Chapter 10: Control Freak
A/N- Sorry about the long wait. As usual, I have been having Internet problems.
"So, Harry, you must tell me."
"What do you...no, Malcolm, Jesus! Leave it alone."
"Really, Harry. It's painfully clear that you're in love, you've got that starstruck look about you...If it's someone I'm acquainted with...why, I could arrange a date, couldn't I, and then the matter would be settled."
"You don't know them."
"You know I'm not prejudice, if it's a young man, I won't think any less of you. I don't judge."
Harry sighed and rubbed his temples tiredly. He was in Malcolm's favorite apartment, sitting comfortably next to him on a red velvet couch that probably cost more than the Weasley's house, furniture and ghoul included. It seemed they had this conversation every time they met, and Harry was more than sick of it. It was strange, the minister's new obsession with his protégé's nonexistent love life. Harry thought it was, perhaps, that the older man was a control freak; maybe it drove him crazy that there was a piece of knowledge about someone he worked with that he was not privy to. Either that, or Malcolm wanted to sleep with him, like he seemingly did with every hot young thing that came into his line of sight. Harry was surprised at himself for thinking such a thought, and so casually; but then again, after working for Winters for over a month, nothing shocked him anymore. He took a small sip from the drink in his hand and remained silent, praying the subject would be changed, to anything but this. He came here to get away from his problems, not talk about them.
Malcolm smiled, drumming his fingers patiently on his immaculately clothed knee. "Contrary to what I'm sure you believe, I did not ask you to join me tonight just to...grill you on your social life, Harry."
The Boy Who Lived turned his face toward the minister slowly. He had been hitting the wine fairly hard over the course of the evening, and his head swam pleasantly. "Oh, yeah?"
Malcolm stared thoughtfully at the young man beside him. "Do you enjoy working with me, Harry?"
Harry blinked. "Yes..."
"Don't get so excited. Now, you know I had to let Natalia go."
Harry frowned. Natalia had been the minister's bodyguard. Tall, skeletal, and surprisingly skilled at dueling, she had made no secret of the fact she was one of her charge's lovers. Harry had despised everything about her, from her pale, watery blue eyes to the way she purred the word 'Malcolm', and was more than pleased when Winters had grown bored of her.
"Since her departure, I have interviewed several potential replacements..."
"Yeah, I know. I arranged the appointments, remember?"
Malcolm looked surprised. "So you did. Well, I interviewed the potentials, and none really stood up to my admittedly impossibly high standards, and then it occurred to me- I could just give you the job!"
Harry narrowed his eyes skeptically. "You're joking."
The minister shook his head, a small, ambiguous smile playing on his handsome face. "Afraid not, my boy."
Harry laughed to cover his shock and creeping sense of dismay. "You realize I'm not qualified for the job-"
Winters waved his hand impatiently, as if that was just a tiny, insignificant detail. "I'm sure you know more spells- both offensive and defensive- than all of those idiots you sent me."
Harry felt a spark of annoyance at the comment. "They weren't idiots, Malcolm. I spent a week pre-interviewing them. Which is your job, by the way."
"That, son, not the point. You are the best assistant I have ever had, and I am sure you'll be an equally adequate bodyguard. You don't have to tell me your decision right now- think it over for as long as you like."
Harry turned away from the minister and they sat in silence for a few moments, sipping their drinks and staring at the expensive art on the walls. The Boy Who Lived knew it would be a mistake, would be downright foolish, to take the job; and yet he found himself beginning to think of how much better he would be at the job than Natalia ever was. And how he would get to go everywhere with Malcolm.
The minister traveled constantly, and Harry did not have the privilege of accompanying him. Winters already had other assistants waiting for him at his destination... but that was not the case with his solitary bodyguard. His heart began to beat faster. As his bodyguard, he would go almost everywhere Malcolm went. Including the trials he attended, as well as meetings with various special interest groups, the lawmaking sessions... Not even Lucius Malfoy, at the height of his control over Fudge, could do all of that. Everyday, Harry could go to work and look deep into the heart of the Ministry of Magic, and maybe, just maybe, have influence over it. Maybe even be Minister himself one day, when Malcolm inevitably went to far with his indiscretions. Wouldn't that be something, wouldn't that show everyone, the tabloid reporters, his fellow schoolmates, the Order...he would show them all.
Harry was surprised by his own ambition; but really, thinking ahead was not so bad. The dream of becoming an Auror had faded deep into the recesses of his mind; Malcolm had changed his outlook. The minister, seemingly, had everything; power, money, women... An image of Adriana drifted through his head. Surely, her dislike Winters would not shadow the pride she would have over such a promotion, and so soon after getting hired! Surely, she would be able to see how impressive it was that the most powerful man in the world had taken him under his wing, and jumpstarted his future political career. He would make something of himself, unlike Ron. His best friend was such a slacker, such a sycophant. He would probably end up with some dead end desk job, or, perhaps, end up working for Harry himself. Wouldn't that be something..?
Jesus where had that come from? He wished nothing but the best for Ron, hoped he would do well. And what of this 'promotion'? Twice the work at the same pay. And those thoughts of becoming minister. As if he would live long enough, as if Voldemort wouldn't have murdered him by then...
These thoughts depressed The Boy Who Lived, and he suddenly felt very tired. He wished, for the millionth time, that he were somebody else, someone normal. "I'm tired, Malcolm. I'd better get going," he said quietly. Tomorrow he would politely decline the job offer, and forever be the man's assistant...what a galling thought. Where would he be in ten years, he mused, still an assistant? Still unhappy? Still pining after Adriana, who would surely be married by then? An image of nieces and nephews paraded through his mind, with Ron's freckles and her dark hair. His eyes filled with hot tears of shame and regret, and he bowed his head down to hide them from the minister.
Malcolm reached out and clutched Harry's shoulder, worry filling his eyes. "Harry! What in the world is the matter?"
Harry just shook his head, tears streaming down his face, not trusting himself to speak.
The minister took the drink from the young wizard's hand and set it on the table, eyes never leaving his companion. He kept his grip on Harry's shoulder silently, looking gravely concerned. The Boy Who Lived felt comforted and embarrassed all at once, and attempted to choke down his emotions. "I-I'm fine," he managed before bursting into real, horrifying tears, before his nose began to run and his sobs grew louder and louder. Malcolm threw his arms around him, and he surrendered to the minister's stoic comfort.
He cried for what seemed like hours, feeling like a lost little boy that the world had turned its back on. Eventually, his sobs quieted, and Malcolm still held him as Harry sniffled ashamedly. It had been years since he had done anything like this, and he felt weak and silly.
"It's really eating you up, isn't it, Harry," Malcolm whispered in his ear.
The Boy Who Lived disengaged himself from the minister's embrace. "W-what d-do you mean?" he stammered, puffy red eyes full of confusion. "I've j-just...had a b-bad day..."
Malcolm shook his head pityingly. "The feelings you have for her are destroying you, Harry."
He thought about denying it, and realized the futility of such an action. It was true, what the minister said was the cold, hard truth. "How do you know? You're always interrogating me..."
Winters smiled sadly. "I've just wanted you to be honest with me, my boy. I've known for quite some time how you've felt, it's so...obvious, I'm surprised no one else yet knows. The way you look at her..." he laughed humorlessly. "Let's just say you could be a little bit more subtle."
"Y-you don't think I'm...a pervert, or something?"
"Please. I've slept with...Let's just say I shouldn't be the one to cast any stones."
Harry ran his fingers through his dark hair, a strange, panicky feeling beginning to wash over him. "What am I supposed to do? I-I've felt like this forever, I swear to God, Malcolm, forever! I can't...I can't turn it off, I think about her all the time, I hate myself, I've almost...there was one time, we...I...almost...What am I supposed to do?" he finished, his last words more of a wail than anything else. Desperation had sent his emotions into a tailspin, and he barely noticed it when Malcolm rose from the couch and strode into another room.
"Relationships are all about control, Harry," he called from his destination. "And you've lost it in the one with her."
"Gee, thanks, Malcolm. Really helpful," The Boy Who Lived called back, suddenly angry. What was he thinking, crying like some baby on the man's couch? It was clear that Winters would contribute nothing to his situation.
"Now, now," Malcolm said with a smirk as he came back into the room, a small vial in his hands. He sank onto the couch comfortably next to Harry, his eyes twinkling.
"W-what's that, Minister?" Harry asked quietly, motioning to the glass vial. Later, he would realize he already knew.
"That, my boy, is something that will bring the control back to you." Malcolm sat it on the table, and it shone with surprising luster in the moonlight.
"No way," whispered The Boy Who Lived, suddenly feeling a strange sense of calm.
"Yes. My gift to you, Harry. The most powerful love potion in the world."
End Chapter.
A/N- I quite like this chapter. Will he give it to her, will he not...hmm...