So ... a funny thing happened recently. It started with NaNo: I wrote 50K+ in November for the first time in years (that's usually my busy time at work, but not this year) and then I was inspired to write a Christmas fic (another 29K). And then I got not one but TWO plot bunnies for additional fics. This is the first of those two.
I plan to post (at least) once a week [priority is an original novel I'm also working on] and I estimate that this will end up at about 15-25K. Of course, the boys could take me down a long, winding path, but as of right now, that seems a reasonable estimate. I have about 8K written already, plus some additional planning done, so I should be good to get this baby wrapped up without much delay.
So, without further adieu, here be my latest, Malicious Intent. Enjoy!
Title: Malicious Intent - Part 1 Author: sesheta_66 Pairing: Harry/Draco Word Count: 1.6K Rating: Eventual NC-17 Summary: Harry’s world is upended when he’s asked to investigate a break-in and threats levied at Draco Malfoy. He’s never told anyone about their short-lived but intense relationship, and now, five years after it ended, doesn’t seem the time. He’s a professional, so he will investigate, find and arrest the culprit, and get on with his life. What else can he do? Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Harry sat at his desk, bored out of his mind, doing what seemed like endless piles of paperwork. Bloody hell, being an Auror wasn’t nearly as interesting as he’d hoped when he’d signed up what felt like a lifetime ago. So, when Robards’ voice called, "Potter!" from his office, Harry jumped up, excited for a break from the monotony.
Harry went over to the Head Auror’s office and leaned in. "Yeah, boss?"
"Come in and shut the door, would you?"
"Sure." Harry did as asked and took a seat, wondering what would prompt a closed-door meeting. "Anything wrong?"
"No, no. Just ... well, I’ve received a new case and - given the complainant’s family history - I’d rather not advertise what’s going on." Harry frowned. "Not that anyone would have a problem with ... but just in case."
Perplexed, Harry waited. Robards shuffled through some papers on his desk then handed Harry the form. When he read the complainant’s name, Harry knew where Robards’ concern lay. Draco Malfoy. Though most corruption had been weeded out in the five years since the war - thanks in large part to Kingsley’s leadership - there remained strongholds of Ministry workers who, while not corrupt, held a good deal of rancour towards known and suspected Death Eaters, former Death Eaters, family members of Death Eaters and sometimes even casual acquaintances of Death Eaters. Not that anyone in the Auror Department would actively seek to harm someone, but it was entirely likely said individuals would receive rather less vigorous support. Much as he hated to admit it, Harry knew that even Ron could have been included in that group. Particularly where Malfoy was concerned.
"Ah," Harry said. "I understand." Robards nodded and motioned for him to continue reading. According to the report, Malfoy had been receiving threats - ones he either hadn’t taken seriously prior to this, or that he suspected would not be treated as worth investigation - for several months. Yesterday, whoever had been threatening him had escalated, had broken into his flat, destroying a number of items and leaving a note amongst the rubble. "Next time, I’ll come when you’re home." it said.
Harry looked up, a cold churning settling in his stomach. Robards said, "I see that you recognise the gravity of the situation."
Harry nodded. "Malfoy’s an accomplished wizard." Denying it would have served no purpose. "In school he came second only to Hermione Granger in our year, and you know what a formidable witch she is. I seriously doubt he’d have weak or inadequate wards." This was serious.
"Quite." Robards nodded. "That means whoever is threatening him is also a highly accomplished wizard, or witch, for that matter."
"So you’d like me to take on the case?"
"Ah." Robards leaned back in his chair and scrutinised Harry. "Now there I’m not so sure." Harry said nothing, waiting for him to elaborate. "Given your ... ah ... past."
A twinge of apprehension came over Harry. He couldn’t know, could he? No, of course not. No one knew. He tried for casual but confused. "Sir?"
"I understand, from Kingsley, that you and Mr Malfoy have rather a colourful history."
Ah. Relief washed over Harry. "We do," he acknowledged. No point denying that.
"Though I daresay not as contentious as between him and Weasley." Harry nodded. "Listen, Potter, I trust that you will investigate this to the best of your ability. You’ve never hesitated to execute your duties professionally, no matter the victim or circumstance, which is in large part why you were promoted to Senior Auror, despite your age. However, unfortunately, I cannot say the same with regards to all of your colleagues. The ability to set aside personal concerns is something often honed over years, and as you know, we’re lacking seasoned Aurors. So. That’s why I’ve called you in here today." He leaned forward and held Harry’s gaze. "Despite your record, you’ve never been called upon to investigate a case in which you’ve had a personal connection before."
"I --"
He held up a hand to stop Harry’s response. Probably a good thing, since Harry wasn’t even sure what he’d been about to say. "Take a few hours. You’re the best person for the job, I have no doubt, but if you don’t feel you can give this case the same care and attention you could any other, I won’t hold it against you. If you say you can’t do it, I will accept that, no questions. Protocol is to assign cases to Aurors that can remain objective. And I wouldn’t even ask, except ..."
"Except you can’t guarantee he’ll get fair treatment under the circumstances."
Robards nodded. "Take the file, consider your past, and let me know this afternoon if you think you can do this objectively. Or at least as objectively as anyone else."
"I can do it," Harry said.
"I don’t doubt that you can, Potter. My concern is if you should. This is as much for your benefit as Mr Malfoy’s."
Not entirely sure what he meant by that, but not wanting to ask, Harry picked up the file and stood to go. "Right. Will do."
"Oh, and Potter? Keep this one to yourself." Harry understood that to mean, don’t tell Ron. Which meant don’t tell Hermione. Or Ginny. Or anyone else he might ordinarily talk to about such a decision. Right, then. He was on his own.
Harry spent the morning clearing as much paperwork from his other cases as he could, knowing full well what he was doing. He was already planning to take the case. Ordinarily Aurors don’t get much say in which cases they’re assigned. Robards had chosen him, had said he trusted him. And Harry knew full well the case would get shoved under everything else, if handed to any of a number of his colleagues. He had no idea who would end up with the case if Harry refused it, and Malfoy didn’t deserve to die. Harry hadn’t rescued him from the Fiendfyre back in school just to have him offed by some lunatic, certainly not if Harry could prevent it. And, on a more selfish note, he wasn’t about to risk his own career progression by refusing a case. Sure, Robards had given him an out, but the choice would follow him, no matter what assurances he was given. It had nothing whatsoever to do with Harry’s feelings for the man.
Not sure if he could convince even himself of that, Harry took lunch on his own and went for a walk, determined to give the matter some real thought. The last time he’d seen Malfoy had been on Diagon Alley a couple of years ago. They’d both acted like they hadn’t seen each other, and that had been that. As if either of them had ever been able to ignore the other. And Harry’s thoughts had wandered back to that non-encounter more times than he’d cared to admit in the two years since.
The time before that had been significantly less pleasant. Perhaps the least pleasant encounter of Harry’s life, not counting the war. Somehow, incredibly, he and Malfoy - he’d become Draco by then - had ended up together. It had started innocently enough, but in short order it had become clear that there was a lot more between them than residual anger and pent-up sexual frustration. One night, after a particularly frustrating argument with Ron, Harry had been well on his way to drinking himself into a stupor when Draco had joined him. An hour later they were in Harry’s bed and had been every night for months after that. And it hadn’t just been about the sex, though admittedly that had been fabulous. They’d practically lived together. And it had happened in a heartbeat.
And then, out of nowhere, it was over. "It never meant anything," Malfoy had told him. "Just a distraction, an outlet, a way to let off some steam." When Harry’d protested, Malfoy had turned cruel. He’d laughed in Harry’s face, had told him he couldn’t possibly think that Malfoy would ever turn his back on family obligation. No, he would marry a pureblood witch, as became a wizard of his breeding, and he would produce an heir and a spare. Should Harry want to fuck occasionally - on the side and in private, of course - Draco might be amenable sometime down the road; it had been good after all, but the current situation had to end, at least for the time being.
And then he’d left and Harry hadn’t heard from him since.
And now it was Harry’s job to protect him. Hunt down the person who wanted to do Draco harm. He was powerless to say no. It didn’t matter that Draco - no, Malfoy - had left him a shell of a man, unable to trust his own instincts, Harry would protect him or die trying. It was more than just his job. And it was then that he knew he’d never really moved on. He’d fought it well, valiantly even, but the truth was that Draco Malfoy still owned his heart. And after all this time, what could Harry do?
Apparently, he could go protect the git.
He could protect him. Investigate the case. Arrest the bastard doing this. See him or her thrown in Azkaban. And leave the arse to live his purebred life without Harry.
Right. He could do this. It had been five years ago, for Merlin’s sake. Another lifetime. Water under the bridge. He steeled himself and then went to Robards’ office to tell him that sure, he could be perfectly objective and treat the heartless bastard like any other victim. Sure he could. Because he was a professional.