Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Same Species As Shakespeare	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 16108 -:- 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
- 8
- 9
- 10
Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Nine�Sharper
Than a Serpent�s Tooth

�� Finally! I was worried about you.

�� Harry
smiled a little as he sat back in the chair in Malfoy�s office. Of course
Malfoy had decided to return there, ignoring the shattered window and the
curious looks of the people who passed by on the street, and finish working on
the designs for Keller�s house. He had emphasized to Harry that he expected no
more clients, so he should be in less danger. Harry had politely refrained from
expressing his opinion that with an enemy who could cause such breaches in his
wards, there was no way he could be absolutely safe.

�� It did make
it easier to have a conversation with Hermione even as he fulfilled his
bodyguard duties, though. Watching the back of Malfoy�s head as he crouched
over a set of plans was much less fascinating than watching as Malfoy engaged
one of his clients in conversation.

�� I wasn�t gone all that long, Hermione, he
answered. What, twelve hours altogether
that I had the ring off?

�� But it sounds like plenty happened in those
twelve hours, Hermione said at once. She paused, and Harry could
practically hear her rearranging her robes as she tried to keep herself from
saying something about how stupid he had been. Harry grinned and studied the
way Malfoy�s foot thumped on the floor as he scribed particularly hard over a
stubborn line. He didn�t mind a lecture or two, but far funnier was listening
to the ways in which Hermione tried to avoid them. And has being in close contact with Malfoy destroyed your illusions?

�� He�s not everything I thought he was. A
wisp of crackling magic from the broken wards drifted towards Malfoy�s hair; he
sent it away with a wave of his hand, not looking up. Harry couldn�t have done
that. He was so sensitive to magic that he would have to either move or banish
the stray spell with his wand. He handles
his clients by insulting them, at least the important ones, and making it clear
how much more he knows than they do. I thought he was always polite and
charming.

�� I could have told you he wasn�t. Hermione
sniffed. After all, I�ve heard those
reports about him.

�� Harry
grunted. Supposedly, Hermione had been witness to many people starting to bring
cases against Malfoy for public insults, suspected crimes, or bad-luck spells
that had plagued them for weeks before abruptly ceasing. There was never enough
proof to arrest him, and frankly Harry thought the cause of those complaints
was more likely to be envy than anything substantial. Malfoy had poured so much
time and money into his architecture business that Harry couldn�t see him
risking his good name for a tiny bit of vengeance.

�� Ron mentioned something about your flirting
with him, too.

�� Ron should keep his nose in his own bloody
business, Harry said irritably, and shifted so that he could concentrate on
something other than the memory of how Malfoy had looked in Kingsley�s office.

�� Ron is your friend. Hermione�s voice
softened instead of sharpened, which Harry thought would have been the next
logical course for it to take. Harry,
we�re your friends, and we�re worried about you, that�s all. I really do
believe that Malfoy�s no good. He may not have staged this imposter�s attacks�

�� Is that what you think? Harry shook his
head. You didn�t see his dismay when this
last attack smashed an expensive window in his office. I don�t think he would
sacrifice things he finds beautiful to some elaborate plan that doesn�t even
have a defined goal.

�� I had to give up on the notion when I
realized I had no idea what his goal would be, either, Hermione said. But maybe Auror notice, or your notice, was
what he was after in the first place. He�s not the man attacking him, no, but
couldn�t he be in league with him? Paying him, maybe? It would explain how that
man knows how to get past the Malfoy bloodline wards and the wards on his
office.

�� Harry
sighed gustily. He hadn�t considered that possibility, and he really should
have. It was simpler than many of the other explanations Harry had come up with
in the privacy of his mind, which involved surviving Time-Turners and extensive
conspiracies.

�� But
Hermione hadn�t been with Malfoy during the attacks. She hadn�t seen the
sincere terror on his face when the imposter went after him, or the bruises of
fingers on his throat.

�� Think about it, Hermione said. That�s all I ask. I want you to be happy,
Harry, and I don�t think Malfoy can make you so. If he could, I would be one of
the first to support you. A sensation traveled down Harry�s arm as if she
were gently squeezing his hand.

�� I�ll think about it, Harry said. I just can�t promise an ending that you
like, that�s all. And he raised his head and watched Malfoy working again,
his hair fluffed and shining around him.

*

�� Draco stood
with a long stretch of his arms at last. He�d spent several hours in the
office, working on the Keller house and on two other projects he�d promised
himself he would get to this week. He thought he deserved this break, since
neither he nor Potter had eaten lunch, and in fact he didn�t plan to return to
the office today.

�� When he
looked up, he discovered Potter studying the broken window and the edges of the
drifting wards with speculative eyes. �You still haven�t figured out how he
broke in?� he asked, adding a challenging tone to his voice. It wouldn�t do to
have Potter think that Draco would yield and be gentler simply because Potter
had discovered Draco�s attraction to him.

�� I thought
I would leave that to you, since it�s your window and your wards.� Potter
turned to him with a gentle smile. Then he winced, as though someone had stung
him, but when Draco cast a subtle spell to test the office for insects, he
found nothing. It seemed the repellent spells were still working, then. �Did
you want to eat in Diagon Alley, or go back to the Manor? Your house-elves�
cooking is better than that in most restaurants I�ve eaten at, to be honest.�

�� Draco
laughed. �Don�t let Granger hear you say that.�

�� Oh, she
would admit it�s the truth.� Potter leaned forwards, his eyes shining as if he
wanted to make a point about Granger with the next words, though Draco had no
idea what it would be. �She would just insist they should be paid.�

�� Draco
shuddered. �That really is a revolting idea, Potter, and for reasons you don�t
understand,� he murmured, as they stepped out of the office. Draco made a point
of locking the wards behind him, although the window would provide a point of
entrance. Experienced thieves would notice the tracking spells that would latch
onto their clothing, though, and probably leave well enough alone, especially
when word spread that Harry Potter was protecting Draco.

�� Why? Tell
me.�

�� Draco
narrowed his eyes, but Potter looked genuinely interested. It was an expression
Draco had seen in photographs and from other impossible distances, and had
wanted directed at him since he realized the best way to defeat Potter was to
lure him close. It made his groin tighten. He inclined his head slowly.

�� House-elves
are service, the best standard for
it,� he said. �They�re not slaves because they aren�t human. It would be like
saying that the Hogwarts Express is a slave because it�s driven to the school
several times a year instead of being left to rust. They�re for cooking and cleaning and other menial tasks. You insult a
thousand years of wizarding tradition when you offer to pay them.�

�� I notice
that you don�t say you insult them,� Potter said softly. Gazes followed them,
of course, the famous architect and the even more famous Auror, but Potter
appeared to ignore them effortlessly. �Hermione would say that.�

�� You can�t
insult a machine,� said Draco. �But you can spit on the culture and heritage of
the people who surround you, and that�s what your Mu�Muggleborn friend is
doing.�

�� I can�t
think of them as machines,� Potter said. He had his head bowed, and a tiny
breeze stroked a curl of his dark hair away from his forehead, revealing the
scar. Even more people turned to stare at them. Draco felt a different kind of
tightness invade his chest. Potter had arranged to display his scar that way,
of course, but still, did everyone have to look?
�They feel pain. They make their own choices. Dobby, one of your old
house-elves, saved my life during the war, and before that he acted to try and
make sure I didn�t go to Hogwarts when he thought I was in danger. If he had
that independence, other house-elves might.�

�� Draco dug
his fingernails into the skin above his wrist. Dobby, yes. I remember that, and Father�s absolutely blank expression
when he came back to the Manor and told me that we�d lost one of our elves. Yet
another debt I have to repay Potter for.

�� Occasionally
you get a mad elf, the same way you occasionally get a machine that breaks,� he
said. �That doesn�t mean you should coddle every elf on the off-chance that
it�ll turn out like Dobby.�

�� What about
because it would make them work for you more willingly?� Potter looked up at
him again. His eyes hit Draco like a Bludger to the gut. There was so much in them, so much emotion to absorb
and twist and break.

�� Will has nothing to do with it,� said
Draco, trying not to sound as if he were startled that Potter could be
rational. �House-elves have no will, by the terms of their servitude.�

�� And yet,
Dobby did.� Potter cocked his head as he swept sideways into a small alcove in
the wall of Diagon Alley, and Draco blinked, realizing just then that they
never had actually settled whether they were eating at a restaurant or going
back to the Manor for a meal. And here was Potter simply escorting him into a
restaurant, as if it weren�t a matter of importance at all. He tried to be
angry about that, but Potter�s words demanded his attention insistently,
naggingly, the way that Potter had always demanded it. �Long before I had any
chance to give him clothes or intervene with his servitude in any way. What do
you make of that?�

�� He was
defective, I told you,� Draco said.

�� But you
said that no house-elf could have free will, and he did. There�s a chance that
other elves can as well, but because you won�t listen to them��

�� Are we
actually going somewhere?� Draco locked his feet, because the smaller alley
before them had run out into a dead end, a blank wall towering above a
grime-covered expanse of cobblestones.

�� What?�
Potter glanced up and then grinned sheepishly. �Oh. Sorry. I forgot that you
can�t see it yet because you haven�t been here before.� He held out his hand to
Draco and wriggled it impatiently when Draco only stared. �Come on. Take it.�

�� Biting back
a retort and several images of exactly what he would like to take, Draco asked,
�What?�

�� The
restaurant isn�t visible unless you�re invited or enter with someone who has
been.� Potter ginned at him, not seeming at all intimidated by the thundercloud
Draco could feel gathering on his brow. �I don�t think Faustine would ever
invite you of her own free will, so that leaves this way.�

�� This time,
Draco bit back a sigh and put his hand in Potter�s. Potter, like the overgrown
schoolboy he was, moved his fingers back and forth across Draco�s palm for a
moment, despite his having been the one to put a definite time to when they
could have sex. Draco shivered in distaste.

�� He really is an overgrown schoolboy. It will
be a positive pleasure to break him.

�� The air in
front of them flashed blue and gold, and Draco couldn�t help stepping back and
making a startled noise in his throat. He hadn�t seen wards that brilliant in
some time. Potter clasped an arm around his waist and whispered into his ear,
�It�s all right. Faustine has some rather impressive defenses, but they won�t
attack anyone with me.�

�� The wards
still surged and sang around them, clanging like swords, for long moments
before they settled, and Draco found himself standing on the threshold of a
restaurant with large stone doors, inset with glass, and silvery lettering
above them that proclaimed the restaurant was called the Imperatrix.

�� Come on,�
Potter said, and surged forwards, an eager smile distending his mouth. Draco
rolled his eyes and followed with a face as blank and neutral as possible.

Of course, he could hardly show the
new determination that had arisen in him. If the food here really was better
than the food at the Manor, then he would need to learn how long Potter had
been coming here. His desire to eat good food in such a private place might be
a sign that he took advantage of his fame after all.

�� And Draco
would need to learn what food he ate here, and what his relationship with the
owner was, and why Draco had never noticed that Potter was vanishing at a
certain spot in Diagon Alley before�

�� All eventual ways to defeat him. Any detail
could be the key I need.

*

�� Harry.�

�� Faustine
sailed to meet him across the enormous flagstone floor of the Imperatrix, more
like a courtyard than anything that belonged inside. The enchanted ceiling
supported the illusion, just as it did in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, projecting
a vision of a glittering blue Mediterranean sky. The walls were as purely white
as the old Roman ruins must have been when they were new.

�� Harry
kissed Faustine�s cheek, and she smiled at him. They were of a height and had
hair the same dark shade, though Faustine had such a pointed face, such narrow
dark eyes, and such a collection of scars on her hands that no one would ever
mistake them for cousins. She wore a carefully folded and draped set of strips
of cloth approximating the dress of a Roman matron and sandals that showed
golden paint flashing on her toenails. A golden choker clasped her throat in
the shape of a snake biting its own tail, which Harry knew was keyed to
Apparate her to safety in the case of hostile magic manifesting inside the
restaurant. He had never learned her last name.

�� Faustine,
allow me to introduce Draco Malfoy,� he said, and stepped back to stand between
them. Malfoy looked ahead with murderously hard gray eyes, which Harry blinked
at. Surely he couldn�t be that angry
that he�d never been invited to the restaurant before? Harry had never been
sure of Faustine�s stance on blood politics�it was one of those things they
didn�t discuss�but he knew she made all her own decisions about who to invite.
He�d seen people on both sides of the war there.

�� No former Death Eaters, though.

�� But if
Faustine was getting ready to throw Malfoy out of the Imperatrix in the next
moment, she did not look it. She simply held out her hand to him and nodded as
if in response to unheard music. �You have been brought through the wards by an
invited guest, and you will now be able to find this place again,� she said.
Another woman had appeared behind her, wearing similar dress, although she had
blonde hair braided with flowers and probably looked more like the ideal of a
Roman maiden. Faustine made a sharp movement with her head in Malfoy�s
direction. �Quinta, if you will take our newest guest to a table? I have
something to speak about with Mr. Potter.�

�� Harry felt
his shoulders tense. He knew what that meant. Faustine was one of the people he
had met through charity functions who had turned out to be impressed by more
than his Galleons and the power of his name. She watched the happenings in
social circles Harry had no easy access to and reported them to him when she
thought they concerned either him or the Aurors. It was an informal spy
network�and Harry hated referring to it as a �spy� network anyway�but it had
provided information that had saved his life several times, and Ron more times
than he knew.

�� Be careful, Harry, Hermione said, the
way she always did when he went to the Imperatrix. She didn�t trust Faustine.

�� Harry sent
back wordless thoughts of reassurance and followed Faustine into a back room
behind one of the pillars standing in front of the walls. Faustine turned
around and leaned her hands on a blocky desk of black stone, staring him in the
eyes. Her fingernails were dusted with gold paint, too, Harry noted absently.

�� What is
it?� he demanded, as he realized that Faustine�s eyes hadn�t wavered. She had
looked like that when there was an assassination plot against him, but at no
other time.

�� You�re
protecting Draco Malfoy,� she said quietly. �Someone�s already noticed. One of
my girls heard two patrons discussing it today, and not in complimentary tones.
Already people are starting to speculate why, since you were known enemies
during the war.�

�� Harry
blinked. This didn�t sound dangerous to him. �What were the speculations? And
the real reason is that Malfoy only trusts me to guard his back because I saved
his life at Palliser�s party last night.�

�� Thank
you,� said Faustine. �I�ll introduce that reason into conversation as soon as I
can. But you should be more careful.� She cocked her head and gave him the
kindest look that her fox-like face was capable of giving. �I�m not the only
one who�s seen you standing outside Malfoy�s office and watching, Harry.�

�� Harry felt
his spine stiffen. The ring on his finger warmed for a moment, and Hermione
whispered, Oh, Harry, I�m sorry, into
his mind.

�� I have
observed him, that�s true,� Harry said, determined to face this out if he
could. �The man impersonating him has committed several crimes, and it was
natural that we should suspect Mr. Malfoy as well.�

�� Faustine
shook her head, eyes fastened on his face. �The expression you wear and the
amount of time you spend there is too much for an Auror who has other
investigates to tend to. And your observation started before the crimes did,
though I might be the only one who would notice that.� She looked away for a
moment and waited, as though she wanted to give Harry time to collect his wits.
Then she said, �I�ve noticed it before, how you stare at the Prophet longer than normal when they do
an article on one of Malfoy�s houses, how your gaze is drawn to anyone entering
the Imperatrix who has the same hair he does, and how you turn your head at any
mention of his name in conversation. Tell me. Is the attraction sheer
physicality, or does it go deeper than that?�

�� Well, this is what you get for spending so
much time around an intelligent and observant woman, Harry told himself
wryly when he�d caught his breath. And if
she wasn�t so good, then you�d lack half the information she contributes to
your cause. �It�s deeper,� he said aloud. He wouldn�t lie about his
attraction to Malfoy when he was confronted over it, though he could wish
Faustine had remained oblivious some time longer. �I�d like to spend time in
bed with him, sure, but more than that I�d like to hear him talk about houses
and how he builds them, have arguments with him over house-elf rights and watch
the way he behaves at parties.�

�� Faustine�s
gaze was steady and emotionless; Harry couldn�t tell if she disapproved of what
he�d just confessed. �Some might term that obsession.�

�� I do term
it that,� said Harry. �And so do my best friends.�

�� You do? Hermione asked, sounding
startled. It�s news to me that you�d
admit to it.

�� Faustine�s
eyebrows rose. She stared at him for another few moments, then nodded. �I
suspect you have wondered why I never invited him here.�

�� For the
same reason you never invited his father, or Severus Snape, or Walden Macnair,
I thought,� Harry said. He could meet her gaze now. She wasn�t about to storm
into the next room and throw Malfoy out, or tell Harry he couldn�t return
because of his obsession. That was good enough for now.

�� Ah, but he
has a fame and a social acceptability that the others do not.� Faustine made a
quick gesture over her breast that Harry hadn�t seen before. It reminded him uneasily
of someone plucking a heart from a chest. �I wished to remind myself, always,
of what he was and had been. I could see myself succumbing too easily to his
charm if I was in close quarters with hm.� She blinked once. �I sometimes
wondered if I was being paranoid. And then I realized when I saw your face as
you looked at him that no, I was not.�

�� I hope
you�ll accept him as much as you can.� Harry didn�t dare ask for more than
that. He and Faustine were friends, but not close friends, in the way he was
with Hermione and Ron.

�� I should hope that someone who runs a
restaurant like hers isn�t someone you would consider a close friend, Hermione
muttered.

�� Harry
ignored her. The rumors of the business that Faustine ran out of the back of
the Imperatrix were only rumors, and until he was compelled to investigate
them, he wouldn�t. He could offer that much safety and security to his friends.

�� It may be
difficult.� Faustine stared at him. �Do remember that people will always gossip
about the man who saved the world they live in, but that some kinds of gossip
are more damaging than others. And the hurt someone like Draco Malfoy could do
to you is greater than the hurt I could.�

�� Harry
nodded. He didn�t think Malfoy was a good
person, not particularly. On the other hand, his fascination with the man
wasn�t about to depart.

�� Now.�
Faustine waved her wand, and pieces of parchment came flying from all over the
room to assemble into a neat pile in the middle of her desk. �This is the news
I�ve collected for you in the past fortnight. You might be especially
interested in the rumors of what the Notts are doing to reestablish
themselves��

*

�� Draco
looked around again and again as he sat at the table that the young woman had
guided him to, and tried to hide that he was doing so. Luckily, he was very
good at sneaking glances from beneath eyelids that anyone else would think were
lowered in utter boredom.

�� The
architecture of the Imperatrix hummed with magic, even around the ornamental
pillars that Draco would have banished from the restaurant as
useless�unnecessary for support and not adding greatly to the ambience. The
mosaics and murals and frescoes on the walls shone with delicate, unusual
colors, forcing Draco�s eye to try and read meaning into what at many points
looked like abstract designs. He could hear the sea when he listened, a good
approximation of the waves rushing and hissing in the distance.

�� And all of
this was a place that he had had no idea existed. All of this was a place where
Potter spent his time, enough time, at least, to have made a dear friend of the
owner.

�� Draco tried
to fold his arms and breathe out carefully, but he was trembling. He wanted
nothing so much as to knock down several of the pillars with a blast of wandless
magic�though he was not powerful enough for that�or to otherwise scratch and
mar the restaurant�s beauty. Jealousy and anger bit him with sharp teeth.

�� Because of
this place, there was a hole in his understanding of Potter. He should have
known about this, and he didn�t. Potter wasn�t sneaky, so it was the
restaurant�s wards and the owner�s secrecy that were to blame. Potter could
have done unusual things here, showed unusual emotions, and Draco never would
have known.

�� Draco�s
resolve hardened. No matter what happened in the next few weeks whilst the
Auror remained with him, he would make sure
he understood Potter inside and out, that he knew exactly what kind of
person he was shattering.

�� And he
would have to have a concrete plan to achieve that.

�� As Potter
appeared again from behind a pillar and walked towards him, smiling, Draco put
that plan into motion.

*

�� linagabriev:
I try to make Harry very powerful only when it�s necessary for the plot- for
example, when a big part of the story is him dealing with the political
consequences of his power.

�� Draco
thinks he�s the only one who knows the �real� Harry. Once he tears the mask
away, others will also see that real Harry and laugh at him. Of course, since
reality is considerably more complicated than Draco�s delusions, that won�t
happen, but he imagines it will.

�� Jilliane: Well,
Snape is mean, petty, and vindictive.
It doesn�t mean that he won�t come to a better understanding of Harry later in
the story, and he may simply have been insulted that Lucius accused him of not
caring about Draco�s life. I can assure you he�s not the imposter.

�� Sorry that
the ring is back on! But I hope Hermione is more tolerable. She�s adopting more
of Ron�s attitude toward Draco; she�s just absolutely sure that Draco will
never be the sort of person who can make Harry happy.

�� Mangacat:
Getting on, getting on!

�� Thrnbrooke:
Here it is!
- 8
- 9
- 10
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Same Species As Shakespeare