Secrets! Magic! Enemies to… something more?
Jack Alston, Lord Hawthorn, would love a nice, safe, comfortable life. After the death of his twin sister, he thought he was done with magic for good. But with the threat of a dangerous ritual hanging over every magician in Britain, he’s drawn reluctantly back into that world.
Now Jack is living in a bizarre puzzle-box of a magical London townhouse, helping an unlikely group of friends track down the final piece of the Last Contract before their enemies can do the same. And to make matters worse, they need the help of writer and thief Alan Ross.
Cagey and argumentative, Alan is only in this for the money. The aristocratic Lord Hawthorn, with all his unearned power, is everything that Alan hates. And unfortunately, Alan happens to be everything that Jack wants in one gorgeous, infuriating package.
When a plot to seize unimaginable power comes to a head at Cheetham Hall—Jack’s ancestral family estate, a land so old and bound in oaths that it’s grown a personality as prickly as its owner—Jack, Alan and their allies will become entangled in a night of champagne, secrets, and bloody sacrifice… and the foundations of magic in Britain will be torn up by the roots before the end.
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The usual bustling noises and loud chatter of the Three Broomsticks was absent as Harry looked around the room—and he preferred it that way, crowds would never be in his comfort zone.
“It’s lucky I was able to meet up today,” Seamus said as he downed whatever was in his flask. Harry liked to think it was Firewhisky, but Seamus refused to say. “Been real busy.”
“Busy doing what?” Ron said with a snort. “You’re still reserve, aren’t you? You sit on your arse all day.”
Seamus lifted his chin in the air in a snub. “I’ll have you know that I still have to show up for practices.”
“How are the Tornadoes doing?” Harry asked when Ron looked like he wanted to say something else.
“Lousy,” Seamus slumped in his seat. “I keep waiting for one of them to take a bludger to the head so I can get a shot this season, but I doubt it’ll happen. They may be rubbish but they know how to dodge.”
“You’ll get your chance,” Dean said, tone kind but not condescending. “You made it this far.”
“Enough about me, we’re here for you.”
Dean rubbed the side of his face as he looked down at the table. “It’s nothing. Just a sale.”
“Not just a sale,” Harry frowned before nudging Dean in the shoulder. “It’s a sale to the National Wizard Artistry Museum.”
“You got to stop doubting your artwork mate,” Ron said as he called for another round of drinks. “I buy your stuff all the time.”
“Yeah but you have rubbish taste.”
“Oi!” Ron cried as he tried to reach across the table to slap Dean. “See if I buy anything from you ever again.”
When Seamus and Ron began to tease again, Harry leaned forward to place a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you, Harry. That means a lot.” There was a small satisfied smile on Dean’s face. No matter how revered Dean’s work became, he’d always be humble, and Harry loved that about him.
“Here’s another round gentlemen,” Rosmerta placed the drinks down with a loud clunk, liquid spilling over the rim. “Next time Weasley get off your arse and order them and not shout it across the room.”
“I knew you liked seeing my pretty face,” Ron teased before Rosmerta sent a stinging hex his way with a grin.
“I like seeing your money, that’s about it.”
“You hurt my heart.”
When Rosmerta turned to Harry, he sat up straighter, worried he had done something to warrant a hex too.
“This came for you about an hour ago.” A folded crane was placed in his hands and Harry already knew who it would be from. “Not sure how they knew you were here, but no magic was inside, so it must be safe.”
Harry thanked her before tearing it open with little patience.
Potter,
I have cleared a small window of time today to go over the plan. I will meet you at 4 so I can assist you in apparation, my flat is not open to the public. I’m the one doing you the favour here, so be ready, no excuses.
D.M
Harry ignored the looks his friends gave him as he checked the time and then reread the letter. It was only a few minutes to 4.
“Shit, I have to go.”
“What?” Seamus narrowed his eyes. “We’ve only been here a little over an hour. Usually, you stay longer.”
“Sorry, I have to meet someone.”
“Like a date?” Dean asked as he leaned forward, eyes wide.
“Don’t be daft, Harry doesn’t know how to date.”
“Thanks, Ron,” Harry said as laughter broke out. He needed new friends. “Your confidence in me is overwhelming.”
Initially, he was going to come up with any excuse to leave but if he wanted it to be believable later on, might as well have a test subject.
“Actually,” Harry bit his lip. “It is a date.”
The laughter stopped and he was met with three surprised looks—that hurt his pride.
“Oh, is it someone we—”
“Potter, it’s past 4, I’m not waiting any longer.”
Ron’s hand jerked so violently at the sound of Malfoy’s voice that his glass tipped over and the table became drenched.
“What the fuck?” Seamus whispered as he looked between Harry and Malfoy.
“Just a minute,” Harry said as Malfoy leaned up against a nearby table.
“You’re lucky I have patience.”
Harry couldn’t help but snort. “Where, please tell me where this patience is? I’d like to see it.”
Malfoy’s lips twitched and Harry wasn’t sure what to do with that.
“Dean, check to see if Harry’s been confunded,” Seamus whispered.
“Why me? Ron’s the healer.”
“He’s in shock, look at him.”
Ron was frozen in his seat, eyes on Malfoy, and Harry wasn’t sure he was blinking.
“If Harry was confunded, wouldn’t he be acting confused?”
“Why do you think I said it? He’d have to be confused to date Malfoy, right?”
“You know I can hear you, Finnigan, right?” Malfoy drawled, eyes on his nails as he crossed on ankle over the other.
“Yeah,” Harry said as he tried to appear serious. “Don’t be rude to my date.”
“Date,” Ron choked out and Harry really wanted to laugh.
“This is real, right?” Seamus shook his head slowly. “Or did I smoke Neville’s potion ingredients again?”
“I knew it!” The shout came from a few tables away as Neville rushed into his usual chair, bangs plastered to his forehead and a flush from overexertion on his face. “My supply was short that month, no way it was a slip-up. Stop smoking dangerous plants, you moron.”
Neville looked around the table in confusion when no one paid him any attention. “Sorry, I’m late. One of the delivery men tried to short-change me and I had to terminate the contract with his Apothecary.”
“What did I miss?” Neville asked when no one responded. His forehead was wrinkled, and he frowned at the wet table. “Ron, stop being messy, clean this up.”
“How do you know it was me?” Ron asked slowly as he came back to himself.
“It’s always you.”
“Harry has a date,” Dean said when Ron opened his mouth.
Neville’s forehead smoothed before he smiled widely. “Oh! That’s great! Anyone we know?”
“Me, actually.”
Neville jumped in his seat and a tiny squeak escaped as he scrambled to look behind him.
“Malfoy?”
Malfoy bowed pretentiously like the git he had always been, and Harry hated that he was amused.
“The one and only.”
“Okay, I’m confused.”
“Dean make sure Neville isn’t confunded too.”
“You are aware that confusion isn’t the only symptom, Seamus, right?” Ron asked.
“I’m not the healer between us.”
“Clearly.”
“If you’ll excuse me,” Harry stood up slowly as he tried to avoid most of the spill. “Malfoy and I really should get going.”
“So this is real?” Neville asked, lips stretched into a strange grimace. “It’s a thing? A real thing?”
“You mean a date?” Malfoy said slowly, so slowly that Neville glared. “Unless you are implying something, Longbottom, and if that’s the case, please continue. I’m all ears.”
“Um.” Neville looked down at the table. “No, I wasn’t implying anything. Not at all.”
When Malfoy’s eyes narrowed, Neville rushed to say, “Enjoy your date.”
“I’ll be outside, Potter.” Malfoy turned around without a backward glance. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
As soon as he was gone Harry tried to follow but he was too slow, and Dean grabbed hold of his robes.
“Not so fast.”
“Look, I’m sure you have a few questions but—”
“A few,” Ron’s voice raised an octave. “I have a lot more than a few.”
“And I’d love to answer them,” Harry lied, hands raised. “But I really should get going.”
“To your date,” Seamus said. “A date with Malfoy. Like where you’ll be alone with him.”
“Say it one more time and it might sink in,” Harry teased as he shrugged off Dean’s grasp. “I’ve got a date with Malfoy, yes.”
“I—” Ron placed a hand to his own forehead and Harry wondered if he was checking for a temperature. “You have a lot to explain.”
Oh boy. Ron already looked suspicious, and he couldn’t blame him.
“Another time,” Harry called over his shoulder as he jogged out of the pub. He wouldn’t put it past Malfoy to really leave without him.
“Finally,” Malfoy complained the second Harry stepped outside. “Your friends are rude.”
Harry tilted his head and closed one eye. “Mmm, I don’t know if you are qualified to make that accusation.”
“Accusation?” Malfoy arched a brow as he extended his arm for Harry to hold onto. He didn’t want to accept it, not at all but he did it anyway. “Blatant observation.”
“Perhaps,” Harry conceded. “But can the guilty really call out others when their own hands are dirty?”
“It’s easier to spot what you know, Potter,” Malfoy argued. “I have never claimed to be nice; I shudder at the mere thought.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“There isn’t one. As I said, it’s just an observation.”
Frustrating. Malfoy was frustrating and Harry couldn’t understand him.
“Hold on tight.”
“Where are we going?” Harry asked. When there was no reply, he opened his mouth to ask again but the crack of an apparation, a pull near his navel and the uncomfortable sensation of being sucked into nothing stopped him.
“Are you out of your mind?” Harry snarled when they landed. “You could have splinched us.”
Harry refused to respond, nope, Malfoy wasn’t going to win that one. He dropped Malfoy’s arm as he looked around. Their location was hard to pinpoint but what really got to him was— “I thought you said your flat.”
The place was huge. Sure, it was no Manor but it was at least 4 times the size of his own flat.
Malfoy’s nose scrunched up and his lips pursed as he tried to see what Harry was seeing. “It is. This is my flat.”
“Rich people problems,” Harry mumbled.
“You know you have a lot of money—”
“Are you going to invite me in or not?”
“I see where your friends get it from.”
“Bite me.”
“Don’t tempt me, Potter.”
Harry spluttered and he hoped the heat on his face was his own imagination. “You’d be so lucky.”
“Oh?” Malfoy opened the door but refused to move, causing their bodies to brush up against each other as Harry walked in. “You could show me.”
“Quit taking the piss.”
“Who said I was?”
“I—” Harry frowned. “I would never.”
“Ah, but I thought I would be the lucky one.” There was a smirk on Malfoy’s face and Harry hated it.
“Quit confusing me.”
Malfoy emptied his pockets, eyes on Harry and a brow lifted before he waved his wand and out came a patronus that was too quick for him to decipher as it zoomed away. “You make it so easy.”
“I’ll leave,” threatened Harry, not entirely sure if he meant it.
“Go right ahead,” Malfoy lifted a hand towards the door. “You are the one that needs me, not the other way around. Don’t forget that.”
Defeated, Harry sat on a gaudy love seat that probably cost more than several months of groceries. “What’s the plan?”
Malfoy sat across from him, legs crossed, and hands folded.
“That’s where we have a problem.”
“Problem?”
“I can get you in no problem. Our attendance is going to draw a lot of attention, as amusing as that will be, it’s unwanted.”
“Why?” Harry narrowed his eyes when Malfoy looked away. He didn’t trust him at all.
“How can we take it with eyes on us?”
“Take?” Harry leaned forward. “We aren’t stealing it.”
“Oh really?” Malfoy scoffed. “And you think just talking to Nott will get you the ring?”
He scratched the side of his head. That had been what he had hoped.
“I can talk to Greengrass.”
“Ha!” Malfoy’s face was expressionless, and Harry didn’t appreciate the notion.
“You don’t know Astoria, do you?”
“No, why?”
“Astoria gets what she wants, Potter.”
“And she wants Nott?”
“Sure. Let’s go with that.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That’s because you aren’t pureblood.”
Harry's fists clenched and he glared. “Blood isn’t everything.”
“Of course it isn’t,” Malfoy rolled his eyes. “It’s not a dig, Potter. It’s a social etiquette that you wouldn’t understand. Their marriage may seem like love to you, however, it’s anything but.”
After his disastrous attempts at marriage for love, Harry couldn’t fathom attempting it for social standing. Marriage made him sick.
“Is that where you were headed? With Nott?”
When sparks flew out of the tips of Malfoy’s fingertips, Harry knew he fucked up.
“Don’t.” Malfoy hissed; eyes so narrowed it was hard to see them. “Don’t presume to know anything about me, nor my past relationships.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You think I came to you that night for social etiquette?” Malfoy looked to the ceiling, a few sparks hovering over his hands. “You think I came to you because I wanted to secure the Malfoy name further? You think I came to you for anything other than what it looked like?”
“I don’t—”
“No, you don’t know!” Malfoy yelled, truly yelled and Harry didn’t know what to do. “I loved him, Potter. More than you will ever know. I didn’t give a damn what his blood status was. I wouldn’t have cared. I never once looked at him and wondered how he could be of use to me. That’s not what love is. I wanted to be better for him. It was never about our surnames.”
“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered. “About that night too.”
“I don’t want your apologies.” Malfoy looked down at his lap. “They mean nothing to me. You mean nothing to me.”
Ouch. Why bother trying? Harry huffed as he wondered for the millionth time if any of it was worth it.
“Neither Nott or Astoria will see reason,” Malfoy cleared his throat after a stifling silence. “Go ahead and be the valiant Gryffindor all you want; it won’t get you anywhere.”
“I have to try,” Harry said. He didn’t want to steal, but he wanted his ring back more. “I owe it to myself to at least do that.”
Malfoy shrugged as the sparks disappeared and an atmosphere of something was left behind. “You do that. But I’ll still move forward with my plan because we’ll need something when yours fails.”
“You seem so confident.”
“I always am.”
“Then what was the problem you mentioned earlier?”
Malfoy settled further into the chair and Harry could see that he was tired, exhausted even.
“As I said, the attention we’ll bring will be unwanted. We need a distraction, or we’ll have eyes on us all night.”
“What kind of distraction?”
There was a small quirk of Malfoy’s lips and that worried him.
“You know, I wasn’t so sure myself until I saw them,” Malfoy smiled, and the sight truly was appalling. Someone so negative shouldn’t be allowed to smile.
He was afraid to ask but— “Them?”
“What’s worse than two unexpected guests?” When Harry only shrugged, Malfoy sighed heavily.
“Six unexpected guests. Do keep up, Potter.”
“I—” Harry paused to groan. “You can’t be serious.”
“Good for us they are all morons.”
“Hey, you can’t talk about them like that!”
Malfoy rolled his eyes as he leaned forward, a strange smirk on his lips.
“I propose we get ourselves a team.”
“I don’t know about this,” Harry shook his head. “This is starting to sound a lot like a heist.”
“That’s exactly what it is.”
The smirk turned dark and Harry couldn’t help but shudder.
“A heist in more ways than one.” Malfoy’s head cocked to the side and his eyes went upward as if he was listening closely to something that Harry couldn’t hear.
“If you want them to help,” Harry paused when Malfoy stood up. “Does that mean we are telling them about the fake relationship?” He frowned with each step Malfoy took toward him.
“Whoa!” Harry said when Malfoy straddled his lip. “What are you—”
“We could,” He whispered, arms wrapped around Harry’s neck. “But tell me, Potter, where’s the fun in that?”
“What are you doing?”
Malfoy pressed his mouth against the shell of Harry’s ear as he murmured, “Playing the part.”
“Wha—”
The sound of the floo cut off Harry, and Malfoy tightened his hold around his neck keeping him seated.
“Harry,” Ron’s panting voice could be heard. “We rushed over as soon as we could. It wasn’t easy, your instructions were pretty shotty, but Neville figured—"
Harry looked over Malfoy’s shoulder to see Ron, Neville and Dean standing there eyes wide. Before he could say something, the floo sounded again and out came Seamus.
“You guys are always leaving me behind, and I’m sick of—what the fuck?”
“Evening gentlemen,” Malfoy said, voice a silky purr. “Welcome to our home.”
Ours??
When Ron locked eyes with Harry, he knew he was screwed. Absolutely screwed.
- TBC -
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I had fun with this update too! My beautiful Gigi is busy today so I didn’t ask herr to beta. Mistakes are all mine. I do hope you enjoy this! (I’ll get to tagging people hopefully within the hour, please be patient with me)
-Big. fucking rock nerd okay? Loooves shiny stones, rocks, gems. Totally has books of them, and knows alot of them. He collects them on his adventures.
-Has totally been almost everywhere around the world. Lots of traveling.
-Obviously loves caves, and adventure.
-Friendly, easy to approach/talk to. Will gladly chat to people, like coffee baristas and cashiers while they charge him.
-It seems a little lost nowadays, not sure what he's doing it for. Goes cave exploring still but there's a lacking goal. He's not in it for riches. He just wants to find cool shit and get his blood going- without dying.
- He’s calm, collected in stress, he doesn't fear the usual knives and spikes or fire.
-Hes a charmer, obviously, a bit of a flirt, but scared to get actually attached, uncertain to be committed.
-He spends lone nights watching cheesy movies, rom coms, looking over his stones. Petting his pet lizard. (Yes he totally has one, its smol and its great.)
-Sadly he also remembers alot of his companion's deaths. Its all accidents, just real unfortunate.. He’s almost worried he's somehow been cursed after all these years of surviving.. So he’s kinda stopped letting people come with him as much. (’Us’ being an exception since he didn't let us stick around with him in his ending)
-He wears lots of tan colours, browns, beiges. Collared button-ups mostly. A couple nice shirts too though. Course the hat comes and goes. He’s got nice study but somewhat weather-worn boots. Nice satchels too.
-Lovely smile. Kind eyes.
-He keeps a knife in one of the pockets of his pants.
-Plenty of scars too, lots of little ones on his arms, Stray gashes markings on his legs. And plenty of ones of his back. He has one thats veeery faint across his cheek. From one of the first arrow traps he ever set off and wasnt prepared for.
- He don't mind the nickname Lio.
-He totally uses sweet nicknames with people, sugar, buddie, pal, sweetheart. Whatever fits whoever hes talking too. (But never in a rude way Or atleast, hes never meaning it to.)
-I don't think he’d have an outright fear of it,(hes a tough adventuring man!) but I do think he’s had plenty of nightmares involving caves collapsing in, buried alive, bleeding to death, starving alone & trapped, and drowning that sometimes make him postpone an adventure for a night or too.
Side note: I think he’d make fucking great buddies (or even partners) with Angus! because both being wild nuts, Angus would easily be able to take care of himself in a cave, and they’d both just be in their elements.
A Heist With Markiplier was so good it made me do a quick sketch. I never do fan art. These are my first pieces. It was that good. Ignore the hands, though. They’re terrible. A few notes: I love Dark’s new style! His clues were killing me until I realized they were devilishly simple. And all the new egos were hilarious! But no spoilers...
Thank you @markiplier for the heist! You do so much for all of us!
