The Simple Joy of Living (1/5) Harry/Draco
This was written for hd_holidays. You can also find it here - http://community.livejournal.com/hd_holidays/95394.html
Author: mahaliem
Recipient: kestrelsparhawk
Title: The Simple Joy of Living
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione, Ginny/Viktor
Summary: When Viktor is attacked, Harry and Draco work together to find the culprit.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): Sexual Situations, Violence, Language
Deathly Hallows compliant? Yes
Word Count: 39,996
Author's Notes: Thank you so much to tehomet and dreamyraynbo who worked so very hard and did such a terrific job with this story. I am immensely grateful to them.
The Simple Joy of Living (1/5)
Prologue - One Year After
Harry stumbled into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, one hand holding a bottle of firewhisky, the other braced on the wall for support.
"Myrtle! Murrrtle!" Harry yelled.
"Cease your caterwauling, Potter."
Blinking, Harry turned his head to see Draco staring at him.
"Malfoiled? What are you doing here?" Before Draco could answer, Harry waved his explanation away, sloshing firewhisky out of the bottle as he did so. "Came to see Myrtle."
"She's not here, Potter."
"She's not?" Harry's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What'd you do to her?"
"I did nothing. Myrtle left moments ago to visit the prefects' bath and view the annual celebration held there."
The tension left Harry's stance and a lopsided grin appeared. "Pervy thing, isn't she? Don't need to talk to her anyways now."
He took a few steps, but tripped over his own feet and would've fallen if Draco hadn't caught him and held him up.
Harry looked blearily at Draco. "Thanks, Malfloyd."
Draco tried to push him off, but Harry clung to Draco's shoulders. Draco had to content himself with tilting his head away. "You've been celebrating completing the NEWTs, I see. I suppose a pack of inebriated Gryffindors is close behind."
Harry shook his head. "Nope. Crept away. Don't-don't tell anyone," Harry said, placing a finger on Draco's lips. "Is a shhcret." He stared at Draco for a moment, then smiled. "You have nice lips, Mafloy... Hey, can I call you Draco? Easier to say. Draco, Draco, Draco."
Draco carefully walked Harry back to the wall and propped him up against it, then stepped back and straightened his robe. "Do you mean to say that neither of your little friends or your girlfriend know you're here?"
"Ginny thinks I'm with Ron and Hermi...Hermio... my other friend. The girl one."
"And where do they think you are?"
"They don't care. Too busy snogging and groping and sneaking off themselves. Think they're finally going to do it."
"Do what?"
Harry gave him a speaking look which, unfortunately, Draco translated successfully.
"Aargh," Draco said. "You made me think about naked Weasley flesh. Curse you!"
"Don't want to think about it either. That's why I've got firewhisky." Harry patted his bottle possessively, then took a sip. "Thought up 'til now they'd done it already. You know, last year, before the Battle of Hogwarts. The whole don't want to die a virgin bit like I did."
Draco arched an eyebrow. "It's not gentlemanly to kiss and tell, Potter."
Harry frowned, then shook his head. "Not what I meant. Meant I died a virgin. Or almost died. Was still a virgin when I started living again, too." Harry thought about that for a second. "Good thing, too, seeing how Dumbledore was the only one I saw when dead. Liked him, but not in that way."
Again with the nasty images. Although his mental image of a naked Potter wasn't bad at all, naked Dumbledore made him shudder with revulsion.
"That's one Slytherin rumor put to rest then," Draco said. At Harry's questioning look, he added, "Most of us figured you had to be doing something for Dumbledore to make him favour Gryffindor so much."
Harry pushed off from the wall and weaved toward Draco. "You Slytherthins have dirty minds."
"We do. It's the gift that keeps on giving."
Harry took another sip from his bottle as he tried to make sense of that.
Draco shook his head at Potter and headed for the door. "As interesting as this conversation isn't, I'm afraid I should be-"
"Hey, Draco," Harry interrupted. "Wanna see a big snake?"
Draco stopped to stare at Harry. "If that's your idea of a pick-up line, then I'm not surprised you're still a virgin."
"It's not reeeally a snake."
"I figured that out."
Grabbing Draco by the robe, Harry pulled him toward the set of sinks. He hissed something, then grinned at Draco. "Parsleytongue still works. Thought it wouldn't."
"Why wouldn't-" Draco began but stopped when the sink pulled back revealing a hole in the floor.
"C'mon," Harry said, right before jumping into the hole.
A minute passed while Draco wondered if he should follow or run off to look for help because drunken Potter had conjured up a hole and leapt into it. With his luck, everyone would think he'd killed the prat.
He was about to leave and pretend that he'd never seen Potter, when he heard his name being called.
"Draaaaacooooo."
"You're not dead, then?" Draco shouted back.
There was a long pause before Potter answered. "Don't think so. Doesn't look a bit like a train station."
Draco had always suspected that Potter's brain was strange and scary. This proved it.
"Draaaaacoooo!"
He tried to peer into the hole, but couldn't see beyond the first few feet. "Is it safe?" he yelled down to Potter.
"Yeah. The snake's dead."
"I have no interest in the state of your arousal," Draco muttered. "Not much, anyway." Suspecting that he was going to deeply regret it, Draco sat at the edge of the hole then carefully pushed off.
Moments later, Draco was being hauled to his feet by an unsteady Potter, which meant that there was much clinging and flailing and some resultant shoving away.
"I thought you said the snake was dead," Draco said, looking pointedly at Potter's crotch. He'd definitely felt some life stirring during the aforementioned clinging.
"It is. I'll show you."
"No!" Draco looked around and his level of uneasiness with the situation, which had been hovering around the ewww level, now rose to icky disgust. "You brought me here to try to seduce me? Here in this creepy, dark place full of bones and ooze, and possibly bugs and parasites? Do you know what this will do to my robe or to my shoes? I doubt even the harshest of scouring charms will rid the stench from my skin or hair."
Harry frowned. "You're talking faster than I can listen." Once again, he grabbed Draco's robe. Since he was pulling Draco to a spot that was littered with less detritus of who knew what, Draco allowed it.
They came upon a pile of rocks. Though it looked like one could climb over it, Harry shot a Reducto that cleared the way. He then hissed at a set of doors which opened, revealing a large chamber.
"This is the Chamber of Secrets?" Draco asked.
Harry nodded and continued to drag Draco forward until they were standing near the statue of Slytherin and the huge, moldering, partially eaten corpse of a basilisk.
"Dear God, Potter," Draco breathed out, staring at the basilisk.
Harry grinned.
"You really did want to show me a big, dead snake."
The grin dropped from Harry's face to be replaced by a look of puzzlement. "What did you think I was going show you?"
Draco ignored his question to measure out the length of the basilisk in careful steps. "Dear God," Draco repeated
"Killed it when I was twelve," Potter said in a tone that smacked of bloodthirsty pride. He made a stabbing motion with his firewhisky bottle, spilling some on the floor as he did so. "Killed it with a.... a...."
"Sword?"
"Yeah. One of those." Harry's voice lowered so Draco had to strain to hear it. "Sorting Hat gave it to me."
If Draco hadn't seen the Sorting Hat give Neville a sword a year earlier, he would've thought that Harry's statement was a product of his firewhisky-addled brain.
He returned to where Harry stood next to Slytherin's statue, staring down at the remains of the basilisk. "Ginny told me that she'd always had a crush on me, but the day I killed this thing was the day she fell in love with me."
"I can imagine." Draco said. "We've never got along, but the thought of you killing this monster gets even me hot and bothered."
"Really?" Harry said. He edged closer to Draco and put his hand on Draco's arm. "It gets you hot?"
"Oh, hell, Potter! You did bring me down here to seduce me."
"Not seducing. Asking. And seeing how you're hot..." Harry moved to clutch Draco's other arm but found his hand still full with the firewhisky. "Hold this," he said, shoving the bottle into Draco's hand. Once the bottle was safely taken care of, Harry gripped Draco's other arm.
He looked at Draco in confusion. "Where was I?"
"You were saying how I was hot."
"You are. Hot that is. Even with your stupid hair and your stupid pointy face and your stupid hating me, which was stupid, you are sort of hot."
"I can't believe you, Potter," Draco said in angry exasperation. "You drag me down to a disgusting place to show me a rotting corpse and then insult me. This is the most bizarre seduction technique I've ever heard of."
Harry pushed his face closer to Draco's so that their lips were scant inches away. "Is it working?" he murmured.
Draco opened his mouth to deny it, but then snapped it shut. If the truth be known, he was more than a little turned on. This beat the hell out of silk sheets and candlelight. Silk sheets and candlelight were nice, but he got that every night at home.
"Don't you want me?" Harry asked.
Draco reached up and pushed aside that messy hair, which was strangely neater than usual, (leave it to Potter to get drunk and become less rumpled). Harry was looking at him, his face open and trusting, which was just so wrong. The explanation for it could be seen in his green eyes, which were a bit too glazed to be truly aware of what he was doing and the consequences.
"Given the number of times I've checked out your arse, you'd think I'd jump at the chance to shag you, but the answer is 'No'," Draco said, shaking his head.
Harry's eyes rose to meet Draco's and he pressed closer. "No? Not even if I beg?"
Draco groaned and there was a moment when temptation nearly won out, but he shook his head a second time. "God's punishing me, I know he is," he murmured. Louder, he added, "Sorry, Potter's the answer is still 'No.'"
Harry released Draco. His hands lowered and his shoulders slumped. "You hate me."
"Not as much as I used to. There are even times that I find you fairly amusing, but hating you isn't why I'm turning you down. You're drunk and I won't take advantage of you. I - shit I can't believe I'm saying this - I respect you too much for that, Potter."
"Thought enemies were supposed to take advantage of moments of weakness," Harry pouted. Sliding to the ground, he leaned back and rested his head against the statue of Slytherin.
"You'll thank me later. If you remember, that is."
Harry yawned. "Rather shag you now."
Draco watched as Harry's eyes closed and his breathing became deep and even. He glanced around the Chamber of Secrets and decided that there wasn't much still alive to threaten Potter's safety. The remains of the basilisk called to Draco. It wasn't like anyone would notice if he harvested some scales and a fang or two.
Potter's breathing changed to soft snores and Draco turned his attention back to him.
Draco knew he'd done the right thing. Potter was in love with Weasley's sister. They'd marry, have a tonne of brats, and live in a hovel somewhere.
But...
Keenly aware that he'd never have the opportunity again and no one would ever be the wiser for it, Draco knelt next to Harry. He placed the firewhisky bottle next to Potter's leg, then leaned forward.
Slowly, gently, Draco pressed his lips against Harry's. When he pulled away, his heart was beating faster. He sucked in a calming breath and stared at the boy, no the man, in front of him. One kiss, especially a kiss in which the other participant was unconscious, shouldn't have affected him so.
Harry shifted and Draco hurriedly stood. When there was no more movement, Draco sighed in relief, then turned and headed towards the basilisk.
Behind him, Harry briefly opened his eyes and watched him go.
Twenty-One Years After
Harry walked quickly down the hall of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, faking a busy, harried manner so that none of the Aurors would stop him. It worked. They all gave him an acknowledging nod and let him go by, unhindered.
That was good because Harry wasn't in the mood to talk. His bed at the Leaky Cauldron, while not being uncomfortable, hadn't been exactly restful, either. It wasn't his bed, which he'd had for years. He'd ended up not falling asleep until four and, consequently, oversleeping. He'd then rushed to the office without even a cup of coffee.
Turning the knob, he opened his office door to see a filing cabinet that hadn't been there the day before, a plant that had tiny purple flowers on it on top of said filing cabinet, and a Malfoy seated behind a large wooden desk. Malfoy was leaning back in his chair. His feet, crossed at the ankle, were propped up on the surface of his desk as he intently studied the front page of the newspaper that he held in his hands.
"Oh, fuck," Harry muttered.
Malfoy glanced up at him. "Propositioning me already, Potter? I was reading how you've been getting around these days, but this is still so sudden. By the way, who was your companion last night? Try as I might, I can't spot the mystery person in the photograph The Daily Prophet took of you at the Cauldron. Of course if I had such abysmal taste as to allow myself to get picked up by you, I'd be hiding, too."
"What are you doing here, Malfoy?"
"Didn't you get the memo? It clearly stated that I was to share this office with you, starting today."
"Yes, but I didn't think it would happen before I got here."
"It's nearly ten, Potter. Some of us, who aren't best friends with the boss, actually manage to arrive at work on time."
Harry scowled at him. "I didn't get much sleep last night."
"So I read," Malfoy said, tossing the newspaper down onto his desk.
Potter walked over and picked it up. Half a minute passed as he scanned the article. It didn't lie, but did an impressive amount of implying. It stated that he'd been at the Leaky Cauldron last night, which was true. The article then stated how the Cauldron was known as a place for assignations and rendezvous.
"You look like shite," Malfoy said. "You should tell whatever woman you have tucked away that you need your beauty rest."
"There's no woman."
"Really, Potter? So you're no longer making it a secret that you're more into wands than cauldrons?"
Harry's gaze moved from the newspaper to stare at Malfoy. After a moment, he groaned and closed his eyes. "Please let me still be asleep. Let me wake up, open my eyes, and have Malfoy gone."
"Is that your roundabout way of telling me that I'm the man of your dreams? Whatever will your lover say?"
When Harry scowled in response, Malfoy looked immensely pleased with himself.
* * *
Harry knew that he should've argued harder against partnering with Malfoy. But he hadn't been able to help it. Ron had pleaded with him.
"I'm pleading with you," Ron said.
As Ron spoke with Harry, he was also sipping a cup of coffee and flipping through some papers on his desk.
"That doesn't look much like pleading," Harry said.
Ron glanced up from the papers. "I'm desperate."
Harry folded his arms across his chest and waited.
"You have to do it," Ron added.
"I have to? Is there a prophecy that says that?"
"Yes," Ron stated. "This very morning I went into a trance-like state that said that you and Malfoy were to be partners. There was more, but then Hermione poked me and said it was my turn to make breakfast."
"I think I prefer the prophecy that said I had to be the one to kill Voldemort. At least with that one, there was an end in sight."
"Harry," Ron said, "You know how we've been having problems partnering him up ever since the Confiscation of Dark Artefacts Division was transferred out of the Department of Mysteries and became part of Magical Law Enforcement. Not only is he used to working alone, but every time I assign an Auror to him, they threaten to quit within a matter of days."
"I doubt that will happen," Harry said. "I doubt I'll last days. Hours, maybe."
"The main difficulty seems to be that they find out that he used to be a Death Eater and panic."
"Malfoy wasn't much of a Death Eater."
"Exactly! You know it and I know it. The thing is, no one else does. Also, to be downright frank, he's not the only one having problems with partners."
"Now that wasn't my fault! Thacker was a prat."
Ron raised his hands, surrendering the point. "Agreed."
Harry wasn't mollified. "I walked into the office and found crumpets on my desk. Crumpets!"
"I heard." Ron looked at Harry sympathetically. "I'm sorry about what Ginny did. Going off with Krum like that when she was supposed to be working on an article about Quidditch techniques."
Harry nodded, still angry but not wanting his friendship with Ron to be a casualty when it exploded out of him. "I'm tired of seeing that nickname, Viktor's English Krumpet, all over the papers."
"Think that story's in the back pages by now. Didn't you see the latest? You're the one that's on the front page. Rita's got you boozing and whoring to ease your heartbreak. There's even a survey that gets magically updated every time someone fills it out on who they think will be the one to mend your broken heart."
Harry put his head in his hands. "I'm afraid to ask."
"Hermione's winning," Ron said. "Currently, I'm fourth."
"You're fourth?" Harry asked with an air of disbelief.
"I know. You'd think with our history, I'd be third, at least."
"Ron, you do understand that I'm staying at the Cauldron until Ginny and I agree on who gets the house in our divorce. I'm not there 'boozing and whoring'."
"Right. Right. Of course not," Ron said. "So - you'll accept Malfoy as a partner?"
"Do I have a choice?"
Ron became solemn. "As long as I'm Head Auror, you do."
Harry knew that Ron would give him an out if he pushed, which wouldn't have been fair. If anyone else was sitting in that chair, Harry wouldn't have that option.
Sighing, Harry nodded. "Fine. I'll be Malfoy's partner. But if I end up killing him I'm naming you as an accomplice."
"Always happy to come to the aid of a friend," Ron said, pleased that Harry had agreed.
As Harry left Ron's office, he thought he heard Ron mutter, "Can't believe Luna's in third place."
* * *
Harry watched as Malfoy swung a y-shaped device so that it scanned in different directions as they stood in the snow on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
"As you sure that thing works?" Harry asked, rubbing his hands together in an effort to keep them warm.
"Of course. I invented it."
"You told me already. That's why I'm asking if it works."
"I'll have you know that I'm quite mechanical." Malfoy frowned. "Though, my Magical Diviner should be picking up something. We must be too far away for it to get a clear signal."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes. I'm sure that's the problem."
"I'm telling you, it works," Malfoy said, as he began to trudge into the Forbidden Forest, his boots crunching in the snow. "If there's something in here that's causing the centaurs to be riled up at Wizards, then we'll find it. Unless you'd prefer to spend our time hunting for the Flaming Toast Culprit."
When they'd been going through their files, familiarizing themselves with each other's cases, Harry had found that Malfoy had one named 'The Not Quite Deadly Flaming Toast Culprit'.
"I can't believe this," Harry had exclaimed as he read the file in front of him.
Malfoy had glanced over. "Which file is that?"
"The toaster one."
"Ah, right."
"I don't see how a toaster could be a Dark Artefact."
"It's not," Malfoy had said, "But the person who reported the incident was sure it was dark, so I got the case. The toaster was cursed so that whenever someone got tired of waiting and leaned over to see if it was done, a flaming piece of toast would shoot out at their face. "
"And the person thought it was a Dark Artefact because of that?"
Malfoy had shrugged. "I think he lost his judgment around the same time he lost his eyebrows. We still haven't caught the perpetrator"
Harry had stuck the file at the bottom of the pile and planned to have a quiet talk with Arthur Weasley. When they'd been interrupted and asked to investigate the cause of centaur unrest, they'd put aside their other cases to concentrate on it.
"No, this case is fine," Harry told Malfoy. He pulled his wand from his robe as a precaution as they went further into the woods and the darkness around them settled deeper. The Forbidden Forest was dark even on a summer day. On a wintry day with the sky full of gray clouds, it was nothing but shadows. "How's that Diviner of yours supposed to work, anyway?"
"It works on a similar basis as a probity probe, but has a much longer range. It lights up if it detects magic - yellow for danger and red if it's benign." Malfoy continued to swivel his device from side to side as he walked.
Harry smiled. "You don't know much about the Muggle world. That's all backwards to how it's supposed to be."
"And you don't know much about potions. The closer to clear that a potion is, the more the potential danger. Veritaserum, love potions, the draught of living death in its strongest form - all are clear and thus easier to sneak into a victim's drink. There are exceptions, to be sure. Felix Felicis is a golden yellow, but too much of it can kill you. In general, the farther from clear a potion is, the less likely it is to do you serious harm."
"I passed Potions. No need to lecture."
"You passed, but did you learn? I think-"
Malfoy stopped speaking as his Diviner, which was pointed off to the left of where they were, lit up red. "Benign."
"Wait a minute," Harry said. "What is it?"
Shrugging, Malfoy said, "I couldn't tell you. It could be an abandoned portkey, a lost gobstone, or a crup. As long as it's magical in nature and not a Wizard or a wand, my device will find it.
"It doesn't point to Wizards or wands?"
"Think about it, Potter. If it lit up whenever a Wizard was around, it wouldn't be much use since it'd be lit all the time by the user's presence."
Malfoy started to walk on when Harry stopped him by grabbing his arm.
"I want to see what it is," Harry said. "We're fairly far into the Forbidden Forest. I doubt if it's a lost gobstone."
Malfoy opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. "Fine."
"Fine?" Harry repeated. "No arguments?
"You're the one with years of experience investigating matters while I've been at the Department of Mysteries. I'm sure you've no doubt developed some instincts for such things."
As they turned to the left, Harry felt slightly uncomfortable. Malfoy thought he had developed instincts. If it did turn out to be a lost gobstone, he was going feel like an idiot.
He followed Malfoy between the trees. Malfoy's Diviner, which had only been red at the tip, grew redder and redder until the entire thing was blazing with colour.
"There," Malfoy said, pointing to a spot on the tree.
Harry moved forward and bent to look at the object that was making Malfoy's Diviner go crazy. He didn't think he'd seen anything like it before. It wasn't something he would've noticed at all, even if he'd walked right by it. It was attached to a tree next to a pathway, about a foot from the ground. The oval shaped object was a brownish-grey wood that blended closely in colouring to the surrounding bark and, with its markings, looked like a knot of the tree. The only thing unusual about it was that there was a hole in the center.
"You recognise it?" Harry asked.
Malfoy shook his head. "It seems somehow familiar, but... no, I can't place it."
When Malfoy knelt next to the tree, careful not to touch the magical oval, his shoulders rubbed against Harry's. His breath warmed the air near Harry's face.
Harry looked over at Malfoy as he studied the wooden oval, muttering spells at it which didn't seem to be working. He was completely focused on figuring out what it was and it gave Harry a chance to really look at Malfoy.
He'd aged well. The pointiness he'd had when younger had softened with age. His hair, while perhaps receding slightly, was like it was years before - smooth and pale. His lean build added to his air of grace and elegance. He was more attractive now, than he'd been as a teenager.
Harry stilled. He'd thought of Malfoy as attractive. Quickly, he straightened up and backed away. Malfoy didn't act as though he even noticed, as he worked intently to figure out what the oval did.
"Give me your robe," Malfoy said.
"Why?"
Malfoy turned toward him with an impatient air, so Harry stripped off his robe and handed it to him. Holding Harry's robe, Malfoy smirked at him.
"Do you doff your clothes every time someone asks, Potter?" Malfoy said. "No wonder you get around."
"Shut it, Malfoy. And whatever you're doing, make it fast. It's damn cold out here."
Bunching the robe up, Malfoy waved it in front of the device.
Nothing happened.
Tossing Harry's robe back to him, Malfoy heaved a sigh.
"It could be benign, like your Diviner indicated," Harry's voice was muffled as he pulled his robe back over his head.
"No. It's not. I'm sure of it."
Harry watched as Malfoy waved his hand in front of the strange oval and still nothing happened.
"We could always blast it and see what-"
"Wait," Malfoy interrupted. He stood and walked across the path, examining the underbrush and then the trees on the other side. "Damn," he hissed. He glanced at Harry. "Your Patronus - it's a stag, right?"
"Yes, but I--
"Cast it. Cast it and send it past us."
"Why can't you cast your own Patronus?"
"Mine has two legs. I need something with four."
Having a small inkling of what Malfoy was thinking, Harry remembered how he'd felt when his son, James, had been born and yelled, "Expecto Patronum!"
When his stag formed solidly, he sent it galloping past the tree where the oval was attached. As the stag passed the tree, the end of a thin wire shot out of the center of the oval, crossed the path, and embedded into a tree on the other side. The legs of Harry's stag hit the wire and his Patronus shuddered, becoming less substantial as it crossed through.
"A trip-wire," Harry breathed out.
"A nasty one," Malfoy spat. "It might get the occasional deer, but I'll bet its real target is centaurs. I think we just discovered why they're angry at Wizards."
"I thought your Diviner said it was benign."
"It is benign. To us."
Using his wand, Malfoy cut the device from the tree. From his pocket of his robe, he withdrew a small bag, enlarged it, then placed the trip-wire device inside.
Harry looked at the woods around them. "There's bound to be more."
"All probably next to a path. I suggest-" The next words were muffled because Harry had placed a hand over Malfoy's mouth.
"Shhh. Listen."
From within the woods, starting out as more of a vibration than a sound, came the thudding of hooves. The noise grew louder, and then louder still. Harry glanced down at the Diviner in Malfoy's hands. It was bright yellow, indicating danger.
"Centaurs," Harry murmured. "Coming this way."
Malfoy reached up and pulled Harry's hand away. "Too many of them for the two of us to handle. Apparate to the Hogwarts gate?"
Harry nodded.
* * *
After he and Malfoy had Apparated to the front gate of Hogwarts, they'd discussed what to do. Harry had volunteered to talk to Hagrid. Although Hagrid had officially retired years earlier, he still lived in the same hut at Hogwarts and tended his animals. The last time Harry had spoken with him was when there'd been reports of a quintaped near Hogwarts. Harry had managed to capture the animal with Ron and Hermione's help and get it back to the Isle of Drear without incident. The report had, conveniently and mysteriously, been misplaced.
Malfoy had nodded, more than pleased to have Harry talk to Hagrid, but his gaze had drifted to Hogwarts.
"You'll come back to the office afterwards?" Malfoy asked.
"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "I think I'll stop by and see my children."
"I'll write up the report, then and send it off to Weasley." Again, Malfoy looked at Hogwarts for a moment, before turning away. "Holidays aren't too far off," he said and Harry had the feeling that he was convincing himself of something.
Harry's meeting with Hagrid had gone well. Hagrid had said he'd be on the look out for the magical ovals next time he was in the forest. Harry had gone up to the castle and spoken with Headmistress McGonagall about the matter, as well. He was more than happy to stay for dinner when she invited him.
"Is there anything I can help you with while I'm here?" he asked the Headmistress as they walked to the Great Hall together.
She hesitated, then shook her head. "There's nothing that an Auror could possibly do. I'm afraid an increasing portion of our students are having difficulty with their studies."
Harry frowned. "Are Albus, James or Lily among them? I could work with them over the holidays, if they are."
"No, your children are doing extremely well, though there are some concerns with Albus' continued manipulation of the point system. I'm still not entirely sure how he managed to have all the houses score the exact same amount of points resulting in a four-way tie for the House Cup for the first time in the history of Hogwarts."
Harry tried to hide his grin. Last summer, James had threatened to beat Albus over the head if he ever did it again, but Albus had been adamant that the point system was divisive.
"But, there are many other students who are not progressing as they should," McGonagall continued. "Most of them don't have anyone at home who could tutor them. It's such a serious matter that I'm arranging for them to stay over the coming holidays for extra lessons."
She would've said more, but they'd reached the Great Hall and his children had spotted him.
James and Lily rushed forward. He listened to their chatter about the last Quidditch game as they pulled him toward the Gryffindor table. Upon reaching it, he paused and looked over at Albus, who was sitting at the Slytherin table, quietly watching him. Giving Lily a kiss on the head and James a pat on the shoulder, he made his way over to Albus and the Slytherins.
Albus introduced him to his friends. Though Harry had met several of them before, he didn't remember any of their names, except for Scorpius Malfoy's.
"Is there bad news?" Albus asked quietly while they ate. When Harry looked at him, he added, "The last time you were here, it was bad news."
The last time he'd visited, it'd been with Ginny to tell them about the divorce.
"No," Harry said quickly, reassuring him. "I was working on a case. That's all. Truly."
Albus only relaxed minutely so, to change the subject, Harry turned to Scorpius, "I was working with your dad."
Scorpius brightened. "Father's here?"
Harry shook his head. "I'm afraid he had to go back." When Scorpius seemed to wilt before his eyes, Harry knew he couldn't leave it at that. Malfoy might be a git, but Scorpius was just a boy.
"You dad had to write up the reports. He takes his job seriously, you know."
The noise level at the table dropped and Harry realized that it wasn't only Scorpius listening, but half the Slytherins.
"He... He impressed me today," Harry told them. "He really knows what he's doing. I think I'll learn a lot from him."
Once more smiling, Scorpius nodded. "My father is extremely clever."
As Harry concentrated on his food, shoving a forkful of green beans into his mouth so that he wouldn't have to say anything else good about Malfoy, he felt a slight tug on his arm. Albus was looking up at him.
"Thank you," Albus mouthed silently and gave him a grateful smile. Harry smiled back.
* * *
Malfoy was eating a Danish when Harry walked into the office the next day.
"I know. I'm late. I was... is that food?"
"Yes." Malfoy held out the box. "Help yourself," he said generously.
Harry picked out a blueberry muffin. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it. Mi pastries es su pastries."
Munching on the blueberry muffin, Harry was completely unprepared when Malfoy said, "By the way, Potter, did your last partner, Thacker, ever make a pass at you?"
Muffin bits lodged in Harry's throat. He coughed and continued coughing until he could breathe again, then stared at Malfoy. "Who... What... Why would you ask something like that?"
"It was just a thought that flittered through my head."
"Malfoy, please take this advice in the spirit in which it is given, i.e. from someone who doesn't give a toss about you but still wouldn't like to see you dead - stop doing whatever potions you've been doing. They're rotting your brain. Thoughts like that should never flitter through heads. And who the hell says flitter, anyway?"
"It's a perfectly legitimate word."
Harry decided it was too early in the day to get into it with Malfoy. Instead, he asked, "Did you file the report?"
"There's a copy on your desk."
Plopping down in his chair, Harry picked up the parchment and began to read. It was more detailed and thorough than one he would've written. When he got near the end, he glanced up.
"You took the oval apart?"
"Yes. I was hoping that there would be spells or parts that might identify the maker. Although I found nothing exceptionally distinguishable, I might recognise his work if I saw it again. I thought I'd go through the Room of Miscellaneous Contraptions and see if anything looks familiar."
"I'll go through the files and see if there's anyone who might want to stir up trouble between Wizards and Centaurs or who has a grudge against them."
As Malfoy got up to leave, Harry eyed the box of pastries on Malfoy's desk. He was still a little hungry. "Do you mind if I have another?" he asked.
"Certainly not," Malfoy said. "After all, they're yours. Thacker brought them for you."
Malfoy was gone by the time Harry could think of a reply.
* * *
The next few days passed with Harry only wanting to murder Malfoy once or twice every hour they were together. Harry hadn't found anything helpful in the files and Malfoy had made little headway in the Room of Miscellaneous Contraptions, but as that facility was immense, that wasn't surprising.
Ron had ordered them to stay away from the Forbidden Forest. He'd passed their report onto the Minister, who'd decided to attempt diplomacy with the centaurs. The Minister didn't want a team of Aurors wandering around the Forbidden Forest and possibly mucking things up.
The cases they'd handled in the meanwhile were ordinary - a wand reported as stolen; a missing child who, it turned out, had experienced his first spark of magic by managing to Disillusion himself during a game of hide and seek. The case they were now working was a domestic disturbance.
They'd knocked on the door but, from the sounds coming inside, they hadn't been heard. Opening the door, Harry shouted "Aurors! Put your wands down."
The ruckus continued, unabated.
Malfoy and Harry looked at one another, each muttered a shield charm, and then moved further into the house. They rounded a corner and Harry felt Malfoy yank him hard to the side. The kitchen sink sailed through the space where his head had been and crashed into the wall behind them.
Without asking permission, Malfoy cast Protego Horribilis on both of them.
"Aurors!" Harry shouted again, moving closer to the kitchen. "Put your wands down."
A hissing kneazle dashed past them, slid into the wall, recovered, and scampered away. They watched it go, and then edged closer.
"Aurors!" Harry shouted, this time using Sonorus. The only thing that happened was a pitcher of pumpkin juice flew through the doorway, splattering them as it crashed at their feet.
Malfoy glanced down at his robe, which was dripping with juice. "Oh, that's it! I'm putting a stop to this."
Before Harry could do anything, Malfoy had flung himself through the door and cast two binding spells. By the time Harry could see past him to what was happening, two bodies were thudding to the floor. The room surrounding them was... a shambles was an understatement. The table was on its side. Chairs were smashed. Not a dish or glass was in one piece.
The fact that the young wizard and witch were now unable to move didn't mollify Malfoy in the slightest.
"Look at this," Malfoy shouted, shaking his soaking robe at them, drops of pumpkin juice flying as he did so. "You two are so getting the cleaning bill."
Harry grabbed their wands out of their hands, then ended Malfoy's binding spells. This resulted with the couple rising and hurling accusations at each other.
"Shut it!" Malfoy shouted, his rage overwhelming the couple's. "When Aurors tell you to put your wands down, you're supposed to put your wands down if you don't want to be eviscerated. And we could've done it, too. I still might. Do you even know who I am?"
The couple glanced at one another. The young man said a tad defiantly, "Should we?"
"I'm Draco Malfoy!" Malfoy shouted. The couple looked blank at the pronouncement.
"Malfoy, as in son of Lucius Malfoy."
The couple still looked blank.
"Lucius Malfoy, Voldemort's right hand man," Malfoy added with impatience.
"Oh, Voldemort," the man said. "We've heard of him."
The young witch nodded, agreeing. "Just not that Malroy chap."
Harry and Malfoy stared at them.
"Don't you know anything about the last war?" Malfoy asked.
"It's not our fault. We had Binns in school. We know a lot about Goblin wars, though."
Before Malfoy could explode, Harry decided he'd better step in. "What seems to be the problem here?" He pointed at the woman. "You go first."
"I was at the local pub talking Quidditch when in he walks, acting like I'd been caught with my robe hiked up," she said.
"Ha! Talking Quidditch, she says," the man snapped back. "I think there was more on her mind than scoring with Quaffles. Besides, you can't trust those Quidditch blokes."
"You're preaching to the choir," Malfoy sneered, still peeved about the state of his clothes.
"What?" the man said, eyes switching to Malfoy.
"Nothing," Harry said quickly.
"It's not nothing," Malfoy interjected. "You may not know who I am, but I'm surprised you don't recognise him. That's Harry Potter."
The man's eyes went wide. "The one whose wife..."
"Exactly," Malfoy said with a note of triumph. "His wife left him and he hasn't destroyed household appliances and whatnot."
"Leave me out of it," Harry hissed.
"See! Even though he's practically on the edge of madness, you don't see him attacking the crockery." Malfoy pointed his wand at the couple. "You two had better decide to either break it off or stay together, but if Aurors are called out here again, you'll be in trouble, and if I'm called back out here, you'll wish you were in Azkaban."
* * *
Harry was still angry, even after the reports had been filed and he'd flooed to the Cauldron. Unfortunately, he couldn't put his anger away when the source of it followed him home.
"What are you doing here?" Harry snapped.
Holding a glass of Scotch, Malfoy seated himself at Harry's table. "I decided I could use a drink."
"There are other tables," Harry pointed out before taking a gulp of his firewhisky.
"What's the matter, Potter? Am I cramping your style?" Malfoy glanced around. "Seems to be slim pickings tonight. No Oliver Wood in sight."
Harry flushed. A few nights earlier, he'd stopped for a drink when Oliver had shown up. After a little while, when Oliver had suggested that go upstairs to get away from the Prophet reporters that were always lurking about, Harry had nodded
"This is much better, isn't it?" Oliver had said as he and Harry entered Harry's room. "No worries about reporters and such overhearing us."
The maid had cleaned, which was a good thing because Harry had been in a hurry that morning. He wasn't all that comfortable having Oliver in his room, but he preferred it to having their conversation showing up in The Daily Prophet the next day.
"Sit," Oliver said. He was already using the lone chair in the room, so Harry sat on the edge of his bed.
"So..." Harry said, struggling to come up with a topic. He liked Oliver, but they'd never been very close. "How's Puddlemere look this year?"
"Better than last, but that's not what I wanted to talk with you about. I wanted you to know how sorry I am about everything you've been going through lately. It must be rough."
Harry shrugged. He really didn't want to talk about it.
Oliver stood, crossed the room, and joined Harry on the bed. "How are you doing? Really doing?"
"I'm fine. Maybe not fine, but pretty much as well as can be expected," Harry said. He eased away from Oliver, who'd sat down awfully close.
"If you want to talk or if there's anything I can do, let me know."
"Thank you."
"I know a lot of what's in the papers is rubbish, but I'm worried about you, mate."
Oliver shifted on the bed so that he faced Harry. He patted Harry's knee in a comforting gesture, then left his hand there. Harry stared at it.
"Some people - they may not have your best interests at heart. If you need anything, it's much better to go to a friend."
The hand was now smoothing up and down Harry's leg.
"Someone who you know. Someone you can trust. Someone who'll keep your needs in mind."
The hand eased up higher up Harry's thigh, closer to where Harry was now sporting a bulge. It had been a while and Oliver was an attractive bloke.
"Let me help you out there, Harry," Oliver murmured. His hand slid closer and closer.
Before the hand could reach its destination, Harry grabbed it by the wrist, stopping it. He looked up at Oliver.
"I had a bit of a crush on you in school," Harry told him. "Thought at the time that it was admiration because you were older and knew so much about Quidditch."
"Yeah?" Oliver smiled.
"Yeah. You're a great person and I'm not saying I don't fancy you. Hell, I'd have to be dead not to, but... but the thing is that I don't think I'm ready for this." Harry removed Oliver's hand from his leg.
Oliver's smile faded.
"Those stories in the newspaper," Harry continued, "they're not true. I'm not into one-night stands."
"Maybe I'm not interested in one-night stands, either."
Harry smiled gently and rose from the bed. "Still not ready."
"Owl me when you are." Oliver stood, too, then moved toward the door. "I meant what I said about being your friend. If you want to get together and talk, just talk, mind you, that'd be fine."
"Thanks, Oliver. I appreciate the offer."
Oliver opened the door, then paused. Slowly, he lowered his head toward Harry. Harry knew what was coming and tilted his face up. Although he wasn't ready for more, he wanted the show of affection, wanted this indication that he was still desirable. Their lips met in a kiss that wasn't nearly as chaste as it should've been.
A bright flash went off.
Harry blinked and was able to spot the photographer right before he Apparated away.
"Damn," Harry had muttered.
Sure enough, it'd been in the paper the next morning. Even though Harry hadn't bought it, he'd seen a copy of it on Malfoy's desk. Malfoy had obviously seen the photo.
Instead of arguing with Malfoy and telling him that all photographic evidence to the contrary, nothing had happened with Oliver Wood, Harry took a swig of firewhisky and shrugged.
"It looks like you might end up sleeping alone tonight."
It angered Harry, the way Malfoy was so pleased at the possibility that Harry wouldn't be able to find a companion for the night. Not that he'd ever even consider looking. But did Malfoy have to be so smug about it?
Harry took another gulp of his drink. "Maybe I'll have to lower my standards."
"You've been linked with Weasley. Lower it any more, Potter, and you'll end up copulating with primordial ooze."
Harry moved from mild anger to rage. Instead of punching Malfoy in the nose, he settled for putting his glass down and giving Malfoy a slow once-over.
"Tell you what," Harry drawled, pleased that Malfoy was flushing under his continued perusal. "If primordial ooze is busy, maybe I'll let you bend over for me."
Malfoy's face turned ugly and he leapt to his feet. His hand reached out and grabbed Harry's robe, yanking him up.
"Not here," Harry hissed. "We're Aurors. Aurors don't brawl in public with reporters lurking by."
Tugging his robe free of Malfoy's grip, Harry pushed past him, and out the door that led to the Muggle side. He could hear Malfoy stomping behind him. They went a short way before Harry turned, and headed into a nearby rubbish-strewn alley.
"You want to have it out?" Harry challenged. "Then here's the place."
"You haven't changed, Potter, you've just grown older. You still think you're better than everyone else."
"No, I just think I'm better than you."
"Right, because your life's turned out so perfect. Seems the Golden Boy is actually brass. Tarnished brass, at that. I've read the papers. Drinking. Whoring. Not often you see the high and mighty take a tumble into the gutter."
"You don't know anything about it," Harry spat.
"I know that ever since your marriage fell apart, you've been falling apart, too. Your wife left you for Krum - Get over it!"
Harry's fists clenched. "Shut up."
Malfoy's response was to laugh cruelly. "Face it, Potter. The Bulgarian seeker caught her snitch."
With a growl, Harry launched himself at Malfoy, tackling him to the ground.
They struggled against one another, pushing and punching. Harry bloodied Malfoy's nose with a quick jab. Letting out a yowl, Malfoy shoved at Harry while twisting his hips, managing to roll them.
Pain sliced into Harry's shoulder and he gasped.
Straddling him, Malfoy punched him in the jaw. He was pulling back for a second punch when he noticed Harry's lack of defense.
"Giving up already, Potter? You've let yourself go more than I'd thought."
Malfoy rose, pushing on Harry as he did so. Harry let out a whimper.
"I didn't punch you that hard, Potter. Were you this much of a-" Malfoy sucked in a breath. "Oh, fuck."
In a flash, Malfoy was kneeling next to Harry, helping him sit up.
"You're bleeding, Potter. A lot. We need to get you to St. Mungo's."
Harry shook his head, then bit back a groan. "No. Not going."
"You've got glass embedded in your shoulder. You rolled onto a broken bottle. We need to get it out."
"Not St. Mungo's. In the papers enough already."
"With the way the reporters have been staking out the Leaky Cauldron, your room's out, too." Malfoy helped Harry to his feet, supporting him by wrapping his arms around Harry's waist. "Are you up for some side-along Apparition?"
"I'm not going to St. Mungo's," Harry protested. He made a feeble attempt to pull away from Malfoy.
"Stop that, you idiot. I'm not taking you there. You're going home with me."
Before Harry could protest, Malfoy had Apparated them out of the alley.
Part 2
Author: mahaliem
Recipient: kestrelsparhawk
Title: The Simple Joy of Living
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione, Ginny/Viktor
Summary: When Viktor is attacked, Harry and Draco work together to find the culprit.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): Sexual Situations, Violence, Language
Deathly Hallows compliant? Yes
Word Count: 39,996
Author's Notes: Thank you so much to tehomet and dreamyraynbo who worked so very hard and did such a terrific job with this story. I am immensely grateful to them.
The Simple Joy of Living (1/5)
Prologue - One Year After
Harry stumbled into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, one hand holding a bottle of firewhisky, the other braced on the wall for support.
"Myrtle! Murrrtle!" Harry yelled.
"Cease your caterwauling, Potter."
Blinking, Harry turned his head to see Draco staring at him.
"Malfoiled? What are you doing here?" Before Draco could answer, Harry waved his explanation away, sloshing firewhisky out of the bottle as he did so. "Came to see Myrtle."
"She's not here, Potter."
"She's not?" Harry's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What'd you do to her?"
"I did nothing. Myrtle left moments ago to visit the prefects' bath and view the annual celebration held there."
The tension left Harry's stance and a lopsided grin appeared. "Pervy thing, isn't she? Don't need to talk to her anyways now."
He took a few steps, but tripped over his own feet and would've fallen if Draco hadn't caught him and held him up.
Harry looked blearily at Draco. "Thanks, Malfloyd."
Draco tried to push him off, but Harry clung to Draco's shoulders. Draco had to content himself with tilting his head away. "You've been celebrating completing the NEWTs, I see. I suppose a pack of inebriated Gryffindors is close behind."
Harry shook his head. "Nope. Crept away. Don't-don't tell anyone," Harry said, placing a finger on Draco's lips. "Is a shhcret." He stared at Draco for a moment, then smiled. "You have nice lips, Mafloy... Hey, can I call you Draco? Easier to say. Draco, Draco, Draco."
Draco carefully walked Harry back to the wall and propped him up against it, then stepped back and straightened his robe. "Do you mean to say that neither of your little friends or your girlfriend know you're here?"
"Ginny thinks I'm with Ron and Hermi...Hermio... my other friend. The girl one."
"And where do they think you are?"
"They don't care. Too busy snogging and groping and sneaking off themselves. Think they're finally going to do it."
"Do what?"
Harry gave him a speaking look which, unfortunately, Draco translated successfully.
"Aargh," Draco said. "You made me think about naked Weasley flesh. Curse you!"
"Don't want to think about it either. That's why I've got firewhisky." Harry patted his bottle possessively, then took a sip. "Thought up 'til now they'd done it already. You know, last year, before the Battle of Hogwarts. The whole don't want to die a virgin bit like I did."
Draco arched an eyebrow. "It's not gentlemanly to kiss and tell, Potter."
Harry frowned, then shook his head. "Not what I meant. Meant I died a virgin. Or almost died. Was still a virgin when I started living again, too." Harry thought about that for a second. "Good thing, too, seeing how Dumbledore was the only one I saw when dead. Liked him, but not in that way."
Again with the nasty images. Although his mental image of a naked Potter wasn't bad at all, naked Dumbledore made him shudder with revulsion.
"That's one Slytherin rumor put to rest then," Draco said. At Harry's questioning look, he added, "Most of us figured you had to be doing something for Dumbledore to make him favour Gryffindor so much."
Harry pushed off from the wall and weaved toward Draco. "You Slytherthins have dirty minds."
"We do. It's the gift that keeps on giving."
Harry took another sip from his bottle as he tried to make sense of that.
Draco shook his head at Potter and headed for the door. "As interesting as this conversation isn't, I'm afraid I should be-"
"Hey, Draco," Harry interrupted. "Wanna see a big snake?"
Draco stopped to stare at Harry. "If that's your idea of a pick-up line, then I'm not surprised you're still a virgin."
"It's not reeeally a snake."
"I figured that out."
Grabbing Draco by the robe, Harry pulled him toward the set of sinks. He hissed something, then grinned at Draco. "Parsleytongue still works. Thought it wouldn't."
"Why wouldn't-" Draco began but stopped when the sink pulled back revealing a hole in the floor.
"C'mon," Harry said, right before jumping into the hole.
A minute passed while Draco wondered if he should follow or run off to look for help because drunken Potter had conjured up a hole and leapt into it. With his luck, everyone would think he'd killed the prat.
He was about to leave and pretend that he'd never seen Potter, when he heard his name being called.
"Draaaaacooooo."
"You're not dead, then?" Draco shouted back.
There was a long pause before Potter answered. "Don't think so. Doesn't look a bit like a train station."
Draco had always suspected that Potter's brain was strange and scary. This proved it.
"Draaaaacoooo!"
He tried to peer into the hole, but couldn't see beyond the first few feet. "Is it safe?" he yelled down to Potter.
"Yeah. The snake's dead."
"I have no interest in the state of your arousal," Draco muttered. "Not much, anyway." Suspecting that he was going to deeply regret it, Draco sat at the edge of the hole then carefully pushed off.
Moments later, Draco was being hauled to his feet by an unsteady Potter, which meant that there was much clinging and flailing and some resultant shoving away.
"I thought you said the snake was dead," Draco said, looking pointedly at Potter's crotch. He'd definitely felt some life stirring during the aforementioned clinging.
"It is. I'll show you."
"No!" Draco looked around and his level of uneasiness with the situation, which had been hovering around the ewww level, now rose to icky disgust. "You brought me here to try to seduce me? Here in this creepy, dark place full of bones and ooze, and possibly bugs and parasites? Do you know what this will do to my robe or to my shoes? I doubt even the harshest of scouring charms will rid the stench from my skin or hair."
Harry frowned. "You're talking faster than I can listen." Once again, he grabbed Draco's robe. Since he was pulling Draco to a spot that was littered with less detritus of who knew what, Draco allowed it.
They came upon a pile of rocks. Though it looked like one could climb over it, Harry shot a Reducto that cleared the way. He then hissed at a set of doors which opened, revealing a large chamber.
"This is the Chamber of Secrets?" Draco asked.
Harry nodded and continued to drag Draco forward until they were standing near the statue of Slytherin and the huge, moldering, partially eaten corpse of a basilisk.
"Dear God, Potter," Draco breathed out, staring at the basilisk.
Harry grinned.
"You really did want to show me a big, dead snake."
The grin dropped from Harry's face to be replaced by a look of puzzlement. "What did you think I was going show you?"
Draco ignored his question to measure out the length of the basilisk in careful steps. "Dear God," Draco repeated
"Killed it when I was twelve," Potter said in a tone that smacked of bloodthirsty pride. He made a stabbing motion with his firewhisky bottle, spilling some on the floor as he did so. "Killed it with a.... a...."
"Sword?"
"Yeah. One of those." Harry's voice lowered so Draco had to strain to hear it. "Sorting Hat gave it to me."
If Draco hadn't seen the Sorting Hat give Neville a sword a year earlier, he would've thought that Harry's statement was a product of his firewhisky-addled brain.
He returned to where Harry stood next to Slytherin's statue, staring down at the remains of the basilisk. "Ginny told me that she'd always had a crush on me, but the day I killed this thing was the day she fell in love with me."
"I can imagine." Draco said. "We've never got along, but the thought of you killing this monster gets even me hot and bothered."
"Really?" Harry said. He edged closer to Draco and put his hand on Draco's arm. "It gets you hot?"
"Oh, hell, Potter! You did bring me down here to seduce me."
"Not seducing. Asking. And seeing how you're hot..." Harry moved to clutch Draco's other arm but found his hand still full with the firewhisky. "Hold this," he said, shoving the bottle into Draco's hand. Once the bottle was safely taken care of, Harry gripped Draco's other arm.
He looked at Draco in confusion. "Where was I?"
"You were saying how I was hot."
"You are. Hot that is. Even with your stupid hair and your stupid pointy face and your stupid hating me, which was stupid, you are sort of hot."
"I can't believe you, Potter," Draco said in angry exasperation. "You drag me down to a disgusting place to show me a rotting corpse and then insult me. This is the most bizarre seduction technique I've ever heard of."
Harry pushed his face closer to Draco's so that their lips were scant inches away. "Is it working?" he murmured.
Draco opened his mouth to deny it, but then snapped it shut. If the truth be known, he was more than a little turned on. This beat the hell out of silk sheets and candlelight. Silk sheets and candlelight were nice, but he got that every night at home.
"Don't you want me?" Harry asked.
Draco reached up and pushed aside that messy hair, which was strangely neater than usual, (leave it to Potter to get drunk and become less rumpled). Harry was looking at him, his face open and trusting, which was just so wrong. The explanation for it could be seen in his green eyes, which were a bit too glazed to be truly aware of what he was doing and the consequences.
"Given the number of times I've checked out your arse, you'd think I'd jump at the chance to shag you, but the answer is 'No'," Draco said, shaking his head.
Harry's eyes rose to meet Draco's and he pressed closer. "No? Not even if I beg?"
Draco groaned and there was a moment when temptation nearly won out, but he shook his head a second time. "God's punishing me, I know he is," he murmured. Louder, he added, "Sorry, Potter's the answer is still 'No.'"
Harry released Draco. His hands lowered and his shoulders slumped. "You hate me."
"Not as much as I used to. There are even times that I find you fairly amusing, but hating you isn't why I'm turning you down. You're drunk and I won't take advantage of you. I - shit I can't believe I'm saying this - I respect you too much for that, Potter."
"Thought enemies were supposed to take advantage of moments of weakness," Harry pouted. Sliding to the ground, he leaned back and rested his head against the statue of Slytherin.
"You'll thank me later. If you remember, that is."
Harry yawned. "Rather shag you now."
Draco watched as Harry's eyes closed and his breathing became deep and even. He glanced around the Chamber of Secrets and decided that there wasn't much still alive to threaten Potter's safety. The remains of the basilisk called to Draco. It wasn't like anyone would notice if he harvested some scales and a fang or two.
Potter's breathing changed to soft snores and Draco turned his attention back to him.
Draco knew he'd done the right thing. Potter was in love with Weasley's sister. They'd marry, have a tonne of brats, and live in a hovel somewhere.
But...
Keenly aware that he'd never have the opportunity again and no one would ever be the wiser for it, Draco knelt next to Harry. He placed the firewhisky bottle next to Potter's leg, then leaned forward.
Slowly, gently, Draco pressed his lips against Harry's. When he pulled away, his heart was beating faster. He sucked in a calming breath and stared at the boy, no the man, in front of him. One kiss, especially a kiss in which the other participant was unconscious, shouldn't have affected him so.
Harry shifted and Draco hurriedly stood. When there was no more movement, Draco sighed in relief, then turned and headed towards the basilisk.
Behind him, Harry briefly opened his eyes and watched him go.
Twenty-One Years After
Harry walked quickly down the hall of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, faking a busy, harried manner so that none of the Aurors would stop him. It worked. They all gave him an acknowledging nod and let him go by, unhindered.
That was good because Harry wasn't in the mood to talk. His bed at the Leaky Cauldron, while not being uncomfortable, hadn't been exactly restful, either. It wasn't his bed, which he'd had for years. He'd ended up not falling asleep until four and, consequently, oversleeping. He'd then rushed to the office without even a cup of coffee.
Turning the knob, he opened his office door to see a filing cabinet that hadn't been there the day before, a plant that had tiny purple flowers on it on top of said filing cabinet, and a Malfoy seated behind a large wooden desk. Malfoy was leaning back in his chair. His feet, crossed at the ankle, were propped up on the surface of his desk as he intently studied the front page of the newspaper that he held in his hands.
"Oh, fuck," Harry muttered.
Malfoy glanced up at him. "Propositioning me already, Potter? I was reading how you've been getting around these days, but this is still so sudden. By the way, who was your companion last night? Try as I might, I can't spot the mystery person in the photograph The Daily Prophet took of you at the Cauldron. Of course if I had such abysmal taste as to allow myself to get picked up by you, I'd be hiding, too."
"What are you doing here, Malfoy?"
"Didn't you get the memo? It clearly stated that I was to share this office with you, starting today."
"Yes, but I didn't think it would happen before I got here."
"It's nearly ten, Potter. Some of us, who aren't best friends with the boss, actually manage to arrive at work on time."
Harry scowled at him. "I didn't get much sleep last night."
"So I read," Malfoy said, tossing the newspaper down onto his desk.
Potter walked over and picked it up. Half a minute passed as he scanned the article. It didn't lie, but did an impressive amount of implying. It stated that he'd been at the Leaky Cauldron last night, which was true. The article then stated how the Cauldron was known as a place for assignations and rendezvous.
"You look like shite," Malfoy said. "You should tell whatever woman you have tucked away that you need your beauty rest."
"There's no woman."
"Really, Potter? So you're no longer making it a secret that you're more into wands than cauldrons?"
Harry's gaze moved from the newspaper to stare at Malfoy. After a moment, he groaned and closed his eyes. "Please let me still be asleep. Let me wake up, open my eyes, and have Malfoy gone."
"Is that your roundabout way of telling me that I'm the man of your dreams? Whatever will your lover say?"
When Harry scowled in response, Malfoy looked immensely pleased with himself.
* * *
Harry knew that he should've argued harder against partnering with Malfoy. But he hadn't been able to help it. Ron had pleaded with him.
"I'm pleading with you," Ron said.
As Ron spoke with Harry, he was also sipping a cup of coffee and flipping through some papers on his desk.
"That doesn't look much like pleading," Harry said.
Ron glanced up from the papers. "I'm desperate."
Harry folded his arms across his chest and waited.
"You have to do it," Ron added.
"I have to? Is there a prophecy that says that?"
"Yes," Ron stated. "This very morning I went into a trance-like state that said that you and Malfoy were to be partners. There was more, but then Hermione poked me and said it was my turn to make breakfast."
"I think I prefer the prophecy that said I had to be the one to kill Voldemort. At least with that one, there was an end in sight."
"Harry," Ron said, "You know how we've been having problems partnering him up ever since the Confiscation of Dark Artefacts Division was transferred out of the Department of Mysteries and became part of Magical Law Enforcement. Not only is he used to working alone, but every time I assign an Auror to him, they threaten to quit within a matter of days."
"I doubt that will happen," Harry said. "I doubt I'll last days. Hours, maybe."
"The main difficulty seems to be that they find out that he used to be a Death Eater and panic."
"Malfoy wasn't much of a Death Eater."
"Exactly! You know it and I know it. The thing is, no one else does. Also, to be downright frank, he's not the only one having problems with partners."
"Now that wasn't my fault! Thacker was a prat."
Ron raised his hands, surrendering the point. "Agreed."
Harry wasn't mollified. "I walked into the office and found crumpets on my desk. Crumpets!"
"I heard." Ron looked at Harry sympathetically. "I'm sorry about what Ginny did. Going off with Krum like that when she was supposed to be working on an article about Quidditch techniques."
Harry nodded, still angry but not wanting his friendship with Ron to be a casualty when it exploded out of him. "I'm tired of seeing that nickname, Viktor's English Krumpet, all over the papers."
"Think that story's in the back pages by now. Didn't you see the latest? You're the one that's on the front page. Rita's got you boozing and whoring to ease your heartbreak. There's even a survey that gets magically updated every time someone fills it out on who they think will be the one to mend your broken heart."
Harry put his head in his hands. "I'm afraid to ask."
"Hermione's winning," Ron said. "Currently, I'm fourth."
"You're fourth?" Harry asked with an air of disbelief.
"I know. You'd think with our history, I'd be third, at least."
"Ron, you do understand that I'm staying at the Cauldron until Ginny and I agree on who gets the house in our divorce. I'm not there 'boozing and whoring'."
"Right. Right. Of course not," Ron said. "So - you'll accept Malfoy as a partner?"
"Do I have a choice?"
Ron became solemn. "As long as I'm Head Auror, you do."
Harry knew that Ron would give him an out if he pushed, which wouldn't have been fair. If anyone else was sitting in that chair, Harry wouldn't have that option.
Sighing, Harry nodded. "Fine. I'll be Malfoy's partner. But if I end up killing him I'm naming you as an accomplice."
"Always happy to come to the aid of a friend," Ron said, pleased that Harry had agreed.
As Harry left Ron's office, he thought he heard Ron mutter, "Can't believe Luna's in third place."
* * *
Harry watched as Malfoy swung a y-shaped device so that it scanned in different directions as they stood in the snow on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
"As you sure that thing works?" Harry asked, rubbing his hands together in an effort to keep them warm.
"Of course. I invented it."
"You told me already. That's why I'm asking if it works."
"I'll have you know that I'm quite mechanical." Malfoy frowned. "Though, my Magical Diviner should be picking up something. We must be too far away for it to get a clear signal."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes. I'm sure that's the problem."
"I'm telling you, it works," Malfoy said, as he began to trudge into the Forbidden Forest, his boots crunching in the snow. "If there's something in here that's causing the centaurs to be riled up at Wizards, then we'll find it. Unless you'd prefer to spend our time hunting for the Flaming Toast Culprit."
When they'd been going through their files, familiarizing themselves with each other's cases, Harry had found that Malfoy had one named 'The Not Quite Deadly Flaming Toast Culprit'.
"I can't believe this," Harry had exclaimed as he read the file in front of him.
Malfoy had glanced over. "Which file is that?"
"The toaster one."
"Ah, right."
"I don't see how a toaster could be a Dark Artefact."
"It's not," Malfoy had said, "But the person who reported the incident was sure it was dark, so I got the case. The toaster was cursed so that whenever someone got tired of waiting and leaned over to see if it was done, a flaming piece of toast would shoot out at their face. "
"And the person thought it was a Dark Artefact because of that?"
Malfoy had shrugged. "I think he lost his judgment around the same time he lost his eyebrows. We still haven't caught the perpetrator"
Harry had stuck the file at the bottom of the pile and planned to have a quiet talk with Arthur Weasley. When they'd been interrupted and asked to investigate the cause of centaur unrest, they'd put aside their other cases to concentrate on it.
"No, this case is fine," Harry told Malfoy. He pulled his wand from his robe as a precaution as they went further into the woods and the darkness around them settled deeper. The Forbidden Forest was dark even on a summer day. On a wintry day with the sky full of gray clouds, it was nothing but shadows. "How's that Diviner of yours supposed to work, anyway?"
"It works on a similar basis as a probity probe, but has a much longer range. It lights up if it detects magic - yellow for danger and red if it's benign." Malfoy continued to swivel his device from side to side as he walked.
Harry smiled. "You don't know much about the Muggle world. That's all backwards to how it's supposed to be."
"And you don't know much about potions. The closer to clear that a potion is, the more the potential danger. Veritaserum, love potions, the draught of living death in its strongest form - all are clear and thus easier to sneak into a victim's drink. There are exceptions, to be sure. Felix Felicis is a golden yellow, but too much of it can kill you. In general, the farther from clear a potion is, the less likely it is to do you serious harm."
"I passed Potions. No need to lecture."
"You passed, but did you learn? I think-"
Malfoy stopped speaking as his Diviner, which was pointed off to the left of where they were, lit up red. "Benign."
"Wait a minute," Harry said. "What is it?"
Shrugging, Malfoy said, "I couldn't tell you. It could be an abandoned portkey, a lost gobstone, or a crup. As long as it's magical in nature and not a Wizard or a wand, my device will find it.
"It doesn't point to Wizards or wands?"
"Think about it, Potter. If it lit up whenever a Wizard was around, it wouldn't be much use since it'd be lit all the time by the user's presence."
Malfoy started to walk on when Harry stopped him by grabbing his arm.
"I want to see what it is," Harry said. "We're fairly far into the Forbidden Forest. I doubt if it's a lost gobstone."
Malfoy opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. "Fine."
"Fine?" Harry repeated. "No arguments?
"You're the one with years of experience investigating matters while I've been at the Department of Mysteries. I'm sure you've no doubt developed some instincts for such things."
As they turned to the left, Harry felt slightly uncomfortable. Malfoy thought he had developed instincts. If it did turn out to be a lost gobstone, he was going feel like an idiot.
He followed Malfoy between the trees. Malfoy's Diviner, which had only been red at the tip, grew redder and redder until the entire thing was blazing with colour.
"There," Malfoy said, pointing to a spot on the tree.
Harry moved forward and bent to look at the object that was making Malfoy's Diviner go crazy. He didn't think he'd seen anything like it before. It wasn't something he would've noticed at all, even if he'd walked right by it. It was attached to a tree next to a pathway, about a foot from the ground. The oval shaped object was a brownish-grey wood that blended closely in colouring to the surrounding bark and, with its markings, looked like a knot of the tree. The only thing unusual about it was that there was a hole in the center.
"You recognise it?" Harry asked.
Malfoy shook his head. "It seems somehow familiar, but... no, I can't place it."
When Malfoy knelt next to the tree, careful not to touch the magical oval, his shoulders rubbed against Harry's. His breath warmed the air near Harry's face.
Harry looked over at Malfoy as he studied the wooden oval, muttering spells at it which didn't seem to be working. He was completely focused on figuring out what it was and it gave Harry a chance to really look at Malfoy.
He'd aged well. The pointiness he'd had when younger had softened with age. His hair, while perhaps receding slightly, was like it was years before - smooth and pale. His lean build added to his air of grace and elegance. He was more attractive now, than he'd been as a teenager.
Harry stilled. He'd thought of Malfoy as attractive. Quickly, he straightened up and backed away. Malfoy didn't act as though he even noticed, as he worked intently to figure out what the oval did.
"Give me your robe," Malfoy said.
"Why?"
Malfoy turned toward him with an impatient air, so Harry stripped off his robe and handed it to him. Holding Harry's robe, Malfoy smirked at him.
"Do you doff your clothes every time someone asks, Potter?" Malfoy said. "No wonder you get around."
"Shut it, Malfoy. And whatever you're doing, make it fast. It's damn cold out here."
Bunching the robe up, Malfoy waved it in front of the device.
Nothing happened.
Tossing Harry's robe back to him, Malfoy heaved a sigh.
"It could be benign, like your Diviner indicated," Harry's voice was muffled as he pulled his robe back over his head.
"No. It's not. I'm sure of it."
Harry watched as Malfoy waved his hand in front of the strange oval and still nothing happened.
"We could always blast it and see what-"
"Wait," Malfoy interrupted. He stood and walked across the path, examining the underbrush and then the trees on the other side. "Damn," he hissed. He glanced at Harry. "Your Patronus - it's a stag, right?"
"Yes, but I--
"Cast it. Cast it and send it past us."
"Why can't you cast your own Patronus?"
"Mine has two legs. I need something with four."
Having a small inkling of what Malfoy was thinking, Harry remembered how he'd felt when his son, James, had been born and yelled, "Expecto Patronum!"
When his stag formed solidly, he sent it galloping past the tree where the oval was attached. As the stag passed the tree, the end of a thin wire shot out of the center of the oval, crossed the path, and embedded into a tree on the other side. The legs of Harry's stag hit the wire and his Patronus shuddered, becoming less substantial as it crossed through.
"A trip-wire," Harry breathed out.
"A nasty one," Malfoy spat. "It might get the occasional deer, but I'll bet its real target is centaurs. I think we just discovered why they're angry at Wizards."
"I thought your Diviner said it was benign."
"It is benign. To us."
Using his wand, Malfoy cut the device from the tree. From his pocket of his robe, he withdrew a small bag, enlarged it, then placed the trip-wire device inside.
Harry looked at the woods around them. "There's bound to be more."
"All probably next to a path. I suggest-" The next words were muffled because Harry had placed a hand over Malfoy's mouth.
"Shhh. Listen."
From within the woods, starting out as more of a vibration than a sound, came the thudding of hooves. The noise grew louder, and then louder still. Harry glanced down at the Diviner in Malfoy's hands. It was bright yellow, indicating danger.
"Centaurs," Harry murmured. "Coming this way."
Malfoy reached up and pulled Harry's hand away. "Too many of them for the two of us to handle. Apparate to the Hogwarts gate?"
Harry nodded.
* * *
After he and Malfoy had Apparated to the front gate of Hogwarts, they'd discussed what to do. Harry had volunteered to talk to Hagrid. Although Hagrid had officially retired years earlier, he still lived in the same hut at Hogwarts and tended his animals. The last time Harry had spoken with him was when there'd been reports of a quintaped near Hogwarts. Harry had managed to capture the animal with Ron and Hermione's help and get it back to the Isle of Drear without incident. The report had, conveniently and mysteriously, been misplaced.
Malfoy had nodded, more than pleased to have Harry talk to Hagrid, but his gaze had drifted to Hogwarts.
"You'll come back to the office afterwards?" Malfoy asked.
"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "I think I'll stop by and see my children."
"I'll write up the report, then and send it off to Weasley." Again, Malfoy looked at Hogwarts for a moment, before turning away. "Holidays aren't too far off," he said and Harry had the feeling that he was convincing himself of something.
Harry's meeting with Hagrid had gone well. Hagrid had said he'd be on the look out for the magical ovals next time he was in the forest. Harry had gone up to the castle and spoken with Headmistress McGonagall about the matter, as well. He was more than happy to stay for dinner when she invited him.
"Is there anything I can help you with while I'm here?" he asked the Headmistress as they walked to the Great Hall together.
She hesitated, then shook her head. "There's nothing that an Auror could possibly do. I'm afraid an increasing portion of our students are having difficulty with their studies."
Harry frowned. "Are Albus, James or Lily among them? I could work with them over the holidays, if they are."
"No, your children are doing extremely well, though there are some concerns with Albus' continued manipulation of the point system. I'm still not entirely sure how he managed to have all the houses score the exact same amount of points resulting in a four-way tie for the House Cup for the first time in the history of Hogwarts."
Harry tried to hide his grin. Last summer, James had threatened to beat Albus over the head if he ever did it again, but Albus had been adamant that the point system was divisive.
"But, there are many other students who are not progressing as they should," McGonagall continued. "Most of them don't have anyone at home who could tutor them. It's such a serious matter that I'm arranging for them to stay over the coming holidays for extra lessons."
She would've said more, but they'd reached the Great Hall and his children had spotted him.
James and Lily rushed forward. He listened to their chatter about the last Quidditch game as they pulled him toward the Gryffindor table. Upon reaching it, he paused and looked over at Albus, who was sitting at the Slytherin table, quietly watching him. Giving Lily a kiss on the head and James a pat on the shoulder, he made his way over to Albus and the Slytherins.
Albus introduced him to his friends. Though Harry had met several of them before, he didn't remember any of their names, except for Scorpius Malfoy's.
"Is there bad news?" Albus asked quietly while they ate. When Harry looked at him, he added, "The last time you were here, it was bad news."
The last time he'd visited, it'd been with Ginny to tell them about the divorce.
"No," Harry said quickly, reassuring him. "I was working on a case. That's all. Truly."
Albus only relaxed minutely so, to change the subject, Harry turned to Scorpius, "I was working with your dad."
Scorpius brightened. "Father's here?"
Harry shook his head. "I'm afraid he had to go back." When Scorpius seemed to wilt before his eyes, Harry knew he couldn't leave it at that. Malfoy might be a git, but Scorpius was just a boy.
"You dad had to write up the reports. He takes his job seriously, you know."
The noise level at the table dropped and Harry realized that it wasn't only Scorpius listening, but half the Slytherins.
"He... He impressed me today," Harry told them. "He really knows what he's doing. I think I'll learn a lot from him."
Once more smiling, Scorpius nodded. "My father is extremely clever."
As Harry concentrated on his food, shoving a forkful of green beans into his mouth so that he wouldn't have to say anything else good about Malfoy, he felt a slight tug on his arm. Albus was looking up at him.
"Thank you," Albus mouthed silently and gave him a grateful smile. Harry smiled back.
* * *
Malfoy was eating a Danish when Harry walked into the office the next day.
"I know. I'm late. I was... is that food?"
"Yes." Malfoy held out the box. "Help yourself," he said generously.
Harry picked out a blueberry muffin. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it. Mi pastries es su pastries."
Munching on the blueberry muffin, Harry was completely unprepared when Malfoy said, "By the way, Potter, did your last partner, Thacker, ever make a pass at you?"
Muffin bits lodged in Harry's throat. He coughed and continued coughing until he could breathe again, then stared at Malfoy. "Who... What... Why would you ask something like that?"
"It was just a thought that flittered through my head."
"Malfoy, please take this advice in the spirit in which it is given, i.e. from someone who doesn't give a toss about you but still wouldn't like to see you dead - stop doing whatever potions you've been doing. They're rotting your brain. Thoughts like that should never flitter through heads. And who the hell says flitter, anyway?"
"It's a perfectly legitimate word."
Harry decided it was too early in the day to get into it with Malfoy. Instead, he asked, "Did you file the report?"
"There's a copy on your desk."
Plopping down in his chair, Harry picked up the parchment and began to read. It was more detailed and thorough than one he would've written. When he got near the end, he glanced up.
"You took the oval apart?"
"Yes. I was hoping that there would be spells or parts that might identify the maker. Although I found nothing exceptionally distinguishable, I might recognise his work if I saw it again. I thought I'd go through the Room of Miscellaneous Contraptions and see if anything looks familiar."
"I'll go through the files and see if there's anyone who might want to stir up trouble between Wizards and Centaurs or who has a grudge against them."
As Malfoy got up to leave, Harry eyed the box of pastries on Malfoy's desk. He was still a little hungry. "Do you mind if I have another?" he asked.
"Certainly not," Malfoy said. "After all, they're yours. Thacker brought them for you."
Malfoy was gone by the time Harry could think of a reply.
* * *
The next few days passed with Harry only wanting to murder Malfoy once or twice every hour they were together. Harry hadn't found anything helpful in the files and Malfoy had made little headway in the Room of Miscellaneous Contraptions, but as that facility was immense, that wasn't surprising.
Ron had ordered them to stay away from the Forbidden Forest. He'd passed their report onto the Minister, who'd decided to attempt diplomacy with the centaurs. The Minister didn't want a team of Aurors wandering around the Forbidden Forest and possibly mucking things up.
The cases they'd handled in the meanwhile were ordinary - a wand reported as stolen; a missing child who, it turned out, had experienced his first spark of magic by managing to Disillusion himself during a game of hide and seek. The case they were now working was a domestic disturbance.
They'd knocked on the door but, from the sounds coming inside, they hadn't been heard. Opening the door, Harry shouted "Aurors! Put your wands down."
The ruckus continued, unabated.
Malfoy and Harry looked at one another, each muttered a shield charm, and then moved further into the house. They rounded a corner and Harry felt Malfoy yank him hard to the side. The kitchen sink sailed through the space where his head had been and crashed into the wall behind them.
Without asking permission, Malfoy cast Protego Horribilis on both of them.
"Aurors!" Harry shouted again, moving closer to the kitchen. "Put your wands down."
A hissing kneazle dashed past them, slid into the wall, recovered, and scampered away. They watched it go, and then edged closer.
"Aurors!" Harry shouted, this time using Sonorus. The only thing that happened was a pitcher of pumpkin juice flew through the doorway, splattering them as it crashed at their feet.
Malfoy glanced down at his robe, which was dripping with juice. "Oh, that's it! I'm putting a stop to this."
Before Harry could do anything, Malfoy had flung himself through the door and cast two binding spells. By the time Harry could see past him to what was happening, two bodies were thudding to the floor. The room surrounding them was... a shambles was an understatement. The table was on its side. Chairs were smashed. Not a dish or glass was in one piece.
The fact that the young wizard and witch were now unable to move didn't mollify Malfoy in the slightest.
"Look at this," Malfoy shouted, shaking his soaking robe at them, drops of pumpkin juice flying as he did so. "You two are so getting the cleaning bill."
Harry grabbed their wands out of their hands, then ended Malfoy's binding spells. This resulted with the couple rising and hurling accusations at each other.
"Shut it!" Malfoy shouted, his rage overwhelming the couple's. "When Aurors tell you to put your wands down, you're supposed to put your wands down if you don't want to be eviscerated. And we could've done it, too. I still might. Do you even know who I am?"
The couple glanced at one another. The young man said a tad defiantly, "Should we?"
"I'm Draco Malfoy!" Malfoy shouted. The couple looked blank at the pronouncement.
"Malfoy, as in son of Lucius Malfoy."
The couple still looked blank.
"Lucius Malfoy, Voldemort's right hand man," Malfoy added with impatience.
"Oh, Voldemort," the man said. "We've heard of him."
The young witch nodded, agreeing. "Just not that Malroy chap."
Harry and Malfoy stared at them.
"Don't you know anything about the last war?" Malfoy asked.
"It's not our fault. We had Binns in school. We know a lot about Goblin wars, though."
Before Malfoy could explode, Harry decided he'd better step in. "What seems to be the problem here?" He pointed at the woman. "You go first."
"I was at the local pub talking Quidditch when in he walks, acting like I'd been caught with my robe hiked up," she said.
"Ha! Talking Quidditch, she says," the man snapped back. "I think there was more on her mind than scoring with Quaffles. Besides, you can't trust those Quidditch blokes."
"You're preaching to the choir," Malfoy sneered, still peeved about the state of his clothes.
"What?" the man said, eyes switching to Malfoy.
"Nothing," Harry said quickly.
"It's not nothing," Malfoy interjected. "You may not know who I am, but I'm surprised you don't recognise him. That's Harry Potter."
The man's eyes went wide. "The one whose wife..."
"Exactly," Malfoy said with a note of triumph. "His wife left him and he hasn't destroyed household appliances and whatnot."
"Leave me out of it," Harry hissed.
"See! Even though he's practically on the edge of madness, you don't see him attacking the crockery." Malfoy pointed his wand at the couple. "You two had better decide to either break it off or stay together, but if Aurors are called out here again, you'll be in trouble, and if I'm called back out here, you'll wish you were in Azkaban."
* * *
Harry was still angry, even after the reports had been filed and he'd flooed to the Cauldron. Unfortunately, he couldn't put his anger away when the source of it followed him home.
"What are you doing here?" Harry snapped.
Holding a glass of Scotch, Malfoy seated himself at Harry's table. "I decided I could use a drink."
"There are other tables," Harry pointed out before taking a gulp of his firewhisky.
"What's the matter, Potter? Am I cramping your style?" Malfoy glanced around. "Seems to be slim pickings tonight. No Oliver Wood in sight."
Harry flushed. A few nights earlier, he'd stopped for a drink when Oliver had shown up. After a little while, when Oliver had suggested that go upstairs to get away from the Prophet reporters that were always lurking about, Harry had nodded
"This is much better, isn't it?" Oliver had said as he and Harry entered Harry's room. "No worries about reporters and such overhearing us."
The maid had cleaned, which was a good thing because Harry had been in a hurry that morning. He wasn't all that comfortable having Oliver in his room, but he preferred it to having their conversation showing up in The Daily Prophet the next day.
"Sit," Oliver said. He was already using the lone chair in the room, so Harry sat on the edge of his bed.
"So..." Harry said, struggling to come up with a topic. He liked Oliver, but they'd never been very close. "How's Puddlemere look this year?"
"Better than last, but that's not what I wanted to talk with you about. I wanted you to know how sorry I am about everything you've been going through lately. It must be rough."
Harry shrugged. He really didn't want to talk about it.
Oliver stood, crossed the room, and joined Harry on the bed. "How are you doing? Really doing?"
"I'm fine. Maybe not fine, but pretty much as well as can be expected," Harry said. He eased away from Oliver, who'd sat down awfully close.
"If you want to talk or if there's anything I can do, let me know."
"Thank you."
"I know a lot of what's in the papers is rubbish, but I'm worried about you, mate."
Oliver shifted on the bed so that he faced Harry. He patted Harry's knee in a comforting gesture, then left his hand there. Harry stared at it.
"Some people - they may not have your best interests at heart. If you need anything, it's much better to go to a friend."
The hand was now smoothing up and down Harry's leg.
"Someone who you know. Someone you can trust. Someone who'll keep your needs in mind."
The hand eased up higher up Harry's thigh, closer to where Harry was now sporting a bulge. It had been a while and Oliver was an attractive bloke.
"Let me help you out there, Harry," Oliver murmured. His hand slid closer and closer.
Before the hand could reach its destination, Harry grabbed it by the wrist, stopping it. He looked up at Oliver.
"I had a bit of a crush on you in school," Harry told him. "Thought at the time that it was admiration because you were older and knew so much about Quidditch."
"Yeah?" Oliver smiled.
"Yeah. You're a great person and I'm not saying I don't fancy you. Hell, I'd have to be dead not to, but... but the thing is that I don't think I'm ready for this." Harry removed Oliver's hand from his leg.
Oliver's smile faded.
"Those stories in the newspaper," Harry continued, "they're not true. I'm not into one-night stands."
"Maybe I'm not interested in one-night stands, either."
Harry smiled gently and rose from the bed. "Still not ready."
"Owl me when you are." Oliver stood, too, then moved toward the door. "I meant what I said about being your friend. If you want to get together and talk, just talk, mind you, that'd be fine."
"Thanks, Oliver. I appreciate the offer."
Oliver opened the door, then paused. Slowly, he lowered his head toward Harry. Harry knew what was coming and tilted his face up. Although he wasn't ready for more, he wanted the show of affection, wanted this indication that he was still desirable. Their lips met in a kiss that wasn't nearly as chaste as it should've been.
A bright flash went off.
Harry blinked and was able to spot the photographer right before he Apparated away.
"Damn," Harry had muttered.
Sure enough, it'd been in the paper the next morning. Even though Harry hadn't bought it, he'd seen a copy of it on Malfoy's desk. Malfoy had obviously seen the photo.
Instead of arguing with Malfoy and telling him that all photographic evidence to the contrary, nothing had happened with Oliver Wood, Harry took a swig of firewhisky and shrugged.
"It looks like you might end up sleeping alone tonight."
It angered Harry, the way Malfoy was so pleased at the possibility that Harry wouldn't be able to find a companion for the night. Not that he'd ever even consider looking. But did Malfoy have to be so smug about it?
Harry took another gulp of his drink. "Maybe I'll have to lower my standards."
"You've been linked with Weasley. Lower it any more, Potter, and you'll end up copulating with primordial ooze."
Harry moved from mild anger to rage. Instead of punching Malfoy in the nose, he settled for putting his glass down and giving Malfoy a slow once-over.
"Tell you what," Harry drawled, pleased that Malfoy was flushing under his continued perusal. "If primordial ooze is busy, maybe I'll let you bend over for me."
Malfoy's face turned ugly and he leapt to his feet. His hand reached out and grabbed Harry's robe, yanking him up.
"Not here," Harry hissed. "We're Aurors. Aurors don't brawl in public with reporters lurking by."
Tugging his robe free of Malfoy's grip, Harry pushed past him, and out the door that led to the Muggle side. He could hear Malfoy stomping behind him. They went a short way before Harry turned, and headed into a nearby rubbish-strewn alley.
"You want to have it out?" Harry challenged. "Then here's the place."
"You haven't changed, Potter, you've just grown older. You still think you're better than everyone else."
"No, I just think I'm better than you."
"Right, because your life's turned out so perfect. Seems the Golden Boy is actually brass. Tarnished brass, at that. I've read the papers. Drinking. Whoring. Not often you see the high and mighty take a tumble into the gutter."
"You don't know anything about it," Harry spat.
"I know that ever since your marriage fell apart, you've been falling apart, too. Your wife left you for Krum - Get over it!"
Harry's fists clenched. "Shut up."
Malfoy's response was to laugh cruelly. "Face it, Potter. The Bulgarian seeker caught her snitch."
With a growl, Harry launched himself at Malfoy, tackling him to the ground.
They struggled against one another, pushing and punching. Harry bloodied Malfoy's nose with a quick jab. Letting out a yowl, Malfoy shoved at Harry while twisting his hips, managing to roll them.
Pain sliced into Harry's shoulder and he gasped.
Straddling him, Malfoy punched him in the jaw. He was pulling back for a second punch when he noticed Harry's lack of defense.
"Giving up already, Potter? You've let yourself go more than I'd thought."
Malfoy rose, pushing on Harry as he did so. Harry let out a whimper.
"I didn't punch you that hard, Potter. Were you this much of a-" Malfoy sucked in a breath. "Oh, fuck."
In a flash, Malfoy was kneeling next to Harry, helping him sit up.
"You're bleeding, Potter. A lot. We need to get you to St. Mungo's."
Harry shook his head, then bit back a groan. "No. Not going."
"You've got glass embedded in your shoulder. You rolled onto a broken bottle. We need to get it out."
"Not St. Mungo's. In the papers enough already."
"With the way the reporters have been staking out the Leaky Cauldron, your room's out, too." Malfoy helped Harry to his feet, supporting him by wrapping his arms around Harry's waist. "Are you up for some side-along Apparition?"
"I'm not going to St. Mungo's," Harry protested. He made a feeble attempt to pull away from Malfoy.
"Stop that, you idiot. I'm not taking you there. You're going home with me."
Before Harry could protest, Malfoy had Apparated them out of the alley.
Part 2