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Contracted	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 18657 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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Chapter Twenty-Four--Before the Charge

            "Of course I understand, Madam Rettern."

            Astoria's voice was calm and sweet and everything that could be desired by a paranoid, ambitious Wizengamot member who wanted her investigation to succeed. She knew it was, because she had practiced on Blaise before she came here. Rettern had sent her a letter that was too harsh and insistent to be anything other than a declaration of war. She wanted to know why Potter hadn't come back to speak with her, and few of the answers that Astoria could give would both satisfy her and be true.

            Rettern paced up and down in front of Astoria now, her hands clasped behind her back, as though she was making a speech to several doubting colleagues. "What he doesn't understand," she said, with such viciousness that Astoria honestly couldn't tell if the "he" referred to Potter or to Sandborn, "is that he must pay for his crimes. Refusing a member of my family a position? Humiliating her before the peers she must find a place among, and whose laughter devastates her? Unacceptable!"

            Sandborn, then. Astoria nodded and sat up. "While having an alliance with Potter would certainly accomplish that," she said, with enough brightness that Rettern turned to face her, "there is another thing you should consider, Madam. By all the reports that I have been able to hear, Potter is breaking from Sandborn on his own."

            Rettern narrowed her eyes and shook her head. "Why would he? He has no reason to think that he will have support in the politics of the Ministry without the Minister behind him. And Sandborn would hate him. He always does hate those who are more independent than he is, who can stand separately from him, who are better than he is..."

            Astoria hastily cut her off. She didn't want to listen to another demented ramble from Rettern; it wouldn't tell her anything she didn't already know. "Yes, Madam, but I think that Potter is finally fed up enough with Sandborn to want to leave. And he doesn't care to play a part in Ministry politics."

            Rettern stared at her doubtfully, and then hissed under her breath. "That would mean that Potter's a loose political asset, lying around for anyone to pick up. He could be more dangerous to me that way than as the pawn of an enemy!"

            Astoria checked her sigh with difficulty. The woman was more self-centered than a top, always seeing everything that happened solely in the ways that it affected her and her ill-defined ambitions, and never trying to make a true alliance with anyone else. People were there for using. It actually amazed Astoria that she didn't get along better with Sandborn, who thought the same way.

            Perhaps she would have, but for the personal humiliation.

            Astoria put the thought away with a shudder. At least they weren't trying to counteract an alliance between Sandborn and Rettern, then, but their separate actions, which could be quite as annoying in their own way.

            "He could become that way," she said aloud, "but I don't think he will. He's talked about being tired of politics and the spectacles that follow even his most ordinary arrests, and I think he means it."

            Rettern shot her a look that would have scorched Astoria's pride if she had ever made it available for this woman to scorch. "And what do you know about it? Been meeting privately with him, have you?"

            Astoria didn't clench her hands. She would do plenty of that later, when she went over this stupid argument with Blaise. She said evenly, "I've spoken with him, Madam, yes. I wanted to assure myself that he would make a good partner for my friend Draco Malfoy, whom he's shown some interest in. And Potter's not as good a liar as everyone has always thought he was. He had the benefit of Sandborn thinking for him during those years. He couldn't hide real ambition if he had it."

            That was true, as it happened. Potter's one ambition seemed to be to retreat into himself and let the world go by. It was only one of many reasons that Astoria didn't think this alliance--personal, sexual, political, whichever one it turned out to be--with Draco wouldn't work. Draco was a creature of public light and movement, and Potter wanted to hibernate like a tortoise.

            "It might work, to let him alone and go after Sandborn instead," Rettern muttered doubtfully to herself.

            Astoria felt her back muscles relax. This was the moment she'd been waiting for all evening. "It might," she said, letting her voice frost with new doubt. "But, on the other hand, Madam Rettern, you wanted him for your ally. Surely that still endures? Potter has the fame and the name recognition even if he shortly won't have the Minister's backing anymore."

            Rettern gave her a frosty look in return. "Are you saying that a plan to leave Potter alone wouldn't work?"

            Astoria opened her mouth, then hesitated.

            Rettern gave her a thin smile. "I'm not like the obstinate mules that you might have been used to herding, girl." Astoria let the "girl" pass, in the sure and certain knowledge that Rettern would pay for it later, when she tried to step into a political arena that she wasn't ready for. "I can learn better. I can see reason. Yes, I wanted Potter beside me, but if he's going to take himself out of the contest, that's as good as a pawn who jumps off the board. I'll take on Sandborn instead."

            And you might well lose, Astoria added in silence. Sandborn would be furious from the loss of Potter, and eager to take on another enemy to show the critical, watching audience that he hadn't lost all his political ability along with his star Auror. He would fly at Rettern, and it couldn't happen to a more expendable Wizengamot member. If they went down together, tangled up in each other's hatreds and screaming at each other about whose fault the resulting chaos in the wizarding world was, that would be the sweetest outcome.

            Rettern waved a hand grandly at her. "You may go back to Potter and tell him that I won't contact him again. Someone with no ambition is useless to me."

            Thank Merlin. I'm sick of her chatter. Astoria rose, eyes on the floor, and bowed. Of course it was more than she owed any member of the Wizengamot, and someone intelligent would have realized that long since, but Rettern was the one Astoria had chosen to use as a tool for more reasons than just her grudge against Sandborn.

            Rettern's Floo took her quickly home, and Astoria stepped into Blaise's arms with a grateful groan and closed her eyes. Blaise cupped her shoulders, his hands running gently down to her elbows. His talented fingers massaged away tension that she hadn't realized was there. She thought of her spine as the tense point in her body, but more gathered in her arms and shoulders than she generally remembered.

            "Was it hard?" he murmured.

            "I got her to agree to concentrate on Sandborn alone and leave Potter out of it," Astoria answered, opening her eyes. "And I never have to see her again. My debt to Potter is paid."

            Blaise chuckled, and reached down to put a hand in Aurora's hair as she toddled forwards to grab Astoria's legs. Astoria smiled down at her daughter and swept her up. Blaise put his arms around them both this time, with a smile of contentment.

            Draco, Astoria knew, still thought that she had "settled" for something small and inferior by choosing Blaise and a life with him. But then again, Draco wanted Potter, an inferior and unwise choice if there ever was one. So she didn't have to consider his opinion of her to have much weight.

            This was what she wanted, she thought, as Blaise led them away to settle Aurora with the house-elves for the night and then take her to bed. This was her choice.

*

            Sitting that close to Malfoy as they read through the diary together, Harry kept breathing in his scent. It had to be some poncey shampoo, he thought at first, or the remnants of a potion he'd brewed. No one smelled like that naturally.

            But the moments passed, and Malfoy shifted over so that he could turn a page--for some reason, he objected to Harry turning the pages in his ex-fiancée's diary, as though he assumed Harry would lash out and rip them free for no reason--and the smell grew more intense in Harry's nostrils. And at that moment, Harry's nose was close to nothing but Malfoy's shoulder, not his hair.

            His clothes? That was another possibility. Harry wouldn't be surprised if Malfoy told his house-elves to wash his clothes in lavender water or something equally ridiculous.

            And if I said that aloud, Malfoy would get this serious expression and lecture me about how lavender water doesn't work for laundry like that, but does wonders for the skin.

            Harry glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Malfoy was grinning as he traced one underlined passage with his finger. Seen like this, someone could imagine that he was normal, Harry thought. There was no trace of the unusual exuberance in him, the seriousness that nevertheless refused to take life too seriously, the heat that had filled his voice when he flirted with Harry in front of Sandborn.

            And then Malfoy glanced up and caught him staring.

            A smile flooded his face in an instant, lazy and bright as summer sunshine on a lawn. Harry turned his head away, flushing. He felt Malfoy reach up, and managed not to start when the floating fingers settled on his face, brushing up and down lightly enough to make Harry break out in involuntary shivers.

            "I'm getting rather bored with the book, too," Malfoy breathed. "We could set it aside and explore more interesting things." His hand drifted down to Harry's lap, and although Harry didn't look sideways to see his reaction when it settled on Harry's cock, he could feel the contentment pooling around him, melted gold, sunlight again.

            It would be easy to sink into that contentment and give in. Harry wanted to fuck Malfoy, to learn how it was different with a man than with a woman, to touch and take and seek something less complicated than it would ever have been with Ginny, or even Callia. He could walk away from Malfoy any time he wanted, after all, as long as he took precautions so that Pansy Parkinson wouldn't kill him. But he would have married Callia, and been bound to her by the terms of his contract with Sandborn.

            His thoughts effectively killed his erection, and Malfoy made a commiserating noise. "It's like that, then? Don't worry. I have potions."

            Harry whirled on him, crushing the diary between them as he grabbed Malfoy's wrists and pressed him back into the couch. Malfoy widened his eyes back in response, his pulse jumping endlessly in his throat as though Harry had done something much more exciting than this. Harry felt himself hardening again and forced his body to be still. Shifting to hide his stiffness from Malfoy would inevitably attract his attention instead.

            "You're impossible," Harry growled at him. "You can't be serious for three words, can you?"

            "It's a burden," Malfoy said, and Harry might have thought that part was serious if he hadn't waited. Sure enough, Malfoy laughed richly in the next second and arched so that his chest brushed Harry's. Harry let him go and sprang back, distracting himself by reaching for the diary so that he could smooth its crumpled pages.

            "All of this is so much simpler than you're making it," Malfoy said to him, softly, his hand settling on Harry's flank as though soothing a skittish horse. "We can have so much fun, and it's going to be brilliant when I fuck you. Or when you fuck me," he added, as Harry glared at him. "That's the brilliant part. We don't even know what we'll like yet. We have so much left to discover."

            "And when the discovering's done?" Harry asked harshly. "Is that the end of everything?"

            Malfoy shrugged. "I would hope not, but I know that things will change for you. Are changing, or you would never have agreed to come to my side in the first place. It's up to you what you want to do after you're free from Sandborn. Do you realize that, how free you're going to be? And as long as we make sure that he can't strike at you the instant the contract's done, you're going to go on being free." He smiled at Harry. "I'm content with what my life's become, but I would still give a lot to be in your position, with your power and your ability to command your own future, facing whatever I could make of it."

            Harry hesitated. He wanted to say that his freedom meant nothing without friends, but Malfoy would scoff at the idea, and besides, he didn't know if his friends would stay away from him forever. Once he was free of Sandborn, he could also concentrate on communicating with them better, if that would help, and deciding what he could and couldn't do as far as their friendship went.

            But that wasn't all he wanted to do. And if they made some final decision soon, either leaving him behind as they grew on into new lives or deciding to talk to him, that still left years where, as Malfoy said, he would have to be the one to decide what he wanted.

            He wanted...

            He might, right now, want this.

            He leaned up and kissed Malfoy. Malfoy touched the side of his neck, hesitantly, as though he didn't know what Harry intended and thought he might have to strangle him in self-defense. That idea made Harry laugh into Malfoy's mouth, and he felt him relax, resting his hands on Harry's shoulders and laughing back.

            The world was rolling and changing around him. He had decisions to make, but he didn't have to make all of them now. That was what Malfoy had meant about having years ahead of him.

            And if Ron and Hermione had a chance to grow into new lives, then so did he.

            "I don't want to have sex right now," he gasped, drawing back from Malfoy when Malfoy's arms tried to urge him onto the couch.

            "Liar," Malfoy murmured, looking down.

            Harry flushed, then shrugged. "I can't afford it right now, then," he said. "I want to talk about other things. But I think--I think that I'm going to enjoy having you in my life, and that I want you to stick around for a while. If you want to," he added, because he hadn't forgotten what Malfoy said about wanting to leave lovers.

            Malfoy's smile was long and low and lovely, like sunlight, again. "I would like that," he said. "Or like to think about it, at least."

            He kissed Harry, and Harry was happy.

*

            Ginny leaned back in her chair and stretched so hard that she felt as if she'd wrenched her shoulder. Luna's hands descended on her, massaging, and Ginny smiled. That ache would fade away, she knew, because Luna was much better at that than Ginny had ever thought she could be, much better than Ginny had given her credit for.

            "That's it, then?" Luna murmured into her ear.

            "Yes." Ginny turned her head and let her nose rest in the crook of Luna's arm for a second. One of the hummingbirds on Luna's shoulder crooned, and Ginny forced herself to stand. "As much as it can ever be over. Most of our clients seem to be our clients, and most of them have reassured me that they have no intention of going anywhere, no matter what happens in the Ministry." Because she didn't want to reveal the existence of the contract between Harry and Sandborn, she'd had to question them in roundabout ways, explaining that Ministry politics would change soon and hinting that she knew about their possible patronage of her business because of Harry. Most of them had sounded sincere when they said she had nothing to worry about, and they were too pleased to have warning of the possible change coming to be offended at the cryptic questions.

            "Good," Luna said simply. "Then let's go have dinner and a bath."

            Ginny smiled as she stood up and followed Luna into the next room. There were times that she did think, ruefully, that she would never understand Luna, and that her life would have been much simpler with someone else for her partner. Someone whose words she grasped half the time, someone whose sense of humor and vision of reality more closely matched her own.

            And then Luna said or did exactly what she needed, and Ginny was reminded of the reasons that she'd fallen in love.

*

            "It's serious."

            Pansy had said that the moment she laid eyes on him through the fireplace, and Draco pretended not to know what she meant. "What's serious?" he yawned, delicately screwing one hand into his eye and then blinking away the dust of sleep that fell from it. Normally he would have cleared that off long before Pansy got a chance to see him, but she'd firecalled too early.

            "The way that you're in love with Potter."

            Draco looked down at his shirt, wondering if some of Potter's drool remained there. There was none. "I don't know what you mean," he said haughtily, but rather spoiled it with another yawn.

            "You're still wearing the same clothes you did yesterday," Pansy said wisely.

            Draco rolled his eyes at her. "That was because you called at an unreasonable hour and I had to grab the things that were closest to the bed," he responded.

            "It's still something you would never do unless your mind was elsewhere." Pansy wore a smile that twisted in several different directions, as though she couldn't decide whether she wanted to be delighted or upset. "And you had Potter over yesterday, didn't you? Have you gone one day without seeing him in the last week?"

            "Yes," Draco said, but then paused, momentarily unable to remember which day it had been. This was why Pansy shouldn't firecall him this early in the morning. "And anyway, he only comes to me when he has problems. If I was really in love with him, or if it was something that could lead to love, then you would expect him to come over and spend time with me for the pleasure of my company."

            "My," Pansy cooed, leaning forwards, "your mind is not working properly this morning. I didn't say anything about Potter being in love with you. I said something about you being in love with him."

            Draco shook his head impatiently. "You still haven't proved that, unless you're going to point to a lack of evidence as evidence. Why would you think I'd fall in love with someone that earnest, and that stupid? He was stupid enough to sell himself to Sandborn, instead of seeking other paths."

            "One could also argue that he was wise enough to come up with a path that Sandborn would accept, and seize on the opportunities that chance presented," Pansy replied thoughtfully, leaning back in her chair. Draco glared at her through bleary eyes and hated her, because. "And we didn't ask him to do what he did for us, which was why we owed a debt, but he managed it anyway. How many lives has he affected, how many changed, even when the people he's done that for don't know about it? Yes, I think one could argue that he's surprisingly smart and versatile for someone who doesn't know as much as he should about politics."

            "That last sentence wasn't worthy of you," Draco said, after thinking about it a few more times to be sure."

            Pansy laughed at him. "Draco, Draco, it's not that I mind you falling for Potter if all you want is a bit of fun," she said. "But you ought to know that I'll be evaluating him strictly if you mean to take him as a serious lover. Is he really that good? Is he really that good a choice for you? And so on."

            "I don't think you can make him leave by suggesting that he'll turn to stone if he has my children."

            Pansy sniffed and flicked her fingers. "I know enough about him now, after studying him, that I could make him turn tail and leave with a few carefully-chosen words. I'm simply studying the situation in turn, to see if it needs to come to that."

            It was early. Draco was still tired and stumbling, and he had to worry about whether Pansy--especially after Daphne--had seen something concerning his relationship with Potter that he had not. If they were right, then that meant he had to worry about how much his heart was entangled with Potter. But he knew one thing.

            He drew his wand and murmured a spell. It curled around him for a moment, nearly taking the form of a white, smoky snake, and then hurried away from him and through the fireplace. Draco lowered his wand and watched Pansy's face change as she felt the invisible coils work their way around her throat.

            "You can say a lot of things," Draco said simply. "To me, almost anything at all. But if you try to hurt Potter, then you're going to find that you can't. I've always wondered what it was like to choke to death," he added, thinking about it and feeling a little more cheerful. "I hope you'll tell me."

            Pansy studied him some more. Then she nodded. "That would be another sign that you're in love with Potter," she said. "Why do you keep handing them to me? You ought to know that I would prey on them in the way that you would prey on any similar sign of weakness with me."

            Draco shook his head. "I don't joke about Theodore that way. You'd kill me if I did. And I don't mind if you joke about my casual lovers; they're dead history to me in a few weeks, a year at the most. If I was binding myself to someone as shallow as Callia, I'd hope you would rescue me, and then put me down. It would be an act of mercy. But I've invested enough of myself in bringing Potter's fire out that I don't want you to cool it, as you could, with those words."

            Pansy frowned. "You feel about him the way that I feel about Theodore," she said slowly.

            "Right now, yes," Draco said. "That might change if he does, or if he wants to get away from me after he's free. But right now."

            "Theo and I are married," Pansy said, as if that made some difference.

            Draco raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps someday Potter and I will be, as well."

            Pansy made a harsh face. "I can't see you doing that."

            "Then that must mean that you don't really believe that I'm in love with him after all."

            Stymied by her own logic, Pansy settled for scowling at him. "I'll find a way to take this charm off me."

            "You're welcome to try," Draco said, and he hit the combination of ease and off-handedness just right, because she crossed her eyes at him and vanished from the fire.

            Draco leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, silently congratulating himself. The congratulations wore off as he thought about Potter, and the way his eyes flashed, and how he had barely kept himself from pressing against Draco that afternoon, and how it was somehow more wonderful than some of the sex that Draco had had.

            Was that being in love?

            He'd felt worse.

*

            SP777: It started because I just wanted to have a theme that connected the chapters, and the first two were linked by coincidence.

            Hey, occasionally Muggles have some cool ideas!
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