For the @drarrymicrofic prompt
Yes it’s long I don’t care it’s my baby. I love it. I’m in love with this AU.
Thank you so much @curlyy-hair-dont-care for betaing this!!
The docks on Sedna are coated in nameless yellowed dust. It billows out around the Phoenix when he lands. His scanners yielded safe levels of radiation, but Harry still makes a note to detox his clothes when he’s done here. He vaguely wonders what might have convinced a pampered Federation boy to take refuge in the cesspits of the galaxy, but that’s not really his business. Harry’s only concerned with the name and the address.
The club is seedy by planetary standards, yet still opulent amongst the asteroid’s tangled puzzle of neon lighting and corroded scaffolding. Harry’s so far down the maze of alleyways that he can’t even see the stars— just the whirring underbellies of hovercrafts speeding by. He only knows he’s still outside because he hasn’t passed through a single doorway.
They ask for his blaster at the door. Harry gives them one. It’s plastic. They can’t tell the difference. He wonders once again how his quarry is still breathing.
When he sees him, he thinks he might have some idea.
Harry’s encountered some varied bodies in his days— killed some, fucked some, paid and been paid for both in equal measure. But this— this man is different.
His skin is unblemished, smooth. Free of the endless upgrades. Harry can’t spot a glint of metal on him. Not the red of a wire, nor the black of ink. He’s endlessly blank. Against the backdrop of the bar’s patrons and the heavy music, he looks unnatural— a remnant of a world that’s not meant to survive in the teeth of space.
Cybernetics have been the hottest market for over five decades. They’ve become the staple of every standard. Harry thinks this man is beautiful.
When he marches up to Harry’s booth and sits down across from him with a jaunty smile, Harry decides he’s also rather stupid.
“Fancy seeing a Xenerian here. What’s your name?” he asks Harry. His eyes are natural. They’re a deep blue-grey, like the skies at home.
“Shouldn’t you give me yours first?” Harry says by way of an answer. He’s not used to this— he’s never had a target approach him this way.
He’s met with a clear laugh. “There’s not much use in me doing that. I know why you’re here.”
That, Harry wasn’t expecting. “Why sit with me then?”
A pause. “You’re not as bright as I’d have thought.” Harry frowns, a bit insulted, but his guest continues. “You’re here to kill me. Hired by my family, no less, who I know have excellent and expensive taste. That makes you the most accomplished and the highest paid in the industry. Doesn’t make much sense to run from you. I figured I’d have a seat instead— it’s far more comfortable.”
Harry watches him for another moment. “Harry Potter,” he says. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
That makes Harry crack a smile. Draco looks proud of himself for that.
“You’re sharp,” Harry finally says, “but mistaken. I’m to bring you in alive. It’s a rare request. You should be honored.”
Something flashes in Draco’s eyes then, and Harry thinks he’s starting to grasp the reasons behind his paycheck.
“Oh Harry,” Draco says. “I’m delighted.” His tongue flashes across his damp lips, chasing the word, and Harry feels the stirrings of something deeper than opportunity. “Now— how much is my father paying you?”
“I don’t disclose clientele information.”
“Pity. I’m certain we could enjoy disclosing things to one another.”
Harry’s going to fuck this man.
Draco rests his chin on one palm and stares deliberately at Harry’s mouth. “Get me away and I’ll double it for you.”
Harry’s frightened of what else he might do.
baratheonpilled
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