Title: Noblesse Oblige
Chapter Two: Charity begins at home, and all that…
Author: Occurs (missoccurs@hotmail.com)
Series: Harry Potter
Rating: This is probably, um…PG? Some mild language.
Notes: Still a year after the seventh book, still slash, still needs to be full screen I think. I wrote this
a long time ago, well before OotP, and if there are any conflicts that's why. It's all AU anyway,
ne? ^-^;
"Pick up, ya bugger," Seamus sighed into his cell phone, tapping his fingers against the rail of the small balcony precariously
attached to his flat.
"Dean here."
Seamus broke into a wide grin at the familiar voice, taking a chance and leaning against the rusty railing.
"And Seamus Finnigan here." There was a delighted exclamation of surprise on the other end of the line.
"It's been ages, Seamus! How are ya? What are ya doing? You're lucky I picked up this bloody phone at all…you could have
sent an owl."
"No doing right now, Dean…" From the corner of his eye Seamus could see Draco lying on his couch, apparently napping.
Good. He was much easier to deal with unconscious. "I need some information, and I can't think of another wizard who would
keep a cell on them."
"Dubious honor, that, but me parents won't have it otherwise." The smile in the voice was obvious. "But whatever ya need,
shoot."
"Well…" Seamus' gaze was now firmly focused on his sleeping guest, and he pressed his fingertips intently against the doorframe. "I was just
wondering, and you can't ask me why I was wondering this, but what ever happened to Draco Malfoy?"
There was palpable silence. Finally, Dean had to break it. "Why on earth possessed you to think of that no-good, slimy, traitorous git?" His tone held no hint of mockery, nothing but cold hatred with a hint of surprise at the question.
Traitorous git? Seamus clucked his tongue against his teeth. "Can't tell ya that. Nothin' bad, though, I promise. Just heard a
…rumor… that he's not welcome in magical circles anymore." It was probably as safe a story as any, though Dean knew as well as Seamus that
the latter's chances to hear wizard gossip were few and far between. But that point was politely ignored, and then Dean was telling Seamus everything he wanted
to know.
"….helped bring back the fekin' Dark Wizard himself, got off with a slap on the wrist….oh, broke his wand and all that, claimed it was daddy
all along who was putting on the pressure…if ya ask me, the ministry went soft on that pretty face of his…yah, Lucius was left to the dementors, not
that they sucked much joy outa the bastard, but good riddance…well of course no one wants him around, even his family wouldn't be caught housing
him now…shouldn't be anyone to house him, anyway, they should've taken the lot of Malfoys and…" Here the rant broke off into a stream of
exclamations and curses and Seamus felt his head slide forward until it touched the cool glass. Bloody hell. Somehow he had always thought it would
end up like this. Maybe not precisely end up like him having an infamous dark wizard who apparently was part of the revival of Voldemort's reign of
terror slumbering peacefully on his couch on an otherwise lovely Sunday morning. Okay, maybe nothing like having an accused dark wizard under his
roof at all. Something in the back of his mind told him there must be some logic to this situation, but it was rapidly losing out to the sinking feeling in
the pit of his stomach and the chorus of 'well, now we're screwed' running through the forefront of his brain.
"Seamus? You still there?"
"Yeah, yeah…" The Irishman managed to swallow, realizing all of a sudden that his throat was dry. "You don't think Malfoy's dangerous, do
you?"
"Of course he's dangerous!" Dean exclaimed, and Seamus could hear him slam his palm against something for emphasis. "Are you daft? He's
probably killed people…I suppose you didn't know that twenty seven wizards and witches are still missing, did you?"
"Probably, not proven, right?" Please oh please let it just be probably…
"I think you are a little daft, mate, or else sorely out of touch." Dean paused when he realized for some reason his words were about to send
his best friend into a mild state of panic. "Of course nothing was proven. Do you think they'd have let him off so easily if they'd had something concrete?"
Seamus paused, remembering something. "You say they snapped his wand?"
"Yeah, that's what I said…" And why the hell is this so important, Seamus? Dean thought. "But that doesn't mean he doesn't have one. Wouldn't
put anything past that smarmy little….."
"Right, then. Thanks mate." And before Dean could say a goodbye, the phone had been shut and the line was dead.
From where he was on the couch, Draco could see pretty much the whole of the London apartment, which certainly said something for the cramped
surroundings. He sat up, stretching like satisfied cat. It had certainly felt good to sleep, better still to wake up without worry. Slicking back his hair with
his fingers, he swung his legs over the side of the settee and was vaguely troubled by the fact that he was no longer wearing shoes. Or his coat for that matter.
He didn't remember taking them off, but then again after Finnigan had drug them both back to his flat about one, he wasn't really in a state to remember
anything. With a soft groan, he rubbed his face, wishing hard for clean clothes. But wishing wasn't getting him anywhere. He reached behind the couch,
then, when that proved fruitless, felt around on the floor for the black trenchcoat that contained his salvation…or could at least, with the proper words, provide him with something decent to wear.
"Looking for this?" Seamus leaned against the wall next to the kitchen, his fingers closed tightly around a thick-handled wooden wand. His expression
contained no hint of joviality, no trace of the resigned companionship he had offered last night. Draco's feet scraped against the rugged floor as he sat
back on his hands.
"Yes." The blonde boy answered cautiously. Seamus looked down at the thing in his hand, feeling odd pulsations of raw power emitting from it,
even in it's inactive state. The feeling was unpleasant, like touching an arctic electrical wire where the cold seared as much as the shock stung.
"Malfoy." He began in deadly earnestness. "I am going to expect you to be totally honest with me." Draco let out a small snort. This was exactly
how his ministry investigation had started, and it didn't particularly mattered if it was the truth or a lie he told. Unless he agreed with their image of what
he had done, everything he said was treated as a falsehood. But this didn't matter nearly as much. After all, Finnigan couldn't do much more than throw him
out of his flat, and, in all honesty, Draco wouldn't put up too much of a fight about leaving. He had, as far as he was concerned, put up with enough
shite already from the ministry and the population, and that might soon include the prodigal half-breed who was holding his wand hostage.
"I will be totally honest," Draco began, his voice carrying a ring of authenticity. "but you have to promise to take me at my word."
Seamus' lip curled. Trust Draco Malfoy? Sheer lunacy, that's what that was. He'd say he trusted the boy about as far as he could throw him,
but, as he looked again at the slight eighteen year old, he could probably throw him a considerable distance. Only about 5'7'', Seamus would say…
But he was getting off track. The point, before he lost it, was that the snake expected him to believe whatever he said, when there was no way
he would tell the truth…
"Finnigan, if you're not going to believe me anyway, here's a lovely lie for you. I was actually in charge of the Death Eater raids, killed at least
one hundred and thirty two mudbloods with my own wand, got away with it because I managed to do a little dark casting over my jury, and that wand
you're holding right now belongs to my lord Voldemort, who trusted me with it before Potter destroyed him." Draco sat back, smiling at the look
of shock, hatred, and fear that played over Finnigan's strong features. "Or you can try this one. I had nothing whatsoever to do with it. Didn't even know.
My father barely spoke to me, hoping that keeping me at Hogwarts and out of the situation would save me from his fate. He was a decent man, underneath
it all, willing to pay his own service and life to keep his son safe." The blonde head shook as he saw that his accuser's expression hadn't changed. "See
which one you were more willing to believe?"
"So what's the truth, Malfoy? What did you do?" Seamus shifted the rod between his hands, almost unable to stand the icy burning.
"The truth is a lovely shade of gray." Draco sighed, leaning forward and crossing his legs at the knee. "And put that down, Finnigan, before
you just drop it and cause all sorts of unpleasantness." He saw the taller boy's hesitation and gave him a hard look. "I'm not going to lunge for it,
okay? Stand in front of it if you have to, but set it down." Seamus complied, settling for placing the wand on the windowsill and using his own
body as a guard.
"Anyway," Draco continued, committing himself to the story now that he realized he had very few options. "I was involved…" He held up
a placating hand as Seamus set to jump forward, "I didn't know anything! That I swear to." And the Irishman leaned back. "I was being used for
intelligence." Draco closed his eyes and tilted his chin downward. "My father would send me things to do, information to gather, materials he needed
from Hogwarts, and of course I complied…"
"And you didn't know that he was trying to get materials for dark magic?" Seamus interrupted, incredulous. He had always thought Draco
was a bit dense from his egotism, no doubt about that, but that would have taken an incredibly stupid person not to have a clue…Draco's eyes
flew open, and this time it was he giving Finnigan the 'Gods, you're stupid' look.
"Of course I knew he was working dark magic." A clucked tongue and cold look silenced what would have been another outburst. "You
don't understand, I suppose, not many modern wizards do. We Malfoys have worked black arts for centuries. Darkness is simply the other
side of light, like death is the other side of life. Only recently have other wizards started to realize that death can be positive, and, likewise, darkness
does not always equal evil. Power, yes, power beyond what most will experience in long years of work, but it is, in itself, neutral." His voice was
hypnotic, and Seamus realized he had never heard his former classmate speak more than a few caustic words at a time. Now, talking about his
family legacy, he seemed almost animated, with something other than coldness in his voice. Before Seamus could interrupt again, Draco continued.
"So when Father sent me lists or information to glean, I was eager to help. I suppose, as cliché as it sounds, I thought I was doing my bit
for our side. I thought my father, like Professor Snape, wanted to fight fire with fire, for few things can match an evil dark wizard like a dark wizard
on the side of the people. You must believe, though I doubt you do, I wanted nothing to do with Voldemort after seeing him firsthand. I thought my
Father, who had even more experience with him than I did, felt the same. I was damned wrong, of course. So you could say I had a role in the
hunts and the killing, and the…"
"Stop." Seamus rubbed at his temples. He didn't want hear about the blood and the carnage and the war. "Skip to the end."
"And I'm here." Malfoy smiled infuriatingly. It faded to a smirk as he uncrossed his legs and folded his arms instead. "Oh, too late? Well. I went
up before the ministry, of course. I plead my case, they didn't believe me, but couldn't prove any different. My wand was broken, and I was
technically put on magical probation." Seamus' hand flew behind him, and Draco nodded. "Yes, that's my wand, and yes, before you ask, I did
use dark magic to repair it." His voice added the 'so there' that he was too mature to actually speak. "It's not operating at full capacity, of course."
"Right then." The entire story sounded, well, perfectly true. Had Draco been bad, he could have thrown him out without a second thought.
Had he been a wrongfully accused good guy, Seamus could have taken him in without a second thought and valiantly championed for him to be
reintroduced to wizard society. Bloody hell. "And you were out looking for…"
"Just for somewhere quiet to think about my options."
"I see…"
"What about you?" Draco stood, suddenly tired of passively sitting. "You left in our fifth year, didn't you? What on earth do you do
with these…muggles? I heard your sister saying something about newspapers at graduation."
"Beginning of the Sixth, and I write freelance." Seamus corrected tiredly, him brain still wired on overload. "And you might be able to convince me you're not quite guilty, Malfoy, but you won't be able to convince me you actually care about what I've been doing."
"You're right about that. I was just thinking fair play." Draco gave a pretty shrug, and moved to take his wand. "You can just
forget about it." He ran the wood through his fingers, smiling as it made an audible hum when claimed by its master.
"Why don't you go get cleaned up?" Seamus offered. He had the sinking feeling that he was going to do something extremely stupid,
and wanted Malfoy out of the way while he thought about it. "Loo's through there." He pointed. "If you need help figuring out how to use anything,
let me know."
"I took muggle studies, Finnigan." Draco replied crisply. He shook his wand slightly, and Seamus had to shudder at the
flickering currents it gave off. He couldn't comprehend how Draco could be comfortable wielding something with such unsettling power.
The aristocrat moved off, his feet not even making sounds in the wooden hall that lead to the bathroom.
Well damn. Seamus lay his head in his hands, his fingers combing through his messy sand-colored locks. He had already figured out what he
was going to do. He was going to ask Draco to stay, against his better judgment, try to help him, again against his better judgment, most likely
develop a pointless sense of responsibility for his acquaintance, and end up paying all hell for it later. The image that came to his mind was
from when he was eleven, and had the wrinkled and scratchy sorting hat placed on his head.
"Well, you're not the brightest, are you, boy?" The hat had whispered, and Seamus' knees felt like jelly. " No Ravenclaw for you... You work hard
and are loyal, but no, too rash for Hufflepuff…Slytherin, hm, now that would be interesting, but you won't seek the power you'd need…but I do see
a streak of chivalry that would make Godric proud…GRYFFINDOR!" At that point he couldn't hear anything, for between the hat's triumphant yell and
the cheers of Gryffindor house, he had gone quite deaf.
'So the damned chivalry rears it's ugly head again.' The Irishman thought unhappily, feeling the urge to bang his head against
something. Before he could decide whether the wall or the window would be preferable for slamming his skull, Draco emerged from the bathroom,
looking as calm and impeccable as ever. His dark green silken shirt was perfectly pressed, and the black jeans fit like a second skin. Every hair
had been combed and fixed into its ideal position, and Seamus decided the first thing he was going to try and make Draco do was get dressed
like a muggle…the last thing he wanted to live with was a cocky little git who could magically make himself up from the pages of GQ every morning.
And envy, he assured himself, played absolutely no part in that decision.
"Well, Malfoy, looks like you'll be staying with me."
Draco was so taken aback that he laughed out loud, and Seamus sighed. He had expected a little less than sniveling gratitude from the snot,
but not much…
"Why on earth would I stay with you, Finnigan?" The words were out of Draco's mouth before he could stop them. Needed or no, the idea of charity turned his blue-blooded stomach.
"Maybe because you have no money, no skills except being bloody obnoxious, and nowhere else to go."
"What do you want from me?" Draco's voice was suddenly suspicious, his pale eyes narrowing. He crossed his arms in front of
himself, as if guarding his body from scrutiny, and it was Seamus' turn to laugh. Apparently gratitude didn't get nearly as far as paranoid
arrogance.
"Lets just say I have a feeling that taking you in is going to make up for all my past sins." The tone was innocently pleasant and Draco
relaxed slightly, missing the slight jab in the statement.
"You'll have to sleep on the couch, of course…"
"What? !" Draco's look of shock at not having a proper bed was almost amusing enough to wipe out Seamus' feeling of dread at this
endeavor.
"And probably have to get a job, once you learn the ropes of living like a muggle…"
"But, but…" The boy spluttered, obviously blown away by this prospect. "You said you were taking me in for charity or something, you
can't expect me to work…"
"Ah, yes, penance." Seamus smiled, giving a cheerful shrug. "but I'll tell you now, Malfoy…I haven't sinned all that much."