Word count: ~28k in five chapters
Warning: slight homophobia (not Harry or Draco)
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: This fic. God, it just killed me. Anyway, here it is.
A huge thank you to my always wonderful beta readers/cheerleaders Cleo, Iwao and Firethesound for helping me go through it and to Zeitgeistic for her precious advice.
This fic was written for the 2014 H/D Cliché fest on Live Journal.
~CHAPTER 1~
When the first paper pellet fell on Harry's report, he swiped it away with his hand without a word. When the second one dropped straight into his ink bottle, he sighed, but vanished it with a flick of his wand.
It was only when the third one hit his head that he slapped the top of his desk with both hands and finally said something.
"Damn it, Malfoy, can't you go and do that somewhere else?" Harry yelled, disentangling the paper from his hair. "I'm trying to work."
Draco brought his hand to his chest in indignation, a hurt look on his face. "Why, Potter, I'm working here too."
"Working?" Harry said with a frown. "In what part of your twisted mind has casting paper pellets with a slingshot on Kingsley's face as a target anything remotely to do with work?"
"Ah, but I am refining my aim, Potter, a very important ability when you're an Auror of my calibre," Draco replied haughtily.
"With a slingshot?" Harry asked in disbelief.
"Well, of course, an expert Auror like me has to get used to any kind of weapons, to be prepared to face any situation."
Harry sighed again, which was something that had become quite natural around Draco in the three years they had been partners. He didn't even know why he still bothered trying to reason with the git. Maybe I'm a masochist, he thought.
"Well go and refine your aim somewhere else. I have a report to write and since you won't be writing it…" he trailed off.
Of course, Draco wouldn't. He never did. Harry was always the one writing reports, which was probably for the best in the end. The one and only time Draco had to write a report had been after a particularly strenuous day that had ended up with both of Harry's arms broken.
Kingsley had insisted Draco write the report immediately, and he had complied, not without cursing Kingsley under his breath. When he had visited Harry later that night at St Mungo's, beaming like a loon, Harry had known there was trouble ahead.
He had been right; the report ended up being a giant stick figure apparently representing Harry, with both arms at a weird angle.
The next day, Kingsley had summoned them both in his office. It was the last time Draco had ever touched a report.
"Potter." Draco said shaking his head like he was addressing a three-year-old. "You wouldn't want me to do all the work here? I already was the brilliant mastermind behind the operation, so it's only fair you at least do a little something. It's a partnership, Potter, not a Malfoyship. You're not paid for me to do all the work, are you? So I come up with the clever, cunning plans, and you write the lame reports. I assure you it's very good for you and for the..."
He came closer and took a glance at Harry's scribbling, wrinkling his nose. "Well, it's at least good for you, I guess."
Harry was about to retort when a sharp thump on the window cut him short. Malfoy hastily dropped his slingshot and opened the window to let the screech owl drop the oversize package on Harry's desk, spilling his ink bottle and spreading ink all over the report in the process. Harry's eyes widened and he hastily cast a Scourgify to erase the stain.
"Payday, ladies and gentlemen!" Draco said while bouncing up and down around the office until he'd reached Harry's desk and grabbed the packet. He cast a quick spell that had the packet burst open, spreading the numerous letters it contained onto every single inch of Harry's desk and spilling his ink bottle on the report once again.
"Bloody fucking hell," Harry said between clenched teeth, although he didn't know why he bothered, really, since he knew what was about to happen anyway.
Like every day, Draco would sit on Harry's desk, on a pile of unopened letters - mostly love letters Harry received in buckets at the Ministry - and start going through them. He would then laugh hard, and read the juiciest bits out loud, making tremendous fun of Harry. Sometimes, Draco would laugh so hard Harry had to hex him to get him to stop. Other times, he would storm out of their office declaiming bits and pieces from the letter he held for everybody to hear, laughing so hard he had to be escorted back by two security guards to their office. The guards would cast Harry glances that were a mix of 'we sincerely empathise' and 'you could do something about that' as they threw Draco onto the couch, still laughing.
At this point, Harry knew it was a losing battle. There was no use in trying to write his report.
"Oh my god, this one is good. Listen."
Harry lifted his head and looked at Draco perched on top of his desk, a letter in his hand and his eyes a deep grey through his reading glasses.
"I'm literally bouncing with anticipation," Harry deadpanned. He knew there was no escaping what was about to happen; if Harry had learned one thing in the past three years, is that once Draco had something in mind, nothing would stop him.
Draco frowned. "No, you're not. You're resting your lazy arse on your chair. If you are to use the term 'literally,' you have to use it literally. Like in-"
"I meant inwardly. I'm bouncing inwardly," Harry replied.
"Well that's-"
"Oh, come on, get on with it!" Harry said rolling his eyes, not wanting to listen to one of Draco's endless lectures again. It was sure to be humiliating enough for that.
"Right," Draco answered, suddenly beaming again as he remembered the reason of his glee in the first place. "Just listen to this."
He cleared his throat and held out his right arm in front of him, as if he were on the stage of a renowned Muggle theatre. He started to speak in an affected, high-pitched voice.
"Dear Mr Potter - or may I call you Harry?" Draco paused for dramatic effect, fluttering his eyelashes in the most ridiculous way. Harry couldn't help smiling.
"When I first saw you, I felt like my heart would explode in pieces and paint the whole room with my love for you." Draco wrinkled his nose as he let his hand fall in his lap. "This is utterly gross," he commented. "Anyway. You are beautiful. Your beauty has no equivalent, except of course for this amazing, wonderful, stunningly handsome partner of yours."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "This is not in the letter."
Draco looked utterly shocked and brought his hand to his chest in indignation. "Potter? Are you accusing me of-"
"Of course not. You wouldn't do anything like that ever," Harry snorted.
"Thank you," Draco replied very seriously.
"Go on, that I can get back to work soon."
"Ha! You like it, don't you? I always knew you were an attention junkie. You always act as if you don't want people to notice you, but deep inside-"
"Malfoy, I still have this report to finish, so would you please come to the point?" Harry sighed.
"Okay, okay, Mr I-can't-get-tired-of-having-fans-fawning-all-over-my-pitiful-little-self. If you insist."
Draco readjusted his glasses on his nose and went on. "I love everything about you. Your hair is like the brown silky seaweed from the ocean of my heart." He looked at Harry over his glasses. "Some substances really should be forbidden, if you're asking me. And obviously, she needs to check her eyesight," he added, shaking his head. "Your skin looks so smooth and perfect that I want to rub my body against it until the end of times. Wait, wouldn't that be a little bit painful after a while?"
"Okay, are you done, here?" Harry said, clasping both his hands on the desk.
Draco frowned. "What is wrong with you, today?"
"Nothing." Harry sighed.
Draco discarded the letter at once and placed his hand on Harry's forearm.
"Don't 'nothing' me, Potter. There's something up with you and if you want to finish this report and go home quickly, you'd better spill the beans right now."
Harry sighed again. "Fine. Marco left me."
"What? Marco left you?" Draco yelped.
"Shhh! No need to tell the whole building." Harry had no wish to share the details of his pathetic love life with anyone, thank you very much.
"What happened?" Draco asked again, removing his glasses swiftly and folding them.
"I- I don't know, really. We- things were going great, but then he grew distant over the last few days and I knew something wasn't quite right but I still thought it could work, you know?"
Draco nodded. Harry liked how he could go from borderline crazy to serious and attentive in a heartbeat.
"And then this morning, I woke up to an empty flat and a note."
"Show it to me," Draco ordered.
"Malfoy…"
"Come on, Potter, show it to me."
Harry sighed. "Right." He wriggled on his seat, reached into the back pocket of his jeans and handed the folded piece of parchment to Draco who took it hastily and started to read hungrily.
After a moment, Draco threw the parchment on Harry's desk with disdain and grabbed his wand, murmuring a quick "Incendio," reducing the note to ashes.
"Hey!" Harry protested. "What did you do that for?" he shouted at Malfoy, staring in disbelief at the ashes on his now definitely unusable report. Draco didn't move an inch.
"He's a bastard. You're much better off without him," Draco stated.
"But you've burned his paper and now-"
"And now, what? Now you're just going to move on and forget all about the jerk. You deserve way better than a pretentious little slimy git and you know it."
Draco's words somehow brought warmth to Harry's body.
"I thought you liked him." Harry shrugged.
"Yeah, well, I didn't. It was clear he was just after your name and glory."
"Aren't they all," Harry replied bitterly.
"Hey, don't go all mopey on me now, Potter. At least you have a love life."
Harry saw Draco's face shut down immediately at the tiny bit of info he had just let out by mistake. Harry looked up at him and waited to see how he would react.
If Draco loved knowing every single detail on Harry's love life, it was a one-way thing only. Draco was always very private with his love life. He simply never talked about it. Every time Harry had tried to get information from him, he immediately shut down and left the room. So after a while, Harry had stopped asking altogether. After all, they were Auror partners, not necessarily friends.
"You have a report to write."
"Malfoy..."
"Now."
"Right."
Harry went back to work, and Draco went back to his desk, suddenly lost in thoughts.
Working with Malfoy really wasn't that bad. At first, they had both protested like mad when Kingsley had partnered them together. The first few days were really intense, as they both kept to their old ways, lashing out at each other, pushing their boundaries, even fighting properly once in the Atrium, biting and hair-pulling like lunatics, rolling on the floor, knowing precisely what would have the other all riled up in no time.
But it was familiar territory; it was comforting. They would fight and bicker over absolutely everything. Every single detail, from who would choose the desk in front of the window (Harry won) to who would bring coffee to the other in the morning (Malfoy won). Everything was a battle.
Harry found Malfoy particularly difficult and kept ranting on how he would do anything to change partners.
So after six months of endless complaints, Kingsley had finally given in to Harry's request and assigned him another partner.
This new partner - Anthony Goldstein - was nice. He was polite, he was non-judgemental (meaning he didn't comment on Harry's mess at all), he was doing the job, hell, he even wrote reports, which left Harry with plenty of time to do other things. Anthony Goldstein was really easy to be partnered with. He would agree with absolutely everything Harry said.
He kept looking at Harry like he was the seventh wonder of the world, drinking in his every word. Harry was very tempted to say the most inane things just to see if he could get another reaction from the guy. But then, Harry was sure that even if he told him he drank Bubotuber pus for breakfast every morning, the look of absolute awe on Goldstein's face wouldn't falter. Harry could feel his eyes on him whenever they worked at their desks and it was really weird - not to mention uncomfortable - to be subjected to so much attention. Harry even thought it was a bit creepy.
To top it all, the guy was utterly boring and dull.
Harry couldn't really nail down what bothered him about Goldstein. Maybe he tried too hard. Maybe he didn't try hard enough. Maybe the problem simply was that he was trying. Malfoy never tried anything. Malfoy just did and said absolutely anything that went through his head.
And that's how, against all odds, Harry started missing Malfoy.
He missed his grandiloquent speeches nobody ever paid attention to, he missed the slightly odd look he sported whenever a brilliant plan formed in his head. He missed Malfoy's comments on his handwriting and his pathetic love life, he missed the look of deep concentration on Malfoy's face whenever he tried to crack a difficult case. The way he would always place his elbows on his desk, chin on his thumbs, his index fingers framing his pointed face, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, a deep cleft forming between his eyes, half-hidden by his blond fringe. He missed how Malfoy's mouth would twitch in annoyance whenever someone delayed them. He missed how fierce and composed Malfoy was in the face of adversity. And he missed how funny Malfoy truly was.
He also missed Malfoy's touch. At first, Harry had been really surprised by how much Malfoy needed to touch people. Harry wasn't even sure he was conscious of it. Malfoy craved physical proximity. Harry didn't know if it had to do with not having been really close physically to his family when he was younger - he had no evidence of what he was thinking, but he could hardly imagine Lucius or even Narcissa being the touchy-feely kind - but it was a definite trait in Malfoy. He had to touch Harry. All the time.
It wasn't much, just little touches here and there that didn't mean anything at all. It was just- Malfoy needed the physical proximity. So whenever he sat on Harry's desk with his legs dangling from the desk (half of the time, really), his foot would be in contact with Harry's leg. Or when he read - or rather mocked - Harry's reports, he would always plant his hand firmly on Harry's shoulder, the contact so warm Harry would feel it even moments after Malfoy was gone. Or even in the field, when they were about to attack, Harry would briefly feel Malfoy's hand on the small of his back, as if trying to convey strength and courage just from the heat of his hand.
So yes, Malfoy would always touch Harry, in many, many ways, but Harry never dared touch him back. It would have felt at best awkward, at worst uncomfortable. Too intimate. Also Harry didn't want to indulge in something he knew would be terribly addictive. He was afraid he wouldn't be able to refrain from wanting more. So he kept to himself.
After a couple of months with Goldstein, Harry had to realise that he had reached the bottom and wanted Malfoy back as a partner. The look on Kingsley's face when he told him said it all. But Harry didn't care; having Malfoy back as a partner was worth Kingsley's rant about it.
And so Malfoy was back into Harry's life. Back into the most important part of Harry's life, because Harry's life was all about work. He arrived at the Ministry pretty early and left late at night. Every night. He didn't have any social interactions with people apart from Ron and Hermione who were quite busy themselves - Ron now worked full time with George at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and Hermione was an Unspeakable - so they generally only met on the weekends. Oh, and until this morning, there had been Marco.
Harry sighed. It wasn't so much that he was in love with Marco - because let's face it, he wasn't - it was just that it had been nice to have something besides work to think about for the past few weeks. To be at the beginning of a relationship, to date someone, talk to someone, go to bed with someone. Fill the emptiness that sometimes overwhelmed Harry at night and prevented him from sleeping.
But then, like Draco had said, Harry had to move on.
Thankfully for him, working with Draco was never boring. He got further proof of that the next morning.
"I have a plan," Draco declared with an awkward lopsided grin as soon as he entered their office. No 'Good morning, how are you today, feeling better?' nothing. It didn't bother Harry; he was used to it. It was even comforting in a way: he hated small talk with a passion.
Draco hung his cloak - the light, silvery grey one that complimented his eyes - on the hook behind the door and grabbed the cup of coffee Harry had set under a stasis charm on his desk like every morning. And like every morning, Draco downed it in one go without even a simple 'thank you.' He was already too far gone with whatever he had in mind to bother with such trivialities.
"I'm all ears," Harry replied as Draco once again placed his butt on top of the mess of letters and parchments on Harry's desk, knocking over Harry's empty coffee cup in the process.
Draco didn't start talking until he was all settled, legs slightly spread next to Harry, his foot touching Harry's thigh as always.
"You need a new boyfriend."
Oh no. For some reason, Draco hated for Harry to remain single. The problem was that his numerous attempts at finding him a boyfriend had always, always ended up in disaster. Every single man Malfoy had tried to shack him up with had something terribly wrong with them. They were either just in total awe of Harry, drinking in his every word in a way that reminded him of Goldstein. Or they pretended they just didn't care about who he was, going as far as being terribly rude to him just to prove their point. Some of them were total weirdos: one guy had been so obsessed with Harry's scar that he had spent a whole fifteen minutes licking it reverently before coming into his own pants and leaving Harry slightly puzzled and frustrated. It had been awfully embarrassing.
And then, there had been Marco.
Draco had introduced him to Marco at some Ministry event a couple of months ago. Like every single time Malfoy forced someone on him, Harry had been terribly suspicious, but against all odds, Marco had been rather nice. They'd spent the night talking quietly on the balcony. Later that night, when Harry had brought him home and shagged him first on the sofa, then on the kitchen counter before moving on to the bed, he had to admit that maybe this time Draco had been quite right.
He had even allowed himself a little bit of hope after a while.
But then, everything had crumbled yesterday morning when Marco had left him. He just wasn't in love, he had stated in his pathetic little note.
Back to the start, then.
"Malfoy, I sincerely appreciate what you're trying to do here, but-"
"Now, now, Potter, let me take care of that. I have the perfect-"
Thank Merlin, a sharp sound from the window stopped Draco in his tracks. Harry saw Draco's face lose its colour in a second and knew what it meant without even turning around: a letter from the Manor.
Harry stood up and let in the elegant eagle owl, grabbing the letter and handing it to Draco who finally snapped out of his state of blankness and took it.
Harry shooed the owl away and closed the window. When he looked at Draco again, he was reading the letter, getting paler by the minute. In the end, he simply folded the parchment without a word and stuck it in the pocket of his grey trousers.
"Is that your father again?" Harry tentatively asked. He knew there was only a tenuous chance for Draco to talk to him, but he had to try anyway.
Draco nodded and the fact he had not been rudely rebuffed made Harry insist.
"Is this about…"
"He's found a serious candidate for me," Draco said blandly.
"Oh," Harry replied and his heart sank.
On very rare occasions - mostly when they were both past drunk in a Muggle pub after a particularly straining day - Malfoy had opened up to Harry about his life and prospects for the future. Harry still had difficulties understanding how things worked in Draco's family and that despite all that had happened during the war, things had not changed dramatically in pure-blood circles.
Now that the Malfoys had all escaped Azkaban - thanks in part to the precious information Lucius gave the Ministry regarding the remaining Death Eaters and to Harry's testimony for Narcissa and Draco during the trials - Lucius's only goal in life was to restore the family name. He did so mostly by being overly generous with the most influential institutions, but also by using Draco as a means to ensure the future of the family. Draco had a huge weight on his shoulders, and it was clear he didn't have a say in anything his father decided for him; there was a plan, and he just had to comply with it.
Draco never complained about it though; if anything, whenever Harry had tried to discuss this with him, he defended his father, explaining how his 'sacrifice' was just necessary and inevitable, and that he was very happy and proud even to be able to help restore the Malfoy name in the Wizarding World.
That's why all Draco had done since the end of the war was to follow his father's plans to the letter.
First, Lucius had insisted Draco went back to Hogwarts to pass his NEWTs. So Draco had gone back, braving the scorn and resentment from other students with his held head up high and passed with flying colours.
Lucius had then enjoined Draco to enrol in the Auror Corps and that's what Draco had done; he ended up being one of the top-graded Aurors graduating that year, way ahead of Harry who was excellent at practice, but not as good at theory.
And now, the only missing piece in Lucius Malfoy's grand scheme was for Draco to marry a rich, influential pure-blood witch and produce an heir to ensure continuity of the bloodline. Lucius was doing the research, activating what remained of his network of powerful friends to find a family he could join to his in order to finally find the respectability he so yearned.
"Right, so I have the perfect man f-"
"Do you know who the witch is?" Harry cut in. They were not in a Muggle Pub, they were not drunk, so there was a huge chance Draco would lose his temper very quickly. But it was worth trying.
"I-" Draco seemed to hesitate and fixed Harry intensely, before lowering his gaze and roaming Harry's desk. "Yes," he finally answered in a whisper.
Harry knew better than to say anything at that point. He had taken the first step, he would now wait for Draco to cover the rest. Or not. He kept his gaze on Draco while Draco played with the letters spread on his desk.
"She's Daphne Greengrass's sister."
"Oh, the Daphne who was in our year? The Slytherin?"
"Why of course, Potter. You wouldn't want me to marry a Hufflepuff, or worse, a Gryffindor?" Draco said sticking his tongue out and the tension lifted instantly.
"Of course not, that would be terrible," Harry replied with a chuckle and Draco smiled back at him. Harry was amazed every time at how a smile on Draco's face made him different. The very first time Draco had directed his smile at Harry was also the very first time Harry had realised how good-looking Draco was.
"So, about this boyf-" Draco's fingers suddenly froze on Harry's desk and his eyes widened. "Potter…" he whispered quickly, slowly pulling out a piece of parchment from under a stack of love letters covered in little pink hearts. "What the hell is that?" he asked looking at Harry, an expression of utter disbelief on his face.
Harry frowned. "Er, a letter?" Harry stood up and peeked at the piece of paper, his face inches from Draco's who was staring at the parchment in awe, lips slightly parted, revealing his perfect white teeth. Harry's eyes hastily dropped back to the letter. At the top of the left-hand corner was a crest printed in gold and underneath it were the words London's Gentlewizard Club.
"I can't believe it," Draco murmured. "They've made you Honorary Member," he said, looking up at Harry. Their eyes locked.
"What is it? Some sort of a club?" Harry asked. He had never ever heard of it.
"Some sort of a club?" Draco looked at him with a horrified look on his face. "Are you crazy Potter? This is the Gentlewizard Club!"
Harry's expression must have shown his ignorance on the subject since Draco rolled his eyes.
"Bloody hell, Potter! What kind of a wizard are you?"
"Er-"
"No, don't answer that." Draco caressed the letter like it was the most precious document he'd even seen in his life and went on, his voice dreamy, full of respect. "The Gentlewizard Club is a very select and influential society founded by Norbert Cuthbert in 1305, renowned for its prestige and high-ranked members."
"Okay…" Harry said slowly, not really knowing what to think about that right now and finding himself distracted by Malfoy's flawless skin up close.
"Potter," Draco shook his head in disbelief. "Every wizard who matters in the Wizarding World would kill to be part of this club. My father would kill to be part of it. Hell, I would kill to be part of it."
"Right, so why don't you become a member then?" Harry said, sinking heavily back into his chair.
Malfoy let out a cackle so loud it made Harry jump. Harry was sure Kingsley had heard it in his office at the other end of the building.
"Why don't I- Why don't I become a member?" he said, a bewildered expression on his face. "But Potter, you can't become a member just because you want to! Do you have any idea what it takes to be a Gentlewizard?"
"Er, no? Sorry." Harry shrugged, not knowing why he had felt like apologising.
"You're just wonderful. Please don't change anything," Malfoy snorted. "Potter, to become a member, you need to be sponsored."
"Wait a minute, I haven't been sponsored. Why am I even a member?"
Draco looked at him like he couldn't believe he was real. "He really has no idea… fascinating," he muttered as if Harry wasn't sitting right in front of him. "Potter, you are the Saviour. You are the Chosen One. You are the-"
"All right, all right I get it." Harry sighed. "Wait a minute, are you telling me that the Malfoys are not part of the, of this Gentlemen's Club?"
"Well they used to, but not anymore. Not since my grandfather anyway. And it's Gentlewizard, Potter, you ignorant sod."
"Oh. So you mean your father never got sponsored?"
"Well, my grandfather died before he could sponsor Father. After that, Father did try to get sponsored - boy, did he try! - but it never worked." So money couldn't buy everything in the Wizarding World. It was a reassuring thought. "Potter, do you know what this means?" Draco's face had now completely regained its natural colour. There even was a slight flush on his cheeks which was a nice look on him.
"Go ahead." Harry braced himself for what was sure to come.
"It means that technically…" Malfoy trailed off and Harry tried hard to hide the smile that was forming on his face against his will.
"It means, Potter…" Harry couldn't hide his smile anymore. "Oh, bloody hell, Potter, are you going to make me beg for it?" Malfoy snapped and Harry laughed. "Of course you would," Draco muttered. "Fine. Would you sponsor me?"
Harry looked at Draco for a moment and saw the expectation mingled with doubt in his eyes. How badly Draco wanted this. How badly he longed for acceptance. Acceptance from his father, from this little club and from the wizarding society as a whole. Draco needed the reassurance, needed to know he was important, that he mattered.
"Yes," Harry just said.
The smile on Draco's lips at this simple word, the way his eyes brightened up at once shouldn't have made Harry's stomach flutter so crazily but it did.
No matter what it took, it was worth it.
And that's how Harry found himself dragged to the prestigious Gentlewizard Club on a Saturday morning.
Malfoy had pounded on his front door for Merlin knows how long before Harry finally got out of his bed and went to open it to him, apologising profusely to his elderly Muggle neighbour who glared daggers at him before slamming his door into Harry's face.
The club was situated in a posh neighbourhood in the very heart of London. Draco had spent over an hour trying to dress Harry for the occasion, shaking his head in disbelief at Harry's apparent lack of a proper wardrobe. In the end, Draco had gone back to his own flat to retrieve a pair of light-grey trousers and a dark-green cashmere jumper that apparently matched Harry's eyes. Draco was, as always, dressed impeccably. Harry tried not to think too much about what it felt to wear Draco's clothes and focused on the elegant building instead.
As soon as they entered the Victorian edifice though, Harry's breath caught in his throat. It was simply magnificent. The front door opened on a grand foyer with a ceiling so high it made Harry's head spin. A spectacular chandelier with thousands of candles surmounted round domes with clerestory windows floating overtop a set of luxurious curved staircases leading to the first floor.
"Sweet Merlin," Harry murmured.
"Mr Potter, I am so very honoured to meet you at last," a distinguished, tall wizard in formal robes greeted them with a smile.
"Mr Langdon," Harry returned his smile and shook the wizard's hand.
Langdon's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as they roamed over Draco.
"Draco Malfoy," Draco said holding out his hand, looking duly impressed, like Harry had rarely seen him before.
"I see," Langdon replied in a slightly colder tone, although still harbouring a smile. "Please let me show you to my office."
They followed him through a door on the right-hand side of the foyer and after crossing a couple of beautiful reception rooms, found themselves in a smaller hall leading to Mr Langdon's study.
It was a comfortable, elegant room. On the left-hand side stood a beautiful mahogany desk with two leather armchairs for the guests. The walls were all covered in shelves from floor to ceiling, holding hundreds of books. The wall opposite the desk held a beautifully ornate fireplace, with more shelves on either side. It was rather cosy.
Langdon invited them to sit on the armchairs and offered them a drink. They both took coffee and soon a couple of steaming cups flew to their hands. Harry took a sip of the coffee and almost moaned. He had never tasted anything so good. From the armchair next to him, Harry could feel Draco's excitement at simply being here and realised what it really meant for him.
"So, Mr Potter," Langdon started after a few trivialities. "I must say I was pleasantly surprised to hear from you the other day. You have been a member for years, but we never had the pleasure of meeting you in person. What brings you here on this beautiful morning?"
Harry turned to look briefly at Draco who already had his eyes on him. He could almost hear Draco plead him, 'Don't screw this up, Potter.'
"Er, well, I- I guess I-" He felt Draco's foot come in contact with his and took a deep breath. "I wanted you to meet Draco, here." Harry thought it was better to cut the crap and jump right in.
Langdon didn't even take a look at Draco and kept his eyes in Harry's.
"I see. What can I do for you, then?"
"I would like to sponsor Draco for membership of the Club."
Langdon's mouth twitched at Harry's words and his lips thinned into a fine line. He sat back in his chair and finally seemed to acknowledge Draco's presence. He shamelessly scrutinised him.
"Well, I'm not sure Mr Malfoy meets all the required criteria," Langdon said in a dry tone, suddenly losing all pretence.
Harry had foolishly thought it would be easy, a simple formality, really, but he now realised it would probably take a little bit more than his name to get Draco in. Draco shifted uncomfortably next to him and Harry knew he had come to the same conclusion.
Harry frowned. "I'm afraid I don't understand. I thought as a member, I was allowed to sponsor other people?"
Langdon's fake smile came back in a flash. He turned to Draco. "Mr Malfoy, would you mind waiting just a moment in the next room? There is something I must share with Mr Potter, between members."
Bastard, Harry couldn't stop thinking. He was very tempted to simply leave the room and send the guy to hell, but he couldn't do that to Draco.
"It won't take long," Langdon added.
"Right. I'll wait for you outside," Draco said pressing a hand on Harry's shoulder on his way out, a gesture that did not escape Langdon.
"Why don't you want Draco in your club?" Harry asked bluntly as soon as Draco had left the room.
Langdon looked intently at Harry. "I never said that. Although I must warn you that your request is very unlikely to find any favourable echo in the club."
"And why is that?" Harry knew the answer, of course he knew it, but he wanted the guy to face his responsibilities and spell it out.
"Well, you see, the Club has a very strict policy on its members' record," Langdon replied coldly. "And in your friend's case, his family's record doesn't really work in his favour."
There it was. The dragon was out of its lair.
Harry put the empty cup of coffee on the desk before leaning back into the armchair. "The Malfoys have been judged and have done their sentence," Harry said slowly. "They were on house arrest for months and helped capturing many important Death Eaters it would have taken us years to arrest. They made us gain precious time." Simple facts. Harry still didn't like Lucius Malfoy, probably never would, and was absolutely not naive as to what his motives had been, but still. The Malfoys did help. And they had paid for their misdeeds.
"Of course, but still-"
"So why can't Draco become a member?" Harry cut him in.
"Well, as you already know, he needs to be sponsored by a member of the club."
"Which I am. So what's the problem?"
Langdon's smile was back, but this time his tone was bluntly condescending. "There are other conditions."
Of course there were. "I'm all ears."
"You see, Mr Potter, there has been a time where membership was granted a little bit too easily. The Club suffered from that and new rules had to be enforced to ensure the Club would keep a certain standard."
He paused and Harry braced himself for what was about to come.
"That is why, we now only accept new members sponsored by family and next of kin. That's a rule that simply cannot be overlooked, even by such an important wizard as yourself," Langdon said with a smile of triumph.
Harry wanted nothing but to slap the jerk in the face. Or hex his bollocks off.
"As I believe Mr Malfoy is not part of your family…" Langdon trailed off.
"He's my partner, though," Harry blurted before he could stop himself. All in all, it was not really a lie. Draco indeed was Harry's partner. His Auror partner if nothing more. "You did say 'sponsored by family and next of kin'?" he added swiftly. In for a knut and all that.
Langdon's smile wavered. "I did."
"So that's it, then. Draco can become a member."
Langdon leaned back in his chair and studied Harry carefully. He was not smiling anymore. Harry cheered inwardly.
"It depends."
"On what?" Harry asked.
"On the seriousness of your relationship, for one thing," Langdon said, his vicious smile back on his face.
"It's very serious," Harry said in the most assured tone he could muster.
"Oh yes? And may I ask how long you two have been together?"
"Of course," Harry answered without hesitation. "Draco's been my partner for three years."
"Really?" Langdon narrowed his eyes. "And how come I have never heard about this relationship of yours? Considering how famous you are, Mr Potter."
"It's because we like to keep things private, Mr Langdon. And I'm sure this is a quality the Gentlewizard Club is interested in."
"I see," Langdon only replied, keeping his gaze firmly on Harry.
After a long time, during which Harry was sure Langdon was trying desperately to find something, anything that could prevent Draco from joining the club, he finally spoke again.
"Very well, then. I shall launch the procedure for his application immediately," the honeyed smile was back on Langdon's face. "Once it's done, it will only take a couple more steps for Mr Malfoy to officially become a part of the Club."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you will first receive the visit of the Club committee to your house on Monday, and will be interviewed together there."
Harry frowned.
"You would be very surprised, Mr Potter, at how often we are confronted with people faking their relationship, just to be able to join the Club. You must understand that we can't possibly have that, hence the checking." He smiled again. "Honesty is very important to the members of the Club."
"Right, of course, it makes sense," Harry replied with a forced smile. "So, Monday, you said? This Monday?"
"Yes, Mr Potter, this Monday. In a couple of days. Is there a problem?"
"Er, nope. That's fine."
Perfectly fine. Draco and he had two days to get to know each other as if they were lovers.
Great.
"And then you will both be invited for the weekend at our countryside residence in Yorkshire, where you will meet other members of the club and will be chaperoned by a couple of members of the committee who will evaluate Mr Malfoy's abilities to blend in with our people. We will owl you the details in the afternoon."
"Okay. So that means that when Draco passes-"
"If Mr Malfoy passes," Langdon smiled again and Harry narrowed his eyes.
"He will then become a member of the Club."
"That's perfectly summed up, Mr Potter. Do you have any other questions?"
"No, I think I'm fine."
"Well then I guess you just have to go and tell Mr Malfoy the news," Langdon said standing up.
Harry stood up as well.
Great. All he had to do now was to announce Draco they were a couple.