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There's a Pure-Blood Custom For That	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 41050 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

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Known Threats
            Harry blinked at the man and said the first thing that came into his head. “You don’t think I can survive. Great. Then why are you bothering to warn me?”

            The stranger sighed and shook his head. If he noticed the way that Ron leaned threateningly across the back of his neck and pressed the wand down, he gave no sign of it. “I thought you might know a way. You have contact with many of the best and cleverest wizards in the world, at least if you want it. You could ask the Ministry to protect you, or maybe your friend George Weasley. Maybe they could come up with something that defeated this spell. I wanted to give you at least a fighting chance.”
            “It would help if you told me more about the spell, the way they developed it, and what they want.”
            “You know what they want.” The man grimaced. “To repay you for the way you destroyed Voldemort, who they held as the champion of Dark wizards everywhere and the one most likely to make the Ministry regret that they took the rights of Dark wizards away.”
            At least the way this man talked about Voldemort made Harry fairly sure that he wasn’t a supporter. “And you? What do I call you? Where do you come into this?”
            “You can call me Malcolm.” The man held up a hand when Harry opened his mouth. “No, it’s not my real name, not by a long shot, but I think you can at least put up with it.”
            Whether he could put up with it wasn’t the first thing that would have occurred to Harry about a stranger’s name, but he let that pass. “How did you learn about this spell?” It occurred to him that he’d asked that before and Malcolm hadn’t responded.
            This time, Malcolm did, although he gave Harry a narrow-eyed look that Harry returned with interest. “Because I was part of the research team that created it.”
            Ron leaned on the back of Malcolm’s neck with a restrained roar. Draco held out a hand. There was something in it that Harry hadn’t seen before, a sparkling, six-sided crystal that looked oddly like a snowflake that was immune to heat. “Say the word, Harry, and he can dissolve,” said Draco.
            Ron seemed to be alternating his horrified stare between Draco and Malcolm now, and even given the usual clientele of the Jackal’s Head, Harry thought a statement like Draco’s would bring them more interest than they wanted right now. “Put that away,” he said in a hiss out of the corner of his mouth, and focused on Malcolm again. “So let’s say that I believe you and I want to use your knowledge to combat the spell that the Risen Cobras are going to throw at me. Why should I trust you? You could be an advance scout for the group that gave me wrong information in an attempt to trick me into either panicking or acting stupidly.”
            For an answer, Malcolm turned his gaze on Draco. “I’m sure that your friend there carries Veritaserum. Why don’t you ask him to test it on me?”
            “You carry Veritaserum?” Harry asked, turning to Draco, because frankly he wanted the answer from him, and Draco was also more interesting to him than Malcolm was.
            Draco flushed, but nodded, his gaze not leaving Malcolm. “How he guessed it, I don’t know. I always do, though.”
            “A lot of the Risen Cobras are former comrades of yours, and they always do,” said Malcolm, in what seemed like impatience. “It wasn’t an original or a deep thought.”
            “I am their opposite in at least one important way,” said Draco, and this time he flashed the bracelet around his wrist, as if he wanted Malcolm to see it and recognize it for what it was. Malcolm’s gaze dropped to it, a bit contemptuously, and then abruptly snapped over to the ring on Harry’s finger. Harry raised his eyebrows at him, smiling. He had to admit that he didn’t look forward to the attempts of other people to define what he and Draco were to each other, but he would rather do it than let someone else do it, either.
            “That is impossible,” said Malcolm, and Harry didn’t think he meant “that you could have found a bracelet and a ring that look so alike.” “You would court a former Death Eater?” He stared at Harry, seeming lost.
            “It’s incredible, is what it is,” Harry corrected him, and turned to Draco. “The Veritaserum doesn’t need to be administered any particular way, does it?”
            “No,” said Draco, and took out a glittering crystal vial that made the light seem to bend around it instead of pass through it. Harry was sure that the answer to that particular riddle was some Potions brewer’s secret that he had no interest in learning. He would trust Draco to let him know if it was important. “And I suggest that we let Weasley administer it, since he’s the one closest to our friend here.”
            Harry caught Draco’s eye as Draco solemnly handed the vial to Ron. Draco silently inclined his head. So he was perfectly aware of what Ron felt about him, and wasn’t above using some manipulative diplomacy.
            Well, that was true of Harry, as well. He couldn’t fault Draco for it.
            Ron took the vial with a truly impressive frown, although Harry didn’t think he distrusted that the potion was what Draco said it was. He uncapped the vial with a small pop and tilted it. Malcolm was already tipping his head back, his tongue out. If he was a liar, he was the most risk-taking liar Harry had already seen.
            Which only made it all the more depressing, of course.
            Why can’t they just accept that I freed them from their crazy Lord and he isn’t coming back? Harry fumed to himself, but he tried to keep his expression polite as Malcolm swallowed, and the slightly dreamy look came into his eyes that Harry tended to associate with Veritaserum. Harry leaned forwards and asked the first question. “Are you really loyal to the Risen Cobras, or to your own idea of what’s right?”
            “Harry,” Draco hissed, sounding slightly scandalized. “You’re supposed to ask some test questions first, like his name, to make sure it’s working right.”
            Harry didn’t point out that they didn’t know Malcolm’s full name, so they wouldn’t know if they could trust his answer anyway, because Malcolm was answering. “I was once loyal to them, but I left them.”
            Harry nodded. “Were you a Death Eater during the war?” He didn’t think so, based on Malcolm’s scandalized reaction to Harry dating one, but stranger and more hypocritical things had happened.
            “No,” said Malcolm.
            “What is your association with the Risen Cobras, then?” Ron cut in, and Harry leaned back. He was more than happy to let Ron take control of the questioning. Ron was the one who had actual training in interrogation techniques, something Harry had left the Aurors before mastering completely.
            “I was a researcher for them. I was bored and looking for excitement, and this looked to be the most exciting way to be a Dark wizard after Voldemort’s fall.” It was odd hearing such information recited in such a bored, passionless voice, Harry considered, but then again, that was what Veritaserum did to you. “I wanted to develop new spells. They let me.”
            “Were you the sole producer of the spell that’s going to turn Harry’s magic against him?” Surprisingly, it was Draco who asked that question, sitting up with a steely gleam in his eyes. Harry turned his head in surprise, and then understood when Draco met his gaze. He was determined to protect Harry no matter what, and maybe he thought Ron wouldn’t have asked this question.
            “I was one of two.”
            Once again, no extra information, only the basics attached to the question actually asked. Harry grimaced in acknowledgement of that and asked, “Who was the other one?” since Ron seemed to be waiting for him.
            “Brandon Jekyll.”
            Harry raised his eyebrows sideways at Draco. Draco gave a shake of his head so small that Harry thought most people would just register it as a blurring motion, not the actual negation it was. Harry sighed. Draco didn’t know him, then.
            “Is he an experienced spell creator?” Ron was now resting his wand on the side of Malcolm’s throat, so relaxed—well, at least for an Auror who had someone to interrogate—that Harry knew he thought the Veritaserum was working. He would still have reacted as though he considered Malcolm a threat, otherwise.
            “Yes,” said Malcolm, monotonous. Ron asked the expected follow-up question, and he said, “So am I.”
            “It doesn’t make much sense,” Draco muttered under his breath to Harry. “Experienced spell creators are rare. There’s lots of wizards who want to muck about with magic, but the ones who get the chance and prove themselves valuable should have had backing behind them. They wouldn’t need to join a poor lot like the Risen Cobras to prove themselves.”

            Ron proved he was listening by asking Malcolm, “Why didn’t you accept a contract to work for the Ministry?”
            “They wouldn’t have let me play with Dark Arts,” said Malcolm, and Draco grimaced a little, and Harry knew that was good enough to be the answer.
            “What kind of Dark Arts did you put into this spell?” Harry asked, deciding that they had established enough of Malcolm’s background to move onto the threat itself. “How does it work?”
            “We worked with some of your blood,” said Malcolm, staring at him. “We Transfigured it into a solid crystal so that we could see the patterns of magic formed inside it. Then we began to torture the magic.”
            “What does that mean, torture the magic?” Ron asked. He sounded a little shaken. Draco had shuddered beside him, and Harry thought he probably knew what the phrase meant. Well, Harry knew where he was going for an explanation afterwards, if this one didn’t clarify things enough for him.
            And probably even if it did, honestly. Harry liked to listen to Draco talk, and he trusted Draco in a way that he never would Malcolm, even as someone who seemed to be genuinely on his side now.
            “It means that we would take the magic and stretch the crystal it formed into in the blood, and make it assume new patterns,” said Malcolm. “We fed new magic into the crystal, and broke and twisted it until we understood how your magic worked and how to put it back together. Then we began to Transfigure the crystal into new shapes itself.”
            “But that would mean that it would only work if they fed Harry the new crystal?” Draco let his voice rise at the end, and Malcolm took it as a question.
            “It would only work that way, yes.” Malcolm’s voice was almost dreamy, and he might have been looking at a wall for all the response he showed as his eyes passed over Harry’s face. “It might mean that we would have to hold it down and feed it to him. It might mean that we could Transfigure the blood back into a liquid and put it into his food. Those were the two main ideas. Other people thought that perhaps we could Apparate the blood into his body somehow, or—”
            “I think I see,” Harry said, interrupting not for himself but for Draco and Ron, who both looked as though they’d like to kill Malcolm. Harry had some sympathy for that point of view, but he did want to make sure that they got all the information they needed from Malcolm first. “And they’re still going ahead with that plan?”
            “Yes,” said Malcolm.
            “How do you know?” Harry asked, after a moment of waiting for more and then having to remind himself that someone on Veritaserum couldn’t follow natural instincts to tell him, when there were no natural instincts to tell him.
            “Because I left spying spells in their headquarters.” There was a faint note of satisfaction in Malcolm’s voice, probably all the Veritaserum would permit him. “It tells me what they’re planning to do, and the blood is still the plan.”
            Harry nodded slowly. “Why did you say that you didn’t think I could survive? It seems to me that if I stay away from them and any possible means of introducing that blood crystal into my body, I’m safe.”
            “They planned to come into the joke shop where you worked as ordinary customers. Then they would reveal themselves as fans, and ask you to accept a gift from them. The blood would be introduced into the gift.”
            Harry cursed softly to himself. Yes, that might have worked. Witness the way he melted around kids, and especially around Scorpius that first time he and Draco had visited Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. All they would have to do was bring a kid with them, and his fate was sealed.
            “And they’re confident that I don’t suspect anything? They don’t suspect you for leaving?”
            “They thought I left because Jekyll claimed credit for every single development of the spell, and I was tired of having my work denied. They don’t think that I’m with you or have any idea of it.”
            “Will they, after today?” Harry cast another glance around the Jackal’s Head. Despite the wards they’d put up, none of them had come in glamours, for the same reason that Malcolm hadn’t: hiding from an informant they didn’t know made them more likely to miss each other.
            “I don’t know.”
            Harry nodded, his mind already buzzing with plans. “Can you stay safe and go underground if we let you go? Or will they manage to track you down to every single bolthole you could find?”
            “Harry,” whispered Draco in what sounded like deep disgust, almost crushing his hand, but Harry was busy listening to Malcolm’s reply. It wasn’t as though he could deny his instinct to save people, anyway, especially someone who had been personally helpful to him at great risk.
            “I can find a place that should be beyond their reach. I do not know for sure, but I think there may be such a place.”
            “Good,” said Harry softly, and then, because he wasn’t such a fool as Ron and Draco thought even if he was a different kind of fool, “What is your full name?”
            For the first time, there was a flicker as though Malcolm was fighting the Veritaserum and trying to surface. Maybe he thought Harry would have been grateful enough for his aid not to ask the question. But the answer came out anyway. “John Edward Tuffet.”
            Harry sighed a little. He thought he recognized the name Tuffet as a minor pure-blood family, and Draco had stiffened beside him. It would make sense if Tuffet knew the pure-blood customs, and had recognized the bracelet and the ring.
            “And will you tell anyone else of this meeting if we let you go? Anyone in the Risen Cobras?”
            “My life will be forfeit if anyone is watching, so no,” said Tuffet, and Harry nodded again and nodded to Ron.
            “Mate,” Ron said, a protest as deep as his chest, not moving the wand away from the back of Tuffet’s neck.
            “We have to,” Harry said. “We got him to tell us everything that could be important, and it’s not as though we can force him go to the Ministry and testify.”
            “Really?” Ron tightened his neck muscles a little. “He just admitted to playing around with Dark Arts and creating a spell that’s dangerous in the pursuit of killing someone specific. That sounds like I can arrest him to me.”
            “And then his testimony will come out, and what happens if they alter the plan and make it into something other than a Transfigured blood crystal after all?” Harry shook his head fiercely, holding Ron’s gaze and his ire. “Come on, Ron. We’ve done what we can. All we can. He risked a little. We should give him the chance to protect himself.”
            It took ten seconds, twenty seconds, but then Ron cursed in disgust and took his wand away from Tuffet’s neck. “Fine. I just hope that you won’t regret having such a soft heart later, Harry.”
            “It was one of the things keeping me out of the Aurors,” Harry pointed out mildly, and then spoke to Tuffet with all the kindness he could, considering the man had been one of the people trying to kill him. “You can go.”
            Veritaserum or not, Tuffet understood that, and also obviously didn’t see any reason to stick around. He stood up and almost bolted out of the pub.
            They’d drawn more than enough attention, Harry decided, noting other patrons of the Jackal’s Head focusing on them, even if it was through darting little sideways glances. He stood up. “Let’s go,” he told Draco and Ron.
            Ron went first out the door, and Draco fell into step behind him. Harry knew it was partially so he could guard Harry’s back from threats, but another reason was obvious in the heavy hand that Draco laid on his shoulder. “You’re mine, damn it,” Draco whispered, as if he understood and resented the conclusion at the same time.
            “Yes? What does that have to do with anything?” Harry asked, as nicely as he could.
            “It means that you’re getting behind wards and staying there until Weasley can quietly alert the Aurors and they round up the rest of the Risen Cobras.”
            It impressed Harry that Draco could read Ron well enough to know that was the plan, but he didn’t say so. He said only, “We’ll work something out.”
            “You behind wards.”
            “We’ll work something out,” Harry repeated with deliberate vagueness, and went outside on Ron’s nod, ignoring the hiss of exasperation from behind him.
*
delia cerrano: As you can see, the threat is more contained than he imagined. Although Draco would still like it if he hid out in a cave somewhere!
staar: Thank you!
Jester: Harry himself is going a little crazy from Draco’s overprotectiveness!
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There's a Pure-Blood Custom For That