Chapter Six of 'The Auror Method'- Nighttime Patrols
Chapter Five.
Title: The Auror Method (6/?)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Harry/Draco (mostly pre-slash), mentions of past Draco/others
Warnings: Manipulation, slight angst, slight violence
Rating: R
Summary: Draco has constructed the perfect cover for his activities as a con-man specializing in thefts from a distance: Draco Malfoy, the redeemed Death Eater and Recluse of Malfoy Manor. But now there’s evidence that some people are onto him, and as a consequence of the death threats issued to him, he gets an assigned Auror guard. Maybe Harry Potter, their leader, could be a problem when it comes to Draco’s latest con. Although how could he, when he’s getting all distracted by Draco’s fluttering eyelashes?
Author’s Notes: This is a mostly humorous story that will probably be between twelve and fifteen chapters.
Chapter One.
Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Six-Nighttime Patrols
The negotiation with Mytherian hadn’t gone better, much as Draco expected. Mytherian seemed distantly interested in the fact that Draco had been the victim of a goblin spell, but when he proposed putting more wards up, Potter shook his head again. “You know that we don’t have any tested wards that can withstand the effects of a goblin spell,” he said.
“Then let’s use the experimental ones.” They were in one of the portrait halls deep in the Manor, although as usual when Draco had visitors, his ancestors had arranged to be elsewhere. The exception was Great-Great-Aunt-Eleanor, who stood in one corner of the frame behind Mytherian and rolled her eyes at everything he said. Draco couldn’t look at her much, because she would ruin his façade. Mytherian posed like a hero. “This is probably the best chance to actually use them, you know.”
“The best chance to use something that could kill us, yes,” said Potter.
Mytherian stared at him. “You only feel like that because I came up with them. You’d be enthusiastic about them if your little research friend had been the one who did!”
“Unlike you, Hermione knows what she’s doing when she puts together new spells.”
Draco, although he pretended to be absorbed in the reflections from the head of his cane, had to hold back an incredulous snort. Potter was an idiot, and deserved some of the pushback he was getting from other Aurors, if he handled them all like this. He could see what the core of Mytherian’s objection to Potter was. He really did assume that he knew best and he could override everyone else. And the way he defended his friends…
Draco hoped he would never be so foolish. He respected his contacts and other people who had helped him achieve his comfortable position, and he made sure that people like Jared, the fools he tricked, were in no position to reveal Draco’s complicity without revealing their own.
Potter was never going to get anywhere in life because he didn’t have even the most rudimentary political instincts.
Right now, Potter was lifting his chin in that way he had, the way Draco remembered from Hogwarts, the way that was going to end up causing them both trouble sooner or later. “And she also gives me the background of those spells, so I can see and perform them for myself.”
Mytherian won’t tell Potter where those spells came from or the incantations? That was an interesting new twist. Draco studied the buttons on Mytherian’s robe, which were more highly polished than the equivalents on Potter’s, and managed to keep from coughing. But it was hard.
“You don’t need to know them,” said Mytherian. This time, the glare he gave Potter was more measured. “And yes, I know that I could have told them to you and didn’t. I wanted to see what would happen if you were forced to actually listen to and respect me. Instead of just turning your back and collaborating with those friends of yours and never anyone else.”
Great-Aunt-Eleanor was shaking her finger now. Draco wondered if Potter had noticed her. But when he chanced taking a sideways look at Potter, he found his face as grave and heroic as ever.
“I didn’t need to know every detail, no,” said Potter. “But you admitted they were experimental and dangerous. After that, is it surprising that I wanted to know what they were?”
Mytherian hesitated. It seemed as if he might be on the verge of reconciliation with Potter, something Draco wasn’t interested in.
“Sirs,” he whispered, “is this going to lead to something? Can you protect me from the goblins’ magic or not?”
Potter turned to him, opening his mouth to spout something reassuring, probably a lie. Draco cocked his head at him, and Mytherian spoke first.
“We are trying,” he said, with a bright little smile that didn’t fool Draco. Mytherian was on the verge of yelling. Probably at Potter. “I want to use magic that could protect you. But Potter won’t let me.”
Draco looked anxiously at Potter, as if he was the sort to be fooled by that bollocks. Potter must think he was, because he shook his head and waved one hand. “If you would let me test it first and make sure that it doesn’t make things worse, then it would be fine.”
“You have to trust me sometime.” Mytherian’s nose went into the air. “You can’t guard Malfoy by yourself.”
“Maybe not. But I can call someone else in.”
And what will that do to Auror confidence in you? Draco wanted to shake his head, but he knew better than that. He was barely supposed to be paying attention. He maintained a bland façade instead, with effort. It seems that most of them dislike you already. Are you going to just replace Auror after Auror until they come to the point where they’re not even going to answer your call?
There were still inconsistencies in the reports of his spies that troubled him, but now he understood something of the reason why. They didn’t know what to do with someone who led brilliantly alone but couldn’t work with other Aurors-and who perhaps only had attained a high position because of the favoritism that Mytherian attributed it to.
“I don’t want to be in this situation anymore,” said Mytherian. For a moment, he gave Potter a single, intense look, as if waiting for Potter to realize that this was the moment when he should give in and plead for Mytherian to stay.
Potter folded his arms.
With a disgusted sound, Mytherian stalked out of the room. Draco turned his head, listening through the wards. Yes, Mytherian was leaving. The wards told Draco when he reached the edge, and when he Apparated.
Potter lowered his head. He was shaking.
Draco stared at him without much sympathy. For the sake of having his own way, Potter had stripped Draco of all the Auror guards that could have helped them both. Draco took a long second before he spoke, though, because the cringing man he played would hold back from questioning Potter too much. “Does that mean that I’m going to die?”
Potter looked up at once and gave him a faint smile. “No. There are some spells I know that will let me stay up and get more nourishment from food than normal. We’ll protect you and lick this goblin yet.”
Draco couldn’t resist. “We?”
Potter hesitated, then said, “I meant you and me.”
Draco reached out and patted Potter’s shoulder as if the verbal embrace pleased him, but inwardly, he wanted to sneer.
Trapped in a house alone with Harry Potter, and someone lurking outside who wants to kill me. Dear Merlin.
*
Draco woke slowly, slowly enough that he felt the grasping threads of magic dissipating from his mind, and cursed as he opened his eyes. Someone had enchanted him to fall asleep. And it hadn’t been himself this time.
And he thought he knew who it had been.
Draco smiled grimly as he sat up. Is that your plan, Potter? I’m easier to guard if I don’t wander? You want to keep me asleep and maybe dig through my private papers?
Draco twitched his wand beneath his pillow, after one more quick look around to make sure that Potter wasn’t in the room, and whispered the spell that activated some of the internal wards. But they sang to him with the same steady, contented hum they always had, rather than the shrill ringing that would have indicated Potter had opened one of his safes or desks.
Perhaps he’s after something besides papers.
That was certainly plausible. Given his conflicts with his underlings and the way he’d confessed to sleeping with a victim in the past, Potter was no upstanding Auror.
Draco smiled a little as he stood, although he doubted the smile was one Potter would have liked to gaze upon. Ways to seduce Draco? Dark artifacts that would prove Draco wasn’t as redeemed as everyone else thought he was? Some excuse to take Draco out of the Manor? Or perhaps he knew about Mytherian’s supposedly secret and experimental magic after all, and was ready to perform it?
Draco slipped into the darkness with a tingling sense of adventure, guided by scrolls of silver and golden spells on the walls that no one else could see, but which lit up the night for him. He would find Potter, and steal a march on him. Potter might have put the sleeping enchantment on him to keep him in one place; Draco didn’t think for one moment that Potter suspected him of being dangerous enough to really interfere, or he would have done more.
Let the hunt begin.
*
In the end, the soft brush of a foreign magical signature against his interior wards led Draco to the fireplace in the large sitting room. Potter was crouched in front of it, his head thrust into the flames.
Draco paused, for a second, with his heart beating fast. Had Potter found out about Draco contacting Jared?
Then Draco sneered to himself. He needed to stop being an idiot. Of course that wasn’t it. Potter would have been up to arrest him already, and Draco had never contacted Jared from this fireplace, anyway.
He tapped his wand softly against one of the stones next to the door. The vibration ran through the wall and over to the fireplace and the stones around and above the hearth, bringing the words Potter was speaking to Draco’s waiting ears.
“I don’t know what to do,” Potter said, and his voice was thick with resignation.
Draco didn’t recognize the voice that answered, but based on what it said, he knew it for another Auror. “You’ve only been there a few days.”
“I drove Mytherian and Greengrass-Rosier away,” Potter admitted, hanging his head. “And I sent Crystal off. I mean, she was needed to provide testimony on Greengrass-Rosier’s attack, but…” He seemed to fumble for words again. “I don’t think I can do this alone.”
“You can,” said the voice, and its rumbling, cheerful quality finally awoke echoes in Draco’s memory. This was most likely Kingsley Shacklebolt, which meant Potter was talking to a superior. Of course he was. He couldn’t hide his incompetence forever, and Mytherian had probably reported him. “You were right that Malfoy finds you intriguing. You were right that you can keep his attention.”
What’s this? Draco cocked his head. It didn’t sound like they were especially concerned about his preservation from goblin magic at the moment. Or at least Shacklebolt wasn’t.
“He doesn’t find me intriguing enough to confess more about that supposed letter he received from Greengrass-Rosier, sir.” Potter raised one hand as though to tug at his hair, and then seemed to remember he had his head in the fire. He lowered it again. “And as for any other secrets, like why the goblins blame him in the first place for a theft that didn’t happen, he’ll never tell me.”
“You have my permission to do what’s needed.” Shacklebolt paused as if considering what that might mean to Potter’s limited understanding, and then elaborated. “Whatever is needed.”
Potter stiffened a little. Draco cocked his head. From his position by the door, he could see everything of Potter’s body but the head, and honestly, that was almost more revealing than his words.
“Sir,” Potter whispered. “Do you mean-”
“I mean that you can use any form of magic or questioning or anything that’s not torture,” said Shacklebolt. “Anything that’s not immoral.”
“Some people would say what I did with Athenore was immoral.” Potter’s voice had oceans of bitterness in it. Draco licked his lips, as if the oceans would leave their salt on his face.
Maybe Potter would, if Draco asked nicely.
“It wasn’t,” said Shacklebolt. “You know why. You went into it with full knowledge of what was coming, and it’s not as though you put him under the Imperius Curse. You seduced him, and he betrayed himself.”
Draco’s drawing-in of breath was involuntary, but it didn’t matter, since Potter kept speaking anyway, and the sound of his words covered Draco’s little noise. “If you’re sure that you think-if it’s necessary-”
“I think you will have to be the one to determine whether it’s necessary,” said Shacklebolt, and his voice was almost vicious. “You were the one who came up with the strategy for this case, Auror Potter.”
Draco rolled his eyes. Yes, and that makes you trust him because? It seemed that Shacklebolt either thought Potter needed a lesson, hence why he wasn’t sending him any more Aurors who might shield him from his mistakes, or he was blinded by hero-worship of Potter just as Mytherian had thought a lot of people were.
Draco felt a sudden and intense sympathy for Mytherian. Not that he wasn’t an idiot in his own way, but at least he saw through Potter like Draco had been the only one to do when they were children.
So. That last victim Potter slept with was under orders.
Draco nodded a little. That didn’t mean he would refuse to participate in Potter’s little seduction game. There was the spice of intrigue, of danger, particularly now that he knew what was going on. There was the undeniable attraction to his man, and the violence and magic and unexpected sneakiness that he was good at.
But there was no way he was going to let Potter win.
Potter sighed. “If you insist, sir. I think that waiting for Malfoy to tell us the truth on his own would be preferable.”
“And not an option we have,” Shacklebolt said, sharp again. “If what you think is going on is what is actually going on.”
“Yes, sir,” said Potter. “I still hold by that opinion. I know it sounds crazy, but-”
A sudden noise came from down the corridor, a sound like someone tripping and falling against one of Draco’s wards. Draco immediately spun out of the doorway, Disillusioning himself. He thought Potter would probably hear the sound and go investigate, and Draco couldn’t be found here when he did.
As much for the sake of the game as for anything else.
“There’s been a disturbance here, sir,” said Potter, sounding unturned, unharried, and professional. Draco wasn’t sure whether he liked that or not. On the one hand, he wanted an unruffled Auror guardian; on the other, Potter seemed almost as if he’d been expecting the noise, which itself gave Draco some disturbing ideas.
“Then go and find out what it is,” said Shacklebolt, and Draco heard the quick, muffled sound that might indicate papers shuffling. “And remember to call me back when you can safely do so. I hope to hear some report of progress.”
Even with an enemy potentially breaking through his wards, Draco had to grin. That sounded like a threat. Even Perfect Potter might not please his boss some of the time.
“Yes, sir,” said Potter again, passionless for a second. And then he was running past Draco, so fast that Draco hadn’t even had time to cancel the spell that was letting him overhear Potter’s firecall. Draco shook his head once and ran after him.
Potter headed straight for the window that the wards were now telling Draco was a weak point. Someone had come onto his grounds and got near enough to damage the glass itself. Draco swallowed a little, some of his exhilaration fading. Yes, well, it was bloody inconvenient if his enemy had managed to shrug aside his wards like that.
He came around the corner in time to see Potter standing tall in front of the broken window, his wand stretched out in front of him. A steady stream of words came from him, an incantation so long that Draco shook his head and moved forwards. The enemy would break in while Potter was reciting a spell that long.
The spell finished just as Draco was about to extend a hand to the window, though. Potter’s body flared with a silhouette of light around it, orange mostly but turning black at the edges. Potter held out his hand, smiling faintly, and his burning fingers passed straight through the broken glass with no ill effect.
And they kept stretching. Draco could see a dark figure tearing across the grounds, but Potter’s hand flowed out, longer and longer, followed by his arm. The hand finally clamped onto the figure’s collar, and dragged it back across the grass, plopping it firmly onto the carpet inside the house, beneath the sill. The man whimpered in shock, his hands rising as if to cover his head.
Draco had already seen his face, though, and it was almost enough to make him reveal himself right then. It seemed that his lie had come true, and now Elian Greengrass-Rosier lay nearly fainting on the floor.
That didn’t answer the question of how a common Auror had got through his wards, of course. And Draco didn’t know if he could answer that question, if there was any answer. He just stared at Greengrass-Rosier and blinked a little, sometimes.
“So,” said Potter, from the depths of his chest, in a growl that sounded as if he was talking to himself. “Malfoy was right.”
That brought another, more minor revelation for Draco, as Potter bent down to shake Greengrass-Rosier awake. He didn’t believe me about the letter that I said Greengrass-Rosier sent. Or at least, not as much as I thought he did.
Draco leaned against the wall and tapped his tongue thoughtfully against his teeth. He would have to go back to bed eventually, before Potter could come to wake him up, but he had a moment to ponder the situation.
Potter was cleverer than Draco had thought. Capable of playing a more seductive game, and willing to treat it as a game if he was so ordered.
Draco was a little annoyed, but mostly relieved. He was starting to think that Potter’s cleverness might be the only thing that actually saved him from the rogue goblins, or whoever was really stalking him.
The annoyance remained, though. Tomorrow night, he would have to find a safe way of slipping away from Potter and contacting Jared.
Chapter Seven.