AN: Thank you so so much to everyone who favorited/followed and bear hugs to everyone who reviewed: cochran4444, Rainmask888, Lydia-Rashel, Onyx Obsidian, LightofEvolution, anjiepotter, Themrs0830, loubug14, Black Banshee, GoldenRacehorse, and guests! Oh my goodness 200 reviews, you guys are all amazing! This is such an incredible response and more than I ever expected, especially for my first fic! Thank you all so much for sticking around so long!
So, this chapter took a little longer to write than I expected, but I think it came out alright. And now, alas dear readers, I have to warn you that I will be going on hiatus until the end of July because I will be on vacation. This fic is NOT being abandoned - I will be back! If I have time/internet I might post a couple short outtakes, but I'm not sure I can guarantee a full chapter :/ But I hope you all enjoy this last chapter before then! Much love, aethling.
Changing Scenery
Chapter 21: Jealousy
Harry glared at the phial for a moment before taking it from Draco's hand. "I have not been a prat!" he retorted before downing the potion.
He looked like nothing so much as a sulky child denied a sweet and Draco had to resist the urge to grin, settling for raising an eyebrow instead. "Then why did you get ragingly drunk after fighting with Hermione and Apparate to my front step?"
Harry grimaced. "Well when you put it that way."
Draco hadn't garnered much actual information about the fight from Harry's rather jumbled explanation, but he felt that he could safely assume that Harry was the one in the wrong, or he wouldn't have drunk himself into a stupor. Now I just have to convince Harry to apologize. Given the mulish set to Harry's mouth, still ridiculously attractive, Draco imagined that it would take a fair amount of coaxing. He looked forward to it.
Pinky, the house elf Draco had sent to get breakfast, popped in just as Harry was regaining his color. Draco directed her to set up the dishes at a small table beneath the large window on the far wall. She Disapparated as soon as the dishes were placed and once she'd left Draco stood up, allowing Harry to get out of bed.
Harry flipped back the covers and then glanced sharply up at Draco. "Whose pajamas are these?"
Draco preened inside at the sight of Harry in the forest green silk pajamas that Draco had had made for him. They matched Harry's eyes perfectly, if he did say so himself. He hadn't bothered putting on the matching shirt when he'd helped Harry into them last night – an event Harry obviously did not remember, although Draco recalled it in vivid detail – but the silk bottoms clung to the muscles of Harry's thighs as he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
"They're yours," Draco replied, voice calm, even if his Veela was purring contentedly.
"No, they're not."
It would be nice if Harry showed a little common sense, but no one was perfect. Did he think that borrowed pajamas would fit that well? "I had them made for you," Draco explained patiently.
"Why?" Harry asked, frowning.
Draco shrugged negligently. So I could see you in silk. "I hoped that at some point, eventually, my mates would stay the night here. Call it optimism, if you will. And if that day, or night rather, came, and you were not…adequately provisioned, then I thought it might be wise to have something for you to change into. This was not, however, exactly how I hoped you might first stay the night."
Harry snorted. "Optimism." Apparently he was going to ignore the last part of Draco's statement.
Draco reconsidered his approach as he led Harry over to the table. "Part of it was instinctual, the desire to provide for my mates. But I didn't have them made until after Samhain," he admitted. "Until I thought there was cause for optimism."
"It's only been a week since Samhain," Harry pointed out, but he looked less skeptical.
Draco shrugged again as he sat down across from Harry. Patience was not a virtue he'd ever bothered cultivating and money could do many things, including procure bespoke clothing in less than a week. He opted not to tell Harry that he'd taken the liberty of having the tailor making a few sets of robes for him as well. Instead he gestured toward Harry's cup. "Tea?"
Harry nodded, his attention clearly not on the food as he loaded his plate.
Draco poured tea for them both before filling his own plate. Harry dug in and it was quiet for a while as they both ate. Draco left Harry to his thoughts and occupied himself with a leisurely perusal of Harry's bare chest. He didn't know whether the DMLE required their Aurors to be in excellent shape or if Harry exercised of his own accord, but he certainly wasn't complaining about the result. Although more wiry than bulging, seeker rather than beater, his muscles were defined from his forearms to his truly mouth-watering abdominals. Draco wouldn't mind the chance of an even more intimate perusal, but he doubted that the opportunity would present itself while Harry's fight with Hermione lingered over the heads.
Even the thought that one of his mates was upset made him itchy and uncomfortable as though ants were crawling over his skin, effectively dampening most of the lust he felt. He shifted his wings trying to alleviate the prickling sensation where feather met skin. It didn't help, but it did draw Harry's attention away from his plate.
Harry's eyes flicked to Draco's wings for a moment before returning to his face. He seemed to deliberate for a moment before asking, "What would you do, then?"
Draco had to bite back his initial snarky response. I wouldn't have acted so stupidly in the first place. "Apologize," he said instead.
Harry angrily stabbed at the eggs left on his plate. "I didn't do anything wrong."
Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He could hear his mother's voice in the back of his head going on about crossed eyes and manners. "This would go much more easily if we skipped past the pointless objections and denials."
"They aren't pointless! She was the one acting irrationally!"
"And yet, you're the one who very nearly got sick all over my foyer."
"Because she drives me round the bend half the time!"
Draco smirked. Well you obviously aren't completely bent. "I wasn't aware that Gryffindors believed that one cannot fight with one's friends."
Harry glanced up at him, scowling. "What are you talking about?"
Draco gave in and rolled his eyes. "Have you two never fought before?"
"Of course we have," Harry said, as though it should be completely obvious.
"So why is this any different?" Draco asked, taking a sip of tea.
Harry gaped rather unattractively for a minute before managing to choke out a reply. "She was being ridiculous."
"Yes, you've mentioned that. How, exactly, was she being ridiculous?" Draco was beginning to have a rather poor opinion of Harry's common sense.
"She was…she was jealous!" Harry announced triumphantly. "She's jealous that we've spent so much time together and that we've been out in public together."
Draco stored that information to ponder later. "And your response was to throw her feelings back in her face and make her feel even more insecure?"
Harry flushed. "I didn't mean to. It just sort of happened."
Draco raised an eyebrow, waiting for Harry to reach the conclusion he should have as soon as he woke up.
"I, uh, I guess I do owe her an apology," Harry muttered.
So there is hope for his common sense, after all. "I would advise sooner rather than later," he said dryly.
Harry sighed. "She won't want to speak to me. I'll send her an owl after work. Work! Fuck, I'm late!" Harry jumped up, very nearly oversetting his plate.
Draco was quite sure that an owl wasn't going to suffice, but he supposed that Harry would find that out quite soon. He took another sip of tea, emptying his cup, before standing as well. "I may have taken the liberty of writing to Robards and telling him that you were here this morning, taking some final notes before the trial on Thursday. I made sure to mention how much of an inconvenience it was," he added, smirking.
Harry jerked to a halt in his mad dash around the room. "You did?"
The look of surprise and, if Draco wasn't mistaken, appreciation, on Harry's face was deeply satisfying. "I thought it might be wise considering I wasn't sure when you would finally wake up."
"Oh thank Merlin," Harry breathed, sinking onto the ottoman at the foot of the bed. "But I should probably still get going."
He didn't sound particularly eager, but Draco sensed that he would feel guilty if he didn't go in at all. "I have some clothes you can borrow, if you'd like?"
Harry glanced at him suspiciously. "What happened to my clothes?"
Draco sneered. "Those clothes are barely appropriate for working in the garden, let alone going to the Ministry."
"There's nothing wrong with my clothes," Harry snapped.
"Aside from the fact that they fit poorly, have a number of holes, and are generally unattractive?"
Harry scowled at him for a moment. Draco considered it more pro forma than sincere.
"Fine, I'll borrow some."
Draco grinned. "Excellent."
He walked out of the room and then down the hall to his own room. He kept the clothes he'd had made for Harry and Hermione in the back of his closet, hanging in neat rows and protected from dust and lint by preservation spells. He selected a basic set of black robes and then returned to the room he'd given Harry.
Harry looked up as he entered. Draco handed him the robes and Harry looked them over.
"They're nice," he finally said, grudgingly.
"Were you expecting otherwise?"
"I was expecting more frills," Harry retorted.
"For Auror work? Don't be ridiculous." A couple of the robes Draco had had made did have quite a few more frills, but Harry didn't need to know that.
Harry got changed and then after an uncomfortable goodbye that ended with an awkward, one-armed hug, took the Floo to his flat.
Aware that Hermione, unlike Harry, would not have missed work because of a personal argument, Draco waited until an hour past the end of the work day before Apparating to her flat. A discreet inquiry to Ginevra had gotten him her address along with a truly frightening threat if he didn't resolve things between the three of them. Blaise is welcome to her.
He knocked on Hermione's door a few minutes past six.
She answered a minute later, clearly shocked. "Draco? What are you doing here? Is it about the case?"
Trust her to immediately think about work. "Good evening, Hermione. No, this is about Harry."
Her face shuttered so quickly he wondered if Harry had already tried to apologize – or if he hadn't. "I see. What about Harry?"
"I am aware that you two argued and I wanted to see how you were feeling," he said solicitously.
"How did you find out that we fought?"
She still had yet to let him in.
"Harry Apparated to the Manor last night, completely pissed, and I managed to get the story out of him this morning," he explained.
The tightness didn't leave her shoulders. "I see."
Draco resisted the urge to let out his wings to relieve the itch crawling up his spine. Hermione's flat was in a partially muggle building and he didn't think she'd appreciate having to call the Obliviators if one of them came out while they were talking. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine."
"That's not an answer," he said.
"Your point?"
That I want more than a two-word answer. "I just want to make sure that you're alright. Harry was quite upset about your argument."
"Was he?" she asked flatly.
Draco cursed Harry in his head. Obviously he hadn't resolved anything. "Yes, of course-"
Hermione interrupted him. "Is this about us?"
"Us?"
"Yes, you and me. If you're worried about whether I'll reject you as a mate because of this, you don't need to worry. This won't affect my decision." Her voice was clipped.
"That's…good to know," he said guardedly.
"I'm quite sure we can come to some kind of arrangement so that you needn't compromise your time with Harry in order to meet your physical needs with my presence while I consider it. I can come to the Manor for, what, an hour a week, perhaps? We'll probably need to do some tests to determine the time, but I'm sure it can be arranged."
"That's not- "
"If Harry disapproves, I'll make sure to be there while he isn't there. He made it quite clear that I am an intrusion on your relationship," she said coldly.
Draco stared at her. This was not how he'd anticipated this conversation. "What about our relationship?"
Hermione regarded him silently for a long moment. "Do we have one? I hardly think two dances and a couple meals counts as a relationship."
"Perhaps not a relationship but- "
"I didn't think so."
"Why don't we all have dinner together?" Draco suggested desperately as she began closing the door.
She looked at him pityingly. "I don't need to repeat my mistakes to see a pattern. I'll see you at the trial on Thursday. If you have questions about the case before then, please owl my office between the hours of eight and five. Good evening, Malfoy."
She closed the door in his face, the dull thud sounded like the toll of a funeral bell.
Hermione didn't respond to the letter he sent to her home on Tuesday evening, and Draco decided not to disturb her further. Even though his Veela was crawling beneath his skin, he knew that pestering her would only drive her further away.
He saw Harry twice, on Tuesday afternoon at the Ministry and then again for dinner at Harry's flat on Wednesday. They went over details of the case and even though he was sorely tempted, he kept from acting on his impulses and left each time with only a kiss to the back of Harry's hand. Any more and he wasn't sure he'd want to stop. The thought that Hermione would hear about it and confirm her fears was enough to convince him to leave each time.
The hearing on Thursday was scheduled for ten o'clock precisely, so Draco arrived half an hour early. He descended to the dungeons of the Ministry and found Harry and Hermione standing an obvious distance apart on either side of the door to the courtroom. The Unspeakable guarding the door looked distinctly uncomfortable. Draco nodded at both of them, choosing a spot between them to wait.
As ten o'clock neared his palms grew clammy. Even knowing that Dunham would be surrounded by Aurors and chained to a chair wasn't quite enough to calm the fear that was clawing its way up his throat. Although not the most unpleasant time in his life, his time locked in that house was not something he'd ever like to recall again.
Just before they walked into the courtroom, two more people joined them, he vaguely recognized one of them and the other was his own lawyer, Jasper Shylock, looking sharp and cool despite his late arrival.
The Unspeakable opened the door to the courtroom at precisely ten o'clock, allowing the four of them to enter. The wizard he didn't know and Hermione both took seats at a reserved bench along the lowest row of seats, although there was no one in the spectator seats because Harry had assured him it would be a closed trial. Harry escorted him and Shylock to the wooden table set to the left of the raised chair in the center of the room where Dunham was already chained up, positioning Draco between him and Shylock with Harry between Draco and Dunham.
Harry had warned him it would be a full hearing, but even so, the sight of fifty-odd witches and wizards staring down at him was unnerving. He was painfully aware that the last time he'd been in front of the Wizengamot he'd been on trial for his crimes during the war. The Unspeakables waiting around the fringes of the room only intensified his feeling of unease, even though they were now there to protect him rather than restrain him.
Harry discreetly reached over and squeezed his hand as they stood, waiting for the Chief Warlock to come in and officially begin the trial.
Less than a minute passed before a door in the back of the room opened and the Chief Warlock, an old wizard whose name Draco didn't remember, strode in and took his seat at the raised seat in the center of the Wizengamot. Everyone in the courtroom took this as their cue to sit.
A young wizard that was clearly one of the Weasleys stood back up after everyone had settled, holding a large scroll that he then read from.
"This hearing of the Wizengamot is called for the case on behalf of the defendant, Draco Malfoy, against the accused, Alfred Dunham. Chief Warlock Lionel Burnroot presiding. This court shall determine whether the aforementioned accused is guilty of those crimes with which he has been charged, namely: three counts of murder, four counts of kidnapping and torture, illegal experimentation, and possession of illegal and controlled substances without license. The defendant is represented by his lawyer, Jasper Shylock; the accused has refused outside representation and will represent himself. Lead case Auror Harry Potter will present the evidence."
By the end of Weasley's speech, several members of the Wizengamot were looking at Dunham with distinct distaste and a few with outright anger. Many more were neutral, likely waiting for more information. He was surprised that any had initially sided with him, and he wondered how much of that was having Harry on his side.
"Proceed, Auror Potter," Burnroot said in a dry, gravelly voice.
Harry stood, holding a sheaf of papers. "On the morning of 23 September, I was called to an abandoned house in the Midlands after a routine patrol investigating a report of a disturbance at the house turned up evidence of habitation as well as the discovery of an unconscious being in an upstairs bedroom…"
Draco tuned out the rest of Harry's description of events. While they concerned him, he had been over the details many times and he had no desire to hear them repeated yet again. Instead he studied the faces of the Wizengamot. Two or three had already fallen asleep, but they were the members who sat on the Wizengamot for the prestige rather than the power, old purebloods who refused to give up the seats to their heirs.
The Chief Warlock was impassive, but Draco remembered that he had voted in favor of Draco's pardon. While that didn't promise a favorable outcome, it proved that he was not overtly prejudiced against him as a former Death Eater. Not, of course, that Draco himself was on trial, but that he was the defendant might cause some of the Wizengamot to believe that he was exaggerating. It is truly fortunate that Harry was the one assigned as lead Auror.
When Harry finished his account, Draco was called to give his statement. He stood up, and even if he would never admit it aloud, he was grateful for Harry's steady presence at his side. He didn't look to the side at either Harry or Dunham, however. He spoke with a completely calm voice, even as he described the various spells that Dunham had used on him to "encourage" his transformation. Several witches and wizards looked ill and angry, which seemed promising.
After Draco finished, Hermione was called up. She stopped at the table beside Draco, and he could feel Harry tense beside him, but she didn't look to the side. Instead, she faced the Wizengamot and immediately began to read aloud from her notes about her research into Dunham's books and papers. He hadn't been involved in that part of the investigation, and much of it was surprising.
She looks delicious. He shoved away the inappropriately-timed thought.
"Dunham's notes make it clear that he was attempting to make himself into a Veela by the use of a combination of a spell and ritual, the latter of which required several rare and illegal ingredients. The main component necessary, however, was a live Veela, from whom he needed to obtain blood, hair, and feathers. To this end, he captured wizards who, like Mister Malfoy, had dormant Veela blood that could be used to trigger a transformation. His first three victims died during the ritual and it is my belief that Mister Malfoy would likely have died as well if Dunham had performed the ritual with him, regardless of whether or not the ritual succeeded. Fortunately, however, the ritual and spell are both inherently flawed-"
"They are not!" Dunham screeched, his first words since entering the courtroom.
Burnroot banged his gavel. "Silence!"
Dunham flailed against the chains that bound him. "Flawed! My research is perfect! I would have succeeded and proved that magical blood can be transferred! I can make myself into the perfect wizard!"
"Silencio!"
To Draco's surprise it was the Weasley who cast the spell.
Dunham was nearly frothing at the mouth as he continued to shout silently until he suddenly went still. His eyes flickered around the courtroom, touching on Harry, Draco, Burnroot, Weasley, the wizard who had entered with them, before eventually landing on a spot across the room.
"Continue, Miss Granger," Burnroot said.
"As I was saying, the ritual and spell were both inherently flawed and these flaws…"
Draco's attention was drawn by one of the Unspeakables walking up. Hermione glanced at him, frowned, and then continued reading from her notes. Draco assumed he was coming to maintain control over Dunham.
Draco turned back to face Hermione, tracing over her features, still beautiful even in the dingy lighting of the black-tiled courtroom.
He was startled when he felt a touch. He turned, assuming Harry wanted to communicate with him, but it was the Unspeakable; he had his finger on Draco's shoulder and with the other he was touching Dunham's shoulder.
Draco frowned but too late he realized what was happening as he felt a pull behind his navel and then he was suddenly ripped from the courtroom.
He was dropped to the ground in a clearing in a forest he didn't recognize. He pulled out his wand but before he could cast two shouts rang out.
"Expelliarmus!"
"Stupefy!"
His wand flew from his hand and he saw the ground rushing up to meet him as he blacked out. Fuck. Not again.
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