Chapter Nine - Batten Down the Hatches
Draco left Harry and walked down two flights of stairs to the hotel lobby, feeling a strange blend of giddy and terrified. His heart felt near to bursting, as did his trousers from the pressure of his cock. He'd had to pause on the steps and think of Greg Goyle in a tutu to force his erection into submission. Thankfully, pink wasn't Greg's colour and the image worked admirably. He continued on his way.
The clerk at the desk gave him a polite smile. "Is there something I can help you with, sir?"
"I would like a copy of the Daily Prophet. In fact, I would like several back issues, if you have them. I have been out of the country for a long time and feel the need to catch up on affairs."
"Of course, sir. I have the current issue right here and may be able to dredge up a number of others from the back. Mrs Dunstan likes to clip articles, but she might have some issues that are still intact."
"My thanks," Draco said and took the folded paper. He waited while the clerk disappeared through a door. He returned several minutes later with a four-inch stack.
"Here you are, sir. Some of them have bits missing, but it should give you a general idea of the state of things."
"Excellent. I will return them all to you when I've finished."
"Very good, sir."
Draco shrank the lot and then stepped outside to try and locate some suitable foodstuffs. He gnawed his lower lip as he walked. Why had he kissed Harry? Nothing good would come of it. He'd kissed Harry Potter. If Draco confessed now that he knew who Harry was, that he'd known his identity all along, Harry would be enraged at his deception. And if he didn't confess, eventually Harry would remember everything and hate him even more.
Even if Draco could coax Harry into returning to Spain with him, the situation would turn out for the worse once he revealed his true identity. Unless he was willing to pretend to be Malcolm Dracaena forever.
No matter how he looked at it he was utterly fucked.
He shook his head, knowing he wouldn't leave Harry now, regardless of how deeply entangled he was becoming. Harry's amnesia was real. Draco had no doubt about that, not now, not after witnessing his behaviour in Diagon Alley. There had been no recognition in Harry's face when seeing the other Aurors, there had been nothing but the frantic need to escape... That and to see Draco to safety. It was sobering, being the sole focus of the Chosen One during a moment of crisis. Draco finally understood the undying loyalty of Harry's friends. It was possible they were faithful simply because Harry had stood by them with unshakeable determination, and he always would. It would be nearly impossible to return such devotion with treachery. Draco knew that now.
And yet, where were Harry's loyal companions? What had changed? The Aurors had been trying to arrest him. Had the wizarding world changed so greatly in half a decade?
While he waited for their fish and chips, Draco debated leafing through the old Prophets for enlightenment, but in the end he decided that since Malcolm had no idea what was going on, Draco Malfoy shouldn't either. They would learn the truth together. Draco, Malcolm, and Harry.
~*~
"Malcolm?" Harry's voice came through the mostly-shut bathroom door.
"I've brought fish and chips. The chips might be cool enough to eat now. I attempted one on the walk back and I think I scalded three layers of skin from the roof of my mouth."
"Ouch. Want me to kiss it better?"
Draco smiled, warmed by the thought. "Yes. Yes, I certainly do. I also brought a pile of newspapers. Perhaps we can discover why your mere presence sparked a spell-fight in Diagon Alley."
"Hopefully the papers will be more useful than the contents of the satchel." Harry's voice grew louder as he exited it the bathroom wearing a single towel slung around his hips. Draco stared far longer than he should have, and dragged his eyes away from the water droplets and wet skin with effort. He avoided Harry's gaze resolutely, unwilling to see either amusement or invitation there. Either would be hard to ignore.
Thankfully, Harry's attention turned to the food and he popped a chip into his mouth. "Mmm, I'm starved." With his other hand he picked up one of the Prophets. "'Manhunt continues for Harry Potter,'" he read aloud.
"Is that today's?"
"No. Last week." He started to read, but Draco took the paper out of his hand and replaced it with the chip packet.
"Eat first. You might lose your appetite otherwise. Somehow I think you'll want to keep your strength up. And then you might put some clothes on."
"Spoilsport." Harry's voice was teasing but his eyes darted back to the paper and Draco could see his desire for Draco took a secondary position to his curiosity. Despite his obvious need to dive into the words, Harry ate at a normal pace and then put his clothing back on after casting a number of Cleaning Charms on the garments.
"Now may we read the papers, Your Worship?"
"Indeed." Draco waved in an imperial fashion. "You take the current ones and I'll start with the oldest. We can work our way in."
"All right."
The first paper Draco read was both enlightening and not. The headline alone had been shocking and the article was worse.
The Boy-Who-Lived Wanted For Murder!
Harry Potter, known worldwide as the defeater of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, is wanted for questioning in the foul murders of several members of the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including Reginald Bradford, the Undersecretary to the Minister. Sheer luck seemed to have saved the Minister himself, who had been scheduled to attend the meeting whereat the others met their fates, and yet he was not feeling well that morning and elected to remain home. Not much is known about the attack, other than the fact that several Ministry officials met at Worthington Abbey for a routine meeting to discuss matters relating to departmental budgets, the controversial Magical Creatures bill, and the upcoming Quidditch World Cup. According to investigative sources, they had just sat down to dinner when the attack began. It is believed they were initially poisoned by the wine or the food, which hints at collusion with the serving staff, many of which have disappeared and are also sought for questioning. Once incapacitated, the attendees were incapable of fending off their assailants. Undersecretary Reginald Bradford managed to escape the scene through means unknown. He was taken to St Mungo's, severely Splinched, and later died of his wounds, much to the surprise of the St Mungo's staff, who insisted that he was not grievously injured and should have survived. Before succumbing, Bradford spoke only one word: Potter. Harry Potter has not been seen since the incident and his disappearance does not look good for the former hero. His closest friends (well-known from their roles in the Great War), Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, insist that he has been kidnapped by the real attackers, but anonymous sources indicate that perhaps Potter has gone mad due to the stresses of his youth, and planned the attack in a bid to take over and declare himself Minister—or perhaps the new Dark Lord. The most telling bit of evidence is the survival of Potter's Auror Partner, Jacob Greene-Meyers. Speculation exists that Potter may have felt too sentimentally attached to Greene-Meyers to murder him, and therefore simply Obliviated him prior to fleeing the scene. Greene-Meyers has no memory of the incident whatsoever, and cannot be reached for comment. "That's ridiculous!" is Ron Weasley's response to our questioning. But we at the
Draco sank down on the bed, stunned. He looked at Harry, who frowned at the newspaper in his hand.
"I'm wanted for some sort of murder spree?"
Draco handed him the article he'd read and then scanned the others, which were filled with more insane speculation regarding Harry's alleged descent into madness and murder, and several lurid headlines that announced random Harry sightings.
"This is... This is crazy." Harry turned wide green eyes on Draco. "Do you think I'm a murderer?"
"I think it more likely that the sun would rise in the west," Draco replied dryly.
"And I was an Auror? Why would I flee and not try to clear my name? What was I doing in the bloody Mediterranean Sea?"
Good questions both, and ones to which Draco had no answers. He knew who might have answers, however, and suspected the identity of the person that had left Potter the satchel. Of course, he couldn't divulge that information without letting Harry know how he knew.
Draco gnawed his lower lip, wondering if keeping the knowledge from Harry was even important anymore, given the circumstances.
"How do you know it isn't true?" Harry demanded, waving the paper angrily. "How do you know I'm not a murderer? What if I killed all those people like some sort of psychopath? What if I deserve to be locked up? I should turn myself in!"
"Don't be an idiot. Obviously someone out there believes in your innocence or they wouldn't be sending you clues to persons of interest, such as that..." Draco opened the satchel and rifled through the contents. "...William Salisbury person. Frankly, blaming one person for such an elaborate plot seems farfetched and a bit ludicrous. I've also been around you for days and I have no doubt whatsoever that such a scheme is far beyond your mental capacity."
Harry gaped at him as Draco's words sank in, and then a smile teased at the corners of his mouth. "Thanks. I think."
"You are welcome. Now, let's have a look at those names again. I'll try to remember who they bloody well are and then we'll have a go at trying to determine your allies and your enemies. Do you remember anything at all about the incident in question?"
"That one name—Greene-Meyers. It jogged a memory of a man. A stupid memory, because I recall eating ice cream with him. He was laughing at me." Harry smacked himself on the forehead. "Bloody hell, why is it so hard to dredge up anything? And it gives me a fucking headache, to boot."
Draco caught his hand and held it. "Stop. Beating yourself up isn't going to help. There might be potions you can take to improve your memory, but we dare not go to St Mungo's to find out."
Harry drew a long, steadying breath and then let it out on a nod. "You're right. I'm sorry. It's just... I never expected to find myself wanted for murder."
"I know. At least we know why the Aurors are after you. But it brings up another important question. Who were the blokes trying to kill you before the Aurors showed up?"
Harry's eyes widened and Draco smirked.
"Exactly. They are most probably the real culprits. And it's a good bet they're responsible for that blow to your head. Possibly they were trying to finish the job."
"It still doesn't explain why I fled the country. And remember what they yelled? 'Flee and we will sacrifice ourselves for you' and 'Death to the Overlords.' What was that all about?"
Draco shook his head. "They didn't start that shite until the Aurors got there. Before that they were aiming with deadly force."
"Then maybe I should turn myself in."
"You would have done that to begin with if you'd thought it was a good idea."
Harry gnawed his lip, obviously frustrated.
"And maybe I want to keep you to myself for a while longer." Draco's words, softly spoken, were surprisingly true.
Harry looked at him again and then launched himself across the bed to tackle Draco into the pillows. Several urgent, almost-painful kisses later, Draco was again pondering the wisdom of letting himself get too close to Harry. Even so, he couldn't bear to push him away. His fingers skated through Harry's black hair, untangling the wet strands.
"Thank you for believing in me," Harry said while pressing kisses into Draco's jaw, following the line of it from chin to ear. "Can we sleep together now that we know who I am?"
Draco groaned. His cock had a definite opinion about what his answer should be. "We still don't know if you have a girlfriend or boyfriend. Or wife or husband, or whatever."
"The papers would have mentioned it."
Bloody good point, Draco thought. There hadn't been any tearful interviews with Ginny Weasley, nor mention of any significant other, only adamant defence statements from the Granger-Weasley contingent. "We only have a few articles. What if we missed the one from your sobbing spouse begging you to come home?"
Harry snorted, but he left off kissing Draco to lay his head upon his shoulder. Draco untangled one hand from Harry's too-long hair. In truth, he rather liked it long. The silky black lengths made Harry look somewhat piratical and wicked, almost like the murderer he was rumoured to be.
"Let's go over these names one more time and then get some sleep. I think I know someone who might be able to help us."
Harry nodded, but he made no attempt to move away. They lay together in silence for a long time and by the time Harry reached for the papers again, Draco knew what he had to do.
~TBC~
