Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
- 98
- 99
- 100
[Note: conversation =: “speech” & ‘thoughts’ & *telepathy* & #Parseltongue# & {telephone}]
~~~ ISLANDS ~~~
On Saturday 12^th August, much fuss was made of Draco’s house-warming party when it took place in the newly cleansed Manor. As opposed to the last time, everyone wanted to be there. And, because of his new found attitude, Draco put himself out to host the party well. Naturally the Smiling Ones and their saxophonist girlfriends were the main music makers. All the Dumbledorians came, bringing parents and siblings along. The school staff and Governors were well represented, as were the goblins and guest elves. Some rapprochement was initiated with the pure-blood families who had not supported Voldemort; as well as those who had only been given minor sentences for fringe activities.
However, the two Malfoys did not inhabit their old Manor house home regularly; there were too many horrific memories for Draco or Narcissa to rest securely there. Narcissa had taken up Harry’s offer and inhabited an apartment at Grimmauld Place, eventually [in years to come] becoming a well-respected member of the Wizengamot and chair-witch of quite a few influential sub-committees. Her reacceptance into society began by helping Astoria and her two sons to host regular charitable and political dinner parties. Thereafter many influential mages boasted about how many they had attended; and talking about the decorations and food which had been afforded there; incidentally praising the elfin team which had worked so hard to produce the welcome.
As a result of the battle of Hogwarts and other later lesser skirmishes, quite a number of mages were permanently unable to properly look after themselves. Now that the Mysteries Department had declared Draco’s and Narcissa’s home clear of all dark influences; Narcissa and Draco made up their minds about Malfoy Manor. It was gifted to the trust to become, after the blessing and house-warming, the Harco Hospice, amply provided for by the corps of elves and their descendants working under the Kreacher/Dorothy team’s new and equitable rules. John came through and made a special point of blessing the re-dedication that same day. The first principals were appointed jointly – Mr Ernie and Mrs Lavender Macmillan.
The Wizengamot recognised this gift with gratitude and an extra tax was proposed on all earning mages to cover the expense of running the Hospice. In fact, this was minimal, because many relations would bring gifts in kind or even make regular voluntary payments to the Hospice’s account via Gringotts good offices. The Trust did however maintain the clock tower and its attic focus.
Seamus was cut up when some stray curse hit his paternal grandmother; she had been at a Quidditch match which the satraps had attacked. Luckily she was not killed but needed constant medical attention. Via the trust’s good offices, they found her a comfortable room at the Manor Hospice. Later on his mother was also accepted as a patient.
~~~ INVESTIGATIONS ~~~
The following Monday, as part of his internship, Kingsley called Harry into his office: “Harry, I’d like you and Mackenzie to go and investigate some supposed Inferi sightings in the Scilly Isles, please?”
“Okay, but why me, particularly?”
“Your odd outlook, and the fact that you always enquire deeply. Like Hermione you are inquisitive and don’t take things to be what they seem. Mackenzie’s going with you because I need someone versed in archaic light-magics.”
“Why not Draco?”
“He hasn’t the old spell knowledge that Mackenzie has and, besides, I intend sending him off on a rare plant hunt somewhere in the north of Scotland – probably to the Isles.”
“Have you told him yet?”
“No – He’s due in as you go out.”
“Is it about that Purple Bog Mantle he’s been going on about?”
Kingsley chuckled and nodded by way of a reply.
“I would have been a reluctant recruit,” observed Harry: “Now you’ve given me a good excuse not to crawl round endless peat marshes looking for tiny flowers. All I would have done is grump about the damp and cold. Anyone going with him?”
“I believe Astoria’s available or maybe even Blaise, they’re both flora fanatics. I’ll leave it up to him to choose. Neville could have gone but His Grandmamma wants him to do some essential work at Longbottom Mill. With Augusta, one is very chary of upsetting her determination to have things her way.”
Harry chuckled: “I know what you mean. It’ll probably be Astoria; Gilda has a tight hold on her new husband just at the moment. She overheard some joking references to his escapades during his last year at school at the wedding feast. They were exaggerated, of course, and mainly based on hearsay. Blaise didn’t help himself either; his jocular protestations of innocence didn’t ring true. She’ll get over it fairly quickly, especially if he pays extra attention to her needs just now.”
“Mmm … I know what you mean … My wife has jealous fits every now and again,” Kingsley chuckled: “Some flowers, a meal out or an unexpected present usually do the trick.”
Harry went off in search of Mackenzie – just missing Draco as he entered Kingsley’s office.
###
“Ah Draco! I’m glad we have the Forensics Department on a sound basis now. I think I’ve found a source for that rare plant you need. One of the Scottish witches has reported some in the machair coastal strip. The message is a little garbled so we are not sure whether the plants grow on the mainland or one of the Hebridean islands.”
“Why is the message garbled?”
“I think the old dear’s native tongue is really Gaelic, so her sending in English was somewhat unclear.”
“Well it is the only possible lead we have, so I’ll take her up on it. I’ll have to ask Harry to come with me as a back-up. He’s not really very fond of plant hunting.”
“I’m sending him to the Scillies on an inferi hunt with Mackenzie; why not ask Blaise or Astoria?”
“It’ll have to be her; Blaise is under Gilda’s thumb just now. She’s heard of his supposed indiscretions at school. As long as it isn’t too wet we’ll enjoy it. You do realise that, at that distance, my mental link to Harry will be severed, don’t you?”
“I hadn’t realised it, no. Do you want extra back-up?”
“We should be all right. Harry’s worked with Mackenzie many times before. Astoria and I seem to have a mutual defence understanding too.”
After Harry and Mackenzie had studied the reports they went home to pack.
Mackenzie would come to Grimmauld place once he was ready and the two of them would port to the Burrow and then floo to a witch’s house on a private island in the Scillies, not too far from Saint Mary’s Island. However, Harry had a long chat with Poppy and an even longer potions session with Draco before he and Mackenzie left.
~~~ SOUTHERN ISLANDS ~~~
Wisteria McLaggen greeted the two mages when they stumbled out from under her low mantelpiece.
“Oh, Mr Potter, I am so glad it was you who came. My nephew Cormac has told me so much about you.”
“Really?” Harry felt jaundiced about such gushing greetings.
“Yes I know; he’s usually so full of himself that others don’t get a mention, so I imagine you must have made a deep impression on him despite his failure as a goalkeeper. I have also read much of your exploits in Quibbler and the Prophet, not that our lives here are as exciting as that. At least … Not until very recently.”
Harry had adopted the fixed smile he used when confronted by supposed friends and well-wishers; hoping the witch would get to the point soon.
“You see,” she continued: “Berwyn and Galvin are my two sons and have been abducted. Galvin was found injured on the beach at Porth Hellick Cove and is in hospital. He seems to be delirious, caused – so the muggle doctors say – by the poison in his scratch wounds. I’m not happy with that prognosis. The wounds are not healing and I feel a bad emanation when I go to visit him. He mumbles about his brother being held hostage for a ring with a large emerald in it. Problem is – that there is a ghost story about a British admiral who was killed for such a ring when his ship foundered. So our local policeman thinks my Galvin is hallucinating and remembering fairy stories … Now … I’m not so sure any longer. You see, one of our family heirlooms is such a ring with a large emerald set into it. Most of the old families round here have wreckers in their back history, so it could quite be true. I really have no idea how the ring came into our possession and it’s worth quite a few thousand galleons.”
“I have a suspicion, Wisteria; that the Seignior may be trying to get the ring in order to sell it. We know he’s short of funds and he has been known to blackmail others into giving up their treasures … It could quite easily be one of his ploys. It seems to me that there are three strings to this conundrum. Healing Galvin, retrieving Berwyn and the ring. Now, where do Inferi fit in with all this?”
“My suspicion is that Galvin’s wounds are Inferi scratches, we know they won’t heal until someone believes the message and gives up the artefact demanded.”
“That’s no longer true. I had a chat to my partner before we came here, and I have a potion which, combined with the right charm, can effect a healing. However, we will need to be allowed to apply the balm privately; in a hospital that might be quite difficult.”
F: *Oh! Do get on with it, My Son. I have already arranged that for you. All you have to do is pretend you’re a doctor. Just go and visit the poor young man*.
Harry looked round – there was Fawkes perched in the open casement.
“Have you met Fawkes, Wisteria? He’s that phoenix on your windowsill.”
The witch made a profound bow towards the bird: “You are most welcome, My Lord of the Fire.”
“He thanks you and bids me tell you that he has a scheme for healing your son. He wants you to take me to the hospital and introduce me to the doctor in charge. It sounds a bit iffy to me, but Fawkes knows best.”
F: *Of course I do – just get on with it*.
It took about quarter of an hour to walk to the hospital after they had crossed the sound in one of the family boats. Fawkes followed them, disguised as a sparrow. They found Galvin’s doctor waiting anxiously outside. He appeared to be looking for someone.
“Doctor Belmont, may I introduce Mr Potter who has come to see my Galvin.”
Harry felt Fawkes utter a charm at the doctor and some sort of glamour fall upon himself.
“Doctor Porter, how good of you to come at such short notice. These lesions are not healing; may I show you the case notes?”
Harry now understood what Fawkes was doing: “Thank you Doctor Belmont,” and held out his hand intending to shake the medical practitioner by the hand. Instead a clipboard with a sheaf of notes was thrust into his hand and the doctor led the way inside.
H: *What do I do now, Fawkes*?
F: *Pretend to read them, and make interested noises*.
Harry adjusted his spectacles and peered at the notes and charts. A few of the scribblings he recognized and he noted that there had been no temperature rise.
“Doctor Belmont, I would have thought there should be some sign of a fever connected to the inflammation.”
“I agree with you, Doctor Porter. It is most unusual. And then there are the various ointments which seem to have no healing effects.” Doctor Belmont pointed at various Latin names on one of the sheets.
“Mmm … I see … are his bowel movements regular?”
“There seems to be no obstruction of the bowels or urinary tracts.”
“Mmm … interesting … Well now perhaps I should have a look at the patient … Mmm?”
“Of course Doctor this way. Would Mr and Mrs McLaggen care to wait outside?”
Harry felt another phoenixian charm go towards Wisteria, who nodded, smiled at Mackenzie and sat on the chair indicated. To complete the picture, they held hands, just as any anguished parents might do in unfamiliar surroundings.
Almost as soon as Harry entered the side-ward the hospital pager went off in Doctor Belmont’s pocket. He went over to the phone and answered it. Harry wondered if the real Doctor Porter had arrived and his impersonation would be revealed.
“Doctor Porter, I’ve been called to the natal clinic. There’s a problem there; we rather expect a difficult birth. Would you mind if I left you alone with the patient?”
“You go ahead. This young man is alive – mother and baby are more in need of your attention just now.”
“Thank you!” a relieved Doctor Belmont exited quickly.
Fawkes removed Harry’s glamour.
“Who are you?” asked Galvin suspiciously.
“Harry Potter – pretending to be a doctor.” Harry cast a quiet anti-hallucinatory charm.
Galvin quivered for a moment and then chuckled: “Am I glad to see you, now perhaps I can be healed. Have you brought a potion with you?”
“Yes, but I need to know how you got these wounds.”
“A cursed cat-o-nine-tails. They stripped me, tied me to a cannon, used the Non-Santarem hex on my back, buttocks and thighs and then applied the whip.”
“Tell me more later,” Harry started to remove the sterile dressings and then brought the potions phial out of his pocket. Using his index finger he smeared the ointment into the wounds and muttered a strong combined healing and anti-Non-Santarem charm at the same time.
Galvin gasped as the edges of the wounds started to knit. The problem for Harry was as he worked his way further down the young man’s back. Galvin had very stroke-able buttocks and those wounds needed just as much of Harry’s attention. The result was that by the time the supposed doctor had reached the patient’s thighs, Harry’s appurtenance started to stand to attention and he had had to adjust himself twice. Embalming over, Harry replaced the dressings and made them look professional; all the while thanking Poppy for her rush revision course in bandaging earlier; none too soon either, because Doctor Belmont returned.
Fawkes reapplied the glamour and Harry winked at Galvin: “That was quick. I hadn’t finished reading the case notes.”
“Just another false labour!” The doctor pulled a wry face.
“It happens … Shall we look at the lesions together?” Harry started to undo the bandages he had so recently reapplied. - - - - - “Doctor Belmont, I think you had me here on a wild goose chase. There are just healing scars on the patient’s back.”
“What … Let me see … Well I never … Some sort of miracle has occurred … I am so very sorry to have incommoded you.”
“Yes … Well … In my opinion the patient is healed enough to be able to go home. I think you should sign him off and then get back to your childbirth patient.” Harry contrived to look both bored and angry.
Doctor Belmont coloured up: “Yes I’ll do that Sir … Again, may I apologise for wasting your time.” He went to the phone and summoned a nurse.
The nurse came in, checked beneath the dressings, raised her eyebrows in surprise and filled out the discharge papers: “Now Mr McLaggen, you must have someone apply this liniment to your back and thighs before you retire tonight,” and gave Galvin a tube.
Harry forbore discussing what had happened until they were back in Wisteria’s house behind a privacy ward. However, he did converse with Fawkes on the way: *What would have happened if the real doctor had turned up*?
F: *Nothing … Belmont only thought he had summoned an expert. I doubt he will mention it to anyone; he was very embarrassed to have called in a specialist and found the patient healed. He’ll not want to make a fool of himself. Forget that tomfoolery and concentrate on retrieving Berwyn. You did a very good job there*.
H: *Why … Thank you Mr Phoenix … I think some of Draco’s Slyth slyness must be rubbing off on me*.
F: *I’ll tell him … I’ll leave you now … I’d better go and see how he’s conducting himself in the Hebrides*.
~~~ SCOTTISH CROFT ~~~
After lunch Siobhan McMurdoch met Draco and Astoria at Hogwarts. She was a witch of few words – possibly because of her Gaelic background or her isolated crofter’s way of life.
Once they were outside the school’s wards she silently offered two scarab ward entry facilitators and, grabbing hold of a pink stone demanded: “This way!” she grabbed both Draco’s and Astoria’s arms placing their hands on the stone.
They whirled off holding the pink portkey; landing on a small paved area contained within what appeared to be a one storey ‘L’ shaped croft house. Draco noticed one dormer window and supposed that bedrooms might be contained within the steep roofed attic space. The paved yard had a high solid wall down one side and a line of three outbuildings on another. The wall had a low arched solid wide gate in it – thus this internal space was hidden away from prying eyes. Draco also realised that they had passed through some unusually powerful wards – hence the scarabs. The croft-house and its outbuildings were turf thatched in the traditional way and not looking in very good repair, with all kinds of plants growing out of the live covering.
Siobhan saw Draco’s scowl of disapproval, smiled to herself and led the way through an ill painted door into the house. Draco was now the one to be surprised. The inside was neat and cosy; there was no trace of the underside of the turves. The entrance hall was small; containing three internal doors and a twisting stairway plus what appeared to be a storeroom under the stairs. Upon turning left the entered an ‘L’ shaped room rather like the one at the cottage. The dining area had seven foot of headroom but the main room was the whole height of the building. The ceiling was supported on a series of beautifully carved runic arched beams. Draco openly admired the architecture that was hidden inside such an unprepossessing exterior. He was drawn away from his musings by an elf popping in.
“Welcome, Master and Mistress, I am Shagreen, will you be requiring a double room or two singles?”
“Two singles please, Shagreen.”
“Very well Mistress Astoria, may I take your luggage; and yours Master Draco?”
“Thank you Shagreen,” Draco handed his overnight case over to the elf.
“I ken ye thought I wiz a heathen?”
“Not really,” Draco thought quickly: “I take it that your neighbours are what might be termed ‘Wee Free’ and I was admiring your excellent camouflage?”
“Ach Noo! They know aboot th’auld ways. It’s the Romans who object. I jist have to hide me bottles when th’kirk pastor comes callin.”
Shagreen reappeared with a silver tray upon which were a trio of small cut-glass tumblers accompanied by a very dusty bottle. Siobhan poured three generous measures into the tumblers and, once her elf had offered Draco and Astoria a glass each, said: “Slàinte mhor!”
The two visitors copied her intonation and sipped the ancient uisge-beatha. Draco had never tasted a more mellow whisky before and nodded his approval to the Scottish crone. Astoria’s eyes watered but she managed not to gasp as the fiery liquid descended her oesophagus.
“I ken ye know a guid malt Mage Malfoy?”
“One of the best I have ever tasted Mage McMurdoch, is it from your own still?”
“Aye, I still have the apparatus, but me granda distilled this one”
“So you are laying down for your grandchildren, then?”
“Aye, and me great-granchilder too.”
“Nice to see family traditions being passed on,” put in Astoria, slightly hoarsely: “Something that both of us approve of.”
“Ye’d like some more then?”
“Perhaps later, your generous hospitality might just get the better of me and I would not be able to see the plants we’re after.”
“Those’ll be next day, ye ken. Tis quite a voyage to th’isle where they groo. We could apparate but there are some bad uns lurking by here. It would’na do to be catched, would it? Sides, the tides ain’t recht just noo.”
“No, that would definitely be awkward; especially as my partner is away in the south hunting Inferi.”
“Aye … I’d heard ye were linked to Mage Potter … ye must tell me all aboot his exploits.”
With a little more encouragement and another large snifter Draco waxed verbosely about his lover’s exploits for the rest of the day. Witch McMurdoch proved a very good listener, asking quite a few searching questions. She gathered, after a few hour’s conversations, the proper relationship between Draco and Harry, surmising by inference that Astoria was more than just friends with Ginevra. Contrary to Draco’s worry the Scotswoman encouraged them to be true to their feelings.
###
As Draco had surmised the eaves did contain bedrooms; each with a single window in the apex of the roof. His single bed was roomy and very comfortable; it smelled of heather and reminded him of his young Duindhu holidays. Each wing of the ‘L’ shaped croft [west and south] had a single bedroom reached by a separate flight of stairs. Being in the attic these quarters were narrower and directly over an equivalent ground floor double bedroom. At the foot of each stairway was a joint bathroom. Astoria had been allotted the room above Siobhan’s. Draco never found out who inhabited the double below his room until later.
Draco’s bedroom faced westwards. During the night a storm blew up and pelted his window with heavy bursts of rain. This woke him and also reminded him of his overindulgence in liquid. Grabbing his bathrobe, he padded downstairs in his bare feet to use the loo. On his return he turned right instead of left and found himself in a small upstairs study. It was cunningly lined with books using low shelves contained underneath the slope of the roof. He also found out that the single dormer window he had seen lit this place of learning. Being so far north daylight was already upon them and, being unable to sleep in the howling storm, Draco chose a book and settled down to read. As the storm abated the Slyth became drowsy, eventually dropping off in the very comfortable chair. It was the sort of chair Hermione would have loved to read in, wide and deep. Had Draco so wished to he could have easily curled up inside its inviting amplitude.
###
In the calm of the morning Siobhan was first up and came to wake her visitors. Noticing both the bedroom door and the study door open she surmised that her blond guest had been reading during the storm and quietly pushed the door open. Draco was completely out of it, head lolled back, legs splayed with his arms dangling over the arms of the chair. The book was on the floor and his hastily tied bathrobe had come undone. Revealed in all his nakedness for the witch’s eyes to devour, his appurtenance was beginning to swell in readiness for his usual waste-water session in the bathroom. Siobhan sat quietly in the other chair and watched admiringly as the domed tower grew out from out of its nest of blond curls. By its length and girth Siobhan needed no gauger to know that she was dealing with a very potent Wizard.
Once Draco’s cock was hard, shiny and throbbing, he began to stir and the witch rose quietly. She had a crafty smile on her face as she pulled the door almost closed and was muttering something in Gaelic which, had we understood it, meant: ‘Rory will enjoy his recompense … Now – how to get rid of the female.’
- 98
- 99
- 100
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

Harco Empire