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A More Worldly Man	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 10960 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- 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.

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Chapter Six—Millicent Bulstrode

            “And you think we can trust her?” Harry was trying not to whinge, but it seemed to him that Draco had made a decision on the letter from Bulstrode far too fast, not only owling her back with an acceptance of her offer but letting her set up their meeting place.

            Draco turned his head and slowly regarded him. Harry bit his lip at the strained look on his face.

            “If I didn’t think we could trust her, would I really have suggested this meeting?” Draco demanded quietly, leaning in towards Harry. “Do you think I would willingly have put you into danger, Harry? After the rescue you brought me through? After I risked my public reputation and my safety to defend you at the Manor?” His hand ran through Harry’s hair for a moment, and then he leaned in far enough to kiss Harry’s ear. “I wouldn’t say Millicent is especially trustworthy, but yes, I think the risk is minimal.”

            Harry relaxed in spite of himself, and turned his head so that he nuzzled into Draco’s neck. “You make me feel better without even trying,” he whispered. “I’ve never known anyone who could do that.”

            Draco laughed, and some of the tension in his body drained away. He still had to huddle down to talk to Harry, since they were wearing heavy cloaks to disguise themselves, but his tone and the expression on his face made up for the softness of his voice. “They weren’t paying attention, then. I don’t think you’re that hard to read.”

            “At least not with someone I want to open up to, no,” Harry said.

            Draco stared at him for a moment, and Harry wondered if he had a piece of food stuck between his teeth. But before he could ask, a firm footfall sounded behind them, and a husky voice said, “Potter? Malfoy?”

            Draco turned around at once, his muscles coiled. After the adventure with Greengrass, Harry couldn’t really blame him. He knew that Draco’s hand would be clasped around his wand in his sleeve. He leaned his shoulder against Draco’s and tapped his wand against the small of Draco’s back, letting him know Harry was on guard, too.

            The woman facing them wore a heavy cloak and a purple flower pinned in a coil of dark hair that extended from beneath the cowl, just as she had told them she would. They were getting some strange looks, Harry knew, but since they were in a Muggle park on the outskirts of London and a light drizzle was falling, there weren’t as many as there might have been. She nodded at them and said, “Bulstrode. Let’s go somewhere more comfortable.”

            She started to turn away, but Draco’s voice said, frozen and implacable, “Your pardon, but we’ve encountered enough tricks to last a lifetime. If you’ll turn around and pull your hood back so that we can see your face? Careful. You do have two wands aimed at you, remember.”

            “Of course,” the woman said, and pivoted smoothly on one heel that made Harry wonder uneasily about her skill in physical combat. She pulled the hood back from the right side of her face, and Harry caught a glimpse of a heavy cheek and jawbone, shadowed by a long, straight nose. She had perhaps the thickest hair he’d ever seen, and darker eyes than he remembered, squinted slightly from the sudden intrusion of rain into the hood.

            Draco exhaled sharply. “It’s Millicent,” he said to Harry.

            “Of course it is,” said Millicent, who apparently objected to being talked about as if she wasn’t there. “Now come with me. No one followed me from what I could tell, but I’m not so sure about you.” She walked out of the park, past the small stand of mournful-looking trees in the center of it and north along a sluggish street. Harry followed, trying to memorize their path in case Bulstrode turned on them after all.

            Millicent led them through a winding route, up alleys and side streets and through another park, before she settled at a small series of tables covered by umbrellas. Harry looked around, but couldn’t tell which of the small cluster of shops and restaurants nearby the tables belonged to. He supposed it didn’t matter, as long as no one Muggle came close enough to hear their conversation. As he and Draco sat down at the table across from Millicent, he cast a privacy ward nonetheless, keeping his wand beneath the edge of his cloak sleeve.

            Millicent cast back her hood before Draco had settled himself and took a long, satisfied breath of fresh air. She wasn’t pretty, Harry thought, but neither did she really resemble the husky, trollish girl he remembered from back in Hogwarts. She didn’t bother concealing the strength in her features, that was all.

            She leaned forwards, studying them pointedly until Harry and Draco both pulled back their hoods. Then she smiled and nodded. “Good,” she said. “So. I want to get back at Lucius. It sounds like you want him to stop interfering with you. I can help you with that if you help me.”

            “What did he do to insult you?” Draco asked. Harry leaned back, keeping his wand aimed at Millicent under the shelter of his sleeve, and let Draco guide the conversation. He was the one who knew this woman best, and despite what he’d said about giving up Slytherin tactics, Harry was more than happy to leave dealing with the actual Slytherins up to him.

            “Publicized my heritage,” Millicent, her lip curling slightly. “And did it in such a way that others snickered over it.”

            Draco frowned. Harry resisted the urge to reach out and smooth the lines away from his forehead. “I don’t understand. Has your father’s family come under some scandal? I haven’t been paying as much attention to pure-blood politics in the past few years as I should, but—“

Millicent shook her head, barely hard enough to ripple the heavy waves of hair that clung around her face. “My mother is Muggleborn,” she said. “My father took steps to conceal that so I could attend Hogwarts as a pure-blood, and he was thankful he had when I was Sorted into Slytherin. I’m not unhappy about people learning that; it was inevitable at some point. But the way Lucius looked at me when he found out…” She exhaled, and Harry thought he saw a flash of rage in her eyes that made him wary. In at least one way, she would be harder to cross wands with than Daphne Greengrass had been. Millicent seemed like someone who wouldn’t waste time playing with her prey. “And the way he spoke of me, and encouraged others to speak of me,” she finished. “I’ve had enough of that. I know now that I can’t take revenge on him along the channels he controls. I want to take revenge on him through you.”

            She said it so frankly that Harry couldn’t even bristle. Yes, she would use them, but they would use her, too, and there would be no prickly, passionless lying, the way that Draco’s parents went about such things.

*

            Draco now understood much better than he had why Millicent might wish to contact them. He nodded gravely and stroked his fingers along his lips, concealing his smile for a moment, so that Millicent wouldn’t think they were laughing at her.

            “So you want your name associated with ours when we begin brewing the Desire potion once more,” he murmured. “And you want Lucius to know why you’re helping us.”

            “Yes.” Millicent clenched her hands in the motion she might use when wrapping them around a warm drink, and then tossed her head back, snorting a little, as though to defy an unheard taunt. Her hands closed tighter, and Draco took a moment to be grateful that she didn’t have his wrist between them right now. Millicent had always been strong, to the point where some of the other Slytherins had speculated on her having troll or giant blood. “No doubt he thinks his insult forgivable. He invited me to the party last night, after all.” She lifted and then dropped her shoulders. “This is poor vengeance, but the best I can take.”

            “You should know,” Draco said, deciding that honesty was the only way he could repay Millicent for what she was about to do, “that we have more enemies than my parents. What I said about Diggory and my father last night was entirely true. Diggory’s had it in for us for some time now, and it’ll be worse now that we’ve managed to deprive him of Cordelia Nott’s support. If you support us, you’ll be struggling against him.”

            “I have no grudge against the Diggory family,” said Millicent, “but neither do I have any particular fondness for them. And I have no quarrels with the way Shacklebolt’s running the Ministry. I’ll support you regardless.”

            Draco nodded, and managed to keep himself from looking relieved only with an effort. Yes, the Gryffindors had a point about honesty and fairness. He would rather act in the open like this than pick his way blindly through a thicket of hidden suspicions, emotions, allegiances, and insults. “Then I must know how you plan to support us. I hadn’t thought the Bulstrodes were that rich.”

            “We aren’t,” said Millicent. “I am. My mother’s family wasn’t badly off at all, and her parents were more interested in their witchy daughter than they ever let on. My mother did—some stupid things, let’s say, and alienated them, but my grandfather’s interest in me never faltered. I’ve made some money from the investments he encouraged me to make. He died last year, and a good portion of his personal possessions passed to me.” Millicent shrugged once and then let her hands sprawl palm-up on the table, as though to demonstrate her good faith. “I can fund your Desire brewing for a time, and I have a warehouse you can convert into a shop. Not everything you need, but it should give you a foothold, and given how Desire sells, you can build up from there.”

            Draco nodded, well-satisfied. Millicent had gained her wealth from the Muggle world, then, rather like Daphne, but she was going to help instead of hurt them. The irony pleased him.

            “I have to know something before we conclude this alliance,” said Harry quietly.

            Millicent turned to face him. “And I have questions,” she said. “An answer for an answer?”

            Harry nodded, his eyes narrowed. Draco bit the corner of his lip to keep from chuckling. Millicent was more open than most of the people he had known in Slytherin, true, but she had still survived seven years in the House. Harry should have known better than to think he would get something for nothing.

            “What was your father’s connection to the Death Eaters?” Harry asked. “Would he ask you to stop associating with me and Draco because of that? No matter which side of the war he stood on, he’s likely to have objections to one of us.”

            Millicent smiled like a satisfied cat. “He was smart enough to stay out of the conflict altogether,” she said. “A few donations at the appropriate times to both sides, and the right words, flattered them and made them ignore him. He won’t care that I’m associating with you two. He’s more likely to start inquiring why I haven’t paid Lucius back for the insult yet, if I don’t start my repayment soon.”

            “But he won’t do it himself?” Harry demanded, leaning forwards. “He won’t interfere in this?”

            Millicent shook her head. “He’s protective of my mother, but the insult was offered to me. I’m the one who should have the pleasure of vengeance.”

            Harry nodded. “Your question, then.”

            “What exactly were the memories that the Malfoys would have shown last night?” Millicent asked. “You destroyed the panels with an impressive blast of magic, but I doubt that merely spreading the word of your power would have satisfied them.”

*

            Harry didn’t punch Millicent in the jaw, but it was a near thing. Because of course she would ask that, and he ought to have been better-prepared, and he did his best not to scold himself or snap at her. Instead, he leaned back against the support of the chair and counted his breaths until he thought himself fit to respond.

            “Draco was—captive,” he said, carefully picking his way around the words. After all, Draco hadn’t mentioned this to Millicent so far, so there were probably some secrets he didn’t want her knowing. “I rescued him from the witch holding him. In doing so, I made her a Squib.” There. That should satisfy her without revealing enough details to be dangerous.

            Millicent’s eyes widened, and Harry half-expected her to stand and bolt away from the table. Instead, she leaned forwards and said, “Could you do that to Lucius?”

            Harry blinked twice. Millicent’s breath was coming faster, and her face shone as if with the reflected light of a particularly impressive firework display. Harry resisted the temptation to shake his head or say something disparaging about Slytherins and their lust for power.

            “I don’t particularly want to do it to Lucius,” said Harry shortly, and shifted his weight so that he could reach his wand without stretching. “I can only imagine what would happen if it became common knowledge that I could. Azkaban? A new law passed that specifically ensured I couldn’t cast spells above a certain level?” He shivered, and Draco pressed against him and squeezed him with an arm slung around his back. Harry sighed, and then smiled at Draco. “It’s enough that I did it once.”

            Millicent didn’t say anything for long moments. Then she said, “What conditions do you need to summon that magic?”

            Harry didn’t mind mentioning that. Perhaps it would serve as a safeguard against Millicent betraying them. “Intense anger,” he said. “And, lately, danger to Draco.”

            Draco stiffened against him. Harry wondered why. Perhaps he simply didn’t like the mention of his weakness in front of anyone else. Harry turned his head so his hair swept against Draco’s cheek in apology, and Draco relaxed a little.

            “All right,” said Millicent. “It’s enough to know that you can defend him, so I’m not likely to lose my allies suddenly if the Malfoys attack you.”

            “Are they that desperate?” Harry asked quietly, because it was not the kind of question he could ask Draco, considering his relationship with his parents. “Would they try to kill their son rather than suffer him to stay free of them?”

            “Kill?” Millicent gnawed one of her thumbnails. “I don’t think so. After all, if their son dies, the Malfoy line can’t continue.” Scorn flavored her voice; Harry supposed she had a reason for scorning pure-blood politics. “But they probably wouldn’t hesitate to kidnap him if they could, or use Imperius on him. Or a suggestion potion.”

            “Neither of my parents are brewer enough to make a suggestion potion,” Draco murmured.

            “But they have enough money to hire the best brewers,” Millicent snapped back, and sighed in a long-suffering manner. “I see why you kept company with Granger during school, Potter,” she added then. “Someone has to do the thinking, and two men together are capable of thinking about only one thing.”

            “Hermione’s still with me,” said Harry. “At the moment, she’s investigating something to do with the enemy who kidnapped Draco.” Hermione had contacted him that morning admitting she’d had no luck finding other people whom Greengrass might have sent memories to. Greengrass’s house was loaded with spells, traps, webs, wards, and magic loaded on top of magic, all intent on guarding her secrets. Hermione thought it might take her months to search through the entire mess, but she had a few clues she had decided to unravel. She hoped to have some information for them in two days at the latest.

            “Excellent,” said Millicent. “I’d like to have her help on this as well.”

            Harry met her eyes and said, “If she wants to. And once she finishes the project she’s currently working on.”

            For the first time, Millicent gave what could be considered a normal smile and held up a hand. “You’re still the Granger handler, Potter,” she said. “God forbid she should join the fray before she’s ready.”

            She sat back and pulled a mirror from an inner pocket of her robes. Harry blinked—he hadn’t thought she seemed like one to preen—but instead Millicent angled the mirror so it showed the scene over her shoulder, and then nodded once in satisfaction. “No one’s found us yet, but I don’t think we should linger,” she said, rising. “I’ll send you the Apparition coordinates for the building that’s going to become your next shop, and I’ll start circulating the talk about your opening up your business again, Malfoy.”

            “And what should we do in the meantime?” Harry felt compelled to ask, standing. He didn’t like to take orders from Millicent, but it sounded as if she wanted them to simply begin brewing the Desire potion, and there was a problem with that. “After all, if we go to apothecaries or Diagon Alley to buy the ingredients for the potion, we’re likely to find ourselves blocked, followed, or ambushed.”

            “Owl me a list of the ingredients,” said Millicent smartly. “I’m not a skilled brewer myself, but I did spend a few summers working for my aunt, who is. I can recognize ingredients well enough, and tell good from bad.” She reached across the table and patted Harry on the shoulder, strongly enough to make him sway on his feet. “Don’t worry, Potter. We’ll settle this in time.”

            “I’m not worried,” Harry spluttered, feeling slightly stunned. Associating with Millicent was going to be more like associating with Hermione than he had ever thought possible—a Hermione who didn’t have the other one’s filter on certain uncomfortable ideas and statements.

            “You should be,” said Millicent, raising an eyebrow, “within reason. Diggory and the Malfoys are formidable opponents, and in particular, you should worry about Narcissa Malfoy, who will go to lengths I don’t think Lucius would ever envision in order to get her son back.” She nodded to Draco. “Malfoy.”

            “You just said—“ Harry began.

            “Learn to read the nuances of my voice, Gryffindor!” Millicent called, and trotted off, presumably to some more sheltered Apparition point that wouldn’t be in sight of Muggles.

            “I want to watch somewhere, from a distance, when she meets Hermione,” Harry muttered.

            “That will be worth watching,” Draco agreed, and there was a softness to his voice that brought Harry’s head around immediately. Draco was leaning on him as if he were tired, but his gaze was sharp and direct. “Can we return to your flat? There’s a list of ingredients I’ll need you to fetch.”

            “If we’ll be stopped seeking ingredients for the Desire potion—“

            Draco laughed beneath his breath. “I promise, none of the ingredients for the potion I plan to brew are shared in common with the Desire potion. And you can cast a glamour before you go.” He must have seen some sign of hesitation in Harry’s face, because he added encouragingly, “Please, Harry. This is something I need to do.”

            Harry nodded once, then went seeking for an Apparition point of their own.

*

            Draco regarded the ingredients before him with a jaundiced eye. Oh, there appeared to be nothing wrong with the beetle eyes that Harry had chosen, or the hippogriff feathers, or the powdered robin’s eggshell, but Harry caused disasters around himself without meaning to.

            He shook his head, reminded himself that he had a master brewer’s senses and should have been able to tell if something was wrong immediately, and picked up three beetle eyes. They dropped into the cauldron filled with water, and the water immediately turned thick and pink, which was as it should be.

            Draco relaxed after that, and it was as if he had never been away from brewing in the first place. His hands rose and fell with the same precision as always; he knew exactly which ingredient should go into the cauldron next, and how it should be mashed, chopped, picked through, or stirred. It was nothing like the intimate, intense experience brewing the Desire potion was when he shared it with Harry, but that had its good side, too. Draco doubted this potion would ever need so much magic, and he would have had to explain its nature to Harry before they made it, and then Harry would have been too nervous to do a good job.

            Finally, he cast the last bit of eggshell into the cauldron, and the liquid swirled and turned a pure, serene blue. Draco relaxed completely and glanced up when someone rapped hesitantly on the bedroom door.

            Harry put his head around the door. “Millicent’s owled us with the Apparition coordinates and some of the ingredients for Desire,” he said quietly. “But I thought you might want dinner first.”

            Draco smiled a little, but gestured to the potion. “This doesn’t react well with food,” he said. “I want us to drink it first, allow ourselves a half-hour to recover from the effects, and then eat. Then we’ll take Pepper-Up. I intend to inspect the building with as much alertness as I could muster.”

            Harry came a step or two into the bedroom, chewing his lip. “I assumed this was a healing potion for you,” he said. “To soothe nightmares, maybe. Why do you want me to take it, too?”

            Draco sighed and dipped one of the clean glass vials he’d kept about for the Desire potion into the cauldron, filling it three-quarters of the way with the blue potion. He did the same thing with a second vial. Harry fidgeted, but didn’t interrupt.

            “When you spoke of protecting me today,” Draco said, turning around and extending the first vial to Harry, “I realized that you spoke as if you were assuming you’d always need to do so. And I have healed more than that. But I’m still not comfortable talking with you about the extent of my mental injuries. Or my conflict with my parents, for that matter. And I still don’t always understand you, either. Why are you so afraid of your own magic? Why did it affect you so strongly last night?”

            “I’d be happy to explain that, if you want me to,” said Harry, his voice rising slightly. He glared at the vial of blue potion as if he would upend it rather than accept it from Draco’s hand.

            “In this case, I don’t think you have the right words, and I don’t have the right temper for listening,” said Draco. “We need to understand each other outside of immediate disasters, Harry, in order to survive. My parents and Diggory know each other better than we do. This potion will enable us to travel into each other’s minds for the space of ten minutes. I promise, I’ll only look for the answers to the questions that are most important and which I don’t think you can explain to me.” He looked steadily at Harry. “And I trust you to do the same thing with me.”

            “Is it like Legilimency?” Harry asked. His face had paled, and he accepted the vial with a hand that shook slightly. “Both Voldemort and Snape used that on me, and it hurt each time.”

            Draco hissed, an old wave of exasperation at Severus’s tactics flooding him. The man had been a brilliant brewer, and an absolutely miserable teacher of anything but his chosen subject. “If Legilimency hurts the victim, it’s being used with sadistic intent,” he said. “There’ll be no pain, Harry, I promise. We’ll need recovery time just to get used to being separated after being so close.” He met and held Harry’s eyes. “Unless you don’t trust me.”

            Harry responded by tipping the vial down his throat. Draco smiled slightly and swallowed his own dose of potion.

            And then the world peeled away from him, and he was dropped straight into Harry’s thoughts.

*

            Lilith: Millicent should be a strong ally, yes.

            nomdeplume: Well, Draco had other reasons for choosing the ‘Gryffindor’ way to fight back, but yes, the way his parents act like assholes had something to do with it. ;)

            Thrnbrooke, avihenda: Thanks for reviewing!

            Mangacat: I doubt Draco will be that open again for a while, but Millicent can help him tell them off.

            SP777: Thank you very much! I’ve always been fascinated by political intrigue in other stories, so I’m not surprised it’s a prominent theme in my own.

            And I know what you mean about the chapters. I do try to advance the story a little with each chapter, but some are simply quieter than others.
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A More Worldly Man