Malicious Intent - Part 10 (H/D)
Title: Malicious Intent - Part 10
Author: sesheta_66
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 4.1K
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 10]
Malicious Intent - Part 10
Harry picked up a pizza on his way back home and was making his way through it, Rowle’s file spread in front of him. He took a sip of his beer, trying to work out the best way to narrow down the Death Eater’s location. It was highly doubtful he’d reside in a mainly Muggle neighbourhood, so that narrowed things down further to a known stretch of wizarding properties near Raphael Park.
He finished his first beer and was about to get another when he felt the coin in his pocket burn. He pulled it out, but there was no message. But still it burned. He’d set the coin to alert him with either a message or continued contact, just in case Draco wasn’t able to send a message. Adrenaline shot through his veins as he imagined numerous reasons why Draco might be unable to send a message, each one worse than the last. He pulled out his wand and Apparated directly into Draco’s flat.
At once, he located Draco and cast a Protego on him, then marched through the flat, wand ready to confront any intruder. It took him mere moments to realise that no threat loomed. He returned to the living room to find a bewildered Draco gawping at him. "What the hell?" he asked. "Nothing like giving a guy a warning."
His words slurred, but he seemed otherwise unharmed. Harry lifted the protective charm. "The coin burned but there was no message." At Draco’s continued scowl, he said, "I thought something might have happened to you. I just -" It was only then that he took in the scene: Draco holding a glass of amber liquid in one hand, the coin clenched between thumb and finger in the other, the nearly empty bottle of whiskey on the table, and beside it sat the dragon. The dragon Harry’d bought in Wales so long ago.
Harry stared at the figure and found himself unable to hold back the question he’d been wanting to ask since he’d first seen it. "Why did you keep it?"
Bleary-eyed, Draco laughed and took a swig of his firewhiskey. "Why haven’t you married the she-weasel?" he countered.
A surge of anger swelled inside Harry. "Not really any of your business, is it?"
Draco turned red, glassy eyes on Harry and his smirk slid off his face, replaced with pain. "No, I don’t suppose it is." He finished the drink with a large swig and stared into the empty glass. "I really fucked that up, didn’t I?"
Just as Draco reached again for the bottle, Harry sent it and the now empty glass to the sideboard with a wave. "I think maybe that’s enough for tonight," he said.
Draco didn’t resist, dropping his hands to his legs, rubbing his palms along his trousers. Harry tried not to follow their path along those familiar thighs. "You know, I told myself I wouldn’t miss you," Draco said to the floor. "But I remember ..." He ran his hands over his face, perhaps in an attempt to scrub away the memories. "I remember everything. The way you taste, the feel of your hair through my fingers, how it felt to wake up beside you. I remember all of it."
Harry’s heart began to race, threatening to pound its way out of his chest. Why was Draco telling him this now? He was drunk, obviously, and he’d had one hell of a day. Then it hit Harry. Draco had said he’d marry and have children. Had that just been to please his father? And now that Lucius had betrayed him in such a horribly intrusive way, was this the final straw? Or was he simply angry at Lucius and Harry would be a good way to lash out at his father? Whatever the reason, Draco was drunk and not thinking clearly.
"Malfoy, I don’t think you want -"
Draco let out a choking sound. "Do you know how much it kills me, every time you call me that? It’s like nothing’s changed since school. Like none of it ever happened. Like it all meant nothing."
That’s exactly how Harry had felt when Draco had cast him aside. Like it had all meant nothing. But he couldn’t spit out the words. Didn’t want to show how much it hurt him, even now. "Maybe you should have a cup of tea." Harry escaped into the kitchen and put the kettle on. He didn’t want to have this conversation, and certainly not when Draco was drunk.
He pulled down the teapot and a couple of mugs, then, thinking Draco could use something to soak up some of the alcohol, scrambled for a box of biscuits and put some on a plate. He poured the water into the kettle, then returned to the living room while the tea steeped.
Harry sat down beside Draco on the sofa, put the plate of biscuits on the table and slid it towards Draco. He ignored it. "You know what? I don’t even have a picture of the two of us." Draco said. Harry did know. They’d never taken the time, hadn’t even thought about it. Having a photograph taken didn’t exactly go along with hiding a relationship, after all. Draco reached for the dragon, holding it gently in one hand and running his finger along its back. "That day was the one time it felt like we were a real couple and this is the only thing I have to remind me of us. As if I’d ever let go of that."
That knocked the wind out of Harry as surely as if he’d been punched in the gut and he didn’t know what to say. He’d never imagined - not after what had happened - that Draco would have felt the same way as he had about that day. And the stupid little dragon. Draco looked into his eyes, then reached for Harry’s face with his free hand. He reconsidered at the last minute, dropping it and his eyes back to the dragon. In a choked voice, he said, "This is all I have left."
Harry stood up abruptly. "I’ll get the tea." And like a coward, he fled the room. His hands shook as he poured the tea and added a splash of milk to both, and a heaping spoon of sugar to Draco’s, just the way he liked it. Harry hated himself a little for remembering.
He took a few long breaths, trying to calm his racing heart and get a grip. He calmed himself enough to carry the mugs without his hands shaking too much. He put the mugs onto the table, this time taking a seat in the chair opposite Draco.
They sat in silence for a time. Harry didn’t know what to say. Draco was drunk and hurt and vulnerable, and Harry was sure he never would have said any of this sober. But, as much as Harry would have loved to get to the bottom of Draco’s motivation, he would not take advantage of his current state in order to get information from him. Besides, Harry reminded himself, who knew if this was how Draco really felt? And was it Harry he missed or just the idea of it all? Of being free of Lucius’ pureblood grip on him?
Draco sipped his tea and gave Harry a half sad, half hopeful look that said, you remembered. Once again, he spoke to the floor. "I can’t believe I let you walk away."
Let him? What the- "You didn’t let me walk away, Draco." Harry’s stomach clenched as he relived that day, that conversation, again. Through clenched teeth, he reminded his ex, "I wasn’t going anywhere. You pushed me away."
"But you let me!"
Harry gritted his teeth. He would not take the blame for this. "You’re the one that said it meant nothing, not me," he began. He took several deep breaths, reeling in his anger, his pain. "You know what? Never mind." He really, really didn’t want to have this conversation, not now. He had a job to do. They could take a trip down memory lane and try to rewrite history once this case was closed. But until then ... "It’s time for me to go. Sorry I barged in unannounced." But I was worried about you. "There’s a pot of tea in the kitchen. I recommend you drink it all, have something to eat, maybe take a sobriety potion and go to bed. We can talk tomorrow. When you’re sober."
Draco continued to stare down at the floor. Harry knew he was hurting, but he wasn’t the only one. And right now, Harry didn’t think he could handle any more of this. "I’ll be at the hotel most of the day. Come by whenever."
"I don’t blame you for hating me," Draco said without looking up.
Harry took out his wand. "That’s just it, though ... I could never hate you." And he Apparated home.
His first instinct, upon arriving home, was to reach for the firewhiskey. He opted instead for another beer - no use both of them being hungover the next day. Besides, Ginny would be home in a few hours and he didn’t fancy explaining to her why he’d drowned himself in alcohol while she was out.
He spent an hour or so fruitlessly trying to rid his mind of the scene he’d left at Draco’s, but to no avail. All he’d managed to do was stare unseeingly at the pages of Rowle’s file while the conversation played on constant repeat in his head.
By the time Ginny got home, he’d finished the rest of the pizza, had switched from beer to tea, had put away his work, and was watching some mindless show on the telly.
Ginny took in the scene and smiled. "Impressive. I expected you to be buried in your work."
Harry shrugged. "Wanted to clear my head before going to sleep. How was your girls’ night?"
She put down her bag and sat across from him. "It was good. We had a good talk."
Uh oh. That sounded more like, we should talk. Sure enough ...
"Harry, why haven’t you asked me to marry you?"
Thankfully, he hadn’t been sipping his tea or he’d have choked on it. Instead, he frowned. "What?" He thought that was pretty rich, considering what their relationship had become. They’d been drifting apart rather than closer together, and the last thing he’d been thinking about was marriage. Apparently he’d been alone in that assessment.
Ginny straightened her back and turned a determined look towards him. "We’ve been living together for some time now. Isn’t marriage the next logical step?"
Well, yes, it would have been. In fact, that’s what Harry’d thought at the time she’d moved in. That this was a step towards marriage. But since then, they’d settled into what felt more like a friendship than anything else. And he wasn’t so sure where things were going anymore. "I -" he began, but wasn’t sure what to say next. What did he want? His recently rekindled feelings for Draco aside, what did he want from her? What had he wanted before this case had taken over his life? "Is that what you want?"
Her eyes narrowed and he wouldn’t have been surprised if a bat bogey hex were thrown at him. "I’m not asking what I want, Harry. I’m asking what you want. What you expect to come out of this. I feel like we’ve been drifting apart for so long now, like we’ve been living together, but apart, you know?" He nodded. So he hadn’t been alone in thinking that after all. "I’d thought we’d get closer, only now ..."
The words spilled out before he could think them through. "So you think getting married will fix that?"
He knew it’d been the wrong thing to say - however true the statement was - as soon as the words had left his mouth. "No, Harry," she said, a waspishness in her voice he hadn’t heard in some time. Like all the emotion in their relationship, not even the anger held much spark anymore. It was strangely comforting to know there was still some sign of life there, however incensed Ginny was. "I just wanted to know if you felt the same way I do. If ... well, I don’t know what I meant. Maybe we should talk later. I have practice early in the morning and strategising for the weekend game in the afternoon, but I’ll be home for dinner. Maybe we can talk then."
He nodded. "Sure." Why the hell not? He might as well deal with every relationship he’d ever had, all at once. Maybe he should call up Cho and have her over for tea tomorrow to discuss what went wrong between them too. Tossing aside that uncharitable thought - Gin had no idea about Draco, past or present, after all - he said, "I can grab some take-away and we can ... talk." He tried not to sound like he wanted to throw up; based on Ginny’s expression, he wasn’t so sure he’d succeeded.
"Right." She stood up. "Well, goodnight, then." And she went to bed. She didn’t even bother with a kiss on the cheek. Harry didn’t follow. He didn’t think he would sleep much anyway, so why bother? No point keeping her awake all night too.
When his alarm went in the morning, Harry was still in the previous day’s clothes, uncomfortably positioned on the sofa, and Ginny had already left for the day. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair, wondering what the day ahead would hold for him. He wasn’t sure his emotions could go through the wringer much more before he cracked. Then again, putting things into perspective, he’d survived a war with a madman after him. Surely he could handle whatever was in store. How much worse could it get?
Much worse, it turned out.
He’d dragged himself into the shower and choked down some toast and coffee before checking in at the office. With Ron’s team away in Yorkshire, Harry and the others remaining had picked up a few nuisance cases that had come in overnight. While they didn’t take too long to assess and either manage or assign out, it did leave Harry behind on his plans to work on Draco’s case. By the time he got to the hotel, it was already two o’clock in the afternoon.
Shortly after he arrived, and before he’d had much of a chance to dive into the case, Draco showed up, a look of determination etched on his face. "Oh, you’re here?" he said. "I came by earlier but you weren’t. I thought maybe you were avoiding me."
"No. I know I said I’d be here all day, but one of the teams is out of town and the rest of us got saddled with extra cases this morning. By the time I even realised what time it was, I didn’t think to let you know. Sorry about that."
Draco brushed his comments away with a wave. "Never mind. You don’t report to me. It’s only ... well, I was in pretty bad shape last night."
"Yeah, I know. That’s why I left when I did. Before ..."
Draco raised his brows. "Before I could say anything stupid?" he asked. Harry cringed. "You were a bit late for that."
Harry knew that was true, but he really hadn’t wanted to leave him alone in that state. But if it had been Harry rambling on like that, he’d have been mortified the next day. "Yeah. Sorry. I just -"
"Did you mean what you said?" Draco asked, cutting him off. Harry had absolutely no idea what Draco was talking about. They’d said so many things the day before, he couldn’t keep it all straight in his mind. "About always wanting to know the truth?" Oh, that. Harry nodded. "No matter how much it might hurt?"
Harry nodded again. "It’s always better to know the truth."
"Right, then." Draco walked over to the bookshelf and picked up the Pensieve. He placed it on the table and drew out his wand. Placing it to his temple, he pulled out a long, silvery strand and placed it in the rune-covered basin. He looked at Harry and motioned towards the swirling mass. "There you have it. The truth. Don’t say I didn’t warn you."
Harry looked from Draco to the Pensieve and back again. "Care to explain?"
"Not really," he said. "It’s self-explanatory."
Harry hesitated. "What’s this all about?"
"I told you. The truth. You want to know the truth so badly, there it is."
Harry scowled at the Pensieve. "Are you going to join me?"
Draco laughed but without humour. "Fuck, no. I relive that memory often enough as it is."
Harry frowned. "Why don’t you just tell me?"
Draco put his hands on the table and leaned into Harry’s space. "As I’ve said, I don’t want to relive it, thanks. Besides, I highly doubt you’d believe me if I did." He stood up and crossed his arms over his chest. "So ... go on, then. See how much you like the truth."
Harry, never one to resist a challenge, as Draco well knew, nodded and without thinking twice, dove into Draco’s memory.
Draco stood, arms crossed much the same way as he’d just been doing, only this time defiantly staring down Ginny and Ron. "Admit it, Malfoy, you don’t give a shit," Ron said. "You’re just messing with him and we all know it."
"Well, everyone but Harry," Ginny said. "I don’t know what kind of hold you have on him, but it ends now."
Draco sneered at the two of them. "Why, because the two of you say so? Not bloody likely."
"No, because it’s what’s best for Harry," Ginny said.
Draco dropped his arms and marched towards her. Ron stepped closer to form a barrier between the two. "Relax, Weasel. I’m not going to touch her." He looked at each of them in turn, disgust pouring off him in waves. "Don’t you think that maybe Harry should decide what’s best for him? Hasn’t he had enough of other people deciding what he should and shouldn’t do?"
"Of course," Ron said.
"And yet here you are."
"Because we all know that you’re no good for him," Ron spat.
Draco turned his attention to Ginny and narrowed his eyes. "And I suppose you are just what he needs." Contempt and jealousy resonated from him and filled the room.
"That’s not the point," she said.
"Oh, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly the point."
"No, Malfoy," Ron interjected. "The point is Harry deserves better than the likes of you. Pretty much anyone else."
Draco’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. "You know nothing about me."
Ron laughed. It wasn’t a nice sound. Harry had never heard him like that before. "I think I know you and your family better than most. Death. Eater. Scum. The lot of you. Even after we saved you in the Room of Requirement when it was going down in flames - thanks to your buddy, Crabbe - you went back to the other side. Just like your dear old daddy, pretending to be all sorry, and an upstanding person, only to jump at the chance to cow-tow to the latest maniac that tries to seize power. Too pathetic to take a stand yourself, you just ride on other people’s coattails. And now here you are. Riding on Harry’s. And he doesn’t have a clue, does he?"
Draco took deep, calming breaths. Harry knew this uncanny ability Draco had to control his emotions was due in large part to having Death Eaters surrounding him day and night. He’d often joked about there being at least one good thing to come of that time. Harry didn’t think he’d have been so calm. "Look, Weaselbee, She-Weasel, as difficult as this may be for you to believe, I am not manipulating Harry. You might want to give him credit for being able to see through bullshit when he sees it. Unlike you, he knows me. And do you know why he knows me? Because I let him in. And you know what else? You don’t hold a monopoly on caring about him. I just happen to have faith in him too. I trust that he can make his own decisions. I don’t try to control his life, something far too many people have done already."
"Sure you don’t," Ginny said.
"Excuse me, but I’m quite sure it’s the two of you here right now, trying to do just that."
"We aren’t trying to control Harry," she responded. Draco snorted. "We’re just trying to get you to see reason."
"Oh, really. How do you work that one out?"
Ginny made to say something else, but Ron cut her off. "You say you care about him?" Draco nodded. "And you think you know him." Another nod. "Then you should know how much he hates attention. Hates people gawping at him, fawning over him, pretending they know him. Hates the media frenzy that’s surrounded him practically his whole life."
"No thanks to you," Ginny added.
Ron coughed and continued. "Well, the media would have a field day with this morsel, don’t you think? Death Eater Draco Malfoy, son of Voldemort’s right hand man, nephew of crazed lunatic torturer and murderess, with our saviour, Harry Potter. What does this mean? Has he lost his mind? Is this now the end of Potter? He can’t be stable. Needs to be locked up. Not just for his own good, but for the good of everyone. Someone as powerful as the wizard who conquered the greatest enemy of wizardkind is now under the influence - perhaps even the control - of that same enemy’s follower? He must be stopped."
Colour drained from Draco’s face as Ron listed potential headlines, rumours that might be.
"Of course, that’s the worst case. But you’ve seen how people react when they’re scared. And believe me, they’re scared as hell right now." That had been true at the end of the war, but Harry thought it was a bit much to imagine them locking him away just for dating Draco. "And even if it didn’t get that bad, do you really think anyone would trust him in a position of authority? Hell, he’d be lucky to even become an Auror, never mind work his way up the ranks. And he’d make a great leader; look at what he’s done already. He deserves everything life has to offer. If you care about him, as you claim, how can you deny him that? Or are you going to prove me right and show yourself to be the selfish bastard we all know you to be?"
Draco tried to school his features, but Harry saw how ill he looked and was sure the others did too.
"Glad to see you’re starting to understand," Ginny snapped, the venom in her voice like a smack to Harry’s face. "See? It’s got nothing to do with me. It has everything to do with Harry. And what his life is likely to become, should the two of you carry on with this farce of a relationship."
Harry wasn’t so sure it had nothing to do with Ginny, but by the look on Draco’s face, they’d got to him. His hands were shaking and he looked ready to throw up. Harry hadn’t seen him look that bad since the war. "Get out," he told them.
"But --"
"Get out! Leave, just ... go."
The smirk on Ginny’s face made Harry sick. She’d won and she knew it. They’d won. Draco had lost. And so had Harry. Oh, God, how much they’d lost. As he was drawn back into Draco’s flat, Harry knew what had come next. The end of his life with Draco, a life barely started, but one based on truth, forgiveness and compassion, and the return to his old life with Ginny, only now it was a tainted life based on lies, deception and pain. Neither she nor Ron had ever told him that they’d known. He’d been manipulated again. And he’d allowed it to happen. Well, no more. He and Ginny would have their talk tonight, but it would go far differently than she’d planned, that was for damn sure.
When he looked at Draco, who stood watching him, Harry had expected a look of triumph, vindication perhaps. But all he saw was a broken man. "I ... I have to go." And he left.
Continued in Part 11
Author: sesheta_66
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 4.1K
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 10]
Malicious Intent - Part 10
Harry picked up a pizza on his way back home and was making his way through it, Rowle’s file spread in front of him. He took a sip of his beer, trying to work out the best way to narrow down the Death Eater’s location. It was highly doubtful he’d reside in a mainly Muggle neighbourhood, so that narrowed things down further to a known stretch of wizarding properties near Raphael Park.
He finished his first beer and was about to get another when he felt the coin in his pocket burn. He pulled it out, but there was no message. But still it burned. He’d set the coin to alert him with either a message or continued contact, just in case Draco wasn’t able to send a message. Adrenaline shot through his veins as he imagined numerous reasons why Draco might be unable to send a message, each one worse than the last. He pulled out his wand and Apparated directly into Draco’s flat.
At once, he located Draco and cast a Protego on him, then marched through the flat, wand ready to confront any intruder. It took him mere moments to realise that no threat loomed. He returned to the living room to find a bewildered Draco gawping at him. "What the hell?" he asked. "Nothing like giving a guy a warning."
His words slurred, but he seemed otherwise unharmed. Harry lifted the protective charm. "The coin burned but there was no message." At Draco’s continued scowl, he said, "I thought something might have happened to you. I just -" It was only then that he took in the scene: Draco holding a glass of amber liquid in one hand, the coin clenched between thumb and finger in the other, the nearly empty bottle of whiskey on the table, and beside it sat the dragon. The dragon Harry’d bought in Wales so long ago.
Harry stared at the figure and found himself unable to hold back the question he’d been wanting to ask since he’d first seen it. "Why did you keep it?"
Bleary-eyed, Draco laughed and took a swig of his firewhiskey. "Why haven’t you married the she-weasel?" he countered.
A surge of anger swelled inside Harry. "Not really any of your business, is it?"
Draco turned red, glassy eyes on Harry and his smirk slid off his face, replaced with pain. "No, I don’t suppose it is." He finished the drink with a large swig and stared into the empty glass. "I really fucked that up, didn’t I?"
Just as Draco reached again for the bottle, Harry sent it and the now empty glass to the sideboard with a wave. "I think maybe that’s enough for tonight," he said.
Draco didn’t resist, dropping his hands to his legs, rubbing his palms along his trousers. Harry tried not to follow their path along those familiar thighs. "You know, I told myself I wouldn’t miss you," Draco said to the floor. "But I remember ..." He ran his hands over his face, perhaps in an attempt to scrub away the memories. "I remember everything. The way you taste, the feel of your hair through my fingers, how it felt to wake up beside you. I remember all of it."
Harry’s heart began to race, threatening to pound its way out of his chest. Why was Draco telling him this now? He was drunk, obviously, and he’d had one hell of a day. Then it hit Harry. Draco had said he’d marry and have children. Had that just been to please his father? And now that Lucius had betrayed him in such a horribly intrusive way, was this the final straw? Or was he simply angry at Lucius and Harry would be a good way to lash out at his father? Whatever the reason, Draco was drunk and not thinking clearly.
"Malfoy, I don’t think you want -"
Draco let out a choking sound. "Do you know how much it kills me, every time you call me that? It’s like nothing’s changed since school. Like none of it ever happened. Like it all meant nothing."
That’s exactly how Harry had felt when Draco had cast him aside. Like it had all meant nothing. But he couldn’t spit out the words. Didn’t want to show how much it hurt him, even now. "Maybe you should have a cup of tea." Harry escaped into the kitchen and put the kettle on. He didn’t want to have this conversation, and certainly not when Draco was drunk.
He pulled down the teapot and a couple of mugs, then, thinking Draco could use something to soak up some of the alcohol, scrambled for a box of biscuits and put some on a plate. He poured the water into the kettle, then returned to the living room while the tea steeped.
Harry sat down beside Draco on the sofa, put the plate of biscuits on the table and slid it towards Draco. He ignored it. "You know what? I don’t even have a picture of the two of us." Draco said. Harry did know. They’d never taken the time, hadn’t even thought about it. Having a photograph taken didn’t exactly go along with hiding a relationship, after all. Draco reached for the dragon, holding it gently in one hand and running his finger along its back. "That day was the one time it felt like we were a real couple and this is the only thing I have to remind me of us. As if I’d ever let go of that."
That knocked the wind out of Harry as surely as if he’d been punched in the gut and he didn’t know what to say. He’d never imagined - not after what had happened - that Draco would have felt the same way as he had about that day. And the stupid little dragon. Draco looked into his eyes, then reached for Harry’s face with his free hand. He reconsidered at the last minute, dropping it and his eyes back to the dragon. In a choked voice, he said, "This is all I have left."
Harry stood up abruptly. "I’ll get the tea." And like a coward, he fled the room. His hands shook as he poured the tea and added a splash of milk to both, and a heaping spoon of sugar to Draco’s, just the way he liked it. Harry hated himself a little for remembering.
He took a few long breaths, trying to calm his racing heart and get a grip. He calmed himself enough to carry the mugs without his hands shaking too much. He put the mugs onto the table, this time taking a seat in the chair opposite Draco.
They sat in silence for a time. Harry didn’t know what to say. Draco was drunk and hurt and vulnerable, and Harry was sure he never would have said any of this sober. But, as much as Harry would have loved to get to the bottom of Draco’s motivation, he would not take advantage of his current state in order to get information from him. Besides, Harry reminded himself, who knew if this was how Draco really felt? And was it Harry he missed or just the idea of it all? Of being free of Lucius’ pureblood grip on him?
Draco sipped his tea and gave Harry a half sad, half hopeful look that said, you remembered. Once again, he spoke to the floor. "I can’t believe I let you walk away."
Let him? What the- "You didn’t let me walk away, Draco." Harry’s stomach clenched as he relived that day, that conversation, again. Through clenched teeth, he reminded his ex, "I wasn’t going anywhere. You pushed me away."
"But you let me!"
Harry gritted his teeth. He would not take the blame for this. "You’re the one that said it meant nothing, not me," he began. He took several deep breaths, reeling in his anger, his pain. "You know what? Never mind." He really, really didn’t want to have this conversation, not now. He had a job to do. They could take a trip down memory lane and try to rewrite history once this case was closed. But until then ... "It’s time for me to go. Sorry I barged in unannounced." But I was worried about you. "There’s a pot of tea in the kitchen. I recommend you drink it all, have something to eat, maybe take a sobriety potion and go to bed. We can talk tomorrow. When you’re sober."
Draco continued to stare down at the floor. Harry knew he was hurting, but he wasn’t the only one. And right now, Harry didn’t think he could handle any more of this. "I’ll be at the hotel most of the day. Come by whenever."
"I don’t blame you for hating me," Draco said without looking up.
Harry took out his wand. "That’s just it, though ... I could never hate you." And he Apparated home.
His first instinct, upon arriving home, was to reach for the firewhiskey. He opted instead for another beer - no use both of them being hungover the next day. Besides, Ginny would be home in a few hours and he didn’t fancy explaining to her why he’d drowned himself in alcohol while she was out.
He spent an hour or so fruitlessly trying to rid his mind of the scene he’d left at Draco’s, but to no avail. All he’d managed to do was stare unseeingly at the pages of Rowle’s file while the conversation played on constant repeat in his head.
By the time Ginny got home, he’d finished the rest of the pizza, had switched from beer to tea, had put away his work, and was watching some mindless show on the telly.
Ginny took in the scene and smiled. "Impressive. I expected you to be buried in your work."
Harry shrugged. "Wanted to clear my head before going to sleep. How was your girls’ night?"
She put down her bag and sat across from him. "It was good. We had a good talk."
Uh oh. That sounded more like, we should talk. Sure enough ...
"Harry, why haven’t you asked me to marry you?"
Thankfully, he hadn’t been sipping his tea or he’d have choked on it. Instead, he frowned. "What?" He thought that was pretty rich, considering what their relationship had become. They’d been drifting apart rather than closer together, and the last thing he’d been thinking about was marriage. Apparently he’d been alone in that assessment.
Ginny straightened her back and turned a determined look towards him. "We’ve been living together for some time now. Isn’t marriage the next logical step?"
Well, yes, it would have been. In fact, that’s what Harry’d thought at the time she’d moved in. That this was a step towards marriage. But since then, they’d settled into what felt more like a friendship than anything else. And he wasn’t so sure where things were going anymore. "I -" he began, but wasn’t sure what to say next. What did he want? His recently rekindled feelings for Draco aside, what did he want from her? What had he wanted before this case had taken over his life? "Is that what you want?"
Her eyes narrowed and he wouldn’t have been surprised if a bat bogey hex were thrown at him. "I’m not asking what I want, Harry. I’m asking what you want. What you expect to come out of this. I feel like we’ve been drifting apart for so long now, like we’ve been living together, but apart, you know?" He nodded. So he hadn’t been alone in thinking that after all. "I’d thought we’d get closer, only now ..."
The words spilled out before he could think them through. "So you think getting married will fix that?"
He knew it’d been the wrong thing to say - however true the statement was - as soon as the words had left his mouth. "No, Harry," she said, a waspishness in her voice he hadn’t heard in some time. Like all the emotion in their relationship, not even the anger held much spark anymore. It was strangely comforting to know there was still some sign of life there, however incensed Ginny was. "I just wanted to know if you felt the same way I do. If ... well, I don’t know what I meant. Maybe we should talk later. I have practice early in the morning and strategising for the weekend game in the afternoon, but I’ll be home for dinner. Maybe we can talk then."
He nodded. "Sure." Why the hell not? He might as well deal with every relationship he’d ever had, all at once. Maybe he should call up Cho and have her over for tea tomorrow to discuss what went wrong between them too. Tossing aside that uncharitable thought - Gin had no idea about Draco, past or present, after all - he said, "I can grab some take-away and we can ... talk." He tried not to sound like he wanted to throw up; based on Ginny’s expression, he wasn’t so sure he’d succeeded.
"Right." She stood up. "Well, goodnight, then." And she went to bed. She didn’t even bother with a kiss on the cheek. Harry didn’t follow. He didn’t think he would sleep much anyway, so why bother? No point keeping her awake all night too.
When his alarm went in the morning, Harry was still in the previous day’s clothes, uncomfortably positioned on the sofa, and Ginny had already left for the day. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair, wondering what the day ahead would hold for him. He wasn’t sure his emotions could go through the wringer much more before he cracked. Then again, putting things into perspective, he’d survived a war with a madman after him. Surely he could handle whatever was in store. How much worse could it get?
Much worse, it turned out.
He’d dragged himself into the shower and choked down some toast and coffee before checking in at the office. With Ron’s team away in Yorkshire, Harry and the others remaining had picked up a few nuisance cases that had come in overnight. While they didn’t take too long to assess and either manage or assign out, it did leave Harry behind on his plans to work on Draco’s case. By the time he got to the hotel, it was already two o’clock in the afternoon.
Shortly after he arrived, and before he’d had much of a chance to dive into the case, Draco showed up, a look of determination etched on his face. "Oh, you’re here?" he said. "I came by earlier but you weren’t. I thought maybe you were avoiding me."
"No. I know I said I’d be here all day, but one of the teams is out of town and the rest of us got saddled with extra cases this morning. By the time I even realised what time it was, I didn’t think to let you know. Sorry about that."
Draco brushed his comments away with a wave. "Never mind. You don’t report to me. It’s only ... well, I was in pretty bad shape last night."
"Yeah, I know. That’s why I left when I did. Before ..."
Draco raised his brows. "Before I could say anything stupid?" he asked. Harry cringed. "You were a bit late for that."
Harry knew that was true, but he really hadn’t wanted to leave him alone in that state. But if it had been Harry rambling on like that, he’d have been mortified the next day. "Yeah. Sorry. I just -"
"Did you mean what you said?" Draco asked, cutting him off. Harry had absolutely no idea what Draco was talking about. They’d said so many things the day before, he couldn’t keep it all straight in his mind. "About always wanting to know the truth?" Oh, that. Harry nodded. "No matter how much it might hurt?"
Harry nodded again. "It’s always better to know the truth."
"Right, then." Draco walked over to the bookshelf and picked up the Pensieve. He placed it on the table and drew out his wand. Placing it to his temple, he pulled out a long, silvery strand and placed it in the rune-covered basin. He looked at Harry and motioned towards the swirling mass. "There you have it. The truth. Don’t say I didn’t warn you."
Harry looked from Draco to the Pensieve and back again. "Care to explain?"
"Not really," he said. "It’s self-explanatory."
Harry hesitated. "What’s this all about?"
"I told you. The truth. You want to know the truth so badly, there it is."
Harry scowled at the Pensieve. "Are you going to join me?"
Draco laughed but without humour. "Fuck, no. I relive that memory often enough as it is."
Harry frowned. "Why don’t you just tell me?"
Draco put his hands on the table and leaned into Harry’s space. "As I’ve said, I don’t want to relive it, thanks. Besides, I highly doubt you’d believe me if I did." He stood up and crossed his arms over his chest. "So ... go on, then. See how much you like the truth."
Harry, never one to resist a challenge, as Draco well knew, nodded and without thinking twice, dove into Draco’s memory.
Draco stood, arms crossed much the same way as he’d just been doing, only this time defiantly staring down Ginny and Ron. "Admit it, Malfoy, you don’t give a shit," Ron said. "You’re just messing with him and we all know it."
"Well, everyone but Harry," Ginny said. "I don’t know what kind of hold you have on him, but it ends now."
Draco sneered at the two of them. "Why, because the two of you say so? Not bloody likely."
"No, because it’s what’s best for Harry," Ginny said.
Draco dropped his arms and marched towards her. Ron stepped closer to form a barrier between the two. "Relax, Weasel. I’m not going to touch her." He looked at each of them in turn, disgust pouring off him in waves. "Don’t you think that maybe Harry should decide what’s best for him? Hasn’t he had enough of other people deciding what he should and shouldn’t do?"
"Of course," Ron said.
"And yet here you are."
"Because we all know that you’re no good for him," Ron spat.
Draco turned his attention to Ginny and narrowed his eyes. "And I suppose you are just what he needs." Contempt and jealousy resonated from him and filled the room.
"That’s not the point," she said.
"Oh, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly the point."
"No, Malfoy," Ron interjected. "The point is Harry deserves better than the likes of you. Pretty much anyone else."
Draco’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. "You know nothing about me."
Ron laughed. It wasn’t a nice sound. Harry had never heard him like that before. "I think I know you and your family better than most. Death. Eater. Scum. The lot of you. Even after we saved you in the Room of Requirement when it was going down in flames - thanks to your buddy, Crabbe - you went back to the other side. Just like your dear old daddy, pretending to be all sorry, and an upstanding person, only to jump at the chance to cow-tow to the latest maniac that tries to seize power. Too pathetic to take a stand yourself, you just ride on other people’s coattails. And now here you are. Riding on Harry’s. And he doesn’t have a clue, does he?"
Draco took deep, calming breaths. Harry knew this uncanny ability Draco had to control his emotions was due in large part to having Death Eaters surrounding him day and night. He’d often joked about there being at least one good thing to come of that time. Harry didn’t think he’d have been so calm. "Look, Weaselbee, She-Weasel, as difficult as this may be for you to believe, I am not manipulating Harry. You might want to give him credit for being able to see through bullshit when he sees it. Unlike you, he knows me. And do you know why he knows me? Because I let him in. And you know what else? You don’t hold a monopoly on caring about him. I just happen to have faith in him too. I trust that he can make his own decisions. I don’t try to control his life, something far too many people have done already."
"Sure you don’t," Ginny said.
"Excuse me, but I’m quite sure it’s the two of you here right now, trying to do just that."
"We aren’t trying to control Harry," she responded. Draco snorted. "We’re just trying to get you to see reason."
"Oh, really. How do you work that one out?"
Ginny made to say something else, but Ron cut her off. "You say you care about him?" Draco nodded. "And you think you know him." Another nod. "Then you should know how much he hates attention. Hates people gawping at him, fawning over him, pretending they know him. Hates the media frenzy that’s surrounded him practically his whole life."
"No thanks to you," Ginny added.
Ron coughed and continued. "Well, the media would have a field day with this morsel, don’t you think? Death Eater Draco Malfoy, son of Voldemort’s right hand man, nephew of crazed lunatic torturer and murderess, with our saviour, Harry Potter. What does this mean? Has he lost his mind? Is this now the end of Potter? He can’t be stable. Needs to be locked up. Not just for his own good, but for the good of everyone. Someone as powerful as the wizard who conquered the greatest enemy of wizardkind is now under the influence - perhaps even the control - of that same enemy’s follower? He must be stopped."
Colour drained from Draco’s face as Ron listed potential headlines, rumours that might be.
"Of course, that’s the worst case. But you’ve seen how people react when they’re scared. And believe me, they’re scared as hell right now." That had been true at the end of the war, but Harry thought it was a bit much to imagine them locking him away just for dating Draco. "And even if it didn’t get that bad, do you really think anyone would trust him in a position of authority? Hell, he’d be lucky to even become an Auror, never mind work his way up the ranks. And he’d make a great leader; look at what he’s done already. He deserves everything life has to offer. If you care about him, as you claim, how can you deny him that? Or are you going to prove me right and show yourself to be the selfish bastard we all know you to be?"
Draco tried to school his features, but Harry saw how ill he looked and was sure the others did too.
"Glad to see you’re starting to understand," Ginny snapped, the venom in her voice like a smack to Harry’s face. "See? It’s got nothing to do with me. It has everything to do with Harry. And what his life is likely to become, should the two of you carry on with this farce of a relationship."
Harry wasn’t so sure it had nothing to do with Ginny, but by the look on Draco’s face, they’d got to him. His hands were shaking and he looked ready to throw up. Harry hadn’t seen him look that bad since the war. "Get out," he told them.
"But --"
"Get out! Leave, just ... go."
The smirk on Ginny’s face made Harry sick. She’d won and she knew it. They’d won. Draco had lost. And so had Harry. Oh, God, how much they’d lost. As he was drawn back into Draco’s flat, Harry knew what had come next. The end of his life with Draco, a life barely started, but one based on truth, forgiveness and compassion, and the return to his old life with Ginny, only now it was a tainted life based on lies, deception and pain. Neither she nor Ron had ever told him that they’d known. He’d been manipulated again. And he’d allowed it to happen. Well, no more. He and Ginny would have their talk tonight, but it would go far differently than she’d planned, that was for damn sure.
When he looked at Draco, who stood watching him, Harry had expected a look of triumph, vindication perhaps. But all he saw was a broken man. "I ... I have to go." And he left.
Continued in Part 11