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Company Manners	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 12863 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; that belongs to J. K. Rowling. I am making no money from this fic.

Chapter List
- 1-Company Manners
- 2-Part 2
- 3-Part 3
- 4-Part 4
- 5-Part 5
- 6-Part 6
- 7-Part 7
- 8-Part 8
- 1
- 2
Title: Company
Manners

Disclaimer: J. K.
Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun
and not profit.

Pairings: Harry/Draco,
Blaise/Astoria, past Draco/OMC

Rating: R

Warnings: Profanity,
sex, angst, manipulation. Accepts DH, ignores the epilogue.

Summary: Draco
hasn�t seen Harry in several years due to being out of England. On attending a
Ministry party, he�s astonished and delighted to discover that Harry is now the
public face of the Ministry, poised and self-confident and witty. Harry, who regards
his company manners as a mask rather than a real part of his personality, is
less than receptive when Draco attempts to express his interest in a
relationship based on them.

Author�s Notes: This
will be a chaptered novella, probably with eight parts. Though it will have
some angst, it�s largely flangst.

Company Manners

�� That�that can�t be�

�� Potter?� Draco asked, but no one was near enough to hear
his stunned whisper, or see the way his eyes had widened. Draco recognized that
as a good thing, of course. No one in attendance at this party was someone whom
he wanted to see him in a moment of
weakness.

�� But it had
taken him an instant to remember that he had an audience, a good sign of how
much his surprise had affected him. Draco promptly leaned back in his chair,
adopted a mask of leisurely goodwill, and sipped the glass of wine that Blaise
had offered him when Draco sat down at his table.

�� He couldn�t
keep his eyes from tracking Potter, though. That was all right. Given that
Blaise was talking so loudly about his wedding that people sixteen miles away
could probably hear him, he was unlikely to notice.

�� Potter was
speaking with a witch in loud purple robes whom Draco recognized as Allison
Hartley, a senior member of the Wizengamot. He was smiling, feigning interest
with skill in a discussion that was unlikely to be about either Quidditch or
himself; Hartley had been notorious among Draco�s circles before he left for turning
conversations to her own achievements, and five years would not have changed her.
Hartley was also prickly, quick to catch her audience yawning or sighing.

�� But Potter
had her laughing. And he made
contributions of his own, in a quick, light voice that caused Draco to lean
slightly forwards to catch the words before he caught himself.

�� Potter wore
emerald-bright green robes. The man Draco had known five years ago wouldn�t
have been caught dead in such a Slytherin color, no matter how well it
complemented his eyes. There was silver embroidery on the cuffs and hems,
forming lilies. Draco hummed under his breath. A tasteful,
understated way of honoring his Muggleborn mother without distressing the
pure-bloods who dominated these functions.

�� Hartley put
a companionable arm around Potter�s shoulders and squeaked something up at him.
Potter laughed aloud and moved slightly to the side.

�� Draco
clenched his jaw to keep it from dropping open. He�d assumed it was an illusion
created by distance and angle that rendered Potter�s dark hair a tame mass of
curls. It wasn�t. Somehow, he contrived to retain a bit of messiness on the right side of the equation. Draco�s
fingers twitched on the wineglass. He could imagine wanting to run his fingers
through that hair, which was not an impulse that would ever have occurred to
him�before.

�� Potter isn�t the only one who changed while
I was abroad.

�� Potter and
Hartley moved on. Draco observed with an expert eye as Potter escorted her to a
table and pulled her chair out for her, and could detect no trace of the
nervousness or unfamiliarity that often ruined those chivalrous gestures.

�� Draco
sipped thoughtfully one more time at his wine, and watched out of the corner of
his eye as the food arrived. Potter handled his forks properly. He never took
more of any food than was decent; his bread had barely enough butter to cover
two corners. He didn�t drip the sauce that covered the fish down his front or commit
any other embarrassing mistake. All the time, he attended to the conversation
with Hartley, murmuring sympathetically when she sniffled overdramatically. He
even managed to pat her hand and not make it look condescending.

�� Are you
listening to me?�

�� Thank God,
Blaise had finally interrupted his own monologue about his wedding. Draco
turned to him and smiled. �Not really,� he admitted. He could say that kind of
thing, since he and Blaise had been friends for years. He laid his own cutlery
down neatly, in precisely the right place. He had eaten without a hitch and
paid attention to Potter at the same time, of course. �I was more interested in
Potter.�

�� Oh, yes,
the Ministry�s Golden Boy.� Blaise sounded amused rather than angry, which was
another point in Potter�s favor. To have made peace with someone who�d been in
Slytherin in Hogwarts�real peace, not grudging tolerance�would have taken no
small amount of diplomacy and patience. �I�m not surprised. He�s practically
the reason that Muggleborns and pure-bloods agree to be in the same room
together.�

�� Draco
picked up his wine delicately and took a sip. He couldn�t help it that mention
of political prowess aroused him, and that arousal dried his throat.

�� Nor could
he help it that Blaise knew him well enough to understand the sip of wine
perfectly and watch him with a bright grin. Draco leaned across the table. �How
did he manage this transformation?�

�� He wanted
to serve the Ministry, but he couldn�t be a field Auror.� Blaise snorted, but
covered the snort with a napkin, so that Draco didn�t have to be ashamed of
him. �That�s not a surprise, of course, given how many people would love to
claim the credit for killing him. So Shacklebolt groomed him to become the
Ministry�s public face. Sometimes literally. I don�t
think there�s a party in the last five years he hasn�t attended, unless it
conflicted with another and more important party. He�s always at official
functions like this.�

�� It�s
amazing,� Draco murmured, watching Potter from the corner of his eye again as
he stood up to dance with Hartley. He had to guide her among numerous small
round tables to reach the dancing floor, and he did it without a single
stumble. It was no wonder Hartley beamed up at him with adoration. �I didn�t
think he had the potential for such a transformation.�

�� Quite a
difference from your last lover, isn�t it?� Blaise asked, with a wicked little
twist to the final words.

�� Draco cast
him a furious glance, and Blaise laughed at him. �It�s not my fault that you
fell for Paul, Draco.�

�� Draco
gritted his teeth against the reminder of Paul. Draco had thought love would
make a difference, that if he was willing to move to the States for Paul and
start a new life there, surely he would be able to put up with the man�s
slovenliness and poor manners and constant disparagement of everything British,
from Draco�s accent to his family background to the British wizarding education
system.

�� Love hadn�t
been enough.

�� But it was
a pleasure to watch Potter, who indeed couldn�t have been a greater contrast to
Draco�s memories. He whirled Hartley around the dance floor with a grace
absolutely incredible for the awkward boy who�d stumbled his way through the
Yule Ball in fourth year. And he smiled as if he was enjoying it�or in a way
that would convince anyone he was. Draco scrutinized him carefully, and could
detect no break in the mask. Yes, he was someone the gullible Muggleborns would
enjoy talking to and the political pure-bloods would appreciate for the
apparent effortlessness of his effort.

�� I�m going
to talk to him,� he said quietly to Blaise. �Introduce me, would you?�

�� Blaise gave
him a devil�s grin and leaned back in his seat. Draco narrowed his eyes. It was
becoming perfectly obvious that his wife, Astoria Greengrass, was a bad
influence on Blaise. He never used to go out of his way to confound Draco
before this.

�� You�ve
known each other most of your lives by now,� Blaise said. �Why do you need an
introduction?�

�� Draco
closed his eyes as he forced his churning feelings back into stillness. Yes,
Blaise was technically right; Potter wasn�t a stranger to Draco, or at least no
more a stranger than anyone else was, after Draco�s five years in America. But
it would be impolite to simply walk up and claim Potter�s attention after so
long apart, particularly with the history between them. Draco would have
preferred the buffer of someone Potter must have dealt with fairly often at
official functions like this. Blaise worked in the Ministry�s finance
department.

�� Then Draco
opened his eyes and watched Potter whirling out the final measures of the dance,
finishing by bowing to Hartley. Hartley bobbed a curtsey back, and she looked ridiculous. Potter manifestly
did not. Draco�s stomach tightened with longing to be with someone like that,
someone who embodied grace and calmness and so many of the aesthetic virtues
he�d learned to appreciate when he was a child.

�� You�re
right,� he told Blaise, and rose to his feet and glided across the room before
Blaise could do more than gape at him.

�� Potter
sensed him coming and turned to face him. Draco wondered for a moment if that
was due to instincts honed in the war or what must have been his truly intense
interpersonal coaching.

�� For a
gratifying moment, Potter�s eyebrows curled upwards, and the polite smile that
crossed his lips looked strained. But he gave a correct half-bow to Draco, as
someone he knew slightly, and held out his hand for Draco to shake without any
hesitation. �Malfoy,� he said.

�� Draco
smiled and shook his hand. Potter had a firm grip, one that would impress
without injuring. He held himself straighter than Draco had realized from a
distance, and his gaze was direct but not cutting. Someone had finally
convinced him to shrink his glasses, if not lose them altogether. The effect
made his striking eyes more striking still, and Draco didn�t lick his lips only
because of his own iron training.

�� Excuse me
for cutting in,� he said, with an apologetic glance to Hartley. �But Potter and
I are old schoolmates, and I haven�t seen him for several years. If you�ll excuse us?� He gave a small bow of his own to
Hartley.

�� She
narrowed her eyes as if she suspected him of something, but waved a gracious
hand. Draco walked over to the sideboard of desserts in the corner with Potter,
the anticipation of the coming conversation a warm glow in his groin.

*

�� Harry
checked a sigh expertly. He�d long since learned how to make sarcastic comments
in his mind, rather than aloud. It afforded him nearly the same amount of
satisfaction that speaking them would have, and kept him rather more friends
and political contacts.

�� He didn�t
like these evenings, but he tolerated them. At least he knew he was making a
valuable contribution to healing the wounds the war had left. He�d also learned
things that everyone doubted he could, and he took as much pleasure as ever in
proving his critics wrong, including all the critics who had thought he would
cease to matter once he�d defeated Voldemort.

�� But he
rarely ran into people he�d hated at
these parties. Being asked to entertain Malfoy was like being asked to
entertain Umbridge.

�� Or worse, since I
successfully flattered her at the Maggiores� wedding
last year.

�� Still, as
he took up a single small square of chocolate and folded the napkin into
sharp-edged triangles beneath it, Harry knew he would confound Malfoy as easily
as he did all the others who wanted to rip into him.
Malfoy could hardly hex him without causing a public disturbance, and Harry
could handle any words he spoke.

�� I do
admire the way you�ve changed your image, Potter,� Malfoy said, and regarded
him with shining eyes that proved him one of the best actors Harry had ever
seen. �How long did it take?�

�� Harry
studied Malfoy�s stance�casual on the surface, tense beneath it, especially the
way his fingers curled around his own napkin�and the set of his jaw, and chose
the combination of flattery and humility that usually eased his interactions
with the proudest blood purists. �Months, of course,� he said, with a modest
little shrug and a lowering of his eyes. �I hadn�t considered how old the
traditions were, or how thoroughly I�d grown up outside them. Life in a small
Muggle family doesn�t teach you anything about large parties.�

�� Malfoy�s
jaw relaxed, and he leaned closer. Harry blinked. He got my pun? More, he appreciated it?

�� I did
think the hair must have taken the most work,� Malfoy murmured. �I can remember
it whipping around your head when you pursued the Snitch. I thought an army of
house-elves with rose-scented shampoo couldn�t have settled it.� He paused
delicately. �Of course, the more important question is why you agreed to go
along with the Ministry and their demands at all. What happened to that independent
spirit I remember so well?�

�� More than slightly sarcastic. But he looks like he�s teasing. Harry shook off his bewilderment. He�d dealt
with people like this, too, including some who changed moods faster than Malfoy
and used words considerably less polite.

�� Independence
has to yield to the good of society,� Harry said. �Independence
in beliefs of all kinds, if those beliefs don�t prove to offer some wider
benefit to the community.� He�d meant that as a hidden rebuke for the
Malfoys� support of Voldemort, but Malfoy simply let his smile widen a touch in
appreciation. Baffled, Harry returned to the empty rhetoric. �Minister
Shacklebolt convinced me of that. I couldn�t serve the wizarding community in
the way I most wanted, but that didn�t mean I couldn�t serve at all.�

�� And
service is enough?� Malfoy cocked his head thoughtfully to the side. �I had you
pegged as a ruler, not a servant.�

�� Harry
laughed. It took more effort than usual to make his laughter the gentle,
amusing kind that people would expect to hear at a party, instead of the wild
bitterness he wanted to give voice to. �You aren�t the only one to make that
mistake.� He wondered for a moment if he should say that last word, then dismissed the worry. Malfoy wasn�t in a politically
important position, and he was unlikely to talk to Harry again for any reason
other than mere curiosity. �No. I�m quite content with the position of a humble
servant.� He stressed the first word in the last phrase, and let Malfoy make
what he would of it.

�� Malfoy only
went on smiling. Harry wondered absently, as he took a tiny bite of chocolate,
whether his years abroad had induced some sort of brain damage. �You perform it
too well for the Ministry not to know your value.�

�� Ah. Harry understood this, too, this
implication that he must receive substantial rewards from the Ministry for
performing like a dancing bear in public, and he could deal with it. He put on
his most helpful expression and reached for his robe pocket. �I�m carrying a
report on my earnings for the year,� he said. �The Minister just gave it to me.
Would you like to examine it? They judge my value very accurately in Galleons.�

�� He watched
Malfoy with eyes in which, he knew, the glee was well-hidden. The offer always
put the doubters in an awkward position. Either they examined the paper and
showed their vulgar curiosity, or they refused and made themselves look like
fools for doubting him in the first place.

�� But Malfoy
reached out a calm hand, not an eager one, and read it at a leisurely pace, as
if he were admiring the shapes of the letters. Then he smiled and handed the
paper back.

�� A nice
ploy,� he said. �But that�s been folded too many times for me to believe you
only received it today.�

�� Harry
stiffened before he could stop himself. Then he accepted the paper with an
easy, loose hand, tucked it back into his robe pocket, and opened his mouth to
make a suitably aloof guess as to how many people Malfoy would spread that
information to.

�� Malfoy
stepped closer, however, his hand angled out to brush Harry�s wrist. The
sensation of his long fingers unexpectedly burned, as if he�d cast a Warming
Charm on his skin. Harry blinked and noted the trick in silence to himself. There were a few people he�d like to startle that
way.

�� Meanwhile,
it had worked on him, and Malfoy whispered into his ear, �What they pay you is
too low for someone as accomplished and beautiful as you are.�

�� He moved
away in the next moment, and left Harry blinking stupidly. Malfoy watched him
with a faint smile that only deepened when Harry banished the telltale surprise
and manufactured a fake smile of his own for anyone watching who was curious
about the �secret� Malfoy had whispered to him. It was as though Malfoy
rejoiced in the way Harry acted in public, which made no sense. Harry had
expected scorn for trying to �parody� pure-bloods, particularly given that he�d
admitted it took months of training for him to achieve this much.

�� Open
compliments?� Harry raised a doubtful eyebrow. �I�d thought that forbidden by
the 1871 Treaty of Vienna.� He�d managed to fool more than one of the
especially stupid pure-bloods with that line in his time, including Hartley. It
was at least an acceptable comeback for Malfoy, who deserved nothing deeper or
more original.

�� Malfoy
smiled again and touched Harry�s wrist where it passed under the napkin and was
therefore hidden from the view of anyone critically watching, unless the person
stood directly behind Harry�s shoulder. �Yes,� Malfoy murmured, �but the 1872
Treaty granted special exceptions for those who�ve climbed to heights of beauty
and achievement with disadvantages dragging them down.�

�� Disadvantages,�
Harry said, through a polite smile that would have fooled people three paces
away from him, but was unlikely to fool Malfoy.

�� Yes,�
Malfoy said. �Unless you care to take back your own evidence
about your hair taking months to tame?� He offered Harry a bland smile
and waited, his head tilted to the side and his eyes shining.

�� I can�t understand his game. What does he
want from me? But Harry�s etiquette instructors had taught him how to play
for time when he was confused, and so he could gracefully incline his head back
and murmur, �Of course not. I try to avoid outright lies. So
time-consuming when other people figure out the truth. I�ve never had a
good memory.�

�� Then I am
even more impressed,� Malfoy said, and his fingers brushed Harry�s wrist under
the napkin again. �I myself could not talk to Allison Hartley without lies.�

�� Harry
controlled himself on the verge of taking a step backwards. What is this? Malfoys don�t admit
incapacity. I ought to know. One of his first tests had been to visit
Lucius Malfoy, who was no longer under house arrest but had become a stubborn
recluse, and convince him to attend some of the Ministry galas. Lucius was
becoming deaf, but refused to admit it. Harry had used most of the techniques
he�d learned in that unnerving half-hour to accommodate Lucius, persuade him,
and give the impression that he never noticed his hesitations in answering
questions.

�� Talking to
members of the Wizengamot is something of a specialty of mine,� Harry said, to
win some of his own back.

�� Malfoy�s
face went pale around the creases of his eyes. Harry smiled blandly, and let
the memory of his testimony before the Wizengamot that had cleared the Malfoys
from heavy fines or terms in Azkaban crackle between them for a moment.

�� He�ll hurry away now. Malfoys don�t like
people who embarrass them, either. The hardest part of his entire interview
with Lucius had been convincing him not to punish a house-elf who�d startled
him by coming up on his deafer side with food.

�� But the
pallor vanished in the next moment, and Malfoy slid a stop closer, his eyes
very wide. Harry wondered if that was supposed to contribute to an innocent
appearance. Since he would never be less than suspicious of Malfoy, it seemed
like effort wasted. �Which refutes your claim of having a bad memory,� he said.
�I wonder, do you remember me so clearly that you would refuse a date with me?�

�� Harry
actually gaped for a moment, and Malfoy�s nostrils flared, as if he were
sniffing a pleasant scent. Harry recovered rapidly, but he rather hoped
Kingsley hadn�t been watching. He would demand to know what Malfoy had said to
cause such a reaction, and be disappointed when Harry admitted that it was
nothing more than a proposal he�d received a hundred times.

�� On the other hand, at least flirtation would
explain the odd things he�s said to me.

�� I remember
your propensity for tricks that didn�t quite work,� Harry said, in a low voice
that he nevertheless meant to be sharp enough to cut letters on glass. �I see
no reason I should help set one up.�

�� Malfoy
winced a little, and gazed straight at him with eyes of a marvelously clear
grey. As Harry�s brain reeled around his astonishment that
he�d applied the word �marvelous� to Malfoy, the other man said, �Yes. I
understand. Then I can only apologize, and offer my hopes that I will be more
welcome on another evening.�

�� He bowed
and let his eyes linger on Harry�s face for one moment more. �The hair is not
the only thing you worked on,� he said, so quietly Harry knew no one else could
hear, �and not the only thing you should earn praise for.�

�� And he
moved away. Harry deliberately didn�t allow his gaze to follow him. Instead, he
turned to greet Pandora Nelson, a politically powerful witch in the importation
of Potions ingredients, whom he�d seen hovering in the background from the
corner of his eye five minutes ago.

�� But long after
the party, when he�d thrown off the elaborate robes they made him wear at
functions like this and settled down in his favorite ragged chair with a glass
of butterbeer, he was still replaying the
conversation with Malfoy in his mind.

*

�� It doesn�t
look as though your efforts were exactly crowned with success,� Blaise said
dryly as Draco slid back into his seat beside him. �Potter�s already talking to
Nelson now.� Though Draco didn�t know exactly who Nelson was, he knew from
Blaise�s unimpressed tone that he or she was no one who should have been able
to take Draco�s place.

�� Draco took
up his unfinished glass of wine and had a few more sips. �That�s where you
would be wrong,� he said. �I caught his interest, took him off-guard, and made
him notice me. That�s the first step. I imagine that Potter has plenty of
people competing for his attention.�

�� Dozens,�
said Blaise, blinking like a lizard. Draco hid his glee. That was an extremely
good sign that Blaise�s brain was whirling on the inside. �But�they all want
something from him, Draco. He�s used to that. He won�t be inclined to pick you
out of the bunch just because you said a few pretty words to him.�

�� Ah.� Draco
glanced casually over his shoulder and saw Potter making himself
agreeable to a squat witch with long silvery hair. He recognized her now:
Pandora Nelson, someone who knew more about potions than Potter should be able
to learn if he lived four centuries. And yet, she was smiling and listening
intently to Potter in the same way Hartley had. Draco again needed wine to
moisten his throat. �But I don�t have any obvious motive. The others want him
to introduce them to people, or to throw his support behind their causes, or to
give them invitations. He thought I�d come to make fun of him. When I asked him
on a date instead, he was utterly astounded.�

�� That
doesn�t mean he�ll believe you.� Blaise was already recovered enough to pick at
a remnant of his dinner.

�� Of course
not,� Draco said. �But he�ll think about me. And I�ll have more time to prove
that I want him for himself. I should think that would be irresistible to
someone like Potter.�

��

�What happens when he figures out
that you want him so you can get back into society?� Blaise asked skeptically.

Draco shot a swift glance at his
friend. �But I don�t want him for
that. I want him because he�s beautiful, and he has beautiful manners, and he�s
intelligent enough to keep up with me in conversation.�

�Right,� Blaise said, stretching
the word like taffy.

�I do,� Draco said. �Potter�s the
butterfly who�s finally emerged from his cocoon, Blaise, and I�m the one who�s
going to net him.�

He thought again over the
conversation, the way Potter understood his words and their implications, the way he moved, how he timed and tuned
his phrases, and the hawk-like way he watched for emotional reactions. All
traits Draco admired, and combined with those looks and the fascination Potter
had always exerted on him�

He could picture Potter in the
sumptuous flat he probably lived in now, later that night, trying and failing
to get his expensive wine to give him the answers to the puzzle that was Draco.

And
if I don�t manage to snare him after all, I will surely
have fun trying.
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Company Manners