(Read Chapter One here, if you like).
There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that Harry was taking this case. But Harry knew that if he said that it would just drag this unpleasant trip down memory lane out even further.
“Trelawney’s disappeared,” Draco said without preamble.
“Pardon me?” Harry spluttered, certain he couldn’t have heard him right.
Draco nodded, “Indeed,” he sipped his tea. “Which in and of itself is tragic,” he said, but in the manner one might have spoken of a disappeared pet boggart. “But the potions professor they hired three years ago also disappeared,” he added. “And the Defense of the Dark Arts Professor was found dead.”
“What?” Harry asked, head spinning with questions.
“I know,” Draco agreed, “It was ghastly. And all this after their Defense professor disappeared at the end of last year.”
“Wait, someone disappeared last year but we’re only just now hearing about it in the beginning of October of this year?”
Draco nodded, “but it could have been unrelated, being a teacher is horrific work,” he said with a shrug. “Do you have any biscuits? Those gingersnaps you always favored perhaps?”
“Is that really what’s most important right now?” he asked, mind still spinning with what he’d just learned. Despite the years away from being an auror, his mind didn’t let go of mysteries easily; it’s why he never read the news.
“Well, I skipped lunch to come straight to talk to you after I met with Minerva,” he said with a pout.
“You skipped lunch?” Harry asked as though he’d never heard something more ridiculous, the incredulity perhaps a bit overstated but he was still trying to process everything else. “Fine,” he said, standing and moving to the kitchen. “Tell me more,” he demanded as he started pulling things from the pantry, a loaf of bread, a brick of cheese, sliced turkey, and an apple.
“Well,” Draco said, “I know that you aren’t an auror anymore and that this couldn’t be all that interesting.”
“Draco,” Harry growled, chucking an apple at his head.
Draco laughed as he caught it, taking a hearty bite before continuing. “Draco is it now?” he asked through a mouthful of apple.
Harry let out a growl of frustration, “You’re still bloody impossible.”
“Thank you,” he said with a smile and a little bow, which looked ridiculous since he was still sitting at the table. At least that’s what Harry told himself, it was ridiculous, it certainly wasn’t endearingly charming. “You’re still a giant grouch.”
“Tell me about the case,” he repeated, rolling his eyes.
Draco took another bite of apple and hummed, “The Ministry doesn’t know I’m here,” he said conversationally.
At that Harry paused, knife halfway through the slice of bread he was cutting. That was surprising. Draco did play a little loose with DMLE rules, but not that loose.
“Thought that might get your attention,” he said and he was so smug that Harry wanted to strangle him. “But I thought it was alright since I don’t need you to help solve the case,” he continued.
“Then why are you here?” Harry asked, now a little irritated at not being needed. He shook his head at himself, not even happy with getting what he wanted when it came to Draco Malfoy.
“My partner and I are going in undercover,” he said and even though Harry knew that he must have gotten a new partner, something stung in his chest, like salt rubbed into a cut. “She,” and Harry felt himself relax a little at the use of that particular pronoun, “was always a natural at Divination, has a touch of the sight in her family apparently,” he added. “Obviously I’ll come on as Potions Master,” he said, pausing slightly like he was waiting for Harry to fill in the rest.
“Solid plan,” Harry said as he put the buttered side of the bread down in the pan then layered cheese, turkey, two slices of tomato, and one more layer of cheese on top. He spread a layer of basil aioli on the other slice of bread and pressed it down.
“Are you making me a sandwich?”
“I’ll tell you once you’ve told me how this case relates to me,” he replied, resisting the impulse to stick his tongue out at Draco. “You told me I’d absolutely be helping you with this case and then you told me that you didn’t need my help solving this case. I’m just a little unclear on which it is,” he deadpanned.
“Well, I was talking to Minerva about the details of our undercover assignments when the Defense Professor was found dead,” he said. He took a sip of tea, visibly finishing his cup, “Could I be a bother?” he asked, holding out his cup.
“Do you know how to be anything else?” Harry summoned it to himself and set about making another cup.
Draco laughed, “I’ve missed you,” he said, voice a touch too soft, a touch too sincere for the light, easy-going persona he’d donned for this visit.
He paused and turned to look at Draco, not sure what to say. Of course he’d missed him too, of course he had, but he couldn’t say that. There was too much in between them, too much that hadn’t ever gotten to be said; too much time had passed to say it now.
Saving him from having to say anything at all, Draco continued, “Anyway, I hopped over to that office to investigate and Minerva and I had to come up with a new plan.”
“And this is where I must come in,” Harry replied, flipping over the sandwich before floating Draco’s tea back to him.
“Thank you,” he said, catching the cup. “Yes. Minerva and I were trying to think of someone who would be capable of handling themselves and who could fill the role of Defense Professor.”
“Naturally,” he continued over Harry, “We thought of Granger first.”
“Hermione?” Harry asked, “She’s eight months pregnant.”
“Quite,” Draco replied. “Which I knew and immediately shut down because of that; but she would have been just perfect. She and the department of Mysteries have run loads of operations with us.”
“Then…” Harry prompted, taking the sandwich out of the pan and slicing it diagonally. The cheese melted over edge of the bread and Harry was quite pleased with his handiwork. He brought the plate to Draco and set the ginger biscuits on the table.
Draco looked at it for a second, “this looks delicious.”
“Yes,” Harry agreed simply.
“When did you learn to cook?” he asked taking a bite and then groaning. “Seriously, this is fantastic,” he said around a mouthful of food and Harry remembered how hard won that had been.
Draco had never talked with food in his mouth in the beginning, had never even made it look like he enjoyed his meals; it was small, dignified bites that had been cut with fork and knife. But he remembered the night after a case where Draco had saved his life and Harry had stood up to Robards to protect the other man from his abuse. He’d never forget the way Draco had swallowed half a pint of beer in one go at the pub that night and let out a belch that rivaled Ron’s. He’d been so startled that he’d said nothing at all as Draco then reached over and nicked his chips from his plate, scarfing them down. ‘I’m bloody starving,’ he’d said and that had been the beginning of the end for Harry.
“When did you learn to cook?” Draco repeated. “And where did you buy this bread?”
“I made it,” he said. “I’ve had a lot of time,” he added, knowing there wasn’t really any need to say more than that.
Draco hummed and, after another bite, he set the sandwich down. “Look,” he said, voice more serious than it had been, “we threw around a lot of names to come in and fill the position.”
Harry swallowed, the gravity in the other man’s voice giving him pause.
“Honestly? There’s no one I’d rather have there than you. You know I always thought you’d make a good teacher,” he said, looking up at Harry, the corner of his mouth twisting up in a way that looked like he was trying to hide bitterness that had softened into something more like grief. “And we know you can handle yourself, you aren’t going to get kidnapped or killed. I want to be able to solve this thing without having to worry about the person in that role.”
“I’ve been here by myself for years,” Harry said. “Leaving the wizarding world wasn’t for giggles, Draco,” he reminded him, “you know that.”
“I know,” Draco replied seriously, “and you know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” He sighed, and Harry saw the exhaustion through the facade he’d worn when he arrived. “Hogwarts isn’t safe. I’ve asked-” he broke off, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t be saying this.”
“You can trust me,” Harry said, needing to know how that sentence ended.
Draco looked at him and his eyes pierced straight through him. Every barrier that Harry thought he’d put in place, completely obliterated like no time had passed and Draco still knew him better that Harry knew himself, “there was a time when I trusted you more than anyone.”
The guilt that Harry kept trapped behind a wall in his heart threatened to burst through. The resentment boiled up next to it; leaving hadn’t been easy, but it had been necessary. He leaned into the resentment, letting it quash the guilt.
Before he could say anything, though, Draco jumped in as he always did, “I asked them to close Hogwarts.” That surprised him, Draco must have known that wasn’t going to happen based on everything they’d lived through at school. “As you might imagine, the Ministry and the Hogwarts Board of Directors aren’t having it. They don’t think there’s enough evidence of foul play to warrant closing the school. But you know what it was like to be at Hogwarts when it wasn’t safe.”
He inwardly conceded, nodding once at Draco.
“You know better than most,” he added. “Please, Harry,” he said, and Harry might have thought that was purely manipulative, if it weren’t for how earnest he was. “Please help me. I have enough to worry about on this case with a couple hundred innocent children at risk without worrying about a teacher who can’t protect themselves too.”
They sat there for an interminable moment, teetering on the edge of all of the things they’d never said to each other. And even though he wasn’t saying it, Harry could hear the silent accusation from the other man. I’ve never asked you for anything, Harry. I didn’t stop you when you left, I didn’t beg you to stay. And maybe it wasn’t really what Draco was thinking at all, maybe it was just Harry’s own conscience. But he couldn’t have said no, even if he wanted to.
“On one condition,” he finally said.
Draco visibly relaxed, “name it.”
“I get training before I start.”
“Done,” he said, grinning at him like Harry’d told him that he’d won the lottery.
His insides twisted around themselves, intestines winding around his heart, painful but strangely pleasurable at the same time. And Harry was reminded, not for the first time, of that stupid tea leaf reading that Ron had done for him all the way back in third year. You’re going to suffer… but you’re going to be happy about it.
