[Fic] SPN/HP Crossover - Subtle Shining Sorceries - Chapter Four
Title: Subtle Shining Sorceries
Author: Stolen Childe
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the boys. I just like to play with them.
Author’s Notes: I’m getting to the good stuff, I promise! This is Draco-centric and we can warm up to him a little now. Somehow this story turned into the Draco and Dean show… Oh well! A bit shorter, please enjoy!
Please see Master Post for warnings, ratings and previous chapters.
*****************************
Chapter Four - Wherein Draco Malfoy is a git... then makes up for it in secret
Draco slammed his book shut and took another glance at the oddly glowing contraption that he had been informed was a ‘cellular phone’ whatever the fuck that meant. When the tall muggle had shown him the picture he had taken back at the morgue, during their brief interrogation, Draco nearly jumped out of his seat wondering where the light came from. Potter assured him it was only ‘technology’ and that the only thing he’d risk getting from it was a sweaty ear. Which was utterly disgusting.
On the ‘screen’ of the glowing thing was an image of the macabrely etched rune that Potter and he had gone to investigate. One of the few things the Ameri-Magic Senate had done for them at least was provide them with a very brief report ‘detailing’ an “indeterminate amount of grisly murders committed undoubtedly by a witch or wizard. Of which at least one victim was found with an obscure ancient symbol carved upon his chest.” Frankly Draco was sick of researching and needed a distraction. After all they already knew what the ritual was. It wasn’t so much the ‘what’ anymore as the ‘when’ and he wouldn’t get that from books.
Draco stared contemplatively over at the older muggle who was sitting alone in the corner, nursing a dusty bottle of what the label indicated to be whiskey. Draco could only assume it was similar to Firewhiskey and would ask Potter about it later. Draco sort of wished he had paid closer attention in his Muggle Studies class at school but he also knew that they likely would not have covered the drinking habits of muggles. Or maybe they would have…
Draco felt sick for a moment remembering the professor hanging tortured and desperate over his dining room table, looking at the frightened boy with pleading eyes and begging Snape to help her. Draco stood up from his chair and began pacing the room, going over to lean on the window frame for a moment while he took several deep breaths.
He felt Potter’s eyes on him; that calculating suspicious gaze trying to bore into his soul, or maybe Potter was just trying Legilimency even though he was piss-poor at it. Draco ignored the gaze, regardless of what it implied and tried to block the memories of those horrid months from his mind. Three, Two, One... Quidditch. Flashes of gold, the wind dancing over his face and blowing his hair joyfully awry, billowing flapping robes and cheers from rainbow coloured stands. Draco nodded and smirked, schooled his features and he was back.
“See something you like Potter?” Draco turned slowly and grinned at the shorter man flashing too many teeth for the look to be anything but predatory. Draco was gratified to see Potter look uncomfortable for a moment however brief.
“All right Malfoy?” Potter asked, not rising to the bait.
“Fine Potter,” Draco waved it off, sauntering back to his abandoned chair, book and tea. “The muggle doesn’t seem to be though.” Draco indicated with his head. Potter’s face took on that soppy, concerned Gryffindor expression that Draco loathed.
Potter frowned, “He’s worried for his brother.”
The snarky muggle looked over at them, eyes flashing, “The muggle can hear you.”
Draco wracked his brain trying to think of the older muggle’s name but couldn’t remember it for the life of him. Had they ever been told? Draco seemed to recall Potter referring to them as something... But... Draco glanced surreptitiously at Potter before narrowing his eyes at the muggle and letting his wand fall into his hand. Draco was much better at Legilimency than Potter.
The muggle flinched and glared at Draco, “What the hell are you doing?”
Draco blinked, “You weren’t supposed to realize.” How the hell had he realized? Even some of the most skilled witches and wizards in the world had never picked up on Draco’s prying, Potter included... And that was certainly a head-trip that Draco had no desire to take again.
Potter kicked Draco under the table. Draco winced and glared at the shorter man.
“I was only trying to get your name,” Draco said defensively, as he turned back to the muggle.
The muggle rose abruptly and stormed to the back door, “Have you ever thought of asking? Can I go to the yard without my balls getting fried?” The second question was directed at Potter who nodded, with a slightly stunned expression on his face. Draco absently noted that it sort of made him resemble a vacant frog. The muggle left and slammed the door behind him. Draco wished not for the first time that Potter had allowed him to obliviate the muggles in the first place because then he wouldn’t have to deal with this. They were perfectly capable and didn’t need the two men to help them.
“Why didn’t you just ask?” Potter hissed at him, anger flashing in striking green eyes. “He’ll never trust us now.”
Draco gave him a patented Malfoy look, a slight quirk of the eyebrow that spoke volumes, “When have you ever known me to ask for anything? Besides, shouldn’t we be more concerned with how he knew I was doing Legilimency on him? I’ve done it on you before and you just snored and rolled over!”
“Malfoy! Legilimency?! You have to be more careful, all the shite you’ve pulled you’re just lucky you’re with me and not someone who will report you to the Ministry!” Harry shouted as he pushed violently away from the table. “You purebloods all the same, treating muggles like fodder. The sad thing is I can’t even blame you because I know how you are. How you were raised. What that muggle did to you when you were a boy was wrong, but that doesn’t mean you can cast spells willy-nilly on them! I know they make you nervous, but please, try to contain yourself.”
Draco who had been much too in shock to speak up until Potter finished his characteristic rant, now glared daggers at the smaller man and stood as well. The blond came around and stepped threateningly close, literally looming over Potter’s slight form. Potter of course was not intimidated, but that didn’t mean that Draco backed down.
“I told you to never speak of that Potter. If I ever hear that uttered from your lips again I will hunt you down and personally hex you into next millennium,” Draco brushed past Potter, knocking him and causing him to stumble slightly as he did so, much to Draco’s satisfaction. He was just about to exit the kitchen when he turned, “Oh and Potter, before you try that self-righteous shite, just remember: the hat wanted to put you in Slytherin. It was your idea to keep them here to use as your little pawns. Think on that in the future before you start making accusations.”
Draco didn’t linger to catch the look on Potter’s face, he merely stormed out of the kitchen to the room he had claimed his own. He would have liked to have gone for a walk, or just have gotten out of this house, but Potter was right. Even though Draco would never in a million and a half millennia admit it, he was nervous of muggles. He didn’t understand them and he didn’t trust them. And what Draco Malfoy didn’t trust, he did not go looking for. He wasn’t a Slytherin for nothing; he knew how to pick his battles. Despite that though, Draco did feel a little guilty. A feeling he had grown uncomfortably familiar with ever since fatherhood struck him. Maybe he should have just asked the muggle what his name was instead of prying... Draco actually felt somewhat of a bully, though he wasn’t much smaller, than him, the muggle was smaller, he had no magical abilities to defend himself and was probably scared shitless.
Also, Draco had noticed a darkness and pain in the muggle’s eyes that he was desperately trying to hide but managed to bleed through. After all, to employ a woefully overused cliché, Draco saw much the same expression in the mirror every day. Secrets, betrayal, loss. Draco looked down. He imagined apologizing would get him nowhere, but there was one thing he could do.
The blond man rose and peeked out of his door, feeling a little absurd as he did so. He crept down the corridor and paused at the slightly ajar door of the room the muggles had been put in. The tall muggle was still asleep on the cot, seemingly peaceful. Draco took one more, stealthy glance down the corridor then entered the room. He looked at the sad little cots on the floor and pulled out his wand. It was a little trickier with someone actually on the surface but Draco had always been fairly good at Transfiguration. He would have been brilliant if it hadn’t been for McGonagall. Draco pulled out his wand, said the words and watched as the tiny Spartan cots transfigured themselves into large comfortable beds. Draco watched the tall muggle shift and sigh contentedly, rolling to his side as he recovered from the Dark Magic Poisoning. That’s when Draco remembered something else and would have bonked himself on the head if it weren’t so undignified. He was a Potions Master, he had potions and what he didn’t have he could make.
Draco returned to his room and dug through his supplies finding a jar amidst many. He uncorked it and poured some of it into a vial. Draco grabbed a scrap of paper and a quill and wrote a quick note in his elegant hand.
Drink Me.
Draco returned and set the small crystal vial of pleasantly azure liquid on a side table he had conjured next to the big muggle’s bed and left the room. That will certainly speed up his recovery, if he trusted enough to take it.
Guilt, somewhat assuaged, Draco returned to his room to get some work done.
_*_
The next morning found Draco and Potter at the breakfast table, tea and toast before them. Potter was flipping through the Wizarding Times and Draco was once more reading through the passage on the ritual that they were trying to stop. He really did need to see if there was anyway they could establish a pattern and hopefully catch the perpetrator before the next intended was killed.
Both looked up as the gruff muggle entered the room.
"Good morning," Potter greeted pleasantly.
"Morning," the muggle replied. "Thanks for the beds and the medicine last night by the way. Sam's awake and talking again. Without sounding like a drunk frat-boy."
Draco knew Potter was wearing his typical expression of confusion, "Wasn't me. I wouldn't feed a Death Eater the potions I brew... Well maybe a Death Eater..."
Draco felt eyes boring into the side of his head but didn't look up from his book. He didn't need the muggle's disbelief and he certainly didn't need his thanks.
"I assumed from your comment yesterday you and your brother are not what you'd call tea drinkers. I went out this morning and got some coffee. Creamers and sugar as well if you need it," Potter explained.
"Ah great, thanks," the muggle sounded thrown, and went to retrieve the beverages from the counter where Potter had put them with a warming charm on them.
"I'll go take this to Sam," The muggle gestured with the tray in his hand.
"Wait," Draco interrupted before the muggle could leave. He walked over and he cleared his throat, holding out a hand. He flashed back briefly to another meeting like this twenty years previous and wondered if he would once more be denied. From Potter's awkward and imbecilic shifting he was remembering as well.
"Hello, pleased to meet you. My name is Draco Malfoy."
He waited a beat. Then another and finally he felt his hand grasped in a firm calloused grip.
"Dean Winchester."
"I'm glad your brother is doing well. I'll check on him later," Draco nodded once.
"Yeah, thanks," Dean nodded back and left.
Draco looked over to see Potter grinning at him in a very irritating manner.
"Shut it Potter," the blond snapped and returned to his book.
Chapter Five
Author: Stolen Childe
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the boys. I just like to play with them.
Author’s Notes: I’m getting to the good stuff, I promise! This is Draco-centric and we can warm up to him a little now. Somehow this story turned into the Draco and Dean show… Oh well! A bit shorter, please enjoy!
Please see Master Post for warnings, ratings and previous chapters.
*****************************
Chapter Four - Wherein Draco Malfoy is a git... then makes up for it in secret
Draco slammed his book shut and took another glance at the oddly glowing contraption that he had been informed was a ‘cellular phone’ whatever the fuck that meant. When the tall muggle had shown him the picture he had taken back at the morgue, during their brief interrogation, Draco nearly jumped out of his seat wondering where the light came from. Potter assured him it was only ‘technology’ and that the only thing he’d risk getting from it was a sweaty ear. Which was utterly disgusting.
On the ‘screen’ of the glowing thing was an image of the macabrely etched rune that Potter and he had gone to investigate. One of the few things the Ameri-Magic Senate had done for them at least was provide them with a very brief report ‘detailing’ an “indeterminate amount of grisly murders committed undoubtedly by a witch or wizard. Of which at least one victim was found with an obscure ancient symbol carved upon his chest.” Frankly Draco was sick of researching and needed a distraction. After all they already knew what the ritual was. It wasn’t so much the ‘what’ anymore as the ‘when’ and he wouldn’t get that from books.
Draco stared contemplatively over at the older muggle who was sitting alone in the corner, nursing a dusty bottle of what the label indicated to be whiskey. Draco could only assume it was similar to Firewhiskey and would ask Potter about it later. Draco sort of wished he had paid closer attention in his Muggle Studies class at school but he also knew that they likely would not have covered the drinking habits of muggles. Or maybe they would have…
Draco felt sick for a moment remembering the professor hanging tortured and desperate over his dining room table, looking at the frightened boy with pleading eyes and begging Snape to help her. Draco stood up from his chair and began pacing the room, going over to lean on the window frame for a moment while he took several deep breaths.
He felt Potter’s eyes on him; that calculating suspicious gaze trying to bore into his soul, or maybe Potter was just trying Legilimency even though he was piss-poor at it. Draco ignored the gaze, regardless of what it implied and tried to block the memories of those horrid months from his mind. Three, Two, One... Quidditch. Flashes of gold, the wind dancing over his face and blowing his hair joyfully awry, billowing flapping robes and cheers from rainbow coloured stands. Draco nodded and smirked, schooled his features and he was back.
“See something you like Potter?” Draco turned slowly and grinned at the shorter man flashing too many teeth for the look to be anything but predatory. Draco was gratified to see Potter look uncomfortable for a moment however brief.
“All right Malfoy?” Potter asked, not rising to the bait.
“Fine Potter,” Draco waved it off, sauntering back to his abandoned chair, book and tea. “The muggle doesn’t seem to be though.” Draco indicated with his head. Potter’s face took on that soppy, concerned Gryffindor expression that Draco loathed.
Potter frowned, “He’s worried for his brother.”
The snarky muggle looked over at them, eyes flashing, “The muggle can hear you.”
Draco wracked his brain trying to think of the older muggle’s name but couldn’t remember it for the life of him. Had they ever been told? Draco seemed to recall Potter referring to them as something... But... Draco glanced surreptitiously at Potter before narrowing his eyes at the muggle and letting his wand fall into his hand. Draco was much better at Legilimency than Potter.
The muggle flinched and glared at Draco, “What the hell are you doing?”
Draco blinked, “You weren’t supposed to realize.” How the hell had he realized? Even some of the most skilled witches and wizards in the world had never picked up on Draco’s prying, Potter included... And that was certainly a head-trip that Draco had no desire to take again.
Potter kicked Draco under the table. Draco winced and glared at the shorter man.
“I was only trying to get your name,” Draco said defensively, as he turned back to the muggle.
The muggle rose abruptly and stormed to the back door, “Have you ever thought of asking? Can I go to the yard without my balls getting fried?” The second question was directed at Potter who nodded, with a slightly stunned expression on his face. Draco absently noted that it sort of made him resemble a vacant frog. The muggle left and slammed the door behind him. Draco wished not for the first time that Potter had allowed him to obliviate the muggles in the first place because then he wouldn’t have to deal with this. They were perfectly capable and didn’t need the two men to help them.
“Why didn’t you just ask?” Potter hissed at him, anger flashing in striking green eyes. “He’ll never trust us now.”
Draco gave him a patented Malfoy look, a slight quirk of the eyebrow that spoke volumes, “When have you ever known me to ask for anything? Besides, shouldn’t we be more concerned with how he knew I was doing Legilimency on him? I’ve done it on you before and you just snored and rolled over!”
“Malfoy! Legilimency?! You have to be more careful, all the shite you’ve pulled you’re just lucky you’re with me and not someone who will report you to the Ministry!” Harry shouted as he pushed violently away from the table. “You purebloods all the same, treating muggles like fodder. The sad thing is I can’t even blame you because I know how you are. How you were raised. What that muggle did to you when you were a boy was wrong, but that doesn’t mean you can cast spells willy-nilly on them! I know they make you nervous, but please, try to contain yourself.”
Draco who had been much too in shock to speak up until Potter finished his characteristic rant, now glared daggers at the smaller man and stood as well. The blond came around and stepped threateningly close, literally looming over Potter’s slight form. Potter of course was not intimidated, but that didn’t mean that Draco backed down.
“I told you to never speak of that Potter. If I ever hear that uttered from your lips again I will hunt you down and personally hex you into next millennium,” Draco brushed past Potter, knocking him and causing him to stumble slightly as he did so, much to Draco’s satisfaction. He was just about to exit the kitchen when he turned, “Oh and Potter, before you try that self-righteous shite, just remember: the hat wanted to put you in Slytherin. It was your idea to keep them here to use as your little pawns. Think on that in the future before you start making accusations.”
Draco didn’t linger to catch the look on Potter’s face, he merely stormed out of the kitchen to the room he had claimed his own. He would have liked to have gone for a walk, or just have gotten out of this house, but Potter was right. Even though Draco would never in a million and a half millennia admit it, he was nervous of muggles. He didn’t understand them and he didn’t trust them. And what Draco Malfoy didn’t trust, he did not go looking for. He wasn’t a Slytherin for nothing; he knew how to pick his battles. Despite that though, Draco did feel a little guilty. A feeling he had grown uncomfortably familiar with ever since fatherhood struck him. Maybe he should have just asked the muggle what his name was instead of prying... Draco actually felt somewhat of a bully, though he wasn’t much smaller, than him, the muggle was smaller, he had no magical abilities to defend himself and was probably scared shitless.
Also, Draco had noticed a darkness and pain in the muggle’s eyes that he was desperately trying to hide but managed to bleed through. After all, to employ a woefully overused cliché, Draco saw much the same expression in the mirror every day. Secrets, betrayal, loss. Draco looked down. He imagined apologizing would get him nowhere, but there was one thing he could do.
The blond man rose and peeked out of his door, feeling a little absurd as he did so. He crept down the corridor and paused at the slightly ajar door of the room the muggles had been put in. The tall muggle was still asleep on the cot, seemingly peaceful. Draco took one more, stealthy glance down the corridor then entered the room. He looked at the sad little cots on the floor and pulled out his wand. It was a little trickier with someone actually on the surface but Draco had always been fairly good at Transfiguration. He would have been brilliant if it hadn’t been for McGonagall. Draco pulled out his wand, said the words and watched as the tiny Spartan cots transfigured themselves into large comfortable beds. Draco watched the tall muggle shift and sigh contentedly, rolling to his side as he recovered from the Dark Magic Poisoning. That’s when Draco remembered something else and would have bonked himself on the head if it weren’t so undignified. He was a Potions Master, he had potions and what he didn’t have he could make.
Draco returned to his room and dug through his supplies finding a jar amidst many. He uncorked it and poured some of it into a vial. Draco grabbed a scrap of paper and a quill and wrote a quick note in his elegant hand.
Drink Me.
Draco returned and set the small crystal vial of pleasantly azure liquid on a side table he had conjured next to the big muggle’s bed and left the room. That will certainly speed up his recovery, if he trusted enough to take it.
Guilt, somewhat assuaged, Draco returned to his room to get some work done.
_*_
The next morning found Draco and Potter at the breakfast table, tea and toast before them. Potter was flipping through the Wizarding Times and Draco was once more reading through the passage on the ritual that they were trying to stop. He really did need to see if there was anyway they could establish a pattern and hopefully catch the perpetrator before the next intended was killed.
Both looked up as the gruff muggle entered the room.
"Good morning," Potter greeted pleasantly.
"Morning," the muggle replied. "Thanks for the beds and the medicine last night by the way. Sam's awake and talking again. Without sounding like a drunk frat-boy."
Draco knew Potter was wearing his typical expression of confusion, "Wasn't me. I wouldn't feed a Death Eater the potions I brew... Well maybe a Death Eater..."
Draco felt eyes boring into the side of his head but didn't look up from his book. He didn't need the muggle's disbelief and he certainly didn't need his thanks.
"I assumed from your comment yesterday you and your brother are not what you'd call tea drinkers. I went out this morning and got some coffee. Creamers and sugar as well if you need it," Potter explained.
"Ah great, thanks," the muggle sounded thrown, and went to retrieve the beverages from the counter where Potter had put them with a warming charm on them.
"I'll go take this to Sam," The muggle gestured with the tray in his hand.
"Wait," Draco interrupted before the muggle could leave. He walked over and he cleared his throat, holding out a hand. He flashed back briefly to another meeting like this twenty years previous and wondered if he would once more be denied. From Potter's awkward and imbecilic shifting he was remembering as well.
"Hello, pleased to meet you. My name is Draco Malfoy."
He waited a beat. Then another and finally he felt his hand grasped in a firm calloused grip.
"Dean Winchester."
"I'm glad your brother is doing well. I'll check on him later," Draco nodded once.
"Yeah, thanks," Dean nodded back and left.
Draco looked over to see Potter grinning at him in a very irritating manner.
"Shut it Potter," the blond snapped and returned to his book.
Chapter Five