Chapter 10
Harry dreamed of green flame that felt like Draco Malfoy. In life, Harry couldn’t feel the flames, but he’d felt Malfoy dragging him along passages made of soot-flavored magic. Harry could always feel magic, and over time he learned to differentiate between sources. They weren’t really tastes, more like associations in Harry’s mind. Harry had always associated Malfoy with mint. Slightly sweet, leaving the body cold. Harry didn’t know if the feeling of circling the minty cool magical form of Malfoy with his own too-hot magic was dreams or a memory.
The stark warmth of sunlight woke Harry from his dreams. His eyes blinked open to a familiar room, all cream colors and assorted quilts. One Harry had woken up in enough times before that he didn’t panic.
“Good, you woke up,” he heard. He rolled himself over to see Marge lounging in an old wooden rocking chair.
Harry blinked a couple times before looking again, hoping that would reorient himself to Marge being in Ron and Hermoine’s guest room. It did not. “What are you doing here?” Harry asked. Then, as he crept more thoroughly into consciousness, “What the hell am I doing here?” The breath Marge let out was long and troubled. Harry remembered his dream of cold, fresh smelling flames and noted the obvious absence. “Where’s Malfoy?”
Marge not answering was what folks who knew her might describe as a cosmically bad sign. No matter how Harry scowled, she insisted on Ron being with her when she briefed Harry. So, together they pulled Harry out of bed, and after a few supported steps Harry was walking on his own.
“Thank goodness, you woke up,” Ron said when Harry walked into the kitchen. Ron stood up from a table covered in papers in order to embrace Harry in a hug, thumping him hard on the back.
Harry hugged back, perfunctory and troubled at waking up missing key parts of the story. He said, “That sounds a lot like I might not have woken up.”
“I had every faith in you,” Marge said, in a tone that implied heavily she did not.
Harry pulled back from Ron and looked hard at both his friends. Both met his eyes determinedly, as if they were self conscious of how not meeting Harry’s gaze would be cowardly. “Seriously, what’s going on? Where’s Malfoy?” Harry demanded.
Ron sighed as heavily as Marge had, dragging a hand through already tousled hair. “Take a seat, Harry,” he said.
Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Spit it out,” he said.
It was Marge tugging on his arm, pulling him towards the table and sitting herself that convinced Harry to follow their lead. Marge and Ron didn’t like each other, they bickered whenever they were together, but in this moment they acted in lock step. Harry had been nervous but now he was scared.
“There’s no silver lining here, we screwed up and Malfoy’s been taken,” Ron said directly.
Harry’s gut clenched. “Taken? What do you mean, taken?”
Marge took over. “Yesterday afternoon, Malfoy’s parole officer was seen arresting Malfoy at a public location. However, Malfoy was not taken into auror custody. We,” she paused, “we’ll talk you through the details, but, we have evidence that the parole officer, Don Clark, is connected to both Halford Selwyn and the illegal potion ring we’ve been tracking. I’m certain that’s who took him.”
Harry was stunned into silence, looking back and forth between the two aurors. It felt like only minutes ago he’d been standing next to Malfoy, conspiring foolish escape routes from a bizarre attack. Hearing an auror had been involved made Harry feel sick, but also put pieces together for a plausible, if troubling, explanation. Harry couldn’t understand, though, how he’d ended up in Ron’s guest room and Malfoy was kidnapped.
Ron answered the question Harry couldn’t voice. “It’s my fault, Harry,” he said. “You got Malfoy here safely, I made the call to go out and risk encounters, and I didn’t do due diligence before I left his side. I’m sorry. I know that’s not good enough, but I’m sorry.”
“What are you talking about?” Harry growled, anger rising up in his confusion. Worry was gnawing at his gut as he imagined the danger Malfoy was in, but he didn’t know how to voice just how deep his concern went to the friends in front of him.
“You can’t blame Ron, I made the mess he stepped in,” Marge intervened. “When I got your letter, I made straight for the probation department and walked in right as Clark was pulling his head out of a floo call. I saw he’d also received your notification, it was just lying out in the open. I got pushy about him filing it immediately, and wasn’t watching my back.” Marge grimaced at the memory. “He attacked while I was lecturing him over paperwork.” Marge looked pained to admit it, her pride hurt at having failed so spectacularly. “He got the drop on me and trapped me in a holding cell. I don’t know if I should be embarrassed or thankful, neither of us could cast through the bars else I think he’d have done me in. As is, he ran off with both letters and enough of my hair to polyjuice with. I was stuck there for hours until another probation auror found me there.”
Harry was glad he was sitting. He suspected that Marge was downplaying the encounter that could have left her dead. He realized both hands were balled into fists and flexed all his fingers out, taking a shaky breath to center himself. “Um, you said, polyjuice?” he stumbled.
“Yeah, mate. That’s how they got me. They must have intercepted our note to Marge and figured out the clue. I thought it was Marge who met up with us, but instead it was someone working with Clark.” Ron pursed his lips and stared down at his fists. “Hermoine would have checked, but I didn’t even think of it. Then I was stupid enough to just trust her.”
“Stop beating yourself up, it’s irritating,” Marge groused. “And besides, I’d have been insulted if you did cast one of those detection charms on me. I fucked up for getting myself caught, and you fucked up for not keeping the mark in sight at all times, and I’m sure if we did the barest digging we’d find out Harry here fucked up, too.” (She kept talking over Harry’s half hearted “hey!”) “I think it’s best we move along now and figure out how we’re going to fix this.”
“That’s a shit apology,” Ron muttered.
Marge’s hard glare would stop lesser men in their tracks. “I’m not apologizing for doing my damn job, poorly or otherwise.”
It sounded too much to Harry like something he would have said himself. All errors were forgiven in the name of the job. Only, this wasn’t an error, it was Malfoy’s life, and Harry was still feeling sick at the idea of Malfoy potentially dying.
“We’ve got to get Malfoy back,” Harry said to refocus.
“No shit,” Marge grumbled with an eye roll, right as Ron earnestly said, “Of course, mate.” They both paused to stare daggers at each other, but swiftly moved along.
Ron began rearranging things on the table. “Let’s take it from the top.”
Over the next half hour Ron and Marge traded off updating Harry on everything they’d learned since he’d passed out from spell damage. Harry took in Ron’s theories about the potion ring’s interest in Malfoy, and how Marge discovered Clark's family connection to the Selwyns, even though Clark had been passing as a muggle born, as well as her breakdown of how Clark had every potion-related probation case transferred to his caseload. There was strong evidence he had rubber stamped certain people on probation, and enough evidence that he may have engineered strategic probation failures for anyone who might have been in competition with Sewlyn’s group. Clark had requested Malfoy’s case years ago. He had suggested the contract update that forced Malfoy out of his muggle job and into Nibill’s predatory hands. Ron and Marge hadn’t realized that until Harry explained. Ron looked horrified while Marge calmly added a note in her clear script.
“We need to go get him, now,” Harry insisted.
Ron was nodding. “You thinking Sewlyn would have him back at his manor?” he asked.
“We can’t know for sure,” Marge muttered. “Even with this evidence, there’s no direct proof that Selwyn is leading it. The Wizamagot wouldn’t sign off on us entering his premises.”
Harry nearly growled out, “If we have to wait for those pompous assholes to sign off on paperwork Malfoy is as good as dead.”
Ron placed a hand on Harry’s arm. “Ease up, there. We’re not saying we won’t go.”
“I’m saying we shouldn’t go,” Marge corrected, but carried on before Harry could yell again. “I don’t like how emotionally invested you’re are in this case, and it’s a big risk skipping formal approvals, BUT” she spoke louder, cutting off Harry again before he had a chance to speak, “as long as we find Malfoy there we have enough to retroactively justify our choices, while pining Selwyn to this case once and for all.” She smiled grimly. “Of course, if Malfoy’s not there we’re fucked. We’ll all most likely be fired.”
Ron laughed. “It’s madness to go for it, but of course I’m game.” He grinned at Marge. “Besides, they won’t risk the public being upset they fired two-thirds of the ‘golden trio.’ You’ll be the one out of luck, carrying the weight for all of us.” He grinned at Harry. “Not so bad being famous when you need to bend the rules a bit, eh?” Harry tried to chuckle with him but it came out choked.
All three aurors understood the stakes when they arrived at Sewlyn’s manor. All three hid behind strong disillusionment charms that allowed them to sneak up to the wards along the edge of the building.
Harry reached out a hand to feel the wards, but Marge grabbed at him before he could. She cast a silencing charm around the both of them, conspicuously leaving Ron out. “What?” Harry hissed at her.
“Don’t snap at me, we need to talk,” Marge hissed back.
Harry glanced around the grounds. No one was here yet but any sort of magical security could come by. “What have we been doing all morning?” he asked.
“For the love of magic, Harry, pull your head out of your ass and listen to me. We need to talk now because, despite my efforts to rationalize this mission, I realized I can’t go in there with you while you still ignore what’s going on right now,” Marge insisted. “You’re too emotionally invested. You weren’t talking about the case at all this morning, it was just ‘Malfoy this’ and ‘Malfoy that’, you’re thinking about one person and not the bigger picture.”
Harry felt rage at the accusation. “I’ve put everything into this case, Malfoy hates me because of what I did for this case,” he growled.
“No!” Marge snapped. “You take the easy way on cases instead of putting everything into them. Hurting Malfoy was the easy way, until suddenly it wasn’t, and now you’re all fucked up and guilt ridden or whatever. Honestly, I don’t care. I do care about both of us going in with clarity about what we’re here for, and what we can expect from each other, because, Harry, if I can’t trust you to have my back I need to know before I go in there. I’m not a mark you get one over on, I’m your damn partner.”
Harry’s chest felt tight, and couldn’t tell if he was lying when he said, “Of course you can count on me!” Harry was thankful for the silencing charm as his voice started to rise.
Marge was always three steps (maybe twenty steps) ahead of him and would call him on his bullshit forever. “So, when we’re in there, and you have to choose between saving Malfoy’s life and securing proof positive evidence that Selwyn is the mastermind behind over a dozen murders, you’re going to make sure Selwyn goes down for his crimes?” Marge demanded.
Harry couldn’t meet her eyes. His jaw was clenched too tight for speaking, which was great because he didn’t trust himself to answer.
Marge gave him a minute, more time than was wise to be wasting but it proved her point. “That’s what I needed to know,” she said.
“We need you in there, Marge,” Harry pleaded.
Marge sighed but nodded nodded. “I know, but I’m going to need something from you. Give me your invisibility cloak for this one.”
“What?” Harry asked, surprised at the request.
“Your invisibility cloak. I know you brought it. You two are going to go in there, wands sparking, drawing all the attention in the world. I’ll have your back when you do it, but if you get yourself into a jam I’m going to find my way out of it, with the evidence needed to close this down no matter what else comes to pass.” Marge’s face was firm. Ron would never have demanded this, but Ron was his friend first and his colleague second. Marge liked him well enough, but in her heart she was efficient and brutal.
“Fine, yeah, alright,” Harry muttered as he pulled his cloak out of his pocket. The ease of which he handed it over worried him. He knew Marge understood how much he cherished the cloak and all its sentimental value. There was no question she wouldn’t take care of it and give it back. It was more that the act of sharing it was proof of his commitment to his own goals. He’d do painful things to get Malfoy out alive. Malfoy, who Harry kept telling himself was just a mark who he didn’t even like that much.
With the cloak exchanged, Marge dropped the silencing spell. Ron stared daggers at both of them, well aware something significant had happened and neither Marge or Harry was going to tell him what.
Harry ignored his friend, instead raising a hand to feel the wards. He focused on them instead of the feelings Marge had called him out for. The magic felt the same as what he’d experienced at Nibill’s. The same caster had done it. The wards were strong, but Harry’s specialty was overcoming strong magic. “I can break them,” he stated.
Marge huffed. “Do you always have to be so bullheaded? You’ll hurt yourself and lead everyone on the premises straight towards us. Let’s get close to an entrance, I can confundus the guards and we’ll sneak in.”
Ron sighed. “I know you two are hyper focused on your own drama and you never come visit FRAUD, but you do know breaking through dark wards is what we do, right?” Both Harry and Marge stared at him, not having known. Ron gawked. “Seriously?”
“Don’t you, like, hassle the hawkers in knockturn alley?” Harry asked.
“Oh my gods, Harry, sometimes I hate you,” Ron muttered. He took out his wand, and with a clean swipe cast a silent spell. He then twisted his wrist, and in doing so pulled on the image in front of the three of them. It looked as if the wall had been cut clean and one part was pulled out, allowing a small slip of space where one could squeeze between either side. Ron motioned for the two of them to go in. Harry stepped first, finding himself suddenly in a hallway within the building. Marge stepped in after him, followed by Ron, who swiped his wand again, sealing the wall shut behind them.
“You’re going to need to teach me that spell,” Harry whispered as he glanced up and down the hallway. He looked back at the other aurors, but Marge had already disappeared under the invisibility cloak. Harry sighed, but let it go. He had to trust her.
Ron nudged Harry, drawing his attention. Ron exaggerated an eye roll at Harry’s previous comment, but also spared Harry a warm, encouraging smile. Harry hadn’t realized he had needed it. Ron squeezed Harry’s shoulder, then nodded to their right, and they were off.
The two aurors moved with great stealth. Harry took lead, focusing on quick investigation as he let his instincts guide him. Ron stayed close behind, casting more thorough investigation charms and recording their path. The manor was thoroughly guarded but the aurors made quick work of the witches and wizards they encountered. Harry excelled at incapacitating foes, and Ron always could find a place to hide the unconscious bodies.
The trickiest situations were when they entered a locked or warded room. It was in just such an instance they found Chester Nibill, tinkering with materials. Nibill cost himself crucial time when he cast an alarm before attacking Harry. While the alarm couldn’t be stopped, Harry did rush forward and cast a containment charm around the purple explosives Nibill was handling. When Nibill tried to activate them and attack, the purple balls imploded. Nibill went down soon after from Ron’s well aimed body bind.
Ron slammed the door they came in through and cast his own locks and wards on it, then the two aurors marched forward through the door on the other end of the room.
Through the door was a larger room, with a long meeting table lined with chairs. Sunlight shone through large windows. Draco Malfoy sat, perfectly illuminated by the light. Harry’s breath caught in his throat. Malfoy was alive.
“Malfoy!” Harry called. He dropped his guard and ran round the table to the other man. He was half aware of Ron casting detection spells, and the glowing lights confirming the man in front of Harry was who he seemed.
Malfoy turned to Harry and smiled. It was radiant. “Hello, Harry,” he said.
Harry stumbled. Not even when Malfoy thought they were dating did he offer Harry such a joyful smile. “Malfoy, are you alright? Have they hurt you?”
Malfoy smiled brighter. “It’s so kind of you to have worried about me, Harry. I’m fine, thank you.” Malfoy didn’t make effort to move or get up, completely unperturbed by Harry’s arrival. Malfoy noticed Ron making the rounds through the room, checking every door and window for magic and casting his own protection. “You brought Auror Granger-Weasley. It’s so nice to see you again so soon.”
Ron paused himself at that, eyeing Malfoy. “Yeah mate, glad you’re in one piece” he said.
Harry crouched down next to Malfoy. “Malfoy, we came to rescue you. Can you get up and come with us?”
Malfoy’s smile slipped for a moment. “Oh, no, I’m not going to do that.”
“What, why not?” Harry asked.
Malfoy glanced at Ron then back to Harry. “It is really kind you came all this way, but I’m fine here. I’m not in need of rescuing. I can see you were worried, but I promise you I’m safe here. You should go and let me be.”
Harry grabbed for Malfoy’s hand and squeezed it. “Malfoy, last time you were here Selwyn poisoned you. Nothing about this place is safe.”
Malfoy was shaking his head, but he didn’t pull away from Harry. “It was a misunderstanding, I hadn’t proven I was trustworthy yet” Malfoy seemed to realize something as he spoke. “Talking to aurors would be suspicious. You need to go, you shouldn’t be here.”
Harry was at a loss for what to say. He stayed crouched down at Malfoy’s level, his eyes imploring Malfoy to understand how mad he was sounding. “I can’t leave without you Malfoy,” Harry insisted.
That was when the smile faded from Malfoy’s face. “And it’s always about what you want, right Harry?”
“No. What? Malfoy, we don’t have time for this.”
Malfoy pulled his hand out of Harry’s. “You’re so selfish, Harry. You only ever show up when you want something from me and you don’t care how you have to hurt me to get it.”
Harry rubbed sweaty palms on his auror robes as he tried to muster the courage to look at Malfoy head on. “I… I know I hurt you, Malfoy. I wish I hadn’t,” Harry froze, worried. He sat with the statement until he was certain it was true. “I really do wish I hadn’t hurt you,” he said more confidently.
“What does it matter if you wish you hadn’t hurt me when you’re here right now ignoring me when I ask you to leave?” Draco demanded.
“Harry, people are coming,” Ron cut in from across the room. He began to strengthen his shields even more so, focusing his energy on the door he anticipated an attack approaching from.
Harry glanced between Ron, the pressure sitting heavy on Harry’s shoulders as he turned back to Malfoy, who continued to stare at him, calm and resolute. “I don’t know what Sewlyn told you, but you can’t trust him. He’s hurting people, killing people. He’s dangerous, Malfoy. You’re not safe here. Please, please come with us.”
“Come with you and do what?” Malfoy said. “You’re offering to help me go back to living under a microscope, set up to fail. You all took everything from me. No one will hire me. All my friends are imprisoned, being driven mad in an institution because your beloved job thinks that’s what’s best for society. What do you know about helping me?”
Harry took a shaky breath and locked eyes again with Malfoy. “There has to be a better way,” he insisted. “I promise Malfoy, come with me now and I’ll be right there with you, doing whatever I can to figure it out.”
Malfoy’s gaze hardened. He tilted his head, looking Potter up and down. “You?” he asked. “I should trust you because, what, you used false pretences to fuck me and now you’re hung up over it? What happens when your attraction to me wears off and you lose interest? You just expect me to hang my entire future on an emotionally stunted con artist with a badge?”
Malfoy was so clinical as he said it. The coldness was what stuck with Harry, who found himself running too hot with anger and shame.
Loud, muffling rumbling began to build somewhere closeby. “We’re out of time, Harry!” Ron shouted. “Stop talking, let’s grab him and run.”
Harry growled, turning away from Malfoy to yell at Ron, “Buy us a minute!” Then he turned back to Malfoy. Harry wanted to grab his hand again, wanted to beg his forgiveness and have it be accepted unconditionally. He wanted to take away any pain he’d caused, but even with two weeks to think on it Harry hadn’t managed to wrestle with whether or not he could truly be sorry. Draco had called Harry selfish, and the more Harry stared into Draco’s passionless silver eyes desperate for Draco to feel just a fraction of what Harry was feeling, the more Harry believed it was true. Harry wanted time, time to work through all of this and convince Malfoy that something better for both of them was possible.
Then,before Harry could do anything, as explosions began to rock the room, Malfoy cast, “Expelliarmus.” The spell hit Harry straight on and his wand flew out of his hand and across the room.
Ron twisted around at Malfoy’s casting, his own wand lifted to take action. Malfoy was ahead of him, casting a body bind followed by another disarming spell. Ron fell to the floor with a grunt.
Malfoy was on his feet now, his wand held confidently at his side. He was staring at his wand, though, his forehead creased in confusion.
“Accio wand,” Harry cast.
Malfoy wooshed his wand as he cast a knockback jinx, slapping Harry’s wand back across the room. Malfoy continued to stare at his own wand, his eyes now wide as if surprised by his actions. Then his features smoothed out, returning to calm. Draco looked up at Harry and smiled peacefully at him. He lifted his wand again to cast, “Cruitio!”
Harry flinched back at the casting. He felt the spell strike him dead on, and clenched his body in anticipation of the pain. The type of pain reflecting a decade of Malfoy’s own fear and suffering.
It did not come. Harry looked again at Malfoy, who’s wand was still outstretched and pointed at Harry. Malfoy’s eyes had widened again and he was breathing heavy. He cast, “Crutio!”
Harry took the spell without flinching, his own hand held out as he shouted, “Accio wand!” His wand flew to him as Malfoy tried the curse a third time. Harry caught his wand out of the air and raised it to hex Malfoy.
That was when the calm exterior melted from Malfoy and his wand dropped from his hand. His body was trembling ferociously. Malfoy stumbled, falling forward, needing the support of the table to stay on his feet. He began gasping, over and over. The shaking got worse as he failed to take in air.
Harry froze at Malfoy’s distress. It was absolutely foolish, but Harry had to fight his instinct to comfort a panicking Malfoy rather than release Ron from his binds. A tremendous boom against the room walls jump started Harry’s instincts and he cast quickly to untangle the binds on Ron, who thankfully had his wand in his hand and could immediately begin casting against the people who had managed to break through the wards Ron had set.
Harry bit down the guilt of waiting so long he now risked his best friend’s life. There was nothing to do but charge ahead, so Harry did. He cast shields and hexes to buy Ron time to back up close to Harry so they could make an escape together.
Only Harry also needed to reach Malfoy, who would be in on the escape, like it or not.
“Imperio!” someone cast, behind Harry. Harry whipped around, a wordless shield defense up in front of Harry before any spell could have hit.
However, it was Malfoy who took the hit. The blue spark of the curse slammed into his chest, radiating out through his body in an instant before dissipating. It left Malfoy with one final shiver, followed by a deep inhale and exhale. Harry’s body pulsed with rage as he watched new emotions forced on Malfoy.
Malfoy’s face looked up with the same radiant smile he had greeted Harry with earlier. “Hello, Hal!” Malfoy called, greeting Selwyn himself, who had just broken past a set of wards and into the room.