bet you just loved listening to Pansy talk about how positively fuckable you are now."
"You don't know anything about me."
"And apparently you don't know anything about me."
Touché.
"I know you're an arse." Harry ran his hand through his hair. "I just asked … never mind. It's late. I'm leaving. I'll look for those emails from you tonight."
***
Harry approached his fireplace to find Hermione there. "Hi, Harry."
"Hey, Hermione, I was just about to call you. Come on through."
She brushed herself off, then asked, "So you met up with Malfoy?"
"Yeah. He kept the emails and will send them to me tonight," he said. "I didn't know if you'd be okay with me giving him your email, so I gave him mine instead."
"He's sending them here, right? Not to your office."
"Well … yeah, actually." How does she always know things? "I figured the sooner the better, and I won't be back there until Monday."
She fidgeted. "Good."
"Is something wrong?" Harry asked.
"You might say that."
Harry watched as she wrung her hands. "Why is it good that he emails me at home?"
"I can't be sure." Her tone sent chills up his spine. It reminded Harry of the times in school when she would run off to research something that troubled her. "I need to investigate more."
"Hermione, if there's something I should know about --"
"Just have Malfoy deal directly with you. No one else, okay?"
"Hermione …"
"It's just … I think the threats might be coming from someone at the Ministry," she blurted out. "Or someone with access to the Ministry." This case was getting stranger by the minute.
"How can you be sure?"
"Like I said, I need to do some more research. Those emails would help. I should know more by tomorrow."
"Okay," he agreed. He knew he had to give her the time. Some things never changed. Only they had. As much as he trusted Hermione, he still didn't voice his growing concern about his own assignment.
"And Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"Be careful."
Harry grinned mischievously. "Aren't I always?"
She looked ready to cry. "I was afraid you'd say that."
***
"What are your plans for dinner?" Harry asked when they finally had a moment. He'd been at Malfoy's shop for a couple of hours, the unease of the day before hanging heavily in the air. Thankfully there'd been plenty to keep him busy.
"Why?" Malfoy smirked. "Are you asking me out?"
Harry's heart raced. Was he asking Malfoy out? On a date? He thought about what a date with Malfoy might be like. The idea wasn't … unpleasant. Harry had realised long ago how attractive Malfoy was. And, much as it surprised him to admit - if only to himself - the man could be witty and charming. When he wasn't being an arse, anyway. Maybe there was something to Ron's teasing after all. Harry really must be losing his mind.
"Actually, I have something to discuss with you that I'd rather not do here," he said, not ready to answer Malfoy's question. He thought about their conversation yesterday, and what Pansy had said. And Malfoy's reaction. It seemed to Harry, in hindsight, a defensive move, like he had something to hide. Not like his posturing and attacks had been back in school. Had Pansy meant what Harry thought she had - that Harry was Malfoy's type? And did he want to give Malfoy the wrong impression? Or perhaps it would be the right one. Harry wasn't sure himself.
Malfoy leaned in, his breath wafting over Harry's ear and sending shivers down his spine. "By all means, let's go somewhere more private." Draco's lips lightly brushed Harry's lobe. Harry nearly gasped. No more defensive reactions, then.
Before Harry could disabuse Malfoy of whatever thoughts he had concerning dinner, MacInness arrived with some last-minute suggestions for the opening.
***
Malfoy wrinkled his nose as they entered the pub.
"I know it's not much," Harry offered, "but the food here is excellent."
Doubt coloured Malfoy's face. "Define excellent."
Harry considered him before replying. No doubt Malfoy dined in the most upscale, expensive restaurants, and had discriminating tastes. Harry took in the familiar but shabby surroundings - tattered wallpaper, worn upholstery, beer-spattered cardboard menus and all - and felt awkward. "Judge for yourself," he suggested somewhat defensively. "And if your tender palate takes offence, I'll owe you a replacement meal." He pre-empted any objection. "You choose the venue."
Malfoy studied him. "You presume I'll agree to another meal with you?"
For some reason, Harry found he liked that idea. There was something about Malfoy, something that got Harry's blood racing. He always had, Harry realised, only now in a different way. In fact, this new Malfoy was growing on him. Harry shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "We all have to eat."
Harry grabbed the menus, handing one to Malfoy. "Shepherd's Pie?" Malfoy shuddered.
Irritated, Harry replied, "It's a pub, Malfoy. What did you expect?"
After settling on a plate of pie and chips for Harry and a sirloin steak and jacket potato for Malfoy, Harry went to the bar and placed their order.
"You said you wanted to discuss something?" Malfoy asked when Harry returned, his tone holding none of its earlier playfulness. Despite his irritation, Harry felt oddly disappointed.
"I've noticed the increase in threats you've received since making application for the shop." Malfoy nodded. "And the last two arrived via email."
"Yes. That part is particularly disturbing."
"Why is that?"
"I don't communicate by email, except with my close friends. I certainly don't use it for business."
"I'm surprised you use Muggle technology at all."
Malfoy looked around at the pub's other patrons, occasionally grimacing or scowling, then sighed heavily. "Not like Pansy and Blaise gave me much choice."
Harry pictured Pansy catching up on all the gossip and Blaise … well, Harry imagined his internet surfing taking a more interesting course.
"I don't use it often, and very few people have my contact information."
"You didn't put that in your report."
"No."
"Why not?"
Pursing his lips, Malfoy didn't respond immediately. "Well, no one asked me for a formal report. Besides, I would have thought my reasons were obvious." Harry motioned for him to elaborate. "My friends don't need any attention from the Ministry. We've all had more than enough to last a lifetime."
Harry couldn't believe this. First, what was the Ministry investigating? Harry continued to find nothing to implicate Malfoy in anything illegal. And second, Malfoy chose his friends' privacy over his own safety. Not very Slytherin. "But what if one of them is trying to hurt you?" Harry asked.
Malfoy's derisive laugh sliced through him. "If one of my friends wants me dead, they'll get to me no matter what."
His head reeling, Harry tried to imagine Hermione or Ron - or any of his close friends - trying to hurt him. Malfoy had a point. His stomach clenched at the thought.
"Who has access to you regularly?"
Malfoy's hands slammed the table, the noise reverberating off the walls and drawing the attention of some customers. "Did I not make myself clear, Potter?" He spoke quietly but forcefully. "I don't want my friends investigated by the Ministry."
"They won't be. You have my word. Unless --"
"Unless what?"
"I will investigate."
"And you are with the Ministry."
"Off the record."
Malfoy looked wary. "Why would you do that?"
How could he even ask that? "Because someone is threatening you! Someone who managed to get closer to you - too close - in the last few weeks. Someone that may very well do more than send an email next time."
Malfoy leaned forward, grinning. "Why, Potter, I didn't know you cared."
Neither did Harry. He leaned in too. "Well, I do." Malfoy couldn't have looked more shocked if Harry had just blown him a kiss. "Besides, it's my job."
Malfoy pulled back as though slapped, humour vanishing from his expression, arms crossed over his chest. "I'm good at my job, Malfoy." Harry said, hoping to reassure him. "And I'm good at doing it … quietly."
Malfoy laughed. "You … quiet?"
"Okay." Harry grinned. "Perhaps quiet wasn't the best choice of words. How about sneaky?"
"So you will investigate on the side, and not use your position to dig up dirt on my friends?" Malfoy raised a brow. "That sounds rather Slytherin-like. I think I'm impressed."
Harry smirked. "I can't promise you that I will turn a blind eye to something serious, especially if it involves your safety, but no, I won't take advantage of your trust."
Harry watched, imagining how he would feel in Malfoy's situation. Would he want someone investigating his friends? Of course not. And why should Malfoy trust him? It's not as though Harry had ever given him reason to. "I won't do anything without talking to you first," he assured Malfoy. "And I won't tell anyone else at the Ministry. No one."
That seemed to work. "No one," Malfoy repeated.
"And I don't want you dealing with anyone at the Ministry but me, either." Malfoy agreed. All without Harry having to mention Hermione's suspicions.
As though reading Harry's thoughts, Malfoy asked, "Was there something else you wanted to talk about? Some reason you didn't want to talk at my shop?"
Harry considered telling Malfoy the truth, but what did he really know? Nothing. Hermione had some crazy notion that someone inside the Ministry might be responsible, but what proof did she have? And if Malfoy knew, he might pull all security, and then where would they be? The element of surprise would vanish if the culprit were with the Ministry, or Malfoy's protection would be gone if he weren't. No. Best to keep this between him and Hermione for now. He ignored the voice in his head reminding him that Hermione rarely made mistakes.
"Did you ever email anyone else?" Harry asked. "Besides your friends?"
"No." Malfoy clasped his hands lightly together and rested his chin on his thumbs, as though willing himself to remember. "Not unless you count the Ministry," he added.
Harry's heart raced. "Who?"
"I forwarded the emails to the Auror Department."
Oh. Of course. "You didn't contact them using email before that?"
"No."
Harry hid his relief. Not that he liked the idea that someone close to Malfoy might be the threat, but … well that's usually how it went. The more people you let in, let get close to you, the more vulnerable you were. He'd seen that all too often as an Auror. And how sad was that?
"Potter!" Harry realised Malfoy had been speaking to him.
"Sorry. Just … thinking." He took a sip of his beer.
"Ah." Malfoy smirked. "That explains why I've never seen that look before."
"Ha ha." Relieved to be on familiar ground, he gave Malfoy the finger.
Their food arrived, Malfoy, shockingly, did not complain, and they had a pleasant meal. As they exited the pub, Harry asked, "Was the food acceptable?"
"Why?" Malfoy teased. "Trying to get out of another meal with me?"
Harry turned to face Malfoy. He'd enjoyed the meal, especially once they'd finished discussing work. Boldly, Harry looked him in the eye and answered truthfully. "Not at all."
Malfoy's eyes darkened as the two of them stood on the street in front of the pub. The faint scent of sandalwood on the air, and the warmth of Malfoy's body standing so close to his own, raised an inexplicable desire in Harry to be even closer.
"It was … palatable," Malfoy answered at length. "And the chocolate fudge cake was more than acceptable." Harry watched, fascinated as Malfoy's tongue darted out to touch his lips, as though refreshing his memory.
Tearing his gaze from Malfoy's mouth, he looked up to see Malfoy watching him. He had to stop himself closing the gap as desire welled inside him. More than this strange attraction to him, Harry worried for Malfoy's safety.
He cleared his throat. "Are you going back to the shop?"
"No," Malfoy said, taking a step closer. "I think I'll go straight home."
Visions of the only time Harry had been inside Malfoy Manor flooded his mind and broke the spell. He stepped back. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"
Malfoy's head seemed to clear too. "Tomorrow. Yes."
He turned to leave, and Harry reached out for his arm. "Malfoy?"
Malfoy looked down to where Harry grasped his arm, before looking back at Harry over his shoulder. "Yes?"
"Be careful."
Malfoy smirked and Harry dropped his arm. "I always am."
Harry watched him walk towards an alley to Disapparate. "Oh, and Potter?" he called back, turning to face Harry and smiling. Possibly the first genuinely open smile Harry had ever seen on him. "Dinner's on me next time." He winked and disappeared with a loud crack.
***
Harry looked up from his desk when he heard a tap-tap-tapping on his window. It looked like a Ministry owl. Who would bother him at home the one day he wasn't going to the bloody office? He glared at the bird. The bird glared back.
He walked over to the window, let the owl in, and took the note. The owl flew away without waiting for a response.
Potter,
It has been a week since I last received a report from you. I expect an update on your investigation of Draco Malfoy by end of day. With the grand opening less than a week away, your lack of progress and absence of evidence is disconcerting.
G. Robards
Harry tossed the letter onto his desk. "There's no evidence because he's not doing anything illegal!" He'd held off as long as he could. He'd have to send an owl later in the day. Robards wouldn't dare pull the security now, after the papers had repeatedly reported how safe it would be. At least there was that.
Arse. If only he'd been this persuasive towards the agents investigating the threats, maybe Draco would be safe right now, without the bloody Ministry watching his every move. Without the one threatening him having access to everything.
Harry went up to the bathroom, turned the water as hot as he could stand it, stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower. He welcomed the spray beating down on his shoulders, washing away his frustration, if only for a few minutes. He began to relax as he lathered his hair and breathed in the steam.
As he finished with the flannel and hung it up, Harry heard a noise downstairs. He listened carefully. There. Again. Senses heightened, he quickly rinsed off and left the shower running so as not to alert the intruder. He stepped out of the tub, pulled on his pants and grabbed his wand.
He crept down the stairs, mindful of the creaky one, and he raised his wand as he entered the living room. Then lowered it. A lone figure sat on his sofa, wringing his hands and looking nervous. "Malfoy, what the --? I almost hexed you! What are you doing here?"
Malfoy jumped at the sound of Harry's voice, putting his hand to his chest. "Potter." He dropped his arm and sighed, taking several deep breaths.
"Why didn't you call out?" Harry asked.
"I did, but you didn't answer."
"Ah," Harry said, suddenly aware that he was dripping wet and nearly naked. "I was in the shower."
"Mm." Malfoy stood up and walked towards Harry, no longer looking shaken. His eyes played slowly over Harry's body, and he bit his lower lip suggestively. "So I see."
Harry closed his eyes briefly and willed himself to focus, ignoring the raspy and extremely sexy tone of Malfoy's voice. "You obviously had a reason for coming here … something that had nothing to do with my shower."
Malfoy pouted. "Killjoy."
Harry laughed. "Let me go turn off the shower. I'll be right back, and you can tell me why you're here."
"Fine." Malfoy huffed and walked over to the window, glancing out at the city, a view that had sold Harry on this place. "But make it quick. I don't have all day."
Harry rolled his eyes and returned to the bathroom. Images appeared of a naked Malfoy in the shower with him. Harry quickly turned off the taps and towelled off, trying to rid himself of that picture, however pleasant. He went to his room, pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and went downstairs.
Malfoy had returned to the sofa. Harry took in Malfoy's tense posture, his shaking leg, and his wringing hands as he entered the room. "So what brings you here?"
Malfoy nearly jumped out of his skin. He mustn't have heard Harry come down the stairs. Immediately, his mask returned and he looked up. "I think I liked you better without clothes."
Harry felt his cheeks flush, but he wasn’t fooled. "Very funny, Malfoy … Draco. I can see you're on edge. What happened?"
Draco stood up and began to pace. "I got another note. Another email. And this time ... well, you read it." His hand shook as he held out a paper.
Harry took it, then led him back to the sofa. "Sit down." It was a sign of how upset he was that Draco complied without argument. Harry sat down beside him, their legs touching. He could feel Draco trembling as he read the note.
Your shop will never open. And soon you will join your father and all the other Death Eater scum I've taken care of. Mark my words. Your time is running out. Not even Harry Potter can save you now.
"You don't think …?" Draco asked. He leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees. He stared at the rug. Harry hadn't seen him look so vulnerable since the war. He wanted to reach out to him, but didn't think Draco's pride would allow it.
"It's possible," Harry replied. "Your father's murder was never solved."
"We thought it was another Death Eater." Draco stared into the empty fireplace, perhaps lost in a memory. "You know, revenge for …"
Harry recalled all too well what the papers had said. "For what I said in court about you and your mother helping me." The guilt still gnawed at him. Not that he gave a whit about Lucius, but Narcissa and Draco didn't need to suffer any more. And they had. In their own way, despite everything he'd done, they loved Lucius. "Listen, Draco --"
"Don't even start!" Draco interrupted him. He stood up, staring down at Harry as he continued, waving his finger in Harry's face. "If you apologise for making sure that my mother and I did not rot in Azkaban, I may have to hex you."
"Fair enough." Harry said, grasping Draco's hand and lowering his arm before letting go. "But I am sorry you had to go through that. You and your mother."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Bloody Gryffindor."
Harry looked back down at the letter. "It sounds like this person is taking credit for numerous murders, your father's among them."
Draco sat back down beside him and peered at the note. "Yes. And I'm pleased to say that rules out my friends, since they were all with me at the time my father was killed."
"That's good," Harry said.
"And it definitely doesn't sound like a Death Eater." Draco pointed to the Death Eater scum passage, his fingers grazing Harry's. "Besides, if it were a Death Eater, an attempt would have been made long ago. Voldemort's followers weren't exactly known for their patience."
"I need you to send me the electronic --"
"Already did."
"When?"
Draco nudged closer and leaned towards Harry's ear. "Apparently, when you were in the shower." Harry shuddered, gooseflesh covering his body.
Harry placed a hand on Draco's leg for leverage as he lifted himself from the sofa. "I'll be right back."
Draco grasped his wrist, holding him in place. "Don't be long." He wasn't shaking any more.
Harry went to his office, opened the email, and forwarded it to Hermione. Within thirty seconds, he received a notification that she'd opened it. Good. Hopefully she can get to the bottom of this, once and for all.
"I sent it," Harry announced as he exited his office - and walked directly into Draco. "Er … sorry."
Draco made no effort to step away. "So now what do we do?" he asked.
Harry shrugged. "Wait."
"Wrong answer." Draco stepped closer to Harry, who moved back, only to find himself pinned against the wall. It was not an altogether unpleasant place to be. "I believe we have some unfinished business from last night," Draco said.
"We do?"
"Mm hmm." Draco nodded and leaned to whisper in Harry's ear, "We do."
Draco pressed the length of his body against Harry's and, oh yes, this was a wonderful place to be. Harry ran his one hand through Draco's hair, thumb rubbing his cheek, and rested the other on the small of his back. He stared into Draco's eyes, looking for any sign that this wasn't what he wanted, that he might have been teasing, that his actions were driven by fear after receiving another threat. What he saw instead made his body ache. Fuck if he didn't want this as much as Harry.
Their mouths crashed together hungrily, tongues and teeth attacking more than kissing. Harry's head smashed against the wall, but he couldn't be arsed to care. He'd never shared a kiss this raw before, this passionate, and the tingling under his skin, that feeling of electricity surging through his blood was intoxicating. His head spun and he wasn't sure he would be able to hold his own weight at this point.
Harry felt Draco's erection press against his thigh, and he let out a groan. Draco released his mouth and began nibbling his way over Harry's jaw, down his throat, and across his collarbone.
Harry's mind struggled to maintain control as Draco pulled Harry's t-shirt from his jeans. They shouldn't do this. Harry couldn't, not under these circumstances. Draco was visibly shaken only moments ago. How had they ended up here? Harry didn't want to admit it, but Draco might be doing this out of gratitude. Or some warped sense of obligation.
"Wait … wait," Harry managed to say. Draco groaned, and Harry felt sure it was the sexiest sound he'd ever heard. Judgement warred with desire as Harry fought to resist. "We shouldn't do this," he said.
Draco's face, only a second ago flushed and full of desire, shut down. His body went rigid and he pulled back.
Harry held him still, arms around his waist. "We shouldn't do this … now," Harry amended. "But I would very much like a rain check. Say, when we don't have someone out there trying to kill you."
"What if I say no?" Draco asked, tilting his head playfully.
Harry lifted his hands and cradled Draco's face in his palms, resting their foreheads together. He pressed his lips gently to Draco's, then licked along his lower lip. Then slowly, softly, he pressed inside, moaning as Draco's tongue wrapped around his own. They leisurely explored each other's mouths, Harry mapping out a path that he desperately hoped to cover again.
"Mmm," Draco moaned as they pulled apart.
Harry smiled. "So, about that rain check …"
"Fine," Draco said, sounding unimpressed. "If we must."
Harry chuckled. "It's just that I don't think it's --"
" -- the right time. I know," Draco sighed. "Always the saintly Gryffindor."
"Well." Harry kissed him again briefly. "I wouldn't go that far." Draco frowned. "How about I get us a cup of tea?" Harry offered, putting some distance between them. He needed something to keep him from thinking about what they could be doing besides waiting for a response from Hermione.
"Don’t you have anything stronger?" Draco asked.
Harry looked at the clock. Just past eleven in the morning. He shot Draco a questioning look.
"Fine," he said. "Tea will do."
Harry put the kettle on and reached into the cupboard. "I've got biscuits too." Draco sat at the table pouting. Harry resisted the urge to kiss the pout away. "Why don't you go see if Hermione answered while I get our cups?"
Without a word, Draco left the room. Harry scrounged up three different types of biscuits, and after a bit of searching, managed to find a serving tray for them. He added the tea, milk and sugar to the tray and levitated it to the table. Draco stood in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning against the frame.
"I didn't hear you return," Harry said. "Did Hermione reply?" Draco shook his head. "Well, come on in and have some tea then."
Draco didn't move. He stood rigid, a piece of parchment Harry hadn't noticed crushed in his hand. Oh, shit.
Harry's stomach plummeted. "I can explain," he said desperately.
"No need, Potter." Draco threw Robards' crumpled letter onto the floor and fixed Harry with a look he hadn't seen in years. A look he'd hoped never again to see directed at him. "I can read."
He turned to leave and Harry called, "You don't understand."
Draco's wand was at his throat before Harry even noticed him reach for it. "I understand perfectly." He spat the last word, and Harry had to struggle not to flinch. "You have a job to do and you've done it admirably."
Harry opened his mouth to say something - anything to make Draco understand - but Draco pressed his wand harder into Harry's throat. He looked down his nose at Harry, as one might consider a slug or some equally repellent creature.
"I'll admit you had me fooled." He let his eyes slide over Harry's body, not hiding his disgust. When he finished his slow and painful appraisal, he looked Harry directly in the eyes. "I'd never have expected you to whore yourself out for the Ministry."
He dropped his wand from Harry's throat and before Harry could stop him, he Disapparated with a loud crack.
***
Harry walked into Draco's office an hour later. "We need to talk." Harry had given him time to himself before he Apparated to the shop. He'd filed his latest report with Robards, telling him Draco was not doing anything illegal, then tried to do some paperwork before he couldn't take it any more. He'd hoped Draco would have calmed down a bit in that time.
Draco pushed past him, headed for the door. "I have nothing to say to you." Not calm then.
Harry grabbed his arm and turned him around. Draco looked at his hand with loathing. Grey eyes pierced Harry's. "Unhand me, Potter."
"Only if you give me your word that you won't leave."
"Why bother, when clearly my word - a Death Eater's word - means nothing to you?" He glared and stepped closer, leaning in. "Let go of me now."
Harry released him, but positioned himself between Draco and the door. "Draco, please. Just listen."
Draco sized him up. "Why should I do that?"
"You have no reason to trust me, I know, but … please. Just listen to what I have to say and then decide."
Draco's arms crossed his chest and he leaned against the wall, conveying disinterest. "You have two minutes."
Harry let out a long breath, relieved that he'd have the chance to explain himself. "Not here," he said.
"Don't push your luck, Potter. It's here or nowhere."
Frustrated, Harry cast a few spells to protect their privacy - the best he could do under the circumstances, but by no means secure. Draco began tapping his foot impatiently.
"Yes, I was assigned initially to investigate you. For what I still don't know, but for some reason, they felt I was the right person for the job." Draco snorted. "Er … right. Anyway, I was given no choice."
"As if you'd give up the opportunity to keep an eye on me." Harry felt blood rush to his face. Draco was right, but not for the reason he suggested. Harry remembered their kiss, so recent and yet so distant, and all he could think of was what Draco's body might feel like, lying next to his own …
"Potter!"
"Right. Sorry. Distracted."
"A minute and a half."
"I've been investigating your complaints, and while I can't get into specifics of the case, I believe I'm getting close to finding the person responsible."
"And I should believe you … why?"
Harry moved forward and placed his hands gently on Draco's arms. "I am not investigating you, no matter what Robards thinks."
Draco pulled his arms free and glared at Harry. "I've had enough. Time's up," he announced. "I don't believe you. I don't trust you." He brushed himself off, as though trying to rid himself of the remnants of Harry's touch. "Unfortunately I am stuck dealing with you for the duration. But once this shop officially opens, I don't ever want to see your face again."
Harry wanted to scream. "Draco --"
"I have work to do, Auror Potter." He turned and left the room.
Well fuck.
***
Harry's mobile rang. He hated the bloody thing, and the fact that he had to carry it. He'd never say so to Hermione, but he felt the Muggle influence on the Ministry might have gone too far. Reluctantly, he answered. "Potter."
"Harry, it's me."
"Hey, Hermione. How --"
"Are you alone?"
He looked at the empty room, then peered out into the hall, even though he knew everyone else was in the front, outside, or working on final details back at the Ministry. That was, in fact, the reason he currently sat in Draco's office. It had nothing to do with the fact that he hoped the man would come back. Definitely not. After all, avoidance worked wonders, especially alongside brooding.
He lifted the phone to his ear again. "Yes. All alone … why?"
"I need to be sure no one will overhear what I say, or will see your reaction."
"Reaction to what?"
"I've figured out who's been threatening Draco."
Finally, they could put an end to this. Draco's words haunted Harry. He'd never have to see Harry again. Pushing his own interests aside, and his irritation with Hermione's penchant for the dramatic getting the better of him, Harry said, "Don't play games, Hermione. Just tell me."
"It's MacInness."
Harry's throat closed up. "Fuck." That explained a lot. The direction given to everyone to not bother investigating. No wonder good Aurors barely did the minimum required on the case. Guilt surfaced as Harry remembered the way he'd spoken to Ron. He shook it off for now. Where was MacInness, the bastard? More importantly, where was Draco?
"Yeah." Silence echoed through the phone line, and Harry pictured her fretting and biting her lip. "I can give you details later, but you need to make sure he's not alone with Draco."
"I'm hauling his arse in." Maybe he would put up a fight, so Harry could hex him in the process. That might be fun.
"I don't know if that's such a good idea."
What did she expect him to do? "Why the hell not?"
"This is Muggle technology, Harry. Wizards don't trust it. I doubt they'd find him guilty based on that alone."
"But once I bring him in, I'll search his house --"
"And find what?" she cut in. "He's managed to work around Muggle technology and hide himself fairly well."
"But you found him --"
"Yes, but he could claim someone else set him up to look guilty."
Harry frowned. "He'd get away with that?"
He heard her sigh. "What do you think? He's a highly respected Auror and the victim in this case is --"
"He's not a Death Eater."
"I wasn't going to say that." He could see her pursing her lips impatiently in his mind. "I just meant --"
"-- that no one will care."
"Well … yes. And to vilify a decorated Auror - one who is highly respected by his colleagues, his superiors and the public - for the sake of a Malfoy …"
"That's not fair."
Her laughter reverberated through the line. Not a pleasant sound. "Since when have you known life to be fair?" Point. "Besides, it is possible to hack in to someone else's account."
"Hack in? So he might not be the one."
"Unless you know of someone with a grudge against both him and Malfoy, who is computer savvy, and has access to the Ministry, I'd say it's him." She cleared her throat. "But you'll need to get other evidence. And without letting him know you're on to him."
He knew she was right. But it would take everything in him not to rip MacInness apart. "I can't let anything happen to Draco."
"Draco?" She hesitated, and he imagined he could hear the wheels spinning in her head, piecing things together. "Are you --"
"I've got to go," he interrupted. He had no desire to get into a heart-to-heart, certainly not when Draco's life was in danger. Right now, he needed to find MacInness, and then never let him out of his sight.
"Be careful, Harry."
"Always. And thanks." Without waiting for a response, he hung up and went in search of MacInness.
***
Part 3
Summary: With his new job as Deputy Head Auror, Harry is assigned an old task - to watch Draco Malfoy. When threats against Malfoy escalate, Harry finds himself torn between doing what is expected and doing what's right.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Harry arrived at the shop to find Malfoy deeply engrossed in the final preparations of a potion he'd told Harry took eight weeks to complete. His back to the door, Malfoy didn't notice when Harry entered the room. Harry took advantage of the opportunity to observe. He watched as Malfoy painstakingly chopped one last ingredient - some dried internal organ, no doubt. Malfoy's long fingers worked the knife gracefully, before lifting the chopped material and measuring it. The potion hissed as he dropped the perfectly diced substance into the cauldron. Malfoy picked up his wand and began stirring.
Harry looked around the room while he waited quietly for Malfoy to finish. He knew how finicky potions could be, and didn't want to cause any problems with the final product. The room, though dark, welcomed you in, unlike Snape's dungeon which dared you to cross the threshold. Malfoy kept everything in its place, and yes, bottles of disgusting animal parts filled the shelves, but in a pleasantly subtle manner. Interesting that when he wasn't talking, Malfoy struck Harry as pleasantly subtle too.
Harry stepped a little further in and returned his attention to Malfoy. His skin coated with a light sheen of sweat, and his hair starting to curl from the steam, Malfoy looked relaxed, content. He really had found his calling. No wonder he had such a great reputation. He clearly loved his work.
When he put down his wand and began making notes, Harry approached. "Malfoy."
Malfoy nearly jumped out of his robes. And wouldn’t that be an interesting turn of events? Harry pushed that wayward thought aside.
"Potter, what are you doing sneaking up on me?" he shouted. "You could have ruined this potion I've been working on." He returned to scribbling in the journal. "And how did you get in here anyway?"
Harry smiled. So much for pleasantly subtle. "Actually, I've been here for a while now," he told Malfoy. "I let myself in when you didn't answer," he explained. "You adjusted the wards to allow me access. I disabled the rest myself." Malfoy glared over his shoulder. Harry cleared his throat. "Auror, remember? But I waited until you were done before saying anything, precisely so I wouldn't cause any trouble."
Malfoy laughed, then made another note. "You always cause trouble," he shot, but with no venom.
Harry stepped forward, leaning over Malfoy's shoulder to look into the cauldron. "Only for you," he said into his ear.
He felt Malfoy's body stiffen. Whether in discomfort or … something else, Harry had no idea. Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, Harry stepped back and cleared his throat. "Do you have a few minutes?"
Malfoy turned around, leaning his weight against the large, marble table, his hands spread lazily over the surface. He tilted his head, and gave Harry a questioning look. "For what, exactly?" Harry noted the raspy tone and wondered if he or the potion were the cause.
"I wanted to talk about your case," Harry replied.
Malfoy's face hardened and he crossed his arms over his chest. "What about it? Do you have some news?"
"No," Harry said, wishing it weren't true. "I wanted to know if you kept the emails."
Malfoy nodded. "Of course."
"Great." Harry sighed with relief. Now maybe they could get somewhere. "Would you forward them to me?"
Malfoy scowled. "Don't you already have them?"
Shit. "Only the printed copies." No sense lying. No sense telling the whole truth either, though. "I need the electronic versions to try to figure out who sent them."
"It was someone named imwatchingyou."
Harry knew his look screamed give me a break!
"Please, Potter. I'm not an idiot. It's clearly a made up name."
"Obviously. But there's more information about the sender that doesn't show up on the email you see."
"Like what?"
Harry decided to give Malfoy the abridged version of his discussion with Hermione. Not that he could remember all the details anyway. "Like an IP address for starters."
"An address? So you know where the person lives?"
"Not exactly," Harry corrected him. Malfoy frowned. No, he pouted. Harry suppressed a grin and ignored his instinct to … well, do something to take away that look. "It's not that easy," he continued. "The address isn't a physical location, but it's a place to start. And I need you to send me the email so I can have an expert check."
"Didn't the original investigators already do this? I received letters stating that they couldn't find the origin."
Harry hesitated. He didn't want to cover for anyone, but he likewise didn't want to lay blame prematurely. "This is Muggle technology we're dealing with. To be honest, I'm not sure they knew what to look for, or that any more clues existed."
Harry felt the weight of Malfoy's piercing stare, his grey eyes holding Harry in place. "Thank you," he said.
Harry was taken aback. "Thanks for what?"
"For not lying to me, or trying to cover that up. I appreciate your honesty." He looked down and fidgeted with his robes. "I don't get that very often." Malfoy surprised Harry with his candour. "I didn't know either," he admitted.
"We'll do our best to find whoever did this."
Malfoy nodded and looked like he was about to thank Harry again. "If you give me your email address, I'll send them to you tonight."
Harry pulled out a business card, then scribbled on the back. "I won't be in the office until Monday, but I don't want to wait. This is my home email." He pointed to the card. "And the Floo at my flat. I'll make sure my wards let you past."
"Your home email and Floo coordinates?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow and cast a playful look towards Harry. "Sure you trust me with these?"
"Yes," Harry said without hesitation. "If you need to reach me, now you can." He thought about how Malfoy's requests had been handled in the past, and added, "If there's anything else you need, just ask."
Pansy Parkinson chose that precise moment to walk in. Her mouth gaped momentarily before it became a grin. "Oh Draco, darling." She looked Harry up and down. "I can think of any number of things you should be asking for." She winked at Harry. "And if you don't, I just might."
"Pansy, really!" Malfoy whispered, breezing past Harry, and turning her away.
"Oh, please," Parkinson scoffed. "You can't tell me you haven't thought about it."
Malfoy looked horrified and his face turned red. Right. So he wasn't amused. Of course he hadn't thought about it, but there was no need to look positively ill at the suggestion.
"Honestly, Draco. Look at him. Tall, lean, muscular. Dark hair, tan skin, and eyes you could lose yourself in." She turned back towards Harry and allowed her eyes to give him a thorough once over. "And fuck me if he doesn't positively radiate power, even without the Auror robes."
Harry could feel the blood rushing to his face. He knew well enough that he'd left that scrawny image from school behind, but Parkinson looked ready to devour him. He suppressed a shudder. Malfoy looked uncomfortable.
Parkinson leaned towards Malfoy's ear, and whispered loudly enough for Harry to hear. "He's just your type." And as she visibly undressed Harry once more, her eyes went wide.
"Leave it," Malfoy growled. Obviously he wasn't amused by Parkinson's idea of a joke. Harry watched Malfoy's hand to be sure he didn't reach for his wand and hex his friend.
Pansy whipped her head back round. "Oh my God! How did I not --"
Malfoy grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out of the room. "I'm very busy, Pansy. Much to do. We can chat another time. Mother would love to see you. I'll Floo you later."
While Malfoy escorted Parkinson from the premises, her words caught up to Harry. Just your type. Well, obviously that wasn't true, but … Harry let his mind wander over Ron's comments, over his own obsession as Ron called it. Sure, he'd noticed Malfoy. Did this mean Malfoy had noticed him too?
"You're gay?" Harry blurted out when Malfoy returned.
Malfoy narrowed his eyes as though sizing up Harry and his question. He'd recovered his usual calm demeanour. "Seriously, Potter?" Malfoy looked less annoyed by the question than confused. "We did attend the same school, did we not?"
Harry thought back to Hogwarts. He frowned. "But Parkinson was your girlfriend."
Malfoy laughed. "She was my cover."
"Your what?"
Malfoy considered Harry for a moment, like one might consider a child that couldn't grasp a concept. "How was it that you killed the Dark Lord again?"
"Excuse me?"
"Honestly, Potter." Malfoy sauntered past him to the storage room. "Did you notice anything that went on around you?"
Harry scowled. "I was preoccupied, I suppose." He recalled sixth year, and being preoccupied with Malfoy. All year. How had he not noticed?
"Yes, yes. You were always fighting evil, weren't you?" Malfoy sighed dramatically. "Keeping us all safe from ourselves."
Harry cringed. "It wasn't like that."
"Wasn't it?" Malfoy asked. "Do tell, then. Enlighten me." He stepped into Harry's personal space and ran a finger down the front of Harry's shirt. "What was it like to be the Great. Harry. Potter?"
"Don't." Harry batted his hand away, stepped out of reach, and reined in his emotions. He'd thought they'd been getting on well enough. He should have known better. "Just … don't."
"Oh, but why not? Surely you wouldn't want to miss the chance to wax poetic about how you saved us all." His classic sneer returned. "Bet you just loved listening to Pansy talk about how positively fuckable you are now."
"You don't know anything about me."
"And apparently you don't know anything about me."
Touché.
"I know you're an arse." Harry ran his hand through his hair. "I just asked … never mind. It's late. I'm leaving. I'll look for those emails from you tonight."
***
Harry approached his fireplace to find Hermione there. "Hi, Harry."
"Hey, Hermione, I was just about to call you. Come on through."
She brushed herself off, then asked, "So you met up with Malfoy?"
"Yeah. He kept the emails and will send them to me tonight," he said. "I didn't know if you'd be okay with me giving him your email, so I gave him mine instead."
"He's sending them here, right? Not to your office."
"Well … yeah, actually." How does she always know things? "I figured the sooner the better, and I won't be back there until Monday."
She fidgeted. "Good."
"Is something wrong?" Harry asked.
"You might say that."
Harry watched as she wrung her hands. "Why is it good that he emails me at home?"
"I can't be sure." Her tone sent chills up his spine. It reminded Harry of the times in school when she would run off to research something that troubled her. "I need to investigate more."
"Hermione, if there's something I should know about --"
"Just have Malfoy deal directly with you. No one else, okay?"
"Hermione …"
"It's just … I think the threats might be coming from someone at the Ministry," she blurted out. "Or someone with access to the Ministry." This case was getting stranger by the minute.
"How can you be sure?"
"Like I said, I need to do some more research. Those emails would help. I should know more by tomorrow."
"Okay," he agreed. He knew he had to give her the time. Some things never changed. Only they had. As much as he trusted Hermione, he still didn't voice his growing concern about his own assignment.
"And Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"Be careful."
Harry grinned mischievously. "Aren't I always?"
She looked ready to cry. "I was afraid you'd say that."
***
"What are your plans for dinner?" Harry asked when they finally had a moment. He'd been at Malfoy's shop for a couple of hours, the unease of the day before hanging heavily in the air. Thankfully there'd been plenty to keep him busy.
"Why?" Malfoy smirked. "Are you asking me out?"
Harry's heart raced. Was he asking Malfoy out? On a date? He thought about what a date with Malfoy might be like. The idea wasn't … unpleasant. Harry had realised long ago how attractive Malfoy was. And, much as it surprised him to admit - if only to himself - the man could be witty and charming. When he wasn't being an arse, anyway. Maybe there was something to Ron's teasing after all. Harry really must be losing his mind.
"Actually, I have something to discuss with you that I'd rather not do here," he said, not ready to answer Malfoy's question. He thought about their conversation yesterday, and what Pansy had said. And Malfoy's reaction. It seemed to Harry, in hindsight, a defensive move, like he had something to hide. Not like his posturing and attacks had been back in school. Had Pansy meant what Harry thought she had - that Harry was Malfoy's type? And did he want to give Malfoy the wrong impression? Or perhaps it would be the right one. Harry wasn't sure himself.
Malfoy leaned in, his breath wafting over Harry's ear and sending shivers down his spine. "By all means, let's go somewhere more private." Draco's lips lightly brushed Harry's lobe. Harry nearly gasped. No more defensive reactions, then.
Before Harry could disabuse Malfoy of whatever thoughts he had concerning dinner, MacInness arrived with some last-minute suggestions for the opening.
***
Malfoy wrinkled his nose as they entered the pub.
"I know it's not much," Harry offered, "but the food here is excellent."
Doubt coloured Malfoy's face. "Define excellent."
Harry considered him before replying. No doubt Malfoy dined in the most upscale, expensive restaurants, and had discriminating tastes. Harry took in the familiar but shabby surroundings - tattered wallpaper, worn upholstery, beer-spattered cardboard menus and all - and felt awkward. "Judge for yourself," he suggested somewhat defensively. "And if your tender palate takes offence, I'll owe you a replacement meal." He pre-empted any objection. "You choose the venue."
Malfoy studied him. "You presume I'll agree to another meal with you?"
For some reason, Harry found he liked that idea. There was something about Malfoy, something that got Harry's blood racing. He always had, Harry realised, only now in a different way. In fact, this new Malfoy was growing on him. Harry shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "We all have to eat."
Harry grabbed the menus, handing one to Malfoy. "Shepherd's Pie?" Malfoy shuddered.
Irritated, Harry replied, "It's a pub, Malfoy. What did you expect?"
After settling on a plate of pie and chips for Harry and a sirloin steak and jacket potato for Malfoy, Harry went to the bar and placed their order.
"You said you wanted to discuss something?" Malfoy asked when Harry returned, his tone holding none of its earlier playfulness. Despite his irritation, Harry felt oddly disappointed.
"I've noticed the increase in threats you've received since making application for the shop." Malfoy nodded. "And the last two arrived via email."
"Yes. That part is particularly disturbing."
"Why is that?"
"I don't communicate by email, except with my close friends. I certainly don't use it for business."
"I'm surprised you use Muggle technology at all."
Malfoy looked around at the pub's other patrons, occasionally grimacing or scowling, then sighed heavily. "Not like Pansy and Blaise gave me much choice."
Harry pictured Pansy catching up on all the gossip and Blaise … well, Harry imagined his internet surfing taking a more interesting course.
"I don't use it often, and very few people have my contact information."
"You didn't put that in your report."
"No."
"Why not?"
Pursing his lips, Malfoy didn't respond immediately. "Well, no one asked me for a formal report. Besides, I would have thought my reasons were obvious." Harry motioned for him to elaborate. "My friends don't need any attention from the Ministry. We've all had more than enough to last a lifetime."
Harry couldn't believe this. First, what was the Ministry investigating? Harry continued to find nothing to implicate Malfoy in anything illegal. And second, Malfoy chose his friends' privacy over his own safety. Not very Slytherin. "But what if one of them is trying to hurt you?" Harry asked.
Malfoy's derisive laugh sliced through him. "If one of my friends wants me dead, they'll get to me no matter what."
His head reeling, Harry tried to imagine Hermione or Ron - or any of his close friends - trying to hurt him. Malfoy had a point. His stomach clenched at the thought.
"Who has access to you regularly?"
Malfoy's hands slammed the table, the noise reverberating off the walls and drawing the attention of some customers. "Did I not make myself clear, Potter?" He spoke quietly but forcefully. "I don't want my friends investigated by the Ministry."
"They won't be. You have my word. Unless --"
"Unless what?"
"I will investigate."
"And you are with the Ministry."
"Off the record."
Malfoy looked wary. "Why would you do that?"
How could he even ask that? "Because someone is threatening you! Someone who managed to get closer to you - too close - in the last few weeks. Someone that may very well do more than send an email next time."
Malfoy leaned forward, grinning. "Why, Potter, I didn't know you cared."
Neither did Harry. He leaned in too. "Well, I do." Malfoy couldn't have looked more shocked if Harry had just blown him a kiss. "Besides, it's my job."
Malfoy pulled back as though slapped, humour vanishing from his expression, arms crossed over his chest. "I'm good at my job, Malfoy." Harry said, hoping to reassure him. "And I'm good at doing it … quietly."
Malfoy laughed. "You … quiet?"
"Okay." Harry grinned. "Perhaps quiet wasn't the best choice of words. How about sneaky?"
"So you will investigate on the side, and not use your position to dig up dirt on my friends?" Malfoy raised a brow. "That sounds rather Slytherin-like. I think I'm impressed."
Harry smirked. "I can't promise you that I will turn a blind eye to something serious, especially if it involves your safety, but no, I won't take advantage of your trust."
Harry watched, imagining how he would feel in Malfoy's situation. Would he want someone investigating his friends? Of course not. And why should Malfoy trust him? It's not as though Harry had ever given him reason to. "I won't do anything without talking to you first," he assured Malfoy. "And I won't tell anyone else at the Ministry. No one."
That seemed to work. "No one," Malfoy repeated.
"And I don't want you dealing with anyone at the Ministry but me, either." Malfoy agreed. All without Harry having to mention Hermione's suspicions.
As though reading Harry's thoughts, Malfoy asked, "Was there something else you wanted to talk about? Some reason you didn't want to talk at my shop?"
Harry considered telling Malfoy the truth, but what did he really know? Nothing. Hermione had some crazy notion that someone inside the Ministry might be responsible, but what proof did she have? And if Malfoy knew, he might pull all security, and then where would they be? The element of surprise would vanish if the culprit were with the Ministry, or Malfoy's protection would be gone if he weren't. No. Best to keep this between him and Hermione for now. He ignored the voice in his head reminding him that Hermione rarely made mistakes.
"Did you ever email anyone else?" Harry asked. "Besides your friends?"
"No." Malfoy clasped his hands lightly together and rested his chin on his thumbs, as though willing himself to remember. "Not unless you count the Ministry," he added.
Harry's heart raced. "Who?"
"I forwarded the emails to the Auror Department."
Oh. Of course. "You didn't contact them using email before that?"
"No."
Harry hid his relief. Not that he liked the idea that someone close to Malfoy might be the threat, but … well that's usually how it went. The more people you let in, let get close to you, the more vulnerable you were. He'd seen that all too often as an Auror. And how sad was that?
"Potter!" Harry realised Malfoy had been speaking to him.
"Sorry. Just … thinking." He took a sip of his beer.
"Ah." Malfoy smirked. "That explains why I've never seen that look before."
"Ha ha." Relieved to be on familiar ground, he gave Malfoy the finger.
Their food arrived, Malfoy, shockingly, did not complain, and they had a pleasant meal. As they exited the pub, Harry asked, "Was the food acceptable?"
"Why?" Malfoy teased. "Trying to get out of another meal with me?"
Harry turned to face Malfoy. He'd enjoyed the meal, especially once they'd finished discussing work. Boldly, Harry looked him in the eye and answered truthfully. "Not at all."
Malfoy's eyes darkened as the two of them stood on the street in front of the pub. The faint scent of sandalwood on the air, and the warmth of Malfoy's body standing so close to his own, raised an inexplicable desire in Harry to be even closer.
"It was … palatable," Malfoy answered at length. "And the chocolate fudge cake was more than acceptable." Harry watched, fascinated as Malfoy's tongue darted out to touch his lips, as though refreshing his memory.
Tearing his gaze from Malfoy's mouth, he looked up to see Malfoy watching him. He had to stop himself closing the gap as desire welled inside him. More than this strange attraction to him, Harry worried for Malfoy's safety.
He cleared his throat. "Are you going back to the shop?"
"No," Malfoy said, taking a step closer. "I think I'll go straight home."
Visions of the only time Harry had been inside Malfoy Manor flooded his mind and broke the spell. He stepped back. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"
Malfoy's head seemed to clear too. "Tomorrow. Yes."
He turned to leave, and Harry reached out for his arm. "Malfoy?"
Malfoy looked down to where Harry grasped his arm, before looking back at Harry over his shoulder. "Yes?"
"Be careful."
Malfoy smirked and Harry dropped his arm. "I always am."
Harry watched him walk towards an alley to Disapparate. "Oh, and Potter?" he called back, turning to face Harry and smiling. Possibly the first genuinely open smile Harry had ever seen on him. "Dinner's on me next time." He winked and disappeared with a loud crack.
***
Harry looked up from his desk when he heard a tap-tap-tapping on his window. It looked like a Ministry owl. Who would bother him at home the one day he wasn't going to the bloody office? He glared at the bird. The bird glared back.
He walked over to the window, let the owl in, and took the note. The owl flew away without waiting for a response.
Potter,
It has been a week since I last received a report from you. I expect an update on your investigation of Draco Malfoy by end of day. With the grand opening less than a week away, your lack of progress and absence of evidence is disconcerting.
G. Robards
Harry tossed the letter onto his desk. "There's no evidence because he's not doing anything illegal!" He'd held off as long as he could. He'd have to send an owl later in the day. Robards wouldn't dare pull the security now, after the papers had repeatedly reported how safe it would be. At least there was that.
Arse. If only he'd been this persuasive towards the agents investigating the threats, maybe Draco would be safe right now, without the bloody Ministry watching his every move. Without the one threatening him having access to everything.
Harry went up to the bathroom, turned the water as hot as he could stand it, stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower. He welcomed the spray beating down on his shoulders, washing away his frustration, if only for a few minutes. He began to relax as he lathered his hair and breathed in the steam.
As he finished with the flannel and hung it up, Harry heard a noise downstairs. He listened carefully. There. Again. Senses heightened, he quickly rinsed off and left the shower running so as not to alert the intruder. He stepped out of the tub, pulled on his pants and grabbed his wand.
He crept down the stairs, mindful of the creaky one, and he raised his wand as he entered the living room. Then lowered it. A lone figure sat on his sofa, wringing his hands and looking nervous. "Malfoy, what the --? I almost hexed you! What are you doing here?"
Malfoy jumped at the sound of Harry's voice, putting his hand to his chest. "Potter." He dropped his arm and sighed, taking several deep breaths.
"Why didn't you call out?" Harry asked.
"I did, but you didn't answer."
"Ah," Harry said, suddenly aware that he was dripping wet and nearly naked. "I was in the shower."
"Mm." Malfoy stood up and walked towards Harry, no longer looking shaken. His eyes played slowly over Harry's body, and he bit his lower lip suggestively. "So I see."
Harry closed his eyes briefly and willed himself to focus, ignoring the raspy and extremely sexy tone of Malfoy's voice. "You obviously had a reason for coming here … something that had nothing to do with my shower."
Malfoy pouted. "Killjoy."
Harry laughed. "Let me go turn off the shower. I'll be right back, and you can tell me why you're here."
"Fine." Malfoy huffed and walked over to the window, glancing out at the city, a view that had sold Harry on this place. "But make it quick. I don't have all day."
Harry rolled his eyes and returned to the bathroom. Images appeared of a naked Malfoy in the shower with him. Harry quickly turned off the taps and towelled off, trying to rid himself of that picture, however pleasant. He went to his room, pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and went downstairs.
Malfoy had returned to the sofa. Harry took in Malfoy's tense posture, his shaking leg, and his wringing hands as he entered the room. "So what brings you here?"
Malfoy nearly jumped out of his skin. He mustn't have heard Harry come down the stairs. Immediately, his mask returned and he looked up. "I think I liked you better without clothes."
Harry felt his cheeks flush, but he wasn’t fooled. "Very funny, Malfoy … Draco. I can see you're on edge. What happened?"
Draco stood up and began to pace. "I got another note. Another email. And this time ... well, you read it." His hand shook as he held out a paper.
Harry took it, then led him back to the sofa. "Sit down." It was a sign of how upset he was that Draco complied without argument. Harry sat down beside him, their legs touching. He could feel Draco trembling as he read the note.
Your shop will never open. And soon you will join your father and all the other Death Eater scum I've taken care of. Mark my words. Your time is running out. Not even Harry Potter can save you now.
"You don't think …?" Draco asked. He leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees. He stared at the rug. Harry hadn't seen him look so vulnerable since the war. He wanted to reach out to him, but didn't think Draco's pride would allow it.
"It's possible," Harry replied. "Your father's murder was never solved."
"We thought it was another Death Eater." Draco stared into the empty fireplace, perhaps lost in a memory. "You know, revenge for …"
Harry recalled all too well what the papers had said. "For what I said in court about you and your mother helping me." The guilt still gnawed at him. Not that he gave a whit about Lucius, but Narcissa and Draco didn't need to suffer any more. And they had. In their own way, despite everything he'd done, they loved Lucius. "Listen, Draco --"
"Don't even start!" Draco interrupted him. He stood up, staring down at Harry as he continued, waving his finger in Harry's face. "If you apologise for making sure that my mother and I did not rot in Azkaban, I may have to hex you."
"Fair enough." Harry said, grasping Draco's hand and lowering his arm before letting go. "But I am sorry you had to go through that. You and your mother."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Bloody Gryffindor."
Harry looked back down at the letter. "It sounds like this person is taking credit for numerous murders, your father's among them."
Draco sat back down beside him and peered at the note. "Yes. And I'm pleased to say that rules out my friends, since they were all with me at the time my father was killed."
"That's good," Harry said.
"And it definitely doesn't sound like a Death Eater." Draco pointed to the Death Eater scum passage, his fingers grazing Harry's. "Besides, if it were a Death Eater, an attempt would have been made long ago. Voldemort's followers weren't exactly known for their patience."
"I need you to send me the electronic --"
"Already did."
"When?"
Draco nudged closer and leaned towards Harry's ear. "Apparently, when you were in the shower." Harry shuddered, gooseflesh covering his body.
Harry placed a hand on Draco's leg for leverage as he lifted himself from the sofa. "I'll be right back."
Draco grasped his wrist, holding him in place. "Don't be long." He wasn't shaking any more.
Harry went to his office, opened the email, and forwarded it to Hermione. Within thirty seconds, he received a notification that she'd opened it. Good. Hopefully she can get to the bottom of this, once and for all.
"I sent it," Harry announced as he exited his office - and walked directly into Draco. "Er … sorry."
Draco made no effort to step away. "So now what do we do?" he asked.
Harry shrugged. "Wait."
"Wrong answer." Draco stepped closer to Harry, who moved back, only to find himself pinned against the wall. It was not an altogether unpleasant place to be. "I believe we have some unfinished business from last night," Draco said.
"We do?"
"Mm hmm." Draco nodded and leaned to whisper in Harry's ear, "We do."
Draco pressed the length of his body against Harry's and, oh yes, this was a wonderful place to be. Harry ran his one hand through Draco's hair, thumb rubbing his cheek, and rested the other on the small of his back. He stared into Draco's eyes, looking for any sign that this wasn't what he wanted, that he might have been teasing, that his actions were driven by fear after receiving another threat. What he saw instead made his body ache. Fuck if he didn't want this as much as Harry.
Their mouths crashed together hungrily, tongues and teeth attacking more than kissing. Harry's head smashed against the wall, but he couldn't be arsed to care. He'd never shared a kiss this raw before, this passionate, and the tingling under his skin, that feeling of electricity surging through his blood was intoxicating. His head spun and he wasn't sure he would be able to hold his own weight at this point.
Harry felt Draco's erection press against his thigh, and he let out a groan. Draco released his mouth and began nibbling his way over Harry's jaw, down his throat, and across his collarbone.
Harry's mind struggled to maintain control as Draco pulled Harry's t-shirt from his jeans. They shouldn't do this. Harry couldn't, not under these circumstances. Draco was visibly shaken only moments ago. How had they ended up here? Harry didn't want to admit it, but Draco might be doing this out of gratitude. Or some warped sense of obligation.
"Wait … wait," Harry managed to say. Draco groaned, and Harry felt sure it was the sexiest sound he'd ever heard. Judgement warred with desire as Harry fought to resist. "We shouldn't do this," he said.
Draco's face, only a second ago flushed and full of desire, shut down. His body went rigid and he pulled back.
Harry held him still, arms around his waist. "We shouldn't do this … now," Harry amended. "But I would very much like a rain check. Say, when we don't have someone out there trying to kill you."
"What if I say no?" Draco asked, tilting his head playfully.
Harry lifted his hands and cradled Draco's face in his palms, resting their foreheads together. He pressed his lips gently to Draco's, then licked along his lower lip. Then slowly, softly, he pressed inside, moaning as Draco's tongue wrapped around his own. They leisurely explored each other's mouths, Harry mapping out a path that he desperately hoped to cover again.
"Mmm," Draco moaned as they pulled apart.
Harry smiled. "So, about that rain check …"
"Fine," Draco said, sounding unimpressed. "If we must."
Harry chuckled. "It's just that I don't think it's --"
" -- the right time. I know," Draco sighed. "Always the saintly Gryffindor."
"Well." Harry kissed him again briefly. "I wouldn't go that far." Draco frowned. "How about I get us a cup of tea?" Harry offered, putting some distance between them. He needed something to keep him from thinking about what they could be doing besides waiting for a response from Hermione.
"Don’t you have anything stronger?" Draco asked.
Harry looked at the clock. Just past eleven in the morning. He shot Draco a questioning look.
"Fine," he said. "Tea will do."
Harry put the kettle on and reached into the cupboard. "I've got biscuits too." Draco sat at the table pouting. Harry resisted the urge to kiss the pout away. "Why don't you go see if Hermione answered while I get our cups?"
Without a word, Draco left the room. Harry scrounged up three different types of biscuits, and after a bit of searching, managed to find a serving tray for them. He added the tea, milk and sugar to the tray and levitated it to the table. Draco stood in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning against the frame.
"I didn't hear you return," Harry said. "Did Hermione reply?" Draco shook his head. "Well, come on in and have some tea then."
Draco didn't move. He stood rigid, a piece of parchment Harry hadn't noticed crushed in his hand. Oh, shit.
Harry's stomach plummeted. "I can explain," he said desperately.
"No need, Potter." Draco threw Robards' crumpled letter onto the floor and fixed Harry with a look he hadn't seen in years. A look he'd hoped never again to see directed at him. "I can read."
He turned to leave and Harry called, "You don't understand."
Draco's wand was at his throat before Harry even noticed him reach for it. "I understand perfectly." He spat the last word, and Harry had to struggle not to flinch. "You have a job to do and you've done it admirably."
Harry opened his mouth to say something - anything to make Draco understand - but Draco pressed his wand harder into Harry's throat. He looked down his nose at Harry, as one might consider a slug or some equally repellent creature.
"I'll admit you had me fooled." He let his eyes slide over Harry's body, not hiding his disgust. When he finished his slow and painful appraisal, he looked Harry directly in the eyes. "I'd never have expected you to whore yourself out for the Ministry."
He dropped his wand from Harry's throat and before Harry could stop him, he Disapparated with a loud crack.
***
Harry walked into Draco's office an hour later. "We need to talk." Harry had given him time to himself before he Apparated to the shop. He'd filed his latest report with Robards, telling him Draco was not doing anything illegal, then tried to do some paperwork before he couldn't take it any more. He'd hoped Draco would have calmed down a bit in that time.
Draco pushed past him, headed for the door. "I have nothing to say to you." Not calm then.
Harry grabbed his arm and turned him around. Draco looked at his hand with loathing. Grey eyes pierced Harry's. "Unhand me, Potter."
"Only if you give me your word that you won't leave."
"Why bother, when clearly my word - a Death Eater's word - means nothing to you?" He glared and stepped closer, leaning in. "Let go of me now."
Harry released him, but positioned himself between Draco and the door. "Draco, please. Just listen."
Draco sized him up. "Why should I do that?"
"You have no reason to trust me, I know, but … please. Just listen to what I have to say and then decide."
Draco's arms crossed his chest and he leaned against the wall, conveying disinterest. "You have two minutes."
Harry let out a long breath, relieved that he'd have the chance to explain himself. "Not here," he said.
"Don't push your luck, Potter. It's here or nowhere."
Frustrated, Harry cast a few spells to protect their privacy - the best he could do under the circumstances, but by no means secure. Draco began tapping his foot impatiently.
"Yes, I was assigned initially to investigate you. For what I still don't know, but for some reason, they felt I was the right person for the job." Draco snorted. "Er … right. Anyway, I was given no choice."
"As if you'd give up the opportunity to keep an eye on me." Harry felt blood rush to his face. Draco was right, but not for the reason he suggested. Harry remembered their kiss, so recent and yet so distant, and all he could think of was what Draco's body might feel like, lying next to his own …
"Potter!"
"Right. Sorry. Distracted."
"A minute and a half."
"I've been investigating your complaints, and while I can't get into specifics of the case, I believe I'm getting close to finding the person responsible."
"And I should believe you … why?"
Harry moved forward and placed his hands gently on Draco's arms. "I am not investigating you, no matter what Robards thinks."
Draco pulled his arms free and glared at Harry. "I've had enough. Time's up," he announced. "I don't believe you. I don't trust you." He brushed himself off, as though trying to rid himself of the remnants of Harry's touch. "Unfortunately I am stuck dealing with you for the duration. But once this shop officially opens, I don't ever want to see your face again."
Harry wanted to scream. "Draco --"
"I have work to do, Auror Potter." He turned and left the room.
Well fuck.
***
Harry's mobile rang. He hated the bloody thing, and the fact that he had to carry it. He'd never say so to Hermione, but he felt the Muggle influence on the Ministry might have gone too far. Reluctantly, he answered. "Potter."
"Harry, it's me."
"Hey, Hermione. How --"
"Are you alone?"
He looked at the empty room, then peered out into the hall, even though he knew everyone else was in the front, outside, or working on final details back at the Ministry. That was, in fact, the reason he currently sat in Draco's office. It had nothing to do with the fact that he hoped the man would come back. Definitely not. After all, avoidance worked wonders, especially alongside brooding.
He lifted the phone to his ear again. "Yes. All alone … why?"
"I need to be sure no one will overhear what I say, or will see your reaction."
"Reaction to what?"
"I've figured out who's been threatening Draco."
Finally, they could put an end to this. Draco's words haunted Harry. He'd never have to see Harry again. Pushing his own interests aside, and his irritation with Hermione's penchant for the dramatic getting the better of him, Harry said, "Don't play games, Hermione. Just tell me."
"It's MacInness."
Harry's throat closed up. "Fuck." That explained a lot. The direction given to everyone to not bother investigating. No wonder good Aurors barely did the minimum required on the case. Guilt surfaced as Harry remembered the way he'd spoken to Ron. He shook it off for now. Where was MacInness, the bastard? More importantly, where was Draco?
"Yeah." Silence echoed through the phone line, and Harry pictured her fretting and biting her lip. "I can give you details later, but you need to make sure he's not alone with Draco."
"I'm hauling his arse in." Maybe he would put up a fight, so Harry could hex him in the process. That might be fun.
"I don't know if that's such a good idea."
What did she expect him to do? "Why the hell not?"
"This is Muggle technology, Harry. Wizards don't trust it. I doubt they'd find him guilty based on that alone."
"But once I bring him in, I'll search his house --"
"And find what?" she cut in. "He's managed to work around Muggle technology and hide himself fairly well."
"But you found him --"
"Yes, but he could claim someone else set him up to look guilty."
Harry frowned. "He'd get away with that?"
He heard her sigh. "What do you think? He's a highly respected Auror and the victim in this case is --"
"He's not a Death Eater."
"I wasn't going to say that." He could see her pursing her lips impatiently in his mind. "I just meant --"
"-- that no one will care."
"Well … yes. And to vilify a decorated Auror - one who is highly respected by his colleagues, his superiors and the public - for the sake of a Malfoy …"
"That's not fair."
Her laughter reverberated through the line. Not a pleasant sound. "Since when have you known life to be fair?" Point. "Besides, it is possible to hack in to someone else's account."
"Hack in? So he might not be the one."
"Unless you know of someone with a grudge against both him and Malfoy, who is computer savvy, and has access to the Ministry, I'd say it's him." She cleared her throat. "But you'll need to get other evidence. And without letting him know you're on to him."
He knew she was right. But it would take everything in him not to rip MacInness apart. "I can't let anything happen to Draco."
"Draco?" She hesitated, and he imagined he could hear the wheels spinning in her head, piecing things together. "Are you --"
"I've got to go," he interrupted. He had no desire to get into a heart-to-heart, certainly not when Draco's life was in danger. Right now, he needed to find MacInness, and then never let him out of his sight.
"Be careful, Harry."
"Always. And thanks." Without waiting for a response, he hung up and went in search of MacInness.
***
Part 3