no rest for the wicked [draco]

APRIL 2004

Given his way, Harry would not have gone to Draco Malfoy for this; he was pretty sure he didn't yet trust the other man. But he was allegedly doing good work – pretty good, at least – and Harry wanted to see what Hermione was dealing with on a daily basis, which he hadn’t done up till now out of a passionate desire not to speak to Draco Malfoy.

This was the first time they’d speak in years, he was pretty sure – they’d had a pretty decent encounter back in the summer of ‘98 where they’d exchanged two words and mutually agreed not to shake hands. After so long, Harry wasn’t entirely sure where they stood these days. Was he supposed to call him Malfoy? Mr Malfoy? He decided promptly against Mr Malfoy.

“Malfoy,” he said, and again they mutually agreed not to shake hands. He’d have asked how the other man was doing, but he didn’t think he’d have said anyway. “Settling in?” he said.

He glanced around Malfoy’s desk as though he knew for sure what he was looking for – anything suspicious, for one thing, and anything that might have helped him with his case, for another, and a free spot in the cramped little office to set down the heavy cursed Sneakoscope, triple-wrapped in dragon leather and emitting a high-pitched squeal, which Harry and most of his neighbors in the Auror office had grown sick of, then inured to. “I have a cursed/hexed item,” he said, unnecessarily, “Hermione told me you could help me.”

@Draco Malfoy

Draco paused what he was doing as his ears detected a high-pitched ringing noise, unsure if he just needed a break, or if he had somehow caused it to start seeping out from the item he was inspecting or— There was someone in the doorway. He looked to his left and realised why Paula hadn't greeted them. Malfoy. Draco kept his face impassive. "Potter," he replied.

Was he settling in? The blond wizard looked around the small office with his eyebrows raised; Paula stood quickly and mumbled something about wanting to make herself a cup of tea. Draco let his gaze linger for a moment on the steaming mug she’d left on her desk, then brought his attention back to Harry. “I’ve been here three months,” he said calmly, “you probably didn’t notice — too busy saving the world again, no doubt.”

Draco watched his (former) nemesis scan his desk, acutely aware of what was on it; an in tray and an out tray, a magnifying glass with various magical lenses you could swap between, some very long tweezers — and his wand. Whilst Harry was scrutinising his office space, Draco was looking at the bundle of dragon hide the other man was holding. After a moment he went back to what he was doing— had barely done so when Potter spoke again.

He spun his chair to face Harry. “Well, if Granger told you I could help…" he drawled dramatically, as if he could want nothing more than to help Hermione Granger — what a privilege, what an honour, etc. etc.

Draco glowered for a moment, then gestured for Harry to set the item down on his desk. “Is it evidence?” he asked, more professional than curious—he needed to know if he ought not to damage it—and unfolded the first layer of leather. The noise it was emitting grew louder, and Draco rolled his chair back to rummage in a drawer and withdraw some earmuffs. He paused, deliberating, then took out a second pair and scooted back to his desk, placing them on the surface for the other man to take (Merlin forbid he didn’t protect the chosen one’s hearing, or he might lose the job he didn’t even need).

He glanced once at Potter to see if he’d put the ‘PPE’, as Granger called it, on, then finished unwrapping the dragonhide. Inside was a Sneakoscope, spinning madly on the spot — though it almost seemed to hesitate for the briefest of seconds. The noise would have been unbearable without the ear protection, and Draco was reminded of second year Herbology, repotting those god awful mandrakes. He flicked his eyes to meet Potter’s, then leant in to try and visually inspect the dark detector— It was moving too fast to really ascertain anything without further investigation.

He carefully re-wrapped the Sneakoscope and removed his ear muffs. “Where did you find it?”

Harry did his best not to react to Malfoy’s snipe; he was tempted to snipe back (he was sure that, for all his unpleasantness, Draco Malfoy wasn’t sorry that Harry had killed Voldemort) but could think of no nice way to tell him that of course he’d been kept up to date about the reformed Death Eater working in close quarters with Hermione. He cast a pointed look around Malfoy’s cubicle – notably uncluttered – and said drily, “Really making the place your own, aren’t you?”

The Sneakoscope was whirring in his arms already; he set it gingerly down on the desk and stepped away, swiping one hand over his hair and then folding his arms. “Yes,” he said; he was about to go on when Malfoy unwrapped the item, and the high--pitched ringing gained a few decibels. Harry cringed; Malfoy fished earmuffs out of his desk.

They probably looked ridiculous like this; at least Malfoy hadn’t given him a pair that was pink and fluffy, like the ones Harry had spent second-year Herbology avoiding at all costs. Malfoy leaned over the Sneakoscope; Harry folded his arms over his chest again and tried to get comfortable in the corner.

Malfoy replaced the Sneakoscope’s covering, and Harry removed his earmuffs. “Potions traffickers’ headquarters, Knockturn Alley” he said, “Went off when we went in, landed two Aurors in St. Mungo’s to get their eardrums replaced. At the time it was shooting off spells, too, but we neutralised that before we emptied the warehouse.”

Draco glowered up at Harry. He had seen the other man’s desk—cluttered and messy—not that he was about to let The Chosen One know he’d paid any attention to it on the few trips he’d made to the Auror Office. It was hard not to, what with it being right by the door. Perhaps Draco ought to value his broom closet of an office a little more, if the alternative was being in a bullpen. 

The fact that the sneakoscope was going off suggested it wasn’t an off-the-shelf product. It was going off in his presence, and that might have accounted for something but — two Aurors in St. Mungo’s to get their eardrums replaced. Draco’s eyebrows rose, impressed (with the dark detector, not the Aurors).

“I would ask if your Department was clean, but—” he stopped pointedly and smirked, thinking of how a Death Eater had not only successfully remained hidden for years, she had gone on to rise to Head of one of their offices. If he didn’t joke about it he’d be terrified by the prospect — thank Merlin she’d finally gone and outed herself.

Jones walked past the open door behind Potter (uninterested) and Draco was reminded to be professional. He glanced at the wrapped up item. “I’ll need more time with it, but it’s obviously been tampered with.” He wasn’t about to tell Potter he was right outright (it was definitely cursed). And he needed time without the other man lurking over his shoulder, for a start. “Did their eardrums burst or— Was there any blood? Out of their ears.” That might be more of a clue as to whether it was a Deafening Curse or something more sinister.

“Don’t suppose you want to start wearing ear muffs on raids in the meantime?”

Harry let himself take a small, infinitesimally tiny sliver of satisfaction in the way Malfoy was glaring at him, and narrowed his eyes, at first smugly and then out of necessity as the Sneakoscope started to really wail.

Obvious dig at the Aurors – he should have seen that coming – he didn’t really have a reply for it, other than to take the obvious dig at Malfoy, which he was not going to do. He raised his eyebrows pointedly, out of hope that Malfoy would know he’d thought of it, and went to lean casually against the wall, then decided promptly that he’d better not.

“A bit of blood,” he said bracingly. “The noise has a pretty short range, I think – the injured Aurors were both standing within arm’s reach of it when it went off, but we couldn’t sort if it hexed them or if it was the noise.”

Less obvious dig at the Aurors, and a rather weak one; Harry glanced down at the earmuffs Malfoy had lent him, hanging off one finger, and rolled his eyes. “You’re welcome to suggest it to Department Head Robards, if that’s the official recommendation of the Curses and Hexes office.” Not that he thought Draco Malfoy of all people was qualified to make official recommendations on behalf of his office.

Harry gestured with one hand (the earmuffs swung rather dangerously) at the Sneakoscope again – “I take it you’ll need to have a closer look before you can tell us anything?”