Fic: Choices - Part Thirteen
Yet some more of Choices. Just in case you’ve forgotten (because it was so long ago that I wrote Part Two), I want to remind you that Harry is currently married to Ginny and they live in a house near the Burrow and next door to Ron and Hermione. One Big Happy Weasley Family.
I put a floor plan of what Harry's flat might look like at the end of the last chapter and for those of you who've asked, the apartment really does exist ... I found it on a website and was going to link to that, but then realised it might disappear if the flat was rented. It's still there at the moment, so if you're interested here's the link. The flat is decorated very much like I image Harry would have it ... not because he likes it like that, but because that is how it was furnished when he arrived there.
Also, thank you so much to everyone who joined in with my little poll. I'm so pleased that you didn't think Harry had deliberately taken Draco's underwear *grins*.
Part One -- Part Two -- Part Three -- Part Four --Part Five -- Part Six -- Part Seven -- Part Eight -- Part Nine -- Part Ten -- Part Eleven -- Part Twelve
Choices , Part Thirteen
(Unlucky for some)
Arriving at the Ministry early was something Harry didn’t do that often. He always got sidetracked on his way there and often had interminably long meetings with boring people about equally boring subjects first thing in the morning.
Sometimes he was reminded of Percy Weasley’s cauldron bottom thickness reports and that would lead to a bout of melancholia and what-ifs. It was a shame about Percy, but Harry had stopped blaming himself now, except on the occasions he would see Molly crying over a photograph of her son.
Pulling off his travel robes (he’d Apparated to the Ministry so he didn’t mind wearing them), Harry quickly left his office and headed down the corridor to the department of the Ministry Surveillance Team. The two cleaners he’d bumped into earlier seemed to have disappeared and he was pleased to find that the door wasn’t locked and none of Warren Dawlish’s team had arrived yet.
He’d found it almost impossible to sleep the previous night and he had crept back into the kitchen to make a drink as soon as he thought Draco might be asleep. The other man clearly had taken Harry up on his offer of food and drink because there had been a recently washed cup and plate beside the sink.
As he’d sipped at his lavender and chamomile tea (guaranteed to put even the most hardened insomniac to sleep), he’d watched night-time London through the huge picture window and tried to make sense of what had happened to him over the last twenty-four hours. Had it really only been that long?
Lots of things had floated through his mind as he’d stood there, but one thought had been whether the Surveillance Team were aware of Draco’s change of location. Harry was sure no one in the Wizarding world knew about his little bolthole in Muggle London and the last thing he wanted at the moment was to draw any attention to where he disappeared to when he needed space on his own. The flat was his own private space and he didn’t want to share it with anyone else, especially not Ginny ... or even Hermione and Ron for that matter.
The map of Great Britain on the wall looked exactly the same as it had the previous day and he carefully began to scrutinise it, trying to find the little green marker with Malfoy, D: 47 written underneath it. When he eventually found the name, it was in much the same location as it had been before, but instead of a green marker it now had a yellow one ... yellow meant they no longer had a definite fix on Draco’s location.
Harry straightened and frowned thoughtfully. His flat was warded with some very complicated magic, but he didn’t think those wards were strong enough to effectively screen Draco from the Ministry agents.
Could it really be that simple to hide someone? Put them in a place warded from the Wizarding world?
He touched a finger to the mark and wondered what Warren Dawlish would do when he realised yet another of the banished had disappeared. Then he wondered what they would think when Draco reappeared as he no doubt would once he left the flat. Would they put two and two together and manage to make four, or would they just shrug and assume there was something wrong with their tracking system?
Tracking systems.
Harry glanced quickly over his shoulder at the filing cabinet which he knew contained a thick, bright yellow folder with a very large black number ‘47’ on the front . In that folder, according to the very helpful Hazel, was the tracking spell the Ministry were using on Draco. Harry chewed at his lower lip with his teeth. It would be so easy just to open the drawer and look. It didn’t mean he’d use it or anything like that, but to know what the spell was just in case....
He gave an impatient huff. In case of what? Hadn’t Draco got what he deserved ... a punishment for following Voldemort? But was it right to compel wizards and witches to live like this? Separated from their own kind without the magic that was so much part of them that to lose it must be like having an arm or a leg ... or their heart ... cut out.
But if he saved one person, what about all the rest of those little dots on the map? Didn’t they deserve help as well? He took a step closer to the cabinet. Wasn’t it wrong to punish people like this? And another step.
The locking spells on the cabinet made him tingle and he quickly stepped back again. Damn it! If the spells registered he’d been in the room, how would he explain what he was doing there?
Deciding he would worry about that if someone asked, he quickly left the room and strode back down the corridor to his own office. Maybe if he was lucky Draco would just take the money Harry had left him for his underground fare and leave, then Harry could get back to his life again.
He was just contemplating that life when he opened the door to his office and found his wife sitting at the desk. He was very surprised to see her -- Ginny never came to the Ministry unless she wanted something and she never came this early in the morning.
Giving her a pleasant smile, he leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Hello, Gin ... what a nice surprise.” Despite the fact their married had fallen apart, they were still friends and Harry would have been pleased to see her on any other occasion, but he really had some research to get done.
She smiled back, brown eyes glinting with amusement. “You didn’t come home last night and when mum’s clock said you were at the Ministry I thought I’d try to catch you ... you owe me a day out in London remember.” Her smile broadened. “But I didn’t expect to catch you with this.”
She held up her hand and dangling from her thumb and forefinger was a fragment of scarlet material.
Momentarily confused, Harry stared at what she was holding. “And?” Then he realised what it was and he inwardly cringed. Draco’s underwear. How the hell had it ended up here at the Ministry?
“Harry, there was a pair of woman’s knickers in the pocket of your robes.”
“My robes?” he stammered a little. “What were you doing going through my pockets?”
Ginny gave a shrug. “Looking for chocolate, but does it matter?” She leaned back in the chair and twirled the silk around her finger. It finally flew off and fluttered to the desk. “So this is what you’ve been doing when you disappear. Why, Harry, if I’d known you liked ladies underwear, I would have bought you some for your birthday.” Her voice was throaty ... sexy, and out in the corridor people where beginning to pay attention to the conversation.
Harry strode quickly to the door, glared at his secretary and another woman whose name he couldn’t remember, and carefully closed it. “There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.”
“Really?” She giggled. “I can’t wait to hear it.”
Harry had done many things in his short life, including killing the most feared wizard in one hundred years, but he’d never been good at coming up with excuses. Plus there were also two people in his life he found it very difficult to lie to ... one was Hermione and the other was currently sitting at his desk, elbows resting on the surface as she rested her chin on her interlaced fingers. Fanatically he tried to come up with a reason for what Ginny had found, but there was nothing ... he couldn’t even pretend he’d bought the wretched things for her because the knickers were much too big and weren’t even wrapped in a bag.
Plus his mind was searching for how ... and why ... he had picked the garment up. He remembered putting it on the table with the rest of Draco’s clothes; had he subconsciously picked them up and put them in his pocket?
Ginny continued smiling at him, clearly enjoying his discomfort. “Not to worry, Harry, you’re secret is safe with me.” She gave him knowing wink and then her expression changed, becoming serious. “But we do need to talk.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “Lee’s asked me to marry him.”
---
Draco didn’t remember when he’d slept for as long or as well.
Normally strange beds meant only one thing to him ... cheap hotels rented by the hour. But the bed he had slept away most of the day in was anything but cheap.
He’d eaten a late breakfast of coffee and croissants before wandering around Harry’s flat checking out drawers and cupboards. It was the sort of place he’d longed for (with a much better taste in décor of course) and a plan had been slowly formulating in his mind. Why not persuade Potter to let him stay for a few more days (he smirked to himself ... he could always claim to still in shock after what had happened) and then just extend the stay for another day and then another. He’d once spent a whole month with one client and it had actually been rather pleasant to be shagged by just one person ... in fact he’d even daydreamed that they were real lovers at one point.
Not, of course, that he considered Potter to be one of his tricks. His smirk grew, but it might be interesting to see just how far he could go with the man. Wouldn’t that be fun to embarrass Potter by tossing him off? Or even worse, to suck him off and watch the expression on that sanctimonious face go from anguish to bliss and then complete mortification.
He was now standing by the huge picture window, watching as twilight slowly spread over London -- not that it ever really arrived as the millions of tiny artificial lights illuminating the city replaced the sunlight of day. Draco wondered if anyone could see him up here in the silent world of Potter’s apartment. It was strange to look down on the world for a change ... a bit like flying really, something he hadn’t done ... or thought of ... for years.
Memories of the exhilaration of speeding through the sky on a broom made him sigh reflectively. Flying against Potter in a Quidditch match had often left him hard and he’d only ever considered that was an effect of the game rather than Potter himself. But now he thought about it, his body behaved very differently when he’d been matched against Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw.
Attempting to forget his sexual fascination with the Boy Who Lived, Draco sipped at his coffee. Normally he drank tea at this time of day, but all Potter had in the cupboards were cheap teabags and no teapot to brew it in. Draco might have fallen a long way since being banished, but he still had some standards to uphold.
Such as not being in his pyjamas this late in the day. He glanced down at himself and decided a shower was called for and then he would have to see if the clothes Potter had left actually fitted.
Draining his mug, he padded across the lounge towards the room he’d spent the night in. Stripping off, he reached into the shower to turn the water on, but stopped almost immediately. Why bother with a shower when Potter had a perfectly good bath next door? He’d checked out the bathroom earlier and found out his one-time adversary was a Lush man. There were products everywhere and the idea of Potter luxuriating with a Black Pearl Bath Ballistic had send a warmth to the pit of Draco’s stomach.
So why not indulge himself?
Turning on the taps, he watched as the steaming water began to fill the huge bath. He turned the lights down low, lit the candles scattered around the room, found himself a glass of wine and eventually lowered himself into the glitter- and bubble-filled water.
---
It had, Harry decided, been an excellent day. Being friends with Ginny was much better than being married to her and they’d spent the day shopping, eating and talking. Harry had worried about what Molly would say when she found out her baby girl’s marriage was over. Ginny told him not to worry because she could wrap her mother around her little finger.
Ginny was worried about Harry and his confession about how he felt around the magical world these days. He finally told her where he’d been disappearing to, but he quickly refused to invite her back to his hideaway (Malfoy might still be there, he quickly reminded himself). She tried to get him to come back to Ottery St Catchpole that night, but again he refused, telling her he would come back to sort out his belongings. The house was hers to do with as she wished ... it was the least he could do after being such a pathetic husband. That had made her laugh, and had led to a spirited discussion about the good and bad moments of their sex life together.
When they’d eventually parted -- Ginny back to the Burrow (or to Lee’s home knowing her) and Harry back to his flat -- there had been a happy, contented smile on his face. It was like, he decided, part of his life which had been painful was finally ending.
He Apparated back home and found the lounge lights turned off, the room lit only by the glow of a nearly full moon. For a moment he thought Draco had left and he found himself torn between joy at getting rid of him and something like sadness at being on his own. It came as a shock to realise he was actually looking forward to finding the other man there, if only to argue with him again.
Dropping his robes on a chair, he was just going to find himself a drink when he realised there was a light shining from the direction of the bedrooms. A surge of something he quickly decided wasn’t excitement clenched at his stomach. Had he left the light on in his bedroom earlier?
Wand in hand (one couldn’t be too careful ... there were still people out there who wanted Harry dead), he quietly walked down the hallway. The door to his bedroom was open a little and light spilled out as he stepped over the threshold.
The light was coming from the bathroom and Harry froze as he heard the splish splash sound of someone in the bath; the person ... Draco ... was humming softly to himself. The smell of jasmine and ylang ylang wafted from the room and sensible part of Harry told him to quietly leave and pretend he’d never been there, but another part of him ... possibly the same part which disagreed with the whole banishment thing ... had taken over and it was that which made him step towards the bathroom door.
He found Draco laying back in a bath. There were still a few bubbles clinging to his skin, but mainly he was just covered by water and glitter that twinkled in the candlelight.
Harry swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He hadn’t realised Draco’s hair was so long or that anyone could look quite so ... so.... He swallowed again, the sound a soft groan, which was loud in the silence.
Draco realised he wasn’t alone. He looked up to meet the wide-eyed voyeur watching him and after a few seconds he spread his legs a little and gave one of his best sensual smiles.
“Hello, Harry. Would you like to scrub my back?”
---
I put a floor plan of what Harry's flat might look like at the end of the last chapter and for those of you who've asked, the apartment really does exist ... I found it on a website and was going to link to that, but then realised it might disappear if the flat was rented. It's still there at the moment, so if you're interested here's the link. The flat is decorated very much like I image Harry would have it ... not because he likes it like that, but because that is how it was furnished when he arrived there.
Also, thank you so much to everyone who joined in with my little poll. I'm so pleased that you didn't think Harry had deliberately taken Draco's underwear *grins*.
Part One -- Part Two -- Part Three -- Part Four --Part Five -- Part Six -- Part Seven -- Part Eight -- Part Nine -- Part Ten -- Part Eleven -- Part Twelve
Choices , Part Thirteen
(Unlucky for some)
Arriving at the Ministry early was something Harry didn’t do that often. He always got sidetracked on his way there and often had interminably long meetings with boring people about equally boring subjects first thing in the morning.
Sometimes he was reminded of Percy Weasley’s cauldron bottom thickness reports and that would lead to a bout of melancholia and what-ifs. It was a shame about Percy, but Harry had stopped blaming himself now, except on the occasions he would see Molly crying over a photograph of her son.
Pulling off his travel robes (he’d Apparated to the Ministry so he didn’t mind wearing them), Harry quickly left his office and headed down the corridor to the department of the Ministry Surveillance Team. The two cleaners he’d bumped into earlier seemed to have disappeared and he was pleased to find that the door wasn’t locked and none of Warren Dawlish’s team had arrived yet.
He’d found it almost impossible to sleep the previous night and he had crept back into the kitchen to make a drink as soon as he thought Draco might be asleep. The other man clearly had taken Harry up on his offer of food and drink because there had been a recently washed cup and plate beside the sink.
As he’d sipped at his lavender and chamomile tea (guaranteed to put even the most hardened insomniac to sleep), he’d watched night-time London through the huge picture window and tried to make sense of what had happened to him over the last twenty-four hours. Had it really only been that long?
Lots of things had floated through his mind as he’d stood there, but one thought had been whether the Surveillance Team were aware of Draco’s change of location. Harry was sure no one in the Wizarding world knew about his little bolthole in Muggle London and the last thing he wanted at the moment was to draw any attention to where he disappeared to when he needed space on his own. The flat was his own private space and he didn’t want to share it with anyone else, especially not Ginny ... or even Hermione and Ron for that matter.
The map of Great Britain on the wall looked exactly the same as it had the previous day and he carefully began to scrutinise it, trying to find the little green marker with Malfoy, D: 47 written underneath it. When he eventually found the name, it was in much the same location as it had been before, but instead of a green marker it now had a yellow one ... yellow meant they no longer had a definite fix on Draco’s location.
Harry straightened and frowned thoughtfully. His flat was warded with some very complicated magic, but he didn’t think those wards were strong enough to effectively screen Draco from the Ministry agents.
Could it really be that simple to hide someone? Put them in a place warded from the Wizarding world?
He touched a finger to the mark and wondered what Warren Dawlish would do when he realised yet another of the banished had disappeared. Then he wondered what they would think when Draco reappeared as he no doubt would once he left the flat. Would they put two and two together and manage to make four, or would they just shrug and assume there was something wrong with their tracking system?
Tracking systems.
Harry glanced quickly over his shoulder at the filing cabinet which he knew contained a thick, bright yellow folder with a very large black number ‘47’ on the front . In that folder, according to the very helpful Hazel, was the tracking spell the Ministry were using on Draco. Harry chewed at his lower lip with his teeth. It would be so easy just to open the drawer and look. It didn’t mean he’d use it or anything like that, but to know what the spell was just in case....
He gave an impatient huff. In case of what? Hadn’t Draco got what he deserved ... a punishment for following Voldemort? But was it right to compel wizards and witches to live like this? Separated from their own kind without the magic that was so much part of them that to lose it must be like having an arm or a leg ... or their heart ... cut out.
But if he saved one person, what about all the rest of those little dots on the map? Didn’t they deserve help as well? He took a step closer to the cabinet. Wasn’t it wrong to punish people like this? And another step.
The locking spells on the cabinet made him tingle and he quickly stepped back again. Damn it! If the spells registered he’d been in the room, how would he explain what he was doing there?
Deciding he would worry about that if someone asked, he quickly left the room and strode back down the corridor to his own office. Maybe if he was lucky Draco would just take the money Harry had left him for his underground fare and leave, then Harry could get back to his life again.
He was just contemplating that life when he opened the door to his office and found his wife sitting at the desk. He was very surprised to see her -- Ginny never came to the Ministry unless she wanted something and she never came this early in the morning.
Giving her a pleasant smile, he leaned down and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Hello, Gin ... what a nice surprise.” Despite the fact their married had fallen apart, they were still friends and Harry would have been pleased to see her on any other occasion, but he really had some research to get done.
She smiled back, brown eyes glinting with amusement. “You didn’t come home last night and when mum’s clock said you were at the Ministry I thought I’d try to catch you ... you owe me a day out in London remember.” Her smile broadened. “But I didn’t expect to catch you with this.”
She held up her hand and dangling from her thumb and forefinger was a fragment of scarlet material.
Momentarily confused, Harry stared at what she was holding. “And?” Then he realised what it was and he inwardly cringed. Draco’s underwear. How the hell had it ended up here at the Ministry?
“Harry, there was a pair of woman’s knickers in the pocket of your robes.”
“My robes?” he stammered a little. “What were you doing going through my pockets?”
Ginny gave a shrug. “Looking for chocolate, but does it matter?” She leaned back in the chair and twirled the silk around her finger. It finally flew off and fluttered to the desk. “So this is what you’ve been doing when you disappear. Why, Harry, if I’d known you liked ladies underwear, I would have bought you some for your birthday.” Her voice was throaty ... sexy, and out in the corridor people where beginning to pay attention to the conversation.
Harry strode quickly to the door, glared at his secretary and another woman whose name he couldn’t remember, and carefully closed it. “There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.”
“Really?” She giggled. “I can’t wait to hear it.”
Harry had done many things in his short life, including killing the most feared wizard in one hundred years, but he’d never been good at coming up with excuses. Plus there were also two people in his life he found it very difficult to lie to ... one was Hermione and the other was currently sitting at his desk, elbows resting on the surface as she rested her chin on her interlaced fingers. Fanatically he tried to come up with a reason for what Ginny had found, but there was nothing ... he couldn’t even pretend he’d bought the wretched things for her because the knickers were much too big and weren’t even wrapped in a bag.
Plus his mind was searching for how ... and why ... he had picked the garment up. He remembered putting it on the table with the rest of Draco’s clothes; had he subconsciously picked them up and put them in his pocket?
Ginny continued smiling at him, clearly enjoying his discomfort. “Not to worry, Harry, you’re secret is safe with me.” She gave him knowing wink and then her expression changed, becoming serious. “But we do need to talk.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “Lee’s asked me to marry him.”
---
Draco didn’t remember when he’d slept for as long or as well.
Normally strange beds meant only one thing to him ... cheap hotels rented by the hour. But the bed he had slept away most of the day in was anything but cheap.
He’d eaten a late breakfast of coffee and croissants before wandering around Harry’s flat checking out drawers and cupboards. It was the sort of place he’d longed for (with a much better taste in décor of course) and a plan had been slowly formulating in his mind. Why not persuade Potter to let him stay for a few more days (he smirked to himself ... he could always claim to still in shock after what had happened) and then just extend the stay for another day and then another. He’d once spent a whole month with one client and it had actually been rather pleasant to be shagged by just one person ... in fact he’d even daydreamed that they were real lovers at one point.
Not, of course, that he considered Potter to be one of his tricks. His smirk grew, but it might be interesting to see just how far he could go with the man. Wouldn’t that be fun to embarrass Potter by tossing him off? Or even worse, to suck him off and watch the expression on that sanctimonious face go from anguish to bliss and then complete mortification.
He was now standing by the huge picture window, watching as twilight slowly spread over London -- not that it ever really arrived as the millions of tiny artificial lights illuminating the city replaced the sunlight of day. Draco wondered if anyone could see him up here in the silent world of Potter’s apartment. It was strange to look down on the world for a change ... a bit like flying really, something he hadn’t done ... or thought of ... for years.
Memories of the exhilaration of speeding through the sky on a broom made him sigh reflectively. Flying against Potter in a Quidditch match had often left him hard and he’d only ever considered that was an effect of the game rather than Potter himself. But now he thought about it, his body behaved very differently when he’d been matched against Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw.
Attempting to forget his sexual fascination with the Boy Who Lived, Draco sipped at his coffee. Normally he drank tea at this time of day, but all Potter had in the cupboards were cheap teabags and no teapot to brew it in. Draco might have fallen a long way since being banished, but he still had some standards to uphold.
Such as not being in his pyjamas this late in the day. He glanced down at himself and decided a shower was called for and then he would have to see if the clothes Potter had left actually fitted.
Draining his mug, he padded across the lounge towards the room he’d spent the night in. Stripping off, he reached into the shower to turn the water on, but stopped almost immediately. Why bother with a shower when Potter had a perfectly good bath next door? He’d checked out the bathroom earlier and found out his one-time adversary was a Lush man. There were products everywhere and the idea of Potter luxuriating with a Black Pearl Bath Ballistic had send a warmth to the pit of Draco’s stomach.
So why not indulge himself?
Turning on the taps, he watched as the steaming water began to fill the huge bath. He turned the lights down low, lit the candles scattered around the room, found himself a glass of wine and eventually lowered himself into the glitter- and bubble-filled water.
---
It had, Harry decided, been an excellent day. Being friends with Ginny was much better than being married to her and they’d spent the day shopping, eating and talking. Harry had worried about what Molly would say when she found out her baby girl’s marriage was over. Ginny told him not to worry because she could wrap her mother around her little finger.
Ginny was worried about Harry and his confession about how he felt around the magical world these days. He finally told her where he’d been disappearing to, but he quickly refused to invite her back to his hideaway (Malfoy might still be there, he quickly reminded himself). She tried to get him to come back to Ottery St Catchpole that night, but again he refused, telling her he would come back to sort out his belongings. The house was hers to do with as she wished ... it was the least he could do after being such a pathetic husband. That had made her laugh, and had led to a spirited discussion about the good and bad moments of their sex life together.
When they’d eventually parted -- Ginny back to the Burrow (or to Lee’s home knowing her) and Harry back to his flat -- there had been a happy, contented smile on his face. It was like, he decided, part of his life which had been painful was finally ending.
He Apparated back home and found the lounge lights turned off, the room lit only by the glow of a nearly full moon. For a moment he thought Draco had left and he found himself torn between joy at getting rid of him and something like sadness at being on his own. It came as a shock to realise he was actually looking forward to finding the other man there, if only to argue with him again.
Dropping his robes on a chair, he was just going to find himself a drink when he realised there was a light shining from the direction of the bedrooms. A surge of something he quickly decided wasn’t excitement clenched at his stomach. Had he left the light on in his bedroom earlier?
Wand in hand (one couldn’t be too careful ... there were still people out there who wanted Harry dead), he quietly walked down the hallway. The door to his bedroom was open a little and light spilled out as he stepped over the threshold.
The light was coming from the bathroom and Harry froze as he heard the splish splash sound of someone in the bath; the person ... Draco ... was humming softly to himself. The smell of jasmine and ylang ylang wafted from the room and sensible part of Harry told him to quietly leave and pretend he’d never been there, but another part of him ... possibly the same part which disagreed with the whole banishment thing ... had taken over and it was that which made him step towards the bathroom door.
He found Draco laying back in a bath. There were still a few bubbles clinging to his skin, but mainly he was just covered by water and glitter that twinkled in the candlelight.
Harry swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He hadn’t realised Draco’s hair was so long or that anyone could look quite so ... so.... He swallowed again, the sound a soft groan, which was loud in the silence.
Draco realised he wasn’t alone. He looked up to meet the wide-eyed voyeur watching him and after a few seconds he spread his legs a little and gave one of his best sensual smiles.
“Hello, Harry. Would you like to scrub my back?”
---