A/N I couldn't remember what I called the potion maker... OTL And I couldn't find it for some reason. Was it Portentia? I think it was, so that's what I wrote. Yikes.
Thanks again for all your wonderful reviews! bubblecloudz, ghostlyhallows, Fireaquila, bbethable, betweentheloins, icequeen2897, my deathly hallows, agd888, MitsuKun – your reviews are brilliant and I'm absolutely paying attention to what you're liking/not liking/waiting for :D Thanks so much for your opinions about smut, too (haha). It was a pretty unanimous "do whatever you feel like" xD So I'll just write whatever comes out. Thanks for reading!
(I'm liking this shout out business my friend does, because I get to thank you but I don't have to fill up your inboxes with the same short message xD)
Harry stared at himself in the mirror. When you were dating a girl who quite possibly hated you, where did you go for dinner? Harry tried to picture Amy sitting across from him in Fontano's restaurant on Diagon Alley. Her imaginary nose wrinkled in distaste. He shook his head and tried to picture a muggle restaurant instead. She laughed.
Harry ran his hands through his hair and groaned. He could Floo-call Malfoy. Malfoy would know where to go. But that would feel too much like Malfoy was beating him at something. Besides, Malfoy was so touchy lately, Harry wasn't sure he wanted to risk it. He cast a Tempus charm and groaned again. He didn't have time for this.
He crossed quickly to the fireplace and threw some powder in.
"Malfoy?" he asked when the flames around his face had cleared enough for him to see.
"Potter?" Malfoy asked in surprise, putting down his book. He stood up from the armchair and knelt by the fire, so they were eye to eye. He was wearing black cotton pajama pants with a black cotton t-shirt. For a second, Harry was taken aback. He'd never seen Malfoy look so relaxed.
"I need your help," Harry admitted.
Malfoy's eyes widened. "What is it?" he asked, reaching for his wand. "For Merlin's sake, Potter, you left some of it in your apartment didn't you? I told-"
"No, no, no!" Harry said, holding up his hands into the flames. "Nothing like that. I, er-" he paused, taking in Malfoy's expression. This suddenly felt like a really stupid idea. But he'd started now. "I didn't know where to take Amy. I thought you might have a suggestion."
Malfoy stared at him. Long seconds passed.
"You don't know where to take the she-devil to dinner," Malfoy finally said. "And you're asking me." Malfoy cocked an eyebrow, but instead of his usual smug expression he looked almost incredulous.
"Yeah," Harry said, trailing off a little. "Well, she's not like anyone I've ever dated." He tried to explain. "I don't think I can take her to my usual places, and I thought you might have some ideas because-" Harry tried to think of a reason that didn't give Malfoy automatic superiority on the subject. "Well, because she's a bit like you actually," he finished thoughtfully.
"A bit like me," Malfoy repeated, his voice strangled.
Harry suddenly remembered that Malfoy hated Amy. "Well, not that much like you!" He amended, holding his hands up again. "Anyway. I need your help," he finished, hoping that pleading with him might appeal to Malfoy's ego enough for him to just give Harry a damn address. "You know, your eyes look really strange right now," Harry said when Malfoy didn't reply.
Malfoy stared at him. Just when Harry began to worry for his safety, Malfoy laughed.
"Potter, you-" he laughed again, blonde hair shaking loosely into his face and eyes.
Harry laughed nervously.
"For fuck's sake," Malfoy said, shaking his head and standing up. He accio'd a piece of parchment and a quill, and quickly scribbled an address. He shoved the parchment at Harry, avoiding the flames. "Take her there," he said. "If she doesn't like it, she's either lying or she's not worth your time."
"Thanks, Malfoy," Harry said, taking the parchment. "I, er, owe you one."
"You owe me a hundred, Potter. Now piss off." Malfoy sat back down and picked up his book.
Harry withdrew from the flames and quickly disapparated.
When he walked through the doors of Malfoy's restaurant, he was forced to admit that he probably did owe Malfoy quite a bit. If the look on Amy's face was anything to go by, it had paid off. The restaurant was clearly expensive without being gaudy. The colours were soft and tasteful with soft lighting, and the sound was muted by a clever charm that made the whole room feel intimate even as it was packed with guests. The waiter led them gracefully past the small booths to the elegant grey hangings that separated the bar from the dining area. Moving them aside with discrete wandless magic, she led them to their table to the side of the room. It had a clear view of the stage where a lady in a long black dress was crooning a sultry jazz song.
"What do you think?" Harry asked Amy as they took their seats.
"That you might be more than a pretty face," Amy said, giving him a small wink. She didn't attempt to hide the fact that she was impressed, which relieved Harry. If she had spent the night pretending to be above it all, he wasn't sure he would have wanted to try for a second date.
The waiter took their drinks order and left them again. Amy immediately began to butter a piece of bread. When Harry reached for a piece from the basket, she surprised him by handing him the one she was buttering and taking another.
"Thanks," he said, giving her a smile.
"You're welcome," she said with a smirk, breaking off a piece of her own bread - neatly buttered - and popping into her mouth. "So, what does the Saviour like to do in his spare time? Apart from take gorgeous women out to terribly expensive restaurants, of course."
Harry laughed. "Well, I'm an Auror," he began.
"I know," she said drily.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "This isn't going to work if you don't at least pretend that you don't know everything the reporters have ever written about my life."
"Not everyone cares enough about you to read everything the reporters have ever written about your life," she replied with a smirk, breaking off another piece of bread and popping it into her mouth.
Harry moved to respond, but Amy held up her hand. "I'm only teasing," she said. "But tell me something the reporters haven't written. If there is anything."
"Alright," Harry said, leaning back and thinking. He was coming up blank. "I love treacle tart?"
Amy chewed thoughtfully. "No, I'm pretty sure they put that in your Eligible Bachelors profile in Witch Weekly."
Harry laughed. "What do you do in your spare time?" he asked.
"Muggle motorcycles," she said, shooting him a grin. "Can't get enough of them."
"Really?" Harry said, leaning forward and thinking of Sirius' motorcycle in his backyard.
By the time they had ordered their starters, they were deep in conversation about flying motorcycles. By the time their mains had arrived, the conversation had moved through so many topics, Harry couldn't even remember half of them.
At the end of the night, after a chaste but promising good night kiss, Harry decided it was definitely one of the best dates he had ever had.
Harry walked slowly along the carpet next to his bookshelf. As he read the titles, he ran his fingers lightly across their spines, tracing the runes and symbols. He selected a few and placed them carefully inside his bag with the Undetectable Extension Charm. Then, he pulled out his list and checked it.
Satisfied, he slid the bag into his work bag, slung the whole lot over his shoulder, and left.
When he arrived at his office, Malfoy was already there, reclining in his chair and waving his hand leisurely to send peanuts sailing into his mouth from the bag on Harry's desk.
"An ostentatious show of wandless magic, I see," Harry said with a smirk as he opened the door. He was too relieved to see that Malfoy appeared to be back to his old self to care about the thievery of his snacks.
Malfoy's eyebrows rose. "Ostentatious? My, my, been reading a thesaurus have we, Potter? And sarcasm to boot. I must be having a bad influence on you."
Harry just chuckled and tucked his bag beneath his desk. "You are a bad influence, period, Malfoy."
Malfoy grinned in delight and sent another peanut flying through the air.
"Do you mind?" Harry asked half-heartedly, watching the peanut fly past his nose.
"Not at all," Malfoy assured him. "But we do have to talk."
Harry froze.
"These peanuts," Malfoy continued, "are unsalted. Why are they unsalted? Are you on a diet, Potter? Really, you should have just asked me first. I could have saved you the trouble. Don't bother starving yourself, it won't make a difference. You'll still look like a speccy git."
Harry bit down his sigh of relief and rolled his eyes instead. "Gee, thanks, Malfoy. You're right, I should just ask you next time."
"Precisely."
Harry nudged his bag with his foot, checking the contents were still secure, and began to sort through his report papers. "So what's got you in such a good mood?" he asked when Malfoy began humming.
"I've no idea what you're talking about," Malfoy said, finally swinging his legs down off the desk and beginning to work. "But now that you mention it, I do have news. You remember Parvati from school?"
"Yeah," Harry said, trying but failing to see the connection.
"We've been seeing each other off and on, but I think it's getting serious."
"Oh, really?" Harry said, surprised. He hadn't known Malfoy to be serious with anyone. He looked over at Malfoy and saw that Malfoy was watching him closely. "Parvati? I had no idea." He couldn't picture it. The thought made him feel odd. "Congratulations."
Malfoy smirked. "So I'm still in the lead, no matter how many demons you wine and dine. And speaking of, how did your wonderful date go last night? Did she run screaming in the first five minutes? Or did she last an hour before the sight of you became too much?"
"Actually it went really well," Harry said, smiling at the thought. "We're going out again next weekend."
"Better make it sooner than that," Malfoy said. "Parvati and I are going to the theatre tomorrow."
"It's not always a competition, Malfoy."
"Sure it is," Malfoy replied, baring his teeth. For a minute, Harry was sure Malfoy was about to withdraw into his recent strange behaviour again, but then the expression passed and he was back to normal.
They spent the day working on their reports, and then moved quickly to a meeting about yesterday's incident. They had identified the potion - another of Portentia's - but were no further at determining where it had come from.
"What about that code yellow?" Malfoy asked. "Could that be related to the incident?"
Wiffleston nodded. "We're investigating, but there is no reason to assume as of yet. The reports were only of strange memo activity in the elevator, possibly intruder-related, but with no further proof there's no need to waste resources at this point in time."
Strange memo activity in the elevator. Harry shot Malfoy a look, and it was clear Malfoy was thinking the same thing. They would have to be careful under the cloak from now on. Although Malfoy didn't intend to return to the hidden department, of course.
Harry would have to be very careful.
When the meeting finished, Harry waved goodbye to Malfoy and picked up a handful of Floo powder. When Malfoy disappeared into the fireplace next to him, he put the powder back into the container and turned around.
This time, there was no one in the elevator as he made his way down to the cells. He threw the cloak around him, and made his way quickly to the portal. The man turned immediately, no longer requiring a blood oath, and Harry stepped through.
Once inside, he opened his bag to check that he hadn't forgotten anything. As he ran his fingers over the books, he felt a strange jolt go through him. A spark of something, like electricity. A flash of anger rose to the surface, but was gone in an instant before he could identify or explain it.
He shook his head and climbed the stairs.
"Oh, he returned!" a bodiless voice shouted as soon as Harry stepped into the room.
"Who burned?!" Barnaby's voice came from the other side of the wall as Reginald flew up through the floor. "And how did they burn? With no bodies in the vicinity, I must say I'm finding your story full of holes." Barnaby emerged from the wall to Harry's left. "Oh, you've returned, my dear boy! Reginald, why didn't you say so? Mildred!"
The last word was said with a screech that made Harry's ears throb. After a few seconds Mildred stepped slowly through the wall at the back of the room. "You mean to tell me the boy kept his promise?" she asked. "Unexpected, indeed."
"Man, actually," Harry muttered. "Anyway, yes, I've brought you some books you might find useful." He drew the books out of his bag one by one and placed them on the table in the middle of the room, pushing old parchment aside as he did. "You're welcome to keep them as long as you like, I don't need them right now."
Barnaby swooped over and levitated the top book, turning the pages quickly. "Remarkable," he said. "A text that discusses the properties of illegal venoms, instead of simply listing their fatality statistics. Exactly what I needed."
"Why do you have such books in your possession?" Mildred asked, levitating another book and eying it warily. "Do you practice such arts?"
"Of course not," Harry said with a frown. "I'm interested for the same reason you are. Or the portal would never have let me through, would it?"
Mildred nodded. "Quite right. Then we thank you for your generosity. Will you stay? I'm afraid we have no food for the living, but after years of practice, we have become quite good at conversation." She gave a wry smile.
"Thank you," Harry said, smiling in return. "But I do have to get back now. I would like to take up your offer another time, though, if that was alright?"
"Of course," Mildred said. "Whenever you are available. We're not going anywhere."
Harry nodded and waved. Barnaby and Reginald were too deep in their reading to notice him go, but Mildred nodded.
As he made his way down the staircase, he felt that same sharp jolt from before and another flash of anger. It was longer this time, but still not long enough for him to identify.
Slightly perturbed, he pushed it from his mind and moved on.