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Learning Life Over	By : Meander Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 69708 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- 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
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Disclaimer: The characters and settings portrayed herein
belong to J. K. Rowling and her associates. I don�t own them, and I am not
profiting from this story.

Title: Learning Life Over

Pairing: HP/DM

Summary: Harry was a workaholic Auror, and happy that way.
He did not ask Malfoy to kidnap him and teach him the finer points of pleasure.

Warnings: SPOILERS for HBP (though this story keeps Amelia Bones alive), M/M, Anal, Oral, Bondage, Lime,
Hurt/comfort (In fact, this is pretty much unabashed hurt/comfort, written for
fun).

Chapter 1- No Holiday In Sight

�Have a
good night, Potter.�

Harry
grunted a goodbye to Wormwood as the other Auror, his new temporary partner,
left. He could practically feel the shaking head, though he didn�t look up to
see it. Wormwood had only worked with Harry for three weeks. He wasn�t used to
Harry�s dedication yet, something he would have heard stories of but never
seen.

Harry
shrugged as he finished the report on the questioning of Robert Dashwood, a
former Death Eater who had never advanced very far in the ranks when Voldemort
was actually alive, but had gone on to bigger- and worse- crimes once his
master was dead. It wasn�t his fault, was it, that he had more time to devote
to chasing and capturing Dark wizards? Other Aurors had what they called lives.
So did Harry, although the others insisted he didn�t. His life was his work.

It might
have been different, once, but things hadn�t worked out that way. Harry simply
didn�t have anyone left. The anniversary of the Weasley Massacre that had
destroyed the Burrow and everyone whom he loved was the only day he left work
so much as an hour early, and that was mostly because he wasn�t fit company for
anyone. He spent the extra hour walking back to his flat and staring at
everything red he could find. It reminded him of Weasley hair, and Ginny, and
Ron, and, by this point, even of the non-Weasleys who had died in the Massacre-
Hermione, Remus, Fleur. It was the only connection he allowed himself.

He�d gone
on from it. He�d gathered up all the hatred and the rage from that one terrible
night, and thrown himself into the quest for the Horcruxes. He�d found them and
destroyed Voldemort inside a month. At the time, he hadn�t believed that he�d
have anything left to live for.

But he had
discovered a grim satisfaction when it was done. Not the killing- Harry still
didn�t like that- but in knowing that Voldemort was dead and couldn�t hurt
anyone else. He wanted more of that, the knowledge that he was bringing cases
to a close and that the former Death Eaters, or people who had dared to cross
the line to rape and murder and use of Dark Arts for other reasons, were no
longer free to harm the innocent. So he�d become an Auror.

The years
since then were a quiet twilight, lit now and then with bright flares when he
finished a particularly difficult case, or was able to tell a victim or a
victim�s family that they didn�t have to worry any longer. His life was a flood
of statistics, names, personality traits, ambush locations, learned when need
be and then forgotten as new ones came along to replace them. He actually liked
it best when the captures were routine and his enemies didn�t have a chance to
struggle. Intense emotion wasn�t something he appreciated that much.

They did
keep assigning him new partners, but that was because most Aurors who wanted to
work with Harry did it out of hero-worship. When they found themselves greeted
with calm indifference and no friendship no matter how long they persisted,
they eventually gave up. The Ministry really didn�t mind. Harry had no ambition
outside of chasing Dark wizards, and giving him new partners regularly was a
small price to pay compared to what the Hero of the Wizarding World could have
demanded from them.

Harry knew
that. He didn�t care. Why should he? It wasn�t something to be outraged about,
and he certainly had no one to be outraged on his behalf.

He
continued working until the clock built into his desk chimed softly, signaling
that it was eleven-o�clock. Harry rose to his feet with a faint smile. The
clock was a gift from another of his departed partners, Felix Jones, when he
found Harry asleep at his desk for the fourth night in a row. This at least
insured that Harry went to his flat and got a certain amount of sleep in his
own bed. Harry appreciated it. If he didn�t sleep, then he wouldn�t be at his
best when the moment came to make the capture.

He made his
way silently out of the just-as-silent building, nodding familiarly to those
few people who prowled the Ministry at this hour. Barrow, an Auror whose
horribly twisted leg had kept him out of the field for over a year now, had
corridor duty from ten until two, and he was waiting by the lifts when Harry
arrived.

�Finished
the Dashwood case, then?� he demanded.

Harry
smiled. Since Barrow couldn�t fight again, he seemed to be living vicariously
through the cases Harry solved. Harry didn�t mind. He would have done much the
same thing if he�d suffered a curse the Healers couldn�t find a cure for- that
is, if he didn�t kill himself first.

�Yes. We
couldn�t use Veritaserum legally, of course, since he refused it, but he
finally slipped up and mentioned a detail about the Bressbaums� window that no
one could have known who wasn�t there.� Harry felt another flash of that
firework satisfaction as he thought of it. He had been the one to trap Dashwood
in the interrogation and finally make him break and confess his crime.

Barrow
actually rubbed his hands together, blue eyes bright with glee. �And it was the
famous Harry Potter dead-face that did it, wasn�t it?�

�Maybe.�
Harry suspected that his countless calm repetitions of the same questions- never
losing his temper, never varying his expression- had probably helped to crack
Dashwood�s stubborn protestations of innocence, but he had never given as much
credit to that as other people seemed to. They attributed any criminal�s
confession to it, even when Harry�s partner had done most of the work.

�Sleep
well, Potter,� said Barrow, with a sharp nod. �The sleep of the just.� He
stepped out of the way as the lift doors opened.

Harry murmured
his thanks and rode the lift down. His mind whirled with names and facts
concerning the upcoming Moly case. Aholibah Moly had served six months in
Azkaban for participation in a Death Eater raid and been released, but now she
was the main suspect for a use of illegal pain curses that had left the poor
woman involved nearly as mad as the Longbottoms. Harry didn�t yet know enough
about the case to say whether he thought Moly guilty or not. But he and
Wormwood would track her down tomorrow and see what she had to tell them.

He reached
the Atrium and walked through it, sparing a few glances for the fountain in the
center. He could remember the battle that Dumbledore and Voldemort had waged in
front of it, if he wanted to. He didn�t want to, really. It was years ago, and
most of the participants in it were dead.

He rode the
lift up to the deserted phone box in the equally deserted alley that concealed
the entrance to the Ministry, hiding a yawn now and then. He�d make sure to eat
when he returned to his flat, a sandwich or so, and then sleep the seven hours
he always did before he could rise and return to work. Harry supposed he would
need to slow down eventually- seven hours of sleep a night might be enough for
a man of twenty-eight, but he would grow older- but that hadn�t happened yet.

He felt a
long moment of quiet contentment as he stepped out of the phone box and stared
up at the stars. Maybe this wasn�t what he�d envisioned doing or being years
ago, but he liked his life. Helping people suited him.

Just as he
drew his wand and prepared to Apparate, he heard footsteps behind him. Harry
turned calmly. He was sure he was more magically powerful than whoever it was,
and besides, most Death Eaters wouldn�t just stroll up to an Auror.

�Lumos,�
he did say, when the figure drew near and Harry realized he didn�t recognize
the posture or the gait. He raised an eyebrow when the light caught on the
gleam of blond hair. But, well, why not? Draco Malfoy was as likely to be
waiting outside the Ministry as doing anything else, these days. He�d received
a full pardon from the Wizengamot after the War, since he�d been coerced into
letting Death Eaters into Hogwarts and had spent every moment after that night
on the Tower lying low, committing no crime.

Harry
hadn�t kept up with news of him. What did grudges matter any more? And Malfoy�s
crimes had been petty compared to so many of those he dealt with daily.

�What can I
do for you, Malfoy?� he asked, when he realized Malfoy had stopped walking, and
the intent stare said that he�d come to talk to Harry and no one else.

�Potter,�
Malfoy breathed. �Just the man I wanted to see.�

Harry felt
a stirring of interest. There were usually only two reasons that people sought
him out now, and he doubted Malfoy was one of the few still deluded enough to
think he was something special and want a signature or photograph. �Do you have
information about a case for me?�

For a
moment, rage passed across Malfoy�s face. Harry was a bit startled, given his
calmness until this point, but sometimes victims were frozen and numb until the
first mention of what had happened to them. He prepared himself to listen and
make the proper sympathetic noises.

But then
the rage vanished, and Malfoy murmured, �Hardly. I�ve come to give you your life
back, Potter.�

Harry�s
puzzlement increased. �Is this a prank?� he asked, honestly bewildered as to
why Malfoy would want to play one on him. �Because you should know that I
probably won�t react the way you want me to- �

Malfoy
abruptly lunged forward. Harry tried to get his wand in the way on instinct; he
still didn�t really think Malfoy had come to hurt him. But he�d let it lower
when he recognized the other wizard, and he couldn�t get it up in time before
Malfoy�s spell struck him.

�Stupefy.�

Harry�s
eyes crossed, and he felt his body go limp, his grip on his wand relaxing. His
mind raced, though, as he tried to figure who had put Malfoy up to this, and
what they could possibly have to gain.

Revenge
from an enemy? It could be, but Harry mostly didn�t leave his enemies free. Or
perhaps Malfoy had a tie to one of the cases Harry was currently investigating,
and didn�t want him to find out something crucial, although why he would be
hanging around the Ministry of all places-

Malfoy
caught him before he could hit the ground, and fumbled in his pocket for a
moment. Then Harry felt the familiar tug of a Portkey.

His main
emotion as they both vanished was annoyance. If Malfoy insisted on abducting
him, Harry would definitely not make it to work on time tomorrow.
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Learning Life Over