Malicious Intent - Part 14 (H/D)
Title: Malicious Intent - Part 14
Author: sesheta_66
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 4.1K
Rating: Eventual NC-17
Warning: none
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.
To start at the beginning, click here.
Or to read at AO3, click here.
[Malicious Intent - Part 14]
Malicious Intent - Part 14
When Harry arrived back at the hotel, he was surprised to find Draco there, hands wrapped around a nearly empty mug of tea, staring into it. Relieved - he hadn’t realised just how worried he’d been after getting no response - he took off his gloves and cloak, tossing them onto the chair in the corner of the room. "Hey. Did you get my message?"
Draco continued to look at his cup. "I’m here, aren’t I?" A hint of his old sneering tone underpinned his words.
Harry reached into his pocket and took out his coin, but - as he’d thought - there was no message. He said nothing, presuming Draco wouldn’t appreciate if he said he’d been concerned.
As though reading Harry’s thoughts, Draco volunteered, "I worked all day and had dinner with my mother afterwards. I left the coin at home. When I got back to my flat, I saw your message and just Apparated over."
Harry tried not to sound too annoyed. "Maybe you should try carrying it with you, just in case."
He looked up then and glared at Harry. "What? So you can get hold of me, keep tabs on me day or night?"
Harry’s face turned red, half from embarrassment, half from annoyance. "No, you twat. I was thinking so that you could get hold of me. You know ... in case something happened. Last I checked, there was someone out there threatening you."
The scowl dropped from his face. "Oh."
"Yeah, oh."
Draco sighed and dropped his gaze back to his cup. "I arrived about twenty minutes ago, but you weren’t here."
"Went out for supper." Harry scrubbed his hand over his face, feeling utterly gutted by his emotions. It had been a trying week and his dinner with Hermione - though it had ended on a pleasant note - had worn him down even more. And he suspected Draco’s tetchiness was a direct result of their last conversation. "Look, I"m sorry I was such a shit to you yesterday."
Draco’s head whipped up, eyes widening in surprise. Then he shrugged. "It’s okay."
"No, it’s not. I never should have thrown your words back in your face. Not after ..."
Draco stared off at a place behind Harry’s shoulder. "I deserved it. No need to apologise."
"I -" Harry wiped his now-sweaty palms on his jeans. "I guess ... look, it’s not an excuse, but ... well, I’ve spent the last five years replaying that conversation in my head, trying to figure out what went wrong, how I could have been so blind, so stupid, so ..." He sighed, frustrated at his inability to cobble together the words he needed to tell Draco what he meant, how he felt. "And I’ve only had about five minutes to process what really happened back then. It might take me a while." He wanted to move on, but it was hard. "I’ll try not to be too much of a dick in the meantime."
He pulled out a chair and sat down across the table from Draco and willed him to be patient. "Plus I never told anybody about us. Not a soul. Well, not until tonight anyway. And so I guess it’s been bottled up inside me for so long that it just came spewing out and I’m sorry."
Draco gave a curt nod. "You told someone tonight? About ... us?"
Harry ran a hand through his mop of hair nervously. He still couldn’t believe he’d told Hermione. Even more difficult to wrap his head around was her reaction. "Yeah. I had dinner with Hermione."
Draco’s look of surprise turned into a roll of the eyes. "It doesn’t count when you tell someone that already knew."
"That’s just it; she didn’t know. I never told anyone and Ron never told her."
"So you mean to say - Wait. What do you mean you never told anyone? How’s that possible? You told -"
"I told no one. Ginny followed me back then. I’m not sure how she and Ron worked things out, but I sure as hell didn’t tell them and they didn’t tell Hermione." Not for the first time, he wanted to smooth away the worry lines between Draco’s eyes. He cleared his throat instead. "We’d agreed, you and I, not to tell anyone. I honoured that."
"Me too," he said so softly that Harry could barely hear him. "I’d just assumed ..."
"Yeah, I figured. But I didn’t. I wouldn’t have, not without talking to you first. Not without you agreeing."
"Oh." He frowned and Harry sensed he was wondering - like Harry had - if knowing that might have led him to a different decision back then. "But you told Granger tonight?"
"I did."
He took a deep breath and seemed to brace himself. "And what was her reaction? You say she didn’t know? How did it even come up?"
"No, she didn’t know. Funny enough, she didn’t seem all that surprised." Draco’s mouth fell open and Harry chuckled. "Yeah. Smart girl. As for how it came up, it’s an amusing story, actually." At Draco’s pull the other one look - and how was it that Harry still recognised all of Draco’s looks? - he continued. "It seems my darling ex decided to tell her sister-in-law what an utter shit I am."
Draco laughed. "And this surprised you?"
Harry shrugged. "I suppose not, but ... well, she didn’t think it through much, did she?"
"Clearly" Draco snorted. "She is a Gryffindor, after all. Jump right in, damn the consequences."
"Too true," Harry conceded. "Anyway, I’m not sure what she expected to gain by doing that."
"She wanted Granger to help her get you back." He looked at Harry like he was an idiot, which - insofar as his personal life went - he supposed was fair, particularly when it came to Ginny. "Obviously."
Harry let out a huff of frustration. "I told her to give me space."
"So that later you’d take her back."
"Well, yeah. That’s how she interpreted it."
"You really are an idiot, Potter."
"But I told her that there was no chance. Not now, not in the future. But she needed to give me space so we wouldn’t hate each other forever."
Draco shook his head slowly. "Which means now she’s got nothing to lose."
"What do you mean?"
"If you told her that you will never get back with her, there’s nothing worse in her eyes. So now she might as well throw all that she’s got at you." Harry’s mouth opened and shut, and he wondered how this was so clear to Draco. "First, she tried the most obvious thing - going to Granger, since she’s not only her sister-in-law, but your best friend. And smarter than all of you." He smirked at Harry. "No offence."
Harry laughed. "None taken."
"If that doesn’t work -"
"It won’t work."
"Fine. When that doesn’t work, she’ll try something else. And then something else. And something else again."
Harry dragged his hand through his hair, nearly pulling a clump out in frustration. "But that won’t get her anything. It’s certainly not going to win me back. In fact, I’ll just end up hating her."
"Ah, but don’t you see, Harry? That old saying - there’s a fine line between love and hate - is a saying for a reason. If you hate her, that means you still feel something for her. Which means there’s a chance. However slim that may be."
"That’s all sorts of fucked up."
Draco chuckled, shaking his head. "That, Harry, is the art of manipulation."
"But -"
"You’re out of your depths if you think you know what’s coming next." He shook his head in bemusement. "Tell me something."
"Hmm?"
"What got you to notice her in the first place? I mean you knew her for years. As I remember, she’d followed you around like a lost little crup, always there just in case there was a chance you’d see her, pay attention to her. But you didn’t. And then ... you did. Why was that?"
"I -" Harry thought back. "She was herself. Acted like a normal person, self-confident, smart. Like she is."
"Oh, I’ve no doubt she’s smart. Not Granger-level smart, but cunning." Harry watched the wheels spinning in Draco’s head with fascination. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t she date a few people before you? All in fairly quick succession?"
"I suppose."
"And could it have been seeing her with other blokes that got your attention?"
Harry recalled his chest monster from that year. "Maybe."
Draco stared at Harry, clearly waiting for him to put the pieces together. When Harry said nothing more, he threw his hands up in the air. "Honestly, Potter. How are you a Senior Auror again? She manipulated you into going out with her in the first place by making you jealous. Then she manipulated our relationship."
"You mean she manipulated you," Harry said with a smug sense of satisfaction.
"Well, yes, but not without the help of her brother and some pretty valid concerns."
"Semantics."
Draco glared but went on. "So her manipulations have worked in the past, have managed to get her exactly what she wanted - you. I’d wager she’s been manipulating her parents and her brothers her whole life and probably doesn’t even know how to turn that off."
Harry studied him. "You’re really good at reading people," he admitted.
"I am," Draco acknowledged. "Most of the time." He considered Harry for a moment before adding, "At least when I’m not too close. It gets messy when feelings are involved. Blurs the lines. Affects one’s judgement."
Harry nodded. "That’s why Aurors aren’t supposed to get investigate cases where people close to them are involved."
Draco raised a brow, silently acknowledging the obvious about their current circumstances. "I think that’s why we always see the best in our parents, our friends, the ones we care most about. They’re the ones closest to us, the ones that can cause us the most pain, the ones who can make us believe what others would clearly see through."
Harry thought about what Draco was saying and wondered how in the hell Ginny and Ron had been able to manipulate him in the first place. And then it clicked. Oh. "Or if there’s a threat - or perceived threat - to someone we care about, we might do something we otherwise wouldn’t."
Draco looked relieved at Harry’s words. "Exactly."
"In other words, you think I should be prepared for anything that Ginny might try to throw at me."
"Don’t you?"
"Fair warning. I’ll keep that in mind." But if she had nothing to lose, how could he ever make it stop? "What would you do?"
"I’m not exactly an objective bystander in all of this," he pointed out.
"No, but you’re someone that has a lot of experience dealing with manipulative people."
Draco frowned but nodded. "With some people, it would be best to ignore them entirely. Most get bored and go away eventually. But I doubt that would work with her. She’s probably been ignored by her brothers - and to a certain extent, her parents, with so many other children to deal with - most of her life. I think in this case, you’d just need to stay on alert, let her know that you are aware of what she’s doing, and show her it isn’t working."
"That sounds exhausting."
Draco grinned. "Indeed."
"Is that what it’s like to be in Slytherin?"
"Pretty much."
"Ugh. I’m glad I told the hat not to put me there."
Draco coughed. "As if that were even an option."
"It was." Harry grinned at the mingled look of horror and surprise on Draco’s face. "It said I’d do well in Slytherin. So I said not Slytherin and it put me in Gryffindor."
"You’re having me on."
Harry leaned forward, shit-eating grin on his face. "Not even a little bit."
"Fuck me," Draco said. Harry shivered, images from another time swimming into his head. He quickly pushed them down, deep down. "How -? What even -? You’d have been eaten alive. You couldn’t have survived."
Harry shrugged. "I suppose we’ll never know."
"How is this the first time I’m hearing of this?" He narrowed his eyes, as though hoping to see into Harry’s thoughts. Harry raised his brows - he never could master the art of the single-brow lift, damn it. "Nothing in the papers, not even a rumour. And you know that would’ve been a big story, given Slytherin’s reputation."
Harry shrugged. "Never told anyone but Dumbledore before."
"Never?"
Harry shook his head. "Nope." He didn’t bother explaining that he hadn’t wanted people to know about it at first. And he wasn’t sure why, even now, he hadn’t told even Ron or Hermione.
"Interesting." He looked intrigued by the news and possibly a bit self-satisfied to be the one Harry’d told. "Maybe you do have it in you to withstand the she-weasel’s sure-to-be-endless attempts to woo you back."
"Definitely." He’d seen enough in the Pensieve to counter any desire to forgive and forget. "Even before you showed me that memory, we weren’t exactly headed towards wedded bliss." He thought back to the separate lives they’d been living - more roommates than anything else - and nodded, more to himself than to Draco. "The fact that she and Ron did that, and then kept it from me for so long, that was just the final straw."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah. Things hadn’t been going so well for a long time anyway." He tried not to compare, but the way his heart raced around Draco - the way he wanted him, even after everything that had happened, even when convinced that nothing would ever happen between them again - he’d never had that with her. And he didn’t think he could ever settle for less than that again. Not now that he knew the feelings had been real, not something he’d imagined was reciprocated. He wanted that again. Wanted to feel alive.
He shook his head and mumbled to himself, "There’s nothing left there to salvage."
"So if she were to ..." Draco began, his words trailing off.
Harry frowned. He’d been thinking out loud more than anything, bouncing his thoughts off of Draco without considering what he’d been saying and to whom. He shook his head. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking to you about this." When Draco didn’t say anything, he rewound their conversation back before they’d wandered off on this tangent. "Right. I was apologising for being a dick to you yesterday." Not quite prepared to let it go entirely, Harry said, "I’m still angry about what happened, and I still think you should have trusted me enough to tell me, but you didn’t deserve that."
Draco looked poised to argue, but then shrugged and sighed. "Okay, then. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. Really sorry. I should have told you a long time ago."
An echo of Draco’s voice from the night before - I’m utterly defenceless when it comes to you - made Harry’s chest ache. He started to reach for Draco’s hand, but pulled up short. That wouldn’t help anything. It might just make things worse, complicate the situation. Not that it wasn’t complicated enough, thanks. "Look, I just need a bit of time to process everything, okay?"
Draco drained the rest of the liquid from his cup and set it down on the table with a little more force than strictly necessary. "Fine."
"More tea?" Harry asked, getting up to make some of the fancy stuff Draco had brought.
"Sure."
As Harry walked past him, the faint scent of Draco’s after shave recalled another time. Draco had followed Harry into the kitchen, no doubt to supervise, like he’d always done when Harry’d tried to make his fancy tea in the past. He’d been standing at the counter and Draco had come up behind him, pressing his chest to Harry’s back and resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder. Harry had done his best to fill the kettle and set it to boil while Draco nibbled and kissed his way up Harry’s neck to his ear, eventually drawing the lobe into his mouth, his hands wandering over Harry’s back and chest before coming to rest on his hips. He’d nearly dropped the contents of the package when Draco’s raspy voice had growled, "Can’t keep my hands off you. Want you now." Harry shuddered again at the memory.
"Need some help there?" came Draco’s voice from far too close beside him. Harry jumped and spilled some tea leaves in the process, his heart racing. Draco’s chuckle sent shivers down his spine and when his eyes met Draco’s, he saw his own raw need reflected in them.
With great effort, he looked away, and with shaky hands, picked up the leaves and placed them in the teapot. "Don’t sneak up on a guy like that," he said, his voice nearly as shaky as his hands.
"Sorry." He didn’t sound the least bit sorry. Fuck.
Harry set the water to boil. "I can manage, thanks." He was pleased that his voice was once more steady.
Draco snorted. "I can see that."
"Oh, fuck off. Go sit down and I’ll bring the tea to the table."
"Alright, alright." Draco returned to his seat, giving Harry some much-needed space in this suddenly very small room. At least the bed was currently a table. For whatever that was worth. They hadn’t exactly needed a bed every time ... Fuck, fuck, fuck. Those thoughts weren’t helping anything, though his half-hard prick begged to differ on that assessment. He took a few deep breaths and willed his erection down, stifling a groan. Easier said than done.
As composed as he could get, Harry brought the tea to the table to let it steep. "Your tea is served."
Draco smirked. "So you have some news on the case?"
"Oh, right." Harry’d completely forgotten the reason he’d asked Draco to drop by. "I got an address."
"What?" Draco exclaimed, all teasing gone. "Then why aren’t we there?"
As an afterthought, Harry grabbed a packet of shortbread biscuits he’d bought earlier - the kind Draco liked, and no he wasn’t going to analyse what that meant - and deposited them onto the table. "Because I doubt he’s there. And it’s night. And we need to do some reconnaissance first."
Draco ignored the biscuits. "And we’re not doing that now, why?"
Harry sat down, glad of the table between them. "Because it’s dark and I want to get the lay of the land first. I’ll start tomorrow."
Draco scowled. "I’ve got to go to the lab in the morning, but I should be able to slip out by about eleven, maybe ten if I go in earlier. Shall we meet here and then head over?"
"Hold on. Wait just a minute. You are not going anywhere. I’ll go there myself, scope the place out, determine if anyone is there - highly unlikely - and scan the wards to see what we’re dealing with."
"Excuse me?" Draco said, leaning over the table into Harry’s personal space. "I want to go, too. After all, it’s me he’s after."
Harry leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Which is precisely why you shouldn’t go. If Rowle is there, I don’t want to practically hand you over to him."
Draco opened his mouth to argue. Harry raised his hand. "It’s my job, remember? It’s what I do. You wouldn’t expect me to brew an antidote for some poison I’d ingested, would you?"
Draco snorted. "Don’t be ridiculous."
"Exactly." He poured the tea and nudged the packet of biscuits towards Draco. "Rowle isn’t some random bloke on the street throwing a hex. He’s highly skilled in the Dark Arts and he’s a mean motherfucker."
"But -"
Harry held up a hand. "Don’t even bother arguing."
Harry explained his plan for flushing Rowle out, and any potential accomplices. Draco nodded his agreement and reluctantly agreed to stay out of the way.
***
The next day, Harry attended the morning briefing in the Auror Office - Robards had given him leeway so far, but insisted he show up for at least one per week - and went back to his office afterwards to collect the equipment he needed for the day.
Before heading to Romford, he needed to check in with Mac to confirm that no further transmissions or surges in magic had occurred at the house. Harry stepped into the elevator and just as the door was about to close, a hand reached out to stop it and Ron entered, effectively cornering him on his way to the lab. So, his team had returned. And now he and Harry were alone for the first time since Harry had found out what he and Ginny had done. Harry’s blood began to boil as he tried to maintain his composure, knowing that work was not the place to confront Ron.
"What the fuck, Harry?" Ron crowded in on him, making the most of his height and bulk. The elevator door closed. "You went to my wife?"
Harry straightened his back and leaned towards Ron, refusing to back down to Ron’s larger stature. He breathed in, taking a good gulp of air and channelling his anger. "Excuse me?"
"You went to Hermione to complain about me?" Ron yelled in his face. "What are we, twelve?"
Harry laughed and put his hand against Ron’s chest, pushing him slightly back, just enough to regain an arm’s length of personal space. "Oh, you don’t like someone going behind your back, eh? That’s rich."
Ron flapped his arms, his face reddening. Harry waved his hand to stop the elevator before someone came on and saw their confrontation. "Mates don’t go to their mates’ wives behind their effing backs! There’s a code!"
Harry scowled and shoved his finger into Ron’s chest, this time pushing hard and walking him back until his back hit the wall of the elevator. "I didn’t go to your wife, you arse. Your sister did." He pushed him again for good measure. "She went crying to Hermione to get her to talk reason into me, if you can believe it." Ron blinked, clearly caught off guard. Harry lifted his chin. "Yeah, that’s right. Only she didn’t bother telling your wife what the two of you did to me, did she? No, she just cried about how unfair I was being because I split up with her. So your wife invited me out to dinner to give me shit."
Ron deflated somewhat. "She did?"
"Yeah, she did. And, not that I had anything to hide, but it was only after I’d said how surprised I was that, after what you’d done, she was siding with the two of you that I realised she didn’t know. And it was only then, after Hermione did what she does best, that she pried that gem out of me."
"Fuck."
"Yeah, so go give your little sister shit, not me."
Ron put his hands up in the air in defeat. "I didn’t know."
"Yeah, there’s a lot you don’t know. And a lot you presume to know. That’s a common theme with you, isn’t it?" Harry pressed in further. "And don’t you ever approach me at work like this again. When we need to talk, we’ll talk outside. I will not have my position here fucked over by you, like you did with my personal life."
"Harry -"
"Shut." He poked Ron’s chest, though he’d have preferred to punch him. "The fuck." Poke. "Up." Poke. "We will talk, you and I, but it won’t be here, where we’re both supposed to be professionals."
"I -"
"This isn’t over, not by a long shot. We will have words, and you’d best be able to explain yourself, because right now I can’t stand the sight of you." Ron sputtered but Harry just looked at him in disgust. "You’re lucky I don’t have you reprimanded for what you just did."
Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "Don’t fucking push me, Weasley." He let a bit of his magic escape, charging the air in the enclosed space. Ron’s eyes widened only slightly, but Harry caught it. "When we’re at work, I am your superior. Don’t ever forget that."
He waved him arm to release the elevator, then stepped back to stand as far away from Ron as he could manage, staring straight ahead until the elevator door opened and he got out. He couldn’t get away from him fast enough.
Continued in Part 15
Author: sesheta_66
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 4.1K
Rating: Eventual NC-17
Warning: none
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.
To start at the beginning, click here.
Or to read at AO3, click here.
[Malicious Intent - Part 14]
Malicious Intent - Part 14
When Harry arrived back at the hotel, he was surprised to find Draco there, hands wrapped around a nearly empty mug of tea, staring into it. Relieved - he hadn’t realised just how worried he’d been after getting no response - he took off his gloves and cloak, tossing them onto the chair in the corner of the room. "Hey. Did you get my message?"
Draco continued to look at his cup. "I’m here, aren’t I?" A hint of his old sneering tone underpinned his words.
Harry reached into his pocket and took out his coin, but - as he’d thought - there was no message. He said nothing, presuming Draco wouldn’t appreciate if he said he’d been concerned.
As though reading Harry’s thoughts, Draco volunteered, "I worked all day and had dinner with my mother afterwards. I left the coin at home. When I got back to my flat, I saw your message and just Apparated over."
Harry tried not to sound too annoyed. "Maybe you should try carrying it with you, just in case."
He looked up then and glared at Harry. "What? So you can get hold of me, keep tabs on me day or night?"
Harry’s face turned red, half from embarrassment, half from annoyance. "No, you twat. I was thinking so that you could get hold of me. You know ... in case something happened. Last I checked, there was someone out there threatening you."
The scowl dropped from his face. "Oh."
"Yeah, oh."
Draco sighed and dropped his gaze back to his cup. "I arrived about twenty minutes ago, but you weren’t here."
"Went out for supper." Harry scrubbed his hand over his face, feeling utterly gutted by his emotions. It had been a trying week and his dinner with Hermione - though it had ended on a pleasant note - had worn him down even more. And he suspected Draco’s tetchiness was a direct result of their last conversation. "Look, I"m sorry I was such a shit to you yesterday."
Draco’s head whipped up, eyes widening in surprise. Then he shrugged. "It’s okay."
"No, it’s not. I never should have thrown your words back in your face. Not after ..."
Draco stared off at a place behind Harry’s shoulder. "I deserved it. No need to apologise."
"I -" Harry wiped his now-sweaty palms on his jeans. "I guess ... look, it’s not an excuse, but ... well, I’ve spent the last five years replaying that conversation in my head, trying to figure out what went wrong, how I could have been so blind, so stupid, so ..." He sighed, frustrated at his inability to cobble together the words he needed to tell Draco what he meant, how he felt. "And I’ve only had about five minutes to process what really happened back then. It might take me a while." He wanted to move on, but it was hard. "I’ll try not to be too much of a dick in the meantime."
He pulled out a chair and sat down across the table from Draco and willed him to be patient. "Plus I never told anybody about us. Not a soul. Well, not until tonight anyway. And so I guess it’s been bottled up inside me for so long that it just came spewing out and I’m sorry."
Draco gave a curt nod. "You told someone tonight? About ... us?"
Harry ran a hand through his mop of hair nervously. He still couldn’t believe he’d told Hermione. Even more difficult to wrap his head around was her reaction. "Yeah. I had dinner with Hermione."
Draco’s look of surprise turned into a roll of the eyes. "It doesn’t count when you tell someone that already knew."
"That’s just it; she didn’t know. I never told anyone and Ron never told her."
"So you mean to say - Wait. What do you mean you never told anyone? How’s that possible? You told -"
"I told no one. Ginny followed me back then. I’m not sure how she and Ron worked things out, but I sure as hell didn’t tell them and they didn’t tell Hermione." Not for the first time, he wanted to smooth away the worry lines between Draco’s eyes. He cleared his throat instead. "We’d agreed, you and I, not to tell anyone. I honoured that."
"Me too," he said so softly that Harry could barely hear him. "I’d just assumed ..."
"Yeah, I figured. But I didn’t. I wouldn’t have, not without talking to you first. Not without you agreeing."
"Oh." He frowned and Harry sensed he was wondering - like Harry had - if knowing that might have led him to a different decision back then. "But you told Granger tonight?"
"I did."
He took a deep breath and seemed to brace himself. "And what was her reaction? You say she didn’t know? How did it even come up?"
"No, she didn’t know. Funny enough, she didn’t seem all that surprised." Draco’s mouth fell open and Harry chuckled. "Yeah. Smart girl. As for how it came up, it’s an amusing story, actually." At Draco’s pull the other one look - and how was it that Harry still recognised all of Draco’s looks? - he continued. "It seems my darling ex decided to tell her sister-in-law what an utter shit I am."
Draco laughed. "And this surprised you?"
Harry shrugged. "I suppose not, but ... well, she didn’t think it through much, did she?"
"Clearly" Draco snorted. "She is a Gryffindor, after all. Jump right in, damn the consequences."
"Too true," Harry conceded. "Anyway, I’m not sure what she expected to gain by doing that."
"She wanted Granger to help her get you back." He looked at Harry like he was an idiot, which - insofar as his personal life went - he supposed was fair, particularly when it came to Ginny. "Obviously."
Harry let out a huff of frustration. "I told her to give me space."
"So that later you’d take her back."
"Well, yeah. That’s how she interpreted it."
"You really are an idiot, Potter."
"But I told her that there was no chance. Not now, not in the future. But she needed to give me space so we wouldn’t hate each other forever."
Draco shook his head slowly. "Which means now she’s got nothing to lose."
"What do you mean?"
"If you told her that you will never get back with her, there’s nothing worse in her eyes. So now she might as well throw all that she’s got at you." Harry’s mouth opened and shut, and he wondered how this was so clear to Draco. "First, she tried the most obvious thing - going to Granger, since she’s not only her sister-in-law, but your best friend. And smarter than all of you." He smirked at Harry. "No offence."
Harry laughed. "None taken."
"If that doesn’t work -"
"It won’t work."
"Fine. When that doesn’t work, she’ll try something else. And then something else. And something else again."
Harry dragged his hand through his hair, nearly pulling a clump out in frustration. "But that won’t get her anything. It’s certainly not going to win me back. In fact, I’ll just end up hating her."
"Ah, but don’t you see, Harry? That old saying - there’s a fine line between love and hate - is a saying for a reason. If you hate her, that means you still feel something for her. Which means there’s a chance. However slim that may be."
"That’s all sorts of fucked up."
Draco chuckled, shaking his head. "That, Harry, is the art of manipulation."
"But -"
"You’re out of your depths if you think you know what’s coming next." He shook his head in bemusement. "Tell me something."
"Hmm?"
"What got you to notice her in the first place? I mean you knew her for years. As I remember, she’d followed you around like a lost little crup, always there just in case there was a chance you’d see her, pay attention to her. But you didn’t. And then ... you did. Why was that?"
"I -" Harry thought back. "She was herself. Acted like a normal person, self-confident, smart. Like she is."
"Oh, I’ve no doubt she’s smart. Not Granger-level smart, but cunning." Harry watched the wheels spinning in Draco’s head with fascination. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t she date a few people before you? All in fairly quick succession?"
"I suppose."
"And could it have been seeing her with other blokes that got your attention?"
Harry recalled his chest monster from that year. "Maybe."
Draco stared at Harry, clearly waiting for him to put the pieces together. When Harry said nothing more, he threw his hands up in the air. "Honestly, Potter. How are you a Senior Auror again? She manipulated you into going out with her in the first place by making you jealous. Then she manipulated our relationship."
"You mean she manipulated you," Harry said with a smug sense of satisfaction.
"Well, yes, but not without the help of her brother and some pretty valid concerns."
"Semantics."
Draco glared but went on. "So her manipulations have worked in the past, have managed to get her exactly what she wanted - you. I’d wager she’s been manipulating her parents and her brothers her whole life and probably doesn’t even know how to turn that off."
Harry studied him. "You’re really good at reading people," he admitted.
"I am," Draco acknowledged. "Most of the time." He considered Harry for a moment before adding, "At least when I’m not too close. It gets messy when feelings are involved. Blurs the lines. Affects one’s judgement."
Harry nodded. "That’s why Aurors aren’t supposed to get investigate cases where people close to them are involved."
Draco raised a brow, silently acknowledging the obvious about their current circumstances. "I think that’s why we always see the best in our parents, our friends, the ones we care most about. They’re the ones closest to us, the ones that can cause us the most pain, the ones who can make us believe what others would clearly see through."
Harry thought about what Draco was saying and wondered how in the hell Ginny and Ron had been able to manipulate him in the first place. And then it clicked. Oh. "Or if there’s a threat - or perceived threat - to someone we care about, we might do something we otherwise wouldn’t."
Draco looked relieved at Harry’s words. "Exactly."
"In other words, you think I should be prepared for anything that Ginny might try to throw at me."
"Don’t you?"
"Fair warning. I’ll keep that in mind." But if she had nothing to lose, how could he ever make it stop? "What would you do?"
"I’m not exactly an objective bystander in all of this," he pointed out.
"No, but you’re someone that has a lot of experience dealing with manipulative people."
Draco frowned but nodded. "With some people, it would be best to ignore them entirely. Most get bored and go away eventually. But I doubt that would work with her. She’s probably been ignored by her brothers - and to a certain extent, her parents, with so many other children to deal with - most of her life. I think in this case, you’d just need to stay on alert, let her know that you are aware of what she’s doing, and show her it isn’t working."
"That sounds exhausting."
Draco grinned. "Indeed."
"Is that what it’s like to be in Slytherin?"
"Pretty much."
"Ugh. I’m glad I told the hat not to put me there."
Draco coughed. "As if that were even an option."
"It was." Harry grinned at the mingled look of horror and surprise on Draco’s face. "It said I’d do well in Slytherin. So I said not Slytherin and it put me in Gryffindor."
"You’re having me on."
Harry leaned forward, shit-eating grin on his face. "Not even a little bit."
"Fuck me," Draco said. Harry shivered, images from another time swimming into his head. He quickly pushed them down, deep down. "How -? What even -? You’d have been eaten alive. You couldn’t have survived."
Harry shrugged. "I suppose we’ll never know."
"How is this the first time I’m hearing of this?" He narrowed his eyes, as though hoping to see into Harry’s thoughts. Harry raised his brows - he never could master the art of the single-brow lift, damn it. "Nothing in the papers, not even a rumour. And you know that would’ve been a big story, given Slytherin’s reputation."
Harry shrugged. "Never told anyone but Dumbledore before."
"Never?"
Harry shook his head. "Nope." He didn’t bother explaining that he hadn’t wanted people to know about it at first. And he wasn’t sure why, even now, he hadn’t told even Ron or Hermione.
"Interesting." He looked intrigued by the news and possibly a bit self-satisfied to be the one Harry’d told. "Maybe you do have it in you to withstand the she-weasel’s sure-to-be-endless attempts to woo you back."
"Definitely." He’d seen enough in the Pensieve to counter any desire to forgive and forget. "Even before you showed me that memory, we weren’t exactly headed towards wedded bliss." He thought back to the separate lives they’d been living - more roommates than anything else - and nodded, more to himself than to Draco. "The fact that she and Ron did that, and then kept it from me for so long, that was just the final straw."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah. Things hadn’t been going so well for a long time anyway." He tried not to compare, but the way his heart raced around Draco - the way he wanted him, even after everything that had happened, even when convinced that nothing would ever happen between them again - he’d never had that with her. And he didn’t think he could ever settle for less than that again. Not now that he knew the feelings had been real, not something he’d imagined was reciprocated. He wanted that again. Wanted to feel alive.
He shook his head and mumbled to himself, "There’s nothing left there to salvage."
"So if she were to ..." Draco began, his words trailing off.
Harry frowned. He’d been thinking out loud more than anything, bouncing his thoughts off of Draco without considering what he’d been saying and to whom. He shook his head. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking to you about this." When Draco didn’t say anything, he rewound their conversation back before they’d wandered off on this tangent. "Right. I was apologising for being a dick to you yesterday." Not quite prepared to let it go entirely, Harry said, "I’m still angry about what happened, and I still think you should have trusted me enough to tell me, but you didn’t deserve that."
Draco looked poised to argue, but then shrugged and sighed. "Okay, then. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. Really sorry. I should have told you a long time ago."
An echo of Draco’s voice from the night before - I’m utterly defenceless when it comes to you - made Harry’s chest ache. He started to reach for Draco’s hand, but pulled up short. That wouldn’t help anything. It might just make things worse, complicate the situation. Not that it wasn’t complicated enough, thanks. "Look, I just need a bit of time to process everything, okay?"
Draco drained the rest of the liquid from his cup and set it down on the table with a little more force than strictly necessary. "Fine."
"More tea?" Harry asked, getting up to make some of the fancy stuff Draco had brought.
"Sure."
As Harry walked past him, the faint scent of Draco’s after shave recalled another time. Draco had followed Harry into the kitchen, no doubt to supervise, like he’d always done when Harry’d tried to make his fancy tea in the past. He’d been standing at the counter and Draco had come up behind him, pressing his chest to Harry’s back and resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder. Harry had done his best to fill the kettle and set it to boil while Draco nibbled and kissed his way up Harry’s neck to his ear, eventually drawing the lobe into his mouth, his hands wandering over Harry’s back and chest before coming to rest on his hips. He’d nearly dropped the contents of the package when Draco’s raspy voice had growled, "Can’t keep my hands off you. Want you now." Harry shuddered again at the memory.
"Need some help there?" came Draco’s voice from far too close beside him. Harry jumped and spilled some tea leaves in the process, his heart racing. Draco’s chuckle sent shivers down his spine and when his eyes met Draco’s, he saw his own raw need reflected in them.
With great effort, he looked away, and with shaky hands, picked up the leaves and placed them in the teapot. "Don’t sneak up on a guy like that," he said, his voice nearly as shaky as his hands.
"Sorry." He didn’t sound the least bit sorry. Fuck.
Harry set the water to boil. "I can manage, thanks." He was pleased that his voice was once more steady.
Draco snorted. "I can see that."
"Oh, fuck off. Go sit down and I’ll bring the tea to the table."
"Alright, alright." Draco returned to his seat, giving Harry some much-needed space in this suddenly very small room. At least the bed was currently a table. For whatever that was worth. They hadn’t exactly needed a bed every time ... Fuck, fuck, fuck. Those thoughts weren’t helping anything, though his half-hard prick begged to differ on that assessment. He took a few deep breaths and willed his erection down, stifling a groan. Easier said than done.
As composed as he could get, Harry brought the tea to the table to let it steep. "Your tea is served."
Draco smirked. "So you have some news on the case?"
"Oh, right." Harry’d completely forgotten the reason he’d asked Draco to drop by. "I got an address."
"What?" Draco exclaimed, all teasing gone. "Then why aren’t we there?"
As an afterthought, Harry grabbed a packet of shortbread biscuits he’d bought earlier - the kind Draco liked, and no he wasn’t going to analyse what that meant - and deposited them onto the table. "Because I doubt he’s there. And it’s night. And we need to do some reconnaissance first."
Draco ignored the biscuits. "And we’re not doing that now, why?"
Harry sat down, glad of the table between them. "Because it’s dark and I want to get the lay of the land first. I’ll start tomorrow."
Draco scowled. "I’ve got to go to the lab in the morning, but I should be able to slip out by about eleven, maybe ten if I go in earlier. Shall we meet here and then head over?"
"Hold on. Wait just a minute. You are not going anywhere. I’ll go there myself, scope the place out, determine if anyone is there - highly unlikely - and scan the wards to see what we’re dealing with."
"Excuse me?" Draco said, leaning over the table into Harry’s personal space. "I want to go, too. After all, it’s me he’s after."
Harry leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Which is precisely why you shouldn’t go. If Rowle is there, I don’t want to practically hand you over to him."
Draco opened his mouth to argue. Harry raised his hand. "It’s my job, remember? It’s what I do. You wouldn’t expect me to brew an antidote for some poison I’d ingested, would you?"
Draco snorted. "Don’t be ridiculous."
"Exactly." He poured the tea and nudged the packet of biscuits towards Draco. "Rowle isn’t some random bloke on the street throwing a hex. He’s highly skilled in the Dark Arts and he’s a mean motherfucker."
"But -"
Harry held up a hand. "Don’t even bother arguing."
Harry explained his plan for flushing Rowle out, and any potential accomplices. Draco nodded his agreement and reluctantly agreed to stay out of the way.
***
The next day, Harry attended the morning briefing in the Auror Office - Robards had given him leeway so far, but insisted he show up for at least one per week - and went back to his office afterwards to collect the equipment he needed for the day.
Before heading to Romford, he needed to check in with Mac to confirm that no further transmissions or surges in magic had occurred at the house. Harry stepped into the elevator and just as the door was about to close, a hand reached out to stop it and Ron entered, effectively cornering him on his way to the lab. So, his team had returned. And now he and Harry were alone for the first time since Harry had found out what he and Ginny had done. Harry’s blood began to boil as he tried to maintain his composure, knowing that work was not the place to confront Ron.
"What the fuck, Harry?" Ron crowded in on him, making the most of his height and bulk. The elevator door closed. "You went to my wife?"
Harry straightened his back and leaned towards Ron, refusing to back down to Ron’s larger stature. He breathed in, taking a good gulp of air and channelling his anger. "Excuse me?"
"You went to Hermione to complain about me?" Ron yelled in his face. "What are we, twelve?"
Harry laughed and put his hand against Ron’s chest, pushing him slightly back, just enough to regain an arm’s length of personal space. "Oh, you don’t like someone going behind your back, eh? That’s rich."
Ron flapped his arms, his face reddening. Harry waved his hand to stop the elevator before someone came on and saw their confrontation. "Mates don’t go to their mates’ wives behind their effing backs! There’s a code!"
Harry scowled and shoved his finger into Ron’s chest, this time pushing hard and walking him back until his back hit the wall of the elevator. "I didn’t go to your wife, you arse. Your sister did." He pushed him again for good measure. "She went crying to Hermione to get her to talk reason into me, if you can believe it." Ron blinked, clearly caught off guard. Harry lifted his chin. "Yeah, that’s right. Only she didn’t bother telling your wife what the two of you did to me, did she? No, she just cried about how unfair I was being because I split up with her. So your wife invited me out to dinner to give me shit."
Ron deflated somewhat. "She did?"
"Yeah, she did. And, not that I had anything to hide, but it was only after I’d said how surprised I was that, after what you’d done, she was siding with the two of you that I realised she didn’t know. And it was only then, after Hermione did what she does best, that she pried that gem out of me."
"Fuck."
"Yeah, so go give your little sister shit, not me."
Ron put his hands up in the air in defeat. "I didn’t know."
"Yeah, there’s a lot you don’t know. And a lot you presume to know. That’s a common theme with you, isn’t it?" Harry pressed in further. "And don’t you ever approach me at work like this again. When we need to talk, we’ll talk outside. I will not have my position here fucked over by you, like you did with my personal life."
"Harry -"
"Shut." He poked Ron’s chest, though he’d have preferred to punch him. "The fuck." Poke. "Up." Poke. "We will talk, you and I, but it won’t be here, where we’re both supposed to be professionals."
"I -"
"This isn’t over, not by a long shot. We will have words, and you’d best be able to explain yourself, because right now I can’t stand the sight of you." Ron sputtered but Harry just looked at him in disgust. "You’re lucky I don’t have you reprimanded for what you just did."
Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "Don’t fucking push me, Weasley." He let a bit of his magic escape, charging the air in the enclosed space. Ron’s eyes widened only slightly, but Harry caught it. "When we’re at work, I am your superior. Don’t ever forget that."
He waved him arm to release the elevator, then stepped back to stand as far away from Ron as he could manage, staring straight ahead until the elevator door opened and he got out. He couldn’t get away from him fast enough.
Continued in Part 15