Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

May I Have This Dance?	By : Sasunarufan13 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 3978 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor make profit of it. J.K. Rowling owns it.

Chapter List
- 1-Part 1
- 2-Part 2
- 1
- 2
Author's note: A day too late, but here's my Halloween fic for HP! Well, the first part of it, anyway *coughs* It's been a while since I last wrote something for HP, so hopefully I haven't lost my touch yet LMAO
Warnings for this part: OC pov; set several years after the war; slash; MPreg
I hope you'll like this first part!
Part 1
"I called you all here, because I received information about Harry Potter's whereabouts," Shacklebolt announced gravely and at once a hush fell over the room.
"Real information? That we can trust?" Weasley croaked out, taking a step forwards. His eyes were wide; hope and suspicion clearly warring on his face.
Darren couldn't blame him. Since Potter had disappeared during a mission a bit more than a year ago, information about him had been quite sparse. Of course there had been those claiming they had valuable information about him, eager to rank in the reward money, but all those leads had either been utter bullshit or they had turned out to be useless.
Their hope to find him had been raised three months ago when they'd finally captured the two criminals Potter had been hunting down before he disappeared, but they had turned out to have nothing to do with his disappearance. For all intents and purposes, it looked like Potter had simply disappeared into thin air. Nobody had seen him since the morning he'd left to arrest the two criminals. Nobody had heard any sort of rumour which could be useful. Given that they were talking about Potter here, one of the most famous people of the twenty-first century in their world now, that was beyond strange.
Whoever had made Potter disappear was damn good at covering his tracks and keeping him hidden from the rest of the world.
Until now it seemed.
Shacklebolt's eyes briefly softened when they landed on Weasley, before they hardened again and he nodded once. "Yes, it's information we can trust. I received it from one of my informants and that person has never let me down before."
"How sure about this information are they?" Chrissy asked suspiciously, crossing her arms underneath her breasts. Aside from Weasley, she'd been one of the people closest to Potter at their department before he'd disappeared.
"Eighty-five percent," Shacklebolt replied, his hands resting on the back of the chair. "I'd say that number's high enough that we can put our trust in it."
Murmuring of assent swept through the small room like a wave. Eighty-five percent was a lot higher than they'd dared to dream of.
"So, what's the information?" Weasley demanded instantly, leaning so far across the table Darren was surprised he hadn't lost his balance yet. "Does your informant know where we can find Harry?"
At this Shacklebolt pursed his lips and he raised his left hand. "I will tell you what he told me, but you have to stay quiet until I finish. Especially you, Ron." He threw him a warning look, making the other man frown deeply.
"The information that outrageous?" Kelly asked, tilting his head slightly to the right. He was one of the best Trackers the department had ever seen and he'd taken it as a personal insult that he hadn't been able to find Potter yet.
"It's about the one who possibly has Harry as his captive."
Even if they hadn't been paying attention before, that titbit of information definitely had all of them focusing on their boss. They had gone more than a year now without even the slightest hint about Potter's fate – and now they possibly had the jackpot of all information, the identity of the person who'd taken Potter?
That seemed a bit too good to be true, even with how much Shacklebolt seemed to trust his informant.
"You have his identity?" Darren inquired curiously. Would it be a known criminal? Was it someone still loyal to You-Know-Who?
No, probably not that latter, he reflected at once. If it was someone with ties to the dark wizard, Potter wouldn't be alive anymore. Shacklebolt's information seemed to imply that Potter was still alive wherever he was being kept, so that ruled out any Death Eaters hoping to somehow bring back their dead lord.
"A suspect, yes," Shacklebolt corrected him and he inclined his head, chastised. "According to my informant, Harry can be found in the manor of an old Pureblood family." Here he paused and cast a wary look at Weasley. "The manor of the Malfoys to be exact."
A beat of silence then the room exploded in shouting and cursing, the latter mostly due to Weasley, who was as red as a tomato now and swearing up a storm, shouting he'd kill that ferret bastard.
Darren had no idea who he was referring to with that particular comment, but didn't let himself get distracted by it. Instead he pondered over the information, ignoring the commotion happening around him while Shacklebolt tried to regain a semblance of order back in the group.
The Malfoys, huh? Being younger than most people in this room, he had no personal experience with the Malfoy family. Oh sure, he knew who they were; being a Pureblood himself (albeit from a small family, considered less important than the Malfoys or even the Greengrass') he'd grown up being taught about the other families, learning who would be best suited to make an alliance with and which families he was better off avoiding.
The Malfoys had been labelled as the family to avoid unless in dire circumstances. Their ties to the Dark side were too pertinent to be able to sweep underneath the rug and their dalliance with You-Know-Who certainly hadn't done their reputation any favours, even if the son and the wife had been cleared during the Big Trials. Because of Potter's testimony no less, Darren remembered.
Malfoy Senior was still residing in Azkaban, serving a fifteen year sentence, but his wife had retreated to their manor, only occasionally gracing certain Pureblood events with her presence. Their son had started his own Brewery business if Darren recalled correctly and was quickly making a name for himself in the Potions world. There were rumours that he was harbouring political ambitions as well, even with his father in Azkaban, but if he did, he hadn't acted on them so far.
All in all, the Malfoy family had kept to themselves after the war. They couldn't even catch the son brewing illegal potions, even though some of Darren's colleagues had tried.
Darren couldn't think of any reason why either the wife or the son would risk their freedom to abduct Potter and keep him for … Yes, for what exactly? It wasn't for ransom obviously; despite the fee they'd been ordered to pay, they were still quite affluent and the Brewery was thriving. No ransom demand had been made either.
An attempt to have You-Know-Who return? If that was the case, they would have made that attempt already and considering there was no You-Know-Who wreaking havoc, Darren assumed that either such an attempt had never been planned or it had failed miserably. If it was the latter, then why would they keep Potter alive?
This new piece of information had only complicated the case further, instead of clearing it up.
"SILENCE!"
Darren jumped, ripped out of his thoughts abruptly by Shacklebolt's shouted demand. The others fell silent immediately; none of them stupid enough to go against that order.
Shacklebolt glared at them, waited until they had stopped shuffling around and straightened up again, becoming calm once more now that he had their undivided attention.
"As I said, they're merely a suspect for now and until we have definite proof, they will be treated as such. That means no charging the manor and arresting them on sight." That last comment appeared to be particularly aimed at Weasley, who glared, but remained quiet.
"Then how are we supposed to get this proof?" Chrissy asked put out. "We can't enter their manor without having reasonable cause. To get this cause we would have to get into their manor and find Harry. The word of an informant isn't enough anymore," she added upset.
"We have a reasonable cause: an invitation to their Halloween ball." From his pocket, Shacklebolt unearthed a thick card. The parchment was a soft buttery yellow and the black ink of the words gleamed faintly in the light.
"How did you get an invitation to their ball?" Kelly asked incredulously. "They're notoriously hard to get; even the Greengrass family has trouble obtaining them and they're as Pure as they come!"
Shacklebolt smiled thinly. "My informant has their ways. I can assure you this is a legitimate invitation."
"Who's going undercover then?" Weasley asked troubled. "I can't do it; Malfoy will recognise me."
And he probably wouldn't be able to hold himself back from cursing the son either, judging by the way he had his wand clenched.
"We need someone who won't stand out, who'll be able to blend in with the other attendees," Shacklebolt said slowly. "Someone who knows the ins and outs of the Pureblood culture and whose own lineage won't ring any alarm bells."
One by one, everyone's gaze fell upon Darren and he hid his grimace. Right, guess there wasn't any real question anymore who would be fit for the job.
"I'll do it," he agreed resigned.
He supposed that this could be considered a dire situation. He just hoped he wouldn't risk his neck for nothing.
It was rather funny.
Even though the majority of the Pureblood families wouldn't be caught dead interacting with one of the Malfoys in public, they were all desperate to attend one of their parties. They held three each year: on Beltane, Halloween and during Christmas and their parties were the talk of the community. If one were to receive a personal invitation, they were sure to be the envy of everyone else.
Nobody aside from the attendees knew what exactly went on during these parties. There were rumours that alliances were made, blood pacts created, potential marriages discussed and even Dark Arts performed. There were even claims that magical creatures – most of them listed too dangerous to possess - traded hands there. Vampires and werewolves were rumoured to attend as well, together with goblins and other humanoid beings. Perhaps it was the secrecy surrounding these grand balls which made them so enticing to people, perhaps there was some truth to the rumours.
Whichever it was, the balls at Malfoy Manor were the summum of each season; an invitation to them highly coveted. Everyone desired to attend, but only a select few would be fortunate enough to receive an invitation.
Darren was now considered one of those unfortunate few, but he couldn't help wondering darkly whether he was really lucky. He Apparated to the edge of the wards, glancing at them warily when he spotted their shimmer, and adjusted his mask carefully.
The only aspect he considered to be fortunate tonight was the fact that the Malfoys required all their guests to wear masks. He very much doubted either of the Malfoys would recognise him as someone of the Ministry – he tended to keep a low profile – but the presence of the mask put him a bit more at ease, knowing that it made him anonymous. His dark clothes would allow him to blend in with the other guests until the time came that he could slip away and leave in search of Potter.
"Here I go," he muttered underneath his breath and approached the gates, pulling the invitation out of his pocket.
A house elf popped up on his right and chirped, "Invitation, please, sir!"
He showed the little being his card and it smiled brightly, dipping down in a short bow before it snapped his fingers twice. The gates swung open silently, revealing a long, winding path to the manor looming white against the night sky. He nodded at the house elf and strode up the path; the gates closing behind him soundlessly.
The large door of the manor opened when he was two steps away from it, bright warm light spilling generously through the opening. At once his ears were assaulted by loud music and the chattering of people in a nearby room. He entered the hallway cautiously, casting a quick look around, noting the wide, marble staircase right across from the door.
The music was coming from his right and he was greeted by the clinking of champagne glasses and a girl's soft laughter when he walked into the ballroom. The room itself was large, of course, a multitude of candles floating high above their heads. Tables decked in orange and black cloth had been stationed against the walls, plates overflowing with all kinds of dishes challenging the furniture's ability to hold their weight. There was a spiral staircase in the right corner of the room, leading to Merlin knew where.
House elves were walking around, offering sparkling champagne, red wine or something much stronger for the ones in the mood for it. Some of them carried glasses with simple fruit juice and he accepted one of those, not wanting to risk becoming inebriated. If Shacklebolt's informant's intelligence was true, then this manor was absolutely the last place he wanted to become drunk at. He would need all his wits in order to find out whether Potter was truly held captive here or not.
Looking around the room, he decided he would just stroll around, perhaps talk to some of the other guests for now. He couldn't immediately spot either Draco Malfoy or his mother, but with how many people were present here, that was no wonder.
No matter. He would just need to be patient and await his chance.
When the music drifted to a stop, Darren looked up curiously, aware that other people had fallen silent as well. The cause for the silence stood in the middle of the staircase Darren had spotted before, smiling down on them. The wizard was wearing a mask as well, a dark blue one, set with emerald gemstones, and he was dressed in magnificent midnight blue robes, which looked like they cost at least four months' worth of Darren's pay checks. Even with the mask, his identity was easy to guess; the bright blond hair and steel grey eyes looking at them obvious clues.
Draco Malfoy.
And a step behind him, another man stood. His mask was a deep shade of green; a thin line of rubies adorning the edges. His own robes were scarlet red, looking extra bright next to the dark robes of Malfoy. He stood mostly hidden behind Malfoy and Darren furrowed his eyebrows, wondering who that man was.
The informant hadn't mentioned any lover of sorts; he didn't have the stance of a bodyguard either, so who could that be?
"Welcome to Malfoy Manor," Malfoy greeted them warmly, spreading his arms slightly. "Tonight let's celebrate Halloween, the time when the curtain between our world and theirs is lifted! Or so I'm told." He winked and people laughed. "Tonight is the time to laugh, to talk, to dance and to feast on everything Mother Nature has graciously provided us with! As always, I hope you'll have a wonderful night!" He turned to leave.
"Aren't you going to introduce us to your partner?" someone called out.
Malfoy paused before turning around again, a smirk gracing his mouth. His arm reached out, pulling the other man closer to him. "Oh, you mean this man? I could introduce you, but isn't tonight known for its mysteries? Enjoy the ball, my good friend, and perhaps I'll introduce him to you later." He winked and this time when he turned around, he didn't look back in spite of the calls.
Darren couldn't care less about Malfoy, though. He stared at the other man, suspicion nagging at him. There was something familiar about the way the man stood, how he held himself. A hand reached out to touch black locks and the mysterious man cast one look around the room before letting himself be turned around by Malfoy.
For one brief moment – no longer than a second – Darren's eyes had met those of the man and that moment had been long enough to catch eyes as green as the mask he adorned.
He only knew of one person who possessed such green eyes.
Harry Potter.
It took every last bit of restraint to not immediately fly up those stairs and grab the man he suspected to be Potter by his shoulders.
Instead he waited, until the music was back on its previous loud volume, until the people around him started talking again, some stepping towards the middle of the room to dance with their partner.
Then he waited a bit longer and once he was certain he no longer had anyone's attention, he allowed himself to be absorbed by the shadows, gliding alongside the walls. He cast the strongest Disguise Me spell he knew, which would redirect people's gaze to something else, and after ascertaining that there were no wards on the staircase itself, he silently slipped upstairs, following the spiralling steps until he stepped onto a dark landing.
His footsteps were muffled by the thick carpet hiding the flagstones from sight; the couple of portraits on the walls currently empty of their occupants. That, combined with his spell, had him sneaking around more confidently.
He'd only caught a glimpse, but that had been enough to convince him that his chances of finding Potter had significantly heightened since he'd set foot inside the manor. Now he would just need to find the man and decide what to do after that. He preferred to take Potter with him immediately, but he doubted it would be that easy. He still had no idea why Malfoy had taken Potter – why he even took the risk of proudly displaying him in front of people who could easily turn on him – but he would worry about that question later on.
His first priority was finding Potter, which wasn't so easy. This place was like a damn maze and he was starting to get worried he would never find his way back on time. The last thing he needed was to be caught wandering around. He shuddered and went to turn around another corner.
He threw himself into an alcove just in time to avoid colliding into a woman. She was dressed in a pale silver gown; her light blonde hair twisted into a complicated braid. She seemed to glide rather than walk; a serene look on her face as she walked past him to whatever her destination was.
Narcissa Malfoy.
Darren swallowed, waiting nervously for her to disappear around the corner. Even in this dark hallway, only illuminated by some moonlight spilling through one of the windows, her beauty was hard to ignore; a fact he was angry at himself at for noticing.
So what if she was beautiful; she was also aiding and abetting her son if that man did indeed turn out to be Potter.
When he could no longer hear the rustle of her gown – chiding himself for not having listened more careful before – he continued his journey, keeping an eye – and ear – out for anything out of the ordinary.
Footsteps in a room at the end of the hallway had him slowing down, eyeing the door warily. It was left ajar; faint candle light sneaking between the gap and casting a thin line across the floor and opposite wall.
Silently he slipped his wand out of his pocket and approached the room slowly. He bent towards the gap and peeked inside, hoping to see the unknown occupant without having to cast a spell. He'd never been great at nonverbal spells after all.
He only barely managed to stifle a gasp on time.
There, right next to a ginormous bed, Harry Potter stood, divested of his mask and his outer robes.
His hands cupping his rounded belly.
AN2: So yes, this is the first part. I hope to have the next part finished soon :) It's going to be a two shot because well, I wanted to post it today still XD
Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
I hope to see you all back in the next part!
Cuddles
Melissa
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May I Have This Dance?