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Secrets & Lies	By : Digitallace Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 14570 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with the fandom, nor do I get paid to write or post this work.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Author's Note: Brilliant hugs to everyone who reviewed last chapter. I appreciate that no one seemed to mind my lack of beta on Chapter 3, so since Amanda is still in Germany and depressingly out of reach, I decided to go ahead and post this chapter without beta as well, so please disregard any blatant errors on my account.

Chapter 4 - Flicker

Draco got out of bed and scowled at his reflection. Bleary gray eyes stared back at him, his body mottled with fine lines from where the seams of his bed linens pressed into his dehydrated skin. He cast a quick glance back at his empty bed and his mood dipped further. He'd been having fun with the boys, dinner, drinks and general frivolity until Blaise got a wild hair up his arse to go to his club.

They didn't know it was a club Malfoy frequented, of course, just thought it would be a laugh and Draco was forced to pretend he didn't know every host and bartender in the place for the duration of the evening. Then Potter had to crash their party and set his mind reeling. What the fuck had he been doing there? And who the hell was that bloke he'd been practically fucking on the dance floor?

He narrowed eyes at himself in the mirror and huffed. "It doesn't matter if Potter's bent or not. He's not your type anyhow," his reflection reasoned and Draco could only nod.

"Of course he's not," he repeated, assuring himself. It wasn't that Potter wasn't attractive, what with the jewel-like eyes and the strong jaw and from what he could tell beneath his clothes, the man was fit. But Malfoy preferred to choose men who were less conspicuous than the Wizarding World's Golden Boy. One night with him and it would be impossible to keep his secret.

A dreadful idea dawned on him and Draco summoned his house-elf, demanding tea, water and the morning's paper before padding into the adjoining room for a piping hot shower. As the water crested over his skin, burning away the smell of smoke, sweat and spilled alcohol, Draco thought back over the events of last night - Potter's gravelly voice in his ear, his lithe arm tossed so casually over his shoulders and the hot line of his body where it pressed right against his own and began scrubbing furiously along his flesh to drive the memories away.

He'd never thought of Potter in any sort of romantic sense before. He'd always been the model wizard, the powerful do-gooder that would marry, have his two-point-five children and a family pet. He was every normal man's ideal and certainly no gay man's fantasy. Well. Maybe that wasn't true, but Draco was never sadistic enough to pine for something that was so far out of grasp. He had plenty of prospects well within his reach, what would be the point of desiring the unattainable?

Until it began to seem the impossible was within range after all.

Draco shook his head and stepped from the shower, toweling off as he padded over to the silver tray left by the fireplace in his bedroom. He took a long gulp of water before settling down in his favorite wingback and flipped quickly through the paper. A sigh of relief shuddered through him as he carefully scanned each and every page without seeing mention of him and Potter together. There was a brief story about Potter and his name being thrown into the mix for the promotion of Head Auror, but Draco passed that over with little thought. There wasn't a day that went by without some mention of Potter and his exploits, but lucky for him, no one at the club must have seen them together.

Taking a sip of his tea and settling his nerves, Draco felt a bit more confident. Perhaps he could dig a little deeper into the mystery Potter presented without drawing attention to himself. If he were careful, Draco could avoid being the target of gossip and satisfy his newfound curiosity all at once.

Harry wiped the spittle from his brow and glared back at the man who was reprimanding him rather vehemently. It took all of his limited self control to sit in silence as Fledgecraft berated him for failing his mission the previous night.

"You didn't even try," the man growled angrily, his face a deep shade of purple. "Do you understand what's riding on this, Auror Potter?"

Harry did understand. He understood perfectly. He wasn't nearly as dim as his boss seemed to think. The Ministry rumor mill was nearly as effective as at Hogwarts and there probably wasn't a soul who didn't know that Fledgecraft had a bid in for Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, which would give him nearly as much power as the Minister himself. Fledgecraft was a political man, and joining the Auror division was a strong move in his grand scheme. His family connections and strong ambitions gave him a leg up over anyone who sought competition and his swift promotions through the department might be called premature if not for the fear people had in uttering a word against Fledgecraft.

Part of the man's grudge against Harry was that he thought Potter was coming along to claim what he saw as rightfully his – scavenge the clout and the prestige that Fledgecraft had molded for himself over the last decade. However, Harry had no mind to do anything of the sort. He just wanted to catch corrupt wizards and make peoples' lives run a little bit smoother each day.

Fledgecraft didn't believe him and neither did the Minister, who had placed Harry's name into the running as Fledgecraft's successor to the Head Auror position whether his superior was elected to the Wizengamot or not. It put Harry in the center of an unnecessarily tense work environment and made him unwanted friends and dangerous enemies within the department.

"I'm aware," Harry bit out when he was given his turn to speak by a brief pause where Fledgecraft had to take a breath, "that you think the arrest and imprisonment of Draco Malfoy will be the ticket you need to secure your new post." He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in before plowing ahead, "And trust me, no one would rejoice at seeing his smirking face behind Azkaban bars more than I, but what you're asking is immoral and against every belief I have as an Auror and moreover a human being."

He caught the triumphant beam from Hermione's direction and fought his own smile as Fledgecraft sat back in his chair and appraised Harry fully. "So, to be clear, you think that as an Auror, you can pick and choose which missions you accept?"

Harry's eyes narrowed and he shook his head. "That's not what I said," he corrected.

"Then get something straight, Auror Potter. As long as you work in this department, you work under my command. If you take issue in your assignment, I urge you to discuss it with the Minister, but until then, when I give you a mission you will complete it. Without. Question," he ordered, biting each word sharply from his too-small mouth. "Is that understood?"

"It is," Harry answered bitterly as he, Ron and Hermione rose to leave the office.

"A word, Potter," he called after the trio. "Alone."

Harry froze, his fingers flexing into fists at his side. He nodded curtly to both of his friends and turned, as the door shut behind him and left him alone with Fledgecraft. "Not finished demoralizing me, Sir?" he ground out, the tight rein on his anger slowly unfettering.

Fledgecraft ignored the rhetorical question and simply waved Potter into the chair he'd just vacated. Harry took it, reluctantly, but refused to speak again until his superior made it clear why he was detained in the first place. "I don't understand why you and I have to butt heads so often, Potter," he said, suddenly immersed in his political masks. "We could be a great help to one another."

Silently sputtering, Harry just shook his head in amazement. "We constantly 'butt heads', Sir, because you've treated me like a fraud from the moment I joined the program. I just want to do my job and your job seems to be making that both painful and impossible."

Again, Fledgecraft chose to hear only what he wanted from that statement, or at the least only acknowledged part. "I want you to do your job too, Harry," he explained, using his given name without permission as if they'd been best mates all along. "I want you to be the best Auror in the department. I want you to take over my position here when I'm promoted to Chief Warlock, but I can't get that promotion without this arrest."

The only thing Harry hated worse than an outright prat like Fledgecraft was a prat who tried to manipulate him with false sincerity. Harry might still be young, only in his first years at the Ministry, but he'd been dealing with people like Fledgecraft his entire life and knew a bit about what not to trust when they opened their mouths."With all due respect, Sir," Harry bit out angrily, "from what I understand, that position could very well be mine whether you're promoted or simply transferred to another department altogether. Archives for instance," he added snidely, a touch of a smirk on his lips.

All pretended friendliness faded in an instant, and Harry had to stifle the urge to point out that maybe instead of trying to prosecute Malfoy, he should try learning a thing or two about schooling his reactions from the stoic blond. Instead he just sat back and watched Fledgecraft's poorly constructed plan crumble. "You and the Minister are pretty close, aren't you, Potter?" he asked at last.

"Kingsley and I are fairly good friends," Harry answered warily.

"You know that if he promotes you without my blessing it will appear to all of the Ministry and the public that he's playing favorites," Fledgecraft pointed out, a subtle smirk of his own sitting awkwardly on his face.

"There will always be people who think I don't deserve the honors I'm given, just like there will always be people who think the sun rises and sets in my arse," he explained. "But that doesn't mean any of them are right."

With that, Harry stood. "Will that be all, Sir?"

"You'll bring me the information that will seal Malfoy's arrest or you'll find yourself unemployed, Potter. I'm still the department head, and even the Minister himself would have a hard time overturning the decision if I find you unfit for the job."

Silence hung in the air between them for what seemed like hours, but finally Harry nodded in what might appear defeat. "If idle threats are all that's left to plead your case, Fledgecraft, I honestly hope you never sit at the Wizengamot bench. I'll complete this mission because it's my job, and for now, you're my superior, but I was going to do that already," he noted before turning and leaving Fledgecraft's office for what he hoped would be the last time that day.

"What did he say?" Ron asked the moment Harry sank into his desk chair, giving him a start. It seemed he'd been lurking in the small corner of Harry's cubicle that he couldn't see until he walked in. It shouldn't have surprised him, Ron was a closeted gossip and a meeting alone between Harry and Fledgecraft would have been water cooler worthy conversation.

"Nothing I haven't heard before," Harry answered truthfully and evasively. If Harry was against politics for personal reasons, Ron was against them because he had no place in that world. He was the most honest, hot-headed, conclusion-jumping person Harry knew, and that included himself. If he told Ron that Fledgecraft had threatened him, he'd have a war on his hands and Harry didn't see any time for fighting fires in the office when there were plenty to fight in the streets.

Ron would have burst into Fledgecraft's office, wands blazing, and demand retribution for his friend, but that was entirely unnecessary. Harry had handled it, and though he knew Fledgecraft was nowhere near staying off his arse, he also thought they had reached an understanding - Harry would only be pushed so far before he started pushing back.

"Fine," Ron huffed, not fooled. "Don't tell me, but you know Hermione will just turn around and tell me later."

"I know," Harry confirmed, his features set in amusement. "Which is why I'm not telling her either."

"Was it that bad?" chimed a voice from his doorway and Harry didn't have to look up to know it was his other best friend.

"No. It was nothing. And it will stay nothing if I keep my trap shut," he corrected, mimicking a key at the corner of his lips, which he threw dramatically over his shoulder.

Hermione gave him a small smile. "Just so long as you know that if you need to talk…"

"You're here. I know, Mione. Thanks, but it was nothing. Really," he repeated, patting the other chair in his office for her to take a seat. "So, how do we bag Malfoy?" he asked, eager to change the subject.

Ron let out a humor filled snort, which earned him an elbow from his fiancée and Harry shook his head in mild dismay. "Ronald, do grow up," she lectured before sinking into her own personal Auror mask, which Harry liked to call 'Research Mode'. "Well, there is always the Claremont Charity Ball tomorrow night," she mentioned, a smug look on her face. "I've already checked and Malfoy has RSVP'd his attendance."

"A Ball might be easier to demand his attention," Ron pointed out. "We could probably even arrange you both at the same table."

"Brilliant," Harry said, only half-heartedly. This whole mission felt like an omen, something heavier than Fledgecraft's promotion and Harry's childhood vendetta was riding on his success, he just wished he knew what. "Ron, you take care of my reservation and the seating arrangements. Hermione, I'm going to need a bevy of ideas at my disposal to get Malfoy to ask me home with him, and even more ideas that will keep me out of his bed. You up for that?"

"The question is, Harry," Ron interjected, "Are you?"

It took all of three seconds before Ron had dissolved into a puddle of laughter and no amount of glaring from Hermione and Harry seemed to quell it. "Ronald, if you insist on being a child, perhaps you should just stay home the night of the gala," Hermione bit out.

Slowly the laughter died, Ron's cheeks still pink. "Fine, fine. It's only funny though because it's so far from the truth. Could you image anyone who was less of a poufter than our Harry here?" he asked, throwing his arm around his friend, who stared at the limb with annoyance and tossed it off. "See! He doesn't even like friendly hugs from blokes."

"Ron," Hermione hissed quietly, her gaze flicking curiously to Harry's. "Just give it a rest, okay?"

"Fine!" Ron huffed, throwing up his hands in defeat. "So, we'll meet at Harry's place at nine?"

"Eight," Hermione answered before Harry had the chance. "We'll need plenty of time to prepare Harry for the ball and dinner is served promptly at half past nine. Harry will need time to mingle beforehand."

"It's settled then," Harry sighed, feeling like a pawn in someone's grand scheme and he desperately wanted out. "Can I please get back to work now? I still have to write up my report about this weekend."

"Of course, Harry. We'll get out of your hair," Hermione replied, tugging Ron up and out of Harry's cubicle.

Harry's foyer was so choked with boxes when he arrived home he couldn't see through to the living room. "Sweet baby Merlin how much stuff did you have back at the Burrow?" he called over the tower of Ginny's things blocking his way.

When he didn't hear an answer he was forced to Apparate into his own kitchen, grudgingly putting on a kettle. He found no trace of Ginny in the house, so it seemed she'd just abandoned him with her mess. He sincerely hoped she didn't expect him to put it all away for her.

He waded through her things until he spotted the stairway, Apparating to the landing and trudging up to his room. The gala was tonight and he had little time to prepare. After a barrage of intrusive conversations throughout the day he'd been forced to stay late to finish his report and thus declined Hermione's help this time, insisting that he was perfectly capable of dressing himself.

Without giving a voice to his thoughts, Harry hoped Ginny would remain away tonight, at least until he had time to leave for the event. He didn't relish arguing with her over why he couldn't take her to the ball and had to work instead. Knowing Ginny loved to mingle and preen with so many influential witches and wizards, Harry felt a little guilty for not inviting her. He couldn't recall the last time he'd volunteered them both to attend a function like this together, even though a third of his closet was now filled with shining ball gowns that he'd never seen his girlfriend wear. She'd obviously been waiting some time to be asked on a glamorous date, but Harry hated the crowds and Ginny never pressed him too much.

Casting around for the vials Hermione had given him before their mission at the club, Harry finally found his final piece and after securing it into place, smoothed his robes with confident hands and went to the Floo downstairs, ready to take that fucker Malfoy down once and for all and be done with this whole mess.

Author's Note: I know a few of you were rather annoyed by Ron's banter, but I can't help but be amused by him. Gala invitations to all who review *wink*
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Secrets & Lies