Pheromones, Friends and First Times (Part 1 of 2)
Another fest down ... three reveals to go! :D The Beltane Big Reveal has been posted.
First, I'd like to give another thanks to aquila_star for my gift!fic, Splintered. This story draws the reader in from the beginning, creates a situation that the reader needs resolved, and slowly develops the H/D relationship amid the fear of discovery. Each man goes through his own pain in this story, but in the end they are there for each other. Oh, and snarky portrait!Snape makes an appearance. ♥ ♥
And here's my contribution to the 2008 Beltane fest:
Title: Pheromones, Friends and First Times (1 of 2)
Author: sesheta_66
Beta: alaana_fair
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~ 12,600
Summary: When a Weasley Wizarding Wheeze goes horribly wrong, Fleur is fascinating, Bill is bewildered, Ron gets rejected, Hermione heaves ho, Harry becomes harried, Draco is determined, Blaise is brazen and Pansy is particularly perceptive. And so our story begins ...
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This was created for fun, not for profit.
Pheromones, Friends and First Times
"Harry!" Ron called. "Haaaary!"
Harry padded slowly from his bedroom to the sitting room. What had possessed him to leave the Floo connection open to Ron and Hermione all the time was beyond him. He made a mental note to cut that off.
"Ron, it's three in the bloody morning!" Harry said. "Some of us like to sleep, you know."
"'Mione left me."
"What?!"
"She left me. Well, actually ... she left the house, told me I had until tomorrow noon to get out, and then she'd be back." He looked up and Harry thought he was going to cry. "So I guess that means she kicked me out."
Resigned to his fate, Harry invited his best mate in, sat him down on his sofa and went to get them a couple of beers. Handing Ron one, he said, "Now, tell me what happened."
Ron gave the beer a disappointed look. "No Firewhiskey?"
"Not if you're going to have to move out by noon tomorrow," Harry replied. "There'll be plenty of time to drown your sorrows later. Now spill."
"Well, you see ... there was this accident at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes," Ron began. He explained that Bill and Fleur had been visiting when George was testing out a new product - something to enhance your attractiveness. Bill had startled George, who knocked the entire contents of the cauldron over.
"The liquid splashed mainly on Fleur," Ron continued, "and she inhaled a good dose of the fumes too."
Harry's head was hurting. "As interesting as this may be during the day, Ron, it is three o'clock in the morning. Could you get to the point?"
"But that is the point, Harry."
"I don't get it."
"You know Fleur is part Veela, right?"
"Of course."
"Remember what I was like when I first met her?"
"A bit starry eyed, as I recall," Harry chuckled. Then it sank in. "Oh, Merlin, mate. You didn't go all --"
"Not just me, Harry. Everyone is following her around. It's got so she can't even leave the house now without a crowd forming. Bill has taken to escorting her everywhere she goes."
"I still don't get it, Ron. Hermione's smart. She knows you can't help it."
"Doesn't matter. She said that I should be able to resist because I'm in love with her. Besides, Fleur's my sister-in-law. But, Harry, you won't believe how strong the pull is now."
"So why not just stay away from her until the potion wears off?"
"Um ... see ... that's the problem. The potion hasn't worn off. It should have only lasted twenty-four hours. Forty-eight at most."
"How long has it been?"
"A month."
"A month! And she can't go anywhere?"
"Not without an entourage trailing behind her."
"Bill must be going mad."
"Hello! Remember me? Your best mate? How about you worry about me instead?"
"I still don't understand, Ron. Just stay away from her, and you should be fine."
"Harry, she's family. We see them all the time. I can't just stop seeing my brother. Besides," he said with a defeated voice, "Hermione said that ... well, I called out Fleur's name in my sleep tonight. I haven't seen Fleur for days, Harry, but now it's carrying through to my dreams."
"Ah, so that's why you showed up when you did."
"Right. Harry, you've got to help me!"
Harry stared at his friend, dumbfounded. "And what exactly do you expect me to do? It's not like I'm any good at potions. Isn't George working on an antidote?"
"Yeah, but no luck so far. Maybe you can talk to Hermione? Get her to see sense."
Harry laughed. "Right. Because I've always been the voice of reason and she's always been the one acting rashly." Ron's face fell. "Oh, all right," Harry found himself agreeing. He blamed it on the early hour. "I'll talk to her tomorrow."
Ron gave him a smile. "Thanks, mate. I knew I could count on you."
"You know where the spare room is," Harry said.
"Thanks, but I think I'd better get back. I need to clear everything out. But I might take you up on the offer after noon tomorrow."
"My home is your home," Harry said. Not that he wanted his friends to split up, but it might be nice to have some company for a while.
~*~*~*~
The next morning, Harry Flooed over to Ginny's flat. Ron had thought that's where Hermione would be.
"Er ... sorry about the early morning visit." Ginny looked worried. "You did say that 'Mione was here, right?"
"Yes," Ginny said tentatively, "but she's not sure that she wants to talk to you."
"Why not?" Harry huffed. "What have I done?"
"It's not what you've done, Harry," he heard Hermione say as she entered the room. "It's what you're planning to do."
"And what am I planning to do?" he asked. Hermione raised her eyebrows.
"'Mione," Harry began, but a raised hand from Hermione stopped him continuing.
"Harry, don't try to convince me I'm wrong. I've lived with this for a month. Actually, longer than that if you count school, since he was swooning over her then too."
"Hermione, you have to know it's not his fault."
"Well, technically that's right. But it doesn't make things any easier, nor any less embarrassing. He fawns all over her, Harry. It's pathetic!" She looked on the verge of tears.
"But it's the potion!"
"Oh, really?" she asked. "Then explain why he was dreaming about her last night, and calling her name?" Harry had no response. "Exactly."
"Ron loves you," he said helplessly.
"Just not enough," she replied. "Harry, would you come with me to Shell Cottage? I'd like you to witness it for yourself."
Harry remembered the feeling of joy and attraction that had come over him at the World Cup, and he wondered if it would feel the same way now with Fleur. He had never been affected by her like Ron had, so he was curious. "Sure," he agreed.
~*~*~*~
"So, how did it go?" Ron asked as soon as he returned. "Can I go back home now?"
"Er ..."
"That well? She won't listen? Did you tell her I can't help it?"
"Yeah."
"But she still doesn't ..."
"No."
"But everyone reacts that way. I'm sure if you --"
"Actually ... I didn't."
"What?"
"'Mione and I went to Shell Cottage to visit Bill and Fleur, and ..."
"And she didn't affect you?"
"Well, I wouldn't say that exactly, but ... well, there wasn't a pull towards her for me or anything. More like just a feeling of contentment humming around me."
"Shit."
"Yeah."
"So she doesn't want me home?"
"Afraid not."
"Shit."
~*~*~*~
Three weeks later, Harry was climbing the walls. Ron was driving him barmy, with his melancholy attitude, constant pining for Hermione, and starry-eyed lust-filled looks whenever Fleur was mentioned. On top of all that, he was a slob. Harry was no clean freak, but Ron was a pig. Harry thought back to their school days and realised this was nothing new, but somehow Harry had managed to grow out of that, whereas Ron hadn't.
So far, George had had no luck with an antidote, and Fleur continued to attract men by the droves - and a few women. The situation was causing a strain on Bill and Fleur's marriage as well as Ron and Hermione's. And on Harry's sanity.
Before Ron could get up, Harry Apparated to Diagon Alley to put some space between them. And to hopefully find something to help solve this problem, so Ron could move back in with Hermione. The sooner the better.
He wandered around a bit, taking in the recent changes. It had been quite a while since he'd been to Diagon Alley, and when he had, it was to go to Wheezes or Fortescue's or Flourish & Blotts. He hadn't simply wandered here for years.
The boarded-up storefronts from the days of war were thankfully a distant memory, and a few new names spoke of change and renewal. Then a sign in an apothecary window caught Harry's eye. "Anti-Veela potion." It couldn't be that easy, could it?
~*~*~*~
He entered the shop and was immediately overwhelmed by the scents and colours of various potions which lined the shelves. Everything was neatly arranged, unlike many shops in Diagon Alley, and it immediately gave Harry a sense of comfort, as though he could trust the proprietor.
"I'll be with you in a moment," he heard a voice call from the back of the shop.
"Take your time; I'll just have a look round while I'm waiting," Harry replied.
Harry needed to restock his shelves at home with a few potions, which he found quickly enough. He then began to look at the Exotic Tonics section, which included various remedies and drafts that had ingredients described as tucked away treasures from all over the world. There were posters describing the medicinal benefits of various fauna listed by region and country.
"Sorry to have kept you waiting," came the owner's voice. "I'm afraid my assistant is away today, and I was just taking a delivery out back. How may I help you?"
Something about that voice ....
Harry stood up and, "Potter? What are you doing here?"
It figured. "Well, let's see. I'm in an apothecary, with some potions in hand. Wait ... give me a minute ... I may have a reason. Oh, yes, I'm here to buy potions. Obviously."
"Ah, good to know you're as pleasant as ever. Now perhaps you can stop bothering me and I can get back to work."
"I wasn't aware that buying your wares would constitute bothering you."
Malfoy laughed. "Oh, Potter, there is really no end to what you are unaware of, is there?"
"Very funny, Malfoy."
"Now that I've amused you, I presume you'll be leaving. Always a pleasure."
"Why would I leave?" Harry asked. "I have potions to buy." He feigned a confused look as his gaze swept the shelves. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but I do believe that you might sell one or two."
"You want to buy potions from me?"
"Why not? You always were good at potions in school. I can't imagine you running a successful business if you weren't good at what you do, so why shouldn't I buy from you?" Malfoy looked stunned. "Besides, your sign out front caught my eye."
Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Which sign?"
"The one about the Anti-Veela potion.
Malfoy gave him a sly grin. "Ahh ... yes, that does seem to attract some people. So what's the matter, Potter? Found yourself attracted to a part-Veela? Someone that isn't lusting after the Saviour? Ah, yes, that would be so like you, to not be able to handle that." Malfoy chuckled heartily, as though he'd just heard the most wonderful joke.
"It's not for me, you idiot."
Malfoy's smile was replaced with a smirk. "Calling me an idiot isn't the best way to get what you want, Potter."
"Just help me, would you? I am, after all, a paying customer."
"No, I don't think I will," he said it that infuriatingly superior way. Harry was set to storm out of the shop, but then remembered Ron. At his house. All. The. Time.
Harry leaned against the counter. "Look, Malfoy, I'm desperate."
"Is that a proposition, Potter?" Draco asked, leaning over the counter as well, invading Harry's space. "Because if that's the best you can do --"
Harry jumped back. "What? Of course not!"
"Well, it's good to know you can do better, because desperate really isn't the most appealing."
"Malfoy, hello? Could we get back to the reason I'm here?"
"So you're not here to throw your desperate self at my feet? Or at ... well, some body part of mine at any rate?"
"Oh, please."
"See? Now that's better. Begging is good."
"Malfoy," Harry growled.
"Mmm, you're sexy when you growl," he leered. "Who knew?"
"Argh! I am not here to proposition you!"
"Oh, thank Merlin for small miracles!" called Blaise as he sauntered in. He had obviously been listening with ill-disguised amusement. "While you have certainly ..." - he gave Harry an appraising look - "... filled out nicely, I don't fancy watching you and Draco going at it."
Harry was speechless with incredulity.
"Oh, come on now, Blaise. Admit it," Draco challenged. "You'd love to watch. You've wanted to see this arse --"
"HELLO! Still here!" Harry interrupted.
"Oh, right. So what is it that I can do for you, Potter?" Malfoy gave Harry a rather more predatory appraisal and added, "Besides the obvious?"
Harry took a calming breath and dragged his hand through his hair. "I believe I mentioned the Anti-Veela Potion?"
Malfoy lifted an eyebrow. "Ah, yes. Pity. So, whom might it be for?"
"Er ... I'd rather not say."
"Right," he replied with a smug look. "Then I can't be of assistance. Now if you'll excuse me, Potter."
"Why do you have to know who it's for?"
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Really, how did you get through sixth year potions anyway? You had to have cheated," he said, glaring at Harry, daring him to argue.
"I did not cheat."
Blaise snorted. "Right."
Harry scowled at him, then turned back to Malfoy. "Now would you just answer the question."
Malfoy sighed like someone trying to be patient with someone who was rather dim. "Some potions work better when they are ... adapted for the person taking them. One starts with a basic formula, which will work well enough, but for some more intricate solutions, customizing is in order."
Oh. Well, shit. Harry knew it would be a battle to get Malfoy to do anything for him, let alone Ron.
"So there's no way this will work on just anyone?"
"It might help a bit, but the guarantee I provide is only for customized versions."
"What's the problem, Potter?" Blaise asked. "Surely this isn't some top secret Auror case?"
"No." Harry steeled himself for the response. "It's for Ron."
"Weasley?!" Draco asked. "You expect me to make something for the weasel?"
"See?" Harry asked. "I knew I couldn't tell you."
"I thought the weasel was with Granger," Blaise said. "What's his head turning for? And where is he coming into contact with a Veela anyway?"
Harry thought once again about Ron. On his sofa. Every day. "Well, there was an accident ... with a potion," he began, figuring he had no choice but to explain the whole situation. When he was done, both Malfoy and Zabini were in hysterics. He scowled at them. "It's not a laughing matter, you know."
"Of course it is!" Blaise said. "Merlin, he's swooning over his own sister-in-law. That must be some potion!"
"I'll say," Malfoy added. "The Veela appeal is lessened the more you are around someone, and it becomes less potent once the Veela has bonded with someone else."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked.
"Well, Potter, has the weasel had this problem before?"
"Er ... sort of. When Fleur came to Hogwarts the year we had the Triwizard Tournament, he was all starry-eyed."
"But since she married his brother?"
"Well, before they got married, he only reacted when she'd show up and he was unprepared. But I suppose he hasn't reacted that way at all since they've been married."
"Precisely," Malfoy said smugly. "Because a Veela's pheromones are much stronger than other beings, they are difficult to resist. But the Veela's need to attract a mate is what prompts the release of them at such high levels. Once a Veela bonds to someone else, his or her body stops emitting them so strongly. It seems," he said with a hint of awe, "that this potion has somehow latched onto that dormant part of Fleur and released whatever keeps them locked away."
"So what can you do for Ron?" Harry asked. "What will you do for him?"
"Why should I do anything for him?" Malfoy asked.
"Actually, I suppose it's more for Fleur, since she's the one with the problem. Ron just happens to be one of the casualties."
"And why should I help her?"
"Because I'll pay you," Harry said. "After all, it is your business, isn't it?"
"What are you willing to pay, Potter?" Blaise asked with a leer. Malfoy elbowed his friend in the ribs, but couldn't seem to hold back a snigger.
Harry glared at them both. "What's the going rate?" he asked.
"For the Saviour?" Malfoy asked.
"I'm sure Draco can come up with an extra special deal for you, Potter." Blaise snorted, apparently amused by his own words.
"I think perhaps you should leave now, Blaise," Malfoy suggested, glaring at his friend.
"Aww," Blaise pouted. "Just when things were getting good?"
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow night, Blaise."
"Maybe you'll come too, Potter?"
"What?" Harry asked.
"Never mind Blaise," Malfoy said to Harry. "He's leaving."
"Later Draco," Blaise said as he made his way out the back. "Potter." He winked at Harry as he left. What was all that about?
"Where were we?" Malfoy asked.
Harry looked at him. "What's this going to cost me?"
"Well," Malfoy seemed to consider, "as I recall, you said something about being desperate when you came in here."
"Shit," Harry groaned. "Look, Malfoy --"
"Relax, Potter, I won't drain the weasel of what precious few Galleons he might have managed to scrape together in the years since the war."
"I'll pay for it."
"You really are desperate. Tell me, Potter, why is that?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "What does it matter?" He saw the look on Malfoy's face - one of mixed curiosity and ... something. Whatever it was, he knew the other man wouldn't back down. "Because he's at my house. He has been since he and Hermione split up."
"And?"
"And he's driving me mad! Don't get me wrong, he's my best mate, but he's always --" Harry stopped mid-sentence, wondering what had compelled him to talk to Malfoy of all people. He hadn't told anyone else how he felt, not even Ron. Especially not Ron. "Never mind. Just know that I'll pay for the potion."
"Alright," Malfoy said. "I'll still need the weasel to come in here, though."
"But it's Fleur's problem, right? Shouldn't she be the one --"
"Well, about that ...."
~*~*~*~
"To what do I owe the pleasure today?" drawled the familiar voice of Severus Snape.
"Potter."
"Oh, my," sneered the portrait. "And you were doing so well without him."
"Yes, well, apparently my talent at potions has dragged him out of hiding."
"You have to admit, he does need all the help he can get," Severus replied.
Draco laughed. "Too true. Buy why me? And why now?"
"Careful, you almost started whinging."
Draco huffed. "I am a Malfoy. Malfoys don't whinge."
Severus rolled his eyes. "Right. So every time over the years that you have gone on … and on … and on about Potter? That hasn't been whinging?"
"Certainly not. It was … venting. Yes, venting. Like I'm doing now."
"And why should you be so upset that he has re-entered your life now?"
"Do I really have to answer that?"
"As brilliant as I may be, a mind reader I am not. Certainly not in my current form anyway."
"Right. It's just that … well, everything is going so well for me. I'm finally successful in business, and I'm happy. Truly happy for the first time in my life."
"You were happy as a child."
"Not counting the oblivion in which I lived my childhood. I mean ever since … well, ever since I met Potter. Yes, it's the first time I've been happy since I was eleven, and now he's gone and messed that up."
"And how precisely has he done such a thing?"
"He showed up. Here. And ... talked to me."
"Ah, I see. Such arrogance!"
"Hey, whose side are you on anyway?"
"My own, of course. Really, Draco, what has he done?"
"He needs a potion."
"Imagine that. From you? A potions master. The nerve!"
"No, it's one that I have to create."
"And he came to you?"
"Well, he came to my shop. He didn't know I was the proprietor. And it's for an anti-Veela potion."
"You hardly have to create that; it only requires customizing. That won't take you long."
"Actually, that's only the half of it. The real problem rests with the part-Veela. She came into contact with a potion meant to temporarily enhance a person's attractiveness, and it seems to have unlocked --"
"Merlin's beard! You don't mean --"
"I do mean. She can't go anywhere without attracting a crowd, apparently."
"And you said you'd do it?"
"I said I would try."
"And knowing you, that means you won't stop until you succeed."
"Well, I am rather tenacious."
"You are that."
"So this means I have to ... well, see him again."
"Why?"
"Because the part-Veela in question is married to Bill Weasley. You remember him? The one Greyback nearly killed when I let him into Hogwarts. Oh, and the one who created the original potion that I need to work with? His brother George."
"Straight into the lion's den, then? Quite literally, with all those Gryffindors."
"I know."
"And why did you agree to this again?"
"Because Potter asked me to. And now ... now I'll have to talk to him."
"I can understand your dismay."
"Can you really?"
"He was always an irritant to me."
"Never mind. You don't understand at all."
"As you wish," Snape said. As he walked out of the portrait, he mumbled, "You'd be surprised what I understand."
Draco looked around the empty room with the empty portrait frame and realised just what he'd got himself into. "Well shit."
~*~*~*~
After leaving Malfoy's shop, Harry decided to spend a couple of hours in town. The last thing he wanted to do was go back and talk to Ron right away. Not only did he want to avoid the inevitable irritation that came every time he entered his own home to find a mess with Ron at the centre of it, and the accompanying depressing air about him, but he really didn't want to tell him what the plan was. He thought he could put that off for a little while at least.
He spent the time wandering around, and his thoughts inevitably returned to Malfoy. Though their encounter hadn't exactly been warm, after the initial shock of coming face-to-face with him had worn off, they'd actually had a civil conversation. And he had certainly done well for himself, despite the mess Lucius had left the family in. Harry suddenly felt that he'd underestimated Draco Malfoy.
And he had agreed to help Fleur. He didn't have to; clearly he didn't need the money. But he had agreed. And Harry couldn't help but feel a little bit grateful for that.
Before going home, he sent off an owl to Bill and Fleur, and stopped in to see George.
~*~*~*~
"What do you mean I have to see the ferret?" Ron yelled.
"I mean that he has a potion that is a sort-of anti-Veela ... thing. It helps you resist the Veela charm."
"So why didn't you just buy some while you were there?"
"It works its best when it's customized for the person who's taking it."
"Says him."
"He is the potions expert."
"I don't believe you! Are you mad?"
Look, Ron," Harry said through clenched teeth, "you want this fixed, right?"
"Well ..."
"And you want Hermione back, right?"
"Yeah, of course."
"And you said you'd do anything to get her back, right?"
"Yeah, but --"
"Well, this is what you have to do. We're going tomorrow, and that's final."
What Harry didn't tell him was that the each dose of the formula only worked for a day. He would have to continue taking it until Malfoy was able to figure out an antidote for Fleur. Which meant bringing him to see her. And Bill. And George. Harry's head ached at the mere thought of it, but he didn't blame Malfoy for not wanting to risk seeing any one of them on his own, so he had agreed to accompany him.
Fortunately, he had already booked holidays for the week. He'd just wrapped up a case, and it was a quiet time, so Kingsley had agreed. He had planned on getting some work done around the house, but getting Ron and Hermione back together - and of course, getting Fleur back to normal - were a higher priority.
~*~*~*~
"Oh, my, what's got into you?" Pansy asked as she entered the pub.
"I believe the question is who," Blaise replied, "and sadly for our friend here, the answer is no one." Draco glared at his friend.
"No, seriously, you look like hell."
"Thanks," Draco offered dryly.
"What's eating him?" she asked Blaise.
"Again, that would be who, and the answer would be no one."
"Must you always be so crass?" Draco asked.
"Well ... yes. It's part of my charm."
"So what's wrong, Draco? You're sitting here staring at the table with a look that could melt an iceberg, two empty shot glasses, and a full shot of Firewhiskey in front of you. I haven't seen you like this since after the war. No, wait. That's not right. The last time I saw you like this was after you ran into Potter about a year after the war."
"Give the girl a prize!" Blaise cheered. Draco growled at him.
"Don't tell me you saw Potter today," she asked.
"And he's going to see him tomorrow, too!" Blaise said. Draco was ready to hex that smile off his face.
"You're going out with him?" Pansy asked.
"Of course not!" Draco replied. Potter was straight. And even if he wasn't ... "Why would I do that?"
Pansy and Blaise exchanged a look. "Never mind," she said. "Now why are you so irritated?"
"Because every time Potter shows up, he has to best me at something. And now that I've finally succeeded, he shows up to cock things up again," Draco huffed.
"What did he do this time?" Pansy asked, not unkindly.
Blaise explained why Potter had come into the shop earlier that day, and Draco let them both in on the plan for the next day.
"I'm confused, honey," Pansy said to Draco. "It sounds like he's accepted that you are the expert in this area, and he's come to you for help. That doesn't sound like he's besting you at anything. Quite the opposite, actually."
"I know it seems that way," Draco said, "but this is Potter we're talking about. No doubt, he'll do something." But despite his words, Draco's mood definitely improved after that.
~*~*~*~
The next morning, as usual, Harry was awake before Ron. He took the opportunity to Floo-call Bill and Fleur. They had received his owl, and were willing to see Malfoy that day. It was a true sign of their desperation that they were inviting him to their home, although Malfoy had apologized right after the war and had explained the situation he'd been in when he'd let in the Death Eaters. It had gone a long way with most of the Weasleys, Ron and Ginny being the exception.
Ron still had to go to work; they couldn't both be off at the same time, and Harry convinced him that he needed the distraction, which was true. It also gave Harry the chance to get things moving with Malfoy before Ron could interfere too much.
The visit to Malfoy's apothecary went well enough. There was no bloodshed at least. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Ron left several drops of blood - along with a threat that he knew where Malfoy was, should he try to use it in some illegal manner - to be used in the potion, and it would take three days to brew. All he could do was wait. And avoid Fleur.
Meanwhile, Malfoy had his assistant back in the shop, so they were able to travel to Shell Cottage. The first thing Harry noticed was that Malfoy had no visible reaction to Fleur, just like him.
Bill noticed too. "Is she better already?" he asked. "Neither one of you seem affected."
"I wasn't affected the other day either, Bill," Harry reminded him. Malfoy gave him a questioning look.
"Oh, right," Bill replied. "But why not, Harry? And why not Draco here?"
"Well, I can't speak for Potter, but I can tell you that I'm gay, so a female Veela's pheromones do not affect me."
Harry felt the blood rush to his face. Shit. This wasn't exactly the way he had intended to let the Weasleys know.
"Um ..." They all stared at him, seemingly in shock. There was no point denying it "Could we maybe keep this to ourselves for now? Until I figure out how to tell Ron. What?" he asked Malfoy.
"No one knows?" he asked.
"I'd only just worked it out myself, to be honest. Could we get back to the matter at hand, please?"
They did just that. Surprisingly there was very little tension. Harry figured the news of his sexual orientation likely did a lot to break the ice. Malfoy took samples of Fleur's blood, and had her describe how she had come into contact with the solution. Then it was off to George's shop.
When they arrived, George was with a customer, and told them to wait in back for him.
"So ..." Malfoy said. Harry braced himself. "When did you figure it out?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Have you talked about it with anyone?"
"No."
"Not even the weaselette?"
"No."
"Don't you think she has the right to know that her boyfriend's gay?"
"She's not my girlfriend any more. We split up a long time ago."
"So when were you planning on telling people?"
"I don't know. Eventually, I suppose."
"Maybe never?"
"Maybe."
"You can't live your life not admitting who you are. You're living a lie."
"I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you of all people."
"Why?" Malfoy bristled. "Because I'm a Death Eater? Because I can't possibly act like a human being? Because --"
"Relax, Malfoy. I just meant that we've never been friends. We've never even got along before. This is something personal that I don't know how to talk to anyone about, least of all someone who has always been an enemy of sorts."
"Oh."
"You're not going to run off and tell everyone now, are you?"
"No, Potter, I'm not." Harry breathed a sigh of relief. For some reason, he believed Malfoy. "But you should know, it's not that uncommon."
"How was it --"
"So," George interrupted their conversation. Harry was glad; he wasn't all that comfortable with it.
Harry had thought that George would balk at the idea of sharing his potion's secret with anyone, especially Malfoy, but he was feeling the family pressure to come up with a solution, and he was willing to take all the help he could get.
~*~*~*~
"So now what?" Harry asked as he and Malfoy entered the apothecary with the samples.
"Now you let me do my job."
"Fair enough, but what can I do to help?"
"You can go home and let me do my job," Malfoy repeated.
Harry willed himself to stay calm. "I want to help," he said.
"Right. With all your potions skills, I can see why," Malfoy retorted.
"Look, Malfoy, I have no plans of stepping on your toes. I know this is your area of expertise."
"So leave me to it."
"Argh!" Harry exploded. "Why can't you just accept my help? Must you be so perfect at everything that you can't let someone else lend a hand?"
"What?"
"We both know you were always better at potions than me. We both know you were better than me at pretty much everything in school. The one thing I seem to be pretty good at is saving people. It's what I do. It's what I've always done. That's why I became an Auror. I can't just sit back and wait for other people to help Fleur. Just let me help. Besides, I've got a week off work, and I'll be climbing the walls with nothing to do."
Malfoy gaped at him, saying nothing.
"What?"
"You ... I think ... you just complimented me."
"Yeah, well," Harry replied, "don't get used to it. As I recall, you were actually nice to me today."
"Don't get used to it."
"Of course not." Harry grinned. "So will you let me help?"
"You realize this won't earn you a discount on my rates?"
"Don't worry, Malfoy, I can afford you."
He raised an eyebrow at that remark. "And you'll do whatever I say?"
"I'm at your command," Harry replied with a mock bow.
"My, oh my, what a difference a day makes!" called Blaise from the doorway. "What have I walked in on? Shall I leave you two alone, lock the door on my way out perhaps?"
"What are you going on about, Zabini?" Harry asked.
"Well, Potter, it seems that you can afford my friend here, and will be taking orders from him. Did I miss something? Draco, I didn't realise you had branched out."
"Potter is going to help me work on the potion, idiot. He will be following my directions so that he doesn't bollocks anything up. Was there a reason for you being here?"
"I brought you the ingredients you asked for, but there are a couple I couldn't get. Some rare plants."
"Did you try Neville Longbottom?"
"You're joking, right?" Zabini asked.
"Not at all. He works at Hogwarts now, as Sprout's assistant, and he grows his own plants. He's got quite a store of them." The two Slytherins looked at him strangely. "Oh, fine. I'll owl him. What do you need?" Harry took down the names of the items and wrote Neville a note. Zabini took it with him to owl from the post office.
"Thank you," Malfoy said, scowling at Harry, ruining the effect of his words.
"You're welcome, I think. What's with the look?"
"I'm wary of us being nice to each other."
"If it makes you feel better, I didn't do it for you. I did it for Neville. He's looking to sell his plants, and what better way than to arrange for him to sell ingredients to a successful apothecary?"
"Well then, a business deal. That makes it more palatable."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Don't Slytherins ever just do something nice for each other?"
"Certainly. But not for Gryffindors."
"Fair enough," Harry grinned and they got to work. A few minutes later, Harry added, "You know, the hat almost put me in Slytherin ...."
~*~*~*~
"Honestly, Potter, chop, don't pulverize! It's a wonder you passed potions at all," Malfoy said for the ... oh, Harry had lost track of how many insults the Slytherin had fired at him. They had been working most of the afternoon and into the evening, poring over George's notes on what he had tried. Harry admittedly hadn't a clue about most of it, but it was irritating to have that pointed out every five minutes.
They hadn't even stopped for food.
"Since I'm so terrible at this, why don't I just go get us some take-away?"
"What?"
"It's nearly seven o'clock. I'm starving."
"Is it really? I hadn't noticed."
"It's my charming personality," Harry joked. "Very distracting."
"I'm sure. Either that or the constant need to watch everything you're doing to make sure you don't make a mistake."
"Well, there's that too." He flashed Malfoy a grin. "Don't miss me too much," he said as he left.
Harry returned with Thai take-away and they enjoyed a quick break before getting back at it. It was after midnight when Harry arrived home to find Ron fast asleep and a note on the fridge: I'll presume you're not dead. Next time, a note would be nice.
The next morning, as he left before Ron got up, Harry left a note on the fridge: Sorry, mate. Not used to anyone caring when I come home. Don't wait up. It could be another late night. Harry.
~*~*~*~
The first day had been split between reviewing George's notes and preparing some potions Malfoy figured would be useful. The potion for Ron was brewing, and only had to be stirred every six hours until ready.
Together they had prepared and begun brewing six potions, and were set to start another four that day. When Harry had asked why they were preparing so many, Malfoy had explained that each takes days to prepare. If they tried them one after the other, they could be there for months before figuring out what worked.
So Harry sliced, diced, chopped, shredded and powdered plants, roots and various dried animal parts. He measured and weighed ingredients, and cleaned up the work surface. He had a flash of memory back to Potions class at Hogwarts.
"Oh, if he could see me now," Harry laughed.
"Who?"
"Snape. Remember in fourth year when he ordered me to chop up your ingredients while you milked that injury?"
"Yeah," Malfoy chuckled. "We had some good times back in school."
That earned him a punch in the arm. "Good times? Toiling in servitude to the teacher's pet is hardly my idea of a good time."
"And yet here you are."
"Yeah. Ironic, isn't it?"
"I'm impressed, Potter. I didn't think you knew what ironic meant."
"Mm." He gave Malfoy an obvious once-over. "I know what arrogant, pompous, pretentious and ostentatious mean too."
"Prat."
"Ah, but at least I'm a humble prat."
Malfoy rolled his eyes, but Harry caught the corners of his mouth twitching.
~*~*~*~
On the fourth day, as they were headed into another long evening, Zabini showed up.
"Don't tell me you two are still working away here?"
"Afraid so, Zabini," Harry said.
"And you haven't killed each other? I'm impressed."
"Ah, but the night is young," Malfoy joked.
"Precisely why you two need to pack up and get washed up and join us for a night on the town."
"Blaise, really, we have so much to do."
"I don't know," Harry said. "I think we're just about done with this latest batch anyway. Didn't you say it only has another twenty minutes left, then has to be set aside overnight?"
"Well, yes, but --"
"That's settled then. I'll meet you at my place in two hours."
"Thanks, Zabini, but I'll take a pass. You go on ahead," he said to Malfoy, "and I'll see you in the morning."
"Oh, no you don't. You got me into this, and you're coming with me."
"But they're your friends."
"I believe the deal was that you'd do whatever I said."
"That had nothing to do with --"
"Ah, ah, Potter," Zabini said with a smirk. "I was a witness. I believe what you said was, 'I'm at your command.' A Gryffindor can't go back on his word, can he? I think that's written in the lion's handbook or something, isn't it?"
"Very funny. Alright, I'll go." As an afterthought, he asked, "Um ... where exactly are we going?"
Malfoy laughed. "You should learn to ask questions like that before you agree to go anywhere, especially when Blaise is making the arrangements." He turned to Zabini. "So, are we heading to the local gay club?"
Harry's eyes went wide and he felt his stomach drop. "Relax, Potter," Zabini said. "Just one of the local clubs. Everyone is welcome at Sensations." Harry's heart began to slow down again. "Merlin's balls, you should have seen your face!"
Zabini left them to finish up with the potion.
"What the hell was that about?" Harry asked.
"What?" Malfoy asked innocently.
"Asking if we were going to a gay club? I thought you weren't going to tell anyone."
"I wasn't, and I didn't. Blaise is gay. I'm gay. We have been known to frequent gay clubs. Besides," he said, reaching up and patting Harry on the cheek, "the look on your face was sooo worth it."
"Bastard."
"So I've been told," he laughed.
Once the potion was set aside, Malfoy gave Harry directions to the club, where he reluctantly agreed they would meet, and Harry headed home.
~*~*~*~
When he got there, it was to find Ron on the sofa, amidst a mess of take-away boxes and newspaper pages. And who knew what else. Harry took a few calming breaths. Not much longer, he thought.
"Harry, you're home!"
"Yeah, but I'm heading out."
"Hot date?" Ron deadpanned.
"Hardly. I'm heading out with Malfoy and Zabini ... and Parkinson, I think. Not sure who else will be there."
"What?!"
"Yeah, you should come."
"Are you mental? They're ... Slytherins."
"Very observant, Ron. Had you also noticed that school's out?"
"Yeah, but ... they're Slytherins."
"Did I ever tell you the hat almost put me in Slytherin?"
"No."
"Yes."
"But ... but ..."
"Look, Ron, I'm heading out. You need to get out. It would be great if you'd come along. Y'know ... I'd feel less out-numbered that way."
"I dunno, Harry. There's a football game on the telly."
"For fuck's sake, Ron, look at yourself! You need to clean up and get out of this place."
"You don't know what it's like, Harry."
"You're right. I don't. And I don't want to. You're coming with me. You're keeping me company. And you'll protect me against the onslaught of Slytherins. We'll have a few pints and have a few laughs, and who knows? Maybe you and Malfoy might actually make it through the night without killing each other."
"You're asking an awful lot."
"Considering I've been spending every waking moment with the prat, it's the least you can do."
"Point."
~*~*~*~
"That was very conniving of you," Draco said.
"Why thank you. It's the Zabini charm; does it every time."
"More like the Zabini con."
"Whatever works. You'll thank me tomorrow."
"You seem so sure of yourself."
"Oh, come on, Draco. You can't still think he's straight. I've popped in a few times. I see him watch you." Draco narrowed his eyes. "Nearly as much as you watch him."
"He's always watched me," Draco argued.
"Exactly."
"No, I mean he's always watching for me to screw up."
"Maybe in the past, but not now. Not any more. He has a whole new reason to watch you. Pansy sees it too."
"You two are delusional."
"And if we're not."
"No comment."
"How very Slytherin of you."
Draco smirked. "Thank you."
Part 2
.
First, I'd like to give another thanks to aquila_star for my gift!fic, Splintered. This story draws the reader in from the beginning, creates a situation that the reader needs resolved, and slowly develops the H/D relationship amid the fear of discovery. Each man goes through his own pain in this story, but in the end they are there for each other. Oh, and snarky portrait!Snape makes an appearance. ♥ ♥
And here's my contribution to the 2008 Beltane fest:
Title: Pheromones, Friends and First Times (1 of 2)
Author: sesheta_66
Beta: alaana_fair
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~ 12,600
Summary: When a Weasley Wizarding Wheeze goes horribly wrong, Fleur is fascinating, Bill is bewildered, Ron gets rejected, Hermione heaves ho, Harry becomes harried, Draco is determined, Blaise is brazen and Pansy is particularly perceptive. And so our story begins ...
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This was created for fun, not for profit.
Pheromones, Friends and First Times
"Harry!" Ron called. "Haaaary!"
Harry padded slowly from his bedroom to the sitting room. What had possessed him to leave the Floo connection open to Ron and Hermione all the time was beyond him. He made a mental note to cut that off.
"Ron, it's three in the bloody morning!" Harry said. "Some of us like to sleep, you know."
"'Mione left me."
"What?!"
"She left me. Well, actually ... she left the house, told me I had until tomorrow noon to get out, and then she'd be back." He looked up and Harry thought he was going to cry. "So I guess that means she kicked me out."
Resigned to his fate, Harry invited his best mate in, sat him down on his sofa and went to get them a couple of beers. Handing Ron one, he said, "Now, tell me what happened."
Ron gave the beer a disappointed look. "No Firewhiskey?"
"Not if you're going to have to move out by noon tomorrow," Harry replied. "There'll be plenty of time to drown your sorrows later. Now spill."
"Well, you see ... there was this accident at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes," Ron began. He explained that Bill and Fleur had been visiting when George was testing out a new product - something to enhance your attractiveness. Bill had startled George, who knocked the entire contents of the cauldron over.
"The liquid splashed mainly on Fleur," Ron continued, "and she inhaled a good dose of the fumes too."
Harry's head was hurting. "As interesting as this may be during the day, Ron, it is three o'clock in the morning. Could you get to the point?"
"But that is the point, Harry."
"I don't get it."
"You know Fleur is part Veela, right?"
"Of course."
"Remember what I was like when I first met her?"
"A bit starry eyed, as I recall," Harry chuckled. Then it sank in. "Oh, Merlin, mate. You didn't go all --"
"Not just me, Harry. Everyone is following her around. It's got so she can't even leave the house now without a crowd forming. Bill has taken to escorting her everywhere she goes."
"I still don't get it, Ron. Hermione's smart. She knows you can't help it."
"Doesn't matter. She said that I should be able to resist because I'm in love with her. Besides, Fleur's my sister-in-law. But, Harry, you won't believe how strong the pull is now."
"So why not just stay away from her until the potion wears off?"
"Um ... see ... that's the problem. The potion hasn't worn off. It should have only lasted twenty-four hours. Forty-eight at most."
"How long has it been?"
"A month."
"A month! And she can't go anywhere?"
"Not without an entourage trailing behind her."
"Bill must be going mad."
"Hello! Remember me? Your best mate? How about you worry about me instead?"
"I still don't understand, Ron. Just stay away from her, and you should be fine."
"Harry, she's family. We see them all the time. I can't just stop seeing my brother. Besides," he said with a defeated voice, "Hermione said that ... well, I called out Fleur's name in my sleep tonight. I haven't seen Fleur for days, Harry, but now it's carrying through to my dreams."
"Ah, so that's why you showed up when you did."
"Right. Harry, you've got to help me!"
Harry stared at his friend, dumbfounded. "And what exactly do you expect me to do? It's not like I'm any good at potions. Isn't George working on an antidote?"
"Yeah, but no luck so far. Maybe you can talk to Hermione? Get her to see sense."
Harry laughed. "Right. Because I've always been the voice of reason and she's always been the one acting rashly." Ron's face fell. "Oh, all right," Harry found himself agreeing. He blamed it on the early hour. "I'll talk to her tomorrow."
Ron gave him a smile. "Thanks, mate. I knew I could count on you."
"You know where the spare room is," Harry said.
"Thanks, but I think I'd better get back. I need to clear everything out. But I might take you up on the offer after noon tomorrow."
"My home is your home," Harry said. Not that he wanted his friends to split up, but it might be nice to have some company for a while.
~*~*~*~
The next morning, Harry Flooed over to Ginny's flat. Ron had thought that's where Hermione would be.
"Er ... sorry about the early morning visit." Ginny looked worried. "You did say that 'Mione was here, right?"
"Yes," Ginny said tentatively, "but she's not sure that she wants to talk to you."
"Why not?" Harry huffed. "What have I done?"
"It's not what you've done, Harry," he heard Hermione say as she entered the room. "It's what you're planning to do."
"And what am I planning to do?" he asked. Hermione raised her eyebrows.
"'Mione," Harry began, but a raised hand from Hermione stopped him continuing.
"Harry, don't try to convince me I'm wrong. I've lived with this for a month. Actually, longer than that if you count school, since he was swooning over her then too."
"Hermione, you have to know it's not his fault."
"Well, technically that's right. But it doesn't make things any easier, nor any less embarrassing. He fawns all over her, Harry. It's pathetic!" She looked on the verge of tears.
"But it's the potion!"
"Oh, really?" she asked. "Then explain why he was dreaming about her last night, and calling her name?" Harry had no response. "Exactly."
"Ron loves you," he said helplessly.
"Just not enough," she replied. "Harry, would you come with me to Shell Cottage? I'd like you to witness it for yourself."
Harry remembered the feeling of joy and attraction that had come over him at the World Cup, and he wondered if it would feel the same way now with Fleur. He had never been affected by her like Ron had, so he was curious. "Sure," he agreed.
~*~*~*~
"So, how did it go?" Ron asked as soon as he returned. "Can I go back home now?"
"Er ..."
"That well? She won't listen? Did you tell her I can't help it?"
"Yeah."
"But she still doesn't ..."
"No."
"But everyone reacts that way. I'm sure if you --"
"Actually ... I didn't."
"What?"
"'Mione and I went to Shell Cottage to visit Bill and Fleur, and ..."
"And she didn't affect you?"
"Well, I wouldn't say that exactly, but ... well, there wasn't a pull towards her for me or anything. More like just a feeling of contentment humming around me."
"Shit."
"Yeah."
"So she doesn't want me home?"
"Afraid not."
"Shit."
~*~*~*~
Three weeks later, Harry was climbing the walls. Ron was driving him barmy, with his melancholy attitude, constant pining for Hermione, and starry-eyed lust-filled looks whenever Fleur was mentioned. On top of all that, he was a slob. Harry was no clean freak, but Ron was a pig. Harry thought back to their school days and realised this was nothing new, but somehow Harry had managed to grow out of that, whereas Ron hadn't.
So far, George had had no luck with an antidote, and Fleur continued to attract men by the droves - and a few women. The situation was causing a strain on Bill and Fleur's marriage as well as Ron and Hermione's. And on Harry's sanity.
Before Ron could get up, Harry Apparated to Diagon Alley to put some space between them. And to hopefully find something to help solve this problem, so Ron could move back in with Hermione. The sooner the better.
He wandered around a bit, taking in the recent changes. It had been quite a while since he'd been to Diagon Alley, and when he had, it was to go to Wheezes or Fortescue's or Flourish & Blotts. He hadn't simply wandered here for years.
The boarded-up storefronts from the days of war were thankfully a distant memory, and a few new names spoke of change and renewal. Then a sign in an apothecary window caught Harry's eye. "Anti-Veela potion." It couldn't be that easy, could it?
~*~*~*~
He entered the shop and was immediately overwhelmed by the scents and colours of various potions which lined the shelves. Everything was neatly arranged, unlike many shops in Diagon Alley, and it immediately gave Harry a sense of comfort, as though he could trust the proprietor.
"I'll be with you in a moment," he heard a voice call from the back of the shop.
"Take your time; I'll just have a look round while I'm waiting," Harry replied.
Harry needed to restock his shelves at home with a few potions, which he found quickly enough. He then began to look at the Exotic Tonics section, which included various remedies and drafts that had ingredients described as tucked away treasures from all over the world. There were posters describing the medicinal benefits of various fauna listed by region and country.
"Sorry to have kept you waiting," came the owner's voice. "I'm afraid my assistant is away today, and I was just taking a delivery out back. How may I help you?"
Something about that voice ....
Harry stood up and, "Potter? What are you doing here?"
It figured. "Well, let's see. I'm in an apothecary, with some potions in hand. Wait ... give me a minute ... I may have a reason. Oh, yes, I'm here to buy potions. Obviously."
"Ah, good to know you're as pleasant as ever. Now perhaps you can stop bothering me and I can get back to work."
"I wasn't aware that buying your wares would constitute bothering you."
Malfoy laughed. "Oh, Potter, there is really no end to what you are unaware of, is there?"
"Very funny, Malfoy."
"Now that I've amused you, I presume you'll be leaving. Always a pleasure."
"Why would I leave?" Harry asked. "I have potions to buy." He feigned a confused look as his gaze swept the shelves. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but I do believe that you might sell one or two."
"You want to buy potions from me?"
"Why not? You always were good at potions in school. I can't imagine you running a successful business if you weren't good at what you do, so why shouldn't I buy from you?" Malfoy looked stunned. "Besides, your sign out front caught my eye."
Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Which sign?"
"The one about the Anti-Veela potion.
Malfoy gave him a sly grin. "Ahh ... yes, that does seem to attract some people. So what's the matter, Potter? Found yourself attracted to a part-Veela? Someone that isn't lusting after the Saviour? Ah, yes, that would be so like you, to not be able to handle that." Malfoy chuckled heartily, as though he'd just heard the most wonderful joke.
"It's not for me, you idiot."
Malfoy's smile was replaced with a smirk. "Calling me an idiot isn't the best way to get what you want, Potter."
"Just help me, would you? I am, after all, a paying customer."
"No, I don't think I will," he said it that infuriatingly superior way. Harry was set to storm out of the shop, but then remembered Ron. At his house. All. The. Time.
Harry leaned against the counter. "Look, Malfoy, I'm desperate."
"Is that a proposition, Potter?" Draco asked, leaning over the counter as well, invading Harry's space. "Because if that's the best you can do --"
Harry jumped back. "What? Of course not!"
"Well, it's good to know you can do better, because desperate really isn't the most appealing."
"Malfoy, hello? Could we get back to the reason I'm here?"
"So you're not here to throw your desperate self at my feet? Or at ... well, some body part of mine at any rate?"
"Oh, please."
"See? Now that's better. Begging is good."
"Malfoy," Harry growled.
"Mmm, you're sexy when you growl," he leered. "Who knew?"
"Argh! I am not here to proposition you!"
"Oh, thank Merlin for small miracles!" called Blaise as he sauntered in. He had obviously been listening with ill-disguised amusement. "While you have certainly ..." - he gave Harry an appraising look - "... filled out nicely, I don't fancy watching you and Draco going at it."
Harry was speechless with incredulity.
"Oh, come on now, Blaise. Admit it," Draco challenged. "You'd love to watch. You've wanted to see this arse --"
"HELLO! Still here!" Harry interrupted.
"Oh, right. So what is it that I can do for you, Potter?" Malfoy gave Harry a rather more predatory appraisal and added, "Besides the obvious?"
Harry took a calming breath and dragged his hand through his hair. "I believe I mentioned the Anti-Veela Potion?"
Malfoy lifted an eyebrow. "Ah, yes. Pity. So, whom might it be for?"
"Er ... I'd rather not say."
"Right," he replied with a smug look. "Then I can't be of assistance. Now if you'll excuse me, Potter."
"Why do you have to know who it's for?"
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Really, how did you get through sixth year potions anyway? You had to have cheated," he said, glaring at Harry, daring him to argue.
"I did not cheat."
Blaise snorted. "Right."
Harry scowled at him, then turned back to Malfoy. "Now would you just answer the question."
Malfoy sighed like someone trying to be patient with someone who was rather dim. "Some potions work better when they are ... adapted for the person taking them. One starts with a basic formula, which will work well enough, but for some more intricate solutions, customizing is in order."
Oh. Well, shit. Harry knew it would be a battle to get Malfoy to do anything for him, let alone Ron.
"So there's no way this will work on just anyone?"
"It might help a bit, but the guarantee I provide is only for customized versions."
"What's the problem, Potter?" Blaise asked. "Surely this isn't some top secret Auror case?"
"No." Harry steeled himself for the response. "It's for Ron."
"Weasley?!" Draco asked. "You expect me to make something for the weasel?"
"See?" Harry asked. "I knew I couldn't tell you."
"I thought the weasel was with Granger," Blaise said. "What's his head turning for? And where is he coming into contact with a Veela anyway?"
Harry thought once again about Ron. On his sofa. Every day. "Well, there was an accident ... with a potion," he began, figuring he had no choice but to explain the whole situation. When he was done, both Malfoy and Zabini were in hysterics. He scowled at them. "It's not a laughing matter, you know."
"Of course it is!" Blaise said. "Merlin, he's swooning over his own sister-in-law. That must be some potion!"
"I'll say," Malfoy added. "The Veela appeal is lessened the more you are around someone, and it becomes less potent once the Veela has bonded with someone else."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked.
"Well, Potter, has the weasel had this problem before?"
"Er ... sort of. When Fleur came to Hogwarts the year we had the Triwizard Tournament, he was all starry-eyed."
"But since she married his brother?"
"Well, before they got married, he only reacted when she'd show up and he was unprepared. But I suppose he hasn't reacted that way at all since they've been married."
"Precisely," Malfoy said smugly. "Because a Veela's pheromones are much stronger than other beings, they are difficult to resist. But the Veela's need to attract a mate is what prompts the release of them at such high levels. Once a Veela bonds to someone else, his or her body stops emitting them so strongly. It seems," he said with a hint of awe, "that this potion has somehow latched onto that dormant part of Fleur and released whatever keeps them locked away."
"So what can you do for Ron?" Harry asked. "What will you do for him?"
"Why should I do anything for him?" Malfoy asked.
"Actually, I suppose it's more for Fleur, since she's the one with the problem. Ron just happens to be one of the casualties."
"And why should I help her?"
"Because I'll pay you," Harry said. "After all, it is your business, isn't it?"
"What are you willing to pay, Potter?" Blaise asked with a leer. Malfoy elbowed his friend in the ribs, but couldn't seem to hold back a snigger.
Harry glared at them both. "What's the going rate?" he asked.
"For the Saviour?" Malfoy asked.
"I'm sure Draco can come up with an extra special deal for you, Potter." Blaise snorted, apparently amused by his own words.
"I think perhaps you should leave now, Blaise," Malfoy suggested, glaring at his friend.
"Aww," Blaise pouted. "Just when things were getting good?"
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow night, Blaise."
"Maybe you'll come too, Potter?"
"What?" Harry asked.
"Never mind Blaise," Malfoy said to Harry. "He's leaving."
"Later Draco," Blaise said as he made his way out the back. "Potter." He winked at Harry as he left. What was all that about?
"Where were we?" Malfoy asked.
Harry looked at him. "What's this going to cost me?"
"Well," Malfoy seemed to consider, "as I recall, you said something about being desperate when you came in here."
"Shit," Harry groaned. "Look, Malfoy --"
"Relax, Potter, I won't drain the weasel of what precious few Galleons he might have managed to scrape together in the years since the war."
"I'll pay for it."
"You really are desperate. Tell me, Potter, why is that?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "What does it matter?" He saw the look on Malfoy's face - one of mixed curiosity and ... something. Whatever it was, he knew the other man wouldn't back down. "Because he's at my house. He has been since he and Hermione split up."
"And?"
"And he's driving me mad! Don't get me wrong, he's my best mate, but he's always --" Harry stopped mid-sentence, wondering what had compelled him to talk to Malfoy of all people. He hadn't told anyone else how he felt, not even Ron. Especially not Ron. "Never mind. Just know that I'll pay for the potion."
"Alright," Malfoy said. "I'll still need the weasel to come in here, though."
"But it's Fleur's problem, right? Shouldn't she be the one --"
"Well, about that ...."
~*~*~*~
"To what do I owe the pleasure today?" drawled the familiar voice of Severus Snape.
"Potter."
"Oh, my," sneered the portrait. "And you were doing so well without him."
"Yes, well, apparently my talent at potions has dragged him out of hiding."
"You have to admit, he does need all the help he can get," Severus replied.
Draco laughed. "Too true. Buy why me? And why now?"
"Careful, you almost started whinging."
Draco huffed. "I am a Malfoy. Malfoys don't whinge."
Severus rolled his eyes. "Right. So every time over the years that you have gone on … and on … and on about Potter? That hasn't been whinging?"
"Certainly not. It was … venting. Yes, venting. Like I'm doing now."
"And why should you be so upset that he has re-entered your life now?"
"Do I really have to answer that?"
"As brilliant as I may be, a mind reader I am not. Certainly not in my current form anyway."
"Right. It's just that … well, everything is going so well for me. I'm finally successful in business, and I'm happy. Truly happy for the first time in my life."
"You were happy as a child."
"Not counting the oblivion in which I lived my childhood. I mean ever since … well, ever since I met Potter. Yes, it's the first time I've been happy since I was eleven, and now he's gone and messed that up."
"And how precisely has he done such a thing?"
"He showed up. Here. And ... talked to me."
"Ah, I see. Such arrogance!"
"Hey, whose side are you on anyway?"
"My own, of course. Really, Draco, what has he done?"
"He needs a potion."
"Imagine that. From you? A potions master. The nerve!"
"No, it's one that I have to create."
"And he came to you?"
"Well, he came to my shop. He didn't know I was the proprietor. And it's for an anti-Veela potion."
"You hardly have to create that; it only requires customizing. That won't take you long."
"Actually, that's only the half of it. The real problem rests with the part-Veela. She came into contact with a potion meant to temporarily enhance a person's attractiveness, and it seems to have unlocked --"
"Merlin's beard! You don't mean --"
"I do mean. She can't go anywhere without attracting a crowd, apparently."
"And you said you'd do it?"
"I said I would try."
"And knowing you, that means you won't stop until you succeed."
"Well, I am rather tenacious."
"You are that."
"So this means I have to ... well, see him again."
"Why?"
"Because the part-Veela in question is married to Bill Weasley. You remember him? The one Greyback nearly killed when I let him into Hogwarts. Oh, and the one who created the original potion that I need to work with? His brother George."
"Straight into the lion's den, then? Quite literally, with all those Gryffindors."
"I know."
"And why did you agree to this again?"
"Because Potter asked me to. And now ... now I'll have to talk to him."
"I can understand your dismay."
"Can you really?"
"He was always an irritant to me."
"Never mind. You don't understand at all."
"As you wish," Snape said. As he walked out of the portrait, he mumbled, "You'd be surprised what I understand."
Draco looked around the empty room with the empty portrait frame and realised just what he'd got himself into. "Well shit."
~*~*~*~
After leaving Malfoy's shop, Harry decided to spend a couple of hours in town. The last thing he wanted to do was go back and talk to Ron right away. Not only did he want to avoid the inevitable irritation that came every time he entered his own home to find a mess with Ron at the centre of it, and the accompanying depressing air about him, but he really didn't want to tell him what the plan was. He thought he could put that off for a little while at least.
He spent the time wandering around, and his thoughts inevitably returned to Malfoy. Though their encounter hadn't exactly been warm, after the initial shock of coming face-to-face with him had worn off, they'd actually had a civil conversation. And he had certainly done well for himself, despite the mess Lucius had left the family in. Harry suddenly felt that he'd underestimated Draco Malfoy.
And he had agreed to help Fleur. He didn't have to; clearly he didn't need the money. But he had agreed. And Harry couldn't help but feel a little bit grateful for that.
Before going home, he sent off an owl to Bill and Fleur, and stopped in to see George.
~*~*~*~
"What do you mean I have to see the ferret?" Ron yelled.
"I mean that he has a potion that is a sort-of anti-Veela ... thing. It helps you resist the Veela charm."
"So why didn't you just buy some while you were there?"
"It works its best when it's customized for the person who's taking it."
"Says him."
"He is the potions expert."
"I don't believe you! Are you mad?"
Look, Ron," Harry said through clenched teeth, "you want this fixed, right?"
"Well ..."
"And you want Hermione back, right?"
"Yeah, of course."
"And you said you'd do anything to get her back, right?"
"Yeah, but --"
"Well, this is what you have to do. We're going tomorrow, and that's final."
What Harry didn't tell him was that the each dose of the formula only worked for a day. He would have to continue taking it until Malfoy was able to figure out an antidote for Fleur. Which meant bringing him to see her. And Bill. And George. Harry's head ached at the mere thought of it, but he didn't blame Malfoy for not wanting to risk seeing any one of them on his own, so he had agreed to accompany him.
Fortunately, he had already booked holidays for the week. He'd just wrapped up a case, and it was a quiet time, so Kingsley had agreed. He had planned on getting some work done around the house, but getting Ron and Hermione back together - and of course, getting Fleur back to normal - were a higher priority.
~*~*~*~
"Oh, my, what's got into you?" Pansy asked as she entered the pub.
"I believe the question is who," Blaise replied, "and sadly for our friend here, the answer is no one." Draco glared at his friend.
"No, seriously, you look like hell."
"Thanks," Draco offered dryly.
"What's eating him?" she asked Blaise.
"Again, that would be who, and the answer would be no one."
"Must you always be so crass?" Draco asked.
"Well ... yes. It's part of my charm."
"So what's wrong, Draco? You're sitting here staring at the table with a look that could melt an iceberg, two empty shot glasses, and a full shot of Firewhiskey in front of you. I haven't seen you like this since after the war. No, wait. That's not right. The last time I saw you like this was after you ran into Potter about a year after the war."
"Give the girl a prize!" Blaise cheered. Draco growled at him.
"Don't tell me you saw Potter today," she asked.
"And he's going to see him tomorrow, too!" Blaise said. Draco was ready to hex that smile off his face.
"You're going out with him?" Pansy asked.
"Of course not!" Draco replied. Potter was straight. And even if he wasn't ... "Why would I do that?"
Pansy and Blaise exchanged a look. "Never mind," she said. "Now why are you so irritated?"
"Because every time Potter shows up, he has to best me at something. And now that I've finally succeeded, he shows up to cock things up again," Draco huffed.
"What did he do this time?" Pansy asked, not unkindly.
Blaise explained why Potter had come into the shop earlier that day, and Draco let them both in on the plan for the next day.
"I'm confused, honey," Pansy said to Draco. "It sounds like he's accepted that you are the expert in this area, and he's come to you for help. That doesn't sound like he's besting you at anything. Quite the opposite, actually."
"I know it seems that way," Draco said, "but this is Potter we're talking about. No doubt, he'll do something." But despite his words, Draco's mood definitely improved after that.
~*~*~*~
The next morning, as usual, Harry was awake before Ron. He took the opportunity to Floo-call Bill and Fleur. They had received his owl, and were willing to see Malfoy that day. It was a true sign of their desperation that they were inviting him to their home, although Malfoy had apologized right after the war and had explained the situation he'd been in when he'd let in the Death Eaters. It had gone a long way with most of the Weasleys, Ron and Ginny being the exception.
Ron still had to go to work; they couldn't both be off at the same time, and Harry convinced him that he needed the distraction, which was true. It also gave Harry the chance to get things moving with Malfoy before Ron could interfere too much.
The visit to Malfoy's apothecary went well enough. There was no bloodshed at least. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Ron left several drops of blood - along with a threat that he knew where Malfoy was, should he try to use it in some illegal manner - to be used in the potion, and it would take three days to brew. All he could do was wait. And avoid Fleur.
Meanwhile, Malfoy had his assistant back in the shop, so they were able to travel to Shell Cottage. The first thing Harry noticed was that Malfoy had no visible reaction to Fleur, just like him.
Bill noticed too. "Is she better already?" he asked. "Neither one of you seem affected."
"I wasn't affected the other day either, Bill," Harry reminded him. Malfoy gave him a questioning look.
"Oh, right," Bill replied. "But why not, Harry? And why not Draco here?"
"Well, I can't speak for Potter, but I can tell you that I'm gay, so a female Veela's pheromones do not affect me."
Harry felt the blood rush to his face. Shit. This wasn't exactly the way he had intended to let the Weasleys know.
"Um ..." They all stared at him, seemingly in shock. There was no point denying it "Could we maybe keep this to ourselves for now? Until I figure out how to tell Ron. What?" he asked Malfoy.
"No one knows?" he asked.
"I'd only just worked it out myself, to be honest. Could we get back to the matter at hand, please?"
They did just that. Surprisingly there was very little tension. Harry figured the news of his sexual orientation likely did a lot to break the ice. Malfoy took samples of Fleur's blood, and had her describe how she had come into contact with the solution. Then it was off to George's shop.
When they arrived, George was with a customer, and told them to wait in back for him.
"So ..." Malfoy said. Harry braced himself. "When did you figure it out?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Have you talked about it with anyone?"
"No."
"Not even the weaselette?"
"No."
"Don't you think she has the right to know that her boyfriend's gay?"
"She's not my girlfriend any more. We split up a long time ago."
"So when were you planning on telling people?"
"I don't know. Eventually, I suppose."
"Maybe never?"
"Maybe."
"You can't live your life not admitting who you are. You're living a lie."
"I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you of all people."
"Why?" Malfoy bristled. "Because I'm a Death Eater? Because I can't possibly act like a human being? Because --"
"Relax, Malfoy. I just meant that we've never been friends. We've never even got along before. This is something personal that I don't know how to talk to anyone about, least of all someone who has always been an enemy of sorts."
"Oh."
"You're not going to run off and tell everyone now, are you?"
"No, Potter, I'm not." Harry breathed a sigh of relief. For some reason, he believed Malfoy. "But you should know, it's not that uncommon."
"How was it --"
"So," George interrupted their conversation. Harry was glad; he wasn't all that comfortable with it.
Harry had thought that George would balk at the idea of sharing his potion's secret with anyone, especially Malfoy, but he was feeling the family pressure to come up with a solution, and he was willing to take all the help he could get.
~*~*~*~
"So now what?" Harry asked as he and Malfoy entered the apothecary with the samples.
"Now you let me do my job."
"Fair enough, but what can I do to help?"
"You can go home and let me do my job," Malfoy repeated.
Harry willed himself to stay calm. "I want to help," he said.
"Right. With all your potions skills, I can see why," Malfoy retorted.
"Look, Malfoy, I have no plans of stepping on your toes. I know this is your area of expertise."
"So leave me to it."
"Argh!" Harry exploded. "Why can't you just accept my help? Must you be so perfect at everything that you can't let someone else lend a hand?"
"What?"
"We both know you were always better at potions than me. We both know you were better than me at pretty much everything in school. The one thing I seem to be pretty good at is saving people. It's what I do. It's what I've always done. That's why I became an Auror. I can't just sit back and wait for other people to help Fleur. Just let me help. Besides, I've got a week off work, and I'll be climbing the walls with nothing to do."
Malfoy gaped at him, saying nothing.
"What?"
"You ... I think ... you just complimented me."
"Yeah, well," Harry replied, "don't get used to it. As I recall, you were actually nice to me today."
"Don't get used to it."
"Of course not." Harry grinned. "So will you let me help?"
"You realize this won't earn you a discount on my rates?"
"Don't worry, Malfoy, I can afford you."
He raised an eyebrow at that remark. "And you'll do whatever I say?"
"I'm at your command," Harry replied with a mock bow.
"My, oh my, what a difference a day makes!" called Blaise from the doorway. "What have I walked in on? Shall I leave you two alone, lock the door on my way out perhaps?"
"What are you going on about, Zabini?" Harry asked.
"Well, Potter, it seems that you can afford my friend here, and will be taking orders from him. Did I miss something? Draco, I didn't realise you had branched out."
"Potter is going to help me work on the potion, idiot. He will be following my directions so that he doesn't bollocks anything up. Was there a reason for you being here?"
"I brought you the ingredients you asked for, but there are a couple I couldn't get. Some rare plants."
"Did you try Neville Longbottom?"
"You're joking, right?" Zabini asked.
"Not at all. He works at Hogwarts now, as Sprout's assistant, and he grows his own plants. He's got quite a store of them." The two Slytherins looked at him strangely. "Oh, fine. I'll owl him. What do you need?" Harry took down the names of the items and wrote Neville a note. Zabini took it with him to owl from the post office.
"Thank you," Malfoy said, scowling at Harry, ruining the effect of his words.
"You're welcome, I think. What's with the look?"
"I'm wary of us being nice to each other."
"If it makes you feel better, I didn't do it for you. I did it for Neville. He's looking to sell his plants, and what better way than to arrange for him to sell ingredients to a successful apothecary?"
"Well then, a business deal. That makes it more palatable."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Don't Slytherins ever just do something nice for each other?"
"Certainly. But not for Gryffindors."
"Fair enough," Harry grinned and they got to work. A few minutes later, Harry added, "You know, the hat almost put me in Slytherin ...."
~*~*~*~
"Honestly, Potter, chop, don't pulverize! It's a wonder you passed potions at all," Malfoy said for the ... oh, Harry had lost track of how many insults the Slytherin had fired at him. They had been working most of the afternoon and into the evening, poring over George's notes on what he had tried. Harry admittedly hadn't a clue about most of it, but it was irritating to have that pointed out every five minutes.
They hadn't even stopped for food.
"Since I'm so terrible at this, why don't I just go get us some take-away?"
"What?"
"It's nearly seven o'clock. I'm starving."
"Is it really? I hadn't noticed."
"It's my charming personality," Harry joked. "Very distracting."
"I'm sure. Either that or the constant need to watch everything you're doing to make sure you don't make a mistake."
"Well, there's that too." He flashed Malfoy a grin. "Don't miss me too much," he said as he left.
Harry returned with Thai take-away and they enjoyed a quick break before getting back at it. It was after midnight when Harry arrived home to find Ron fast asleep and a note on the fridge: I'll presume you're not dead. Next time, a note would be nice.
The next morning, as he left before Ron got up, Harry left a note on the fridge: Sorry, mate. Not used to anyone caring when I come home. Don't wait up. It could be another late night. Harry.
~*~*~*~
The first day had been split between reviewing George's notes and preparing some potions Malfoy figured would be useful. The potion for Ron was brewing, and only had to be stirred every six hours until ready.
Together they had prepared and begun brewing six potions, and were set to start another four that day. When Harry had asked why they were preparing so many, Malfoy had explained that each takes days to prepare. If they tried them one after the other, they could be there for months before figuring out what worked.
So Harry sliced, diced, chopped, shredded and powdered plants, roots and various dried animal parts. He measured and weighed ingredients, and cleaned up the work surface. He had a flash of memory back to Potions class at Hogwarts.
"Oh, if he could see me now," Harry laughed.
"Who?"
"Snape. Remember in fourth year when he ordered me to chop up your ingredients while you milked that injury?"
"Yeah," Malfoy chuckled. "We had some good times back in school."
That earned him a punch in the arm. "Good times? Toiling in servitude to the teacher's pet is hardly my idea of a good time."
"And yet here you are."
"Yeah. Ironic, isn't it?"
"I'm impressed, Potter. I didn't think you knew what ironic meant."
"Mm." He gave Malfoy an obvious once-over. "I know what arrogant, pompous, pretentious and ostentatious mean too."
"Prat."
"Ah, but at least I'm a humble prat."
Malfoy rolled his eyes, but Harry caught the corners of his mouth twitching.
~*~*~*~
On the fourth day, as they were headed into another long evening, Zabini showed up.
"Don't tell me you two are still working away here?"
"Afraid so, Zabini," Harry said.
"And you haven't killed each other? I'm impressed."
"Ah, but the night is young," Malfoy joked.
"Precisely why you two need to pack up and get washed up and join us for a night on the town."
"Blaise, really, we have so much to do."
"I don't know," Harry said. "I think we're just about done with this latest batch anyway. Didn't you say it only has another twenty minutes left, then has to be set aside overnight?"
"Well, yes, but --"
"That's settled then. I'll meet you at my place in two hours."
"Thanks, Zabini, but I'll take a pass. You go on ahead," he said to Malfoy, "and I'll see you in the morning."
"Oh, no you don't. You got me into this, and you're coming with me."
"But they're your friends."
"I believe the deal was that you'd do whatever I said."
"That had nothing to do with --"
"Ah, ah, Potter," Zabini said with a smirk. "I was a witness. I believe what you said was, 'I'm at your command.' A Gryffindor can't go back on his word, can he? I think that's written in the lion's handbook or something, isn't it?"
"Very funny. Alright, I'll go." As an afterthought, he asked, "Um ... where exactly are we going?"
Malfoy laughed. "You should learn to ask questions like that before you agree to go anywhere, especially when Blaise is making the arrangements." He turned to Zabini. "So, are we heading to the local gay club?"
Harry's eyes went wide and he felt his stomach drop. "Relax, Potter," Zabini said. "Just one of the local clubs. Everyone is welcome at Sensations." Harry's heart began to slow down again. "Merlin's balls, you should have seen your face!"
Zabini left them to finish up with the potion.
"What the hell was that about?" Harry asked.
"What?" Malfoy asked innocently.
"Asking if we were going to a gay club? I thought you weren't going to tell anyone."
"I wasn't, and I didn't. Blaise is gay. I'm gay. We have been known to frequent gay clubs. Besides," he said, reaching up and patting Harry on the cheek, "the look on your face was sooo worth it."
"Bastard."
"So I've been told," he laughed.
Once the potion was set aside, Malfoy gave Harry directions to the club, where he reluctantly agreed they would meet, and Harry headed home.
~*~*~*~
When he got there, it was to find Ron on the sofa, amidst a mess of take-away boxes and newspaper pages. And who knew what else. Harry took a few calming breaths. Not much longer, he thought.
"Harry, you're home!"
"Yeah, but I'm heading out."
"Hot date?" Ron deadpanned.
"Hardly. I'm heading out with Malfoy and Zabini ... and Parkinson, I think. Not sure who else will be there."
"What?!"
"Yeah, you should come."
"Are you mental? They're ... Slytherins."
"Very observant, Ron. Had you also noticed that school's out?"
"Yeah, but ... they're Slytherins."
"Did I ever tell you the hat almost put me in Slytherin?"
"No."
"Yes."
"But ... but ..."
"Look, Ron, I'm heading out. You need to get out. It would be great if you'd come along. Y'know ... I'd feel less out-numbered that way."
"I dunno, Harry. There's a football game on the telly."
"For fuck's sake, Ron, look at yourself! You need to clean up and get out of this place."
"You don't know what it's like, Harry."
"You're right. I don't. And I don't want to. You're coming with me. You're keeping me company. And you'll protect me against the onslaught of Slytherins. We'll have a few pints and have a few laughs, and who knows? Maybe you and Malfoy might actually make it through the night without killing each other."
"You're asking an awful lot."
"Considering I've been spending every waking moment with the prat, it's the least you can do."
"Point."
~*~*~*~
"That was very conniving of you," Draco said.
"Why thank you. It's the Zabini charm; does it every time."
"More like the Zabini con."
"Whatever works. You'll thank me tomorrow."
"You seem so sure of yourself."
"Oh, come on, Draco. You can't still think he's straight. I've popped in a few times. I see him watch you." Draco narrowed his eyes. "Nearly as much as you watch him."
"He's always watched me," Draco argued.
"Exactly."
"No, I mean he's always watching for me to screw up."
"Maybe in the past, but not now. Not any more. He has a whole new reason to watch you. Pansy sees it too."
"You two are delusional."
"And if we're not."
"No comment."
"How very Slytherin of you."
Draco smirked. "Thank you."
Part 2
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