When Real Life Just Isn't Enough ...

Title: Malicious Intent – Part 17
Author: sesheta_66
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 5K
Rating: Eventual NC-17
Warning: none
Summary: Harry’s world is upended when he’s asked to investigate a break-in and threats levied at Draco Malfoy. He’s never told anyone about their short-lived but intense relationship, and now, five years after it ended, doesn’t seem the time. He’s a professional, so he will investigate, find and arrest the culprit, and get on with his life. What else can he do?
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

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Malicious Intent – Part 17

Harry felt marginally better after he took a hot shower to wash away the anger from his conversation with Ron. He swallowed back a good measure of firewhiskey before refilling his glass and sending a message letting Draco know he’d returned. He was halfway through his second glass when Draco arrived.

He eyed Harry’s glass, noticed his wet hair and looked around the room. "Seems to me you weren’t gone long enough to have eaten and had a shower after returning, am I right?"

Harry shot back the balance of the glass and gave a curt nod. "Couldn’t stomach any food."

Draco raised a brow – Harry ignored the judgement in the move – and motioned to Harry’s glass. "How much of that have you been able to stomach?"

"This is my second glass, Mum. Thanks for asking."

Draco snorted. "And before that?"

"A couple of pints. Is that it for the inquisition?"

Draco shrugged. "Suit yourself. I did bring alcohol." He held up a bottle of wine and a bottle of firewhiskey. "No doubt better than the swill you’re currently imbibing, though I don’t know that the quality matters much to you."

"Right now? Not particularly, no."

Draco put down the bottles and with a wave of his wand, two platters appeared. "I thought this might happen, so I took it upon myself to prepare some sustenance to counteract – or at least slow down – the effects of a vat of whiskey on your body."

"You cooked for me?" Draco nodded. "You prepared the meal?"

"I have been known to cook on occasion, yes."

"Really?"

Draco smacked his arm. "Yes, really. It’s nothing like you might get at Hogwarts or the Manor, but it’s perfectly edible." He waved his wand several times, clearing the table, setting it, then placing the food upon it.

When he removed the covers from the platters, Harry breathed in deeply. "It smells delicious." His mouth began to water and he realised he was, in fact, hungry.

Draco smirked. "It’s just pasta and garlic bread, but I do make a mean marinara, if I do say so myself." He motioned for Harry to eat.

When he noticed no plate for Draco, Harry asked, "Aren’t you eating?"

Draco shook his head. "I ate already. I thought you might have done too while you were out." He eyed Harry’s glass again. "But on the off chance it didn’t go well, I prepared extra figuring you could use some food and knowing you probably wouldn’t get anything for yourself. The carbs should do a bang-up job of absorbing some of the alcohol in your body."

Harry picked up a fork and dug in. "Who says I want to absorb the alcohol?"

Draco poured out two glasses of wine and placed one in front of Harry. As an afterthought, he exchanged Harry’s firewhiskey glass for one of water, giving Harry a pointed look as he plunked it down in front of him. "I’d wager your head will thank me in the morning."

Harry shrugged, now unable to speak with a mouthful of pasta. When he swallowed, he managed, "That’s what hangover potions are for."

"Too true, but they don’t alleviate all the effects. I always feel a bit off, even if not horrifically hungover. I find it’s best to not get there in the first place."

Harry snorted, remembering a night not too long ago when Draco was far from sober himself. He opted not to point this out. He had brought Harry dinner, after all. "This tastes even better than it smells. Thanks."

"You’re welcome. Now stop talking and eat."

Harry didn’t need telling twice. They sat in companionable silence while he wolfed down the meal. When at last he’d finished, Draco grinned. "For someone who wasn’t hungry, you certainly cleared your plate well enough."

Harry waved the dishes off to the counter and took a sip of another exceptionally delicious wine. "Mm. Must have been the company."

"I make you hungry?"

Harry’s stomach tensed. Draco made him hungry alright, but not for food. Once more he kept his thoughts to himself. "More like Ron’s company tonight turned me off. I hadn’t realised how famished I was until I had food placed in front of me. Thanks for that."

"You’re welcome. So ... now that you’ve eaten and are likely as relaxed as you’re going to get tonight, tell me what happened."

Harry picked up his wine glass and took a long sip. "Ron’s a stubborn git, that’s what happened."

Draco coughed something that sounded curiously like cauldron and kettle. Harry glared at him. "So what else is new? He’s stubborn, you’re stubborn. Did you at least get to tell him how pissed off you are?"

"Well, yeah, but he still doesn’t get that he did anything wrong."

"So he didn’t apologise?"

Harry recalled the half-arsed explanation Ron had given. "Not in any meaningful way, no."

Draco looked over the rim of his glass curiously. "Define meaningful."

Harry finished his glass of wine with an appreciative hum. "I mean he said sorry, but didn’t mean it."

"And you know this how?"

"I know him. He’s only sorry he got caught." Harry ran his hand through his hair. "And he keeps up with the excuses, as though he still thinks what he did was right."

Draco swirled the remains of his wine and stared into the liquid for a time before responding. "What if he never means it, if he never really apologises? Then what? Do you think there’ll come a time when you can just agree to disagree and move on?"

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t really answer that because he didn’t know what the truth was. Could he forgive Ron? He might be able to forgive Gin, but Ron, he wasn’t so sure. Ron knew him better than anyone, better even than Hermione. He didn’t know if he could get past this. Ever. No matter what Ron said or did. Even if he apologised and meant it.

Before he had a chance to answer, Draco asked, "Can you ever imagine forgiving him?" Harry just stared blankly but said nothing. "I mean, you’re all about forgiveness. Look at me. You’ve forgiven me for all sorts of shit I’ve done over the years, and there was a lot."

"True, but Ron knows me."

"I know you, too."

Harry shook his head. "Not like Ron. He knows pretty much all there is to know about me. About my past. Things only he and Hermione know."

Draco pursed his lips as though the thought irritated him, but he recovered quickly. "And that changes how you feel about him? Makes you incapable of forgiving him? Or makes him unworthy of forgiveness?"

"Yes." Harry ran his hands through his hair again. "No. I don’t know. I can’t explain it properly. My past, what he did, it all relates."

"I don’t know what you mean."

"I know. I’m not making any sense."

"You know you never really told me about your past. Not really. Nothing from before school."

"You didn’t tell me much either."

Draco considered this before nodding. "I think maybe we were in a place when we really needed to look forward, so we never took the time to look back."

Harry shrugged. "I guess. But it’s more than that."

"How so?"

"I don’t like talking about my past. It wasn’t a particularly happy time in my life."

Draco raised a brow. "Worse than Voldemort?"

"Well, no," Harry conceded. "But in some ways it was nearly as bad. And Ron knows about my past. He knows that, of all people, he shouldn’t have done what he did." Harry started to fidget. He hated even thinking back to that time.

"Hey." Draco put a hand over Harry’s now shaking knee. Harry hadn’t even noticed him getting up. "I’m not going to force you to talk about it – it’s not like I’m in any position to anyway – but I’d like to understand why you’re being so hard on the weasel. Not that I think he deserves any better, but he is your best friend and I can see this is getting to you and it’s more than anger."

"It’s just ... he did to me what he knew would ..."

"Would what?"

Harry stood up and looked for his whiskey glass. "I’m gonna need a lot more alcohol if I’m going to talk about my childhood." He walked to the counter and poured himself a triple before returning to the table with it. His whole body shook and he just stared into the glass, already back in the cupboard at Privet Drive.

"I know it wasn’t pleasant." Draco frowned. "I’ve heard the rumours. But I always figured that’s all they were – rumours."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then took a fortifying breath and swig. He looked back at Draco, saw the concern and curiosity in his gaze. He could trust this man. He knew he could. Against all odds, perhaps, but there you go. "Most are, I guess. Well, I think they are anyway, since I try not to listen to speculation about myself." He sipped his drink. "But yeah, it was pretty bad."

"So tell me."

Harry nodded, figuring it was probably long past time to open up about it. "I don’t like talking about it," he said again, "but maybe I should."

"For what it’s worth, I won’t tell anyone."

Harry shrugged and smiled. "I know. I trust you." Draco’s eyes widened. "Don’t look so surprised."

"But I am. I mean ... after everything ... after, well ..."

"Right." Harry swirled the liquid in his glass and sipped some more, knowing he needed some serious liquid courage for this conversation. "You know the story: Voldemort killed my parents and tried to kill me when I was a year old. What you didn’t know is what happened when he tried to kill me, which I’ll come back to. Anyway, Dumbledore sent Hagrid to get me out of there and he took me to my aunt and uncle’s house."

"The Muggles."

"Right. Only there weren’t your regular Muggles. See, they knew about magic because of my parents. But my aunt was jealous of her sister and had grown to hate everything about magic. So they kept it all from me."

"You didn’t know?"

"Nope. They told me that my parents were killed in a car crash, which was where my scar came from. And they tried to suppress any hint of magic, so they could ... how did my uncle put it? Oh, yeah, they tried to stamp it out of me. I got punished every time I had an incidence of uncontrolled magic."

Draco fidgeted in his seat. "Go on."

"So I lived in a cupboard and was never told who I was and --"

"Wait a minute. Back up there. What’s that about a cupboard?"

"My room was the cupboard under the stairs. I had a mattress and ... well, not much else. They locked me in there fairly regularly, sometimes for days if I was being punished, and it was pretty horrible."

Draco’s face reddened, his jaw clenched and his wand hand twitched. "I ... what the fuck kind of people are your aunt and uncle?"

"They aren’t typical Muggles, like I said. My aunt was jealous and my uncle figured if they pushed me down enough, made sure I never knew about my past, about myself, about my parents, maybe the magic would never come out in me. And when it did, they lied to me about it. They knew what was happening, but until I was eleven, I didn’t have a clue that I was a wizard or that magic was real."

"But ... what did your friends do? Didn’t they say something about the way you were treated? Try to help? Tell their parents? A teacher? Aren’t there laws against treating children that way?"

Harry shrugged. "I didn’t have any friends. My cousin saw to that. He would beat up anyone that even tried to be nice to me. So yeah. I didn’t go to any teachers or anything because what good would it have done?"

"I— I can’t believe—" Draco looked ready to punch something. "I’m so sorry. You don’t have to—"

Harry took another swig of his firewhiskey. "No need to be sorry. It’s just ... well, it’s been a really long time since I told anyone all of this, and ... it’s harder than I expected it might be. I think if I just spill it all out at once, it’ll be easier."

"Go on then."

"Right. Where was I? Oh, right. No friends. So I had no friends, no real family, I lived in a cupboard and had spiders for company. Not much of a childhood. Fast forward to my eleventh birthday, or just before. All these Hogwarts letters started arriving, but my uncle took them all and burned them. Wouldn’t even let me read them. Took us all away to escape them. Only on my birthday, right at midnight, Hagrid showed up to hand deliver me my first ever birthday cake." He smiled at the memory. "That and a Hogwarts letter. My uncle tried to stop him, but for the first time in my life, someone stood up for me. He told me I was a wizard and that I’d be going to Hogwarts. Long story short, my aunt and uncle weren’t happy, but they couldn’t do anything about it."

Draco smiled. Then the smile slid off his face. "So Hagrid was the first person from the wizarding world you’d met?"

Harry nodded. "First one I knew about anyway. And, if you can believe it, you were the first wizard my age I’d ever met."

"I was?"

"Mm hmm. Madam Malkin’s."

"But ... you never said."

Harry shrugged. "I already felt overwhelmed and then you went on about brooms and Quidditch and school houses and all I kept thinking was that I didn’t have a clue what you were talking about. And I didn’t want to tell you that, so ... well. Then you insulted Hagrid and I didn’t much care what you said after that."

"Fuck, I was a prat back then."

Harry grinned and raised his glass in a toast. "That you were, Malfoy." Draco tried to glare at him, but the pain in his features took the sting out of it. "But it’s all good. Hagrid filled me in on some of the stuff and it turned out to be the best birthday I’d ever had, before I had to go back to the Dursleys."

"You went back there? Why?"

Harry shrugged. "It was my home. Didn’t have anywhere else to go, did I? Anyway, after I got back there I had a whole month before school and I started doubting everything. Then when my uncle took me to the train station, he laughed at me, having a ticket for a non-existing platform, and left me between platforms nine and ten, figuring it was all a big joke."

Draco waved his wand and the good bottle of firewhiskey and two fresh glasses flew to the table. He poured them both a good measure, shoving the dregs of Harry’s substandard whiskey to the side. "And he left you – an eleven year old – alone at King’s Cross Station, even though he thought it was all a joke?"

"Er ... yeah." The question threw Harry – he hadn’t really given it much thought since. "I imagine he didn’t much care what happened to me, and just hoped I’d be gone for good."

"That motherfucker." Now Draco was shaking.

Harry grinned slightly. "It’s okay. It all worked out. I ran into the Weasleys and they helped me get onto the platform and the rest is history."

Draco mumbled something into his glass as he drank his whiskey.

Harry took another sip. "So that’s my family."

"And you went back there again? After going to Hogwarts? Couldn’t you have ... I dunno ... stayed at the school? Or with the Weasleys?"

"Well, the Weasleys didn’t really know me, did they? They only saw me the once at King’s Cross. Besides, I had to go back."

"Why the hell would you have to do that?"

Harry took another sip. Distantly he registered just how much better it was than the swill Draco’d commented on earlier. "Because Dumbledore had invoked ancient magic to protect me. As long as I lived under my family’s roof, Voldemort couldn’t get to me."

Draco seemed to calm at this. "So Dumbledore told you all this? How did you react when you found out what had really happened to your parents? That Voldemort had tried to kill you?"

Harry let out a derisive snort. "Yeah, that’s not quite how it happened." He reached for the bottle and topped up both their glasses. "Hagrid had told me about Voldemort before and I heard all sorts of stuff at school – which is weird, by the way, hearing things about yourself from strangers. But Dumbledore kept pretty much everything from me. Only told me what he thought I needed to know."

"Wait. Didn’t you fight Voldemort off that first year too? What did Dumbledore tell you about that? And when? And when did he know?"

Harry laughed. "So I can probably do a full-on interview with you later, where I can tell you all about my life, but for now I’ll sum it up by saying that Dumbledore kept everything to himself, releasing little bits of information at a time. When it was most convenient. For him." Harry couldn’t keep the resentment out of his voice. "It was all in my best interest, of course."

Draco snorted. "Sure it was."

Harry swigged back some whiskey. "Exactly. It was always what worked for him. He thought he knew what was best – at the time I thought it was what was best for me but I learned the truth later on."

"So what did he say when you confronted him?"

Harry sighed. "He was already dead when I found out."

"Then how did you—?"

"Snape."

"Snape told you?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. As he lay dying, he gave me his memories. I watched them in Dumbledore’s Pensieve and ... well, then I knew."

Draco no longer looked angry, but curious. "Knew what?"

"That Dumbledore had kept the most important information from me until it was time for me to die."

"Wait. What?"

Harry got up and began pacing the room. "Remember I said that something happened the night Voldemort killed my parents?"

"Yes."

"Well, he’d been creating Horcruxes – objects that contained pieces of his soul, so that he would be immortal, unable to die – and I guess he’d planned to create another that night. Only when his spell didn’t work on me, a piece of his soul ended up inside of me."

Draco’s jaw dropped and he stared at Harry. Harry pointed to his scar. Draco finished his whiskey and poured them both another. "You had a piece of Voldemort’s soul inside you?" Harry nodded. "And Dumbledore knew that." He nodded again. "And he didn’t tell you."

"That’s right. Even when he told me about the Horcruxes and his theory – only when he himself was dying and needed me to carry on the search, of course – he conveniently left out that I was the last Horcrux. And that I would have to die in order for anyone to ever be able to kill Voldemort."

"He was setting you up to die?"

Harry nodded. "As Snape put it, like a pig to the slaughter. But, hey, it was all for the greater good."

"I – I don’t know what to say."

"Not much to say really. Basically my whole life people kept things from me, lied to me, manipulated me and the people around me. Controlled my life without my ever knowing."

"And Ron knew all this?"

"Yeah, he and Hermione knew. They’re the only people I’ve told. Until now." Harry laughed. "It’s funny, really. Ron was angrier with Dumbledore than I was and he doesn’t get how hypocritical he’s being. He just doesn’t see it."

"So when the weasel and weaselette ..."

"Exactly. Ginny never knew, so I’m not as furious with her. I’m pissed, yeah, but she didn’t know just how much of a betrayal that was, them going to you and then keeping it from me for years. Forever, I’m sure, if you hadn’t told me."

"I should have told you sooner."

"Yeah, you should have. But then you didn’t know either." He drank the last of his whiskey and put the glass down. "But now you do."

"I feel like there’s still a lot you aren’t telling me."

"True, but those are the low lights. In a nutshell, I’ve been manipulated my whole life and I swore it would never happen again. But then the last person I ever expected ... well. So that’s why I’m so pissed at Ron. And it’s why I don’t know if I can ever forgive him."

"That’s understandable." He opened his mouth to ask more, but then closed it again.

They sat silently sipping on their whiskey, each lost in thought. When Draco spoke again, he switched subjects. "So, did you get to the office?"

"Oh, right. I can’t believe I forgot to mention that." Had it only been hours ago? It felt like days. "I confirmed Rowle’s magical signature."

"But he couldn’t get in this time."

"Right. You know, that still bothers me."

"What does?"

"How he managed to get past your wards. They aren’t easy to break through." Draco wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Harry chuckled. "Relax. I know they’re not exactly Ministry-approved wards." Draco’s eyes widened. "You don’t think mine are, do you?"

"I—" He narrowed his eyes at Harry. "No, I suppose you wouldn’t much care about rules like that."

Harry grinned. "Exactly. And I’m not about to report you either, so don’t worry." He understood Draco’s concern. No one at the Ministry really gave a damn about the levels of wards people kept at their homes, unless they were set to injure as well as secure, or if they alerted Muggles to the presence of magic. But technically they could charge someone with breaking the law. And, given his past – and the level of animosity many at the Ministry had for the Malfoys – Draco wouldn’t want to risk officials finding out. Harry hoped that no one would be so petty, but who knew for sure?

"So now what?"

"Now we continue to wait. And keep watch for anything out of the ordinary. His direct line to you is now broken off; that might push him to do something."

Draco tried to look unaffected, but Harry could see concern in his eyes. "Like what?"

Harry didn’t want to worry Draco too much, but he did need to be cautious. "This is Rowle we’re talking about. I wouldn’t put anything past him."

***

The next day saw no progress in the case and Harry was glad of it. He received notification that Ginny had dropped by the house, but he waited until she’d left before he returned to Grimmauld. She’d taken the box Harry’d put her remaining things into but this time had left no note. Just a hint of her perfume lingered, the only sign she’d been there. Perhaps she’d finally got the message. Or perhaps Ron had told her what Harry had said. Whatever the case, with a quick wave of his wand, he confirmed that nothing of hers remained. He took a deep, calming breath and then, with a heavy heart, reset his wards to keep her and Ron out. He was tempted to do the same for all the Weasleys but could find no good reason for it. The rest of the family had done nothing wrong. They might agree with Ron and Ginny’s actions, if they ever found out, but they’d played no hand in them. Besides, they were Harry’s family too. At least he hoped they still were.

That done, he spent the day cleaning and putting away the overt reminders of his and Ginny’s time together. He left a few Weasley family photos, but by the time he was done, he was confident that he wouldn’t have constant reminders of Ginny everywhere he turned. Eventually he’d touch up the place, redecorate a bit to make it truly his own, but for now this would have to do.

Even though the place felt empty, it was good to be home.

The following day, Harry was at the office, once more going through Rowle’s extensive file, looking for something – anything – he might have missed before, when the coin in his pocket burned.

Lab broken into. Left a note.

Adrenaline pumped through him. Are you okay?

Yes. Arrived to find mess.

He breathed a sigh of relief. He bloody well should have warded Draco’s lab before this. That was sloppy. Be right there. He returned Rowle’s file to records and was out the door in no time.

He Apparated to the lab and found a shaken Draco staring at the devastation. "Holy shit."

Draco turned angry eyes towards Harry. "He destroyed everything." His hands balled into fists at his sides. "What’s the point of that? I mean look at this place!"

Harry wanted to comfort him, but had to focus on the case. "Did you touch anything?"

"No. I walked in and found this disaster. I did cast a stasis charm over the lot, in case volatile ingredients came into contact with each other, but otherwise left everything as it was. Then I messaged you."

"Okay, then. Let me call the forensics team out."

"Is that necessary?"

"Yes, Draco. This isn’t just your private residence full of innocuous contents. This is a laboratory with chemicals and other substances that, combined in the wrong way, could pose a public danger. It needs to be contained and evacuation of neighbouring units might be in order."

Draco wrapped his arms around his sides, like he had done when his flat had been broken into. Only this time he was more angry than scared. "Fine," he said. "But there shouldn’t be anything to concern anyone but me. Any damage caused by potential reactions would be localised and non-lethal."

"Okay, good to know. Is there anything missing?"

Draco frowned. "I didn’t check. I mean everything’s destroyed, except for a few things on the shelves. I’m not even sure my equipment can be repaired. Some of it is rather delicate."

"Do you have an accurate inventory to compare to?"

He nodded. With a sigh, he withdrew his wand and cast several spells. After a few moments, he inhaled sharply. "Oh my god!"

"What is it?" Harry asked. "Should we leave? Evacuate the area? Is there something wrong?"

Draco’s face reddened and his wand arm shook. "That fucker!"

"What?"

He pointed his wand at the distant cabinet. An entire shelf of vials remained unbroken. "Over there. The fucker planted illegal potions in my lab. That bastard!"

"He what?"

"Controlled substances," Draco said. "Drugs. Illegal drugs. Highly addictive and illegal substances in my fucking lab!"

"Relax, Draco."

He turned on Harry, face furious. "How the fuck am I supposed to relax when that fucker planted illicit substances in my lab? He obviously wants them found so I get thrown in prison!"

Harry placed a hand on his shoulder but Draco shrugged it off. "You’re not going to prison," Harry assured him.

"Oh, really? You mean the forensics team that you have to call out to the scene won’t notice? You know, those potions experts and scientists that are trained to detect such things will simply overlook it and say nothing?"

"Relax, Draco."

"Stop telling me to relax!"

"Fine," Harry said, resisting the urge to shake some sense into him. "Don’t relax." He pulled out his kit bag and expanded it to its regular size. "I’m going to start cataloguing the scene. You make sure there’s nothing else in here that doesn’t belong and let me know if anything’s missing." He then withdrew a camera and began taking photos and making notes. Once he was done all that, he withdrew evidence bags and placed all undamaged vials from the cabinet into them, labelling them with their location as he went. "Anything else here that doesn’t belong?"

Draco shook his head. "Not that I can see. And it looks like all my equipment is here, however damaged it may be. But as for the potions and ingredients, I can’t tell for sure what’s missing or damaged until I return everything to its original state. Then I can count everything."

Harry nodded and pointed to the evidence bags. "Tell me which of these aren’t yours."

Draco pointed to six different bags. "Those."

Harry nodded, wrote ‘Planted’ on each bag and numbered them one through six. Then he put the bags and his camera into his kit bag and sent the whole thing to his hotel room.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked.

"Protecting you."

"Are you insane? I can’t ask you to do that."

"You didn’t ask me to."

"Harry, no. You can’t."

"I just did."

"You can’t destroy evidence. You can’t ruin your career. I won’t let you." Harry’s shoulders shook as he tried not to laugh. "It’s not funny!"

Harry’s laughter subsided and he became serious. "I know it’s not funny. Rowle is trying to ruin your life. He did something stupid and may have fucked up."

"But Harry."

Harry held up a hand. "I’m not destroying anything. I took photographs of the scene and I collected the evidence. I will include everything in my report and the files. Eventually. But it won’t do anyone – least of all you – any good to have you thrown in prison. And I’m not wasting resources investigating you instead of real criminals."

"But you’ll get in –"

"I won’t be in any trouble. I’ve been given a great deal of latitude on this case, from the Minister and Head Auror directly. Their concerns remain. They were worried about the bias in the department against you, and this would only serve to cause a distraction. I’ll inform them of these developments and explain what I’m doing. And together we’ll decide where to have the contents of the vials analysed, and hopefully we can come up with something linking them to Rowle. I’ll also tell them that you volunteered the information about these potions and that you had ample time to dispose of them before I arrived, had they been yours. Okay?"

"So you’re not putting your career at risk for me."

"No, I’m not." Draco’s shoulders relaxed and Harry sent a Patronus to the forensics team. "But I would, you know."

"Yeah," Draco scowled. "That’s what I’m afraid of."



TBC

Title: Malicious Intent – Part 15
Author: sesheta_66
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 5K
Rating: Eventual NC-17
Summary: Harry’s world is upended when he’s asked to investigate a break-in and threats levied at Draco Malfoy. He’s never told anyone about their short-lived but intense relationship, and now, five years after it ended, doesn’t seem the time. He’s a professional, so he will investigate, find and arrest the culprit, and get on with his life. What else can he do?
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

To start at the beginning, click here.

Or to read at AO3, click here.



Malicious Intent – Part 15

After getting the update from Mac – no change in the situation at the house in Romford – Harry marched out of the Ministry, needing to walk off the anger still coiling in his gut before he Apparated anywhere. How dare Ron corner Harry like that, as though he were the wronged party! Fuck, Harry wanted to punch something. After a few blocks, he stopped clenching his fists and slowed to a normal pace. Taking a few deep breaths for good measure, he felt calm enough to Apparate.

Mac had been right: the wards were strong. But there didn’t seem to be any complicated spells at work – just your run of the mill wards to keep intruders out and to warn of any breach. Harry was able to first ascertain no one was present, then set his own concealed alarm around the property without disturbing the existing wards. He added to that a handy little tracker spell that would attach itself surreptitiously to anyone crossing the perimeter of his alarm spell. Satisfied with his work, and with nothing else to do but wait, he returned to the hotel to get some work done.

He gave it up as a lost cause about an hour later. His mind kept going back to his conversation with Ron and he quickly got himself worked up all over again. He could have gone to the office to nudge along some of his other cases, but he didn’t want to risk running into Ron again, not while he was this angry. He opted instead to return home, knowing that, even if she hadn’t moved out yet, Ginny would be at work.

When he arrived, he walked through the place, noting missing items here and there – Ginny’s things that had, for a time, become a part of their collective things. On the surface, it appeared that she’d taken him at his word and had removed all of her belongings. But, recalling his conversation with Draco the evening before, he thought about how she might try to manipulate the situation. He cast a few spells to detect anything belonging to her and, sure enough, several items he knew to be important to her were tucked away in different places throughout the house.

Not that he wanted to think of Ginny as manipulative, but Harry acknowledged the logic in Draco’s assessment of her. She may have legitimately missed packing those items, but it did strike Harry as odd that she’d only left behind things she would most certainly want to take with her. And it didn’t escape his notice that they weren’t placed in the most intuitive places, but rather in places out of sight, where Harry wouldn’t see them right away.

He summoned all of her remaining things and placed them in a box. Not sure of where she was staying, and not sure if she’d even told her parents yet, he didn’t want to send the box on to the Burrow. Likewise, he didn’t think it appropriate to send it by owl, potentially raising questions when a box of her own things got delivered to her wherever she happened to be at the time. Instead, he scribbled out a note to her.

Ginny,

I’m back home now and noticed that you left some of your things behind. I’ve gathered them in a box for you. If I recall correctly, your schedule has you out of town until the day after tomorrow. You can drop by that evening to collect the box (Floo and wards remain open to you) or, if you’d prefer, I can send it along to the Burrow or wherever you will be staying.

I’ll wait for your reply – Harry.

That done, Harry cleaned up a bit, had a late lunch and gathered a few more things to take back to the hotel. Ginny’s reply came just as he’d finished packing his bag.

Harry,

I must have missed them in my rush to pack. I’ll come by in two days, around 7pm.

G.

He rolled his eyes at the jibe and tossed the note on top of the box. He marked it with her name and left it near the fireplace, in case she decided to come by earlier. Then he set monitoring spells on the house, picked up his bag, and Apparated back to the hotel room.

The rest of the day was more productive and by five o’clock, he figured the way would be clear for him to return to his office to collect his other files. He reasoned that he’d get far more work done at the hotel – at least for a few more days – where he didn’t need to come into contact with Ron again. He needed to focus and be ready to respond the moment his tracking spell was activated.

An hour or so after he’d picked up his files at the Ministry – with no unfortunate run-ins, thank Merlin – Harry had just set aside his work for the day and was contemplating food – some shepherd’s pie and a pint wouldn’t go amiss – when a loud crack interrupted his thoughts.

"Oh," Draco said. "Sorry for interrupting."

"Hey." Harry couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face. He was pleased for the company. Working out of the hotel had its advantages – privacy and no interruptions topping the list – but there was something to be said for having human contact. And, well, it was Draco. He quickly dismissed that train of thought, not willing to delve into his own motivations. "No worries. I’ve just finished." He nodded towards the files he’d just shoved aside.

"I see." Draco looked from the files back to Harry, fidgeting where he stood. "I thought you’d have returned home by now."

Harry ran his hand over the back of his neck and gave a sheepish grin. "Yeah, well I heard what you said and did a sweep of the house." Draco raised his brows, an ’Oh, really?’ hanging silently between them. Harry nodded. "She’d left a handful of things tucked away in different places."

Draco snorted. "Ah, the perfect excuse to come back, again and again, opening the door for her to appeal to your senses ... or whatever."

"Yeah, so I packed up all her things in a box and sent her an owl to come get it. She’s out of town right now, so she should drop by in a couple of days, but ... well, I think I’ll just stay here until she’s taken her stuff."

Draco smirked. "You know, I think I underestimated you."

Harry grinned in response. "People always do."

"Indeed," Draco said. After a few beats of silence, he said, "Okay, I’ll get out of your hair, then. I didn’t mean to intrude. I just –"

"No, I don’t mind. Stick around for a bit."

Draco hesitated before glancing back at the files. "Oh, do you have an update on the case?"

"Not really, no." He ran his hands through his hair, a habit he had when his impatience got the better of him. "I went by the house and set some tracking and monitoring spells for now. I didn’t want to risk tripping their wards or otherwise alerting them to my presence, and the fact that we’d traced their transmissions, so I didn’t go inside. Now it’s just wait and see."

"Oh." Draco gave him a curious look. "I’m fine going back home. You don’t need to –"

"No, it’s fine. I’d like the company, actually."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." Harry knew it was foolish, that he was playing with fire. He was working on Draco’s case. He needed to keep professional distance. But – despite their past and all the baggage that came with it – he’d quickly become used to Draco’s company. And – discounting the fact that his emotions had been in a constant state of upheaval since he’d come back into Harry’s life – on the most part, Harry had enjoyed spending time with Draco over the past week.

Draco gave a tentative smile. "Alright then." He went to the counter. "Tea?"

"Maybe later." Throwing caution to the wind, Harry said, "I think I’d rather have a beer right now, if you’re up for it."

"Oh. Um, okay. Sure. Did you want to go downstairs?"

Harry shook his head and got up. "Not really. I picked some up on the way over." He pulled two out of the fridge and – noting that they weren’t quite cold enough – he popped the tops, cast a chilling spell on them and passed one to Draco. "Here’s to the end of a complete train wreck of a day." He clinked his bottle against Draco’s and took a long pull, acutely aware of Draco’s eyes on him. "Ah, that’s good."

Draco sipped his in his usual, far more refined way. "So. Bad day?"

Harry took another sip, savouring the cool slide of it down his throat. Fuck, but he needed this. "Ron’s back." He didn’t elaborate.

"Ah. I take it you confronted him?"

Harry laughed and took another sip. "Nope. He confronted me, if you can believe it." He finished his beer in near-record time and got up for another.

Draco raised his brow and watched him exchange his empty bottle for a fresh one. "I’m not sure I heard that correctly. Weasley confronted you about what, exactly?" He watched as Harry opened, chilled and drank from his second beer. "No, wait. Don’t tell me. He accused you of seeing me behind his sister’s back?"

Harry choked a little on his beer. Draco sniggered as Harry coughed and spluttered until he got himself under control and could breathe again. "Shit, I hadn’t thought about that possibility." Draco rolled his eyes. "No, it was nothing like that. He just gave me shit for going to Hermione."

"Ah. Well, there’s something to be said for turning things around. Accuse the other person of wrongdoing so you can deflect from your own misdeeds."

Harry put his bottle on the table and sat down. "Yeah, well, I was having none of that."

"That’s good to hear."

"Yeah, he accosted me in an elevator, crowded me into the corner and loomed over me."

"Menacingly, no doubt." Contempt oozed from his words.

Harry snorted. "Well, he tried. Anyway, I told him to go give Ginny shit instead, since she’s the one that went to his wife."

Draco grinned as he sipped his beer. "And I’m sure you were perfectly calm, cool and polite as you were doing this?"

Harry coughed. "Well, no. I was pissed off actually." Draco smirked. "But!" Harry held his beer aloft. "I did not punch him in the face."

Draco’s face fell. "Pity."

Harry shrugged. "I was at work. I didn’t fancy getting sacked over that."

"Fair enough."

"I did, however, tell him that we’d talk, but the office wasn’t the place to do it."

"Hmm." Draco watched Harry over his bottle as he took a long draw. "So that was it?"

Harry’s face flushed as he remembered his threat to Ron. "Er, not exactly."

Draco sat forward, curiosity clearly piqued. "Do tell."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck and avoided Draco’s eyes. "Well, I sort of told him not to push me, that he was lucky I wasn’t going to report him, and that he should rememberImhissuperiorofficer." He coughed.

Draco burst out laughing. "You didn’t!"

Warmth ran up Harry’s neck to his face and he groaned. "I did."

"That’s fucking brilliant!" Draco clinked their bottles and finished off his beer, chuckling all the while. "Oh, I wish I had been there!"

Harry, embarrassed but pleased that Draco wasn’t mocking him for pulling rank, let his head flop onto his arms. "I can’t believe I said that," he mumbled into the table.

Draco got himself another beer. "I can’t believe you didn’t deck him," he countered. "He got off lucky, if you ask me."

Harry lifted his head. "You think so?"

"Fuck, yeah." He sat down and his amusement turned into a scowl. "And don’t you dare apologise to him. Or let him off the hook."

Harry slid his bottle from hand to hand, recalling the images in the Pensieve. "No chance of that." He might feel like a bit of a tit for pulling rank, but there was no way in hell he was letting Ron or Ginny off the hook for what they’d done. "I won’t be forgetting that memory you showed me anytime soon."

Draco slammed his bottle onto the table. "The Pensieve!" And he got up.

"What?" Harry scrambled to keep up with his thought process as he watched Draco cross the room.

Soon enough, Draco had the Pensieve set up on the table and was waving his hands at Harry. "Go on, then. I want to see what happened." Ah, that was what he meant. Harry chuckled as Draco looked positively set to burst with glee. And, really, how could Harry resist that?

"Alright," he said, pulling out his wand. "But I feel a bit of an idiot."

"Oh, never mind that." Draco’s eyes twinkled now. "I have got to see this."

Bemused, Harry drew the strand of memory from his temple and placed it into the basin. "There you go. Have at it."

"Oh, no," Draco said, grabbing onto Harry’s arm. "You’re coming with me!"

And Harry felt himself fall into the elevator just as the door was about to close. Sure enough, Ron’s arm came out to stop the doors closing. As Harry watched, Ron crowded him into the corner. At the time, he’d been too busy controlling his own anger to register just how aggressive Ron had been.

"He’s got balls; I’ll give him that," Draco said.

And then Harry turned it around on him, marching him back against the opposite wall, getting in his face. He felt Draco shudder beside him and turned to see his eyes glazed over in a familiar look that went right to Harry’s groin. Fuck. Draco hadn’t released his arm and he was now gripping it tighter than ever as he watched Harry dress down his friend. Harry was more interested in Draco’s reaction than reliving the memory himself. In fact, watching Draco get turned on was having pretty much the same effect on Harry. He bit his lip to hold back a moan.

He looked away from Draco just as his memory self said, "When we’re at work, I am your superior. Don’t ever forget that." Harry put his hand up to his face, embarrassment overwhelming him again, as they were drawn out of the Pensieve.

Draco released his arm and reached for his beer. Harry watched the bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he drank the rest of it down, avoiding eye contact with Harry. Harry’s body thrummed with desire, but before he did something incredibly stupid, he marched over to the fridge and took out two more beers. Not that his judgement around Draco would be any better with more alcohol, but he did need to calm his racing heart. This time, when he opened the bottle, he took a small sip. Enough to keep his hands and mouth occupied so they wouldn’t take it upon themselves to act on whatever his cock was thinking. Because it had perked up and Harry’s brain was struggling to focus.

After a few silent, awkward moments, Harry chanced looking at something besides the label on his beer. He was relieved to see that Draco had recovered his composure, but then his mind went back to the memory itself. "So I didn’t sound like too big an arse?"

Draco turned his head sharply and gave Harry a stern look. "Are you kidding? He deserved all that and more. I trust you plan on dishing out more like that when next you see him."

Harry’s face broke into a wide smile, embarrassment fading. "Definitely."

Draco nodded, seemingly satisfied with Harry’s response. Harry’s stomach – now no longer tense with desire – chose that moment to grumble loudly and Draco sniggered. "Hungry?"

"Er, yeah, I am. I was about to grab some supper when you arrived."

"But you didn’t want to be rude and instead invited me to stay." He rolled his eyes. "Typical."

"Actually," Harry said, holding Draco’s gaze, "I was rather pleased that you popped in and selfishly invited you to keep me company. Fortunately, you took pity on me and stayed."

"Oh, well then." Draco stood up, his cheeks turning pink. "In that case, give me a minute." He pulled out his wand. "I’ll be right back."

With a crack he was gone. A few minutes later, he returned, placing a bag on the table. He waved his wand to clear away Harry’s files, levitating them over to a smaller table. He then withdrew a tray from the bag, put it in the centre of the table and removed the cover with a flourish to reveal a platter laden with steaming food fit for a king. "Dinner is served." Another flick of his wand and a plate, cutlery and napkin appeared in front of Harry.

Harry blinked, trying to process the absurdity of the situation. He’d been sitting in a modest hotel room having a beer with his ex one minute, having contemplated shepherd’s pie not long ago, and the next minute he was being served a gourmet meal, courtesy of the same ex. "You brought me dinner?"

Draco shrugged. "Mother sent over a bloody feast for me – and another dozen guests, I’d wager – and I had leftovers. Seemed like a good idea."

Harry was having difficulty picturing Narcissa bustling around the kitchen like Molly. "Your mother sent you food?"

He rolled his eyes. "After we had supper last night, she insisted. Said something about me being far too pale and questioned if I was eating properly." Harry quietly agreed with Narcissa’s assessment and was pleased she’d done that for Draco, even though he’d not told her what was going on. "So tonight one of the house elves showed up with food to last me a week."

Ah, house elves made much more sense than Narcissa in a kitchen. "Remind me to thank her next time I see her."

Draco raised a brow in response. Harry wasn’t sure why he’d said that – it’s not like he’d have occasion to see Narcissa – but he meant it. The food smelled incredible. And just when he was getting over the fact that Draco had brought him supper, he surprised Harry by pulling a bottle of Merlot from his robes. "And, since this is not the sort of meal one consumes with a beer, I took the liberty of selecting a wine to go with it." Then he glared at Harry as though daring him to argue.

Harry held up his hands in defeat. "Far be it for me to challenge your culinary prowess."

Draco nodded. "Too right you are, Potter." He opened the bottle, conjured a couple of wine glasses, and poured them each a generous serving. He handed Harry one and raised his own. "To ending the day on a better note than it began."

Harry raised his glass to meet Draco’s. "I’ll drink to that." He sipped the wine, allowing the rich flavour to settle on his tongue for a bit before swallowing with a soft moan. "That’s really good."

Draco cleared his throat. "I nicked it from the Manor cellar a while back. Thought you could use a decent vintage after the day you’ve had." Before Harry could react, Draco motioned to the food. "Go on then."

Harry put down his glass and helped himself to a good helping of everything – veal, some fancy potato florette things, and a colourful mix of fancy looking vegetables. When he noticed Draco hadn’t taken any – or conjured a plate for himself – he asked, "Aren’t you going to join me?"

Draco raised his glass. "I’m good. I’ve already eaten." At Harry’s dubious look, he motioned to the bag, which still had what looked like a box inside. "But I’ll not say no to a second helping of the torte once you get to it."

Harry shrugged and tucked in. "Suit yourself." When the veal practically melted in his mouth, his eyes shut to better savour the flavour and he let out a soft moan. Draco coughed. "Sorry," Harry said, blinking open his eyes and catching an amused grin on Draco’s face. "It’s just that this ... well, it’s delicious. Like ... really amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever had veal this good before."

Draco smiled rather smugly. "Glad you’re enjoying it."

"So, since you’re not eating, tell me what you’ve been up to."

He shrugged. "I just went to work and –"

"No, I mean what you’ve been doing for the past five years. What made you decide to make a career of potions? How did you get into the business after school?"

Draco stiffened and looked warily at him. "Why?"

Harry had a mouthful of food, so he put down his fork and held up his hand as he swallowed. "I’m off duty. This isn’t Auror me asking, it’s just me, a friend, asking."

Draco’s eyes widened. "Friend?"

"We used to be friends, right?"

Draco relaxed but his expression remained cool. "We haven’t been that for a long time."

Harry didn’t resume eating. Instead, he took a sip of wine and studied Draco. "No, we haven’t. But ..."

"But what?" Draco asked, his voice carrying both accusation and hope.

"But I’d like to think that maybe ... well, maybe we can get past this and –" He studied his glass, not sure how to say what he was thinking.

"And?"

"We’ve both said things we didn’t mean, yeah?" Draco nodded. "And we both, apparently, still have feelings for each other."

Draco shook his head. "No, Harry, that’s not why I told you about ... why I showed you ... I don’t –"

Harry stopped him there. "I didn’t mean to suggest anything more. I just meant that, if we don’t actually hate each other, and we enjoy each other’s company ..."

Draco snorted. "Oh, yes, we’ve been getting on famously."

Harry grinned. "Fair enough. But we are right now."

Draco’s lip twitched and he tried to hide it behind his glass. "Perhaps."

"So who’s to say we can’t be friends?"

"But you’re the Auror looking into my case."

"True. But eventually I won’t be."

"I don’t know."

Harry decided not to push the issue. "Either way, I was only asking out of curiosity. Not for work. Not for any official record. Not to inform the Ministry or anyone working there. I’d just like to know. Do you like what you do? Are you glad you made the choices you did? Is your life living up to your expectations?"

Draco seemed to take him at his word and he fully relaxed. "Okay, okay. I believe you."

Harry smiled and resumed eating.

"Where to start? After we ... well, after that summer, I opted not to return to Hogwarts, but you already knew that, I’m sure. I studied for my NEWTs from home and scheduled my exams during the first session made available that winter. I did very well – nothing below an E – but wasn’t able to get work for some time. As you can imagine, not many people were pleased with the idea of hiring a former Death Eater." All this was said barely taking a breath.

He took a healthy sip of his wine before continuing. "Anyway, eventually I stumbled into an apothecary just outside of Wiltshire and the proprietor took me on as an apprentice." He smiled and Harry could practically feel his relief. "He’d seen my results – NEWT grades are routinely posted to hiring boards as a matter of course – and didn’t give a toss about my family’s reputation. He was quite up front about it, as was I. He said that he believed everyone deserves a second chance, and that he knew more than a little bit about following in his father’s misguided footsteps – not that he ever explained that in detail. But whatever his past, he wouldn’t hold me accountable for Lucius’ bad choices. My own, yes, so he hired me under strict conditions. I agreed and that was that. He never rubbed my nose in things or reminded me of my past. I worked diligently and relentlessly and learned everything I could from him. In return, he was dedicated to my education and was never hesitant to dole out praise or criticism, as warranted."

Harry smiled. "He sounds like a great guy."

"He was."

"Was?"

Draco gave a wistful smile. "He passed a couple of years ago. That’s when I moved to London. Thanks to my work with Bernard, I’d gained a solid reputation for myself – a damn sight better than the one I’d had before – and was able to sell some of my potions to cover my costs, and before long I’d found steady work that still affords me the time to brew my own potions on the side."

Harry finished his food and put down his fork. "From what I’ve heard, your potions are top notch. In demand all over Europe."

Draco’s face lit up. "They are, though I’m surprised you’d heard about that."

Harry shrugged and took another sip of the wine. "We’ve had some illegal potions cases over the years. Your name’s come up a number of times – always related to quality product. You’ve made quite a name for yourself."

"I’ve worked hard."

Harry smiled. "Well, it’s paid off." He finished his glass and Draco topped up their glasses with the last of the bottle. Harry lifted his glass in thanks and added, "So I take it you enjoy your work?"

Draco sipped from his own wine, nodded and smiled again. Harry had missed that smile, the one that lit up his eyes along with the rest of his face. The one Harry had only ever seen from him a couple of times when they’d been at school together, during moments he’d watched Draco with his friends. The one that had been missing in their sixth year, despite Harry’s near obsession with watching his every move. The one that he hadn’t seen again until after the war. The one he’d finally seen directed at him during their short time together. And now, here it was again, and Harry’s chest ached at the lost moments from the past five years.

"I do. I’d always been good at potions, but I hadn’t really developed a passion for it until I started working with Bernard. I remember him talking about it as if it were an art form. Potions are powerful and beautiful – magical, yes, but so much more. They give the creator the ability to heal, to harm, to exact pain or pleasure, to save or end life, and so much more." His eyes lit up and his voice became energised as he continued. "Someone brewing a potion can simply replicate what others have done before them – it’s a matter of following instructions, which any competent witch or wizard can do – or they can put a little of themselves into what they create, transcending the mere chemistry and base magic to make something more."

Harry grinned at his enthusiasm, but before he could say anything, Draco scowled. "What?"

Harry grinned wider. "You really love what you do, don’t you?" Draco nodded. "It shows." He clinked his glass against Draco’s. "It looks good on you."

Draco’s cheeks turned pink and his lips twitched. "Thank you. And I do love my work."

"You know," Harry said, "this Bernard sounds a lot like Snape." Draco frowned. "I mean how he was about potions. Remember our first class? He went on about how potions were the most powerful of magic, that you could even put a stopper in death."

"You remember that?" Draco looked at him curiously. "I’m surprised you remember anything from his classes."

Harry snorted. "I remember pretty much everything." At Draco’s dubious look, he added, "Every annoying, frustrating and embarrassing part."

Draco laughed. "Those moments got me through the rest of my classes, you know." Harry glared. "It was quite comforting to have at least someone on staff that didn’t fawn all over the Boy Who Lived."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Malfoy." Draco continued to do just that. "So glad my humiliation was able to bring such joy."

"Good times." He lifted his glass and took a long sip. "Good times."

"Yeah, well ... Snape may have been great with potions, and I might have been able to learn a lot from him, but his inability to see me as anything but my father – and treat me accordingly – meant I was always on guard around him. And for someone who’d never even known magic was real before Hogwarts, it wasn’t exactly the best way to learn."

"No doubt." He’d stopped laughing now, but a wistful grin remained. "What was the deal with him and your father? You never said."

Harry shrugged. "Snape was in love with my mother, since they’d been kids, even before Hogwarts." Draco’s mouth fell open. "And my dad was a bit of a dick to him in school. He and my godfather Sirius both. Snape despised them both, but that special, down to the core hatred, he reserved for the man that was to marry Lily. Then they had me and Voldemort killed my parents a year later. Snape had tried to spare my mother, but ..."

Draco’s face had transformed from curiosity to surprise to disbelief. "Snape tried to save her?"

Harry nodded. "It’s a long story, but the condensed version is that Snape was the one to tell Voldemort about the prophecy but he hadn’t known it was about me. Once he knew it was Lily’s baby that was the subject, he begged Voldemort not to kill my mum. He was fine with him killing my dad and me, but he wanted my mother spared."

"Holy shit."

"Mmm. But Voldemort killed her too. She died to save me, and – between that and my being James Potter’s son – Snape could never forgive me for that. Or himself, for that matter."

"So that’s why he switched sides, because Voldemort killed your mother?"

Harry nodded. "But when he saw me – looking very much like my dad – he directed that hatred of my dad to the one who looked just like him."

"You."

Harry nodded. "Me."

"That explains so much."

"Yeah, that’s what I thought, too."

Draco swirled the wine in his glass and stared at it. "So that’s why you were suddenly good at potions in sixth year? Because Snape was no longer your teacher?"

"Oh, hell no." Harry snorted. "I’m alright at potions now – good enough to get me through Auror training – but that’s the extent of it." At Draco’s raised brow, he said, "I’ll let you in on my secret from sixth year some other time."

Draco looked poised to argue, but relented. "I’ll hold you to that."

Harry drained the last of his wine. "So ... you said something about a torte?"

Draco smiled and finished his own wine. "I did indeed." He removed a box from the bag he’d brought. "Why don’t you cut a couple of pieces for us while I make some tea?"

They ate their cake in companionable silence and when they were done, Harry said, "That may have been the best meal I’ve ever had. Thanks."

"You’re welcome." He watched Harry as he sipped his tea. "But while I’ll agree that this was a very good meal, if this was the best you’ve ever had, I’d say that clearly you’ve missed out on some of the finer things in life."

"Apparently I have. Who knew?"

Draco frowned. "You’re a wealthy man, Harry. You do know this, right?"

Harry nodded, though even now he found that fact rather uncomfortable.

His discomfort must have shown because Draco chuckled. "You can afford to expand your horizons, try more things." Harry nodded again. "There’s a whole world of culinary experiences just waiting for you."

Harry thought about a world of other experiences that might also await him. "Maybe you’ll have to show me sometime."

Draco smiled around his cup as he sipped his tea. "Maybe I will."


Continued in Part 16

Title: Malicious Intent – Part 13
Author: sesheta_66
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 3.5K
Rating: Eventual NC-17
Warning: none
Summary: Harry’s world is upended when he’s asked to investigate a break-in and threats levied at Draco Malfoy. He’s never told anyone about their short-lived but intense relationship, and now, five years after it ended, doesn’t seem the time. He’s a professional, so he will investigate, find and arrest the culprit, and get on with his life. What else can he do?
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

To start at the beginning, click here.

Or to read at AO3, click here.



Malicious Intent – Part 13

The next morning, when he arrived at the Ministry, Harry went directly to the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, making a beeline for the Improper Use of Magic Office. He’d decided it was time to involve others in the case, particularly if he wanted to track down Rowle quickly. He didn’t want to give him time to get away while Harry figured out how to narrow down his search.

"Auror Potter," Brian MacInness, a harried but cheerful gentleman in his fifties, greeted him. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Harry smiled. "Hi, Mac. I was hoping you could help me on a case."

"At your disposal," he said. "What can I do for you?"

Harry decided he wouldn’t mention Draco unless necessary. Mac was never one to question Harry’s requests too closely, so he didn’t think it would come to that. "I’m wondering if you can tell me about magical occurrences in Romford." At Mac’s frown, he added, "Any chance you already have surveillance in the area? Considering it’s a primarily Muggle suburb, I thought you might. It could really save me some time."

He winked in response. "We do, indeed. Not sure what help it’ll be, but I can check the records. How far back to you need?"

"That’d be great," Harry said. "I’m looking for any significant changes over the last –" He thought about how long the devices had been at Draco’s and added a couple of months as a buffer "– at least eight months. Specifically changes in the amount of magic either cast in the area or sent to the area."

"Sent to?"

"Yeah. We’ve found some surveillance equipment that transmitted information to the general vicinity, but I’m trying to narrow it down to a particular residence. I’m guessing it’d be in the magical neighbourhood near Raphael Park, but if you could check all of Romford, I’d appreciate it."

"Sure thing. When do you need it by?"

"Yesterday?" Harry asked hopefully. Mac rolled his eyes. "I know, we always ask for rush jobs, but in this case, someone’s being threatened and I have no way of knowing when the suspect or suspects will bolt, likely as soon as they figure out their bugs have been removed. So the sooner, the better." Harry considered how much to disclose while Mac pulled some files. He decided to err on the side of Draco’s safety. "Keep this to yourself, but it’s a Death Eater long presumed dead, and I’d like to see him locked up for good this time."

His eyes widened. "Of course, Harry. I should have something for you by the end of the day."

Harry grinned. Nothing like the threat of a Voldemort sycophant to light a fire under someone. "Thanks. I really appreciate it."

"Should I send the report to your office?"

Harry wondered where he’d be when the report came in. Most likely at the hotel. "I’ve got some work to do outside the office today. How about you just send me an owl and I’ll come to pick it up directly? I don’t want something like that sitting on my desk."

"No problem. I’ll get right on it."

"Cheers."

Harry stifled a grin as he watched the usually subdued Mac positively twitching in his seat at the prospect of helping with a case involving a Death Eater.

Back in his office, Harry dealt with a few messages and some follow up on two of his pending cases. Ron’s team still hadn’t returned from Yorkshire, though he suspected they’d be back soon. Inwardly, he was grateful. He didn’t fancy the fallout with his friend any more than he’d enjoyed the confrontation with Ginny. He’d have plenty of time to deal with that after Draco’s case was closed. Or at least after today.

Forcing himself not to return to the Improper Use of Magic Office, knowing Mac would be on the case and would let him know as soon as he found anything, Harry headed back to the hotel to work on the case undisturbed.

When an owl tapped on the window about an hour after he’d settled in, Harry looked up hopefully, only to recognise Pig. He opened the window and the ever-excitable ball of feathers zoomed around the room until Harry was able to snatch him mid-air. "Come on, you. It’s just a hotel room. Nothing to get that stirred up about."

He removed the scroll and opened it. He smiled.

Harry, feel like meeting up for supper at the Leaky? Say seven o’clock? Ron’s still away and I thought we could catch up. Give response to Pig. Love, Hermione.

He replied in the affirmative and got back to work feeling a bit more cheerful. He and Hermione hadn’t had a chance to talk on their own since last Christmas when they’d stolen a few moments at the annual Weasley Christmas at the Burrow. It’d be nice to chat.

A few hours later, Harry tossed aside the papers he’d been staring at, bleary-eyed, for the past ten minutes. Something was niggling at the back of his mind and he’d become distracted. Though there’d been no arrangement between them for Draco to return, and there weren’t any outstanding questions he needed to talk to him about, Harry had somehow expected him to show up. In a matter of a few days, he’d grown accustomed to seeing Draco. Looked forward it, despite the emotional upheaval caused by their close proximity.

As he replayed yesterday’s intensely charged conversation, he wondered if he’d been too harsh. He’d only wanted to be sure of Draco’s motivation. That and, when it came down to it, Harry’d had all that bottled up inside for five years. He supposed it was a lucky thing he hadn’t blurted all that out on day one. But he hadn’t meant to throw Draco’s words back in his face, no matter how much they still stung.

In the bright light of day, he realised that Draco had actually poured his heart out to Harry. He’d laid himself bare and had to have been vulnerable. Something Draco hated to be, fought against always. Add to that the new-found knowledge of what had prompted that conversation all those years ago, and Harry began to feel like a right shit.

As he was about to send a message to Draco telling him just that, another tap came at the window. He let the owl in and found a message from Mac. Forgetting everything else, he Apparated to the Ministry, hoping that this might be the break he needed in the case.

It was and it wasn’t. Mac had narrowed down some peculiar activity to a particular residence. He hadn’t taken note of it right away, because it wasn’t a particularly large wave of magic, but after finding no such surge in magical activity, he went back to study the records with a closer eye.

"This pattern started about six months ago at one house. See this?" He pointed to a page that showed a line graph, one that was mainly flat, with blips where the line shot up and then back down again every so often. "See how it sits at a low level?" Harry nodded. "That’s just ambient magic – keeping the wards up, interior climate at a constant level, that sort of thing. But then look at these." He pointed to peaks in the line where there’d been increases in magic.

Harry studied them. "They look almost rhythmic."

Mac grinned and nodded. "Exactly. That’s what caught my eye. There’s nothing random about it. In fact, there seems to be nothing going on for a two-week period, then boom, a surge of magic – incoming, by the way – and then nothing for another two weeks. Then, like clockwork, incoming magic, then nothing."

"What do you think that means?"

"My best guess is that this place is not being lived in. There’d be a lot more magic, and it’d fluctuate whenever spells were cast. Looks to me like it’s set up as a place to receive those signals you were talking about, but nothing else."

"So that if someone – the Aurors, for instance – discovered the transmissions, the person’s whereabouts would remain concealed, because they weren’t actually there."

"That sounds about right," Mac agreed.

Harry looked at the last date of transmission, and sure enough it was the same day his trace had detected the transmission from Draco’s flat. That gave him less than two weeks before the next one. "How strong do you figure the wards are, based on the level of ambient magic in place?"

"Strong," he said. "But not Auror-level strong, if that’s any help."

Harry nodded. "It is. Thanks."

"Anytime." He flipped to the last page and pointed at an address. "That’s the place." Harry tapped it with his finger and committed it to memory. Mac handed over his report. "Good luck, and you’ll let me know when you catch the bastard, yeah?"

"You’ll be one of the first," Harry assured him. "Now go home; it’s late."

Mac chuckled. "Will do. But you knew I couldn’t leave without finishing this."

"Yeah, you rock, Mac."

"Tell my boss that."

Harry tucked away the report and ran from the room, determined to share the news with Draco. He called over his shoulder, "You can count on it."

He took out the coin and sent Draco a message. News on the case. Need to talk.

By the time he got back to the hotel, he only had a quarter of an hour before he had to leave for his dinner with Hermione. He spent the time planning his strategy to catch Rowle. He needed to stake out the place, scan the wards and try to gain entry. He ruled out going for a warrant, not with Draco’s life at risk and the delays he knew would face him in order to get one. If he could get one. The evidence was clear to Harry, but did not amount to anything that could justify a warrant. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission. And when it came to a Death Eater, it didn’t even matter if this case fell apart; Rowle would be returned to Azkaban for life based on prior crimes. It was a win-win in Harry’s book.

He’d need to set his own trap, undetected, to catch anyone entering the place. He suspected Rowle might not show up himself, so Harry needed to attach a tracking charm to whomever entered, then follow them – hopefully right to Rowle.

When it was time to leave and he’d not heard back from Draco, he got himself ready and made his way to the Leaky. He’d have to bring Draco up to speed later.

He met Hermione outside the pub and when they went in, he placed their drinks order while she grabbed a table in back. After taking his order, the bartender motioned him on ahead to the table. "Replacing the keg. Just about done, but it’ll be a couple of minutes more. I’ll have Kathie bring the drinks round as soon as we’re done."

"Cheers," Harry said and he made his way to the table. As he approached, the busboy deposited two glasses of water, cutlery and napkins and moved to the next table to pick up the empty glasses left behind. "They’ll bring the drinks over," Harry told Hermione.

"Sounds good." No sooner did he get his bum in his seat than she said, "So, I thought it best to meet on neutral ground."

"What?" Harry laughed. "Why would we need neutral ground?"

She fidgeted in her seat, turning her fork over in her hand before putting it down and looking up at Harry. "Well, Ron’s away right now, but could come home at any minute." She bit her bottom lip, then said, "And I know that you’re not staying at home right now."

"How did you –?" But of course he knew. "Never mind. Ginny."

"Yes, Ginny. She came by to see me last night." She looked at Harry as if to see into his mind. He Occluded himself, just in case. "She was a right mess."

Harry shrugged, then picked up his glass of water and took a sip. He could use that pint, damn it. "Was she?" He was going for indifferent but suspected he sounded angrier than he’d hoped.

Hermione frowned. "Yes, she was." Her voice was harsh and came out rather louder than she’d expected, if her look of surprise was any indication. She cast a swift silencing charm and continued. "And I can’t say that I blame her." She glared at Harry, but he said nothing. Anger was beginning to swirl around in his gut and he needed a moment before he tried to speak. "What were you thinking, Harry? After all this time, demanding that she get out? And in two days!" She looked disgusted. Still he said nothing. He waited for her to continue, so he could get a fuller picture of precisely what Ginny had told her.

She picked up her napkin and started twisting it in her hands. When she realised what she was doing, she tossed it onto the table. "I blame myself, you know."

"What?" he said. "How did you work that out?" Had she known all along what Ginny and Ron had done? Had she been a part of it? Planned it? Helped them keep it from him?

She rolled her eyes as though he’d said something incredibly stupid. "I’m the one that told her to tell you how she felt. That she wanted to get married. I never expected you would throw her out for that." She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at Harry.

Thankfully, the waitress came over with their drinks and Hermione ended the charm. "Sorry for the wait. Can I get you anything else?" Harry smiled and took a long pull of his beer, debating ordering another right then.

"Not right now, thank you," Hermione said, plastering on a smile. She took a perfunctory sip of her wine and Kathie left.

"Well?" she said, glaring daggers at Harry. He raised his brows and she said, "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Harry sat back and took another long draw from his pint, letting it slide down his throat and cool him down slightly before answering her. He placed it down carefully and cast a fresh silencing charm over their table. He leaned forward and smiled. "What precisely did Ginny say to you? What is it that I’m supposed to have done that has you this riled with me?"

Hermione scowled. She was used to getting answers, not questions thrown back at her. "She said that you’d planned a nice dinner at home for the two of you and that you were going to talk about wedding plans afterwards."

He showed his surprise before reaching for his glass once more. He sipped it slowly this time, then put it back down. "Funny, I don’t remember saying anything about wedding plans."

Hermione looked confused. "But Ginny said –"

"Yes, I have an idea of what she might have said. In truth, she mentioned marriage after visiting with you. What you might not know is that we’d been having ... issues already and the last thing on my mind was getting married. Which I told her. I only agreed to talk the next day." Her brows furrowed as she digested that bit of news. "What else did she say?"

She picked up her glass and stared into it. Harry recognised this as her ‘going over a conversation in her head’ look. He let her work through it. "Well, she burst into tears at that point. Then said something about you saying awful things to her and something about work and something else about her not knowing you and then you told her to get out and you left."

Harry barked out a laugh, drained his glass and motioned to the barkeep for another. "So let me get this straight," he said. "First, I was planning some romantic dinner as a prelude to a discussion of our forthcoming wedded bliss, is that right?" She fidgeted, but nodded. "Right, then out of nowhere I spewed off a bunch of horrible things, announced she didn’t know me and kicked her out of the house?"

"Yes, with only two days to move."

He nodded and took a fortifying breath. "So you, naturally, think I’m a right bastard."

"Well ..."

"So you’ve made up your mind about me, then. No point hearing my side."

She grabbed the napkin again. "I didn’t say that."

"No," Harry said, "but you certainly came at me, guns blazing."

"You haven’t denied kicking her out."

"No."

"And you’re not staying at the house right now."

"No."

"And you’re not getting married."

He laughed. "Oh, hell, no." Blessedly, Kathie brought his second beer. He dropped the spell, lifted his beer in a toast and thanked her, then erected the spell once more. He took a sip.

"Well?" she prodded.

"Well what?"

"What happened?"

He leaned forward across the table. "Are you sure you want to know?"

She frowned. "Of course I want to know. I care about both of you and I can’t believe it’s over, not after all this time."

Harry reached once more for his beer and took a slow sip, savouring the bitter taste. "Oh, it’s over. It’s definitely over."

"But why?"

"Let’s just say that – after I’d agreed to talk with Ginny – I found out some disturbing news." He hesitated but – knowing that Hermione’s determination would wear him down eventually – continued. "I don’t think you really want to know what happened."

"Why wouldn’t I?"

"Because it involves Ron, too."

She took a large sip of her wine at those words, then fixed her gaze on Harry. "Now I really want to know."

"I don’t think you do, but ..."

"Spit it out, Harry."

So he told her. Everything. He’d expected shock when he told her about his short-lived relationship with Draco, but she just smiled and said, "I always wondered."

That threw him. "Wondered what?"

She shrugged. "If the two of you would ever stop pulling each other’s pigtails long enough to see if there was anything there." The shock he’d expected from Hermione bloomed on his own face as his mouth fell open. She chuckled. "What? I always thought there was some serious chemistry going on there – well, at least from fifth year on. It’s just we were ... well, rather busy with other things for me to come right out and ask you. And with Draco’s father ... being who he was ..."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You really are far too smart for your own good."

She laughed and toasted him. "So, go on. Then what happened?"

"Ron and Ginny happened."

She narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"They went behind my back, to Draco, and told him to break things off with me. Told him he’d ruin my life, no one would ever hire me as an Auror, let alone anything more. They even suggested the Ministry might lock me up to prevent such a strong wizard – me – from being influenced by a Death Eater – him."

She laughed at that last bit. "I’d like to have seen them try that."

He shrugged. "Yeah, that was a bit far-fetched, but the rest resonated. It worked. He called things off, said it had never meant anything. Said he would dutifully marry a pureblood witch but ..." This part was hard to say, even now, even knowing now that he hadn’t meant it at the time. "But we could get together and fuck – on the side and in private – once in a while. You know, after he got married."

Hermione gasped. "He didn’t."

"He did." Harry took another pull of his pint and stared at the table. "He was very convincing."

"And you believed him."

He slid his glass from hand to hand. "Not at first, I didn’t. I mean, I had no idea why he’d said what he had, but as time went on and he didn’t contact me, I started to believe it. Realised that I’d been a complete idiot. I couldn’t trust my own instincts, started to wonder what sort of useless Auror I’d be if I couldn’t even see through something like that, from someone I’d spent years distrusting."

Hermione stopped his glass mid-slide and grabbed his hand. She squeezed. "I’m so sorry, Harry."

He looked up at her and knew at once she’d not known a thing before now. "Yeah, me too."

He felt raw, exposed under her gaze. He reached for the menus and thrust one into her hands. "We should order some food before I drink my supper and I can’t walk out of here."

She smiled and nodded. By the time Kathie returned to take their orders, Harry’d composed himself reasonably well and was able to enjoy the meal with his friend. He could face everything else tomorrow.


Continued in Part 14

Title: Malicious Intent – Part 11
Author: sesheta_66
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 4K
Rating: Eventual NC-17
Warning: none
Summary: Harry’s world is upended when he’s asked to investigate a break-in and threats levied at Draco Malfoy. He’s never told anyone about their short-lived but intense relationship, and now, five years after it ended, doesn’t seem the time. He’s a professional, so he will investigate, find and arrest the culprit, and get on with his life. What else can he do?
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

To start at the beginning, click here.

Or to read at AO3, click here.



Malicious Intent – Part 11

Harry arrived at home and collapsed onto the sofa, elbows resting on his legs and head in his hands. His entire body shook as he forced himself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. His stomach roiled but he swallowed down the urge to vomit. Betrayal clawed at him from his core.

He laughed harshly. Well, weren’t they a pair? He’d felt sorry for Draco after Lucius had betrayed him, had tried to control him. Lucius at least had never pretended to be anything but a bastard.

But Ron. And Ginny. They’d always – always – professed to be in Harry’s corner. They’d supposedly been disgusted with how others had deceived Harry, had tried to manipulate and control his life according to what they thought was best. The knife in his back twisted a little more. Dumbledore’s betrayal had hurt – as Snape had said, he’d spent Harry’s life preparing him for slaughter – but in the end, Harry had come to realise that not all was as it had seemed. Dumbledore hadn’t been preparing him for death so much as taking a calculated risk, hoping for, and indeed banking on, Harry’s survival. A small distinction for some, but since it had paid off, Harry had accepted it.

Ron had been disgusted by the Dursleys’ lies and appalled that they’d kept the truth from Harry his whole life. He’d also consistently and repeatedly said how much he’d wished he could have confronted Dumbledore and given him a piece of his mind. He could have – should have – done things another way. Should have trusted Harry with the knowledge of what needed to be done. Should have let Harry make that choice at the outset, not in the heat of the moment, in the middle of a war, while watching his friends dying around him. Ron had been furious, and although Harry understood why Dumbledore had done what he had, and had defended him to a point, Harry had also welcomed Ron’s indignation on his part. He’d felt that someone really cared about him unconditionally. Like a brother.

But now? God, he felt ill. Trying for some perspective, he reasoned that Ron hadn’t been throwing Harry’s life away, hadn’t manipulated him into a course of action to follow a predetermined path ... or had he? Had it been as he’d told Draco, that it was for Harry’s own good? Or had he manoeuvred things so that Harry and Ginny would end up together? Had he done it for Harry, for Ginny or for himself? Did it even matter?

And Ginny. Fucking hell, he felt used. Not once in the last five years had she even hinted that she knew he’d been involved with Draco. He thought back, trying to remember the precise time they’d started seeing each other again. He couldn’t pinpoint it. Things were all tied up in family. The Weasleys were his family. He’d been there so often, the lines had blurred. When had they gone from mutual grief and comfort over the death of Fred and so many others to something more? Harry now began to question every conversation they’d had during that time, to see if things had developed naturally or if every word, every touch, every action had been choreographed to lead to their eventual reconciliation as a couple.

Ginny had always been a strong, resourceful girl and had grown into a headstrong, determined woman. She’d learned at a young age, as the baby and only girl in the family, to work people and situations to her advantage. Is that what she’d done with Harry? Or had she simply been looking out for him? And again, did it matter?

He didn’t question their love for him. He didn’t – he wouldn’t – minimise his own feelings for them either. But this calculated, unrepentant attack on Draco was not something he could stand for. And their utter disregard for Harry’s own feelings rankled more than he would have thought possible. This wasn’t some small decision they’d taken away from him. This had been his life. He’d shut down completely and poured himself relentlessly into his work after Draco had ended it. Something that, funny enough, Ginny resented. But he’d needed to do it. He’d needed to prove himself worthy of at least some of the praise people had bestowed on him. Prove to himself he wasn’t so horrible a judge of character, despite having been duped by someone he should have been wary of. He’d turned inward and shut off much of the world since then.

And – he choked out a laugh at the irony of this – he’d resisted any sort of real commitment to Ginny, not able to trust himself to know if she, or anyone else for that matter, could ever really love him. Love him for him and not for his name or what he represented.

How had he not seen? How had he not known? He felt like an idiot.

Maybe he hadn’t worked things out, but perhaps a part of him had known something was off. Perhaps he hadn’t been completely closed off to love, but rather had been wary of what his relationship with Ginny meant. He’d never been all-in and maybe that’s why things had gone the way they had. Maybe that’s why they’d become little more than friends.

And until he’d seen Draco again, he’d been carrying on with his life, oblivious to what he was missing. He saw friends occasionally and – as Kingsley had pointed out numerous times – devoted nearly all of his waking hours to his job. He hadn’t given himself the time or space to figure out that he wasn’t happy at all. That he was coasting through life rather than living it.

His thoughts returned to the confrontation they’d had with Draco. How had they found out? He’d told no one. He wondered if Draco thought he had. If that had weighed in on his decision to cut things off with Harry.

He tried to be angry with Draco, too. After all, he hadn’t told Harry anything either. But, Harry realised, why would he have? He’d spent his life surrounded by people who manipulated each other, spoke in code, and rarely gave a straight answer. It wasn’t in his nature to be open and honest about his feelings, not if it left him vulnerable. It just wasn’t what a Slytherin would do. And, after years of outright animosity towards each other, he and Harry had only been together for a few months when they’d confronted him. What was a few months against a lifetime of self-preservation?

He couldn’t excuse Draco’s actions outright, but he couldn’t condemn him for them either. And he had shown Harry the truth in the end. A truth that seemingly pained him as much as it did Harry. They’d have to talk. Really talk. Even if it changed nothing, they deserved to have the closure they hadn’t had five years ago.

But that would come later. Right now Harry needed to figure out what to do about Ginny and Ron.

By the time Ginny returned home, Harry had made up his mind. He’d gone out to pick up dinner from a Muggle restaurant close enough to home for him to walk off some of his anger, and grabbed a bottle of wine while he was at it. Nothing like comfort food to ease the way into an uneasy conversation.

When Ginny walked into the kitchen, she breathed in contentedly. "Pad Thai?"

He nodded. "Bottle of wine chilling, too. Why don’t you wash up, we can eat, and then we’ll talk, yeah?"

She smiled and nodded. "Be back down in twenty."

"I’ll keep it warm."

She kissed him on the cheek and he only just managed not to recoil.

While she was upstairs, he dished out the food and poured two glasses of wine, casting a stasis charm to keep the food warm and wine cold. He sipped his wine slowly while he waited, hoping to calm his nerves while still maintaining his focus. He had no illusions about how this night would end.

She returned, freshly washed, her long hair damp and wavy, her face open and relaxed. She looked so young and pretty that he found himself transported back to happier times, those fleeting, carefree days back in school when they’d fallen for each other. He found himself again wondering how they’d got to this place. She really was so very beautiful, inside and out, that he spared a moment to feel badly for what he was about to do, but forced himself to focus. He’d made his decision and he would not back down.

"Cup of tea?" he asked after they’d finished. She had practice again in the morning and he had no desire to dull his senses, so they’d only had one glass of wine each.

"Sure," she said, once more smiling up at him. Again he felt a pang of guilt that he tamped down.

He brought their mugs of tea into the front room and sat on a chair facing her. "So," he said, "you wanted to talk?"

She put down her cup and nodded. "I did."

"So ... talk."

She frowned a little before plunging ahead. "I was talking to Hermione last night."

"I gathered."

"And she said that I should tell you how I’m feeling."

"Smart woman."

Encouraged, she smiled and leaned forward. "I ... I thought we’d be married, or at least engaged, by now."

"So you said last night."

Her face fell slightly. "Isn’t that what you want?"

He took a sip of his tea, then put it down and sat back. "I did some soul searching today," he said. "Thought about how, exactly, we got to this place."

She cocked her head to the side and gave him a curious look. "And?"

He’d thought about it for a long time and still wasn’t entirely sure of the answer. "Well, after the war, we’d gone our separate ways. After everything, I guess I’d thought we’d drifted apart for good. We were still family, but not ... not like we’d been."

She frowned. "But we got that back."

They hadn’t, really. "How did that happen, exactly?" he asked. "Don’t get me wrong; I just couldn’t really pinpoint that moment, you know, when everything fell into place."

She fidgeted in her seat, clearly not expecting the conversation to have gone in this direction. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I remember clearly how we got together the first time. I’d been watching you all year, something had clicked in my brain early on and I’d realised you were more to me than my best friend’s sister."

"Thanks?"

He laughed. "No, really. You know that. I’d started looking at you differently, started appreciating you for who you were as a person, as a girl, and then I kissed you and the rest was history."

She smiled. "In front of the whole common room."

He chuckled. "I just couldn’t wait until later."

Her smile widened. "That was a great year."

"It really was," he agreed. "But then the war came and we split up."

"You mean you dumped me."

"I didn’t want to."

"I know, but you did all the same."

"Yeah. And then after the war ..."

Her brows furrowed and she started to wring her hands. "I thought you’d come back to me."

"I thought so too," he admitted. "But something changed. We changed. I changed."

"You did. But I never gave up," she said, lifting her chin in that stubborn way of hers. "I knew we were meant to be. There was never anyone else for me."

He considered her words and wondered just what lengths she’d go to in order to get what she wanted. "Is that why you did it?"

She narrowed her eyes in confusion. "Did what?"

"How did you find out?"

She looked even more perplexed. "Find out what?"

"I know," he said.

Silence permeated the room, resting heavily over them. She didn’t say anything but he watched her process his words, run through all possible options in her mind. He saw the moment when everything clicked. She hesitated for a beat before shakily saying, "You know?"

Done with the pretense, his voice turned cold. "Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’ve insulted my intelligence enough already, thanks."

"Seriously, Harry, what are you talking about?" Her eyes didn’t meet his as she scrambled to deny the truth.

"Draco."

He watched her giveaways. Her eyes flashed, if only for a moment, but it was enough. She was caught and she knew it. She swallowed several times and darted looks around the room. Looking for an escape, perhaps? Then she drew in a breath and sat upright, draping herself in a mask of arrogance and bravado.

"What difference does it make how I knew?"

Now they were getting to the heart of the matter. "Well, you see, Ginny, I was very careful. I mentioned nothing to anyone, never let on. Not once."

"Pfft. That’s because you knew what you were doing wasn’t right. It was disgusting."

Harry clenched his teeth together. That he hadn’t expected from her. "Disgusting, hmm? Is that what you tell your friends, Hannah and Millicent? That they’re disgusting?"

"Of course not!" Her indignation seemed genuine. "I meant only because it was with Malfoy, of all people." She said his name like it was a vile thing, something to be avoided at all costs.

"Oh, so not because he’s a man, but because he was a Death Eater?"

"Yes."

"I see. Just so we’re clear on that." He was relieved. He’d hate to think he’d misjudged her that much. "So, back to the original question: how did you know?"

She hesitated, but Harry didn’t ask again. If there was one thing he’d learned about interrogation techniques, it was to let silence work for you. It’s human nature to want to fill the silence and, more often than not, guilty people gave away a lot when they filled silences.

Ginny did not disappoint. "Fine! I followed you! Satisfied?"

"Not even close," he said. "Why did you follow me? What had you hoped to find?"

"I was worried about you."

Harry snorted. "Right."

"I was. You were becoming more distant."

"So it was about you, not me. You needed to know why I wasn’t more ... I dunno ... affectionate towards you?"

She shrugged. "How did you find out?"

Harry laughed. "Oh, no, you don’t get to ask the questions, Ginny. Let’s just say I know what you did and I want answers."

"What do you want me to say, that I’m sorry? That I shouldn’t have done it? Well I won’t. I did what was right. You deserve far better than the likes of Draco Malfoy."

"You mean I deserve you."

"Well, I like to think I’m a damn sight better than a Death Eater, yeah."

"Really?" he asked, knowing it was cruel but not giving a damn right now. "You know all about who he was – who he is – and you know that you are better than that?"

"Yes!"

"Well, here’s what I know, Gin." He crossed his arms over his chest, closing himself off to her. "Draco isn’t the one who went behind my back to manipulate a situation that affected my life."

"He was a Death Eater, Harry!"

"Draco was a kid that looked up to his dad. Unfortunately, his dad is Lucius Malfoy. He got thrown in prison and Draco was left to pick up the pieces. Voldemort took advantage of a lost kid who desperately wanted to prove himself to his dad, return their name to good standing, and get a little glory along the way."

"He was a Death Eater!" she repeated.

"True. But in name only. His heart wasn’t in it. At first, yes, with glory calling and his family torn apart. But he had no idea what he’d signed up for. And as time progressed, he couldn’t stomach the nastiness of it all."

"He almost killed Ron. Your best friend. And don’t forget Katie."

"He’d never intended to hurt either of them, but I won’t forget, believe me. And neither will he."

"Yeah, right. Stop making excuses for him."

"I’m not excusing what he did. It was wrong. It was stupid. He was desperate, caught between a rock and a hard place. Surrounded by Voldemort and his followers, he felt trapped. He was trapped. He should have asked for help, but never imagined anyone would help him and certainly not his father. Why would anyone want to help Lucius? So he tried to save his family the only way he knew how. When faced with the task he’d been charged with – to kill Dumbledore – he couldn’t. I watched him fall apart when Dumbledore offered him and his family help. He’d made all the wrong choices and he knew it. And he hated himself for it. Still does, I imagine."

"Good. He should. As far as I’m concerned, he can rot in hell."

"I don’t expect you to understand, or to forgive him, or his asshole father."

"I should hope not."

"But you and I fundamentally disagree on what he deserves. Dumbledore – even faced with Draco’s half-arsed attempt at killing him – thought he was worth saving, and so do I. In fact, he’s done a lot to redeem himself, if not his family, including working with the Ministry and testifying against Death Eaters and other sympathisers during the post-war investigations and trials. And he’s led an exemplary life since the war, from what I’ve heard." She snorted. "Look, I don’t expect to change your mind, but he’s not the person you think he is."

"I don’t know what you ever saw in him."

"That’s right, you don’t know. You never did. You never asked. I had no idea anyone even knew about us." He got up from his chair, unable to sit still while this agitated. He walked to the window and stared out at the night sky, dusted with cloud and sprinkled with a few twinkling stars. He wanted to be out there, breathing in the cool, night air. Wanted to be anywhere but in here with Ginny, the walls closing in on him. He turned back to face her, leaning against the window ledge, arms crossed over his chest. "But that’s not really the point now, is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that it wasn’t your choice to make. It was mine. You took that away from me."

"But you couldn’t see. You weren’t thinking clearly. Someone had to –"

"Someone had to what, Gin? Did you really think me incapable of thinking for myself? That you had to step in and do what was right for me? What I couldn’t manage to do for myself?"

She sniffed and held her nose in the air. "Well, yes, if you must know. You obviously didn’t know what you were doing and someone had to make you see reason."

He pushed off from the window and walked towards her. Looking harshly into her eyes, he said, "But that’s not what you did. You didn’t make me see anything. You went behind my back and manipulated a situation that was none of your business."

"Of course it was my business! You were meant to be with me."

And there it was. "So you did what was necessary to make that happen."

"I knew then and I know now that it was the right thing to do."

"But how could you know? You have no idea what he’s like. Or what I’m like when I’m with him. You had no idea what was going on between us, and yet you felt that it was your right to manipulate my life – manipulate me – to serve your own best interest."

"That’s not what happened."

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He wasn’t going to get anywhere with her. She was as stubborn as her brother. And he was done with it. He’d had enough manipulation for a lifetime before she and Ron had confronted Draco and she should have known that. She had known that, but it hadn’t stopped her. The road to hell was, indeed, paved with good intentions.

"What I know is that I trusted you and you betrayed that trust."

"But Harry--"

"I’m going to gather some things and go. I’ll give you a couple of days to clear out your stuff, and I’d like you gone by the time I come back."

"But ... you can’t. We have a life together."

"We had a life together. One based on lies and manipulation."

"No! We love each other." She reached out for him, but he grasped her wrists and gently pushed her away. "You love me. You know you do."

"No, Ginny. Right now I don’t even know you. And frankly, I don’t even want to know you." He released her wrists and turned to go up the stairs. "Two days, Ginny." He threw up a shield so she couldn’t follow him and he went into his room to collect some clothes.

Unsure what she might do while he was out of the house, he cast protective charms on everything of value to him, and he returned to the front room. Ginny stood in the same spot he’d left her, face red – from fury or hurt, he couldn’t tell. Either way, it didn’t matter. It didn’t change the situation.

"I’ve given years of my life to you," she said. "Years."

Harry’s blood ran cold. "No, Ginny, you’ve taken years of mine." He put down his kit bag and glared at her. "That you can’t see what you’ve done is wrong, in so many ways, tells me all I need to know. I don’t want to see you or talk to you for a long, long time. Perhaps I’ll be able to forgive you, someday, but that day is not today. And it won’t be any time soon."

She looked down at his bag, then up at him, anger radiating from her. It reminded him of the Ginny in Draco’s Pensieve. Good. That would made this easier. "You’re going to him now, aren’t you? That filthy--"

"Stop!" Harry’s voice reverberated through the house with such force she jumped. "I am not going to anyone. I’m going away from you. And you’ve only yourself to blame. No one else." She looked poised to argue, but she remained silent, glaring at him.

"Not that I need to tell you anything, ever again," he said, "but I’m going to take some time, alone, to think about the shit show that my life has become. I can’t be around anyone right now. Two days, Ginny. And I mean what I say: I don’t want you here when I return. If you are, I can’t promise I’ll be very polite."

Her face hardened. "Is that a threat?"

He took a deep breath and sighed, exhaustion overwhelming him. "Of course not. But right now, I’m not telling you what I feel about all this, about what you and Ron did, and how I feel about you as a person, one who claims to love me. I don’t think you want to hear what I’d have to say. And if you’re here when I return, I may just say it. And then things will truly be irreparable."

"So," she said, her voice wavering and her eyes welling up, "there’s a chance?"

He reached for his bag. "No, Ginny. Without trust, we have nothing. It’s over. But there is a chance we could move on without hating each other. I’d like that. But if you don’t give me the space I need, even that may be out of reach." Before she could respond, he turned on the spot and was gone.


Continued in Part 12

Title: Malicious Intent – Part 9
Author: sesheta_66
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 4.2K
Rating: Eventual NC-17
Warning: none
Summary: Harry’s world is upended when he’s asked to investigate a break-in and threats levied at Draco Malfoy. He’s never told anyone about their short-lived but intense relationship, and now, five years after it ended, doesn’t seem the time. He’s a professional, so he will investigate, find and arrest the culprit, and get on with his life. What else can he do?
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

To start at the beginning, click here.

Or to read at AO3, click here.



Malicious Intent – Part 9

Harry sat down to work straight away, scanning the various devices. There were two clear sets of magical signatures – one residual on the old, no longer working ones that oddly matched the clear one contained within Draco's ring. The second was all over the remaining devices, including the video enabled ones. The newer ones had evidence of tampering, an unsuccessful attempt at wiping, or at least obscuring, the signature, but enough remained to match to the others.

Now that he'd isolated the signatures, the hard work would begin: matching to those on file. Ordinarily, Harry would have handed this work over to the lab for analysis but he opted to do what he could himself for now. If he couldn't narrow it down – he was no Albus Dumbledore after all – Harry would get Draco's okay before involving others. But he'd done this work before and the signatures seemed pretty clear, so he was reasonably confident he could manage.

He decided to start with known Death Eaters. A mere two hours later, he'd hit pay dirt. And found himself quite ill at the results: it seemed Lucius Malfoy knew no boundaries when it involved controlling others, even his own son. Perhaps especially his own son. It explained a lot, though. Harry had wondered who could possibly have placed something inside Draco's Malfoy family ring. But that also meant the bastard had been the one spying on his son for two years.

This made Harry both furious and relieved. Relieved because it likely meant that the person after Draco had started his or her campaign relatively recently. Furious because ... well. The man never ceased to amaze Harry with his utter contempt of others and his inflated sense of self-worth and importance. It would give Harry great pleasure to knock the smug bastard down a few hundred notches. Again. If it weren’t for the fact that he was Draco’s father. Still. A few well-placed spells to make his life utterly miserable couldn’t be that bad a thing, could it? It was times like these Harry regretted – just a little – the anti-corruption measures he’d helped Kingsley implement at the Ministry. And yet ... he doubted anyone would come after him for doing to Lucius what he well deserved.

Fuck. He didn't cherish being the one to tell Draco that his dad was an even bigger dick than they'd already known. Though Harry didn't honestly believe Lucius meant any real harm to Draco, he didn't doubt for a moment that he wanted to control him. Even after everything he’d put his family through, he had the nerve to do something so intrusive. The man was a loathsome human being. Harry ran his hands through his hair in frustration, no doubt leaving it more of a bird’s nest than usual. The inability to dole out the punishment that fuckwit deserved threatened to drive him mad. He shook off his anger for the moment to focus elsewhere.

Now, on to the more problematic discovery: Thorfinn Rowle. Assumed dead after the war, efforts to find him had gone cold and had dwindled to an occasional revisit of his file when a sighting of some Death Eater or another came in. Harry looked forward to the day they might have enough resources to pull all the cold DE files and close them properly. No body, no closed file, no rest until all Death Eaters at large were incarcerated or in the ground.

He pulled Rowle's file and briefed himself on all the notes made. He'd been one of the Death Eaters that Voldemort had broken out of Azkaban, so his crimes dated quite far back. There were cursory notes on known associates, family and prior addresses. He saw his own statements about how Rowle had been one of the Death Eaters to break into Hogwarts, and had set Hagrid’s hut alight with Fang still inside in their sixth year. And again his notes from the Battle of Hogwarts.

Harry also remembered Rowle – though there were no notes about this on file – as one of the Death Eaters that had attacked him, Ron and Hermione in the Tottenham Court Road cafe after the Ministry had fallen. And he saw Rowle's face once more, through Voldemort's eyes, watched again as Draco had Crucioed him. Watched as Rowle had revelled in Lucius' humiliation at Voldemort's hand.

Oh, yes, Rowle had ample reason to want either or both of the Malfoy men punished for moving on with their lives while he – no worse in his own mind, and no doubt leagues above them, in his estimation, for remaining loyal – was relegated to living his life in the shadows.

Harry spent the rest of the day studying Rowle's file for anything he might be able to use to catch the Death Eater that wanted Draco dead. Frankly, he'd be more than pleased if Rowle caught up with Lucius, though he doubted Draco would appreciate that sentiment. Such that he was, Lucius remained Draco’s father. Besides, Harry wouldn't want to see Narcissa hurt and he doubted Rowle would hesitate to kill her to get to Lucius. Or just for the fun of it. He’d been the one to kill his own fellow at Hogwarts, flinging curses around carelessly, so what was the wife and mother of his enemies worth anyway? Harry didn't think Draco would suffer much for the loss off his dickhead dad – would likely be far better off for his absence – but his mother was another story.

When finally his trace came back, Harry was so deeply immersed in the file, he didn't register the soft buzzing right away.

"What's that you're working on?" Ron asked, bringing him out of the criminal life and times of Thorfinn Rowle.

Harry resisted the urge to cover up the file. He'd been careful not to leave open anything that made reference to Draco, and he had his cover story ready. Truth be told, he was surprised Ron hadn't come nosing around before now.

"Cold case."

"Oh, yeah? New leads?"

Harry nodded. "Not much. Just a magical signature detected for a presumed-dead Death Eater." Ron looked excited, so Harry derailed him quickly. "No indication it's recent, so just the usual follow-up. Probably a dead end. No pun intended." He closed the file casually. "You still on the Muggle baiting case in Yorkshire?"

"Yeah. Heading for an overnight soon. That's why I came by. Hermione's been looking forward to seeing you and Gin tonight." Harry cringed. He'd completely forgotten their plans. Ron laughed as he caught Harry’s reaction. "Thought it might've slipped your mind. No worries, mate. With me gone, 'Mione asked if she thought you'd mind if the two of them made it a girls' night instead."

"Oh, yeah. Sure." He was beginning to wonder if he’d even see Ginny before she left again. "I mean, no, I don’t mind."

"I won't tell a soul you forgot."

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Thanks." He looked at his watch. "Time for a coffee before you go?" He could use the caffeine before diving into the trace results and – what promised to be even more trying – heading over to break the news to Draco. He'd prefer to delay that a while longer.

"Sorry. We leave in ten and I still have to pack my kit. Rain check, though."

"Sure. Good luck. Hope the trip is worth it."

Ron shrugged. "There's that pub with the great shepherd's pie over there, so it won't be a total loss, even if we don't catch the guy."

"Silver linings," Harry agreed, amazed that his friend probably knew a pub with a great something-or-other in every town in England by now.

"I'll pass along your sincere disappointment to Hermione."

Harry laughed. "Bit much, mate."

"Right. I’ll tell her you’re okay with her stealing Gin away for the night."

"Thanks."

Once Ron left, Harry abandoned his idea for coffee and dove back into the case. He followed the trace where it led and now he had a neighbourhood to go with the rest. As he’d expected, there was no mention of a family home in that area, but perhaps Draco would know more. His stomach clenched. He really, really didn’t want to be the one to tell him about Lucius. He made a duplicate of Rowle’s file and returned the original to cold case storage. Now out of excuses to delay any longer, he spelled "Now okay?" onto the coin and pressed his thumb to it. Before he’d even finished clearing his desk, he felt it burn in his pocket. "Sure."

Steeling himself for the unpleasantness to come, he Apparated outside Draco’s door and knocked.

The door flung open and Draco said, "Taking this politeness a bit far, aren’t you?"

"What?"

"You already warned me. You could have Apparated inside."

Harry shrugged. "Force of habit, I suppose. We don’t exactly Apparate into people’s places."

"Well, come on in, then." He waved Harry past, closed the door and followed him into the living room. "What do you have?"

"Could we maybe have a cup of tea?"

Draco’s face fell. "Is it that bad?"

"Maybe some firewhiskey for you?"

Draco sat down. "Just spit it out."

Harry removed the file from his pocket at returned it to regular size. "Do you want the bad news or the really bad news first?" Not that he knew which was worse overall.

"Just tell me already."

Harry ran his hand over the back of his neck. "Well, there were two distinct magical signatures that I found, and both were a match to known Death Eaters."

"No big surprise there."

"One was presumed dead. Thorfinn Rowle."

Draco’s back stiffened. "Fuck."

"Yeah. Sadistic bastard, from what I’ve read on his file."

"And he can probably still feel the Crucio I threw at him."

Harry nodded, unsure how he could soften the next blow. Deciding he might as well do it all at once, like removing a plaster, he went for it. "And the other was ... your father."

"My ..." Draco went pale. No, that wasn’t quite right. He turned an unhealthy shade of grey. Not that any shade of grey would be healthy, but ... well ... he looked ill.

"Your father," Harry repeated. "Your ring."

Draco clenched his teeth. "Of course."

"And the old ones, the ones that don’t work anymore."

Harry couldn’t tell if Draco was going to throw something or throw up. It could go either way. "So what you’re telling me is ... my father has been spying on me for two years?"

Harry rather thought it was more like his entire life, but he didn’t see the benefit of pointing that out just now. "It appears so."

Draco jumped to his feet and began pacing. "The one fucking time he came over here. The day before I moved in. I’d shown them the place. I’d told Mother about it and she showed up with him in tow." His eyes flared as he looked at Harry. "I didn’t want to let him in, but Mother had him by the arm and was ushering him past before I could stop her." He paced the room a couple more times. Harry didn’t say anything. "The bastard must have planted them that day without either of us noticing." He stopped in front of Harry. "Who does that?"

Harry scrambled for something to say, but obviously it had been rhetorical, because Draco resumed his pacing without waiting for an answer. He mumbled under his breath and Harry caught a few expletives coupled with bastard and arsehole. Harry neither disagreed nor added to the conversation. Instead, he got up and poured Draco a finger of Firewhiskey. Draco took it, swigged it back and slammed the glass onto the table as he sat down. "That fucker!"

"I –" Harry began.

Draco stood up again. "I need to go see him." He grabbed a travelling cloak and put it on. "Find out what the fuck he was thinking." He looked at Harry. "Do you have the ring?"

Harry nodded and pulled the evidence bag out of his pocket. He withdrew the ring. "I should keep the rest of this as evidence."

"Fine. Whatever." He put on the ring with a look of disgust on his face. "But I think I’d like to shove this – along with my fist – down his throat right now."

Harry stood up. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"Why?" He whirled on Harry. "Are you going to protect him?"

Harry didn’t want to, but suspected duty might require exactly that. "I was thinking more along the lines of providing moral support." Draco snorted. "Or stopping you from committing patricide and landing yourself in prison." Draco glared. "Or, if that’s not possible, help you hide the body?" he ventured.

"I may laugh about that someday," Draco said. "And I’m sure I’ll amuse myself by replaying this memory in my Pensieve from time to time." He steeled himself. "But for now, I’ll just respectfully decline your offer of assistance and assure you that I will not rid the earth of my father’s presence. Not today, anyway."

"We could discuss Rowle?"

"Nice try," Draco said, closing the clasp of his cloak and smoothing the material. "But I think I need to confront him now. While I’m good and mad. Mother too, for being so stupidly naive as to continue to trust him and push for us to get along."

"Are you sure?"

He gave Harry his don’t be a fucking idiot look. "I’m so bloody tired of playing nice around him. It’s high time I give him a piece of my mind, and right now I’m likely as mad as I’ll ever be. And I think it’ll do me some good to unleash on the fucker while I’m in this state. And it’s also likely to be the only time I’m mad enough not to let Mother stop me."

"Okay," Harry said warily. "But if you need anything ..."

He rolled his eyes. "You can’t save me from my idiot father, so don’t even try. Especially since I do realise how you feel about him yourself."

"I’ll just be on my way then, yeah? Let me know when you’re ready to talk about Rowle. Meanwhile, I’ll keep trying to work out a plan to catch him."

"I’m not sure I’ll be ready to talk about anything before tomorrow, but I’ll let you know."

"Fair enough." With more than a bit of trepidation, Harry Apparated home, hoping that he wouldn’t get called out later that night to investigate a murder in Wiltshire.

He’d locked away his work files, changed into his favourite jeans and a t-shirt and had just put the kettle on when Ginny came in. "I’d kill for an Earl Grey right now," she said in greeting.

"Hello to you too," he said, giving her a peck on the cheek. "Rough day?"

"Coach is working us like mad for this weekend’s match. I hurt where I didn’t even know I had muscles." She rolled her neck back and forth and rubbed her hand over it.

"Why don’t you go have a long, hot shower and I’ll have your tea ready for you when you get out?"

"Sounds perfect. What time do we have to go round to my darling brother’s?"

"Ah," he said, presuming she’d not received an update yet from Hermione. "Ron has to head out of town on a case tonight, and Hermione thought it’d be nice if the two of you made it a girls’ night."

"Oh, she did, did she?"

He rolled his eyes. "Sent Ron to do her dirty work and see if I’d be okay giving you up for the night."

She grinned widely, clearly pleased at the change in plans. Harry tried not to feel offended. "Oh, don’t get all pouty on me. It’s been a long time since Hermione and I spent quality time together."

"I know." He didn’t point out that it had also been rather a long time since the two of them had done so. "And I’m sure you’ll have a great time."

"Yeah, it’ll be nice. But for now, I need to wash away the day and let the water soothe my muscles."

"And I’ll make the tea."

After her shower, Ginny fell asleep and Harry didn’t have the heart to wake her until shortly before she had to leave for Hermione’s. "Still want that cuppa before you go?"

"That’d be brilliant." She stretched and yawned before dragging herself out of the bed. "Thanks for letting me nap. I didn’t know how knackered I was until my head hit the pillow."

"No problem. Come fill me in on your day over some Earl Grey before you desert me again."

She smacked him playfully and they made their way to the kitchen. She filled him in on the latest gossip surrounding her teammates and complained about their relentless coach and before long, it was time for her to leave. "What are your plans for tonight?" she asked.

"I’ll probably catch up on some work."

Her smile faltered. "Of course you will." It was always a sore spot between them, how much time he dedicated to his work. But she apparently wasn’t going to press the issue. "Don’t wait up," she said.

He kissed her on the cheek. "Have fun and say hi to ‘Mione for me."

"Will do." And she was gone.

And once more, Harry was left alone with his thoughts. And once more, they returned to Draco. He wondered how things had gone with Lucius. What possible excuse he might have come up with. No doubt he’d say that he’d done it to protect Draco.

A short while later, the coin in Harry’s pocket burned. He removed it and saw Home on it. Taking that as an invitation, he Apparated once more to Draco’s door and knocked.

As he followed Draco into the living room, the scent of firewhiskey wafted back to him and he saw that the bottle had considerably less in it than earlier. Though he wasn’t visibly inebriated, Harry suspected that Draco’d had a couple already.

"Alright, then. What can you tell me about Rowle and what are we going to do about it?"

Harry didn’t know what to make of Draco’s composed demeanour. It was rather unnerving, considering when he’d last seen him. "You seem calm."

He sighed. "Yes, I am. It’s called compartmentalising. We Slytherins are rather adept at it. First I was angry. Then I vented that anger. Now I’ve put it aside so that I may focus on something else."

"But ... are you okay?" Harry couldn’t help asking.

"Of course I’m not okay," he snapped. "But I’ll cope. As you well know, I’ve coped with worse." As Harry made to speak, Draco sighed. "And I don’t want to talk about it."

"Okay, then." Harry pulled out the file again and put it on the table. "The trace led to a neighbourhood in Romford. I don’t have any record of a Rowle owning property there, at least not in the wizarding pockets of the area. Do you know of anyone living there? Any Death Eaters or Voldemort sympathisers?"

Draco considered the question for a few moments. "Not that I know of, but I may have heard a street name or a landmark mentioned without knowing where it was. Let me think about it for a while."

Harry handed him a bundle of paper. "Notable landmarks and a list of street names in Romford." At Draco’s surprised look, he grinned. "Not my favourite part of the job, but I really do research when I need to."

Draco’s lips twitched but he suppressed a full-on smile. "Point taken. Is there anything else?"

"Not right now. Unless you want to – and don’t bite my head off for suggesting this; I’m just doing my job – do you want to pursue something against your father?"

"No, of course not."

"So he’ll get away with this, like he gets away with everything?" He couldn’t help the disdain seeping into his voice.

Draco shrugged. "I can’t be the one to bring him down. Not that something like this – compared with everything else he’s done – would go far in accomplishing that. But still. I do have a sense of family loyalty, even if that family includes Lucius."

"I get it." He didn’t like it, but he understood. Lucius would always be Draco’s father. "But I had to ask."

Draco nodded. "If it’s any consolation, my mother is pissed."

Harry smiled widely. "Yeah," he said, "it is, actually." At Draco’s raised brow, he added, "Don’t fuck with a woman’s child. Even if you’re that child’s father." He chuckled. "I’d be willing to bet his life won’t be quite so cosy for a while."

Draco smirked. "Agreed."

Harry watched a scowl form slowly on Draco’s face – the one that meant he was troubled by something and struggling to put it into words. "What is it?" Harry asked.

"Why did you tell me?" Draco asked. "I mean, I know you’re an Auror and all that, but ... well, you have been known to bend the rules from time to time, if memory serves. Surely you could have kept that morsel to yourself."

Harry shrugged. "I didn’t want to tell you, but ..." Harry shrugged. "I’d want to know if it were me."

"Would you really? I mean, if your father ..." He didn’t finish his thought.

"For what it’s worth, I’m sorry your dad’s a dick. I get no pleasure out of telling you this."

"Even if you probably should."

Harry ignored that. "I might not want to know, because it never feels good to find out your parents aren’t the people you always imagined them to be."

"Says Saint Potter with the mother who died for him."

"And your mother risked her life to get to you, too." Harry let go the Saint Potter comment. "I always imagined my dad as this great guy, but he was a bit of a jerk back in school. More than a bit. At least where Snape was concerned." He remembered how James had preened for the girls. "Bit full of himself, too."

Draco snorted. "Like Snape always said you were?"

Harry nodded. "Exactly like Snape said I was. He could never see me, he only saw a younger version of him."

"But how do you know your dad was really like that? Surely you didn’t take Snape’s word for it."

"No, I saw it in his memory when he was teaching me Occlumancy."

"When he what?"

"I’ll tell you all about it another time," he said automatically, forgetting that they weren’t friends and that after this case they might never speak again. "Anyway, then I asked Remus and Sirius and they confirmed it." At his confused look, Harry added, "Lupin and my godfather and my dad were friends in school. They knew him better than anyone."

"So your dad was a bit of a tit. Need I remind you that mine was a Death Eater?"

Harry sighed. "It’s not a competition." And he certainly wasn’t comparing James to Lucius. "I’m just saying that I understand wishing some things about your dad weren’t true. That’s all."

"But this is a whole new level of fucked up."

No shit, it was. Harry couldn’t imagine James – or any father, really – doing what Lucius did. "I can’t deny that. But how can anything change if you don’t even know what he’s done? You can’t call him on his behaviour or protect yourself from it if you don’t know about it."

"I could’ve lived my whole life without ever knowing this about him." He took the last sip of his drink and then got up to pour himself some more. He raised his now half-full glass in a mock toast. "Blissful ignorance."

"I don’t know how blissful ignorance is." Harry shrugged. "I think it’s always better to know the truth, don’t you?"

Draco swirled the liquid in his glass and stared at it. "Even if the truth hurts?"

"Especially if it hurts." Harry thought about that day five years ago. Fuck, that had hurt. But how much worse would it have been if Draco hadn’t said anything? If Harry had gone on, building up hope that they might’ve been able to make a life together? Because, as hard as it was to admit it, and as short a time as they’d been together, that’s exactly what he’d been thinking at the time. However foolish that was now in hindsight. How would it have felt if he’d let himself get even closer to Draco, only to have him come home one day and announce his engagement to some pureblood witch? Working with him now was hard enough; he couldn’t imagine if his heart had been totally ripped to shreds. "Because the longer you live the lie, the more it’ll hurt when you find out the truth."

"You really believe that?"

"Yeah, I really do." He looked at the pain on Draco’s face and wanted to reach out to him. To comfort him. To tell him everything would be okay. But that wasn’t his place. He couldn’t promise something like that. Because he wouldn’t be around to pick up the pieces.


Continued in Part 10

Title: Malicious Intent – Part 7
Author: sesheta_66
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 4.7K
Rating: Eventual NC-17
Warning: none
Summary: Harry’s world is upended when he’s asked to investigate a break-in and threats levied at Draco Malfoy. He’s never told anyone about their short-lived but intense relationship, and now, five years after it ended, doesn’t seem the time. He’s a professional, so he will investigate, find and arrest the culprit, and get on with his life. What else can he do?
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

To start at the beginning, click here.

Or to read at AO3, click here.



Malicious Intent – Part 7

After a night of further torture, piecing together snippets of Draco’s memories to form a reel of recurring images to afford his ex some privacy in his own home, attempting all the while not to think back to the time he and Draco had spent together, Harry decided that he ought to direct some of his attention to his other cases. While none of them were immediate – leads had run dry or only follow-up paperwork was required before closing them – he did have more than just Draco to focus on. And it would probably be in his best interest to think about something else. Anything else.

When he’d had his fill of fruitless follow-up messages that received no answers and enough paperwork to overwhelm even Hermione – okay, maybe not Hermione, but she just wasn’t normal – he went back to Draco’s case. The devices had yet to transmit – presuming his spells were any good, which they were – so Harry followed his instincts in the meantime. He researched all known Death Eaters that remained at large or were presumed dead without actual bodies to confirm. Then he proceeded to research Ministry employees from Voldemort’s time that might have had access to the listening devices. To each list he added notations on their relationship with any of the Malfoys. Many of those details he’d have to get from Draco later.

When, after several hours, he could no longer justify staying away, Harry made his way back to Draco’s flat.

When Draco answered the door looking knackered, Harry cheered up a bit. After all, why should he be the only one put out by them being shoved together, so to speak? Then he caught himself, and a voice that sounded so very much like Hermione sounded in his head. He’s a victim, Harry. You can’t wish ill will on him. That was true. And he genuinely felt for Draco the victim, wouldn’t wish the current situation on him or most people. Harry would continue to do everything he could to solve this case as quickly as he could, and give Draco his life back. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t be comforted, just a little, by the discomfort of Draco his ex. Petty, yes, but he figured it was only fair.

"You’re here late today," Draco said by way of greeting. "I expected you earlier."

"Really?" Harry said, pushing his way past the insufferable git and into the flat. "I wasn’t aware we had an appointment." He received an eyeroll in response to which he replied, "You are aware I have other work to do, yeah? Yours is not my only case."

Draco’s face fell and he toppled himself into a chair in the front room. "Sorry. I wasn’t aware and ... well I shouldn’t have assumed. It’s only –"

"I get it. You’re worried."

"Of course I’m worried!"

Harry sighed. "Shall we try this again?" he asked. "Good morning, Malfoy. I went to the office earlier and stopped by to update you on the case." Draco nodded and Harry continued. "There was no magical signature left on either the note you provided or the three listening devices. They’d been wiped clean."

"So they’re dead ends, both of them?"

"It seems so. Ditto for the scan I did amongst the objects damaged. Magic was detected – it’s incredibly difficult to wipe all traces from a crime scene – but it wasn’t discernible. The person or persons who did this – are doing this – are skilled at the art of deception."

Draco crossed his arms over his chest, but otherwise made no outward sign of discomfort.

Harry sat down on the sofa and pulled out his notebook. "Let’s sort through a few things, if you don’t mind."

Draco sat down in a chair across from Harry. "What do you need to know?"

Harry pulled out his quill and said, "Up ‘til now, I’ve focussed on the scene of the crime. Now I need to delve more into the possible motivation. Who, that you know of, might want to harm you?"

Draco snorted. "Wouldn’t a shorter list be those who don’t want to harm me?"

"Okay." Harry took a breath and ran his hand through his hair. "Why don’t I leave that with you and you can compile your own list, working your way down from those you think might be at the top of the list? Meanwhile, let’s look at different aspects of your life. Think about your work, interests you might be vocal about, your family, your love life, your past. Is there anyone who might hate you? Be jealous of you? Feel slighted by you? Want revenge for some wrong, whether real or imagined?"

Draco once again crossed his arms over his chest, this time more tightly, almost curling into himself. "In other words, I need to tell you everyone I’ve ever wronged in my life, how I’ve wronged them, and how they felt about that."

Harry put down the quill. "I know this is hard."

"How could you know? Saint Potter never wronged anyone in his life, did he? Except perhaps me." His back went rigid. "And it’s not like anyone gives a toss about some wannabe Death Eater anyway."

Harry would not rise to the bait. He’d apologised for the Sectumsempra incident five years ago and Draco had – supposedly – forgiven him then. As Harry had forgiven Draco for his attempt at throwing an Unforgiveable at him. More than that, they’d forgiven each other for all their past wrongs, real or perceived, deciding to look ahead rather than back, and had moved on from there. Bringing up old wounds was merely a diversionary tactic and Harry wasn’t falling for it.

"Look, Malfoy, you can tell me as much or as little as you want. The more you tell me, the more I can explore the possibility that each person on your list might want to hurt you. If you don’t want to share the reasons behind it, don’t. I’d suggest that you would be better served if you did, but no one – not me, not anyone – will force you to disclose anything you don’t want to."

Draco made a derisive grumble that made it clear he didn’t believe Harry.

"I am not investigating you. I am not digging into your life." Harry could do without knowing any more about what Draco’s been up to since ... "Need I remind you that you contacted us? I won’t pressure you into telling me what you’re not comfortable with, but I will ask you questions. Lots of questions. Personal questions. It’s entirely up to you what you disclose. But the more I know, the more likely I am to catch whoever is doing this."

"You’ll excuse me if I don’t jump for joy at your enthusiasm."

Harry laughed without humour. "Yeah, like this is my idea of fun." He put down the quill and rested his forearms on his knees. "You may not believe this of me, but I am a very private person. I loathe the intrusion of the media on my life."

Draco grumbled something under his breath that sounded like, "Yeah, right."

"I know you think I basked in it, but I never did. I just wanted to be left alone. So, no matter what you believe, I understand your desire, your need for privacy. And I respect that. But it seems to me that whoever is threatening you has already breached that." Harry hated the constant prodding into every little aspect of his life and he cherished what semblance of privacy he’d managed to hold onto. But there was another aspect to this where Draco was concerned. "I have no interest in prosecuting you for past crimes or even looking for crimes where none exist. Personally, as far as you are concerned, I think the past is best left in the past, where it belongs. Unless you admit to outright murder, I will not use anything you tell me against you."

Draco looked skeptical but did seem to be giving Harry’s words serious consideration. "How do I know I can trust you?"

Harry gave a wry smile. "You don’t. Not any more than I can trust you." Harry let that sink in for a while before he continued. "But I’m telling you the truth. Believe me or not. It makes no difference to me," he lied. It mattered more than he was willing to admit, even to himself, that Draco trust him. But he would be damned if he said that. "I’m not out to get you. I understand your mistrust of the Ministry and the Aurors, but I’m telling you that, as hard as this may be to believe, and despite our past, I will not betray your trust."

Draco spent a good while staring into Harry’s eyes. Harry let him. After a time, he said, "And my father?"

"Your father can rot in prison for all I care," Harry said without pause or emotion. "I will not extend the same courtesy to him, no matter who his son is."

Draco’s lip twitched. "Okay, I believe you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "So, we agree that you’ll compile a list for me tonight?"

"Sure."

Harry, acutely aware of the cameras on them, said, "I have a few things I wanted you to look at. Do you have some time to spare right now?"

Draco sighed. "If it won’t take to long. I do have a job, you know. I’ve arranged for most of the week off, but I have several sensitive potions brewing that I need to at least check in on sometime today."

Harry stood up and put away his quill. "That shouldn’t be a problem. You can go right over after we’re done."

They apparated to the hotel and when Draco landed, he shook as though to rid himself of a coating of filth. "I can’t wait to get those things out of the place. Gives me the creeps, being watched like that."

Harry didn’t blame him. "Soon," he said. "Now, if you really want."

Draco ran his hands up and down his arms. "I definitely want, but I want to catch the person more. I think I can put up with it for a little while longer."

"Good." Harry gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "And if it gets too much, you can pop over here to escape for a bit." Before he could think too hard about why he’d offered that as an option again, Harry motioned to the Pensieve on the table. "Meanwhile ..."

Draco’s eyes widened. "Did you finish?"

Harry shrugged. "It’s not going to win an Oscar, but it’ll do."

"It won’t what?"

"Sorry. Muggle reference. I won’t win an award for movie production, but it should be good enough to buy you a bit of privacy, at least in your living room. You can activate it while you’re out of the room – the bathroom is free of devices – and it’s set to direct the images at the camera and listening devices in the room. Then cast a localised cloaking spell for good measure and you should be fine."

"This’ll really work?"

"I don’t see why not." He waved his wand and the reel of memories lifted out of the Pensieve and swirled into a small box. "Just tap it with your wand and say, exire incipere." He picked up a coin from the table. "I’ve linked it to this. Just leave the coin in the centre of the coffee table before activating the spell and it should align the playback properly within the boundaries of the room. When you want to end the spell, position yourself in the room where your projected self is and end both spells at once. And make sure you’re wearing the same clothes."

Draco took the box and coin from Harry and put them in his pocket. "Thank you."

"Hopefully you won’t need it for long." He pushed the Pensieve aside and put some papers down on the table. "With any luck they’ll transmit soon and then we can rid your place of the rest."

Draco sat at the table and Harry slid the papers towards him. "What’s this?"

"I’ve come up with some information, and was hoping you could fill in some blanks for me."

Draco scanned the pages. "When did you do all this?" he asked, looking genuinely curious. At Harry’s blank stare, he said, "This had to have taken you a while."

Harry nodded. "This morning. I told you I went to the office." He just hadn’t bothered to mention that he’d been unable to get back to sleep after waking at five o’clock, and rather than wake Ginny, he’d decided to grab some tea and toast, then head out right away.

"Yes, but to work on other cases."

Harry nodded again. "Which I did. And then I worked on this."

Draco laughed. Harry glared at him but said nothing. When finally his laughter faded into chuckles and then silence, Draco finally spoke. "Who would have thought? Harry Potter, one of the laziest students ever to ride Granger’s coattails – okay, maybe not as lazy as the weasel, but still – would actually make an effort at his job?" He chuckled again. "And here I thought you’d managed to work your way up the ranks so quickly because of your name." He wiped a tear from under his eye. "Turns out you’re actually good at your job."

Harry scowled, not sure why this should surprise him. Malfoy had never hidden how he’d felt about Harry in school. And it’s not like Harry hadn’t faced doubt from other people. But after everything ... he would have thought, hoped, that Draco knew him. Not, perhaps, as well as most, but ... well. Maybe he didn’t at that. "Glad to hear you still think so highly of me."

"Oh, come on, Harry – sorry, Auror Potter" he corrected himself before Harry could. "I know you’re good at charging in where no one else would dare go, like the good little Gryffindor you are. Brave and noble and chivalrous and all that. And I even acknowledged the other day that you’re good at spells I’m sure few people know – this box, for instance." He tapped his pocket and looked at Harry as though waiting for thanks or something. "It’s just ... well, you were never one to have his nose in a book."

"I read!" Harry tried not to cringe at how defensive he sounded. Why was he letting Draco get to him like this, and how had they even veered off into this ridiculous conversation?

Draco stifled a laugh and tried fruitlessly to cover it with a cough. "Look, I didn’t mean to suggest you weren’t smart. Just that the tedium required of research never struck me as something you would ever take much interest in."

He had a point, but Harry wasn’t going to admit that. "Look, Malfoy. I realise this may be hard for you to wrap your head around, but I grew up. I happen to like being an Auror. I also happen to be good at it. Yes, I still throw myself into situations that others might hesitate with, but I don’t do so without thought. I’ve learned to assess situations for potential danger and act accordingly." He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to explain himself, but explain he did. "And yes, I do research. Which happens to involve cracking open a book or ten. It may not be my favourite part of the job, but it’s a damn sight better than the paperwork after the fact. But I recognise the need for even that. Because I’ve been thrown into cases where there hasn’t been enough information transferred from other investigators, and I don’t want to put others in that situation. And don’t even get me started on the lawyers."

Draco chuckled at that. "Okay, okay, I get your point."

"Do you, though? I get the feeling you still think I’m this kid from school that broke the rules and – how did you put it? – rode on Hermione’s coattails. I was never the kid you thought I was at Hogwarts, even if bits and pieces of what you believe are true. Hell, I’m not even the kid I really was at school. Not anymore. I’ve changed a lot since then. If I ask Hermione for her insight from time to time, it’s because I respect her opinion. But make no mistake. I am my own man. I do my own work. I make my own decisions. And I got where I am today because I work hard, I do a damn good job and I care. I don’t ride on anyone’s coattails and I sure as hell didn’t get handed this job because of my name."

"I –"

"You don’t know me at all." Harry was on a roll now. "You never did. I thought, for a while there, that you might want to, but you never did, did you? Don’t bother answering. We both know it’s true. And you know what? I’ve accepted that. I’ve moved on. It’s one of those things I’ve outgrown – blindly trusting my feelings." He laughed derisively. "You know, I suppose I should thank you for that."

"Harry, I –"

"Look, we’ve strayed way off course here. Can we just get back to business?"

"But –"

"You’re a potions master now, yeah?"

Draco nodded, taken aback by the abrupt change in topic. "Yes."

"Right, so if I were to laugh at you and suggest that you only got where you are today because you were a kiss-arse to Snape and got favourable treatment, and then used your father’s connections and substantial funds to buy your way into a lucrative position, you’d probably take offence at that, yeah?"

He pursed his lips. "Because it’s not true."

"Right. And I’m pretty sure I know that. Because, despite the fact that while we were in school that’s exactly what I thought of you, since then I’ve come to realise that, in hindsight, my view of who you were was through a biased lens. I never really knew you in school, just like you never really knew me. I get that. So when I hear that your potions are sought after far beyond England, I don’t find myself thinking, ‘Oh, hey, who would’ve thought that lazy kiss-arse would ever amount to anything?’ If – and this is a big if – I ever hear stuff like that, I just think, ‘Good for him.’ And maybe feel a bit hopeful that you’d finally got yourself out from under your father’s reach."

Harry hadn’t meant to say that last part. Hell, he hadn’t meant to say any of it. But he found himself unable to stop. Fucking. Talking. He really needed to wrap this case up and soon. Being around Draco was messing with his head and he didn’t like his emotions being so out of control.

"So, now that we’ve established that you’re still an arse, at least as it relates to me, let’s just get on with things, shall we?" He nudged the papers even closer to a now silent Draco. "For lack of a better place to start narrowing things down, I’ve drawn up a couple of lists. This one is of known Death Eaters. The ones at the top are alive, still at large, location unknown. This next group is assumed dead, but their bodies have never been recovered. The ones below the line are currently guests of Azkaban but with known relatives on the outside. The rest – dead and gone as well as those incarcerated with no known relative to seek revenge on their behalf – have been left off the list. The second, considerably longer list, is of Ministry employees from Voldemort’s time that might have had access to those devices in your flat."

Draco swallowed as he registered the number of people on the list. "And?"

"And I want you to tell me everything you know about each of them, in particular if any of these Ministry people were in contact with Voldemort or his Death Eaters and if anyone on either list bears any sort of grudge against you or your father." He pointed to a column on the Death Eater page. "I’ve jotted down what little I know about any connections to either of you, besides the obvious DE thing."

Draco read a couple of entries before asking, "Why my father, when I’m the one being threatened?"

"A few reasons. First, because of the items taken from your flat. They’re all Malfoy items. This may stretch beyond you. It could be your father is the target and they’re just using you to get to him." Harry had given this much thought, and despite Lucius being a grade A arsewipe, he had shown some evidence, however slight, that he cared for his son. "When Voldemort wanted to punish your father, he chose to assign you an impossible task, yeah?"

Draco’s face hardened, but he said, "Yes."

"And those in the inner circle watched as your father became a shell of a man."

"How –?" He looked puzzled before reluctantly saying, "Yes."

Harry pointed at the pages. "So what’s to say this isn’t history repeating itself? Maybe someone knows the best way to get to Lucius is through you or your mother."

"But we barely talk."

Harry smirked. "Your father is a master of deception. He’s good at making people believe what he wants them to believe. And you’ve admitted the same about yourself, so who really knows you don’t talk?"

Draco pursed his lips, as though poised to argue. "I see your point."

"Besides," Harry added, "your father is under Ministry watch. It would be much harder to get to him than you."

He laughed. "I imagine the Ministry folks keeping watch might enjoy the sight of someone take Lucius out."

"Can’t argue with you there." Harry might get some enjoyment out of that himself. "But whoever’s threatening you doesn’t know that. They would only see the Ministry presence, and maybe not want to risk it."

Draco put his elbows on the table and put his face in his hands. "I hadn’t thought about that."

Harry’d figured as much. "So let’s duplicate the lists, shall we?" He waved his wand and a second set of lists appeared. "One for your father and one for you."

Draco pulled back as if burned. "If you think I’m going to talk to my father about this –"

Harry held up his hands. "Relax. I only meant for you to fill them both out, one based on your father’s interactions and the other based on your own. The more information you can give me, the better." He motioned towards the lists. "As you can see, there are quite a number of people listed here. I’d like to narrow down my focus."

Draco pulled the lists towards himself. "I know less than you might think. I was nobody in Voldemort’s circle"

Harry pointed to Draco’s left arm. "That little tattoo there begs to differ."

His face turned red and blotchy as he looked down at his arm, the mark hidden by his sleeve. "Fuck off."

"I know he granted you the honour as punishment to your father, and I also know that you weren’t in the inner circle, despite the mark, but you lived at Death Eater headquarters."

"You mean Death Eater headquarters took over my home."

"Semantics."

"Pretty fucking important distinction."

"Sure, whatever."

"Not whatever. No one in my family wanted them at the manor. Especially ..." He shuddered.

"I’m sorry. I know you didn’t choose what happened. And it couldn’t have been easy." Harry could still see Draco’s face as he’d been forced to administer Voldemort’s punishment.

"Understatement."

"I know. I know what he made you do. And I have a pretty good idea of what you must have witnessed. And to have all that penetrate your home, your sanctuary. And all that while your father fell apart. It must have been horrible."

Draco’s eyes stared, unfocussed for a time and Harry spared a moment or two to feel badly for bringing the memories to the surface. Then Draco’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What do you mean, you know what he made me do?"

Harry sighed. "It doesn’t matter. Just ... well, I know you –"

"No, no. You said specifically what he made me do. What do you mean by that? And don’t lie to me, Potter, because I’ll know."

Harry sighed again, resigned to telling his story once more. "I sort of lived inside Voldemort’s head some of the time."

"You what?"

Harry shrugged. "We had this ... connection of sorts. Sometimes, when his emotions ran high, I would see through his eyes, feel what he felt, experience what he did as though I were the one doing it." Draco stared in disbelief. "One of those times was just after Ron, Hermione and I had escaped two Death Eaters sent to catch us. He made you torture them. Or one at least. I only saw you Crucio the one."

Draco dragged his hands over his face. "You saw me do that?" Harry nodded. "And you still testified for me?" Harry nodded again. "And then ... we ... you ... what is wrong with you? Why would you –" He stopped abruptly and just stared at Harry.

Harry had asked himself those same questions many times. "I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Your guess is as good as mine. But as for testifying, what I saw was someone being forced into doing what he didn’t want to do."

Draco stared at his hands. "You have to mean it or it won’t work."

Harry laughed but it was without humour. "So your Aunt Bella told me."

"What?"

Harry sighed again. He really didn’t want to relive every part of that time. He really didn’t. "She’d killed my godfather, Sirius, her own cousin, and she was so very pleased with herself. She was taunting me and laughing about it, so I went after her. I threw a Crucio at her and she laughed some more. Said I’d really have to mean it if I wanted it to really work."

"You Crucioed my aunt?" Harry nodded. "And you lived to tell about it?"

Harry snorted. "I lived through the killing curse from her boss, so ..." He didn’t bother elaborating. "Anyway, I realised later that she’d been right. When I Crucioed Amycus Carrow, I really meant it. And he felt it."

Draco laughed. "I bet he did. What did he do?"

Harry shrugged. "Spit on McGonagall."

"He –"

"Never mind that. Can we not go through a play-by-play of the war, please?"

Draco sat smirking at Harry. "I can’t believe you, Saint Potter, cast an Unforgiveable."

"Yeah, well ... I Imperioed some people too." When Draco’s jaw dropped again, he said, "And don’t call me that. I did what I had to do and I did tell you before that I’m not perfect. Or saintly. Or anything close. But all’s fair and all that, right?"

"I still can’t believe it."

"Believe it. Don’t believe it. It doesn’t matter now anyway. It’s in the past, and I hope to never have to do that again. So can we get back to the matter at hand?"

"Sure." Draco gave him a strange look, but he couldn’t be bothered trying to work out what that meant. "What was that again?"

Harry pushed the papers back towards Draco. "The lists. Tell me if anyone on the list of Ministry employees was someone you remember your dad talking to or having over to the manor. Or maybe another Death Eater talked about them. And which people might hold a grudge against you or your dad, on either list. Anything we can do to narrow the list or focus on a handful of suspects at a time would be great."

"Do you really think this will help?"

"I don’t know, but I need to cover every angle, and I don’t have time to investigate everyone."

Draco picked up one of the lists of Death Eaters and shuddered. "I’ll do my best."


Continued in Part 8

Title: Malicious Intent – Part 5
Author: sesheta_66
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 3K
Rating: Eventual NC-17
Warning: none
Summary: Harry’s world is upended when he’s asked to investigate a break-in and threats levied at Draco Malfoy. He’s never told anyone about their short-lived but intense relationship, and now, five years after it ended, doesn’t seem the time. He’s a professional, so he will investigate, find and arrest the culprit, and get on with his life. What else can he do?
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

To start at the beginning, click here.

Or to read at AO3, click here.



Malicious Intent – Part 5

Back at Grimmauld Place, Harry replayed the video he’d taken at Draco’s flat and made additional notes, particularly regarding the hidden surveillance devices. In short order, he confirmed that there had been fifteen. One was in the Malfoy family ring and three were to be sent to the Ministry. There were three that included video and the rest were spread among the main rooms, with one in the entryway. At least whoever planted them didn’t put one in the bathroom. Small consolation. What troubled him most was the age of three devices, though they no longer worked. Probably disabled over time from the magic in the flat.

He did not look forward to passing along this news. It was a terrible invasion of privacy for anyone, but for Malfoy it held the power to evoke the past. Harry knew from experience that some things are better left behind. This definitely qualified.

Putting aside his notes, he turned to the Pensieve. With confirmation that the video surveillance – presuming there hadn’t been others placed earlier and subsequently removed – had only been active since this break-in, there would be no historical pattern established. That made the job a little easier. Still, he wanted it to look natural. Hopefully it wouldn’t be needed for long – with any luck his trackers would pick up a transmission shortly – but he wanted to provide as much of a break for Malfoy as he could.

As Malfoy’s memories swirled in the Pensieve, Harry saw once more the gift he’d given Draco piecing itself together. His heart had begun to race then and it did the same now. And at once he was immersed in his own memories of that day.

Harry had grown weary of remaining holed up in Grimmauld. While neither of them was ready or willing to share their relationship with anyone, he missed the freedom such shared knowledge could provide. So he’d devised a plan. Telling Draco to set aside the full day, he had a surprise in store.

Unsure if Draco would be amenable, but unwilling to chance the alternative, he’d decided on a day in the Muggle world. London remained too much of a risk, as so many witches and wizards spent time there – besides, they’d both explored London before – so he’d decided on Wales. Cardiff specifically.

The day remained a pleasant blur of sightseeing and shopping and people watching. They had walked along the water and slipped into all sorts of shops. Harry didn’t remember what shops or restaurants they’d gone into; all he remembered was the feeling of freedom, to just walk around, hand in hand, together, without a care in the world. Even now he treasured that feeling, something he’d never been able to recapture, even with Ginny, in the wizarding world. And, he just realised, he’d never even tried spending a day with her in the Muggle world.

Cardiff castle wasn’t Hogwarts, of course, but for them it was perfect, and Draco had been particularly fascinated by the animal wall. He’d mocked Harry relentlessly for – of course – liking the lions best, and had been somewhat affronted by the lack of a snake, or at least a serpent. And why, with dragons everywhere one went in Cardiff, had there not been at least one on the wall? Harry grinned at the memory. In the end, Draco had settled on the lynx as his favourite. Harry had pointed out that a lynx, like a lion, is just a big cat, but Draco had just told him to shut up.

They’d travelled incognito, making a few tweaks to their features, just in case. It had been strange looking at Draco in disguise, and he imagined Draco had felt the same way, but neither of them had changed their eyes and they hadn’t disguised their voices, so if they just focussed on those things, they were able to immerse themselves in the day.

Later that night when they were home – Harry’s home that had quickly felt like their home – Harry’d presented Draco with his gift.

"But I didn’t get you anything," Draco’d said, though the sparkle in his eyes had told Harry he was pleased.

"I know. You don’t have to. I just ... well, I couldn’t resist." Draco had reached for it, but Harry’d held it back. "Now don’t laugh, because it’s Muggle. And really cheesy."

He’d rolled his eyes and reached out once more. "I would expect no less from you, Potter."

"It’s just ... well, I just wanted you to have something to remember our first date together, that’s all." Harry’d handed it over, just a little apprehensive now that the time had come. He’d expected to be mocked, or at the very least teased relentlessly, but Draco had surprised him. He’d simply smiled and opened it.

And, though Harry had expected derisive laughter, he’d smiled more brightly and said, "It’s brilliant."



"It’s a dragon. Like you."

Then the eyeroll had come. "Funny, but I’d managed to work that out all on my own."

"Shut up. At least I didn’t get you a red one. I figured you’d have something biting to say about it being Gryffindor colours."

But then he’d kissed Harry, like he’d never kissed him before. It had been the perfect end to the perfect day.

And then, three weeks later it was over.

And that was five years ago.

Only ... Draco had kept the dragon. And Harry had no idea what to make of that.

Harry put his fingers to his lips and swore he could still taste Draco’s kiss.

His alarm jolted him back to the present. He checked his watch; Ginny should be home soon. He needed to find another place to work if he was expected to keep the case to himself, since he couldn’t be assured of privacy in his tiny cubicle at the Ministry. If he left now, he should have just enough time to work something out before going back to Draco’s.

When he arrived back at Draco’s flat, it was awkward, to say the least. The dragon, hidden away in a drawer in Draco’s bedroom, loomed over them. And after reliving that day in Cardiff, Harry found it a challenge not to stare. He kept running his tongue over his upper lip, trying to recapture that moment. He shook his head to clear away the memories. He was with Ginny now. They’d both moved on. He couldn’t get distracted, not with Draco’s life on the line – and yes, damn it, he was definitely Draco again. But the need to know – why had Draco kept such a silly souvenir if it had meant nothing to him? – kept interrupting his thoughts.

"Were you able to complete the list of missing items?" Harry’s voice came out raspier than he’d intended.

"What?" Draco jumped, startled out of wherever he’d gone. It seemed Harry wasn’t the only one lost in thought. "Oh, right." He grabbed a paper from the table and handed it to Harry. "Here you go."

Harry took the proffered page and looked over the list. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but it looks like none of these is actually yours." At Draco’s scowl, he continued. "I mean, none of these items was purchased by you. They’re all Malfoy items handed down to you, right?"

"Yes."

"And nothing from the Black side?"

"Ah, no."

There were only three things of note: the hand of glory kept, as Harry recalled, as a reminder of stupid choices; a tome from the Malfoy library; and a jewelled box, an heirloom Lucius had valued. Draco had never shown much interest in any of them.

The items destroyed, however, seemed to have no rhyme or reason to them. An indiscriminate act of force, probably just to rattle Draco. And rattle him it had.

Harry positioned himself with his back to known cameras and motioned towards Draco’s ring. Thankfully, he got the message and excused himself to use the washroom, conveniently leaving it behind when he returned.

"I’ve a few things to go over with you, if you would come with me." Draco nodded and Harry took his arm, Apparating them to the room he’d just set up.

"Subtle, Potter," he said as he withdrew his arm from Harry’s grasp and stared at the bed, looking suddenly terrified. "Just because I kept some stupid dragon doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with you."

"What? Wait. No!" Harry took a moment to process the scene from Draco’s point of view and felt his face burn. "Oh, for fuck’s sake." He waved his wand, transfiguring the bed into a table and chairs. "I rented the space so I can work in private. I barely had time to secure it before returning to your flat."

Draco snorted. Apparently Harry’s discomfort emboldened him. "Work, eh?" He took a step closer to Harry and grasped his tie. "Is that what we’re calling it now?"

Draco wasn’t fooling anyone with his false bravado. Harry had seen his fear when they’d landed in this room. That, more than anything, allowed him to regain his composure. "Oh, stop it. Don’t pretend this is any easier on you than it is me."

Draco shrugged. "Very well. Why have you – oh, Great and Powerful Auror Potter – dragged me to a seedy hotel room away from all prying eyes if you weren’t planning on taking advantage of my current, very vulnerable position? Whatever do you want from me?"

Harry knew this was Draco’s defence mechanism, throwing other people off their game, but knowing that didn’t prevent it from getting Harry riled all the same. Especially given the circumstances. What did he want from Draco? Right now, Harry kinda wanted to punch him in the face. Which was a good thing, really, because it made him remember that he was supposed to be pissed off with Draco, not replaying long lost memories and thinking about what might have been. This was just another case. He was an Auror and Draco was a victim. He took a soothing breath and willed himself to be objective.

"If you want to be a dick, Malfoy, you can simply Apparate home – there’s nothing preventing you – and I’ll carry on without bothering to inform you of my findings. If, however, you want to take this threat on your fucking life seriously, you’re welcome to take a seat and listen."

Despite being chastised, Draco nonchalantly collapsed onto the sofa, crossed his legs imperiously and raised his brows. "Well? Inform me."

"Right. Well, after my second round searching your flat, I confirmed the fifteen devices. There’s the one in your ring and the three barely hidden ones."

"Which leaves eleven."

"Yes. Three of the remaining ones are old."

"You mentioned that before. Just how old are they?"

"About two years old."

Malfoy shot up. "What did you say? Two years?"

"Yeah, that’s the bad news."

He shot Harry a murderous look. "And there’s some sort of good news about someone spying on me for two years?"

Harry dragged his hand through his hair and sat down on the chair facing Malfoy. "I wouldn’t call it good news, no. But it’s less bad."

"Oh, well then," Malfoy said, a hint of panic in his voice now. "Less bad is just wonderful."

"No, it’s not." Harry sensed him winding up and he wasn’t sure how to calm him down. It wasn’t as if he could take Draco in his arms and talk him through it like he used to do when a panic attack took hold. Hopefully it didn’t come down to that. "The positive part about it is that the devices aren’t working. I can’t tell you how long ago they stopped working – not without looking at them to see when the last recording was made, if it’s been preserved – but it seems safe to say it’s been a while. My best guess is that the magic in your flat, most likely your wards, caused them to break down."

"Were those the ones with video too?"

"No. That’s the other positive news. There are only three video devices and they were placed there at the same time as the note was left. One each in your bedroom, the front room and the kitchen."

Malfoy’s legs were bouncing slightly and he was wringing his hands, but otherwise he seemed to be keeping relatively calm. "So there were fifteen. Only six were left the other day, which leaves nine older ones. Three of those were really old and no longer working. That’s six more."

"Right. One is in your ring, two in the front room, one each in your entryway, kitchen and bedroom. They seem to be about four to six months old."

"Oh, God." His legs started bouncing again. "I think I’m going to be sick."

Harry panicked. Not sure what to do, he moved to sit down beside Draco, resting his leg against Draco’s bouncing one. "We’ll get whoever’s doing this. I promise."

Draco stared off into the distance, eyes glazed and unfocussed, breathing shallow and fast. Harry suspected he was back at Malfoy Manor, back when Voldemort and the Death Eaters had taken over the place and had roamed freely.

Without thinking, he pressed his hand to Draco’s thigh, to stop the bouncing, and squeezed. "Hey, Malfoy." No response. "Draco!" Draco turned to face him, looking for all the world like he was surprised Harry was even there. "Hey." Harry squeezed his leg again. "It’s going to be okay."

"I don’t – I don’t think I can go back there."

"Then don’t."

His leg began to shake under Harry’s hand again. "But what about your plan to catch them?"

Harry released his leg and grabbed him gently by the upper arms, turning him so they faced each other. "Don’t worry about that."

"But –"

"Shh. Listen to me. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay." Harry’s hands acted of their own accord and rubbed circles on Draco’s shoulders as he tried to talk him down. "We’ll figure it out. We might catch a break when they transmit the first time – I’ve placed a trace on them so I’ll know when something happens. Since they aren’t transmitting constantly, you don’t have to be there for now. And if we don’t catch them that way, we’ll figure out something else. Trust me."

Draco nodded, taking in shaky breaths. After a time, he calmed somewhat. "I do," he whispered. He stared at Harry like a lost child and swallowed. "I trust you."

Harry smiled. "Good. Now try to relax."

He snorted. "Yeah, sure. No problem. I’m all about relaxing."

"Can I get you something? A glass of water?"

"Sure. Yeah. Water’s good."

Harry released his arms and stood up. The moment he started to walk away, Draco wrapped his arms around his body and his legs began to bounce again. Harry quickly returned with the water. "Here you go. Drink up."

Draco took a sip while staring off into the distance again. Harry didn’t know what else to do.

"I can’t go back there," Draco said in a choked voice, looking at someplace only he could see. "Not now."

"It’s okay. You don’t have to. I can pick up whatever you need, if you want."

"No, I mean the manor. I can’t go there now, not like this."

"Okay." Once more Harry tried to settle the bouncing with a hand to Draco’s leg. Before his brain processed what he was going to say, words spilled forth, unbidden. "You can stay here. I’ve already put up wards to keep people out, and I’ve done a sweep of the room to ensure it’s secure."

"And no one’s watching?"

Harry shook his head. "No one’s watching or listening. It’s safe and secure."

"You’re sure?" He hugged himself tightly and it was everything Harry could do to resist doing the same, just taking him in his arms and telling him that he would make everything okay. That he’d protect him.

"I’m positive." He waved his wand and the table transfigured back into a bed. "Why don’t you lie down?" Draco allowed himself to be led to the bed. Harry sat him down, removed his shoes, and nudged him under the covers. "I’ll go get you some tea from the restaurant downstairs and I’ll be right back, okay?"

Draco started to laugh, for no discernible reason. Just as Harry was starting to panic, he said, "See? I knew you wanted to get me into bed again."

Harry winced. What was he supposed to say to that? He’d never wish these circumstances on anyone, least of all Draco. No matter what had gone before, he knew he’d always want to protect this man. But he couldn’t say that. Shouldn’t say that. Hell, he shouldn’t even think it. But, more to the point, he’d never take advantage of such a situation. Oh, and he was with Ginny.

Draco stopped laughing. "Sorry. That wasn’t funny."

No, it definitely wasn’t. "It’s okay." What else was he to say?

"No, it’s not." Draco pulled the covers over his shoulders and turned to face away from Harry. "I’m so, so sorry, Harry." He took a couple of ragged breaths. "Sorry for everything."

Harry stood up, not knowing what to do. "I’ll get that tea for you now." Draco said nothing, so he fled.

When he got back upstairs, Draco was sound asleep. Probably for the best. He’d had an emotionally draining day to say the least.

Harry stayed for another half hour, watching Draco sleep and wondering what the hell he was doing. Ron would have told him he was mental. Hermione would have told him he was pulling his saviour thing again. And Ginny? She’d have told him he was a sucker.

Right. Ginny. She’d be home by now. He really ought to go there too.

He pulled two coins out of his pocket and waved his wand over them. He returned one to his pocket and placed the other on the night table with a note. "Press to contact me if you need anything. H."

He read the note over and spent a few more minutes watching Draco sleep, the crease between his eyes itching to be smoothed out. Harry resisted, but only just, and he thought that Ron, Hermione and Ginny were all probably right about him. And in that moment, he just couldn’t bring himself to care.

Continued in Part 6

Title: Malicious Intent – Part 3
Author: sesheta_66
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 1.4K
Rating: Eventual NC-17
Warning: none
Summary: Harry’s world is upended when he’s asked to investigate a break-in and threats levied at Draco Malfoy. He’s never told anyone about their short-lived but intense relationship, and now, five years after it ended, doesn’t seem the time. He’s a professional, so he will investigate, find and arrest the culprit, and get on with his life. What else can he do?
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

To start at the beginning, click here.

Or to read at AO3, click here.



Malicious Intent – Part 3

Harry looked at the collection of memories in the Pensieve, hoping he’d be able to cobble together some footage good enough to trick the surveillance devices. His skills weren’t great, but should be sufficient for the purpose: short-term and occasional.

"Right," Harry said. "Are we agreed then? We’ll leave the well disguised devices in place and I’ll remove the obvious ones."

Malfoy still looked hesitant. "The ones they wanted you to find."

Harry nodded. "Then do your best to act naturally."

"How exactly am I supposed to do that?" Malfoy said, wrapping his arms around his stomach. Harry knew that look and it was everything he could do to stay back. He would remain impassive. He would not try to console Draco – Malfoy – to ease his mind. And he would most certainly not take him in his arms and tell him everything would be okay.

"Look, it’s invasive, but you’ve been through worse. You can do this." He resisted reaching out with a calming hand and willed his voice to remain emotionless. "And it won’t be for long. I just want to put a trace on the devices to see if I can determine where they’re transmitting to."

"And you’re sure you can do that?"

Harry shrugged. Truth be told, this wasn’t his area of expertise. "I should be able to narrow it down to a general area, a neighbourhood at least. Any more invasive traces – ones that could pinpoint with more accuracy – would be detectable."

"And that would give them warning, so they could shut everything down, and we'd lose our chance to trace the source."

Harry watched as Draco’s eyes darted around the room, as his teeth nibbled nervously at his lower lip, as his arms reflexively kept squeezing his waist. His instincts screamed to comfort this visibly shaken victim of a crime, but his self-preservation warned him to maintain professional distance from the man who ... well. Maybe he should have told Robards.

"It won’t be for long, and I’ll put up extra wards and warning spells. Once I’ve narrowed down where the signal is transmitting to, we can remove the rest and you’ll have your privacy back."

Draco – Malfoy, damn it – finally let his arms fall to his sides. He balled his hands into fists as he took several deep, calming breaths. "Fine. How long do you figure?"

"A few days, a week at most, I think."

"You think?"

"Look, Malfoy, I’m doing the best I can here."

"Whatever." His arms wrapped around his body again. In a soft voice he asked, "Why does it have to be you?"

Anger flooded Harry. Did he imagine that Harry was happy about the situation? Did he think Harry wanted to be assigned to this case? Did he think that Harry rejoiced in this whole thing? That it was some way to get back at Malfoy? "Look, I’m not any happier about this than you obviously are. Let’s just get through it and I’ll be out of your life for good, okay?"

"That’s not –"

"I didn’t ask for this assignment, alright?"

Again he squeezed his arms around himself. Harry wished he’d stop doing that. "Then why take it?"

Harry sighed. He was asking himself the same question. "Would you rather Ron be handling this? Or is there some other Auror you’d like to personally request?"

"Never mind."

"No, really." Now Harry was pissed. "Does it offend your sensibilities that they’d assign me instead of someone with vastly more experience? Someone who, no doubt, could do a far better job?"

Malfoy looked shocked at Harry’s words, but before Harry could react, he recovered himself and said, "No. Just the opposite."

"What?"

"I’m surprised they’d be willing to part with you. Particularly for someone like me."

Oh. Well. Harry hadn’t expected that. Bloody hell. Might as well tell him the truth. "I don’t think they are particularly confident that anyone else – at least not anyone that isn’t already bogged down with cases – could remain objective, in light of ..."

"My past." When Harry nodded, he added, "And they thought you could?"

Harry shrugged. "Apparently so." Malfoy wrapped his arms around himself again. "They don’t know about ... us. I never told anyone."

Malfoy’s eyes widened. "No one?"

"Well, I didn’t really fancy telling anyone that you’d made a fool –" Harry stopped and took a calming breath. It wouldn’t do either of them any good to rehash the past. "You know what, never mind. I didn’t tell anyone and didn’t think this would be the best time to bring it up."

Malfoy frowned and suddenly looked deep in thought. Eventually he looked up. "Even if it meant you wouldn’t have to work the case?"

Harry ran his hand through his hair and only just avoided tugging on it. "It wouldn’t be right. You deserve your case to be treated as fairly as anyone else’s. And if that means I handle the case, so be it." Malfoy clenched his jaw but said nothing in response. "Let me go back to the Ministry to retrieve your ring, then we can go back to your place and find the devices."

Malfoy considered him for a while. "Who knows that you’re on this case?"

Harry wasn’t comfortable talking about this, but he figured Malfoy ought to know. "Just me, Gawain Robards and Kingsley Shacklebolt."

"The Minister, Head Auror and you?"

"That’s right."

"Not Weasley?"

Harry felt himself getting irritated again. "Not that it’s any of your business, but no. And I’m not going to tell him. Nor will Robards or Kingsley."

"But you took me there, to the Ministry, earlier."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but that room is used for interrogations and when someone is in there, no one else can Apparate inside." Even still, he knew he’d taken a risk. "I had to do something in order to get the ring off you without signalling to whoever is spying on you. And I’d banked on no one being in the observation room just outside. But, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not take you back there."

"Okay."

Harry’d expected an argument. And now that he was about to go, he realised that he was leaving Draco in his home, alone. The home he shared with Ginny. This was such a bad idea. "I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere."

"Fine."

Harry Apparated to the Ministry and, thankfully, the room remained vacant. He was able to retrieve the ring and return in short order. To find Malfoy holding a picture of Harry and Ginny taken outside at the Burrow.

He hastily put down the picture. "So, you and the Weaselette?"

Harry scowled. What the hell business was it of his anyway? "Yes, she lives here with me."

"So, not married then?"

Harry ran his hand through his hair, if only to avoid grabbing Malfoy by the collar, shaking him and screaming in his face. "No, I’m not. And neither are you. And I’m not doing this with you." He took out his wand and Malfoy flinched. "Relax, I’m not going to hex you. I put a blocking spell on the ring before I left the Ministry and I’m going to remove it now. That means whoever is doing this to you will hear every word we say from now on. Got it?"

He no longer looked frazzled. In fact, he seemed to have regained some of his signature arrogance in the few minutes Harry’d been gone. "Got it."

"And when we’re at your flat, remember to act naturally. Don’t let on that you know anything. Act like you’re hearing everything for the first time. We don’t want them to figure out what we’re doing."

Defiantly, he crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. "Not a problem. I happen to be a brilliant actor when I want to be."

"Of course you are." Harry stared him straight in the eye and grimaced. "How could I ever forget?"

With a wave of his wand, he removed the spell on the ring, effectively ending their conversation, and grabbed Malfoy by the arm before Apparating them back to his flat.

Continued in Part 4

So ... a funny thing happened recently. It started with NaNo: I wrote 50K+ in November for the first time in years (that's usually my busy time at work, but not this year) and then I was inspired to write a Christmas fic (another 29K). And then I got not one but TWO plot bunnies for additional fics. This is the first of those two.

I plan to post (at least) once a week [priority is an original novel I'm also working on] and I estimate that this will end up at about 15-25K. Of course, the boys could take me down a long, winding path, but as of right now, that seems a reasonable estimate. I have about 8K written already, plus some additional planning done, so I should be good to get this baby wrapped up without much delay.

So, without further adieu, here be my latest, Malicious Intent. Enjoy!

Title: Malicious Intent – Part 1
Author: sesheta_66
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Word Count: 1.6K
Rating: Eventual NC-17
Summary: Harry’s world is upended when he’s asked to investigate a break-in and threats levied at Draco Malfoy. He’s never told anyone about their short-lived but intense relationship, and now, five years after it ended, doesn’t seem the time. He’s a professional, so he will investigate, find and arrest the culprit, and get on with his life. What else can he do?
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

To read at AO3, click here.



Malicious Intent – Part 1

Harry sat at his desk, bored out of his mind, doing what seemed like endless piles of paperwork. Bloody hell, being an Auror wasn’t nearly as interesting as he’d hoped when he’d signed up what felt like a lifetime ago. So, when Robards’ voice called, "Potter!" from his office, Harry jumped up, excited for a break from the monotony.

Harry went over to the Head Auror’s office and leaned in. "Yeah, boss?"

"Come in and shut the door, would you?"

"Sure." Harry did as asked and took a seat, wondering what would prompt a closed-door meeting. "Anything wrong?"

"No, no. Just ... well, I’ve received a new case and – given the complainant’s family history – I’d rather not advertise what’s going on." Harry frowned. "Not that anyone would have a problem with ... but just in case."

Perplexed, Harry waited. Robards shuffled through some papers on his desk then handed Harry the form. When he read the complainant’s name, Harry knew where Robards’ concern lay. Draco Malfoy. Though most corruption had been weeded out in the five years since the war – thanks in large part to Kingsley’s leadership – there remained strongholds of Ministry workers who, while not corrupt, held a good deal of rancour towards known and suspected Death Eaters, former Death Eaters, family members of Death Eaters and sometimes even casual acquaintances of Death Eaters. Not that anyone in the Auror Department would actively seek to harm someone, but it was entirely likely said individuals would receive rather less vigorous support. Much as he hated to admit it, Harry knew that even Ron could have been included in that group. Particularly where Malfoy was concerned.

"Ah," Harry said. "I understand." Robards nodded and motioned for him to continue reading. According to the report, Malfoy had been receiving threats – ones he either hadn’t taken seriously prior to this, or that he suspected would not be treated as worth investigation – for several months. Yesterday, whoever had been threatening him had escalated, had broken into his flat, destroying a number of items and leaving a note amongst the rubble. "Next time, I’ll come when you’re home." it said.

Harry looked up, a cold churning settling in his stomach. Robards said, "I see that you recognise the gravity of the situation."

Harry nodded. "Malfoy’s an accomplished wizard." Denying it would have served no purpose. "In school he came second only to Hermione Granger in our year, and you know what a formidable witch she is. I seriously doubt he’d have weak or inadequate wards." This was serious.

"Quite." Robards nodded. "That means whoever is threatening him is also a highly accomplished wizard, or witch, for that matter."

"So you’d like me to take on the case?"

"Ah." Robards leaned back in his chair and scrutinised Harry. "Now there I’m not so sure." Harry said nothing, waiting for him to elaborate. "Given your ... ah ... past."

A twinge of apprehension came over Harry. He couldn’t know, could he? No, of course not. No one knew. He tried for casual but confused. "Sir?"

"I understand, from Kingsley, that you and Mr Malfoy have rather a colourful history."

Ah. Relief washed over Harry. "We do," he acknowledged. No point denying that.

"Though I daresay not as contentious as between him and Weasley." Harry nodded. "Listen, Potter, I trust that you will investigate this to the best of your ability. You’ve never hesitated to execute your duties professionally, no matter the victim or circumstance, which is in large part why you were promoted to Senior Auror, despite your age. However, unfortunately, I cannot say the same with regards to all of your colleagues. The ability to set aside personal concerns is something often honed over years, and as you know, we’re lacking seasoned Aurors. So. That’s why I’ve called you in here today." He leaned forward and held Harry’s gaze. "Despite your record, you’ve never been called upon to investigate a case in which you’ve had a personal connection before."

"I --"

He held up a hand to stop Harry’s response. Probably a good thing, since Harry wasn’t even sure what he’d been about to say. "Take a few hours. You’re the best person for the job, I have no doubt, but if you don’t feel you can give this case the same care and attention you could any other, I won’t hold it against you. If you say you can’t do it, I will accept that, no questions. Protocol is to assign cases to Aurors that can remain objective. And I wouldn’t even ask, except ..."

"Except you can’t guarantee he’ll get fair treatment under the circumstances."

Robards nodded. "Take the file, consider your past, and let me know this afternoon if you think you can do this objectively. Or at least as objectively as anyone else."

"I can do it," Harry said.

"I don’t doubt that you can, Potter. My concern is if you should. This is as much for your benefit as Mr Malfoy’s."

Not entirely sure what he meant by that, but not wanting to ask, Harry picked up the file and stood to go. "Right. Will do."

"Oh, and Potter? Keep this one to yourself." Harry understood that to mean, don’t tell Ron. Which meant don’t tell Hermione. Or Ginny. Or anyone else he might ordinarily talk to about such a decision. Right, then. He was on his own.

Harry spent the morning clearing as much paperwork from his other cases as he could, knowing full well what he was doing. He was already planning to take the case. Ordinarily Aurors don’t get much say in which cases they’re assigned. Robards had chosen him, had said he trusted him. And Harry knew full well the case would get shoved under everything else, if handed to any of a number of his colleagues. He had no idea who would end up with the case if Harry refused it, and Malfoy didn’t deserve to die. Harry hadn’t rescued him from the Fiendfyre back in school just to have him offed by some lunatic, certainly not if Harry could prevent it. And, on a more selfish note, he wasn’t about to risk his own career progression by refusing a case. Sure, Robards had given him an out, but the choice would follow him, no matter what assurances he was given. It had nothing whatsoever to do with Harry’s feelings for the man.

Not sure if he could convince even himself of that, Harry took lunch on his own and went for a walk, determined to give the matter some real thought. The last time he’d seen Malfoy had been on Diagon Alley a couple of years ago. They’d both acted like they hadn’t seen each other, and that had been that. As if either of them had ever been able to ignore the other. And Harry’s thoughts had wandered back to that non-encounter more times than he’d cared to admit in the two years since.

The time before that had been significantly less pleasant. Perhaps the least pleasant encounter of Harry’s life, not counting the war. Somehow, incredibly, he and Malfoy – he’d become Draco by then – had ended up together. It had started innocently enough, but in short order it had become clear that there was a lot more between them than residual anger and pent-up sexual frustration. One night, after a particularly frustrating argument with Ron, Harry had been well on his way to drinking himself into a stupor when Draco had joined him. An hour later they were in Harry’s bed and had been every night for months after that. And it hadn’t just been about the sex, though admittedly that had been fabulous. They’d practically lived together. And it had happened in a heartbeat.

And then, out of nowhere, it was over. "It never meant anything," Malfoy had told him. "Just a distraction, an outlet, a way to let off some steam." When Harry’d protested, Malfoy had turned cruel. He’d laughed in Harry’s face, had told him he couldn’t possibly think that Malfoy would ever turn his back on family obligation. No, he would marry a pureblood witch, as became a wizard of his breeding, and he would produce an heir and a spare. Should Harry want to fuck occasionally – on the side and in private, of course – Draco might be amenable sometime down the road; it had been good after all, but the current situation had to end, at least for the time being.

And then he’d left and Harry hadn’t heard from him since.

And now it was Harry’s job to protect him. Hunt down the person who wanted to do Draco harm. He was powerless to say no. It didn’t matter that Draco – no, Malfoy – had left him a shell of a man, unable to trust his own instincts, Harry would protect him or die trying. It was more than just his job. And it was then that he knew he’d never really moved on. He’d fought it well, valiantly even, but the truth was that Draco Malfoy still owned his heart. And after all this time, what could Harry do?

Apparently, he could go protect the git.

He could protect him. Investigate the case. Arrest the bastard doing this. See him or her thrown in Azkaban. And leave the arse to live his purebred life without Harry.

Right. He could do this. It had been five years ago, for Merlin’s sake. Another lifetime. Water under the bridge. He steeled himself and then went to Robards’ office to tell him that sure, he could be perfectly objective and treat the heartless bastard like any other victim. Sure he could. Because he was a professional.

Fucking hell.

Continued in Part 2