A/N:
Thanks so much to Tsu, Wish, 2D, AJ, Elaine and Di for helping me with this :")
AU where Harry Potter is a normal wizard and Draco Malfoy is a Squib. (And definitely not an avid Taylor Swift fan.) Harry may be a bit OOC in this, so heads up. Also, warning for sporadic bad language.
A Reputation To Keep
Draco Malfoy liked to plan. If there was one thing people could see about him, it was that he never did anything without thinking. And that was very true—Malfoy never went into a mission unprepared. It was in his nature to consider every outcome before going into the thick of things.
That was what he had learned from being disowned for a lack of magical ability at the age of eleven: you needed to prepare for everything, however inevitable it seemed. It had allowed him to take refuge with his godfather, Severus Snape, no more than two hours after the disownment documents had been signed with Permanent Ink in his father's flamboyant signature, and it had helped him to join the most elite secret service in the world at the tender age of twenty-three.
But all the planning and careful consideration of the foregoing variables could not have prepared Draco Malfoy for the mission that took place on that December night.
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He stepped into the old warehouse at precisely twenty-six minutes past four in the afternoon, just as he had planned. He had received a notice, along with an information packet on the case, that he would be working with an agent from the Auror Office, who would brief him on any other details. Draco hoped that this Harry Potter was as good as they'd said—it wouldn't do for a newbie to drag him down and mar his spotless record, after all.
After he'd gotten the notice, he called Severus about his new partner, wondering if he might have taught him at Hogwarts.
"You two can show off to each other later. You're both very smart." His godfather had said the last sentence with a fair amount of grudging respect, and Draco immediately began speculating what this Harry Potter could have done to piss Severus off. "Now shut up. It's two in the morning and I have work to do before I have to rush back to Hogwarts to teach more idiot weasels."
There was a small door to the left, half-veiled by a slanting shadow cast by the solitary yellow lamp swinging from the ceiling, illuminating the dust particles hovering in the air. Draco laid a gloved hand on the brass doorknob, and twisted it gently. The door clicked open, and a chair scraped across the floor in the room. At least, Draco assumed it was a chair, since the room was dark.
"You must be Potter," he said, even though the room was pitch black and he couldn't see a thing.
"Yeah," came the grunted reply. "You got that right. Could I have a little help here? I seem to have lost my wand."
"Your what?" Draco hadn't heard that word in ages, not since he'd moved out of Spinner's End last year. No Auror should lose their wand—it was their primary means of defence and attack. It was an imperative to keep it with them at all times. Seriously, how hapless was this bloke?
There was an exasperated groan, mirroring Draco's feelings. "Why don't you just shut up and help me?"
Draco reached to his left and flipped the light switch. The fluorescent lights flickered to life, revealing a dark-haired young man around Draco's age pinned under a—
"Potter," Draco spat. "Why are you lying under a refrigerator?"
Potter smiled, a wry look that brought out his green eyes, making them stand out like the last few living leaves on a tree in autumn. Draco shook the thought from his head and lifted the refrigerator up half an inch, giving his new partner adequate space to worm his way out from underneath.
"Thanks. Honestly, I don't know how I got stuck under there." Potter laughed sheepishly as he retrieved his wand, and Draco had a sudden urge to slap him. "It was just a… uh, hilarious chain of events."
"Don't tell me it was the Nargles," Draco grumbled.
Potter blinked at him. "What?"
"I'm a Squib, Potter, not a Muggle," Draco said, a little heatedly—surely an agent of the Aurors would have done some research on his partner before the mission. "I know enough to make my way around. Now, shall we get to work?"
He strode towards the table in the centre of the room, wiping the thought of his partner's eyes from his mind. That wasn't relevant to the mission, and anyone who knew Draco would know that the young man was all about the mission.
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Clearly, Potter was not one of those people. Not only that, he also clearly didn't think that being a Ministry professional demanded any form of professionalism.
"So, you like Taylor Swift, huh?" he asked, thirty-three minutes after they had left the safe house and changed into the appropriate attire for the next venue, which they were now approaching. "I prefer Imagine Dragons. Personally."
Draco tugged at the collar of his black Reputation T-shirt, trying not to look excited. Sure, they were only going to be there because of their work, but they were still going to be there. "What's it to you?"
Potter just smiled his annoyingly dazzling smile and adjusted his round-rimmed (read: nerdy, tasteless, out-of-fashion) glasses.
Draco swallowed the frustrated growl building in his chest and continued walking. "Let's just get this over with. I don't want to have to spend more time with someone as irritating as you for any longer than I have to."
They made their way through the throng of chattering Muggles in the standing pit close to the stage, which was adorned with giant snakes that soared into the air impressively, ruby red eyes glittering with a sinister gleam. Or maybe it was just the LED lights. Draco scanned the crowd, then spotted a hooded figure standing near the stage.
"Your ten o'clock," he hissed, jabbing Potter in the arm. "Your other ten o'clock, idiot," he snapped. "Honestly, I thought you were better than this, either you faked your way through Hogwarts or Severus had dust in his eyes every time he marked your essay—"
"You're on first-name terms with Snape?" Potter gaped at him in horror. "What the hell, you—okay, I see him. Let's go."
He reached into his sleeve for his wand just as every single light in the concert hall went dark.
Potter cursed angrily and grabbed Draco's wrist. "Don't you dare go Swiftie on me now," he snarled, dragging him through the crowd.
Draco was about to interject that he was a trained MI6 agent and knew perfectly well how to handle himself in any situation, but the hall lighting flashed red, revealing a lone silhouette standing on the stage with a microphone in hand.
Just Draco's luck, to be caught in Queen Taylor's concert on business with a smart-ass who wasn't even that smart. Lyrics blasted all around them, half from the speakers and half from the hundreds of zealous fans who were screaming along to the song.
"Malfoy, you see him?" yelled Potter over the din.
"Cast the tracking spell! You're the wizard, not me!" Draco yelled back. "Don't you Aurors learn it during training? Or did you get selective Obliviation for all your spells as soon as you passed your practical exam?"
Potter told him to shut the fuck up, then incanted, his voice lost in the music. Then he tugged Draco sharply to the left, miraculously avoiding knocking over any of the oblivious Muggles.
They made their way out of the hall and down a maintenance corridor.
"Lumos," Potter said, and the tip of his wand lit.
"You're the biggest git I've ever seen," Draco said.
Harry smirked (wait, when did he become Harry?), and Draco cursed the fact that it made him look less detestable and not the other way round. "Yeah," he said, raising his wand. "I'm also known for my gallantry both in the streets and in the sh—look out!"
Then his wand promptly tumbled out of his hand and rolled beneath a shelf, out of sight. But neither Draco nor Harry had the time or the capacity to recover it, because Harry had just been knocked out by a hit meant for Draco, who was quickly engaged in an intense melee fight with their attacker.
He blocked the attacker's stab with his arm, the knife stopping short of his nose. The man slammed down on his knife-wielding arm with his other hand, and Draco bent backward even more, feeling his back crick painfully.
Draco lashed out with his leg, kicking his opponent squarely in the right kneecap.
The man howled in pain and dropped the knife; Draco scooped it up and forced the point under his chin.
"You peddled love potions to Muggles, you knocked out my partner, and you cut my fucking T-shirt," he said coldly. "You cut Taylor Swift's face, you sorry excuse for a human being. Shame on you."
He spun the knife in his hand and slammed the handle into the man's temple, and he collapsed like a ragdoll.
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"Are you alright?" Draco asked quietly a few days later as they left the office after their mission debrief.
Harry tapped his glasses with his wand, and the smudged fingerprints on the lenses faded. "Yeah. The healers fixed it in a jiffy."
Draco huffed and looked away. "You took a hit for me. You didn't have to. I should have noticed the bloke."
"Well, nobody's perfect," Harry told him encouragingly. "Smart, maybe. Chivalrous, perhaps. Hot? Definitely. But perfect… nah."
Draco hummed, then turned towards the other man. "I guess this brings our partnership to a close, then. I wish I could say it was a pleasure, but I prefer not to lie unless absolutely necessary." He held out his right hand for a handshake.
Harry stared at it for a moment, then rummaged in his pocket and placed something in his hand. Draco looked at it, then at the other man, then back at the slip of paper.
"I'm just going to assume you always have a piece of paper with your number on it in your pocket," Draco said.
Harry shrugged like the insufferable blockhead he was. "Gotta plan for a rainy day," he chortled.
"You plan for all the wrong things," Draco muttered, shaking his head.
"Whatever. Anyway, I'll see you soon enough," Harry said, turning to leave. "I'm pretty sure you'll be catching Taylor's gig tomorrow, and someone has to come with and keep you from dissolving into a puddle of melted Swiftie."
That… was definitely not part of Draco's plan.
But it was probably still happening, wasn't it?
"Shut up, Potter. I'll see you soon," he said, turning on his heel and walking down the corridor, away from Harry's ecstatic green eyes. "Wear something nice."
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The Houses Competition
House: Ravenclaw
Year: 3
Category: AU
Prompt: Squib!AU
Word Count: 1782
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Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition
Team: Appleby Arrows
CHASER 1: "I don't know how I got stuck under there. It was just a … uh, hilarious chain of events." Impractical Jokers
OPTIONAL PROMPTS:
#2: [word] Chivalrous
#6: [word] Foregoing
#15: [quote] 'You two can show off to each other later. You're both very smart. Now shut up.' — Skyward, Brandon Sanderson
Word Count: 1782