Malicious Intent - Part 7 (H/D)
Title: Malicious Intent - Part 7
Author: sesheta_66
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 4.7K
Rating: Eventual NC-17
Warning: none
Summary: Harry’s world is upended when he’s asked to investigate a break-in and threats levied at Draco Malfoy. He’s never told anyone about their short-lived but intense relationship, and now, five years after it ended, doesn’t seem the time. He’s a professional, so he will investigate, find and arrest the culprit, and get on with his life. What else can he do?
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
To start at the beginning, click here.
Or to read at AO3, click here.
[Malicious Intent - Part 7]
Malicious Intent - Part 7
After a night of further torture, piecing together snippets of Draco’s memories to form a reel of recurring images to afford his ex some privacy in his own home, attempting all the while not to think back to the time he and Draco had spent together, Harry decided that he ought to direct some of his attention to his other cases. While none of them were immediate - leads had run dry or only follow-up paperwork was required before closing them - he did have more than just Draco to focus on. And it would probably be in his best interest to think about something else. Anything else.
When he’d had his fill of fruitless follow-up messages that received no answers and enough paperwork to overwhelm even Hermione - okay, maybe not Hermione, but she just wasn’t normal - he went back to Draco’s case. The devices had yet to transmit - presuming his spells were any good, which they were - so Harry followed his instincts in the meantime. He researched all known Death Eaters that remained at large or were presumed dead without actual bodies to confirm. Then he proceeded to research Ministry employees from Voldemort’s time that might have had access to the listening devices. To each list he added notations on their relationship with any of the Malfoys. Many of those details he’d have to get from Draco later.
When, after several hours, he could no longer justify staying away, Harry made his way back to Draco’s flat.
When Draco answered the door looking knackered, Harry cheered up a bit. After all, why should he be the only one put out by them being shoved together, so to speak? Then he caught himself, and a voice that sounded so very much like Hermione sounded in his head. He’s a victim, Harry. You can’t wish ill will on him. That was true. And he genuinely felt for Draco the victim, wouldn’t wish the current situation on him or most people. Harry would continue to do everything he could to solve this case as quickly as he could, and give Draco his life back. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t be comforted, just a little, by the discomfort of Draco his ex. Petty, yes, but he figured it was only fair.
"You’re here late today," Draco said by way of greeting. "I expected you earlier."
"Really?" Harry said, pushing his way past the insufferable git and into the flat. "I wasn’t aware we had an appointment." He received an eyeroll in response to which he replied, "You are aware I have other work to do, yeah? Yours is not my only case."
Draco’s face fell and he toppled himself into a chair in the front room. "Sorry. I wasn’t aware and ... well I shouldn’t have assumed. It’s only -"
"I get it. You’re worried."
"Of course I’m worried!"
Harry sighed. "Shall we try this again?" he asked. "Good morning, Malfoy. I went to the office earlier and stopped by to update you on the case." Draco nodded and Harry continued. "There was no magical signature left on either the note you provided or the three listening devices. They’d been wiped clean."
"So they’re dead ends, both of them?"
"It seems so. Ditto for the scan I did amongst the objects damaged. Magic was detected - it’s incredibly difficult to wipe all traces from a crime scene - but it wasn’t discernible. The person or persons who did this - are doing this - are skilled at the art of deception."
Draco crossed his arms over his chest, but otherwise made no outward sign of discomfort.
Harry sat down on the sofa and pulled out his notebook. "Let’s sort through a few things, if you don’t mind."
Draco sat down in a chair across from Harry. "What do you need to know?"
Harry pulled out his quill and said, "Up ‘til now, I’ve focussed on the scene of the crime. Now I need to delve more into the possible motivation. Who, that you know of, might want to harm you?"
Draco snorted. "Wouldn’t a shorter list be those who don’t want to harm me?"
"Okay." Harry took a breath and ran his hand through his hair. "Why don’t I leave that with you and you can compile your own list, working your way down from those you think might be at the top of the list? Meanwhile, let’s look at different aspects of your life. Think about your work, interests you might be vocal about, your family, your love life, your past. Is there anyone who might hate you? Be jealous of you? Feel slighted by you? Want revenge for some wrong, whether real or imagined?"
Draco once again crossed his arms over his chest, this time more tightly, almost curling into himself. "In other words, I need to tell you everyone I’ve ever wronged in my life, how I’ve wronged them, and how they felt about that."
Harry put down the quill. "I know this is hard."
"How could you know? Saint Potter never wronged anyone in his life, did he? Except perhaps me." His back went rigid. "And it’s not like anyone gives a toss about some wannabe Death Eater anyway."
Harry would not rise to the bait. He’d apologised for the Sectumsempra incident five years ago and Draco had - supposedly - forgiven him then. As Harry had forgiven Draco for his attempt at throwing an Unforgiveable at him. More than that, they’d forgiven each other for all their past wrongs, real or perceived, deciding to look ahead rather than back, and had moved on from there. Bringing up old wounds was merely a diversionary tactic and Harry wasn’t falling for it.
"Look, Malfoy, you can tell me as much or as little as you want. The more you tell me, the more I can explore the possibility that each person on your list might want to hurt you. If you don’t want to share the reasons behind it, don’t. I’d suggest that you would be better served if you did, but no one - not me, not anyone - will force you to disclose anything you don’t want to."
Draco made a derisive grumble that made it clear he didn’t believe Harry.
"I am not investigating you. I am not digging into your life." Harry could do without knowing any more about what Draco’s been up to since ... "Need I remind you that you contacted us? I won’t pressure you into telling me what you’re not comfortable with, but I will ask you questions. Lots of questions. Personal questions. It’s entirely up to you what you disclose. But the more I know, the more likely I am to catch whoever is doing this."
"You’ll excuse me if I don’t jump for joy at your enthusiasm."
Harry laughed without humour. "Yeah, like this is my idea of fun." He put down the quill and rested his forearms on his knees. "You may not believe this of me, but I am a very private person. I loathe the intrusion of the media on my life."
Draco grumbled something under his breath that sounded like, "Yeah, right."
"I know you think I basked in it, but I never did. I just wanted to be left alone. So, no matter what you believe, I understand your desire, your need for privacy. And I respect that. But it seems to me that whoever is threatening you has already breached that." Harry hated the constant prodding into every little aspect of his life and he cherished what semblance of privacy he’d managed to hold onto. But there was another aspect to this where Draco was concerned. "I have no interest in prosecuting you for past crimes or even looking for crimes where none exist. Personally, as far as you are concerned, I think the past is best left in the past, where it belongs. Unless you admit to outright murder, I will not use anything you tell me against you."
Draco looked skeptical but did seem to be giving Harry’s words serious consideration. "How do I know I can trust you?"
Harry gave a wry smile. "You don’t. Not any more than I can trust you." Harry let that sink in for a while before he continued. "But I’m telling you the truth. Believe me or not. It makes no difference to me," he lied. It mattered more than he was willing to admit, even to himself, that Draco trust him. But he would be damned if he said that. "I’m not out to get you. I understand your mistrust of the Ministry and the Aurors, but I’m telling you that, as hard as this may be to believe, and despite our past, I will not betray your trust."
Draco spent a good while staring into Harry’s eyes. Harry let him. After a time, he said, "And my father?"
"Your father can rot in prison for all I care," Harry said without pause or emotion. "I will not extend the same courtesy to him, no matter who his son is."
Draco’s lip twitched. "Okay, I believe you."
Harry rolled his eyes. "So, we agree that you’ll compile a list for me tonight?"
"Sure."
Harry, acutely aware of the cameras on them, said, "I have a few things I wanted you to look at. Do you have some time to spare right now?"
Draco sighed. "If it won’t take to long. I do have a job, you know. I’ve arranged for most of the week off, but I have several sensitive potions brewing that I need to at least check in on sometime today."
Harry stood up and put away his quill. "That shouldn’t be a problem. You can go right over after we’re done."
They apparated to the hotel and when Draco landed, he shook as though to rid himself of a coating of filth. "I can’t wait to get those things out of the place. Gives me the creeps, being watched like that."
Harry didn’t blame him. "Soon," he said. "Now, if you really want."
Draco ran his hands up and down his arms. "I definitely want, but I want to catch the person more. I think I can put up with it for a little while longer."
"Good." Harry gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "And if it gets too much, you can pop over here to escape for a bit." Before he could think too hard about why he’d offered that as an option again, Harry motioned to the Pensieve on the table. "Meanwhile ..."
Draco’s eyes widened. "Did you finish?"
Harry shrugged. "It’s not going to win an Oscar, but it’ll do."
"It won’t what?"
"Sorry. Muggle reference. I won’t win an award for movie production, but it should be good enough to buy you a bit of privacy, at least in your living room. You can activate it while you’re out of the room - the bathroom is free of devices - and it’s set to direct the images at the camera and listening devices in the room. Then cast a localised cloaking spell for good measure and you should be fine."
"This’ll really work?"
"I don’t see why not." He waved his wand and the reel of memories lifted out of the Pensieve and swirled into a small box. "Just tap it with your wand and say, exire incipere." He picked up a coin from the table. "I’ve linked it to this. Just leave the coin in the centre of the coffee table before activating the spell and it should align the playback properly within the boundaries of the room. When you want to end the spell, position yourself in the room where your projected self is and end both spells at once. And make sure you’re wearing the same clothes."
Draco took the box and coin from Harry and put them in his pocket. "Thank you."
"Hopefully you won’t need it for long." He pushed the Pensieve aside and put some papers down on the table. "With any luck they’ll transmit soon and then we can rid your place of the rest."
Draco sat at the table and Harry slid the papers towards him. "What’s this?"
"I’ve come up with some information, and was hoping you could fill in some blanks for me."
Draco scanned the pages. "When did you do all this?" he asked, looking genuinely curious. At Harry’s blank stare, he said, "This had to have taken you a while."
Harry nodded. "This morning. I told you I went to the office." He just hadn’t bothered to mention that he’d been unable to get back to sleep after waking at five o’clock, and rather than wake Ginny, he’d decided to grab some tea and toast, then head out right away.
"Yes, but to work on other cases."
Harry nodded again. "Which I did. And then I worked on this."
Draco laughed. Harry glared at him but said nothing. When finally his laughter faded into chuckles and then silence, Draco finally spoke. "Who would have thought? Harry Potter, one of the laziest students ever to ride Granger’s coattails - okay, maybe not as lazy as the weasel, but still - would actually make an effort at his job?" He chuckled again. "And here I thought you’d managed to work your way up the ranks so quickly because of your name." He wiped a tear from under his eye. "Turns out you’re actually good at your job."
Harry scowled, not sure why this should surprise him. Malfoy had never hidden how he’d felt about Harry in school. And it’s not like Harry hadn’t faced doubt from other people. But after everything ... he would have thought, hoped, that Draco knew him. Not, perhaps, as well as most, but ... well. Maybe he didn’t at that. "Glad to hear you still think so highly of me."
"Oh, come on, Harry - sorry, Auror Potter" he corrected himself before Harry could. "I know you’re good at charging in where no one else would dare go, like the good little Gryffindor you are. Brave and noble and chivalrous and all that. And I even acknowledged the other day that you’re good at spells I’m sure few people know - this box, for instance." He tapped his pocket and looked at Harry as though waiting for thanks or something. "It’s just ... well, you were never one to have his nose in a book."
"I read!" Harry tried not to cringe at how defensive he sounded. Why was he letting Draco get to him like this, and how had they even veered off into this ridiculous conversation?
Draco stifled a laugh and tried fruitlessly to cover it with a cough. "Look, I didn’t mean to suggest you weren’t smart. Just that the tedium required of research never struck me as something you would ever take much interest in."
He had a point, but Harry wasn’t going to admit that. "Look, Malfoy. I realise this may be hard for you to wrap your head around, but I grew up. I happen to like being an Auror. I also happen to be good at it. Yes, I still throw myself into situations that others might hesitate with, but I don’t do so without thought. I’ve learned to assess situations for potential danger and act accordingly." He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to explain himself, but explain he did. "And yes, I do research. Which happens to involve cracking open a book or ten. It may not be my favourite part of the job, but it’s a damn sight better than the paperwork after the fact. But I recognise the need for even that. Because I’ve been thrown into cases where there hasn’t been enough information transferred from other investigators, and I don’t want to put others in that situation. And don’t even get me started on the lawyers."
Draco chuckled at that. "Okay, okay, I get your point."
"Do you, though? I get the feeling you still think I’m this kid from school that broke the rules and - how did you put it? - rode on Hermione’s coattails. I was never the kid you thought I was at Hogwarts, even if bits and pieces of what you believe are true. Hell, I’m not even the kid I really was at school. Not anymore. I’ve changed a lot since then. If I ask Hermione for her insight from time to time, it’s because I respect her opinion. But make no mistake. I am my own man. I do my own work. I make my own decisions. And I got where I am today because I work hard, I do a damn good job and I care. I don’t ride on anyone’s coattails and I sure as hell didn’t get handed this job because of my name."
"I -"
"You don’t know me at all." Harry was on a roll now. "You never did. I thought, for a while there, that you might want to, but you never did, did you? Don’t bother answering. We both know it’s true. And you know what? I’ve accepted that. I’ve moved on. It’s one of those things I’ve outgrown - blindly trusting my feelings." He laughed derisively. "You know, I suppose I should thank you for that."
"Harry, I -"
"Look, we’ve strayed way off course here. Can we just get back to business?"
"But -"
"You’re a potions master now, yeah?"
Draco nodded, taken aback by the abrupt change in topic. "Yes."
"Right, so if I were to laugh at you and suggest that you only got where you are today because you were a kiss-arse to Snape and got favourable treatment, and then used your father’s connections and substantial funds to buy your way into a lucrative position, you’d probably take offence at that, yeah?"
He pursed his lips. "Because it’s not true."
"Right. And I’m pretty sure I know that. Because, despite the fact that while we were in school that’s exactly what I thought of you, since then I’ve come to realise that, in hindsight, my view of who you were was through a biased lens. I never really knew you in school, just like you never really knew me. I get that. So when I hear that your potions are sought after far beyond England, I don’t find myself thinking, ‘Oh, hey, who would’ve thought that lazy kiss-arse would ever amount to anything?’ If - and this is a big if - I ever hear stuff like that, I just think, ‘Good for him.’ And maybe feel a bit hopeful that you’d finally got yourself out from under your father’s reach."
Harry hadn’t meant to say that last part. Hell, he hadn’t meant to say any of it. But he found himself unable to stop. Fucking. Talking. He really needed to wrap this case up and soon. Being around Draco was messing with his head and he didn’t like his emotions being so out of control.
"So, now that we’ve established that you’re still an arse, at least as it relates to me, let’s just get on with things, shall we?" He nudged the papers even closer to a now silent Draco. "For lack of a better place to start narrowing things down, I’ve drawn up a couple of lists. This one is of known Death Eaters. The ones at the top are alive, still at large, location unknown. This next group is assumed dead, but their bodies have never been recovered. The ones below the line are currently guests of Azkaban but with known relatives on the outside. The rest - dead and gone as well as those incarcerated with no known relative to seek revenge on their behalf - have been left off the list. The second, considerably longer list, is of Ministry employees from Voldemort’s time that might have had access to those devices in your flat."
Draco swallowed as he registered the number of people on the list. "And?"
"And I want you to tell me everything you know about each of them, in particular if any of these Ministry people were in contact with Voldemort or his Death Eaters and if anyone on either list bears any sort of grudge against you or your father." He pointed to a column on the Death Eater page. "I’ve jotted down what little I know about any connections to either of you, besides the obvious DE thing."
Draco read a couple of entries before asking, "Why my father, when I’m the one being threatened?"
"A few reasons. First, because of the items taken from your flat. They’re all Malfoy items. This may stretch beyond you. It could be your father is the target and they’re just using you to get to him." Harry had given this much thought, and despite Lucius being a grade A arsewipe, he had shown some evidence, however slight, that he cared for his son. "When Voldemort wanted to punish your father, he chose to assign you an impossible task, yeah?"
Draco’s face hardened, but he said, "Yes."
"And those in the inner circle watched as your father became a shell of a man."
"How -?" He looked puzzled before reluctantly saying, "Yes."
Harry pointed at the pages. "So what’s to say this isn’t history repeating itself? Maybe someone knows the best way to get to Lucius is through you or your mother."
"But we barely talk."
Harry smirked. "Your father is a master of deception. He’s good at making people believe what he wants them to believe. And you’ve admitted the same about yourself, so who really knows you don’t talk?"
Draco pursed his lips, as though poised to argue. "I see your point."
"Besides," Harry added, "your father is under Ministry watch. It would be much harder to get to him than you."
He laughed. "I imagine the Ministry folks keeping watch might enjoy the sight of someone take Lucius out."
"Can’t argue with you there." Harry might get some enjoyment out of that himself. "But whoever’s threatening you doesn’t know that. They would only see the Ministry presence, and maybe not want to risk it."
Draco put his elbows on the table and put his face in his hands. "I hadn’t thought about that."
Harry’d figured as much. "So let’s duplicate the lists, shall we?" He waved his wand and a second set of lists appeared. "One for your father and one for you."
Draco pulled back as if burned. "If you think I’m going to talk to my father about this -"
Harry held up his hands. "Relax. I only meant for you to fill them both out, one based on your father’s interactions and the other based on your own. The more information you can give me, the better." He motioned towards the lists. "As you can see, there are quite a number of people listed here. I’d like to narrow down my focus."
Draco pulled the lists towards himself. "I know less than you might think. I was nobody in Voldemort’s circle"
Harry pointed to Draco’s left arm. "That little tattoo there begs to differ."
His face turned red and blotchy as he looked down at his arm, the mark hidden by his sleeve. "Fuck off."
"I know he granted you the honour as punishment to your father, and I also know that you weren’t in the inner circle, despite the mark, but you lived at Death Eater headquarters."
"You mean Death Eater headquarters took over my home."
"Semantics."
"Pretty fucking important distinction."
"Sure, whatever."
"Not whatever. No one in my family wanted them at the manor. Especially ..." He shuddered.
"I’m sorry. I know you didn’t choose what happened. And it couldn’t have been easy." Harry could still see Draco’s face as he’d been forced to administer Voldemort’s punishment.
"Understatement."
"I know. I know what he made you do. And I have a pretty good idea of what you must have witnessed. And to have all that penetrate your home, your sanctuary. And all that while your father fell apart. It must have been horrible."
Draco’s eyes stared, unfocussed for a time and Harry spared a moment or two to feel badly for bringing the memories to the surface. Then Draco’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What do you mean, you know what he made me do?"
Harry sighed. "It doesn’t matter. Just ... well, I know you -"
"No, no. You said specifically what he made me do. What do you mean by that? And don’t lie to me, Potter, because I’ll know."
Harry sighed again, resigned to telling his story once more. "I sort of lived inside Voldemort’s head some of the time."
"You what?"
Harry shrugged. "We had this ... connection of sorts. Sometimes, when his emotions ran high, I would see through his eyes, feel what he felt, experience what he did as though I were the one doing it." Draco stared in disbelief. "One of those times was just after Ron, Hermione and I had escaped two Death Eaters sent to catch us. He made you torture them. Or one at least. I only saw you Crucio the one."
Draco dragged his hands over his face. "You saw me do that?" Harry nodded. "And you still testified for me?" Harry nodded again. "And then ... we ... you ... what is wrong with you? Why would you -" He stopped abruptly and just stared at Harry.
Harry had asked himself those same questions many times. "I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Your guess is as good as mine. But as for testifying, what I saw was someone being forced into doing what he didn’t want to do."
Draco stared at his hands. "You have to mean it or it won’t work."
Harry laughed but it was without humour. "So your Aunt Bella told me."
"What?"
Harry sighed again. He really didn’t want to relive every part of that time. He really didn’t. "She’d killed my godfather, Sirius, her own cousin, and she was so very pleased with herself. She was taunting me and laughing about it, so I went after her. I threw a Crucio at her and she laughed some more. Said I’d really have to mean it if I wanted it to really work."
"You Crucioed my aunt?" Harry nodded. "And you lived to tell about it?"
Harry snorted. "I lived through the killing curse from her boss, so ..." He didn’t bother elaborating. "Anyway, I realised later that she’d been right. When I Crucioed Amycus Carrow, I really meant it. And he felt it."
Draco laughed. "I bet he did. What did he do?"
Harry shrugged. "Spit on McGonagall."
"He -"
"Never mind that. Can we not go through a play-by-play of the war, please?"
Draco sat smirking at Harry. "I can’t believe you, Saint Potter, cast an Unforgiveable."
"Yeah, well ... I Imperioed some people too." When Draco’s jaw dropped again, he said, "And don’t call me that. I did what I had to do and I did tell you before that I’m not perfect. Or saintly. Or anything close. But all’s fair and all that, right?"
"I still can’t believe it."
"Believe it. Don’t believe it. It doesn’t matter now anyway. It’s in the past, and I hope to never have to do that again. So can we get back to the matter at hand?"
"Sure." Draco gave him a strange look, but he couldn’t be bothered trying to work out what that meant. "What was that again?"
Harry pushed the papers back towards Draco. "The lists. Tell me if anyone on the list of Ministry employees was someone you remember your dad talking to or having over to the manor. Or maybe another Death Eater talked about them. And which people might hold a grudge against you or your dad, on either list. Anything we can do to narrow the list or focus on a handful of suspects at a time would be great."
"Do you really think this will help?"
"I don’t know, but I need to cover every angle, and I don’t have time to investigate everyone."
Draco picked up one of the lists of Death Eaters and shuddered. "I’ll do my best."
Continued in Part 8
Author: sesheta_66
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 4.7K
Rating: Eventual NC-17
Warning: none
Summary: Harry’s world is upended when he’s asked to investigate a break-in and threats levied at Draco Malfoy. He’s never told anyone about their short-lived but intense relationship, and now, five years after it ended, doesn’t seem the time. He’s a professional, so he will investigate, find and arrest the culprit, and get on with his life. What else can he do?
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
To start at the beginning, click here.
Or to read at AO3, click here.
[Malicious Intent - Part 7]
Malicious Intent - Part 7
After a night of further torture, piecing together snippets of Draco’s memories to form a reel of recurring images to afford his ex some privacy in his own home, attempting all the while not to think back to the time he and Draco had spent together, Harry decided that he ought to direct some of his attention to his other cases. While none of them were immediate - leads had run dry or only follow-up paperwork was required before closing them - he did have more than just Draco to focus on. And it would probably be in his best interest to think about something else. Anything else.
When he’d had his fill of fruitless follow-up messages that received no answers and enough paperwork to overwhelm even Hermione - okay, maybe not Hermione, but she just wasn’t normal - he went back to Draco’s case. The devices had yet to transmit - presuming his spells were any good, which they were - so Harry followed his instincts in the meantime. He researched all known Death Eaters that remained at large or were presumed dead without actual bodies to confirm. Then he proceeded to research Ministry employees from Voldemort’s time that might have had access to the listening devices. To each list he added notations on their relationship with any of the Malfoys. Many of those details he’d have to get from Draco later.
When, after several hours, he could no longer justify staying away, Harry made his way back to Draco’s flat.
When Draco answered the door looking knackered, Harry cheered up a bit. After all, why should he be the only one put out by them being shoved together, so to speak? Then he caught himself, and a voice that sounded so very much like Hermione sounded in his head. He’s a victim, Harry. You can’t wish ill will on him. That was true. And he genuinely felt for Draco the victim, wouldn’t wish the current situation on him or most people. Harry would continue to do everything he could to solve this case as quickly as he could, and give Draco his life back. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t be comforted, just a little, by the discomfort of Draco his ex. Petty, yes, but he figured it was only fair.
"You’re here late today," Draco said by way of greeting. "I expected you earlier."
"Really?" Harry said, pushing his way past the insufferable git and into the flat. "I wasn’t aware we had an appointment." He received an eyeroll in response to which he replied, "You are aware I have other work to do, yeah? Yours is not my only case."
Draco’s face fell and he toppled himself into a chair in the front room. "Sorry. I wasn’t aware and ... well I shouldn’t have assumed. It’s only -"
"I get it. You’re worried."
"Of course I’m worried!"
Harry sighed. "Shall we try this again?" he asked. "Good morning, Malfoy. I went to the office earlier and stopped by to update you on the case." Draco nodded and Harry continued. "There was no magical signature left on either the note you provided or the three listening devices. They’d been wiped clean."
"So they’re dead ends, both of them?"
"It seems so. Ditto for the scan I did amongst the objects damaged. Magic was detected - it’s incredibly difficult to wipe all traces from a crime scene - but it wasn’t discernible. The person or persons who did this - are doing this - are skilled at the art of deception."
Draco crossed his arms over his chest, but otherwise made no outward sign of discomfort.
Harry sat down on the sofa and pulled out his notebook. "Let’s sort through a few things, if you don’t mind."
Draco sat down in a chair across from Harry. "What do you need to know?"
Harry pulled out his quill and said, "Up ‘til now, I’ve focussed on the scene of the crime. Now I need to delve more into the possible motivation. Who, that you know of, might want to harm you?"
Draco snorted. "Wouldn’t a shorter list be those who don’t want to harm me?"
"Okay." Harry took a breath and ran his hand through his hair. "Why don’t I leave that with you and you can compile your own list, working your way down from those you think might be at the top of the list? Meanwhile, let’s look at different aspects of your life. Think about your work, interests you might be vocal about, your family, your love life, your past. Is there anyone who might hate you? Be jealous of you? Feel slighted by you? Want revenge for some wrong, whether real or imagined?"
Draco once again crossed his arms over his chest, this time more tightly, almost curling into himself. "In other words, I need to tell you everyone I’ve ever wronged in my life, how I’ve wronged them, and how they felt about that."
Harry put down the quill. "I know this is hard."
"How could you know? Saint Potter never wronged anyone in his life, did he? Except perhaps me." His back went rigid. "And it’s not like anyone gives a toss about some wannabe Death Eater anyway."
Harry would not rise to the bait. He’d apologised for the Sectumsempra incident five years ago and Draco had - supposedly - forgiven him then. As Harry had forgiven Draco for his attempt at throwing an Unforgiveable at him. More than that, they’d forgiven each other for all their past wrongs, real or perceived, deciding to look ahead rather than back, and had moved on from there. Bringing up old wounds was merely a diversionary tactic and Harry wasn’t falling for it.
"Look, Malfoy, you can tell me as much or as little as you want. The more you tell me, the more I can explore the possibility that each person on your list might want to hurt you. If you don’t want to share the reasons behind it, don’t. I’d suggest that you would be better served if you did, but no one - not me, not anyone - will force you to disclose anything you don’t want to."
Draco made a derisive grumble that made it clear he didn’t believe Harry.
"I am not investigating you. I am not digging into your life." Harry could do without knowing any more about what Draco’s been up to since ... "Need I remind you that you contacted us? I won’t pressure you into telling me what you’re not comfortable with, but I will ask you questions. Lots of questions. Personal questions. It’s entirely up to you what you disclose. But the more I know, the more likely I am to catch whoever is doing this."
"You’ll excuse me if I don’t jump for joy at your enthusiasm."
Harry laughed without humour. "Yeah, like this is my idea of fun." He put down the quill and rested his forearms on his knees. "You may not believe this of me, but I am a very private person. I loathe the intrusion of the media on my life."
Draco grumbled something under his breath that sounded like, "Yeah, right."
"I know you think I basked in it, but I never did. I just wanted to be left alone. So, no matter what you believe, I understand your desire, your need for privacy. And I respect that. But it seems to me that whoever is threatening you has already breached that." Harry hated the constant prodding into every little aspect of his life and he cherished what semblance of privacy he’d managed to hold onto. But there was another aspect to this where Draco was concerned. "I have no interest in prosecuting you for past crimes or even looking for crimes where none exist. Personally, as far as you are concerned, I think the past is best left in the past, where it belongs. Unless you admit to outright murder, I will not use anything you tell me against you."
Draco looked skeptical but did seem to be giving Harry’s words serious consideration. "How do I know I can trust you?"
Harry gave a wry smile. "You don’t. Not any more than I can trust you." Harry let that sink in for a while before he continued. "But I’m telling you the truth. Believe me or not. It makes no difference to me," he lied. It mattered more than he was willing to admit, even to himself, that Draco trust him. But he would be damned if he said that. "I’m not out to get you. I understand your mistrust of the Ministry and the Aurors, but I’m telling you that, as hard as this may be to believe, and despite our past, I will not betray your trust."
Draco spent a good while staring into Harry’s eyes. Harry let him. After a time, he said, "And my father?"
"Your father can rot in prison for all I care," Harry said without pause or emotion. "I will not extend the same courtesy to him, no matter who his son is."
Draco’s lip twitched. "Okay, I believe you."
Harry rolled his eyes. "So, we agree that you’ll compile a list for me tonight?"
"Sure."
Harry, acutely aware of the cameras on them, said, "I have a few things I wanted you to look at. Do you have some time to spare right now?"
Draco sighed. "If it won’t take to long. I do have a job, you know. I’ve arranged for most of the week off, but I have several sensitive potions brewing that I need to at least check in on sometime today."
Harry stood up and put away his quill. "That shouldn’t be a problem. You can go right over after we’re done."
They apparated to the hotel and when Draco landed, he shook as though to rid himself of a coating of filth. "I can’t wait to get those things out of the place. Gives me the creeps, being watched like that."
Harry didn’t blame him. "Soon," he said. "Now, if you really want."
Draco ran his hands up and down his arms. "I definitely want, but I want to catch the person more. I think I can put up with it for a little while longer."
"Good." Harry gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "And if it gets too much, you can pop over here to escape for a bit." Before he could think too hard about why he’d offered that as an option again, Harry motioned to the Pensieve on the table. "Meanwhile ..."
Draco’s eyes widened. "Did you finish?"
Harry shrugged. "It’s not going to win an Oscar, but it’ll do."
"It won’t what?"
"Sorry. Muggle reference. I won’t win an award for movie production, but it should be good enough to buy you a bit of privacy, at least in your living room. You can activate it while you’re out of the room - the bathroom is free of devices - and it’s set to direct the images at the camera and listening devices in the room. Then cast a localised cloaking spell for good measure and you should be fine."
"This’ll really work?"
"I don’t see why not." He waved his wand and the reel of memories lifted out of the Pensieve and swirled into a small box. "Just tap it with your wand and say, exire incipere." He picked up a coin from the table. "I’ve linked it to this. Just leave the coin in the centre of the coffee table before activating the spell and it should align the playback properly within the boundaries of the room. When you want to end the spell, position yourself in the room where your projected self is and end both spells at once. And make sure you’re wearing the same clothes."
Draco took the box and coin from Harry and put them in his pocket. "Thank you."
"Hopefully you won’t need it for long." He pushed the Pensieve aside and put some papers down on the table. "With any luck they’ll transmit soon and then we can rid your place of the rest."
Draco sat at the table and Harry slid the papers towards him. "What’s this?"
"I’ve come up with some information, and was hoping you could fill in some blanks for me."
Draco scanned the pages. "When did you do all this?" he asked, looking genuinely curious. At Harry’s blank stare, he said, "This had to have taken you a while."
Harry nodded. "This morning. I told you I went to the office." He just hadn’t bothered to mention that he’d been unable to get back to sleep after waking at five o’clock, and rather than wake Ginny, he’d decided to grab some tea and toast, then head out right away.
"Yes, but to work on other cases."
Harry nodded again. "Which I did. And then I worked on this."
Draco laughed. Harry glared at him but said nothing. When finally his laughter faded into chuckles and then silence, Draco finally spoke. "Who would have thought? Harry Potter, one of the laziest students ever to ride Granger’s coattails - okay, maybe not as lazy as the weasel, but still - would actually make an effort at his job?" He chuckled again. "And here I thought you’d managed to work your way up the ranks so quickly because of your name." He wiped a tear from under his eye. "Turns out you’re actually good at your job."
Harry scowled, not sure why this should surprise him. Malfoy had never hidden how he’d felt about Harry in school. And it’s not like Harry hadn’t faced doubt from other people. But after everything ... he would have thought, hoped, that Draco knew him. Not, perhaps, as well as most, but ... well. Maybe he didn’t at that. "Glad to hear you still think so highly of me."
"Oh, come on, Harry - sorry, Auror Potter" he corrected himself before Harry could. "I know you’re good at charging in where no one else would dare go, like the good little Gryffindor you are. Brave and noble and chivalrous and all that. And I even acknowledged the other day that you’re good at spells I’m sure few people know - this box, for instance." He tapped his pocket and looked at Harry as though waiting for thanks or something. "It’s just ... well, you were never one to have his nose in a book."
"I read!" Harry tried not to cringe at how defensive he sounded. Why was he letting Draco get to him like this, and how had they even veered off into this ridiculous conversation?
Draco stifled a laugh and tried fruitlessly to cover it with a cough. "Look, I didn’t mean to suggest you weren’t smart. Just that the tedium required of research never struck me as something you would ever take much interest in."
He had a point, but Harry wasn’t going to admit that. "Look, Malfoy. I realise this may be hard for you to wrap your head around, but I grew up. I happen to like being an Auror. I also happen to be good at it. Yes, I still throw myself into situations that others might hesitate with, but I don’t do so without thought. I’ve learned to assess situations for potential danger and act accordingly." He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to explain himself, but explain he did. "And yes, I do research. Which happens to involve cracking open a book or ten. It may not be my favourite part of the job, but it’s a damn sight better than the paperwork after the fact. But I recognise the need for even that. Because I’ve been thrown into cases where there hasn’t been enough information transferred from other investigators, and I don’t want to put others in that situation. And don’t even get me started on the lawyers."
Draco chuckled at that. "Okay, okay, I get your point."
"Do you, though? I get the feeling you still think I’m this kid from school that broke the rules and - how did you put it? - rode on Hermione’s coattails. I was never the kid you thought I was at Hogwarts, even if bits and pieces of what you believe are true. Hell, I’m not even the kid I really was at school. Not anymore. I’ve changed a lot since then. If I ask Hermione for her insight from time to time, it’s because I respect her opinion. But make no mistake. I am my own man. I do my own work. I make my own decisions. And I got where I am today because I work hard, I do a damn good job and I care. I don’t ride on anyone’s coattails and I sure as hell didn’t get handed this job because of my name."
"I -"
"You don’t know me at all." Harry was on a roll now. "You never did. I thought, for a while there, that you might want to, but you never did, did you? Don’t bother answering. We both know it’s true. And you know what? I’ve accepted that. I’ve moved on. It’s one of those things I’ve outgrown - blindly trusting my feelings." He laughed derisively. "You know, I suppose I should thank you for that."
"Harry, I -"
"Look, we’ve strayed way off course here. Can we just get back to business?"
"But -"
"You’re a potions master now, yeah?"
Draco nodded, taken aback by the abrupt change in topic. "Yes."
"Right, so if I were to laugh at you and suggest that you only got where you are today because you were a kiss-arse to Snape and got favourable treatment, and then used your father’s connections and substantial funds to buy your way into a lucrative position, you’d probably take offence at that, yeah?"
He pursed his lips. "Because it’s not true."
"Right. And I’m pretty sure I know that. Because, despite the fact that while we were in school that’s exactly what I thought of you, since then I’ve come to realise that, in hindsight, my view of who you were was through a biased lens. I never really knew you in school, just like you never really knew me. I get that. So when I hear that your potions are sought after far beyond England, I don’t find myself thinking, ‘Oh, hey, who would’ve thought that lazy kiss-arse would ever amount to anything?’ If - and this is a big if - I ever hear stuff like that, I just think, ‘Good for him.’ And maybe feel a bit hopeful that you’d finally got yourself out from under your father’s reach."
Harry hadn’t meant to say that last part. Hell, he hadn’t meant to say any of it. But he found himself unable to stop. Fucking. Talking. He really needed to wrap this case up and soon. Being around Draco was messing with his head and he didn’t like his emotions being so out of control.
"So, now that we’ve established that you’re still an arse, at least as it relates to me, let’s just get on with things, shall we?" He nudged the papers even closer to a now silent Draco. "For lack of a better place to start narrowing things down, I’ve drawn up a couple of lists. This one is of known Death Eaters. The ones at the top are alive, still at large, location unknown. This next group is assumed dead, but their bodies have never been recovered. The ones below the line are currently guests of Azkaban but with known relatives on the outside. The rest - dead and gone as well as those incarcerated with no known relative to seek revenge on their behalf - have been left off the list. The second, considerably longer list, is of Ministry employees from Voldemort’s time that might have had access to those devices in your flat."
Draco swallowed as he registered the number of people on the list. "And?"
"And I want you to tell me everything you know about each of them, in particular if any of these Ministry people were in contact with Voldemort or his Death Eaters and if anyone on either list bears any sort of grudge against you or your father." He pointed to a column on the Death Eater page. "I’ve jotted down what little I know about any connections to either of you, besides the obvious DE thing."
Draco read a couple of entries before asking, "Why my father, when I’m the one being threatened?"
"A few reasons. First, because of the items taken from your flat. They’re all Malfoy items. This may stretch beyond you. It could be your father is the target and they’re just using you to get to him." Harry had given this much thought, and despite Lucius being a grade A arsewipe, he had shown some evidence, however slight, that he cared for his son. "When Voldemort wanted to punish your father, he chose to assign you an impossible task, yeah?"
Draco’s face hardened, but he said, "Yes."
"And those in the inner circle watched as your father became a shell of a man."
"How -?" He looked puzzled before reluctantly saying, "Yes."
Harry pointed at the pages. "So what’s to say this isn’t history repeating itself? Maybe someone knows the best way to get to Lucius is through you or your mother."
"But we barely talk."
Harry smirked. "Your father is a master of deception. He’s good at making people believe what he wants them to believe. And you’ve admitted the same about yourself, so who really knows you don’t talk?"
Draco pursed his lips, as though poised to argue. "I see your point."
"Besides," Harry added, "your father is under Ministry watch. It would be much harder to get to him than you."
He laughed. "I imagine the Ministry folks keeping watch might enjoy the sight of someone take Lucius out."
"Can’t argue with you there." Harry might get some enjoyment out of that himself. "But whoever’s threatening you doesn’t know that. They would only see the Ministry presence, and maybe not want to risk it."
Draco put his elbows on the table and put his face in his hands. "I hadn’t thought about that."
Harry’d figured as much. "So let’s duplicate the lists, shall we?" He waved his wand and a second set of lists appeared. "One for your father and one for you."
Draco pulled back as if burned. "If you think I’m going to talk to my father about this -"
Harry held up his hands. "Relax. I only meant for you to fill them both out, one based on your father’s interactions and the other based on your own. The more information you can give me, the better." He motioned towards the lists. "As you can see, there are quite a number of people listed here. I’d like to narrow down my focus."
Draco pulled the lists towards himself. "I know less than you might think. I was nobody in Voldemort’s circle"
Harry pointed to Draco’s left arm. "That little tattoo there begs to differ."
His face turned red and blotchy as he looked down at his arm, the mark hidden by his sleeve. "Fuck off."
"I know he granted you the honour as punishment to your father, and I also know that you weren’t in the inner circle, despite the mark, but you lived at Death Eater headquarters."
"You mean Death Eater headquarters took over my home."
"Semantics."
"Pretty fucking important distinction."
"Sure, whatever."
"Not whatever. No one in my family wanted them at the manor. Especially ..." He shuddered.
"I’m sorry. I know you didn’t choose what happened. And it couldn’t have been easy." Harry could still see Draco’s face as he’d been forced to administer Voldemort’s punishment.
"Understatement."
"I know. I know what he made you do. And I have a pretty good idea of what you must have witnessed. And to have all that penetrate your home, your sanctuary. And all that while your father fell apart. It must have been horrible."
Draco’s eyes stared, unfocussed for a time and Harry spared a moment or two to feel badly for bringing the memories to the surface. Then Draco’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What do you mean, you know what he made me do?"
Harry sighed. "It doesn’t matter. Just ... well, I know you -"
"No, no. You said specifically what he made me do. What do you mean by that? And don’t lie to me, Potter, because I’ll know."
Harry sighed again, resigned to telling his story once more. "I sort of lived inside Voldemort’s head some of the time."
"You what?"
Harry shrugged. "We had this ... connection of sorts. Sometimes, when his emotions ran high, I would see through his eyes, feel what he felt, experience what he did as though I were the one doing it." Draco stared in disbelief. "One of those times was just after Ron, Hermione and I had escaped two Death Eaters sent to catch us. He made you torture them. Or one at least. I only saw you Crucio the one."
Draco dragged his hands over his face. "You saw me do that?" Harry nodded. "And you still testified for me?" Harry nodded again. "And then ... we ... you ... what is wrong with you? Why would you -" He stopped abruptly and just stared at Harry.
Harry had asked himself those same questions many times. "I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Your guess is as good as mine. But as for testifying, what I saw was someone being forced into doing what he didn’t want to do."
Draco stared at his hands. "You have to mean it or it won’t work."
Harry laughed but it was without humour. "So your Aunt Bella told me."
"What?"
Harry sighed again. He really didn’t want to relive every part of that time. He really didn’t. "She’d killed my godfather, Sirius, her own cousin, and she was so very pleased with herself. She was taunting me and laughing about it, so I went after her. I threw a Crucio at her and she laughed some more. Said I’d really have to mean it if I wanted it to really work."
"You Crucioed my aunt?" Harry nodded. "And you lived to tell about it?"
Harry snorted. "I lived through the killing curse from her boss, so ..." He didn’t bother elaborating. "Anyway, I realised later that she’d been right. When I Crucioed Amycus Carrow, I really meant it. And he felt it."
Draco laughed. "I bet he did. What did he do?"
Harry shrugged. "Spit on McGonagall."
"He -"
"Never mind that. Can we not go through a play-by-play of the war, please?"
Draco sat smirking at Harry. "I can’t believe you, Saint Potter, cast an Unforgiveable."
"Yeah, well ... I Imperioed some people too." When Draco’s jaw dropped again, he said, "And don’t call me that. I did what I had to do and I did tell you before that I’m not perfect. Or saintly. Or anything close. But all’s fair and all that, right?"
"I still can’t believe it."
"Believe it. Don’t believe it. It doesn’t matter now anyway. It’s in the past, and I hope to never have to do that again. So can we get back to the matter at hand?"
"Sure." Draco gave him a strange look, but he couldn’t be bothered trying to work out what that meant. "What was that again?"
Harry pushed the papers back towards Draco. "The lists. Tell me if anyone on the list of Ministry employees was someone you remember your dad talking to or having over to the manor. Or maybe another Death Eater talked about them. And which people might hold a grudge against you or your dad, on either list. Anything we can do to narrow the list or focus on a handful of suspects at a time would be great."
"Do you really think this will help?"
"I don’t know, but I need to cover every angle, and I don’t have time to investigate everyone."
Draco picked up one of the lists of Death Eaters and shuddered. "I’ll do my best."
Continued in Part 8