Once they reach the Atrium of the Ministry, Pansy and Potter stare at each other. Neither of them are quite sure whose office to go to. Draco can tell from the way that they both sort of freeze once they reach the elevators. Potter even has his hand out to press the elevator call button, but is wavering between up and down. Draco decides to address the elephant in the room.
"So, whose boss do we take me to?" As soon as he asks, he knows his voice is too fake cheerful. He's trying too hard to seem alright with everything that's going on. Because he is sure as fuck not alright with everything going on.
Oliver is dead. Draco's got government secrets in his head. And he went and fucked Harry fucking Potter last night. (And this morning, his mind reminds him). He's not a hundred percent sure he's not being taken to his death or imprisonment right now. He could go on, but he's sad and pissed off enough as is.
Neither Potter nor Pansy answer him. They are still staring at each other. Potter slowly brings his hand back to his side.
"I'm not sure," he says.
"Well, can you hurry up and decide?" Draco asks. He just wants to get this over with before he loses his nerve and attempts to run away. He is decently sure he could give Potter the slip and escape. Pansy, not so much. She knows him too well, damn her.
"Let's bring him to Croaker," Potter says, at the same time that Pansy says.
"Let's go see Dempsey." In his exasperation, and still in an attempt to seem alright with things, Draco slaps a hand to his forehead.
"Let's go with Potter's suggestion," he says. Pansy purses her lips but nods. Potter presses the down call button on the elevator.
Croaker's office, it turns out, is in the absolute bowels of the Ministry. Draco is convinced that his ears pop they descend so many floors. He didn't even know the Ministry had that many floors below ground. He tries not to think about this as they wend their way through multiple corridors. He feels quite well and truly trapped. Now, even if he wanted to run away, he couldn't. He wonders if he should have chosen to be taken to this Dempsey person instead. But it's too late for second guessing, because as soon as he thinks he would rather going somewhere else, they're there and knocking on Croaker's door.
Saul Croaker is an older wizard, with thinning salt and pepper hair. His face sags somewhat at the jowls and his dark eyes are sunken. He is an odd combination of thin in the limbs with a large, rounded belly. Draco is not sure what to make of him until he starts talking. And then he thinks that he's going to do whatever the man jolly well tells him to do because that voice all but demands it.
"Sit," Croaker says as they enter the room. He gestures at the two chairs in front of his desk and they scramble for a minute to bring another chair for Pansy from the side of the room. Once they are seated, Croaker leans forward in his chair and surveys them above steepled fingers.
"Uh," Potter starts to say, but Pansy interrupts him.
"Hello Director Croaker," she says. "I would like to introduce you to Draco Malfoy. He's the man to whom Oliver Wood sent the Reliquary." Croaker's gaze flicks from Draco to Pansy while she is speaking, and then back to Draco.
"I understand you've read the book." It is not a question. Draco nods, feeling stupid. Again. With a sigh, Croaker leans back in his chair. "That is quite unfortunate," he says. He pulls out his wand and Draco shrinks back in his chair. But Croaker just prods the watch on his wrist and then speaks into it.
"Amelia, he's here. You should come and join us." He holds it up to his ear and Draco thinks he can hear a small voice emanating from the watch. Whatever the voice says, it irritates Croaker because his face darkens. He lifts the watch to his mouth again.
"No, we're not coming to you. They're all here. Yes, Parkinson too." The voice in the watch says one more thing before Croaker prods the device with a disgusted sigh. No one says anything for a long, tense minute. Then Potter says,
"Well, if you don't need me, I might just head on home." He begins to stand, but a quick glare from Croaker sends him back to his seat.
"Who the fuck said we didn't need you, Potter?" Croaker asks, eyes narrowed.
"No one. I just assumed-" Potter starts to say.
"-Well, don't. You'll stay right there." Potter nods and nervously crosses his legs. Draco is secretly pleased that Potter won't be leaving him alone just yet.
As the minutes tick by, Draco becomes more and more nervous. Who is this Amelia person that they're waiting on? He gnaws distractedly on a hangnail on his thumb before he realizes what he is doing and drops his hand back into his lap.
Finally, after what feels like an age, but is really only five minutes, they hear footsteps in the hallway. Draco turns around expectantly and watches as a woman in a Hit Wizard uniform marches towards them. She has so many stars above her crossed wand seal, that even Draco knows she is important. A small name tag identifies her as the Dempsey that Pansy had mentioned.
Pansy stands and salutes as the woman enters the room. The woman acknowledges her and motions for her to sit. Then she addresses Croaker.
"Saul," she says. Croaker nods at her.
"Hello, Amelia." He looks around the room for another chair. When he doesn't find one, he conjures one for her and places it on his side of the desk. Draco notices that it is nicer than the chairs that the rest of them are sitting on.
"Thank you," Amelia says. She walks over to the chair and perches on the end of it, her back ramrod straight. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Pansy shift in her seat until she is mirroring the other woman.
"General Dempsey," Pansy says. "This is Draco Malfoy."
"Ah yes," the General says. She smiles at Draco, although the smile does not quite reach her eyes. "Pansy has told me all about you and the Reliquary." She purses her lips briefly. "It's a pity that it's gone, but that can't be helped now, can it?" She gives a small sigh. Despite the fact that she is being nicer to Draco than Croaker is, he doesn't feel any more comfortable. In fact, he's almost more intimidated by Dempsey, because he can't get a good read on her emotions.
"Um, sorry about that," Draco says. "I didn't know what I was reading."
"And once you started, you couldn't stop?" Draco nods and Dempsey sighs again. "That was quite the design flaw."
"But now that all of our secrets are in your head," Croaker breaks in. "You work for us."
"There's no way you can get them back out of his head?" Pansy asks. Croaker gives her a withering glance.
"It wouldn't be very secure if you could just get the secrets out of someone's head once you'd captured them, would it?"
"Speaking of kidnapping," Potter says.
"Yes," General Dempsey says. "We know that someone tried to kidnap you again, Potter."
"Kidnap me?" Potter is surprised by this. "I thought they wanted Malfoy."
"No," Croaker says in a bored tone. "Just another one of your loony fans."
"It's lucky Major Parkinson was there to help," Dempsey adds.
"I would have been fine on my own," Potter mutters so quietly that Draco thinks he might be the only one who can hear him.
"But what about the heat tracker on his house?" Draco asks. Beside him, Pansy gives a snort of laughter.
"What heat tracker?" Croaker asks, leaning forward with sudden interest.
"It's nothing," Pansy says.
"But you said," Draco starts to say but Pansy kicks him. He turns his head to glare at her and stops when he sees the look in her eyes. "Nevermind." He will ask her about that later.
"So," Croaker continues, sounding irritated. "As I was saying, you work for us now."
…
"He's going to need a handler." Harry hears Parkinson say.
"Whose department does he fall under?" Harry finds himself asking. Both Dempsey and Croaker answer at the same time.
"Mine." He watches as they turn to face each other, each of them staring daggers at the other one. This is the office politics that Harry so desperately wanted to avoid. He looks down at his hands in his lap, willing them not to draw him into their dispute.
"I'm taking this to Tusneem," Croaker says.
"No, you're not," Dempsey responds. "I am." Harry looks up to see both of the Heads of Department spring out of their chairs and sprint out of the room.
"Don't you three dare leave," Croaker calls behind him. And then the door to his office slams shut and locks itself. Harry feels for a fleeting moment like he is back at Hogwarts and he, Ron and Hermione are in trouble in Dumbledore's office. But instead it's Parkinson and Malfoy and none of them is in trouble per se. Except perhaps Malfoy.
They all stare at the door for a long moment.
"Well," Malfoy says, breaking the silence. "I didn't think this would be important enough to go to the Minister." At which point, both Harry and Parkinson turn to stare at him in mild disbelief. "What? I didn't think it was that big of a deal."
"Oh, it's a big fucking deal," Parkinson says. "It's all the secrets, you idiot. How could it not be a big deal?" Malfoy shrugs.
"I just thought the 'who will my boss be' thing might have been addressed before I got here."
"Oh, you dear innocent boy," Parkinson says, reaching out to pat Malfoy condescendingly on the head. "The Unspeakables and the Hit Wizards historically don't get along, despite being in the same department. Dempsey has been gunning for me to bring you in since that damn book went missing so that we could claim you as ours, and I'm sure Saul Croaker has been hoping the same of Potter."
"Then why didn't you bring him in?" Harry asks. He is very curious as to why she hasn't - cries as to why she wanted them to bring Malfoy in together.
"Don't get me wrong, I wanted the credit for bringing him in, but I didn't want to be stuck with him." Parkinson turns to Malfoy. "No offense, but sometimes you can be a right pain in the arse."
"I don't follow," Malfoy says.
"Bringing you in at the same time as Potter means that someone else will decide who your handler will be, rather than it defaulting to me. If I do end up as your handler, that's fine, but there was no way I was going to volunteer to babysit you."
"So you're hoping I get stuck with him," Harry says. "Lovely."
"Stuck with me?" Malfoy cries. "I didn't realize I was such a damn burden." The blond looks genuinely hurt and Harry realizes he and Parkinson are being incredibly insensitive. The conversations about who will be assigned a particular asset, and all the bitching that goes along with them, are usually conducted away from said asset.
"Have you met you?" Parkinson asks. Harry frowns at her as Malfoy's eyebrows shoot up.
"You're not a burden," Harry says quickly, reaching out and placing his hands on Malfoy's arm in what he hopes is a comforting manner. "We don't mean it that way. It's just that being a handler takes up all of an agent's time and it's often hard to wrap one's head around the fact that you will be spending that much time with one person. It's like being assigned a new partner, and a new case at the same time."
Malfoy continues to scowl and Harry isn't sure there is much he can do to change that. He tries to put himself in Malfoy's place and imagine what he is feeling. He imagines just picking up a book one day and that being the reason he works for the Ministry. But as Harry loves his job at the Ministry, he doesn't quite see how this is a bad thing.
To Harry's surprise, Malfoy lets the subject drop. Instead he turns to Parkinson and asks,
"Now what was it you were saying about that heat tracking spell?" Parkinson presses her lips together, clearly trying to suppress a smile.
"I may have fabricated that," she says. She stops trying to hold her smile back and an impish grin fills her face. "You should have seen your faces when you learned you had to share a room." Harry frowns. In all the excitement of the morning, he had forgotten to check about the spell, but it seems there wasn't one all along. He is not sure how he feels about this. On the one hand, he is irritated with Parkinson for putting him into that situation, but on the other hand, they'd had a great night, which wouldn't have happened if they hadn't been forced to share a room.
"How Slytherin of you," Malfoy says. Parkinson's grin turns into a smirk. She shrugs.
"You'll get over it. You had voluntarily been on a date with him just an hour earlier," she says. "And I'm sure it's not the first time Potter's had to share a bed with someone he didn't like. I mean, he's an Unspeakable after all. It's often his job to seduce people or pose as their romantic partner."
"Because the Hit Wizards never do that," Harry shoots back sarcastically. Even after all these years, Parkinson has the uncanny ability to get under his skin in ways that very few people can. (If he's being honest, Malfoy is included in that list of people). And it doesn't help that Harry still doesn't trust her. He has not forgotten that she was the one who suggested to Snape that they give him up to Voldemort in the Battle of Hogwarts.
"Our missions tend to be a lot shorter than yours," she counters. "Less of a need to establish long term cover."
"But why, Pansy?" Malfoy asks, ignoring their back and forth. "Why lie about that?" She shrugs.
"It was funny." Malfoy sighs, shaking his head.
"You're still the same bitch you were in school, aren't you?"
"We were all like that, Draco," Parkinson snaps back. "You were often the worst."
At this, Malfoy looks slightly mollified, though Harry gets the feeling that this won't be the last of it. He just hopes he is far away from the pair of them when it flares up again.
Before either of them can say anything more, however, the door to the office opens and Minister for Magic Alfred Tusneem strides into the room. His black robes billow behind him, showing off their teal lining. Harry sees Malfoy sit up straighter in his chair. Hermione enters the room behind Tusneem. She has a striking lime green skirt suit on under her black robes and she looks more put together than the rest of them combined. Harry waves at her, but Hermione ignores him. Both she and Tusneem walk behind Croaker's desk. Tusneem does not sit, but rather stands and leans forward on the desk, supporting himself on outstretched arms. He nods in Malfoy's direction.
"You," he says. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry sees Malfoy twitch.
"Who? Me, sir?" Malfoy asks. His voice pitched a squick higher from nerves.
"Yes, you Mr. Malfoy. Tell me about Operation Forrest Shark." Harry turns and watches Malfoy with open curiosity. He had seen Malfoy recall something the night before, but now he watches as Malfoy's eyes flick back and forth, as though reading some invisible text, before he blinks, shakes his head slightly and recounts a mission that Harry had been on years earlier that involved a Muggle smuggling ring, some contraband magical materials and a cursed saber.
Tusneem watches Malfoy impassively. When he finishes speaking, the Minister nods once and then stands fully upright, crossing his arms in front of him. He reaches up with one hand and thoughtfully rubs his chin. Then he tilts his head from side to side, cracking his neck. Finally, he speaks.
"And you both brought him in?" He looks from Parkinson to Harry. They both nod.
"And you have agreed to work for us?" Hermione asks Malfoy. Malfoy's eyebrows rise in surprise.
"I didn't know I had a choice," he says.
"Of course you have a choice. You can either work for us, or we'll send you to Azkaban," Tusneem says.
"So, it's not as though I actually have a choice then." Tusneem shrugs expansively. "Yes, fine. I will work for the Ministry, even though, had circumstances been different, I'm sure there would have been no way in hell that you would have hired me." Tusneem shrugs again.
"Water under the bridge. Welcome to the Ministry, Mr. Malfoy." Malfoy purses his lips but nods.
"However, the way I see it," Tusneem continues. "Your work will need to stay a secret. You are far too valuable of an asset for the general public, and more specifically, the general criminal public, to know who you are." Malfoy nods slowly. He had to have been expecting that. Harry wonders how he would feel if he knew he couldn't go back to his old life, to his friends, to his job.
But then, the nature of Harry's position is different to those of a normal Unspeakable. His cover involves hiding in plain sight, being the Boy-Who-Lived, celebrity eternal. He is invited to any event that he wants to go to, and no one expects him to do anything untoward, so he is never suspected.
"Therefore, you will join the Unspeakables." Malfoy nods again, this time with a bit more vigor. Behind Tusneem, Harry can see triumph in Croaker's eyes. Beside him, Dempsey stares straight ahead, her face expressionless. "However, as Project Reliquary is an interdepartmental project, you will also work with the DMLEHS." Croaker stiffens in surprise and Harry sees the corner of Dempsey's mouth twitch upward slightly. "I will be setting up a special task force and I will give it a suitably top secret name." Harry knows that this means it will have a suitably ridiculous top secret name. "As you seem comfortable with both Potter and Parkinson, I am assigning them both as your handlers and the three of you will report to Granger." Harry's heart sinks. That complicates things.
"Hermione,," Tusneem says, turning to face her. "I will leave the rest of the details to you for now. I expect a full report before the end of the day."
"Of course, Minister," Hermione says. Croaker and Dempsey merely nod.
"Don't fuck this up, Granger," Tusneem says as he walks out of the room. "Project Reliquary was your idea after all." And then he is gone.
…
"Right then," Granger says, sitting down behind Croaker's desk. "Time is of the essence. We need to get you a cover story. I think you can keep your day job, as that's inconspicuous enough, but we will need a cover story for your handlers." She turns to Pansy and Potter. "Any ideas there?" Potter looks like a deer caught in headlights. Instead, Pansy pipes up,
"When I found them last night, Draco and Potter were on a date. Could that be their cover?" Draco turns to look at Pansy. She stares innocently back at him, but there is a sparkle in her eye that tells him that she's doing this to make him uncomfortable again. The way that she did with that heat tracking nonsense.
"Possibly. Malfoy, did you tell anyone else about this date?" Granger asks. Draco thinks about lying in order to force them to come up with another cover, but then he nods.
"My roommate, Greg, and my best friend, Hannah, who is bound to have told her boyfriend, And, knowing Ernie, he has told anybody who will listen," he says because it is true.
"And we ran into Hannah this morning on the way here," Potter points out. Helpfully.
It's not that Draco doesn't want to spend more time with Potter, it's just that he has tasted the forbidden fruit now, and it's going to be damn difficult to keep his hands off of him. Because what Potter had said last night was true. If they're working together, nothing can happen between them. Draco is going to be miserably horny all the time and unable to do a damn thing about it.
"Perfect," Granger says. She notes this down on a piece of parchment. "And Parkinson." She looks up at her. "How do you feel about working in a bookstore? The manager, Dick Burns." She pauses and looks at the name again. Draco snorts with involuntary laughter. "Does he really go by Dick?"
"No," Draco says, shaking his head. "It's just what we call him." He claps a hand over his mouth, almost unable to keep from laughing. He glances over at Pansy and Potter who are also trying hard to suppress their laughter. Even Dempsey has cracked a smile. Granger clears her throat.
"The manager, Richard Burns, has a reputation for hiring Slytherins."
"Well, he hired me and Greg," Draco says. "But none of the others even went to Hogwarts." Granger waves his comment away.
"The point is, we will ensure that he hires you, Parkinson, and it won't seem out of character for him," she says. Pansy nods. "Now, every morning, Malfoy, you will read the Daily Prophet from cover to cover and you will let either Potter or Parkinson know if anything jumps out at you." Draco nods. He reads the paper most mornings, so this will not seem out of the ordinary for him. "Occasionally we may give you something specific that you need to look at." Draco feels like he is one of those perpetual motion birds, he is nodding so much. As Granger continues to brief him, he continues to nod. His eyes glaze over and he feels almost as though he is back at Hogwarts, listening to Professor Binns lecture him on the history of magic.
"So," Granger says, as she begins to wrap up. "To summarize: Potter and Parkinson will be your handlers. Until you are better trained, they will protect you. And for the most part, when you get information from The Reliquary, you will convey it to them and they will act on it. Your cover is that you and Harry are now dating, which I am sure the Daily Prophet will have a field day with, and that Pansy is your coworker and friend. Are there any questions?" Draco, for what seems like the first time, shakes his head.
"Very good." Granger begins to shuffle papers together and Draco figures that is their cue to go. He stands up. Pansy and Potter follow his lead.
"Before you go," Dempsey cuts in. "You will need to stop by my office to get your security credentials." She addresses Pansy. "Banks can help you with that." Pansy nods and leads them out of the office. Once they are out of earshot, she says,
"Welcome to the team, Draco." She pats him briefly on the back.
"Uh, thanks," he says. "I guess." He is still processing everything that has happened in the last hour, let alone the last day. The main thing that sticks out in his mind is that Potter is now his fake boyfriend. He dares a glance over at the brunet, but Potter is staring straight ahead down the corridor and ignoring him. Draco supposes there are worse fake boyfriends, but quite frankly Draco would prefer a real boyfriend. Which, it seems, he won't be able to have now, or else people will ask questions. He sighs. Potter looks over at him.
"Everything okay?" he asks. Draco nods. He is, after all, well acquainted with his hand.
They reach the elevator bank and Pansy pushes the button for up and then immediately starts to tap her foot impatiently.
"Was there any particular reason," Draco says after watching her for a moment, getting more irritated with every tap of her toes. "That you volunteered the information that Potter and I had been on a date last night?" Pansy stops tapping and frowns at him.
"I thought it would be a good cover story," she says. "You were on a date last night. It would be an easy cover to sell - I just figured it made the most sense. After all, no one was going to believe you were dating me."
"I felt like we sold it pretty well at Hogwarts," Draco protests, even though he knows they didn't.
"You were together at Hogwarts?" Potter asks. "I had no idea."
"We weren't," Pansy clarifies. "We sometimes let people think we were because it was easier for both of us."
"Oh, are you-" Potter start to ask.
"-Not attracted to any of the Slytherin boys?" Pansy interrupts. "Did you see them? The only vaguely attractive one was Malfoy, and it became clear to me in our fourth year that the feeling wasn't mutual." The elevator door opens with a ping and they crowd inside. Pansy presses the correct floor button and then leans against the wall, facing them both. "Eh, Zabini was decently attractive," she says, relenting somewhat. "But the pickings were slim to none. And none of the boys in the other houses would deign to date a Slytherin." She crosses her arms in front of her and glares at a spot on the wall behind Potter. Draco reaches out and rests a hand on her arm.
"We still managed to have fun,"he says. She shrugs.
"Kind of."
"Ok, aside from unrequited crushes on Michael Corner."
"For both of us," Pansy adds.
"So we had a bit of a vendetta against Ginny Weasley."
"And his lasted longer than mine, because Corner and Weasley broke up, but then she went out with you," Pansy says, smirking. "Whatever happened to the two of you anyway?" Potter has been watching their back and forth with interest, but now that he has been brought into the conversation, he looks uncomfortable and Draco notices his cheeks coloring.
"We broke up," he says in a clipped tone, which makes it clear to Draco that he doesn't want to talk about it. Pansy is sure to have heard it too, but will have fewer qualms about continuing blithely on.
Further conversation, however, is halted by the elevator doors opening. Pansy ushers them out and over to the correct office. Draco is photographed, fingerprinted and has his magical signature documented by an enthusiastic young man that Pansy introduces as Mortimer Banks. Once all of Draco's details are recorded in a logbook, Banks reaches towards a lower drawer, only to stop suddenly.
"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, I see you already have a watch," he says, sitting up straight again. He sweeps his shiny, auburn fringe out of his eyes and adjusts his glasses, which Draco thinks are just for show. "May I see it?" He reaches a hand out and slowly Draco extends his wrist forward. Banks grips it lightly and prods Oliver's watch with his wand. He points his wand at a piece of paper and frowns at the readout. He looks up at Draco, confusion in his eyes, and then reads the paper again, as if it might have changed in the time he had glanced away.
"Uh," Draco starts to say.
"You appear to already have a Ministry altered watch," Banks says. "May I enquire as to how you got it?"
"Uh," Draco says again. "It was given to me." He figures that is as close to the truth as he can be without telling the whole saga. He's not sure how much Banks knows about The Reliquary. Banks frowns at the readout for another few seconds, then shrugs and prods the watch again.
"Very well, I will just change the ownership signatures then," he says. He waves his wand over the watch face in a complicated pattern and then taps it once. "There. That should do it." He releases Draco's wrist and grins up at him. "You're all set. Welcome to the Ministry of Magic."
