"I will take you."
Harry's shoulders slumped in response. He took deep breaths to calm himself down before pulling his shoulders up and inhaling deeply. Everything was going to be alright. He cast a wary glance at the hovering sandcraft in front of him. "On this?" he asked.
"I am so sorry I couldn't prepare a chariot," Draco drawled.
"Do you insist on speaking like this?" Harry asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to think.
Draco pushed the stray strands of hair out of his eyes, saying, "Only way I know how to speak. Besides, I'd have figured an intelligent man like you could keep up. You seem to enjoy proving me wrong."
"I'm surprised you know intelligence when you see it," Harry jeered.
"Said you were intelligent. Not useful," Draco retorted easily. "You are of no use to me, mon cher." Damn Black for having heaven-sent godsons. "Not unless you are naked under me, anyway," he added as a sordid after-thought, inspecting Harry's lean body.
Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. He also couldn't believe what he was imagining. The vivid images made his heart pound. "I need a guide. Not an escort service," he snapped, fists clenching and voice shaking with either anger, desire, or both.
"I've never had to force anyone," Draco countered, his velvet voice sliding over Harry. "And I have a feeling I won't ever have to." He noted the muscles in Harry's jaw clenching. He had struck a nerve. "What's the matter?" he asked, quirking a brow. "Need that escort service already?"
Harry flicked his eyes away, breathing heavily as he kept his temper under check. "You are a rather nauseating man, Mr. Malfoy," he muttered vehemently.
"I try," Draco said, stepping away. "Let's go."
"Now?" Harry asked out of astonishment.
"No, whenever his highness orders," Draco said under his breath. "Yes, now."
"But I-I just got here." Harry glanced back up towards the pub. "My bags," he gestured vaguely.
"Feet pue tan! Bags?" Draco asked in disbelief.
"I didn't stop anywhere. I'm straight from the hangar," Harry tried to explain. Draco huffed and muttered angrily to himself as he stalked away towards the pub. Harry sighed in response, taking out the cooling rag from his back pocket and wiping his face down with it. He had gotten this far. He glanced out at the desert. It was treacherous and highly volatile. Besides the animals that lived in the wild, the dunes could shift without the slightest warning. One could easily be buried under tones of sand during the sandstorms.
But Sirius was living in the middle of it all. Along the edges of the desert, where the trees grew, there used to be a lovely vacation home. Harry didn't know the condition of the farmhouse he had grown up in now. He hoped Sirius stayed safe.
They hadn't kept contact after Harry's transfer to the seacoast. He hadn't seen his godfather in years. In fact, he hadn't even known that Sirius was missing. That is, until he received a phone call from his brother, Matthew, who brought the issue to attention. Harry learnt that Sirius had stormed out of the house in the desert town after a disagreement. He hadn't been back for months. Harry had always been close to Sirius. But years had caused them to drift apart. But Harry saw Sirius as his own father in many respects. He had to find his godfather. Never mind the fact that he was also silently cursing Sirius to hell for making him do this.
Draco slung the bags into the craft unceremoniously, jumping on with ease. He noticed Harry staring off into the depths of the desert with faraway eyes. "Get on," he growled, snapping Harry out of his reverie.
Harry started and looked up at Draco. Then down at the sandcraft. He was trying to figure out how to get on.
Draco rolled his eyes as he bent down and grabbed Harry by the arms, hoisting him up onboard. In his panic, Harry grabbed onto Draco's shoulders. Draco marveled at how light Harry was as he held the man steady. Harry stared at Draco, now eye-to-eye since his feet were dangling by Draco's shins. Draco could feel Harry's fear as though it were tangible. Desire touched Draco's stomach tantalizingly as he scanned the lips in front of him. "Oh, I'm every bit as barbaric as I appear," he said, feeling slightly breathless at being so close to Harry. "Planning on analyzing me?"
The fear turned to cold disgust in an instant. "Let me down," Harry said with a controlled breath, pushing away. Draco set the doctor down. Harry put more distance between them, legs shaky from the slight swaying of the hovercraft. "Besides, you need neutering. Not analyzing," Harry added, wanting to get the last word. Draco piqued a brow as he pushed Harry onto the bench. Harry sat down quickly, clutching the edges of the seat with white knuckles. It was one thing to be flying in an airplane. It was entirely different to be in a sandcraft, waiting to be thrust into the deadly desert.
Draco wasn't paying attention to Harry, his eyes trained up the way to the pub again. "Stay," he told Harry, jumping out of the vehicle.
"Wait, where are you going?" Harry asked, watching Draco walk up the knoll.
"Bar."
"Bar?" Harry huffed. "We were just in there," he said to himself, dropping his head.
When Draco strode into the pub with purpose, the tension was apparent. He scanned the bar, spotting Vince Crabbe. When Draco sat down, Crabbe barely acknowledged him. "I thought we had an agreement," Draco murmured.
"We have many agreements now, don't we?" Crabbe asked, gulping down his rum in one swig.
"I heard you've been working behind my back, Vince. You know how much I hate backstabbers, don't you?" Draco asked smoothly.
"And you know how much I love money, don't you?" Crabbe countered, turning to face Draco as his hand fell to his pocket. He was fast but Draco was faster. He had Crabbe's wrist in his calloused hand in no time, twisting it back.
"I don't want any blood in here," the bartended interrupted quickly.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Draco muttered, keeping his eyes on Crabbe who was grimacing in pain. "No more runs to the desert, you hear me?"
"You can't tell me what to do," Crabbe grunted.
"I might not. But my gun has a mind of its own," Draco threatened, standing up with Crabbe's cracking wrist still in his hand.
"Malfoy," the bartender groaned in despair.
"Fuck off," Crabbe hissed.
In a fluid motion, Draco had pulled out his hunting knife and pressed it against Crabbe's throat. "That is my land and I don't take well to rats that scurry in it," he said heavily.
"That's enough, Malfoy," a loud voice said with fierceness. "Put that away before I have to shoot you."
Draco stiffened as he put his knife back in his pocket. "If you were doing your job, I wouldn't have to do it for you, would I?" he asked, turning to face Malcolm Baddock who had his gun out. "And is this what we pay you to do? Sit around and drink all day?"
Malcolm Baddock was an officer from the Department of Wildlife and Hunting. A rather poor officer at that. His plump face turned to puce quite quickly. "You paying taxes would be a hoot," he scorned as he marched towards the men. "So you can just shut your trap."
"Is that any way to talk to a civilian?" Draco asked patronizingly.
"I don't take well to threats," Malcolm said.
"And I don't make threats, cher. You know that," Draco said with a smirk.
"You don't scare me," Malcolm said, trying to stand taller than he was despite having several limitations when compare to Draco.
"That's what happens when you drink your brain away," Draco said, tsking mockingly.
Malcolm looked ready to stomp his foot and throw a tantrum. But he holstered his gun and with a final glare at Draco he started dispersing the crowd that had formed around the confrontation.
"You are no-good bastard," Crabbe muttered, gnashing his teeth as he massaged his sprained bone.
"Don't you forget it," Draco said, turning to leave. He cringed inwardly when he saw Harry standing with his wide green eyes and ashen complexion. Draco hurried over to the doctor. "I told you to stay in the sandcraft," he said quietly.
He was a poacher. A criminal. Harry's brain short circuited. "I… I… I-"
"Harry? Harry Potter?" Malcolm asked, catching the men's attention. "What on Earth are you doing here?" He threw a dirty glance at Draco and asked, "Is he bothering you?"
Harry flicked his eyes at Draco. If anything, this was his chance to get out of whatever he had gotten himself into. But he couldn't find his voice, still trying to comprehend what he had just seen. Draco scowled at Malcolm, shooing him away. "He's with me," he said, pressing a hand to the small of Harry's back and moving him away. Malcolm didn't know what to do, simply watching after the two helplessly. "You know that guy?" Draco asked.
"He's a family friend."
"Thought you would have classier friends than that buffoon," Draco said under his breath.
Harry looked at Draco incredulously, wondering how on Earth the man thought he was qualified to talk about 'classy friends'. "What were you doing?" he asked.
"Business," Draco answered as he opened the door to let Harry out.
Before Harry could argue, he heard a slight whistle in his direction. "What did I tell you, boys? First class, eh?" a group of grease-faced mechanics chortled, their eyes lingering on Harry as though he were a piece of meat. "I've got something you can check up on, doctor." Harry closed his eyes in frustration. When had the desert village gotten so crude and uncouth? When the catcalls stopped without warning, Harry opened his eyes again and saw the men looking past him.
Harry's shock increased tenfold when he felt Draco's arm wrapping around his waist – not lewdly but rather protectively. "Your mother never taught you manners?" he asked quietly, making Harry shiver and quelling the men. Never mind the fact that the five burly blokes could have taken Draco on in a fight. Harry figured all of them had, at some point, had the pleasure of meeting with Draco's hunting knife. The mechanics hurried away without another word. Harry allowed himself to be herded back to the sandcraft without protest.
Draco didn't let go until they were at the fences again. His mind was racing. He had made a promise to Sirius and damn it if Harry was going to make him break it.
"Look," Harry said suddenly, stopping. "I think I'd better find another guide to take me out to Sirius. You seem quite busy."
"No," Draco said before he could help himself. He was spewing swears in his mind. Why should he care if Harry found another guide? "I know of no one else who will take you," he said. "I don't know what you heard in there or what you saw, but just forget it."
"Rather hard to forget," Harry said, wondering what Draco was getting at.
Draco slid his hands into his pockets, looking above Harry's head. "I don't care what you think of me. Just so you know, you'll get to the camp in one piece. I won't feed you to the snakes or bury you alive or anything. Black's an old friend."
Harry gaped at Draco. He saw the slight blush on the man's high cheeks and the sheepish expression. If Harry hadn't seen the man in the bar, he would have actually thought Draco looked quite cute. About as cute as a menacing wolf looked, but cute nonetheless.
"I'm surprised," Harry murmured.
Draco's eyes narrowed. "That I won't feed you to snakes?" he asked.
"That you have a friend," Harry smiled bitterly as he heaved himself back up onto the sandcraft.
I took some of the dialogue from the original text. The things Lucky/Draco says are just too priceless. Anyways, hot enough? Nudge, nudge, wink, wink