Hiding From The Truth
Title: Hiding From The Truth
Author: enchanted_jae
Characters: Draco, Harry
Rating: PG
Warning(s): Mild angst
Word count: 790
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This fic/drabble was written for fun, not for profit.
Written for: Birthday gift for white_ashes07 using the prompts spaghetti, street, shy
Author's note: This is a sequel to the birthday fic I wrote for white_ashes07 last year: Hiding From The Past. If you choose not to read that one first, just know that Auror Draco has hunted Harry down in Texas in a bid to get him to return to London to assist the DMLE.
Summary: Draco is persistent, but Potter is still a stubborn arsehole.
"Ginny was not my first love. You were."
Thus ended Draco's first conversation with Harry Potter in over three years. He'd been rendered speechless, and Potter apparently had nothing further to say, considering he'd avoided Draco after that.
Draco finished his meal, paid the bill, and left Hank's. He didn't go far after exiting the bar. He cast a powerful Notice-Me-Not charm and took up surveillance in the shadows of the trees across the street. Draco watched as the last of the revelers were ushered out. The lights in the bar remained on, and he could see silhouettes moving around inside. Cleaning up, Draco speculated.
The employees trickled out eventually, including the blonde woman who'd tried to flirt with him. However, Draco didn't see Potter. Had he slipped out the back? Lights came on above the bar. Draco had surmised it was storage space. When the lights stayed on and nothing further happened, he began to wonder if the area above the bar was living space. With annoyance firming his lips, Draco skulked out of the shadows and moved behind the bar. There, he opened a back door with a simple Alohomora.
Draco hesitated before stepping inside, anticipating that he may trip a ward...or worse. He stood in the darkness for a long moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. A staircase was before him and a short hallway to the left presumably led to the bar. When nothing happened, he crept quietly up the steps, wand at the ready before him.
Draco found himself confronted by two doors, one to either side of him. Since the door to the left had light glowing from beneath it, he surmised Potter was there. Draco gave a single, sharp rap and stepped to the side.
"Just a sec!" Potter's voice sounded through the sturdy wood door.
A moment later, it was flung open, spilling light into the dark hallway. Draco pivoted from his hiding place and barged past Potter and inside. The door slammed shut behind him.
"Come on in, Malfoy," grated Potter. "Don't be shy."
For some reason, his flippant attitude aggravated Draco. "Have you taken leave of your senses?" he snapped. "Do you make a habit of opening your door to just anyone?"
"I thought it was Liz."
Draco's tirade derailed instantly. "Who is Liz?"
Potter crossed his arms and scowled. "None of your damned business," he said, still in that infuriating American accent.
Draco opened his mouth to castigate him further, but his nose crinkled instead. "Is something burning?"
"My spaghetti!" Potter spun and dashed through the lounge and into a kitchen.
Bemused, Draco holstered his wand and followed him. Potter was waving a tea towel through the air and glaring at the large pot on the stove top. He transferred his ire to Draco. "Thanks to you, I nearly ruined my dinner."
"You could always have the shrimp and cheese bits."
"Cheesy grits," Potter corrected. "And, I don't make a habit of eating what I serve in the bar when I'm on my own time. Why are you here, by the way?"
"I told you, we need your help."
"And I told you to bugger off," Potter snapped in his more familiar British voice.
"Do you think I would be here if we weren't desperate?" Draco snapped back. "Witches and wizards are being snatched from the streets, sometimes from their own homes. Later, they are witnessed committing crimes in the Muggle world, which they have no memory of once they return. Tensions are running high between the Minister of Magic and the Muggle PM, and there's not a bloody thing we've been able to do about it." He paused to take a breath and calm his temper.
"If trained Aurors can't do a bloody thing about the situation, what makes you think I can?"
Draco took another deep breath before responding. "You're comfortable in both worlds--magical and Muggle," he said. "Aside from that, the PM knows who you are and would feel more confident if you were assisting with the case."
Potter's tattooed arms remained stubbornly crossed, and his chin raised in that mulish manner of his. "What's in it for me?"
"Other than averting a catastrophe, do you mean?"
"Yeah, that's what I mean," drawled Potter, reverting to his American accent.
Draco felt his magic crackle around him. "When did you become such a cold-hearted bastard?" He felt Potter's magic whirl through the flat, wild and untamed, and Draco realized why Potter had so fearlessly opened his door without knowing who or what was on the other side. He'd grown even more powerful.
Potter's lip curled, showing a slice of teeth. "I became a cold-hearted bastard when you walked out on me."
Hiding From Responsibility
Author: enchanted_jae
Characters: Draco, Harry
Rating: PG
Warning(s): Mild angst
Word count: 790
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This fic/drabble was written for fun, not for profit.
Written for: Birthday gift for white_ashes07 using the prompts spaghetti, street, shy
Author's note: This is a sequel to the birthday fic I wrote for white_ashes07 last year: Hiding From The Past. If you choose not to read that one first, just know that Auror Draco has hunted Harry down in Texas in a bid to get him to return to London to assist the DMLE.
Summary: Draco is persistent, but Potter is still a stubborn arsehole.
"Ginny was not my first love. You were."
Thus ended Draco's first conversation with Harry Potter in over three years. He'd been rendered speechless, and Potter apparently had nothing further to say, considering he'd avoided Draco after that.
Draco finished his meal, paid the bill, and left Hank's. He didn't go far after exiting the bar. He cast a powerful Notice-Me-Not charm and took up surveillance in the shadows of the trees across the street. Draco watched as the last of the revelers were ushered out. The lights in the bar remained on, and he could see silhouettes moving around inside. Cleaning up, Draco speculated.
The employees trickled out eventually, including the blonde woman who'd tried to flirt with him. However, Draco didn't see Potter. Had he slipped out the back? Lights came on above the bar. Draco had surmised it was storage space. When the lights stayed on and nothing further happened, he began to wonder if the area above the bar was living space. With annoyance firming his lips, Draco skulked out of the shadows and moved behind the bar. There, he opened a back door with a simple Alohomora.
Draco hesitated before stepping inside, anticipating that he may trip a ward...or worse. He stood in the darkness for a long moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim interior. A staircase was before him and a short hallway to the left presumably led to the bar. When nothing happened, he crept quietly up the steps, wand at the ready before him.
Draco found himself confronted by two doors, one to either side of him. Since the door to the left had light glowing from beneath it, he surmised Potter was there. Draco gave a single, sharp rap and stepped to the side.
"Just a sec!" Potter's voice sounded through the sturdy wood door.
A moment later, it was flung open, spilling light into the dark hallway. Draco pivoted from his hiding place and barged past Potter and inside. The door slammed shut behind him.
"Come on in, Malfoy," grated Potter. "Don't be shy."
For some reason, his flippant attitude aggravated Draco. "Have you taken leave of your senses?" he snapped. "Do you make a habit of opening your door to just anyone?"
"I thought it was Liz."
Draco's tirade derailed instantly. "Who is Liz?"
Potter crossed his arms and scowled. "None of your damned business," he said, still in that infuriating American accent.
Draco opened his mouth to castigate him further, but his nose crinkled instead. "Is something burning?"
"My spaghetti!" Potter spun and dashed through the lounge and into a kitchen.
Bemused, Draco holstered his wand and followed him. Potter was waving a tea towel through the air and glaring at the large pot on the stove top. He transferred his ire to Draco. "Thanks to you, I nearly ruined my dinner."
"You could always have the shrimp and cheese bits."
"Cheesy grits," Potter corrected. "And, I don't make a habit of eating what I serve in the bar when I'm on my own time. Why are you here, by the way?"
"I told you, we need your help."
"And I told you to bugger off," Potter snapped in his more familiar British voice.
"Do you think I would be here if we weren't desperate?" Draco snapped back. "Witches and wizards are being snatched from the streets, sometimes from their own homes. Later, they are witnessed committing crimes in the Muggle world, which they have no memory of once they return. Tensions are running high between the Minister of Magic and the Muggle PM, and there's not a bloody thing we've been able to do about it." He paused to take a breath and calm his temper.
"If trained Aurors can't do a bloody thing about the situation, what makes you think I can?"
Draco took another deep breath before responding. "You're comfortable in both worlds--magical and Muggle," he said. "Aside from that, the PM knows who you are and would feel more confident if you were assisting with the case."
Potter's tattooed arms remained stubbornly crossed, and his chin raised in that mulish manner of his. "What's in it for me?"
"Other than averting a catastrophe, do you mean?"
"Yeah, that's what I mean," drawled Potter, reverting to his American accent.
Draco felt his magic crackle around him. "When did you become such a cold-hearted bastard?" He felt Potter's magic whirl through the flat, wild and untamed, and Draco realized why Potter had so fearlessly opened his door without knowing who or what was on the other side. He'd grown even more powerful.
Potter's lip curled, showing a slice of teeth. "I became a cold-hearted bastard when you walked out on me."
Hiding From Responsibility