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Harry's Project	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 11256 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Thanks again for all the reviews!

Chapter Two�Harry Is
Clever, Draco Is Cruel

�� It hadn�t
actually been that hard to get an appointment to see the widow Ambrosius. She
might breed house-elves, but she mostly had humans working for her, especially
in the Diagon Alley office that took orders to breed certain types of elves.
Harry walked in and leaned casually against a doorway until someone noticed
him. In this case, that particular �someone� was a young witch with extremely
blonde hair, who sat behind the desk in the front of the office and had just
finished with another visitor. Then he straightened, pulled out the smile Hermione
called the smile, and took a step
forwards.

�� The smile had seen a lot of use in the
past year, since Harry decided that he wanted to have relationships with men.
He had worried about how to approach them at first, when he was only used to
flirting with women, but he had quickly discovered that the gay wizards he met
in pubs and at parties were mostly after the same thing he was: a swift fuck
with an attractive partner. The attractive
part was important. And Harry had practiced the smile in front of a mirror until he knew exactly how well it
lit up his eyes and made them shine like open flowers in full sun. It made him
more approachable, too, which was important with the lightning bolt scar and
the reputation for continual arrests and captures he bore.

�� Now it was
working on the witch in front of him. She flushed deeply and leaned back in her
chair, one hand rising to pat at her hair as if she were worried about its
escaping from a largely nonexistent style. Then she cleared her throat and
tried to look professional.

�� Harry
leaned on her desk and gave her a large dose of the smile so she would stop trying that silly thing, and then murmured,
�I suppose you know who I am?� He could manage to sound bashful about his
reputation when he tried, and he was trying now.

�� I�I do,
Mr. Potter.� The witch cleared her throat again. �I don�t suppose you want an
order for a certain type of house-elf?� She ducked her head and peered up at
him through her lashes. �You have reasons not to buy from us, after all.�

�� Harry felt
a small surge of admiration for her. She hadn�t crumbled in the face of the smile right away; in fact, she had
remembered his association with Hermione and Hermione�s vigorous campaign to
abolish the ownership of house-elves altogether. That didn�t mean Harry would
let her get away with denying him, but still.

�� Actually,�
he said, leaning towards her and lowering his voice in a way that he knew
thrilled the people he spoke to, �I�d like to make an appointment to see Mrs.
Ambrosius.� He turned his head and met her gaze full on with a pair of
magnificent green eyes�or at least he was fairly sure they were magnificent,
from hearing it so many times.

�� This kind
of flirting still troubled Harry, in the part of him that bothered to keep
track of his effect on other people. But it was necessary to get this job
done�and sometimes the ordinary job, too, when they ran into people who were intrigued
enough by the famous Harry Potter to confess their secrets freely. Harry had
decided it was not his fault if
people thought he was handsome because he�d cared enough to sacrifice himself
for the world. It was useful, and as long as he could keep busy and perform the
job he�d taken up, he didn�t mind that much. It did them no permanent harm.

�� The witch
swallowed, and then said, �Mrs. Ambrosius is very busy, you know. She�s a
mother as well as a businesswoman. No one just waltzes in and sees her, not
even the famous Harry Potter.� She
seemed to know what effect he was having on her, to suspect it was deliberate,
and to be fighting it.

�� Harry
widened his eyes and bit his lip, a move that he knew made him look childishly
innocent and desperate. �Oh, but I wasn�t trying to waltz in,� he said, and
lowered his eyelashes modestly. �I was following the correct procedures, after
all. I just want to see and talk to her, and I know that this is the place you
have to make an appointment.�

�� Surely the
Ministry could give you an order��

�� Oh, but
it�s not connected to a case.� Harry let his cheeks flush lightly, keeping his
gaze on his hands. �Not official. This is just a favor for a friend, a favor
that involves me having a candid and clear conversation with the widow
Ambrosius.� He let his gaze wander back up to her, and lowered his voice once
again. �I don�t suppose you could let me visit her anyway, even though it�s not official?�

�� The witch�s
hand wavered for a long moment. Harry, studying her with an eye sharpened by
five years of Auror training and then ordinary work in the field, could tell
she was intrigued, as well as uneasy lest she make a mistake her mistress would
scold her for.

�� All
right,� she said suddenly, at last. �But of course I have to tell her who�s
coming, and you have to realize that she may change the time and date of the
meeting.� She was already writing down a date that Harry recognized, from
reading it upside-down, as next Thursday. �And if she does keep the same time,
she�ll expect you to arrive promptly.� She handed the parchment over to Harry,
who turned it and read the expected date, as well as 5:00, the former Malfoy Manor. �Will you be available to owl?�

�� Harry
looked up with a smile that he hoped to make dazzling in its simplicity, even
though it was not the smile. �I will
be. Thank you very much��

�� He let his
voice trail off, and she flushed and murmured, �Cynthia.�

�� Cynthia.�
Harry caught her hand and kissed it, then strolled casually out of the shop.
Let her have a glimpse of his arse, if she wanted one, as payment for her
trouble.

�� She took
it. Harry had become very good at knowing when eyes were following him.

*

�� Harry
Apparated to the white gravel path outside Malfoy Manor, and then raised his
eyebrows.

�� The Malfoys�
former home had certainly changed.

�� Gone were
the wall and the iron gates that had closed it off from the world on the day
that Harry came to return Draco�s wand. Instead, the house was surrounded by a
clear, spreading strip of land sculpted into small hillocks, with rich green
grass covering them. Small, single trees perched on the hillocks above equally
small and singular ponds. Here and there a cluster of wildflowers grew, but
never high enough or brilliant enough to severely challenge the trees. Harry
felt himself relaxing without effort. This was the kind of place that he would
have liked to live.

�� The white
gravel path ran to the front door. As Harry clapped the knocker, he glanced up
in admiration at the house. It had been dark and brooding before, looking as if
it had been built by someone with more money than taste. (Of course, it had been built by a Malfoy). It was pale
now, with white and blue stone worked into twining patterns among the dark wood
and black stone, and the myriad windows were thrown open to the sunlight.

�� The door
opened at once, and a graceful, dignified house-elf, taller than any Harry had
ever met, bowed to him. �Master Harry Potter is expected,� the elf said. Even
its voice wasn�t as squeaky as the others�. �If he will come in and make
himself comfortable in the front drawing room? Mistress will be with him
shortly.�

�� Harry
followed the elf through a variety of glittering corridors with actual
restraint behind the decorations, and found himself in an octagonal room
obviously meant for viewing the sunset. The window was the focal point of the
entire set-up, and showed the light coming in perfectly across a delicately
trimmed expanse of lawn. Harry sank back into a comfortable chair, and found
himself with a cup of tea in his hand. He blinked and looked up, but the elf
had already departed.

�� He had just
a few moments to sip and glance around before Pansy Ambrosius walked calmly
through a door on the opposite side of the room he had entered by. Harry stood
up without having consciously decided to do so.

�� Pansy
Parkinson in Hogwarts, from what he could remember, had been pug-nosed,
square-faced, and not particularly attractive even without the constant sneer on her face. This woman was beautiful.
Harry hadn�t spent a lot of time appreciating female beauty in the past year,
but he hadn�t foresworn women altogether, and he felt a stirring of interest.

�� It wasn�t
just her face, either, which had a deep tinge of healthy color to rival the
sunset, or the carefully brushed dark hair hanging to her shoulders. Her
expression had changed and relaxed. She was a woman in command of her
environment, by the tilt of her head and the direct stare of her eyes, and she
knew it. Harry had always found self-confidence attractive.

�� He offered her
his hand. Pansy clasped and shook it, then let him kiss the back of her fingers.
She merely watched him thoughtfully, and didn�t blush the way most people of
Harry�s acquaintance would on being touched by him.

�� A favor
for a friend,� she repeated, as if he had just now spoken those words to
Cynthia. �What does that mean,
Potter?�

�� Good. She won�t dance around the subject. �I
learned recently,� Harry said, �by accident, that the accusations the Malfoy
family made a few years ago were true. The Ministry did arrange to illegally transfer their money and buildings away
from them. Where they went, the Malfoys weren�t sure at the time, because they
were prevented from finding out who owned their homes afterwards. But now I
know that their property was an �anonymous� gift to Ambrosius Holdings.�

�� Yes,
that�s correct.� Pansy watched him curiously. �I can assure you that I believed
it was anonymous at the time, and did not learn the truth until after my
husband�s death.�

�� Harry
blinked. He�d been prepared for at least a little
opposition. �All right.� He bit his lip for a moment, then said, �Well,
I�ve come to ask you if you would consider restoring their homes to the
Malfoys. And an amount of Galleons comparable to the amount of Galleons
Ambrosius Holdings took from them.�

�� Pansy
smiled a little, then looked away from him. �Why?�

�� Harry
relaxed. This sounded more like the conversation he�d already planned out in
his mind. �Because I know that you�ve made a fortune on your own, above and
beyond the Ambrosius fortune, given your breeding of house-elves,� he said. �I
would like to see that fortune remain with you, whilst at the same time, you
restore the Malfoys�. You don�t need that
money��

�� Pansy
laughed and turned to regard him again. �Once could argue that the Malfoys
don�t need it, either. They�re living well enough, aren�t they?�

�� Better
than many people,� Harry had to agree. �But I�ve been to see them, and it�s
wrecked their spirits. Or at least Draco�s spirit. I didn�t get to see Lucius
or Narcissa.�

��

�� Ah,
Draco.� Pansy sat down in the chair nearest her and arranged her dress robes
prettily over her knees. They were a pale mauve color, just the shade of the
sky above the setting sun, and Harry had to admit they made her look like a
queen. �Draco�s spirit is so easily wrecked.� She glanced up at him, tilting
her head back and baring her throat. Someone else might have thought this made
her the picture of vulnerability. Harry knew better. �One might wonder why you
care, when you were always his enemy in school?�

�� I�m
bored,� Harry said. �And this is something to do.�

�� Pansy
laughed again, but this time the sound seemed to startle her as well as Harry.
And it was delighted, Harry thought, feeling his hopes rise again. If he could
intrigue Pansy, then he didn�t have to impress her. He might be able to make
her listen, and that was the primary goal.

�� You mean,�
she said, leaning forwards, �that you�re fighting like an enraged hippogriff
for the Malfoys because you�re bored?�

�� This isn�t
an enraged hippogriff,� Harry said. �I haven�t smashed into your house, held
you at wandpoint, and demanded that you give them their houses and their
Galleons back, have I?�

�� Maybe that
comes next.� Pansy clapped her hands, smiling. �Oh, Potter, I don�t think
anything has surprised me in so long.
My life is interesting and very pleasant, but not very often unexpected.� She
paused, studying him, then added, �Of course, that doesn�t mean that the
Galleons and properties are yours for the asking. I want to know more about why
you�re here instead of bellowing like an enraged bull through the corridors of
the Ministry.�

�� I�ve
investigated the case as far as it can take me,� Harry replied, settling back
into the chair he�d risen from. It really was
very comfortable, and the tea at his elbow was still hot and very good,
probably a property of the cup, or maybe the house-elf�s magic. �The only
person identifiable transferred to the Brazilian Ministry five years ago. The
others are so well-hidden that nothing I do uncovers them. I never promised the
Malfoys revenge, and I don�t think I�d be able to get it for them. On the other
hand, maybe I can win this.�

�� Mm-hmm.�
Pansy narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. �And what was Draco�s reaction when you
went to visit him?�

�� Stunned is
not too strong a word for it.� Harry grinned in remembrance. �He tugged me into
the house and looked up and down the street as if Hit Wizards were going to
come down on us at any moment.�

�� He always
did have a tendency to paranoia,� Pansy said softly, whilst the shadow of a
memory passed over her face. �If he was doing something secretive�and he always was�he was convinced that
everybody knew about it, or was waiting for the chance to know about it and
ruin it for him.� She glanced sideways at Harry. �I can�t imagine that he�s
really letting himself trust you�ll win concessions for him.�

�� Harry
frowned and sat up a little straighter. �Well, he should. I�m not going to
destroy your house�it�s his house, really�� Pansy responded to the baiting only
by raising her eyebrows a little higher. �But I will keep coming and talking to
you until you get tired of me and give the houses and the money back.�

�� It would
be very easy for me to shut you out, you know.� Pansy put her palms together
and smiled at him. �Easier than you can imagine.�

�� Then I�ll
find a way in, and keep talking to you.� Harry pretended to flick an imaginary
piece of lint off his sleeve. �Until you get bored, and desperate, and give the
Malfoys the houses and money to get me to go away.�

�� Pansy laughed
again. �I believe you would.� She paused meditatively. �Well, Potter, I don�t
promise anything yet�except another chance for you to try and convince me. You
can go and tell Draco that I�ve invited you for another conversation a week
from now, and see what he makes of that.� A fond smile crossed her lips as she
rose. �Probably something horribly dark, twisted, and evil,� she murmured, as
she started to exit the room.

�� Why?�
Harry called after her. �Are you bored, too?�

�� Pansy
looked over her shoulder. �Say, rather, that I�m bored with the way everyone
talks to me,� she answered. �Since my husband died�and he was a good man in
many ways, say what you will about his age�I�ve had very few people near me who
will speak the truth. They dress it up too prettily. And they�re all too afraid
of losing their jobs to do otherwise. Besides, I would sack them if they were rude to me. But you�you�re like the
one figure in a medieval court who could speak truth to the ruler.�

�� The Seer?�
Harry asked with a frown. He hadn�t studied much Muggle history.

�� The
jester.� Pansy smiled at him again, and swept out. A moment later, the
house-elf came to escort him to the front door.

*

�� Harry
rolled his eyes as he knocked on the Malfoys� front door. Draco had demanded
Harry come muffled in a large cloak, so that was what he�d done. He was, of
course, getting more attention whilst bundled up like a Death Eater than if
he�d simply strolled down the street as himself and knocked on the door. The
people watching could always have assumed the Malfoys had done something else that required the intervention of
the Ministry.

�� The door
opened on his fourth knock, and strong, pinching fingers dragged him inside.
Harry swore and tried to tug himself away from the grip, but it remained until
the door had slammed and been locked shut with several wards.

��

�� He finally
batted the concealing cloak away from his face and saw Malfoy staring at him
hungrily with a pale, strained face. Harry smiled in spite of himself. He did like being regarded that way. All
the times that Malfoy had gone out of his way during school never to depend on
Harry, never to treat him like anything special, and now he had no choice but
to depend on him, and on the Gryffindor heroics he�d pretended to despise.

�� I�ve had
my first conversation with Pansy,� he said casually.

�� Malfoy�s
fists clenched, and he seemed to keep himself from reaching forwards and
ripping a hand down Harry�s cheek only with the greatest of effort. �And?� he
echoed, his breath coming short.

�� She agreed
to see me again.� Harry relented and offered a little more than that when
Malfoy�s shoulders slumped. �She seemed intrigued by me. She said it was the
first time anything had surprised her
in years.�

�� Malfoy�s
face lit up, a transformation that actually made Harry wince a little; it
emphasized how hopeless he normally looked. He clamped his hand down on Harry�s
arm again, but luckily on a different patch of skin this time, so Harry could
bear it.

�� That�s wonderful,� Malfoy whispered. �That�s more
than she�s given anyone in years. That�s more than I thought she would ever give
anyone.� He let his eyes drift shut for a moment, as if contemplating a
delicious taste.

�� Harry
studied him unobtrusively. Yes, he thought he preferred Malfoy this way, not
full of spite but forced to acknowledge his own humility. It was too bad that
nothing Harry said had managed to really shock him last time, but there was
always this conversation.

�� Malfoy�s
eyes abruptly snapped open, as if he had heard Harry�s thoughts, and he
frowned. �What are you smirking about,
Potter?�

�� I didn�t
know I was smirking,� Harry said honestly. He paused, and then, because doing
good for the Malfoys hadn�t done anything to quell his desire for exciting
rows, he added, �How does it feel?�

�� How does what feel?� Malfoy dropped his arm and
retreated a few paces, his hand going not-so-subtly to the robe pocket that
held his wand. Harry rolled his eyes and snorted aloud.

�� Not that, you prat,� he said. �You know you
couldn�t best me in a duel, anyway. How does it feel to know that, when your
money and your home are restored, you�ll owe everything to the one person you
hate most in the world?�

�� Malfoy
clamped his lips shut. A moment later, listening carefully, Harry actually
heard the sound of his teeth grinding together. He laughed.

�� Malfoy shot
across the distance between them. Harry didn�t bother lifting his arm to defend
himself. He let Malfoy grab him and bear him backwards until his spine hit the
wall next to the staircase. And then he laughed directly into Malfoy�s face,
and shook his head.

�� Potter.�

�� Harry shut
up, frowning. He couldn�t tell exactly why
he shut up, but the tone of Malfoy�s voice had something to do with it.
There was something heavy and hurtful in Malfoy�s voice. It was�

�� Well, it
sounded like the way Harry had spoken after Sirius fell through the veil.

�� But that
couldn�t be, because Harry really doubted Malfoy was capable of that depth of emotion.
He was just opening his mouth to argue back when Malfoy started speaking again,
in that same thick way, and Harry found himself helplessly compelled to listen.

�� You are
not the person I hate most in the world, Potter. That was the Dark Lord, and
he�s gone.� Malfoy�s hands shifted to his shoulders and he leaned in, sneering.
Harry couldn�t blink, and couldn�t look away. It was most disconcerting. He
wondered if Malfoy had somehow cast a spell on him.

�� Right. Wandless and non-verbal? He was never
that good.

�� But you
are the person I despise most in the
world,� Malfoy went on, his words descending into a snarl. �You show up here,
prancing around, expecting me to appreciate
what you�re doing, even though you�re less than gracious about it. Even
though your motive for acting this way is boredom,
so much less noble than almost anything else you could have settled on.� His
breath was coming more quickly now, and his hands on Harry�s shoulder were like
cage bars. Harry struggled weakly for a moment. Malfoy just clamped down
harder. Harry felt a muted surprise. He hadn�t thought the idiot was this
strong, either.

�� You don�t
see me as human,� Malfoy said, every word a near-bark. �You think I�m just a
toy to be played with, and put back on the shelf when you�re tired of. You want
to spin me around like a top, get your fill of desperation and pitiful
gratitude from me, and go your way. You want to make an enormous mark on our lives and never be touched yourself.

�� Let me
tell you something, Potter. The things we suffered in these past few years have
changed us. You�ll never mark us the
same way. If you win back the money and the houses for us, we�ll take them, but
you�ll never have our gratitude. I�ll
never acknowledge you in the street and fawn on you. I�ll never drop my eyes
when you walk by.

�� Why?�

�� He paused.
Harry shifted his feet, again weakly trying to get free, both incredibly
fascinated and incredibly sure that he didn�t want to hear the end of this
proclamation.

�� Because I
know what you are,� Malfoy whispered,
his lips a few inches from Harry�s ear. �Because I know that you still require
validation from other people for doing something good. You can�t be heroic
without your cheering crowd. Even if the crowd is just one person. Even if you
know that they really shouldn�t be grateful to you at all.

�� I won�t be
your public, Potter. The best way I can repay you for what you�ve really done, and not what you�ve only
pretended to do, is to refuse to acknowledge you at all. I�m not a pet. I�m not
a toy. I�m not a project.�

�� He stepped
away from Harry and stood with his arms folded, staring. Harry could have borne
a look of loathing in his eyes. What he didn�t like was the contempt facing him.

�� He opened
his mouth, wanting to protest, wanting to say that he wasn�t like that, even if he was doing this
because he was bored�

�� Malfoy
sneered at him.

�� And this
sneer, Harry couldn�t face. He turned and walked out of the house without
glancing back, his heart galloping wildly within him.

*

�� Lilith:
Thank you!

�� Thrnbrooke:
In this case, Harry doesn�t really want to anger the Ministry or give the
Malfoys revenge. He�s much more interested in obtaining Draco�s gratitude.

�� Natwest:
Thanks! Pansy�s motives are not quite so clear as that.

�� Tina109:
Thanks for reviewing!

�� Lunatic with
a hero complex: Thanks very much! You�ve seen another way in which poverty�s
changed Draco here (can we say �bitter?�) and how Harry the Charmer can fail.

�� Paigey007:
Thank you!

�� Mangacat:
Yep. Partially since this story is so short, it will have a limited number of
characters, and with the introduction of Pansy everyone�s on stage.
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