Fic: Forgotten Poison (H/D, ~5000 words)
Title: Forgotten Poison
Author: joan_waterhouse
Prompt given by kawanale:
Time-period: Post-Hogwarts | Place: Hogwarts | Object / word prompts: potions, Chamber of Secrets, portrait of Dumbledore | Action: holding hand
Betas: vaysh11 and smirking_muse
Word Count: ~5000
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: EWE, two minor original characters
Summary: Forensic Wizard Malfoy and Auror Potter find more than just memories when they return to Hogwarts to give a Career Day speech.
A/N: This fic was written for the hd_smoochfest. Thank you to my beta readers for their helpful ideas. I also want to thank the mods and all the readers/commenters over at hd_smoochfest for making this such a nice experience. :)
Artwork by: star_sailor13
Disclaimer: My motivation is adoration. The plot, Benjamin, and Prof. Pellicia are mine, everything else belongs to JKR and some big companies.
Forgotten Poison
The giant wall calendar inside Laboratory ML5 of St. Mungo's Hospital stared down at Draco Malfoy, one of the Ministry's most promising new Forensic Wizards. Screwing up his face, as he always did right after taking Bezoar Extract, Draco stared back. Next to the word Friday there stood in what was undeniably his own handwriting: Give Career Talk at Hogwarts. He had completely forgotten. "Oh, Draco! Representing the Forensic Wizards at Hogwarts' Career Day," his mother had all but pinched him on the cheeks when he told her. "I am so proud!" But this had been a full month ago. He had not yet begun to prepare his talk and Friday was two days away. Draco really loved his job; it required a cool mind and creative thinking, which catered to his strengths. His devotion to the profession should help him to come up with a decent speech in the time he had left.
The door banged open and Benjamin, another promising FW, as Forensic Wizards were addressed by all the people who mattered, entered the room, enthusiastically chatting to a young girl in a short, white lab-robe. Her eyes were fixed intently on his lips. She was clearly enjoying his attention. "... lowers inhibition and self control, not unlike Veritaserum, you see. But then it gets really nasty! Lack of motivation, loss of consciousness, coma and ultimately," he paused before finishing, "death!" By the way Benjamin rattled on about symptoms, Draco could tell that he was in full flirt mode.
Draco knew most of Ben's favourite conditions by heart. He had heard numerous times every detailed description of the most rare and dangerous potions, poisons and plagues. This additional knowledge was probably the only advantage in working with a disease and poison obsessed Don Juan. Seeing that Ben was busy with the new assistant, Draco sat down at his desk and began to write his speech.
***
Concentrate, he told himself for the hundredth time and adjusted the name-tag that said Harry Potter, Auror - Department of Magical Law Enforcement. No matter what he did, the thing would not stay straight. His thoughts were in a similar predicament; they kept wandering to topics not at all suitable for the occasion.
Headmistress McGonagall stifled a yawn before she said, "As you all know, I have initiated this Career Day to provide my students with motivation to do well in their last year. Your talks will give them helpful information about which career options are open to ambitious witches and wizards." The Headmistress' office at Hogwarts was occupied with representatives from different Ministry Departments, St. Mungo's Hospital, Gringotts Bank and some private sector enterprises. It was a very colourful variety of wizards, witches, goblins, and an assortment of other magical creatures, but Harry's eyes kept returning to one wizard in particular.
On the other side of the room sat the representative for the Ministry's Subdivision for Forensic Magic. His white-blond hair kept falling into his face, he kept running his long fingers through it. Harry tried his hardest not to stare. Draco Malfoy looked almost angelic in his white lab-robe. He still appeared aloof, but the cold arrogance that Harry remembered from their schooldays had softened.
Even though they were from related Ministry Departments, Harry had met Malfoy only occasionally. They worked in different buildings and had never been appointed to a case together. After the war Harry and Malfoy had both repeated their last year at Hogwarts. This was an option open to everyone of their year, but it was mandatory for students who had been involved in Death Eater activities. Thus the Ministry had one additional year of control over their education and it hopefully prevented those students from heading straight towards a future of unemployment, frustration and a possible resurfacing of their radical ideas. Harry had gone into Auror Training immediately after sitting his N.E.W.T.s, while Malfoy had to serve one year of "Compulsory Unpaid Work for the Benefit of all Wizardkind" as sentence for his involvement in the war. Harry hadn't heard from Malfoy until he joined the FW. At that time there had been a lot of talk about how Malfoy had worked hard to rise from scrubbing the floors in St. Mungo's to leading one of the forensic teams established there.
For a fraction of a second, a single ray of sunshine gleamed on Malfoy's hair. Harry willed himself to look somewhere else and caught a glimpse of Dumbledore's portrait. He hoped that he had only imagined the encouraging wink behind the half-moon spectacles. "The talks will start at three o'clock. You are welcome to look around the castle until then." McGonagall raised her voice to remain audible above the murmurs anticipating the end of this welcoming ceremony. "There will be refreshments in the Great Hall. I thank you all for supporting this new initiative!"
The crowd began to exit the office, but was slowed considerably by what appeared to be a reunion of some long lost friends. Right in front of the door, a tall witch with a high-pitched voice enthusiastically embraced a goblin. With the exit blocked, the other representatives gave themselves up to conversations of their own. It would have been a prefect opportunity for Harry to move through the crowd in the general direction of where he'd last seen Malfoy, if it hadn't been for the goblin who stood rooted in front of Harry and couldn't be enticed to move.
Harry started. Somebody had just addressed him from five feet in the air. "Good to see you!" Dumbledore's portrait called. "If you are searching for Mister Malfoy, I'd advise you to move in the direction of the fireplace." Now the twinkling in the former Headmaster's eye was unmistakable. A deep voice in the frame next to him grumbled something that sounded a lot like, "I don't need to hear this!" Harry turned just in time to see Snape’s cloak billow behind him as he left his portrait.
The Headmistress' office was still too crowded. It was impossible for Harry to get closer to the fireplace. He did not catch up with Malfoy until they reached the hallway. The decision whether to approach him or to quietly walk behind him was an easy one to make. Harry had just become aware that Malfoy possessed what had to be the finest arse in Wizarding Britain. Talking could wait; one had to make the most of such glorious moments as these. He continued walking a pace behind Malfoy, discreetly enjoying the view.
The group passed the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom just as the period was over. Children poured out of the room, talking loudly. “I’ve never seen Pellicia that angry!” - “I can not believe I got detention just because I didn’t understand him. Seriously!”
Inside, a dark-haired young man slammed a book down at the desk. He kept rapidly talking to himself in a language Harry didn’t understand. When he saw the delegation file past his classroom, the young man strode scowling to the door and banged it shut.
***
Of course the Auror Department would send Potter, Draco sighed. As if the children these days needed any more encouragement to follow in the Golden Boy's footsteps. Needless to say Potter had sat exactly in Draco's line of sight, all golden buttons on dark heavy fabric. He looked positively spectacular in his Auror robes.
Draco was glad to finally step out of the overcrowded office. The loud chatter and bustle as everybody tried to squeeze through the door had been exhausting. Potter had to be somewhere behind him, Draco had seen him right before he reached the staircase.
Just as he pondered the most inconspicuous way to get himself in a better position to study Potter's clothes some more, Draco was rudely pushed to the wall by two quarrelling children. The face of a redheaded Hufflepuff was rapidly turning the same colour as his hair. With clenched fists he was shouting at a Ravenclaw boy twice his size.
“Take that back!”
“You said it first!”
“Only because it’s true!”
They quickly moved on to more physical attacks and disappeared around the next corner.
"This brings back an awful lot of memories," Potter remarked. Draco straightened his robes and made a non-committed humming-sound. He really did not want to talk about what memories being in Hogwarts brought back to him. Besides, what could he possibly say? "Oh, yeah! Remember when you found me crying in the loo and almost killed me? Good times, Potter!" That certainly would keep the conversation going! It was almost as appropriate as "Remember when you went all Gryffindor hero on me and pulled me out of the Fiendfyre even though I was your enemy? Wasn't it hilarious the way I held on to you? My arms wrapped so tightly around your chest that I felt your every heartbeat. My nose buried in your thick black hair. I remember your smell like it was yesterday ..."
He did remember that faint smell of grass and treacle tart as though it had been yesterday, mostly because he had visited that particular pensieve memory only the day before. But he would be damned if he ever admitted that. Draco realised that Potter was staring at him. He looked as though he was about to speak again, but Draco could not allow that to happen; he needed a change of topic very quickly. "How is your fiancée?" he blurted out. He almost bit his tongue when he registered what his brain had come up with. It was too late, though - his mouth had already formed the words. He wouldn't mind some talk about the Weaselette, but this was dangerous territory. Personal questions could lead back to exactly those topics Draco was trying to avoid.
Potter shot him a puzzled look. "Ex-fiancée, actually," he answered. "We broke up last summer. I finally admitted to myself that she's not my type. Being ballsy is no substitute for having balls." Potter grinned and had the nerve to let his eyes wander downwards. Draco felt his throat go dry. He mastered a near perfect sneer, which he subsequently ruined by running his hand through his hair. "How about you? Aren't you going out with Daphne Greengrass' sister?" Draco's mind was still processing the balls part of Potter's last statement. It affected Draco more than he was prepared to admit, even to himself.
It had taken him six months and had cost him a trip to Paris, the entire Sorcière en vogue spring collection and a haircut to become aware of the real reason why he was with Astoria. She would have been the perfect pureblood wife for a Malfoy, as his mother had pointed out on every possible occasion. Astoria Greengrass came from an old Wizarding family, had gorgeous long, black hair, Slytherin-green eyes and a partiality for French fashion designers. Which was why Draco had taken her to Paris for Valentine's Day. After hours of shopping Astoria had insisted he return to their hotel room early, since she wanted to surprise him with a new haircut. Three hours later, Draco stood petrified next to the bed, which he had just strewn with pink asters. Astoria leaned against the doorframe, her green eyes sparkling in anticipation. She was clad in low-cut trousers and loosely fit woollen robes in a deep red that accentuated the colour of her hair. The wonderful once long, black hair that had been cropped to three inches and styled to stick out at every angle imaginable. There was something about the way Astoria looked that let Draco's pants shrink a size. He broke up with her a week later.
Potter looked him straight in the eye, obviously waiting for an answer and all the while nibbling his own bottom lip. Draco had not been prepared for how nervous Potter made him. He was not good at feeling out of control. "We split up," he croaked and made sure that he shot Potter a glare before he hurried along to the Great Hall.
***
Harry was glad that he had been able to grip the attention of his audience. The Great Hall had been filled with sixth and seventh year students, indeed not an easy crowd. Granted, half of the students had been asleep after the first minute, but this came as no surprise. Harry knew from experience how narcotic an effect such talks could have. The other half, however, had been more than excited. He felt he had done his job flawlessly and motivated many students to pursue a Ministry career by going into Auror Training.
It had been a good idea to ignore the cue-cards he had written and just improvise instead. He had won the kids over with the anecdote about the Minister of Magic falling for a Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes fake wand on his last birthday; Harry was sure of it.
The students had asked lots of questions afterwards: about the training (a girl from Ravenclaw), about his favourite defence technique (a boy from Hufflepuff), if he had to keep a special diet to stay in shape (Ravenclaw again), if he had ever had to use Avada Kedavra (a Gryffindor girl with cute little pigtails) and one student even asked who had designed the Auror robes (interestingly enough this question came from a Slytherin boy, who reminded Harry a lot of Millicent Bulstrode).
Pleased with himself Harry scanned the crowd in the Great Hall for a certain blond head. Some of the other representatives were still surrounded by curious students. Every now and then they extended longing looks in the direction of the refreshments.
Harry spotted Malfoy in the doorway to the antechamber leading off from the Great Hall. He stood next to Hagrid, leaning against the doorframe. If he even tried to conceal his boredom, he failed miserably. Hagrid, however, did not seem to notice. He appeared to be in a chatty mood and kept talking. Harry walked over to join them.
"See, it started around his classroom," Hagrid said. "Firs', students that come out of Defence Against the Dark Arts start actin' weird. Take Thomas. A nice, young Hufflepuff, I tell yeh. He's always helpin' me with the Dugbogs. But then he starts callin' me names. He's not the only one, mind. Lots of kids started doin' odd things. An' not just the kids too. Only yesterday Minerva taught all her classes in her Animagus form. Now she says she just felt like it an' that she's the Headmistress, what more reason does she need! An' Professor Pellicia is Italian,” Hagrid paused, looking at Malfoy as though this were explanation enough. “The Italians are famous for contagious charms," he added. “Yeh better look inter this, Harry, being an Auror and all. I think he might use it as a distraction.”
“A distraction for what exactly?” Malfoy asked. “If all of this is supposed to distract from the man, then it doesn’t seem very effective to me.”
“'Course it doesn't seem effective! Would be suspicious if it did, wouldn' it?” Hagrid said. His thick eyebrows were drawn together in a slight frown. He scratched his beard and turned to Harry for support.
Harry shrugged. “I can’t really tell. I only saw him once when I passed the Defence Classroom today.”
Professor Pellicia had appeared very angry at the time, but that did not mean he was a criminal. Hagrid was probably overreacting. But Harry promised he would have a look at Pellicia’s files on Monday, just in case.
“Thanks, Harry. Knew I could count on yeh! I should get going. It’s feeding time, and I’m a bit hungry myself, ter be honest. It was good ter see yeh.” Hagrid squeezed past them. His sizeable belly pushed Harry none too gently in Malfoy’s direction; Harry barely managed to brace himself up against the doorframe.
“Sorry, lads!” Hagrid said with a huge grin, then he was gone.
Harry found himself face to face with Malfoy, who was still confined between his arms. It was probably a bit pathetic, but he just couldn’t keep his eyes off Malfoy's lips. Those full lips were forming words Harry didn’t follow, because their shape was far more interesting. Though Harry could pick out when they formed his name. First they pouted for the letter P, then they formed a perfect circle for the O and then, after a tiny flick of the tongue, the bottom lip dropped, just begging to be nibbled upon. And so Harry leaned forward.
Malfoy's eyes went wide, but he didn’t push Harry away. In fact, he even pressed closer, and Harry felt their noses touching. Then their lips followed suit. Harry had kissed other men before, but this was different. This was not a kiss in a smoky bar, with the smell of beer on the other man's breath. This was a sunny-afternoon-kiss in a cool room, with light shining through a stained-glass window. It felt exhilarating and soothing at the same time. It felt right. As though something Harry had not even known had been wrong had just fallen into place. He let the tip of his tongue slide over Malfoy's lips. When they parted in response, Harry let go of all lingering hesitation. One hand in Malfoy's hair, the other trying to find a way under his robes, Harry pressed closer and closer still. Malfoy tasted like tea and chocolate with just the slightest hint of peppermint. But it was not only the taste Harry revelled in, it was the texture. The soft slide of their tongues against each other, the sharp edges of Malfoy's teeth - he wanted to feel it all.
Harry released his lips only to get some much needed air. But this, it seemed, was enough to remind Draco of their surroundings. He took a small step to the side. “Harry,” he breathed.
And that was when the castle started to sway. The doorframe shifted out of focus, the tables became fuzzy. The blond blur in front of Harry tipped over backwards and Harry reached out to steady it. From the Great Hall, there sounded cheering voices of children who were without a doubt pointing fingers at them, but even those appeared distorted. Then the usual support one could expect from gravity ceased.
***
To say that Potter kissing him had come unexpectedly would be a gross understatement. Draco had thought about it, maybe even fantasised about it, but not for one moment had he imagined that if they met for more than five minutes, the Saviour of the Wizarding World would lunge at him like, well, like he had always done in school, but with more tongue and less hatred.
That this blissful moment should end in Harry Potter lying unconscious on the floor, he saw as proof that life treated Draco Malfoy unfairly. He took comfort in the idea that this day couldn’t possibly get any stranger, but as other people have learned before him, that is the precise moment it does.
Students gathered around them. Harry didn't respond to Draco's attempts at waking him up. He lay there motionless, with his eyes only half closed. Draco felt the first pangs of panic. He forced himself to calm down enough to cast a levitation charm on Harry. Then he lifted him up and made his way through the crowd of gaping students.
The unconscious Harry Potter draped over his shoulder, Draco entered the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was flitting about, handing out potions and glasses of water. At least ten of the beds were already occupied with unconscious children, more sat listless and looked as though they might pass out at any moment.
Draco carefully laid Harry down on one of the remaining beds. Madam Pomfrey had already spotted him and came running toward them.
“Mister Malfoy, thank goodness you are here! I was just about to send for someone; I can barely keep up with all the children coming in.” She stopped when she saw who lay on the bed. “But this is Auror Potter! What happened?”
“He passed out.” That much was obvious, but Draco didn’t know what else to say. He was still too shocked that Harry had collapsed right after their first kiss. From the looks of the hospital wing, this had happened not just to Harry. Draco took a deep breath. Panic would be of no use now.
He needed to get as much information as possible. “Have you noticed anything unusual in the past few days?” he asked the matron. “I’m sure you keep some sort of record.”
“I remember more children than usual coming in lately. Let’s see,” Madam Pomfrey started flipping through a booklet. “Mostly it’s just bruises. The students always get a bit excited now that the weather's warming up. What else? A week ago a girl had been feeling a bit dizzy and tired, so I gave her some Pepper-Up. Then Mister Robins broke his arm. The day before yesterday, two children were sent here because they overslept two hours and could only be woken with effort ... Now that I look at it, that does seem odd. We attributed it to nerves, because of the upcoming exams, you see.”
While Madam Pomfrey recounted all her recent patients, Draco started matching the information with all the contagious maladies he could think of. Looking for hidden patterns was what Forensic Wizardry was all about, after all. This was what he was good at.
From all that Madam Pomfrey told him, there had been a rise in injuries caused by recklessness. This matched with what Hagrid had told him about the behavioural changes among the professors and students. And if Draco was honest with himself, Harry snogging him out of the blue could not entirely be blamed on Gryffindor daring, but rather seemed due to lowered inhibition control.
Then there were those patients who complained about dizziness and listlessness.
Draco himself did not exhibit any of the symptoms he had just discerned. This indicated that whatever happened here was no contagious charm, since he would certainly have caught that from kissing Harry. But he'd taken the Bezoar Extract only some days ago as a standard procedure while working with unknown potions. It would protect him against most poisons known to wizarding kind.
If he could only remember in what context he had heard those exact symptoms before! Doubtlessly Benjamin had told him about it, but Benjamin was always talking so much that this insight alone didn't narrow the possibilities down in the least.
Bit by bit parts of a memory began to surface. There had been the new assistant listening to Ben's every word. He had rattled on about a poison that induced the exact same symptoms found here last Wednesday.
"... lowers inhibition and self control, not unlike Veritaserum, you see. But then it gets really nasty! Lack of motivation, loss of consciousness, coma and ultimately ... death!"
Benjamin must have really tried to impress the girl very much, because what caused these symptoms was extremely rare. Draco remembered what Hagrid had said in the Great Hall, and suddenly it all fell into place. "See, it started around his classroom", Hagrid had said.
The Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom was located on the second floor not far from a certain bathroom with decorative snake-ornaments. Considering the poison Ben had talked about, it now made a whole lot of sense that the supposed contagion appeared to have spread from around there.
“I have to Floo my colleague,” he said, turning to Madam Pomfrey. “He will get us the right antidote. For now, I need you to get everybody who is still conscious outside of the castle. I don’t think the fumes have reached the hospital wing yet, but ventilate and then seal it off anyway. That should stop things from getting worse.”
Draco couldn’t believe that all these years nobody had bothered to clean up the body; instead it lay underneath the stones like a big scaly time-bomb.
***
"You don't mean to tell me the Basilisk is still down there?" Ben exclaimed on the other side of the Floo. Draco nodded. To this day the myth that the dead bodies of these giant serpents would not rot still persisted. It was true that they decayed very slowly because of their natural composition, but they did decay eventually. And when they did, you'd rather not be around.
”We have to get down there,” Ben continued. “This is the chance of a lifetime! Pity we didn’t think of it before the different poisons started to react with each other. Imagine the tests we could have run!”
"I promise that you will be on the clean-up team,” Draco interrupted him sharply. “Right now I need you to get me the antidote. Fast!"
Draco stepped back from the fireplace, barely noticing the soot on his sleeves.
***
Gradually, the noise in the background cleared, and a familiar voice emerged. It kept going, but Harry could not make out a single word. His eyes were closed, he could feel that he was lying somewhere soft, a bed probably, but he did not remember why. Something warm covered his left hand, something warm and alive. This warm thing now gripped his hand more firmly. "I realise that your goal has always been to drive me crazy. But did you have to resort to such extreme measures and pass out right after our first kiss?"
A kiss. Harry remembered a kiss. And a blond blur. He remembered that before the castle had started to sway the blond blur had been Draco Malfoy. So he had to be in the swaying castle with Draco Malfoy. Except the castle did not sway anymore, which was excellent. And there was somebody holding his hand. Maybe it even was Draco holding his hand, which would be even more excellent. He also remembered that kissing Draco had made him feel really brilliant.
Harry opened his eyes a tiny bit. It was far too bright. He was in a very high room with large paintings on the wall. It looked very familiar. He remembered that waking up in this room usually meant that something had gone wrong and was about to get fixed. Obviously Draco didn't know this. His lips were pressed together tightly and he didn't bother to push back his hair, which had fallen into his face. Harry felt fingers sliding against the back of his hand. He wanted to say something, to tell Draco that everything would be all right, but his mouth did not work properly. So he just moved his hand a bit.
The chair next to the bed squeaked loudly. Draco got up and leaned closer to Harry. "You took your time," Draco said, smiling down at him. "I was starting to fear you need a different antidote."
"Antidote?" Harry asked. His voice was barely more than a whisper. Suddenly he remembered Hagrid's suspicions and added, "Pellicia?"
"Of course not." Draco's voice was soft and soothing. "I know you've seen some pretty bad D.A.D.A. teachers, but not everything is their fault. In fact Professor Pellicia was as much a victim of carelessness as you were.” His voice was louder now and Harry could feel the excitement as Draco got up and sat down next to him on the bed. “What caused all the trouble was the ptomaine from the Basilisk's dead body."
The explanations that followed made Harry's head swim. He was too tired to catch much of what Draco told him. Apparently the Basilisk poison lowered self control and that was why Pellicia had seemed so angry.
But it was hard to care about that now, when all he could think of was that Draco was still holding his hand.
"Can you keep the details for later?" Harry asked with a soft smile. “My inhibitions to kiss you are still pretty low. I suggest we make the most of it.” And with this he slid his hand around Draco's neck and pulled him down for a kiss.
***
“If you say anything containing the words ‘I told you so’, I will... I will...” Sadly, there was not much even Snape could come up with to threaten a fellow portrait and so he just glared.
Dumbledore smiled a broad smile. “Come now, you have to admit it’s romantic!”
Severus failed to see the romance in anybody throwing themselves at a Potter, much less in a talented young Wizard like Draco. The passion his favourite pupil appeared to put into kissing Potter was simply alarming.
“It would be wise to leave before this gets any more ... out of hand,” he observed. “There are some things I don’t need to burden myself with!”
“You go on ahead then.” Dumbledore’s eyes never left the bed in the hospital wing. “I think I will stay just a little bit longer.”
*** end ***
Author: joan_waterhouse
Prompt given by kawanale:
Time-period: Post-Hogwarts | Place: Hogwarts | Object / word prompts: potions, Chamber of Secrets, portrait of Dumbledore | Action: holding hand
Betas: vaysh11 and smirking_muse
Word Count: ~5000
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: EWE, two minor original characters
Summary: Forensic Wizard Malfoy and Auror Potter find more than just memories when they return to Hogwarts to give a Career Day speech.
A/N: This fic was written for the hd_smoochfest. Thank you to my beta readers for their helpful ideas. I also want to thank the mods and all the readers/commenters over at hd_smoochfest for making this such a nice experience. :)
Artwork by: star_sailor13
Disclaimer: My motivation is adoration. The plot, Benjamin, and Prof. Pellicia are mine, everything else belongs to JKR and some big companies.
Forgotten Poison
The giant wall calendar inside Laboratory ML5 of St. Mungo's Hospital stared down at Draco Malfoy, one of the Ministry's most promising new Forensic Wizards. Screwing up his face, as he always did right after taking Bezoar Extract, Draco stared back. Next to the word Friday there stood in what was undeniably his own handwriting: Give Career Talk at Hogwarts. He had completely forgotten. "Oh, Draco! Representing the Forensic Wizards at Hogwarts' Career Day," his mother had all but pinched him on the cheeks when he told her. "I am so proud!" But this had been a full month ago. He had not yet begun to prepare his talk and Friday was two days away. Draco really loved his job; it required a cool mind and creative thinking, which catered to his strengths. His devotion to the profession should help him to come up with a decent speech in the time he had left.
The door banged open and Benjamin, another promising FW, as Forensic Wizards were addressed by all the people who mattered, entered the room, enthusiastically chatting to a young girl in a short, white lab-robe. Her eyes were fixed intently on his lips. She was clearly enjoying his attention. "... lowers inhibition and self control, not unlike Veritaserum, you see. But then it gets really nasty! Lack of motivation, loss of consciousness, coma and ultimately," he paused before finishing, "death!" By the way Benjamin rattled on about symptoms, Draco could tell that he was in full flirt mode.
Draco knew most of Ben's favourite conditions by heart. He had heard numerous times every detailed description of the most rare and dangerous potions, poisons and plagues. This additional knowledge was probably the only advantage in working with a disease and poison obsessed Don Juan. Seeing that Ben was busy with the new assistant, Draco sat down at his desk and began to write his speech.
***
Concentrate, he told himself for the hundredth time and adjusted the name-tag that said Harry Potter, Auror - Department of Magical Law Enforcement. No matter what he did, the thing would not stay straight. His thoughts were in a similar predicament; they kept wandering to topics not at all suitable for the occasion.
Headmistress McGonagall stifled a yawn before she said, "As you all know, I have initiated this Career Day to provide my students with motivation to do well in their last year. Your talks will give them helpful information about which career options are open to ambitious witches and wizards." The Headmistress' office at Hogwarts was occupied with representatives from different Ministry Departments, St. Mungo's Hospital, Gringotts Bank and some private sector enterprises. It was a very colourful variety of wizards, witches, goblins, and an assortment of other magical creatures, but Harry's eyes kept returning to one wizard in particular.
On the other side of the room sat the representative for the Ministry's Subdivision for Forensic Magic. His white-blond hair kept falling into his face, he kept running his long fingers through it. Harry tried his hardest not to stare. Draco Malfoy looked almost angelic in his white lab-robe. He still appeared aloof, but the cold arrogance that Harry remembered from their schooldays had softened.
Even though they were from related Ministry Departments, Harry had met Malfoy only occasionally. They worked in different buildings and had never been appointed to a case together. After the war Harry and Malfoy had both repeated their last year at Hogwarts. This was an option open to everyone of their year, but it was mandatory for students who had been involved in Death Eater activities. Thus the Ministry had one additional year of control over their education and it hopefully prevented those students from heading straight towards a future of unemployment, frustration and a possible resurfacing of their radical ideas. Harry had gone into Auror Training immediately after sitting his N.E.W.T.s, while Malfoy had to serve one year of "Compulsory Unpaid Work for the Benefit of all Wizardkind" as sentence for his involvement in the war. Harry hadn't heard from Malfoy until he joined the FW. At that time there had been a lot of talk about how Malfoy had worked hard to rise from scrubbing the floors in St. Mungo's to leading one of the forensic teams established there.
For a fraction of a second, a single ray of sunshine gleamed on Malfoy's hair. Harry willed himself to look somewhere else and caught a glimpse of Dumbledore's portrait. He hoped that he had only imagined the encouraging wink behind the half-moon spectacles. "The talks will start at three o'clock. You are welcome to look around the castle until then." McGonagall raised her voice to remain audible above the murmurs anticipating the end of this welcoming ceremony. "There will be refreshments in the Great Hall. I thank you all for supporting this new initiative!"
The crowd began to exit the office, but was slowed considerably by what appeared to be a reunion of some long lost friends. Right in front of the door, a tall witch with a high-pitched voice enthusiastically embraced a goblin. With the exit blocked, the other representatives gave themselves up to conversations of their own. It would have been a prefect opportunity for Harry to move through the crowd in the general direction of where he'd last seen Malfoy, if it hadn't been for the goblin who stood rooted in front of Harry and couldn't be enticed to move.
Harry started. Somebody had just addressed him from five feet in the air. "Good to see you!" Dumbledore's portrait called. "If you are searching for Mister Malfoy, I'd advise you to move in the direction of the fireplace." Now the twinkling in the former Headmaster's eye was unmistakable. A deep voice in the frame next to him grumbled something that sounded a lot like, "I don't need to hear this!" Harry turned just in time to see Snape’s cloak billow behind him as he left his portrait.
The Headmistress' office was still too crowded. It was impossible for Harry to get closer to the fireplace. He did not catch up with Malfoy until they reached the hallway. The decision whether to approach him or to quietly walk behind him was an easy one to make. Harry had just become aware that Malfoy possessed what had to be the finest arse in Wizarding Britain. Talking could wait; one had to make the most of such glorious moments as these. He continued walking a pace behind Malfoy, discreetly enjoying the view.
The group passed the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom just as the period was over. Children poured out of the room, talking loudly. “I’ve never seen Pellicia that angry!” - “I can not believe I got detention just because I didn’t understand him. Seriously!”
Inside, a dark-haired young man slammed a book down at the desk. He kept rapidly talking to himself in a language Harry didn’t understand. When he saw the delegation file past his classroom, the young man strode scowling to the door and banged it shut.
***
Of course the Auror Department would send Potter, Draco sighed. As if the children these days needed any more encouragement to follow in the Golden Boy's footsteps. Needless to say Potter had sat exactly in Draco's line of sight, all golden buttons on dark heavy fabric. He looked positively spectacular in his Auror robes.
Draco was glad to finally step out of the overcrowded office. The loud chatter and bustle as everybody tried to squeeze through the door had been exhausting. Potter had to be somewhere behind him, Draco had seen him right before he reached the staircase.
Just as he pondered the most inconspicuous way to get himself in a better position to study Potter's clothes some more, Draco was rudely pushed to the wall by two quarrelling children. The face of a redheaded Hufflepuff was rapidly turning the same colour as his hair. With clenched fists he was shouting at a Ravenclaw boy twice his size.
“Take that back!”
“You said it first!”
“Only because it’s true!”
They quickly moved on to more physical attacks and disappeared around the next corner.
"This brings back an awful lot of memories," Potter remarked. Draco straightened his robes and made a non-committed humming-sound. He really did not want to talk about what memories being in Hogwarts brought back to him. Besides, what could he possibly say? "Oh, yeah! Remember when you found me crying in the loo and almost killed me? Good times, Potter!" That certainly would keep the conversation going! It was almost as appropriate as "Remember when you went all Gryffindor hero on me and pulled me out of the Fiendfyre even though I was your enemy? Wasn't it hilarious the way I held on to you? My arms wrapped so tightly around your chest that I felt your every heartbeat. My nose buried in your thick black hair. I remember your smell like it was yesterday ..."
He did remember that faint smell of grass and treacle tart as though it had been yesterday, mostly because he had visited that particular pensieve memory only the day before. But he would be damned if he ever admitted that. Draco realised that Potter was staring at him. He looked as though he was about to speak again, but Draco could not allow that to happen; he needed a change of topic very quickly. "How is your fiancée?" he blurted out. He almost bit his tongue when he registered what his brain had come up with. It was too late, though - his mouth had already formed the words. He wouldn't mind some talk about the Weaselette, but this was dangerous territory. Personal questions could lead back to exactly those topics Draco was trying to avoid.
Potter shot him a puzzled look. "Ex-fiancée, actually," he answered. "We broke up last summer. I finally admitted to myself that she's not my type. Being ballsy is no substitute for having balls." Potter grinned and had the nerve to let his eyes wander downwards. Draco felt his throat go dry. He mastered a near perfect sneer, which he subsequently ruined by running his hand through his hair. "How about you? Aren't you going out with Daphne Greengrass' sister?" Draco's mind was still processing the balls part of Potter's last statement. It affected Draco more than he was prepared to admit, even to himself.
It had taken him six months and had cost him a trip to Paris, the entire Sorcière en vogue spring collection and a haircut to become aware of the real reason why he was with Astoria. She would have been the perfect pureblood wife for a Malfoy, as his mother had pointed out on every possible occasion. Astoria Greengrass came from an old Wizarding family, had gorgeous long, black hair, Slytherin-green eyes and a partiality for French fashion designers. Which was why Draco had taken her to Paris for Valentine's Day. After hours of shopping Astoria had insisted he return to their hotel room early, since she wanted to surprise him with a new haircut. Three hours later, Draco stood petrified next to the bed, which he had just strewn with pink asters. Astoria leaned against the doorframe, her green eyes sparkling in anticipation. She was clad in low-cut trousers and loosely fit woollen robes in a deep red that accentuated the colour of her hair. The wonderful once long, black hair that had been cropped to three inches and styled to stick out at every angle imaginable. There was something about the way Astoria looked that let Draco's pants shrink a size. He broke up with her a week later.
Potter looked him straight in the eye, obviously waiting for an answer and all the while nibbling his own bottom lip. Draco had not been prepared for how nervous Potter made him. He was not good at feeling out of control. "We split up," he croaked and made sure that he shot Potter a glare before he hurried along to the Great Hall.
***
Harry was glad that he had been able to grip the attention of his audience. The Great Hall had been filled with sixth and seventh year students, indeed not an easy crowd. Granted, half of the students had been asleep after the first minute, but this came as no surprise. Harry knew from experience how narcotic an effect such talks could have. The other half, however, had been more than excited. He felt he had done his job flawlessly and motivated many students to pursue a Ministry career by going into Auror Training.
It had been a good idea to ignore the cue-cards he had written and just improvise instead. He had won the kids over with the anecdote about the Minister of Magic falling for a Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes fake wand on his last birthday; Harry was sure of it.
The students had asked lots of questions afterwards: about the training (a girl from Ravenclaw), about his favourite defence technique (a boy from Hufflepuff), if he had to keep a special diet to stay in shape (Ravenclaw again), if he had ever had to use Avada Kedavra (a Gryffindor girl with cute little pigtails) and one student even asked who had designed the Auror robes (interestingly enough this question came from a Slytherin boy, who reminded Harry a lot of Millicent Bulstrode).
Pleased with himself Harry scanned the crowd in the Great Hall for a certain blond head. Some of the other representatives were still surrounded by curious students. Every now and then they extended longing looks in the direction of the refreshments.
Harry spotted Malfoy in the doorway to the antechamber leading off from the Great Hall. He stood next to Hagrid, leaning against the doorframe. If he even tried to conceal his boredom, he failed miserably. Hagrid, however, did not seem to notice. He appeared to be in a chatty mood and kept talking. Harry walked over to join them.
"See, it started around his classroom," Hagrid said. "Firs', students that come out of Defence Against the Dark Arts start actin' weird. Take Thomas. A nice, young Hufflepuff, I tell yeh. He's always helpin' me with the Dugbogs. But then he starts callin' me names. He's not the only one, mind. Lots of kids started doin' odd things. An' not just the kids too. Only yesterday Minerva taught all her classes in her Animagus form. Now she says she just felt like it an' that she's the Headmistress, what more reason does she need! An' Professor Pellicia is Italian,” Hagrid paused, looking at Malfoy as though this were explanation enough. “The Italians are famous for contagious charms," he added. “Yeh better look inter this, Harry, being an Auror and all. I think he might use it as a distraction.”
“A distraction for what exactly?” Malfoy asked. “If all of this is supposed to distract from the man, then it doesn’t seem very effective to me.”
“'Course it doesn't seem effective! Would be suspicious if it did, wouldn' it?” Hagrid said. His thick eyebrows were drawn together in a slight frown. He scratched his beard and turned to Harry for support.
Harry shrugged. “I can’t really tell. I only saw him once when I passed the Defence Classroom today.”
Professor Pellicia had appeared very angry at the time, but that did not mean he was a criminal. Hagrid was probably overreacting. But Harry promised he would have a look at Pellicia’s files on Monday, just in case.
“Thanks, Harry. Knew I could count on yeh! I should get going. It’s feeding time, and I’m a bit hungry myself, ter be honest. It was good ter see yeh.” Hagrid squeezed past them. His sizeable belly pushed Harry none too gently in Malfoy’s direction; Harry barely managed to brace himself up against the doorframe.
“Sorry, lads!” Hagrid said with a huge grin, then he was gone.
Harry found himself face to face with Malfoy, who was still confined between his arms. It was probably a bit pathetic, but he just couldn’t keep his eyes off Malfoy's lips. Those full lips were forming words Harry didn’t follow, because their shape was far more interesting. Though Harry could pick out when they formed his name. First they pouted for the letter P, then they formed a perfect circle for the O and then, after a tiny flick of the tongue, the bottom lip dropped, just begging to be nibbled upon. And so Harry leaned forward.
Malfoy's eyes went wide, but he didn’t push Harry away. In fact, he even pressed closer, and Harry felt their noses touching. Then their lips followed suit. Harry had kissed other men before, but this was different. This was not a kiss in a smoky bar, with the smell of beer on the other man's breath. This was a sunny-afternoon-kiss in a cool room, with light shining through a stained-glass window. It felt exhilarating and soothing at the same time. It felt right. As though something Harry had not even known had been wrong had just fallen into place. He let the tip of his tongue slide over Malfoy's lips. When they parted in response, Harry let go of all lingering hesitation. One hand in Malfoy's hair, the other trying to find a way under his robes, Harry pressed closer and closer still. Malfoy tasted like tea and chocolate with just the slightest hint of peppermint. But it was not only the taste Harry revelled in, it was the texture. The soft slide of their tongues against each other, the sharp edges of Malfoy's teeth - he wanted to feel it all.
Harry released his lips only to get some much needed air. But this, it seemed, was enough to remind Draco of their surroundings. He took a small step to the side. “Harry,” he breathed.
And that was when the castle started to sway. The doorframe shifted out of focus, the tables became fuzzy. The blond blur in front of Harry tipped over backwards and Harry reached out to steady it. From the Great Hall, there sounded cheering voices of children who were without a doubt pointing fingers at them, but even those appeared distorted. Then the usual support one could expect from gravity ceased.
***
To say that Potter kissing him had come unexpectedly would be a gross understatement. Draco had thought about it, maybe even fantasised about it, but not for one moment had he imagined that if they met for more than five minutes, the Saviour of the Wizarding World would lunge at him like, well, like he had always done in school, but with more tongue and less hatred.
That this blissful moment should end in Harry Potter lying unconscious on the floor, he saw as proof that life treated Draco Malfoy unfairly. He took comfort in the idea that this day couldn’t possibly get any stranger, but as other people have learned before him, that is the precise moment it does.
Students gathered around them. Harry didn't respond to Draco's attempts at waking him up. He lay there motionless, with his eyes only half closed. Draco felt the first pangs of panic. He forced himself to calm down enough to cast a levitation charm on Harry. Then he lifted him up and made his way through the crowd of gaping students.
The unconscious Harry Potter draped over his shoulder, Draco entered the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was flitting about, handing out potions and glasses of water. At least ten of the beds were already occupied with unconscious children, more sat listless and looked as though they might pass out at any moment.
Draco carefully laid Harry down on one of the remaining beds. Madam Pomfrey had already spotted him and came running toward them.
“Mister Malfoy, thank goodness you are here! I was just about to send for someone; I can barely keep up with all the children coming in.” She stopped when she saw who lay on the bed. “But this is Auror Potter! What happened?”
“He passed out.” That much was obvious, but Draco didn’t know what else to say. He was still too shocked that Harry had collapsed right after their first kiss. From the looks of the hospital wing, this had happened not just to Harry. Draco took a deep breath. Panic would be of no use now.
He needed to get as much information as possible. “Have you noticed anything unusual in the past few days?” he asked the matron. “I’m sure you keep some sort of record.”
“I remember more children than usual coming in lately. Let’s see,” Madam Pomfrey started flipping through a booklet. “Mostly it’s just bruises. The students always get a bit excited now that the weather's warming up. What else? A week ago a girl had been feeling a bit dizzy and tired, so I gave her some Pepper-Up. Then Mister Robins broke his arm. The day before yesterday, two children were sent here because they overslept two hours and could only be woken with effort ... Now that I look at it, that does seem odd. We attributed it to nerves, because of the upcoming exams, you see.”
While Madam Pomfrey recounted all her recent patients, Draco started matching the information with all the contagious maladies he could think of. Looking for hidden patterns was what Forensic Wizardry was all about, after all. This was what he was good at.
From all that Madam Pomfrey told him, there had been a rise in injuries caused by recklessness. This matched with what Hagrid had told him about the behavioural changes among the professors and students. And if Draco was honest with himself, Harry snogging him out of the blue could not entirely be blamed on Gryffindor daring, but rather seemed due to lowered inhibition control.
Then there were those patients who complained about dizziness and listlessness.
Draco himself did not exhibit any of the symptoms he had just discerned. This indicated that whatever happened here was no contagious charm, since he would certainly have caught that from kissing Harry. But he'd taken the Bezoar Extract only some days ago as a standard procedure while working with unknown potions. It would protect him against most poisons known to wizarding kind.
If he could only remember in what context he had heard those exact symptoms before! Doubtlessly Benjamin had told him about it, but Benjamin was always talking so much that this insight alone didn't narrow the possibilities down in the least.
Bit by bit parts of a memory began to surface. There had been the new assistant listening to Ben's every word. He had rattled on about a poison that induced the exact same symptoms found here last Wednesday.
"... lowers inhibition and self control, not unlike Veritaserum, you see. But then it gets really nasty! Lack of motivation, loss of consciousness, coma and ultimately ... death!"
Benjamin must have really tried to impress the girl very much, because what caused these symptoms was extremely rare. Draco remembered what Hagrid had said in the Great Hall, and suddenly it all fell into place. "See, it started around his classroom", Hagrid had said.
The Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom was located on the second floor not far from a certain bathroom with decorative snake-ornaments. Considering the poison Ben had talked about, it now made a whole lot of sense that the supposed contagion appeared to have spread from around there.
“I have to Floo my colleague,” he said, turning to Madam Pomfrey. “He will get us the right antidote. For now, I need you to get everybody who is still conscious outside of the castle. I don’t think the fumes have reached the hospital wing yet, but ventilate and then seal it off anyway. That should stop things from getting worse.”
Draco couldn’t believe that all these years nobody had bothered to clean up the body; instead it lay underneath the stones like a big scaly time-bomb.
***
"You don't mean to tell me the Basilisk is still down there?" Ben exclaimed on the other side of the Floo. Draco nodded. To this day the myth that the dead bodies of these giant serpents would not rot still persisted. It was true that they decayed very slowly because of their natural composition, but they did decay eventually. And when they did, you'd rather not be around.
”We have to get down there,” Ben continued. “This is the chance of a lifetime! Pity we didn’t think of it before the different poisons started to react with each other. Imagine the tests we could have run!”
"I promise that you will be on the clean-up team,” Draco interrupted him sharply. “Right now I need you to get me the antidote. Fast!"
Draco stepped back from the fireplace, barely noticing the soot on his sleeves.
***
Gradually, the noise in the background cleared, and a familiar voice emerged. It kept going, but Harry could not make out a single word. His eyes were closed, he could feel that he was lying somewhere soft, a bed probably, but he did not remember why. Something warm covered his left hand, something warm and alive. This warm thing now gripped his hand more firmly. "I realise that your goal has always been to drive me crazy. But did you have to resort to such extreme measures and pass out right after our first kiss?"
A kiss. Harry remembered a kiss. And a blond blur. He remembered that before the castle had started to sway the blond blur had been Draco Malfoy. So he had to be in the swaying castle with Draco Malfoy. Except the castle did not sway anymore, which was excellent. And there was somebody holding his hand. Maybe it even was Draco holding his hand, which would be even more excellent. He also remembered that kissing Draco had made him feel really brilliant.
Harry opened his eyes a tiny bit. It was far too bright. He was in a very high room with large paintings on the wall. It looked very familiar. He remembered that waking up in this room usually meant that something had gone wrong and was about to get fixed. Obviously Draco didn't know this. His lips were pressed together tightly and he didn't bother to push back his hair, which had fallen into his face. Harry felt fingers sliding against the back of his hand. He wanted to say something, to tell Draco that everything would be all right, but his mouth did not work properly. So he just moved his hand a bit.
The chair next to the bed squeaked loudly. Draco got up and leaned closer to Harry. "You took your time," Draco said, smiling down at him. "I was starting to fear you need a different antidote."
"Antidote?" Harry asked. His voice was barely more than a whisper. Suddenly he remembered Hagrid's suspicions and added, "Pellicia?"
"Of course not." Draco's voice was soft and soothing. "I know you've seen some pretty bad D.A.D.A. teachers, but not everything is their fault. In fact Professor Pellicia was as much a victim of carelessness as you were.” His voice was louder now and Harry could feel the excitement as Draco got up and sat down next to him on the bed. “What caused all the trouble was the ptomaine from the Basilisk's dead body."
The explanations that followed made Harry's head swim. He was too tired to catch much of what Draco told him. Apparently the Basilisk poison lowered self control and that was why Pellicia had seemed so angry.
But it was hard to care about that now, when all he could think of was that Draco was still holding his hand.
"Can you keep the details for later?" Harry asked with a soft smile. “My inhibitions to kiss you are still pretty low. I suggest we make the most of it.” And with this he slid his hand around Draco's neck and pulled him down for a kiss.
***
“If you say anything containing the words ‘I told you so’, I will... I will...” Sadly, there was not much even Snape could come up with to threaten a fellow portrait and so he just glared.
Dumbledore smiled a broad smile. “Come now, you have to admit it’s romantic!”
Severus failed to see the romance in anybody throwing themselves at a Potter, much less in a talented young Wizard like Draco. The passion his favourite pupil appeared to put into kissing Potter was simply alarming.
“It would be wise to leave before this gets any more ... out of hand,” he observed. “There are some things I don’t need to burden myself with!”
“You go on ahead then.” Dumbledore’s eyes never left the bed in the hospital wing. “I think I will stay just a little bit longer.”
*** end ***