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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.

Chapter List
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Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Four�Harry Has
a Cup of Tea, Draco Has a Point

�� A nice cup
of hot tea didn�t solve all the
problems of the world. Harry knew that, even as he waved his wand to brew it
and then heat it in a few moments. Hermione disapproved of such extravagance
with magic; she said Harry ought to be able to wait for his tea to percolate
like anyone else. But Harry had the magic, and, right now, he really had the need to feel a hot cuppa
in his hand as soon as possible.

�� When he had
not only that, but a burned tongue, a tingling throat, and a head focused on
something else than Malfoy�s parting words, he felt able to sit down and stare
a hole in his wall as he thought.

�� But no
matter how he thought, he couldn�t find a way past Malfoy�s final prohibition.
If he wouldn�t take anything Harry offered him, then how was Harry going to
help? It wasn�t as though he could leave bags of Galleons and Malfoy Manor on
the doorstep of the cottage in Hogsmeade and wait for the family to accept them
if they chose to.

�� Harry
paused, his cup halfway back to his throat. Then he put it down, resting it
absently on his leg and yelping. A jump nearly sent tea sloshing everywhere. He
shook his head and set the cup on the table beside him, then cast a spell that
cooled the pain of the burn.

�� There was still something he could do. And
Malfoy himself had given him the clue in some of his words�or Harry�s reaction
to his words. Harry could no longer remember which one it had been, and
considering how clear every one of their conversations was in his head, that
was troubling. Maybe his thoughts had taken on self-protective coloration to
make him stop hunting them.

�� Harry
snorted softly to himself and rubbed his face. The whole point was, he could help the Malfoys without forcing the family to
acknowledge that he was the one
providing the help. It wasn�t as though Harry�s friends talked to them�

�� Or much of anyone else, it sounds like.

�� --And they
weren�t receiving regular owls from Pansy, either. So it could look as though
Harry had backed away and given up, but they would still receive what was due
to them. Then it could be their free choice to accept or reject what he gave.

�� And
meanwhile, he could look into giving them further help, easing their way back
into wizarding society and lessening the hostility of their neighbors. That aid
ought to be even easier to disguise.

�� Harry felt
a moment�s disquiet. After sitting and reflecting, he knew why. He was
capitulating, his pride insisted. Just giving up and letting Malfoy have his
way. He was admitting Malfoy�s words were right
without even trying to fight them.

�� But Harry
knew it was the only thing he could do. Malfoy�s words had an element of truth
to them (though not that much,
because he hadn�t been around in five years and no one could diagnose a
schoolboy rival accurately after that amount of time, much less on ten minutes�
reacquaintance), or they wouldn�t have stung him so deeply. And he couldn�t go
back and keep battering at someone who looked like Malfoy did. Who had suffered
like that.

�� Like they all did.

�� In his own
drawing room, sitting on his own chair, with no tragic broken-winged angels to
confront him and rake him with words�

�� (And since
when did he think of Malfoy as an angel? His mind had a lot to answer for).

�� And with a
cup of tea in his hand made just the way he liked it, Harry had to acknowledge
that he had become different in the
last few years. Even before he�d started picking fights with Ron all the time,
he�d found himself hungry. The Auror cases he worked on occupied him completely
whilst they were open, but the very effectiveness with which he rose to the
challenge ensured that they were done with all the quicker. And he�d devised
his own methods of answering reporters, playing them for his amusement,
perfecting the smile, flirting with
people who didn�t need to know they could never have him and who would do
anything for a bit of attention from the famous Harry Potter.

�� Even
considering that rationalization made him clear his throat and shift
uncomfortably, then look over his shoulder to be sure Malfoy wasn�t behind him
casting an Imperius Curse and forcing him to think all this. Then he remembered
that he was resistant to Imperius anyway, and swore crossly.

�� So he had
changed. So he wasn�t a very attractive person anymore, except in the most
conventional ways. People liked the brilliance of his green eyes and the deep
contrast of his dark hair with his pale skin. Harry was fairly certain of that,
because he�d received compliments like that even when he covered his scar and
went to Muggle clubs.

�� But it was
a pretty damn small thing to be proud of.

�� So there.
He wasn�t doing this because he wanted Malfoy to be grateful to him (which
would just make him the kind of berk Malfoy had rightfully accused him of
being) and he wasn�t doing it because of what Malfoy had said. God forbid.
Harry Potter, whether or not he was a hero, didn�t do anything at the bidding
of his old school rival.

�� He was
doing this to regain his pride, and be a better person, and maybe get along
better with his friends, too.

�� After all,
he would have to live with himself, and Ron and Hermione, long after Malfoy was
a distant memory.

�� With a
satisfied nod, Harry drank the rest of his cup of tea.

*

�� Harry stood
opposite the Malfoys� house, under a Disillusionment Charm. He had observed for
several hours, and each hour served to tighten his throat with outrage.

�� Everything
Malfoy had said seemed to be true. The people walking past the house in the
street gave it looks of contempt. Several boys�young enough that Harry wondered
why they weren�t in Hogwarts�had crept up to the wards and tested them with
several small spells, then wandered away in disappointment when nothing
happened. An owl winging to the house with a Daily Prophet nearly took a Blasting Curse; it dropped the paper on
the porch and vanished as soon as possible. A hand opened the door and snatched
the paper inside. The door had just closed when a blast of red light landed
where the paper had been. Harry wasn�t sure if the spell was just a Stunner or
something more insidious, from this angle.

�� This was no
life for anyone. Lucius might have deserved it�in Harry�s opinion, he still
deserved Azkaban; there was no excuse for giving an eleven-year-old girl an
enchanted diary that had almost killed her�but not Narcissa, who had crouched
beside him in the Forest, eyes wide and terrified but still alert, and lied to
the Dark Lord for him.

�� And not
Draco, whose image was in Harry�s head every time he glanced at the house.

�� He settled
back against the door he was leaning on; he knew that the owner of this
particular house was out of town and wouldn�t be back for some time. Auror
stake-outs had taught him patience, at least when there was the chance that he
would learn something important. (His superiors had learned very quickly never
to send him off on anything that looked useless, or Harry was just as likely to
wander in through the front door and pick a quarrel with the suspect). He
wanted to watch until nightfall. A small Tracking Charm, undetectable under the
stronger magic of the Malfoy wards, encircled the foundation of the house; it
would let him know when anyone left.

�� The Malfoy
family still had some money, but
Harry knew they couldn�t have lived on any small amount in their vaults for
five years, not with even the most careful frugality. That meant someone had to
be doing some job. Harry wanted to see what it was.

�� He wouldn�t
put it past Draco, in particular, to be broken and right about Harry�s project, damn him, but still doing something
nefarious in order to earn Galleons. After all, the wizarding world had hurt
him. He might consider that he had a right to hurt it back.

�� It was
midnight, and Harry had eaten the last of the peanut butter sandwiches he�d
brought along and was thinking seriously about giving up his post, when the
front door of the house opened. It did so slowly, cautiously, and then a wand
stuck out and defused several spells that had hung in waiting on the porch.
Harry would have got rid of them himself, but the whole point of this exercise
was not alerting the Malfoys that he
was watching.

�� Draco
stepped out and spent a moment gazing critically up at the moon, which was
three-quarters full. Harry wondered what for. He did know Malfoy should cover
up that ghostly, glowing white hair and face of his soon, or someone would step
out of their house and see him looking all unearthly and beautiful, panic, and
probably summon the Aurors.

�� Luckily,
he�d covered them in the next instant and was walking rapidly away from the
village, his strides sure and quick. Harry went after him, wondering at himself
for finding Malfoy beautiful.

�� This is Malfoy, remember? The person who
insulted you so badly? The man you don�t even know is gay?

�� But Harry
had to admit that it didn�t seem to matter. He�d become so used to sharing
nothing more than one quick fuck with other gay wizards�it was all they wanted,
and Harry had taught himself not to want anything more�that he�d also got used
to looking at physical attractions first and foremost. If he was only going to
spend one night with someone, his personality didn�t really matter as much as
Harry�s ability to go to bed with him without being nauseated. Or getting a
sexual disease, for that matter. Some of the gay wizards he�d met had the oddest ideas about what magic would make
them safe.

�� He was
content with that hypothesis until he realized that he�d started feeling marked
by Malfoy�s personality first, and
only then noticed his looks.

�� This was a
problem. But since Harry was tracking Malfoy like one of the criminals he
usually hunted, he was supposed to be thinking like an Auror, not like someone
looking for a one-night stand. He made his mind be Auror-like, clean and sharp
and hard.

�� Then he
cursed himself for his unfortunate choice of words.

�� Then he saw
that Malfoy was turning into the Forbidden Forest, walking without hesitation
between a pair of trees with arched branches twining together like the reaching
limbs of an Acromantula, and Harry had to pause and seriously consider his
devotion to duty. Did he want to help Malfoy that badly?

�� Well, yes,
he did.

�� Damn it.
This was such a problem.

�� Harry cast
more spells that would muffle the noise of his footsteps to the sharp ears of
the beasts living in the Forest, and some spells that hopefully would take the
edge off his smell. Since humans didn�t have much of a sense of smell, wizards
had never really perfected olfactory glamours; even werewolves and Animagi
couldn�t describe the scents well
enough to give an idea of how they should be defended against, though they
could test certain specific spells.

�� Harry
cursed himself for reciting useless facts as though he were preparing for an
Auror exam when he realized he�d let Malfoy get quite a distance ahead of him.
He entered the Forest with the quietest sprint he could manage.

�� He nearly
stumbled face-first over Draco. He was bending down, gathering up a sprig of
some herb and holding it up to the moon. Then he nodded and tucked it into a
pouch at his waist before bending low and scanning the brush again.

�� Oh. Harry blinked. Potions ingredients. He�s obviously gathering potions ingredients. That
must be how he lives. Either brewing the potions himself, or sending ingredients
to those who want them.

�� He doubted
that he would see anything interesting, but he tagged along after Malfoy for a
little while longer, watching him examine the trunks of trees and cut off moss,
thrust his hand into a tangle of briars and extract a single night-blooming flower,
and look above himself to catch a falling leaf. Sometimes his hood slid off,
and then his hair would gleam, and he would look like the angelic apparition
Harry had first considered him to be.

�� Not angelic. Damn it.

�� But he
still looked damn good. And Harry was aware of a steadily growing feeling of
relief as he watched Draco gathering his potions ingredients, at one point
stopping to banish the full pouches with a flick of his wand�presumably he�d
sent them home�and shake out some empty ones that he bound to his waist.

�� Relief that
Draco�s work wasn�t degrading. Relief that he hadn�t been reduced to something
illegal, or dangerous, in order to support his family and maintain at least a
little independence from the philanthropies the Ministry ran, which probably
wouldn�t welcome them anyway.

�� Then
something crashed nearby, and Harry was reminded that this work was dangerous, in its own way. He lifted
his wand and aimed away from Malfoy, looking steadily into the tangle of trees
that he thought the crash had come from. Malfoy had looked up at it, but then a
small plant growing near the ground had distracted him. He was digging at it
with a silver knife, but apparently the roots were proving stubborn.

�� Harry�s
attention snapped to the side again as he saw a creature shifting about in the
shadows. It looked like a winged lion, or maybe a winged tiger. He couldn�t see
it clearly enough. He didn�t recognize the creature, either, which probably
meant it was one of the unique abominations the Forest bred�or one of Hagrid�s
new pets. It was eyeing Malfoy�s back and licking its jaws hungrily.

�� Harry moved
before it could. One spell bound its legs together, a second bound its wings as
they thrashed open in instinctive panic, and then he Levitated it above the
ground and hung it over the branch of a tree. Let it stay there until Draco was
well away. By then, it would probably be hungry enough to seek easier prey.

�� Part of him
wished that Draco would look up, recognize the spellwork binding the winged
beast, and want to thank his savior. A kiss would be acceptable, Harry thought,
just so he could see how that mouth tasted.

�� The rest of
him was glad for what happened, which involved Draco tugging loose the stubborn
plant with a grunt of triumph and continuing on his way into the Forest.
Sometimes, Harry thought, trailing him, it was all right not to be thanked. It
was okay if someone else didn�t notice and laud him for every little thing.

��

�� It was all
right, sometimes, to be part of the background and let someone else be the
center.

*

�� That�s�a
rather unusual favor to be asking, Harry.� Kingsley Shacklebolt�s eyes were
narrowed shrewdly, and he surveyed Harry through his glasses as if Harry had
come in to register as a treefrog Animagus.

�� I know,
sir.� Harry made sure to keep his face respectful as he leaned in to show his
earnestness. Shacklebolt had never let him get away with half as much as his
other superiors. There were times Harry had resented that. Now, he was
grateful. It kept him grounded, and he already knew that he could expect no particular
special treatment. �But I think it�s at least what the Ministry owes the
Malfoys.�

�� Not what
it owes you?� Shacklebolt asked. Harry had asked the favor in his name, after
all, claiming the debt that Shacklebolt had told Harry he owed Harry,
personally, as a member of the Order of the Phoenix.

�� Well, that
too, but the public face is going to be that of the Ministry reopening the
Malfoy case because they feel the punishment went too far,� Harry said firmly. �And
in the meantime, they�ll be protected. All persons in a case still open are
entitled to protection if they need it.� It was a line from the Auror Code,
repeated over and over to the trainees until it sank into their stubborn heads.
Harry himself had had particular difficulty in learning and remembering it at
first, because he�d had to serve as bodyguard to a bunch of people he knew had helped in entering Hogwarts and
torturing students. But he had overcome his objections and obeyed, escorting
them from the courtrooms to their cells and back, and never physically harming
them. Now other people could learn to overcome their objections to the Malfoys.

�� They never
did anything that would warrant this,� Shacklebolt said. �People will be
suspicious.�

�� Harry
stared at him. �Narcissa Malfoy saved my life,� he said. �Draco Malfoy did too.
And Lucius stayed out of the Battle of Hogwarts as much as possible. I don�t
think they�ve done anything to deserve the kind of harassment they�re getting
over losing their case, either.�

�� Shacklebolt
sighed. �You�ve got to understand, Harry. There were an awful lot of Death
Eaters people couldn�t reach, either because they died in the Battle of
Hogwarts or because they�re in Azkaban now. The Malfoys have become the scapegoats
for all the Death Eaters. People can
take their petty revenges on them and feel content.�

�� You knew
about this?�

�� I
suspected it,� Shacklebolt corrected him, �particularly when I saw how they
were treated immediately after they lost their money.�

�� Harry
stared at the man for a moment, then shook his head. �And you just let it
happen?�

�� Had we
tried to contain it, something worse would have happened.�

�� Harry made
a frustrated noise and pounded one fist on the arm of his chair. �With all due
respect, sir, that�s nowhere near enough,
and you know it.�

�� Shacklebolt
simply shook his head, looking resigned and infinitely weary. �Sometimes, Harry�no,
all the time, probably�things are more complicated than you think they are. And
less black-and-white than you think them, too.�

�� Well, this
is a point where things get very simple,� Harry growled. �You said that you owed
me a debt. Repay it by opening the Malfoy case and granting them the protection
they need for the moment.�

�� The
Wizengamot already made their decision, and they won�t reverse it. What do you
think will happen after a few weeks of protection, a month at the most?�
Shacklebolt raised his eyebrows.

�� By then, I
hope to have another solution to the problem,� Harry replied, and stood up. He
had an appointment to meet Ron and Hermione for dinner, and he actually hoped
to keep it this time, rather than skipping it because he had to work or wanted
to find someone to sleep with.

*

�� Potter!�

�� Harry
turned in startlement. The last thing he had expected to see was Draco Malfoy
trotting down a corridor in the Ministry towards him, red in the face, trailing
two other Aurors behind him who were barely able to keep up.

�� Malfoy
looked incredibly pissed off, deliciously hot, and much better than he had�in so
many ways�when Harry had last met him in the drawing room of his home. Harry
grinned and leaned against a wall, folding his arms in front of him as he
waited.

�� Malfoy slid
to a halt in front of him and announced, �I know you did this. And I still won�t collapse at your feet with
gratitude.�

�� I know
that,� said Harry. �Or I would know it, if I had the slightest idea what you
were talking about.�

�� This!� Malfoy waved his hand at the
Auror guards, who looked offended to be referred to by such a dismissive
relative pronoun.�We have protection when we go to Gringotts now. We have
people watching our house so no one can curse it. My mother removed some of the
wards, and we�re getting regular post only, no Howlers. And our case has been
reopened.� He stopped, panting, and stared hard at Harry.

�� I�m sorry,�
Harry said, cupping a hand around his ear. �I still haven�t heard the actually
objectionable part of this.�

�� Malfoy
leaned closer. �I told you I didn�t
have to take anything you offered,� he hissed. �I meant it.�

�� Oh, I
know,� said Harry. �Jolly good thing it�s the Ministry offering this, isn�t it?�

�� You can�t��
Malfoy said, and then stopped.

�� Harry
shrugged. �I have no power to open a case the Wizengamot has already decided,
Malfoy. That was all the Minister�s doing. He does have the ability to look around on his own, you know, and he
can actually make a competent decision once in a while.� Now the Aurors were
glaring at him, but Harry didn�t care. Shacklebolt knew perfectly well what
Harry thought of his policies towards the Malfoys. �So I�m not forcing my way
into your house and your life anymore. One might think you miss me.�

�� Malfoy
looked as if he didn�t know whether to draw his wand and curse Harry, or simply
take the shorter route of strangling him. Finally, he drew a long, hissing
breath, and said, �I know this was your doing somehow. I�ll prove it.�

�� Good,�
Harry said. �That ought to keep you out of trouble.� He tipped his head
mockingly to Malfoy. �Now, if you excuse me, I have a meeting with Pansy
Ambrosius that I don�t want to miss.� He turned his back and started walking
away again.

�� You�re
still playing hero!� Malfoy yelled after him. �You still want a cheering crowd
bowing down to your every move!�

�� Oh, not
really,� Harry said. �I won�t intrude on you again.� He glanced over his
shoulder and winked. �Donating anonymously and using my name and power to do
real good instead of entertain myself and earn applause has proven unexpectedly
addictive. But that doesn�t mean you�ll ever have to acknowledge it.�

�� Malfoy just
stared hard at him. Harry shrugged once and slid around the corner, already mentally
preparing the list of files he�d need to take home and review after his meeting
with Pansy.

�� Then Malfoy
came after him again, and blocked his way forwards with an arm. Harry looked at
it pointedly. �There seems to be an arm in my way,� he said.

�� Malfoy
whispered into his ear, �The reason I wasn�t so shocked by the little revelation
you made the other week is that I�m gay myself. And you needn�t think that
doing this will let you get into my pants, Potter.�

�� Conceited,
aren�t you?� Harry asked, in a normal tone of voice. �You�re assuming I�d like to, and I haven�t given a single
indication I would.�

�� I saw the
way you looked at me back there,� said Malfoy. �And during your little stalking
episode in the Forbidden Forest, which I sensed you doing, thank you very much.�

�� Harry
blinked for a moment. He really had thought Malfoy hadn�t sensed anything.

�� On the
other hand, that he had and had managed not to betray it was just one more
thing to like about him. Harry smiled, and Malfoy took a sudden, violent,
springing step away from him.

�� Why are
you looking at me like that?� he asked in a broken, raw, new voice. �Stop
looking at me like that. It hurts.�

�� I�m not
going to hurt you,� Harry told him softly. �If I want to like you, I will; that�s
my decision. And if I want to help you, I will; that�s my decision, too. Your
choice, still, as to whether to return the liking or accept the help. But you
can�t stop me from trying. You�ve opened my eyes. Don�t think you can chain my
limbs.�

�� Victory, he thought, as his words evidently
made Malfoy pale and falter the way his had made Harry hesitate. But he couldn�t
follow up on the victory. It would have to be Malfoy�s choice to come to him.
He was human, after all, and a big boy. Surely he could make his own decisions.

And then Harry turned, whistling, and
went on his way to his interview with Pansy.

*

Lilith: Pansy probably is just
playing, but she really has no reason not to.

Stalkerchan: Thanks! It should be
updated every third day or so.

Mangacat: Thanks! I think this
shows Harry pounding the dent out a little.

Thrnbrooke: Thank you!

Yume111: Well, here Harry gets some
of his own back. He�s irrepressible, and Draco can�t be dignified all the time. But he is being offered a
lot of choices now, still.

And Harry is trying. He really is.
Whether Draco will think it�s worth his while to try remains to be seen.
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