Chapter 2
Harry kept absentmindedly tapping his pen against his desk. He’d stop once he realized, Marge hated it and Harry wasn’t a complete monster. Then his thoughts would drift back to the problem at hand and the tapping would start again. Harry heard Marge sign loudly, pointedly. He threw down his pen next to the blank memo that was due before the end of shift, which should have been nearly an hour ago but it was no mystery that his tremendous case closure rate had never translated to paperwork.
“You’re as subtle as a troll when you’re frustrated. How is it you manage to get by in the field?” Marge drawled from her side of the office.
Harry spared her an authentic, if exhausted, smile. “I can count on one hand how many people I let my guard down around, Marge. Take it for the compliment it is.”
She shrugged and grunted. Harry loved how she never bothered to emote.
Marge said, “You made progress on three other cases this week, they don’t give a shit if one’s stalled out. Write two lines and close out for tonight. ‘Investigation ongoing. Waiting for subject to resume known patterns of behavior.’”
Harry’s eyes returned to the memo. It had been two weeks since he’d left Draco Malfoy and he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him since. Harry had made a point to linger at the tea shop the first Thursday, and then every day after he no-showed. All for naught. He didn’t have to be a senior auror to connect the dots between Malfoy and Harry’s “date” and Malfoy’s sudden change in patterns. Harry’s lips pursed. What was nagging him was he didn’t understand how he had screwed up. He didn’t know if he should be embarrassed or offended that Malfoy was avoiding him, Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world, and without a doubt the only wizard who would be paying Malfoy any romantic attention. He knew he was being arrogant, but it was an arrogance built off years of successful infiltrations that had never, ever failed so spectacularly.
“He liked the sex,” Harry said aloud.
Marge, as ever, didn’t so much as blink at his blunt statement. “Yes, you’re gods’ gift to bent wizards,” she murmured as she flipped through an evidence folder of her own.
Harry pushed his pen around on the desk, mulling it over. “He liked the attention. He was babbling over himself to talk to someone as if he hadn’t had a real conversation in years.”
“And you’re a stellar conversationalist,” she said flatly.
Harry made a vulgar hand gesture at her but she didn’t look up to see it.
“Do you think he was embarrassed of how he acted? He was awfully drunk,” Harry asked. That could be it.
Marge grunted. “Muggles make it illegal to consent to sex when that drunk,” she said. Harry couldn’t tell if it was supportive or not. Probably not. They’d been partnered for three years and he still couldn’t tell if Marge had his same as-long-as-it’s-legal approach or if she thought they should live up to a higher moral calling. Harry didn’t dwell too much on the moral side of it. He had Hermoine for that.
“Hermoine introduced a bill on that,” he murmured. They both knew it would go no where but appreciated when Hermoine tried.
They let the silence stretch. Harry picked up his pen again and held it above the paper, waiting for inspiration to strike. The moment stretched until it passed and with a huff Harry collapsed back into his chair. The pen started tapping.
Marge sighed again. “I have a theory,” she said. Harry’s pen stopped. He turned to Marge who had actually put down her own work to look at him. Harry motioned to go on. “My theory is, and this is going to blow your mind, but my theory is that this Malfoy fellow has disappeared for reasons that have nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with you. He’s lived all but two weeks of his life without you being the center of the universe and even if ‘he liked the sex’,” she actually made the finger quotes, “you aren’t the center of his world.”
Harry rolled his eyes, hard. This time she was looking to see his rude hand gesture, and she made one right back.
“Whatever,” Harry grumbled. He grabbed the paper and scribbled out the two sentences Marge had penned for him. With a flick of his wrist he drew his wand and two taps on the memo’s seal activated it to fold itself into a plane and fly off to filing. It left behind an identical copy of the memo, which he dutifully tucked away in the back of his own file folder on the Nibill case.
He had already reviewed the latest intel from this week. These included the latest cassette-tape like equipment passed on from records. He had left four detachable ears between Nibill’s apothecary and the attached residential quarters he had been able to access. The ears recorded everything they heard, and transmitted it back to records. Record Keepers used charms to review what was collected and pull out pre-determined conversations on topics of interest. Those would be sent to Harry for review. The rest of the recordings were stored securely to protect the privacy of whoever was under surveillance. Record Keepers themselves were bound by magic and could not remember the recordings after reviewing them. For all the effort of planting the ears, and having staff review everything they could, it hadn’t turned up one valuable piece of intel that would further the case. Two weeks wasn’t all that long, but Harry suspected the store front and Malfoy’s living quarters just weren’t going to turn up much. He would need to find a way past the locked doors he encountered in his sleuthing. He would need to be invited further in.
Harry cast a quick tempus which revealed he was now 90 minutes past time to leave. Instead he opened another file. Harry and marge both worked late into the night as was their way.
Malfoy wasn’t at Serini-Tea the following Thursday morning. No matter, Harry showed up that morning with a plan for that eventuality. When it was well past time for Malfoy to have come and left, Harry got up and placed a to-go order for Malfoy’s regular coffee and scone. Fifteen minutes later he was outside Nibill’s apothecary.
Harry could see Malfoy through the large display window. He wore his tidy gray shop robes that were terribly common compared to what Harry had seen him wear in their previous lives. Still, they fit well and showed Malfoy to be tall and trim. His platinum blonde hair would never be common. However, he no longer wore it stylized. Today it was pulled back away from his face. Simple and practical were words Harry had begun to associate with this new Malfoy persona. As well as polite, which he was certainly being to the customer in the store. Harry watched Malfoy collect a small package from a cupboard behind the counter. Malfoy double checked the name on the tag before holding it out to the customer. The customer reached for it, his hand lingering on top of Malfoy’s as he accepted it. The customer leaned towards Malfoy and spoke. A faint blush crept up Malfoy’s cheeks.
Harry cursed under his breath. He remembered Marge telling him Malfoy’s reasons for disappearing had nothing to do with him and for the first time he worried that may actually be correct. Without thinking it through, Harry opened the door to the apothecary and marched in.
A bell above the door chimed longer than any unmagical bell would do and disturbed the moment between Malfoy and the customer. The customer who was now turning to look at Harry’s appearance, and who Harry instantly recognized. He’d seen that same face countless times smirking at him from the picture in his case file. Halford Selwyn. A pureblood born in England but raised on the continent. He was more than a bit older than Harry and Malfoy, but young enough he wouldn’t have been pressured to be involved during the first war with Voldermort. Harry wasn’t the first to suspect that was why his family’s fortune had remained intact when so many other pure blood families had taken a hit with the first war before being decimated by the second.
Harry was well practiced in field work and revealed none of his thoughts or feelings about Selwyn. His eyes did flicker to where Selwyn’s hands were still touching Malfoy’s. Then he glanced at Malfoy’s face. Malfoy looked absolutely mortified. Harry hid his satisfaction at that as easily as he could hide any other emotion. Though, perhaps it was a bit too easy to pinch his face and pull a thin, uneasy smile. Malfoy pulled his hands back from Selwyn’s grasp and set them on the counter between them, leaving Selwyn holding only the package he’d come for.
“Always a pleasure, Mr. Selwyn,” Draco said awkwardly.
Selwyn smiled and shook his head. Disappointed, but not upset. He had been hoping Draco would say something else, a more favorable response perhaps to whatever conversation Harry had interrupted. “Likewise, Draco. And please, it’s just Hal.”
Harry was certain Draco was straining not to look at him as he squeaked out a response. “You are a respected customer, Mr. Selwyn.”
Selwyn chuckled. He leaned in once more to pat one of Malfoy’s hands before stepping back and tipping a hat to him in farewell. Selwyn was turning to leave when he caught sight of Harry again, this time pausing. “I say, you look awfully familiar. Could you be…” he trailed off, as if not wanting to be so presumptuous as to ask.
Harry let the half-question linger long enough to be uncomfortable. In that moment he acknowledged to himself that maybe he hadn’t thought through today’s plan as thoroughly as he should have. How would the version of Harry Potter who was smitten with Draco Malfoy act around star-struck strangers? What would appeal to Malfoy? Merlin, was this flop of a man who had just been trying to pull Malfoy himself the sort Malfoy was into? Sure, he was pleasant enough to look at in a pouchy middle-aged sort of way, but nothing special. Harry would have to come back to that challenge later, for now he let instinct guide him forward. Malfoy wouldn’t want drama.
“Yeah, it’s me. I mean, yes I’m Harry Potter.”
Selwyn half-gasped. “Well, can you believe it. Harry Potter himself visiting this modest apothecary. Say, aren’t you an auror? Are aurors contracting out now?” The words were over the top but Selwyn’s eyes keenly watched Harry for reaction.
Harry gave him nothing. Nothing but the bashful persona of a man put in an awkward situation. “Uh, no. The staff potion master would boil us if we tried outsourcing. But, ya know, its regulations are clear personal potions must be handled, well, personally.” Harry looked past Selwyn at the shelves of grab-and-go potions as if he was in a rush and just wanted to quickly be on his way. His gaze didn’t return to Selwyn until it was clear Selwyn planned to overstay his welcome. Harry leaned into the awkward of it to see how far he could push. “Oh, um, I don’t sign things.”
“I beg your pardon?” Selwyn asked.
“Sorry, I just don’t think of myself as a celebrity. The history books have it wrong, in any case, and if you’re a fan, well, it was nice to meet you.” Harry offered the weakest of smiles.
Selwyn’s stare had switched from shrewd to dismayed. He looked at Harry as if he’d stepped in something foul. His eyes swept over Harry’s casual jumper and muggle jeans and sneakers. He radiated offense at the mention he might have been a fan. He sniffed and scowled, then with a swoosh left the store without another word. Good riddance.
Harry allowed himself a deep breath before turning to Malfoy. He was surprised to find Malfoy somehow looked like he’d caved in further onto himself. His shoulders hunched in, his gaze towards the floor. His cheeks flushed in mortification. Harry, usually so confident, was caught off guard and didn’t know what to do.
Malfoy spoke first. “How can I help you today, Mr. Potter?”
Harry momentarily felt kinship with ‘it’s just Hal’ Selwyn when confronting Malfoy’s polite professionalism. He swallowed a dozen comments before he held up his offering. “I brought you coffee?” he told himself the uncertainty in his voice was intentional, not a slip up.
Malfoy glanced up at the cup of coffee and bagged scone, then back at Harry. He didn’t say anything or make any effort to take them. Harry had thought Malfoy’s reaction to Selwyn was cold, but it looked positively encouraging compared to what Harry was getting. Merlin’s beard, the last time they saw each other they’d fucked. How had things gotten so twisted?
Gingerly, Harry stepped forward and put his gift on the counter. He ran a hand through his hair, nervously. “So, I haven’t seen you around,” was the completely obvious sentence Harry went with. Malfoy acted as if he didn’t even hear it.
Instead, Malfoy tilted his head and peered at the cup of coffee, seemingly to read the order written on it. Then he picked up the bag and peaked inside. His eyes widened in surprise. “Oh,” was all he said when he realized Harry had brought the order Malfoy made every Thursday. Harry was willing to admit the faint blush across Malfoy’s cheeks was attractive. Harry’s issues with Malfoy had never been that he wasn’t easy on the eyes. Right now his main issue was apparently all of Harry’s bravado about being the only wizard to pay this attention-starved death eater any care was absolutely completely false.
Marge was the first to say Harry was a fool for jumping in head first into things and the privilege that comes with international celebrity wouldn’t be enough to save him forever. As with all things, that was a future problem that Harry would deal with when it came. For now, Harry jumped right in.
“So, have I not seen you around because you’ve been spending time with that… what was his name? Mr. Selwyn?” It wasn’t hard to sound hurt. Certainly, Harry’s pride was taking a beating.
Malfoy’s body went rigid. His wide, panicked eyes actually looked up to meet Harry’s. Harry could see how rapidly Malfoy was considering things to say, seeking to cherry pick the lie he went with out of the increasingly more desperate fabrications his mind came up with. Harry idly wondered if Malfoy had always been this bad at lying. The smug bastard he knew from Hogwarts always flaunted his lies, knowing he wouldn’t be punished for them. Harry had never considered at the time that Malfoy was incapable of withholding his emotions if he wanted to.
“Mr. Selwyn is a respected customer,” Malfoy choked out, using the same words as before. “I would never… not with… I mean it would be…” Malfoy sputtered, not even able to finish the sentence, blushing harder now than Harry had ever seen. Unlike Malfoy, Harry was an incredibly accomplished liar and easily held back even the slightest inclination that he wanted to make fun of Malfoy for being uncomfortable talking about sex.
As fun as it would be to rile him up, Malfoy was a mark and Harry was professional. Harry adopted a bashful persona himself. “I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “I was just worried, you know,” Harry shrugged, doing his best to look open and vulnerable.
Malfoy was looking at him all wide-eyed again. Malfoy’s eyes kept flickering to the refreshments Harry brought, then back to Harry’s face. He was searching for something and Harry could only hope that it would be found in what he was projecting.
Malfoy finally collected himself. He allowed himself to pick up the coffee. He sniffed at it and smiled, then closed his eyes and slowly savored the first drink. Harry watched him visibly relax into the experience. When Malfoy opened his eyes he looked back at Harry and smiled. Harry smiled back, tentatively, keeping his whoop of success locked deep in his chest to let out later when he gloated to Marge.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been around. It’s been busy at the store,” Malfoy lied. Not a direct lie, one that Harry himself might be able to get away with simply due to the fact that the two statements had nothing to do with each other. Harry, as always, allowed Malfoy the comfort of not having to share more than he was open to sharing.
That was step one of gaining Malfoy’s trust. Step two was appearing to be comfortable opening up himself, as if Malfoy was worth it. “Work can suck the life out of living, if you’re not careful.” Harry chuckled, “Usually I feel like I’m always on the clock.” He allowed a contemplative pause. Then he pulled out the big guns, full on puppy dog eyes. He saw the moment Malfoy went weak kneed when met with Harry’s sweet and longing gaze. “I was hoping you’d have some downtime again soon. We could try to liven things up, ya know?”
Harry had been surprised at first, by Malfoy’s insecurity. As an adult looking back, Harry could see there had always been insecurity there. However where it was once covered up by bravado and egotism, this new Malfoy wore it on his sleeve. It was so completely, painfully obvious in little things, like the way he picked at the sleeve of his coffee cup when he felt overwhelmed, and in big things, like the way he looked like he might pass out at any moment from the pressure of it all. Malfoy had struggled in their past meet ups, but it seemed much worse today. He was taking short, shallow breaths, he seriously might start hyperventilating. Malfoy was near on having a panic attack from the simple fact Harry was asking him out again.
Harry forced down his frustration. Sure, he thought Malfoy had gotten past this already, but really this was good news. Basket case Malfoy who is emotionally unstable is a far better outcome than inconstant Malfoy who had taken on a new lover.
Harry moved to de-escalate. Now that he was certain that he would not be rejected, he stepped up to the counter. “Hey there, hey, take a deep breath for me would you?” he soothed. Malfoy looked like he might bolt out of the room, so Harry gently pulled one of Malfoy’s hands away from the coffee cup and into his own. Harry took a deep breath himself, demonstrating the action he wanted Malfoy to follow. He overemphasized the noise of breathing so Malfoy could hear and follow along. Three breaths in and Malfoy was matching him. Harry waited three more breaths before letting the cadence go. His large smile looked genuine when he squeezed Malfoy’s hand. Malfoy’s eyes were still wide, but the panic was gone. “There you are,” Harry murmured. “You doing alright?”
Harry didn’t let his smile dip when he saw so clearly that Malfoy’s nod was a lie. Malfoy flexed his hand to release Harry’s grip, then pulled his hand out of Harry’s.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” Malfoy said. Lie.
Harry faked concern. “I’m glad I was here to talk you through it,” Harry said. Technically true, if only because Harry knew he needed Malfoy’s trust. “Do you need anything? Here, eat something,” Harry nudged the scone towards Malfoy.
Malfoy hesitated but did start eating. He spoke between mouthfuls. “It really is quite busy. Students at the potion’s school nearby are going through exams, if you stick around much longer you’ll see a rush as folks shift between seminars.” He paused, and Harry could practically see him choosing out excuses. “There aren’t any other employees right now, and Mr. Nibill’s is depending on me to work long hours. I, well, I.. I don’t think we should… what I mean is I wouldn’t want to lead you on. Since I’m unavailable.”
Once again, Harry was utterly surprised. What was happening? Sure, Malfoy was overworked. Despite his implication that the staffing level was short term, the aurors had been watching this apothecary for over a year and Harry knew malfoy was not only the only employee, he also worked the front almost all the hours the shop was open. Surely he could still make time if he wanted to? A horrible thought came to Harry and he actually let something authentic slip.
“Wait, was I a bad shag?” he asked, appalled at his need to know.
Malfoy froze again long enough that Harry was worried it would be a whole thing. Then Malfoy burst out laughing.
He kept laughing.
It went on long enough Harry not only got annoyed but let it show.
“Merlin, your face,” Malfoy wheezed. Instantly Harry’s face went blank, but Malfoy just laughed harder.
Harry growled, “Quit it. This is humiliating.”
Malfoy’s laughter petered off. He had to wipe tears from his eyes. “I’m sorry, it’s just, you were aghast. You’ve been so, well, it’s good to know you haven’t changed too much I suppose.”
Harry huffed, not sure what that meant or how he was meant to take it. This might be one of the few honest and open things Malfoy had said sober and Harry was supposed to be professional enough to leverage it but he just felt like glowering.
The worst thing was, Malfoy could tell. He was holding back another round of giggles, the fucker.
“Oh, cool off Potter. You were not a bad shag,” Malfoy conceded.
It was far too embarrassing to Harry to know he felt better having Malfoy say it.
Perhaps worst of all, was that Draco panic-attack Malfoy looked for the first time completely at ease. He wasn’t being anxiously-oversharing-an-extremely-edited-lifestory Malfoy, or Harry-got-him--extremely-plastered-and-loopy Malfoy, but just contented Malfoy. Harry was certain that try as he might, this result had nothing to do with any of the calculated steps he’d taken since he’d realized in the coffee shop that Malfoy was queer. And hot. Harry could have gotten access to this shop another way, but emotionally manipulating his former rival and one of the hottest blokes in town into sleeping with him had just, well, sounded good at the time.
Malfoy’s smile eased and his face turned serious. “I actually find myself flattered that you enjoyed,” Malfoy’s face pinched and Harry made a mental note that Malfoy was a prude, “our evening together,” the tamest euphemism Harry could imagine, “but now I assume your curiosity on the subject is settled and I’d rather we end it now, understanding that it is not going anywhere, and allow us each to focus on our other obligations.”
Oh. Oh. Fuck.
Harry’s mistake was at once obvious and devastating.
The silence stretched too long. Harry tried to think of something to say, but all the obvious choices were lies. He needed a truth that sounded like a lie. Something that would fool Malfoy, but couldn’t be held up in court as a reason to throw out all the evidence collected by the attachable ears. It was only usable if the ears were placed where Harry had access to. The law had been intended to just mean public access, but the aurors had found a loophole that they fought tooth and nail not to have corrected. As long as Harry was invited into a space, without any direct falsehood getting him there, he could place a device and collect evidence. It didn’t take long for him to find that sex opened doors for him. Malfoy, however, was not interested in short-term casual sex.
“I wasn’t expecting this,” Harry said to buy time.
The silence had been awkward and Malfoy didn’t handle awkward well. He was slipping back into anxiousness, his eyes looking everywhere but at Harry.
“I don’t want to stop seeing you,” a truth Harry could share.
Malfoy didn’t handle it well, though. He looked pained at the words. His hands gripped the counter so tight the joints turned white and Harry could see the effort it took Malfoy to steady his breaths. This wasn’t general discomfort anxiety. It was because Malfoy knew since Harry walked in that Malfoy was going to turn Harry down. Definitely Malfoy was struggling far worse with his anxiety than Harry had ever seen. At least since 6th year when they crossed paths in a certain bathroom.
The moment in which Malfoy felt comfortable enough to share his true feelings was gone. Harry realized this, and knew he would need to do something drastic else all the time he’d put into cultivating Malfoy was over. Case closed, handed off to another auror who would know Harry hadn’t had what it took to succeed. Not only that, they’d know he had lost to a Malfoy.
Harry was a fool and could only think of one way forward. He jumped in.
“I’m almost thirty and every relationship I’ve had ended with my partner telling me I’m emotionally unavailable and uncommitted,” a truth. Too true. But Malfoy’s wide-eyes were staring straight at Harry. “Every friend I have has gently suggested it's time to move past the war. Hermoine’s given me seven books on overcoming trauma and keeps offering to help me find a mind healer.” Malfoy was frowning, vaguely sympathetic. “I know I’m a workaholic. I lied and told my friends I was on vacation when I went undercover for two months just to get them to stop nagging about it.” Malfoy was confused now. Why was Harry still talking? “I live with three of the most obnoxious people you can imagine because the flat was cheap and close to work, and now I have a ready excuse for why I never invite anyone over and I don’t have to be embarrassed I don’t bother taking care of my home,” the sympathy and confusion were turning to concern. “Despite everyone treating me like a hero, I don’t even think I’m even a good person.”
And then Malfoy was there in front of Harry, having walked around the counter without Harry even noticing. Gingerly, Draco took Harry’s hands in his and just held them.
Harry felt raw as he spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “I know I have issues. We both have issues. Why does that mean we always have to be alone?”
Malfoy cupped Harry’s face with one hand. For the first time, Harry couldn’t read anything in Malfoy’s face. But then Malfoy leaned forward and slid his lips against Harry’s. Tension Harry hadn’t realized he’d built up eased away. Malfoy wrapped his arms around Harry. Harry leaned into the touch. Harry’s own arms wrapped around Malfoy’s waist in a loose hug. They kissed until the bell above the door chimed, and the promised rush of students walked in.