Chapter Text
“You want me to do what?”
Harry Potter stood opposite the Minister of Magic, hands slammed against the desk. He’d previously been seated, but the arduous task of controlling his explosive temper had proved too great a challenge for the boy who lived. Kingsley’s face was a dull mixture of frustration and impassivity.
“Auror Potter,” he sighed, “we wouldn’t ask you if we didn’t have to.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Believe you me.”
Harry shook his head, spluttering out an irritated scoff. “Anyone else,” this could not be happening to him, “you could’ve chosen anybody else!”
Kingsley, shared a glance with the other ministers nearby. “We did try.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Kingsley sighed, standing to his feet. Harry’s eyes narrowed as he followed Shacklebolt’s movements. Kingsley shrugged. “You have to understand…with his family history—”
“His history?” Harry threw his arms above his head. “What about our history? This is Draco Malfoy we’re talking about here.”
“Yes, I know.” Kingsley pinched the bridge of his nose when Harry folded his arms, cocking his head to one side. “We understand that you had a, let’s say tumultuous relationship when you were at Hogwarts—”
Harry snorted. “That’s an understatement.” Kingsley stared daggers.
“—but surely you’ve grown to move past that.” Harry looked as if he’d been slapped.
“He tried to kill Dumbledore,” he said quietly. Without him really noticing, his hands curled into fists by his sides.
Kingsley’s features softened. “You said yourself he lowered his wand.” Harry didn’t want to admit it, but Kingsley was right; Malfoy never would’ve gone through with it. He was too much of a coward.
“Harry, like it or not Malfoy needs a bodyguard. We’ve tried asking everyone else.” Harry raised an eyebrow.
“Even Ron?” Harry already knew the answer.
“He seemed reluctant.”
Harry nodded slowly. “So naturally,” he said, “you turn to me.” He tossed his sweetest smile. “Your saviour.”
Kingsley didn’t blink. “His saviour, hopefully.” Harry scowled.
“I don’t see why you’d even think of me.” He sat back in his chair, digging his toe into the carpet like a petulant child.
“You testified on his behalf.”
“Yeah,” Harry swept his heel across the floor with an irritated kick, “well, I didn’t think it’d lead to this.” He shrugged, but his cheeks were stained pink. “Besides,” he said, shuffling in his seat, “I owed his mother a life debt.”
Kingsley raised his brows but didn’t say anything more. “Harry, he’s…he’s not doing well. He needs someone there, making sure he isn’t targeted.”
Harry didn’t want to care. Harry didn’t care about Malfoy. It was Malfoy. Why should he care? Harry had testified on Malfoy’s behalf sure, but it was just because of Harry’s debt to Narcissa. Was…was Kingsley looking at him funny? Harry had always felt an obligation to help people but, come on. Hadn’t he given enough? He played with his collar: did someone turn up the temperature? No. Harry didn’t care about Malfoy. He despised the man. Why on Earth did Kingsley think he’d help him?
Harry was going to help Malfoy. He cared, just enough.
Fuck.
“Auror Potter?”
“Hmm?”
“I said there’s no one else.” Harry nodded slowly.
“Ok,” he said, “what’s in it for me?” He drummed his fingers against the desk.
Kingsley frowned with disapproval. “A sense of gratification,” Kingsley said, his voice without emotion.
“I’d say I have enough of that to last a lifetime.” Kingsley considered this for a while.
“Alright then, how about we give you a break?” Harry blinked.
“Sorry?”
“I know you’ve been wanting more time to spend with Miss Weasley, especially your Godson.” He held up a hand. “Don’t try to deny it, I know you work too hard to say anything. This will provide an excellent opportunity for you to take some time away, treat yourself.”
Harry swallowed, wincing at the mention of his partner. Their relationship had turned stale months ago. Ginny was his best friend but sometimes he thought that was all she was to him. Sometimes he thought that was all she wanted to be. However he felt about Ginny, what Kingsley had said was true. No matter how much he wanted to make the world a better place, Harry was neglecting his family. They were too important to him.
“How long will I be working with him?”
Shacklebolt relaxed in triumph. He was a perceptive man, and he knew when he’d won. “Just until we find somebody more permanent and Malfoy’s settled in.”
Harry was silent for a while. Maybe working with Malfoy wouldn’t be so bad. Harry sighed.
“Fine,” he said, “I’ll do it.”
*
Harry had promised himself he’d never come back to Malfoy Manor – too many unpleasant memories. Unpleasant didn’t really cover it, if he were being perfectly honest. ‘Unpleasant’ was better than the truth.
The gates were wide open this time, the metal bars twisting over each other. They looked nonetheless menacing, barring Harry’s path with a haughty malice.
Harry tried to ignore them as he walked past. He paused at the door, lifting his hand to knock. He could still turn around, never look back.
He sighed as his knock echoed emptily down the hall.
A small part of him knew that maybe things could’ve been different if he’d tried to help Malfoy in sixth year, instead of hounding him down with the intent to harm, because, if he were completely honest, that had been his intention. Maybe he owed Malfoy, maybe Malfoy owed him.
The door opened with a jarring click. “Potter.” Malfoy stood in the doorway, an impeccably tailored suit, clinging to his lean figure. He held his head, high as always, blonde hair slicked back aside from the few strands sneaking over his eyebrows. Harry may have hated the man when he was younger, but he’d never been blind, despite what his prescription might tell you, and Malfoy, well, Malfoy looked good. The only thing that painted any picture other than flawless elegance were the dark circles under his eyes, stark against his pale skin.
“How nice of you to drop by.” Harry blinked – he’d been staring.
“Hnng?”
Malfoy frowned. “Is there something wrong Potter?” Harry felt his cheeks grow warm. “I’m not going to stand around for you all day. Are you coming in?”
Harry nodded, sucking in a deep breath to compose himself. Bloody Malfoy, always catching him off guard.
He followed Malfoy through the halls, eyes darting around as he tried not to remember how he was jostled down towards the dungeon.
Malfoy took him to a room he hadn’t seen. Harry wondered if it was on purpose.
Once inside, Malfoy leant back against the desk, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. He gestured for Harry to take the seat opposite.
“Well,” said Malfoy, “this should be fun.”
Harry glared at him. “Why am I here Malfoy?” he was beginning to feel his confidence blossom back, sprouting new buds of irritation.
Malfoy cocked his head to the side. “I thought they would’ve told you already. Things working a little slow at the Ministry are they?”
Harry bristled. “They told me you needed protecting.” He didn’t try to hide his anger. “What could the wonderful Draco Malfoy possibly face that was too much for him to handle?”
Draco just smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yes,” he said, “because nobody would have a reason to hurt me now would they?”
Harry looked away, directing his cutting stare towards the fireplace.
“Oh, stop sulking Potter,” Malfoy chastised, like he was speaking to a petulant child in the middle of a meltdown, “you weren’t my first choice either.”
Harry’s head shot up at that. “Who was?” Draco quirked an eyebrow.
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t,” Harry said, too quickly. He didn’t.
“Alright.” Draco sighed, standing to walk over to where a crystal decanter sat on a smooth mahogany table. He filled a glass with whiskey, not bothering to offer one to Harry. “Would you like to see your itinerary?”
“Pardon?”
“Your itinerary. Potter.” Draco rolled his eyes. “You’re going to need to know what I’m doing aren’t you?”
“R…right.” Harry nodded. “I’m sorry what?”
Draco sighed. “How on earth did you win the war, Potter?” He shook his head. He reached into his desk draw, handing harry a stack of pages, beautifully scripted in Draco’s own handwriting. Everything about him was bloody perfect. Harry scowled.
What Harry had expected to read was nothing like what he held in his hands. He’d expected a list of ridiculous demands. Instead, there were a total of three bullet points:
- I need an escort to work, details will be revealed at a later date.
- I work Mondays, Thursdays and Fridays. Be there at 7am sharp, I don’t tolerate tardiness. Dress appropriately.
The last point was strange. It’d been crossed out twice, unusual for Malfoy, and was written in a different type of ink – it was darker than the other.
- Join me for dinner on Saturday nights.
Harry stared at the paper. “Dinner?” he asked, quiet at first. “Dinner? Malfoy you have got to be joking.” He jumped to his feet, waving the papers in Malfoy’s face. Malfoy blinked innocently, sipping from his glass.
“There are pages to sign there.” Harry scowled, flipping the pages over. The rest were forms regarding the protection of Draco’s privacy as well as his belongings. Harry wasn’t about to sign them without some answers first.
“Kingsley told me I’d have more time to spend with Ginny,” Harry said quietly, “you’re taking away my Saturday evenings with her?”
Guilt flashed across Malfoy’s features. “How about Wednesdays then?” he asked, his voice hoarse. Harry looked up at him.
“Why are you so desperate to invite me over?”
Malfoy swallowed. “I…I uh,” he cleared his throat, “believe you me, Potter, you’re the last person I’d want round my house.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “So…why—”
“Forget it. It’s fine.” Malfoy snatched the papers out of Harry’s hands, a faint blush creeping over his pale cheeks.
“Maybe you should get someone else.”
Draco smiled, drained the last of what was in his glass. “You know there’s no one else Potter.” Draco looked tired, so incredibly tired.
“Malfoy I can’t give up my Saturday evenings.” Harry didn’t want to look at Draco’s expression. It wasn’t smug, wasn’t irritated, just drained. “I’ll take the job, but you know I can’t give up time with Ginny.”
Malfoy’s brows creased slightly, he regarded Harry with a strange look. “Alright,” he said. Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Did Malfoy just give up without a fight? If Harry couldn’t see it before, there was no doubt in his mind now that something was wrong.
“Malfoy…” he started.
“I hope to see you next week,” Draco said, “turn up on time or don’t turn up at all.” He stood up, walking to hold the door open. Once they’d navigated their way to the front door, Draco paused for a moment.
“Thank you,” he said. Then, hastily, “Potter.” He pushed Harry out of the door before he could say anything in retort.
Harry blinked, dazed at the gravel beneath his feet. It had been a whirlwind, everything had happened so fast. He hadn’t even had time to register half of what Malfoy was suggesting he do.
The man had said thank you. Maybe he really had changed. Harry found himself suitably intrigued, wondering what brought about this drastic new Draco Malfoy. He told himself he didn’t want to know more about him, but memories of his sixth-year obsession washed over him and he knew that he would be lying to himself.
He perked up the collar of his long coat in an attempt to keep out the cold, watching as his breath swirled around his head.
He wondered how Draco felt inside the manor, alone in its shadowed halls. He wondered if Draco’s thank you had more than one meaning.
*
When he finally arrived home, Harry was met with a heavy curtain of dull silence. They were currently looking after Teddy, just for a few days, whilst Andromeda took some time to herself. Even with Teddy there, however, the house felt drab and impossibly empty. Ginny ghosted through the halls, an empty reflection of the woman Harry had once fallen in love with.
“Harry.” Ginny’s voice startled him. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”
Harry shrugged, forcing a smile. “Wasn’t much paperwork.” That was true, there hadn’t been. He swallowed. “How was your day?”
“Fine.”
Harry nodded. “Good.” They were silent for a while, Harry still standing in the hallway, coat and all. “How’s Teddy?”
“Fine.”
“I’m glad.” Harry wasn’t sure what else to say. Had it always been like this, their relationship? He was sure he remembered better times, happier times.
Teddy burst down the stairs, knocking the air out of Harry’s lungs as he smacked into his stomach. Harry had to smile as little arms wrapped around his waist. “Hey Ted,” he said, crouching down to his eye level, “what’s all this then?”
Teddy grinned. “I missed you!”
“Missed you too.” Harry ruffled his Godson’s hair.
From behind, Ginny cleared her throat. “I’m going out.”
Harry had expected this really. She always seemed to go out. “Where to?”
“Leaky,” Ginny said, “with friends.”
Harry nodded slowly, not looking up, brushing a stray hair out of Teddy’s eyes. “Ok.”
Ginny nodded, moving to get her coat. Harry sighed, closing his eyes softly. He didn’t open them until he heard the door click behind his partner. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d said goodbye to each other.
“Uncle Harry?” His eyes snapped open at Teddy’s voice. Despite himself, he smiled.
“Yeah?”
“Are you alright?”
Harry pulled him into a gentle embrace. “‘Course Ted.” He thought about Malfoy, alone in his empty manor. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
*
Harry’s week had dragged on (Kingsley giving him days off until his work with Malfoy commenced, trapping him in limbo), and his weekend was turning out to be just miserable. Ginny had taken Teddy to see Luna, without him, despite the fact that Harry was his Godfather, not Ginny. It was yet another heartless attempt to avoid him. He wondered if Luna asked where he was.
At least Ron had Flooed him, having heard about his recent assignment. They hadn’t spoken for long, but they’d been able to complain about the situation enough to make Harry feel at least slightly more at ease.
Though it didn’t change the fact that he’d be working with Malfoy in just two days. Malfoy. Would horrors never cease?
He sat in the coffee shop he frequented, a little one, squeezed into one of the little corners of Diagon Alley. Steam floated into the air from his mug, spiralling into miniature dancers, spinning until they faded into nothing. He didn’t feel like watching their performance and Harry pushed the mug away.
“I have to admit,” a voice drawled from behind, “I never expected to see the chosen one hiding behind a coffee mug.” Harry scowled. Malfoy. What was he doing here?
“May I join you?” Harry didn’t think he had much of a choice. He nodded and Malfoy assumed the opposite seat. “Where’s the Weaselette?”
Harry hunched over the table as much as he possibly could. “Don’t call her that.”
Draco shrugged. “Force of habit.” Did Draco just half-apologise? “She leave you all alone, did she?”
“Shove it Malfoy.” Harry’s shoulders sagged. This did not go unnoticed by Malfoy.
He waved a waitress over, ordered a cup of tea. Harry rolled his eyes.
“Should’ve known you’d be the one to order tea at a coffee shop,” he growled.
“It’s not exclusively for coffee you know,” Malfoy said, amused.
Harry glared into his abandoned drink. He hated it when Malfoy was right. By now, the coffee had cooled down, the smoke thinner, the dancers dropping as they plummeted softly through the air.
“I never understood the point of those enchantments. They never last long and take forever to cast.” He flicked Harry’s mug with his nails. The following clink was sharp.
Harry shrugged. “I think it adds character.”
“Of course you would,” said Malfoy, rolling his eyes.
The waitress reappeared with a dainty teacup, placing it gently in front of Malfoy. She smiled as she provided the teapot too, tucked underneath a jolly looking patchwork tea cosy. It was the kind of thing they’d have back at the Burrow. Harry cringed, shrinking into himself.
“Can I take your coffee, sir?” Harry blinked.
“Hmm? Oh yes. Yes, sorry.” He blushed as she nodded. To his surprise, she produced a second teacup, identical to the one Draco tentatively sipped from.
“No worries,” she said, and with a wink, “there’s plenty tea there for two.”
Harry watched her go, a slight spring in her step.
“Oh joy,” Malfoy said, though his cheeks were slightly pink, “scavenging off my purchases now are we Potter?”
Harry narrowed his eyes, pushing his cup away from him. “No, actually.” He smiled sweetly. “I don’t really need to, you know.”
Malfoy raised a brow. He looked like he was about to retort but he instead reached for the teapot in the centre of the table. Removing the cosy, he grabbed Harry’s cup, pouring the contents inside.
Harry just stared. The light caught Malfoy’s blond hair as he furrowed his brow in concentration. It was like he was performing some important task. What a prick, always had to make a show of everything.
“Do you take milk?”
Harry’s gaze ghosted over Malfoy’s lips. “I guess? I’ve never really had it without,” he admitted, feeling his cheeks grow warm. He did drink tea, he just didn’t really have a particular way of drinking it.
Malfoy shrugged, reaching for a small pot the waitress had placed on the table. “Try it with honey.”
Harry stared as Malfoy dripped a swirl of honey into the tea, stirring it slowly. He slid the cup towards Harry once he was done, leaning forwards across the table.
Harry stared down at his drink. The smoke didn’t dance, just sighed against the air between them. Harry could feel the heat brushing the underside of his chin.
For all he knew, Malfoy could be trying to poison him.
“I’m not.” Harry looked up to find Malfoy regarding him curiously.
“Huh?”
“Trying to poison you. That’s what you’re thinking. Isn’t it?”
Harry shrugged. Fine. He’d try it. Have it your way Malfoy.
The first sip tingled on his lips but the moment he swallowed, his whole body was filled by a warmth he’d never felt before. “Woah,” he breathed.
Malfoy smirked. “Good?”
Harry’s fingers tingled but he couldn’t give Malfoy the satisfaction. “It’s alright,” he forced himself to say.
Malfoy snorted. “Please,” he said, “you look like you’ve just had yourself a good snog.” Malfoy’s eyes widened. “Not that…not that I’ve ever really thought about what you’d look like after that.”
Harry felt himself blush. He took another sip, anything to distract him. Malfoy’s cheeks were also flushed, Harry realised. Oh, this was too perfect: anything he could do to humiliate Malfoy, Harry would welcome with wide arms. Obviously, any kind of flirting was making Malfoy uncomfortable, and Harry planned to use that to his full advantage.
“Charmed?” Harry asked, fluttering his eyelashes.
Malfoy cleared his throat. “Hmm, yes, it’s uh…it’s supposed to calm you down, promotes lethargy.”
Harry nodded. It certainly did that. “Mmm, nice to know.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Where do you work Malfoy?” Harry had to ask. He felt his ingenious plan already beginning to falter when he noticed he was genuinely curious.
“Here and there, whatever I can.” He smiled sadly.
Harry frowned. Malfoy was an incredibly talented man. Surely he wasn’t struggling to hold down a job?
“No one wants to employ a former death eater Potter,” he said quietly, as if reading his thoughts.
“I can talk to the ministry—”
“I think the Ministry is rather preoccupied with keeping me under surveillance at all times by the famous Harry Potter,” Malfoy sneered
“That’s not what this job is about.”
“Ah yes Potter, because the ministry would just give into my demands for a bodyguard with absolutely no reservations.”
“But—“
“You’ll see where I work on Monday.”
“Malfoy—“
“Oh, look at the time, I’d best be going Potter.” Malfoy pushed away his chair, draining the last drops from his cup. He slammed his part of the bill down upon the table. His features softened slightly. “It was nice seeing you here, without all the fame that usually follows you.”
He left Harry staring down into his tea. It was cold by the time he took another sip.