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His Actium	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 9606 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I am making no money from this story.

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Chapter Eight--Problems Leaped

            Once in the house, Draco didn't seem interested in explaining the decision he had come to, or the task that he wanted Harry to complete for him. He wandered in circles, trailing his hand over the mantle and the furniture and the books on the shelves. Harry tried to be irritated as he watched him, but he couldn't. He found himself smiling instead, as though Draco's fussiness was precious, as though there was something to be valued in his presence in Harry's house.

            Then he became aware that he was thinking that and grimaced at himself. Yes, he might feel that way, but Draco wouldn't, and it would become obvious the minute they spoke that they held different goals. Harry didn't want to fool himself about this the way he'd fooled himself for so many years about who his work really hurt.

            So he concealed his smile and spoke with a bored undertone in the back of his voice that he'd learned from two of the men he used to date. "So. What is this famous thing that you wanted me to do for you?"

            Draco paused in examining the jade lion that sat on the fireplace--something Harry had seen in a shop off Diagon Alley and liked enough to buy--and turned around. His face was set in a strange expression, as though Harry had just banished a smile trying to form there. "Are you always so rude to your guests?" he murmured. "You haven't offered me tea yet."

            "Do you want tea?" Harry didn't grind his teeth, but that cost him an effort.

            "Tea would be lovely, thank you." Instead of remaining in the drawing room and continuing his inspection, Draco followed him into the kitchen.

            Harry felt strange having him there, although he supposed it was no worse than having him in the drawing room. He kept his back turned as he pulled the right materials to make his favorite tea out of the cupboards, but he could feel Draco's hand on the polished oak table, his eyes on the cupboards themselves--made of yellow pine, and smoothed by Harry's spells--and the patterned floor. The tiles didn't seem to be anything special at first, but arranged themselves in the shape of a flying hippogriff the longer you looked.

            Harry heard the satisfied little catch of Draco's breath when he saw the hippogriff. "Interesting," he remarked. "I would have thought that you'd have chosen a lion, or at least a griffin."

            Harry turned around with the cups in his hands and the perfect smile, or so he thought, on his face. "I have reasons for thinking back fondly on hippogriffs."

            Draco moved his hand to his arm before he could stop himself. Harry darted a glance, interested and suddenly remembering he had never noticed, but no, there was no scar from Buckbeak there. He hadn't really thought there would be. Draco would have handled true pain differently from the mixture of pain and humiliation that Buckbeak had inflicted.

            You've seen the way he handles it. Harry shuddered, and then told himself to stop thinking like that and pay attention to the Draco who was actually in front of him, not the one he had imagined.

            It wasn't long until the kettle whistled, and Harry filled the cups. Draco was still behind him, and Harry arched his back in spite of himself. The longer Draco watched him, the more he felt stroked.

            "This is a nicer house than I thought you would have," Draco said, as Harry handed him his cup. He took a long, slow sip, his eyes half-closing and his throat releasing a little hum of sound before he could stop himself. Harry smiled. He made tea good enough that even Hermione couldn't suggest anything to improve on it, and that was rare.

            "Because whores don't get paid that much?"

            Draco lowered the cup and raised one eyebrow at Harry. "You told me that you had stopped being one."

            "I have." Harry sipped his own tea, and then put it aside on the counter. Normally, he would have kept it, since it would give him something to do with his hands, but he didn't feel like it today. He wanted to face Draco with the compendium of everything that was honest in him. "But most people think that once a whore, always a whore."

            "Once tainted, always tainted," Draco said, and lifted his head as though inviting Harry to get a closer look at him.

            Harry smiled before he could stop himself at the obvious comparison between them. This was the Draco he had seen in Venezia's, and in his office, and even in the dinner right before he decided to sleep with Harry, not the wild-eyed, desperate version who had insisted that Harry confront the truth about himself. Harry thought he could like both versions. "Yes. But what was it that you came to ask me?"



            Draco frowned into his cup for a moment. "Before I could ask myself what would make me trust you again," he said quietly, "I had to think why your actions threw me. I had known from the beginning that you weren't coming to me because you really wanted me. I planned to fuck you to satisfy my own desires and then prove to you that I knew all along. Why was I so badly-shaken when you lived down to expectations?"

            "Because of Zabini?" Harry suggested.

            "If you keep harping on Blaise, I shall be upset." Draco's eyes could easily have nailed Harry to the wall. "He has very little to do with what happened between us. No. I was confused by the honesty that you brought to your performance in bed. I thought you would be more sophisticated than you were, more distant, more focused on my pleasure instead of your own. That, at least, is the stereotype of the courtesan who seduces for business and money."

            "I don't think anyone's ever called me a courtesan before," Harry mused. "I might have liked that name better than whore."

            Draco looked at him, then seemed to decide that there were some things Harry would never stop saying because he paused, and went on. "So there you were, honest and dishonest at the same time. You regretted that you were spying on me, but you'd done it. And then you spoke to me as if you were sorry but not sorry enough to do everything I demanded. It--made me think. It proved that you weren't as simple and straightforward as I had thought, and neither were my desires for you."

            Harry took a sip of the tea so that his throat wouldn't be dry when he tried to speak. "I'm glad to hear that at least you're giving me a second chance," he said.

            Draco's smile had several shades and overtones to it that Harry didn't think he could name. "I had to," he said. "Because it was a second chance for me, too. A chance to see what's real about you, the honesty and the dishonesty, or both at once. I think the answer is both, but we'll see how you act when I ask this of you."

            "Ask the bloody question," Harry said, and managed to keep his hand from tapping on the counter beside him only with sheer force of will.

            "Ah, yes, the impatience is very real," Draco murmured, and then went on without giving Harry time to think up a response to that. "Would you be willing to spy on Robards for me and obtain an answer as to why he wanted to frame me specifically? I know the likely reasons. But I want the truth, and not in full trial, which would take me more time and money than it’s worth."

            Harry blinked a bit, then swallowed and said, "I'd have to come up with a reason to get close to him. But--yes, I think I could do that."

            Draco's eyes were very wide, the pupils dilated in a way that made Harry wonder what he was thinking about. "You would do that," he said, soft, dreamy, questioning. "Although you've given up your career as a spy for the Ministry."

            "I've given up that particular career, not all the skills that came with it," Harry pointed out. "The way I went and obtained information about the Potions companies should have told you that much."

            Draco's mouth twisted in a sneer. "Do those abilities you want to employ include sleeping with people?" he asked. "Because the thought of that turns my stomach."

            Harry felt as though he'd swallowed a mouthful of spiced hot chocolate. He bit down on his lips to still a smile. He does care. "No," he said. "But I can act, and I can observe people without letting them know what I’m doing. And I can plan and think quickly, and change my plans if someone catches me out." And I know the perfect way to get close to Robards, now that I think about it.

            "You didn't do that when I caught you," Draco said.

            "Yes, I did," Harry said. "I decided to share what I knew with you instead of keeping it secret. Even though I still didn't know at that point if you were guilty or innocent. I could have concealed the truth, or I could have implied that someone else in the Ministry than Robards wanted you framed, or I could have said that I'd been sent to kill you."

            "So why make the decision you did?" Draco edged closer to him. "That's the part I don't understand. Why am I worth getting angry over, changing your career over? Why are you so angry at Blaise? You can barely talk about him without venom dripping from your lips."

            Harry shrugged helplessly. "Reading through those reports made me realize that you'd become like me," he said.

            Draco's whole body froze, though in a way that still left him looking lovely and poised. "A whore?" he asked, through lips that didn't sound numb and clumsy the way Harry had imagined they would. "What a wonderful image."

            "No," Harry said. "Will you stop harping on that? I liked the word 'courtesan' better."

            Draco simply stared at him and waited for a reply.

            Harry sighed and rubbed his face. He wasn't entirely sure that he could explain his reaction in a way that would satisfy Draco, but he could try. He wanted to try. That was the maddest part of the whole thing.

            "You sounded like someone who had become successful in your chosen field," he said. "Like someone who had achieved a way to live his normal, everyday life, even though lots of people would prefer that you didn't. Granted, your burden was probably harder than mine because you were struggling with a bad reputation instead of a good one, but it's the same idea. You could have given up, and people would have accepted that as the right and proper ending of a story. You could have succumbed to one of your business rivals. You didn't. And I know you hate me talking about Zabini, but you could have curled up and stopped dating after he betrayed you, and you didn't. You did better than I did, in that respect," he added. "It took me a long time before I could start trusting people enough to sleep with them, after the first few."

            Draco studied him in silence. Then he said, "But you didn't admire me enough to stop pursuing me for the Ministry."

            "No," Harry admitted. "That's another way we're alike. I wanted the excuse to sleep with you, and then to see what was what. Although I wouldn't have fucked you so soon if you hadn't forced the issue after our dinner."

            Draco snorted slowly, the sound reminding Harry of a huge stag he'd surprised in a field once. "Well," he said. "We're alike, yes. At cross-purposes, not sure why we want what we want, wishing things were simpler."

            "In the matter of Robards, we're not." Harry tried to look at Draco as earnestly as he could, although Draco's frown made it difficult. "Do you still want me to investigate him and report to you?"

            "Yes." Draco's hand moved for a moment as if he would crush the teacup. "I don't know that that's enough. But it's a beginning, and it's the thing I would want most from you at the moment, if I was allowing myself to want things."

            Harry blinked, and then smiled. "Fine. I'll try to get a report to you in a few days, although it might take longer than that. He does have reason to be suspicious of me, after all, and he won't believe some of the most obvious ploys."

            "And you might need more time than that to get him to trust you," Draco murmured.

            Harry laughed, although he heard the sharp, scraping note in the back of his voice and stopped after a moment. "You're already being more reasonable than he ever was," he muttered.

            Draco shook his head at Harry, not as if he couldn't believe him but as if he couldn't believe Robards, and then reached out abruptly and pulled him into a rough kiss. Harry went with it, glad that he'd cast the Breath-Freshening Charm after all. Draco's tongue probed and darted at his, and then pulled away, along with Draco's face and hands. He cursed shakily.

            Harry nodded. "More desire there than there should be, right?" he murmured.

            "I don't know why I want you," Draco said. "The eyes, the fame, the fact that you refused my hand in school? I want to know." He turned back and frowned at Harry. "On the other hand, I knew exactly why I wanted some of the other people I've dated, and that still turned out to be a disappointment. Perhaps you'll be different, in the obvious ways as well as the non-obvious ones."

            "I'll try to be," Harry said simply. It was the only promise he could make, especially given some of what Draco had asked him to do.

            Draco nodded, and then started when a shriek came from the aviary. Harry grinned. He was surprised that Fovea had left them alone for that long, really. Perhaps she had listened to Draco's voice, which would be unfamiliar to her, as long as it was speaking, but she wanted attention now that it had stopped.

            "What in the world is that?" Draco demanded.

            "Fovea, my cockatoo," Harry said. "Do you want to meet her?" He started for the aviary without asking further, whistling as he went along, to let Fovea know that he was bringing someone new.

            Fovea bobbed her head when she saw him, but stopped and stared suspiciously at Draco. Draco actually smoothed a hand down his robes, as though Harry was introducing him to his parents. He reckoned the comparison might not be so silly as it had seemed at first when Fovea turned her back and shat down the side of her perch.

            "Who would have thought a creature that fills the air with feathers and dust would have such high standards?" Draco muttered, eyeing Fovea with the kind of dislike Harry had seen grown into poison.

            "If we do end up dating, or fucking, or whatever," Harry said, holding out his arm, "then you'll have to learn to get along with Fovea." She saw him, eyed him sideways, and then spread her wings and flew over. Harry only staggered briefly beneath her weight before he managed to get back upright and smile at Draco. "She spends most of her time with me when I'm here."

            "And ignores the people she doesn't like, I suppose." Draco reached out as if he assumed that Fovea would bite his fingers off. Fovea snapped, and Draco yanked his hand back. Harry scratched her neck, feeling a little smug. Fovea was the only one in his life right now who protected him with that kind of ferocity. Ron and Hermione assumed that he could handle himself.

            And mostly, they were right. But Draco made Harry feel unsure and nervous and young again.

            "She pays all sorts of attention to the people she doesn't like," Harry said. "Like Robards. But not the sort of attention they like."

            Draco's lips twitched into a smile as Harry had hoped they would do; he was probably imagining what would happen if Fovea ever got the chance to confront Robards. "Why did you name your bird the Latin word for trap, then?" he asked, taking a step closer and not jumping back when Fovea spread her wings. Harry had to give him credit for that. "Surely not advertising."

            "Hermione suggested it, then wanted to take it back, but by then, I'd already fallen in love with it," Harry said. He rubbed his finger down her neck. She leaned against him and shut her eyes. "And her."

            "How long do they live?" Draco looked as if he thought he might be able to stand on the other side of the room until Fovea fell dead of old age, if necessary.

            "Several decades," Harry said, and laughed. "You should see the look on your face," he explained, when Draco glared at him.

            "I'm not going to let a bird keep us apart," Draco said. "There are so many other things that could, after all."

            Harry nodded, and went on scratching Fovea for a moment before he put her back on her perch. Having established that she was the most beloved thing in the room, she promptly went back to eating. Draco moved near again, eyes on Fovea's beak and claws. He flinched when she splintered a nut open.

            "She doesn't bite that often," Harry said quietly. "She does make mistakes, of course, and isn't always able to tell when she should bite and when she shouldn't. A lot like her owner, really."

            Draco caught his eye and then looked away hastily again, as if catching Harry's eye violated several international treaties. He coughed, and then said, "I will want you to report to me when you're done dealing with Robards."

            "You said that already," Harry replied, amused enough to let it show in a smile when Draco turned back to him. "Did you want me to contact you when I have the information, or will you contact me?"

            Draco frowned at him. "The one who is in possession of the information should necessarily contact the one who employed him."

            "Unless that one wants to give the other one a measure of control over the situation," Harry said. He wondered if all the gifts he wanted to present to Draco would be as misunderstood as this one seemed to be. He would have to find a better class of gifts or a better manner of presentation if that was the case.

            This time, Draco's cheeks turned a faint pink. "Sometimes a one needs to go by conventions more than he needs control of the situation," he said, in a voice that redefined "haughty" as "cool and slightly nervous." "You should contact me when you have the information. Not before."

            Harry nodded, his mind already busy with the techniques that he was going to use to convince Robards he was on his side. He escorted Draco out of the aviary and held the door open for him.

            Draco turned around and stared at him searchingly on the threshold. Harry shook his head. "I'm still not behaving according to your expectations?"

            "You make me think that this might work," Draco said. "And that is not something I expected to think after all that had happened between us, no."

            Harry smiled and reached out, catching Draco in a quick kiss before he could pull away. He darted back behind fist range and added, "I'll contact you. Watch out for my owl."

            "I would hope that you would firecall," Draco said, and turned and marched away with his spine stiff. Harry wasn't sure whether the kiss had offended him or not, but he had a more urgent question to ask.

            "How can I when I don't know what Floo address to use?" he called at his back.

            "It's Private Aerie," Draco said, with a slight sniff as though to imply his disdain that anyone wouldn't know that, and then he got beyond Harry's wards and vanished with a crack of Apparition.

            Harry shook his head, grinned, and stepped back inside the house. Fovea was sitting on the couch, and spread her wings wide like helpless arms as she stared up at him. Probably she was mourning her owner's taste, or lack of taste.

            "Can I help it that I like him?" Harry took the couch beside her and stroked one finger down her neck, the way she most liked, which made her close her eyes and forget about holding her wings up. "And I do have an idea for what to do about Robards. Not something he'll believe immediately, but I only need to get close to him for a few minutes to confirm what I need to know."

            As he thought about it, Harry's grin broadened still more. Reading about pure-blood traditions during the time when he'd furiously tried to distract himself from his pain hadn't been wasted.

*

            "This is most unexpected, Potter."

            Robards had a voice without the fun kind of stiffness in it, Harry thought, fighting to keep from rolling his eyes. It was stiff like bones, the kind of bones that he'd found rotting in the closet one time during one of his more...notable cases. Harry concealed those thoughts with a small smile and a glance over his shoulder and down the corridor, as if someone stood there to see him entering Robards's office.

            Robards noticed, of course. He noticed everything. He leaned forwards and clasped his hands insistently in front of him. "Did you have something that you wanted to say to me, Potter?"

            "Yes." Harry let the door fall gently shut behind him and then faced Robards. His hand hovered above one of his robe pockets. Let Robards assume he was going for his wand, instead of the vial concealed there. "I wanted to ask for a truce with you, and to arrange it with a Veritas Moment."

            Robards stared at him, mouth falling slightly open, then snapped it shut. "The Veritas Moment is a time-honored tradition, of course," he said. How does a half-blood like you know it? Harry could tell he wanted to ask, but he didn't. "But I don't know that it's the appropriate means for arranging a truce in this case."

            Harry looked aside, staring at the floor. Then he swallowed, when exactly the right amount of time had passed, and whispered, "I want to go on working for the Ministry. Sir."

            He saw Robards's mouth open as though to take a hook this time, and smiled. Bait planted.

            The Veritas Moment was a short space of time in which two pure-bloods swore to tell the truth to each other, and under exactly the same conditions. If one swore to answer all questions, then the other must as well; if one was allowed to dodge or ask multiple questions at one time, then those options had to be open to the other. Harry could see the glitter deep in Robards's eyes.

            The curiosity. The desire to demand what Harry really meant and felt, and, now, the means to do it.

            "You are willing to swear that we would answer under the same conditions?" Robards said. "Under conditions of absolute truth?"

            Harry smiled and nodded. "Whatever terms that you want to set, sir. I think that's fair, since I'm the one who's here to ask for a job." He paused, and then let his smile turn sheepish. "And if you have some tea. I'm parched."

            "Simple enough," Robards said, and leaned back behind his desk, linking his hands together behind his head. He couldn't contain his smile. Harry had the impression that he didn't try, or else it was a pitiful attempt. "I'm impressed that you're doing this, Potter. It speaks well to your level of culture."

            Harry smiled and sat down in the chair provided for him. "Thank you, sir."



            All the while, his hand hovered above the vial of Veritaserum that he would make sure to place in both cups of tea.

            Answers under the same conditions. Answers of absolute truth. Yes, I'm willing to risk it.

*

            unneeded: Thanks! Draco is mostly tentatively trying things and hoping that something works, to be honest. Not much else that he can do at the moment.

            SP777: I admit I was frustrated when I wrote that chapter, though it was for RL reasons, not because I’m mad at Ron. I think it’s understandable that he wouldn’t really get what Harry was doing at first, and assume Harry would rather have anything other than the life he has.
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His Actium