Moments from The White Hunter

Disclaimer:

Anything belonging to the HP universe belongs to J.K. Rowling and others who have bought the rights to meddle with her toys. Anything that's not is mine, unless stated otherwise. I'm just playing around here, not making money, so please don't sue.

Author's note's:

This fic was inspired by The Goodness of Their Hearts by Taratext (can be found on Fictionalley), but is very different all the same. The detective theme is still there, but different.

Story isn't finished of beta'd, but I really like where it's going so it probably will be finished. Lots of original characters in this one. Bit of a Harry Potter/CSI mix. Please let me know what you think.

Summary:

Harry is a White Hunter, an Auror specialized in dealing with The Dark Arts. Draco Malfoy has fled the Wizarding World for a career as a super model in the Muggle World. When he's attacked Harry is put on the case, much to the chagrin of the both of them.

Chapter Summary:

Draco visits a Christmas party at work and gets some surprises both pleasant an unpleasant.

Christmas Party

I smile as I turn on the stereo and dance my way over to the spacious walk-in closet that makes up almost a third of my bedroom. Living in the Muggle world certainly has its benefits. Hhm, let's see, Corporation Christmas party… I know the invitation says dress code is supposed to be black tie, but that means almost everybody will be wearing black to go with the tie, well the guys at least, so I won't be caught dead in it.

I trail a finger over the back of my neatly folded shirts. White? Nah, choosing the opposite is boring and childish. I'm not a rebellious teenager anymore. Not that I'm not rebellious, but…

I turn slightly, eyeing the clothes all arranged by colour in my closet. I wiggle my toes because the high white carpet tickles under my bare feet. Blue? Goes nicely with my eyes, but a bit icy for a Christmasparty really.

I sigh, a bit irritated. A towel around the waist isn't much to keep me warm. It's freezing outside, for Merlin's sake. Red? Contrasts nicely with my hair, good Christmas colour, stands out ánd goes with the overruling black. Perfect!

I pull out a very fashionable, deep red suit and find matching silk boxers. Ha, always pays off to buy a pair of boxers to go with every item of clothing! I put on the boxers and trousers and walk over to the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the back of the closet to check myself out. I nod at myself, pleased at the contrast the deep red trousers make with my pale complexion. Thank Merlin pale is in again, those self-tanners and browning studios were killing my skin.

Now, a shirt and tie. I smile and quickly chose a black silk shirt. I can at least give the black tie request some attention. A tie, the same colour as my suit, black socks and impeccably polished black dancing shoes finish things of. I dance to the mirror again and admire the way the warm, heavy fabric of the suit moves with me as I exercise some dancing moves.

I pinch a small, golden ring in my ear and then stand in front of the mirror, debating whether I should wear my hair in a tail or loose. It has grown well over my shoulders now and although I'd like to cut it - it makes me look too much like my father - my contract says I'm forbidden to do so. I've followed instructions so far.

I decide to tie my hair in a low ponytail. It fits better with the suit and I can always untie it if I want to. I choose a golden clasp shaped like a dragon to cover the red elastic band holding my hair together. The dragon is pictured in flight and the one eye that shows is laid in with a perfect, deep red, ruby. Exactly the same colour as my suit.

Now then, some cologne, my long black coat and I'm all set to go. I fix myself a Martini while I wait for the cab to arrive. Drinks are on the house tonight, I'm not going to drive.

The entire entryhall of the Corporation building is decorated with ribbons in red and gold. I feel my jaw set at that colour combination and I have to make a conscious effort to relax. I shake my head lightly at my own childishness as I ascend the white marble stairs to the first floor, where the party is held. I'm not at Hogwarts anymore, for crying out loud! I don't even make it past the large mahogany doors and get stuck in the wardrobe.

"Draco, darling, how good of you to come! This really wouldn't be a party without you," Sherryl drawls as she slides over to me, while I'm hanging my coat. I'm forcibly reminded of the drawl that I used to build into my words while I was at Hogwarts. I thought it made me sound sophisticated and important at the time, but I've realised it's just plain irritating and snobbish. Obviously, Sherryl hasn't realised.

"Good evening Miss Goodmann. I wouldn't want to miss any of your parties for the world," I suck up to her, as she laces her arm through mine and leads me into the main hall. I swallow in an effort to get my stomach to calm down. The way we lick each others boots one minute and kill our best friends careers the next sickens even me.

"Oh, please call me Sherryl, darling. I'm not your boss right now, we're at a party, remember," she coos. I can't help but follow the movement of her hair as she pulls a hand through the soft red curls seductively. She's a bitch yes, a stuck-up, spoiled, conceited ponce, but she's also very beautiful and she knows how to use it. She wasn't the UK's topmodel for nothing and it's no secret how she got this model agency to be the biggest in the country.

"Alright, can I get you a drink, Sherryl?" I emphasis her name on purpose and it works. She giggles and orders me to get her a glass of champagne with twinkling eyes. Good, if I can just get rid of her while she's still smiling, she probably won't think of it as a rejection, just as bad luck that she lost me in the crowd.

I spot Nadine at another table, while I get Sherryl's champagne from the bar. She's chatting with a dark haired beauty, taking sips of red wine every now and then. Finally, she looks my way so I can incline with my head. Thank Merlin she walks over in that gracious way that's hers almost right away. I fix myself a Martini as I wait for the blond catwalk model to stand next to me at the bar.

"Draco, how are you?" she asks. Her voice is like her, gracious, like soft music caressing your ears. I smile at her, a real smile, my smile, not the one I save for the cameras or the one I use to get a date.

"In need of help actually," I talk softly to prevent anyone from hearing us. She raises her eyebrows inquisitively and I suddenly notice her eyes are bright green. I could've sworn they were blue when I saw her last month. I nod in the direction of Sherryl who's momentarily busy talking to Adam, one of our photographers. Nadine rolls her eyes.

"She still hasn't given up on you?" she asks disbelievingly. I shake my head with a smile as a comment about how irresistible I am pops into my head. It's been over a year since Sherryl first tried to get me into her bed. She hasn't succeeded jet, but, like Nadine stated, she still hasn't given up on me. Which, of course, calls for a sharp remark about my attractiveness. I can't stay and chat here forever though, so I beg Nadine to come and rescue me instead. She winks at me before she returns to her table and I feel a bit better as I hand Sherryl her champagne.

"Thank you darling, you're the greatest. So, Draco, how have you been?" the red-head who calls herself my boss asks. The thing is, she really is my boss, she owns this corporation, so I'd better make sure I stay friends with her.

"Pretty well actually. Just had the cover shoot for WAM yesterday. How's live on your side?" I try to make polite conversation and realise a little too late that the cover of Women And Men involves me without a shirt and thus gives Sherryl plenty of room to try for a flirtatious remark. Luckily, Nadine saves me just in time.

"Draco! Please come over here, I want you to meet a friend!" her sweet voice drifts over the crowd. She's waving a tanned arm – Nadine never cared much about following fashion – at me and pointing towards the black beauty I spotted earlier. I quickly make my excuses to Sherryl and weave my way over to Nadine and her friend.

After a couple of hours of chatting to people I like and running from the people I don't like, I get quite tired of the crowded room. Admittedly, I've had a little too much to drink too, but that has nothing to do with it. I make my way over to the balcony and look out over the city.

The large Christmas tree on Trafalgar Square is twinkling in the distance and the sky is so clear I can see millions of stars even though I'm in London. I breathe in deeply, missing the clean smell of the country air that hangs around Malfoy Manor, but at the same time relishing in the buzz that's the city's perfume.

"Quite pretty, isn't it?" Bianca, Nadines friend, quietly joins me on the balcony. I look at the way her deep green dress hugs her curves and her jet black hair falls around her face.

"Yes, it most definitely is," I tell her, keeping her guessing whether I mean her or the city. She smiles - a naughty? - yes it's really a naughty smile, at me. I feel a slight pull in my stomach at the twinkling light in her eyes.

"So, got tired of making nice with everyone?" Bianca's voice has a hoarse undertone, which makes it sound really sexy. I take a sideways look at her as she places her hands on the balustrade next to me.

"I get a bit tired of crowds after a while, yes. What about you, what brings you out here?" I return her question, pretending to be staring at the street below us were some lonely people are making their way here or there. In truth, I'm studying her hands. She has long, elegant fingers with flawlessly manicured nails. There's a gold ring on every other finger, starting with the pinkie of her left hand. One ring is a simple straight one and I wonder for a moment if she's with someone. In love, engaged, maybe even married.

"Why, you of course," that sultry, hoarse voice sends a tingle up my spine. Definitely interested then, whether she's with or without someone. I look up and meet intense, green eyes that are still twinkling. I smile my date-smile, lifting up the left corner of my mouth just a bit. She stares right back and my body moves almost of it's own accord, moving towards her and taking a deep bow. I have no choice but to ask her to dance to the slow waltz music that is filtering through the slightly opened balcony windows. To be honest, I don't really think I want a choice.

She offers me a brilliant smile of deep red lips, curtsies and gently places her hand in mine. I pull her into my arms and start turning her around slowly on the balcony. She locks eyes with me, refusing to look away, making it impossible for me to do so. Those green depths are so intense, so full of promises. Promises of intelligence and passion, of fun and understanding. They sparkle with a will to live that I have seldom seen before.

As the song ends, I become aware of the blood rushing through my veins, spurred on by the wild thumping of my heart. And I realise that this girl has something special, that she will not be just another one night stand. Could it be? But it has been so long since I have been with a woman.

I watch her eyelids flutter close as I put my hand under her chin and tilt her head up towards mine. My own eyes close as I kiss her lips lightly. Soft, so soft. Long fingers thread through my hair as she brings up her arms and embraces me. I deepen the kiss when she opens her mouth slightly against mine.

She's a good kisser, a really good kisser, but it doesn't prevent me from realizing something's missing. And when the kiss ends, I release her and take a small step back. When she looks at me her eyes are sharp and searching, then they turn soft again as she smiles at me. Only now do I realize she has a small dimple in her right cheek when she smiles. It's adorable and I can't help but smile back. It's an admiring smile, for her softness and her beauty.

"I have to go now Draco, but I hope to see you again," she whispers, accenting the hoarseness of her voice.

"Goodbye, Bianca," I answer softly as she turns and heads back inside. I listen to the soft tick-tick of her heels on the balcony floor as I stare out across the city. I certainly hope to see her again.

Some time later I head back inside and try to enjoy the party again, but I find I can't any longer, not even with the amount of martini's I've swallowed tonight. So I say goodnight, politely thank my hostess for the party, pretending not to see the sad look in her eyes at seeing me leaving before morning, and wait for my cab to take me home.

The street's almost empty now, but there are still some people mulling about. In a city like this, large streets are never truly empty. I look up as a newspaper drifting across the street makes a rustling sound that seems unnaturally loud at this time of night. The relative silence is momentarily disturbed by a group of teenage boys, probably making their way to one of the clubs nearby. I think about going there myself for about half a second before voting against the idea. No fun in going on my own.

Somewhere down the street, near a large apartment building pulled up out of white stone, a streetlamp dies. I frown as I remember how my father used to charm out all the lights in Malfoy Manor with his wand. He would march through all the corridors and check every room in the Mansion, his black cape billowing behind him like some sinister set of dark wings. My father, the worlds greatest bastard, the very reason I'm here in the first place.

I try to chat with the cabdriver on the way home to get my mind off that particular track of thought. I have half a mind to tell him to turn around and drive back to the party, but I wasn't having fun there anymore either. Talking with the cabdriver appears to be impossible anyway. He's Iranian or Turkish, maybe even Egyptian: he doesn't speak English at all. I can only hope he understands it well enough to get me home.

Luckily that appears to be the case, because the driver stops right in front of the doors to my apartment building. I ponder what to do as I walk up the stairs to my penthouse. Drink myself into a stupor or take a shower and go to bed? I decide on the latter. I have to train tomorrow – hey, getting on the cover of WAM doesn't come easy – and being grossly hung over won't help that. More importantly, I decide as I pull up my nose, I smell like smoke and booze.

I'm really looking forward to that shower now, so I hurry up the last steps of the landing and quickly open the front door of my penthouse. I'm greeted by a big green flash and then everything goes black.