Everybody's Hero - Part 1 of 3
WOW! This round of hd_holidays was FANTASTIC! So many amazing stories, and so much gorgeous art. If you haven't gone over there yet, you really must. Reveals are up, and I'd like to thank star_sailor13 officially now for my gorgeous gift. Here's my contribution:
Title: Everybody's Hero (part 1 of 3)
Author: sesheta_66
Betas & Britpicker: rickey_a, winnett, and alovelycupoftea
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, implied Ron/Hermione
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~ 20.5K
Summary: With his new job as Deputy Head Auror, Harry is assigned an old task - watch Draco Malfoy. When threats against Malfoy escalate, Harry finds himself torn between doing what is expected and doing what's right.
Author's Notes: Originally written as a gift for i_claudia in the 2009 round of hd_holidays.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Everybody's Hero
"Auror Potter."
"It's Harry," he reminded his new assistant.
A blush darkened Sylvia's pale skin down to the roots of her blonde curls. "Right," she said. "Sorry."
Harry smiled. "No worries. I'm sure we'll get used to each other soon enough."
She looked relieved. She couldn't have been more than a year out of Hogwarts, and like many of the new generation, had likely grown up on highly exaggerated versions of his "adventures" common not only in some of the less reputable books, but also in history textbooks. In fairness, Sylvia had not applied to be Harry Potter's assistant. She'd inherited him as a boss as much as he'd inherited her with this promotion.
"Head Auror Robards wants to see you as soon as you're settled."
Harry opened his office door and called over his shoulder. "In other words, get down there right away."
He heard a soft giggle. "Pretty much."
Harry entered the Head Auror's waiting area less than five minutes later. "Harry Potter to see --"
"Go right in, Auror Potter."
Harry nodded. "Thanks, Lucy."
"Ah, Harry!" Robards greeted him with a warm smile. With his relaxed demeanour and soft features, he looked more like a professor than a seasoned Auror. "Come in, come in." He gestured towards the two leather visitors' chairs in front of his desk. "How are you settling in at the new job?"
Harry chose the seat closer to the door, all the easier to escape quickly. "Well, it's only been a couple of weeks."
"Very true," Robards agreed. He opened a file folder and flipped through some papers inside.
Harry found himself distracted by the window to the side of Robards' desk. Today's charm depicted a sunny meadow with sheep grazing. He wondered if Robards had managed to influence the maintenance staff somehow. He'd never seen animals in one of the charms before.
"I see here that you've met with some key officials already." Harry turned his attention back to his boss and nodded. "And you've been briefed on the cases you weren't involved in."
"Briefed, yes," Harry said, thinking of the stacks of files on his desk. "But I've still got a good dozen or so reports to read before I'm up to speed."
Robards smiled. "I think you'll find that more will sneak in before you've managed to get through those." He closed the file and chuckled. "Hazard of the job, I'm afraid. Have you managed to clear the last of your old cases?"
Harry nodded. "All but one." A condition Harry negotiated before accepting the Deputy Head Auror's job so quickly - Robards had insisted on a two-week notice period - was that he be permitted to bring a handful of his ongoing cases with him. "But I've drafted my final report, and should have it handed in by end of day today. Then a follow-up debrief with my replacement, and I'm done."
"Excellent." Robards pulled out another file folder from a stack on his desk. Outside, one of the larger sheep chased a little one. "I have an assignment for you. A rather sensitive one."
Harry sat up straight in the chair and leaned in. "Oh?"
"Minister Shacklebolt suggested you for the job; he said you have experience with this." He handed the file over.
Harry took the file and read the label. Draco Malfoy. His eyes went wide, but he tried not to let Robards see his reaction. Sitting back in the chair, he opened the file and began to read.
Inside was a business licence for a multi-purpose operation: a potions laboratory with an apothecary storefront. Beneath the business application paperwork rested a letter from Malfoy to the Minister requesting security at the grand opening of his new shop in Diagon Alley.
Harry looked up from the letter. "Security?"
Robards chuckled. "Indeed. It seems Mr Malfoy believes the Ministry to be in his employ."
"His father sure did."
Robards' expression turned serious. "Thank Merlin those days are over."
Harry couldn't agree more. He'd seen, and been integral in, some major restructuring and clean-up since joining the Ministry, and Robards had led much of that change. He'd hate to see corruption seep in again. "I'm confused. We don't do private security, so what's this about?"
Robards sat forward, resting his arms on his desk and leaning in, his hardened blue eyes fixed on Harry. For the first time, Harry glimpsed the powerful Auror behind the administrative exterior. "I, and several of my colleagues, believe that Draco Malfoy poses a viable threat."
Harry frowned. He'd testified for Draco and Narcissa after the war. Robards knew this. "What makes you feel that way?" he asked.
"Nothing substantial," Robards admitted, to Harry's relief. "More of a feeling. Suffice it to say that I just don't trust him. And I'm not alone." His tone wasn't accusatory, but Harry felt defensive all the same. "Many of us feel the sentences handed down after the war did not properly reflect the crimes committed."
Harry waited for him to volunteer more, but Robards said nothing. "What exactly do you expect of me?"
Robards sat back and turned his chair to study the view out his window. Harry watched as a large bird landed and flapped its wings right next to one of the sheep. It looked up, considered the bird, then returned to its grazing. The bird looked put out.
"I expect you to provide the security Mr Malfoy requested," Robards said. He turned his gaze back to Harry and smiled.
Ah. Harry's experience suddenly became clear. Curse Kingsley for this. Harry narrowed his eyes. "You want me to spy on Malfoy."
"The fact that you'll have to secure the building and review his business and its files is expected. What you discover as a result of your work is merely a by-product of your duties." Robards' smile faded. "It goes without saying that Mr Malfoy cannot know you are watching him."
"Of course not … sir."
***
Harry left his boss's office, file folder in hand, an uneasy feeling gnawing at his insides. He felt that familiar sense of being a pawn in someone else's game. Robards hadn't accused him of anything directly, but Harry's responsibility weighed heavily on him. Could Malfoy be up to something? Had Harry been too complacent where he was concerned? Had he allowed Dumbledore's influence to blind him?
"Mr Potter?" Lucy's voice penetrated his thoughts.
"Hmm?"
"Sylvia asked that you not return to your office immediately." Harry furrowed his brows. "She needs to speak with you first. She's on her way."
He cast her a questioning look, to which she shrugged.
"Oh, good," Sylvia said, out of breath. Evidently she had run from her desk. "I was hoping to catch you."
"What is it?" Harry asked. He held up the file. "I have work to get to."
"Yes, well …" Sylvia looked down, biting her lower lip. Harry waited. She looked back up. "There's someone in your office waiting for you."
"Oh?"
She nodded her head and took a fortifying breath. "He didn't have an appointment, so I told him that you were busy, and that I could schedule something for later, but he refused." Her words practically fell over each other in her haste to get them out. "And then when I told him you were not in, he didn't believe me, and insisted on checking for himself." She looked at Harry, wringing her hands. "He just opened up the door as if it were his own, and announced that he'd wait in there for you."
Harry didn't like the idea of someone being in his office without him there. "Does this --"
"Of course, I told him he couldn't do that, but he wouldn't leave. So I spelled the door open, warded the contents of your office, and sealed your desktop." She looked hopefully at Harry. "He won't be able to read or touch anything."
Harry hoped whoever had taken up residence in his office couldn't break through her spells.
"I'm so sorry," she said. "It was the best I could do."
"I'm sure it was," Harry reassured her. "Now, does this person have a name?"
She nodded. "Draco Malfoy."
***
When they arrived at Harry's office, he noticed another of the support staff at Sylvia's desk. "I wouldn't leave him unguarded," she whispered in Harry's ear. He grinned. He liked this girl.
"You did a fine job," he said.
"Malfoy," Harry said, greeting him with what he hoped sounded something like enthusiasm. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" As he closed the door behind him, Sylvia gaped at him. He winked.
"I would have thought after all these years that your ego might have deflated to that of a normal human being. Or at least a normal Gryffindor, if there is such a thing." Malfoy sneered as he threw a newspaper on top of Harry's desk. "Apparently I was mistaken."
Harry sat down and looked at a photograph of himself on the front page of the Prophet, under the caption, "Ministry Assures Public that Gala will be Safe." He sighed.
"How kind of them to assure the public." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Listen to this. 'None other than Harry Potter, Vanquisher of Voldemort and Deputy Head Auror (rumoured next in line to be Head Auror), will oversee security at the opening ceremonies for the highly anticipated new potions laboratory and apothecary in Diagon Alley.' How fortunate for me."
Harry took a calming breath. "I had nothing to do with --"
"Spare me, Potter. You love the limelight. Always have." Malfoy retrieved the newspaper, folded it and placed it in an expensive looking leather briefcase with a silver 'M' emblazoned on the front. "I would have expected, however, the courtesy of an owl from you, rather than finding out from the local paper." He retrieved a folder from his case. "Have you no professionalism?"
"This is the first I've seen the article," Harry said through gritted teeth. "In fact, it's the first I've heard of it." Once again, Harry felt like a player in someone else's game.
"Right." Malfoy rifled through some pages, avoiding Harry's glare. Harry took the opportunity to observe him, something he hadn't had the occasion to do close up for years. Malfoy had certainly grown into his features, which seemed more chiselled than pointy now. Not sure where that thought came from, Harry shook off the distraction and got back to the matter at hand.
"As a matter of fact," Harry said, waving the folder he'd brought back with him, "I only just returned from being informed of the assignment myself."
Malfoy's confused look did nothing to diminish Harry's irritation at being accused of attention-seeking. Ignoring Harry's last statement, Malfoy continued. "I like to be in the loop concerning my own business."
The man was as infuriating and pompous as ever. "Had I been in the loop, Malfoy, you would have been too." Malfoy huffed. It might just kill Harry to be nice to him. What had Kingsley been thinking when he recommended Harry for this?
"You can't expect me to believe the newspaper knew before you did."
"I don't care what you believe." All concern Harry had over the investigation of Malfoy evaporated. He pressed his thumb and finger to the bridge of his nose, hoping to keep the dull pressure looming behind his eyes from becoming a fully-blown headache. Looking at Malfoy, he thought that might be a tall order. "Now that we both know, why don't we just make the best of it?"
Malfoy glared. He seemed to consider his options before abruptly standing up. "Very well." He brushed off lint that only he could see from his robes, then spun around, causing them to billow in a decidedly Snape-like fashion. Damn! Harry never could get that movement right. Not that he'd attempted it in years … but still.
Malfoy walked out the door, then suddenly turned his head around. "Oh, and Potter? Don't fuck this up."
***
"Only you," Ron laughed as he settled his pint on the table, "could get paid for participating in your favourite pastime."
"What are you talking about?" Harry swallowed his mouthful of ale as he tried to work out what Ron meant. "You know I hate security work."
"Not security, Harry. I'm talking about watching Malfoy." Ron grinned into his plate.
"That was years ago." Harry glared at his friend. "Let it go already."
"Sure, mate." Ron took a pull of his lager and let out a contented sigh. "You keep telling yourself that."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sure, Harry had kept up on news of Malfoy. And he might have mentioned an article or two he'd read over the years, but that was natural. He had, after all, saved the man's life. And testified for him.
Ron shook his head. "You were obsessed then, you're obsessed now." He lifted his glass in a mock toast. "And your boss just handed you a gift."
"I-- He-- I--" Harry sputtered. Ron laughed. Harry stalled by taking a slow pull from his drink.
"When was the last time you dated someone without blonde hair? Someone shorter than you? Muscular? Tanned?" Ron leaned in. "Don’t try to tell me you haven't been dating Malfoy your entire adult life."
Ron's words hit him like a blow to the head. Harry ran a hand through his hair, thinking of the men he'd dated. Fuck if Ron wasn't right. He thought back to the meeting with Malfoy. The man was gorgeous, that much was true. But that didn't make him any less a git. "I am not obsessed," Harry said. It sounded hollow, even to his own ears.
"Riiiiiiight."
Harry pushed his glass back and forth between his hands, refusing to face the bemused expression he knew Ron would be wearing. "Okay. I'll admit I was a bit over the top in school." He didn't respond to Ron's theory on his love life.
Ron choked. Good. Serves him right. He coughed for a few seconds before recovering enough to speak. "A bit? Harry, you would have missed Quidditch to chase him around, and you were the bloody captain!"
"And I was right," he reminded Ron. "He was up to something."
"Still, you --"
"No. You don't get to use that against me. If you -- or anyone -- had bothered listening to me at the time, I wouldn't have had to follow him around myself every day."
Ron chuckled. "Who are you trying to convince with that story?"
Harry scowled. "It's true."
***
Harry arrived at Malfoy's shop early the next morning, still irritated with Ron's teasing from the night before, and determined not to get distracted.
He peered through the storefront window and took in the half-empty shelves and boxes scattered about the place. He marvelled at how neat and orderly it looked, despite the work that still needed to be done. Harry knew if it were his shop about to open, he'd be stepping over clutter until ten minutes before he opened the doors.
Malfoy, previously hidden from view behind a counter, noticed Harry before he had a chance to knock, and made his way to the door. He opened it and stepped aside to let Harry pass. "Potter."
"Show me what you've got," Harry said.
Malfoy ignored Harry's abrupt greeting, and motioned for him to follow. "I have confidence in my own security measures. Ordinarily they would suffice." Malfoy's face turned sombre. "However, given the current situation -- the threats I've received over the years, and in particular the number I've received of late -- one can never be too careful."
Harry nodded his agreement, though reconciling a Malfoy that admitted his own shortcomings proved a challenge. "Of course." Malfoy's file contained no details about the threats, except as referenced in his letter to the Ministry. Harry resolved to check the records when he returned to the office. As irrelevant as Robards might suggest the complaints to be, Harry wanted to have the full picture.
Malfoy walked him through the apothecary portion of his establishment, pointing out potential areas of weakness. Harry couldn't help but notice how organised everything was - grouped together by category, then alphabetised within each. The labels listed the uses, expected shelf life, and warnings for each ingredient. Malfoy also had guides listing various potions and the ingredients required. Harry noticed several with the notation "special order - enquire at desk" or "not available - illegal".
If Harry's dawdling bothered Malfoy, he didn't let on. "I've set up a Destabilising Spell on the building, to prevent the more heinous of Dark spells from functioning," he explained.
Harry tried not to look too impressed. "Destabilising Spell?"
"Yes." Malfoy led the way into the storage room, a large, windowless space filled with shelves brimming with boxes and vials and, in the darkest corner, a mass of vaguely familiar-looking potions ingredients. Harry noticed nothing illegal. "It extends five metres beyond the perimeter, so it protects when we receive deliveries as well."
Harry frowned. That had to be --
"Relax, Potter. It's not illegal."
"No?"
Malfoy sniggered. "It's old magic. Ancient, actually. A spell that went out of fashion sometime during the Middle Ages."
Harry followed Malfoy through the storage area to the lab. His senses were assaulted at once. The air hung thick with humidity, rendering breathing difficult. His eyes watered slightly as, in the wake of Malfoy's robes, a waft of pungent, though not altogether unpleasant, air sought them out. The mixture of medicinal, floral and … indistinguishable scents left his nasal passages confused and begging for escape.
"It's amazing the gems one can discover when one is determined," Malfoy said.
"I see." He didn't see. In fact, his vision fuzzy from the combination of steam and tears, Harry couldn't see much at all.
Malfoy rolled his eyes and fixed Harry with a determined stare. "I find it disconcerting that Aurors -- those charged to protect the general public -- are not more well-versed in old spells." He stopped to stir one cauldron and check a timer on another. "One might think the Ministry doesn't care."
Harry refused to rise to the bait. "Our training is extensive." He heard defensiveness in his tone.
Malfoy grinned. "Sure it is." He made some notes in a journal, then turned back to Harry. "You are welcome to come to the Manor and view the tomes any time you'd like."
Harry stared. Without considering his next words, or to whom they were spoken, he joked, "Did you just invite me to your house to see your etchings?"
"Tomes, Potter," Malfoy droned. "Pay attention."
Harry chuckled, and before he could stop himself he said, "I may just take you up on that offer." Thank Merlin Ron couldn't hear him now.
They continued the tour, and Harry made notes of the weaknesses and potential concerns, not only with security but the materials on site. He also noted the curve of Malfoy's arse. He chose not to write that down.
"Nothing is illegal, Potter."
"I realise that, but many of these ingredients are volatile."
Malfoy stopped walking, and Harry bumped into him. "What did you expect?" Malfoy asked, turning a baffled look on Harry. "This is a potions laboratory." He swung his arms around dramatically. "You watched Finnegan nearly blow himself up how many times? And Longbottom destroyed more cauldrons than an average wizard could count. Surely at some point you realised potion making involved volatile compounds."
"Er …"
"And that was just school. Far more dangerous elements go into most healing salves and mending potions. Skele-Gro, for instance, contains no less than two explosive, three poisonous, and five corrosive ingredients."
"What?" That couldn’t be right. Malfoy had to be having him on. Harry had swallowed a bottle of that in second year.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You really are useless at potions, aren't you?"
"Completely," Harry admitted.
"Huh." Malfoy looked at him curiously. "I never thought I'd see the day you admitted that."
"You witnessed my less-than-stellar potions skills first-hand," Harry pointed out. "No point trying to deny the obvious."
"Too true." Malfoy frowned. "Only that doesn't explain …" He didn't finish his thought, and quickly returned to the tour.
They spent another half hour cataloguing follow-up issues. "I'll have a team put together tomorrow," Harry said. "I'd like to brief them in the morning and bring them round in the afternoon."
Malfoy nodded. "That would be acceptable."
Harry prepared to leave, then asked the obvious. "You seem to have everything under control. You're using spells I've never heard of -- and I'd venture most others haven't either. Why ask for our help?"
"What other opportunity will I have--" Malfoy smirked "--to order around the saviour of us all?"
Harry didn't buy it. Malfoy had everything well in hand. His security measures, minus the dragons, rivalled Gringotts. There had to be more to the threats than Harry had been led to believe. What would cause Malfoy to trust Ministry officials, to trust Harry, of all people? Something didn't add up, and Harry intended to get to the bottom of it.
"Don't get used to it," he told Malfoy, letting him hold onto his illusion. For now.
***
Harry briefed the team the next morning, noting with some frustration that only one Senior Auror was among them. He'd worked with MacInness before, and knew him to be thorough, knowledgeable and good in the field. The others, while keen, lacked experience.
Harry resisted the urge to request someone like Ron, figuring he'd do more harm than good, given his feelings where Malfoy were concerned. It stood to reason that younger minds often meant less preconceptions. Or so he hoped.
Pushing his concerns to the side, Harry outlined the security measures in place, leaving out the details of the questionable spells. He had plenty of time to fill them in on specifics, and for some reason he wanted to keep that to himself. At least until he had a chance to confirm their legality.
Once done with the briefing, he had time to read through Malfoy's other file, the one containing his complaints. The Ministry investigated sixteen sporadic threats to Malfoy since the war, and an additional seven since he made application to open the apothecary. Two of those occurred before the submission's approval.
Notes outlining the investigations ran about two to three lines per incident, and comprised a sum total of two pages. Surely the Aurors did more than this file suggested? Nowhere did it indicate the escalation of the threats. Nothing that could reasonably be described as an interview with Malfoy. No witness statements. No photographs. No lab results. Nothing. Just Malfoy's complaints, the original threatening letters, the notes, and the responding letters from the Ministry to Malfoy, each indicating that no evidence could be collected. Was this some sort of joke?
To his dismay, Harry noted that Ron had worked one of the more recent investigations. If it could even be called that.
***
"I'm glad you could join me for lunch," Harry said as he and Ron took a seat in the Muggle chip shop.
"No problem." Ron patted his stomach. "A plate of fish and chips beats a sandwich any day."
Harry waited until he finished the last of his chips before asking about the case. "I saw that you investigated one of Malfoy's complaints."
"Yeah." Ron shrugged. "Not much to it."
"So it would seem."
Ron sat up straight and studied Harry. "Look, the file was handed to me and my instructions were clear." Harry motioned for him to go on. "Malfoy complains all the time. Nothing ever happens. Nothing ever will. He's just as much of an attention-seeking git as he ever was."
Anger twisted Harry's stomach into a knot. "So you swept it under the rug?"
"No, mate." Ron raised his arms in surrender. "I cast a few spells on the letter, and it showed nothing. I had no way of knowing if the letter came from a Death Eater, some victim's surviving family member with a grudge, or Malfoy himself."
"Did you send the letter to be analysed?"
"No." Ron's eyes narrowed on Harry. "Like I said, my instructions were clear. No money and no time spent on this. Do the basics."
"So Malfoy's life could have been in danger, and you didn't give a shit." Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. Not from Ron.
"My hands were tied." Harry couldn't believe Ron had the nerve to defend his actions. "I did what spells I knew, and they showed nothing. Had they revealed something, I would have investigated." He clenched his fists, knuckles turning white, like he always did when he felt cornered. Like he always did when he got caught in a lie. "Harry, you know me."
"I thought I did."
The shade of Ron's face rivalled that of his hair. "I did nothing wrong."
"You did nothing at all." Harry got up and left to go collect his team.
***
"You've built up quite the reputation since we left school," Harry observed the next day in Malfoy's office. It was true. Malfoy's credentials hung in a place of honour on the wall behind his desk, beneath which sat a leather-bound set of potions tomes, some dating back centuries. Harry was a little surprised Malfoy didn't want his accomplishments directly in front of him, but he supposed this way everyone entering the office would have to acknowledge Malfoy's hard work.
But more than that were the articles Harry had read over the years. Malfoy's skills as a Potions Master promised to reward him with a profitable shop. He'd done some freelance work for the past few years, and from what Harry had heard, he'd gone a long way towards redeeming the Malfoy name, and certainly had made one for himself. And, if what Harry had observed so far was any indication, Malfoy's attention to detail and dedication to his work meant he'd earned that reputation. So why was Harry here investigating him?
"Thankfully a better one than I had in school." Malfoy smiled, and it dawned on Harry that, by the looks of things, he'd grown up -- and not just outwardly. To be able to talk freely, almost self-deprecatingly, could not be easy. At least not with Harry.
"I'd like to think we've moved past our childhood," Harry said, thinking perhaps Malfoy had done a better job of that than he. He noticed then that Malfoy had nothing of a personal nature in his office. No pictures of friends, family, school. Nothing to show that he was anything but an expert in his field. Harry wondered if Malfoy naturally compartmentalised the areas of his life or if he consciously made the decision to keep his work separate for reasons related more to other people's opinions. Or perhaps he felt it was none of anyone's business. Harry thought again about the threats. Or perhaps Malfoy wanted to protect the people close to him.
"Childhood?" Malfoy laughed, though with a distinct absence of humour. "Is that what you call it?"
Harry cleared his throat. He hadn't meant to bring up the past. Too volatile. "You make a valid point, Malfoy. I suppose being hunted, tortured, and nearly killed by a madman, then fighting in a war, all by the age of seventeen, doesn't make for fond childhood memories." He chanced a half smile, and before the conversation delved into war territory, he added, "But we had some moments, didn't we?"
Malfoy studied him, looking, Harry presumed, for a hint of malice. Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "You mean getting attacked by a hippogriff and being turned into a slug on the Hogwarts Express?"
Oh, is that how he wanted to play things?
"I'll see your hippogriff," Harry countered, "and raise you Dementors knocking me off my broom." He cracked a mischievous smile. "And while we're talking about train rides, I believe someone stomped on and broke my nose during one rather memorable trip."
Malfoy raised his brows in challenge, and they held each other's gaze for some time before Harry's lip began to twitch. Malfoy's eyes caught the movement, and his lip quivered slightly as he too tried to hold back. They both burst into laughter.
"Yeah, I guess we did have our moments, didn't we?"
When Harry managed to get his laughter under control, he said, "Strange that a lot of my more memorable ones involve you." As the words spilled forth, Harry realised the truth in them. Malfoy certainly had kept him on his toes at Hogwarts.
Malfoy looked as surprised as Harry felt, then turned pensive. "You know, I think you're right." He grinned. "If it hadn't been for you, school might have been very boring indeed."
Harry considered that. "I'd like to say the same, but …"
"Ah, yes. You did start that whole Dark Lord fighting thing early, didn't you?"
Harry almost laughed at the casual way Malfoy referred to his numerous altercations with Voldemort. He considered his shoes while trying to formulate a response. He still hated talking about such things, and certainly didn't want to come across as the pompous arse Malfoy always thought him to be. For some reason, Malfoy's opinion of him mattered now.
"Things just sort of happened," he said rather lamely. He recalled all the rules he'd broken, and how he'd stumbled upon things he hadn't had the right to. "I've never been very good at keeping my nose --"
"-- out of other people's business?" Malfoy interjected.
A flash of anger surged in Harry, but before he could give it life, he recalled his preoccupation with Malfoy in school. "I was going to say clean, but you of all people could argue your point well."
"My, my, Potter. Are you admitting to poking your nose into my business while we were in school?"
"I'd say that's an understatement," Harry admitted.
Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. "Oh?"
Harry stared at a display of expensive-looking vials resting on a bookshelf to his left, avoiding Malfoy's gaze. He thought back to a number of his Malfoy-focussed adventures, from sneaking into the Slytherin common room in second year all the way to his fixation in sixth. He turned back. "You don't know the half of it." Malfoy's expression morphed from amused to curious to bewildered, possibly a little uneasy. Pre-empting any question, Harry added, "Maybe sometime, over a couple of pints, I can tell you all about it."
Malfoy sat up straight. "Oh, really?" He sounded dubious.
"Well, maybe not everything." Harry leaned across Malfoy's desk as though divulging some heretofore well-guarded secret of great import. Malfoy leaned in too. "You see, I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."
Malfoy shoved Harry back by his shoulders and rolled his eyes. "Idiot."
Without thinking, Harry flashed what Ginny always referred to as his Dark-Lord-slaying, sexy-as-all-hell smile. He whispered conspiratorially, "Replace the beer with Firewhiskey in that scenario, and you might be able to pry some secrets out of me yet."
Malfoy's eyes flared and he smirked. "Be careful, Harry. You'll want to watch yourself when you start messing with a Slytherin."
Harry remembered his sorting ceremony as though it were yesterday. He smiled again. "I think I can take care of myself. Now," he said, swiftly changing the subject, "tell me all about this new reputation of yours."
Harry found himself both intrigued and impressed. Malfoy took his work very seriously, and from what Harry could tell, he deserved every bit of praise he got. Perhaps he'd been too swift in school, presuming Snape's favouritism, and not Malfoy's skill, had earned him high marks in Potions.
"I'm no potions expert," Harry ventured. Malfoy choked. "Shut up. Once I didn't have Snape breathing down my neck, I did okay."
"Yes …" He looked at Harry sceptically. "I recall sixth year."
Harry coughed. "That was …"
"You cheating?" Malfoy ventured, smirking in challenge.
"Not exactly."
"Oh? Then what exactly was it?"
"Let's just say I had some rather helpful reference material."
"So I heard," Malfoy said.
"What? How could you --?" Ah. Snape. One look at Malfoy's smug and triumphant look told him it was true. Harry didn't know why he found that so surprising.
"I'm surprised you'd admit it to me."
Harry shrugged. "I'm surprised Snape would have told you."
"Interesting how a man who spent much of his energy tormenting you in class became your unwilling mentor, isn't it?"
"Interesting isn't exactly the word I'd choose," Harry grumbled.
"What was it about you?" Malfoy asked. "I know Snape hated everyone from any other house, Gryffindors especially, but you … he had a special place in his heart for you." The sarcasm dripped off his words.
Harry snorted. He contemplated lying or just not answering, but figured there'd be nothing gained by staying silent. "My mother, actually."
"Excuse me?"
"My mother. Snape had a special place in his heart for her."
"Well?" Malfoy looked … interested.
"He loved her, and hated my dad," Harry explained. "It didn't help that I looked just like him too. I suppose every time he looked at me, I reminded him of what he couldn't have and why."
Malfoy's jaw dropped. "That explains a lot, but his hatred of you went far beyond even that."
Harry nodded. "Long story short, he loved my mother, and through a series of events, blamed himself for her death. When given the choice, my mother gave up her own life to save mine. Snape resented me for that, and I think hated himself."
Malfoy took some time to absorb what Harry had said. Eventually he asked, "Why did you tell me all that?"
Harry shrugged. "You asked."
Malfoy smirked. "That could be a dangerous habit, Potter." His grin morphed into a wide smile. "I should come up with more interesting questions in future."
"Ask whatever you like," Harry said. Then he added cryptically, "Just be sure you want the answer."
***
Harry approached the office of Granger Information Systems - a small two-room suite in an old, stone building on the outskirts of London. Hermione had achieved moderate success, but she worked primarily on her own, hiring others temporarily when she managed to secure a larger contract like the one she had with the Ministry a few years back. Her business, she had told Harry and Ron patiently one evening, fluctuated. Not that Harry knew much about what she did at all - just that she seemed to know everything about computers and how they could be adapted to work with magic. She claimed that consulting work kept her busy, but Harry wondered. The wizarding world had not been as welcoming to the technology as she had hoped.
He entered with trepidation. He still had no idea what the Ministry thought Malfoy had planned. Nothing he'd done over the years pointed to anything but a legitimate businessman trying to redeem his family name. And now Harry had discovered that the Ministry hadn't taken the threats on Malfoy's life seriously. Harry hated the idea that his colleagues' shoddy investigation work might be putting Malfoy at risk, but he didn't like the situation he was about to put his friend in either.
Her assistant's desk sat empty, so Harry walked back to Hermione's office. She sat behind a desk covered in a mess of papers, typing frantically on her computer. He tapped on her door. "Hey, Hermione."
"Harry!" Her broad smile caught his eye just before she tackled him with a hug. "What brings you by? Ron's not here." Her face fell. "He's not hurt, is he?"
He rested a hand upon her shoulder. "Relax. Ron's fine. Everything's fine."
Her look had suspicion written all over it. "Then what are you doing here in the middle of the day?"
Every chair in the place housed a stack of computer print-outs. Leaning against the doorjamb, he sighed. "Can't a friend drop by to say hello?"
"Yes," she responded dubiously. "But you never do." She lifted a foot-high stack of papers from the chair directly in front of her desk, placing the pile on top of a filing cabinet, then motioned for him to sit. "Out with it!"
Harry took a seat, then a fortifying breath. "It's business. I need you to do some investigative work for me."
"What sort of work?" she asked.
"Tracing the origin of some threatening correspondence for me -- mainly letters, and a couple of emails."
"Me?" Hermione furrowed her brows. "Don't you have an entire section dedicated to that sort of thing?"
Harry shuffled his feet as he worked out a delicate way to put this into words. "Let's just say that this case isn't exactly a priority for the Ministry."
She fixed him with her spill it glare.
"No time and no money allotted." Harry held up his hand to prevent her interrupting. "But don't worry. You'll get paid."
"It's a good thing you have all those Galleons collecting dust in Gringotts." She scowled and waved her finger at him. "But the Ministry shouldn't benefit from your generosity. They have enough funding to properly investigate threats."
Harry couldn't agree more. "It's not the Ministry I'm doing this for."
"Ah … justice for all wizarding kind."
Harry shrugged. "Something like that."
"Oh, all right. I'll do it," she agreed. "When do you need this?"
"Thanks." He got up and hugged her. "How about last week?"
She swatted him playfully on the arm. "Always the impossible with you, Harry."
He grinned, then braced himself. "Oh, and Hermione?"
"Yes?"
"Don’t tell anyone about this, yeah? Not even Ron."
She narrowed her eyes. Harry imagined her trying to work out his reasons. "I don't generally discuss all the work I do with Ron, but why is it important in this case?"
"Two reasons." He withdrew an envelope from inside his robe. "First, the person receiving the threats is Draco Malfoy."
To her credit, she took the envelope with little reaction. "And the second reason?"
He looked her straight in the eye. "Ron investigated one of the threats."
Her friendly demeanour vanished and Harry found himself questioning his decision to involve Hermione. "Surely you're not accusing Ron --"
"No, no!" Harry cut her short before she could go off on one of her tangents. "He had directions, which he followed."
"But …?"
"But this is Malfoy's life we're talking about here. I know Ron doesn't care if Malfoy lives or dies, but …"
"But you do."
Harry considered that. "Yeah. I do."
"Still …"
"Hermione, I don't know who's doing this or why. All I know is that Ron, after a few pints, might be a little loose with his tongue where Malfoy's concerned." He imagined her brain warring with itself. "And I'm not exactly doing Ministry-sanctioned work here."
At length, she nodded. "Fair enough. I'll do this for you." She opened the envelope and inspected the contents. "And I won't tell Ron."
Harry didn't miss her troubled expression. "Thanks, Hermione."
"Save the thanks for when I send you my bill." She flipped through the papers. "These last two are the emails?"
"Yeah. It seems the culprit has embraced Muggle technology."
She spread the pages out on her table. "Frankly, I'm surprised Malfoy has."
"Yeah, me too." He watched as she cast some nonverbal spells over the pages, causing them to dance around.
"Do you have the electronic record of the emails?" She pointed to the two offending pages. "I can't do much with these."
"No." Recalling his frustration from earlier, he shook his head. "They deleted them."
Hermione's eyes widened, and she opened her mouth as if to say something, then reconsidered. She placed her hands on the table, lowered her head and closed her eyes, as though drawing strength from it. "In fairness," she said as she returned her gaze to Harry, "they probably didn't realise there was more information to be seen."
"Don't defend this, Hermione."
"Think about it, Harry. This is Muggle technology. Wizards know very little about it, and trust it - and Muggles - even less."
"These are Aurors," he pointed out. "They're trained to question things. And they know better than to tamper with or destroy evidence." He dragged his hands through his hair and looked down at the collection of threats. Someone's life was at risk, for fuck's sake. "Besides, you managed to introduce computers to the Ministry how long ago?"
"Five years."
"Don't tell me you didn't explain this to them at the time."
"Well …"
"Right. So they knew."
"Some did, but like I said, it's Muggle technology. The people I sold the systems to might not have thought it necessary to pass on that information." Harry wasn't convinced. "Just don't jump to any conclusions, Harry."
"How can I not?"
She didn't respond, but Harry could tell she was bothered by the news. "Can you get them from Malfoy?"
"I'll try. I'm meeting with him later today. I can ask him then."
Hermione flicked her wand and the papers returned to the envelope. "In the meantime, I'll look into the letters."
"Thanks."
"Don't thank me yet." She levitated the envelope to her desk and huffed. "They've been handled by many people, Harry. I don't know what, if anything, I'll be able to find now."
He kissed her on the cheek. "If there's anything to be found, you'll do it," he assured her. And he meant it.
She laughed. "No need to butter me up, you. I've already agreed to do it."
"I know." He smiled. "But you really are the best at what you do."
"What?" she teased. "Taking care of you and Ron?"
"Well, you have had lots of practice."
"That I have."
***
Part 2
Title: Everybody's Hero (part 1 of 3)
Author: sesheta_66
Betas & Britpicker: rickey_a, winnett, and alovelycupoftea
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, implied Ron/Hermione
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~ 20.5K
Summary: With his new job as Deputy Head Auror, Harry is assigned an old task - watch Draco Malfoy. When threats against Malfoy escalate, Harry finds himself torn between doing what is expected and doing what's right.
Author's Notes: Originally written as a gift for i_claudia in the 2009 round of hd_holidays.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Everybody's Hero
"Auror Potter."
"It's Harry," he reminded his new assistant.
A blush darkened Sylvia's pale skin down to the roots of her blonde curls. "Right," she said. "Sorry."
Harry smiled. "No worries. I'm sure we'll get used to each other soon enough."
She looked relieved. She couldn't have been more than a year out of Hogwarts, and like many of the new generation, had likely grown up on highly exaggerated versions of his "adventures" common not only in some of the less reputable books, but also in history textbooks. In fairness, Sylvia had not applied to be Harry Potter's assistant. She'd inherited him as a boss as much as he'd inherited her with this promotion.
"Head Auror Robards wants to see you as soon as you're settled."
Harry opened his office door and called over his shoulder. "In other words, get down there right away."
He heard a soft giggle. "Pretty much."
Harry entered the Head Auror's waiting area less than five minutes later. "Harry Potter to see --"
"Go right in, Auror Potter."
Harry nodded. "Thanks, Lucy."
"Ah, Harry!" Robards greeted him with a warm smile. With his relaxed demeanour and soft features, he looked more like a professor than a seasoned Auror. "Come in, come in." He gestured towards the two leather visitors' chairs in front of his desk. "How are you settling in at the new job?"
Harry chose the seat closer to the door, all the easier to escape quickly. "Well, it's only been a couple of weeks."
"Very true," Robards agreed. He opened a file folder and flipped through some papers inside.
Harry found himself distracted by the window to the side of Robards' desk. Today's charm depicted a sunny meadow with sheep grazing. He wondered if Robards had managed to influence the maintenance staff somehow. He'd never seen animals in one of the charms before.
"I see here that you've met with some key officials already." Harry turned his attention back to his boss and nodded. "And you've been briefed on the cases you weren't involved in."
"Briefed, yes," Harry said, thinking of the stacks of files on his desk. "But I've still got a good dozen or so reports to read before I'm up to speed."
Robards smiled. "I think you'll find that more will sneak in before you've managed to get through those." He closed the file and chuckled. "Hazard of the job, I'm afraid. Have you managed to clear the last of your old cases?"
Harry nodded. "All but one." A condition Harry negotiated before accepting the Deputy Head Auror's job so quickly - Robards had insisted on a two-week notice period - was that he be permitted to bring a handful of his ongoing cases with him. "But I've drafted my final report, and should have it handed in by end of day today. Then a follow-up debrief with my replacement, and I'm done."
"Excellent." Robards pulled out another file folder from a stack on his desk. Outside, one of the larger sheep chased a little one. "I have an assignment for you. A rather sensitive one."
Harry sat up straight in the chair and leaned in. "Oh?"
"Minister Shacklebolt suggested you for the job; he said you have experience with this." He handed the file over.
Harry took the file and read the label. Draco Malfoy. His eyes went wide, but he tried not to let Robards see his reaction. Sitting back in the chair, he opened the file and began to read.
Inside was a business licence for a multi-purpose operation: a potions laboratory with an apothecary storefront. Beneath the business application paperwork rested a letter from Malfoy to the Minister requesting security at the grand opening of his new shop in Diagon Alley.
Harry looked up from the letter. "Security?"
Robards chuckled. "Indeed. It seems Mr Malfoy believes the Ministry to be in his employ."
"His father sure did."
Robards' expression turned serious. "Thank Merlin those days are over."
Harry couldn't agree more. He'd seen, and been integral in, some major restructuring and clean-up since joining the Ministry, and Robards had led much of that change. He'd hate to see corruption seep in again. "I'm confused. We don't do private security, so what's this about?"
Robards sat forward, resting his arms on his desk and leaning in, his hardened blue eyes fixed on Harry. For the first time, Harry glimpsed the powerful Auror behind the administrative exterior. "I, and several of my colleagues, believe that Draco Malfoy poses a viable threat."
Harry frowned. He'd testified for Draco and Narcissa after the war. Robards knew this. "What makes you feel that way?" he asked.
"Nothing substantial," Robards admitted, to Harry's relief. "More of a feeling. Suffice it to say that I just don't trust him. And I'm not alone." His tone wasn't accusatory, but Harry felt defensive all the same. "Many of us feel the sentences handed down after the war did not properly reflect the crimes committed."
Harry waited for him to volunteer more, but Robards said nothing. "What exactly do you expect of me?"
Robards sat back and turned his chair to study the view out his window. Harry watched as a large bird landed and flapped its wings right next to one of the sheep. It looked up, considered the bird, then returned to its grazing. The bird looked put out.
"I expect you to provide the security Mr Malfoy requested," Robards said. He turned his gaze back to Harry and smiled.
Ah. Harry's experience suddenly became clear. Curse Kingsley for this. Harry narrowed his eyes. "You want me to spy on Malfoy."
"The fact that you'll have to secure the building and review his business and its files is expected. What you discover as a result of your work is merely a by-product of your duties." Robards' smile faded. "It goes without saying that Mr Malfoy cannot know you are watching him."
"Of course not … sir."
***
Harry left his boss's office, file folder in hand, an uneasy feeling gnawing at his insides. He felt that familiar sense of being a pawn in someone else's game. Robards hadn't accused him of anything directly, but Harry's responsibility weighed heavily on him. Could Malfoy be up to something? Had Harry been too complacent where he was concerned? Had he allowed Dumbledore's influence to blind him?
"Mr Potter?" Lucy's voice penetrated his thoughts.
"Hmm?"
"Sylvia asked that you not return to your office immediately." Harry furrowed his brows. "She needs to speak with you first. She's on her way."
He cast her a questioning look, to which she shrugged.
"Oh, good," Sylvia said, out of breath. Evidently she had run from her desk. "I was hoping to catch you."
"What is it?" Harry asked. He held up the file. "I have work to get to."
"Yes, well …" Sylvia looked down, biting her lower lip. Harry waited. She looked back up. "There's someone in your office waiting for you."
"Oh?"
She nodded her head and took a fortifying breath. "He didn't have an appointment, so I told him that you were busy, and that I could schedule something for later, but he refused." Her words practically fell over each other in her haste to get them out. "And then when I told him you were not in, he didn't believe me, and insisted on checking for himself." She looked at Harry, wringing her hands. "He just opened up the door as if it were his own, and announced that he'd wait in there for you."
Harry didn't like the idea of someone being in his office without him there. "Does this --"
"Of course, I told him he couldn't do that, but he wouldn't leave. So I spelled the door open, warded the contents of your office, and sealed your desktop." She looked hopefully at Harry. "He won't be able to read or touch anything."
Harry hoped whoever had taken up residence in his office couldn't break through her spells.
"I'm so sorry," she said. "It was the best I could do."
"I'm sure it was," Harry reassured her. "Now, does this person have a name?"
She nodded. "Draco Malfoy."
***
When they arrived at Harry's office, he noticed another of the support staff at Sylvia's desk. "I wouldn't leave him unguarded," she whispered in Harry's ear. He grinned. He liked this girl.
"You did a fine job," he said.
"Malfoy," Harry said, greeting him with what he hoped sounded something like enthusiasm. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" As he closed the door behind him, Sylvia gaped at him. He winked.
"I would have thought after all these years that your ego might have deflated to that of a normal human being. Or at least a normal Gryffindor, if there is such a thing." Malfoy sneered as he threw a newspaper on top of Harry's desk. "Apparently I was mistaken."
Harry sat down and looked at a photograph of himself on the front page of the Prophet, under the caption, "Ministry Assures Public that Gala will be Safe." He sighed.
"How kind of them to assure the public." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Listen to this. 'None other than Harry Potter, Vanquisher of Voldemort and Deputy Head Auror (rumoured next in line to be Head Auror), will oversee security at the opening ceremonies for the highly anticipated new potions laboratory and apothecary in Diagon Alley.' How fortunate for me."
Harry took a calming breath. "I had nothing to do with --"
"Spare me, Potter. You love the limelight. Always have." Malfoy retrieved the newspaper, folded it and placed it in an expensive looking leather briefcase with a silver 'M' emblazoned on the front. "I would have expected, however, the courtesy of an owl from you, rather than finding out from the local paper." He retrieved a folder from his case. "Have you no professionalism?"
"This is the first I've seen the article," Harry said through gritted teeth. "In fact, it's the first I've heard of it." Once again, Harry felt like a player in someone else's game.
"Right." Malfoy rifled through some pages, avoiding Harry's glare. Harry took the opportunity to observe him, something he hadn't had the occasion to do close up for years. Malfoy had certainly grown into his features, which seemed more chiselled than pointy now. Not sure where that thought came from, Harry shook off the distraction and got back to the matter at hand.
"As a matter of fact," Harry said, waving the folder he'd brought back with him, "I only just returned from being informed of the assignment myself."
Malfoy's confused look did nothing to diminish Harry's irritation at being accused of attention-seeking. Ignoring Harry's last statement, Malfoy continued. "I like to be in the loop concerning my own business."
The man was as infuriating and pompous as ever. "Had I been in the loop, Malfoy, you would have been too." Malfoy huffed. It might just kill Harry to be nice to him. What had Kingsley been thinking when he recommended Harry for this?
"You can't expect me to believe the newspaper knew before you did."
"I don't care what you believe." All concern Harry had over the investigation of Malfoy evaporated. He pressed his thumb and finger to the bridge of his nose, hoping to keep the dull pressure looming behind his eyes from becoming a fully-blown headache. Looking at Malfoy, he thought that might be a tall order. "Now that we both know, why don't we just make the best of it?"
Malfoy glared. He seemed to consider his options before abruptly standing up. "Very well." He brushed off lint that only he could see from his robes, then spun around, causing them to billow in a decidedly Snape-like fashion. Damn! Harry never could get that movement right. Not that he'd attempted it in years … but still.
Malfoy walked out the door, then suddenly turned his head around. "Oh, and Potter? Don't fuck this up."
***
"Only you," Ron laughed as he settled his pint on the table, "could get paid for participating in your favourite pastime."
"What are you talking about?" Harry swallowed his mouthful of ale as he tried to work out what Ron meant. "You know I hate security work."
"Not security, Harry. I'm talking about watching Malfoy." Ron grinned into his plate.
"That was years ago." Harry glared at his friend. "Let it go already."
"Sure, mate." Ron took a pull of his lager and let out a contented sigh. "You keep telling yourself that."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sure, Harry had kept up on news of Malfoy. And he might have mentioned an article or two he'd read over the years, but that was natural. He had, after all, saved the man's life. And testified for him.
Ron shook his head. "You were obsessed then, you're obsessed now." He lifted his glass in a mock toast. "And your boss just handed you a gift."
"I-- He-- I--" Harry sputtered. Ron laughed. Harry stalled by taking a slow pull from his drink.
"When was the last time you dated someone without blonde hair? Someone shorter than you? Muscular? Tanned?" Ron leaned in. "Don’t try to tell me you haven't been dating Malfoy your entire adult life."
Ron's words hit him like a blow to the head. Harry ran a hand through his hair, thinking of the men he'd dated. Fuck if Ron wasn't right. He thought back to the meeting with Malfoy. The man was gorgeous, that much was true. But that didn't make him any less a git. "I am not obsessed," Harry said. It sounded hollow, even to his own ears.
"Riiiiiiight."
Harry pushed his glass back and forth between his hands, refusing to face the bemused expression he knew Ron would be wearing. "Okay. I'll admit I was a bit over the top in school." He didn't respond to Ron's theory on his love life.
Ron choked. Good. Serves him right. He coughed for a few seconds before recovering enough to speak. "A bit? Harry, you would have missed Quidditch to chase him around, and you were the bloody captain!"
"And I was right," he reminded Ron. "He was up to something."
"Still, you --"
"No. You don't get to use that against me. If you -- or anyone -- had bothered listening to me at the time, I wouldn't have had to follow him around myself every day."
Ron chuckled. "Who are you trying to convince with that story?"
Harry scowled. "It's true."
***
Harry arrived at Malfoy's shop early the next morning, still irritated with Ron's teasing from the night before, and determined not to get distracted.
He peered through the storefront window and took in the half-empty shelves and boxes scattered about the place. He marvelled at how neat and orderly it looked, despite the work that still needed to be done. Harry knew if it were his shop about to open, he'd be stepping over clutter until ten minutes before he opened the doors.
Malfoy, previously hidden from view behind a counter, noticed Harry before he had a chance to knock, and made his way to the door. He opened it and stepped aside to let Harry pass. "Potter."
"Show me what you've got," Harry said.
Malfoy ignored Harry's abrupt greeting, and motioned for him to follow. "I have confidence in my own security measures. Ordinarily they would suffice." Malfoy's face turned sombre. "However, given the current situation -- the threats I've received over the years, and in particular the number I've received of late -- one can never be too careful."
Harry nodded his agreement, though reconciling a Malfoy that admitted his own shortcomings proved a challenge. "Of course." Malfoy's file contained no details about the threats, except as referenced in his letter to the Ministry. Harry resolved to check the records when he returned to the office. As irrelevant as Robards might suggest the complaints to be, Harry wanted to have the full picture.
Malfoy walked him through the apothecary portion of his establishment, pointing out potential areas of weakness. Harry couldn't help but notice how organised everything was - grouped together by category, then alphabetised within each. The labels listed the uses, expected shelf life, and warnings for each ingredient. Malfoy also had guides listing various potions and the ingredients required. Harry noticed several with the notation "special order - enquire at desk" or "not available - illegal".
If Harry's dawdling bothered Malfoy, he didn't let on. "I've set up a Destabilising Spell on the building, to prevent the more heinous of Dark spells from functioning," he explained.
Harry tried not to look too impressed. "Destabilising Spell?"
"Yes." Malfoy led the way into the storage room, a large, windowless space filled with shelves brimming with boxes and vials and, in the darkest corner, a mass of vaguely familiar-looking potions ingredients. Harry noticed nothing illegal. "It extends five metres beyond the perimeter, so it protects when we receive deliveries as well."
Harry frowned. That had to be --
"Relax, Potter. It's not illegal."
"No?"
Malfoy sniggered. "It's old magic. Ancient, actually. A spell that went out of fashion sometime during the Middle Ages."
Harry followed Malfoy through the storage area to the lab. His senses were assaulted at once. The air hung thick with humidity, rendering breathing difficult. His eyes watered slightly as, in the wake of Malfoy's robes, a waft of pungent, though not altogether unpleasant, air sought them out. The mixture of medicinal, floral and … indistinguishable scents left his nasal passages confused and begging for escape.
"It's amazing the gems one can discover when one is determined," Malfoy said.
"I see." He didn't see. In fact, his vision fuzzy from the combination of steam and tears, Harry couldn't see much at all.
Malfoy rolled his eyes and fixed Harry with a determined stare. "I find it disconcerting that Aurors -- those charged to protect the general public -- are not more well-versed in old spells." He stopped to stir one cauldron and check a timer on another. "One might think the Ministry doesn't care."
Harry refused to rise to the bait. "Our training is extensive." He heard defensiveness in his tone.
Malfoy grinned. "Sure it is." He made some notes in a journal, then turned back to Harry. "You are welcome to come to the Manor and view the tomes any time you'd like."
Harry stared. Without considering his next words, or to whom they were spoken, he joked, "Did you just invite me to your house to see your etchings?"
"Tomes, Potter," Malfoy droned. "Pay attention."
Harry chuckled, and before he could stop himself he said, "I may just take you up on that offer." Thank Merlin Ron couldn't hear him now.
They continued the tour, and Harry made notes of the weaknesses and potential concerns, not only with security but the materials on site. He also noted the curve of Malfoy's arse. He chose not to write that down.
"Nothing is illegal, Potter."
"I realise that, but many of these ingredients are volatile."
Malfoy stopped walking, and Harry bumped into him. "What did you expect?" Malfoy asked, turning a baffled look on Harry. "This is a potions laboratory." He swung his arms around dramatically. "You watched Finnegan nearly blow himself up how many times? And Longbottom destroyed more cauldrons than an average wizard could count. Surely at some point you realised potion making involved volatile compounds."
"Er …"
"And that was just school. Far more dangerous elements go into most healing salves and mending potions. Skele-Gro, for instance, contains no less than two explosive, three poisonous, and five corrosive ingredients."
"What?" That couldn’t be right. Malfoy had to be having him on. Harry had swallowed a bottle of that in second year.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You really are useless at potions, aren't you?"
"Completely," Harry admitted.
"Huh." Malfoy looked at him curiously. "I never thought I'd see the day you admitted that."
"You witnessed my less-than-stellar potions skills first-hand," Harry pointed out. "No point trying to deny the obvious."
"Too true." Malfoy frowned. "Only that doesn't explain …" He didn't finish his thought, and quickly returned to the tour.
They spent another half hour cataloguing follow-up issues. "I'll have a team put together tomorrow," Harry said. "I'd like to brief them in the morning and bring them round in the afternoon."
Malfoy nodded. "That would be acceptable."
Harry prepared to leave, then asked the obvious. "You seem to have everything under control. You're using spells I've never heard of -- and I'd venture most others haven't either. Why ask for our help?"
"What other opportunity will I have--" Malfoy smirked "--to order around the saviour of us all?"
Harry didn't buy it. Malfoy had everything well in hand. His security measures, minus the dragons, rivalled Gringotts. There had to be more to the threats than Harry had been led to believe. What would cause Malfoy to trust Ministry officials, to trust Harry, of all people? Something didn't add up, and Harry intended to get to the bottom of it.
"Don't get used to it," he told Malfoy, letting him hold onto his illusion. For now.
***
Harry briefed the team the next morning, noting with some frustration that only one Senior Auror was among them. He'd worked with MacInness before, and knew him to be thorough, knowledgeable and good in the field. The others, while keen, lacked experience.
Harry resisted the urge to request someone like Ron, figuring he'd do more harm than good, given his feelings where Malfoy were concerned. It stood to reason that younger minds often meant less preconceptions. Or so he hoped.
Pushing his concerns to the side, Harry outlined the security measures in place, leaving out the details of the questionable spells. He had plenty of time to fill them in on specifics, and for some reason he wanted to keep that to himself. At least until he had a chance to confirm their legality.
Once done with the briefing, he had time to read through Malfoy's other file, the one containing his complaints. The Ministry investigated sixteen sporadic threats to Malfoy since the war, and an additional seven since he made application to open the apothecary. Two of those occurred before the submission's approval.
Notes outlining the investigations ran about two to three lines per incident, and comprised a sum total of two pages. Surely the Aurors did more than this file suggested? Nowhere did it indicate the escalation of the threats. Nothing that could reasonably be described as an interview with Malfoy. No witness statements. No photographs. No lab results. Nothing. Just Malfoy's complaints, the original threatening letters, the notes, and the responding letters from the Ministry to Malfoy, each indicating that no evidence could be collected. Was this some sort of joke?
To his dismay, Harry noted that Ron had worked one of the more recent investigations. If it could even be called that.
***
"I'm glad you could join me for lunch," Harry said as he and Ron took a seat in the Muggle chip shop.
"No problem." Ron patted his stomach. "A plate of fish and chips beats a sandwich any day."
Harry waited until he finished the last of his chips before asking about the case. "I saw that you investigated one of Malfoy's complaints."
"Yeah." Ron shrugged. "Not much to it."
"So it would seem."
Ron sat up straight and studied Harry. "Look, the file was handed to me and my instructions were clear." Harry motioned for him to go on. "Malfoy complains all the time. Nothing ever happens. Nothing ever will. He's just as much of an attention-seeking git as he ever was."
Anger twisted Harry's stomach into a knot. "So you swept it under the rug?"
"No, mate." Ron raised his arms in surrender. "I cast a few spells on the letter, and it showed nothing. I had no way of knowing if the letter came from a Death Eater, some victim's surviving family member with a grudge, or Malfoy himself."
"Did you send the letter to be analysed?"
"No." Ron's eyes narrowed on Harry. "Like I said, my instructions were clear. No money and no time spent on this. Do the basics."
"So Malfoy's life could have been in danger, and you didn't give a shit." Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. Not from Ron.
"My hands were tied." Harry couldn't believe Ron had the nerve to defend his actions. "I did what spells I knew, and they showed nothing. Had they revealed something, I would have investigated." He clenched his fists, knuckles turning white, like he always did when he felt cornered. Like he always did when he got caught in a lie. "Harry, you know me."
"I thought I did."
The shade of Ron's face rivalled that of his hair. "I did nothing wrong."
"You did nothing at all." Harry got up and left to go collect his team.
***
"You've built up quite the reputation since we left school," Harry observed the next day in Malfoy's office. It was true. Malfoy's credentials hung in a place of honour on the wall behind his desk, beneath which sat a leather-bound set of potions tomes, some dating back centuries. Harry was a little surprised Malfoy didn't want his accomplishments directly in front of him, but he supposed this way everyone entering the office would have to acknowledge Malfoy's hard work.
But more than that were the articles Harry had read over the years. Malfoy's skills as a Potions Master promised to reward him with a profitable shop. He'd done some freelance work for the past few years, and from what Harry had heard, he'd gone a long way towards redeeming the Malfoy name, and certainly had made one for himself. And, if what Harry had observed so far was any indication, Malfoy's attention to detail and dedication to his work meant he'd earned that reputation. So why was Harry here investigating him?
"Thankfully a better one than I had in school." Malfoy smiled, and it dawned on Harry that, by the looks of things, he'd grown up -- and not just outwardly. To be able to talk freely, almost self-deprecatingly, could not be easy. At least not with Harry.
"I'd like to think we've moved past our childhood," Harry said, thinking perhaps Malfoy had done a better job of that than he. He noticed then that Malfoy had nothing of a personal nature in his office. No pictures of friends, family, school. Nothing to show that he was anything but an expert in his field. Harry wondered if Malfoy naturally compartmentalised the areas of his life or if he consciously made the decision to keep his work separate for reasons related more to other people's opinions. Or perhaps he felt it was none of anyone's business. Harry thought again about the threats. Or perhaps Malfoy wanted to protect the people close to him.
"Childhood?" Malfoy laughed, though with a distinct absence of humour. "Is that what you call it?"
Harry cleared his throat. He hadn't meant to bring up the past. Too volatile. "You make a valid point, Malfoy. I suppose being hunted, tortured, and nearly killed by a madman, then fighting in a war, all by the age of seventeen, doesn't make for fond childhood memories." He chanced a half smile, and before the conversation delved into war territory, he added, "But we had some moments, didn't we?"
Malfoy studied him, looking, Harry presumed, for a hint of malice. Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "You mean getting attacked by a hippogriff and being turned into a slug on the Hogwarts Express?"
Oh, is that how he wanted to play things?
"I'll see your hippogriff," Harry countered, "and raise you Dementors knocking me off my broom." He cracked a mischievous smile. "And while we're talking about train rides, I believe someone stomped on and broke my nose during one rather memorable trip."
Malfoy raised his brows in challenge, and they held each other's gaze for some time before Harry's lip began to twitch. Malfoy's eyes caught the movement, and his lip quivered slightly as he too tried to hold back. They both burst into laughter.
"Yeah, I guess we did have our moments, didn't we?"
When Harry managed to get his laughter under control, he said, "Strange that a lot of my more memorable ones involve you." As the words spilled forth, Harry realised the truth in them. Malfoy certainly had kept him on his toes at Hogwarts.
Malfoy looked as surprised as Harry felt, then turned pensive. "You know, I think you're right." He grinned. "If it hadn't been for you, school might have been very boring indeed."
Harry considered that. "I'd like to say the same, but …"
"Ah, yes. You did start that whole Dark Lord fighting thing early, didn't you?"
Harry almost laughed at the casual way Malfoy referred to his numerous altercations with Voldemort. He considered his shoes while trying to formulate a response. He still hated talking about such things, and certainly didn't want to come across as the pompous arse Malfoy always thought him to be. For some reason, Malfoy's opinion of him mattered now.
"Things just sort of happened," he said rather lamely. He recalled all the rules he'd broken, and how he'd stumbled upon things he hadn't had the right to. "I've never been very good at keeping my nose --"
"-- out of other people's business?" Malfoy interjected.
A flash of anger surged in Harry, but before he could give it life, he recalled his preoccupation with Malfoy in school. "I was going to say clean, but you of all people could argue your point well."
"My, my, Potter. Are you admitting to poking your nose into my business while we were in school?"
"I'd say that's an understatement," Harry admitted.
Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. "Oh?"
Harry stared at a display of expensive-looking vials resting on a bookshelf to his left, avoiding Malfoy's gaze. He thought back to a number of his Malfoy-focussed adventures, from sneaking into the Slytherin common room in second year all the way to his fixation in sixth. He turned back. "You don't know the half of it." Malfoy's expression morphed from amused to curious to bewildered, possibly a little uneasy. Pre-empting any question, Harry added, "Maybe sometime, over a couple of pints, I can tell you all about it."
Malfoy sat up straight. "Oh, really?" He sounded dubious.
"Well, maybe not everything." Harry leaned across Malfoy's desk as though divulging some heretofore well-guarded secret of great import. Malfoy leaned in too. "You see, I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."
Malfoy shoved Harry back by his shoulders and rolled his eyes. "Idiot."
Without thinking, Harry flashed what Ginny always referred to as his Dark-Lord-slaying, sexy-as-all-hell smile. He whispered conspiratorially, "Replace the beer with Firewhiskey in that scenario, and you might be able to pry some secrets out of me yet."
Malfoy's eyes flared and he smirked. "Be careful, Harry. You'll want to watch yourself when you start messing with a Slytherin."
Harry remembered his sorting ceremony as though it were yesterday. He smiled again. "I think I can take care of myself. Now," he said, swiftly changing the subject, "tell me all about this new reputation of yours."
Harry found himself both intrigued and impressed. Malfoy took his work very seriously, and from what Harry could tell, he deserved every bit of praise he got. Perhaps he'd been too swift in school, presuming Snape's favouritism, and not Malfoy's skill, had earned him high marks in Potions.
"I'm no potions expert," Harry ventured. Malfoy choked. "Shut up. Once I didn't have Snape breathing down my neck, I did okay."
"Yes …" He looked at Harry sceptically. "I recall sixth year."
Harry coughed. "That was …"
"You cheating?" Malfoy ventured, smirking in challenge.
"Not exactly."
"Oh? Then what exactly was it?"
"Let's just say I had some rather helpful reference material."
"So I heard," Malfoy said.
"What? How could you --?" Ah. Snape. One look at Malfoy's smug and triumphant look told him it was true. Harry didn't know why he found that so surprising.
"I'm surprised you'd admit it to me."
Harry shrugged. "I'm surprised Snape would have told you."
"Interesting how a man who spent much of his energy tormenting you in class became your unwilling mentor, isn't it?"
"Interesting isn't exactly the word I'd choose," Harry grumbled.
"What was it about you?" Malfoy asked. "I know Snape hated everyone from any other house, Gryffindors especially, but you … he had a special place in his heart for you." The sarcasm dripped off his words.
Harry snorted. He contemplated lying or just not answering, but figured there'd be nothing gained by staying silent. "My mother, actually."
"Excuse me?"
"My mother. Snape had a special place in his heart for her."
"Well?" Malfoy looked … interested.
"He loved her, and hated my dad," Harry explained. "It didn't help that I looked just like him too. I suppose every time he looked at me, I reminded him of what he couldn't have and why."
Malfoy's jaw dropped. "That explains a lot, but his hatred of you went far beyond even that."
Harry nodded. "Long story short, he loved my mother, and through a series of events, blamed himself for her death. When given the choice, my mother gave up her own life to save mine. Snape resented me for that, and I think hated himself."
Malfoy took some time to absorb what Harry had said. Eventually he asked, "Why did you tell me all that?"
Harry shrugged. "You asked."
Malfoy smirked. "That could be a dangerous habit, Potter." His grin morphed into a wide smile. "I should come up with more interesting questions in future."
"Ask whatever you like," Harry said. Then he added cryptically, "Just be sure you want the answer."
***
Harry approached the office of Granger Information Systems - a small two-room suite in an old, stone building on the outskirts of London. Hermione had achieved moderate success, but she worked primarily on her own, hiring others temporarily when she managed to secure a larger contract like the one she had with the Ministry a few years back. Her business, she had told Harry and Ron patiently one evening, fluctuated. Not that Harry knew much about what she did at all - just that she seemed to know everything about computers and how they could be adapted to work with magic. She claimed that consulting work kept her busy, but Harry wondered. The wizarding world had not been as welcoming to the technology as she had hoped.
He entered with trepidation. He still had no idea what the Ministry thought Malfoy had planned. Nothing he'd done over the years pointed to anything but a legitimate businessman trying to redeem his family name. And now Harry had discovered that the Ministry hadn't taken the threats on Malfoy's life seriously. Harry hated the idea that his colleagues' shoddy investigation work might be putting Malfoy at risk, but he didn't like the situation he was about to put his friend in either.
Her assistant's desk sat empty, so Harry walked back to Hermione's office. She sat behind a desk covered in a mess of papers, typing frantically on her computer. He tapped on her door. "Hey, Hermione."
"Harry!" Her broad smile caught his eye just before she tackled him with a hug. "What brings you by? Ron's not here." Her face fell. "He's not hurt, is he?"
He rested a hand upon her shoulder. "Relax. Ron's fine. Everything's fine."
Her look had suspicion written all over it. "Then what are you doing here in the middle of the day?"
Every chair in the place housed a stack of computer print-outs. Leaning against the doorjamb, he sighed. "Can't a friend drop by to say hello?"
"Yes," she responded dubiously. "But you never do." She lifted a foot-high stack of papers from the chair directly in front of her desk, placing the pile on top of a filing cabinet, then motioned for him to sit. "Out with it!"
Harry took a seat, then a fortifying breath. "It's business. I need you to do some investigative work for me."
"What sort of work?" she asked.
"Tracing the origin of some threatening correspondence for me -- mainly letters, and a couple of emails."
"Me?" Hermione furrowed her brows. "Don't you have an entire section dedicated to that sort of thing?"
Harry shuffled his feet as he worked out a delicate way to put this into words. "Let's just say that this case isn't exactly a priority for the Ministry."
She fixed him with her spill it glare.
"No time and no money allotted." Harry held up his hand to prevent her interrupting. "But don't worry. You'll get paid."
"It's a good thing you have all those Galleons collecting dust in Gringotts." She scowled and waved her finger at him. "But the Ministry shouldn't benefit from your generosity. They have enough funding to properly investigate threats."
Harry couldn't agree more. "It's not the Ministry I'm doing this for."
"Ah … justice for all wizarding kind."
Harry shrugged. "Something like that."
"Oh, all right. I'll do it," she agreed. "When do you need this?"
"Thanks." He got up and hugged her. "How about last week?"
She swatted him playfully on the arm. "Always the impossible with you, Harry."
He grinned, then braced himself. "Oh, and Hermione?"
"Yes?"
"Don’t tell anyone about this, yeah? Not even Ron."
She narrowed her eyes. Harry imagined her trying to work out his reasons. "I don't generally discuss all the work I do with Ron, but why is it important in this case?"
"Two reasons." He withdrew an envelope from inside his robe. "First, the person receiving the threats is Draco Malfoy."
To her credit, she took the envelope with little reaction. "And the second reason?"
He looked her straight in the eye. "Ron investigated one of the threats."
Her friendly demeanour vanished and Harry found himself questioning his decision to involve Hermione. "Surely you're not accusing Ron --"
"No, no!" Harry cut her short before she could go off on one of her tangents. "He had directions, which he followed."
"But …?"
"But this is Malfoy's life we're talking about here. I know Ron doesn't care if Malfoy lives or dies, but …"
"But you do."
Harry considered that. "Yeah. I do."
"Still …"
"Hermione, I don't know who's doing this or why. All I know is that Ron, after a few pints, might be a little loose with his tongue where Malfoy's concerned." He imagined her brain warring with itself. "And I'm not exactly doing Ministry-sanctioned work here."
At length, she nodded. "Fair enough. I'll do this for you." She opened the envelope and inspected the contents. "And I won't tell Ron."
Harry didn't miss her troubled expression. "Thanks, Hermione."
"Save the thanks for when I send you my bill." She flipped through the papers. "These last two are the emails?"
"Yeah. It seems the culprit has embraced Muggle technology."
She spread the pages out on her table. "Frankly, I'm surprised Malfoy has."
"Yeah, me too." He watched as she cast some nonverbal spells over the pages, causing them to dance around.
"Do you have the electronic record of the emails?" She pointed to the two offending pages. "I can't do much with these."
"No." Recalling his frustration from earlier, he shook his head. "They deleted them."
Hermione's eyes widened, and she opened her mouth as if to say something, then reconsidered. She placed her hands on the table, lowered her head and closed her eyes, as though drawing strength from it. "In fairness," she said as she returned her gaze to Harry, "they probably didn't realise there was more information to be seen."
"Don't defend this, Hermione."
"Think about it, Harry. This is Muggle technology. Wizards know very little about it, and trust it - and Muggles - even less."
"These are Aurors," he pointed out. "They're trained to question things. And they know better than to tamper with or destroy evidence." He dragged his hands through his hair and looked down at the collection of threats. Someone's life was at risk, for fuck's sake. "Besides, you managed to introduce computers to the Ministry how long ago?"
"Five years."
"Don't tell me you didn't explain this to them at the time."
"Well …"
"Right. So they knew."
"Some did, but like I said, it's Muggle technology. The people I sold the systems to might not have thought it necessary to pass on that information." Harry wasn't convinced. "Just don't jump to any conclusions, Harry."
"How can I not?"
She didn't respond, but Harry could tell she was bothered by the news. "Can you get them from Malfoy?"
"I'll try. I'm meeting with him later today. I can ask him then."
Hermione flicked her wand and the papers returned to the envelope. "In the meantime, I'll look into the letters."
"Thanks."
"Don't thank me yet." She levitated the envelope to her desk and huffed. "They've been handled by many people, Harry. I don't know what, if anything, I'll be able to find now."
He kissed her on the cheek. "If there's anything to be found, you'll do it," he assured her. And he meant it.
She laughed. "No need to butter me up, you. I've already agreed to do it."
"I know." He smiled. "But you really are the best at what you do."
"What?" she teased. "Taking care of you and Ron?"
"Well, you have had lots of practice."
"That I have."
***
Part 2