Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Anarchy as Art	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 12617 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this fanfic.

Chapter List
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Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Thirteen—Finding Oneself
A conversation with Thorin wouldn’t help anything, Harry had decided after he thought about it for a little while. Thorin would only interrupt him, or pretend to believe him for as long as it took him to get Harry out of his office. It had to be paperwork or nothing.
So Harry had written a letter in which he laid out everything Malfoy had done and what he had confessed to Harry at last, and then made multiple copies of it, so that Thorin could see he’d done so. Two copies would end up on Thorin’s desk, because he liked things that way. One would go to his secretary, and one to the Head of the Hit Wizards, because they might have to watch out for Malfoy next, and one to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. With luck, Malfoy wouldn’t be paying all of them to ignore the law, and someone else might finally realize how dangerous he was and do something about it.
And now…
Harry had wondered, at first, how to phrase his resignation letter, whether it should be like some of the ones he’d seen in the past or unique or even as bland as he would make a Ministry memo. That was the sort of thing Thorin would seize on eagerly.
But he found that he had done his limit of Thorin-pleasing when he wrote the letter about Malfoy. So he simply wrote, I feel that I am no longer professional enough to be an Auror, and signed his name, and made multiple copies of that as well, before he sealed it into a number of envelopes.
Something hit his window. Harry turned and glanced up, his hand falling to his wand. He had renewed his wards after Malfoy broke into his home, but for all he knew, the bastard had just broken through them again.
No. Instead there was an owl there, a silvery creature that reminded Harry painfully of Hedwig, although the color on the tips of her feathers was brown rather than black. She battered and battered the glass, hooting impatiently when she saw him looking at her.
Harry wondered if the message could be from someone else, but then he glanced at the elaborate silver curlicue of the scroll around her leg, and snorted. No. This was from Malfoy, all right. And Harry didn’t see what he could add to the words they had already exchanged in the Three Blossoms earlier.
He Flooed instead of Apparating as he’d planned, so as not to open the door and give the owl a chance to get in. He ignored the way the hooting spiraled up into frantic. He was sorry, but she would just have to wait, or follow him to the Ministry.
He arrived through one of the fireplaces in the Atrium with a bang that made a lot of people turn to stare at him. Harry grimaced, shook out the foot that he’d caught on the edge of the hearth, and shrugged at the people watching him the same way he’d shrugged at the owl, before turning and making his way towards the lifts. He never Flooed gracefully at the best of times, and it mattered even less than usual now, considering how stupid he’d been and that he was leaving his job forever.
And then what?
Then I sort myself out, that’s right, Harry answered himself, and was glad that no one else was in the lift he took, because he didn’t know what the expression on his face looked like at the moment.
*
“Well. It all seems to be in order.”
Harry still didn’t know whether Thorin was actually in Malfoy’s pay or simply not inclined to view him as a threat, but he knew, as he watched the man’s bright smile and the way his fingers lingered on the parchment of the letters, that he had never liked him less than he did in that moment. Thorin really did care more about paper than people. No wonder he had been so unkind to Flowing the other day, after Malfoy’s spell destroyed her records.
“Can I go now, sir?” he asked.
Thorin looked up at him, and then chuckled and waved his hand. “No need to call me sir, really, now that you’re not an Auror anymore,” he said. “But yes, you can.”
Harry paused as he stood up, his hand still bracing his weight on the back of his chair. He hadn’t thought about that. He’d thought about what a mess he’d made of things, and how he would break the news to Ron, and whether or not his friends would approve of this gesture or try to persuade him to take his job back.
But he hadn’t thought about being free of Thorin and Ministry expectations for the first time in years.
Instead of walking out the door, he turned around again. Thorin was admiring the straight edges of the pile in front of him, and took a moment to look up. His face was as close to benevolent as it ever got.
“A final favor, Potter?” he asked. Harry wondered if it was his imagination that Thorin took particular pleasure in not using his old title, but he didn’t think so.
“I think you’re the worst Head Auror that we could have,” Harry said conversationally, “especially in years like this, after the war.”
Thorin’s face went white, and he stared at Harry in bewilderment, one hand creeping out as though he would snatch up something and use it as a weapon. But his desk was buried under nothing but paper. Harry thought even his wand might be somewhere at the bottom of one of the stacks.
“What are you talking about, Potter?” Thorin was whispering, his eyes narrowed. “Be very careful what you say to me. There are other candidates you know nothing about, and you know that the Ministry’s public reputation suffered during the war, as many of the Aurors as served You-Know-Who and his puppets. We have to—”
“Say his bloody name,” Harry hissed, taking a step forwards. “He’s years and years dead, and I know damn well you would be creeping around in fear every day of your life if you really didn’t think so! Instead, you give him silly titles and tremble out of reflex, because you never bloody think! Say his name!”
Thorin stood up, but kept himself carefully behind the desk, Harry noted, instead of moving out to confront him as Harry would have liked. “That is not the only standard of bravery, Potter, as you should well know,” he said. “You were not the only one who displayed courage during the war. And those who call him You-Know-Who have done more than you have to rebuild the world since then!”
“It’s a simple test,” Harry said relentlessly. “And if I’m not an Auror, if I’m the inconvenience and the burden that some people have told me I am since the war because I don’t understand the way the world really works, then I don’t have to care about the bloody standards that the rest of the world employs. I can care about just mine, and it’ll still be fine. Say his bloody name!”
Thorin’s hand dropped down to his wand. Harry drew his instantly, and held it to Thorin’s chest. He realized that he was trembling with excitement, and tried to stop, but it was hard.
“You’re mad,” Thorin whispered.
“Yes, that’s the kind of thing that you like,” Harry said, and finally managed to bring his tremors under control. He wasn’t actually going to curse Thorin, no matter how tempting it seemed. “To be able to accuse someone of being mad and out of control, so that you don’t have to listen to what they’re telling you.” He moved backwards and sneered at Thorin, who looked like he wanted to wet his trousers in response. “Well, I’m going to prove that I can walk away after all. Knowing you’re a coward, someone obsessed with the reports that people make instead of making sure those people are doing the right thing,” he added, and turned his back.
Thorin tried to curse him, a flash of red light Harry saw from the corner of his eye that could have been a Stupefy. He lifted a Shield Charm without even thinking about it, and didn’t stay to smile in satisfaction at the thump from behind him, that proved the spell had reacted on Thorin and Stunned him. He kept walking, ahead and down the corridor, and so to the lifts, and so out of the Ministry.
On the way down, he leaned against the back of the lift and sighed. Adrenaline had left him shaky.
So that was it. He hadn’t realized how long he had been itching to speak to Thorin like that, how long he’d been yearning to yell at him that his emphasis on procedure let more criminals go free to kidnap or curse or kill someone again.
Of course, it didn’t solve anything. Malfoy could still go on stealing and training other people in the Dark Arts, and he would probably still escape justice, because Thorin would hesitate to assign anyone else to the case.
Harry couldn’t change anything there. But then again, he didn’t think he could have changed anything if he’d stayed with the Department, either. Hermione was right; Thorin wouldn’t accept any proof. It was worth it if Harry could ease his own feelings and then go his way, no longer bound to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in any way whatsoever.
Harry closed his eyes, tilted his head back, and gave himself up to silent enjoyment of the future that he hoped he had in front of him.
*
He forgot and Apparated home instead of Flooing, and the first thing that happened as he came out of his Apparition was the owl who had tried so hard to corner him earlier swooping down at him. Harry sighed and ignored the way that her talons pricked at him as she landed on his arm; at least those hurt less than an owl bite, and he hadn’t been seriously injured by their claws at any time since he’d been in the wizarding world.
The silver scroll immediately unfolded itself and hung in the air in front of Harry when he reached over to untie it, speaking in a low, sweet voice like a reverse Howler. Harry assumed the owl would fly away the instant her message was delivered, but she sat there, looking alert and interested. He assumed that Malfoy had probably told her to wait for a response.
“What am I supposed to think, Harry? I thought you were at the stage where you could accept that I wanted you, but it seems you aren’t. You’re still thinking in terms of other people, as though I hurt them because I hated them. I didn’t. They’re incidental. You were the only one who mattered to me when I sent that magical owl to the Ministry.”
Harry rolled his eyes as Malfoy’s voice stopped speaking and the scroll tumbled to the ground. If he had bothered answering, he could have said that Malfoy not seeing anything wrong with this made it worse, rather than more harmless, but he was frankly tired of the whole affair.
Malfoy wouldn’t change. He wouldn’t understand why he should even if Harry asked him to. And Harry had made enough violent changes in his life lately. He wanted to relax and think about what he should do next, not embark on some mad relationship with Malfoy that would only end up in flames anyway.
“No message,” he told the owl.
She stared at him incredulously. Harry just waited, his arm extended stiffly in front of him, for her to take the hint and fly off. She crouched down for a moment as if she would shit on him, but then took off instead, soaring into the sky above Harry’s head with smooth, rapid wingbeats. Harry had the impression that she would have shaken her tail at him if she could have.
Harry watched her depart for a moment, and then went back into the house.
*
“Who am I supposed to work with now?”
Harry winced and leaned back in his seat. Ron’s whinging made him feel the worst about the whole affair, far worse than he had when he was contemplating what Auror would have to take Malfoy’s case next. But he was sure that this was still for the best.
“I wasn’t much good to you,” he reminded Ron quietly. “Obsessed with Malfoy, neglecting evidence and interviews that we were supposed to do on the other cases. Did I ever come back to Linton after I’d got what I wanted from her? I stole evidence, too, those letters that weren’t supposed to leave the Ministry. I could get you in trouble. And if I’m to the point where I’ll have sex with Malfoy for no discernible reason, then I’m to the point that you need a new partner.”
Ron considered him for a second with his head on his side, and then sniffed and reached for the platter of cheese and fruit that he’d only set down in the middle of the table a few minutes ago. “I thought you said that you—had sex with him—” He had far more trouble with the words than Hermione did. “—because you thought he might sleep for a while and let you have a look around the place.”
Harry nodded and swung his leg forwards far enough that it bumped into the bottom of the table. Hermione, who hadn’t said much all evening, just ate and listened to him with a sharp intensity, gave him a hard glance. Harry grunted an apology and focused on Ron. “I did think that. It was still stupid. Why in the world would he bring me to a place where he’d left evidence lying around? Enchanted by me or not, he wasn’t drunk or under the influence of a narcotic potion. I’d spent years studying him and trying to catch him, and I still underestimated him. That was stupid.”
“Yeah, that’s not like you.” Ron’s eyes were shadowed as he hesitated, then put down the piece of cheese he’d picked up without eating it. “But do you think that quitting the Ministry was any less stupid, Harry?”
“Yes,” Harry returned, and saw Hermione nod from the corner of his eye. A little buoyed that he had her approval, he smiled fiercely at Ron. “I was trying to obey Thorin’s stupid rules, and that isn’t like me, either.”
“The last few years, it is,” Ron said, and nodded as though he had scored a point in Quidditch.
“But when did you ever know me to obey rules before that?” Harry rubbed his face and gave Ron a wry look. “I changed myself trying to fit in, and all it earned me was the enmity of rules-obsessed superiors who knew that I would never be that good. They sensed I was different from them, and they hated it. Either that, or Thorin disliked me personally. I never did figure out which motive applied there.”
“I don’t know that it matters,” Hermione said quietly. “But you’ll have all the time that you need to figure that out. As long as you’re free now, that’s what’s important.” She reached out and took Harry’s hand, and he squeezed back, smiling at her.
He heard nothing from above, of course, because owls flew silently, and in any case, most of the owls that came to the glass house would be for Hermione, with her numerous important contacts in the Ministry, or for Ron, from his family. Harry didn’t expect it at all when the silvery owl slid towards him, aiming something fairly large and round directly at his face.
He didn’t have time to duck more than halfway, and by then, the owl had firmly lobbed the pie into his face, leaving it dripping with fine chocolate and cream. He reached up and flicked his wand to clear at least his eyes—he had the feeling, from the sensation of the cream against his skin, that it was going to cling and be hard to remove—and watched the owl wheeling up into the sky again, apparently aiming for the stars.
Hermione and Ron were sitting across the table with their mouths agape. Then Ron cleared his throat and said, “Hell, mate. What did you do to piss George off?”
“It was Malfoy, not George.” Hermione flicked her wand, in turn, and a few more blobs of cream vanished, but the others stayed. Harry sighed and went to work cleaning himself with harsher charms, while Ron, blinking, helped with a few that would protect his skin while the other spells were at work. “Harry, what did you say to him in that negotiation?”
“I asked what his price would be for leaving other Aurors alone if I quit the case.” Harry shook his head as the chocolate finally left his eyelashes and the fine web of silky cream on his cheeks melted. “Apparently he thinks leaving the Aurors is right up there with ignoring him.”
“Then what are you going to do with him?” Ron asked, with an undercurrent to his voice that Harry recognized. Ron was thinking about ways that he could defend Harry from anything else nefarious that Malfoy did.
Harry smiled and stuck the finger with the last drop of cream in his mouth, so he could savor the taste. It was perfectly cool, and ordinary, despite the way Hermione gasped in warning.
“Go on ignoring him,” he said, lowering the finger, “and leave it up to him to realize that there’s nothing binding us to each other the way we are. I’ve already told him and he won’t believe me, so it’s up to him to think of it on his own.”

*

Makoto_Sagara: Draco isn’t content to let it rest there, but just insulting and bothering Harry isn’t going to work. Especially since Harry doesn’t have the Auror rules holding him back now.

SP777: I felt there wasn’t much point in continuing that one scene after Draco had Apparated Harry out of his house.

Unneeded: Yes. Harry isn’t 100% sure of what to do next, either, but at least he’s done something to change the situation.
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