Amnesty - Part 3, H/D [NC-17]
Nov. 17th, 2013 05:12 pmTitle: Amnesty - Part 3
Author:
sesheta_66
Beta:
dysonrules
Summary: Draco Malfoy, shunned by the masses and turned away from the Aurors more times than he'd care to admit, is taking out remnants of the Dark Lord's fan club himself – by being the best assassin money can buy. When the stone-cold killer happens upon a body lying in the alley, however, he can't leave the man for dead. When the man turns out to be Harry Potter, he does what anyone in his position would do – he brings him home.
A persistent tapping at his window one morning, three months or so after Harry had walked out of his life, roused Draco from a fitful sleep. A quick Tempus revealed it was nine o'clock. Draco scowled at the offending creature, but this served only to increase both the frequency and force of the tapping.
Tempted to blast the feathered nuisance, he reached for his wand. He waved towards the window to open it, but before he could catch the bird in flight, as though aware of Draco's intent, it soared downwards, skilfully avoiding his spell as it whipped past.
Draco chuckled, despite the early hour after a late night. "All right," he said, putting down his wand as he approached the owl. "You win this round. I concede defeat." He reached for the parchment and barely skirted a nip. Fair enough. He deserved that. With another chuckle, he offered the bird a treat and removed the letter.
The bird swallowed the treat, squawked and took flight once more.
"No reply required, then," Draco mumbled to the retreating form. Only then did he notice the official seal of the Ministry.
"Shit." He needed a drink for this, then remembered he'd just woken up. Coffee it was. He marched to the kitchen and pressed the button, bypassing the auto function he'd set the night before. Coffee maker. When Harry had insisted Draco buy this contraption, introducing Draco to freshly brewed java prepared while he slept, Draco had been surprised to find himself impressed by the Muggle technology. He'd so missed the house-elves when he'd left the Manor, and the part he'd missed most – besides the obvious domestic tasks they performed – had been waking up to a fresh cup of coffee. His mother had never approved – Earl Grey was and would remain her wake-up beverage of choice – but once he'd become accustomed to the richness of a fine roast, Draco had been hooked. He watched the coffee drip into the pot. One of the only stupid Muggle devices that Draco hadn't been able to part with after Harry had left. How had his life changed so much in so short a time?
His eyes returned to the letter sitting on the counter. Bastard. Draco hadn't thought Harry would betray him this way. Sure, he'd spent those first few nights tossing and turning after realising Harry wasn't planning to return and wondering just how far Harry's sense of right and wrong would take him. Would he report Draco?
Harry was an Auror. But he was also a rule breaker.
He was loyal to the cause. But more loyal to his friends. But then Draco had never really been his friend, had he?
Draco had concluded that Harry wouldn't turn him in. Not that he had any evidence anyway – Draco had been careful about what he'd let slip and how. He'd even reviewed their conversation in his Pensieve to be sure. As badly as things had ended, Draco had saved Harry's life. And, deny it as he might try, Draco knew that they'd meant a lot to each other. Picturing Harry's face, Draco knew it hadn't been one-sided. Harry cared. A lot. Maybe even ...
No. Draco wouldn't go down that road again. Wouldn't let himself wonder what if. Especially now. But even though they weren't together anymore, Harry couldn't forget that. He wouldn't.
Only now Draco was holding a letter from the Ministry. How could he have done this? Draco envisioned a team of Aurors, Harry leading the charge, marching through his front door and dragging him off to prison.
At least Azkaban was closed. Small consolation.
Draco scowled at the parchment. Why would the Ministry warn him? A voice that sounded suspiciously like Pansy's told him to open the damn letter already.
He poured a generous mug of coffee – another Potter influence. Before the speccy git had wormed his way into his life, Draco would never have considered drinking from anything but the finest china cup. He topped it off with a generous helping of cream, sat down and took a long sip.
Pansy's voice persisted, and he smiled as he imagined her scarlet nails tapping impatiently on his table.
He unrolled the parchment and read.
His jaw dropped and he blinked, trying to focus once more before he read it again, slowly.
***
"What do you mean, you're thinking about it?" Pansy asked. "You've wanted that job for as long as I can remember. Before even you realised it, I knew."
"Those pompous arses turned him down no less than three times," Blaise pointed out. "And Draco has made a cosy life for himself despite their best efforts to prevent that. I say to hell with them."
"But this is legitimate work."
"And the pay is shite."
"He could redeem the family name."
"But he can't get back all the money the very same bastards took after the war."
"Don't even try to suggest that Draco is destitute."
"No thanks to them. At least Lucius, for all his bad choices, had the wherewithal to diversify."
"You mean hide a fortune out of reach of the British authorities."
Blaise shrugged. "Semantics, my dear Pansy."
"Excuse me," Draco said, finally tiring of their bickering.
Blaise ignored him. "There's no such thing as too much money, and there most certainly is such a thing as pride."
"Pride?" Pansy asked. "I'd say Lucius flushed the family's pride down the toilet years back."
"Hello?" Draco said. "I'm right here!"
Pansy continued as though Draco hadn't interrupted. "This is Draco's chance to get that back. Restore the name to its former glory."
"By working a common job?"
"By ridding the world of those we're all better off without."
"First of all, that's Potter's job. Second, as you've clearly forgotten, Draco's already doing that."
"But no one knows."
"We know."
"But people still think he's scum like his father."
"So what? Who cares what --"
"Enough!" Draco said.
"Draco cares," Pansy told Blaise. "And you damn well know it."
"What I care about right now," Draco said, grinding his teeth in an attempt to retain his composure, "is that the two of you stop talking as though I'm not here." He rubbed his temples and willed himself to take three long breaths. "Just ... stop."
"But Draco, darling," Pansy said, more softly now.
Draco lifted a hand in dismissal. "You've both made your views perfectly clear."
Blaise tried to speak, but Draco cut him off. "It all boils down to money versus pride."
"One thing I don't understand," Blaise said, brow furrowed in contemplation, "is who went to them. Who made them reconsider your application?"
"Whatever do you mean, Blaise?" Pansy asked. "Draco did, obviously."
"Initially, yes," Blaise agreed, "but this doesn't say anything about his application or appeal or any other contact. You didn't reapply recently, did you?" he asked.
Draco shook his head. "No."
"It says brought to our attention," Blaise continued. "By whom?"
"Let me see that," Pansy said as she snatched the letter from Blaise's grasp. She read it over once more, then looked up into Draco's eyes. "He didn't ..."
"Who else could it have been?" Draco said, knowing it to be true.
"Who?" Blaise asked. "What are you two on about?"
"Potter." The word, coming out of Pansy's mouth with such disdain, caught Draco off-guard.
"Why would Potter do that for you?"
"No idea," Draco said.
"Oh, come on!" Pansy objected.
Draco shot her a warning glare, but she would have none of that. She turned to Blaise. "Draco saved Potter's life. Now he's returning the favour. In a manner of speaking. More like giving him a shot at a new life."
Draco exhaled, relieved that she hadn't told Blaise the extent of ... well.
"Well, fuck me!" Blaise laughed. "It's about time the prat did something useful." Then he added, as an afterthought, "Why did you not tell me this before?"
Because I didn't see you. Because I'd hidden myself away from the world – first to care for Potter, then to fall for him, then to exact revenge on his behalf. "I wouldn't have told Pansy either, but she barged in on me --"
"Your wards never could keep me out."
"Bitch."
She grinned wickedly. "I'll never forget finally breaking through the Floo and seeing you and Potter --"
"Yes, yes," Draco interjected before she could say too much. "Mortal enemies and all that rot."
"Well, suffice it to say that, seeing the two of you ... getting on so well ..." She winked at Draco. "Now there's a picture I've replayed in my mind a fair few times since."
Draco cringed, recalling the intimate scene she'd walked in on. His heart slowed as he realised she wasn't going to say more.
"Do tell," Blaise said. "What could possibly have happened to persuade you to save Potter's life?"
Pansy's brows reached upwards as she considered Draco. He rolled his eyes in response.
"I had just finished a job and was about to Apparate home when I saw a crumpled heap in the alleyway. It turned out to be Potter."
"And you couldn't have just left him there?"
Draco recalled the scene. He'd considered it for a moment, but a flash of flames surrounding him, Draco clinging to Potter on the back of a broomstick, and he couldn't do it.
"The last time I'd seen Potter, he testified on my behalf before the Wizengamot. And the time before that he'd pulled me out of a burning room – at much risk to his own life, I might add." He'd told his friends all of this before, but it seemed worth repeating.
"Ah, life debt," Blaise said. Then he furrowed his brows. "I thought those were a load of bunk."
"I may not have been compelled by some outside force under risk of death," Draco agreed, "but it would have been ... frankly, rude not to assist."
Pansy snorted. "You could have dropped him at Mungo's."
"True," Draco said. "But then the authorities would have got involved."
"Potter is the authorities. He's an Auror, for fuck's sake," Blaise pointed out.
"Yes, well, fortunately for me, he didn't question why I was there, and – given the conspicuous lack of investigating into my whereabouts that evening – I presume he didn't report the specifics."
"How did that work? He'd have had to tell his superiors why he was taking time off."
"When he eventually came to, he told me he'd just finished a case and was on a mandatory week of leave. As luck would have it, he had no idea where he'd been dumped. His attackers had pummelled him to within inches of death, then Stunned, Apparated and dumped him in the alley." Draco remembered the helpless feeling that had come over him as he'd rested Potter's broken form on his sofa. "Anyway, he didn't know where he'd been, so I made up some other location. Not far, but I thought it prudent not to draw too much attention."
"And they didn't suspect you?" Blaise's incredulous tone reminded him of how he'd felt at the time.
"Potter assured them that he'd asked me not to take him to Mungo's."
"He lied for you?" Blaise asked. "And they believed him?"
Draco shrugged. "As you'll recall from school, he was an accomplished liar. Seems Dumbledore and McGonagall weren't the only ones to fall for his bullshit."
Pansy coughed. Draco glared at her. "Bottom line, no one is the wiser and I no longer owe Potter."
"And he no longer owes you."
Draco looked at the letter. "I suppose not." He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Before this, there was always the chance, a glimmer of hope that Potter might come around. Now that he'd done this for Draco, would Potter have any reason to see him again?
"How do you feel about working with him?" Blaise asked.
"Yes, Draco," Pansy said, no attempt to conceal her amusement, "how do you feel about working with Potter?"
Draco frowned. He'd been too preoccupied with Potter's motivation to ponder the implication. "I hadn't thought about it, actually."
"How is that even possible? He's an Auror. You'd be in the same office."
"I suppose I hadn't seriously considered taking the job before now."
"In fairness," Pansy added, "it's not like they'd be partnered up."
Blaise laughed. "Could you imagine?"
Draco could imagine it, both wonderful and painful.
Pansy seemed to read his thoughts. "Potter's on the fast-track to management. They wouldn't partner him with a former Death Eater."
Blaise laughed. "He could be your boss!" he said.
"Oh, God." Draco felt ill.
Pansy giggled. The bitch.
"Shut up," Draco said. "It's not funny."
"Of course it is," she said. "It's positively hilarious. Just imagine Potter bossing you around, telling you what to do. And you'd have to do whatever he told you to."
Draco's body seemed interested in giving that a try. A look at Pansy's face told him she'd noticed. Curse his pale Malfoy pallor!
Blaise, bless his wicked Slytherin heart, offered a different spin. "Might be good for Potter to have someone keep him in check." He nudged Draco's shoulder. "And who better than you?"
Pansy sniggered. "I thought you were against this."
"Oh, I am," Blaise said. "But it doesn't mean I can't recognise a silver lining when it's staring me in the face."
"So, bottom line," Draco said, "I should take the job so I can suffer the indignity of being ordered around by Potter, and in turn I could get a few digs in myself on occasion?"
"No, I think you should continue doing what you have been doing, making gobs of money and wallowing in the beauty of it all."
"And I think you should take the job, pay your dues, and prove to everyone that you are not your father," Pansy said. "You already have more money than the entire Auror core put together earns in a year, you have your health, and you've proven to everyone that matters – most importantly you – that you are a self-sufficient and resourceful man. You are everything Slytherins aspire to be. And now you can take that resourcefulness and make a place for yourself amongst those who would make you believe you aren't worthy."
"Strong words," Draco said.
She regarded him with her I know best, so you'd better just shut up and listen look. "I mean it. You are every bit the man Potter is."
"More," Blaise added.
"Too true." She took Draco's hand in hers. "It seems that Potter, for whatever reason, has already accepted that. Don't you think the rest of the wizarding world should too?"
Blaise surveyed the flat, then turned to Pansy with a pained expression. "But the money ..."
Draco laughed. "You are your mother's son." Blaise feigned indignation. "No offence intended."
Blaise grinned. "None taken."
"You know, I'm not so sure the money will be so free-flowing in the future," Draco noted.
"Come on," Pansy laughed. "There will always be a need for assassins, especially ones as good as you."
"No doubt," Draco agreed. "But I don't really have the stomach for random acts of murder."
"That's our Draco," Pansy said. "An assassin with ethics."
"And a cause," Blaise said. "How noble."
Draco shook his head. "Don't confuse noble with vengeful."
The two of them laughed. "You may have performed cold and calculated executions, but vengeance has very little to do with it," Pansy said. "Even if that's how it started."
"Oh, really?" Draco said.
"If I recall," Pansy said, "you only took on Death Eater cases."
"And only true Death Eaters," Blaise added. "The ones who took great pleasure in the suffering of others."
"Or those who hurt children."
"Careful," Draco warned. "You're almost making me out to be a saint."
"Just like Saint Potter," Blaise teased.
"Shut up."
"I told you, Draco," she said. "You are as much a man, as much a hero, as Potter."
"Not quite the hero Potter is," Blaise corrected. "But every bit the man."
Draco opened his mouth to reply, was unable to find the words, then closed it again.
"Tell anyone I said that," Blaise warned, "and I'll hex you both in ways you've never dreamed."
Pansy laughed. "Blaise, darling, I can't imagine you'd have anything on the Malfoy library of spells."
"You have met my mother, haven't you?" Blaise smiled. "And her many late husbands?"
Pansy's eyes widened in mock fear. "Point taken. This conversation never happened."
Still stunned by Blaise's declaration, Draco merely nodded.
"Right then." Pansy stood up and pulled Blaise up by the arm. "We'll be off. Leave you to make your decision."
Blaise stepped away from Pansy. "Just one thing," he said to Draco. "If you do decide to take the job, I want to be there to see the Weasel's face when you walk in."
Draco chuckled. "I'll let you relive the moment via Pensieve," he said, realising at once that he'd already made up his mind. If the smile on Pansy's face was anything to go by, she realised it too.
She leaned in and pecked him on the cheek. "Give Potter a kiss for me," she said.
Before he had a chance to form a witty retort, Pansy and Blaise had Disapparated and Draco found himself alone with his thoughts. He read the letter again. Memories flooded him. Some good, some not so good. But beneath the words on the page lay a truth even he couldn't deny.
Potter had forgiven him. They might never get back what they had, but Draco couldn't let that stop him. He would rise to the challenge. He would show them all. Recalling Pansy's words, he decided that, though there was a sense of satisfaction in it, he didn't need to prove anything to anyone but himself.
He pulled out parchment and quill and penned a response. He completed the form, then sent it and his letter off before he changed his mind.
As he sat sipping a brandy that night by the fire, Draco recalled his friends' words and felt at peace.
***
Three months later ...
Draco sat calmly, his exterior belying the nerves he felt deep in his stomach. He'd only been able to keep down one piece of toast and a cup of tea that morning.
Kingsley Shacklebolt entered and the room fell silent. Heads that had been focussed on Draco now faced the Minister.
"Welcome." His deep baritone echoed off the walls, projecting the way a Sonorus might. His smile seemed genuine as he scanned the room. "We have rather an interesting mix of candidates this session," he said. A few heads turned back to Draco. He met them with a sneer and they looked away. "Each and every one of you has the potential to become a successful Auror. But it won't be easy."
He smiled, then motioned towards the entrance. "And in case you don't believe me," he said as Potter stepped through the door, "just ask your new trainer."
Draco's heart raced and he took several deep breaths to calm himself. He remained determined. He could get through this. He would get through this.
"I'll leave you with Auror Potter," Kingsley said. "Best of luck to you all." He said a few words to Potter then left the room.
Potter smiled and looked around at the candidates, the glance that passed over Draco giving away nothing. "As Minister Shacklebolt said, this won't be easy. But it will be worth it. If being an Auror is really what you want, you will know. If you decide it isn't, best to figure that out quickly and move on." He took a moment to meet everyone's eyes before continuing. "Using the past as a gauge, nearly one third of you will decide to pursue another career path. For the rest, I look forward to working alongside you in the future."
"Bet Malfoy drops out in the first week," some smarmy git a row ahead mumbled to his friend, at a volume meant to ensure Draco heard.
Unfortunately for the git, Potter heard too. He glared at the culprit. "Clearly you don't know Mr Malfoy as I do," he said. "If there's anyone in this room up to the challenge of this training, I'd put him near the top of the list."
A couple of snorts came from the opposite side of the room. Potter shot a look in that direction.
"I will say this once and we will move on from there. I will not have this discussion again." He let his words sink in before continuing. "You all went through the same screening process – the same process my fellow Aurors and I went through. No one gets into this program without first being put through his or her paces. Background checks are done on everyone. No doubt everyone in this room has something to hide, something in their past they hope would remain there. Fortunately for most of you, those things did not play out in the public eye. Before passing judgement on anyone else, I suggest you all take a long look at your own past, and try to imagine it through the eyes of the public, taken in through the filter of the media.
"Consider yourselves fortunate indeed to not have the Prophet and its ilk take an interest in you. I speak from personal experience when I tell you that they rarely get the story straight.
"As to Mr Malfoy's situation in particular, I happen to have been there to witness much of what he went through. I was in the same year at Hogwarts, I was at Malfoy Manor when Voldemort had taken up residence there, and I was in the Battle of Hogwarts with Mr Malfoy." He ran his eyes over the room once more. "You were not. And I can assure you that, whatever he is, Draco Malfoy is not his father, and should not be judged on what Lucius Malfoy did. He was cleared of all crimes he'd been accused of, and I would suggest you all remember that.
"It is up to Mr Malfoy to discuss his situation, if he so desires. But I will say this: if it weren't for him, I would not be here right now."
Gazes met Draco's once more, only this time astonished rather than disgusted. He kept his face neutral. Years of practice around the Dark Lord served him well now.
"We work as a team here. Set aside all preconceived notions you might have of one another and work together. You will be observed throughout your training. Undermining another candidate will not be tolerated, and you will be out of the program so fast you won't know what hit you.
"Mr Malfoy is here based on his own merit and potential. Just like the rest of you.
"There are no house distinctions, class distinctions or blood status distinctions in the Auror Corps. We are all equals when we start out. We all risk our lives for one another, for the team, and for the public. If you are not prepared for that, I suggest you take your things and leave now. Find another line of work."
No one moved.
"No? All right then. Let me welcome you to your training. The first order of business will be getting you settled into your temporary living quarters for the next six weeks. We will meet in one hour on the training grounds out back. Come ready, and I suggest you not be late. I hear the trainer is rather picky about such things."
Draco stayed behind while the others filed out of the room. Only when the last person had left did he approach Harry. "You didn't have to do that, you know."
"Of course I did."
"I can fight my own battles," Draco said stubbornly.
Harry laughed. "Never a doubt, Malfoy."
"Then why?"
"Because this is my team, at least for the next six weeks. I need everyone to know that I'm in charge and that what I say goes."
Pansy's words flooded back to him, and Draco tried not to respond to them.
"I meant what I said," Potter continued. "Anyone undermining another candidate undermines the team. I will not stand for it. I saw it starting, so I stopped it."
"For now."
Potter nodded. "For now. But if it happens again, towards you or anyone else, I will not hesitate to cut it off immediately. Dissention in the ranks can get people killed. There are no second chances when it comes to this."
Draco considered Harry's words. "That sounds about right to me."
"Good." Potter smiled, almost like he used to. As though reading Draco's thoughts, his face hardened. "I cannot and will not show anyone favouritism."
Draco shot him an incredulous look. "And yet you got me into the program," he whispered.
"You got yourself in."
"Someone got me in."
"Correction: someone pointed out that you were unfairly overlooked. The rest was all you."
He should just accept it, but he needed to know. "But after everything ..."
Potter raised a finger to his lips, then waved his wand. Draco felt the Silencing Charm settle over them. "It came to my attention recently that the Ministry hired an outside consultant to ... let's say assist with some unsolved cases, to carry out some of their less palatable tasks."
What?
Potter laughed. "Yes. That was my reaction too. They apparently found someone highly talented and single-minded to carry out the duties of the former Hit Wizards, but without ties to the Ministry. Couldn't risk sullying the reputation of the New Order. Especially after all the media attention following the dissolution of the Hit Wizard Squad."
His client had been the Ministry. For some jobs at any rate.
"And to be sure the person wasn't a wild card, they placed requests for other, similar jobs, and this mystery consultant refused. Would only take on known Death Eater cases." Potter chuckled. "Imagine that. An assassin with a conscience." He leaned in and whispered in Draco's ear. "Apparently you passed their test." He pulled back. "Who was I to question that?"
Draco swallowed. They'd tried to set him up. "And you found all this out how?"
Potter shook his head. "We never had this conversation. Just like the last conversation we didn't have." He dropped the Silencing Charm. "And remember, Malfoy, no special treatment for anyone on my team." He looked deeply into Draco's eyes, boring through him as though seeing into his soul. "No matter my feelings."
Surely he didn't mean ...
"I cannot fraternise with anyone on my team."
Draco didn't dare dream. "That would be highly inappropriate," he said.
Potter nodded and motioned Draco through the door. As Draco passed, Potter said, "Six weeks from now, you'll be on someone else's team."
Draco didn't turn back, but felt confident as he faced his future. Whether he and Potter could make something work remained to be seen. What he did know, however, was that six weeks from now he might rather enjoy finding out.
And wasn't there something about spectacular make-up sex? Draco smiled.
~ FIN ~
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Summary: Draco Malfoy, shunned by the masses and turned away from the Aurors more times than he'd care to admit, is taking out remnants of the Dark Lord's fan club himself – by being the best assassin money can buy. When the stone-cold killer happens upon a body lying in the alley, however, he can't leave the man for dead. When the man turns out to be Harry Potter, he does what anyone in his position would do – he brings him home.
A persistent tapping at his window one morning, three months or so after Harry had walked out of his life, roused Draco from a fitful sleep. A quick Tempus revealed it was nine o'clock. Draco scowled at the offending creature, but this served only to increase both the frequency and force of the tapping.
Tempted to blast the feathered nuisance, he reached for his wand. He waved towards the window to open it, but before he could catch the bird in flight, as though aware of Draco's intent, it soared downwards, skilfully avoiding his spell as it whipped past.
Draco chuckled, despite the early hour after a late night. "All right," he said, putting down his wand as he approached the owl. "You win this round. I concede defeat." He reached for the parchment and barely skirted a nip. Fair enough. He deserved that. With another chuckle, he offered the bird a treat and removed the letter.
The bird swallowed the treat, squawked and took flight once more.
"No reply required, then," Draco mumbled to the retreating form. Only then did he notice the official seal of the Ministry.
"Shit." He needed a drink for this, then remembered he'd just woken up. Coffee it was. He marched to the kitchen and pressed the button, bypassing the auto function he'd set the night before. Coffee maker. When Harry had insisted Draco buy this contraption, introducing Draco to freshly brewed java prepared while he slept, Draco had been surprised to find himself impressed by the Muggle technology. He'd so missed the house-elves when he'd left the Manor, and the part he'd missed most – besides the obvious domestic tasks they performed – had been waking up to a fresh cup of coffee. His mother had never approved – Earl Grey was and would remain her wake-up beverage of choice – but once he'd become accustomed to the richness of a fine roast, Draco had been hooked. He watched the coffee drip into the pot. One of the only stupid Muggle devices that Draco hadn't been able to part with after Harry had left. How had his life changed so much in so short a time?
His eyes returned to the letter sitting on the counter. Bastard. Draco hadn't thought Harry would betray him this way. Sure, he'd spent those first few nights tossing and turning after realising Harry wasn't planning to return and wondering just how far Harry's sense of right and wrong would take him. Would he report Draco?
Harry was an Auror. But he was also a rule breaker.
He was loyal to the cause. But more loyal to his friends. But then Draco had never really been his friend, had he?
Draco had concluded that Harry wouldn't turn him in. Not that he had any evidence anyway – Draco had been careful about what he'd let slip and how. He'd even reviewed their conversation in his Pensieve to be sure. As badly as things had ended, Draco had saved Harry's life. And, deny it as he might try, Draco knew that they'd meant a lot to each other. Picturing Harry's face, Draco knew it hadn't been one-sided. Harry cared. A lot. Maybe even ...
No. Draco wouldn't go down that road again. Wouldn't let himself wonder what if. Especially now. But even though they weren't together anymore, Harry couldn't forget that. He wouldn't.
Only now Draco was holding a letter from the Ministry. How could he have done this? Draco envisioned a team of Aurors, Harry leading the charge, marching through his front door and dragging him off to prison.
At least Azkaban was closed. Small consolation.
Draco scowled at the parchment. Why would the Ministry warn him? A voice that sounded suspiciously like Pansy's told him to open the damn letter already.
He poured a generous mug of coffee – another Potter influence. Before the speccy git had wormed his way into his life, Draco would never have considered drinking from anything but the finest china cup. He topped it off with a generous helping of cream, sat down and took a long sip.
Pansy's voice persisted, and he smiled as he imagined her scarlet nails tapping impatiently on his table.
He unrolled the parchment and read.
His jaw dropped and he blinked, trying to focus once more before he read it again, slowly.
Dear Mr Malfoy,
It has been brought to our attention that your application to the Auror training program had been dismissed without due consideration. While we do not acknowledge this to be the case, we nevertheless reopened your file for further review.
Additional details regarding your court case – cited, as you may recall, as reason for the first rejection of your application – have come to light, and it is our opinion that you may have much to contribute to the Aurors. It is with this in mind that we extend an invitation to you to reapply at this time.
Our next training session begins this September. If you still wish to be considered for the program, please complete the enclosed application and return it to the Auror Department at the Ministry of Magic. In August, a preliminary set of aptitude and psychological testing will be administered. Candidates who pass this screening process will be invited to commence training on 1st September.
We look forward to hearing back from you in this matter.
Sincerely,
Heloise Harris
Auror Training Section
Department of Magical Law Enforcement
Ministry of Magic, London
***
"What do you mean, you're thinking about it?" Pansy asked. "You've wanted that job for as long as I can remember. Before even you realised it, I knew."
"Those pompous arses turned him down no less than three times," Blaise pointed out. "And Draco has made a cosy life for himself despite their best efforts to prevent that. I say to hell with them."
"But this is legitimate work."
"And the pay is shite."
"He could redeem the family name."
"But he can't get back all the money the very same bastards took after the war."
"Don't even try to suggest that Draco is destitute."
"No thanks to them. At least Lucius, for all his bad choices, had the wherewithal to diversify."
"You mean hide a fortune out of reach of the British authorities."
Blaise shrugged. "Semantics, my dear Pansy."
"Excuse me," Draco said, finally tiring of their bickering.
Blaise ignored him. "There's no such thing as too much money, and there most certainly is such a thing as pride."
"Pride?" Pansy asked. "I'd say Lucius flushed the family's pride down the toilet years back."
"Hello?" Draco said. "I'm right here!"
Pansy continued as though Draco hadn't interrupted. "This is Draco's chance to get that back. Restore the name to its former glory."
"By working a common job?"
"By ridding the world of those we're all better off without."
"First of all, that's Potter's job. Second, as you've clearly forgotten, Draco's already doing that."
"But no one knows."
"We know."
"But people still think he's scum like his father."
"So what? Who cares what --"
"Enough!" Draco said.
"Draco cares," Pansy told Blaise. "And you damn well know it."
"What I care about right now," Draco said, grinding his teeth in an attempt to retain his composure, "is that the two of you stop talking as though I'm not here." He rubbed his temples and willed himself to take three long breaths. "Just ... stop."
"But Draco, darling," Pansy said, more softly now.
Draco lifted a hand in dismissal. "You've both made your views perfectly clear."
Blaise tried to speak, but Draco cut him off. "It all boils down to money versus pride."
"One thing I don't understand," Blaise said, brow furrowed in contemplation, "is who went to them. Who made them reconsider your application?"
"Whatever do you mean, Blaise?" Pansy asked. "Draco did, obviously."
"Initially, yes," Blaise agreed, "but this doesn't say anything about his application or appeal or any other contact. You didn't reapply recently, did you?" he asked.
Draco shook his head. "No."
"It says brought to our attention," Blaise continued. "By whom?"
"Let me see that," Pansy said as she snatched the letter from Blaise's grasp. She read it over once more, then looked up into Draco's eyes. "He didn't ..."
"Who else could it have been?" Draco said, knowing it to be true.
"Who?" Blaise asked. "What are you two on about?"
"Potter." The word, coming out of Pansy's mouth with such disdain, caught Draco off-guard.
"Why would Potter do that for you?"
"No idea," Draco said.
"Oh, come on!" Pansy objected.
Draco shot her a warning glare, but she would have none of that. She turned to Blaise. "Draco saved Potter's life. Now he's returning the favour. In a manner of speaking. More like giving him a shot at a new life."
Draco exhaled, relieved that she hadn't told Blaise the extent of ... well.
"Well, fuck me!" Blaise laughed. "It's about time the prat did something useful." Then he added, as an afterthought, "Why did you not tell me this before?"
Because I didn't see you. Because I'd hidden myself away from the world – first to care for Potter, then to fall for him, then to exact revenge on his behalf. "I wouldn't have told Pansy either, but she barged in on me --"
"Your wards never could keep me out."
"Bitch."
She grinned wickedly. "I'll never forget finally breaking through the Floo and seeing you and Potter --"
"Yes, yes," Draco interjected before she could say too much. "Mortal enemies and all that rot."
"Well, suffice it to say that, seeing the two of you ... getting on so well ..." She winked at Draco. "Now there's a picture I've replayed in my mind a fair few times since."
Draco cringed, recalling the intimate scene she'd walked in on. His heart slowed as he realised she wasn't going to say more.
"Do tell," Blaise said. "What could possibly have happened to persuade you to save Potter's life?"
Pansy's brows reached upwards as she considered Draco. He rolled his eyes in response.
"I had just finished a job and was about to Apparate home when I saw a crumpled heap in the alleyway. It turned out to be Potter."
"And you couldn't have just left him there?"
Draco recalled the scene. He'd considered it for a moment, but a flash of flames surrounding him, Draco clinging to Potter on the back of a broomstick, and he couldn't do it.
"The last time I'd seen Potter, he testified on my behalf before the Wizengamot. And the time before that he'd pulled me out of a burning room – at much risk to his own life, I might add." He'd told his friends all of this before, but it seemed worth repeating.
"Ah, life debt," Blaise said. Then he furrowed his brows. "I thought those were a load of bunk."
"I may not have been compelled by some outside force under risk of death," Draco agreed, "but it would have been ... frankly, rude not to assist."
Pansy snorted. "You could have dropped him at Mungo's."
"True," Draco said. "But then the authorities would have got involved."
"Potter is the authorities. He's an Auror, for fuck's sake," Blaise pointed out.
"Yes, well, fortunately for me, he didn't question why I was there, and – given the conspicuous lack of investigating into my whereabouts that evening – I presume he didn't report the specifics."
"How did that work? He'd have had to tell his superiors why he was taking time off."
"When he eventually came to, he told me he'd just finished a case and was on a mandatory week of leave. As luck would have it, he had no idea where he'd been dumped. His attackers had pummelled him to within inches of death, then Stunned, Apparated and dumped him in the alley." Draco remembered the helpless feeling that had come over him as he'd rested Potter's broken form on his sofa. "Anyway, he didn't know where he'd been, so I made up some other location. Not far, but I thought it prudent not to draw too much attention."
"And they didn't suspect you?" Blaise's incredulous tone reminded him of how he'd felt at the time.
"Potter assured them that he'd asked me not to take him to Mungo's."
"He lied for you?" Blaise asked. "And they believed him?"
Draco shrugged. "As you'll recall from school, he was an accomplished liar. Seems Dumbledore and McGonagall weren't the only ones to fall for his bullshit."
Pansy coughed. Draco glared at her. "Bottom line, no one is the wiser and I no longer owe Potter."
"And he no longer owes you."
Draco looked at the letter. "I suppose not." He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Before this, there was always the chance, a glimmer of hope that Potter might come around. Now that he'd done this for Draco, would Potter have any reason to see him again?
"How do you feel about working with him?" Blaise asked.
"Yes, Draco," Pansy said, no attempt to conceal her amusement, "how do you feel about working with Potter?"
Draco frowned. He'd been too preoccupied with Potter's motivation to ponder the implication. "I hadn't thought about it, actually."
"How is that even possible? He's an Auror. You'd be in the same office."
"I suppose I hadn't seriously considered taking the job before now."
"In fairness," Pansy added, "it's not like they'd be partnered up."
Blaise laughed. "Could you imagine?"
Draco could imagine it, both wonderful and painful.
Pansy seemed to read his thoughts. "Potter's on the fast-track to management. They wouldn't partner him with a former Death Eater."
Blaise laughed. "He could be your boss!" he said.
"Oh, God." Draco felt ill.
Pansy giggled. The bitch.
"Shut up," Draco said. "It's not funny."
"Of course it is," she said. "It's positively hilarious. Just imagine Potter bossing you around, telling you what to do. And you'd have to do whatever he told you to."
Draco's body seemed interested in giving that a try. A look at Pansy's face told him she'd noticed. Curse his pale Malfoy pallor!
Blaise, bless his wicked Slytherin heart, offered a different spin. "Might be good for Potter to have someone keep him in check." He nudged Draco's shoulder. "And who better than you?"
Pansy sniggered. "I thought you were against this."
"Oh, I am," Blaise said. "But it doesn't mean I can't recognise a silver lining when it's staring me in the face."
"So, bottom line," Draco said, "I should take the job so I can suffer the indignity of being ordered around by Potter, and in turn I could get a few digs in myself on occasion?"
"No, I think you should continue doing what you have been doing, making gobs of money and wallowing in the beauty of it all."
"And I think you should take the job, pay your dues, and prove to everyone that you are not your father," Pansy said. "You already have more money than the entire Auror core put together earns in a year, you have your health, and you've proven to everyone that matters – most importantly you – that you are a self-sufficient and resourceful man. You are everything Slytherins aspire to be. And now you can take that resourcefulness and make a place for yourself amongst those who would make you believe you aren't worthy."
"Strong words," Draco said.
She regarded him with her I know best, so you'd better just shut up and listen look. "I mean it. You are every bit the man Potter is."
"More," Blaise added.
"Too true." She took Draco's hand in hers. "It seems that Potter, for whatever reason, has already accepted that. Don't you think the rest of the wizarding world should too?"
Blaise surveyed the flat, then turned to Pansy with a pained expression. "But the money ..."
Draco laughed. "You are your mother's son." Blaise feigned indignation. "No offence intended."
Blaise grinned. "None taken."
"You know, I'm not so sure the money will be so free-flowing in the future," Draco noted.
"Come on," Pansy laughed. "There will always be a need for assassins, especially ones as good as you."
"No doubt," Draco agreed. "But I don't really have the stomach for random acts of murder."
"That's our Draco," Pansy said. "An assassin with ethics."
"And a cause," Blaise said. "How noble."
Draco shook his head. "Don't confuse noble with vengeful."
The two of them laughed. "You may have performed cold and calculated executions, but vengeance has very little to do with it," Pansy said. "Even if that's how it started."
"Oh, really?" Draco said.
"If I recall," Pansy said, "you only took on Death Eater cases."
"And only true Death Eaters," Blaise added. "The ones who took great pleasure in the suffering of others."
"Or those who hurt children."
"Careful," Draco warned. "You're almost making me out to be a saint."
"Just like Saint Potter," Blaise teased.
"Shut up."
"I told you, Draco," she said. "You are as much a man, as much a hero, as Potter."
"Not quite the hero Potter is," Blaise corrected. "But every bit the man."
Draco opened his mouth to reply, was unable to find the words, then closed it again.
"Tell anyone I said that," Blaise warned, "and I'll hex you both in ways you've never dreamed."
Pansy laughed. "Blaise, darling, I can't imagine you'd have anything on the Malfoy library of spells."
"You have met my mother, haven't you?" Blaise smiled. "And her many late husbands?"
Pansy's eyes widened in mock fear. "Point taken. This conversation never happened."
Still stunned by Blaise's declaration, Draco merely nodded.
"Right then." Pansy stood up and pulled Blaise up by the arm. "We'll be off. Leave you to make your decision."
Blaise stepped away from Pansy. "Just one thing," he said to Draco. "If you do decide to take the job, I want to be there to see the Weasel's face when you walk in."
Draco chuckled. "I'll let you relive the moment via Pensieve," he said, realising at once that he'd already made up his mind. If the smile on Pansy's face was anything to go by, she realised it too.
She leaned in and pecked him on the cheek. "Give Potter a kiss for me," she said.
Before he had a chance to form a witty retort, Pansy and Blaise had Disapparated and Draco found himself alone with his thoughts. He read the letter again. Memories flooded him. Some good, some not so good. But beneath the words on the page lay a truth even he couldn't deny.
Potter had forgiven him. They might never get back what they had, but Draco couldn't let that stop him. He would rise to the challenge. He would show them all. Recalling Pansy's words, he decided that, though there was a sense of satisfaction in it, he didn't need to prove anything to anyone but himself.
He pulled out parchment and quill and penned a response. He completed the form, then sent it and his letter off before he changed his mind.
As he sat sipping a brandy that night by the fire, Draco recalled his friends' words and felt at peace.
***
Three months later ...
Draco sat calmly, his exterior belying the nerves he felt deep in his stomach. He'd only been able to keep down one piece of toast and a cup of tea that morning.
Kingsley Shacklebolt entered and the room fell silent. Heads that had been focussed on Draco now faced the Minister.
"Welcome." His deep baritone echoed off the walls, projecting the way a Sonorus might. His smile seemed genuine as he scanned the room. "We have rather an interesting mix of candidates this session," he said. A few heads turned back to Draco. He met them with a sneer and they looked away. "Each and every one of you has the potential to become a successful Auror. But it won't be easy."
He smiled, then motioned towards the entrance. "And in case you don't believe me," he said as Potter stepped through the door, "just ask your new trainer."
Draco's heart raced and he took several deep breaths to calm himself. He remained determined. He could get through this. He would get through this.
"I'll leave you with Auror Potter," Kingsley said. "Best of luck to you all." He said a few words to Potter then left the room.
Potter smiled and looked around at the candidates, the glance that passed over Draco giving away nothing. "As Minister Shacklebolt said, this won't be easy. But it will be worth it. If being an Auror is really what you want, you will know. If you decide it isn't, best to figure that out quickly and move on." He took a moment to meet everyone's eyes before continuing. "Using the past as a gauge, nearly one third of you will decide to pursue another career path. For the rest, I look forward to working alongside you in the future."
"Bet Malfoy drops out in the first week," some smarmy git a row ahead mumbled to his friend, at a volume meant to ensure Draco heard.
Unfortunately for the git, Potter heard too. He glared at the culprit. "Clearly you don't know Mr Malfoy as I do," he said. "If there's anyone in this room up to the challenge of this training, I'd put him near the top of the list."
A couple of snorts came from the opposite side of the room. Potter shot a look in that direction.
"I will say this once and we will move on from there. I will not have this discussion again." He let his words sink in before continuing. "You all went through the same screening process – the same process my fellow Aurors and I went through. No one gets into this program without first being put through his or her paces. Background checks are done on everyone. No doubt everyone in this room has something to hide, something in their past they hope would remain there. Fortunately for most of you, those things did not play out in the public eye. Before passing judgement on anyone else, I suggest you all take a long look at your own past, and try to imagine it through the eyes of the public, taken in through the filter of the media.
"Consider yourselves fortunate indeed to not have the Prophet and its ilk take an interest in you. I speak from personal experience when I tell you that they rarely get the story straight.
"As to Mr Malfoy's situation in particular, I happen to have been there to witness much of what he went through. I was in the same year at Hogwarts, I was at Malfoy Manor when Voldemort had taken up residence there, and I was in the Battle of Hogwarts with Mr Malfoy." He ran his eyes over the room once more. "You were not. And I can assure you that, whatever he is, Draco Malfoy is not his father, and should not be judged on what Lucius Malfoy did. He was cleared of all crimes he'd been accused of, and I would suggest you all remember that.
"It is up to Mr Malfoy to discuss his situation, if he so desires. But I will say this: if it weren't for him, I would not be here right now."
Gazes met Draco's once more, only this time astonished rather than disgusted. He kept his face neutral. Years of practice around the Dark Lord served him well now.
"We work as a team here. Set aside all preconceived notions you might have of one another and work together. You will be observed throughout your training. Undermining another candidate will not be tolerated, and you will be out of the program so fast you won't know what hit you.
"Mr Malfoy is here based on his own merit and potential. Just like the rest of you.
"There are no house distinctions, class distinctions or blood status distinctions in the Auror Corps. We are all equals when we start out. We all risk our lives for one another, for the team, and for the public. If you are not prepared for that, I suggest you take your things and leave now. Find another line of work."
No one moved.
"No? All right then. Let me welcome you to your training. The first order of business will be getting you settled into your temporary living quarters for the next six weeks. We will meet in one hour on the training grounds out back. Come ready, and I suggest you not be late. I hear the trainer is rather picky about such things."
Draco stayed behind while the others filed out of the room. Only when the last person had left did he approach Harry. "You didn't have to do that, you know."
"Of course I did."
"I can fight my own battles," Draco said stubbornly.
Harry laughed. "Never a doubt, Malfoy."
"Then why?"
"Because this is my team, at least for the next six weeks. I need everyone to know that I'm in charge and that what I say goes."
Pansy's words flooded back to him, and Draco tried not to respond to them.
"I meant what I said," Potter continued. "Anyone undermining another candidate undermines the team. I will not stand for it. I saw it starting, so I stopped it."
"For now."
Potter nodded. "For now. But if it happens again, towards you or anyone else, I will not hesitate to cut it off immediately. Dissention in the ranks can get people killed. There are no second chances when it comes to this."
Draco considered Harry's words. "That sounds about right to me."
"Good." Potter smiled, almost like he used to. As though reading Draco's thoughts, his face hardened. "I cannot and will not show anyone favouritism."
Draco shot him an incredulous look. "And yet you got me into the program," he whispered.
"You got yourself in."
"Someone got me in."
"Correction: someone pointed out that you were unfairly overlooked. The rest was all you."
He should just accept it, but he needed to know. "But after everything ..."
Potter raised a finger to his lips, then waved his wand. Draco felt the Silencing Charm settle over them. "It came to my attention recently that the Ministry hired an outside consultant to ... let's say assist with some unsolved cases, to carry out some of their less palatable tasks."
What?
Potter laughed. "Yes. That was my reaction too. They apparently found someone highly talented and single-minded to carry out the duties of the former Hit Wizards, but without ties to the Ministry. Couldn't risk sullying the reputation of the New Order. Especially after all the media attention following the dissolution of the Hit Wizard Squad."
His client had been the Ministry. For some jobs at any rate.
"And to be sure the person wasn't a wild card, they placed requests for other, similar jobs, and this mystery consultant refused. Would only take on known Death Eater cases." Potter chuckled. "Imagine that. An assassin with a conscience." He leaned in and whispered in Draco's ear. "Apparently you passed their test." He pulled back. "Who was I to question that?"
Draco swallowed. They'd tried to set him up. "And you found all this out how?"
Potter shook his head. "We never had this conversation. Just like the last conversation we didn't have." He dropped the Silencing Charm. "And remember, Malfoy, no special treatment for anyone on my team." He looked deeply into Draco's eyes, boring through him as though seeing into his soul. "No matter my feelings."
Surely he didn't mean ...
"I cannot fraternise with anyone on my team."
Draco didn't dare dream. "That would be highly inappropriate," he said.
Potter nodded and motioned Draco through the door. As Draco passed, Potter said, "Six weeks from now, you'll be on someone else's team."
Draco didn't turn back, but felt confident as he faced his future. Whether he and Potter could make something work remained to be seen. What he did know, however, was that six weeks from now he might rather enjoy finding out.
And wasn't there something about spectacular make-up sex? Draco smiled.