Department of Magical Creatures Case #625369
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Chapter 12
Draco insisted that they apparate into the foyer rather than the front door of his family home. He knew that Justin was already ridiculously nervous to meet his mother and he didn’t want him to be any more intimidated upon seeing the grandeur of the grounds than he already was going to be. And so at five minutes to four that Sunday afternoon they arrived to a dozen house elves that all looked as nervous as Justin.
Ignoring his mate for the moment, Draco addressed the head elf, “Is Mother in the parlour?”
“Yes, Master Draco. Mistress is waiting for Master and Master’s mate.”
“Splendid. This way, love.” He took Justin’s hand and turned towards the back parlour, anxious to see his mother and introduce her to his mate. As they moved along the hallways, Draco began to notice that Justin was less awe-struck by the grandeur of the Manor than he had expected him to be and said so, interrupting the loud murmurs of the portraits as they passed.
“I may live humbly now, but my family is a part of the aristocracy. My uncle is a Lord and has a manor of his own. The portraits don’t move, obviously, but otherwise it is quite similar.”
“Indeed?” Justin nodded, smiling faintly at the disbelieving look on Draco’s face. “Well, please fail to mention that fact to my mother. To her you are a pureblood who comes from a low-ranking family, understood? Knowing otherwise might kill her.” He said the last bit over his shoulder as he pushed the door open to the sun room. Narcissa looked considerably better than usual, almost back to her full glow. She stood at their entrance and greeted Draco with a tight embrace before turning to Justin, eyes alight with pleasure. Justin looked spell bound by her.
“Mother, this is Justin Fitch-Fletchly, my mate. Justin, this is my mother.”
Justin puffed up a bit, trying to display the stance and mannerisms he had not utilized since his admissions interview for Eton College. The look was ruined slightly by a nervous twitch at the corner of his smile. “Mrs. Malfoy, it is a pleasure to meet you finally. Draco has told me so many wonderful things about you.”
“Though I cannot have the pleasure of returning the compliment, as Draco has only just told me of your existence a few days ago, I am more than happy to finally meet you. I have been waiting for you since the day of Draco’s birth.” She embraced him and kissed his cheek before directing him to Draco’s usual seat next to her. Draco was more than happy to take a winged-back across from them, pleased that his mother was accepting of his mate so quickly.
“You look radiant, Mother. You’ve been taking your potion?”
“I have. Severus is most insistent that I do so, and I would not want to disappoint.”
Draco narrowed his eyes. “Mother, I told Potter...”
“He is insistent in letter alone. I have not gone back to visit him yet.” Draco opened his mouth to respond, but Narcissa continued before he had the opportunity. “Severus can wait. I want to know all about your mate. What was your family name again, dear?”
“Finch-Fletchly, ma’am.”
“I’ve not heard it before. Where are they from?”
“Bath, ma’am.”
“I thought I knew all the Bath families. How curious...”
“His family has been rather down-trodden of late, Mother. They haven’t had the advantage of the Ministry connections the Weasleys have and are not generally about in society.” Justin looked about to protest, but Draco loosed a small amount of pheromones and calmed him before he could.
“How unfortunate. You will just have to take our name when you bond.” She patted his knee affectionately, oblivious to the offended look on his face.
“Justin works at the Ministry, Mother,” Draco informed her, hoping to change the subject and thus Justin’s mood.
“Does he?”
“Yes, he works with Arthur Weasley.”
“Do you? Does that mean that you work with Muggle... objects?”
“I used to, yes, but now I work directly with the Muggles themselves.”
“Really? How horrible. We shall have to find a way to change your position. Perhaps we could find you a place in the Minister’s office? Antigone got on with him quite well at school. I’ll have to speak to her...”
Justin was protesting without actually being able to speak. Draco saved him the trouble by quietly interrupting her rambling. “Mother, as certain as I am that Justin appreciates the gesture, I do not think it would be necessary. Though he does work with Muggles, he rather enjoys his job. Don’t you, love?”
“I do indeed, very much so. Thank you for the sentiment, Mrs. Malfoy.”
“Please call me Narcissa, dear. After all, we’re family now.”
“N-N-Narcissa, but it won’t be necessary.”
“Of course, dear.” She smiled magnanimously at him, light glinting against her hair and sparkling across her skin. Draco was mesmerized. He hadn’t seen his mother look this radiant since he left for Hogwarts.
“Has something happened since I was here last? You look... much changed.”
She straightened and set her shoulders, looking ready for a fight. “I wish to speak to you about Severus.”
“You are not to visit him again without me; you’ve already promised.”
“Of course not, dear. I was rather hoping that he could visit us.”
Draco and Justin both went wide-eyed. “What? How?”
“Well, I was hoping that you might speak to Harry. I know you have developed a friendship of sorts with him and I thought he might consider negotiating Severus’ release into our care. There is such a thing as house arrest, is there not?”
He didn’t know what to say. That had been the last thing he expected to come out of her mouth. His shock caused the first, and most inappropriate, thing that entered his head to leave his mouth. “What could possibly have put that thought into you head?”
She gave him a reproachful look for his impertinence, but answered his question just the same. “He has told me that he is innocent of the crime they have imprisoned him for. Dumbledore had drunk a poison that night while on a mission with Harry and was going to die quite a horrible death soon afterwards anyway. Severus was taking the pain away, allowing him to die in peace, as well as saving your soul from splitting in half.”
“Mother, forgive me, but he is a Death Eater and he is lying to manipulate you in your weakened condition.”
“My condition is precisely what convinces me that he is telling the truth. What good would it do to tell me a lie? I am a widowed veela believed to be half-mad. Who would listen to me? Severus is unaware of your friendship with Harry, and even if he was aware of it, he has been pressuring me to continue with my potion. Doing as he has asked has improved my condition considerably and made me less vulnerable. Why would he do such a thing if his intention was to manipulate me?”
Draco sighed and buried his face in his hands. Her points were valid, but there was no way in Hell Potter would allow it to happen. “You’re right, Mother, of course. Severus has no reason to lie to you. However, innocent or not, his wand caused Dumbledore’s death and Potter is never going to forgive that.”
“I’m not asking him to forgive. I just want to bring Severus home so that he might be useful to society. He has agreed to brew the Wolfsbane potion and any other the Ministry might need. The house elves have prepared a full laboratory for his use.” One look at the earnest, insistent look on her face convinced Draco that she would not let the matter go and so he quietly agreed to speak to Harry. Her face lit up at his concession. “Wonderful. I know if you speak with him, he will see the sense in it. He seems to be a reasonable sort of man.”
Draco tried not to snort at the very idea that Potter was a reasonable sort. He did not say so, however, as he knew it would only bring his mother’s censure. For whatever reason, it looked as though Potter had somehow won his mother’s favour and he knew there was no arguing her out of it. Instead, he turned the conversation back to Justin and discussion of their moving in together. All-in-all, Narcissa seemed pleased with the idea. She even went as far as to suggest that they prepare rooms in the Manor, so that the couple might settle properly, but one look at Justin’s panicked face convinced Draco to postpone such plans. They had plenty of time to settle down. They had a lifetime. And wasn’t that a wonderful idea.
Later that night Draco sat at his desk, staring blankly at Smith’s letter without any idea of what to write in reply. His heart ached for this man, his American as he had begun to think of him in his head. That Smith had lost his happiness just as Draco had found his was terrible, tragic. He wanted to be there as badly as Smith clearly wanted him there, but he could never leave Justin, would never leave his mate, even for someone who had comforted him when he was beginning to lose hope.
Sighing, he tugged at his hair in frustration. There had to be something he could do. And then suddenly, it came to him like an apparition. If he couldn’t leave his mate to go to Smith, then he would find a way to bring Smith to him. He was quickly out of his study and kneeling in front of the floo. He found himself staring at Cousin Imogene, working at her knitting on one of the sitting room couches.
“Imogene, lovely to see you. Might Aunt Antigone be at home? I have something I wish to speak with her about.”
“I’ll send for a house elf to fetch her, one moment.” She turned and called for an elf and quickly instructed it to fetch her mother. A few minutes later, she entered the room with all her usual haughtiness and Draco had to resist rolling his eyes. After all, he needed her.
“Draco, what an unexpected surprise to see you. To what do I owe such a late call?”
“I was hoping you might assist me in an inquiry. An American acquaintance of mine has recently found himself without employment due to his employer’s unfortunate prejudice against homosexuality. He is an absolutely brilliant musician, as well as a music instructor, and I was thinking that perhaps you might know of a family or two in need of a music tutor.”
“A music tutor?” She looked surprised, as though this was the last thing she had expected him to ask. It probably was, being rather random in nature. He shuttered to think what she had thought he would ask. “I assume he is qualified?”
“Yes, he had been working at a Catholic school in his native Chicago, but as I’m sure you will remember from Cousin Josephine, the Catholics are not particularly fond of homosexuals and as soon as they were made aware of his orientation, he was made redundant.”
“How unfortunate. If you would give me a day or two, I might be able to find someone. Will that be acceptable?”
“That would be more than acceptable. Thank you very much, indeed, Aunt Antigone. I will not forget this.” He nodded to her with great meaning and bid farewell before cutting off the connection. Justin walked into the room at just that moment and crouched down to kiss him.
“Who was that?”
“Just my aunt. I wanted to talk with her about some family business. Nothing important.”
“Well, if you’re finished, do you want to go to bed a bit early?”
Draco raised an eyebrow, a lascivious smirk upon his lips. “Will you be naked in it?”
“I was hoping we both would be, actually.” Justin’s eyes glittered with sexual innuendo, Draco’s favourite.
“Mmm, that sounds lovely. Lead the way.”
A few days later, an owl arrived with a note from Aunt Antigone giving him the name of a family she knew in need of a music tutor. She instructed him to contact the matriarch, a woman named Cordelia Graves, and that Mrs. Graves was expecting his owl. He did so quickly, explaining the situation and outlining all he knew of Smith’s qualifications. He tried to give as glowing a review of Smith’s accomplishments as he could and hoped that it would be enough. It turned out that such exaltations hadn’t been necessary because Mr. Graves was in fact Merton Graves, cellist for the Weird Sisters, and he had apparently run across Smith during a tour in much the same way Draco had (minus the sex, of course). Mrs. Graves told him that her husband had been delighted at the idea that such a talented musician would be teaching his children while he was away with his band and unable to do so himself.
Draco was ecstatic to have found a way to help his friend and set about writing immediately.
My Darling Smith,
I cannot express how my heart aches for you. I knew that your school and your students meant the world to you and cannot imagine what it must have felt like to be rejected by them. My immediate response was to write you a list of hexes to put on them, all very discrete and nearly untraceable, but I thought better of sending them. I know you said that you would never want to hurt any of them and I don’t know about you, but some of the hexes I came up with would have been too much for me myself to resist. Thankfully, I was able to come up with an alternative solution; one that I think will be infinitely more pleasing to us both.
I have a proposition for you, one that took a bit of time to procure (which is why I have been so late in writing you). I know of a family who live in London who are in need of a music tutor. I am not personally acquainted with the family, but my aunt is close friends with the wife’s mother and assures me that they are of a very good sort. You might actually know the husband, Merton Graves. He plays cello for the Weird Sisters and he has apparently seen you play in Chicago. According to his wife, whose letters I have enclosed for you to examine, he would very much like you to teach his children. The children themselves are Beatrice, age 6, and Raya, age 3. My cousin, Imogene, assures me that they are both delightful and I’m sure with their musical background that they would be excellent students.
Cordelia has outlined what they are willing to offer you in her letter, and it looks like an excellent package to me (which says quite a bit given that I am ridiculously rich and have no problem saying so). I am aware that you believe money isn’t everything, though the concept is entirely beyond my own comprehension, and so I will endeavour to convince you in another, perhaps more enticing way.
If you were to come to England, it would give you a chance to clear you head and figure out what you want to do with your life. It will also bring you closer to me, something I know we both want. I feel the same way you do; I have found my soul mate, but that does not detract from my wanting to be near you. Perhaps it is selfish to say so, to want you here when I already have someone, but it is the truth and I could never be anything but honest with you. As for Jordan, there is very little standing in the way of communication between our countries. You might write to him as you do to me, but you might just as easily use international floo powder. I used it quite often to talk with my mother while I was in Italy; it’s quite simple. And I would come and see you often. My flat is in London and if you were here, I don’t think I’d be able to resist coming to see you as often as I could.
I hope you will consider this offer very closely. I think it will be an excellent way for you to start fresh. Please come, I miss you.
All my love,
Draco
After a month sneaking around the forest of Southern Russia looking for a werewolf more notorious than Greyback, Harry was anxious to get back to England and back to his lover. He made the mistake of flooing into her private rooms without owling first to let her know that he was back, and got a nasty surprise for his trouble. Entangled on the bed in the middle of a rather loud fucking was Regina and a man Harry had never seen before. Harry stood frozen in front of the fire, unable to comprehend what he was seeing, but feeling his heart break just the same.
He had told her he loved her and meant it. He should have known something was wrong when she didn’t say it back. And now here he stood, watching her with another man, completely oblivious to his presence. In the back of his mind, he knew he should leave, but his body was under a kind of Petrificus and all he could do was stare. She’s a whore. She’s a whore. She’s a whore. It kept repeating through his head in Draco’s voice. He had been right and Harry had been too stubborn to listen, too blinded by his infatuation. He should have known better. All his training taught him to know better. And yet, he had been duped.
While Harry still stood frozen, the activity on the bed became rabid, convulsive. Regina rose up, pulling the man in for a kiss as she always did with Harry and something in him snapped. In a fit of violence, he tore the man off her and threw him to the ground, straddled him, and began pounding into him. The man lay in shock for a moment before fighting back, attempting to get a hold on Harry and pull him off. Somewhere in the background Regina screamed, shouting for him to stop, for help, for anything, but Harry was too wild with rage to hear her. All he could see was the blood splattering at every hit of his fist, and all he could hear was the sound of bones crunching together.
Suddenly he was ripped from the man and held firmly back by two men, whom he recognized once he began to breathe again as two of his fellow Aurors, both staring at him in shock. “What’s got into you, Potter?” exclaimed Mentz, a senior Auror a few years older than Harry.
Harry turned his eyes to Regina, who was kneeling on the bed, clinging to a sheet to hide her naked body, a body he had worshipped, loved. “Her,” he growled. “Malfoy was right; you are nothing but a dirty whore. I hope you rot in hell for this.”
“Take him away! He attacked me without reason! I don’t even know how he got in here,” the bleeding, whore-stealing man exclaimed as he dragged himself up from the floor.
Harry made a move towards him again, but the Aurors held him back. “No reason?! You’re fucking my girlfriend, you stupid fuck! I came back after six weeks away hoping to see the woman I love and walk into this and you say I had no reason! Fuck you, you bloody fucking arse!” The man looked as shocked to hear it as Harry had been upon seeing them in bed together. Harry sneered at him and turned away towards the floo. “Take me away, if he wants it. I don’t care. I don’t want to look at them anymore.”
A junior Auror named Wrightly did just that, leaving Mentz to take statements and such. When they arrived at the Ministry, Wrightly looked uncomfortably around as though he didn’t know what to do. Harry didn’t blame him. He had no idea what he would have done had he been required to bring in his own training officer when he had been a junior Auror. As it was, he sighed and headed towards the lifts. “Come on. I suppose you’ll have to book me if that arse intends to press charges.”
“Are... Are you certain, Mr. Potter?”
“You can call me Harry. I’ve told you a million times. And yes, I’m certain. No use in both of us getting our arses handed to us, now is there?”
After some more hesitation, Wrightly finally agreed and took Harry down to Auror headquarters. He was booked, much to the bafflement of his co-workers, placed in a cell, and spent half an hour being verbally ripped apart by his superior. By the time Hermione arrived to bail him out, he was on two weeks suspension without pay and facing a possible stay in Azkaban. Hermione wasted no time in berating him as soon as they were on the street.
“What could you possibly have been thinking? You’ve never been violent like that before. And to a total stranger! Have you lost it?”
“He was fucking my girlfriend! I walked in on them trying to go see her. I’d just got back from assignment, hadn’t even got back to my own flat yet, and I walk into that? I lost it, Hermione. Bloody Hell, who wouldn’t?”
Hermione looked a mixture of sympathetic and cross. “I’m sorry, Harry, but you still should have shown more control. This is going to reach the papers now, you know. You’re lucky you’ve still got you job.”
Harry sighed, scratching the back of his neck, thankful she hadn’t heard about the possibility of Azkaban yet. “I know, Hermione. My boss was just in there for an hour telling me the same thing. I couldn’t have stopped myself, it was pure instinct.”
Hermione blew a wild curl out of her eyes, obviously beyond frustrated. “Well, I spoke to Ron and we think it might be best if you go and stay with him for a bit. At least until the press dies down.”
“Isn’t Ron still depressed about Forten? Would it really be a good idea for him to have to see me every day?”
“I think he’s beginning to heal. If anything, you might use each other to vent out your frustrations. I know you must be hurting inside all that anger.”
His face pinched as though in pain. “I’m devastated. I don’t know what I’ll do without her. It might not be worth it to even try again...”
“Harry...” she whispered as she tugged him into a hug. “You are a wonderful person, you know that? She obviously is not. Don’t give up just because you got a bad egg. You’re better than that. You deserve to find someone who will love you and appreciate you for who you are. You’ve certainly earned it.” Harry didn’t say anything, but he squeezed her tight and buried his face in her hair. They stood on the street, hugging, for a long time before Harry finally pulled himself together and they went back to his flat to owl Ron. In the end, it was decided that he would take his suspension time to relax in Egypt and drink himself into a stupor, though he didn’t tell Hermione the last bit.
Justin was unpacking the last of his clothing as the pigeon arrived with Smith’s answer. Draco, who had been directing the house elf in arranging Justin’s favourite chair so that it didn’t clash with his designer furniture, momentarily forgot himself in his excitement to read the response and caused the bird to panic and squawk loudly enough for Justin to hear.
“What was that?” he called as he poked his head out from the bedroom. His eyes immediately landed on the carrier pigeon pecking around Draco’s feet and travelled up to the letter in Draco’s hand. “What’s that? Who sends a pigeon?”
Draco stood frozen in place. He hadn’t intended on telling Justin until... well, he hadn’t intended on telling Justin at all, if he was honest with himself. He had no idea how his mate would react when he found out that Draco was trying to finagle his old lover into moving half-way across the globe to be nearer to him. He silently scolded himself for being too enthusiastic for Smith’s reply and braced himself for the fight he knew was about to come. “It’s from an American friend of mine. They use pigeons in America.” He suddenly felt incredibly stupid, a completely foreign feeling that he didn’t like. Malfoys were never meant to look stupid, and yet here he was, practically fumbling for words in front of his mate.
“What American? I didn‘t know you knew any Americans.” The hurt in his eyes cut Draco to the core. He didn’t like making his mate upset and had to fight the instinct to go to him and coddle him with kisses and nakedness.
Instead he looked down at the letter with his name scrawled across the front in Smith’s messy script. “I went to America on holiday briefly before I went to Italy with Blaise. We met at a bar his blues band was playing at and he took me around, showed me the sites. He’s very nice and he teaches music to school children. Or at least he did, but he was recently fired from the Catholic school he had been working at because the parents found out he was gay and apparently they do not approve of our kind. I’ve found a family in London in need of a tutor and have been trying to convince him to take the position.”
“How did you know he was fired if you only met him on holiday?”
Draco fidgeted, another uncomfortable action that he was not used to and disliked immensely. “We still write sometimes.”
There was a rather long pause and Draco dreaded what would next come out of Justin’s mouth. “Were you lovers?”
He took a deep breath and looked up into his mate’s eyes. “Yes, but it was quite a long time ago. And I wasn’t mated yet. You can’t forget that. He doesn’t mean anything more to me than Blaise does anymore, just a friend. You’re all I want now.”
“Right…” There was another long pause. “But you still want him to come.”
“He’s a good friend. Why wouldn’t I want him to come?”
“I don’t want to share you with him. I’ve already done that and it turned foul.”
Draco straightened, a look of surprise and confusion on his face. “Share me? Why would you have to share me? We’re mated. I’m yours, always will be. I thought I’d made that clear.”
“Yeah, but you still want this other bloke here, taking you away from me. I don’t like it.” Draco smiled, walked the few steps until he stood in front of him, and took his face in his hands, kissing him tenderly.
“You don’t have to worry. I love you and I always will. Smith is a friend and nothing more.”
“Does he know that? What if he still has feelings for you? What if he tries to take you away? I couldn’t bear it.”
Draco said nothing, kissed him instead, desperate to show him the truth. The kiss was hard, demanding, an insistent push of tongues and teeth and bodies that soon found them on the carpet, naked and writhing together. There were no more questions after that, but Draco still waited until after Justin left for work the next morning before checking the letter.
“Is that Ra? I... are you... when...” Ron didn’t know where to begin. It was their pictogram with only slight variations. He couldn’t believe that he was seeing it. Should he say as much or would Bill kill him for giving away their research?
“This image is familiar to you, I know. You don’t have to say so; I have my spies. You and your brother and that man Rookwood intended for you to work with me so that you could sneak into our sites to investigate. I know this.” Ron looked at him in panic. He would tell the goblins. He would be fired. Worse, they’d stuff him in a dragon-guarded vault to starve to death. “Now, now, you needn’t worry. I will not get you in trouble. I have a proposition for your team. I think it would be better for both of our research if we work together, no? Your bank has access to areas that we do not and our museum has access where you do not. If you were to work for me, then we might share notes. What do you think?”
“Er..” He almost didn’t know what to think. From a strategic standpoint, the offer made sense, but that was just his novice opinion. What would Bill and Raleigh think? Would they be willing to share with this stranger? Could they trust him? He already said he’d been spying on them. And who was this spy? Bill was very vigilant about keeping their research secret from all but the three of them. He needed to talk to Bill. “I’d have to talk to my brother. It sounds like a good idea, though. Would you want me to quit Gringotts?”
“It would be ideal for your safety, I think. The goblins are not a... forgiving species in general and I do not think they would like it if you were to continue with them.”
Ron scratched at his hair and nodded, a wry smile on his lips. “I don’t suppose so, no. They’d be ready to kill me, probably. Do you mind if I go and talk it over with Bill and Raleigh?”
“Not at all, go right ahead. I’ll be here all day.”
“Great, cheers. I’ll see you later, then.” They shook hands and Ron headed out of the tomb, deciding as he went that he would go home first and change out of the stuffy interview robes Bill had lent him. He found Harry sitting at the kitchen table, staring down a bottle of Ogden’s finest.
“Don’t do it, mate. You don’t want Hermione finding you pissed in the middle of the afternoon. It’s not worth the headache, believe me.”
Harry looked up at him, his eyes dull with a sadness Ron knew all too well. “How’d the interview go? You’ve not been gone long.”
“Didn’t have to be. He knew all about me and our work. Knew our plan to sneak into Nefertari’s tomb and everything. It was a bit scary there for a moment, but it turns out he’s looking for the same thing we are. Wants to work together, compare notes, that sort of thing. I’d have to quit Gringotts, but it might be a nice idea to work with someone I’m not related to for a bit, yeah?” He had walked into his room to change as he was speaking and ended up shouting the last few sentences out the open bedroom door. Harry abandoned the firewiskey and went to lean against the door frame.
“What’s Bill say to that?”
“Don’t know, going to ask him right now. I don’t know how long this could take, so if I’m not back by seven, you’re on your own for supper. Don’t get too smashed.”
Harry smirked wryly at him. “I make no promises. Good luck.”
“Cheers, mate. See you later.” He waved and apparated to the Unas spot where he knew his brother and Raleigh would be. It took a bit of searching, but he found them on the south side of the causeway, arse-deep in what looked to Ron like an empty stone-lined pit. “What are you two doing in a pit?”
Bill and Raleigh jumped at his voice, both having been concentrating rather hard on what they were doing. “Ron! Done already? Don’t tell me it didn’t go well; we made sure you had excellent references,” Bill said as he climbed out of the pit.
“Went a bit wonky, actually. He called me out, knew exactly what we were up to. He’s looking for the same thing we are and wants to work with us, if you can believe it.”
“What do you mean, he knew? How could he have when we haven’t told anyone?”
“Don’t know. Said he had a spy, but I couldn’t think who it could be. He said he’s keen to hire me, though. And he’ll get us into Nefertari as long as we get him into a few places he doesn’t have access. He seems like a nice enough bloke, but I don’t know. What do you think?”
Bill exchanged a look with Raleigh and then they both turned back to him. “I think we better talk to him ourselves. This sounds a bit suspicious.”
“I thought so, too. I can take you to him, if you’d like.”
“I think we would. Raleigh?”
“Right-O. Get me out of this pit and we’ll be off. I’m very interested to see what he has to say.” Bill gave the old man a hand up and both took Ron’s arm for guidance. Soon they were back at the tomb Seth’s team had been excavating and as soon as they were in sight of it, both Bill and Raleigh gasped.
“Akhenaten!” both exclaimed as they looked at each other with wide eyes. Ron looked at them curiously, unsure of what had brought up the name, though he recognized it as belonging to the pharaoh they suspected had killed Ra, if in fact the myth wasn’t a really a myth.
“This is the tomb of Akhenaten, though no one has, as yet, found his actual body. This is... serious. We have to talk to this man immediately. Where is he?” Bill asked, turning to his brother.
Ron looked about and, not seeing the rotund man, went in search of him, followed closely by his companions. They found him just inside the doorway talking in fast Arabic to a young boy they recognized as one of their runners.
“Mahdy!” Bill exclaimed in surprise. Both looked up, the boy in fear while Seth gave Bill a big smile.
“Mr. Weasley, how happy I am to see you! I see you know my son. Do not be upset at him; he only does what his father asks of him. He is a good boy.” He patted the boy on the shoulder and waved him off. The boy quickly ran away with an apology to them over his shoulder. Seth smiled after him and turned to the three men standing before him. “Now, I will make guess you are here to speak about my offer, yes? What say you to a late lunch so that we might talk in private?”
All three looked at each other before nodding in agreement. “Lunch would be acceptable. Where?” Raleigh asked.
“There is a restaurant in Cairo I think would be good. It is not a far walk from the main apparition point. You know where that is, yes?” They all confirmed that they did indeed and, with a few instructions to a gentleman nearby, they were gone.
Smith stared at the letter in front of him. Teach in England? Could he do that? He would have to get a passport and... well, he wasn’t really sure what all he’d have to do. Could he really leave the country? Leave all his family? His friends? His band? What was Jordan going to say? Granted, it wasn’t as thought he would never be allowed to come back home if things didn’t worked out. And Draco was right; the international floo was easy to use, even if it was a bit expensive. With the salary the Graves family looked like they wanted to give him, he could definitely afford it. He remembered meeting Merton Graves, a tall, thin man with long black hair and beard streaked through with purple. He had thought the man (and his band mates) eccentric, but certainly friendly and kind. Maybe he would like working for his family. Maybe he would like England. He liked Draco and Draco was from there.
He rubbed at his face and sighed. His thoughts were too scattered. He needed to talk to someone, Jordan or his parents. Jordan was at work, but his mother should be home if she wasn’t at lunch with her friends. He got up to get the phone and dialled his parents.
“Michael, I’m so glad you called. I know you’ve been depressed about your job. I hope Jordan’s taking care of you. You’ve been eating all right?”
Smith smiled into the phone, glad to hear his mother’s rambling voice. “Yeah, Mom, I’ve been eating okay. I actually wanted to talk to you about my job. Do you remember me telling you about that English guy I met last year?”
“The pretty one with the funny name who said he wasn’t human?”
“Yep, that one. I’ve been writing letters to him and I told him about what happened at St. Francis and he has a job offer for me. There’s this family that’s a friend of his aunt’s that’s looking for a music tutor for their children. The pay is really, really good and I’ve met the husband before through my band. The thing is, it’s in London. What do you think I should do?”
“London? London, England? As in across half the US and the Atlantic Ocean from us?”
“Yeah, what do you think?”
There was a pause on the other end and he could almost hear his mother biting her nails. “You’d have to move there?”
“Yes, I would have to move there.”
“Would you be moving immediately?”
“Well, I’m sure I’d have to get a passport and like a green card, or whatever their equivalent is, but the letter from the mother says she’d like to meet with me as soon as possible so we could work out the details.”
“Won’t you be lonely if you move all the way over there?”
“I might, but Draco said he’d visit me and it’s not like I couldn’t just floo back here whenever I wanted. They make international floo, you know.”
“Of course I know that, but it’s expensive, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but the salary is more than enough to be able to afford floo powder for us.”
“What does Jordan say?”
“I haven’t talked to him yet. The letter just came and he’s still at work.”
“And you weren’t called today, I take it.”
“No, it’s been a slow week.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, honey.”
“Yeah, that’s another good thing about this job. I wouldn’t have to wait by the phone every morning to find out if I’m going to get to work. And I’d be making much more than eighty dollars a day.”
“Is this something you think you could be happy doing?”
He paused, uncertain how to answer. He knew he enjoyed teaching music, and there was nothing to say that he wouldn’t enjoy teaching it to two children rather than an entire class. It might even be better that way, if he could have more one-on-one time with each girl. The way his classes had been structured at St. Francis, one-on-one time had been nearly impossible. And he would get to see Draco, which would be wonderful. Thought the more he thought about seeing Draco, the more he felt as though he might be betraying Jordan just by thinking of him. “I... I think I could be. I mean, I’ve never been to England, so I don’t know how different it would be to live there, but it would be nice to have just the two children to teach, a lot more interactive. And I’d like to get to see Draco more often; I haven’t seen him in almost two years.”
“I thought you were happy with Jordan.”
“I am. Draco has nothing to do with Jordan.” Even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true, but he would never tell his mother that.
“But I thought you had been with this Draco.”
“I have, but we’re just friends now. Nothing to worry about.”
“I hope so, dear.” But his mother didn’t sound convinced. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.
“I have to go, Mom. I’ve got a lot to think about and Jordan should be home soon. I’ll see you at Aunt Julie’s on Thursday?”
She let out a heave of a sigh. “I suppose so. If you decide what you’re going to do before then, call me. Your father and I like to keep tabs on you, you know.”
“I know, Mom. I love you. Tell Dad I love him too, okay?”
“I will, dear. We love you, too.”
He hung up with a sigh and buried his face in his hands. He felt more confused than before, but there was a seed of decision growing deep in the back of his brain. He would still have to talk things over with Jordan, but somehow he knew that whether Jordan approved or not, he would be going.
Form:83352739
Name: Draco Malfoy
Registry Number: 625369
Date: 2 April 2003
Age: 22
Mate: Justin Finch-Fletchly
Current Location: London, England
Number of Sexual Encounter(s): 23
Name(s) of Partner(s): Justin Finch-Fletchly 23(M)
Age(s) of Partner(s): 22
Species of Partner(s): wizard
Description of Sexual Encounter(s): Absolutely not.
Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s)?: Yes
If so, what spell or potion was used and what were its affects?: The usual.
Did any encounter result in pregnancy?:
Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate?:
Considering that he has been found and yet I am still filling out the same forms as I have been, yes.
If so, how and why?: Must I continue to fill this out? It seems a bit redundant at this point.
Comments: Why is it that when I sent my mate to retrieve the new forms from you, you rebuffed his efforts? Are you being obnoxious on purpose or is this your natural state of being? I don’t know what I was thinking even asking, of course it is your natural state.
>
Chapter 12
Draco insisted that they apparate into the foyer rather than the front door of his family home. He knew that Justin was already ridiculously nervous to meet his mother and he didn’t want him to be any more intimidated upon seeing the grandeur of the grounds than he already was going to be. And so at five minutes to four that Sunday afternoon they arrived to a dozen house elves that all looked as nervous as Justin.
Ignoring his mate for the moment, Draco addressed the head elf, “Is Mother in the parlour?”
“Yes, Master Draco. Mistress is waiting for Master and Master’s mate.”
“Splendid. This way, love.” He took Justin’s hand and turned towards the back parlour, anxious to see his mother and introduce her to his mate. As they moved along the hallways, Draco began to notice that Justin was less awe-struck by the grandeur of the Manor than he had expected him to be and said so, interrupting the loud murmurs of the portraits as they passed.
“I may live humbly now, but my family is a part of the aristocracy. My uncle is a Lord and has a manor of his own. The portraits don’t move, obviously, but otherwise it is quite similar.”
“Indeed?” Justin nodded, smiling faintly at the disbelieving look on Draco’s face. “Well, please fail to mention that fact to my mother. To her you are a pureblood who comes from a low-ranking family, understood? Knowing otherwise might kill her.” He said the last bit over his shoulder as he pushed the door open to the sun room. Narcissa looked considerably better than usual, almost back to her full glow. She stood at their entrance and greeted Draco with a tight embrace before turning to Justin, eyes alight with pleasure. Justin looked spell bound by her.
“Mother, this is Justin Fitch-Fletchly, my mate. Justin, this is my mother.”
Justin puffed up a bit, trying to display the stance and mannerisms he had not utilized since his admissions interview for Eton College. The look was ruined slightly by a nervous twitch at the corner of his smile. “Mrs. Malfoy, it is a pleasure to meet you finally. Draco has told me so many wonderful things about you.”
“Though I cannot have the pleasure of returning the compliment, as Draco has only just told me of your existence a few days ago, I am more than happy to finally meet you. I have been waiting for you since the day of Draco’s birth.” She embraced him and kissed his cheek before directing him to Draco’s usual seat next to her. Draco was more than happy to take a winged-back across from them, pleased that his mother was accepting of his mate so quickly.
“You look radiant, Mother. You’ve been taking your potion?”
“I have. Severus is most insistent that I do so, and I would not want to disappoint.”
Draco narrowed his eyes. “Mother, I told Potter...”
“He is insistent in letter alone. I have not gone back to visit him yet.” Draco opened his mouth to respond, but Narcissa continued before he had the opportunity. “Severus can wait. I want to know all about your mate. What was your family name again, dear?”
“Finch-Fletchly, ma’am.”
“I’ve not heard it before. Where are they from?”
“Bath, ma’am.”
“I thought I knew all the Bath families. How curious...”
“His family has been rather down-trodden of late, Mother. They haven’t had the advantage of the Ministry connections the Weasleys have and are not generally about in society.” Justin looked about to protest, but Draco loosed a small amount of pheromones and calmed him before he could.
“How unfortunate. You will just have to take our name when you bond.” She patted his knee affectionately, oblivious to the offended look on his face.
“Justin works at the Ministry, Mother,” Draco informed her, hoping to change the subject and thus Justin’s mood.
“Does he?”
“Yes, he works with Arthur Weasley.”
“Do you? Does that mean that you work with Muggle... objects?”
“I used to, yes, but now I work directly with the Muggles themselves.”
“Really? How horrible. We shall have to find a way to change your position. Perhaps we could find you a place in the Minister’s office? Antigone got on with him quite well at school. I’ll have to speak to her...”
Justin was protesting without actually being able to speak. Draco saved him the trouble by quietly interrupting her rambling. “Mother, as certain as I am that Justin appreciates the gesture, I do not think it would be necessary. Though he does work with Muggles, he rather enjoys his job. Don’t you, love?”
“I do indeed, very much so. Thank you for the sentiment, Mrs. Malfoy.”
“Please call me Narcissa, dear. After all, we’re family now.”
“N-N-Narcissa, but it won’t be necessary.”
“Of course, dear.” She smiled magnanimously at him, light glinting against her hair and sparkling across her skin. Draco was mesmerized. He hadn’t seen his mother look this radiant since he left for Hogwarts.
“Has something happened since I was here last? You look... much changed.”
She straightened and set her shoulders, looking ready for a fight. “I wish to speak to you about Severus.”
“You are not to visit him again without me; you’ve already promised.”
“Of course not, dear. I was rather hoping that he could visit us.”
Draco and Justin both went wide-eyed. “What? How?”
“Well, I was hoping that you might speak to Harry. I know you have developed a friendship of sorts with him and I thought he might consider negotiating Severus’ release into our care. There is such a thing as house arrest, is there not?”
He didn’t know what to say. That had been the last thing he expected to come out of her mouth. His shock caused the first, and most inappropriate, thing that entered his head to leave his mouth. “What could possibly have put that thought into you head?”
She gave him a reproachful look for his impertinence, but answered his question just the same. “He has told me that he is innocent of the crime they have imprisoned him for. Dumbledore had drunk a poison that night while on a mission with Harry and was going to die quite a horrible death soon afterwards anyway. Severus was taking the pain away, allowing him to die in peace, as well as saving your soul from splitting in half.”
“Mother, forgive me, but he is a Death Eater and he is lying to manipulate you in your weakened condition.”
“My condition is precisely what convinces me that he is telling the truth. What good would it do to tell me a lie? I am a widowed veela believed to be half-mad. Who would listen to me? Severus is unaware of your friendship with Harry, and even if he was aware of it, he has been pressuring me to continue with my potion. Doing as he has asked has improved my condition considerably and made me less vulnerable. Why would he do such a thing if his intention was to manipulate me?”
Draco sighed and buried his face in his hands. Her points were valid, but there was no way in Hell Potter would allow it to happen. “You’re right, Mother, of course. Severus has no reason to lie to you. However, innocent or not, his wand caused Dumbledore’s death and Potter is never going to forgive that.”
“I’m not asking him to forgive. I just want to bring Severus home so that he might be useful to society. He has agreed to brew the Wolfsbane potion and any other the Ministry might need. The house elves have prepared a full laboratory for his use.” One look at the earnest, insistent look on her face convinced Draco that she would not let the matter go and so he quietly agreed to speak to Harry. Her face lit up at his concession. “Wonderful. I know if you speak with him, he will see the sense in it. He seems to be a reasonable sort of man.”
Draco tried not to snort at the very idea that Potter was a reasonable sort. He did not say so, however, as he knew it would only bring his mother’s censure. For whatever reason, it looked as though Potter had somehow won his mother’s favour and he knew there was no arguing her out of it. Instead, he turned the conversation back to Justin and discussion of their moving in together. All-in-all, Narcissa seemed pleased with the idea. She even went as far as to suggest that they prepare rooms in the Manor, so that the couple might settle properly, but one look at Justin’s panicked face convinced Draco to postpone such plans. They had plenty of time to settle down. They had a lifetime. And wasn’t that a wonderful idea.
Later that night Draco sat at his desk, staring blankly at Smith’s letter without any idea of what to write in reply. His heart ached for this man, his American as he had begun to think of him in his head. That Smith had lost his happiness just as Draco had found his was terrible, tragic. He wanted to be there as badly as Smith clearly wanted him there, but he could never leave Justin, would never leave his mate, even for someone who had comforted him when he was beginning to lose hope.
Sighing, he tugged at his hair in frustration. There had to be something he could do. And then suddenly, it came to him like an apparition. If he couldn’t leave his mate to go to Smith, then he would find a way to bring Smith to him. He was quickly out of his study and kneeling in front of the floo. He found himself staring at Cousin Imogene, working at her knitting on one of the sitting room couches.
“Imogene, lovely to see you. Might Aunt Antigone be at home? I have something I wish to speak with her about.”
“I’ll send for a house elf to fetch her, one moment.” She turned and called for an elf and quickly instructed it to fetch her mother. A few minutes later, she entered the room with all her usual haughtiness and Draco had to resist rolling his eyes. After all, he needed her.
“Draco, what an unexpected surprise to see you. To what do I owe such a late call?”
“I was hoping you might assist me in an inquiry. An American acquaintance of mine has recently found himself without employment due to his employer’s unfortunate prejudice against homosexuality. He is an absolutely brilliant musician, as well as a music instructor, and I was thinking that perhaps you might know of a family or two in need of a music tutor.”
“A music tutor?” She looked surprised, as though this was the last thing she had expected him to ask. It probably was, being rather random in nature. He shuttered to think what she had thought he would ask. “I assume he is qualified?”
“Yes, he had been working at a Catholic school in his native Chicago, but as I’m sure you will remember from Cousin Josephine, the Catholics are not particularly fond of homosexuals and as soon as they were made aware of his orientation, he was made redundant.”
“How unfortunate. If you would give me a day or two, I might be able to find someone. Will that be acceptable?”
“That would be more than acceptable. Thank you very much, indeed, Aunt Antigone. I will not forget this.” He nodded to her with great meaning and bid farewell before cutting off the connection. Justin walked into the room at just that moment and crouched down to kiss him.
“Who was that?”
“Just my aunt. I wanted to talk with her about some family business. Nothing important.”
“Well, if you’re finished, do you want to go to bed a bit early?”
Draco raised an eyebrow, a lascivious smirk upon his lips. “Will you be naked in it?”
“I was hoping we both would be, actually.” Justin’s eyes glittered with sexual innuendo, Draco’s favourite.
“Mmm, that sounds lovely. Lead the way.”
A few days later, an owl arrived with a note from Aunt Antigone giving him the name of a family she knew in need of a music tutor. She instructed him to contact the matriarch, a woman named Cordelia Graves, and that Mrs. Graves was expecting his owl. He did so quickly, explaining the situation and outlining all he knew of Smith’s qualifications. He tried to give as glowing a review of Smith’s accomplishments as he could and hoped that it would be enough. It turned out that such exaltations hadn’t been necessary because Mr. Graves was in fact Merton Graves, cellist for the Weird Sisters, and he had apparently run across Smith during a tour in much the same way Draco had (minus the sex, of course). Mrs. Graves told him that her husband had been delighted at the idea that such a talented musician would be teaching his children while he was away with his band and unable to do so himself.
Draco was ecstatic to have found a way to help his friend and set about writing immediately.
My Darling Smith,
I cannot express how my heart aches for you. I knew that your school and your students meant the world to you and cannot imagine what it must have felt like to be rejected by them. My immediate response was to write you a list of hexes to put on them, all very discrete and nearly untraceable, but I thought better of sending them. I know you said that you would never want to hurt any of them and I don’t know about you, but some of the hexes I came up with would have been too much for me myself to resist. Thankfully, I was able to come up with an alternative solution; one that I think will be infinitely more pleasing to us both.
I have a proposition for you, one that took a bit of time to procure (which is why I have been so late in writing you). I know of a family who live in London who are in need of a music tutor. I am not personally acquainted with the family, but my aunt is close friends with the wife’s mother and assures me that they are of a very good sort. You might actually know the husband, Merton Graves. He plays cello for the Weird Sisters and he has apparently seen you play in Chicago. According to his wife, whose letters I have enclosed for you to examine, he would very much like you to teach his children. The children themselves are Beatrice, age 6, and Raya, age 3. My cousin, Imogene, assures me that they are both delightful and I’m sure with their musical background that they would be excellent students.
Cordelia has outlined what they are willing to offer you in her letter, and it looks like an excellent package to me (which says quite a bit given that I am ridiculously rich and have no problem saying so). I am aware that you believe money isn’t everything, though the concept is entirely beyond my own comprehension, and so I will endeavour to convince you in another, perhaps more enticing way.
If you were to come to England, it would give you a chance to clear you head and figure out what you want to do with your life. It will also bring you closer to me, something I know we both want. I feel the same way you do; I have found my soul mate, but that does not detract from my wanting to be near you. Perhaps it is selfish to say so, to want you here when I already have someone, but it is the truth and I could never be anything but honest with you. As for Jordan, there is very little standing in the way of communication between our countries. You might write to him as you do to me, but you might just as easily use international floo powder. I used it quite often to talk with my mother while I was in Italy; it’s quite simple. And I would come and see you often. My flat is in London and if you were here, I don’t think I’d be able to resist coming to see you as often as I could.
I hope you will consider this offer very closely. I think it will be an excellent way for you to start fresh. Please come, I miss you.
All my love,
Draco
After a month sneaking around the forest of Southern Russia looking for a werewolf more notorious than Greyback, Harry was anxious to get back to England and back to his lover. He made the mistake of flooing into her private rooms without owling first to let her know that he was back, and got a nasty surprise for his trouble. Entangled on the bed in the middle of a rather loud fucking was Regina and a man Harry had never seen before. Harry stood frozen in front of the fire, unable to comprehend what he was seeing, but feeling his heart break just the same.
He had told her he loved her and meant it. He should have known something was wrong when she didn’t say it back. And now here he stood, watching her with another man, completely oblivious to his presence. In the back of his mind, he knew he should leave, but his body was under a kind of Petrificus and all he could do was stare. She’s a whore. She’s a whore. She’s a whore. It kept repeating through his head in Draco’s voice. He had been right and Harry had been too stubborn to listen, too blinded by his infatuation. He should have known better. All his training taught him to know better. And yet, he had been duped.
While Harry still stood frozen, the activity on the bed became rabid, convulsive. Regina rose up, pulling the man in for a kiss as she always did with Harry and something in him snapped. In a fit of violence, he tore the man off her and threw him to the ground, straddled him, and began pounding into him. The man lay in shock for a moment before fighting back, attempting to get a hold on Harry and pull him off. Somewhere in the background Regina screamed, shouting for him to stop, for help, for anything, but Harry was too wild with rage to hear her. All he could see was the blood splattering at every hit of his fist, and all he could hear was the sound of bones crunching together.
Suddenly he was ripped from the man and held firmly back by two men, whom he recognized once he began to breathe again as two of his fellow Aurors, both staring at him in shock. “What’s got into you, Potter?” exclaimed Mentz, a senior Auror a few years older than Harry.
Harry turned his eyes to Regina, who was kneeling on the bed, clinging to a sheet to hide her naked body, a body he had worshipped, loved. “Her,” he growled. “Malfoy was right; you are nothing but a dirty whore. I hope you rot in hell for this.”
“Take him away! He attacked me without reason! I don’t even know how he got in here,” the bleeding, whore-stealing man exclaimed as he dragged himself up from the floor.
Harry made a move towards him again, but the Aurors held him back. “No reason?! You’re fucking my girlfriend, you stupid fuck! I came back after six weeks away hoping to see the woman I love and walk into this and you say I had no reason! Fuck you, you bloody fucking arse!” The man looked as shocked to hear it as Harry had been upon seeing them in bed together. Harry sneered at him and turned away towards the floo. “Take me away, if he wants it. I don’t care. I don’t want to look at them anymore.”
A junior Auror named Wrightly did just that, leaving Mentz to take statements and such. When they arrived at the Ministry, Wrightly looked uncomfortably around as though he didn’t know what to do. Harry didn’t blame him. He had no idea what he would have done had he been required to bring in his own training officer when he had been a junior Auror. As it was, he sighed and headed towards the lifts. “Come on. I suppose you’ll have to book me if that arse intends to press charges.”
“Are... Are you certain, Mr. Potter?”
“You can call me Harry. I’ve told you a million times. And yes, I’m certain. No use in both of us getting our arses handed to us, now is there?”
After some more hesitation, Wrightly finally agreed and took Harry down to Auror headquarters. He was booked, much to the bafflement of his co-workers, placed in a cell, and spent half an hour being verbally ripped apart by his superior. By the time Hermione arrived to bail him out, he was on two weeks suspension without pay and facing a possible stay in Azkaban. Hermione wasted no time in berating him as soon as they were on the street.
“What could you possibly have been thinking? You’ve never been violent like that before. And to a total stranger! Have you lost it?”
“He was fucking my girlfriend! I walked in on them trying to go see her. I’d just got back from assignment, hadn’t even got back to my own flat yet, and I walk into that? I lost it, Hermione. Bloody Hell, who wouldn’t?”
Hermione looked a mixture of sympathetic and cross. “I’m sorry, Harry, but you still should have shown more control. This is going to reach the papers now, you know. You’re lucky you’ve still got you job.”
Harry sighed, scratching the back of his neck, thankful she hadn’t heard about the possibility of Azkaban yet. “I know, Hermione. My boss was just in there for an hour telling me the same thing. I couldn’t have stopped myself, it was pure instinct.”
Hermione blew a wild curl out of her eyes, obviously beyond frustrated. “Well, I spoke to Ron and we think it might be best if you go and stay with him for a bit. At least until the press dies down.”
“Isn’t Ron still depressed about Forten? Would it really be a good idea for him to have to see me every day?”
“I think he’s beginning to heal. If anything, you might use each other to vent out your frustrations. I know you must be hurting inside all that anger.”
His face pinched as though in pain. “I’m devastated. I don’t know what I’ll do without her. It might not be worth it to even try again...”
“Harry...” she whispered as she tugged him into a hug. “You are a wonderful person, you know that? She obviously is not. Don’t give up just because you got a bad egg. You’re better than that. You deserve to find someone who will love you and appreciate you for who you are. You’ve certainly earned it.” Harry didn’t say anything, but he squeezed her tight and buried his face in her hair. They stood on the street, hugging, for a long time before Harry finally pulled himself together and they went back to his flat to owl Ron. In the end, it was decided that he would take his suspension time to relax in Egypt and drink himself into a stupor, though he didn’t tell Hermione the last bit.
Justin was unpacking the last of his clothing as the pigeon arrived with Smith’s answer. Draco, who had been directing the house elf in arranging Justin’s favourite chair so that it didn’t clash with his designer furniture, momentarily forgot himself in his excitement to read the response and caused the bird to panic and squawk loudly enough for Justin to hear.
“What was that?” he called as he poked his head out from the bedroom. His eyes immediately landed on the carrier pigeon pecking around Draco’s feet and travelled up to the letter in Draco’s hand. “What’s that? Who sends a pigeon?”
Draco stood frozen in place. He hadn’t intended on telling Justin until... well, he hadn’t intended on telling Justin at all, if he was honest with himself. He had no idea how his mate would react when he found out that Draco was trying to finagle his old lover into moving half-way across the globe to be nearer to him. He silently scolded himself for being too enthusiastic for Smith’s reply and braced himself for the fight he knew was about to come. “It’s from an American friend of mine. They use pigeons in America.” He suddenly felt incredibly stupid, a completely foreign feeling that he didn’t like. Malfoys were never meant to look stupid, and yet here he was, practically fumbling for words in front of his mate.
“What American? I didn‘t know you knew any Americans.” The hurt in his eyes cut Draco to the core. He didn’t like making his mate upset and had to fight the instinct to go to him and coddle him with kisses and nakedness.
Instead he looked down at the letter with his name scrawled across the front in Smith’s messy script. “I went to America on holiday briefly before I went to Italy with Blaise. We met at a bar his blues band was playing at and he took me around, showed me the sites. He’s very nice and he teaches music to school children. Or at least he did, but he was recently fired from the Catholic school he had been working at because the parents found out he was gay and apparently they do not approve of our kind. I’ve found a family in London in need of a tutor and have been trying to convince him to take the position.”
“How did you know he was fired if you only met him on holiday?”
Draco fidgeted, another uncomfortable action that he was not used to and disliked immensely. “We still write sometimes.”
There was a rather long pause and Draco dreaded what would next come out of Justin’s mouth. “Were you lovers?”
He took a deep breath and looked up into his mate’s eyes. “Yes, but it was quite a long time ago. And I wasn’t mated yet. You can’t forget that. He doesn’t mean anything more to me than Blaise does anymore, just a friend. You’re all I want now.”
“Right…” There was another long pause. “But you still want him to come.”
“He’s a good friend. Why wouldn’t I want him to come?”
“I don’t want to share you with him. I’ve already done that and it turned foul.”
Draco straightened, a look of surprise and confusion on his face. “Share me? Why would you have to share me? We’re mated. I’m yours, always will be. I thought I’d made that clear.”
“Yeah, but you still want this other bloke here, taking you away from me. I don’t like it.” Draco smiled, walked the few steps until he stood in front of him, and took his face in his hands, kissing him tenderly.
“You don’t have to worry. I love you and I always will. Smith is a friend and nothing more.”
“Does he know that? What if he still has feelings for you? What if he tries to take you away? I couldn’t bear it.”
Draco said nothing, kissed him instead, desperate to show him the truth. The kiss was hard, demanding, an insistent push of tongues and teeth and bodies that soon found them on the carpet, naked and writhing together. There were no more questions after that, but Draco still waited until after Justin left for work the next morning before checking the letter.
“Is that Ra? I... are you... when...” Ron didn’t know where to begin. It was their pictogram with only slight variations. He couldn’t believe that he was seeing it. Should he say as much or would Bill kill him for giving away their research?
“This image is familiar to you, I know. You don’t have to say so; I have my spies. You and your brother and that man Rookwood intended for you to work with me so that you could sneak into our sites to investigate. I know this.” Ron looked at him in panic. He would tell the goblins. He would be fired. Worse, they’d stuff him in a dragon-guarded vault to starve to death. “Now, now, you needn’t worry. I will not get you in trouble. I have a proposition for your team. I think it would be better for both of our research if we work together, no? Your bank has access to areas that we do not and our museum has access where you do not. If you were to work for me, then we might share notes. What do you think?”
“Er..” He almost didn’t know what to think. From a strategic standpoint, the offer made sense, but that was just his novice opinion. What would Bill and Raleigh think? Would they be willing to share with this stranger? Could they trust him? He already said he’d been spying on them. And who was this spy? Bill was very vigilant about keeping their research secret from all but the three of them. He needed to talk to Bill. “I’d have to talk to my brother. It sounds like a good idea, though. Would you want me to quit Gringotts?”
“It would be ideal for your safety, I think. The goblins are not a... forgiving species in general and I do not think they would like it if you were to continue with them.”
Ron scratched at his hair and nodded, a wry smile on his lips. “I don’t suppose so, no. They’d be ready to kill me, probably. Do you mind if I go and talk it over with Bill and Raleigh?”
“Not at all, go right ahead. I’ll be here all day.”
“Great, cheers. I’ll see you later, then.” They shook hands and Ron headed out of the tomb, deciding as he went that he would go home first and change out of the stuffy interview robes Bill had lent him. He found Harry sitting at the kitchen table, staring down a bottle of Ogden’s finest.
“Don’t do it, mate. You don’t want Hermione finding you pissed in the middle of the afternoon. It’s not worth the headache, believe me.”
Harry looked up at him, his eyes dull with a sadness Ron knew all too well. “How’d the interview go? You’ve not been gone long.”
“Didn’t have to be. He knew all about me and our work. Knew our plan to sneak into Nefertari’s tomb and everything. It was a bit scary there for a moment, but it turns out he’s looking for the same thing we are. Wants to work together, compare notes, that sort of thing. I’d have to quit Gringotts, but it might be a nice idea to work with someone I’m not related to for a bit, yeah?” He had walked into his room to change as he was speaking and ended up shouting the last few sentences out the open bedroom door. Harry abandoned the firewiskey and went to lean against the door frame.
“What’s Bill say to that?”
“Don’t know, going to ask him right now. I don’t know how long this could take, so if I’m not back by seven, you’re on your own for supper. Don’t get too smashed.”
Harry smirked wryly at him. “I make no promises. Good luck.”
“Cheers, mate. See you later.” He waved and apparated to the Unas spot where he knew his brother and Raleigh would be. It took a bit of searching, but he found them on the south side of the causeway, arse-deep in what looked to Ron like an empty stone-lined pit. “What are you two doing in a pit?”
Bill and Raleigh jumped at his voice, both having been concentrating rather hard on what they were doing. “Ron! Done already? Don’t tell me it didn’t go well; we made sure you had excellent references,” Bill said as he climbed out of the pit.
“Went a bit wonky, actually. He called me out, knew exactly what we were up to. He’s looking for the same thing we are and wants to work with us, if you can believe it.”
“What do you mean, he knew? How could he have when we haven’t told anyone?”
“Don’t know. Said he had a spy, but I couldn’t think who it could be. He said he’s keen to hire me, though. And he’ll get us into Nefertari as long as we get him into a few places he doesn’t have access. He seems like a nice enough bloke, but I don’t know. What do you think?”
Bill exchanged a look with Raleigh and then they both turned back to him. “I think we better talk to him ourselves. This sounds a bit suspicious.”
“I thought so, too. I can take you to him, if you’d like.”
“I think we would. Raleigh?”
“Right-O. Get me out of this pit and we’ll be off. I’m very interested to see what he has to say.” Bill gave the old man a hand up and both took Ron’s arm for guidance. Soon they were back at the tomb Seth’s team had been excavating and as soon as they were in sight of it, both Bill and Raleigh gasped.
“Akhenaten!” both exclaimed as they looked at each other with wide eyes. Ron looked at them curiously, unsure of what had brought up the name, though he recognized it as belonging to the pharaoh they suspected had killed Ra, if in fact the myth wasn’t a really a myth.
“This is the tomb of Akhenaten, though no one has, as yet, found his actual body. This is... serious. We have to talk to this man immediately. Where is he?” Bill asked, turning to his brother.
Ron looked about and, not seeing the rotund man, went in search of him, followed closely by his companions. They found him just inside the doorway talking in fast Arabic to a young boy they recognized as one of their runners.
“Mahdy!” Bill exclaimed in surprise. Both looked up, the boy in fear while Seth gave Bill a big smile.
“Mr. Weasley, how happy I am to see you! I see you know my son. Do not be upset at him; he only does what his father asks of him. He is a good boy.” He patted the boy on the shoulder and waved him off. The boy quickly ran away with an apology to them over his shoulder. Seth smiled after him and turned to the three men standing before him. “Now, I will make guess you are here to speak about my offer, yes? What say you to a late lunch so that we might talk in private?”
All three looked at each other before nodding in agreement. “Lunch would be acceptable. Where?” Raleigh asked.
“There is a restaurant in Cairo I think would be good. It is not a far walk from the main apparition point. You know where that is, yes?” They all confirmed that they did indeed and, with a few instructions to a gentleman nearby, they were gone.
Smith stared at the letter in front of him. Teach in England? Could he do that? He would have to get a passport and... well, he wasn’t really sure what all he’d have to do. Could he really leave the country? Leave all his family? His friends? His band? What was Jordan going to say? Granted, it wasn’t as thought he would never be allowed to come back home if things didn’t worked out. And Draco was right; the international floo was easy to use, even if it was a bit expensive. With the salary the Graves family looked like they wanted to give him, he could definitely afford it. He remembered meeting Merton Graves, a tall, thin man with long black hair and beard streaked through with purple. He had thought the man (and his band mates) eccentric, but certainly friendly and kind. Maybe he would like working for his family. Maybe he would like England. He liked Draco and Draco was from there.
He rubbed at his face and sighed. His thoughts were too scattered. He needed to talk to someone, Jordan or his parents. Jordan was at work, but his mother should be home if she wasn’t at lunch with her friends. He got up to get the phone and dialled his parents.
“Michael, I’m so glad you called. I know you’ve been depressed about your job. I hope Jordan’s taking care of you. You’ve been eating all right?”
Smith smiled into the phone, glad to hear his mother’s rambling voice. “Yeah, Mom, I’ve been eating okay. I actually wanted to talk to you about my job. Do you remember me telling you about that English guy I met last year?”
“The pretty one with the funny name who said he wasn’t human?”
“Yep, that one. I’ve been writing letters to him and I told him about what happened at St. Francis and he has a job offer for me. There’s this family that’s a friend of his aunt’s that’s looking for a music tutor for their children. The pay is really, really good and I’ve met the husband before through my band. The thing is, it’s in London. What do you think I should do?”
“London? London, England? As in across half the US and the Atlantic Ocean from us?”
“Yeah, what do you think?”
There was a pause on the other end and he could almost hear his mother biting her nails. “You’d have to move there?”
“Yes, I would have to move there.”
“Would you be moving immediately?”
“Well, I’m sure I’d have to get a passport and like a green card, or whatever their equivalent is, but the letter from the mother says she’d like to meet with me as soon as possible so we could work out the details.”
“Won’t you be lonely if you move all the way over there?”
“I might, but Draco said he’d visit me and it’s not like I couldn’t just floo back here whenever I wanted. They make international floo, you know.”
“Of course I know that, but it’s expensive, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but the salary is more than enough to be able to afford floo powder for us.”
“What does Jordan say?”
“I haven’t talked to him yet. The letter just came and he’s still at work.”
“And you weren’t called today, I take it.”
“No, it’s been a slow week.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, honey.”
“Yeah, that’s another good thing about this job. I wouldn’t have to wait by the phone every morning to find out if I’m going to get to work. And I’d be making much more than eighty dollars a day.”
“Is this something you think you could be happy doing?”
He paused, uncertain how to answer. He knew he enjoyed teaching music, and there was nothing to say that he wouldn’t enjoy teaching it to two children rather than an entire class. It might even be better that way, if he could have more one-on-one time with each girl. The way his classes had been structured at St. Francis, one-on-one time had been nearly impossible. And he would get to see Draco, which would be wonderful. Thought the more he thought about seeing Draco, the more he felt as though he might be betraying Jordan just by thinking of him. “I... I think I could be. I mean, I’ve never been to England, so I don’t know how different it would be to live there, but it would be nice to have just the two children to teach, a lot more interactive. And I’d like to get to see Draco more often; I haven’t seen him in almost two years.”
“I thought you were happy with Jordan.”
“I am. Draco has nothing to do with Jordan.” Even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true, but he would never tell his mother that.
“But I thought you had been with this Draco.”
“I have, but we’re just friends now. Nothing to worry about.”
“I hope so, dear.” But his mother didn’t sound convinced. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.
“I have to go, Mom. I’ve got a lot to think about and Jordan should be home soon. I’ll see you at Aunt Julie’s on Thursday?”
She let out a heave of a sigh. “I suppose so. If you decide what you’re going to do before then, call me. Your father and I like to keep tabs on you, you know.”
“I know, Mom. I love you. Tell Dad I love him too, okay?”
“I will, dear. We love you, too.”
He hung up with a sigh and buried his face in his hands. He felt more confused than before, but there was a seed of decision growing deep in the back of his brain. He would still have to talk things over with Jordan, but somehow he knew that whether Jordan approved or not, he would be going.
Form:83352739
Name: Draco Malfoy
Registry Number: 625369
Date: 2 April 2003
Age: 22
Mate: Justin Finch-Fletchly
Current Location: London, England
Number of Sexual Encounter(s): 23
Name(s) of Partner(s): Justin Finch-Fletchly 23(M)
Age(s) of Partner(s): 22
Species of Partner(s): wizard
Description of Sexual Encounter(s): Absolutely not.
Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s)?: Yes
If so, what spell or potion was used and what were its affects?: The usual.
Did any encounter result in pregnancy?:
Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate?:
Considering that he has been found and yet I am still filling out the same forms as I have been, yes.
If so, how and why?: Must I continue to fill this out? It seems a bit redundant at this point.
Comments: Why is it that when I sent my mate to retrieve the new forms from you, you rebuffed his efforts? Are you being obnoxious on purpose or is this your natural state of being? I don’t know what I was thinking even asking, of course it is your natural state.
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