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Harco Empire	By : Toddy Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 34430 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or films. I do not make any money from the writing of this story, just enjoyment.

Chapter List
- 141
- 142
- 143
[Note: “x-x” = speech & ‘x-x’ = thoughts & *x-x* = telepathy & #x-x# Parseltongue]
FUNICULARS
~~~ MORNING – Friday 6^th August ~~~
The border to Madrid Atocha: 08.45
Had they been attached to the hotel train they would have circled around Madrid and alighted at Chamartin station. Instead their private coaches took a short cut from Villaverde Bajo into Madrid Puerto de Atocha station, where they ran alongside a short side platform and stopped. Breakfast was served whilst the carriages were in the platform before they started on their tour of the Spanish Capital.
As the company alighted Fawkes contacted them: *Do well what you have to do, Draco my son; look out for spies.*
Despite questioning Fawkes refused to elucidate them further, so Draco was in a foul mood before they left.
On alighting and walking towards the centre of the capital, they were surprised by the semi-tropical garden in the station circulating area. It had been the original passenger train-shed and was converted when the new all-concrete platforms and canopies were added. Passing outside they noticed the contrast between the humid atmosphere of the concourse and the dry hot dusty streets through which they made their way via the Plaza Mayor to the Royal Palace. Once inside, it was cooler and they had a personal conducted tour of the magnificent building. At one time the company was shown into one of the secluded portrait rooms.
“The missing portrait of Don Luiz Podrido-Temporal has not been replaced,” said the guide: “It was reputed to be haunted and moved to watch you. It was stolen about twenty years ago, and the alarms were still intact. It is still a complete mystery how the thief entered and removed it, frame and all.” A photograph of the picture was handed round.
D: *That’s my father for you; he told me that he bought it at an auction and it was Louis Malfoy, one of our lost ancestors. It definitely moves, no wonder the muggles said it was haunted.*
H: *You ought to return it, Lover.*
D: *Yes, I think I will. I’ll discuss it with Mother when we return. Louis … I mean Don Luiz … Was a nasty piece of work, always reporting me to Father for minor infractions. I can get my own back and he’ll get an everlasting stiff neck pretending to be a muggle painting.*
H: *Do you think that’s what Fawkes wants you to do?*
D: *Probably! He spied on me and I’m not feeling grumpy any more … Hmm … That’s it!*
Harry giggled and got a black look from Hermione; because the guide was explaining about the last person to be garrotted who was later found to be innocent.
###
Emerging blinking in the bright sunlight, Aggie led them onwards to the Teleférico to the Casa de Campo. In order to travel the party had to split in two with one of their lady guides in each car. Maggie was in Draco’s and Harry’s car and showed them the various buildings as they soared a hundred feet above the city. They alighted and looked at the amusement park, not really fancying its attractions just then. So Maggie walked them into the trees, it was obvious that she had a destination in mind, not that she declared where they were going.
Under some trees were the inevitable tartan rugs and a supply of cool Valdepeñas to accompany their lunch. There were three strolling players entertaining the people with stories. At Aggie’s request they came to the group. Once the players found that their audience was English they used a heavily accented version of that language to tell them a story. It was about a crazy gentleman who pretended windmills were evil giants and tried to kill them with a lance. There were other stories about Don Quixote as well. The players kept them enthralled for nearly two hours with stories about the crazy knight and his squire, Sancho Panza. The players were obsequiously thankful of the munificent propina Maggie disbursed.
Entertainment over, the party walked through the trees.
“You know, I can sympathise with Don Quixote. I felt like that when I was alone fighting Voldie. Yes I know you all helped and encouraged, but it felt like an impossible task, quite often.”
“Go on, Harry; you were sane, not like that crazy old buffer.” Ronald punched Harry playfully.
“No? That’s not what Fudge and Umbridge thought, was it? Then; most of you thought I was making things up sometimes.”
“Well you weren’t, and things worked out all right in the end.”
“As it did with the boy tied to the tree in the story, didn’t it?”
“Well lover, there’s at least one difference.”
“What’s that?”
“The person who was your tormentor now loves you; so you won’t be disillusioned at the end, will you?”
Harry smiled wistfully and held Draco’s hand for the stroll downwards, leading to a metro station. There Harry was covertly spotted by a pre-warned lurker, one whom Seamus recognised.
“Don’t look now guys, but we’re being followed. It’s a satrap.”
“How are your illusions today?”
“Okay! Why do you ask, Aggie?”
“Talk loudly about returning to your hotel, and then make your illusions get on the opposite train. Meanwhile we’ll duck down an alley.”
They chuckled and quickly did as they were told. The watcher fell for it and got on the other train. They then returned to the other platform and boarded a train going the other way.
Once moving, Ronald asked: “Okay Aggie, why the hotel?”
“If they think you’re staying in Madrid they’ll check out all the hotels, won’t they? There are hundreds of them. By that time we’ll be well away.”
A couple of changes later they emerged into the covered garden of Atocha, but without their spy. Their carriages now resided in a different platform attached to the back of a train bound for Malaga; it left at half past six. Draco and Harry reported to Fawkes what had happened, and received his usual ‘well done’ commendation.
~~~ EVENING ~~~
Madrid Atocha: 18.30 – Bobadilla Antequera: 21.50
On leaving Madrid the surroundings were of railways and factories, so they were easily enticed into the air conditioned coolness of the lounge car. Before the train arrived at Alcázar de San Juan, Maggie pointed out the ridge with the Cervantes type windmills on it and, using a map, she showed them the various villages and towns whose names the author had used in the book. Dinner came and went and, just before ten, their carriages ceased moving; having been quickly detached and left behind by the electric train at a junction station.
~~~ MIDNIGHT ~~~
Bobadilla Antequera: 22.10 – Granada: Midnight-ish.
Quarter of an hour later a shabby engine driver appeared and boarded. He chatted to Iggy as their private train moved sluggishly onwards. It was dark outside and the train was ambling along in no obvious hurry.
“How well populated is this area, Aggie?”
“Not many people around, Mr Harry, being agriculturists most of them will be well tucked in bed by now. Why do you ask?”
“Well, if we opened the gates at the back we could get on our broomsticks and have a fly. There are no electrical masts and wires and not that many line-side trees.”
She smiled enigmatically: “Now don’t let the driver see you or I’ll be in all sorts of trouble. It might be easier to launch off the back,” so she let down the back fall-plate over the spare connections.
The Quidditch players could easily beat the speed of the train and went forward, high enough not to be seen, following the moonlit silvery path the train was to take. Returning every now and again, whooping and hollering in glee, swooping by the lighted rear-carriage windows. At nearly midnight, the train was the only sign of habitation. Upon nearing their destination they spotted the lights of a city and wisely decided to come on board before anyone observed them.
~~~ GRANADA ~~~
Saturday 7^th August
It was slightly cooler in the morning; they ate another late breakfast in the dining car before climbing the hill to the Alhambra. Someone had been spraying water under the trees and the smell was heavenly. After the rapid hiking round busy Madrid the day before, it was very pleasant to mooch around in the shade of the delicately tiled arcades and Moorish arches. There was a cooling breeze upon the hill and it would occasionally ruffle the mirrored surface of the many pools. There was no hurry to go anywhere and they sat looking out at the scenery, or chatted, or held hands, or admired the exquisite detail of the architecture as the mood took them. Lunch was on one of the many terraces, eaten in absolute relaxation. Their tranquil mood lasted until the late afternoon.
###
Back on the train the pairs partook of long showers and then went out to a local hostelry for dinner. No ordinary meal this, there was a floor show as well. In the cool Spanish evening the hot Spanish Flamenco was sung and danced, stirring up the blood for romance. Still mentally dancing they boarded the train and got down to business. Being Draco’s turn to bottom that night, Harry played a light fandango with his thrusts.
~~~ SUNDAY 8^TH AUGUST ~~~
Granada: 22.10 – Barcelona Sants: 09.50
Because Granada station was a terminus Draco expected the carriages to be travelling backwards; he woke Harry in a slight panic because the carriages were again travelling in the forward direction.
As they went for breakfast his mate saw a crew member: “Good morning Siggy; are we going back to Madrid?”
“Good morning, Mr Harry; did you sleep well? No; we’re not going back to the capital although we did return to Alcázar by a different route before reversing. We’re aiming at Barcelona.”
During the meal they had their first glimpse of the Mediterranean; viewed over hedges of twining pink and purple ipomoea. Avoiding Valencia station and travelling via St Vinceç de Calders they arrived at a gloomy station beneath Barcelona.
“Hey, Mike, what are you doing here?”
“Hello, Draco; is there somewhere where we can talk privately?”
“Just me or everyone?”
“Everyone, please?”
“How about the lounge car? That’s enclosed and we could cast an ‘Obscuro Sonus’.”
“Okay.”
Michael followed Draco and sat in one of the comfortable chairs. Draco went to round up the others.
“I sense a muggle and some squibs?” said Michael looking round.
“Dudders, my cousin you already know, he’s Millie’s husband,” volunteered Harry: “The squibs are the train crew, all very, very discreet. What’s the problem?”
“Kingsley sent me; there’s been a threat to some muggle people-carrying contraptions near here. The few remaining Spanish Aurors are already sussed; or so they tell me. Kingsley thought you might like to help.”
“But we’re on holiday,” complained Ronald.
“Yes I know. It’s Draco’s dad again, we think. Not that he’ll be there in person. He’s like a spider hiding in its web; however, he’s trying to blackmail the Catalan authorities into giving him a large amount of money.”
“What exactly are these contraptions you talk about?” asked Maggie.
“The tone of the threat suggests the funiculars on Montserrat.”
“We intended going there, anyway,” posited Aggie: “We had arranged for the abbot to conduct a short service there as it was Sunday.”
*This is one of your tasks, my sons.*
Harry looked round at his mates and sighed: “We can hardly refuse can we? Especially as we were being taken there to see the monastery and its mountain. John would say it’s the Spirit leading us.”
There were a few sighs; then Millicent spoke up: “C’mon Guys, I know I was against heroics at Hogwarts, but I’ve grown up since. Remember what Harry said after we’d listened to Don Quixote’s story. We know him; he’ll go in regardless; so let’s back him up properly, okay?”
“OKAY!”
~~~ METRE GAUGE ~~~
Barcelona Plaza Espanya: 10.37 – Montserrat: 12.45
They deliberately chose outfits that made them look muggle-like and different from each other, ensuring that their wands were easily available and yet hidden. Walking to Plaza Espanya Station they caught the regular metre gauge train, changing once to reach the foot of Montserrat. There they met the Catalan magical liaison officer, whom Michael quietly introduced. Boarding another set of vehicles had them climbing on a rack railway up the side of the mountain. Softly, Señor Garcia filled them in and pointed out the various places where danger might occur. The increasing views were breath-taking and when they arrived at the monastery’s plaza they fanned out making a short reconnaissance of the two funiculars that ran from the plaza to two different view-points.
Señor Garcia made himself scarce so as not to be recognised; Harry and Draco sat, pretending to share out the contents of their knapsacks, but in fact sending out their specially disguised probing charms to see if other mages were present. Only they could do this because of their mutuality in magic, as one made the probe the other one disguised it.
“There are two teams of four satraps, both in the vicinity of a different funicular. We need some of us at the base so that if the cables are severed we can levitate the carriages gently down to rest.” Harry was in his best organising mood. “Draco and I with Pans and Greg will range up and down the top funicular, Hermione and Ron with Michael, Dean and Seamus will do the same on the bottom one. We’ll use the medallions to communicate. The rest will form a back-up team, just in case. Dudders, if you stay on the plaza with Millie you can phone the police once we’ve got the satraps under control … Millie don’t pout, you have to defend Dudders as well as yourself, got it?”
The teams dispersed, Garcia-supplied cameras clicking, and pointing out the wonderful views, just like the hordes of tourists there. Harry spotted someone in an orange jacket seemingly adjusting something under one of the wheeled cabins; a quick probe confirmed that the bloke was up to no good. Draco spotted someone else messing with the lines; then Michael found the two lookouts, photographing them surreptitiously whilst Harry got Greg to saunter up to where their little team was based.
“Incarcerous on three: One … Two … INCARCEROUS!”
The malefactors didn’t know what had hit them; The ‘Top Team’ wandered covertly over to them and cast a concealing charm and a Mobilicorpus. Taking them quietly into custody and down to the Plaza.
###
The ‘Bottom Team’s’ rescue was a little more spectacular, because their malcontents had managed to snap the cable. The upper car’s fail-safe device hadn’t been interfered with, so it just juddered to a stop. The lower car’s safety device had been altered so it started to accelerate towards the bottom trailed by whipping cables. A joint amended Mobilliarbus from Dean and Seamus hit the descending car, decelerating it to a stop just before it struck the buffers at the bottom. Its passengers were screaming, but apart from being frightened and some soiled underwear none of them were hurt.
The two teams met Garcia and handed over the eight prisoners, also returning his cameras with the record of the incriminating evidence inside them. He encapsulated the prisoners and sent them off to his headquarters. By that time it was lunch time, so they found some outdoor tables because the train-crew had brought a repast for them all.
After a late lunch, the abbot welcomed them; during the service he said prayers of thanks with them and, as a special thank-you treat, had one of his monks show them round the monastery’s secret places. They never did get up the mountain because of the timetable for the next leg of the journey. Needless to say Garcia was extremely thankful for their help; explaining that the press were to be told that some special agents had foiled the bid.
~~~ ARRANGEMENTS ~~~
Montserrat: 15.00 – Barcelona Plaza Espanya: 17.08
“If there is anything my section can do to help, just let me know?” Garcia said on the trains back to the city centre.
“Actually there is something,” Draco began: “I believe the Palacio Real has a missing painting. I think I know of its whereabouts. Once we return to Britain I would like to return it, but with as little fuss as possible. Perhaps you could manage that.”
“I think I know which one you refer to. Only a mage could have stolen it without setting off the alarms. I’m sure we could sort that for you, found in an art raid and held for evidence, and then released back to its original owners, would probably cover it. Now you mention it, I do believe I know who the thief was, Podrido-Temporal might just translate into Malfoy, might it not?”
Draco gave Garcia a knowing look and shook his hand.
*I see you have made a success of all your missions,* crowed Fawkes.
~~~ ONWARDS ~~~
Barcelona: 17.30 – Cerbère: 20.10
Cerbère: 21.00 – Narbonne: 22.30
They were earlier than usual leaving Barcelona because the coaches had to be re-gauged at Cerbère. The journey along the coast gave them some magnificent views of the Mediterranean and the unusual plants bordering the track, some of which appeared to be cacti. Dinner was served whilst the train’s wheel were being altered back to the French gauge. After which Aggie found a video taken from the top of Montserrat, thus compensating for their missed views at the summit.
Unbeknown to them a number of floo calls were being made once the Seignior was apprised of the failure of his scheme. He was not pleased with those particular minions for losing his chance of money making. He plotted how to get his revenge, but needed to find where Harry and co were staying. Because of their earlier deception and not thinking of a night train, the remaining malcontents spent a very exhausting day checking all the likely hotels in Barcelona. Meanwhile our party was now in France snoring away; tucked into a quiet siding in Narbonne.
~~~ MONDAY 9^TH AUGUST ~~~
Their morning was spent in a large minibus touring the African Reserve Game Park. The animals seemed to take no notice of them inside the vehicle, so close-up photos of rhinos and lions were quite possible. At one time their vehicle had to slow to a crawl because there were two sedate ostriches walking along the middle of the road. One of them looked back and then seemed to say something to its companion.
“Look at that pair, they remind me of two of our more elderly professors,” said Dean. “I bet they’re saying: ‘Don’t look now, dear, but I think we’re being followed’.”
Everyone chuckled.
There was a large walk round area containing, as well as other enclosures, a crocodile pool. The monsters were paddling around lazily, and surprisingly, various ducks were also swimming there.
Ginevra went to one of the attendants, using broken French she tried to explain that she was worried that the ducks would get eaten.
“No need to worry, my dear;” the keeper said in a cut-glass English accent and with an absolutely straight face: “The raptors don’t like the feathers tickling as they go down.”
Ginevra did a double take, and then started laughing; it turned out that the attendant was on a swap placement from Regents Park Zoo in London.
~~~ FORTRESS ~~~
Narbonne: 12.30 – Carcassonne: 13.00
Back in the train for a quick railway lunch had them in Carcassonne and at the platform. They alighted and walked towards the mediaeval town which had all its walls standing proud. Their approach, from the bottom of the fortification, made them realise how difficult it would have been to attempt storming such a place. Once inside and after walking around the top of the walls, they sat in the cobbled square to have tea under the lime trees. Afterwards there was the castle and some interesting exhibitions to explore before returning to the square again at dusk. Dinner was served on a restaurant balcony and took some time, because they paused frequently to look at the son et lumière presentation. That was followed by spectacular fireworks.
“Not as good as George’s,” muttered Ronald.
“What do you expect, there’re only muggles, after all,” Draco said in his haughtiest voice.
Harry scowled at his lover, who winked at him.
*I hope that stopped him from grumbling all night,* Draco sent.
Again; they were spotted by one of the Seignior’s scouts, but, as on the following morning they returned to Narbonne and continued to Nîmes, the followers were put off the scent: realising that they were on a train and assuming that the friends were travelling westwards along the Pyrenean foothills towards Lourdes. Whilst the Seignior laid plans to intercept them; their night was spent peacefully in a siding close to Carcassonne station.
~~~ TUESDAY 10^TH AUGUST ~~~
Carcassonne: 06.00 – Nîmes: 08.00 – Remoulins siding 09.00
They woke as they went through Narbonne station again. Breakfast was partaken as they travelled along a spit of land between the sea and a lagoon, they marvelled at the pink cloud of flamingos rummaging in the shallow water.
The reason for the Nîmes stop was a special treat. The carriages were routed into a disused side-platform where another crew member came on board to take them along a freight only line to just beyond Remoulins. There was a factory there in whose head-shunt [part of the disused line to Uzés] the carriages were shunted. A walk through the woods along a private path had them arrive at an amazing sight.
There stood the one-hundred and sixty feet high Pont du Gard, a stunning triple decker roman aqueduct over the river. It was part of a long water-channel of over thirty miles in length, feeding water from a spring at Uzés to the roman town of Nîmes. Although no longer carrying water, it was rescued by Napoleon, or so they were told, and they assayed to walk up the steps and along the unguarded top. Their guide explained about the masonry being so finely cut that there was no need for mortar.
“I’m not sure I want to walk across that.”
“You’ll be alright if you walk in the trough where the water ran.”
“It’s a bit tight, just look at the thickness of the deposited lime-scale. I don’t fancy walking under the capstones and I’m definitely not walking on top of them. There’re no railings.”
“Bloody hell! Did you see that?”
“What, Ron?”
“That bloke, he dived off the bridge. I’d have second thoughts about launching myself with a broom between my legs from this height.”
They watched another young man take the plunge, agreeing with Ronald’s estimation of difficulty.
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