Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Nothing, Everything	By : Sasunarufan13 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 10224 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor make profit of it. J.K. Rowling owns it.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Author's note: So I know I said I would update this story again on the sixth, but I discovered a week ago that my internet will be down for a while then, so I figured I would just update this story one day earlier. I hope you don't mind that :P
Thanks to the following reviewers: DebraRose and Thunderbird
Warnings: Some timeskips; bit of drama; an author who sucks at writing action scenes
I hope you'll like it!
Chapter 11
"Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement," the feminine voice announced coolly as the doors of the lift opened, releasing several flying memos and a couple of wizards and witches – some of who looked rather pale.
Brusquely Draco marched past a wizard clad in dark purple robes, ignoring his disgruntled shout. He passed the corner, paying no attention to the curious gazes following him, and was greeted by the set of heavy oak doors, which hid the Auror Headquarters from the rest of the Ministry.
They also hid the one person he was searching for – the one person who had his blood boiling so hard it surprised him his wand hadn't started shooting off sparks yet.
How fucking dared he?
How fucking pathetic and petty was he to arrest Astoria on those inane charges? That it was an act of pettiness was clear to Draco. There was no way Astoria getting interrogated the day after Draco had admitted to courting her was just a coincidence. He didn't hear anything about the case for weeks and now suddenly they would have a suspect?
A suspect who turned out to be the woman Draco was courting at the moment? And they came up with this right after Draco admitted to Potter that he was courting her? As if that was just a coincidence.
Was this Potter's revenge for cutting him and that child out of his life? Fuck him. If he wanted to take revenge, fine, but how dared he drag Astoria into this?
"Where the hell is Potter?" he snapped at the caramel brown haired woman whose cubicle was closest to the entrance.
She blinked owlishly at him through her too large glasses, tapping the tip of her quill on her blank sheet of parchment. "His office is ten doors down, but you'll have to …" Whatever she wanted to say next died on her lips as Draco stormed off, honing in on the specific door like a predator tracking its prey.
The door of the office stood ajar, allowing the sound of a quill scratching on paper to be filtered through in the hallway. The hinges of the door creaked softly when Draco pushed against it and the door swung open. Weasley was nowhere in sight, but Potter was scribbling away behind his desk; his stomach so swollen he was sitting sideways and Draco's lip curled up in a sneer.
Without glancing up, Potter muttered, "Ron? Did you find that file?"
"Guess again," Draco said coldly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
The dark haired wizard stilled, his quill pausing right above the parchment, before he sighed wearily and put the quill down. He leant back in his chair and looked up at the blond man. "What do you want?" he asked flatly. If possible the dark circles underneath his eyes looked even more pronounced; did that git never put any care in his appearance?
"I want to know when you've become so petty," Draco sneered, halting in front of the desk. There was one chair available in front of the desk, but like hell was he going to sit down.
"What the hell are you talking about now?" Potter demanded, pinching the bridge of his nose as if merely talking to Draco was already exhausting.
"Don't start acting coy now, Potter," Draco hissed; his fingers digging into the cushioned back of the chair. "I told you yesterday I'm courting Astoria and today I find out that she's been taken to the Ministry because of her supposed involvement in the attack on me. You really expect me to believe that's just a coincidence?"
"Believe it or not, but the world doesn't revolve around you," Potter snapped back; his eyes flaring up in anger. "She was brought here for questioning, yes, because they've discovered that she has links with all the victims. I wasn't the one who brought her in, though. You'll have to complain to Caley about that," he added with a sharp smile.
"You seriously expect me to believe this tripe? Maybe you weren't the one bringing her in, but you told Caley about - "
"Unlike some people, I don't waste my time with taking petty revenge," Potter cut him off coldly and his face hardened, his eyes shuttering close. "You've made it quite clear where we stand – I have better things to do than questioning Greengrass merely because of your courtship. There's strong evidence linking her to all of the victims and my colleagues decided it was time to bring her in. End of story."
"What kind of evidence are you even talking about?" Draco bit out, refusing to give up. His body was positively thrumming with the promise of a fight and he wasn't about to go easy on the younger man.
"Talk to Caley about it; he's the one who figured out the link," Potter replied indifferently and picked up his quill again, clearly dismissing Draco as he bent down over the parchment as much as he could with his large stomach.
Draco had never been good at accepting that he was being ignored, though. He slammed his hand down on the parchment Potter had been writing on and met his glare with his own freezing one.
"How about you tell me for which kind of bullshit reasons you're interrogating her?" he said in a low, dangerous voice. He refused to budge when Potter fruitlessly tugged at the parchment underneath his hand and the green eyed man sank back down in his chair with an annoyed cluck of his tongue; his scowl deepening.
"Fine, if that gets you out of my office, I'll tell you," Potter said irritated. "We went back to all of the victims – or well the family of the one who was killed - and asked with whom they had some kind of argument within the last two years." As he was talking, he pulled out a file from one of the drawers and dropped it on the desk.
"Didn't you already ask them before with whom they had issues?" Draco questioned, frowning and quickly snatching his hand back in case the younger man thought it would make a good target to land the thick file on.
"We did, yes, but we decided to dig deeper and ask them about any arguments or fights they have had in the last two to three years," Potter replied, patting the closed file. "Greengrass' name popped up every single time."
"In what kind of context?" Draco narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms. He had trouble believing that Astoria had had fights with every single one of the victims. He was aware that she wasn't perfect – albeit still a better match for him than Potter had ever been – but he couldn't imagine her quarrelling with several families either.
Feuds weren't unheard of in their particular circle – some even went back several centuries with the instigators long dead and gone, leaving merely dust behind, but their descendants kept the feud alive because some things just weren't easy to forgive. The Malfoys and the Weasleys had been at odds with each other for a long time now and Draco couldn't imagine that situation ever changing.
So no, fights between families weren't unheard of – but it would be social suicide to quarrel with several families at once like the Aurors were accusing Astoria of now. If you had fights with too many families at once, people would start questioning whether you weren't simply the problem and would avoid pledging any alliances with you. Nobody in their right mind would think it was wise to tie oneself to someone who was despised by several families at the same time. That person would only drag them down with them, so they weren't worth the risk.
"A context you should be familiar with," Potter answered clipped. "She met most of them to either sell or purchase potion ingredients, but those meetings often seemed to end in an argument about the price or the amount of ingredients which needed to be sold or bought."
"I didn't have an argument with her about potions ingredients," Draco pointed out triumphantly; finding a sense of satisfaction in proving the Aurors had been wrong after all.
A dark eyebrow rose up. "That's why I said 'most of them'," Potter retorted flatly. "Obviously she didn't have discussions about potions ingredients every single time. In your case, for example, I imagine it had something to do with you breaking off the courtship."
"That was three years ago," Draco scoffed, shaking his head. "I very much doubt that she waited three years to attack me and take some memories away."
"We still don't know how they targeted the memories without using Legilimency," Potter said quietly; his face unnervingly blank. "It's possible that it took nearly three years to come up with that spell or curse or whatever it was that took away the memories."
"It's also possible she doesn't have anything to do with this," the blond wizard sneered.
The younger man shrugged. "If she doesn't, that will become clear during the questioning then." He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, dislodging his glasses for a moment. He straightened them out with a grumble, fumbling with them for a few seconds.
Grey eyes rolled; one would think the idiot had never worn glasses before with the way he was handling them now.
Potter must have caught him rolling his eyes and figured the action had something to do with his comment because he continued sharply, "We have to follow every possible lead, no matter how small it is or who the possible suspect is."
"Well, in that case I certainly hope you interrogated the Weasleys," Draco smiled thinly; his hands clenching into hidden fists. "You know, considering the feud between our families gives them more reason to attack me than Astoria."
"They don't need to be interrogated," Potter said lowly, his eyes darkening as he wrapped one arm around his stomach.
"Holding a hand above their heads, Potter? Isn't that called obstruction of justice?" Draco mocked him, but anger was simmering in the pit of his stomach. So that was how things were handled, huh? Typical; he really shouldn't have expected anything else from Potter. He might pretend to be fighting for justice and equality for everyone, but when it came down to it, he would choose his friends over anything and everyone else. Those fucking traitors could probably get away with murder simply because Potter was on their side.
Fucking disgusting.
"They might not like you, but they love me," Potter stated; his voice even and neutral while his eyes remained disturbingly blank. It was like watching in a mirror without seeing anything reflect back. "And they would never do anything to hurt me, because they know it wouldn't be worth losing me over any sort of revenge they would want to take. Not even George would go that far."
"Aw, how sweet," Draco sneered but before he could add anything else, the door suddenly swung open, revealing the Weasel.
When you speak of the devil …
"Malfoy, what are you doing here?" Blue eyes stared at him distrustfully before they quickly flickered towards Potter, as if the ginger haired man wanted to check whether Draco had hurt his precious friend.
His sneer deepened and he took a step closer to the other wizard. "I am - "
"Just about to leave," Potter cut him off, throwing him an indiscernible look before his green eyes landed back on his partner. "He just needed to ask some questions about Greengrass."
Weasley snorted and walked to his own desk after throwing the blond man a foul look. "She's still being questioned. Might take a few days before she's back home," he muttered, sounding indifferent as he plopped down in his chair.
Draco gritted his teeth together before he addressed Potter, "You're focusing on the wrong person."
"Well, we'll soon find out whether that's true, won't we?" Potter retorted, ever the stubborn git, before he placed the file back into the drawer and closed it. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we have work to do."
Draco couldn't contain a derisive snort when he looked at the way Potter had to work around his large stomach, but left before Weasley could start throwing hexes – judging by the ugly shade of red steadily colouring his face, that wouldn't be too long anymore.
He shouldn't have come here; this visit had only made him more frustrated and coated his tongue with a bitter taste as he marched back to the lift, ignoring the curious and wary gazes aimed at his back.
What a complete waste of his time.
The Aurors released Astoria on Monday, having decided that the evidence was not sufficient enough to pin the attacks on her and keep her detained. Draco would have felt smug about that – he knew she couldn't have had anything to do with the attacks – but he was mostly angry and insulted on her behalf that it had taken the Aurors nearly a week to decide she couldn't be tied to the attackers.
"It wasn't pleasant, but I can understand why they did it," Astoria murmured, sipping slowly from her cup of tea.
"How can you even defend them?" Draco asked incredulously; his hand tightening around his own cup of tea.
She smiled ruefully and shrugged. "They didn't mistreat me," she replied calmly. "They were actually quite decent. I understand they have to examine each clue, no matter how small. I'm not happy I was being interrogated for this matter, no, but at least they took me of their suspect list."
He pressed his lips together, remaining silent, though he disagreed with her. From what she had told him he concluded that they hadn't actually taken her off the suspect list, but they simply didn't have a strong enough case against her to keep her there. The Aurors would most likely keep considering her a suspect until they caught the assailants. Judging by their progress – or more accurately the lack thereof – the case would remain open for still quite some time.
Baby blue painted nails tapped on the oak table and Astoria leant forwards a bit; her hair cascading down her breasts like a waterfall. She smiled, her lips curling up slowly, and asked lightly, "Does that lunch invitation still stand?"
Mentally shaking his head to get rid of any thoughts about the Aurors – at least for now – he smirked, "Of course, my lady."
She giggled softly, allowing him to take her hand in his as they approached the foyer to use the Floo network there.
Sharing lunch with Astoria was just what he needed to start the week in a good way; at the very least it would serve as a good distraction from having had to talk to Potter twice last week.
Draco usually only briefly glanced through the newspaper, stopping once in a while to read an article more in depth when it snagged his attention. That being the case he only realised just how much attention the press had started giving him after dumping Potter when he was accosted by one in the middle of November. He had just come out of one of the Apothecaries in Diagon Alley when a reporter suddenly appeared in front of him, cutting off his path.
"Mister Malfoy, do you have anything to say about your new relationship with Miss Greengrass?" The man – a pudgy looking bloke with thin, mouse brown hair – looked at him expectantly; his quill hovering above his notes in anticipation.
"How about mind your own business?" Draco suggested annoyed, stepping past the other wizard. He was on a tight schedule today and didn't have the time to waste it on some reporter.
"But, Mister Malfoy, the readers from the Daily Prophet want to know - " The man's protest ended in a loud, startled squawk when he tripped over his sudden untied shoelaces and Draco made use of his temporary distraction by slipping into the nearest side alley.
What did he care what the readers of the Prophet wanted to know? Shouldn't they be focusing on Potter like they always did? He shook his head with a snort and Apparated away before the reporter could accost him again.
He had thought that was it; it wasn't as if the newspaper had paid much attention to him before, after all. Even when he had been together with Potter, the press had tended to focus more on the git than on him, except for the rare instances when they had had the chance to drag his name through the mud.
Now however, they seemed to have switched their attention from Potter to him and he couldn't say he liked being cast in the spotlight like that. Whenever he was out in public with Astoria – be it to have a meal at a restaurant, to accompany her with shopping or simply walk around together – there seemed to be at least one or two, sometimes even three, reporters hell bent on taking their picture and begging Draco to give them an interview. He refused to give them that – he very much doubted they had his best intentions at heart, especially not after that one article in which he had been painted as a heartless arsehole who has ruthlessly dumped his poor pregnant fiancé.
The house elves had cleaned up soot from exploded Howlers for days after the paper had printed that particular article.
"Is there no way to get them to leave me alone?" Draco glared at the reporter in the distance who ducked behind a tree near the gates – as if the wards wouldn't have alerted them all to his presence, the moron.
It was the end of November and even the howling, ice cold wind and streaming rain did nothing to deter the pests from trying to snap his picture and demand an interview. It was becoming beyond aggravating and he was this close to hexing them all.
"The only one having the power to put the press on a leash is the Ministry," Father answered idly, turning the page of an old book he had been engrossed in for two days now.
"And I doubt the Ministry will be forthcoming with help in this matter," Mother added calmly, accepting her cup of tea from one of the house elves.
Draco pivoted on his heels to look at her and narrowed his eyes. She was unfortunately correct; the Ministry was one of his biggest clients, but there was no way they would help him get rid of the reporters. They paid him for his potions and that was sufficient in their eyes. Perhaps he should already be glad that they paid him what they owned him and didn't try to stiff him, but he had a difficult time feeling grateful at this moment with the press lurking outside, reading to jump on him the moment he set foot outside the wards.
There was, however, one person in the Ministry who might be willing to listen to his plight – he after all knew all too well how it was to be hounded by the press. He honestly didn't want to contact him; their last interactions had been more than enough for him, but he was Draco's only chance to get the press to back off.
Now to get him to agree to help Draco out … Clenching his jaw, he went to his own wing to write the letter.
Potter's reply was quick and to the point.
'My hands are tied, like I've said before. There's nothing I can do unless they actually harm you.'
"You can't or you don't want to?" Draco muttered darkly before crumpling up the letter – more like a note, really – and setting it on fire.
He really shouldn't have expected anything else.
December had rolled into the country two weeks ago when Draco woke up to a letter from Potter. He studied the letter warily, wondering what the man could possibly want from him after refusing to help him out with the press. The reporters weren't as present as before as he and Astoria hadn't gone out in public much lately, but he still occasionally caught a glimpse of a stubborn reporter lurking around the property.
Had Potter reconsidered his initial reply? Only one way to find out, he supposed with a grimace and opened the letter.
'We need to talk about your case. It's rather urgent. Please meet me at Belle's at ten a.m.
Harry'
"The case, huh?" Draco murmured, narrowing his eyes as he lowered the letter on his desk. The clock showed eight thirty.
He turned around and went into the bathroom to take a shower.
"You're still working when you're this far along?" Draco questioned incredulously as he sat down across from Potter. The restaurant was nearly empty at this early hour; there was a couple near the back, too engrossed in their conversation to take note of the two men, and an elderly wizard reading the newspaper while sipping from his coffee a couple of tables down.
Potter looked ready to pop any minute now; his stomach had grown significantly larger since the last time Draco had spoken to him. Wasn't he nine months pregnant now?
"I'm on leave until February," Potter replied calmly; his left hand cupping his stomach. In front of him on the small, round table was a cup of tea, steaming gently. "I ordered some tea for you too."
"If you're on leave, then why are you the one meeting me for my case?" Draco frowned, only acknowledging the cheerfully smiling waitress with a faint nod when she placed his own cup of tea down on the table. He sneered, "What? Did you miss me?"
His jab didn't seem to deter the dark haired man at all. Instead of reacting to it, he answered flatly, "Because the others refuse to talk to you. Kingsley decided it would be more prudent if I was the one talking to you about your case."
Because the others are more likely to hex you, was the unspoken thought hanging between them and Draco's sneer deepened.
"Not very noble of them," he murmured, wrapping his hand around his cup but drinking of it.
The younger wizard shrugged; the grey daylight outside catching his glasses, concealing his eyes for a moment before he leant forwards slightly. "I'm not here to fight with you," he said calmly, but there was a terse undertone in his voice.
The blond man waved his hand dismissively. "Say what you want to say and then we can leave."
A muscle ticked in his jaw and Potter sat back abruptly, pursing his lips. "The Ministry is assigning two Aurors to you to be your bodyguards."
"Why the hell do I need two bodyguards?" Draco asked perplexed, caught off guard by the announcement. He had entered the restaurant with the expectation to hear that his attackers had finally been caught – not to hear that he apparently would have two Aurors tailing him wherever he went.
"Four victims have been discovered dead so far," Potter explained and both his face and voice were disturbingly blank. "We suspect that your attackers are going around, killing off their victims one by one."
"Who said they were murdered by those three men?" Draco asked sharply, narrowing his eyes. "Could be just a coincidence."
"All four victims disappeared for three days; during this time they were murdered and their bodies were dumped in front of the homes of their previous partners," Potter answered, looking as immobile as a statue. "They each carried a note, stating that justice had fully been served. One victim is an incident, two are a coincidence you could still say. Three, however, constitutes a pattern for sure. Want to know what they call four?"
Ignoring Potter's question, his mind grasped at a small detail and he blurted out before he could stop himself, "What do you mean, 'the homes of their previous partners'?"
Potter bit down on his lower lip and glanced away for a few second, before he sighed and faced Draco again. "While some of them have started rebuilding their relationship with the partner they forgot, there are several of them who decided they were fine with how things were and left their partner. Now four of them are dead and were found by their ex-partners."
The ones who left their partner were dead now … How coincidental.
Grey eyes narrowed. "Is this some kind of ploy to convince me to come back - "
"For fuck's sake, Draco!" Potter snarled, slamming his hand on the table and Draco jumped. The three other patrons stared at him in shock, but he ignored them as he continued hissing, "Would you pull your head out of your arse for once?! You've got a target painted on your back! That's a bloody fact! This group is going around, killing off their victims one by one and you think this is something I - "
Draco felt the building shake before he heard the explosion. Before he realised what was happening, he was roughly pushed down onto the ground and the table was flipped onto its side, creating a temporary hiding place. Glass was shattering all around them, showering the floor and their bodies with its glinting shards, and there was ringing in Draco's ears, blocking out all other sounds. He rolled onto his left side and grasped his wand, looking around the table cautiously. Behind him people were screaming and running around.
"Everybody, get down and hide! Cast the strongest protection shield you know!" Potter barked out, taking control of the situation immediately. He was sitting next to Draco behind the table; his fingers clasped around his wand. A thin line of red welled up on his left cheek, where he had been cut by the glass. "You okay?" he murmured grimly, casting a quick glance at the blond man next to him.
"Don't think I'm hurt," Draco answered clipped, but his heart was beating like mad in his chest and his palms started to sweat. Who was attacking them?
Potter peered around the table for a moment, but had to hastily pull back when a streak of mustard yellow light sped past him and turned one of the chairs into dust. "Damn it, I nearly - " he cut himself off and fired off a spell Draco had never heard of before, but which made something black and midnight purple shoot out of his wand.
Amidst the noise of stone crumbling and people yelling, there was a furious scream erupting outside, piercing through all the other noises and for a few seconds, there was a black glow dimming the restaurant.
"What kind of spell was that?" Draco demanded in a furious whisper, but Potter shook his head.
"Not now. I'm trying to locate that bastard," he hissed back and the next moment was nothing but a flurry of hexes and curses being exchanged between the dark haired man and the unknown assailant.
A myriad of colours lit up the room as the spells and curses crashed into each other. Some of them bounced off, hit tables and chairs and portraits, turning them into dust, setting them on fire or exploding them.
Suddenly Draco was pulled down until he was mostly lying on the ground – not a second too early as the top part of the table was blasted apart. He swallowed and stared wide eyed at the shards of brown wood lying between their legs; that could have been his head.
Potter's hand rested on his shoulder for a few seconds longer before he pulled it back and fired off another curse.
"Thanks," Draco croaked out; his hand tightening around his wand.
There was no reply, but the silver gleam of a strong Protection shield enveloped them a few seconds later. On an impulse, Draco peeked around the table, trying to catch a glimpse of their attacker. Dust hung heavily in the air, obstructing his view, but then he saw someone moving to the left and he murmured a spell to enhance his vision temporarily, fixating his eyes on the mysterious assailant.
One of Potter's spells – several fire red balls – zoomed in on their enemy and the person – a short man, though his face remained hidden in his cloak – took several hasty steps to the side to avoid them.
The shorter one of the three limped towards him, holding out his wand …
Draco froze, all the air in his lungs leaving him at once and his throat tightened up; the memory making him feel like ice was replacing the blood in his veins.
"Potter," he rasped; his voice barely louder than a whisper.
"What?" The other man was looking away from him, firing curse after curse as sweat dripped down his face; his free arm clenching around his belly. Green eyes turned to him impatiently when he tugged insistently on his arm. "What? I'm kind of in the middle of something here!"
"I know him – the one who's attacking us."
"What? How do you - "
"He's one of the three who stole my memories."
AN2: Not that many chapters left, guys. I'm estimating around three more, perhaps a fourth one, and then this story is finished. So prepare for quite some angst in the upcoming last chapters ;)
Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
The next chapter will be posted on the 20th of October.
Cuddles
Melissa
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- 12
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Nothing, Everything