Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Leopardspaw	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 21311 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this fanfic.

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Chapter Fourteen—Figuring Out the Traces

            Kingsley Shacklebolt.

            Harry leaned back and stared at the words on the paper, the ones that had appeared when he used Malfoy’s charm himself. Then he shook his head. Sometimes he thought the universe was difficult just to fuck with him, its favorite toy.

            “Are you satisfied now that your beloved leader had something to do with this?”

            Harry blinked and looked up. “I wouldn’t say that satisfaction is my major emotion,” he said mildly. “And neither is he my beloved leader. If he’s involved in this, then I’m almost happy to have confirmation, so I can avoid trusting him with too much. But I still need to figure out if he managed to lie to me. If he did, then a lot of things need to change.”

            “Yes. Such as my hiring of you.”

            Harry rolled his eyes. He doubted that Malfoy would really let him go right now. Harry had too much knowledge of his father’s activities, too much chance of finding him, that Malfoy didn’t have on his own. He stood up. “We should see what we can learn if we ask the Mysterious Oracle.”

            Malfoy stared at him. His mouth had been open, as though he was going to continue the ridiculous line of thought that he and Harry should part ways now, but he shut it with a snap. “The Mysterious Oracle?” he said a moment later. “Is that another name for your common sense?”

            “Because it’s so unfamiliar to me, you mean?” Harry reached out to ruffle Malfoy’s hair, which he didn’t duck away from in time, probably because he couldn’t believe that someone would actually try that. “No. It’s the name of someone in Diagon Alley who offers answers to very specific questions if you bring payment along.”

            Malfoy smoothed his hair down with one furiously moving hand, while the other clenched into a fist. “If you’d told me about that,” he said, “I would have gone there in the first place, and I could have been spared this ordeal.”

            Harry fluttered his eyelashes at him. “Don’t say that, sweetheart! We never would have got to know each other otherwise.”

            “What makes you think I wanted to get to know you?”

            Harry smiled and reached for his cloak, which he smoothed carefully around his neck. The Oracle was particular about appearances, sometimes. Of course Malfoy would satisfy it; he was groomed already, despite the disruption Harry had wrought to his hair. “Maybe you didn’t at first, but now you need to ask yourself: How else can he be useful to me beyond the immediate matter of finding out where my father is?”

            Malfoy’s mouth clamped shut, and he stared at Harry.

            “I knew it,” Harry said, with a wise little nod. “You were thinking that. What you were trying to do is important, right, and you had to hire me for that—it wouldn’t have done you any good to go to the Oracle even if you knew about it, because your question was too broad-ranging. But now you’re wondering how else to use my gift of seeing lies.” To Malfoy, he could use the word “gift” without being ironic. It had brought Malfoy into his life, and that was worth a great deal. “What other applications could it have? Could I help you reestablish your life now that I’ve fucked a lot of it up, like with Flint and Corinna? Could I help you tell when someone selling you expensive ingredients is lying? What about it?”

            “There is no reason for me to keep you around,” Malfoy said, his voice low and charged. “You cause more trouble than you’re worth. And after I pay you what I owe you for this investigation, you’ll go away and have your ability to detect lies removed. That makes you much less valuable.”

            Harry bowed his head and extended his hands. “What if I said that, provided you kept me around, the only payment I would want is your company?”

            Malfoy gaped at him again.

            “I’m serious,” Harry said, and met his eyes, and tried to speak as calmly and steadily as he knew how, while keeping in mind that Malfoy wouldn’t have much reason to believe him. “I don’t need the money that you can offer me. Over time, I could get used to seeing lies. It’s brought me more happiness in the last few days than I knew it could. It’s brought me you.”

            Malfoy shook his head. The familiar sneer was back, and Harry considered ways to banish it even as he listened to Malfoy’s words. “You make no sense, Potter .Talking like you’re bloody in love with me, when you can’t be, not after a few days.”

            Harry sighed. “So many things about my life don’t make sense, Malfoy, that I decided long ago I had to make my own sense. I survived the Killing Curse, and the wizarding world reveres me to a ridiculous extent, as you saw yourself on Azkaban, and I’m the only Auror who has artifacts explode on me like this. I value your company, and I find you handsome and charming. It’s not being in love, maybe. It’s a good beginning to build on, though.”

            Malfoy took one step backwards, and then another. Harry moved towards him, hand still out, reassuring words on his lips.

            Malfoy shut his eyes and flung up his hands as though to hold Harry at bay with a wall. Harry moved back and waited, his own heart thundering louder in his ears than he had thought it would. Malfoy took a few minutes to breathe, and then slowly lifted his head and opened his eyes.

            “One more time,” he whispered. “We’ll be together one more time. One more mission, to find this Oracle and ask it the question you thought of. And then that’s the end, Potter. I’ll send you the contact information for the Potions master I told you about, and we’re even, and we’re done.”

            Harry lowered his eyes. He knew Malfoy might see something there to make him change that offer even further, perhaps say that he never wished to see Harry again, and that was something Harry couldn’t abide and wouldn’t jeopardize his chances for.

            “Just once,” Malfoy said, and his voice was as gentle as, Harry thought, he could make it, for all that he sounded rather peculiar. “Just—you’ll see in the end, Potter, that I’m doing this as much for your good as mine. It’s not good for you, to be with me.”

            Harry stared at him. Then he circled around Malfoy and stared at his back. Malfoy turned to keep pace with him, but not fast enough; it seemed to have occurred to him only a moment later that Harry might have wanted to stare at his arse, and he clapped one of his own hands to it. Harry sighed in envy of that hand.

            “What are you doing?” Malfoy’s voice had gone chill, and he had become that gracefully-moving, flowing figure again that Harry had seen in the Leaky Cauldron the first day they had met. “Do you think you can intimidate me out of my rightful decision? And it is my decision, not yours, to make. Most of the choices that we have in this investigation have been mine, whether you let me make them or not.”

            “I was just wondering if I would see some sign of your glamour fading at the back,” Harry said, and then stood on his toes and peered at the top of Malfoy’s head. “No, no red hair there, either.”

            Malfoy touched a hand to his hair this time, but his face was flushing as if scalded, and there was all the red that Harry could ask for there. “What?” he whispered. “You think—you dare—you would say that—”

            “Yes, I think, yes, I dare, yes, I would say that,” Harry said, standing back and shaking his head at Malfoy with a grin. “Because the only people who would go on about you not being good enough for me, frankly, are Weasleys. And I thought one of them might have kidnapped you and decided to glamour themselves in your place so they could send me away. God knows what they would do with you if they kidnapped you, either,” he added cheerfully, thinking about it. “It would probably depend on which one took you. Arthur would try to let you go someplace with a Memory Charm on you so you wouldn’t come near me again. George would keep you tied up and use you for experiments. Bill would lock you up in some ancient tomb and—”

            “Are you trying to threaten me?” Malfoy said, and his voice was so low that Harry had to concentrate to make out the words. “Are you trying to imply that your friends would do something to me if I don’t become your lover?”

            “If you did,” Harry told him, with the kind of patient look that he knew would drive Malfoy mad. “That’s what you’re talking about, aren’t you? Walking away from me. Deciding that you can’t be with me because it wouldn’t be good.” He rolled his eyes. “Grow up and embrace the Slytherin inside you, Malfoy. Since when did you care about acting good?”

            Malfoy opened his eyes wide and closed them again. Harry watched him, wondering if that was a peculiar series of eye exercises he’d never heard of.

            “There’s a difference between what’s good for you and what’s good for me,” Malfoy retorted in a whisper. “I’m trying to protect you, can’t you see that? You act so strange around me. Whether you enjoy tormenting me because of our past or because I’m a way to flaunt to the Ministry that you’re not as obedient as they think, it doesn’t matter. You should still get away from me and start living a normal life again.”

            Harry tried. He manfully tried. He bit his lip and bowed his head and sought for a serious expression that he could paste on his face. But in the end, it was just all too much, and he ended up staggering back and sitting down on the floor as he burst out laughing.

            Malfoy stiffened and glared at him.

            Harry shook his head. “And I think I’ve made it clear by now that I don’t hate you based on our past, given that I’m willing to work with you. You can believe me a heartless mercenary who’s only doing this for the reward you promised me, if you want, but still. I would have sabotaged the investigation by now if I hated you.”

            Malfoy said nothing, only stood there with his arms folded and his appearance so ruffled that Harry had to bite his lip again. This time, it at least served to let him get the last giggles out of his system.

            “And if I wanted to show you off to the Ministry,” Harry said, sitting up and wiping his eyes, “why would I have kept you a secret in the Ministry? I could have removed the Cloak at any time and revealed you.”

            Malfoy smiled, his teeth bright and his eyes shadowed. “Is that what you think? I have my own secrets.”

            Yes, like how to get through the wards on a Ministry interrogation room. Harry still had no idea how he had managed that, either.

            But it was something he could ask about later. He leaned forwards and fixed his eyes on Malfoy’s face. “In the meantime, you haven’t considered the simplest explanation, and one would think that you really would. What about if I fancy you? Is that so hard to imagine? I’ve told you why. And I can see when you’re lying, remember. For the most part, you’ve tried to remember that.”

            Malfoy stood there with his face turning steadily pink. Harry found himself filled with an obscure pity as he watched. He’s really not used to being complimented, is he? Maybe not on anything that doesn’t have to do with brewing skill, anyway. Maybe if I had started out praising his potions, he would have believed me more.

            But the point was that he didn’t have to believe Harry completely. He just had to believe him enough to put off trying stupid tricks like this.

            “You must have seen that I believe you getting away from me is the best thing for both of us,” Malfoy said at last. “Because you would have seen the red glow around my head if I was lying to you.”

            Harry sighed pityingly. “Believing you when you say something like that is a very long way from thinking that it would be best myself.” He scrambled up and dusted himself off. “Besides, we’re wasting time. You promised me one last mission, to the Oracle, one last adventure together.”

            “Yes…” Malfoy said, still staring. “And having it over so soon is what you wish to do?”

            Harry rolled his eyes. “The sooner we have it, the sooner I get to enjoy your company one last time. And the sooner it’s over, the sooner you’re rid of me. And the sooner we continue our investigation, the sooner we can find out what happened to your father, and the less chance Kingsley has to slip away from us.” He waved the parchment with its duplicated signatures again. “I believe that it was him who wrote this letter. But I still want to know why, and that’s not something I’m going to learn by sitting around this kitchen chatting to you.”

            Malfoy stared at him, then gave a sudden series of jerky nods and rose to his feet. “I don’t understand why you fancy me,” he muttered, as he passed Harry.

            Harry looked closely, but there was nothing, not even the faint trace of a sunset glow. Not fishing for compliments, then.

            “Because you’re beautiful and graceful all around,” Harry said.

            Malfoy jerked as though Harry had knifed him, and then kept walking. Harry shrugged and followed him. Malfoy ought to have the ability himself to tell when someone was lying; it was probably the only way he would consent to believe Harry.

*

            “This is your Oracle?”

            Harry was glad that he was facing away from Malfoy so he could safely roll his eyes. He needed to roll his eyes, it was something he required, but it was silly for him to act as though Harry had invented the Oracle and was showing it to him out of—spite, or something sillier, simply because he had never heard of it before.

            “Not the building,” Harry said. “The person inside it.” He stepped easily forwards, past the illusion of stone walls and the wards that guarded it at the same time. The Oracle would repel visitors who didn’t honestly seek it, or people who wanted to take it apart and find out how it worked. Harry had learned that the hard way, the first time he wandered into the building to gratify some idle curiosity and found his nose almost plastered across his face because he’d run straight into stone.

            He glanced over his shoulder, wondering if hearing that story would cheer Malfoy up, and found him standing still, staring around. Harry gestured impatiently to him. “Don’t tell me that you’re honestly doubting me,” he said. “The Oracle won’t let you in if you don’t want the answer.” Something else occurred to him, and he frowned. “Or if you don’t have payment, but we do, so I don’t know why—”

            “You expect me to pay for this, of course,” Malfoy interrupted. His head was high, his cheeks flushed, his whole body as tense and strained as though he was walking with poles thrust through the middles of his legs.

            Harry took great pleasure, given that, in meeting his eyes and saying quietly, “No, I don’t. I’m going to pay for it. God knows that I’ve got enough Galleons in my vaults.”

            Malfoy stared at him, his breath fast. Harry might have been worried about the audience they’d attracted, but they were inside the illusion now, and anyone else who passed would see only the small, squat, thick-walled building. Very few actually sought the Oracle, and Harry didn’t know how it kept alive. Then Malfoy said, “I will pay for it.”

            “You can if you want,” Harry said.

            Malfoy shook his head. His hands shook at his sides. He said, “Stop it.”

            “Stop what?” Harry looked down at his hands, wondering if Malfoy was once again ordering him to stop something that he couldn’t, such as being a good Auror or detecting lies.

            “Stop acting as though—stop offering to pay for things and trying to get into my good graces,” Malfoy finished in a rush. “It’s not going to work, you know.”

            “Oh, I know that,” Harry said. “If compliments and telling you the truth and making you feel good don’t get me into your good graces, telling you that I have money of my own and can pay for things won’t.”

            Malfoy closed his eyes and pressed one hand to the middle of his forehead. The hand still shook. “You make it sound as though you mean it, when you say you fancy me,” he whispered. “And it’s impossible.”

            Harry could work his way through that peculiar logic without much trouble, which was good, he thought, because Malfoy wasn’t inclined to explain it. Malfoy expected Harry to ask for money, or at least for Harry to rely on him because he was the one who had hired Harry in the first place. But by saying that he had money, Harry said that he had some independence, and also said that he cared enough to spend those Galleons on Malfoy.

            Which meant, under everything else, a real sign of caring for someone like Malfoy, who had probably grown up with his parents buying him expensive gifts.

            Harry made his voice as gentle as he could. “Come on. We’re not going to get to the Oracle by standing out here and arguing. We can discuss payment when the Oracle actually demands it.”

            And he turned and walked further into the building. He counted one, two, three heartbeats before he heard the noise of Malfoy’s footsteps following.

            Harry smiled and glanced down at his stained hands. At the moment, he would almost have liked to thank the Unspeakables who had invented that artifact.

*

            js: Thank you!

            polka dot: Bringing back Voldemort wouldn’t really accomplish that, since Voldemort would demand that he got to kill Harry instead.

            jujukitty: Thank you! I’m having a lot of fun writing this story.

            SP777: The content of the letter, you mean? Yes, that’s one reason Harry has trouble believing Kingsley is part of a conspiracy to destroy Lucius’s soul.

            Seiren: I haven’t decided exactly what kinds of sex scenes I’ll have yet, although at the moment they’ve had one already, in Chapter 8.

            Nightlo: Thank you!

            unneeded: Sorry you didn’t get to see Harry cast it, but you do get to see the interpersonal results, anyway!4
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