Title:Carte Blanche
Author: Ryyne
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the wonderful work of J.K. Rowling. Also, this was inspired by/ (quite) loosely based upon A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens. Any plot elements in common with that brilliant piece of work are, then, not mine.
Warnings: Um... nothing, really. A few curses here and there.
Note: Ding ding ding! NotTheHBP got it right! The diversion tactic is taken from/inspired by FAKE. Very cute scene, and is totally owned by Matoh Sanami (the author of the series). Please don't sue! ;; I bow before her genius!
And on a totally unrelated note... Obviously the title doesn't bode well, and if you're paying attention you might be able to guess what will be eventually coming up. Needless to say, there's only about one or two more chapters before the plot really gets into gear. And don't worry, I won't leave the romance dangling behind!
Thanks to beta Beth as usual! (And just so the readers know, she's wanting a make-out scene ASAP and how can I say no to that?)
Carte Blanche
Chapter Seven: Subtle Foreshadow
Draco grabbed a short white towel off the rack, swiping it across the foggy mirror before wrapping it loosely around his slim hips. Taking a moment to inspect himself in the small rectangular mirror hanging over the sink of Harry's bathroom, he noticed precarious dark circles under his gray eyes beginning to form. There was also a slight glow around his upper lip – thin and barely visible white-blond hairs that Draco hadn't had the chance to shave. Cursing the events that brought him to this point (and, although he would never admit it, silently thanking them as well), the Malfoy stepped out of the bathroom and into Harry's sparse but comfortable bedroom.
Swathed in earthy tones and neutrals, it was the bedroom of someone with verifiable money but a lack of time. Rich materials covered the large bed, and the two wooden nightstands beside the bed looked very skilfully handcrafted. Draco was sure that the delicate glass vase perched solidly on top of one of the wood treasures was the result of Harry's many travels abroad, as well were several other curios scattered around the room like raindrops in a sparse shower.
It felt strange to be standing in the middle of Harry Potter's bedroom covered with only a towel, that was for sure. But it wasn't is if they had done anything, Draco reasoned with himself. Harry had merely offered his apartment as a place for his blond friend to crash for a while, since it seemed that his place in Nice wasn't exactly an ideal living arrangement for the 'spy,' now that Blackwell's cronies knew about it. And, more importantly, now that Blackwell was pissed enough (or worried enough, or confident enough) to bring her search for the Malfoy heir to persons other than herself.
This was bad. Very, very bad. Well, it wasn't as if Draco hadn't been expecting it – just not so god damned soon. Now that Blackwell felt secure enough to bring her want for Draco out into the relative open, it would be no time until every single Auror in the country was camped out at every single place Draco had been to in the past year.
So now what was he going to do? Hide? Like a prisoner?
"Be damned if that's gonna happen," Draco muttered to himself.
Giving the master bedroom one more look-over, Draco padded quietly out the door and towards the kitchen, pointedly scowling over his unfortunate circumstances (like a good Malfoy should!). As he neared the door at the very end of the hall, subdued voices reached his ears – Harry and Lupin, he decided after a quick moment.
He pursed his lips. Surely it would be inexcusably bad form if, as the renowned (fine, notorious) Malfoy heir, he did not eavesdrop. Really, was he a Slytherin, or a Hufflepuff?
Pah. Don't ask stupid questions, Draco reminded himself.
So he brought his ear close to the door and listened. Lupin and Harry weren't overly quiet, so it wasn't difficult to hear what they were saying.
"Harry," Draco heard Lupin's softspoken voice. He sounded... so kind. Fatherly, even.
The blond shook his head violently. Not a time to be going back down this road, he told himself. Still – somehow – his mind could never quite leave the topic go – Father...
"Yes?" Harry's strained voice broke Draco's reverie.
There was a pause. Then a deep sigh, and Draco was just able to hear a chair scooting across the floor. Lupin's next words sounded a bit louder; he must've moved closer to Harry and the door. "Harry, I'm happy for you. Really, I am. Draco Malfoy – well – he had certainly changed, and although he will always be a Malfoy," Draco heard a chuckle here, "He has a, er, a relatively good heart. He just doesn't like to show it, I know."
There was a murmer of amused agreement from Harry.
Then a tense pause.
"Harry –"
"Sirius," Harry murmured.
"I – Sorry?" Draco heard a crack in Lupin's voice. Sirius? Wasn't that Potter's godfather? Thought he died, Draco mused.
"He sort of – well – his situation. Draco might as well be an escaped convict now, as well."
"Well, yes, Harry, but it could be worse," Remus noted wisely.
"How could it!" Harry was about to go into hysterics; Draco could tell. There was a definite panic in his voice. "This is what got Sirius killed! You know that! And – Draco – he doesn't – he wouldn't like feeling helpless and trapped inside a house either!"
"Yes, but Draco isn't nearly as reckless as Padfoot was," Remus said. "There's a certain advantage that Draco's in Slytherin. He's very clever, not to mention careful."
"And Sirius wasn't?"
"Sirius was a noble Gryffindor who listened to his heart... He wasn't what one would call a thinker. Draco on the other hand –"
"How can you say that?" Harry cried. "You were his lover!"
Draco's eyes widened. 'The plot thickens...'
"And it's precisely because I am his lover that I say that," Remus replied calmly. What Draco couldn't see was the sudden gold tint his eyes took on. "At any rate, Harry, don't worry yourself over it, kiddo... focus on happier things, shall we?" Diversion tactic. Draco smiled to himself.
A muttered, "Yes."
"Shall I prepare tea?"
"Sure," Harry sighed. He sounded a bit more relaxed, Draco noted.
"What would you like?"
"Draco prefers herbal," Harry said. The aforementioned could practically hear the raised eyebrow on Remus' face. "Er... I mean... peppermint's fine?"
The Malfoy decided that now would be an appropriate time to finally enter the room. As he stepped into the kitchen, he immediately noticed the surprised, and then amused, expression on Lupin's face, and the cherry that was Harry Potter's head. Oh. Suppose Harry didn't tell Remus that he had spent the night (although it was entirely innocent)? He momentarily crinkled his brow in thought, and was about to smirk and make a smart-ass comment when Harry's wide eyes, fastened upon Draco, began to travel downwards in their gaze.
"Wh..." Draco trailed off, and looked down.
Towel. Shit.
He didn't even have time to explain himself before Lupin burst into soft laughter, clutching the kitchen counter. "You...Hahaha...Harry...Harry!" He cried in between what could be called giggles. "You didn't!"
"No!" Harry protested. "He just... slept over! Honest! Nothing happened," He finished, looking desperately over to Draco for confirmation.
Well, Draco reasoned, he could only tell the truth. It was the right thing to do, no? He choked down a grin, and opened his mouth to speak.
"...I wouldn't exactly say that," the Malfoy drawled. Harry's explosive green eyes narrowed, and Draco couldn't resist a self-satisfied leer. "There was quite a bit of snogging involved." He moved casually to a cupboard several feet away, and opened it with a definite wiggle of the towel-clad butt. "Peppermint, did you say?"
Harry's blushing curses were easily drowned out by Remus' uncharacteristically loud, barking laughter.
After bidding the thoroughly amused werewolf good bye, Harry and Draco both collapsed into plush living room chairs with a sigh. Remus had been quite bemused by the entire situation – disregarding the conversation Draco had overheard earlier – and both he and the blond spent the majority of Remus' visit having fun at Harry's expense.
Ah, the good ol' times, Draco thought with a smirk. Teasing Harry Potter would never cease to be one of his more enjoyable pastimes.
It was now about eight o'clock in the evening, and the two had benevolently settled in front of the lit fireplace. It was very calming watching the flames flicker... every once and a while the fire would seem almost dead, reduced to embers, but would then suddenly burst into hot life again. Draco sat there, a newspaper over his lap, not reading but watching the fire absentmindedly.
It was rather unlike the Slytherin to be so daydreamy, Harry knew. The brunette bit his lip. Just an hour ago Draco had been smirking and sneering and – god forbid! -- smiling over jokes, and now the Malfoy was, well, moody. Temperamental.
Harry never knew Draco could be PMS-y, but he figured that it only fit the profile of a self-centered, spoiled, formerly rich brat.
Great, he though with a roll of his eyes, now I have to live with two people who have "time of the months"?
Live with... Harry froze. Was he really going to let Draco live with him until this all died down? That could take months, years... would he even be able to stand it? There was now an undeniable sexual tension between the two; they had not really spoken about... last night. And yet –
Knock!
Harry blinked, brought of of his musings by the unexpected noise breaking the comfortable silence.
Knock! Knock!
By know Draco was up out of his seat, looking towards the door with a wary expression. "You'd better get that," he said, at the same time retrieving his wand from the coffee table. Harry nodded grimly, reaching under one of the chairs and tossing a silvery material towards Draco.
"Put that on." Draco didn't need to be told twice, and suddenly he was gone. Or rather, invisible.
Harry walked quietly over to the door, clutching his wand, and opened the door slowly, peering through the crack. Suddenly it was flung open, causing Harry to leap back and take a defensive position.
"HARRY!" A blur of red yelled before Harry nearly collapsed under the weight of a hand slapping him on his back. "How are you, mate? Doing well? Got a girl – er, sorry, or a guy – yet?"
"Stop interrogating him, dear," a curly-haired young woman said with a wide, happy smile. She took Harry into a warm hug, which Harry, just getting over his shock, returned. "But really, how are you, Harry?"
"I – I'm fine, 'Mione," the green-eyed man smiled. "Surprised you're here, though. I thought you were up north?"
"Yes, but we decided to take a quick trip back to visit," the young woman replied warmly.
"What she means is, she wanted to give you the news personally," Ron added with a wink, ignoring the stern look his young wife sent his way.
Harry blinked. "Er... what news?" At Harry's confusion, Hermione blushed, which just increased his puzzlement. Harry also could have sworn he heard a snicker a couple feet away from him. His brows furrowed. I swear, Draco, if you do anything...
"Hermione is –"
"I'm pregnant," the woman softly finished (or rather, interrupted).
Harry stared.
"You?"
"Yes, me," Hermione replied fussily, not bothering to hide a glowing beam. "I don't believe Ron is." She laughed. Harry did as well, feeling infinitely more relaxed already – until a dry voice behind him unveiled itself.
"Congratulations."
Harry spun around. Shit. Draco had taken the cloak off, and was now standing in the center of the living room. Not subtle by any means.
"Er –" Harry began. However, he didn't get very far.
"What is he doing here?" Ron said, eyes wide, mouth open. He didn't sound angry, exactly, more disbelieving. Hermione was quiet, observing the situation through wise eyes.
"Um..."
"Living here, actually," Draco responded, almost civilly. He threw the cloak onto the sofa, just before Ron collapsed heavily on it.
"Living... here?" The redhead croaked. He looked dangerously pale, and didn't even look at Harry when he spoke to him. "Hey, mate, when I told you to get a hold of your love life –"
"It's not like that!" Harry cried frustratedly. "Draco, shut the hell up!"
"Draco?"
Harry sat back down on his chair and moaned. This could have gone better.
And it could have been worse, another part of his mind reminded him.
At least no one's dead. Yet.
TBC...
After-chapter note: Okay, originally this chapter was going to have a lot of stuff crammed into it, but I realized at the second scene that things were getting drawn out, so in order to avoid having too long a (relative) hiatus on updates, I decided to cut it off there.
Thus... next chapter: Continuation of the 'Ron and Hermione' scene (yes, I know I'm submitting to a cliché, but I can't ignore the inevitable), some HD fluffiness, then some HD tension, and a rather large "&!" moment at the end.
REVIEW! Makes me write faster and boosts my self-confidence (which I have to admit is rather lacking as an effect of writing that scene with Ron and Hermione in it... Ack... cliché-ville... May the fanfiction spirits-- and readers --have mercy on me!).