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Harco Empire	By : Toddy Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 34430 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or films. I do not make any money from the writing of this story, just enjoyment.

Chapter List
- 48
- 49
- 50
[Note: conversation =: “speech” & ‘thoughts’ & *telepathy* & #Parseltongue# & {telephone}]
~~~ HARVESTS ~~~
On Saturday 3rd Francis, Draco’s lawyer, new to the household, was a little taken aback by the free and easy way everyone related to each other. He had arrived at midday bringing with him a trunk full of papers from the Snape estate; saying that Draco should look at them to see what was important and what was not. He also brought with him two portraits of a great uncle who, according to the family tree, was related somewhat distantly to both Draco and Harry. Travis Duindhu was the Scottish gentleman’s name. Wearing a kilt, with a handsome ruddy face, friendly smile and kindly eyes, both Draco and Harry instinctively liked him. They were both magical portraits, Harry had never owned one and Draco felt a little homesick, so they agreed to have one portrait at the cottage and the other in the Hogwarts apartment.
After delivering the box and pictures Francis went to see Graham, Washington and Coleman and stayed chatting to them until lunch was announced. Being invited, he joined the mixed party for the repast.
“I’m beginning to see what you meant in your speech to the Wizengamot, Mr Potter,” Francis said: “About being able to relate as equals. I have worked with Hamish before, purely on a professional basis. I meet muggles in court and have a house-elf at home. I never thought I’d share a meal with any of them. I must say it’s a refreshing experience, one that I’d like to continue some time.”
“Call me Harry please. If you wanted to stay overnight or even for the weekend we’d be most pleased to offer you our hospitality.”
D: *Good thing, Seamus and Dean added those extra guest rooms, isn’t it*?
Harry silently agreed.
“Really … Thanks … How do I tell my house-elf, Washer?”
“I know her, Master Francis. Can I ask her over here too?” Kreacher looked at Harry, who nodded, and then at Francis.
“Yes please, Kreacher, she gets a bit lonely sometimes.”
Almost as soon as Francis had agreed there was a pop and Washer appeared with a weekend case of his clothes etc. She was quite shy, but soon made friends with Hyacinth. Harry felt that they both were a little overawed by the mixed noisy establishment. Hamish and Francis struck up a friendship too. They both liked poetry, and later wandered around the garden, quietly discussing the pros and cons of blank verse.
Harry noticed during the meal that the three choir-teens were looking slightly worried; so he and Draco took them aside after the meal.
“What’s making you look so glum?” Draco asked.
“Francis says that the trial is next Saturday,” Coleman explained: “And then if they are convicted we will have to vacate the farm so they can sell it.”
“That’s funny. I wonder why we haven’t been asked to attend.”
“Francis says you will be there anyway and your depositions are enough. There are other non-related charges being dealt with at the same time. We’re needed to identify those who tortured us, more than anything. By the way, he’s got our trio a good compensation deal too. Thanks Draco; following your advice, we gave Francis the Ministry’s second offer and he’s almost doubled it.”
“Will he be there when you sign the release documents, Cole?”
“Yes thanks, Draco; he went through them with us last Monday morning, when you lot had gone off to school. Was Gran tough on you? She looks quite formidable.”
“Not too bad thanks. We need this weekend to relax from it, though.”
“Don’t forget John wants you to be part of the harvest service tomorrow.”
Harry slapped his head: “We had, still … It won’t be as taxing as any single day last week. Um … Who said you had to vacate the farm?”
“Well we will, won’t we? Now we’ve got it spruced up for them, won’t your whizz thing want to take it over and sell it?”
“Did Francis tell you that?”
“No, we just assumed that was going to happen.”
Harry called Francis away from his chat to Hamish.
“The guys think they have to vacate Woodyates after the trial. Is that true?”
“No … They might have to later on if, as is likely, the farm is confiscated. The Wizengamot will want to sell it; at least; they always have done in the past. Meanwhile your guys will be caretakers on the rent-for-work principle that is already agreed.”
“That’s a relief! Though it’s only temporarily until a buyer comes along.”
D: *Harry, could we buy it between us? I’ve got some capital, now that Uncle Sev’s estate has cleared probate*.
H: *That’s an idea. I’d like to keep those three together if possible*.
D: *I was being more commercial, selling the produce via the market, or maybe to Hogwarts. That would bring us some return on the investment. Father liked land, he said it was a safe bet*.
D: *Um … Fine …* “Francis, is there a way Draco and I could buy the farm when it comes up for sale? In that way, our trio would have a living and we’d get a return on our capital.”
“Can you afford it, Harry?”
“Go on, Draco … You tell him.”
“From what I’ve seen in Harry’s vault, he’s worth well over two thousand times the sum you told me that I’m receiving from Uncle Sev’s estate.”
“That rich?” Francis raised his eyes: “Yes you can well afford it then. I reckon that you’d get it at a knock-down price by offering to take it off the bureaucrats’ hands immediately. I could chat to Madam Mugwump if you like.”
Harry looked at Draco who nodded affirmatively.
“Yes please Francis. Um … You’d better draw up some kind of agreement between us so we share the profits. We put in the capital they put in the work so we divide the results.”
“Very well … I know of a number of such agreements, I’ll make a précis of them and you can choose.”
“Err … Harry … Draco … Err … Does that mean we’ll be working for you?” asked Washington.
“I don’t think we see ourselves as employers, do we, Harry?”
“Um … No … Some sort of partnership including possibly Greg. We hear he’s been helping with the ploughing and other things.”
“Yes … now he’s sorted the charms out with Herms. He’s got a thing about dry-stone-walling too. We need it; most of them are heaps of rubble at the moment.”
“Fine … What about your fees, Francis?”
“Most are already dealt with, thanks Harry … Erm … Can I set them off against a weekend’s stay here? I find the whole trusting atmosphere here so refreshing from the rat race in London.”
“Of course, be our guest, and on other weekends too, if you like.”
“Erm … Really … Thanks … It seems you have a tame lawyer, Mr Potter.”
The company chuckled and Draco and Harry excused themselves to stroll off up to Niggle Edge via Blake Tarn. Later on they came back and sat in their favourite spot near the Temple Pool. After tea Harry went to see John about the arrangements for the harvest service whilst Draco set about sorting the trunk’s contents.
Having finished talking to the vicar Harry returned to the cottage, calling in to see how his lover was getting on. As with all jobs that include sorting through papers, there were piles all over the floor and tables. Harry sat on the only available chair and surveyed the organised chaos around him and his partner. His eye fell on a bunch of parchments tied up with black tape.
“What are these Draco?”
“What …? Oh those …! They’re the notes I took whilst repairing the vanishing cabinet, I’m going to throw them away. Uncle Sev was very annoyed about it and confiscated them.”
“Mind if I have a look first?”
“Hmm …? Oh …! If you like.” Draco was concentrating on something else.
Harry picked up the bundle and repaired to his study, not wanting to distract an obviously preoccupied Draco from the task in hand. Harry found the account quite interesting, but his careful study of it was disjointed because the choir-guys came to discuss the Woodyates ideas. Only after the evening’s games, Harry’s report on the harvest service and the pair’s love-making did the subject come up.
“Did you read my notes then?” Draco asked, half amusedly.
“Not finished them yet, discussions about the farm got in the way. Can I keep them, please?”
“Why not! They’ll be in your pile of junk instead of mine.” Draco sealed his approval with a lingering goodnight kiss.
~~~ SUNDAY 04/10/98 ~~~
As usual the DA was out in force to support Harry and Draco at church. The two of them had donned their green robes and were helping John receive the gifts of produce from the parishioners. Forewarned by Neville the members had also brought along suitable gifts which included tins of various kinds of foodstuff. Harry was a little worried that these were not suitable.
“Nonsense,” whispered John, as he put another basket down near the altar: “Most of this will go to the inhabitants of the alms houses. Some of them no longer want to cook recipes for themselves, but they can still wield a tin-opener when they’re hungry. It gives them a better feeling of independence, don’t y’know.”
Harry could see the wisdom of this. He’d visited old people’s homes with Aunt Petunia when she was in a do-gooding mood. The old dears just sat around staring vacantly into space. Because the alms houses were in Almoners Row, near the cottage, he had seen the ancient inmates chatting animatedly whilst sitting under their front porches. Now they were used to him they would wave as he passed. Quite a different reaction to the semi-vegetables his aunt used to patronise.
Once they had placed the gifts to John’s satisfaction the pair returned to their mates who were seated in the balcony. Every ledge and angle in the church had been decorated with produce or flowers. The smell was incredible and very enjoyable, so was the singing. Draco reckoned that the whole village had turned out because there only appeared to be five vacant seats in the nave. Some of the congregation had even taken to sitting in the transepts, from which there was little view of the altar. Nevertheless, that many people singing the old favourite harvest hymns added a new and uplifting dimension to the worship.
The Dumbledorians were a little put out after the service. Admittedly it had lasted half an hour longer than usual. However, instead of the usual wander across to the pub with a game of football on the school playing field; people rushed off home. Shrugging, Harry led the cohorts into the Farmers Arms. They were met by a laughing Richard.
“I don’t suppose anybody told you, but we have a special do today, outside. What you need to do is grab a suitable chair each from your house, plus a few portable tables and congregate in the square. No need to worry about food and drink, that’s all part of the fun. Be back for one o’clock, okay. Oh, and bring some plates and eating-irons with you too, plus a glass or two.”
There was plenty of time to return to the cottage and sort out what was needed and at about five to one the company returned. Samantha was there, organising everyone, as usual. “This space is for you and your friends, Harry. The centre bit is for the fun afterwards. It might be an idea to designate a couple of people to act as waiters, too.”
The group sorted themselves out nicely in time for John to say grace and Richard to start ladling out the stew from an enormous wheeled cauldron; much bigger than anything they had encountered at Hogwarts. There was a table at the side, holding a small mountain of fresh baked steaming bread to go with it. Both smelled and tasted delicious.
John came to visit, carrying his dish of food. “Draco, do you think you could do something to keep the pot warm. Seconds don’t taste quite the same if they become lukewarm.”
“No problem John. I’ll wander over quietly and help out.” He did so: “Hello, Mavis, [she was Richard’s wife] I understand you want to keep the pot warm.”
Mavis winked at him: “Yes please, but don’t make it too obvious.”
Draco thought the warming spell and pointed his finger: “Is that hot enough?”
“Yes thanks, it’s bubbling nicely … And I didn’t see you doing it either.”
Draco winked and helped himself to another bucket of stew and went share it with his friends. Seamus came and picked up a couple more loaves to share, as well.
First course over there were a number of big plate fruit pies. Mainly apple but with other fruits as well, together with cream they were delicious. To drink was a barrel of scrumpy – a sort of cider but stronger and very scrumptious, just the thing to accompany the meal. Some people were red faced and giggly by the end; not only the mages but quite a few muggles, too.
There was ample time to work off the excess once the fun began. It was a bucolic form of competition. There were the expected things such as egg and spoon races or wheelbarrow races – not quite the same even then. The wheelbarrows contained as many passengers as the driver could lift and move. Some of the mages were tempted to cheat, but a scowl from Draco made them think twice. The obstacle race was messy because the competitors had to carry a brim-full tankard of scrumpy and not spill any. Once you were at the end of the course and out of breath you were expected to drink it all in one go. Losing points for the amount you spilled on the way and the number of times you paused whilst drinking at the end. Dean did extremely well by winning his heat and then the final too. However, he was unable to compete in any other contest thereafter, being incapable of standing up. There was a steeplechase for horses and riders, Astoria came second in that one. The competitions were ingenious and unusual, arranged so that everyone could join in. They included a wheelchair race around the churchyard with the alms houses inmates urging their younger push/drivers to greater efforts.
Sometime during the afternoon George disappeared for half an hour coming back with a large box in tow. As dusk fell it became obvious why. A short fireworks display finished the day off perfectly.
There was a communal Dumbledorian decision to stay at the cottage, and cabinet the following morning. The members had enjoyed themselves greatly, but most of them doubted that they could apparate to their homes accurately that evening.
~~~ WIZENGAMOT ~~~
Nothing out-of-the-ordinary happened during that school week. The new professors felt less rushed than when Augusta was there and managed a couple of sessions together working out what they should do for their combined project.
It was Saturday when things became interesting again.
For a change Draco woke before Harry that morning. He shook his partner awake.
“I was having such a lovely dream.” Harry mumbled.
“Yes I can see you were. Who was the lucky guy?”
“You were, of course. I think you’d better ravish me for real.”
“Sorry, but I don’t have a white charger and a cape.”
“Perhaps not, but your sword is demanding attention.”
“I fancy a salacious shower, are you coming?”
“Now and in a few minutes, Lover.”
Soapy bodies slithering together soon had sexy outpourings. Kissing, they indulged in seconds under the sluicing steamy water. Breakfast over, Blaise offered to help with transport to the ministry, so each of them cabinetted with a young muggle; gaining the Ministry via the entrance in Physic Alley. There were the usual security checks and they all collected visitors’ badges. The medallions’ magical aura fooled the wand weighing clerk. Only when the trio took them off was he satisfied that they were not entitled to wands.
“Those are strong charms Mr Potter.”
“Mr Malfoy partnered me in making them.”
“Oh! I’d heard you were working as a team; now I’ve seen the proof. Have a good day.”
“Bloody Americanisms,” Draco mumble-grumbled as they waited for a lift: “Attending court is definitely not a good day, for anyone; even the witnesses.”
The muggle trio were all eyes and ears, gawping at the surroundings of the Ministry. All kinds of people greeted Harry and quite a few said their hellos to Draco too, even Blaise got a few nods. Having delivered their charges into the Aurors’ hands, the magical trio went to find their seats. The Wizengamot was well attended; Blaise, Ronald and Hermione managed to claim three places next door to Harry and Draco, a couple of minutes after the seneschals had seated themselves.
Ronald grumbled. “That toad with a bow in her hair seems to have wheedled her way into the Minister’s good books again.”
Harry looked where Ron had indicated; Umbridge was in the official enclosure. “She could smarm her way up a sparrow’s backside,” Harry agreed.
“No need to be crude, Harry. I prefer Ron’s toad with a bow description.” Despite her remonstrance Hermione was giggling.
“She let us get at you Gryffindor’s, though,” Draco stirred: “So she must have had some good ideas. Although … I too feel disturbed about her for some reason; I cannot quite put my finger on it now.”
Ron playfully thumped Draco’s shoulder and he pretended it hurt.
“Shh, shh. If you youngsters can’t behave …” An older wizard turned round. “Oh! Sorry Seneschal Potter, I didn’t know it was you.”
“I reckon they’d let you get away with a public striptease, and still apologise,” Draco whispered.
“For you, Darling, anything; when would you like me to start?” Harry breathed archly in Draco’s ear, giving his thigh a caressing squeeze. The other four giggled.
They became serious when Graucus and the other prisoners were brought into the pit under Auror escort. Draco shuddered in remembrance of their tortures, so Harry squeezed his hand comfortingly. Once seated, the chains on the arms of the chairs secured the accused. The charges were read out, and then the various depositions; including those of the two new seneschal’s. The villains disputed everything, but the evidence slowly mounted against them. Other witnesses spoke out and eventually, after the muggle trio were introduced as part of Harry’s household, they were asked about what had happened. There were gasps as the boys graphically described what had been done to them and how they had been tempted and coerced.
The chief prosecutor asked Washington if he could identify the perpetrators. He pointed at the accused and then looked round the court benches.
“That witch up there,” he said. “She was the one who played with our willies and suggested those nasty things to us.” When questioned, the other two agreed with him.
“Which one?” Zandra, the Mugwump, asked.
“The one sitting three seats away from you, with a bow in her hair.”
“So it was her,” Draco mumbled: “Now I remember.”
Umbridge put on a sickly winning smile. “The muggle must be ensorcelled. I’m a Ministry official; one of my enemies has done this.”
“Have the witnesses been checked for Imperio and other coercive spells, Mr Auror?
“Yes, Madam Mugwump. It is now standard practice. None of them showed any signs of ensorcelling.”
“Thank you Mr Auror. Madam Umbridge, no doubt you will let your wand be subject to Prior Incantatem?” Zandra asked, holding out her hand. “That should prove your innocence.
“I’m a Ministry Official. I will not be degraded by such a demand.” Umbridge stood and attempted to walk out in high dudgeon.
Unfortunately for her Senior Auror Dawlish was her next door neighbour and he stood to block her way. “The Wizengamot’s chief judge has just asked for your wand, madam. You will give it up, or be arrested.”
There was a brief struggle, Dawlish incarcerated Umbridge, removed her wand and gave it to Zandra Bradley. She looked around.
“Seneschal Potter, would you be so good as to perform the charm for the court, please? Your excellent impartial reputation is known to all.”
H: *I’m hardly impartial as far as she’s concerned*.
D: *I agree, but the other seneschals think that you are. That’s what matters*.
Harry came down to the official box, took the wand, putting it in the clip so that everyone could see. “Priori Incantatem,” he pronounced, pointing his finger at the wand in the clip. The Wizengamot members gasped in surprise at Harry’s inadvertent demonstration of wandless magic. Most of the wand’s latest spells appeared to be about fluffy cats. Next came ones of a darker hue. Three boys tortured. Transformation into a pretty girl. More fluffy-cats. Tied, unidentified young men being made to have sex with each other. Then came fluffy cats again. Cats and coercive spells alternated until eventually even the spell creating Harry’s ‘I must not tell lies’ quill was revealed. On the way a number of illegal forgetting hexes were also exposed.
“Thank you Seneschal Potter. Please stop. I think the wand’s evidence speaks for itself. Dolores Jane Umbridge you are hereby accused of sundry heinous crimes including the ones at present before this court. Auror Dawlish please place her with the rest of the accused?”
“Deleterious,” Harry pronounced, and all the images melted away. As he went back to his seat, Harry saw a gaudily dressed Rita Skeeter busy with her automatic pink quill, smiling gleefully. The rest of the trial was an anti-climax. As expected, all the prisoners including Umbridge were sent to Azkaban and deprived of their properties.
“She got what she deserves,” Draco said: “She was another one that tortured me also, but my mind had blocked it from remembrance.”
“That was one of those illegal forgetting hexes, do doubt,” remarked Hermione, she tried some out on Harry, but they faded after she left the academy.”
Harry told Draco what had happened in her office. Draco blushed and admitted that she had interfered with him also.
Francis collared the boys as they left court and asked Harry and the others if they would be witnesses to the property documents.
“I talked to Madam Mugwump and she has set a reasonable price; as long as we take over the property today,” Francis informed them.
“We can give you a cheque straight away, Francis,” Harry said. “We have enough funds to cover this, and more besides; as you already know.”
“Just a moment Harry,” Francis went through some parchments in his briefcase. “Ah yes! I have the document here. It will only take a couple of minutes to fill it in.”
Half an hour later, Harry and Draco were the new masters of Woodyates Farm; duly recognised and certificated by the Ministry. A quick floo to Gringotts had confirmed the money was available and the Magical Properties Registrar was all smiles and handshakes.
“A pleasure to do business with you, Mr Potter;” offering Harry a slack and clammy handshake plus an insincere bureaucratic smile.
Draco squirmed inwardly when the same happened to him.
That evening they celebrated firstly by attending the monthly parish dance. Later our pair celebrated in a more exotic way.
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