Another Body Found - Investigators Clueless! screamed the headline.
What do you know? The Prophet actually got it right for once. My fellow Aurors were certainly clueless, and not for lack of trying.
Shuffling the paper so I could drink my tea as I read, I continued down the page.
…Bettina Copperpot, aged 59, of London, reported finding the body of a young man in the alley behind her shop around half-six this morning.
Hmm, didn't she have the butcher shop on Diagon Alley, just in from Charing Cross Road and the Leaky Cauldron? That's another one found just barely inside a magical area.
…"He weren't more than twenty, I reckon," Ms. Copperpot said, obviously shaken from her discovery. "He was wearing those Muggle clothes that are all the rage with the young people, and no cloak or gloves. He must have been cold, poor chap."
Yet another victim dressed in Muggle clothing. Interesting. There was definitely a pattern here, even if I could do fuck all with it once I'd identified it.
I was stuck here in career purgatory, on night shift in the Auror Department. No one had believed I wanted to be an Auror in the first place, but since the Wizengamot had seen fit to let me go free and I had the pardon of the Minister of Magic himself for the crimes I'd committed, they had no grounds to refuse my application.
Let me tell you, it was just as much a surprise to me as it was to anyone else that I came out of the war intact, rather than sharing cell space with my father. Mother avoided Azkaban but was sentenced to house arrest, one of many Muggle concepts that have been used quite a bit in the "New Ministry". I was granted leniency partially because I had been underage, partially because there were mitigating circumstances (the threat of death if I didn't do what the Dark Lord ordered, for example) and partially because my father had given truly enormous sums of galleons to a large number of Ministry officials through the years. They were terrified that the extent of his bribery would become public if we Malfoys had to fight tooth and nail to save our heir (that would be me) from imprisonment. Mostly, though, I was saved by Albus Dumbledore, and Harry Potter. Dumbledore had left letters and Penseive memories detailing how he knew about my orders to kill him, and that I'd had no choice but to attempt to do the Dark Lord's bidding if I wanted to save my own life, and those of my parents. He outlined the orders he'd given Severus Snape to take the Unbreakable Vow, and ultimately end Dumbledore's own life in order to spare me the task. It was all quite unbelievable and caused a great deal of controversy and debate, but with The Git Who Lived Twice standing there backing up every claim, what were the Wizengamot to do? Potter said to let me go, and they did.
I still don't know why he did that. I never asked.
Once my freedom was assured, it was time to restore the family name and honor. My mother and Aunt Andromeda (apparently post-war reconciliation was the new black, if you'll pardon the pun) somehow cooked up the plan for me to become an Auror. I don't know what my mother was thinking, and I suspect her sister had some delusions about my stepping into my late cousin's shoes and carrying on in her honor, or something like that. She was right, though, that nothing else would draw such an indelible line between what the Malfoys once stood for and what they now represented. Going from being a Death Eater and descendant of two of the darkest families to being an Auror, defender of the Light, was a pretty bold statement.
Too bad it wasn't one the Ministry really wanted me to make. They tried to discourage me from applying, and then when that didn't work they tried to stop me from taking the entrance tests. However, since they were bending the rules for Potter, as he hadn't completed his NEWT year, either, they had to allow me the same attempt at the test. At every stage, from the application process through finishing training and receiving my Auror First Class rank, they tried to get me to either fail or quit, and it didn't work. So now I'd been assigned the worst job in the Auror Corps, riding a desk on the night shift, working with a skeleton crew of misfits and investigating things like drunken domestics and dotty old ladies who've misplaced their cats. They'd never let someone like me near a big, important case like a string of high-profile murders.
Which was exactly why I was going to figure it out on my own.
Sighing, I folded the paper and set it aside. I leaned back, putting my feet up on my desk and picking up my now cold tea. Making a face and slinging a small, wandless warming spell at the cup, I settled in to think.
Unfortunately, I was interrupted before I could collect my thoughts on the murders.
"Malfoy, what the bloody hell do you call this?" MacGregor bellowed, striding into my office and shoving some papers in my face.
"That would be parchment, sir," I said with a straight face, sipping my tea calmly. MacGregor was the night shift supervisor in the department, and my boss. He didn't like me much, and the feeling was definitely mutual. He was also ridiculously easy to set off, a pastime I enjoyed immensely.
"Don't take the piss with me, Malfoy! What kind of nonsense is this? You submitted an expense report for cleaning your robes and buying new shoes?"
"Yes, sir," I replied blandly.
"Why in the bloody blue blazes would the Corps pay for that?" he demanded.
"Well, sir," I said, finally sitting up properly at my desk, "they suffered damage in the line of duty."
Visibly retraining himself from shoving the parchment down my throat, he growled, "How, exactly?"
"My robes were damaged when I responded to the call about the domestic between Mr. and Mrs. Shropshire last week, sir," I answered. "She managed to get off a truly epic mucus hex, followed up by an expectorant curse. He was spewing all the way to St. Mungo's, and I was trying to hold him up and clear his airway at the same time…"
MacGregor looked revolted. "That's enough, Malfoy."
"The robes were salvageable, thankfully," I continued earnestly, "but there's just no way to get that much mucus out of fine Italian leather."
"We are not paying to clean or replace your clothes!" he snapped, tossing my requisition forms on my desk. "Wear the uniform like everybody else, and you won't have to worry about damaging your own clothes!"
He whirled around and left the office, his face practically glowing with anger and annoyance.
"I believe the score is now 117 to zero, in favor of Malfoy," I said to myself smugly, putting my feet back up and sipping my tea.
][][][][
After thinking about the latest murder for a while, I wanted to look up something about the previous ones. Since I wasn't actually part of the investigation team, that meant sneaking into the records room where notes and case files were kept. I'd be in trouble if I was caught, but it's not as if I was trying to do something that would damage the case, like get my hands on actual evidence or something like that. Surely I could talk my way out of any tight spots. Besides, it's not like anybody would catch me. Not only was I an Auror First Class, a credit to my instructors, but I'm a natural master of stealth and subtlety.
It's not my fault that Potter is a fucking oaf. He ran right into me as I ducked out of the records room, knocking all the parchments I'd carried for camouflage out of my hands and onto the floor.
"Bloody hell, Potter! Watch where you're going!" I said crossly, stooping to gather up my papers.
"Sorry, Malfoy," he said quietly, bending to help me.
That was odd. Despite the tentative truce we'd developed as trainees, there was no love lost between us, and we rarely passed up a chance to get in a dig at each other. Granted, we hardly saw each other these days, since I was banished onto the night shift and St. Potter was a great and valiant asset of the day team. What was he doing here at this time of night, anyway?
"What are you doing here at this time of night, anyway?" I asked.
"I'm on this shift now," he said, and I could see the tightening of his face as he said it.
"Punishment for cocking up that raid?" I asked, hiding my shock by standing and fussing with my haphazard stack of papers.
"Yeah, something like that," he said, flushing. He stood and shoved the few parchments he'd gathered onto the top of my stack before turning away.
"Hey," I said before he could leave, surprising myself. "Are you okay? I heard you were injured badly enough to end up on leave for a few weeks."
Why did I care? Why wasn't I gloating over my old rival's fall from grace? Maybe it was the fact that he looked like someone had just kicked his kneazle, or maybe it was that I'd been on this godforsaken shift for so long that I'd take any bit of distraction or potential entertainment I could get. Perhaps I was just insane – it was possible, since it did run in the family.
"Um, yeah, I'm all right now," he answered, turning back and looking surprised. "Thanks for asking." He eyed me speculatively. "What were you doing in there, by the way?" he asked.
Busted.
"Filing backdated paperwork," I lied glibly. Let him think he's catching me at something small, and he won't be looking to catch me in something bigger. "MacGregor has been on my arse to get some case files finalised and I said they were done already."
"Bloody, buggering paperwork is the same no matter what time of day you work, eh?" he said with a small smile.
"Too right," I answered, indicating the mess of parchment in my hands. "I'd better go sort this out," I said, turning back toward my own office.
"See you around, Malfoy," he called out behind me as I left. I waved over my shoulder and kept on going until I'd reached the relative safety of my own office, such as it was.
Well, apparently he wasn't quite as much of a git anymore. If he kept improving his personality, he might actually be a decent sort eventually. Lord knows the man was fit. I'd concocted more than one fantasy about him after sharing the post-physical training showers during our Academy days. I wonder how he was injured, since he seemed all right?
Putting the Potter issue aside mentally, I dug my notes out of my pocket and went over what I'd learned from my covert trip.
As I'd remembered, all of the previous victims were wearing Muggle clothes. Additionally, all were found not far from places where the Muggle and Magical worlds overlapped. All were fairly young, ranging from nineteen to twenty-six.
That's where my potential patterns seemed to end. The victims were a mix of men and women, purebloods, muggleborns and half-bloods, and they were from all Hogwarts houses.
Dammit, I needed more information. Unfortunately, the truly sensitive bits were kept in the office of Gawain Robards, head of the Aurors and all-around paranoid wanker. I didn't know for sure what protections he had on his office, but since he was a protégé of the late Mad Eye Moody, I'd imagine the place was locked up tight as a drum.
Did I really want to break into his office? Could I actually get away with it? I wasn't sure.
Glancing at the clock, I realized it was time to head home. As I swung my cloak around my shoulders (non-regulation black rather than the garish uniform red, of course), I decided that I'd sleep on it and work out my next step in the morning.
Signing out in the logbook, I saw Potter's signature just above mine. There was definitely more of a story there, but solving these murders was more important than figuring out how Potter might have been caught with his pants down. If I wanted to show up the Ministry and the DMLE and make them regret their short-sighted prejudices against me, I'd have to focus solely on this case until I'd figured it all out. I didn't have time for anything else if I was going to beat the rest of the pack to the answers.
Oh, well. It's not like I currently had much of a life anyway. That thought made me grimace to myself as I exited the lifts and turned toward the Apparation point in the Atrium.
][][][][
The next night found me parked at my desk, charming my contraband case notes to appear as the Prophet's crossword to the casual observer. I'd awakened early in order to stop by Bettina Copperpot's shop before my shift and ask some questions. Everything she'd told me fit in with what the other witnesses had said after the previous murders.
"Hey," interrupted a voice behind me. "We've got a call. Do you want to take it?"
It was Potter. He was actually smiling at me, even if it was a bit tentative. That was weird.
"What is it?" I asked suspiciously.
"Brawl at a pub," he said, checking the parchment in his hand. "It will probably be over by the time we get there, but we might get to bust a couple of heads if we hurry."
"Lead on," I said, rising from my chair and grabbing my cloak.
"Don't you ever wear the uniform?" he asked, eyeing my clothing. Tonight I had on a grey cashmere jumper and charcoal trousers, with a matching charcoal cloak.
"Never," I replied coolly, looking down my nose at his attire. He, of course, was wearing the usual red Auror cloak and a white shirt pressed with regulation creases. His plain black uniform trousers were tucked into scuffed black standard Auror-issue boots.
"How are you looking down your nose at me when I'm taller than you?" he asked bemusedly.
I didn't appreciate the reminder that scrawny little Potter had not only caught up to my height by the time we were adults, but had eventually surpassed me by an inch or so.
"It's an inborn skill," I sniffed, flourishing my cloak with a Snape-like flair as I stalked past him. I heard him snort behind me as I approached the desk officer for our portkey.
Each of us held part of a short length of rope, and then the world spun away.
We landed outside a grubby-looking pub, and judging by the noise coming from inside, we hadn't missed the fun.
"Looks like it's still on," Potter said, his eyes flashing. "Let's go!"
I took out my wand and followed him in with slightly less enthusiasm. There was a small group of men brawling madly over in one corner, with a fair sized group of observers cheering them on. We made our way over to the action, and the crowd began to melt away as they noticed our presence.
Harry didn't even have his wand out, the fool. He simply grabbed the nearest combatant and hoisted him off of his opponent, flinging him to the ground several feet away.
What the hell? He and I stared at each other for a moment. He appeared as surprised as I was. Was this how he'd behaved in the ill-fated raid from a few weeks ago?
Well one of us had to get the job done properly. "Immobulus!" I intoned, swishing and flicking at the melee. Immediately the brawlers were frozen in place, and Potter turned away from me and began physically separating them. He was still doing the job by hand instead of using his wand, and I cleared my throat pointedly. He turned to look at me, and I raised an eyebrow.
"The spell is Mobilicorpus," I said, and immediately demonstrated on the nearest frozen man. I levitated him toward the wall and neatly turned him in midair, depositing him on his bum, sitting against the wall. Then I cast Incarcerous, binding him with thick ropes before moving on to the next man.
Potter flushed and took out his own wand, moving and binding other brawlers. What was going on with him? I tried to catch his eye, but he was deliberately avoiding me.
While he was finishing up with securing the scene, I began interviewing the bystanders to find out what happened. It turned out to be the usual Quidditch-related incident, fueled by firewhiskey. Muggle football fans have nothing on Quidditch fans, and dealing with rowdy pub disputes was a common experience on the night shift. We had it cleaned up and the participants cited and packed off to either St. Mungo's or their homes within the hour.
I was preparing to Apparate back to the Ministry when Potter finally spoke up.
"Um, Draco?"
I turned back to look at him, and it was obvious he was feeling awkward. One hand was stuffed into his pocket, while the other ran nervously through his hair.
It was on the tip of my tongue to say something cutting about his earlier behavior, but there was that kicked kneazle look again and I just couldn't do it. Dammit. It had been one night since he wandered back into my life, and Harry bloody Potter was already getting under my skin.
"Forget it, Harry," I said wearily. "Everybody has an off night."
The last thing I saw before I turned on the spot and disappeared was the shocked look on his face. Well, maybe it was worth it to be nice to the gormless idiot if it was going to leave him speechless.
][][][][
Back in the office, I wrote up my report of the pub brawl and filed it away. The whole time, I was arguing with myself about trying to break into Robards' office or not.
On the one hand, I needed more information, and nobody was going to share it with me willingly.
On the other hand, if I was caught, I'd be sacked immediately, and perhaps arrested.
I thought about tossing a Knut, but rejected that idea almost immediately. First of all, why would I even bother to carry anything less than a Galleon? Besides that, it was a cowardly way to decide on a course of action.
Looking over my notes yet again, I came to the ever growing list of victims. Among them was Blaise Zabini, my former Slytherin classmate. We'd never been close friends, as we were too competitive for that, but I'd been fond of him in my own way. We'd even had a bit of a fling about a year ago, but with my training schedule and his short attention span, it never turned into anything serious.
Seeing his name on the list strengthened my resolve. Not only did I want to solve this for my own reasons, but I would like to catch the bastards who had murdered Blaise, and the others. I knew there were details that were known only to the Head Auror and those directly involved in the investigation, and I had to know what they were if I was going to get any further in my own quest. It's not like I could just ask, because I'd be reprimanded for sticking my nose into cases that weren't mine. Besides, any ideas or leads I came up with would probably get co-opted by the day team and I'd never get the credit I deserved.
I had to break into Robards' office. First, though, I needed a plan.
Over the next few hours I schemed, coming up with and rejecting at last half a dozen plans. I was confident that my abilities with warding were up for almost any challenge – after all, I'd grown up learning to handle the centuries-old wards on the Manor that were at least as powerful as those at Hogwarts - but it might take some time to beak through subtly and get in without setting off any alarms. How could I do it without getting caught? How could I buy the time I needed to get past whatever defenses my boss had in place, and then have time to search the office?
There was nothing for it. I was going to have to go down there and feel things out.
Nonchalantly, or as close to it as I could manage, I strolled down to the tea room. The few others on night duty were either ensconced in their offices or out on calls, because the place seemed deserted. I encountered no one except the Auror at the front desk, which bolstered my resolve. He paid no attention to me at all, apparently absorbed in contemplating whatever was on the backs of his eyelids. A slight snore drifted down the hall from behind me after I passed by the desk as quietly as I could.
Hell, everyone might be asleep for all I knew. Did I mention that the night shift was about as exciting as one of old, ghostly Professor Binns' History of Magic classes?
There was no one in the tea room, either. Carrying my newly brewed cup of tea as a reason for wandering that end of the department, I approached Robards' office. His brass name plate gleamed, and I felt the childish urge to mar its surface with my fingerprints. Yeah, that would be brilliant. Why not just leave a sign saying, "Somebody was here, and wouldn't you like to know why?" I didn't want to leave any obvious signs of my presence, which was why I wasn't even going to use my wand.
Let me tell you a little something about wandless magic: it's all in the mind. Well, it's also in the magic, but any wizard of good talent and decent power should be able to do it. The reason most of them can't is because they don't think they can. We're all taught that our magic begins and ends with wands, and that limits our abilities. When my Hawthorne wand was taken from me (by Potter, actually), I was forced to either find a different way to access my magic, or live as a squib. The Dark Lord thought it was fitting punishment for me to do without a wand since I had been useless enough to lose it to Potter. I did get my mother's wand when she smuggled it to me via house elf right before the Battle of Hogwarts, but by that time I had managed to use books from the Manor's library and Hogwarts' Restricted Section to cobble together a basic wandless technique. I don't think it would have worked if I hadn't been so desperate, but fear and helplessness are great motivators.
Perhaps more people would be able to do wandless magic if they had ancient dark texts at their disposal and no other means of protection from insane Dark Lords and their minions. It's probably not a situation that comes up very often, so perhaps the world will never know. Then again, it's possible that I am simply an exceptional wizard.
False modesty is not one of my faults.
I stood outside Robards' door and tried to feel the magic with my right hand. It felt sort of solid, almost like an invisible wall. I crept closer and placed my palm flat on the door, which now felt like it was vibrating the slightest bit.
"What are you doing?"
I jumped, spilling tea down the front of my trousers.
"How the hell did you get here without me hearing you?" I hissed at Potter, banishing my now empty cup back to the tea room.
"Sorry about that," Harry said. It looked like he was smirking, but he had his head bowed as he dabbed at the spilled tea with a handkerchief and I couldn't be sure.
Who knew Potter actually carried a handkerchief? Granted, it had a bit of what looked like dried blood on one corner, but still, it was an actual white cotton handkerchief.
"Since when do you carry a handkerchief?" I asked, still rattled. I smacked away his hand and did a wandless cleaning charm on the stain.
"I don't know, for a while," he answered, seemingly embarrassed that I'd noticed. It was hard not to, what with him dabbing it at my trousers an inch away from my crotch.
"Now I'll have to go make more tea," I said, trying to make a quick exit before he began to question me again.
Harry leaned one hand against the wall in front of me, blocking the way with his arm.
"Why are you trying to break into Robards' office, Draco?"
Damn. Why did he have to be like a Crup with a bone?
"I wasn't breaking in. I was merely… curious," I answered lamely. It sounded pathetic even to me.
"Bullshit. What's in there that you want badly enough to risk your job, your reputation, maybe even your freedom?" he asked, his eyes intense as he studied me.
"Personnel records," I lied, crossing my arms defensively. "I want to see my quarterly internal review from MacGregor and find out if they plan on keeping me here in purgatory forever."
He leaned a little closer and sniffed. "You're lying."
"No, I'm not. Why would I lie about something that you could use to get me into so much trouble?"
"Yes, you're lying. You always were shite at controlling your reactions." He gazed down at my neck. "I can see the pulse jumping at your throat, and you're breathing faster."
"You startled me. Of course I reacted," I protested. This whole conversation was absurd, and dangerous. I needed to get him out of there and off track, now.
Before I could come up with anything, we heard footsteps approaching from down the corridor. Our eyes met. Potter looked like he was making up his mind about something.
"Under here," he said shortly, pulling something out of his pocket and enlarging it quickly.
"You have a bloody Invisibility cloak?" I barely managed to contain myself to a whisper.
"Yes, since our first year. Now hurry up," he said, as the footsteps drew closer. He drew me close to him with surprising strength, throwing the cloak over both of us with the other arm.
"We may have to bend our knees," he whispered, shifting me even closer.
My nose was pressed into his neck, and we were touching from there down to our knees. I had a second to think that this was an interesting position before MacGregor turned the corner into our hallway.
He walked slowly past us as we huddled together up against the wall. He was reading a report and not paying much attention to where he was going. We're lucky he didn't bump into us. He went past Robards' office to another door, unlocked it with his wand, and went inside, leaving the door open behind him.
"We'll have to wait here until he's gone, or he might hear us leaving," Harry breathed in my ear. That made me wriggle a bit. Not my fault I have sensitive ears.
"Be still," he whispered, right against my ear. Again. It made me shift a little more.
"Draco, stop moving!" he hissed quietly, grabbing my hips firmly.
"I can't help it," I murmured into his neck. We were so close that I could almost taste his skin with my tongue as my mouth formed the words. It was cool under my lips, but warmed quickly under my breath. "My ears are sensitive."
"Sorry," he breathed into my ear again, not actually sounding sorry at all. His grip on my hips changed as his hands slipped around a little more, his fingers splaying out almost on my backside.
My arms were up against his chest and stomach, with my palms flat against his chest. I moved my arms around his with my hands on the backs of his shoulders, almost like a dancing pose. That brought us even closer together, which I hadn't realized was possible without some sort of surgery. When our groins came together, my burgeoning erection brushed against what felt remarkably like a similar growing hardness.
Was he perving on me? Interesting thought. Unfortunately, it wasn't one I had much time to deal with at the moment.
With a remarkable amount of restraint that I hadn't realized I possessed, I created a bit of space between us and concentrated on listening to the sounds coming from the office behind me. The idea of getting caught by my boss in the corridor whilst intertwined with Potter and sporting an erection the size of Stonehenge was enough to break the mood for me, and I pushed all thoughts of molesting Potter aside to deal with later when I had more time, perhaps in the shower…
No, I'm definitely not going down that mental road again. Time to be an Auror here.
After what felt like an eternity and yet not nearly long enough, MacGregor exited his office, stopping to magically lock the door behind him. He passed us and retraced his steps around the corner, and after ten or fifteen seconds, his footsteps died away.
We stood there in our intimate embrace for another minute or so before awkwardly disengaging ourselves and taking off the Invisibility cloak.
"I've just saved your arse, Draco," Harry said, shrinking the cloak and stowing it away again. "You owe me the truth."
I started to sputter and protest, but he placed one finger across my lips.
"I have a good idea of what you're up to, and I think you could use my help," he said quietly, looking directly into my eyes.
"What do you think I'm up to?" I asked, speaking around his finger until he removed it.
"You're investigating the murders on your own," he said, and my stomach dropped. Something must have shown on my face, because he was quick to say, "You haven't been sloppy, or obvious, but I've been watching you these past couple of nights. I also spoke with Bettina Copperpot, and she said you'd just been there."
"Well, fuck," I said with feeling, slumping against the wall. Harry leaned against it next to me, hands in his pockets.
"For what it's worth, I'm the only one who knows," he said consolingly.
Since when did Harry Potter console me? This was just the weirdest night.
"What are you going to do about it?" I asked.
"Help you," he said. "What do you need out of that office?
"Why are you offering to help me?" I asked, suspicious.
"I wasn't working on that case before I was… before," he finished after a short pause. "But I just know that raid was somehow connected to it, and that's why I was hurt. I want these guys, and I think you're capable of catching them."
"More capable than the day Aurors?" I asked cynically.
"Yes," he said. Looking at him, I could tell he meant it. That was a surprise.
"Why me?" I asked, not understanding how we'd gone from schoolboy rivals to antagonistic coworkers to covert partners.
"You care about this case. You're a good Auror. You're smart, and thorough. You're also more motivated than anyone else."
"Wow, Potter, I didn't know you cared." I was dumbfounded.
"I do," he said simply, smiling slightly.
"How can you know all this after a few nights of working together?" I asked, still not ready to accept this new, improved Harry Potter.
"I know you're not who you were in school. None of us are," he said thoughtfully. "During training, even though we still sniped at each other, I could see that you take being an Auror seriously, and you're good at it. If your name wasn't Malfoy, you'd be on the day shift, working high profile cases and laying the foundation for a prestigious career."
"Nice of you to notice," I said sourly, rolling my eyes.
"Well, when we solve this, you'll be able to take your pick of the prime cases," he assured me, straightening up from the wall and turning towards the locked office door. "Now, we've been in this corridor too long. If we don't get moving, we're going to get caught. Go back to you office and wait for me. I'll come to you once I've gotten out with copies of the files."
"How are you going to get in there?" I asked.
"I have my ways," he said mysteriously, motioning for me to go.
"The great Harry Potter has a key to every door in the Ministry?" I asked, reluctantly turning back toward the safety of my own office.
"Not quite, but I promise they'll never know I was there," he said, a wicked smile on his face.
I didn't have much choice but to trust him. I left and went back to work, pushing papers and looking busy to hide my nervousness as I waited.
"Do you have a moment to assist me with some reports?" Harry said from behind me a short time later, once again taking me unawares. How did he keep doing that?
"How do you keep doing that?" I asked. His only reply was a grin.
"I've found a conference room that will do," he said, looking around at the mostly open concept of our offices. We each had a doorway and some walls, but the top was open and although silencing spells were the norm, a separate room would be more private.
I followed him down the hall and into a small meeting room, closing the door behind us. We both threw up locking, silencing and muffling spells, and I swept the room for recording or eavesdropping spells. Harry nodded his approval, and tossed a file folder on the table.
"Here's what we've got," he said, taking a seat at the table. I joined him and began looking at the report he'd copied.
"Did you read any of it?"
"Not really. I just duplicated like hell so I could get out of there," he replied, taking a few papers of his own to look at.
We read in silence for a few minutes.
"Wow," I said, rereading a section to make sure I'd read it correctly.
"What?" he asked, looking up.
"All the victims were completely drained of blood," I answered grimly.
"Then we're definitely dealing with vampires," Potter said just as grimly.
"You knew?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow.
He frowned. "Yeah, that was my suspicion. They're keeping most of the details close to the vest – out of all the team, only Robards and a select few know everything – but the raid I was a part of a few weeks ago was related to the case, and it was on a nightclub run by vampires."
"Muggle club, or Wizarding?" I asked.
"Muggle."
"That fits, as all the victims were wearing Muggle clothing," I said. "Is it an open nest, or a covert one?"
"It's covert, but in the most obvious way," Harry said with a snort. "It's called Blood Lust, and it's full of Muggle faux vampires and Goth kids."
"So the real vamps just blend right in," I surmised. Harry nodded his agreement.
"What was the raid for?"
"Officially? Drugs," Harry answered. "You know that Wizarding drugs have been showing up in the Muggle world more and more frequently?"
I nodded. "Trafficking with Muggles has become a lucrative trade since Knockturn Alley was cleaned up."
That had been a priority of the Ministry since the defeat of Voldemort. Too many dangerous things went on down there, and an increased Auror presence had driven a lot of the more unsavory activities underground, which in many cases meant into the Muggle world. There were still Dark things for sale and dodgy shops, but the trade in drugs, illegal potions ingredients and other nasty things had been curtailed. It's a little difficult to conduct that sort of business with an Auror stationed on practically every corner. The Death Eater trials and the extensive questioning under Veritaserum had uncovered all the good hidey holes that were used for illegal activities, and finding a safe place on the alley to make a transaction was nearly impossible.
"What's in it for the vampires?" Harry asked thoughtfully.
"Who knows?" I answered. "Free meals? Robbery? Just for fun?"
"No, it has to be more than that," Harry insisted. "Why are they draining so many Wizards?"
"Again, Potter, the easy answer is food," I said, reading another section of the file.
"They don't have to kill to eat," Harry reminded me.
Damn, I hadn't thought of that. Newborn vampires are prone to killing indiscriminately, as they haven't mastered control over their hunger and lack the experience to know when they've taken just enough from a victim. However, older vamps generally monitor the new ones and keep them from building up a body count, since that tends to draw the attention of the Aurors and end in somebody getting staked.
"Why are they being so careless, then?" I asked.
"I don't know," said Harry, "but a better question is what are they doing with all that blood, when they don't need to drain anybody?"
We sat in silence for a few moments. Neither of us had an answer.
"Let's look at the victims again," he finally said, breaking the silence. "Were they all regulars at that club or in that scene, or is it random?
"I don't think it was random," I said, thinking about Blaise.
"Why not?"
"Blaise Zabini was acquainted with the vampire lifestyle," I said, trying to be delicate.
"He was a fangbanger," Harry said bluntly. I nodded reluctantly. "We need to know if any of the others were, too."
Muggles weren't the only ones enamoured with vampires. Wizards actually knew they were more than erotic fiction, and some of us were attracted to the allure and the danger. Blaise had been peripherally involved with a vampire when we were dating, and I know he was one of those that had a sort of fetish for vampires in general. It's not why we drifted apart, but he must have become more heavily involved after we broke up.
Harry pulled out a list of the victims that chronicled the basic facts of their murders, like location last seen, location the body was found, cause of death, and victim's home address.
"They're from all over, with no pattern," he said, seemingly confused.
"Maybe that is the pattern," I mused, taking the list from him.
"How so?" he asked, rocking back in his chair and crossing his arms behind his head. It exposed an interestingly pale stripe of bare abdomen when his shirt rucked up, but I was too distracted to focus on it.
"It's almost too random, like someone was working extra hard to avoid a connection with any particular place," I explained. "It looks like all the victims were dressed in Muggle clothes, all were drained, all were wizards, and they were found in various places just inside the confines of the Wizarding world."
"No two were found near each other, though. Not really," he argued.
"Right, but what if they were all killed elsewhere and dumped randomly to throw off suspicion?" I proposed.
"Not likely," he said thoughtfully. "It's a little hard to hide a corpse as one goes running around the city."
"True," I conceded. "So, what else do they have in common? Could they all have been gathered at the same place before they were killed?"
Snapping his fingers, Harry sat up and grabbed the list from my hands. "I think you're right," he said excitedly. "It looks like each of them was killed within a mile of their home."
"Then they were likely followed," I said with certainty.
"But from where?"
"I'd say this club would be a good place to start," I replied.
"Absolutely not," Harry said immediately, rising from his chair and beginning to pace the room.
"Why not?" I asked, annoyed.
"It's too dangerous. We went in with a whole team, and it still went pear shaped," he said darkly.
"What the hell happened that has you so spooked?" I demanded, rising from my set to stand in his path.
"I got hurt," he said, looking at the floor.
"Big deal, Potter. You're obviously fine now, so I don't see why…"
"I'm not fine!" he growled directly into my face, his eyes blazing. I actually took a step back from him.
"I'm sorry, Draco," he said, gathering himself back under control. "It was a bad experience."
"What happened?" I asked more kindly, shocked at his reaction.
"I don't want to talk about it," he said firmly. "Like you said, I'm past it now."
"What do we do then?" I asked, flopping back down into my chair.
"Take it all to Robards," he answered, perching in the edge of the table and looking down at me. "This is too big for us, and we need the whole department in on it. Besides," he added, trailing a finger down my cheek, "I don't want anything to happen to you."
"Fine," I said petulantly, ignoring his touch. "I'm off tomorrow. We can write up what we've discovered the day after, and present it the following morning when we go off shift."
He let his finger drop, and stood. "That will work."
I stood and walked past him, taking the case notes with me. Bloody Potter might want to play it safe all of a sudden, but there was no way I was going to get this far in figuring things out and then just hand it all over to somebody else to take the credit.
Tomorrow night I was going out for a drink.
][][][][
I bypassed the line at the door and presented myself in front of the doorman. He looked me up and down before jerking his head toward the club and opening the velvet rope to let me pass.
I don't know if he approved of my outfit, or if he admired my aristocratic bearing, or if he possibly wanted to fuck me and was currying favour. Actually, dressed all in black like this, maybe I look pale enough that he mistook me for a vampire.
A Malfoy is properly dressed for every occasion, and since I didn't have anything suitable to wear for infiltrating evil vampire lairs masquerading as gothic nightclubs I had shopped that afternoon in Muggle London. I'd purchased black leather trousers, just tight enough without impeding my movement, and a black leather duster with pockets deep enough for my wand. I paired it with a black silk dress shirt, open at the throat, and black dragonhide boots. They looked close enough to leather in the dark that no one would notice. I'd glamoured my hair black and my eyes green. When I realized that I'd disguised myself as a gothy version of Potter, I didn't know if I should be amused or disgusted with myself. Still, it worked, so I kept it.
I parked my leather-clad arse at the bar and ordered a drink before turning my back to the bar and checking out the room. The décor was stereotypically gothic, with lots of black accented with red and silver. There was a very large, gilt framed mirror up high on the wall, and the coloured lights reflecting on it created eerie shadows. The room wasn't cavernous but it was very large, and the bar I was sitting at was U-shaped. It jutted out into the room and there were tables scattered on either side of it. The dance floor was off the end of the bar, and there were many alcoves and nooks situated around it featuring chaises or banquettes for people to rest upon.
It was pretty well populated for a weeknight. Judging from that, and the line outside, it must do a good business. The dance floor was crowded with people doing what passed as dancing in a place like this, I suppose. They were mostly standing in place, swaying or waving their arms. The heavy, dark music that permeated the room wasn't really suited for dancing, anyway. A number of people seemed to be on something, but there was no obvious evidence of open drug use that I could see.
There was a knot of people surrounding a dais in the corner of the room, and I could see a large chair in the midst of the throng. The group shifted slightly, and I saw a handsome man with long, dark hair seated on the throne-like chair. He was starting straight at me with dark eyes.
Unnerved, I turned back to the bar and picked up my drink.
"Would you like to join us?" came a voice at my elbow, and I jumped slightly. There was a smaller, brown haired man standing there, studying me intently.
"Excuse me?" I said, pretending that I hadn't heard the man over the music.
"The Master wishes you to join us, Wizard," he said more firmly. He took my elbow in a gentle but firm grip, and steered me across the room toward the throne.
"The Wizard, Master," he said, bowing slightly and then stepping back.
"Hello, Wizard," said the handsome man I'd noticed looking at me a few minutes earlier. He held out a hand to me, and I instinctively took it. He held my hand up to his face, and for a moment I thought he'd kiss it, but instead he drew in a deep breath over it, like he was smelling me.
Fucking creepy.
"Please, sit," he said, guiding me to a smaller chair on his right.
I decided to act as if I were ignorant, which wasn't too far from the truth, but he didn't have to know that. "Who are you?"
"I am Ari," he said. I could detect a slight accent.
"Greek?" I asked. He raised an eyebrow, surprised.
"Yes. It is short for Aristotle, although I am not the famous one."
"Pity. He left some interesting writings."
"You are a fan of the Greek philosophers?" he asked, smiling. I could see fangs.
Bloody hell. Literally.
"Somewhat," I answered, tamping down on my nervousness. "I prefer Greek literature."
"Ah, you are a fan of Homer, yes?" he questioned.
I felt like I was back with my childhood tutor, being quizzed on my classical studies.
"Well, let's just say that I can identify with Odysseus and his plight, although Achilles and I have a few things in common, too." Okay, now I was babbling. This was not good.
He threw back his head and laughed.
"Oh, I like you, Wizard."
"How did you know I'm a Wizard?" I asked, uneasy. Still, I decided to ride this out for as long as I safely could. There was no way they could know who I was, or that I'm an Auror.
"I could smell your magic, your power, when you came in. You are a pure-blood, from an old line," Ari said, leaning forward in his chair.
"Yes," I said hesitantly. "How can you tell?"
"It's all there in your blood," he said, turning over my hand to caress the veins in my wrist with his thumb.
"I thought blood didn't matter when it came to magic?" I said, easing my hand out of his.
"Magic flows through many kinds of blood," he said. "Blood does not determine the strength of the magic, just the way it tastes."
I was so in over my head. This was a really stupid idea. If the entire day shift of the Auror Corps couldn't solve this, and a whole team couldn't manage a proper raid, why did I think that I could sneak in here and blow the lid off everything by myself? I'd always known in an intellectual sense that I was arrogant, but this was a life lesson in the consequences of that arrogance.
Well, it would be a life lesson if I lived through it.
"It's lovely to meet you, but I'm afraid I must be going," I said, standing up. Immediately I was surrounded.
Ari rose gracefully from his chair, putting one finger underneath my chin and looking into my eyes.
"No, I think not. You will stay." He said this with a finality that made my stomach drop. He took my hand and led me through the throng of people and off the dais, toward a staircase along the back wall of the club.
"I don't mean to be rude," I said, trying vainly to free myself, "but I am expected elsewhere."
Ari held my wrist in an iron grip. "You are not leaving," he said over his shoulder.
By this time we had ascended the stairs and entered an office. The din from below cut off as the door closed, so it must be soundproofed. There was a large window overlooking the dance floor on one wall, and I realized that this was the back side of the mirror I had noticed earlier. There was a sofa under the window, and a large desk faced the door.
Strong arms held me from behind, while Ari reached into my pocket and took my wand.
"You won't be needing this," he said, perching on the front of the desk and twirling it between his fingers.
"Why not?" I blustered, struggling against the hands holding me. At a signal from Ari, the two vampires released me, stepping around to flank him. They reminded me of Crabbe and Goyle, actually. Not that they looked like Greg and Vince, although they were fairly large, but they were obviously pressed from the same lackey mold. They flanked Ari like well-trained bookends.
Trying not to appear frightened so as to avoid chumming the waters, I fussily straightened my clothes, running a hand through my hair to smooth it.
"Why do you have magic on your hair?" Ari asked, cocking his head curiously to the side and studying me.
"What do mean?" I asked, startled.
Before I could move, he was in front of me, stroking my hair like I was a cat.
"You have on a, what's it called? Ah, a glamour," he said, lifting the strands and letting them fall from his fingers.
"How can you tell that?" I asked, fascinated despite myself. None of these things about vampires were ever covered in Defense Against the Dark Arts.
"The magic flows around your head. It disturbs the air, and it smells of lightning," Ari deigned to explain, still touching me. Vampires were tactile creatures, apparently.
"You sensed it when I came in?" I asked, my head feeling a little fuzzy. It must be from the proximity to a vampire, I remembered from my training. They have a sort of allure to humans, which feels like being intoxicated. It's part of why humans flock to them, sort of like being addicted to a drug.
"No, only when I had you brought close to me. What does it do?"
"It changes my hair color." There was no harm in telling the truth.
"Really?" he said, delighted. "Change it back."
I started to cancel the glamour wandlessly, and stopped myself just in time. "I need my wand for that."
The vampire walked back to the desk and picked up my wand before coming to stand in front of me. When I reached for it, he pulled it out of reach.
"No, little Wizard. I am not foolish," he said, shaking his head and giving me a mocking smile. "We will do it together."
He wrapped my hand around my wand, and then placed his hand over mine. Together we raised the wand to my head, and I cancelled the glamour on my hair and eyes.
Ari shivered, closing his eyes in apparent delight. "Your magic feels so good, almost as good as you smell." He opened his eyes. "Ah, it is because you are Veela."
"What? I am not!" I nearly shouted, forgetting for a moment exactly where I was and with whom I was speaking.
Ari chuckled, reaching out to touch my hair again. "Yes, it is true. You have the hair and eyes of a Veela. It explains why you smell so interesting. Magical creatures like fairies and Veela have even more magic in their blood, and they're delicacies to us. It's nearly impossible to catch one," he added, leaning in to place his face in my hair and breathe in deeply.
"I…I am not a Veela," I said less vehemently, overwhelmed by his desire and his presence. "I think I would know."
He released my hair and went back to sit behind the desk, and I felt my head clearing a little as he moved away from me.
"You have some small amount of Veela blood, I am sure of it," Ari said, settling into his chair.
I decided it wasn't worth arguing at the moment. Either he was crazy, or my father had a lot of explaining to do next time I spoke with him. Regardless, my current situation was of much more pressing concern.
"What do you want from me?" I asked, trying to gather my wits for whatever his answer might be.
"Your blood," Ari said, tenting his fingers together under his chin. It was a pose so reminiscent of the Dark Lord that I actually laughed out loud.
"You find this amusing?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.
The reminder that I'd already faced worse things than this had given me back some of my courage, and I felt it flowing into me as I gathered my magic around me.
"You just reminded me of someone," I answered. "Why do you want my blood, and what makes you think you're going to get it?" I wanted to get as much information as possible before striking, because I'd likely only get one chance to make my escape. If I lived through this, I'd need to be able to tell Harry and Robards what had happened to the murder victims and why.
"Wizard blood is intoxicating to vampires," he said easily. I guess he had no trouble answering my questions when he didn't think I'd live long enough to tell anyone.
"You mean like a drug?" I asked, surprised. No one had ever mentioned this, not in DADA at Hogwarts, and not in Auror training. He nodded. "Do wizards know this?"
"Only for a brief time," Ari said, giving me another fang-baring smile.
"Because you kill them," I said flatly.
"Not always," he said mildly. "Wizards do have the power to harm us in ways that regular humans do not. You know we exist, and you can strike against us quite effectively. The way of things was always to take from a wizard only what was needed, and then remove his memory of it."
"Why has that changed?" I asked, feeling my fingers start to tingle from holding my magic at the ready for so long.
"Now that we can move more easily in the world, there exists a large market for the trade and sale of goods amongst our kind. Your blood fetches quite a price, enough to make me a very wealthy man," he said with a shrug. "Yours in particular will earn me a small fortune. Well, unless I decide to keep you for myself."
"What do you mean, 'keep me'?" I said, wary. The tingling in my hands had spread up my arms, and it was becoming almost unbearable. My whole body felt like it was buzzing.
"As I said," Ari said, leaning back in his chair and placing his feet on the desk , "you are special. I may keep you and feed from you repeatedly myself."
"Why didn't you do that with any of the others?" I choked out, struggling to control my magic and keep it inside myself for just a little longer.
"The other wizards? I did let one live. He was a brave warrior and had already looked into the face of death without blinking, so out of respect I gave him some of my blood once he was drained and brought him over. The rest I simply had drained after they came here. They were kind enough to present themselves to me, just when I needed some Wizard blood to sell," he said dismissively.
That was enough. I knew who the murderer was, and why. I flung my arms out toward the two lackeys, screaming "Sectumsempra!" The magic was almost singing as it beheaded each of them, turning them to dust where they stood.
I went to fling a spell at Ari, but he was no longer there. I felt a presence behind me and whirled around, but I just wasn't fast enough. He sprang onto me and bore me down to the floor.
"You are a bad, bad Wizard," Ari snarled, his fangs fully extended. He lay on top of me, fully pinning me to the floor. I tried to beat against him, but he grabbed my wrists and held them above my head with one hand.
I struggled to gather my magic again, but it wouldn't cooperate. I had thrown so much power into that first strike that I felt lightheaded. I wasn't used to doing combat magic wandlessly, and it was worlds different than warming charms or simple daily spells. I tried to concentrate, but it was impossible while fighting for my life.
I managed to get my knee into Ari's groin, but he merely growled and grabbed my hair in his free hand, wrenching my head to the side. His fangs sank into my neck, and I howled in pain and frustration. This was not how I wanted to die. I wasn't sure exactly how I wanted to go, but I knew this wasn't it.
I continued to struggle in vain as he drank from me, until a lethargy sapped my strength. 'Well, maybe this isn't so bad,' I thought sluggishly, as the vampire's thrall and the toxins in his saliva began to work on me. I wanted to fight, but my limbs wouldn't seem to obey.
Suddenly the door crashed open, and then Ari was thrown off me. Dazed, I turned my head and saw Harry Potter standing over me like an avenging angel.
An avenging vampiric angel, if such a thing exists.
Harry's fangs were fully extended, and an aura of cold power radiated from him. He was staring intently at Ari, who was crawling out from under his overturned desk.
I started to sit up, and Potter actually growled at me. "Stay down!" he ordered, without taking his eyes from the other vampire. Since I wasn't doing so well with the effort anyway, I decided to do as he said and put my head back down.
"Why do you fight me after I've given you the gift of eternal life?" Ari asked, seeming puzzled. "It is an honor, one granted to reward your spirit and strength."
"I never asked to be turned," Harry spat out. "You didn't give me a gift, you killed me."
A moment later they launched themselves at each other, colliding in mid air and crashing to the floor hard enough to dent the wood. They fought violently, hissing and clawing at each other with fingernails that had turned into something more closely resembling talons. As they rolled around, I struggled to crawl over to the sofa by the window, to get myself up out of the way.
At that point, Ari got the upper hand and used his feet to fling Harry up into the ceiling. He smashed into the plaster, raining down a shower of dust and debris before falling back to the floor. Ari snatched up the desk chair and broke it over Harry's back as he tried to rise. Harry collapsed back to the floor, stunned, and Ari took up a piece of wood from the broken chair.
I had used the arm of the sofa to help me get to my feet, and when I realised what Ari was about to do, I threw myself at his back.
"No!" I cried, grabbing his arm as he raised the improvised stake over Harry.
Ari turned toward me and shook his arm, flinging me off him and across the room. I slammed into the glass of the giant wall mirror, shattering it, and then dropped onto the sofa, stunned and bleeding. He snarled something in another language, probably ancient Greek, and loomed over me, ready to strike. His expression was completely feral, devoid of any humanity.
That's when the piece of wood pierced his body. He looked down in disbelief, clutching at the few inches that protruded from his chest, before he disintegrated and became nothing more than dust.
I could see Harry standing behind where Ari had been, another piece of wood from the chair in his hands. For a few moments we just looked at each other, and the only sound in the room was my panting.
"Are you all right?" Harry asked, taking a step towards me. "I had a feeling you'd try coming here, and when I came in and smelled your scent but you weren't anywhere to be seen…"
"You'd better send a Patronus to MacGregor," I said wearily, letting my head drop back onto the sofa. "We're going to need help wrapping this up."
I saw him raise his wand and send off a large stag before I closed my eyes. I didn't know anything more until I woke up in St. Mungo's a few hours later.
][][][][
Later that night, or early the next morning if you wanted to look at it that way, having vacated St. Mungo's after some blood replenishing potion and many admonishments to rest, I was having trouble navigating the corridors of the Auror Department. It seemed like practically every division head and Ministry official of any importance had been rousted from bed to hear the tale of our fight with Ari and the closure of the serial murders case, and they were all apparently intent on speaking with me.
I had been debriefed both at the hospital and at Auror Headquarters, but the paperwork still needed to be done. It had been a struggle to get to my office and compile a report for Robards, but it was finally done. Just in time, too, since I had been commanded to appear in his office at 7am precisely. I might actually have been on time if these people, who wouldn't have given me the time of day yesterday, would stop shaking my hand and attempting to pump me for details.
Finally arriving at Robards' office, I knocked once and then entered. Harry was already seated before the desk, as was Minister Shacklebolt.
"I hope I am not late, Sir," I said, bowing slightly to the Head Auror and then the Minister.
"Not at all, Auror Malfoy," Robards said, gesturing for me to take the one remaining seat.
"Here is my report, Sir," I said, handing the parchment to him before sitting with a slight grimace as my sore muscles twinged a little.
"Are you all right, Draco?" Harry asked sharply, leaning forward in his chair. He studied me intently. "You're still bleeding a bit."
"How can you tell?" I asked, my hand automatically reaching up to check the bandage on my neck. They hadn't been able to heal the bite at St. Mungo's, something about only the vampire who left it being able to heal it magically. It would take time to heal naturally, and I just hoped it wouldn't scar.
Harry colored a bit. "I can smell it."
"Interesting," I said coldly. "I didn't know vampires could blush."
He looked away at that, refusing to meet my eyes anymore.
"You knew what he was, and you didn't tell anyone?" I asked Robards.
Minister Shacklebolt spoke up in his slow, deep voice. "That was my call, Auror Malfoy. Auror Potter was injured in the line of duty, and he was managing his condition appropriately. There was no danger to anyone in the department or in the citizenry at large."
"'Managing his condition appropriately'," I echoed, not understanding. "What exactly does that mean?"
"Donor blood and potions meet his nutritional needs and suppress many of the side effects of vampirism," Shacklebolt explained. "He can live an almost completely normal life, except for allergies to sunlight, garlic and holy items."
"Even the sunlight won't be an issue forever," Harry added. "Once I'm past the newly infected stage, there's a potion I can take that will negate the effects of the sun."
"Well, isn't that just bully for you?" I said, too tired to control my attitude.
"Is there a problem, Auror Malfoy?" Robards asked, looking up from my report. He used his wand to make a copy and passed it to the Minister.
"I'm just wondering why Auror Potter didn't see fit to share this piece of information with me when we began working together," I said tightly.
"Perhaps the two of you can sort that out privately later," Robards replied. His tone of voice made it clear that we were done discussing the issue, so I murmured my assent.
The two men read my report silently for a few minutes, while Harry and I made a point of not looking at each other.
"This looks in order," Robards said. "Your report matches Potter's, and you adequately explain what happened before he arrived."
"You both did good work," the Minister added, placing his copy of my report in the desk. "The only problem we have is that you went outside authorised channels to do so."
"How did you get into my office, anyway?" asked Robards. He was obviously puzzled.
Harry looked a little embarrassed. "Your personal wards, and most of the Ministry wards, in fact, are only designed to keep out the living. They don't work on vampires."
We all sat and contemplated that for a few moments.
"I suppose we'll have to fix that," Robards finally said. "I'll expect you to help set and test the new wards. That would be fair penance for not informing us of this potential security lapse when you first discovered it."
"Of course, Sir," said Harry, chastened. "Will there be other consequences for our actions?"
"Gawain and I have discussed it," Shacklebolt said, "and we've decided that you will not be officially reprimanded." Both Harry and I breathed a sigh of relief. "However, you will not receive the commendation your actions might otherwise have garnered, either. We don't want your actions to encourage others within the department to take risks and strike out on their own."
"However, Auror Malfoy," Robards said. "We feel that your bravery, dedication and solid investigative work have earned you a slot on the day shift Auror team. You may start after taking a few days off to recover from your injuries."
I was shocked. Somehow I didn't think that I would actually get what I wanted, no matter how hard I worked. "Thank you, Sir, Minister," I said, almost stumbling over my words.
"Congratulations, Draco," Harry said, finally looking at me again. His eyes were almost glowing, and I could hardly look away.
"What about Harry, Sir?" I asked, suddenly realising that nothing had been said about what he had earned. "He saved my life, and we worked together to break the case. He deserves something, too."
Harry looked stunned that I'd speak up for him, especially after I'd just been sniping at him a few minutes ago. Robards and Shacklebolt looked at each other.
"I'm afraid we cannot do anything for him right now," Shacklebolt said with a sigh.
"Once he can move about during the daylight again, I'm sure we'll have a place for him on days again," Robards added. "Until then, he'll have to stay on the night shift."
"It's all right, Draco," Harry said. "We've already talked about it. I understand, and it's okay."
We discussed a few more details about the case, and about my transfer, and then Harry and I were dismissed. Once we were in the corridor, Harry gently took my arm, stopping me from walking away.
"You deserved the promotion," he said earnestly.
"Yeah, but so did you," I answered.
"I'll be back on the day shift eventually," Harry said. He opened his mouth to say something else, but MacGregor interrupted us.
"Malfoy, what on earth is this?" he roared.
"What is what, sir?" I said blandly, falling right back into my role.
"This expense report, requesting reimbursement for a leather duster, leather trousers and a silk shirt! What the ruddy hell do you mean with this?" he yelled.
"Those clothes were brand new, Sir. I'd only bought them that day to wear to the club in order to blend in and assist in developing my cover," I said innocently, as if I couldn't tell that the top of the poor man's head was about to explode like a volcano.
"Your clothes were ruined?" Harry asked, trying to hold back a smile.
I indicated the wool trousers and broadcloth shirt I was wearing. "I had to have one of mother's house-elves fetch this for me while I was at St. Mungo's. The leather was just shredded, and it had vampire venom on it. It was bloody expensive, too."
MacGregor was almost apoplectic with rage. I smiled beatifically at him, and turned towards the Floo. Malfoy 118, MacGregor zero.
"Wear the sodding uniform, Malfoy!" he bellowed at my retreating back as I turned the corner towards the lifts. I pretended not to hear him, just like I pretended not to notice that Potter was still watching me as I walked away.
][][][][
I Flooed home to my flat and dashed off a quick letter to Mother, giving her a bare bones run down of the night's events so she wouldn't worry when she saw something in the Prophet. I sent it off with Dionysus, my owl, and collapsed into bed.
It was evening when I awoke. I found some soup and bread waiting for me on my kitchen counter along with a note from Mother. She'd sent the food over with a house-elf and admonished me to eat it all. I'd like to say she was treating me like a child because of the close call I'd had, but truthfully she always coddles me like I'm still her precious baby boy.
Not that I encourage that, or anything. It's just nice to be taken care of sometimes.
I was just finishing my meal when there was a knock on my door. Tying my dressing gown a little more tightly around me, I went to answer it.
Harry Potter was standing on my doorstep.
"I don't suppose you'll go away if I close the door and pretend I'm not here?" I drawled, leaning against the doorjamb tiredly. He shook his head solemnly.
I sighed and gestured for him to come in.
"What do you want?" I asked, leading him into my sitting room and flopping into a club chair. I gestured vaguely for him to seat himself, and he perched on the coffee table in front of me.
"This is for you," he said, and held out a small box.
I almost gasped when I realised what it was. This was the last thing I'd expected, and I froze with shock.
When he noticed I wasn't going to reach out and take it, Harry opened the box and took out my old Hawthorne wand. With his free hand, he took my right hand and placed the wand in it.
I held it up in front of my face, gazing at it incredulously. "You still have it."
"Yes, I do. I should have given it back to you years ago, and I'm sorry I didn't," he said softly. His knees were on either side of mine, and his hands were on my knees. He reached up and wiped away a tear that I didn't even know I'd shed.
"I'm not sorry you didn't," I replied shakily. "If you had, I might not have continued working on my wandless magic, and I would have died yesterday."
"Then I'm glad I kept it, but it's time it was returned to you," Harry said, rubbing small circles on my knees.
I waved my wand, and a shower of silver sparks cascaded down from the tip. I laughed out loud, and Harry grinned.
"Thank you for saving my life," I said, growing serious again.
"Thank you for saving mine," he said, still smiling. He was still very close to me, and he began to lean forward, his hands sliding up my thighs as he came closer.
I punched him square in the mouth before he could kiss me. He was totally unprepared, and it knocked him off the coffee table and onto the floor.
"Ow, fuck! What the hell was that for?" Harry squawked, holding his jaw.
I leapt to my feet, standing over him brandishing my wand. "That's for not telling me you were a vampire!"
"How was I supposed to work it into conversation?" he yelled back. "Care for some tea? You smell divine, and oh, by the way, I'm a sodding vampire!"
"You could have tried," I insisted, folding my arms.
He scrambled to his feet, and we stood almost nose to nose.
"I like you, Draco," he said a little more calmly. "I was afraid if I told you that you'd run away."
"You didn't give me the choice," I snapped. "Besides, you don't like me. Your vampire hormones are just going nuts because you think I smell like a Veela."
"Huh?" he said, confused.
"Never mind," I said firmly. "Suffice to say that you aren't actually attracted to me, it's just a fluke of nature."
"That's not true! I liked you before I became a vampire." He looked like he wanted to take that back before he was even finished saying it.
"Really?" I said, disbelieving. "Since when? Since you first laid eyes on me at Madam Malkin's when we were eleven? Since the first time we hexed each other? Since sixth year, when you followed me around all the time? How about since we almost died in the Fiendfyre? That was a romantic moment right there," I snarked.
"No. No!" He shook his head, slouching and jamming his hands in his pockets. "It's not like I nurtured some obsessive crush from our school days. You were a pain in the arse back then," he said ruefully.
"Thanks ever so much. You certainly know how to sweet talk a man," I shot back.
"Look, Draco, I came to know you during training. I grew to respect you, even like you. I saw how you handled the way the Ministry treated you, how you held your head up and kept your dignity regardless of what they threw at you." He blew out a breath, and then looked me in the face. "I started finding you attractive about the time we went into active service, but it's been these past days working side by side with you that have made me feel more."
I had been attracted to him, too, but I wasn't about to say so. I didn't have some kind of burning passion or mad love for him, but the more I was around him, the more I wanted to be around him again, for even longer periods of time. Perhaps even without clothing.
Actually, the lust bothered me less than the liking. He was fit, after all. I could bed him and move on, like I'd done with all the others. That wasn't what I wanted from Harry, though. I wanted to bed him, and then have breakfast in the morning, maybe spend the day together. That feeling scared me.
While he was saying his piece, he had come closer to me again, and he gingerly slid his arms around my waist. I decided to allow it, for the moment.
He nuzzled my neck, the side that had not been bitten by Ari.
"Mmm, you smell so good," he mumbled.
Again with the smelling thing! I did not have the patience for this right now.
"I do not have the patience for this right now," I said to him, disengaging his arms from around my body. "You can show yourself out. If and when I feel like discussing this further, I will send you an owl."
I turned on my heel and went into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.
I turned the shower on almost as high as it would go, and stripped. The room quickly filled with steam, and I slid under the hot water gratefully.
I wondered idly how long I'd be able to hold out until I gave in to Harry's charms. A week? A day? I snorted at myself. It's not like I have no willpower. That man would have to show that he was good and sorry before I would think about giving him a chance.
I wet my hair, and reached for the soap. I lathered up and down my arms and across my shoulders, as far back as I could reach.
"Need some help with that?" Harry said, as he pulled back the curtain and stepped into the shower with me.
I let out a noise that wasn't quite a shriek but was much less manly than I'd like to admit.
"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing in here?" I demanded, shaking water out of my eyes.
"Washing your back," he answered patiently, taking the soap from me and turning me back around to face the water. His strong hands were quickly soaping my sore back, and working all the kinks out of my muscles.
I bit my lip and struggled not to moan as I leaned against the shower wall and let his fingers work their magic.
After several long, pleasurable minutes of this, he reached around the front and began washing my chest, pulling me back against him. My head lolled back on his shoulder as he nuzzled my neck. All the while, his hands continued their slick path up and down my torso, occasionally dropping lower. Eventually he was stroking me, working his soapy hand up and down my shaft while the other toyed with my nipples.
"Just so you know," I said breathlessly, "I'm going to be angry at you again later, after we're done."
"I can live with that," Harry said, amused, before turning me around and capturing my mouth in a heated kiss. It was our first real kiss, and it didn't disappoint. The whole time our mouths were getting acquainted, his hands were exploring every inch of me they could reach. My own were doing a little roaming, too, but he obviously didn't mind a bit.
I soon found myself pushed up against the shower wall with Harry thrusting into me. The pleasurable burn was just right, and he was at that perfect angle to make me see stars with every stroke.
I tore my mouth off of his long enough to gasp, "Touch me!" and he obliged. I don't know how he managed to hold me up against the slippery wall, toss me off and kiss me like he was sucking out my soul all while pounding into me with the steady, strong rhythm of a locomotive chugging down the track. Maybe it was the vampire thing, but he never missed a beat, and I was soon howling and spilling into his hand. He followed me soon after with his own climax, and we slid down the wall into a tangled heap on the bottom of the tub.
After a few minutes of recovery time, he sat me up and began gently washing my hair. After rinsing it clean, he used a flannel to wash any other dirty bits, and then turned off the water. He held out a hand to help me out of the tub, and then dried me with a large towel. By this time I was almost dead on my feet, and I was only vaguely aware of him tucking me into bed.
"Stay?" I mumbled, reaching out a hand with my eyes closed.
"Yeah, I'll stay," he whispered, crawling into bed to spoon behind me.
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I didn't awaken when he left, but he was gone when I awoke to sunlight streaming through my windows. Stretching idly, I noticed a note on his empty pillow.
Dear Draco,
I didn't want to leave, but I had to get home before daylight. It shouldn't be longer than a few more months before I will be ready to start the potion, and then I can stay until morning and make you breakfast in bed.
If you're not back to being angry with me yet, I'd like to see you tonight. I'm going back to work on the night shift, but I should have a break around 10 o'clock. Would that work? You can pick the place, and I'll treat you to dinner.
-H
P.S. Last night was incredible.
I flopped back on my pillows, thinking. It was disappointing to wake up and have Harry gone. Sex like that called for a long, leisurely morning together, possibly reenacting some of the highlights just to make sure it wasn't a fluke. Besides that, I found myself wishing I'd been able to see what he'd looked like asleep, or how silly his bed head was when he first woke up.
Dammit, it wasn't just the sex. I genuinely wanted to be with the man. Wasn't that a shocking concept?
And what the hell was I going to do about it?
I spent all day arguing with myself and going back and forth about what I wanted to do. My heart said one thing, my head said another, and my libido was making its appetite known quite voraciously, too. By the time evening came around, I was a mess, and I decided that I had no choice but to go see Harry.
I wandered through the near silence of the Auror Department during the night shift, ending up at Harry's doorway. I knocked on the cubicle wall, and he looked up from his papers. Surprise changed to pleasure, and he popped his ear buds out before coming to greet me at the door.
"Draco, you're early!" he said, smiling. He shoved his hands in his pockets, seemingly unsure as to whether he should touch me or not.
"Listening to music on the job?" I teased, flicking one of the ear buds that was dangling around his neck, blaring something about God save the Queen with a lot of heavy guitars.
"Yeah," he said, quickly turning off his music player. "It helps block out the sounds. My hearing is a little too keen now, and it can be hard not to notice every unimportant thing and get distracted."
We studied each other silently for a minute. It wasn't exactly awkward, more like expectant.
He broke the silence first.
"It's a bit early for me to duck out for lunch, but you can keep me company if you'd like. We can talk about where you'd like to eat," he said, motioning for me to follow him back to his desk.
"Can you still eat?" I asked, curious.
"Yeah, I can. I don't need to, and things don't taste the same as they used to, but I can eat if I want. Usually I don't, but I'll have an occasional steak or whatever sounds appealing at the time," he explained.
"How long will it be before you can tolerate sunlight?" I asked casually. He seemed to sense something else behind the question, but didn't do more than raise an eyebrow.
"Anywhere from three months to a year," he answered. "The magic of the change has to stabilise and bond with my own magic. If I wasn't a wizard, it wouldn't be possible at all."
Harry studied me for a moment. "Why do you ask?" he finally said, frowning slightly.
"Well," I said, ignoring the way my heart had started racing, "I wondered how long it would be before we could go to day shift."
He didn't respond at first. He just sat there, looking adorably confused.
"Draco, you were already promoted to the day shift," he said slowly, as if explaining it to me. "You're supposed to report there for duty when you're ready to go back to work."
"How am I supposed to work day shift without you?" I asked, affecting a breezy tone. "We already know we make an excellent team. It would be foolish to do all the work to break in a new partner just to turn around and replace them with you once you get there. It makes more sense to stay here with you and go to the day shift together in a few months."
By the end of my pat little speech Harry was grinning. He bounded over the desk, and pulled me to my feet.
"You're staying with me?" he asked hopefully, sliding his arms around my waist.
"It just makes more sense," I said, trying to keep a straight face. "I don't want all the extra work of breaking in someone…"
He cut me off with a kiss.
It lasted quite a long time, and was leading to somewhere rather interesting when a squeak from the doorway ruined the moment.
"Um, sorry, Sirs," said a new desk trainee, red faced and flustered. "I don't mean to interrupt, but we've got a call about a domestic dispute."
"It's all right, we'll take it," I said magnanimously, plucking the parchment and portkey out of her hands, while Harry tried to stifle a grin behind me.
"That's just the sort of call we get here on the night shift."
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