Said the Tortoise to the Hare | By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9809 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1 |
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When Draco
opened the office door that morning, Harry rose to his feet with the air of
someone greeting a long-lost brother. “Draco!”
he said, and rushed forwards and grabbed Draco around the waist. “You’re here!
And we’re very, very busy with the case of those stolen Dark artifacts, aren’t
we?”
Draco had
to blink, as much as he enjoyed the feeling of Harry’s arms around him. And
then he saw the disgruntled-looking woman who stood next to Harry’s desk with
her hand extended and a sulky pout on his face, and he understood.
There were
people who might have felt upset at being used as a distraction, or a defense
against someone Harry didn’t want to date. But those people were fools, and
that meant they had no chance of being Harry’s partner. Draco touched the nape
of Harry’s neck, rubbing his fingers gently through the hair there, all the
while staring at the woman. Harry sighed and relaxed under the touch, without
realizing for one moment what Draco was doing. The woman clenched her extended
hand into a fist and hissed at him soundlessly, like a cat.
“Dark
artifacts case,” Draco said. “Yes, we’re very busy, I’m afraid.” He had a
faint, sympathetic smile on his face by the time Harry let go of him and turned
around. “Was there some reason that—I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”
He hadn’t,
of course. It was Elise Sanders, and she worked in the Department for the
Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and she had watched Harry with
cold dark eyes for too long for Draco to ever forget her name. But Harry didn’t
need to know that, and neither did Sanders, who showed her displeasure with an
open snarl this time.
Of course,
since Harry was facing her now, that just made her appear all the worse in
comparison to the calm, polite Draco. Harry frowned and leaned back into Draco,
shaking his head slightly. “I’m afraid I can’t oblige your request for a date,
Ms. Sanders,” he said. “Since we’re so busy.”
Sanders
narrowed her eyes and put on a sweet tone that even Harry would realize was
false, which brought her as close as anything could to Draco’s pity. “You won’t
reconsider, Harry? Please? I’ve been a fan of yours since I was a child.”
Mistake. Harry had never been
comfortable when someone introduced herself as a fan first and a person second.
He pressed back towards Draco again, shifting scarcely an inch, but making his
preference clear all the same. Draco was adept at reading his subconscious
signals as well as his conscious ones by now. He bowed his head and lightly rested
his nose in Harry’s hair, all the while meeting Elise’s eyes.
“No date
this weekend,” Harry said, and his voice grated like rock on rock.
At least
Sanders, though not smart enough to realize what had put Harry off, was
intelligent enough to realize that nothing could win him back. She tossed her
blonde hair, pouted, and then passed by them, giving Harry a languishing look
from the corner of her eye. Harry folded his arms and stared back.
Draco
swallowed a snort. Elise Sanders was the calculating sort of person whom Harry
would never get along with, because she would never show him her natural self.
Harry would appreciate straightforward ambition to be seen with him more than
he would a mask he could see.
Harry stepped
even closer to Draco to let Sanders pass, which Draco didn’t object to. And
then he was so abstracted that he went on staring at the closed door for some
moments after she’d left. Draco gently cleared his throat.
Harry
promptly flushed and moved away from him, fiddling with some papers on his desk
as though they held the secrets of the universe. “Sorry,” he said. “I just—I
needed to—I’m sorry.”
“I don’t
mind,” Draco said, lowering his voice a notch from its natural tone so that
Harry would turn and look at him. He did, and Draco held his eyes, making it go
on a few moments too long for politeness. “I didn’t mind at all,” he said,
barely breathing the words.
Color
flushed Harry’s face again, and he finally broke the gaze, blinking as if
awakening from a good dream. Draco kept his chuckle silent as he stepped up to
his own desk. Harry was responding and then confused about his own response,
because he wasn’t used to thinking about Draco that way.
But Draco
had pressed the matter far enough for one morning—farther than he would have
dared to if not for Sanders’s convenient presence. So he resumed his role of
concerned friend and said, as if nothing had happened, “What did she want?”
Harry’s
face changed in an instant, and he stood up with a vicious snort that made up
for all the ones Draco had had to suppress whilst Sanders was in the room. “Oh,
a date, of course.” He shuffled out
several papers he didn’t look at and flicked his wand at them, casting Incendio nonverbally. Draco, as he
watched the smoke drift up in lazy curls, hoped that nothing vital had been in
there. Of course, he made copies of most of the reports and files they received
or wrote for precisely this reason. “What they all want. What they all think
they can get.” He turned around and dropped into the chair, which practically
moaned this time. Still no crack, though, Draco noted. “I don’t understand
that. It’s not even been three months since I broke up with Ginny. Why would
they think that I’d be ready to go on
a date this early?”
“They
misunderstand you,” Draco said. Here was the perfect chance to both cement
himself in Harry’s opinion as someone who did
understand and to prejudice Harry against his potential rivals. “They can
only envision what they would do in your situation, instead of looking back at
your past behavior and finding the clue to your actions there. They can imagine
being famous and being able to date whoever they want. And since they don’t
have that fame, they imagine what you carry can rub off on them.”
“But all
they have to do is look at my life!”
Harry wailed, clasping his hands dramatically to the top of his head and
running his fingers through his hair. “The Prophet
talks about it in enough detail! I don’t want that fame, and I’ve told
everyone that in several interviews. Why would they think those are lies?”
“Because
they lack enough empathy even for that,” Draco said. “They think it’s false
modesty—because that’s the kind of mask they would present in your place, so
that they could win even more encomiums.”
Harry
dropped his head forwards and onto the desk with a solid thunk. Draco smiled at him, and made sure that sympathetic smile
was on his face when Harry glanced up at him again. “I can’t stand them,” Harry
whispered. “Even if I did want to date again at this point, I would need someone
who trusted me and respected me when I wanted to contradict her.”
“I
understand,” Draco said, and he knew the double meaning of those words would go
home to Harry in a subtle way. He knew, because he was experienced in saying
the same sort of thing to Harry before this and gently guiding him to what
Draco wanted him to do.
And now
there was a sign that the subtle was becoming obvious, he thought, because
Harry suddenly started, and then flushed, and stared at him with his mouth
slightly open.
Draco
looked back gently, apparently oblivious to what he’d said, and then Harry
turned and almost literally buried himself in paperwork. Draco took up his
quill and went to work, humming under his breath.
The Slytherin’s in his heaven and all’s
right with the world.
*
“I know
what you’re doing, you know.”
Draco
glanced up with a bland smile. Granger had walked into the office an hour ago
and said that she would wait for Harry, who was off drinking in the Leaky
Cauldron again. He hadn’t invited Draco to go with him this time. He might not
know why, but Draco did; he’d seen the glances Harry was sneaking at him more
and more often now, and the confused way he worried his lip.
It wasn’t
his attraction to a man that was confounding him, Draco thought. Harry had
confessed to Draco after their first night of drinking together that he was
bisexual, though he’d never looked at anyone but Ginny, and never would
consider it. It was just something that made him feel better about himself, and
which he thought his friends should know.
Instead,
Harry was feeling confused about this attraction to someone he had worked with
for three years, and especially when he didn’t seem to feel anything for anyone
else.
Draco did
everything he could to encourage the attraction, of course. He had bent over
after more scraps of paper in the past fortnight than in the entire year before
that, and he let Harry surprise him often when he was dreamily staring off into
space and apparently didn’t hear Harry come in. He knew that Harry liked the
way he looked when his mouth was slightly open and his eyes slightly wide.
“Malfoy?
Did you hear me? I said I knew what you were doing.”
Draco
returned his attention to Granger. “Yes, I heard you,” he said. “But since you
didn’t follow it up when I looked at you, I didn’t think it worth inquiring
after.”
Granger
ground her teeth. Draco gave her another bland smile. It was her fault and not
his if she was dissatisfied with his answers. He had made it a point to be
polite to Harry’s friends ever since he realized his attraction to his partner.
No, at that time he hadn’t thought that Harry would ever leave Ginny, but he
saw no harm in laying groundwork for the remote possibility just in case it
happened.
Neither
Granger nor Weasley had completely believed him; they seemed to think that
Draco’s politeness was evil in a new disguise. But Harry accepted and liked
Draco’s courtesy, and that had the splendid side-effect of making Granger and
Weasley look ruder than they were in comparison.
“I know that
you’re trying to get Harry to look at you,” Granger whispered, leaning
forwards. “I know that you want to date him in Ginny’s place. But it won’t
work. Harry has better prospects out there.”
“Does he?
I’m glad.” Draco let his eyebrows rise, his eyes widen, and his voice become
bright and glad. “Has Weasley regained her senses and decided to date him again
instead of throwing her boyfriends in his face?”
“No,” said
Granger, and frowned fiercely at him. “Who gave you that description of Ginny’s behavior?”
“Your
fiancé,” said Draco helpfully.
Granger’s
frown redoubled, which Draco wanted to applaud her for. He hadn’t thought that
possible, even given the unfortunate
configuration of her face. “He has people who want to date him,” she said. “Good,
kind women. Pretty women.”
“I’m glad,”
Draco repeated. “What are their names?”
“Elise
Sanders, for one—”
“She came
stalking him two weeks ago,” Draco said. “I didn’t think he was impressed then,
to tell you the truth.” He put a finger on his chin and tilted his head. “You
say these women want to date Harry. Does he want to date them?”
“He has to
find one of them he likes,” Granger
countered, her voice rising. “It’s unnatural for him to be without someone to
date, when he was with Ginny for so long—”
“Oh,
thanks, Hermione. I didn’t know that you thought of me as a freak.”
Draco
blinked and turned his head as if totally surprised, though in reality he had
heard the footsteps coming. But he couldn’t have planned the moment when
Granger was caught in saying words so stupid or forced to blush as fiercely as
she had frowned, and he wouldn’t have wanted to. Such beautiful things had to
be allowed to happen by themselves.
“I don’t,
Harry,” Granger said earnestly, and rose to her feet. “It’s just—we’ve been
worried about you since you broke up with Ginny, and we think that you need
someone in your life. You’ve had someone for so long, after all.”
“She broke
up with me, remember?” Harry snapped. He put a hand on the doorway, but Draco
didn’t think it was to brace himself; he hadn’t had that much to drink, by the
look of his face. “And I don’t appreciate it that you can’t wait three months
before wanting to spring someone on me, Hermione. Just let me make the decision, all right? I think you can count on me to
make a better choice than you would.”
His eyes
and voice were so bitter that Draco wanted to rise from his chair and comfort
him. But that wouldn’t do, both because he would be moving too fast if he did
and because of Granger’s suspicions.
“Harry, I’m
sorry,” Granger whispered. “We really do just want you to be happy.” And she
looked miserable enough that Draco might have felt sorry for her, except that
she’d brought this on herself.
“I know
that, Hermione.” Harry’s voice was tight, but he placed a sincere hand on her
shoulder. Draco smiled slightly. Yes, all
of them who think that they can just take their place as his lover are fools.
It’s so much better to be his friend first. He has solicitude for his friends
even when he’s angry with them. “But—I need time, all right? No more plots
and plans, and no more accusing Draco of whatever you were going to accuse him
of.”
“I don’t
think he wants you to get back together with Ginny.” Granger glanced at Draco.
“Or anyone else, for that matter.”
“I want
Harry to date who he wants to date,” said Draco, and that was perfectly
sincere, which meant his face showed his perfect sincerity. Granger wouldn’t
pick up on the important word in that sentence, which was “want,” or at least
not assign it the right importance. Draco intended to make Harry want him
before he made a single open move.
Granger
growled at him and stomped out of the office. Harry flopped into his chair,
which scraped like a tortured voice this time, and then shook his head. “I’m
sorry, Draco,” he said. “I don’t know why my friends distrust you so much.”
They’re in the middle of a tight, charmed
little circle, of course, Draco told Harry in his head. They know the best thing in the world is to
be Harry Potter’s friend, and they want to prevent me from becoming one. But
he would encounter either Harry’s modesty or Harry’s tenacious defense of his
friends’ good intentions if he said that, and he saw no reason of rousing
either formidable force. He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I
know they probably can’t get over what I did to them in school.” He claimed
responsibility without fear; it would only make him sound nobler in Harry’s
eyes.
“But I
did.” Harry set his chin in one cupped hand and frowned at him. “And you got
over what I did to you. That’s what I don’t understand. If we managed it, then why can’t they?”
Draco
smiled back at him, but didn’t say a word. He wouldn’t remind Harry, if Harry
wanted to forget it, of their first three chilly months together as partners.
Draco had finally realized that he wanted something more than that with Harry,
both because Harry was infernally attractive and because he couldn’t trust
someone who hated him to guard his back in battle. So he had invited Harry to
Malfoy Manor.
Harry had
come in like a cat approaching someone who had once stepped on its tail, all
stiff-backed pride and cautious tread. But Draco had met him simply, without
pretense, and escorted him through the Manor. He’d pointed out the place where
his aunt had tortured Granger—and he’d made sure to call Bellatrix his aunt, so
that Harry couldn’t accuse him of ignoring the relationship—and he’d also named
the rooms he couldn’t enter any more because he would suffer from a panic attack
if he did. And he’d showed Harry the bedroom where the Dark Lord had made him
torture most of his victims, and admitted how much he still hated himself,
sometimes, for that.
At the end
of the journey, Harry had put a hand on his shoulder and left it there for a
single moment. He hadn’t said anything, but he had come in with calm, friendly
words the next day at work, and Draco had known that their problems were on the
way to being solved. And all because he had been honest and taken a risk.
That’s what they can’t understand, Harry’s
friends, he thought. They have no
reason to take a risk on me. They hardly find me attractive—Granger and
Weasley were going to be married as soon as they stopped finding their dance
around each other more entertaining than the thought of sharing a house—and they don’t trust my influence over
Harry.
“Well,
anyway,” Harry said at last, standing up, “I still don’t want to be here, but I
remembered that I’d need more Galleons if I was going to go somewhere more expensive.”
He searched for a moment, then swept up a clinking pouch from behind the desk
with a grunt of satisfaction. He paused on the way to the door, though, and
slowly pivoted on one heel.
Draco, who
had started to read the file on a dangerous new disease thought to be the
product of Dark magic, looked up. A teasing question was on his tongue, but he
restrained it when he saw the way Harry looked at him. Vulnerable, more than he
usually allowed himself to look when he was conscious.
“Would you
like to come?” Harry whispered.
Anyone
else, and Draco would have asked if this was a date. But Harry was too on edge
at the moment with everything that had happened to him, and far be it from
Draco to crush a positive movement weeks before he had expected one.
“I’d like
to,” he said, standing and keeping both his words and his movements simple as
he picked up his cloak. Harry was watching him suspiciously at the moment,
whether he knew that or not, and might take any complication as an
innuendo—which of course he would meet with a rebuff.
“Good,”
Harry said, and grinned so widely that he frowned a moment later, as if trying
to decide why he was so glad to have Draco’s company.
Draco
distracted him with a skillful question. “I noticed that you hadn’t given me
back the report on the Pendlegreen case yet. Why’s that?”
Harry
answered sharply, but as he and Draco strode down the corridor towards the
lifts together, arguing, he edged a little closer, and did it again when Draco
deliberately put some space between them.
Draco
smiled in supreme contentment, knowing that Harry would take it for
satisfaction in winning the argument.
Perhaps Harry does know what he wants, after
all.
*
Gamaliel’s
agitated shrieking greeted them when they stepped into Draco’s small house
later that night. Harry winced and made a show of putting his hands over his
ears. “I don’t know how you can stand that thing,” he said.
“He’s only
hungry,” Draco said mildly, and let the door fell to as he shed his cloak. No
house-elf appeared to take it, but he knew that meant they were busy with
Gamaliel, trying to convince the hawk to eat. “God forbid that anyone ever
leave you in charge of a helpless animal, Potter.”
Harry
turned to answer him. He was smiling, and his eyes were brilliant with
enjoyment. Draco imagined him looking this way the first time they kissed, and
smiled back.
“Bastard!”
A red flare
illuminated a figure standing in the corner, wand uplifted. Draco recognized
the curse when the red light gathered into a point and hurtled towards Harry,
aimed at his back.
He shoved
Harry out of the way and put his hand on his own wand, in his left sleeve,
whispering enough of the countercharm that he could survive. He’d had intimate
experience with the curse under the Dark Lord’s reign in Malfoy Manor and knew
what he could take when it came to this magic
Otherwise unprotected, he placed
himself in the path between Harry and the curse and shielded him with his body.
The pain was immediate and searing;
the curse had hit his upper chest and was trying to burn its way through to the
other side. Draco grimaced and slumped to the floor, screaming only once in
deference to the agony before he went about casting more spells to ensure he
survived.
Harry leaped past him like some
sort of winged predator and hit the woman in the corner with a blast that made
the house shudder on its foundations and finally shut up Gamaliel.
Draco whistled under his breath as
he saw the woman’s leg simply dematerialize, the component particles speeding
away from each other and ceasing to exist. The woman fell to the ground, the
wound bloodless but causing her to scream anyway. Harry Summoned her wand and
stood staring at her for a long moment. Draco didn’t know for certain what she
saw in his face and what made her stop screaming and start whimpering, but he
could guess.
The woman was Elise Sanders; Draco
could see that much in the moonlight spilling through the windows. Of course
she had come after Harry because she thought that he should date her, and of
course she had just done something that had ruined her chances more thoroughly
than ever. Draco would have clucked his tongue if he could have spared the
concentration. So many things in life were the result of imprecise planning.
And then Harry overcame the anger
that probably made him want to murder Sanders, or at least break her wand. He
cast a Body-Bind on her and turned, crouching over Draco, his eyes bright and
tearless. He curved a hand behind Draco’s head and drew him forwards so they were
brow to brow.
“Oh, God, Draco, are you hurt?” He
spoke so rapidly that Draco wouldn’t have understood him if he hadn’t been
listening to that voice for three years, both asleep and awake.
“I’ve
healed some of the damage,” Draco whispered. “I’ve seen that spell before. But
I should go to St. Mungo’s.”
“Of course
you should.” Harry stood up with a violent jerk and gathered Draco from the
floor with a pull as strong but much gentler, so that he didn’t jolt the wound.
“And you…” He looked at Sanders as if
he were considering how many pieces he’d need to cut the body into in order to
hide it efficiently.
“Take her
to Kingsley,” said Draco quietly.
Harry shook
with repressed violence, but didn’t answer. Sanders looked as if she had
fainted from terror.
“You have
to,” Draco whispered. He let his left hand smooth Harry’s cheek. “Don’t make
her cost you anything. Not your life, not mine, and not your job.”
After a few
more minutes, Harry moved his head in a slashing nod and then floated Sanders
behind them as he strode towards the front door. Draco adjusted himself a bit
so he could fit more comfortably into Harry’s arms.
“When I
thought I’d lost you,” Harry told Draco’s hair. He didn’t say anything more
than that, perhaps because he couldn’t find the words, perhaps because he
assumed that Draco would know what he meant.
Draco
leaned his head against Harry’s shoulder, sniffed at his skin—still touched
with the scorching scent of the magic he’d used—and smiled.
*
butterpie: Thank
you! I agree that Draco in this story is the best choice for Harry. The
circumstances, though, are largely the same as they were in the books; it’s
just that Draco has taken extra steps to overcome them.
delfina:
Thank you!
kanaro:
Thanks! I think this Draco and Harry get along well and make believable Auror partners.
BlazeTiger:
Thank you! I’m glad you ventured out of lurkerdom to review this story. It’s
set to become one of my own favorites, I think.
Dezra:
Thank you! And yes, Draco is cunning, especially when he turns even a wound to
his advantage.
Sirael:
Thank you for reviewing!
Thrnbrooke:
Thank you!
paigeey07: Thanks!
orpiment99:
The story will be just from Draco’s POV, as he’s the one who knows what’s
really going on.
SP777:
Sorry for any unnecessary mental distress!
EWE is
Epilogue, What Epilogue? It indicates that the story accepts DH but ignores the
epilogue. And HJ is an abbreviation for handjob.
Tree: Thank
you! Yes, the story does move fast, but then, it’s fairly short. I hope the
account Draco gives of how they became friends suffices.
maegerakawaii:
Thank you! Harry does trust Draco as a friend and partner, and that’s slowly
building towards something more.
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