Ch. 15 Here it Begins
Thursday, 9 November 2000"It's simple, really," Harry is saying. "It would be loads easier if we could just pick up a telephone instead of wasting time and energy writing out a memo and then waiting for it to arrive at its destination. Do you know what I mean?"
Draco gives him a look laden with judgement at Harry's insistence to replace interdepartmental memos with muggle devices.
Harry shrugs. "If you want to be poked in the eye again by one of these," he waves a hand at the purple paper aeroplanes above them, "fine by me. I still think telephones are safe and would save lots of time in an emergency. Just imagine, you're sitting at your desk and suddenly your desk catches fire and then you've got to spend five seconds taking out a spare piece of parchment, and another ten writing to everyone one that there's been a fire and to evacuate, and by then you'll be toast!"
The doors to the lift open and they both step out onto the main floor of the Ministry.
"Potter," Malfoy says worriedly, "please tell me that you know you're a wizard. Right? You're aware that if your desk caught fire, you can, you know, magic it away?"
Harry waves him off. Draco's laugh echoes pleasantly in his ear and Harry elbows him playfully. They walk side-by-side, Harry sobering up quick as they pass the witches and wizards around them, avoiding eye contact before anyone can stop and accost them. Soon they reach their destination.
"What I don't understand," Draco hisses in his ear when they reach the front counter of the Ministry café, "is why Proudfoot would send us to order his bloody coffee."
Harry gives a too-wide grin at the black-haired witch behind the counter and tries not to shiver at the breathing on his neck. The witch stares at the pair of them, bemused and wide-eyed. Harry hopes she doesn't ask him for an autograph or anything. Self-consciously, Harry pats his hair down on his forehead, but it only serves to place more attention to his scar, which the witch is now staring at.
"Does he think I chose to be an Auror solely for the purpose of serving them all drinks?" Draco continues in his ear. "Do I look like an errand boy to you, Potter?"
Harry elbows Draco the moment the witch turns away and then glares at him. "Do you think that I want to be down here doing this? Being ogled by everyone around? You think I'm enjoying it?" Harry hisses back at him. "Never mind, don't answer that. Besides, Proudfoot and the others have been working overtime with the Miller case. Everyone can use a bit of caffeine. You know, I don't think any of them have gone home since last Friday."
"Anything for you, sir?" the witch asks in Draco's direction after taking Harry's order.
"No," Draco replies, his eyes narrowed at Harry. "Thank you, Elena." He seems to decide it isn't worth responding back to Harry and proceeds to walk toward the entrance of the café. Harry watches him go, puzzled.
When they call for Harry's name a few moments later, he takes the proffered cup and frowns when the witch pushes another into his hand. She motions her pretty little head toward Draco, who stands tall and scowling by the entrance, glaring at everyone who turns his way.
"For the moody one," she says to him, smiling with a dimpled grin.
Not knowing how to reply, Harry nods and walks away.
After securing an empty lift back up to headquarters, Harry hands Draco his drink. Draco stares.
"You didn't have to," he says, taking it anyway.
Harry feels a flash of annoyance. "Wasn't me," he says, concentrating on not spilling Proudfoot's drink on his training robes. He feels more than sees Draco's questioning eyes on him.
"The witch from the café," he clarifies. He can't help but peek over to see Draco's reaction.
"Elena the Waitress?" Draco asks, his eyebrows furrowing. He contemplates his drink for a second before smirking and taking an appreciative sip from his cup. He tilts his head back a little, exposing his neck, and when he swallows, his Adam's apple bobs invitingly. Draco catches Harry's stare and holds it, lowering his cup and letting his tongue swipe across his lips. They stand this way together, neither looking away and neither making a move to close the distance between them. Just as Harry's instincts tell him to move, the doors open on the floor of their department and the spell is broken. Draco smiles at him, a smile more mischievous than anything, and extends a hand for Harry to precede him from the lift.
When they arrive at Proudfoot's office, they find Oliver waiting for them. His Auror robes are gone and instead he wears a dark brown muggle jacket over a denim button up. He turns toward the pair when they cross into the room.
"Finally," Oliver says, motioning for them to follow him back out of the1 office. He takes the cup that Harry is still holding in his hand and takes a long gulp from it.
Harry turns to Draco, "See this would've been a good time for a phone call, don't you think? I wouldn't have spent all that money."
Draco scoffs, "Potter, you spent all of two sickles. Don't complain. It doesn't become you."
"I know you two should be heading to ST in a few," Oliver says, not having heard them whispering behind him, "but we'll be doing something a little different today." He throws them an excited grin over his shoulders.
"Stealth and Tracking cancelled, then?" Harry asks in a normal voice.
"Not quite." The three of them cross several desks in the open-office area, weaving around them so as to not disturb the stacks of files that littered the tops.
"Where's Proudfoot?"
"Called on duty," Oliver responds, taking another sip before handing the cup over to one of the Department clerks and waving him off. Beside him, Draco does the same. "Doesn't mean you two are free."
They arrive at his office and he closes the door behind them.
"You'll be doing ST out in the field with me, instead." Oliver crosses the room and leans on the edge of his desk, crossing his arms and facing them with an expectant smile.
"Will you be clarifying, or…?" Draco asks. The smile on Oliver's face thins a fraction.
"Are you working the Miller case, too?" Harry asks, failing to conceal the excitement in his voice. Maybe he will be getting involved after all! "Is that where the Aurors have been called off to? I heard some of the officers muttering about a possible lead somewhere up north. Are they getting close?" He feels Draco tense next to him and Harry looks over at him in question.
"Sorry to disappoint you, Harry," Oliver says, stealing Harry's attention again. "But we won't be going as far as the others. Just going on some standard house-calls so you can get some experience of doing them. If we're lucky we might be able to get information about the case. No promises though." Oliver straightens and turns to his desk. "That being said, this is still your first time shadowing on the field. The ground rules that you've been studying these past months will apply from the moment we leave headquarters. Is that understood?"
He makes sure to receive an understanding nod from each of them before picking up two leather bindings from his desk. Harry recognizes them as wand holsters, and he takes one from Oliver's outstretched hand.
"Shed your cloaks," Oliver orders. "We'll be in muggle territory tonight and I can't stress enough the importance of acting as any muggle would. That is to say, normal."
Harry sheds his cloak, throwing it on the back of a chair where Draco had placed his own. He slips the holster on his forearm and Oliver comes to help him circle one strap near his elbow and the other secured around his wrists. He does the same to Draco. Harry slides his wand in the holder which runs down the inside of his forearm and tests it, flicking his wrist almost imperceptibly, marveling at the speed in which his wand come to his hand. He does this multiple times, raising his wand straight away as if in combat. Next to him, Draco is practicing the same thing.
Soon after, Oliver motions for them to follow him out of the office and toward the headquarters apparition point.
X
The first thing that Harry notices when they apparate is the unpleasant smell of an alleyway. The second is that Draco has uncharacteristically misjudged his apparition point and stumbled into Harry. His body is a little too warm against him, warmer than normal, and his breath comes out as a barely concealed gasp of pain when Harry reaches to steady him. Harry is about to ask whether he's alright, but Draco straightens quickly and moves to follow Oliver.
The three of them walk out of the alleyway and onto the sidewalk, blending in with the busy shoppers on the street. The lampposts are only just beginning to flicker on for the evening. Harry feels a familiar layer of magic around him, signaling a privacy charm.
"We got word of another muggle witness this morning," Oliver says to them as they walk. "It's been difficult to find any, especially since headquarters isn't usually given the clear to work with muggles for fear of the muggles' safety. This man happens to be a family friend of the Millers and is said to have been in the same area as the Miller's deaths. There's a chance he might've caught sight of the Dark wizards who did this."
"Wouldn't he have needed a memory charm if he saw anything?" Draco asks.
"Normally, yes. But as I've said, we only just got word and we want to reach him before the Memory team finds him."
"Where are we heading now?"
"Muggle pub. Local spot, out of the way of the main street. Larson Reif, our witness, has recently become a daily visitor. Might have a lot on his mind if he's frequenting the establishment."
"Probably something he saw the day of the Miller's deaths?"
"That's what we think. That, or he may just be in mourning. They were friends for quite some time. Either way, he might have information about their last days that we may have overlooked."
The pub is indeed out of the way of the main street. Few people are out on the dark street and when they enter the pub, there are fewer people still. The three of them find an empty table with ease and settle down across from the only other occupied booth.
"Who is it, then?" Harry asks.
Oliver motions with his head toward the man sitting at the bar. Harry leans over to peek around the low-hanging light above their table, studying the man across the dimly lit area. The man seems to be middle aged, dark hair, fair skin, unassuming attire. He nurses a shot glass in his hand and after swirling its contents a bit, downs the whole thing in one go. He motions for the bartender to fill up another one.
"At the rate he's going he won't be able to recall anything of use," Draco points out. His hands are hidden below the table, his shoulders tensed as if expecting something to happen. Harry is tempted to reach out to him and ask him if he's feeling okay but holds his tongue as Oliver moves to stand.
"I'm going to see what I can extract from him. You two wait here."
"Are you alright?" Harry asks when Oliver slips into the bar stool next to their witness. Draco glances at him once before returning his attention back to the bar.
"Yes," he answers at length. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Harry doesn't respond, but he notes the pale complexion of the blonde, despite the fever-warmth that seems to emanate from him. The muscles on his shoulders haven't relaxed since they've arrived. Ever since the day in the study room, the day in which Harry so carelessly infringed upon Draco's personal, magical boundaries, Harry has been careful about reaching out to Draco through their link. He hasn't felt Draco's emotions as strongly or as easily as he had before. When he does feel them, they're muffled as though Draco were trying his best to close himself off.
Harry tries not to take it personally. But the fact remains that he feels a little stung at the thought that Draco regards their link to be an inconvenience. Which, now that Harry ruminates, it probably is. Harry rests his head on his chin, disheartened and slightly aching, a sigh on the edge of his lips.
Draco turns his head toward Harry just then, his eyes searching. Harry drops his hand and straightens, his face heating because he's only just realized that Draco can probably feel all of Harry's emotions with ease. Thinking that he should probably close himself off, too, Harry tries, but since he's always been shit at Occlumency, he doesn't think it helps one bit judging by the small frown on Draco's face. Draco clears his throat and returns his attention to their witness. Harry refrains from sinking in his seat in embarrassment.
"How's your magic?" Draco asks, startling Harry from his self-deprecating thoughts.
"Oh, erm, it's good. I've been working on the exercises you've taught me. Along with Hermione's meditation sessions it's helped quite a bit. I feel a lot more in control, you know, even during Offense. I don't lose control as much. I don't know if you've noticed?"
"I have. That's—"
Draco's next movement is sudden. He inhales sharply, his left arm twitching as though stung. Draco's eyes widen, his face turning white as a sheet, and that's when Harry feels it: the ripple in the air of the bar, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. The warning charms Oliver had placed around the bar ringing before the wards disappear altogether.
Across the bar, Oliver has jumped out of his seat, raising his wand in the same second, but is wholly unprepared for the violent flash of green that lights the bar. Harry's stomach drops. Harry and Draco are out of their seats, their wands raised by the time that the bartender's body hits the floor.
The cracks of Apparition sound around them and Harry barely catches sight of a silver Patronus disappearing through the window of the bar. Their witness is on the floor, shaking with fright, and the muggles that had been sat across from them have realized something odd has happened. Their shouts of alarm suddenly turn into screams when flashes of red begin streaking around the room. Harry leaps away from the flying debris from a blasted table and erects a protective shield around the muggles before sending his own curse toward the cloaked figures. Draco has already rushed to the other end of the bar, engaged in combat with two men in black. Harry fights down his panic when Draco is shoved against the wall shelving. Louder screams next to him call his attention and he dodges another streak of red before reaching the terrified muggles.
"Get them out!" Oliver shouts, shoving the petrified witness toward him, and turning back to raise a shield just in time to stop the curse aimed at them.
Harry raises his wand and blasts a sizeable hole in the wall that leads outside. The muggles stare at him in horror and Harry grabs the woman's arm to pull her toward the exit. This seems to stir the other three muggles into action, and they bolt away from the bar in different directions. Cursing, Harry follows them, managing to send a protective charm around the woman and her companions.
Their witness starts running away from him but before Harry can stop him or send a charm in his direction, he's stopped by the apparition of another cloaked figure. The witness stumbled and falls hard on the ground, motionless with fright. An evil grin spreads across the face of the Dark wizard and he raises his wand at the man on the ground. Harry sends a curse in his direction, which the attacker deflects. The evil grin falls away from his face and he scowls, raising his wand now toward Harry.
Harry is caught off guard at the force of the man's spells. It's not offense practice anymore, it's real, it's powerful and sinister. He vaguely notices that Oliver has now come outside too, engaged with two other wizards and keeping them occupied enough to let the other muggles run away to safety. Harry stumbles on a rock and is too slow to dodge a spell and gets clipped in the shoulder by a curse. He's thrown back on the ground hard. He has no time to register the pain, but quickly jumps back up, his body straining, to dodge a second curse. Harry's breath is coming out quick, his heartbeat hammering with adrenaline.
Out of the corner of his eye he sees Draco rush out of the bar, running toward Harry, his wand raised. Harry's fall has given his attacker some time to turn toward their witness, who is starting to crawl away in vain. Knowing this might be his only chance to keep their witness alive, Harry calculates quickly in his head and disapparates. He materializes instantly again, just behind his attacker, whose wand is raised toward the man on the ground.
"Harry, don't!"
"Avada—"
Harry takes a hold of the Dark wizard by his waist and disapparates once more. He feels the man straining against him, the uncomfortable feeling of disapparating intensifying with the added struggle of carrying another person. When they reappear, they land hard on the ground. Harry scrambles to his feet, his attacker doing the same, and they raise their wands at each other at the same time.
Suddenly, Harry is stunned at the rush of emotions that hit him, an overwhelming sense of fear and such a desperate need to take flight that Harry stumbles. He immediately turns to search for Draco.
Draco is yards away on the ground, on his back, his wand nowhere to be seen. A towering dark figure has overpowered him, and is poised on top of Draco, one hand possessively at Draco's throat. His head is leaned close enough to Draco's ear to whisper. Draco's hands are at his attacker's chest, trying to push him off. Fury courses through Harry at the sight and it's no question that he chooses to aim his curse toward Draco's attacker instead of raising a shield to protect him from the point-blank spell that's aimed directly at him.
The last thing he sees is Draco's expression of surprise when his throat is released and Draco turns his head, searching for Harry, worry and fear coming through their bond, before Harry is sent off his feet, the world around him turning black.
oOo