Chapter 1: In Which Hermione Has A Plan
Chapter Text
Harry might have found a solution to The Problem. This was what Hermione had taken to calling his love life, naturally. As was typical, she acted like the answer should have been obvious to him all along, even though it wasn't. Harry was also pretty convinced she never would have thought of it if the events leading up to the Idea hadn't happened exactly as they had.
Everything started when Hermione begged him to speak at the Fight Against War Orphan's Depression auction because she'd overbooked herself. He wasn't against helping out the charity, he'd started it himself — with Hermione of course — but no matter how many times he had to, he still hated public speaking.
The wizarding world would stand there sighing adoringly at every word that came out of his mouth and the press would criticise anything they could find wrong that wouldn't cause public outcry. It was, in a word, hell.
Truthfully speaking, Harry hated talking in front of anyone nowadays except his closest friends, who at this point included the very long list of Ron and Hermione. They'd both tried to help with The Problem before but the problem with their attempts to fix The Problem was that they always went about it the same way.
They'd set him up with a nice witch they knew from work, or Ron's fantasy Quidditch league, or that Hermione had met in line at the grocery store and tell her they had the perfect person for her. When that person was Harry Potter, though, it all went south. Even the possibility of finding someone had started to seem like it wasn't worth the effort when it came to the number of leaked interviews to the press and sobbing women on his doorstep when they realised he wasn't going to call back.
Harry was taller than average (if you included impoverished countries), his eyes were nice (even if they were hidden behind his glasses), and other than his unfortunately untameable hair, he'd been told by both Hermione and Ginny that he was plenty fit. Logically, he should have a wide range of people to chose from. The only problem was, this group dwindled significantly when it came to what he wanted.
If they weren't Potter-Crazy, they were overly invested in Quidditch, or hated it, or were simperingly sweet, or thought his crup was annoying, or were Ginny. So despite what his aforementioned best friend and ex-girlfriend might think, he couldn't seem to find anyone worth more than a third date. He mostly blamed it on the You're Harry Potter Problem, not to be confused with the I'm Harry Potter Problem which had only come into existence recently after one of the worst dates of his life.
Ron and Hermione had introduced him to one of their friends from work. Maria was a sweet Medi-Witch with a gap tooth that had never been corrected. This became important later.
Hermione had told him, because she was worried it might be a problem, "She's really nice."
"What's wrong with nice?"
"Nothing. She's just... really nice."
She sounded perfect, Harry didn't have a problem with nice. Hermione could have been describing his dream girl.
They met at a curry place. Harry was always nervous going out in public but Maria had agreed to meet him at a muggle place and they got off to a great start.
Then the waiter brought the menus and Maria said, "I don't like curry."
Harry almost laughed at that because not all curry tasted the same and so surely there would be something she liked but he didn't and instead suggested she get one of the House salads which she did.
They talked briefly about their respective interests, but when Harry made jokes at his own expense she didn't take it well. So she wasn't one for teasing on a first date, that was no problem.
Everything seemed to be going fine otherwise and Harry couldn't have predicted any possible problems. Hell, if all had gone well, he might have even gotten laid that night. That was until halfway through the meal when Maria got a chunk of spinach stuck between her teeth.
Harry tried not to stare, but he just couldn't help it. He wondered if he should say something or if that would be worse than just letting her keep it there. She didn't take well to teasing so he couldn't go about it in a funny way. What if she was offended? Every time she smiled at him, instead of feeling warm and fuzzy, he just focused on the green stuck in her teeth. What if she tried to kiss him? Would it still be there? When they were outside and had finished their meal, she said something that shocked him.
"You know, I'd thought maybe Harry Potter of all people wouldn't care about a thing like this."
"What?"
"You thought I didn't notice you staring? I didn't want to do this in there because it would cause a scene, but I can't believe you care that much about my teeth."
"Wait-"
"You think Muggle-borns and Pure-bloods should live side-by-side harmoniously but a girl has one physical flaw and you-" Here she broke off to start crying.
Harry tried to pat her awkwardly on the shoulder but she shoved him away.
"Merlin, so much for Prince Charming."
"What do you mean?"
"You were supposed to be perfect. You're Harry Potter. I thought you'd be the one guy to-"
And here Harry stopped listening because he didn't care anymore. That was the I'm Harry Potter Problem. They all thought he'd be perfect and when he made a tit of himself they were offended. Even if he hadn't meant to make her self conscious about her teeth, he was kind of glad he did, because it showed him the truth. She never would have seen him as just Harry. To her, he was Harry Potter, possible Prince Charming. That was the You're Harry Potter Problem.
Afterwards, Hermione told him he should have been less concerned with what was between her teeth and Ron laughed and said it sounded like he'd lucked out. They were both right, in a way.
When Harry woke up the morning after Hermione begged him to cover her speech, Harry would have rather done anything than get up. He sat there till he was almost late for work before rolling out of bed and throwing on his Auror Uniform.
When he finished work later that day, he wasn't any more enthused about giving a speech, but at least he no longer had to face the trials of getting up.
Hermione had prepared notes for him which came in handy considering he hadn't thought to prepare and knew very little about the medical aspect of the topic. Since Hermione was a mind Healer — she'd gotten interested in it after helping to restore her parents' memories after the war — she knew what she was talking about.
He was five minutes late when he arrived but the woman who greeted him, Lorelai, told him he shouldn't worry as they wouldn't be starting for another ten.
"It's so kind of you to come and speak personally for this event, Mr. Potter."
"Oh please, Harry's fine. I care about the charity so I couldn't exactly turn it down."
She laughed and blushed and put a hand on his arm. Women tended to do this when he was out in public and he'd gotten used to it. Sometimes it lead to a nice conversation, usually it lead to a broken-hearted witch releasing a Tell-All in The Prophet.
Lorelai was nice and plenty funny. She was pretty too. Her hair was long and black and her red dress looked nice with her dark skin tone. She was taller than Harry in heels, though, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that.
Ten minutes later she lead him up to the stage and the crowd broke out into applause. He tried not to hide his face from them or let his smile falter because that would mean an excerpt in the paper the next day about the 'Blushing Boy Who Lived.'
He cleared his throat and cast a sonorous.
"Hi everyone." They started clapping again and he definitely blushed this time.
"Erm, I'm here in place of my good friend Healer Hermione Granger to talk about Depression in War Orphans." He took a breath and looked out into the audience for a familiar face. Lorelai winked at him and he felt himself relax.
"Before Voldemort," everyone winced, "orphans weren't talked about. If you were a magical orphan, that meant your parents didn't want you, and what parents would throw away magical blood?" He paused here and looked over his notes once more. They were mostly about the symptoms and treatments for depression and how to be proactive, not about the emotional impact which was Harry's only specialty when giving speeches.
"Voldemort was an orphan, and so was I." No one looked pleased with this comparison. "I had an advantage he didn't, though. I was able to make my own family with the help of Hogwarts. There are more orphans in school now than there ever were before, and Adolescents are some of the most prone to depression." Here he started on the medical side of things and relaxed into his role. The audience applauded again when he finished and he was glad to get off the stage.
Lorelai found him hiding outside the doors of the room where the auction was being held. He was waiting for the bidding to be over so he could go in and thank everybody again before leaving.
"Not one for crowds?"
"Ah. You caught me."
She smiled and handed him a drink that he thought was some type of punch before taking a sip and tasting the firewhiskey. He took another sip for good measure.
"Me neither. They're always too loud."
Harry snorted. "And they want to know everything about you."
Lorelai laughed with him and took a sip of her drink. "Would it be all right if I wanted to know everything about you? Seeing as I'm not a crowd."
Harry considered her for a second. Hermione had told him that she'd been hired earlier in the year because of her interest in charity. There was no logical reason not to let her keep flirting, so he did.
"Maybe. You'll have to give it a little time if you want to know everything, though."
When an hour had passed and they were both pleasantly tipsy as well as fully drunk on laughter, she leaned in to kiss him.
It was nice. Her lips were soft and tasted like the sharp burn of alcohol and coconuts. He pulled away before it got too far.
"What's wrong?"
What was wrong? She was beautiful and she wanted him. Maybe he had to know a person better first to like kissing them.
"Nothing."
He kept kissing her and waiting for it to get better. Maybe it did because the next morning he woke up in her bed.
Harry sighed to himself and got dressed. If she quit over this, Hermione would kill him.
• • •
When he got to Hermione and Ron's flat, they were waiting with breakfast. The kids were still asleep and wouldn't be up until Ron woke them later. This was their system on weekdays, usually minus Harry there with his head between his arms.
People in the audience (see: the press) had not been happy to hear him "Attempt to Humanise the Darkest Wizard of All Time," as they'd put it.
"Oh stop it," Hermione said, pushing him into an upright position and putting coffee in front of his face. "It's not all that bad."
"The charity will suffer because of this!"
Ron snorted through a mouth full of bacon. "Please, just you being there was enough to rake in everything you'll need to keep it up and running for the next decade, I promise you."
"Merlin, do you really think so?"
"I promise you it will."
"I wonder how we'll decide which places to help," Hermione said.
It was a valid point. The War Orphans funding went to supporting independent orphanages all around London and some even as far as Scotland, but the money from this auction was expected to be more than they'd ever had before.
"There has to be some sort of questionnaire people fill out or something to determine who needs the most help, how much good each place is doing, what the facilities are like, and to weed out people who just want the money, that sort of thing," she continued.
"That's what you need, Harry. A questionnaire to weed out the people that just want you for your stunningly good looks and fame."
Harry snorted but Hermione dropped her fork on the table.
"Mione?" He and Ron asked.
"A questionnaire! I can't believe we didn't think of it before. A scientific way to filter out the Potter fangirls, the crazies, the crup haters-"
"The vegans," Ron added and Harry laughed but Hermione ignored him.
"All leading up to the ideal woman or a whole list of potentials."
Harry looked down at his too-watery coffee, trying to wrap his brain around the idea.
"Harry?"
A questionnaire. A way to find a woman he could kiss without feeling empty. A life-parter, no less. His future wife.
"I guess I know how we're spending our free time, now."
The Problem was going to have a Solution.
• • •
Hermione fire-called to tell him to come over for breakfast again the next morning. He repeated his usual efforts to get out of bed and arrived just after 8. The kids would already be up since it was a Wednesday and Ron had to be off to work earlier.
When he knocked he heard a squeal from inside before Rose opened it. She was always excited to see Harry and he grabbed her up in a big hug.
"How's my Rosie?"
"Good," she sing-songed and he carried her to the kitchen.
"Oh lovely, Harry, you're here. Ron made some bacon and eggs if you haven't eaten."
"Thanks, not hungry."
Hermione sniffed and asked what he'd thought about the topic of his speech since they hadn't talked about it the day before. He reminded her it was really more focused on people orphaned by the war when she tried to talk about the depression aspect.
"Did the symptoms remind you of anyone?"
They were an almost perfect description of Rita Skeeter since her renown had been trashed and he told her so. Harry almost continued on about the last time he'd seen Rita, when she'd been crying on the ministry's steps to anyone who'd listen, when Ron came in carrying Hugo.
"Whoa, you've gotten bigger!"
Hugo blinked at him and Harry stole him from Ron's arms and rocked him back and forth a few times before Hermione pointed at his high chair. "He needs to eat even if you don't."
Harry shrugged and winked at Rosie who was sneaking chocolate from a bowl in the living room. Hugo would be fine, he was barely on solid foods anyway.
"Of course. Now, why did you invite me over?"
"I'm swamped at work and Ron is too so we needed to find a time to meet about The Project."
"Quite right," Ron said, finally sitting down himself. He'd surprised everyone after the war by getting invested in Healing too. Hermione actually hadn't looked much into Mind-Healing before he'd convinced her.
Hermione put coffee and eggs in front of him even though he hadn't wanted them and he tried to pick at them enough to assuage her as they talked.
"What's the project?" Rose asked.
"Harry's getting married," Ron answered.
"To who?"
"We don't know yet, dear. Eat your breakfast," Hermione said with a pointed look at Ron. Harry figured the kids would have gotten it eventually seeing as they were in the room, but he didn't mention that.
"I've decided that the questionnaires will go in the paper, online, and anywhere else we can think of. You'll get hundreds of responses, seeing as you're Harry Potter."
Harry groaned. "I don't want people applying just to meet me. What if they're more crazies or they want to tell the Prophet how long
my-"
Ron slapped his hands over Rose's ears and she giggled. "Mione's already thought it through, mate."
"All of my questions are designed solely to find you someone you're compatible with. Question twelve: How much Potter Paraphernalia do you own? Correct answer is (c) little to none. The question's harder to ignore because if we simply ask they'll say, 'I just think of Harry as a person,' only for you to get to their house and discover they've got a whole wall of your face."
"We should get one of those walls," Ron said.
"Oh definitely," Hermione agreed. "How else are we supposed to remember what he looks like when he isn't at our house all hours of the day anymore?"
"Oi, you're the one who invited me."
Hermione rolled her eyes and handed him a stack of parchment.
"What's this?"
"The questionnaire."
"It's huge! We can't need more than three bloody pages.
"Read through it and take out the ones you don't like."
He read through, mumbling as he went. "Non-smoker, sure, sure. Non-drinker," he crossed it out. "I don't really care about that, Mione. I drink."
"I know, I was hoping it'd get you to quit."
"How good are you at keeping appointments? Don't care about that. Do you like Quidditch? No way, it's bloody obvious I do. We should ask their favourite team instead." He crossed it out and scribbled Favourite Quidditch Team? Correct Answer (b) Appleby Arrows.
Ron looked over his shoulder and booed.
"What's that for dad?" Rose asked.
"Uncle Harry has terrible taste in Quidditch teams."
"The Cannons haven't won a match in years," Harry told him.
"It'll pick up soon, I'm sure of it."
Harry rolled his eyes at Rose and she laughed.
He continued going through the questionnaire and threw out a few things but eventually settled on 25 questions, all but two multiple choice.
He really hoped this was worth it. He put it in an envelope and owled it to the Prophet before he could think on it a second more.
Chapter 2: In Which Ron Is An Arse
Chapter Text
"How many responses?"
"Four hundred and thirty."
"It's been an hour."
Harry gave Ron a 'duh' look and didn't bother responding.
"Did any of them send photos?"
Quite a few, actually, but Harry hadn't taken the time to look through any yet since he figured finding people who answered correctly was more important.
"Well bring em out."
"Do you really think I have them all with me?"
They were out to lunch but Ron wasn't buying his innocent act. He gestured for Harry to show him what he had. Harry grabbed the box he'd been keeping hidden in his pocket and unshrunk it, allowing the contents to nearly spill off the table.
Ron picked a bit of the pile up and flipped through some before turning one picture to face Harry.
"What about her, huh? Looks nice, attractive, big smile."
Harry threw the photo of the waving woman back into the box and Ron protested.
"What was wrong with her?"
"Her favourite Quidditch team is Puddlemere U and she's interested in analysing auras. Plus she wants a kneazle or a cat."
"So?"
"Barkley would eat it."
Ron laughed and flipped through a few more.
"Eh yeah well, she's a no brainer, then. What about her?" He held up a picture of a woman with bright purple hair and freckles.
Harry flipped over the picture and looked at her form. "Interested in astrology and divination. Only drinks on special occasions."
Ron made a face. "Have you found any that are good yet?"
"Not a one."
"Are you sure the bar isn't set too high?"
"Ron, half the women that applied are Potter-Crazy, a third of them are already married but promise they're willing to leave their husband for me if I'm insistent on non-monogamy, and the rest all fail in one way or another I just can't ignore."
"Sometimes you have to compromise."
"You didn't! You have a smart and beautiful wife who supports your job, and knows Quidditch, and isn't only into you for your fame."
"She does find it a bit of a turn on, though."
Harry gagged exaggeratedly and then joined in with Ron's laughter.
"All right, mate. Give me the questionnaires and I'll go through them."
Harry shook his head. "None of them are who I'm looking for. They're all missing something. I don't think you'll find anyone in here."
"Treat it as practice, then. You've never had a steady relationship since Gin."
He had a point. Harry couldn't imagine spending the rest of his life with any of the women he'd taken on dates so far, but he'd rarely made it past the second or third time out.
He stacked the photos and forms, reshrunk the box, and handed it to Ron.
"No Potter-Crazies."
"Okay," Ron said, "but you have to go out with the ones I send to you. Without looking at their profiles first."
Without looking at their profiles? Ron was setting him up for failure.
"And," Ron continued, "You have to do that speed dating thing Mione's been talking about. Maybe the questionnaire will help you get rid of people more quickly. That was always your problem, right, judging people in such a short amount of time?"
Fuck. Hermione had made him try speed dating a few times before and it had always ended badly. Once with a cup of punch in his face, and multiple times with rioting by witches he just couldn't connect with.
"Chin up, mate. It isn't all that hard. I'll send them to you ready to be swept off their feet."
Fine. If this was how Ron wanted to do it, this was how it would be done. It was out of Harry's hands, anyway. Now he just had to wait.
• • •
The woman in front of him was a Gemini from Wales who loved shopping, reading, and dancing — in that order. Harry had already decided these things meant she probably wasn't his soul mate, but that wasn't going to stop him from talking to her.
"the time I went to Cancún and almost got fined for underage magic. Who knew their laws were different there?"
"Couldn't have guessed," Harry told her.
She smiled and the buzzer rang so Harry stood up to move to his right.
"Wait, I forgot to give you my address."
He stopped just long enough to let her scribble on a napkin and put it in his pocket so he wouldn't be rude. He didn't plan on writing or calling, though.
The person he sat down in front of next was a witch with a crooked nose and a shirt that read 'Muggle-born and proud.' She looked to be at least five years younger than him and she smelled like a chimney.
"Hi, nice to meet you, I'm Harry."
"Nicola." She considered him for a moment before sticking out her hand for him to shake. It was covered in rings, one of them was a ruby-encrusted lion.
"Oh, Gryffindor too?" he asked, shaking it.
"Sure am. You a Legilimens or something?"
"Uh no, your ring tipped me off. It's cool."
"Thanks, it was my mum's."
"Really?" It didn't look like an heirloom, more like something you'd get for a dollar at the flea market. Maybe he'd been wrong in his guess and the rubies were real.
"No, I'm kidding. So what do you like to do?"
"Erm... I play Quidditch sometimes on the weekends. I like going to the pub with friends."
The buzzer rang again and Harry stood. He wasn't sure if he should wait for her number after what happened last time or if he should just move on.
"Don't worry, you aren't my type either."
He gave her a grateful smile and sat down in front of the next woman.
"Hi, I'm Jane Cannolen! I'm an Aerospace Engineer, I like surfboarding, and my favourite snack is celery with peanut butter."
"Er.. hi, Jane Cannolen. You're efficient, aren't you?"
"We only have a minute. Go on, tell me about yourself." She leaned her head on her hand and waited. She seemed nice enough and she was quite pretty with long blonde hair and brown eyes, so he did as she asked.
"Well, I'm Harry. I like Quidditch and hanging out with my friends. I was a Gryffindor at school and I've always loved Defensive magic. I have a crup named Barkley."
"Oh, that's lovely." Not a crup-hater then, that was a good sign. "I can't say I've ever understood someone announcing their Hogwarts house, though."
"Did you not go to Hogwarts?"
"No, I did. Slytherin. I just don't think we should let house stereotypes control our lives now that we're adults. It's rather silly, isn't it?"
"Uh.."
The buzzer rang.
"Well, it was nice to meet you, Harry. Owl me some time if you like." She handed him a card that had a mobile number, a floo address, an email address, and her name, descriptors, and occupation on it. She must have been experienced.
"Right, sure."
• • •
"I'm serious, Gin! I'm gonna be alone forever."
Ginny pushed his feet off her coffee table and sat down in the chair across from him. He put his feet back up just to annoy her. It'd been a while since they'd last saw each other, but despite his worries, nothing had changed.
"You won't be alone forever, you idiot. Sure the Prophet ad might not generate the most," she hesitated, "compatible options, but I still think you should give it a shot."
"I've accepted my fate. Why can't you?"
"Because I know you, Harry Potter. You aren't going to be alone forever, you're too bloody awesome for that. Besides, if you don't find your soulmate, there's almost no hope for the rest of us."
"We could always get married."
Ginny made a face.
"It was just a suggestion."
"Yeah, a shit one. You broke my heart already, like a decade and a half ago. Stop whinging."
He was not whinging.
"What if I'm being too picky?"
"If you meet the right person, you won't care if they don't check all the boxes in your stupid questionnaire. If you try to compromise what you want to happy with someone who's just okay, though..."
"If checking all my boxes doesn't make a person my soulmate, what does?"
"Feelings."
He groaned and she pushed his feet off the table again.
"I'm going through something here."
"Go through it without putting your trainers on new pine."
It wasn't much later in the day when she kicked him out. Maybe he should go visit Andromeda. It'd been a while since he'd been over there. He used to go all the time to visit Teddy, but then he'd gone off to Hogwarts and Harry'd started to only stop by every month or so to bring her flowers — Andromeda, of course, though the vendor called them Pieris. That was before her memory started to go as well. Everything from how clean she used to keep the house to what she talked about changed. She still had moments of lucidity, but it was so hard to be around. She'd grown to be like family to him, and he'd already lost enough family.
The walk back to Grimmauld place was cold and quiet.
• • •
Less than a day after Harry left Ron in possession of the Potter Problem questionnaires, there was a knock on his office door.
He was busy filling out a form for Robards that was overdue by a week or so now, but he just put the form over to the side as he called for the knocker to come in. The door opened to reveal Malfoy. They didn't see a lot of each other, but they'd gotten used to bump-ins related to Teddy and maintained a professional enough working relationship to make this visit not disturbing.
"Potter?"
"Yeah, what's up?"
"Weasley sent me here."
His mind immediately went to the questionnaires and he almost fell out of his seat. There was obviously another explanation. Or maybe Ron was joking. That had to be it. He had never grown out of playing practical jokes on Harry and had even taken to partnering up with George when he ran out of original ideas. Clearly, this idea had fallen right into his lap. It didn't make complete sense, though. There was no way Malfoy had completed the questionnaire, he was obviously straight. Even if he wasn't unattractive for a bloke by any means, neither of them would be interested.
This could be argued, of course, based on what he did next.
"How about we do dinner tonight?"
Malfoy snorted but then replied, "Yeah, right. How about Clos Maggiore?"
"Sure. I'll make a reservation for eight." He had agreed to go out with anyone Ron sent him, after all.
"You're joking."
Harry wondered if he was.
"I'm not. Is eight tonight okay?"
"You're offering to buy me dinner?"
"Yes."
"At Clos Maggiore?"
"Yup."
Malfoy shook his head at him and walked to the door.
"Just to clarify, you aren't kidding?"
"Not kidding."
"Fine. See you at eight. At Close Maggiore." He kept shaking his head as he walked out and when the door finally shut behind him, Harry immediately fire-called Ron.
After a few confused seconds, Ron cottoned on and burst out laughing. Harry flipped him the two fingers.
"Why are you laughing? You're the one who bloody set me up with him. I agreed to take out anyone you sent me."
"Yeah okay, mate. Have fun and use protection."
Harry closed the call.
Not knowing Malfoy outside of work and sometimes-Teddy context proved to be a problem later in the day. Clos Maggiore didn't have a table available at eight that night. He tried to find a way to talk to him through a coworker, but he was already off work. Harry checked the time. Shit, almost six. He barely had two hours to fix this.
He did the first thing he could think of. He used his fame. Clos Maggiore might not have had room for a table at eight for any common man, but they certainly had room for Harry Potter.
He arrived at 7:50. The restaurant was covered with plants outside, Neville would have loved it. A man in uniform approached him.
"Hi, I'm Harry Potter. I have a reservation for eight?"
He nodded but then a problem arose.
"Sorry, Mr. Potter, we have a no Glamour policy."
"I can show you my Ministry Identification."
"That won't be necessary. It's either remove the Glamour or no food."
"You have to understand, I'm more well known than I'd like at times. I'm likely to get mobbed if I take this off."
"We have personnel at every exit who would assist you if such a situation were to arise."
"But sir," he put a hand on the man's arm, trying to reason with him, but he was suddenly grabbed from behind by an unknown person who tried to throw him on the ground. He responded instinctively after years of Auror Training and threw the assailant back.
Harry turned to see a giant man in a bright red blazer and, to avoid his probable death, pinned him to the ground once he saw his face. The poor guy probably thought he had been about to hurt his buddy, but Harry didn't have time to worry about that just now.
"Do you have a death wish?" the man asked.
Harry was convinced he might. Another guy arrived and tried to pull him off but the man below him was growling like he'd kill Harry the second he could, so Harry had no choice but to knock the other one to the ground as well using a little creative wandless magic and a lot of upper arm strength.
"Sorry, sorry," he said.
Unfortunately, that was the moment when Malfoy arrived.
"Draco?" Blazer guy asked. He was still standing somehow and holding his wand at the ready.
Obviously, they knew each other. Malfoy looked back and forth from him to Harry.
"Marko? What's going on?"
"Misunderstanding, really," Harry said.
"You know this guy?" Malfoy asked him.
Harry remembered his Glamour was still in place and dissolved it wandlessly, defeating the original purpose of the 'misunderstanding.'
"Fuck," Malfoy said and Harry nodded.
The man beneath him immediately stiffened and Harry grimaced. He'd knocked the guy to the ground, surely he wouldn't still get preferential treatment. A crowd had gathered and were taking pictures. This would be in tomorrow morning's Prophet no doubt.
"He was going to hurt Andrew," Blazer guy explained.
"Ah, right. Poor, helpless, six-foot-four Andrew."
"I'm 6'7"," the guy he was still pinning mumbled.
"Sure you are."
Harry could see Malfoy better now. He was wearing a gray waistcoat/jacket set-thingy and matching trousers — muggle clothes, Harry was surprised to see. He had a silver wristwatch on one arm and his hair was gelled back, though not as severely as during their Hogwarts days. He'd heard Hermione and Ginny call men jaw-dropping before but he'd never actually felt his jaw drop when looking at one. He wasn't sure if it was the clothes or the hair, or if it was just the combined effect of seeing them on Malfoy of all people, but jaw-dropping was the perfect word for it.
As Malfoy was speaking to the guys, a man in a chef's hat came out and talked briefly with him and Blazer guy. They were allowed to leave without any problems as long as Harry would release the men. He did and got up, walking away as quickly as possible to avoid the crowds and putting up his Glamour again.
Malfoy raised an eyebrow and put one up as well and they made their way through the heart of muggle London without speaking.
"You know Glamours wouldn't have been allowed in the restaurant."
"I know. That's what started the fight."
"Thought it was a misunderstanding."
"Bugger off."
Harry expected Malfoy to be more.. something about the incident, but he seemed unaffected. Harry asked him how he knew Blazer guy.
"I used to work there."
"Really?"
"Right after the war. No primarily wizarding place would hire me, said it was bad for business. That one is run by wizards but has a lot of muggle clientele."
"You work in the Healing department of Mungos now, though. I've seen you there."
"Yep. Head filing-assistant, thrilling."
"Sounds it."
"I work at a Bar too just to make rent. Dealing with the jerks there isn't half as bad as the Ministry."
Harry told him it was too bad he hadn't been able to use his stellar social skills on the jerks from the restaurant.
"I'm glad I didn't. What was that anyway? Some type of Auror field training?"
"Basic self-defence, it's mostly muggle, really."
"You have to use it often on unsuspecting doormen?"
"Only the special ones."
Malfoy laughed sharply. "What makes them special?"
Harry pretended to think it over. "Good angry face, nice restaurant, waiting audience, oh and of course anyone who likes the Wimbourne Wasps."
"You mean the best team after the Falcons?"
What was Ron thinking? Surely even he had the good sense to not set Harry up with a Wasps fan. "I mean the worst team after the Cannons."
"Don't let Weasley hear you say that."
"He's heard me say it enough by now, it just hasn't stuck with him."
They walked for a few minutes more before Malfoy said, "I'm famished, we should find some food."
"We could get a pizza."
"Merlin no, Potter. What do you take me for?"
"A human being. Human beings tend to like pizza."
"You sure you aren't hiding cooking skills somewhere in there? Or maybe a house elf at your flat?"
"Positive."
They picked up a pizza at the next place they saw.
"Where do you live, anyway? Are we walking or apparating."
"Definitely not walking." He grabbed his arm. "Number 12, Grimmauld Place."
A pop sounded in the night.
Chapter 3: In Which Malfoy Likes Muggle Music
Chapter Text
"Do you ever clean?"
Harry shoved a jumper off the couch and threw the pizza on the coffee table. He hadn't changed much about Grimmauld place since he moved in, but the house-elf heads were gone and the couch was much more comfortable than any furniture there'd been previously.
"It's not that messy."
"It's a pigsty. I'm surprised Granger even lets you step foot in the place."
"Better mine than hers. Besides, she's got two kids already without needing to parent me. Three, if you count Ron. "
Malfoy moved on to examine Harry's CD collection.
"Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Eagles..." he turned away. "These are all muggle."
"They were Sirius's from back at Hogwarts. Remus figured out how to get a CD player to work and my mum bought him some each year for his birthday."
He kept examining them and then popped one into the player.
I can't get no sat-is-fac-tion
Malfoy skipped to the next song.
"What'd you do that for?"
"Horribly Gryffindor song." He made a face at the cover. "Greatest hits my arse."
The next song crackled through the old speakers and Harry had to admit he liked this one better too. Well, admit it privately, at least. I see a red door and I want it painted black...
Malfoy's head bobbed and he and sat delicately on the couch. His face morphed into an expression he couldn't place. "Potter, something's moving in here."
"Is not."
He got up off the couch and moved the cushion with his wand. Underneath was a blue and white bone that was shaking back and forth, not enough that Harry had noticed.
"Oh, that's one of Barkley's."
"Whose?"
A rumbling sound came from the back of the house and a loud 'click, click, click" proceeded Barkley bounding into the room and tackling Malfoy to the ground. Barkley sloppily licked Malfoy's face and his forked-tail wagged back and forth fast enough to take off somebody's head.
"Potter! Get your crup off me."
He didn't deserve Barkley's love.
Harry grabbed his collar and pulled him back until Malfoy could sit up and scowl at him.
"Not my fault you're skinny enough to get tackled by a year-old crup."
"Potter, he's full grown."
"He's barely a baby."
Malfoy scooted forward and picked up the toy between two fingers with a grimace, throwing it down the end of the hallway. "Fetch, you ridiculous mutt."
Barkley raced after it and Draco stood and grabbed the pizza box, gesturing for Harry to follow him outside into the Garden. The sound followed them out. I see people turn their heads and quickly look away, like a newborn baby it just happens every day
It was nice out, not too cold For January, and at Draco's request, Harry grabbed a bottle of Elderflower wine from the cupboard where Kreacher kept it for them to drink. It considerably lightened the atmosphere.
Malfoy insisted they eat at the table he had near the edge of the patio as they "could at least pretend to be civilised, Potter."
When everything was set up to his liking, Malfoy asked if they had to eat right away. This was weird considering he was the one who'd been bloody starving earlier. Harry told him they didn't have to worry about it getting cold since it already was and asked why he wanted to wait.
"It's a nice view."
Before Harry had moved in, you couldn't see much from the grounds of Grimmauld place. After the war, he had started to feel stifled in the old house and had insisted to Ron and Hermione that fixing up the back garden would help. It had, in a way. He should get Neville over here to check on the plants again soon. The song faded out and another one started up he didn't recognise as well.
They were sitting facing muggle London and with the trees that used to block the way gone, the lights below twinkled like fairies. Harry pulled his jacket tighter around him.
The pizza was better than Harry'd had in a long time. He'd have to remember the name of the restaurant later. Baba— something or other.
Harry decided to break the silence by asking Malfoy about his job at the bar.
"Horrible, really. You should see some of my customers."
He started mimicking one with clear practice. It reminded Harry of when he used to look over at the Slytherin table and see Malfoy contorting his face to mock him. It was considerably funnier now. His voice went from high, posh, and aristocratic to low and grumbly or accented like someone from the states. At one point he took up a Cockney accent and Harry was startled enough to snort wine out of his nose.
"Oh Salazar, grow some manners you heathen," he said, though he looked pleased.
They finished the pizza without any complaints out of Malfoy, though he admitted he'd never actually had it before that night. "What did you think a house-elf would have cooked up something like this? Can you imagine my father phoning a muggle takeaway?"
The image was funnier than he liked to admit. The only real pizza Harry'd had growing up had been leftovers from the cafeteria or a birthday party but back when he, Hermione, and Ron had all been living at Grimmauld place, it was a nightly occurrence.
Malfoy fished a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and offered one to Harry. He shook his head in reply. There was no way Malfoy would have passed the questionnaire, not that it mattered, seeing as he failed to meet even the very first technically unspoken yet distinctly implied criteria: female.
Malfoy smirked at the face he must have been making. "What? We're outside. Don't tell me Potter's become a rule-follower since Hogwarts. Sure you don't want one? Granger's not around."
"Trying to corrupt me?"
Malfoy's smirk turned into a reluctant smile. "Maybe."
Harry rolled his eyes and took a sip of wine.
"Alright well, I've got a question. It's related to your work as an," he gestured vaguely, "Auror of sorts."
Harry snorted. "Malfoy, I'm entirely an Auror and you bloody well know that."
"Anyway," he continued without noting the interruption, "Someone told me that in the muggle world you can get arrested for stealing Electricity from a train."
"Hilarious. Someone's having you on, Malfoy."
"Brilliant. I've just won the bet." He blew a ring of smoke into the air and leaned back in his seat with a grin.
"What was the bet, exactly?"
"Well I was talking to a bloke from work and he was telling me that a muggle got arrested for plugging their phone into a train and taking the electricity. I figured you'd be able to clear it up."
"Oh Er... abstracting electricity is a crime, sorry. I've heard of that case and the sockets weren't for public use."
"Bollocks. That's exactly what he told me." Malfoy stubbed out his cigarette and lit another one. Hermione would kill him if he came over with the smell still on him. Harry didn't mind much, though. It reminded him of Sirius.
He went on to tell Malfoy about various absurd or strangely specific crimes he'd heard about or witnessed the arrests for and Malfoy listened intently.
"This world has too many laws, too many rules. What happened to the basics? Don't kill anyone and don't steal."
"Well technically-"
"Physical objects, Potter. Stealing electricity might as well be stealing a concept."
"When you get the science behind it-"
"I'm not obtuse, Potter. Besides, it's just how it is for all things, a person does something bad and the punishment feels a thousand times worse."
They were treading uncomfortable territory now. In all their time since the war, they'd never talked about it in more than passing. "You mean like your house arrest or not being able to get a job? I allocated for you, I tried."
"Not that, no. I don't know if you've seen it in the papers but, I'm the head of the Malfoy line, now." He glared at the glowing ash on his cigarette and took another drag.
"Oh, well that's good, right? You didn't want your assists being stripped away any more than I did."
Malfoy sighed deeply and this time when he exhaled it wasn't full of smoke. "Potter, when a wizard becomes head of their line, they are the oldest surviving Male on their family tree."
"Right, of course, you're the only son of-"
Malfoy shook his head and flicked ash onto the patio. Oh. Oh.
"Fuck, Malfoy. I didn't know."
"Wouldn't have expected you to. It was barely in the papers. On the anniversary of the battle."
"None of us read that day's. It was too painful."
They were both quiet for a few moments.
"You know what the worst part is?"
"What?"
"We still haven't found the bastard who did it. He's out there somewhere, feeling proud of what he's done. My father was not a good man, hell, he wasn't even a good father half the time, but I loved him. My mother did too. It's driven her mad all these years, waiting for them to come for her next, come for me. She was supposed to be with him that night but she was too sick to go. She still blames herself."
Harry nearly placed a hand on his arm before deciding that was inappropriate.
"She barely talks to anyone now. Even me."
"I..."
"Yeah."
They sat in silence again and Malfoy stubbed out his cigarette and downed the rest of his wine.
"You got anything stronger?"
"Um... maybe some Firewhiskey."
"Salazar, you're such a Gryffindor. Okay, yes, please. Anything."
Harry went in to grab the bottle and saw the time on his grandfather clock. 3:28 am. Holy fuck. When had they gotten back, no later than 9? Had they really been talking for over six hours?
He called Malfoy inside and they sat on the couch to drink. Malfoy continued speaking, for whatever reason, and Harry couldn't find it in himself to make him stop.
"Do you think it's biologically encoded in us to care about our parents? Even when they make bad choices and force us into a life of darkness... are we still wired to love them?"
Harry didn't know. He thought about him and his parents, who he loved but had never truly met. He thought about Sirius and his mum and dad, who Sirius had claimed to hate but maybe hadn't. He thought about Hermione, who had erased her parents' memories for their own safety and the Weasley's, who had taken him in as their son.
"I'm not really sure. To an extent, I think. Maybe Hermione would know."
Malfoy snorted. He was clearly drunk at this point. "If it was, then at least I'd have an excuse for feeling like this. At least I'd have an excuse for wanting to get back at whoever did it, rather than thank them for doing us all a favour when they killed him."
"You're sure you'd want to get back at them if you knew who did it? After the war, I felt like that all the time, but letting go was just... easier."
"If I could find them, I would. I would look them in the eye and know that they killed my father. Then I'd take it from there."
Harry wasn't sure what that meant exactly. "So why don't you?"
"What? Put an ad out in the Prophet: Dear reader, did you kill my dad? I'm sure that would work splendidly."
"You've got to at least have an idea of who might have done it."
"Yeah.. maybe. Look, I'm knackered." He stood up and stumbled before Harry grabbed him so he wouldn't crash. "I'm just gonna apparate home."
"Whoa, no way. You're too drunk for that. You should take a sober up, first." Harry's arms were still around Malfoy's middle and it was starting to get uncomfortable. He let go to where he was just keeping him steady with a hand on his arm.
"You think I'm capable of spending even a moment in your presence thinking about my father when I'm not drunk of my bloody arse? No thanks."
"Fine, floo then."
Malfoy reluctantly agreed and Harry lead him to the fireplace.
"Well, it's been an evening," he said.
"I enjoyed it, I think. Good luck."
"Yeah, whatever." Malfoy threw his powder and disappeared in a swirl of green flames, calling out "135 Kennington Lane," as he went.
Harry walked back over to the couch and was pleased to see there was still Firewhiskey left in the bottle. He took a swig. Barkley ran in from the kitchen and jumped up on the couch.
"Oh, there's a good boy." He collapsed on Harry's legs and closed his eyes. Harry reached for his cell before accioing it when it was too far. He called Ron. Hermione answered instead and she sounded groggy.
"Harry? Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, I need to speak with Ron."
"Ron's got an early shift tomorrow, and he passed out feeding Hugo on the couch. Why'd you call?"
"Ron set me up with Draco Malfoy."
"You're kidding." Hermione sounded moderately more awake at this.
"Nope."
"How bad was it? You two didn't fight did you?"
"Not at all, he was pleasant and funny, but I didn't agree to let Ron set me up with whoever he wanted only for him to pick a man."
"Harry, you do realise how late it is, don't you?"
"We got to talking."
"I'm going to sleep now. You can obsess over Malfoy in the morning."
"I'm not obsessing over Malfoy."
"Harry, who are you kidding? When it comes to you, you're always obsessing over Malfoy. Get some sleep."
The phone beeped and he knew she'd hung up. He was lucky she hadn't yelled his ear off for waking up a new mother. As he fell into bed, he thought about Hermione's opinion. For that night at least, there was no getting out of obsessing over Malfoy. He was Harry Potter, after all. That's what he was good at.
Chapter 4: In Which Everyone Is Lying
Chapter Text
"I threw him in as the absolute worst. That way, every woman from him on you'd at least give a chance."
They were sitting in an Italian restaurant that was equal distance from the Auror headquarters and St. Mungo's.
Ron continued explaining through a mouth of food. "It's not like he even filled out the bloody form, I just convinced him to give it a shot."
"No form?"
"None."
"Is he even gay?"
"Who the hell knows, he might be. Did you have fun?"
Harry snorted and told him how so-not-the-point that was.
"But did you have fun? It's been a while since I've seen you so..." he gestured with his hands and stole a bite of Harry's half-eaten bruschetta.
"Oi!"
Ron laughed and opened his mouth widely to taunt him.
"Close your mouth or I'll tell your mum on you." He stirred his half-empty drink with his straw. "What do you mean by so...?"
"Relaxed. Content. If Malfoy's what it takes for you to seem like you're not half-dead all the time, then Merlin help me, but I'll survive."
Harry rolled his eyes. Malfoy wasn't what it took. It was all the sleep deprivation that was making him so "calm" as Ron put it, and he told him so.
"Whatever. If you see him again-"
"I'm not going to see him again."
"When you see him again, try not to be all obsessive about it. So, he isn't your soulmate, that's no surprise. You two being mates though isn't impossible to imagine."
The waiter came over to their table to refill their drinks and ask if they wanted anything else. Neither of them did so he walked away to go get the bill. Speak of the devil, he sort of looked like Malfoy.
Harry turned back to Ron who was raising his eyebrows. What were they talking about again?
"It's not impossible to imagine us being friends? It used to be, for me at least."
"But now?"
"Now... I guess you're right. Not impossible." Not impossible if he ignored the fact that he wasn't ever going to see Malfoy again.
• • •
At 9 p.m. that night, he purposely walked to the bar he knew Malfoy worked at.
A security officer held a hand out to stop him from entering.
"Oh, I have my ID here somewhere let me just." He patted his pockets but the man stopped him.
"No need. You know what kind of place this is?"
Harry shrugged and the officer didn't care enough to push further. He got inside and suddenly wondered if he'd come to the right place.
When he'd imagined Malfoy working at a bar, he'd thought it'd be some sort of posh bar that only served cocktails and had velvet seating in every corner. He couldn't spot him anywhere. The entire place was crowded with guys, only guys, actually and he could barely tell left from right.
Most men were wearing elaborate outfits of mesh or chains and Harry was pretty sure that's why the officer had stopped him at the door. Was this some sort of BDSM club?
Two men noticed Harry staring at them and smiled. He nodded at them and pushed through the dancing people to get to the Bar. If he was looking for Malfoy, this was where he'd find him.
The two men followed and sat on either side of him. One was clean-shaven and looked like he'd completed 6th form barely a week ago. Harry wondered if the place didn't ID anyone. The other guy was muscular and wearing some of the chains he'd spotted earlier. He looked closer to Harry's age.
"I haven't seen you here before," chains said.
"Haven't been here before."
The man smiled and put his hand on Harry's arm. "Let me buy you a drink."
"No really, that's-"
Malfoy appeared from the other side of the bar, dressed in a skin-tight white shirt that was translucent and white skinny jeans. He practically glowed under the black lights. The men ordered three beers and then Malfoy saw him.
"Potter."
"Hey."
Malfoy raised an eyebrow at them and asked, "are you guys together?"
Chains smiled, "in a few minutes we will be."
"You sure about that? I think Potter might be here to see me."
"Yes," Harry said immediately.
The men frowned but Harry didn't care why. There was no use pretending he'd stumbled in here on accident. Malfoy wouldn't buy that anyway.
"We can do a full investigation."
"I'm not following." Malfoy cleaned out a glass and filled it with beer, handing it to the maybe-6thformer
"After lunch today I cracked open the old case files. They didn't even check out the scene when your dad died!"
Malfoy glared pointedly and Harry lowered his voice so the men couldn't hear them so well. "I bet we could solve it. I bet we could find physical evidence and convict someone of it."
Malfoy was silent. He had to be at least considering this. "And who's going to analyse the evidence? How will we find a match even if we do?"
"We could put a tracer on."
"Potter there were 40 people in the room when my father was killed, any one of them could have left DNA behind and the killer might not have. And that idea's stupid regardless."
Chains coughed and Malfoy grabbed another glass and filled it with beer, sliding it across the bar to him.
"What do we need?" Malfoy finally asked. "To build a strong case?"
Harry thought for a moment. "A list of everyone who was there. The names of the Aurors who didn't investigate the first time. DNA evidence from the crime scene and matches from the person who did it."
Malfoy twisted his lips. He was over-thinking this. He coughed and Malfoy rolled his eyes but brought him a beer too and Harry grinned. This was way more fun than at the Leaky.
"Look. I'm working, okay. I'll think about it." He grabbed Harry's arm and pulled a pen out of his pocket, writing a series of numbers on his skin. "Call me."
• • •
The next morning, Harry let himself pretend he hadn't just made one of the dumbest decisions of his life for exactly three minutes.
After that, he hopped in the shower and allowed himself to spiral.
Malfoy had given him his phone number and told him to call. Harry hadn't been thinking logically about this. He'd just remembered the look on Malfoy's face when he'd talked about his dad and felt the urge to do something about it. What was he gonna do, anyway? How would he get the file? Was what he was doing illegal? It had to be. But he was only solving a crime, what was wrong with that? It was his job to solve crimes. Crimes he was assigned, not ones he picked up off the street.
There were plenty of people who could use his help. He was an Auror offering his professional skills to someone he didn't even consider a friend. There were so many people out there who could need his help, and yet he'd chosen to help Malfoy. Not to mention, he should be devoting all his time to fixing The Problem. He should be pushing Ron to look at the questionnaires and set him up with someone he might actually like who wasn't a snappish, mean, crup hating, smoking, death-eater-dad-missing man.
The logical solution was to owl Malfoy and call the whole thing off. He hadn't gotten an owl again after Hedwig, though, and the ministry ones were all busy doing more important things. He could call. That's what he'd do.
He rang Malfoy at 8:20 a.m. on his way to work and left a message to call him back. There, that was over with.
Malfoy called back while he was giving a lecture to a group of incoming Aurors. Normally, Harry wouldn't have even brought his phone into work, but he was anxious to get this over with and so he answered, forgetting to take off his Sonorus before he'd already pressed 'accept call.' The trainees could hear his side of the conversation.
"Hi."
"Potter, I think I owe you a thank you. This is really a huge thing to do for me, it's been eating me and my mother up for years now. Do you think you could meet me for coffee tomorrow at that place about a block from the ministry? Cuppa Joe? Maybe around 2."
"Cuppa Joe, 2 p.m. tomorrow," he confirmed. Now that Malfoy had accepted, he couldn't make himself say no. That would be wrong. Worse even, then what he was doing.
"You're brilliant," Malfoy said.
It seemed like the end of the conversation and Harry knew he should say something back. When he thought it over later that night, he realised he could have just said, "Goodbye" or "See you then" but he wasn't hours past the event and regretting every second as it was happening so, with the considerable pressure so respond he said, "I like you too."
A female trainee in the front row called out, "Smooth," but she and a few others were laughing.
Fortunately, he was used to dealing with public embarrassment and he just flipped her two fingers. Unconventional, but it played out in his favour.
He realised as he was lying in bed that though he could have done without the weird admission that he didn't dislike Malfoy anymore, he wasn't upset they were continuing with the Murder Misson, as he'd been secretly calling it. Malfoy's Murder Mission, actually. The Ministry was big on alliteration and it was a force of habit at this point. The amount of work he'd end up putting in was irrelevant. He wanted to do this. He wanted to help Malfoy.
Harry got to Cuppa Joe the next day at 2:10 and he was already waiting. Harry had intended to get the crime scene files from storage to retrieve the DNA himself, but Malfoy insisted there were in this together. With only sixteen minutes to discuss the problem (leaving him four minutes to sprint to the Ministry for a meeting), he didn't have much time to argue. They agreed that the simplest solution was for Harry to get the files out of the Ministry vaults of cold cases and then to work together from there. Malfoy would wait in his office for him to get back.
Three days later, Harry was digging through all of the 'M' files there were and not having any luck. If only he could have asked the filing clerk, but it wasn't legal for him to access cases without express permission from Robards, and after sneaking in under his invisibility cloak, Harry was pretty sure Peter (that was the clerk's name) wouldn't have him on his good side.
'Mortlapp, Motley, Moxy, Mungo,' Harry snorted at the huge file. 'Murphy, Muterlog, Muval, Muyop.'
He'd gone through them all and there wasn't a sign of Malfoy. He was almost positive protocol was to file under surname, but he decided to check under L for Lucius, too. And then, when that didn't work, under D for Draco.
'Daniels, Darth, David, Daxley, Dealby, Point Me!' Harry hadn't spent much time in the stacks but he was pretty sure Point Me would fall under P, right next to Potter. He took the little card out and read it over. 'This is the section organised by last name. If you are looking for (d) Death Eater, check under known associates of (v) Voldemort."
Harry blinked. Well, that was something. He walked towards the very back of the stacks where he knew Peter wouldn't be able to see or hear him and removed his invisibility cloak so he could see better. The file wasn't nearly as full as he thought it'd be, but he attributed that to the fact that these were only the cold cases and gave himself a mental pat on the back.
He flipped open the file and found the tab 'Mysterious Deaths,' and then, 'Malfoy, Lucius.'
"Hey! You're not permitted to be back here!"
Peter was stalking down the aisles towards him at record speed. Harry grabbed his clock and three it on, making a run for it and taking the file with him. Hopefully, Peter hadn't recognised him.
When he made it back to his office, Malfoy was pacing anxiously.
"Well? Did you find it?!"
Harry flopped back in his desk chair and threw the folder on his desk.
Malfoy snatched it up, thumbing through the pages quickly. "This is barely anything." He was right, three pages, uninvestigated, open and shut. "They found the DNA of two people near the crime scene and there was no investigation. No witnesses, no cameras-" His voice was getting closer to shouting with every word and Harry cast a silencing charm.
"You said there's DNA? Maybe we can use Avenseguim or-"
"No, that won't work. It has to be an object of significance to the person, it can't be dead skin cells or their blood."
"You're sure? Blood was pretty important to your father."
Malfoy glared and Harry threw his hands up in surrender. It was a joke! Maybe he was being insensitive. The man was dead, after all.
"So the two people the DNA belongs to..?" Malfoy asked.
"We test both and see which one shows relation to you, and then we know the other is the culprit."
"And from there?"
Harry rolled across the floor to his filing cabinet and pulled open the middle drawer to find a new case file which he dated and Titled Malfoy Murder Mission in clear lines. "You said you had a list of everyone who was there the night your father died?"
"The night he was murdered, Potter, say it like it is."
Harry scribbled, 'D. Malfoy,' under the relations category and then 'Blond, pointy,' and 'absolute wanker,' under description.
"Sure, the list?"
"Yes, right here." Malfoy pulled a crumpled bit of parchment out of his robes and handed it to Harry. The list had more than forty people on it!
"Christ, Malfoy. How are we supposed to get through this all?"
"Well some people have alibis, you see." He sat on the edge of Harry's desk and picked at an invisible thread on his trousers. "And I already suspect someone over anyone else."
"Really?" This was news to Harry.
"We should check the DNA samples first to find out which is my father and which is the killer."
"It'll be the blood that's your dad."
"Still."
"Okay, when are you thinking?"
"Now."
"What? Don't be ridiculous."
"You agreed to help."
Harry sighed loudly and got up, walking to the door and gesturing for Malfoy to follow. There was a lab the Aurors were allowed to use for fieldwork that could identify magical signatures in DNA. It wasn't quite the same as muggle policing, but it worked nearly twice as well. DNA could lie, magical signatures could not.
The lab was clean and empty when they snuck in and Harry felt confident enough to turn on the lights. The fluorescents made Malfoy look paler than usual and he seemed nervous too. That part probably had more to do with the morally questionable activities and being in the presence of his Father's killer's DNA than the lighting, though.
"I'll need a bit of your magical signature to compare."
"You want my blood or something?"
"No, just..." he looked around, "transfigure that quill into a stone or something."
Malfoy did and Harry put it in the processing machine, waiting for it to do the reading.
"Okay and now the two bits of DNA."
One was blood, what they suspected to be Lucius's and the other was hair, thankfully with the root attached.
He put them, in side by side, and looked at the reading. "Both of these have remarkably similar magical signatures to you..."
"You mean neither is from the killer?"
"Well no, see, the one on the right, the blood, that one is similar to you in energy strength and it signifies a strong genetical bond. The other isn't similar to the first any more than most would be, but it also has similarities to yours in energy strength and emotional connection."
"So I'm emotionally connected to my fathers killer? Great."
"No, no. All this means is that they share some genes with you. Could be anywhere from an aunt to a third cousin by the looks of it."
"Well, that doesn't help at all."
Harry raised his eyebrows in question.
"I'm a pureblood, Potter. Practically the entire wizarding world is my third cousin. Hell, you're probably my third cousin."
Harry hummed. "Not quite. Your first cousin, three times removed married Charlus Potter, my great great grandfather."
"Dorea you mean?"
"That's the one."
"So then we would be..."
"Distantly related."
Harry examined the samples again. It didn't make sense. One was clearly Lucius, the blood, but the other was such a small sample, the only read he could get off of it was pureblood, and related to Malfoy. Like that helped. Except maybe it did.
"Do you still have that list with you?"
Malfoy pulled it out again.
"Can you go through this list and cross out everyone who isn't pureblooded?"
"Potter, we've talked about this before, it isn't nice to discriminate."
Harry rolled his eyes and shoved Malfoy with his elbow. "No, you prick. The murderer was pureblood. It's clear from their signature. Anyone with magical parents going back three or more generations is a candidate."
Malfoy frowned and ran his finger down the list, murmuring to himself. "Hand me that rock."
"What? Why?"
He snapped his fingers twice and Harry handed it to him with a snort. Malfoy transfigured it back into a quill and used it to mark off names. He got rid of almost half before he was satisfied.
"The rest I'll have to triple-check, but I'm nearly certain that's all the half-bloods or less crossed off."
"So what's our first step, then?"
"We visit the most likely candidate."
Chapter 5: In Which Harry’s Skills As An Auror Finally Pay Off
Chapter Text
They got to the home of the suspected killer that Saturday afternoon, three days after they went over the evidence. Malfoy had owled the man, a Mr. Joseph Rosier, before they arrived as they were apparently old family friends. Harry didn’t bring up Moody seeing as Malfoy wasn’t his biggest fan.
"He used to come to the Manor for Parties with his family. He gave me lots of sweets, but mother and father didn't like him much. His brother died, you know, but it was all very hush hush."
"Why didn’t they like him?"
"Muggle-lover, nearly considered a blood-traitor, whatever you want to call it. That's why I suspect he might have done something to my father. His family threatened to disinherit him more than twice a day but here he remains, the only surviving member and in possession of all their inheritance.”
The man who opened the door looked almost as old as Dumbledore had. His beard went nearly to his waist and his face sagged like it'd been smushed against glass. He led them into the living room and made them tea at Malfoy's request which was critical for their plan to work. It was how they planned to get the DNA.
They didn't make much small talk, though Rosier was quite willing to discuss the war and Harry's role in it. Harry himself tried to veer away from this topic.
When Rosier finally finished his cup, Malfoy offered to take it to the kitchen for him.
"Oh there's no need, boy, I can do that."
"Please, I insist."
Malfoy grabbed the empty cup out of his hands and took the other two as well. When he was out of the room, Rosier smiled at Harry.
"Did Draco tell you I knew his mother from school?"
"Er... no."
"She was younger than me, of course, but she was always very smart. I'm glad to see Draco's grown up like she wanted. Not like that father of his raised him."
Was this it, a confession of sorts?
"If I may offer you a word of advice, Draco's mother was always so concerned with how everyone felt about her. If Draco's anything like her, he feels that pressure too. She waited, though, until she found someone she loved enough to commit to. She wasn't the type to settle down just because she was betrothed to someone. Lucky it worked out for her."
He was still talking about Lucius, right? Lucius who he had maybe possibly murdered?
"I hope Draco follows in his mother's footsteps."
"How do you mean?"
"I'm only saying I think you've been good for him. He seems more relaxed than he was as a child, more genuine too. Maybe with the right encouragement, he can find it in himself to not care so much about the Public's opinion of who he falls in love with."
"Oh we're not, we don't-"
"Not to worry, Mr. Potter. I won't tell a soul. I'm glad he felt he could trust me."
Harry wasn't sure when the confusion had started but it was too late now for him to convince the man otherwise without explaining his real reason for accompanying Malfoy on his visit. He didn't bother correcting him.
Malfoy walked back into the room and nodded to Harry. It had worked.
"Well it was very nice meeting you, Mr. Parham."
"And you as well. You've got yourself a nice young man here, Mr. Malfoy."
Malfoy blanched. "A nice friend, sir."
Is that what they were now? Friends?
Mr. Parham chuckled and lead them to the door. "Come again any time, I did so enjoy your company."
Malfoy nodded as the door shut and then let his face twist into a sneer. "Barmy old man. He was practically gloating over the death of my father."
"We can't know for sure he did it, yet."
"Then lets go to the lab."
It was Saturday evening and Harry never came into work on Saturday's but at least if they went now, Malfoy wouldn't have to wait any longer to know the truth.
The lab was empty when they got in and Harry let out a sigh of relief. Explaining why he was there to anyone would have been very difficult.
He approached the machine and held out a hand for the hair Malfoy had taken to keeping on his person. Harry wasn't sure he'd want the hair of Voldemort if it existed, but maybe this parent-murderer/child relationship was different.
"I can't believe how easy this was. It's so quick. I've been wondering for years if it was him, wanting to know somehow why he did it, how he did it. Still, looking back at how he was around me as a kid, I can't believe he killed my father."
"He didn't." The results had come up. The magical signatures were incompatible.
"Oh." Malfoy stepped back from the counter and fell onto a stool.
"What erm... what should we do next?"
"Drink. Heavily."
They apparated to the Hog's Head where glamours were definitely allowed and Malfoy ordered some type of wine Harry had never heard of but was apparently the only drinkable thing on the menu. After a few minutes he stepped outside to take a smoke and the barman approached Harry.
"A table in the back just opened up if you're gonna want to eat."
Harry nodded unthinkingly and let himself be lead back. He'd have to owl Hermione to apologise for missing dinner later, but he'd see her tomorrow at the Burrow.
Malfoy almost smiled when he saw Harry seated and took the seat across from him. The food wasn't great, but it was edible. They ordered a round of chips (to share), some type of Eggplant Casserole (vegetarian, for Malfoy), a soup that was mostly just beans and corn (Harry), and Treacle tart (divided and shared). Harry was pretty sure his eyes must have lit up when he saw the Tart on the menu because Malfoy scoffed at him but ordered it anyway. Harry also made sure they both got pints and it all worked well to make Malfoy look less absolutely-fucking-devastated.
Malfoy spent most of the meal trying to explain to Harry why he wanted to find his father's murderer. It wasn't unbelievable to Harry by any means. The second he learned that his parents hadn't died in a car crash and someone named Voldemort was the reason he'd been living with his horrible aunt and uncle since he was one, Harry had been patiently (and sometimes not so patiently) waiting for that moment in the Great Hall when he killed him.
At then end of the meal when Malfoy offered Harry the last bite of Tart, he sat back and looked at him for a moment.
His face still had an uncharacteristic parlour to it and so Harry ordered two more shots and said, "So who do we test next?"
Chapter 6: In Which Malfoy Has A Past
Chapter Text
Other than Joseph Rosier, Malfoy had only two other people on the list he thought more likely than any others. The first was a woman, Aaryan Fawley, who lived in Fawley Manor on the outskirts of Scotland, not too far from Hogwarts. The other, Hector Greengrass, had died from a rogue curse — at least allegedly — 3 years before. Fortunately, he had two daughters Malfoy had been friends with as a child. Malfoy arranged a meeting for that week and told them he'd be bringing along a guest. He didn't mention who it was.
The Greengrass sisters lived a few kilometers out of London, within apparating distance, and Harry and Malfoy arrived at promptly 3 for the DNA collection. Harry realised he probably should brief him on the plan before they entered.
"You need to keep them occupied with conversation while I take a look around to get some samples."
"Potter, that won't be possible."
"What?"
"In polite society, you can't simply excuse yourself from conversation for the duration of a visit. At most, you can potentially manage a trip to the loo."
"That'll have to work."
A house elf opened the door and lead them into a room where Daphne Greengrass, a woman Harry vaguely remembered from Hogwarts was waiting for them.
They sat stiffly and made small talk over tea, though Daphne didn't have any, leaving them without DNA. When Harry started thinking there was no good solution, Malfoy surprised him by asking Daphne, "Can I see her?"
Daphne scowled but she clearly knew who Malfoy was talking about.
"She's too weak to see you."
"I heard about Thalia. Please, you know I care for her."
Daphne softened but shook her head. "It would be too much for her. I'm afraid you'll just have to come back at a better time."
"You and I both know there won't be a better time."
Harry looked back and forth between the two of them. Their glares were almost identical until Daphne stiffly nodded. She lead them out of the parlour and down a long hallway, filled with moving portraits. At the very end was a door, but they didn't go in that one, they moved to stand in front of the one next to it.
"Not him, just you. He has to wait outside."
She meant Harry. Malfoy nodded and Daphne opened the door. Most of his view was blocked by the people in front of him, but he could see a king-sized bed and a tiny woman laying down in the middle of it. She was so pale she nearly blended in with the sheets.
"Astoria," Malfoy said.
The woman looked up and inhaled sharply. "Draco."
Malfoy stood still for less than three seconds before rushing to Astoria's side and wrapping his arms around her. "I've been so worried about you."
The woman huffed but allowed him to cradle her hands. "I'm alive, see? Still breathing."
Malfoy let out a choked sob and Harry looked at Daphne in question. Was Malfoy crying?
"Just barely. I've been trying to make myself come see you but it was..."
"Shhh, shhh, you're here. That's all I could have asked for. And you brought the boy hero with you, too."
They shared a laugh that seemed more like crying and Daphne put her hand on Harry's arm.
"Let's give them some space."
She lead Harry back to where they'd been having tea. He sat awkwardly and pointedly ignored the splotches of colour rising on her cheeks.
"So they're... they were friends, then?" he asked.
Daphne didn't seem to think it fit to respond.
"It's just... I've never seen him like that."
Malfoy had looked as frail as the woman next to him. His face had been washed with an emotion Harry had never seen on him, even at his lowest, absolute anguish.
"They were engaged, betrothed really, and became close after the war."
"And she... is she sick?"
Daphne exhaled shakily and looked to the side, blinking away tears Harry hadn't seen develop.
"Blood Malediction."
"Fuck."
She nodded and grabbed a handkerchief from her robes. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be so emotional. We've known for years now that she's dying. It was giving birth to Thalia that put her on bed rest. She can't even manage magic anymore. That's why they broke the engagement off, one of the reasons at least. Draco always needed an heir and he didn't want to put her through that."
A blood malediction was nothing short of a life sentence. It would be for her child too, if it resurfaced there. Harry couldn't imagine what it must have taken for Draco to walk away from a woman he loved because having his child would doom her and the baby both.
"But she did it anyway?"
"Mm, with someone mother found for her."
"Ah. I was er.. sorry to hear of your father's passing."
"Sure you were. There's not a person alive today who didn't hate him for one reason or another. Well, it's no matter anyway. You should be going."
"But er... Malfoy."
"He'll be along shortly."
Daphne called for the house elf who escorted him out and Malfoy followed not five minutes later. His eyes were red and puffy but he held up a handkerchief like the one Daphne had used proudly.
"You should be thanking me, Potter. It's not good manners to steal the tears and snot of your ex-fiancée"
Harry laughed and he patted Malfoy on the shoulder. It wasn't so awkward this time. "So we take this into the lab today?"
Malfoy said no. He wanted to gather the other sample first so they could compare them at the same time. It didn't make logical sense, but Harry could understand where he was coming from.
After not knowing for sure if the other one had been able to retrieve DNA at the Greengrass's until they were already outside, they talked through their procedure for Mrs. Fawley.
Malfoy planned to tell her that he wanted to study Potions as she had and that he was struggling to get an apprenticeship due to his actions in the war. Mrs. Fawley was a potioneer who had worked for over 30 years selling everything from Pepper Up to Draught of the Living Death. She was a likely culprit according to Malfoy because of her views on Lucius's actions within the ministry and her famous UnBottled Blood which had been developed for use by healers but had been abused by criminals before as a way to strip victims of their internal organs and drain the blood from them piece by piece. Ron had explained the logistics of it over dinner once while Harry gradually lost his appetite.
They arranged to meet for lunch which would enable them to swab her cup or utensils for saliva. Harry asked how likely it was that Malfoy would be able to convince a professional potioneer that he was qualified for an apprenticeship and Malfoy only scowled at him. The bigger problem though, was that neither one of them wanted to have to split up and they had to make up a lie about why Harry was with him.
"We could say we're courting."
"Fuck, Malfoy, all we know about her is that she hated your father, what if she's homophobic? She might not even talk to you. And what if she told the Prophet?"
"Good point, okay. Then you're... following me because you want to appeal to the Potions master of my choice."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because you're the boy hero who sees the best in everybody and argued me a reduced sentence for house arrest. Anyone would believe it."
On that Thursday after work, they traveled to a muggle restaurant a short apparition away from Mrs. Fawley's apothecary. Malfoy spoke passionately about what he wanted to study and the branches of potions he wanted to specialise in. He used words like "cordial" and "decant" in ways that made no sense to Harry but caused Mrs. Fawley to nod and smile.
"That all sounds very impressive. I'm not looking for an apprentice currently, or I'd snatch you right up. I'm happy to put in a good word for you, though. Have you taken your Potions N.E.W.T?"
Malfoy stiffened. "Not... officially. The year I graduated Hogwarts was rather busy and I was predisposed during the next year."
Harry got the impression that Malfoy hadn't told the woman the whole story and that he was relying on something other than tolerance to get the sample. Possibly a memory problem.
A waiter came by to grab their plates and Harry stopped her. The waiter snatched her hand away and placed the bill on the table, taking the plates and cutlery. Fuck. A byproduct of demanding they meet somewhere muggle, he guessed. No witch would have ever treated the saviour that way. Refreshing at it was, it threw a wrench in their plans.
Mrs. Fawley smiled at them both and patted Malfoy on the hand. "I have to go, but owl me if I can ever be of any assistance."
When she was gone, Harry could see the waiter standing by the cart full of cups and plates. Mrs. Fawley's plate was right on top.
"I'll distract her," Malfoy said. "You get the fork."
Harry nodded and walked towards the cart. The waiter glared at him distrustfully but just as she was about to say something, she looked in Malfoy's direction and took off across the restaurant. Harry didn't hesitate and grabbed the fork Mrs. Fawley had used, stuffing it in his pocket.
He met Malfoy outside a block from the restaurant and found he had already hailed a cab. He pulled Harry inside and told the driver to go towards the center of London. Harry knew they were headed to the ministry.
"Did you remember to pay?" Harry asked.
"That was my method of distracting her."
"Paying the bill?"
"Nope, not paying it."
"Fuck, you're going to get us arrested."
"You're a bloody Auror, calm down. What are they gonna do to us in muggle prison? Lock the doors? We'd be out in no time."
"It's the principle of it."
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "What happened to the rule-breaking Gryffindor I knew and hated."
Harry didn't know. Maybe he'd grown up. In any case, they didn't go back to the restaurant and the bill remained unpaid. Maybe he'd mail them a cheque. He probably wouldn't.
Chapter 7: In Which Harry Is Oblivious And Malfoy Is Avoiding The Question
Chapter Text
Back at the lab, Harry opened two beers and passed one to Malfoy.
"Cheers," he said.
"You were brilliant, by the way. I didn't know half of the things you were talking about."
"You were always rubbish at potions. Snape was five seconds from quitting every time you entered the classroom."
Harry rolled his eyes. Malfoy wasn't wrong. "Still. You could have convinced anyone it's what you're interested in."
Malfoy huffed but he seemed almost pleased. The DNA analysis was done.
"You have any preference?" Harry hadn't let himself starting comparing yet.
"Between who did it? It's the person who killed my father, hard to have a preference there. On the one hand, I'd hate this for Astoria. On the other, I interacted with Mrs. Fawley, she was nice if not senile and I can't imagine her killing anyone."
Harry looked over the results of the handkerchief first. It wasn't a genetic match to the killer. There were enough ties to prove the pureblood theory, but not enough for them to be father and daughter. Harry couldn't find it in himself to think Mrs. Fawley had done it either. The result came back, she hadn't. No match.
Malfoy's face was as shuttered as it had been back at Hogwarts and Harry startled at how easily he'd gotten used to it looking open and confident.
"So that's it then," Malfoy said.
"Not necessarily. We still have loads of people to check."
"We tested the most probable ones. What are we gonna do, go through every single person who was in the vicinity?"
"If we have to. We'll do whatever it takes to figure this out."
Malfoy put down his beer and stood up. "Save it for something that matters to you."
• • •
Harry scanned the list again. Almost everyone who hadn't been crossed out would be attending. The annual Valentine's Day Award Night at the ministry was an affair only high-class wizards bothered attending. It was only three weeks away.
Harry arrived at the bar Malfoy worked at and was told he wouldn't be in that night. Apparently, he only needed three nights a week to supplement his ministry salary and Thursdays weren't one. The barman was friendly enough, so Harry stayed for a pint and reviewed his notes.
There were over 100 guests invited to the event, not including plus ones, and 24 of the people on Malfoy's list had RSVP'd yes. It wasn't perfect but it was the easiest solution for batch processing.
Harry could now tell that the bar Malfoy worked at was a gay bar. During his first visit, he had been too focused on Malfoy to look more closely at the people around him, but it was clear this was the case. He wondered if this meant Malfoy was gay. He had been engaged to Astoria, though, right? Daphne said he loved her, but it was still possible he liked men. Had that been why Ron thought it was funny to set them up? He asked the barman if he knew and he laughed. "Yeah, good luck with that, mate."
That didn't answer Harry's question, but the man moved on to another customer.
He was waiting outside the bar the next day when Malfoy got off work. Harry had checked the times online.
"Potter? You alright?"
It was 3 a.m. and Harry hadn't warned Malfoy he was coming.
"I have some information."
Malfoy studied him and then nodded.
"Come on in." He lead Harry to the bar where he was busy cleaning up. Everyone was gone and he offered Harry a beer.
"Really?"
Malfoy raised his eyebrows and Harry laughed. "Yeah, okay."
Malfoy handed him the drink and continued wiping down the bar. The question popped into his head again and he thought there'd be no better time to ask.
"Are you gay?"
Malfoy's hand stilled. "You came all the way here to ask me that?"
"Not really. Just wondered." Harry took a sip of his drink and then remembered why he was there. He pulled a letter out of his pocket.
"What's this?"
"An invitation to the Ministry Valentine's Award Night for me and a plus one."
"No offence, but I do think it would have been favourable to have gotten an answer to your previous question before asking me out."
Harry's cheeks flamed and Malfoy snickered.
"No that's not-" he shoved the invitation at Malfoy and then took the list of names out of his pocket as well. "I copied down the names from your list and I did some extensive and possibly immoral research. 24 of the 27 people who could have killed your father are going to be there."
"Wow. That sure does sound like a party. How would we even get the DNA?"
"Your impressive drink mixing skills."
"You're kidding."
"Don't you want to know who did this?"
Malfoy's face twisted and he looked away from Harry's face. "I..." he hesitated. "I'm not so sure, anymore."
Two days later, Malfoy was knocking at the door to Grimmauld Place. It was past 9 and Harry'd been working out to ease his mind before bed. He opened the door to let Malfoy in.
"So this is what all the Auror training is good for."
Harry flushed and gestured for Malfoy to follow him to his room where he threw on a shirt. "Why are you here?"
"Oh, I almost completely forgot due to the ah," he gestured towards Harry's chest who was starting to get the feeling that Malfoy was, in fact, gay. "I got the job. I had to apply under a fake name and I'm going to be wearing so many glamours I'll look like a regular at the Hog's Head, but I got the job."
"I thought you weren't sure about this."
"I am now."
Malfoy handed him a book called 'Formal Ettiquite Explained for Young Wizards (aged 6-10).'
"Ha ha, very funny."
"Yeah, I thought so. But do read it over, I've seen newspapers from after you show yourself in public. It's never good."
"Fuck off."
Harry spent the next day reading it over and wondering when he'd started letting Malfoy control his life. He did what any rational person would do when faced with a problem he wasn't sure how to even define, he called Hermione.
They met for coffee the next day, though Hermione insisted on decaf as she was still breastfeeding Hugo. Harry told her the situation, minus the parts regarding the search for Malfoy's father's murderer, since she wouldn't approve of all the illegal and possibly immoral DNA gathering. He pretended that they'd instead bonded over their competitive Quidditch opinions.
"Have you mentioned any of this to Ron?"
Harry told her again how Ron had been the one to set them up under the pretence of solving The Problem and that he wouldn't ever live it down if Ron heard they'd 'hit it off' so-to-speak. He tried reinforcing the idea that there was nothing going on romantically between them but Hermione didn't seem to buy it.
"Why are you even asking for my advice, Harry?"
"I'm having fun. I'm enjoying hanging out with Malfoy."
"Good."
"It's not good."
"It is. I haven't seen you so engaged in a long time, years maybe. Just don't worry about what Ron thinks, or what I think, or anyone. Have some fun with it."
Have some fun with it, she said. How the hell was he supposed to do that?
The next day, Ron cornered him in his office and wouldn't let him leave until they'd 'talked it all over.'
"I heard you and Hermione met for coffee."
They were useless at keeping secrets from each other. Bloody married couple.
"Sounds like you've been seeing Malfoy. Hate to say I told you so but I was the one that set you up."
"You said it was so everyone after him would look better."
Ron shrugged easily and grinned at him. "Still set you up. So, what do you talk about?"
"Not much. Mostly unimportant things. Quidditch, work."
"You're kidding. You and Malfoy? I refuse to believe you would interact for anything unimportant. What do you even know about his life now."
"I know about his job at Mungo's. And that he's a barman three nights a week. I know his father was murdered."
Ron whistled, "So just small talk, then? Merlin, mate, you've really gone and dug yourself in deep. Have you had a slumber party yet, or braided each other's hair?"
"I honestly doubt he'd let me anywhere near his hair."
Ron laughed and shook his head. "Yeah, he's a bit of a ponce about the whole thing."
Harry snorted. Right. Only, was he? "Ron, is Malfoy gay? Like actually?"
"Might as well be. You've seen the way he dresses."
His outfits weren't conventional if you considered how most pureblood wizards dressed. Even his dress robes were on the wrong (or right depending on who you asked) side of indecently tight. On the night of the Glamour Incident, he'd been especially attractive. For a guy. Obviously.
"Harry I think if you're having fun, there's no harm in it just, don't let it take over the rest of your life, okay mate?"
Too late. He didn't ever want Ron to know how much time he'd spent reading the Etiquette book.
• • •
They met outside the Ministry with 15 minutes to spare until the start of the function.
According to Malfoy, no one of high prestige would be there for at least another two hours, but Harry wasn't risking it.
Malfoy was wearing a cocktail waiter uniform and put up five Glamours as he watched: two to turn his hair and eyes brown, one to round out the shape of his nose, one to make him tanner, and one to make him taller and more muscular.
Harry couldn't help but notice how much less he liked the look of this Malfoy than the other one.
He pulled out the swabs from his pocket and gave them to Malfoy. He had brought 40, just in case there were any mistakes, and gave all but 10 to Malfoy. The rest he would use whenever he saw the opportunity and he had other ways of getting DNA if the suspects weren't drinking.
They planned to label the samples as well as they could but put numbers on the ones they couldn't identify and use a Pensieve later to clear up any errors.
Harry's only job was to walk around and mingle but he hated mingling and spent most of the evening hiding in the corner.
A woman approached him at one point and he remembered her name from the list, Amber Potalski. She was a Pure-Blood that had married a Half-Blood and that made her a suspect for the murder of Lucius.
"I must say, Mr. Potter, it certainly is refreshing to see your face out more often these days."
"Oh well, it's good to be out, Mrs. Potalski."
"Please, call me Amber."
"Of course, Amber." She beamed at him and he noticed her dwindling glass. This could be a perfect opportunity. "Could I refresh your drink for you?"
She tilted her head to the side and said. "Martini with a twist."
He high-tailed it to the kitchens where Malfoy was busy making the drinks waiters were taking around on trays.
"I got one for you, Amber Potalski."
"Brilliant, could you swab it, I'm a little.." he gestured to his hands where he was mixing a drink.
"Sure thing. It's a martini with a twist, by the way. You'll have to make her another one."
"Brilliant," he said again, this time sarcastically.
Harry took the swab out of his pocket and ran it around the rim of the glass. Hopefully, that would be sufficient.
He repackaged it and handed it to Malfoy who added it to his pile. It was still strange to look at the man in front of him but his expression was pure Malfoy.
"Find yourself a new girlfriend, Potter?"
"She's married."
He snorted and handed Harry the drink. "Treat her well, then."
Harry rolled his eyes. "You're impossible."
Amber was glad to get her drink back and not shy about asking Harry to dance.
"Er... not tonight, thanks."
"You're sure?" She poured and grabbed his arm, not willing to let him sit it out.
The music was slow and most people had taken up a Foxtrot, a dance Harry recognised but could not replicate. Amber lead him through the steps, pointedly ignoring every time he stepped on her toes.
"Sorry, I'm not very good at this."
"No, of course. It's still an honour to dance with you."
After it was over, more women came up to him and begged him for a dance. He hid in the corner where he wouldn't be pounced upon as soon as he could.
That was at least until he was spotted by the children of a couple who were somewhere over near the bar.
They couldn't have been more than 12 and 10 respectively and they approached Harry with the kind of wide-eyed reverence that bothered him in adults but amused him in children. Luckily, they were far enough away from the movement that he could hear them.
"Sorry to bother you, but, I have a question."
"Well go on then."
"Is it true that you could produce a Patronus in your third year?"
Harry laughed. "Yeah actually."
"Wicked," the younger one said. Harry smiled at the boy. He reminded him a bit of Fred, without the fiery-orange hair.
Harry looked around and made sure no one was paying them much attention. The corner he had chosen was tucked away enough that no one could see them except for the people in the kitchens. He'd hoped that Malfoy would be able to spot him if he needed any help. Malfoy did spot him, and though he didn't seem in need of help, he did nod at Harry. "Do you want to see?"
The kids nodded eagerly and Harry took out his wand.
"Expecto Patronum," he whispered and the stag erupted from his wand, galloping once around the kids and then dissipating.
The light attracted at least ten other children who'd been dragged along by their parents and they all crowded around Harry. Malfoy winked at him from where he was mixing. God, what Harry wouldn't give to laugh at him entertaining kids instead.
"Do you think you could teach us how to do that?" one little girl asked.
"It's a very hard charm. Most grown wizards can't."
"Could we at least try?" the little boy from before asked.
20 minutes later, they were out in the hall, each of the ones old enough to have wands attempting to cast and the younger ones looking on in awe and occasionally managing to get a turn.
"I can't even get a wisp!" a fourth-year girl complained. She'd been brought along with her mother and really only talked about how much her heels hurt and how bad she was at defensive magic.
"Don't be so hard on yourself. Patronuses are all about conjuring something from your happiness. They won't work if you aren't focused on that."
"How do they work in front of dementors, then? I'd be terrified." a boy, Jacob, he'd told him, said.
"It's all about practice. Once you get it the first time, it comes easier."
"But I can't get it the first time," the girl said.
Harry took a breath and thought about what it was like for him.
"A Patronus," Harry told them, "is the warmth of the fire after you've been out in the cold. It's your best friend smiling at you from across the great hall. It's the feeling of flying and the stars dancing in the sky above you."
The younger kids pointed excitedly as a blue streak emanated from the fourth year girl's wand.
"Holy Merlin," she said.
"I don't think it's any of those things for me," a boy said. Harry was pretty sure his name was Quentin.
"Really? What is it then?"
"It's... the taste of my mum's cooking. And the lights on the trees at Christmas. It's hot summer days by the black lake and late nights when we stay up playing games in the Ravenclaw common room."
Quentin's wand gave a spark and he grinned.
"Brilliant. Everyone else, what is it to you?"
"Christmas presents!" a little girl named Olive shouted.
"A new book," said another.
"My dad's hugs!"
"Cuddling my cat."
"Thunderstorms!"
"When we sneak into the Kitchens."
"Passing all my exams."
"Hogsmeade trips!"
Harry thought about what it was for him, warm summer nights playing quidditch at the burrow, Hermione's smile when she looked at her children, Rose's first steps, Malfoy's almost jokes that came more frequently every day, Ron's cheers when he watched the Cannons, Barkley's condescending look when Harry pretended to throw a toy, Hogwarts where he always felt at home, and cast. All around him wands lit up. Across the way, a dragonfly danced out of a wand and circled around his stag. The children on the ground beamed and the sixth year boy responsible for the corporal laughed in delight.
"Mr. Potter." all the magic stopped and the Patronuses dissipated. When Harry turned around to face McGonagall guiltily, he couldn't help feeling like a child again.
"Ah yes, professor?"
"Headmistress," the fourth-year girl corrected him.
"Right, sorry."
McGonagall's eyes twinkled. He wondered if that came with the job.
"The parents are missing their children. I'm not sure what they'd say if I told them they were all studying."
"They not really studying," Harry told her, "just messing around a bit."
McGonagall patted him on the shoulder. "The event is over, Mr. Potter. I'm afraid you'll have to say goodbye to your companions for the time being."
The kids all looked at him sadly and a few were brave enough to come up and say goodbye, even in the presence of their headmistress. Before they all left, Harry made sure to give the sixth year boy who'd gotten the dragonfly and the fourth year girl both congratulations.
They all cleared out to go find their parents and left him with just McGonagall.
"You know, Mr. Potter. We'd value someone with your teaching skills at Hogwarts."
McGonagall knew he was an Auror, she'd helped him prep before he was hired. She also knew that it'd been his dream for more years than he could remember.
"Professor- headmistress, you know I'm an Auror, right? I love Hogwarts, but I've never thought twice about teaching there."
"Just making an observation, Potter." She gave him another pat on the shoulder and swept out of the hallway into the main room.
The award ceremony really was over. Fuck, he hoped Malfoy had gotten all the samples.
A man with brown hair ran into the hallway and threw his arms around Harry. It took him a few seconds to realise the man was Malfoy and by that time he'd already let go to jump around giddily.
"We got all the samples! With the parents so relaxed without their kids around, nice touch, by the way, even the most reserved ones drank."
Malfoy went on to tell him that he'd been able to recognise and label every bit of DNA so they wouldn't need a pensive. It'd all gone according to plan and the best part was, Harry's dancing hadn't been bad enough to attract reporters. They made a plan to meet at the lab the next day.
Malfoy arrived at 6 with takeaway and wearing tight blue jeans. He looked like himself again, Harry was glad to see.
They could only test two at a time so it was slow going but they stopped for breaks every once in a while to eat some of the food. Malfoy had brought fried rice and egg rolls at his request which Malfoy characterised as "terribly pedestrian," but Harry was pretty sure he enjoyed.
A mobile sounded and Harry looked around for his before Malfoy dug one out of his pocket.
"Think you've finally heard back from Guinness on if you got Biggest Ponce award?"
Malfoy waved his hand at him to shut up and answered.
"Hello. At work," Malfoy said to whoever was on the other side. Harry could partially make out the person's voice and they were definitely talking louder than necessary.
"I'm fine. Yes. Yes. Yes. All right. Okay. Fine. Goodbye. All right. Yes, goodbye." Harry snorted and Malfoy flipped him the two fingers. "Fine. Yes. I love you too."
Harry laughed as Malfoy clicked off.
"Oh piss off."
"Your mother?"
"How could you tell?"
"You sound like such a teenager talking to your mum in front of-" Harry cut himself off. "So, how'd you convince her to use muggle technology anyway?"
"Other way around. Pansy got her hooked on it and she forced me to get one. Said it would be better than owling."
Harry laughed. "She's not wrong. You're still friends with Parkinson, then?"
Malfoy nodded and picked at his egg-roll. "She's always been there for me. Wouldn't let me out of her sight after the war."
"Why?"
"She was just really worried about... you know." Harry wasn't sure he did but he didn't pry. "Any news?"
""Burban Shafiq did not kill your father."
"Allah be praised. That man got drunk off his arse last night."
Harry shot him a glare, and Malfoy held up his hands in surrender. “Joke. Sorry.”
“Usually jokes are funnier.”
Malfoy laughed, and it felt strange. Good-strange, but still strange. He was still Malfoy. But he wasn’t all bad.
"I still don't know why you're doing this, Potter, but thanks."
Harry wasn't sure why either. Maybe he just wanted an excuse to get to know Malfoy again now that they were out of school. See if he was only a prat some of the time.
"You can call me Harry, you know. If you want," he offered.
"Harry," Malfoy said slowly as if sounding it out. His posh accent made it sound like another name entirely, so different from when he'd said it with a sneer.
"Yeah, I might just."
Harry smiled at him and Malfoy smiled back.
"I still want to know why, though."
Harry really wasn't sure. He busied himself with the next test.
"Harry," Malfoy said, and that got his attention, "it doesn't matter, I just want to know."
"You think it's some type of gesture to initiate a romantic relationship." Harry didn't ask it like a question, it wasn't really.
"The thought occurred to me."
Harry was pretty sure he was blushing to the roots of his hair. "Well, that's not erm... that's not it. I'm not gay." He went back to the machine and studied the pattern of the two signatures he was on.
Malfoy snorted. "I figured it would have made the Prophet by now if you were. Don't worry I'm not into you romantically either."
"Then why did you agree to let Ron set us up to solve The Problem?"
He looked at Harry for a moment with raised eyebrows. "Potter, I haven't the faintest idea what problem you're talking about."
"Not a problem, The Problem with a capital P."
"Which is?"
"My love life."
Malfoy laughed. He actually laughed a full-bodied thing that shook his frame and made his eyes water. "You're shitting me! You thought Weasley set us up as the answer to your love life? You just told me you're not even gay!"
"It was the only thing that made sense!"
"Potter, any woman, or man for that matter, who would apply to date you is out of their bloody mind and doesn't see themselves as anything more than a future Mrs. Potter. I'm frankly insulted you think I'd lower myself to that kind of thing."
"Then why did you come by my office that day?"
Malfoy huffed. "Remember when I asked you the question about stealing electricity? Weasley and I have a long-going bet that we know more about muggles than each other. I was trying to win. Apparently, Granger has taught him a few things."
"What would you know about muggles? You told me the other day you'd never had pizza."
"I've been basically living as one for the past 14 years, Potter."
"Wow. I didn't know that. I figured, with your job at the ministry..."
"Right."
Harry looked down at his hands. There were only two samples left.
"Potter- Harry, I'm going to ask again, why are you helping me?"
Harry didn't have an explanation. Not a one. "I don't know."
He nodded and stood up just as Harry was about to get a sample into the machine. Malfoy crumpled up a napkin in his hand and threw it into the empty takeaway container.
"Bloody saviour complex," he said, and he stormed out.
• • •
The next morning, there was a knock on his office door. Malfoy.
"Hey. You here to know if the other results came back positive?"
"Don't be dim, even you would owl if that were the case."
"Right."
Malfoy kept looking at him without saying anything and Harry didn't know how to fill the silence of if he was even supposed to. Finally, Malfoy spoke up.
"I... apologise for my reaction last night."
"Oh. No I get it. I'd be upset too."
"No, I meant my reaction to your Problem. I still think it's stupid and that you've come up with an idiotic way to solve it, but you've done a lot for me and I shouldn't have been as offended that you thought I was romantically inclined towards you."
"No really, it's fine. Now that everything's cleared up, we can keep working to find your dad's killer."
"I still need to know why you're helping me. Is this just a continuation of your whole Golden Boy persona, or something else?"
Harry nearly protested the second he heard the words 'Golden Boy,' but Malfoy had a point. Why did he want to help? More importantly, why had Malfoy been fine thinking he wanted to help because he fancied him when Malfoy didn't fancy him back. Theoretically, of course, because Harry didn't fancy Malfoy.
"My reasoning hasn't changed since the project began or anything. It just feels like something I need to do- want to do."
"Shouldn't you be devoting all your time to your vapid fangirl hunt?"
The question came at a time when Harry finally had an answer. Ron had owled that morning to say there was an applicant who had answered all the questions perfectly and Harry told Malfoy this.
"Well, I guess you won't be needing me, then."
The door to his office slammed shut behind him and Harry sat back in his chair. It was strange, but he'd been worried Malfoy wouldn't talk to him again after the previous day. Now he knew that there was no getting rid of him, even if he wanted to. He kept rolling the words around in his head, though. After all, when had he ever needed Malfoy for anything?
Chapter 8: In Which Hermione Is Done™
Chapter Text
The woman's name was Alicia Baldwin and according to Ron, she'd answered every question the way Harry's ideal partner would. The only problem was that Alicia was a gold medal-winning ballroom dancer. The good news was that his reputation for being a terrible dancer had been mostly kept out of the papers. She wanted a partner who could dance and that was perfectly reasonable, but Harry couldn't. Yet. He was half-convinced Ron had done this to mess with him.
He agreed to go to a function he'd been putting off RSVPing to for months now, the Auror's Annual March Ball, and invited Alicia to go with him. Now he had a date and he just had to learn to dance. In 10 days.
His Floo lit up as he was practicing and Ron came through.
"Well, this takes me back."
"If you aren't here to help, bugger off. I have to learn these moves before the Auror's Ball."
"Harry," Ron started, taking his hands and assuming the male dance position despite Harry's complaints, "you'll never learn in 9 days, you're a hopeless case and you always have been." Ron spun him around in a circle and Harry tripped over his foot.
"This isn't helping."
"I thought maybe it'd give you some perspective."
Harry sighed and Ron let their arms drop.
"Why'd you lie to me about the Malfoy thing? He didn't know about the problem."
"Oh... are you angry?"
"Not really, I just want to know why."
"Well it was a misunderstanding at first and I thought it'd be funny to watch you put your foot in your mouth a bit. Then, Hermione kept saying how much fun you two were having. I thought maybe there was something you weren't telling us about why it was so hard for you to find a wife."
"What do you mean?"
"You know just... your fascination with Malfoy could also be looked at as..." Ron gestured but that didn't help.
"As?"
"Attraction! Merlin, Mione said you'd be oblivious but I thought-"
"I'm not gay."
Ron put his hands up in surrender. "I hear ya mate. It'd be fine if you were, though. You know that, right?
Harry scoffed. It'd be fine, would it? God, he could just imagine the reactions now. "Fine for who, the Prophet? My leagues of adoring fans? You and Hermione might be fine with it but no one else would be."
"Mate..." Ron put his hand on Harry's shoulder and he knocked it off.
"Whatever, it isn't bloody important. I'm not gay."
The look on Ron's face didn't change and Harry nearly screamed in frustration. "I'm not! Just because I can't find a wife doesn't mean I want to bugger Malfoy!"
"Fine fine, I believe you. Look, I might have convinced Malfoy to go to the ball alone. If it wasn't for whatsername I'd suggest the same to you."
"And then what? We'd dance together like fourth years at the Yule Ball? If it makes any difference, we already discussed the possibility of one of us being romantically interested in the other and neither one of us is. It's simple."
"When is anything between you and Malfoy ever simple," Ron said.
Harry went to Hermione for advice on his date with Alicia now that he and Ron were fighting-not-fighting. Hermione and Ron would be there since they were both still considered major celebrities and Hermione wanted a night off from the kids.
"Just be yourself, Harry. No witch worth marrying is going to decline a second date with you because of who you are."
"I don't think anyone will ever accept me for who I am."
"Bollocks." Hermione rarely swore. "What about me and Ron? The Weasley's? Andromeda?"
"That's all different."
"What about Malfoy?"
"I'm not gay!"
"I wasn't asking if you were, I was just asking if he accepted you for yourself."
Harry thought about it for a few moments. Hadn't Malfoy always been the one who accepted him for who he was? Hadn't he always been the kind of person who thought the fame was a lie and Harry was just Potter after first year?
"Yeah, I guess since he's never thought of me romantically, he's never held me to the same standards some people do."
"It's probably good you think that."
• • •
Feelings were going to ruin Harry's life. In addition to missing working on the Malfoy Murder Mission instead of The Problem, he now spent every free second of his time stressing about his first date with Alicia and having to dance in public.
Hermione had given him a book a few years ago that was supposed to help him achieve maximum happiness. The book basically said that as long as you keep living, you'll have spikes of happiness after achieving goals and there are ways to be happier for a bit, but your general level of happiness will always remain consistent. Harry thought it was bullshit and Ron had helped him use the copy to make paper aeroplanes, much to Hermione's chagrin.
Now, though, Harry remembered the part that asked him to think about the happiest day of his life. It had been a while since he'd had to conjure a Patronus and it had taken him some thinking. He'd realised that his happiest days had all been spent at Hogwarts and that since he'd graduated, few had measured up. Over the last couple of weeks though, the answer had shifted and his night spent teaching the children while Malfoy mixed drinks stood as one of the most fun of his life. There had been something so freeing about the night that he'd had so much worry over initially, even if he had had to suffer through dancing with a handsy witch twice his age.
Now Harry had to think about what would lead to his overall largest number of happiness spikes. For years, he'd been centering his life around the idea that that thing was a person. When he looked at all his friends and saw them happy and in love, he didn't miss the connection. However oblivious Hermione thought he was, it was impossible to miss some things. What if this date with Alicia was his only chance to find someone who wouldn't treat him like a hero because of something he did as a teenager? What if it was his only chance at love? And most worryingly, what if he blew it all over not being able to dance?
Harry went shopping for dress robes that would suit him that weekend. At least if he messed up his dancing, he wouldn't look horrible.
Chapter 9: In Which Harry Definitely Can Not Dance And Ginny And Malfoy Get Along Too Well
Chapter Text
The ball was on a Friday and it started at 7 o'clock. Because of his nervousness, Harry'd spent most of his day at work practicing steps while finishing up his reports. He had to go into the lab at one point to consult on a case about an illegal bonding and the room made him miss the Malfoy Murder Mission. And okay, maybe he missed his almost-friendship with Malfoy himself too.
His dress robes, which were dark green with gold buttons up the front and adorning his sleeves, would have made it difficult to travel by Floo, so he opted to Apparate instead. He arrived at the designated Apparition place at the same time as a woman he didn't recognise. She had long blonde hair and was wearing a dress that looked like starlight. It sparkled with every step she took and made her blue eyes shine. Harry had never seen anyone so beautiful. She looked to be about his age, definitely fit, and there was no other reason to think it, but he wondered if he was looking at his future wife.
She looked over at him and her smile grew.
They both stepped forward so they were out of the way of new arrivers and Harry stuck out his hand for her to shake. "Hi, I'm Harry."
"Alicia. You've dressed up. Usually, when there are photos of you scattered about they're.. well." She smiled again.
"Yes, the Prophet loves making me look just like a runway model."
Alicia laughed and grabbed Harry's arm. "Looks like you have a sense of humour, I think we'll have fun tonight."
Things were going great. Better than, even.
The ball was in the Ministry's biggest room. The music playing wasn't the typical ballroom music, and he remembered that the current organizer was trying to combine muggle and wizarding culture. The band switched from something muggle he didn't recognise to A Cauldron Full Of Hot, Strong Love. There were tables along every wall, decked out with the finest foods and alcohol, and practically everyone Harry had ever met was there. The crowd turned to look at them and Harry thought at first they were admiring his date before realising they were just shocked to see him at a public function so close to his last one. Alicia didn't seem to mind the attention, but she let him drag her over to a table with people he knew wouldn't spend the evening fawning over him.
The table seated twelve and they sat down in two of the four empty seats left. It was hard to be heard over the music, but Alicia's hand on his arm was a comforting presence. Ron sat across the table from him and gave him a brief smile as he poured Hermione some wine. Neville sat next to them along with Luna who was chatting to the most attractive person Harry had ever seen. Unlike Alicia's more complex dress, this person was wearing plain robes in a deep purple. It took Harry a minute to realise the person in the robes was Malfoy.
Harry and Malfoy made eye contact and he smirked. "Potter, you know everyone else but allow me to introduce Jerome." The man Malfoy was referring to was sitting next to him and smiling brightly. He seemed younger than the rest of them, probably in his early 20s and Harry immediately didn't like him. He wasn't one to take his hunches for granted, but he wasn't about to be rude either. He stuck out his hand for Jerome to shake.
"Ah, the famous Harry Potter. I've heard a lot about you."
Harry shared a grimace with Ginny who graciously stopped flirting with Oliver Wood for a second when she heard that. He decided to use Alicia's introduction as a distraction from all the awkwardness.
"This is Alicia Baldwin."
Malfoy took Alicia's hand and kissed it and Jerome shook it after. "Pleased to meet you, Ms. Baldwin." They smiled hard at each other.
Harry wanted to do anything in his power to get away from the strange energy around their interaction so he turned to Neville.
"Hi mate, long time no see. How've you been?"
"Not too bad, yourself?"
"Good, good. Remind me later, I have a question about one of the plants in my garden I think you could answer." Neville nodded and Ron moved to where they were seated with the wine. Alicia pushed away her glass.
"No thanks, Harry and I don't drink."
Ginny laughed and Malfoy leaned past Jerome to talk to her. "Alright there, Ginevra?"
She laughed harder and Malfoy joined in. They were always terrible when they were at events together and the drunker they got, the more they made fun of Harry. Only a quarter of their glasses was gone, it would be a long evening.
"Sorry, sorry," Malfoy said once he'd composed himself, "Harry doesn't drink, of course. How could we forget? Tell me, how do you two know each other?"
Alicia seemed confused but she smiled and squeezed his arm fondly. "We're both interested in dancing."
Malfoy and Ginny broke out laughing again and Jerome looked like he was caught in the middle of something he did not want to be a part of.
"It sounds like you have a lot in common," Neville offered.
"I didn't know you could dance, Harry," said Luna.
"Well, women love a man who can dance, don't they?" Malfoy asked and he and Ginny broke into laughter again.
"I like to think we've moved beyond that kind of stereotyping nowadays," Alicia said. Everyone sobered up and suddenly Harry was uncomfortable. Hermione broke the tension by nodding wholeheartedly and they shared a smile. At the very least, it seemed they'd become friends.
"So," said Harry, mostly to stop the silence that had settled around the table, "you're Malfoy's boyfriend, then?"
Jerome looked to Malfoy anxiously and then back to Harry but didn't answer. Luckily for him, Malfoy did.
"He works in my department."
Jerome laughed. "His boss, really."
"So not my boyfriend."
"First date."
"Accompaniment for the evening."
That seemed to be the agreement they reached and Harry nodded to Alicia. "Us too."
Malfoy smiled indulgently at Alicia. "And how did you find the questionnaire?"
"I liked it. It showed he wanted you for your personality, not your body like some men."
"That's Potter, a real gentleman."
Harry tried his best to kick Malfoy under the table, but he was already consumed with murmuring to Ginny and Oliver about something that was making them laugh loudly and Jerome look uncomfortable. Distraction came in the form of Dean and Seamus. They looked happy to be there, both decked in dark muggle suits with red piping and joined them at the table.
Alicia started a conversation with them quickly and Harry really wished he had some wine right about now. Was that what this nervous feeling was all about? Why didn't he like Alicia more when she was, quite literally, the perfect woman for him?
"You said you were dancers?" Jerome asked, trying to get involved in any conversation.
Alicia said, "oh yes. Harry and I love dancing."
Dean and Seamus shared a look and then raised their eyebrows at the other occupants of the table, two of which were being huge gits, not that he was naming any names.
"Well show us a few steps, why don't you?"
Before Harry could respond, Alicia was pulling him out to the mostly empty dance floor and putting his arms on her waist. The music was a basic four-step waltz but Harry kept tripping over his own feet. Laughter erupted from the tables nearby.
"I thought you said you were good at this," Alicia hissed.
"I..."
All around the room people noticing and pointing them out to their friends. Ron seemed to be enjoying it, though Hermione was glaring at everyone who so much as sniggered and Malfoy had that damn gleam in his eye. He shoved Jerome when he started mocking Harry, though.
There was no way to save the situation, even after trying a few less technical moves. Alicia refused to cooperate and when Harry spun her and she fell over his misplaced foot, she got up off the floor and ran from the room.
He walked back to his seat and Neville patted him on the back.
"I thought that was lovely," Luna said.
Jerome laughed loudly and Malfoy shoved him out of his chair. "Bastard."
Alicia came back to the table but only to grab her bag.
"Look I'm really sorry, I just-"
"Don't. Even think about it. You're a liar and you embarrassed me in front of hundreds of people." She stormed off and Harry let his head fall to the table. He'd blown it.
He looked up when he heard the glass in front of him being filled with wine and he offered Malfoy a grateful grimace.
After he downed it in one sip Malfoy nodded and pushed it aside, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the dance floor.
"What the fuck are you doing."
Ginny gave him a big thumbs up and grabbed Oliver to join them.
"Just dance with me, Potter. You've embarrassed yourself enough for one night without getting drunk off cheap wine."
The music started up and Harry recognized the song. It was Paint it, Black!
Malfoy grabbed Harry's hands and began jumping. Harry started laughing and let himself be pulled along as people joined in. Malfoy's head bobbed to the beat and though his face was red from exertion, his smile seemed to glow.
I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
Harry was overwhelmed by the feeling then that he'd had back at Hogwarts and as he was teaching those kids to cast their Patronus. This was life, this was living.
He imagined a young Sirius dancing around his room at Hogwarts with his dad, Remus, and Peter. They were having fun, singing loudly and off-key, his mum was standing in the doorway grinning at them making fools of themselves.
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away
Like a newborn baby, it just happens every day
It was just him and Malfoy then, talking in his gardens about their lives and the war, talking about Malfoy's father. It was them laughing about Malfoy's horrible job and Harry's messy habits, and it was them arguing with each other over every single thing they could without taking it too far.
Maybe then I'll fade away
and not have to face the facts
It's not easy facin' up
when your whole world is black
Malfoy's arms wound around his neck and they moved to the rhythm. He could see Ginny and Oliver dancing now, much less appropriately than he and Malfoy. Beside them, Ron and Hermione were moving to the beat and smiling at each other. Dean and Seamus were dramatically mouthing the lyrics to each other at their table.
If I look hard enough into the settin' sun
my love will laugh with me before the morning comes
'I see a red door and I want it painted black,' Malfoy mouthed along.
'No colours anymore, I want them to turn black,' Harry responded.
"I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes," they shouted together, unheard by anyone but themselves over the music.
Malfoy grinned at him and leaned in and whispered, "See, I told you it was a better song."
Harry shook his head but didn't disagree. He focused on the lights and the beat thumping and the feeling of being completely lost in a crowd, with only Draco Malfoy knowing or caring who he was. It was exhilarating, even if it was just for a moment.
Hmm, hmm, hmm
Hmm, hmm, hmm
Hmm, hmm, hmm
Hmm, hmm, hmm
The song ended and everyone clapped for the band. Harry took a grandiose bow, despite the applause not being for him and Malfoy dragged him back to the table. Harry looked towards the exit as he was pulled and saw Alicia. She looked close to tears and she slammed the door to the room shut behind her, though Harry couldn't hear it over the new song playing.
The rest of the night was enough to distract him. All of his friends came up to laugh with him about his dance with Malfoy and the press squeezed in at every opportunity to try to take pictures. At some point, Jerome left, though Harry didn't pay much attention. Ron had grabbed a new bottle of wine from the bar and they all took turns passing it around and taking swigs, even though Hermione considered it poor manners. He and Malfoy danced again and then every witch there pulled him in for some poorly executed but overall not-terrible dances.
At the end of the night, the slow songs started up and he and Malfoy smiled at each other across the table but didn't move to the dance floor. Malfoy was a flawless dancer, of course, but there was no reason for them to dance to a song like this.
"Walk me to the apparition point?" he asked.
Harry laughed and dragged Malfoy outside where they could find a cab. No way were they going to Apparate without Splinching. Flooing, too, was out of the question and not just because of his robe choices. Hermione would have applauded his decisions for once, though she'd left much earlier on to get home in time to tuck the kids into bed.
In the cab, Malfoy said, "You're an asshole, you know?"
"What?"
Malfoy laughed and shoved his arm. "You didn't have to embarrass her like that. I saw you dancing with those other women, you weren't terrible."
"Thanks, I guess." He hadn't meant to hurt Alicia so badly, but it had all just felt wrong. She had been perfect, and it had felt wrong. What did that say about him? Maybe he was just looking for any excuse not to let himself be happy. He'd read about people doing that.
"You know when my mother and father were courting, she told him that if he ever embarrassed her, she'd call it all off. Once I was born she told him that there was nothing in this world she wouldn't do for me and that if he ever embarrassed me, harmed me, or did anything of the sort, there'd be hell to pay. My father adored me, of course, so there was nothing to worry about, but you know that."
Harry laughed. "Yeah, I suppose I do."
It wasn't surprising that Narcissa would threaten Lucius over Draco. She'd defied Voldemort for him, Harry was sure she'd do anything.
"When I was ten, my father took down to the ministry to show me his work and I threw a fit. I didn't want to be there, I wanted to be home and less bored and surrounded by sweets. He reprimanded me, of course, but when we got home my mother gave him the silent treatment for a week. She claimed that telling me off in public was unnecessarily cruel. If you ask me, it was the path of least resistance. Did you ever deal with someone telling you off in public?"
"Not really."
Malfoy fixed him with a look and Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah okay. The Dursley's would a lot as long as we weren't around important people. Oh and Snape, of course."
"Obviously."
The way he said it was purposeful and Harry laughed out loud until Malfoy joined him. They laughed until their heads bent together and tears were streaming down their cheeks.
Malfoy wiped his eyes and smiled. "You've gotten good at taking attention away from yourself. Like tonight."
"People always want to pay attention to me, even when more important things are going on."
"How do you mean?"
"After the war.. when there were funerals every other day and people were grieving constantly, I was in the paper a lot for attending funerals. They never wrote about the people who died, just about how brave Harry Potter had shown up to pay respects."
"I read those," Malfoy whispered.
"It just hurt so much, to see them caring about me when people I loved and that other people loved had died."
"Who?"
It was a simple question, but Harry wasn't sure how to answer. "Fred, Remus, Tonks. Hell, there were so many. More than most people realize."
After that, they didn't speak for a while. When the cab stopped in front of Malfoy's flat, he turned to look at Harry. In that moment, he wasn't Malfoy anymore. He was Draco.
"You want to come in? I have Firewhiskey."
It was late and Harry was pretty sure that if he did come in, he'd do something stupid. Something really stupid, like kiss him.
"It's late."
"You can always wait to sober up and Floo home. The place is muggle but the fire's not."
The cab driver wasn't listening.
"I have to get back to Barkley. He needs to be fed and such."
"You could wait to feed him till morning. It's almost 3, I'm sure he's asleep by now."
Harry couldn't be hearing him right.
"Are you suggesting I stay the night?"
"Maybe. We'll talk first, though."
Harry could feel himself wanting to say yes, wanting to know what would happen if he went inside with Malfoy, if he let himself taste his lips, if he let himself sink his hands into that ridiculous blond hair and kiss him till he was gasping.
"Sorry, I really shouldn't. There are too many things I need to take care of."
Malfoy got out of the cab and met Harry's eyes. Fuck, Harry wanted this. He tried to mentally will Malfoy to leave.
"Can I ask you a question."
"Shoot."
"Are you attracted to me?"
When he thought it over the next day, he knew he'd said it wrong. But future him wasn't in a cab at 3 a.m., drunk off his arse with the most beautiful man in the world, and wanting so badly to pretend he wasn't feeling what he was feeling. He wanted to be friends with Malfoy, he didn't want to ruin this delicate balance they had found. He didn't want anyone to think the thoughts in his head were anything more than short-lived fantasies and he didn't want to hurt Malfoy.
"I haven't really noticed," he told the most beautiful man in the world.
Chapter 10: In Which Something Happens And Harry Has To Be An Adult
Chapter Text
Harry owled Ron the second he got home.
We need to talk immediately. Breakfast tomorrow morning?
-HP
Can't, sorry, what about Sunday? I'll see you at the Burrow for lunch..?
Love,
Ron
Harry hadn't been to lunch at the Burrow for a while, but he needed to talk to someone about this. Malfoy had invited him in. Malfoy wanted to have sex with him, unless Harry had completely read the situation wrong. And fuck if Harry hadn't wanted it too. He's wanked himself raw the night before just thinking about it.
He'd been drunk though, they both had, and their heavy conversation topic had made it all the worse. He wasn't trying to start anything with Malfoy and he'd made the right decision. But what did he do about the fact that Malfoy might still want him?
I'll be there. Hope your mum makes something good, it's going to be a long talk.
-HP
He met Ron outside the Burrow on Sunday and pulled him somewhere quiet. They ended up only a few meters from the house, but where no one would stumble upon them accidentally.
"You alright, mate? The kids are just inside, mum's watching them and Hermione's talking with Angelina. You seem all jumpy."
"Malfoy wanted to have sex with me."
Ron whistled through his teeth and huffed out a laugh, patting Harry on the back. "Well, I suppose you're freaking out because it was more than a fuck or something? Develop feelings for the ferret, did you?"
"I didn't have sex with him!"
Ron's brow furrowed. "Why not?"
"I told you, I'm not gay."
Ron frowned at this. "Harry, I thought you dancing with Malfoy at the Ball was your way of coming out. We all did."
"All?"
"Well us you know, your friends, and.. the papers."
"Oh Merlin." Harry didn't read the paper much anymore. "What're they saying?"
"Not great things. The Quibbler's nice, of course, but the Prophet thinks you've gone round the bend. Witch Weekly is mourning their chances with you."
"But I like women." He didn't say it with any intonation. It was obvious to him, so why was everyone else struggling with it?
"Yeah, okay that's fine. Look, what happened? If you didn't fuck Malfoy then why are you freaking out? Is it because you wanted to?"
"I..."
"You did!"
"Shove off, Ron. It doesn't matter, anyway. I totally blew it. He asked if I was attracted to him and I said no."
"You said no? Harry, even I'm attracted to him. Why the hell'd you say no?"
"I... because I'm... I can't be into Malfoy. I can't. If I'm gay then... then I'll deal with that." He would, he'd find a nice boy and settle down and people would get over it. "But if I'm gay for Malfoy, if I'm gay with Malfoy, that's something else entirely."
"Why is it?" Ron looked so earnest in his asking and Harry really wanted to have an answer.
"I don't know. Maybe it's because he was a death eater, or because we were enemies at school, or even just because we've started to become friends and I like it. I don't want to ruin it."
"You might have already. I've seen him moping around. I was down at the ministry yesterday to deliver some papers and he was eating chocolate cake at his desk. At 10 a.m."
In the end, after a lot more talking, they agreed on Harry following the classic Potter method. He'd pretend it never happened.
It was clear that the way to pretend it never happened, in this case, was to find more candidates. While waiting for Ron to go through all of the results, Harry got back to working on the Malfoy Murder Mission.
There were seven more people he needed to obtain DNA from to tell if they'd killed Malfoy's father. He needed an excuse to get it or something they'd done magic on.
Luckily for Harry, he was well known in the wizarding world.
He wrote to the six candidates asking for a small transfigured object so he could "test the effects of Pure-blooded DNA on magic longevity." Only four responded with an object and two others, both internationally located wizards which explained their absence at the Award Ceremony, opted out.
The only remaining untested Candidate in London was Protheus Longbottom, the now-dead daughter of Enid and Algie. After briefly considering paying a visit to Neville, he realised the family connection between them was very slightly too distant for accurate results and he'd have to either visit Augusta or Neville's Parents.
In the middle of figuring out if there was a less morally dubious way to go about this, he got a text from Malfoy.
Andromeda's in Mungo's. Teddy already knows, he's here with me. I think she'd like to see you before she goes.
-D. Malfoy
He arrived within seconds. The halls of St. Mungos were as stark as always but they felt too bright. He asked a Medi-Witch to point him in the direction of Andromeda's room before spotting it out of the corner of his eye. Well not it, Teddy, rather. Beside him was Malfoy, sitting stoically and not looking up from his hands.
Harry rushed to them and pulled Teddy into a hug. He was nearly 15, but he let Harry hold onto him without protest for once.
"Have they let you in yet?"
Teddy nodded and shifted away from Harry to sit down. He wrapped his arms around himself and Harry sat down beside him.
"I couldn't keeping looking at her like that," he said.
Harry looked at Malfoy and they shared a nod. Malfoy's eyes were tired and his face was paler than usual.
Harry took a shaky breath.
"I should go see her."
Malfoy nodded and Teddy didn't say anything. His face was fixed in a scowl but his eyes showed how he really felt.
If Harry had thought about the moment Andromeda would die, it wouldn't have been Malfoy there, and it wouldn't have been him either. It wouldn't have been Teddy having to take solace in the arms of a cousin he knew before as only distant and slightly cold even though he was trying. It would have been with her daughter and son-in-law at her side, her sisters, her husband, and her grandson all crowded around as her breaths grew more labored and tears spilled down their faces, but Andromeda had already lost so much. And for that reason, only her grandson, her nephew, and her grandson's godfather were by her side when she left the world, and they all looked at her in stony-faced silence.
• • •
Harry got off the couch at Grimmauld place and stretched his legs. He hadn't wanted to move once Teddy had fallen asleep next to him a few hours ago, just in case it woke him. He had to go to the bathroom, though, so it couldn't be avoided.
He flicked on the light in the bathroom and pissed, then looked in the mirror. His face was drawn, his eyes were red and puffy, and his hair was somehow messier than usual. There wasn't anything to be done for it, of course. He washed his hands and left.
When he looked at Teddy sprawled out across the couch, he was reminded that he was his only family now. Him and Malfoy, who was passed out in a chair across from him.
He sat down next to Teddy and brushed a strand of black hair out of his face. He'd have a crick in his neck tomorrow. Harry grabbed a pillow from his room and tucked it under his head.
He went into the kitchen and put on the kettle. He'd usually consider it too late for caffeine, but he needed something strong to get through the letter he'd been given that afternoon by a Gringotts Goblin and he'd finished the Firewhiskey after the Ball. The letter was one that Andromeda had written before her memory started to go, given to him in her will, along with a pouch he hadn't yet opened.
Harry,
It's not enough to say that you've become like a son to me, or a grandson if you'd rather. I care for you deeply and I know Teddy does as well. Please take care of him, like I know you wish Sirius could have done for you. Keep as many ties to his family as possible, he needs every last one.
Thank you for making the final years of my life happy and peaceful. Thank you for doing that for us all, and for fighting for a future for Teddy. I'm so sorry his parents didn't live to see it too.
I once told you that there was a person out there for you who would make your life so much better than it has been. I know that as much as my husband and my daughter were that for me, you were too. Please don't keep yourself from finding that person, you're frankly too noble for your own good.
Malfoy walked into the kitchen just as the kettle started to whistle and interrupt his reading.
"Hey."
"Hey."
He looked more disheveled than Harry was used to, and he couldn't help thinking it was nice seeing him like that.
"Tea?"
"Please."
He poured mugs for them both and they sat in silence at the kitchen table until the sun began to rise. They came to a silent agreement as the clock struck seven to go check in on Teddy. His back was turned from them but Harry could hear quiet sniffling and he motioned for Malfoy to be quiet. If he had been any younger, Harry would have gone in to comfort him, but as he was a teenager now, Harry knew that wouldn't be ideal.
He and Malfoy walked back to the kitchen and Malfoy started a pot of coffee. Harry took the time to turn back to the letter.
There have been far too many funerals in recent years, I ask that you don't add mine to the list. I'd like to be buried beside my family, the arrangements have already been made. Make sure my grandson knows he can visit whenever he'd like.
A final thing, I know you don't need my money, and I know you're going to spend it all on Teddy if I don't tell you differently, so I have left you a sum of 1,500 Galleons and I ask that you spend it on something completely irrational.
All my love,
Andromeda
He opened the pouch and found the promised amount resting inside. It only took him a moment to think of a completely ridiculous way to spend it. In fact, he only allowed himself that much time, because anything more would have been affected by reason.
Chapter 11: In Which Harry Is Just Following Directions, Honest
Chapter Text
When Teddy stumbled blearily into the kitchen the next morning, he and Malfoy sat quietly as Harry made breakfast.
Teddy needed to go back to Hogwarts soon, but Harry didn't think it was time just yet. Plus, he'd made other plans.
"We're going to New York," he said, shoveling eggs onto three plates already containing bacon and toast, no bacon for Malfoy.
"Yeah okay, Potter. Just tell me when the Portkey is." Malfoy flipped open his paper and grimaced at whatever he saw before tossing it back on the kitchen table.
"Today at 4. There are only three candidates left to test and two of them live in New York." Harry put the plates in front of Teddy and Malfoy and took one for himself along with some of the coffee Malfoy had made.
Teddy looked up from his plate and shook his head at Harry. His eyes were blood-shot and his hair was black, making him look like something out of a Halloween film.
"What're you talking about?"
Harry smiled flatly at Teddy and pushed his plate closer to him so he'd take a bite. One he did, Harry answered his question. "I got a Portkey for 4 p.m. that will land in America at 11:02 a.m. their time. Once we're there, Malfoy and I have to find some people for a project, but that won't take long. We can spend the rest of the time exploring.
"What about school?"
Draco spoke up this time. "I already owled McGonagall to say you won't be in until the start of next week." It was a Friday and this gave them plenty of time.
"So I guess we're going to New York, then," Teddy said, without a hint of enthusiasm.
"So I guess we're going to New York," Harry repeated.
Malfoy just frowned.
When Harry was walking down the hall of the Janus Thickey Ward at 2 later that day, he couldn't help feeling guilty. It seemed like taking advantage of Neville's parents somehow, to steal their DNA without them noticing, but he didn't see another choice.
When he got to the room, Mrs. Longbottom was asleep. Harry hadn't known it before, but Frank had apparently died years earlier. He felt sorry he'd never asked Neville about that.
It would have looked odd if Harry had left quickly, so he sat by her bedside and waited. She was much older than the last time he'd seen her. Her hair was grayer and her face was sunken in. She didn't look much like Neville anymore.
The woman he was sitting in front of was not the person who had killed Lucius Malfoy, and yet her DNA might have a clue as to who did. It would have been easy to pluck a hair out or something, but that didn't feel right. Harry couldn't collect a sample.
Then Mrs. Longbottom woke up. She looked directly at Harry and smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Longbottom. I'll show myself out."
The woman stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and he looked down. In his palm was a candy wrapper.
Harry swallowed heavily and nodded. "Thank you."
She didn't say or do anything else and he took that as his cue to leave.
Back at Grimmauld Place, his bag was packed and the candy wrapper was safely in his desk. The fact that he hadn't had to take the DNA by force didn't change his decision. They were still going to New York.
Malfoy claimed to be annoyed by Harry having purchased the Portkey for them and Harry told him he could pay him back by helping Ron go through questionnaires for The Problem.
"Fuck you," Malfoy said with a laugh.
They were back to their usual.
"So what's the plan?" Teddy asked. They had 10 minutes until their Portkey activated and they were all waiting around it to be safe.
Harry began outlining their schedule and Malfoy stopped him.
"Potter, between the dinner with the Shaw's tonight and seeing Gibson on Monday evening, we have a full four days in New York. We aren't wasting it doing whatever it is you Gryffindors imagine is relaxing."
"Well, I was thinking maybe a Quodpot game."
"I'll stop you there," Malfoy said and Teddy snorted a bit. "There's no way I'm going to watch a bunch of ruddy Americans run around making fools of themselves."
"It's just one game!"
"I have an idea," Teddy said and both he and Malfoy shut up immediately.
"I've been doing muggle studies at school. Maybe we could go to a baseball game or something."
"Er," said Malfoy.
"Sounds brilliant!" said Harry.
Malfoy was in a mood from when the Portkey landed to when they checked into their rooms. Harry and Teddy got a room with two queens and Malfoy got his own space which Harry followed him into once Teddy got settled.
"Why are you being an arse about this?"
"I'm not being an arse," he said like an arse would.
Harry rolled his eyes and fell back onto Malfoy's bed.
"Potter, stop that."
"No. We're here with Teddy for the next couple of days and I want it to be fun for him. So not only do you have to not be an arse about anything as unimportant as baseball, you have to stop being so hard to relate to before I kill you."
"I'm not hard to relate to."
"I know basically nothing about your life, Malfoy, and I went to school with you for 7 years, give or take a year. Your childhood may be common knowledge but I haven't talked to you more than is polite since the war and you bloody well know it."
"We should rest. If we don't want to crash at dinner tonight, we need to get on New York time."
Harry groaned and squirmed around on the bed.
"Potter."
"I'm not leaving till you summarize your life story. Please use as much detail as you see fit, though leave out the gross bits."
"What gross bits?" Malfoy demanded.
"I dunno, it's your life, I figure there are gross bits."
Malfoy huffed he sat down but he told Harry the basics.
His father had gotten released from Azkaban thanks to a willingness to report fellow Death Eaters after only serving 3 years of his 10-year sentence. Malfoy had been engaged to Astoria at the time, despite not being in love with her. He did love her dearly as a friend, though, and wanted to marry her. They stayed engaged for two years after his father got out before Malfoy learned that Astoria's mysterious illness wasn't going to get better. He couldn't stand the thought of putting her through childbirth when it would kill her, so he'd called the wedding off as his only real reason for marriage was to produce an heir. He regretted it now because she'd gone on to marry another man who didn't love her and had had a child anyway, taking more energy out of her at the later date than it would have if it'd been Malfoy. He hadn't been back to see Astoria before Harry had gone with him.
His only friends these days were Parkinson and Goyle. Zabini had fucked off to France right after the final battle and no one had heard from him since. Malfoy's mother has grown more protective of him over the years, though he hadn't thought it possible. She told him day after day that she'd do anything to make him happy.
He when his father was murdered, he was engaged to a new girl via his instructions that he'd never met before, but who was Pure-Blooded and would produce him an heir. The wedding was called off.
"And that's that."
"You really would have married Astoria? Even though you didn't love her? That other woman too?"
"I wasn't in love with her, Potter. There's a difference. I loved her, most pureblood marriages don't even have that. I needed to marry, and I was prepared to."
"I just can't believe you'd doom yourself to a lifetime of unhappiness."
"I'd have been happy. I would have." Malfoy stared out the window. "And besides, you're one to talk."
"What do you mean?"
"This stupid project of yours to fix The Problem and find yourself a wife when it's quite clear that isn't what you want."
"Shut up."
"I'm just saying. I've seen the way you-"
"Don't. Say it. If you say it, then it's real, and it's something I have to deal with."
"Okay."
They sat in silence until Harry walked back to his room later and passed out for a few hours. When Teddy woke him up at 4 to ask if he wanted to go exploring with him and Malfoy, Harry agreed. He'd promised Hermione he'd get her a present, after all.
When Malfoy heard about the present promise, he dragged Harry and Teddy into a shop of his choice despite their protests. Harry tried to reason with him that Hermione wouldn't want a purse, or earrings, or a scarf and that she'd instead want a book or a nice set of pens. Malfoy had laughed and told him the whole point of gift-giving was to buy them something they wouldn't get for themselves.
They looked around and Teddy examined a row of snow globes and then an array of condoms that said stuff like, "no glove, no love," and "remember the election with your next erection," which Harry lead him away from.
He got Ron a t-shirt that said "I ❤️ NY," and Rose and Hugo race cars that looked like a Taxi Cab and a Police Car respectively.
Malfoy helped him pick a scarf for Hermione as well as a photo album that had the New York City skyline across the cover in Red, White, and Blue that he thought was just the right side of tacky.
When they had finished up all their purchases and bought foot-long hot dogs from a vendor which Malfoy grimaced at and declined, it was 6:30 and they had half an hour drop Teddy off at the hotel and get to the Shaw's flat.
Luckily, they had the exact address and were able to Apparate with 5 minutes to spare.
Harry glamoured himself and then Malfoy made him wait until it was exactly 7 before he could buzz the intercom.
"Erm hi, it's Draco Malfoy and," he hesitated, "Doug Harper here to see you."
Malfoy made a face at him.
They were allowed up and took the lift. The woman who opened the door looked like she was in her late fifties. Her hair was dyed red and her lipstick matched, but the strangest part about her was the Brooklyn accent. She was friendly and invited them into where she'd set the table.
Her husband was already seated and he looked to be a few years older, though his hair was a more natural auburn colour and his beard only reached his shoulders.
They talked about Malfoy's family and the war reparations and how sorry they were to have missed some of the big social events since. When Harry tried to slyly ask why they'd left the country in the first place they just blathered on about needing a fresh start and Malfoy kicked him in the shin.
"You look so much like your father," Mr. Shaw said to Malfoy. "He was so ambitious when he was your age. Your mother always knew how to keep him in line, though."
"Oh Finnley, don't get carried away. These boys don't need reminiscing."
Mr. Shaw tilted his head to the side and nodded. "What do you do Doug?"
"Oh, I'm a uh... handyman. For magical appliances."
"Ah well, what do you know? Maybe you could take a look at my tap in the basement? I think somethings wrong with the washer."
Mr. Shaw took him down the stairs to the basement. Harry was pretty sure he could fix a tap after doing it for the Dursley's a few times, but he was still nervous. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, the lights went out. Was it a power failure?
"You okay, Harry?"
"I'm fine. What's wrong?"
"What's wrong is that you responded to Harry."
They stood there in the dark for a moment before Harry whispered, "Lumos."
"You really believed I was dumb enough to think I'd get contacted by my past twice in one month with no explanation? A man like me plans for these kinds of things, Harry."
These kinds of things? How often did people indirectly accuse him of murder?
"You came a long way for my DNA, and I'm guessing you've gotten it somehow already." They had. Malfoy had swabbed a fork when no one was looking. "I'd be careful with how you proceed if I were you. You might wish you didn't know the answer once you get it."
Mr. Shaw flicked the main light back on.
Something occurred to Harry as they walked up the stairs. "If you knew who I was and if you don't want us to have your DNA, why'd you let us in?"
"I thought you deserved a warning. Thought he did too."
Chapter 12: In Which Your Humble Author Tries To Explain Sports
Chapter Text
Harry woke up at just past 7. He had decided not to tell Malfoy about the conversation with Finnley Shaw yet, or about the picture of a young Mr. Shaw waving right next to a stonefaced Lucius Malfoy and a grinning Protheus Longbottom that must have been taken before Harry and Malfoy were even first years.
He dragged Teddy downstairs to meet Malfoy for breakfast at 9. He rolled his eyes when he saw Harry.
"What are you wearing?"
"Er.. jeans and a t-shirt?" It was comfortable. So what if the t-shirt had a hole in the armpit and the jeans were caked in mud?
Teddy and Malfoy shared an exaggerated look and Malfoy threw an arm around Teddy's shoulders. "So tell me, where are we eating breakfast in this fine city of carts?"
They ended up getting bagels, danishes, and all kinds of other pastries at a corner shop a street away. He and Malfoy both ordered coffee which tasted strange and Teddy let Harry take a picture of him with Times Square in the background when they were done. When Harry told Malfoy he had something in his teeth before he got a shot of the two of them, he only rolled his eyes and got rid of it instead of breaking down in tears. It was, all in all, a very fun morning.
They walked around Central Park for a bit before stopping for ice cream.
"There is no way anyone needs all these Flavours," Malfoy said.
"They're all different, though."
Malfoy scoffed and looked at Teddy for support but he just shrugged. Harry wasn't going to give up that easily.
"Now come on, there aren't any two flavours on this list you wouldn't be able to tell apart."
"Really?" Malfoy challenged.
That was how they ended up getting samples of every ice cream flavour and letting Teddy test them with his eyes closed. Malfoy ended up admitting that the flavours were all different even if they were unnecessary and got a chocolate. Teddy settled on Banana and Harry spent a full minute debating between caramel drip and chocolate before Malfoy said, "if you're that torn up about it, get the caramel and then you can have some of mine."
Harry raised his eyebrows.
"What? Scared of germs? How are you ever going to kiss anyone if you can't share their ice cream?"
Harry's brain basically short-circuited at that and he got the caramel. Kiss anyone, share their ice cream. It wasn't referring to someone specific, but was it somehow referencing the person he was sharing ice cream with right now, walking through New York City?
Later that night as it approached dinner time and after they'd stopped to watch countless street shows, Malfoy dragged them into a pizza parlour that claimed to be "New York's Finest." Harry'd have to take back the thing he said about the restaurant he and Malfoy tried on their first night hanging out, but he didn't mind.
When they made it back to the hotel and Teddy went inside to take a shower, Malfoy asked him how he thought everything was.
"Best day of my adult life."
Malfoy smirked at him and walked down the hall to his own door.
"Let your teenager sleep in tomorrow, Potter. We'll do brunch around 11, okay?"
Harry grinned.
• • •
After brunch, they took the Subway, as per Teddy's request, to meet up with a Potioneer who was famous in the States for inventing Hangover Eradicator which was as brutal and effective as it sounded. Malfoy was interested in talking with her because, as he finally admitted, he really had been trying to find an apprenticeship somewhere in the UK without any luck.
Both Harry and Teddy agreed that tagging along was the best way to spend their time and it turned out that Malfoy wasn't very hard to convince in the face of his favourite cousin.
Cynthia Price was surprisingly happy to meet with them and she only mentioned Harry's fame in passing. It was refreshing.
"You know, you deserve to be Potioneering. I might have taken a peek at your former professor. Severus was well regarded across the entire field."
Malfoy took a shaky breath and Harry grabbed his hand to steady him. He squeezed back and Harry felt his heart jump out of his chest. Teddy gave him the side eye and Harry kicked him under the table in response. So what if he was holding Malfoy's hand? It didn't mean anything.
"Yes he was.. very dear to me."
"I tell you, we'd be happy to see you over here. We don't need your OWL scores either, you'd have to take the English American Grading Levels Exam in order to qualify, but I'm sure you'd pass with flying colours."
Malfoy laughed. "Right, me in New York."
"Why not? In fact, you could meet Professor Burnes right now if you want to. He's the head of our fellows program at Ilvermorny."
"Did you study there?" Harry asked.
"I did. Proud Pukwudgie."
When they got back to Price's apothecary, Malfoy told him he'd better prepare to be impressed. They'd let go of each other's hands a long time ago but he could still feel the tingling and Teddy was still staring at them both skeptically.
Professor Burnes stepped out of his office and shook hands with them all, including Teddy.
"Well now, Mr. Potter, I remember you. Minerva has been writing me for years telling me how hard she's tried to get you on her staff."
"Oh I don't think-"
"And Mr. Malfoy, a future fellow perhaps?"
"Ah. Perhaps."
They talked for a while longer and Harry could see Malfoy wanting to be excited about it all. He went to bed that night wondering how Malfoy could be so good at understanding Potions and so bad at understanding himself.
They next day they were seated in the first row for a Quodpot match that Professor Burnes had helped them score entry to. Teddy seemed to particularly enjoy every time the Quod exploded, though Malfoy was more interested in what the solution that stopped that from happening contained.
They all stood up to cheer as the final goal went in and Thunderbird won. It was crazy how big the universe was, that here Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy could just be two people, friends, enjoying a game.
On the walk home in this small section of the universe, Draco Malfoy took Harry Potter's hand in his and Harry felt himself stop breathing. He held it all the way to the hotel, and Teddy didn't say a thing.
Chapter 13: In Which Things Get Suspicious
Chapter Text
The next morning they got up early so they'd have time to visit a museum before the baseball game. Harry kept zoning out as Malfoy explained the pieces in that posh accent of his. Teddy nudged him in the side to tell him they were leaving about 3 times before he got his attention.
They got beer— lemonade for Teddy— and soft pretzels at Yankee Stadium and sat down. Once the game had started, Teddy and Harry had to explain the rules to Malfoy. Teddy was a bigger fan than Harry had realised and he'd apparently spent the year listening to his muggleborn friends talk about it.
"After losing Jeter they don't stand a chance!" Teddy told Malfoy.
"Who's that?"
"He's usually shortstop but he's got a broken ankle," Harry answered.
"What's that again?"
"The one standing between second and third base," Teddy said.
"Sure and the bases are?"
Harry shoved Malfoy who smirked. "Prat. Don't act like you don't understand the parts we've already explained."
The game ended 8 to 2 in the Red Sox's favour and Teddy grouched about it until they got to the hotel where they got some kababs from outside.
"You haven't even been a fan that long, Ted. What makes them so much better?"
"It's the principle of it!" Teddy told him, which wasn't really an answer but also kind of was.
When they got up to the rooms, Teddy went inside and slammed the door, leaving him outside with Malfoy.
"Teenagers," Harry said and Malfoy agreed. They weren't much better themselves when they were his age.
"I'll see you at 10 tomorrow morning for our last day in the city and our meeting with the Gibson's."
Harry nodded and hesitated. It felt like there was something more to say. He looked at Malfoy and was startled to find him so close.
"Er.."
"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, kissing Harry's cheek lightly. He stepped back.
"Uh."
Malfoy snorted and walked to his room. Harry went inside his and immediately owled Hermione. It would be a while till she responded.
"You two have fun?" Teddy asked.
Harry jumped. "What?"
"I wasn't sure if I should leave you alone outside by yourselves or not. Wouldn't want you to get carried away."
"Shove off."
Teddy grinned and Harry dove across the room and walloped him on the back of the head. It was good to see his godson smiling again.
"You know he likes you, right?"
"Shove off," Harry said again and Teddy shrugged and pushed Harry away so he could get up and turn off the lights.
Harry went to his own bed and collapsed back into it. If it was that obvious to a 15 year old what Harry was thinking, what about everyone else?
• • •
There was one more thing they had to do before they left New York, and that was visit the Gibson's. Patricia Gibson was a powerful pureblood woman who had married into a half-blooded family against her parent's wishes. For this reason, she was very against blood supremacy and thus had the potential to be the murderer of Lucius Malfoy.
Though the original difficulty had been in getting Patricia to agree to see them, it turned out that collecting DNA from her would be all the harder after she agreed to meet them in her office for fifteen minutes.
They sat down and Malfoy offered her a smoke. She declined by saying she'd quit many years ago so that was out. She also apparently didn't drink caffeine which was discovered when she asked if Harry wanted a cup of tea but claimed she wouldn't have any herself.
She was quite willing to talk with Harry about his contributions to the wizarding world, the reason he hadn't worn a glamour this time and the reason she'd agreed to meet them. She kept making suspicious glances at Malfoy and curling her nose when he spoke. She truly was reformed and seeming more and more likely to be the murderer by the minute if you ignored what had happened with the Shaw's.
"Why did you say you wanted to meet with me, again?" she asked.
"Testing the genetics of purebloods who have reformed their values," Harry said at the same time Draco said, "questions about people who've opinions on blood purity have changed since the war."
There was scarcely a difference in their answers, but Patricia raised an eyebrow. She scribbled something on a piece of paper and when an elf came in with the tea, she passed the note to it.
"If you wouldn't mind, I need to use the restroom," Harry said, planning on excusing himself so he could distract Patricia with a firecall in order for Malfoy to make an escape.
"Oh no," she stopped him. "My private one, I insist."
She pointed to the house elf who led him to a door in the back marked private and then left. There wasn't an exit besides going right back through her office.
He pulled out his mobile and swore when he remembered that she wouldn't have a muggle appliance in her wizarding company. He clicked on Draco's contact and texted, 'Leave now.'
The bathroom was a mess when he went inside it and he wondered what the elf even did besides bring coffee. Not that Kreacher had done much cleaning before Harry'd sent him off to Hogwarts at his request. Maybe some elves were just like that. The floor was absolutely covered in used tissues and Harry stepped carefully around them.
The only exit other than the door was a window off to one side that hadn't been opened in a long time. He flicked a tissue off the sill and tried to pry it open. It wouldn't budge. He got out his wand and tried an Alohomora. Nothing.
He tapped his wand against the window in frustration and looked around. There was a plunger sitting just to the right of the sink.
He didn't feel even a sliver of guilt as he smashed the glass. A reparo would fix it right up and Patricia hadn't gotten on his good side anyway.
They were about four floors up and he really hoped Malfoy had made it out by now.
He pushed himself up onto the sink and through the window, careful to avoid cutting his hand on any glass. At the last moment, he ducked back in to grab a tissue and shoved it in his pocket.
There weren't many handholds, but he was able to hold on to the window ledges and start down the side.
He smiled grimly at a lady who gasped as he went by. It had been a long time since Harry had practiced any sort of climbing in his Auror training. The wall was more slippery than he would have liked and at one point his bootlace caught on the brick and he slipped, only just managing to grasp hold again. He heard shouts from below him and then felt the magic of a levitation charm warm his body.
When he made it close enough to the ground, he jumped down and immediately Malfoy's arms were thrown around him. "Holy fuck you utter pillock." Malfoy pulled back and then slapped him across the face which made the people watching startle.
"Christ, Malfoy, no need to act too happy to see me."
"I thought I was about to see you die to avoid a stranger knowing we tried and failed to get a DNA sample."
"Uh no, you were about to see me die to avoid a possible murderer knowing we did get a DNA sample."
"We what?"
Harry pulled the tissue he'd grabbed off the bathroom floor out of his pocket and grinned.
"Disgusting," Malfoy said, and hugged him again, this time slapping him afterwards.
They headed to a less crowded street and apparated back to the hotel. Malfoy told him on the way about how Patricia had thought he was working undercover with a death eater operation to recruit her and failing that, steal her DNA to use for a crime scene setup. She also thought he had imperiused Harry.
"I'm able to resist an imperius."
"That's what I tried to tell her. Granted, it might have been rather hard to hear me as I was two floors away at that point. You wouldn't believe the lack of security in that place."
Harry smiled.
"I'm going to shower and change," Malfoy said. "You and Teddy should meet me in the lobby in a few for dinner."
Harry grabbed Teddy from their room and lead him to the lobby where they waited for ten minutes before Teddy started to get antsy. It was another ten before Harry got annoyed too.
"I'll go see what's taking so long."
He knocked on Draco's door and there was a long pause before he answered. He was fully dressed but his hair was wet and he was drying it with a towel.
"How long do you think it takes to shower?"
"Uh." Harry's eyes followed a drop of water as it trailed down Malfoy's neck. Holy Merlin.
Malfoy snorted. "Where's Teddy."
"Waiting downstairs. He was getting restless so I told him to pick the place while he waited for us to get back."
"How long do you think that will keep him for?"
"Erm..."
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Alright, Harry. Just let me dry my hair, I'll be down in a moment."
He didn't think it would be a good idea to tell him how much better it looked when it was all wet.
He got downstairs and Teddy was still looking at the Tourist Restaurant Pamphlet the front desk had offered him.
"Have fun?" he asked.
Harry set down beside him and looked at him closely. He seemed pissed off.
"What's wrong?"
"We were getting along. You didn't have to go and get all dopey-eyed over my cousin."
"I'm not-"
"Whatever. You are."
Harry picked at a hole in his jeans. "So you really would hate it if I was gay? If I liked Malfoy?"
Teddy looked at him like he was stupid. "I don't give a hippogriff's arse if you're gay or if you 'like Malfoy'." He raised his hands and made air quotes around that part. "I just don't want you thinking you can pretend for a while and then go back to being happy with whatever witch your questionnaire brings."
Harry was torn between telling Teddy to watch his language and asking why he was so sure he even liked Malfoy but instead he asked, "How do you even know about the questionnaire."
"It was in the Prophet, thank you. Gran got me a subscription a while back."
"Ah." Draco came down then with freshly dried hair and they stopped talking. Teddy told them they were going to Osteria Morini for Italian food and that was it.
Harry spent the rest of the night watching Malfoy smile at him and Teddy looked at Malfoy pityingly before glaring at Harry. What in the hell was going on? Was this some kind of hatred born from him being Teddy's guardian now instead of Andromeda? Fuck, he was not ready to raise a teenager. Would it be so bad if he ended up with Malfoy? Surely the Wizarding world would go insane, but Teddy's two main guardians being together couldn't be terrible. Unless the broke it off. Fuck, what if they broke it off?
He still wasn't capable of calling Malfoy by his first name, did he really think a relationship would work?
They got back home and Teddy flooed to Hogwarts where McGonagall was waiting for him. Harry looked around his empty flat. It felt strangely cold without Teddy and Draco.
He collapsed on the couch with Barkley and three blankets. He felt a sudden pang of remorse for leaving Hermione and Ron to take care of him on such short notice, especially considering their two kids. He'd go see them tomorrow and bring their gifts to smooth things over.
Falling asleep had never been easy for Harry but he tossed and turned that night more than usual. He had a lot to think over. Did he even want to be with Malfoy? Was it worth it? Eventually, he drifted off some time past 4.
• • •
Harry visited Ron and Hermione for dinner on Tuesday night. He was still feeling jet-lagged and this might have made his account of the trip somewhat less coherent than it usually would have been, but they still grilled him on it unreasonably hard.
Hermione loved the scarf and photo album and asked him if Malfoy had helped pick it out. He admitted that he had, a bit. Ron thought the t-shirt was funny and said he'd give the kids the toys tomorrow. They were asleep since it was almost 9 at that point. Then he asked, "Did Malfoy and Teddy get on well?"
Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy.
"They got on fine, they've been seeing each other for family events for years now."
When Harry was getting ready to leave, Hermione asked if he was planning on seeing Malfoy again. He was pleased to tell her that he was, even though he left out the fact that it was for testing DNA, not a social gathering.
Hermione seemed satisfied.
Harry wasn't, though, and when he got home that night he went straight to the floo and firecalled Malfoy. Screw waiting until the testing. All the talk made him unable to stop thinking about him.
Malfoy took one look at Harry's face and waved him through. Harry dusted the ash off his clothes and took the drink Malfoy handed him wordlessly.
"Potter. You're certainly looking worse for the wear."
He was almost smiling despite the fact that he looked tired. His hair wasn't gelled like it usually was and reminded Harry of him at the hotel. A quick glance around revealed that whatever money Malfoy was making at the ministry and bar wasn't going here. The place was cramped and dingy, though the furniture looked antique.
"Shut up."
"You're the one who came through the floo. If you didn't want to chat, what do you want?"
Fuck him. Fuck him and his stupid hair and his stupid flat and everything about his stupid life.
"My friends seem to think I'm obsessed with you."
"Okay?"
"And my godson is worried I'll hurt you."
"Honestly, if he even thinks for a second you could-"
"Emotionally, you prat."
Malfoy rolled his eyes, but Harry was working up to his point.
"The wizarding world still hates you."
"I know that." Malfoy looked down at this.
"You're dating some guy named Jerome."
"Hardly." Here he scoffed and Harry took a step closer until he was only a few centimetres from touching him.
"And every single fucking thing about you annoys me."
It did. He hated his smoking, and his eating habits, and his laugh, and his smile, and the way he got on so well with Harry's bloody godson.
"Why are you here, then?"
"Because I don't fucking care anymore."
And then Harry was kissing him. He wound his fingers in Malfoy's stupid hair and tugged it until he groaned. He slotted his legs between his thighs and pushed him back towards the couch.
"Fuck, Potter, what are you doing?"
Harry stopped to breathe. "You want me to stop?"
"Gods no."
Malfoy fell back onto the couch and Harry straddled his legs so he could grind against him. Then, he finally did what he'd been wanting to since the day at the hotel when that drop of water slid down Malfoy's neck and he mouthed at it, letting the small gasps guide him as to what was best. "Then I'm figuring shit out," he said between kisses, "and you're helping me."
Malfoy let out a groan when Harry bit down on his neck and he thrust up. Harry could feel his cock through the layers of clothing and it wasn't enough. Harry worked down Malfoy's buttons and then threw off his own shirt. He couldn't stop to think, he'd done enough of that already.
He slid his hand from Malfoy's hair down his chest and Malfoy shivered.
"Are these from..?" He pulled away from Malfoy to run his fingers across the scars lining his skin. Harry hadn't ever wondered if it'd scarred before. There were three pale white ones crisscrossing his chest and a few thinner ones that only took up a few centimetres.
"Just shut up," Malfoy said and pulled him back into a searching kiss. His mouth was hot and slick and his tongue felt like magic.
Harry pushed his hand further down Malfoy's body until he reached his trousers and then he stopped, waiting for him to say something.
Malfoy whined and grabbed Harry's hand, grinding against it. Merlin, Harry felt himself start to lose control.
"Wh-" Malfoy cut off as Harry thrust his hips.
"Nnnngh, Potter-"
Harry panted against his neck and thrust again. It was so good, so hot, and he wondered how he ever could have thought he didn't want this, didn't want a single part of it. He wanted Malfoy's hands gripping his hips to hold him in place and he wanted the small whimpers falling through his lips. He wanted the gasps every time Harry sucked a kiss into his neck and he wanted the feeling of a cock against his own. He wanted skin, and sweat, and Draco.
He unzipped Malfoy's trousers in a rush and shoved his hand into his pants. Malfoy's eyes flew open and he squeezed Harry's hips so hard he was sure it would bruise. It didn't matter. Harry stroked his hand along Malfoy's cock and Malfoy's mouth moved, trying to form words and not finding any except for a broken moan.
Harry ground his hips against Malfoy again and they both moaned.
"Fuck, Harry-" Malfoy choked out, and that was it for him. Harry felt his orgasm rip through his body faster than it had since he was a teenager. He groaned against Malfoy who was coming too and pulled him into another kiss that started out hungry and ended slowly with them just breathing the same air. Harry pressed one more kiss to the side of his jaw before collapsing on top of him.
When his heart had slowed, he slid off the couch to where he wasn't quite so on Malfoy and turned to look at him. He seemed, quite honestly, more shocked than anything.
"You okay?"
Malfoy laughed breathily. "I'm fine, Potter, are you okay? You're the one who just had your first gay experience here." He was still panting but he grinned when Harry shoved him.
"I think I'm okay."
"Really?"
"Surprisingly."
Malfoy didn't look like he believed him, but he didn't press the issue. He picked up Harry's hand and held it, tracing the veins and not looking into his eyes.
"Are we okay?"
Malfoy placed a kiss on each of his knuckles and Harry drew his hand back so he could make him look at him.
His eyes were tired, but there was a hopefulness Harry hadn't seen in a long time. Ever, in him.
"I think we might just be," he murmured and pulled Harry into another kiss.
Later that night, Harry flooed back to Grimmauld Place and fell into his bed. He'd done sex things with a man. With Malfoy. No, not Malfoy, Draco. Draco Malfoy. He'd have to work on that. Harry Potter had kissed Draco Malfoy. Then they'd done a little more. And if he'd let him, Harry'd do it again. And again.
And so much more.
Fuck he hoped he'd let him.
. . .
Harry was sitting in his office trying to think of literally anything besides Malfoy when Ron walked in, presumably to save him from a slow and horny death and transfigured one of Harry's paperweights into a chair.
Harry snapped closed the Malfoy Murder Mission file he'd been not-really-examining, but instead of this giving Ron the impression that he now had his full attention, it made him snatch it from Harry's desk.
"Hey, that's private!"
Ron laughed and opened it. Inside was the invitation to the event at which Lucius had been killed. Ron's smile fell.
"What's this, mate? An invitation to the Ministry of Magic's Muggleborn Mixer. I remember this. It was at least five years ago when the ministry was still trying to find Pureblood's who still thought themselves better than the rest."
"I was organising something to help a friend. I needed to find out who'd been there"
"What other friends do you even have?" Ron snorted. "You should have asked me for help, I could have told you."
"What? Why?"
And then it hit him, Ron was a healer. Ron had been the first one on-site when the murder was called in.
"Ah the bloody Malfoy thing, you know."
Harry did know. He could tell by the tone of Ron's voice that Ron knew too. Ron, the pureblood wizard who'd had a grudge against the Malfoy family since before he came to Hogwarts. Ron who would have had access to UnBottled Blood. Ron who was his best friend, sitting right in front of him.
"Right, sure. Must've slipped my mind."
Ron shrugged and then got a beep on his pager, some of the very little technology St. Mungo's had gotten around to implementing since the war.
"I've got to go, sorry."
"Not a problem."
He left and Harry looked at the paperweight Ron'd transfigured to a chair and back. Harry stuffed it in his pocket.
Chapter 14: In Which Harry Takes Action
Chapter Text
Harry apparated to the ministry on Saturday morning with a pit in his stomach. Today was the day they would test the last of their samples. At best, Harry's instincts would be proved simultaneously wrong and right and the killer would be one of the people they'd found in New York. At worst, it would be his closest friend since he was eleven.
How would he even tell Draco that? Like, 'Hey, by the way, my best mate totally murdered your dad. Also, I'm practically in love with you so please don't overreact and kill him, thanks.' Merlin, he was a mess.
They met at the lab. There were three samples to test: the swab from Finnley Shaw's fork, the tissue from Patricia Gibson's bathroom, and Ron's paperweight. Harry still hadn't told Malfoy about the candy wrapper from Mrs. Longbottom and was terrified to get a result on Ron's sample.
"What's the paperweight for?" Malfoy asked.
"Retest. Turns out an earlier sample was contaminated."
Malfoy snorted. "Bollocks. Who is it? Did you get a sample for Protheus Longbottom?"
Harry could have said yes, but that would have made it dangerous if the sample tested positive.
"I'll tell you if it's the one."
"Tell me now," he said. "It is the one."
"There's no way you could know."
"I just have a feeling."
So did Harry.
"You don't have any reason. Shaw easily could've done it. Patricia too."
"Your bloody logic versus my intuition. Wanna make it a bet?"
"No. I don't want to bet over who killed your father, let's just test the samples and then we'll know."
"Just test the paperweight, I'm sure."
Harry couldn't. "What are you gonna do when you find out who did it?"
He should have asked earlier. Malfoy had this sick fantasy of wanting to get back at the killer somehow. They deserved to be locked up, Harry was almost positive, but if it was Ron, could Harry let that happen?
"Can't believe you're asking. Just test the bloody samples. I won't do anything to harm whoever it is, I'll just expose them so they can't hurt anyone else."
"You'll tell the world?" He thought about Mrs. Weasley learning her youngest son was a killer. He thought about Hermione finding out what her husband might have done. He thought about Rose and Hugo growing up without a dad.
"Fuck yes, I will."
"But it won't help you!"
"Yes it will."
"Revenge has never-"
"Fuck revenge I don't care about revenge, I want them off the streets, I want my mother to feel safe in her own bloody house!"
There was a small chance that the killer was Protheus Longbottom and in that case, all the samples would test negative and no one would get hurt. Harry wasn't one to believe in small chances anymore.
He turned off the machine.
"What the fuck."
"I can't let you do this."
"I have a right to know! Why do you care if it distantly affects fucking Longbottom? I won't go after him! Do you even care about me?"
"Fuck you! You know I do! I can't help you do something immoral."
"Bullshit, Potter! Since when have you ever cared about morals?"
"All my bloody life, you prick."
"Potter, if you don't do the test, I'm never speaking to you again. Ever."
"I thought you might say that. The mission is over, though, and you won't be interested in furthering the other aspects of our relationship."
"I would have been! You're the one who's so bloody concerned with people thinking you're gay! I've been out since my father died, so don't try to blame this on me. Of course, it's my fault. I'm not a nice witch who wants to settle down and pop out twenty children."
"So what, you would have wanted to be my boyfriend then?"
"Sure, if I ignored the fact that you're an utter wanker who thinks being gay is the end of the world, won't help me find out who killed my father, and that you've been empty inside so long you've forgotten what it's like to feel anything, then I'd have thought you're fucking perfect."
He walked out, slamming the door behind him.
Harry slammed his fist on the counter. Fuck! He'd fucked up.
He flipped the machine back on. Without Malfoy in the room, he could test the samples and figure out if Ron had really done it. The door opened again and he turned around, expecting to see Malfoy, hoping he'd realised he'd overreacted too. It was Robards.
"Working on your unauthorised project, Auror Potter?"
And this is where it got messy. Robards had always liked Harry, but overlooking a thing like using Ministry property for his own personal reasons was beyond what most would consider redeemable. How much did he know? He didn't usually work on weekends, someone had tipped him off.
"It's fascinating stuff according to Patricia Gibson. She came right into my office all the way from New York, ranting about death eaters and an imperiused savior trying to steal her DNA. Care to explain?"
Until this point, Robards had kept his voice level. Now he was raising it with every word.
"I've been spending the last 10 years trying to get the Aurors the proper funding. Do you know what a thing like this will do to us if she goes to the press? The ministry will eat me alive, my position as Head Auror will be compromised. Figure out an excuse and we'll see if I won't have to advertise in the Prophet for a new Auror."
Harry nodded once and Robards opened the door.
"Good day, Auror Potter. Make sure this isn't the last time I address you as such."
• • •
Ron showed up at Grimmauld place that night and started pacing immediately.
"I think I've figured out a way to fix this."
"You've talked to Malfoy?"
Ron stopped pacing and met him with fiery eyes. "No, I haven't bloody talked to Malfoy. I've been talking to Hermione about the ethics of a memory charm on Patricia Gibson. I don't know and I don't care what you've been doing, but if it gets out that you've been testing DNA without approval, you'll never get a moment's peace again."
Harry knew this. He also knew his job was in jeopardy. He'd been one second away from owling McGonagall about her offer to teach when Ron stormed in.
"Without a job, Harry, without something to get you out of bed each day, you'll fall apart. Who will look after Teddy then? And Barkley? This is your whole life we're talking about here."
Harry didn't respond and Ron deflated and sat down next to him.
"Help me out here. It's Malfoy? He's why you did all this?"
"Don't start on me about him being a bad influence or-"
"I'm not. But bloody hell, mate, you've messed up everything and all for..."
Harry hadn't forgotten that the person sitting in front of him might be the killer. "Malfoy's important to me. I don't know why."
"Well, that's because you're oblivious. You fancy him, admit it to yourself if you can't admit it to me."
It would have shocked younger him to hear those words coming out of Ron's mouth, but now he'd already accepted it. He fancied Malfoy. He really did. He'd gone and cocked up the whole thing, but he fancied him.
Now he had to fix it, and the rest of his life too.
He went to Robards the next day and told him about Ron's idea. It was apparently the most unethical sentence Harry had ever uttered because Robards told him he needed to go on an unpaid sabbatical and that if by the end of the month he was himself again, he'd consider giving him his job back.
This meant the only thing left for fixing was his relationship with Malfoy. With Draco, fuck he had to get better at that.
Draco had given him 3 things to work on. Well, not so much given as yelled them at him. It still counted.
He was an utter wanker who thought being gay was the end of the world, he wouldn't help Draco find out who killed his father, and he'd forgotten what it was like to feel anything.
The last bit wasn't strictly true. He'd realised after coming back from New York that Hermione forcing him to present on depression was her way of getting a point across to him.
He'd been depressed— not suicidal, never leave your bed depressed, but depressed all the same— and something was finally clicking back into place in his brain. Maybe it would take a while, but now that he knew what the problem was, he could fix it. Probably with lots of therapy and medication. Hermione would help him figure it out.
As for the first part, Harry now knew he was gay. He'd said it out loud to himself for the first time the night before, just to see how it felt. It was terrifying, but terrifyingly right. He'd never felt like this about anyone before and he didn't figure he ever would again.
He met with Hermione for lunch the next day. Hugo was there too, but he couldn't talk yet, so that wasn't really important.
"You seem different," she said. He felt different too.
"Hermione, do you remember when you told me that how the public views something is all about how it's presented?"
"Sure. Do you have something on your mind?"
"I'm gay." His voice came out a little strained but he didn't let it stop him. "I like men, exclusively."
"Hmm." She took a sip of her tea.
"I want to tell the press."
She winced and Harry thought it was a reaction to his words before she blew on her tea and settled her expression into something more business-like. "Right then. I suppose I should ask why you want to do this now."
"Malfoy."
She stopped fussing with her cup and son and focused entirely on him. "Harry, if you come out just to court him, and then it doesn't work, or your relationship ends badly, I don't want you to regret doing this. You shouldn't be doing this for him."
"I'm not."
He wasn't. He'd realised for the first time that he didn't want anyone else to feel the way he'd been feeling, like they were alone and no one would understand. Hermione agreed to help him draft a letter for The Prophet, The Quibbler, and Witch Weekly. He had a few more people he needed to tell first, though.
He went by Malfoy Manor as soon as he could and knocked on the imposing gates. He took a few steps back when Draco answered instead of the house elf he'd been expecting.
"Oh. I didn't think you'd be here."
"Yes well, I'm hiding out. Certain people I don't want to see happen to have my floo address."
"Right." He looked over Draco's shoulder to see if Narcissa was anywhere in sight.
"Why are you here?"
"Oh. I need to talk to your mum."
Draco raised his brows and scoffed. "Well come right on in then. You two can have a tea party since you're such old friends."
Narcissa strode down the hall towards them and offered Draco a flat look. "Darling, I'm a grown woman, I can take care of myself.
Even though Draco didn't seem to believe this, he didn't stop Narcissa from leading Harry into the Front Parlour and serving him tea. He did try to stop Narcissa from kicking him out of the room so they could talk, but she was pretty imposing and he eventually left.
"So, Mr. Potter, why have you come to see me?"
"I've been working with Draco these past few months on a project. I feel like your input might be more important than he believes."
"What's the nature of this project?"
"We've been trying to find out who killed your husband."
Narcissa's cup slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor. The pieces looked like stars.
"Mrs. Malfoy?"
"My apologies." She drew out her wand and reparo'd the cup before setting it on the table with shaky hands. "What has he told you? Please spare no detail."
He felt obligated to do his best.
"He said that on the night of the murder you were feeling ill and so you stayed home. He said that you still blame yourself for not being there to stop it, even though he'd rather have just one dead parent than two. He also said that the only way for you both to feel safe would be the killer being found and locked away."
"Ah. Mr. Potter, can I be quite clear with you?"
"Of course."
"I will never feel safe. Not in my own home, not anywhere. I'm afraid that learning who killed Draco's father would only bring him more pain."
"How so?"
"He has always had a peculiar relationship with him. I tried my best to protect Draco, but he wanted his father's praise more than anything in the world. He would have gone on to marry and have children, all to please him. He took the mark for that same reason."
"He told me about that, the protection part at least. He really cares for you."
"I know. And so do you, I've noticed. For that reason, I'm asking that should you find the person behind murder of Draco's father, you keep it from him."
Could Harry really do that? Could he know something Draco wanted to know so badly and not tell him? Could he live with never seeing Draco again, never speaking to him, never kissing him?
"I'll consider every option."
"That's all I can ask."
Narcissa stood and he was lead out. Draco had been sitting outside the front door, smoking anxiously.
"Put that out, Darling." He blew his smoke behind him and frowned at Narcissa. Harry waved goodbye as he left. Draco did not wave back. That was okay, there was still more left to his plan.
He got to the Burrow just in time for dinner that night and he set down Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to tell them what would be appearing in the papers the next day. Mrs. Weasley held his hand and cried, not because she was sad or regretted him not being able to marry Ginny, but because he'd told her just like she was his mum. Mr. Weasley hugged him and told him they could go to a muggle gay club together if he liked because he'd always wanted to go to one. Harry was torn between not wanting to and really really wanting to see what Mr. Weasley thought gay muggles dressed like. In the end, he decided to take a rain check. He told himself again and again how worthwhile this would all be, even if Draco still wouldn't forgive him. He wasn't sure how much he believed it.
Just a few more steps.
Chapter 15: In Which Hermione Is Competent Because Harry Can’t Be
Chapter Text
Harry didn't read the papers the next morning, but Hermione told him that the quotes had been printed exactly as they'd sent them with minimal commentary. That meant they'd look something like this.
A Personal Letter From Harry Potter:
Dear Wizarding Public, it is with great pride and even greater anxiety that I announce to you the failure of my project to find a wife. This is not because there was any shortage of lovely witches willing to court me, it is because I have fallen instead for a man. I'm done lying to everyone, especially myself. Even if this man does not love me back, I will be glad to no longer have to feel ashamed of who I am. Thank you for your understanding through the years. I hope this message finds and empowers anyone who needs it to tell their truth. I am not currently, nor will I ever court a woman again.
Most sincerely,
-Harry J. Potter
In his opinion, Hermione had put it pretty well.
There was one more thing that Draco had said was a problem and even though Narcissa had said that Draco would be negatively impacted by the knowledge of who killed his father, Harry couldn't stop himself from wanting to know.
There was one more stop to make before the final step in his plan. If things went wrong, he'd lose his job. He couldn't seem to make himself care anymore. His heart hadn't been in Auroring for a long time now.
He arrived at the flower shop and opened the door. The sweet scent filled his nose and overwhelmed his senses. He hadn't been in this shop for a while, but he used to buy lilies here for his mother's grave, and before Andromeda had gotten older and he'd gotten busier, he'd taken her Pieris Japonica, the flowers from the Andromeda shrub. What he was picking up now was Narcissus, the intention of which should be quite clear.
He snuck into the labs at work and pulled out the three samples.
He tested Finnley Shaw's first, thinking it highly likely. It came back negative. No need to panic, this wasn't implicating his best friend just yet.
He tested Patricia Gibson's tissue next. It came back negative. So that was it then, wasn't it? He'd already decided that it was wrong to test the candy wrapper and yet...
But he couldn't, could he?
He out the paperweight into the machine and waited. This one seemed to take longer than usual. He could feel his palms sweating. The screen flashed the magical composition and he compared it to the one of the killer.
Negative. Holy Fuck.
He almost pulled the candy wrapper out of his pocket when the door flew open.
"Potter," said Robards. "You shouldn't be in here and you know it."
"I do, sir. I'm sorry."
"I saw your statement in the paper. Normally in a situation like this, I'd overlook your recent transgressions as stress, but here you are again."
"Yes sir."
"Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
Did he?
"No sir."
"Then drop the formalities, Potter. I'm not your boss anymore." Robards gave him one of his rare smiles and Harry returned it tentatively. After all, he'd just been fired.
"Understood, sir." He might have lost his job, but Robards didn't hate him. The press would have a field day with this and say he was going crazy, but it didn't matter.
He had one more sample to test, though, so he could know for certain if they'd found Lucius Malfoy's killer, or if they'd messed up somehow. He looked over at the flowers that were waiting on the counter by the machine, and then he realised he didn't have to test anything at all. He already knew.
Chapter 16: In Which Shit Goes Down
Chapter Text
Harry began the second half of his life by owling Ron and Hermione on his way to Malfoy Manor to tell them to meet him there. If he was correct, he'd need people to be on his side.
When he got there, Draco let him in and led him to his mother with only a, "She thought you'd come by again."
When he got into the room, he looked at Narcissa and said, "Do you want him to be here for this?"
"You think he should know?"
"I think he deserves to know."
"What are you two on about?"
Harry turned to Draco. "I've figured out the identity of your father's killer."
"Was it paperweight guy? It was, wasn't it?"
Instead of answering, Harry held out the bouquet of flowers for Narcissa and she took them. He'd put a cut of Pieris japonica in there too and when she saw it she breathed in sharply and brushed her finger against it. She smiled at him for the first time.
"Tell him," she said.
Ron and Hermione appeared in the doorway and he gestured for them to stay there.
"I realised the main problem I was having with this whole thing was thinking like a person instead of thinking like an Auror. I might not be one anymore," he quieted the noises of concern from everyone, "but that doesn't mean I was any less brilliant at my job." Malfoy scoffed at this.
"When I first opened the case file for the Malfoy Murder Mission, I knew a few things. Number one, there were two samples of DNA from the crime scene and Number two, Narcissa Malfoy had been absent on the night of the murder so there were no witnesses. Then, I learned a few more things. I learned that Narcissa cared for her son more than anyone on the planet and that she'd do anything to keep him safe, even from her husband." He ticked this off as three on his fingers. "I learned that Draco was engaged to Astoria Greengrass after the war and only broke it off because of her health, even though she was the only woman he would have been happy marrying. I learned that he then got engaged to a new woman he'd never met in order to produce an heir upon marriage, an engagement that dissolved with his father's death. I visited Finnley Shaw in New York and learned that he was close with the Malfoy's when they were young, and he wanted to keep the killer's identity from Draco as well. I wrongly assumed this made him the killer. I tested DNA sample after DNA sample that all, yes all, came up negative, and I learned that no matter how pureblooded the pureblood DNA was, it was never as close of a match to Draco's as the original DNA had been. And finally, upon visiting Narcissa, I learned that Draco was right in his estimation about how much she cared for him. She wanted to keep Draco from knowing the identity of his father's killer because it would only hurt him more. Why would this information hurt him? It wouldn't if it weren't for the fact that the killer was-"
"Her," Draco said.
Harry stopped and Draco looked at his mother without speaking.
"Harry, mate," said Ron, "What's been going on?"
"You..." Draco trailed off, not leaving room for Harry to respond.
"It was the only way, love. You were setting yourself up for a miserable existence, married to a person you could never truly love. No one should have to suffer that. He'd already taken your childhood from you, I couldn't let him take the rest of your life too." Narcissa's voice was remarkably steady through all this, though her hands shook as she placed them on Draco's arms.
"You killed him," he said. His voice didn't show any hint of emotion at first and then his face morphed into a mask of anger. "You're.. you killed him!"
Draco's shout echoed in the silence that followed.
Finally, Hermione broke it. "What do we do now?"
"Well that all depends on Draco," Harry answered. "Technically, I'm not an Auror anymore, so I couldn't arrest her even if I wanted to."
"But you'll still report it, won't you?" Draco looked unsure. He wasn't yelling anymore.
"Not if you don't want me to. They won't either." Ron and Hermione nodded their agreement after a lot of pointed eyeing from Harry.
"She's my mum," he said, and that was enough. He collapsed into her arms.
Draco had already lost one parent. He wasn't going to put the other one away.
'So what now?' Hermione's words tumbled around in Harry's head. He'd spent the last few months falling arse over tea kettle for Draco Sodding Malfoy, and there was no going back now. He'd committed crimes, he'd lost his job, and he'd mourned the death of a loved one and the first chapter of his life. Now was a time for new beginnings, now was a time for moving on.
Chapter 17: In Which I Give An Epilogue
Chapter Text
Harry turned over in bed and fumbled for his glasses.
"Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
Harry relaxed at Draco's voice and sunk back into the bed.
"What time is it?"
"Half four in the morning."
Harry smiled as Draco crawled under the covers with him. His feet were cold and they sent pricks of ice up Harry's legs.
"Budge up, I've barely any space."
"Can't. Barkley is on my other side."
Draco let out a defeated sigh and Harry pulled him on top of him and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck.
"Mmm Saturday," he breathed.
Draco snorted. Ever since he'd taken the job in America, weekends had been their time. After his check-in with Burnes at nine his time, he'd use the Hogwarts International Floo to get to Harry.
"Go to sleep, Potter."
Harry shook his head.
"No. Missed you. Want to-" he broke off in a yawn- "talk."
"We can talk tomorrow."
"We have stuff to do tomorrow. We promised Ron and Mione we'd watch the kids for their date night."
"We can talk while we watch the kids."
"No, Hugo's-" Harry yawned again, "he's walking now and we'll spend the entire day chasing them around."
Draco sighed and reached over to scratch Barkley's ears.
"We'll find time. I'll recount my whole week. If not tomorrow then Sunday."
"We're visiting your mum."
"For tea, I'm sure we'll manage a free moment."
Harry had better ideas about what to do with free moments but he wasn't going to bring them up now. Plus, he and Narcissa always managed to take up more time than planned. Usually, it was because they'd take a walk to Andromeda's grave together, sometimes they just sat and talked.
"I should quit my job."
Draco laughed and flipped over so he was facing Harry then scooted down so he could lie with his head on his chest.
"Bollocks. You love it here."
He had a point. Harry loved finally feeling like he was at home. He loved teaching kids like the now fifth-year girl he'd learned was called Sam and the boy Brian who'd cast the dragonfly. He loved watching new kids learn and grow and teach each other. His life was finally where he wanted it to be.
It had taken therapy, long conversations with Draco, lots of convincing with McGonagall, and finding a support structure with his friends, but he was getting better every day.
Neville taught at the school too, and they'd finally reconnected. He and Luna were a package deal now, and Harry found it really nice.
Teddy was getting ready to graduate and everything felt like it was changing but for once he wasn't scared or holding onto the past.
He and Draco joked about maybe adopting another kid. Harry'd always secretly wanted a daughter.
They said they'd name her Andromeda and call her Andy for short.
The night stretched out before them and outside of the castle it was cold, but inside was warm and quiet and Harry managed to sleep peacefully.
That was another thing that'd changed.
Falling asleep wasn't so hard when you did it next to the person you loved.
~The End~
Chapter 18: In Which YOU Are A Candidate
Notes:
Originally this chapter was at the beginning of the fic, but that turned some readers off of continuing, so it’s here at the end now
Chapter Text
ATTENTION ALL ELIGIBLE WITCHES
Have you spent your life dreaming of a date with Harry Potter? Now could be your chance! The young wizard is looking for someone to settle down with and welcomes anyone to fill out the questionnaire attached below to apply. Answer for an opportunity to be chosen as Harry Potter's Lucky Lady!
My favourite Quidditch team is
a) The Chudley Cannons
b) The Appleby Arrows
c) Puddlemere United
d) The Falmouth Falcons
e) other (please specify)
f) I don't have a favourite
I enjoy exercising by
a) Going to the Gym
b) Taking a nice walk
c) Playing Quidditch
d) other
e) I don't enjoy exercising
I'm full of knowledge about
a) The latest football game
b) Heros from the war
c) Harry Potter's likes and dislikes
d) Magical Plants and Animals
e) other (please specify)
I smoke
a) A packet or more per day
b) Only after sex
c) Rarely
d) a few times a week
e) When I'm stressed
f) I gave up
g) Never
I drink
a) Multiple times per week
b) Once or twice a week
c) On special occasions
d) Never
My favourite drink is
a) Butterbeer
b) Firewhiskey
c) Chocolate Liqueur
d) Elf-made Wine
e) other (please specify)
And my favourite non-alcoholic drink is
a) Butterbeer counts.. right?
b) Pumpkin Juice
c) Punch
d) Soda
e) Coffee
f) Tea
g) other (please specify)
My favourite dessert is
a) Bertie Botts Every Flavour Bean's
b) Chocolate Frogs
c) Treacle Tart
d) Fruit Trifle
e) Ice Cream
f) other (please specify)
I eat meat
a) Every once in a while
b) Multiple times a week
c) Never, I'm a vegetarian
d) Never, I'm a vegan
e) other (please specify)
My Hogwarts House was
a) Gryffindor
b) Slytherin
c) Ravenclaw
d) Hufflepuff
e) I didn't attend Hogwarts
I enjoy traveling to
a) Cold places like mountains
b) Warm places like the beach
c) Cities
d) Rural areas
I own
a) More Harry Potter Paraphernalia than anyone I know
b) A lot of Harry Potter themed things
c) Very little to no Harry Potter Paraphernalia
d) other (please specify)
I get around by
a) Flying
b) Walking
c) Flooing
d) Apparating
e) Driving
f) Portkey
g) other (please specify)
I am
a) Shorter than average
b) Average
c) Taller than average
I donate to charity
a) multiple times a year, as much time or money as I can
b) a few times a year, what I can spare
c) once or twice a year
d) almost never
The best way to settle an argument is
a) Rational discussion
b) Mediation
c) One only ends when I'm right
d) I give in / don't argue
e) Sex
The sort of Pet I would like to have / do have is
a) A crup
b) A kneazle or cat
c) An owl
d) A toad, rat, or Pygmy Puff
e) A dragon
f) Other (please specify)
Have ▢
Would like to have ▢
Someday I would like to have
a) 1-2 kids
b) 3-5 kids
c) 5+ kids
d) no kids
I already have one or more ▢
I want to get married
a) Only if I find the right person
b) As soon as possible
c) Someday in the far future
d) Never
I would consider myself
a) Laidback
b) Type-A
c) somewhere in between
I am most prominently
a) Smart
b) Nice
c) Dependable
d) Creative
e) Cunning
f) Loyal
I live in
a) London
b) Somewhere else in the UK
c) other (please specify)
My wand core is made of
open response:
My Patronus is a(n)
open response:
I have not conjured a Patronus ▢
Finally, my biggest ambition is to
a) Meet and marry Harry Potter
b) Succeed in my Career
c) Fall in love
d) Achieve Fame
e) Get revenge on my enemies
f) Lead a calm, normal life
g) other (please specify)