Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ On the Catwalk ❯ Part Two ( Chapter 2 )

A/N: I don't own Harry Potter.

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On The Catwalk

Part Two

Harry let his head hit the wall behind him for what felt like the 80th time, in reality it's only been about five. He sighed for the umpteenth time and asked himself for the eighth time how he got here. Once again he was trapped at a fucking fashion show.

Just how many times was he going to be forced to attend these damned things, anyway? He heard Draco shout for him from inside his dressing room and pushed off the wall. He opened the door and found the blond lying on a chaise lounge reading a book, in the same clothes he had arrived in. Two women that Harry was told were stylists were standing in the middle of the room looking pain-staked.

“Yes?” Harry asked.

“Can you get rid of them?” Draco asked, turning a page.

“But, Mr. Malfoy, really, we need to-”

“I told you not to worry about, so please, don't worry about it,” Draco answered, not bothering to look at the woman.

Harry rolled his eyes and said, “I'm sorry, ladies, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave.” The women looked at each other in panic and left, whispering in a language Harry didn't understand. He shut the door and turned to Draco. “Uhm, don't you kind of need them?”

“No,” Draco said simply.

“You don't seem easy to work with,” Harry muttered. “Can I go back outside, now?”

“Go,” he answered. Harry rolled his eyes once more and turned to leave, but Draco's voice stopped him. “You know, Potter, I'm actually quite easy to get along with. But, you'd never know that unless you tried.” Harry turned his head and found Draco still reading, almost as if he had never said anything at all.

Outside Harry found himself trying to control his erratic breathing and suddenly quickly beating heart. What did Draco mean? Hadn't Harry tired before? Well, no actually, he hadn't. But still, had Draco ever done anything to warrant him trying? He'd been nothing but a prick to him since they were eleven.

And it's not like Draco had ever tried. Harry's mind flashed to the time when they were eleven, the first and second time they had met. Harry understood now that Draco had only wanted him to like him; he had only acted the way he always had to make friends. Fucked up as it was, it was still Draco's effort.

Okay, well, he didn't try all that hard. Even with the new sporadic `Let's be friends/ have sex' thing, Draco was still arrogant and controlling about it. Perhaps, that was because he knew Harry wouldn't make the moves? Because, really, when had he ever initiated anything? People always came to him, hell the Dark Lord offered himself.

Harry rolled his eyes. Why was he even thinking about this? Either way, Draco was still being a dick about the whole thing.

He set a ward around the door that would briefly stop anyone from entering or leaving and went to check the premises for the second time. He scanned the room, paying particular attention the faces of the patrons, committing them to memory in case he needed them later. He cast a detective spell for any magic besides the ward he had set and that that was put on by the show. Nothing new, he noted. Heading towards the catwalk that jutted into the middle of the room, he kept his head down, silently glad he was in plain clothes for this job (Draco's clothes that had been altered to fit Harry); the last thing he needed was someone recognising him and having a fucking heart attack. He scanned the faces of the most privileged when he spotted a familiar one.

“Harry?” Hermione, stood, nearing her friend. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm on duty,” Harry answered simply.

“Oh? In plain clothes, this must be serious. Did something happen?” Hermione asked, her eyes worried.

Harry looked passed her and saw Ginny sitting awkwardly in the chair next to the one Hermione had just vacated. “I thought you two weren't speaking,” Harry said instead.

“We are now; Harry you know we have been for awhile,” Hermione said, biting her lip. “Please, Harry is something happening that I should be aware of?”

“No, nothing at all,” Harry answered, then began to walk back towards the dressing rooms. “See you later, Hermione.”

Once back outside of Draco's dressing room Harry took the ward down, the door swung open immediately and Draco stepped out, towering over Harry. “What the fuck was that?”

“A Chinese duck,” Harry answered.

“Don't fuck with me, Potter, I'm in no mood.”

“Fucking with you is the last thing on my mind, Malfoy,” Harry answered with a smirk.

Draco's eyes narrowed, he grabbed Harry by his shirt collar and pulled him into the dressing room. He shut the door and slammed Harry into it so hard his head bounced. Draco leaned forward, ignoring the wand pressed into his neck. He said nothing, letting his glare speak for him.

Harry glowered back defiantly, removing his wand and leaning into Draco so their foreheads touched. Harry could feel Draco's breath on his lips and he had to say the feeling wasn't entirely unpleasant. The blond released Harry's shirt and brought his hand up to grasp Harry's chin.

Harry knew what was coming once he felt those cold fingers on his chin. He tried to pull away, but he was trapped. Draco's lips pressed into his, hard, his body crushing Harry against the door. He knew it would be bad to hit the blond, the git would probably bruise or start bleeding and he did have a show to do. Instead, Harry reached up and grabbed a fistful of hair.

Draco's stare hardened, as if he knew what Harry was about to do and was warning him otherwise. Harry smirked into the kiss and tightened his grip. Suddenly Harry felt a knee between his thighs, pressing upwards a bit harder than he would have liked. He read the challenge in Draco's eyes, and the tongue that swiped at his lips.

To that, Harry only licked back, teasingly, before quickly closing his mouth again. Draco bit at Harry's lip, pulling it forward and letting it snap back, he snaked his free hand under Harry's shirt, his fingers searching the tan skin hidden beneath them until the dance down to cup that firm arse. His fingers teased their way between the cheeks and Harry immediately clenched his muscles.

The blond moved so his mouth was next to Harry's ear. “What are you fighting so hard for? I already know you want it.”

“Like a hole in the head, Malfoy,” Harry replied, pulling the blonds head back some to show he meant business.

Draco laughed, letting go of the Auror chin his hand rested over groin. “That's not what this says.” He gave a little squeeze.

“And that's not what I say.” Harry yanked at the blond hair between his fingers; Draco brought this arm up and knocked Harry's away.

“You'd do well to remember the position you're in,” he growled.

“And you'd do well to remember that I'm not some you can push around. I can and will fight back when necessary, Malfoy. And I play to win. But, I'm sure you know a hell of a lot more about playing than I do.”

Draco released Harry and stood up straight. “And I'm sure you know a hell of a lot about winning.” He spat the word, and pushed Harry out of the way. “Never lock me in again.” He swung open the door and strode out, Harry following behind him slowly.

He was too tired to try and decipher what Draco meant, because he knew there was some obscure alter meaning to what he had said. There always was. Instead, he watched as the hair and make-up people worked their magic on the blond. Not that they did anything much, Harry noted. Mostly styled his hair and applied some eyeliner. He supposed that's how it was when you were so unearthly beautiful. He watched as the other models got much of the same treatment, and after catching sight of himself in the mirror, couldn't help but feel a bit inadequate.

Shaking his head to clear away the thought, he followed Draco to wardrobe and insisted, much to Draco's chagrin, that he check over the outfit before it went anywhere near Draco. They dressed him in a pair of form fitting dark wash jeans, that had a chain hanging from the belt loops, and a black and white plaid long sleeved shirt, that was left unbuttoned until the third rung. As he sat to lace up a pair of black boots, the stylist threw a cross necklace over Draco's head, then stood back to look at him objectively.

She pulled Draco out of the chair and made him do a three sixty before grabbing a black jacket with multiple buttons, zippers and a fur lined hood, from the rack of clothes. Draco slipped it on and asked if she wanted him to wear it zipped up or with the hood up. She looked at him and shook her head no. Harry took in the completed piece and couldn't help but think the bad boy image really suited Draco.

Harry watched as the put the finishing touches on Draco. He nodded to the stylist and checked Draco over once again for anything funny. Finding, nothing out of place, he led the way to the line of models waiting to make their walk. He watched Draco get in line and quickly left to monitor the crowd while he made his walk.

If someone were going to attack Draco now, they had a very small window to do so. That made Harry's easier in the sense of catching them and stopping such an attack, but their environment was not optimal for safety, which made it that much harder. Harry worked his way into the crowd, making his way towards the runway, he spotted a shady looking photographer edging close to the walk. Harry moved quickly, glancing at the model on the walk, to determine how long he had, he needed to get that man away from the walk as quickly as possible. He pushed through the photographers and spoke lowly to the man.

"What did you say to me?" The man asked.

"Oi, you're Harry Potter, what are you doing here? Look everyone, Harry Potter is here!" Harry could have punched the fucker. He was able to patrol the room earlier thanks to stick to the outside of the room and keeping his head down. Now this asshole had announced to a room of journalists and photographers (fashion or not) that he was amongst them. The cameras that previously were focused on the stage were now pointed at him.

He glared and said, "I need you all to back up, now, please."

"Harry, what do you like about the new line?" Someone shouted.

"Are we in danger?”

“What are you wearing?”

“Are you in the market for protection service now? What happened to being a star Auror?”

“Has someone threatened the facility?”

“Are we going to be arrested?”

“Who was Albus Dumbledore?”

“Enough!” Harry shouted, glancing at the walk and seeing that Draco was up next. He briefly felt sorry for the models, who were not being photographed at the moment, due his interruption. But, at least it was only the press who had noticed his presence and not the entire room. “I need you all to back up, now!”

“Hey, this is the-” The man's response was lost when the crowd roared up and suddenly the photographers were surging forward, trying to crush Harry to death between the runway and their bodies. Harry pushed back fiercely, knowing that drawing his wand on the crowd would get him and possibly Draco in trouble. Not that he cared if Draco lost work, really, more like he didn't want him mad at him.

Harry found that there was no way he'd be able to get the press off him physically; he was going to have to escape another way. Looking for an exit, he ducked underneath the barricade, and ended up standing next the walk. Feeling eyes on him, he looked up to see Draco staring down at him slightly amused.

Draco continued to pose for the camera, his gaze focused elsewhere, now. Harry searched quickly for the man who he'd argued with earlier. He spotted him ducking underneath the barricade, just as Draco turned to make his way back. Harry moved quickly, drawing his wand, when he was shoved from the side, knocking the photographer into the crowd.

It was like watching dominos fall, the man fell back, hitting a woman, who stumbled backwards, and was semi-caught by a man, who in turn hit a woman, who fell back into a mass of wires. Suddenly, the lights flickered and the room was dark. Harry cast a quick lumos, just as a spell shot through the air, near the walk.

“Malfoy!” Harry shouted, hoping the blond to the message to move and move quickly. Harry threw a stunner between the hex and the walk, hoping it would collide. It hit, and the room burst into red light.

Suddenly, it became all too clear to Harry. He'd been setup! The photographer, the lights, all too perfect. He felt himself go dizzy with rage for a moment.

On the walk Draco stood, quite still, staring at the red light before him. Then, words began to appear in the air, much like Harry had seen Tom do in the Chamber of Secrets.

“Draco,” the message right in the bright red lettering. “Soon, Draco, soon you'll be mine, and so will this.” All too quickly the words burst into flames and Draco was covered in a red liquid that looked way too much like blood for Harry's liking.

They crowd roared and people began surging towards the door. Harry turned back to where the photographer was standing a moment ago and found the space empty. “Shit!” He pushed through the crowd, spotting the man's head in the distance. “Move! Official Auror, business!” He yelled at the crowd. He pushed through to the front of the crowd just in time to see the man turn the corner.

He dashed after him, dodging the frantic crowd expertly. Thankfully, the man was stupid enough to try and head for a more secluded exit, probably hoping that Harry headed for the main one. Too bad for this arse. Harry steadied his wand at the man's back and cast a stupefy. The man froze in mid stride then fell ungracefully to the floor. Harry slowed next to the body. He cast a body bind, un-did the stupefy and sent a patronus to the ministry for clearance.

A crowd of photographers had gathered round and were now snapping pictures of Harry and his capture while shouting questions left and right. “Please, everyone, stop with the photographs, this is official business and as such, I cannot comment or allow you to take photos.”

Suddenly, Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared between the crowd, his bald head towering over most of the crowd. “You heard him,” Kingsley said. “No photos, if any of this leaks the parties responsible will be in serious trouble.” The photos ceased, but the questions still continued. Kingsley finally made his way to stand next to Harry. “What have we got?”

“This is the man who initiated the fiasco,” Harry answered, gesturing to the fallen man. “But, well, now is not the best time to discuss this, but I don't think we've caught our guy.”

“What do you mean? Potter, you can't just arrest people who-” Kingsley's face began to contort, but Harry stopped him.

“No, we have for now, I'll explain later.”

“Right,” he seemed to calm a bit, then looked around. “Potter, where is Malfoy?”

“Shit!” Harry turned and pushed back through the crowd. What if the man had been a decoy to distract Harry during the real attack? What if it was too late and Draco had been abducted or worse? All because he had chased instead of protected.

He turned the corner and almost knocked someone down, not bothering to say sorry, he continued into the showroom. He found Draco still standing on the walk, only Hermione and Ginny were standing on it as well. Draco was still covered in the fake blood, and his expression hard as he spoke to Hermione, who it seemed was interrogating him.

“Potter!” Draco barked when he caught sight of him. Though Draco was pissed, Harry couldn't help feeling relieved that he was all right.

“Malfoy, what are you doing standing there in that stuff? What if it's poisonous?” Harry asked hopping onto the walk, ignoring Hermione and Ginny. He pulled out a vial that was normally used to preserve memories and returned it to normal size, before scooping some of the fake blood in. He then cast a scrouigfy on Draco and grabbed his arm. “Come on, we need to get you and this checked out.”

Draco pulled his arm from Harry's grasp and glared down at him, “We are going to have to have a chat about your Auror abilities later.” He then turned and walked back to the dressing areas, where Harry assumed he was going to get his wand.

“Harry,” Hermione began, her tone stern. “I don't think that you should-”

“Sorry, Hermione, I have to go,” Harry said, effectively cutting off whatever comment she was going to make. He really couldn't deal with her right now, besides he still needed to get Draco to St. Mungos.

He found Draco just heading into his dressing room and followed in. Draco shed the coat and threw it on a chair before opening a drawer and pulling out his wand. “Shouldn't you keep that in a more secure place?” Harry asked.

“I charm it so only I can open the drawer,” Draco answered offhandedly. He shut the drawer, and turned to leave. “I'll have them send me my things, so let's just get going, shall we?” He left without waiting for an answer and Harry followed closely behind him.

They exited into the cool night air, Draco leading the way to the apparition point. He stepped in and Harry grabbed him arm. “What is it, Potter?”

“Like hell I'm going to let you apparate yourself, I'll do it,” Harry answered.

“What are you afraid to apparate by yourself, Potter? Charming, but not the best quality an Auror should have, in fact I think you're perhaps the worst Auror I've ever met.”

“Malfoy,” He started, but Draco continued on.

“Fine, fine, I'll just do it myself.”

“Malfoy, for Merlin's sake would you just-” The rest of Harry's sentence was cut off by the crack of apparition and a lurching in his stomach.

Draco landed gracefully in the middle of the waiting room while Harry stumbled and almost fell had it not been for Draco's long arms stopping him. “Bastard,” Harry muttered.

“All right, we're here now,” Draco said expectantly.

“Come on, then,” Harry said and lead the way to the special ward reserved for the ministry for cases such as this. Draco followed Harry down the white hallway into an even whiter waiting room, their footsteps echoing off the linoleum floors and resounding off the walls. Thankfully, the waiting room was empty and Draco was seen right away.

A medi-witch greeted Harry, batting her eyelashes and giggling a bit too much than the situation called for. “Mr. Potter, what brings you in today? I hope you're not hurt.” She laid her hand on his arm and practically attached herself to his side.

“No,” Draco said loudly, “Actually, I'm the one in the need off medical attention, so if you'd be so kind to stop molesting Potter and get someone who's actually got into Healing school, it'd be much appreciated.” The girl stopped swinging her annoyingly long fake blonde locks around and stared slack jawed at Draco. “Oh, dear, I see you're going to be no help at all. Do they pay you to act this dumb or is it something you were just born with?”

“You..you...” she began. Draco rolled his eyes and headed for the back where he assumed he could find someone to make sure he wasn't dying. Harry made a soft apology to the receptionist Draco had just verbally abused and hurried after him when her voice stopped them both. “You're Draco Malfoy!”

The blond turned slowly, his eyes calculating her intentions. “Very good; now, let's see if you can remember how to call Healers.”

“I..I'm such a fan!” she squealed, rushing behind her desk to grab some sort of paper and a quill. “Will you sign this for me?” She handed Draco a photo and the quill and he took it with an eye roll. Harry had to admit, Draco seemed to be good dealing with his fans. Suddenly the blonds face darkened.

“Where did you get this photograph?” he asked coldly.

“Oh, this man sold it me awhile back. He said they were really rare, I paid ten gallons for it!” she said, her eyelashes fluttering like a dying butterflies.

“Yes there is a reason this photo is so rare, it's not supposed to have been distributed. Listen," Draco paused to peer at her name tag. "Maddie, would you mind if I took this photo and gave you another?"

Maddie's gaze levelled. "Well, I did pay ten galleons for it..."

"Of course, which is why I was going to give a different picture and two seats on the walk to my next show," Draco answered.

"Oh! Mr. Malfoy, you don't have to do all that!" Maddie blushed and looked at him through dark, clumpy lashes.

"Oh, but I want to," Draco answered. He pulled conjured a business card and handed it to her. "Here, call that number tomorrow and ask for Todd."

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Malfoy!"

"No problem, but Maddie," Draco said shoving the photo in his jacket pocket before Harry could see it.

"Yes?"

"The Healer?"

"Oh! Oh, yes, right away." She run behind her desk and paged a Healer.

"What was that about?" Harry asked when Draco turned to face him again.

"Don't worry about it, Potter." He seemed bitter when he said it, so Harry decided not to pursue it. Instead the Healer came from the back and asked which one of them needed tending to.

“He does,” Harry answered, jerking his head towards the blond. “He got some kind of substance on him, I've got a bit of it here, we just need to make sure there are no adverse effects.”

“I see, this way,” the Healer said, leading them back into and examining room. “Lie down, please.” Draco did as he was told and lay back on the table. The Healer cast a diagnostic spell and found everything was normal. “Let me see that vial, please.” She let her wand run over and nodded. “Just as I thought, nothing. Mr. Malfoy, you're perfectly fine, that mixture is just corn starch and food colouring.”

“Food colouring?” Draco asked.

“It's a something they use in cooking to make it change colours,” Harry explained. “Thank you so much for your time.”

“No problem, dearie,” the Healer answered, then left.

Draco sat up and levelled his gaze at Harry. “What?” Harry finally said after a moment.

“Did they really let you become an Auror with reflexes like that?”

“Shut up, Malfoy, I don't want to hear it. What I want to know is why the hell these fashion shows are using electricity.”

“It's magically enhanced electricity. It's more efficient, not that it matters. Did you catch the person who cast the spell?”

“I believe so, which reminds me, you're coming with me to the ministry.”

“Like hell!” Draco said gracefully sliding from the table. “I hate the ministry.”

“Too bad, I need you to identify the perp,” Harry answered, so stop complaining and let's go.”

“If you think you can-”

“Malfoy, I've had enough of your shit for one night so can you please just shut up and go along for one damned second before I kill myself!?”

“Well, when you put it in such favourable terms...”

Harry let out a scream of frustration and swung open the door. “I'm going to the ministry; you can stay here and be attacked by a lot of kneazles for all I care!”

Why the fuck did he like that git again? Even a little, though he was sure it was more than a little. He was selfish and stubborn, and arrogant and just a big giant prick. Bastard. Why did he have to be so attractive and smart and witty and charming and so very Malfoy. Always doing the unexpected and never caring what others thought.

Argh! Why was he thinking about this now? He had to go to the ministry and interrogate his suspect. Right, to the ministry, but Draco...was right next to him.

“Change your mind, did you?” Harry asked.

“Don't be stupid Potter; I've decided I want to look this person in the face is all.”

Harry didn't respond to that, only kept walking until they reached the lobby. “We're Flooing,” Harry informed him.

“I had a assumed,” Draco answered, stepping into a fire place he grabbed a handful of powder and shouted, “Ministry of Magic!” then disappeared in a burst of green flames. Harry, satisfied that he's actually gone to the Ministry, followed his lead.

Draco was waiting, rather impatiently, in the atrium. Harry ignored the blond and walked past him to the lifts. He entered and pushed the button, Draco following behind.

“So what did this guy look like?” Draco asked suddenly.

“He was taller than me, but shorter than you. I'd say around 183cm, brown hair, slightly unshaven, scruffy looking. You'll see him in a moment,” Harry said exiting the lift as it dinged to a stop.

“Potter,” Kingsley greeted. “Just in time, this guys not saying anything but his name.” He handed Harry a file.

“Samuel Weber,” Harry said and turned to Draco. “Know any one by that name?”

“Not that I can recall,” Draco answered, peeking over Harry's shoulder to look at the mug shot. The man's eyes were slightly panicked, looking this way and that, his hands trembled and he looked as if he were going to be sick. “He doesn't look familiar either, and trust me, I remember a face.”

“Right, well, you stay here, I'm going to talk to him.” Harry made his way into the interrogation room and sat down opposite Weber who looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a semi. Harry didn't say anything for a few moments, only shuffled through some papers, not looking at Weber.

Finally, he looked up, his gaze nonchalant and said, “Coffee or tea?”

Weber looked stunned then stuttered out, “T-t-tea.”

Harry stood and walked over to a table, which held a coffee and tea maker, his back towards Weber. “So, Sam, what seems to be the problem?”

“I-I-I don't know what you m-m-mean,” Weber responded. “All I k-k-know is that you chased me out of the show and b-b-brought me h-h-here.”

“Are you afraid Sam?” Harry asked, turning slowly to face the man.

“A-a-afraid-d-d?” Weber repeated.

“Yes, are you afraid of what's going to happen to you, or rather, what I'm going to do to you?” Harry picked up the Styrofoam cup and walked back over to the table, he set it down and sat.

“Erm, y-y-y-y-yes?” Weber answered.

“Good, then I think you should tell me what happened back there,” Harry answered.

“I t-t-told you, you chased-”

“Sam!” Harry slammed a hand down on the table, causing the tea to jump and spill. “Tell me about Draco Malfoy.”

“Well,” Sam began, then told the tale while Harry listened patiently. When he was done, Harry nodded and stood, he left the room and found Draco and Kingsley had been watching the entire exchange.

“He's lying,” Harry said, throwing the file at Kingsley. “He's not the person behind this, he's been hired.”

“Should we give him Vertiserum?” Kingsley asked.

“No, he doesn't know who hired him, you can tell, but I will tell you this.”

“What?”

“They're smart, perhaps, too smart. Sooner or later they're going to trip up.”

“Right,” Kingsley said. “We'll hold him until you catch the real culprit. He may prove to be useful.”

Harry nodded and motioned to Draco that they were leaving. Surprisingly, he didn't say anything, only followed. Once they were in the lift Harry asked if there was anyone Draco could think of that would do this.

“No, I don't really know anyone who's capable of master minding something like this. Cunning, yes? Sheer stupidity? No, well, not besides you anyhow,” he answered, smiling.

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry said, rather playfully and stepped inside the atrium.

Draco walked over to the fire places and stepped inside. “Are you coming back to the manor?”

“Yes, I just want to make sure that you go,” Harry said.

Draco rolled his eyes and threw the powder, Harry followed after him. When Harry landed in the manor's fireplace he saw Draco heading up the stairs, presumably to his room. Harry followed and they were stopped by his mother on the stairs.

“How did the show go, dear?”

“Fine Mother, thank you,” Draco answered. “I'm a bit tired though, so I think I'll just be heading to bed now.”

“Of course, Mr. Potter, you don't mind sharing a bed with Draco do you? It's large enough but all the other rooms are being renovated at the moment and I would feel terrible to have you sleep on a transfigured bed or some such thing.”

“Renovated?” Draco said. “Since when?”

“Since two days ago, Draco, I told you that.”

Harry felt his stomach drop...share a bed with Draco? With Naricssa looking at him so expectantly he didn't have any other choice then to give his assent. “That's fine, if it's fine with Draco, that is.”

“Of course it is, isn't it Draco?” She didn't wait for his approval as he continued on. “Well, you boys get some rest; I've still got some things to take care of. Good night.”

“Good night, Mother,” Draco grumbled trudging up the stairs.

“Good night, Mrs. Malfoy,” Harry said, following Draco's lead.

Harry entered Draco's room for the second time that day. It still amazed him that it was so...normal. With the exception of a few extravagant pieces of furniture, such as the overly large bed. It was like the master suite of an ordinary house...just larger. It was decorated in soft greys and black, and had a quite modern feel that managed not seem out of place in the old manor.

Harry eyed a chaise lounge in the corner and headed to it, it was large enough for him to sleep on. He turned to Draco was rummaging through a few dresser drawers pulling out sleep clothes. “Malfoy, I'll just sleep on this for the night.”

The blond didn't turn as he spoke, “Like hell. I'll sleep there. Here,” he threw some clothes at Harry over his shoulder. He caught them and looked them over. “You can sleep in those, I'm going to shower first, you can have it when I'm done or just wait until morning,” he informed Harry, heading into the connecting bathroom. “But,” he said, pausing in the doorway and looking at Harry over his shoulder. “If I find you asleep on that chaise lounge, there will be hell to pay.” With that, he shut the door behind him.

Harry rolled his eyes at the closed door and began to undress. What could Draco really do about him sleeping on the chaise lounge anyway? There was no way he was going to sleep in Draco's bed, surround by the boys scent. He wouldn't be able to control himself...the thought of Draco in bed, by himself, with someone else, asleep, dreaming...Harry shook his head to clear the thoughts. He wasn't even in the bed and he was already having trouble. No, chaise lounge it was. Besides, he was on duty; he shouldn't be sleeping on the job anyway. He would just choose to ignore the small detail of him being in Malfoy Manor, and therefore nothing should be able to get inside the wards anyway.

He sighed and placed his own wards on all the windows and doors, before heading back over the chaise lounge. He'd just rest a minute, that's all. Just rest his tired eyes...

+++

When Harry awoke, the room was pitch black and he couldn't see three centimetres in front of his face. He sat up quickly and realised he was no longer on the chaise lounge, and instead a bed. Instinctively he reached for his glasses on the bed side table and was slightly surprised to find them there, along with his wand.

He cast a tempus charm and found it was a bit past two in the morning. At least he hadn't been asleep for that long, he reasoned. Casting a soft lumos, he threw off the covers and began to climb out of bed when a voice stopped him.

“Potter, you had better be going to the bathroom.”

Harry pointed his wand in the direction of the voice and found Malfoy lying on the chaise lounge, albeit a bit awkwardly.

“Malfoy,” Harry said.

“Who the hell else do you think it is? Voldemort?” the blond asked and Harry could see his eyes were closed.

“Go to sleep, Malfoy,” Harry answered, then added. “In your bed.”

“Don't tell me what to do, Potter. What did you get up for anyways?”

“I shouldn't be sleeping on the job,” Harry murmured and Draco snorted.

“You know damned well that nothing can get in here. Just go back to sleep, Potter; if I'm dead in the morning, you can kill me, okay?”

“Malfoy, would you stop being so difficult and just listen to me and get in bed!” Harry shouted, exasperated.

“Now, that sounds like an invitation,” Draco answered. Harry instantly realised his mistake in wording and quickly stumbled to correct himself.

“I want you to go to sleep in your bed!” Draco was now walking across the room to where Harry was sitting up in the large bed.

“I'll make you a deal,” Draco said leaning down so Harry could clearly see his face, it was then that he realised the blond was also shirtless. “I'll go to sleep, in my bed, on one condition.”

Harry already knew what was coming, he really did, but he heard himself asking anyway, “What?”

“You stay in it.”

He sighed and began to protest, feebly, “Malfoy, I really shouldn't be sleeping on the job, I've got to be alert at all times, and-”

Draco cut him off, “And what better way to protect me if I'm right next to you?”

Harry could see this was going nowhere and sagged his shoulders in defeat. “Fine,” he answered.

Draco smirked at this and began pushing Harry over. “Well, move over then.”

“Couldn't you just get in on the other side of the bed?” Harry asked shifting over, after distinguishing the lumos.

“No, I like this side of the bed,” Draco answered, climbing in.

“Yea, well, so do I!” Harry answered, rolling away, setting his wand on the other bedside table along with his glasses.

“Then, we can share it,” Draco said, suddenly grabbing Harry's arm and pulling him closer, putting their bodies flush together.

The Auror made a sound of protest, trying to pull away a bit. “No! Your skins all cold!”

Even through the blurry darkness Harry could see the seriousness in Draco's eyes as he spoke, “Then warm me up.”

Harry's breath caught and he couldn't answer. Eventually, he fell asleep, Draco's arms wrapped around him, trying to think of anything but that.

+++

When Harry awoke for the second time, it was morning and he was still attached to Draco. He quickly pulled away, almost immediately regretting it with the loss of heat. He peered up a Draco, from his position on the pillows.

Try as he might, he just couldn't figure the blond out. Last night had only served to convince Harry that Draco had some kind of mental disorder, because what else could account for Draco's strange actions? The blond obviously suffered from split personalities or some other such thing, and personally Harry would appreciate it if he stayed on his meds.

Harry peered more closely at the sleeping face, squinting through the blurriness. Unable to stop himself, he tentatively reached up and traced those full lips with his finger, the touch so light he could barely feel it himself. Suddenly, his hand was seized by the wrist and Draco's eyes opened.

The blond said nothing, only looked down at Harry as if sizing him up. They stayed that way for a long moment, neither of them speaking. Slowly, Draco moved his hand so he and Harry's fingers were intertwined. Draco watched Harry's face his reaction, and found only confusion. He looked from their hands to Draco and back to their hands.

Slowly, Harry began leaning forward, his gaze still questioning, but for a different reason now. Draco didn't move, he watched as Harry's face became increasingly close to his, with an expression that he hoped Harry was too blind to see.

Harry could feel Draco's breath on his lips; he was so close and yet, hesitant to take that final plunge. What if this was all a joke to Draco? What if he was pushed away and laughed at? He could stand the humiliation, he supposed, but the heart ache was another matter entirely.

And then, he felt Draco give his hand a light squeeze, as if telling him to go on. He continued forward and just as their lips brushed there was a knock on the door.

Harry jumped back as if he'd been burned, eyes wide with panic, he frantically rolled away to grab his glasses.

“Draco, Mr. Potter, are you decent?” Naricssa's voice said through the door.

“Just come in, Mother,” Draco answered, irritated.

The door opened and she quietly took in the scene, Harry blushing, and Draco sitting sullenly with his arms crossed. “I just wanted to let you know, Mr. Potter, that an owl has arrived for you; here is the letter.”

“Oh!” Harry fumbled to get out of bed, and rushed over to where she was standing in the middle of the room. “Thank you,” he told her.

“My pleasure,” she answered and turned to leave. She stopped in the doorway and gave Draco a look and simply said, “Draco.”

He rolled his eyes, uncrossed his arms and answered, “Yes, Mother.”

She thanked him and left.

Harry read the owl quickly, and re-read it to make sure he knew what he was seeing. “I have to go to the Ministry, so get up.”

“What is it?” Draco asked.

“Weber seems to be having a hard time remembering anything. They think he's been hit with a memory charm. I've got to go see what I can salvage of him,” Harry informed him, throwing on his trousers and shirt from the day before and then his robes. He looked up to see Draco still lying in bed. “What are you doing? You've got to come with me.”

Draco's gaze stayed fixed on something across the room as he replied. “I'm not feeling well; I think I'll just stay here.”

“What do you mean, not feeling well? Perhaps the Healer missed something,” Harry said, beginning to panic. It was never a good thing when a person was harmed under the surveillance of an Auror. “Okay, I'll have a Healer come and see you and in the mean time I'll send someone else over to watch over you.”

“Potter, all that really isn't necessary,” Draco told him, but Harry was beyond listening.

“Put a shirt on, will you? Can I adjust the room temperature from here or does a house elf have to do it? Merlin, and it's so bright in here...” Harry went to the windows and began throwing the curtain shut, plunging the room into almost absolute darkness.

“POTTER!” Harry turned to see Draco standing in the middle of the room, his arms crossed over his chest. “Leave it.”

“But, Malfoy, I-”

“Don't you understand, Potter? No, of course you don't. You never know when to stop and, unfortunately, you never know when to start either,” Draco said bitterly.

“Malfoy, I don't understand what you're getting at,” Harry said levelly.

“Didn't I just say you never understand?” Draco laughed. “And here you are telling me that you don't! Potter, I have a question for you, and even someone as thick as you won't be able to misconstrue my meaning.” Harry glared at the remark but didn't stop him. “Just what is it that's stopping you? Just what is it about me that you hate so much? Or is this just some kind of game to keep you occupied while you protect me?”

Harry froze, and for a moment, he thought his heart had stopped beating. Did Draco understand what he was asking? It seemed like Draco thought their roles were reversed. Where did he get off asking Harry what he was doing? It should be the other way around! Draco, who was molesting him one minute and wanting nothing to do with him the next! A game! Like Harry could ever play a game like this and Draco should know it! What was stopping him? Draco, that's was what was stopping him. Draco and his inability to voice his true intentions or even make Harry feel an inkling of sincerity in any of his words or actions. Not there had been many of the former anyway, but still.

What did he hate about Draco? He hated the way he was able to make Harry feel like the lowest scum in the pond, he hated the way he treated people he thought below him, he hated how he never had to worry about simple things, he hated how he never worried about anything, from love to world hunger, he hated the way he was so nonchalant about everything, except for `serious' matters like what shoes would look best with his trousers, he hated how he treated the people he worked with and the people that tried to help him. And he was sure, given enough time, he could write a book about all the little things he hated about Draco Malfoy, and it would be a best-seller too, complete with pictures, diagrams, and examples. And Harry knew that if he were asked what he liked about Draco the list would be sorely shorter in comparison, possibly no longer than a simple paragraph.

And what Harry hated most about Draco Malfoy was that despite of all of this, of all his reason to hate Draco and his few not to...he still didn't. He hated that Draco made him feel the exact opposite of he should rightly feel and he hated how that made him hate himself on a completely different level.

Harry stared into Draco's eyes, watching the storm brew in those grey irises and answered, “I don't know what you mean, Malfoy.”

Draco's face didn't change as he spoke. “Ding ding, Potter, congratulations, you've officially made my life the seventh circle of Hell.”

Harry strode silently towards the door and spoke quietly over his shoulder, “I thought I'd return the favour.” He opened the door, ignoring Draco as he spun around to face him, seeming ready to burst with speech. “Someone will be here shortly.” With that he left, leaving Draco standing furiously in the middle of the room.

After sending people to tend to Draco he entered the holding cell area, which was a flurry of movement.

“What's going on?” Harry asked, looking around and approaching Kingsley.

“This charm he was hit with, he was hit with it last night,” Kingsley's normally calm visage was contorted in anger. “Under our supervision!”

“How could this have happened?” Harry asked, peering around the corner to see Weber sitting idly in a plastic chair in the interrogation room.

“That's what I'd like to know!” Kingsley barked, making more than a few people jump. “Harry, go see what you can salvage outta him, I'll deal with these WORTHLESS BUNCH OF SCUM THAT LIKE TO CALL THEMSLEVES AURORS!”

Harry winced and felt pity for those who were in charge last night and entered the room to speak with Weber once more.

“Ey, you're Harry Potter!” Weber said upon his entrance. “Wow, I don't what I did, but it's have to be somethin' bad if Harry Potter's gonna interrogate me!”

“Yes, Weber, it was bad. Now, what is the last thing you remember?” Harry asked, sitting down.

“I just told those arses all this, why do I gotta tell it again?” Weber complained.

“I don't give a shit if you just told it to our granmum, I asked you to tell me, didn't I?” Harry answered.

“Oh, Potter's got a bit of a tongue does he? I like that,” Weber said, giving a suggestive wink. “Alrigh, alrigh, I'll tell ya, Harry, seeming as you're beggin' for it.”

“Please do.”

“Righ, well, last thing I remember was showing up to the venue last night and then, everything's white, ya know, can't remember a damned thing, next thing I know, I'm thrown in here with you lot.”

“What had you done before that?” Harry asked.

“Nothin' I don't normally do, although, it's strange, I do remember one thing that seems out of place.”

“And what's that?”

“I went into a Muggle store and bought something weird...I don't know what it was for or what you do with it, but I bought it. I can't remember what I did with it now, but I think I gave it to someone.”

Harry's ear perked at this, he leaned away from the table a bit, feigning nonchalant and said, “And what did you buy?”

“Oh, what was it..uhm..oh, yea, food colouring.”

Harry let his chair hit the ground and he stood. “Alright, Weber, someone will be in to deal with you shortly.”

“Harry?” Kingsely strode forth. “We were able to uncover part of the magical signature on whoever hit him with the charm. The man held up his wand, showing the signature to Harry.

“But that's...” Suddenly, Harry remembered something. Something so insignificant that it wasn't worth remembering; something from about a month ago and then it all made sense to Harry; the notes, the wards, the warnings, Weber and now this. “Kingsley, I have to go!”

“Harry, wait! Did you solve it!?”

“I have to go!” Harry yelled and ran up the stairs two at a time and nearly knocking down several others in his haste. He made it to the atrium in record time and stole a fireplace from an elderly man, shouting `sorry!' before his destination and whooshing away.

“Harry?”

“I know it was you,” Harry said stepping out of the fireplace and into the living room. “I just don't know why.”

Hermione looked startled, before sitting down on the couch and glaring at him. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Don't play dumb with me, Hermione, now tell me why you and Zabini did it or I'll take you in and you can tell the Wizengamot all about it.”

She said, and let her head fall back on the couch. “Damn, you know about him, too? What gave me away?”

“The food colouring,” Harry answered, not allowing himself to let his guard down for the moment. He knew this was Hermione, but this Hermione may not be the same one he knew. This Hermione was a mastermind behind a potential plot to kill a man, a man that Harry would rather not see dead.

“Damn,” she laughed. “And here I thought you wouldn't know what that was.”

“Yes, well, I do. Now, what I would like to know is why.”

“Well, it was all Mrs. Malfoy's idea, really,” Hermione answered.

“Mrs. Malfoy?” Harry asked in disbelief. “Why the hell would she want to off, Draco? Oh, God, I left him there with some newbie Auror! There is no way they'd have a chance against her! And Draco won't fight her! I have to go, Hermione, but don't try and leave, I'll be back for you!” Harry yelled, rushing back towards the fireplace.

“No! Harry she doesn't want to kill him!” Hermione screeched before he could get `Malfoy Manor' out.

“What do you mean!?”

“She doesn't want to kill him! Are you stupid!? Get back in here, and I'll explain!”

“Hermione, you've got five seconds to tell me why the fuck I shouldn't stun you right now.”

“Well, when you put it like that!”

“Hermione!”

“Sorry, Harry, you're not going to like this,” Hermione began.

“I already don't!”

“Right, but you're really going to hate this. You see, no one is trying to kill Draco. Mrs. Malfoy simply noticed something that I had noticed as well. She approached me about it and I agreed to help her, for our common benefit. Blaise was only dragged into this after Mrs. Malfoy made him, really.”

“And what is this common benefit?” Harry asked dangerously.

“That's the part you're going to hate, Harry,” Hermione said hesitantly.

“Oh, I can already tell.”

“Right, well, basically the point of the plan was to make you and Draco spend as much time together as possible to realise that you're in love with each other,” she said very quickly.

“God dammit, Hermione!” Harry shouted, storming back into the living room and flinging the Floo powder into the fire place. “You're telling me that you committed several serious crimes, including fraud just so you could meddle in my love life!?”

“Erm, well, when you say it like that, it just sounds really bad,” Hermione answered.

“That's because it is really bad, you stupid fucking cow!”

“Harry!” Hermione gasped.

“Oh, shut it, Hermione! Do you know what you could've have done!? Do you know what the ministry can do to you if they find out about this!?” Harry sighed and pinched the bridge off his nose. “I'll talk to you about this later, right now; I have to go deal with Mrs. Malfoy and Draco.”

“Harry, I am sorry,” Hermione said as he stepped back into the fireplace for the second time.

“Yea, I bet you are,” he answered before disappearing.

When Harry stepped into the Manor from the fireplace a house elf was standing in front of it looking startled. “Oh, good, just who I needed to see,” Harry said to it.

“What can Ninkle do for you, Mr. Harry Potter, sir?” The elf asked in a particularly squeaky voice.

“Can you find Mistress Narcissa and ask if she'll meet with me? I need to speak with her, I'll be in Draco's rooms, so just find me there,” Harry told it, walking towards the stairwell.

“Mistress Narcissa is being out right now, but Ninkle will ask her when she arrives home,” the elf informed him.

“Thanks,” Harry said and the elf went back to its original task of cleaning the fire place. Harry took the stairs slowly, unsure of how to face Draco after what he'd learned and their earlier encounter. He wasn't going to tell him what Hermione, his mother and Zabini had done, just yet. He'd let Mrs. Malfoy have that option.

He was at the top of the stairs when he heard a shout and a crash, then felt the air around him crackle with magic. It was coming from Draco's room.

+++

Draco was lying in bed, watching the Auror Potter had sent over to look after him as the Healer checked him over thoroughly. That Auror seemed a little off to Draco. He paced a little too quickly and was a bit too uppity for what the situation called, and not only that he seemed too eager to get this Healer out of the room.

Finally, the Healer left and the Auror seemed to ooze relief. Draco watched him with half lidded eyes of disinterest. Suddenly he spoke.

“You know, you've always taken everything from me,” he said, and for the life of Draco he couldn't remember what the hell his name was.

“I'm sorry?” Draco said, genuinely surprised at the comment. “What did you say?”

“You heard me Draco; I said you've always taken everything from me! The glory, the prestige, I was always being over looked because of you. You, who was Snape's favourite, you, who had the highest marks next to Granger, you, who was the only one to ever stand up to Potter, you, who had the perfect loving mother and father, you, who had all the girl's attentions, but that wasn't enough for you, was it? You had to take him, too, didn't you?”

“The fuck?” Draco asked getting up of bed, quickly realising this was going south. “What the fuck are you on about? And who the fuck are you?” But even as Draco asked he could see; tan skin was emerging from underneath the pale face of the `Auror' just as black hair sprouted through from dirty blond. “Blaise?” Draco asked in disbelief.

“Yes, it's fucking me,” Zabini answered, his eyes fading into their original brown green from blue. “Who the fuck else would it be?”

“Well, I was honestly thinking it was that Auror guy, but apparently not,” Draco answered.

“Yes, apparently not,” Zabini repeated, stepping forward.

“What the hell are you doing in my house, pretending to be an Auror and spouting all that shit, anyway?” Draco asked haughtily.

Zabini chuckled. “And even in the face of death you still pretend to be brave. I'm going to kill you, Draco, I'm going to kill you for all you've made me suffer though all these years!” Draco opened his mouth to speak, but Zabini cut him off. “And you know what the best part of all this is, Draco? I can't go to jail for it, do you know why? Don't answer, I'll tell you. It's because the only one that knows I'm here is your own mother.”

“What do you mean?” Draco asked. “Explain yourself.”

“Don't fucking tell me what to do!” Zabini yelled. “I'll tell you in my own damned time. Yes, I'll tell you why. Draco, those notes you've been getting? Granger wrote them. The destruction in the garden? Me. That incident at the show? Granger. How that Weber fuck-wit can't remember anything? The both of us. Why are we doing this? Because your mother asked us to. More like, forced me anyway. But, I bet you're wondering why she'd planned all this out. To kill you? No, no, your mother just loves you too damned much and in the end that's what's going to get you killed, anyway. Ironic, isn't it. You've always had everything I didn't and now, because of that you're going to have nothing. Not even your life.”

Zabini began to laugh then, as Draco moved backwards, trying to get to the drawer he'd placed his wand in earlier without the other man noticing.

“Oh, but I've forgotten to tell you why she hired us. That was so Harry would come to your rescue and then you two fuckbrains would realise your true love for the other.” Zabini laughed again, more hysterically this time. “Oh, Draco, if only you hadn't had such a loving mother. If only you didn't take what should be mine!” His eyes began to blaze with fury as he spoke. “Harry would have been mine, had it not been for you and your stupid meddling mother! Do you know how long I've been planning his capture? Years! Years to plan everything down to the last detail and you...you've stolen something from me once again! Well, not this time, Draco, now fucking way.”

Draco looked at him dead in the eye and uttered two words, “Like hell.”

Zabini screamed and Draco ripped open the drawer containing his wand just as Zabini yelled `Accio Draco's wand!' Draco caught it before he could fly into Zabini's hand, falling back into the table, breaking the drawer.

It was then that the door burst open and Harry Potter appeared.

A/N: Damn, I made Blaise the bad guy...AGAIN.