hd_hols (hd_hols) wrote in hd_holidays,
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Happy H/D Holidays, stillaseeker!

Author: shadowclub
Recipient: stillaseeker
Title: Iconic
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, Lucius/Narcissa, Ron/Hermione
Summary: Harry Potter is the most iconic figure of our time. Like all things, his status comes with a price.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and
Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): Some violence, character death (not Harry or Draco)
Deathly Hallows compliant? Pretty canon compliant. Completely disregards epilogue though…
Word Count: 9875
Author's Notes: I hope you enjoy stillaseeker! I tried a whole new style and I really enjoyed working with your prompt. Hopefully there are some good quotes in here that you enjoy! I did quote from several times from the Muse song The Small Print.


Stop.

Before you start, you should know something.

There are many stories I could tell. There are many stories that deserve to be told, it was hard for me to choose just one. This is the story of a man who was never quite a boy and a boy who never was quite a man.

Together they did many great and terrible things.

Go.

[TRANSCRIPT] AUROR KYO interview with DRACO MALFOY

AUROR KYO: Mr. Malfoy, I understand that you would like to be with your family at this time, but I’m afraid that I cannot release you until answer my questions. [pause] It shouldn’t take more than an hour if you cooperate.

DRACO MALFOY: You [ERROR 12: Quotes Quill is not capable of transcribing multiple languages]!

AUROR KYO: [grunt] Alright, Mr. Malfoy, where were you last night?

DRACO MALFOY: I was with my family in the house.

AUROR KYO: All night?

DRACO MALFOY: Yes—I mean no.

AUROR KYO: So you left the house?

DRACO MALFOY: Yes.

AUROR KYO: Yes, you left or yes, you stayed in all night?

DRACO MALFOY: I went out at about eleven to pick up a potion.

AUROR KYO: Where did you go?

DRACO MALFOY: I went to the Sovereign Apothecary in Diagon Alley and then went back home.

AUROR KYO: Straight home?

DRACO MALFOY: Yes, straight home.

AUROR KYO: Then why was trace magic detected at 45 E. Albus Avenue at approximately midnight?

DRACO MALFOY: [wipes tear from weeping grey eye] Hey! I have allergies—

AUROR KYO: Concentrate on me Mr. Malfoy, not the quill.

DRACO MALFOY: I wasn’t there! How many times do I need to say that before you believe me?

AUROR KYO: You were seen by three separate witnesses leaving the apartment. How do you explain that?

*

It had started out at a simple assignment: Sketch a hero. It could have been someone close to him or someone in his imagination; it seemed like a fairly straightforward assignment, but the minute Draco had received his assignment, the smiling face of Harry Potter had slid across his mind as if gliding on water and then had sat there as if fixated in ice.

He had tried to draw other people, but somewhere along the line (literally) they would acquire hideous glasses and a scar. He even tried to draw himself, only to end up drawing himself in a Gryffindor jumper.

A truly horrific sight to say the least.

There wasn’t anything to be done now except draw the prat or risk taking a zero for the assignment. Draco glanced at the newspaper picture of Harry cutting the ribbon to the new hospital wing. So far he had the rough shape of the head and body, but it seemed so wrong - the expression, the posture, everything! The picture showed a smiling young man of average height with a shock of black hair.

It wasn’t the way Draco remembered him.

Harry Potter was a class all on his own. He was inky lines bleeding over skin with jewel-toned eyes—

Note: Check self into St. Mungo’s. Clearly, have finally lost it, jewel-toned eyes? What a pathetic description.

His eyes were the color of milky seaweed—

What was he thinking?

There was a rustling and some loud cheers. Draco looked up from his spot in the corner of the café just in time to see the familiar face of Harry Potter before he was mobbed by a sea of adoring faces. It was a good ten minutes before Harry was able to sit down and order something. Draco stared. They hadn’t actually spoken since that day at Hogwarts and Harry had changed.

Harry was lithe and had gained some definition in his arms and chest. Probably from the Auror training.

Hmm…toned but not overly muscled. Probably little to no chest hair. Looking down Draco realized that he had drawn Harry naked. He quickly tried to scratch the drawing out—a bit too vigorously- causing his teacup to spill over onto his hand.

Yelping Draco jumped up grabbing the tablecloth knocking over the whole table. Cream and tea spilled over his new shoes and onto the floor. The room had gone silent. Draco hastened to clean up the mess, but it only seemed to spread. Draco felt as though the first two layers of his skin had burned off.

“Need some help?” Harry asked righting the table. Draco didn’t say anything; it seemed a little surreal to have his boyhood enemy start talking to him like a normal person.

“Uh…,” Draco said bending over trying to discreetly rip out the incriminating page from his sketchbook. The edge of the paper slipped over the pad of his finger slicing it open. “Shit,” he muttered popping his finger into his mouth.

“I think that’s the last of it,” Harry said straightening up. The tablecloth was stained and the teacup had a crack in it, but other than that, it seemed fine.

“If you say so,” Draco responded, his finger still in his mouth. Harry went bright red for some reason and looked away. Draco pulled his finger out of his mouth. A thin white lined remained but there was no blood.

“Well, I should go. It was nice seeing you again.” Harry said, reaching out his hand. They were workman's palms, but somehow the fingers were delicately arched. It was a paradox of lifestyles. Draco stared at them before Harry snatched his hand back awkwardly running them through his hair.

“Yes,” Draco said trying to recall the last time he had felt this embarrassed. Possibly the time when he was caught with his pants down urinating in a Muggle hen house. Took a hell of a memory charm and some fast-talking to fix that one…

Harry gave him a brief nod before leaving Draco, wet socks and all.

After about five minutes of simply standing there and rehashing every single stupid thing that he said in their conversation, Draco realized something.

Without thinking, Draco ran out the door after Harry.

Stop.

We must consider the following action. Why would Draco Malfoy run after Harry Potter? They are by no means friends or (at this point and time) enemies. They were two people that just happened to live on the same planet.

Ahh, but they do have a history…history, it seems governs our actions more than logic does, which is why this action, so uncharacteristic of Draco’s nature makes sense. Draco owes his life to Harry. And Harry...well Harry is not guiltless in all of this.

Consider the implications of his actions: Dennis Creevey would have lived to be 102, there wouldn’t have been a man who called himself Jack Daniels, and—

Well, you’ll see what happens.

Go.

Draco ran around down the street seeing Harry’s head bobbing he pushed passed the crowd trying to catch up to him (“Young man! Just who do you think you are?”) until he was just behind Harry.

“Potter!” He yelled just as Harry turned and headed into Gringotts.

“Bollocks!” Draco cursed as he elbowed a witch whose withered body resembled a small ancient tree.

“Ahhhhhahaha baa,” she gurgled piteously from her position on the ground. Draco turned around reluctantly as people began to stare at the commotion she was making.

“Get up! That’s what your legs are for or have you forgotten in your old age?” He said distractedly trying to lift her up by the armpits shoving her hairpiece into her purse.

“Ahhhbaaaa! Rape! Rape!” She called out, but Draco was already running into Gringotts.

Harry was standing in front of him waiting in the long line of last minute citizens trying to withdraw or deposit money before the end of the day.

“Potter!” Harry’s head jerked back suddenly as though he were unused to people calling out to him.

“Wha—?”A flock of owls flew into the building causing enough chaos that made Harry’s hair look like the epitome of calm.

“Draco?” Harry asked as the people around them scattered causing papers to fly in the air.
“I just wanted to say, I just wanted to ask—thank you for saving my life two years ago.”

“IMPERIUS!” A clear voice rang throughout the building.

It was like the rush of air before a fire caressing his face before it hit him full force. Another breath-like Imperius hit him before he had time to even listen to the orders of the first curse.

Rewind.</i>

Draco’s boots squelches in the bloody mud. The forest is a sea of swimming red and screams. He is smiling.

"Weak minds and weak bodies that is what they have. Tell me boy, are you ready to rank with the strong?" Draco nodded; he was too weak to say no to the Dark Lord.

“IMPERIUS!” The Dark Lords eyes crinkles in a parody of good humor and laughter. Draco wants to run, but he knows that he can’t.

He is sick and wants to go home.</i>

Present

Draco’s head snapped back painfully as he threw off the curses and lay on the ground exhausted. Harry gave him a nod.

“We need to stop him, if you can stun him, I’ll release people from the Imperius,” Harry whispered after the man had walked passed them.

“Are you mad?” Draco whispered back. “If we lay here he’ll leave us alone!”

“What if he decides to kill everyone?” Harry asked. Draco watched as the man tripped over a goblin in his attempt to jump over the counter.

“He looks fairly stable to me.”

“He’s robbing a bank, that doesn’t exactly scream stability to me.”

“I seem to recall a story about you using Imperius to steal from a vault.”

“This is hardly the same—.” Harry whispered, blushing.

“Really?” Draco said. His throat was hurting from the effort of whispering.

“I was taking something back that didn’t belong to them in the first place.”

“How are you sure that he isn’t doing the same?”

“You! Come with me!” Another man had appeared out of nowhere and pulled Draco off the ground. Unable and unwilling to fight Draco allowed himself to be pushed into a small chamber.

“Open the vault or we’ll kill him!” the man yelled at one of the wizened goblins jabbing his wand into Draco’s neck. Draco tilted his head back trying to move away from the wand. A strange sense of déjà vu overcame him. The fear he felt before quickly evaporated. He had faced the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters! He could certainly handle this.

“Merlin, is that the best line you can come up with? I’ve read Muggle literature with better dialogue!” The man looked shocked that his captive was talking.

“I will kill you!” he screeched, waving his wand around. Draco swallowed. How Harry found the courage to do stupid things he would never know.

“You’re terrible! Worse than a bloody American, may as well call you Jack Daniels and stick a cowboy hat on your head,” Draco said, trying to wriggle out of the larger man’s grasp.

Suddenly, there was chaos. There was a smudge of black hair and a thousand brilliantly red sparks. Blinded, Draco took a step back managing to step on the big man’s toe. The man stepped back releasing his grip.

“Malfoy!” Harry said, before tackling him. A rush of adrenaline shot through his veins. Harry’s hand left a warm print on his arm. Draco struggled against the assault and found that Harry had slipped him his wand. In their fake tussle Draco managed to angle himself so that he was facing the large man who was simply standing and staring at them fight.

Idiot.

“Jack, look! It’s Harry Potter!” One of the men pointed out.

Draco stunned him and his accomplice before either of them had gotten over the shock of Harry Potter in the flesh.

Draco pulled himself off the ground and went out to the common area. Unsurprisingly, people had already swarmed Harry demanding autographs.

“Let it be said that life with you around is always an adventure,” Draco said, coming up behind him. Harry managed to shake off the crowd and followed him out. The Aurors stood around him.

“Harry!” Weasley called from the crowd. He was dressed in the full Auror regalia. The silver badge glistened in the sunlight.

“Malfoy, this way,” Harry said, leading him away.

“Did you know this was going to happen?”

“No, I just happened to be at the right place at the wrong time” Harry said, leading him to the Healer station.

“Mr. Malfoy! Is it true that you stunned your uncle in there?” A reported called from beyond the barrier.

His uncle? What were they talking about?

“Ignore them, they just want a story for tomorrow’s paper, doesn’t matter if it’s true or not,” Harry said, waving off the Healer’s offer to heal the bruises.
Just like that, it was over.

*
[PERSONAL NOTES] OF HEAD OF WIZENGAMOTH REGARDING THE DECISION OF NOT GUILTY
I will not be manipulated by the media. Mr. Potter will not be charged with the crime.
Let this be a lesson to us all, that playing games and hiding true intentions can only end in darkness.

Thank you.

No further questions.

*

“It’s going to make you fat.” Draco said to his mother before taking a sip of his tea.

“Vanity is a sin.”

“Only to Muggles.”

“Sins apply to humanity in general, not solely to Muggles. Who do you think wrote the Bible? Certainly not a group of Muggles, but rather a group of ancient Wizards who wanted a way to make a common basis of morality…not to mention scare the Muggles into never seeking us out for aid. Honestly, what did they teach at Hogwarts nowadays?”

“Congratulations, you’ve gotten eighteen requests for commissions and you’ve not even entered your final year yet,” Lucius said as he walked into the room.

“Thank you, Father,” Draco said, smiling. He would only accept one or two of them, but it made him feel good to know he was wanted.

Lucius sat next to Narcissa and placing leaned in to kiss her. Draco turned away uncomfortably; he would rather watch a nude show with McGonagall and Snape than watch his own parents kiss.

“That’s disgusting you know! I mean at your age, can you still…” Draco stopped with the look Lucius gave him. Lucius smiled and wiggled his fingers.

“Magic,” he said, smiling.

As Draco stood up to leave his sketchbook fell off his lap sending loose papers everywhere. Draco methodically counted to ten before cursing every god he knew the name of.

“What’s this? I thought you had gotten over your infatuation concerning Potter,” Lucius said helping Draco gather some of the papers.

“I was never infatuated with him!”

“Obsessed, and that was partially my fault, but you were self-destructive—willing to do anything to get the upper hand on Potter.”

“I was not!” He wasn’t willing to kill to gain the upper hand.

“Lucius, I’m feeling quite faint. Perhaps you would be so kind as to take me to our room.” Narcissa said laying a delicate hand on his father’s shoulder.

“Draco, do me a favor and pen out an invitation to Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger for dinner on Friday night,” she said.

“What?”

“Well Mr. Potter did save your life. I think it’s only polite that we invite him over for dinner.”

“You can’t be serious, Potter in our house?” Lucius asked, dubiously.

“I think you should listen to me more. Had you listened, we wouldn’t have been in this mess to begin with!”

“Harr—Potter won’t come.”

“Why not?”

“His girlfriend is still in the hospital,” Draco said, searching for reasons to not invite them to dinner.

“We are inviting him to a cordial dinner to thank him for helping you, not a party.”

“What?”

“I think this family has been ungrateful enough. It’s time to make amends and move on,” she said pointing to Lucius before leaving the room.

*

HARRY POTTER CAUGHT KISSING FORMER DEATH EATER, DRACO MALFOY

As this reporter [Rita Skeeter] only reports cold hard facts. Yes, it’s true. I saw it with my own eyes. When the Aurors came to arrest one Draco Malfoy (son of Lucius Malfoy, who pleaded not guilty to seven counts of premeditated murder and aiding a dangerous criminal), Harry Potter (who is training to be an Auror himself) kissed him in front of the crowd.
I can already hear the cry of breaking hearts. Never fear, an interview with Quidditch eye-candy, Oliver Wood, is located on page 14!

*

Draco did what his mother requested. They weren’t going to accept. Imagine the Golden Trio in the house of a former Death Eater. It would be like the Dark Lord showing up holding a basket of flowers and a bottle of wine.

Surreal wouldn’t even begin to cover it.

It was even worse when they accepted the invitation. Unfathomable! Harry, who refused to attend his own birthday party thrown by the Ministry, was coming to the Manor.

The clock chimed seven. Draco quickly grabbed a simple black dress robe with a silver snake crest. He was finishing up the last button when the doorbell rang. As a child, Draco had loved the chimes. The tintinnabulation of bells reminded him of Christmas time. Presents, sweets, and most of all…presents.

Straightening his collar, he went downstairs to meet the guests.

Weasley, Granger, and Harry (he really had to break this habit of thinking of Potter as Harry, really, what was he thinking?) stood at the base of the grand swirling staircase. The floating candles lit the hall making it glow gold. It spelled money, elegance and countless liters of blood.

Granger looked decent, Weasley kept staring at his mother, and Harry was dressed in a robe of deep green made of some shimmery material. Draco fought the urge to reach out and touch it.

Harry smiled, but it was a shallow. It was clear he didn’t want to be here.

“Hello, Potter,” he said, brushing his hair back. Harry’s eyes were a little bloodshot. He wondered if it was from a long night or something more sinister.

Bloodshot or not, they were still a vibrant green.

“Draco, thank you for inviting us to dinner,” he said, his expression too composed to be genuine. It was obvious he didn’t want to be here.

“Thank you for inviting us Mrs. Malfoy. It is a wonderful opportunity to try and repair the hurt caused by the war,” she said.

Politics. It was all about politics.

It was obvious that Granger had dragged Harry here to try to improve relations between the split factions of the Wizarding World. His father was trying to assimilate into the new political realm and had succeeded in making some important connections. Weasley and Granger were already involved in a lively debate concerning the raised taxes for war reparations.

Suddenly his mother’s idea made sense to him.

Harry’s forced presence also made sense. What better way to make amends than to get the icon of the Wizarding World in your home?

“Can I get you something to drink?” Draco asked trying to be polite. Dinner was going to be served in about half an hour. Long night was an understatement.

“Whatever you’re having.”

Draco passed over a drink, watched in surprise as Harry swallowed it in one gulp, and then leaned back obviously enjoying the experience. Draco arched his eyebrow.

“No need to rush, Potter, we still have the rest of the night.”

Harry set the glass down.

“Sorry, I’m just not a big fan of politics,” he said, shrugging.

“Looks like Granger and Weasley are,” Draco said, downing the rest of the Scotch in one gulp. It was Harry’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“They want to save the world.”

“Don’t sound so bored, it’s hardly our fault that you got the opportunity to do it first. Some people have all the luck,” Draco said.

“Luck, that’s a good word for it,” Harry said, pouring himself half a glass of the amber liquid and drinking it in one big gulp.

“What, you don’t believe you’re lucky?” Draco said, also pouring himself half a glass and swallowing it down in one sip. His head spun as he set down the crystal glass on the table.

Harry suddenly smiled.

“Don’t tell me you can’t handle your drink.”

“Just because I don’t drink like an alcoholic doesn’t mean that I can’t hold a drink,” Draco said, pouring both of them another serving.

“…we don’t want another power–hungry official in office,” Granger’s voice could be heard over the din.

“I am saying that we don’t want someone who is easily manipulated. We need a man strong enough to bear the burden of both sides. What do you think Draco?” Lucius rebutted. Draco whirled around still woozy from the sudden increase of alcohol in his bloodstream. Bloody Harry and his stupid games.

“I, uh, I think that we should consider the possibility of not having a Minister for some time and instead a sole body of law-making officials,” Draco said.

“No!” came four voices.

He turned back to Harry whose drink had mysteriously disappeared in the short time he had turned around.

Harry cocked his eyebrow and leaned back.

He couldn’t understand his need to draw Harry, he really was incorrigible, selfish, attention-seeking, idiotic, scar-faced, ugly, smelly, close relative of a goat—

“I think he’s entitled to his opinion,” Harry said, from the back. His face was flushed from the drink, but he was still standing tall.

Everyone stared at Harry.

“Well it was an illogical idea!” Weasley said to counter Harry’s obvious support for Draco.

“Well, dinner is ready, if everyone would follow me to the table,” Narcissa said, managing to rise up gracefully.

Narcissa managed to shuffle them into the seats such that they all weren’t clumped in their respective groups.

A sign of a good hostess.

The food was served and eaten. Weasley only cast four charms to check for spells and poisons. Lucius only had four glasses of wine during the first course, and Granger was surprisingly polite.

“I think the Dark Lord had the right idea. Strength comes from purity, I mean the Mudbloods—“ Lucius said.

Weasley’s fork clattered as it fell on the table.

“What did you say?” He asked, rising to his full height.

“There is a smudge of fudge on you,” Lucius said, smoothly covering up his indiscretion.
“I think it’s great that you’ve made such a big contribution to the war Orphan fund,” Granger said to him clearly trying to move past the slip.

“Everybody deserves a second chance,” Narcissa said.

“Especially after you orphaned them,” Weasley said, taking a sip of wine.

“There were casualties on both sides,” Granger said, shooting Weasley a look. Draco smiled behind his cup. Harry had had three glasses of wine already.

“Guess he won’t be getting any tonight!” Harry laughed hysterically.

Silence.

“Harry, I think you’ve had enough wine,” Granger said. “Perhaps you could get him a cup of water?” She asked one of the nearby house elves.

“This is wine? It tastes more like juice to me,” he said.

Draco locked eyes with Harry from across the table.

Stop.

Second chances are given, but rarely do they erase past wrong-doings.

Go.

“I hear they are instating a new system to make sure people like the Dark Lord aren’t allowed to rise to power again. Have you heard anything about it, Mr. Potter?” Narcissa asked.

Draco wondered if the night could become any more awkward.

And then it did.

It was the house elf who added the number that summated the ruination of Draco’s life.
With a glass of wine.

While refilling Harry’s glass the house elf somehow managed to spill some on Harry’s robe.

“Curses!” Weasley cried out trying to blot at the wine. Harry just sat there for a minute while Granger tried to reassure the elf that it was okay.

“Draco, perhaps you could show Mr. Potter to the bathroom,” Narcissa managed, over the chaos.

Draco led Harry down the hall and to the bathroom. When they got there, Harry immediately stripped off his outer robe.

“Wha-what are you doing?” Draco asked staring at Harry’s flat stomach. There was a hint of abdominal muscle under the light smattering of hair that went down his chest and led into his trousers.

“Oh, sorry,” Harry said not sounding sincere at all. “Thank you for showing me to the bathroom.”

With that, he gently shut the door.

*
OFFICIAL STATEMENT RECORDING OF HARRY POTTER

[1:54 pm]: Dennis came up to me demanding that I pay him a million galleons or he would publish several pictures of me and an article of “the truth” as he called it. I asked him to leave; he pushed past me and entered my house.

[1:57 pm]: Ah, no. Well he claimed to have pictures of me in erm… an inappropriate state of being.

[2:03 pm]: I don’t quite remember what happened next. He moved to kiss me.

[2:07 pm]: No, I didn’t hurt him them. I pushed him away and told him I wasn’t interested. I escorted him out of the door—

[2:08 pm]: I didn’t kill him. I went back into my room. I was angry so I threw an intent curse at my wardrobe and he fell out dead.

[2:10 pm]: No, I didn’t let him back in! I think he had one of his friends use Polyjuice, distract me so that he could sneak in, and hide.

[2:12pm]: If I fucking knew why he did it I wouldn’t be here would I?

*

Life went on, as it always seems to do whether or not you are ready for it to do so. Draco found himself with countless sketches of Harry; this number was only topped by the number of times Harry was pictured in The Daily Prophet over the course of the fortnight. Apparently, Harry had been quite busy buying textbooks and shopping for robes according to the latest article. Draco snorted in disgust upon reading about another witch claiming to be carrying the child of Harry Potter.

Nevertheless, it was quite a surprise then Harry fell in his lap.

Literally.

“Oomph! Ow! Oh! Sorry!” Harry looked bewildered.

“You’re lucky I’m not part of the HPC or else I would have already spirited you away to my top secret clubhouse and had my wicked way with you.” Draco said.

Harry groaned. “You heard about them?"

“Potter, the monkeys in Africa have heard about them. They’re demanding that you marry their leader or else they will kill your fiancé. I couldn’t even make up this tripe.”

“Ron’s been giving me hell for it!”

“Is there a particular reason that you fell into my lap?” Draco asked.

“Uh, sorry about that. I was aiming for Diagon Alley, not your lap specifically. I was er…in a bit of a tight squeeze.”

“I see,” Draco said.

“I guess I’ll see you around,” Harry said starting to walk away. It was like watching a butterfly fly without its wings; Harry didn’t walk away from things. A sense of déjà vu overcame him. Harry was always walking away from him.

“Potter, I feel like I haven’t had a civilized conversation with you in quite some time,” Draco said.

“It’s Harry…I think Potter would be taking a step backwards. I don’t think we’ve ever had a civilized conversation,” Harry said.

“I did say Harry, I just pronounced it differently,” Draco said, trying to appear at ease.

“You pronounced my first name as my last?”

It’s a proper noun meaning the pronunciation is open to interpretation,” Draco responded a tad defensively.

“So you’re telling me that I could pronounce Draco Malfoy as Daftface Mooner and have it be grammatically correct? I never realized how brilliant English could be, if only they told us that in grammar school I’m sure I would have paid more attention.” Harry asked his lips quirking upward. Draco felt a smile tug on the corners of his mouth, the first in many months.

“I don’t think it’s that open to interpretation.”

“All these stipulations! I think you’re making it up as you go along!” Harry laughed. It made him look…happy, which was unusual because Draco had assumed that Harry was always happy nowadays.

“Lies! All lies! I never made anything up in my life!” Draco said, falling into the conversation.

“What have you been up to?” Harry asked.

Draco hesitated before answering. The truth was more absurd than any lie.

“I’m in art school.”

“Oh. Well. I didn’t know that you liked art.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll let me sketch you?” Draco blurted out nervously. Harry looked surprised more than annoyed.

“I thought artists only sketch people they like.”

Maybe I do like you.

“Haha,” Draco laughed nervously. “A common misconception, I assure you.”

“What kind of people do artists draw, then?” Harry asked fingering his watch; it seemed to be a nervous habit of his.

“All kinds of people; people with scars, perfect people, people who pay them, people that inspire them, people that make them curious, people that may only exist in imaginations…people that arouse them,” Draco said idly stroking the table cloth.

“Which one of those am I? Do I arouse anger in you?” Harry asked laughing, his pitch an octave higher than normal. Draco averted his eyes as to not watch the blush that he knew would spread across Harry’s cheeks like wine across a canvas.

“Is that a yes or a no?” Draco asked.

“Do I have to be naked?” Harry asked sipping his water.

“No! No, just sitting in a chair or however you want to pose,” Draco blurted out. Merlin, this conversation was going to kill him.

“Excuse me? I just wanted to ask you to sign this book for my daughter. She’s a hug fan of yours! I don’t suppose you could make a house call? She’s ill and would love to meet you!” Harry turned to a tall woman holding a quill and a book out to him. Draco watched as Harry’s expression of horror quickly morphed into one of polite interest.

“Well, I guess I can sign your book,” Harry said reaching for her quill. No sooner had the words left his mouth a mob formed around him all jockeying for a position to get an autograph. It was like being in a room filled with balloons. Hot, smelly, heavy balloons all trying to push out the other balloons that were replaced by more hot, sweaty, smelly balloons. After fifteen minutes of being jostled and kicked by the mob, Draco decided to wait outside for Harry.

After about fifteen minutes Harry stumbled out of the café, his eyes wild he glanced around before running down a nearby alley and Apparating before Draco even had the time to shout.
So much for courtesy.

*

Interlude…

Above all, Harry considered himself lucky to be alive. This feeling faded more and more everyday when he sat by her bed.

“Ginny…” he whispered, running a finger down the side of her cheek. He imagined her turning around and opening her eyes. She did not move. The sound of her heartbeat pulsated throughout the room.

“Mr. Potter, it’s nice to see you again. We missed you last week,” the nurse said. She busied herself arranging an array of potions to administer to Ginny.

“I had a training assignment. Is there any change?” Harry asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No, just the same. She’s hanging in there, but she’s not getting any better.”

“Well as long as she doesn’t get any worse…” Harry said. Ginny lay there as the nurse ran a series of diagnostic spells. She looked as though she was sleeping.

“I need to go, but you’ll owl me if there is any change, right?” Harry asked. Every time he came in here, it became more and more painful. He could not bear the sight of someone so vibrant now immobile and just dead looking…

The nurse nodded. Harry left.

Stop.

Ginny stands on the edge of life staring into the abyss beyond.

She stands there immobile. Love is not enough to pull her back from the beautiful white light.

Go.

Harry walked out to the lobby and Apparated to the Auror training center. Ron stood in front of the classroom his arms crossed across his chest. He looked confident, worriless, but most of all happy. Hermione stood next to him.

“We were worried that you wouldn’t make it in time,” she said, patting him on the back.

“No, my appointment ran a little late that’s all.”

“Is there any change?” Ron asked.

“No, they said she wasn’t getting worse, though. She is stable though.” Ron reached out and patted him on the shoulder.

“She’ll make it through, don’t worry, mate.”

*

Blaise took a sip of the cider.

“And then he left you, just like that? Wow, what a piece of work,” he said.

“I was too shocked to do anything about it,” Draco said.

“How was his chest? Firm? I mean you were practically wrestling him on the ground the other day,” Blaise asked suddenly.

“What? How is that even relevant to the discussion of me almost dying after following Potter?”

“Oh, come on, you must have been on top of him for at least five minutes, not many people can say that,” Blaise said, smiling.

“It was fine, I guess. Prefer tits myself,” Draco said. Blaise almost choked on his cider.

“How long will you continue to tell yourself that? I mean I don’t even think your father would care that much, I’ve heard a few stories,” Blaise said with a smile.

“Shut up, I’m not like that.”

“You and Potter always had this thing going.”

“By thing you mean like six years of rivalry and now a life debt?”

“Yeah, that thing.”

“Merlin’s blue balls. Is that Potter?”

Draco swiveled around. Sure enough, there was a black smudge with green eyes sitting by himself at a table.

“Skeeter just walked in,” Blaise said, leaning back. “This will be interesting…”

“Why is that?”

“Because Potter hates reporters and he’s more than a little drunk. I wonder why he’s drinking alone?”

“Maybe he finally dumped Granger and Weasley.”

“No… I don’t think they know he’s out here,” Blaise said, squinting at Harry.

“What make you say that?”

“He’s drinking like has nothing to lose. Friends don’t let friends become alcoholics.”

It was like an invisible cord was attached to this belly. Every time he saw Potter, it was like a magnet. It was a startling emotion.

“Your kinds aren’t welcome here!” Dean Thomas shouted from behind the counter. Skeeter gave Harry a side-glance to check his reaction.

“Mr. Potter, I only have one question for you. Who are your friends?”

The tug was stronger. Draco stood up and walked over to Harry.

“Come on Harry, I think that we have to get up a little early tomorrow for that assignment.”

Skeeter looked shocked before reaching out to grab her notebook as the rest of the investigative personnel came in.

“So would you qualify Mr. Potter as your friend now?”

Draco smiled.

“Yes, absolutely,” he said lying.

He pulled Harry off the stool and slung his arm around his shoulder. Blaise followed him out the door helping as he half-dragged, half-carried Harry who was now nuzzling his neck.

“You smell good,” he said.

“You smell like the bottom of an ale barrel. Now, what’s your address?”

“Um… Hogwarts?” Harry said.

Draco rolled his eyes.

“Let’s just take him to the Manor. It’s unlikely that my parents will notice,” Draco said.

“Really? Will it be like a sleepover?” Harry asked. Draco attempted to lean away from his touch.

“No. It’ll be like you downing a pitcher of water and my throwing cologne on you… nay. Perhaps something stronger? Dog deodorant perhaps?” Draco said, wrinkling his nose. Blaise laughed.

“You’re a good friend, Malfoy,” he said.

*

CLOSED FILE, MARKED FOR DELETION
INCIDENT FILE: HARRY POTTER

SUMMARY: Subject was intoxicated and did not want to leave premise [DEAN’S IRISH PUB]. When confronted subject was violent and refused to relinquish his grip on the bottle of gin.

CONCLUSION: Auror King requested that this incident remain closed and not affect the subject status in Auror Academy. Subject was forced to take two weeks off and go in for a psychiatric evaluation.

*

The headlining story was poorly written; the picture of him on the front page was even worse.

“Look at this! Who took this picture? Were they blind? Seriously!” Draco yelled at Blaise pacing the room.

“Had he moved twenty degrees to the left he would have caught the light and I would have looked like a god, instead he managed to capture me looking like a white Dementor!”

There was a buzzing noise emanating from the bed behind them. Blaise and Draco turned around and saw Harry roll out of bed and pick up his wand.

“I have to go now or I’ll be late for training, but thanks,” Harry said, as though he woke up in a stranger’s house every day.

“Don’t thank me, Potter. You now owe me,” Draco said. Harry grinned.

“Slytherin. Fine, I owe you from saving me from the scum reporter,” he said before Apparating out of the room.

*

INTERVIEW SOLD TO THE QUIBBLER.

[DENNIS CREEVEY]: Mr. Potter! They said you were the last one to see Ms. Weasley, what happened?

[HARRY POTTER]: No comment. Please, I need to get to work.

[DENNIS CREEVEY]: Is it true that Ms. Weasley was hav—

[HARRY POTTER]: Don’t say another word.

[DENNIS CREEVEY]: Mr. Potter! Can. You. Ack, let go of my neck!

[RONALD WEASLEY]: Calm down, Harry! Let go of him!

[HARRY POTTER]: He is scum! He’s always bloody following me around, I just want to be left alone. Just leave me the fuck alone!

[RONALD WEASLEY]: [ERROR 19: decibel level too low for transcription].

[ARTHER WEASLEY]: We will be giving the official statement on my daughter’s condition now. She is unconscious, but her vitals are good and the Healers have hope that she will pull out of this.

[RITA SKEETER]: Will this affect your campaign in any way? I mean having your only daughter in a coma with only the word of her fian—

[ARTHUR WEASLEY]: Ms. Skeeter, Ginny would have wanted me to continue campaigning. It only further emphasizes the need to stop the chaos and bring Britain back into the civilized world. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have business to attend to.

*

Harry stared at the picture of Ginny and him sitting in front of the lake waving to the camera. Ron and Hermione were out for the night, it would be so easy... He took a sip of the rum and allowed it to flow slowly down his throat.

The owl hooted softly demanding a treat.

He picked up the letter hoping that somehow he had read incorrectly, that the smudged ink and shaky writing was covering up some crucial word.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione,

St. Mungos sent word that Ginny went into cardiac arrest and while they were able to save her, there is no longer any brain activity.

Arthur and I decided to take her off the life support. We will wait for you to come back.

Love,

Molly


They were presumptuous. Harry knew Ginny better than anyone else; he had already written three drafts of a letter telling them to not do it. That Ginny would have wanted to live.
It was futile. This fight to live. What was the point, one wave of the wand and it was over.
He wrote a letter. After sending it, he couldn’t recall what he had said.

Then he fell into bed. The last image to cross his mind was not Ginny, but Draco.

*

“You have to go,” Lucius said, from his position on the couch.

“It’s a play about Harry Potter, I hardly think that’s my type of place,” Draco responded. He stared longingly outside.

“It’ll look good… that we are supporting the war orphans. You do realize that all the people in the prime seats are donating to the orphan fund. We need you out there,” Lucius finished.

“Might be a good place for you to meet some potential clients,” Narcissa said from her spot on the loveseat.

Draco left the room. He was twenty; his parents shouldn’t be in control of his life. An idea dawned upon him.

Smiling he penned a letter.

You owe me.

Quickly attaching the ticket to the letter he sent it.

This might be interesting.

*

“I can’t believe you tricked me into coming to his event!” Harry whispered after they had taken their seats.

“You knew perfectly well where we were going,” Draco said flipping through the program of the musical.

“Still, you bribed me. I’ll have you know that bribery it illegal.” Harry said out of the corner of his mouth as he smiled and greeted the various dignitaries that passed.

“The-Boy-Who-Loved, a most romantic tale of the Boy-Who-Lived and how his love conquered the ultimate evil,” Draco read from the program. “With a title like that I would expect that the protagonist hugged You-Know-Who to death possibly smothering him with his man boobs.” Draco declared stroking his chin.

“It’s a good thing I don’t have man boobs then.”

“I can just see him screaming ‘Not the love, Harry! Not the love!’”

“Wouldn’t have worked anyway.”

“Too simple, your way was much better,” Draco said. Harry grinned at that.

“I wonder who’s playing me,” Harry said flipping through the program. Their questioned was answered when the curtain opened revealing naked (save for the loincloth) Gilderoy Lockhart with short dark hair.

“Hark how the winds of fate have brought me to the crossroads of this quest. I must conquer the Dark Lord but alas, how lonely the road to victory is. All I want is the love of a beautiful woman with...” Lockhart began gesturing dramatically to the audience.

“Oh god!” Harry whispered a look of horror coming onto his face. “Draco touched his finger to his lips trying to refrain from bursting out with laughter. Harry had fallen out of his chair he was laughing so hard.

“Shut up, you two! If you don’t have respect for Harry Potter, then don’t come here!” Someone stage- whispered from behind them.

Draco shot them a glare and turned back to the problem at hand. Harry was sprawled out of the floor of the box running his hand over the thick burgundy carpet obviously marveling at the texture.

“They have better carpet here than I do in my flat…”

“That should tell you something about the state of your flat. You have enough money to afford a good flat; I don’t understand why you don’t use some.”

“I happen to like my flat; it’s just not so gaudy and overdone like this booth.”

“We are in the theatre. What did you expect? Tastefully painted bowls of fruit? Theatre is about passion and hyperbole and huge tits and—! Merlin, are you crying?” Draco said popping a chocolate from his pocket into his mouth. That was definitely a chocolate worthy comment.

“You know, I haven’t actually cried since I was ten…even when they died. I didn’t cry at Remus and Tonks’ funeral or my parent’s memorial service—here I am on the floor crying because Lockhart is in a loincloth,” Harry said wiping the half-formed tear out of the corner of his eye.

“I’ve always maintained that you were a little weird in the head,” Draco said cheerfully offering him an arm up.

“It takes one to know one.”

During the intermission, Harry pulled him away from the bar and into a small enclosed room.
“What are we going back here?” Draco asked slightly nervous.

“I don’t know, I just need to get away from their annoying small talk.”

“And so you dragged me away?”

“You looked like you needed from saving from that bartender. He looked like he was going to eat you alive.”

“I think I can handle myself, thanks for the support though.”

Harry looked embarrassed. He looked unbearably attractive in the dim light his slightly tan skin was golden.

“Oh…”

His lips were pink. The scotch Draco had earlier was now clouding his senses. They were close, so close.

It started as a gentle kiss on the lips. Draco reached up and ran his fingers through Harry’s hair pulling him closer. Just as he moved to deepen the kiss, Harry pulled away.

“No, I can’t,” Harry said, walking out of the small room.

“Wait!” Draco called.

Harry was sitting in the booth when he returned.

“How much longer is this going to drag on?” Harry asked, smiling. It was only a little forced. Clearly, Harry wanted to forget the kiss.

“Well, considering we just had intermission, I’d say we are about half way through,” Draco responded, awkwardly.

*

Stupid. Stupid. Why would he kiss Harry? It was irrational. Just because he was an artist didn’t mean that he was irrational and whimsical.

The Floo connection flared. Draco sat up, who could possibly be calling at this time of night?

Shockingly, instead of a face appearing, Harry stumbled out of the fireplace. He stood up hastily and dusted himself off.

“Potter! What the fuck are you doing here?” Draco asked.

Harry looked up.

“I… thought about what happened tonight,” He said.

“Bully for you, how did you even get in here? We have a closed connection,” Draco said.

Harry started to unbutton his shirt revealing a pie slice of flesh. Draco accidently knocked over his drawing table in his haste to turn away from the sight.

“Wh-What are you doing?” Draco managed to get out while resolutely staring at the uneven stucco walls. Harry looked up a faint blush visible on his cheeks.

“I’d like to commission a portrait of myself from you,” Harry said pulling off his shirt completely. Draco averted his eyes.

“What makes you think I would accept your commission?”

“I’m Harry Potter,” Harry said unbuckling his belt. It was as simple as that. Entitlement. Every rustle of cloth rang loudly in his ears until Harry was completely naked.

“You’re humility continues to astound me.”

“Think what you want, Draco. You could listen to one head and think of your future career or you can admit what we both know. It’s a win-win situation for you."

“That’s what I don’t understand. What do you gain from this all? You hate being photographed or recorded in any way.” Draco didn’t know why he was objecting Harry was right; it was a win-win situation for him.

“I must decline your request for a commission,” Draco said. Harry was drunk, his rational reasoning was on vacation, take your pick.

“Please, it’s not for me.”

“Who is it for?”

“Ginny,” he said.

“You want to draw a nude portrait of you for your girlfriend in a coma?” Draco asked.

“I want you to draw it, please,” Harry was begging now. Draco moved to put his arm on Harry’s shoulder.

Draco picked up his charcoal.

“Just, uh, pose. No, act natural don’t do anything stupidly heroic,” Draco said amazed that his voice that didn’t crack.

Harry leaned against the heavy window curtains.

Draco’s hands were shaking as he tried to sketch a quick outline. It ended up looking like a blob with an arm.

“I-I can’t,” Draco finally said, putting down his charcoal he crossed the room.

“She’s dead. She has been for almost a year now,” Harry said his voice devoid of any emotion. It was unnerving to see such a passionate person speak like that.

“I’m sorry…”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“What happened to her?” Draco asked. Realizing that that would probably count as prying, he stopped.

Harry looked away.

“Nobody knows,” he said. “We think she was sitting by the creek when something startled her and she fell in and hit her head on the rocks.”

It was too rehearsed.

“Really? And you were the one that found her?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a load of rubbish, tell me what really happened,” Draco said.

Harry sat down.

“I didn’t do it! I swear!”

“What didn’t you do?” Draco asked, resisting the urge to reach out and pull him close.
“She…. We were out there together. She told me that she wanted a break. That she wasn’t ready to get back together again,” Harry started in a low voice. Draco nodded.

“I was upset and I threw some magic at the old tree. It wasn’t a particular spell, it was just something. Intent I suppose, power… a tree branch broke and hit her on the head. I tried to stop her from falling in, I did! But she hit her head on the rocks and the current was strong. It was awhile before I could get to her…” Harry’s voice was deadpan now.

“It wasn’t you’re fault. It was an accident.”

“It was my fault! Why won’t they admit it?”

“Because they need you around,” Draco said.

“What about you Malfoy? What has you so broken up inside that you would paint things called ‘A spatter of Soul’.”

“Loneliness,” Draco said.

Harry moved just so the early morning light hit half of Harry’s face. Still wrapped in the heavy curtains he looked as though he were bathed in blood. But he was so very beautiful.

There.

That was it.

The perfect pose.

“Don’t move,” Draco said, running back to pick up the piece of charcoal.

*

“I still hate you…mostly,” Draco said, as they lay back in bed the next night. Harry stared at the ceiling. Draco turned over and lay on his side. He ran his fingertips down Harry’s stomach.

“Do you treat all your subjects to this treatment?” Harry asked giving a small shudder as Draco lightly pinched his nipple.

“No, only the ones I hate,” Draco said. He reached down on the floor to pick up the vial of lube when he touched something hard.

“What is this?” He asked Harry.

“Oh, it’s a Sharpie. It’s kind of like a self-inking quill made by Muggles.”

“Why is it on my floor?”

“I had one in my pocket, it probably fell out when you had your hands down my pants,” Harry said, stretching out like a cat. He then rolled over with the blankets half covering him.

“It smells abysmal,” Draco said popping off the cap.

“It is good for marking things without the use of magic.”

Draco reached out and drew a short line on Harry’s back.

“What are you doing? He asked, pushing his hips into the bed. Draco lightly spanked him.

“Marking you,” Draco responded, quickly adding to the lines. It had a nice flow and color, despite the fact it smelled, and it was good. He worked his way up ending up with a pattern all the way up Harry’s side and peeking onto his neck. It was tantalizing.

By the he was finished he was unbearably aroused and it was rather obvious from the noises that Harry was making that he was enjoying the experience.

“Draco,” he whispered. He turned around and grabbed Draco’s neck, pulling him down for another kiss.

“I keep telling myself that I need to leave. That I shouldn’t be here, that I can leave you whenever I want,” Harry said, arching his neck into Draco’s kisses.

Draco didn’t reply. He was afraid of saying something wrong.

“I tried to give you up, but I’m addicted. After all this time, I think I’d like to have faith in something,” Draco said.

“Faith, it’ll make you insane, make you abandon the truth. You’re insane to lead the life that you’re living. How did you ever believe Voldemort?” Harry asked from his spot on the bathroom floor. Draco stopped.

“I believed him… at least at first. I started to have doubts after seeing so much blood spilled. It doesn’t matter what I did believe at that point. He offered me a chance to prove myself, to be honored.”

Harry stared at him.

“Dumbledore was the same way,” he said finally. Harry was suddenly close enough that Draco could feel Harry’s hot breath on his lips.

And the rest of the night was lost in a haze of kisses.

Draco was woken up by the pounding on the door. He turned over only to see that Harry was already stumbling out of bed.

“Were you expecting anyone?”

“No,” Harry moaned, picking through the pile of clothes. He finally found a pair of trousers and put them on.

“Open the door, Harry!” Weasley’s voice rang through the flat.

Draco heard the click of the door and the sound of heavy boots on the wooden floor.

“Did you see the paper?” Weasley asked. “Look at this!”

“What the hell is going on?"

“I know and he’s somehow managing to lead in the polls.”

“How is that even possible? It says here he announced last night at midnight.”

“The numbers were taken this morning.”

“What are you going to do?”

“…Nothing, what do you want me to do? The election is today,” Harry’s voice rang through the flat. Draco slowly crawled out of bed lest Ron notice him.

Draco cautiously hid in the hall trying to listen to their conversation.

“You could declare your support for my dad.”

There was a silence.

“Is that why you came over here?”

“It’s what Ginny would have wanted.”

“Get out. You know nothing.”

“I knew her a hell of a lot better than you did! What was her favorite color? Or were you too busy trying to get into her pants to care?”

“I loved her! I died the day she died!”

“No, if you truly loved her then she wouldn’t have died to you.”

The door slammed shut.

Silence.

Draco could hear something smash.

“Harry,” Draco said.

“Maybe you should give—?”

“I want no part in their stupid political machinations.”

“You are an important figure in this society, you can’t deny that,” Draco said.

“He is trying to blackmail me into giving my support to him,” Harry said, lowly.

“You don’t have to support him. You have the power in this relationship, without your support he’ll never win,” Draco said.

“It’s easy for you to say! You sit there on your pedestal watching as the world passes you by! You don’t have to go out there and deal with the consequences of that fucking, hideous, putrid, dumb, idiot!” Harry yelled pulling at his hair. “You’re not stuck in a war between two sides where both sides are wrong!”

“I’m sorry, but that was the worst insult I’ve ever heard. Vol- the Dark Lord was the darkest lord of all time and all you can think of is that he was putrid? I mean, that doesn’t even make sense!” Draco said trying to lighten the mood. He couldn’t go into this now, it wasn’t the time.

“Don’t try and change the topic! I know your father has been funding the Lighter extremists.

Look!” Harry threw the paper at him. Draco opened it and found the smiling face of his father smiling down at him.

“My father is trying to aid in the reconstruction of the government!” Draco said wanting desperately to believe his own words. It hurt that neither of his parents told him about it.

“People are nothing but selfish and greedy unable to feel anything for anyone unless it doesn’t benefit them in some way!”

“Potter! Calm down!” Draco said desperately. The glass windows seemed to be melting and bubbling.

“They sold my memories for fifteen galleons a year!”

“You’re letting them win. Don’t let them have their story!”

“And you! You did it too! I remember that day…with the beetle,” Harry said obviously not hearing a thing he said. Forgoing the glass Harry reached for the bottle of vodka while waving his wand in drunken circles.

Draco nervously reached for his wand prepared to cast a mild sleeping charm on Harry.

Suddenly Harry was up against him, the only thing between them was Draco’s wand and a few thin pieces of cloth.

“Sit down,” Draco said trying to subtly tug away the wand from Harry’s steel grasp.

To his surprise, Harry sat.

“You’re unhappy because you spent your whole life living for that moment, that one moment when you would defeat him and now there is nothing to do except move on. Your girlfriend, in addition to looking eerily similar to your mother, is obsessive and you want the comfort and stability she offers. Not her. Don’t give me that look, you know it’s true. She was practically the President of your fan club in school.”

“She loved me!” Harry cried clutching at his ears as if it would drown out the sound of Draco’s voice.

“She loved the idea of you!”

“No…,” he was begging now.

“You confuse obsession with love—.”

“That isn’t true, I was obsessed with you sixth year and you don’t see me jumping into your pants!” Draco resisted the urge to say that he wasn’t wearing any pants under his robes.

“I don’t love you! I will never love you,” Harry said. It hurt to hear him say that, but it wasn’t the point of the discussion.

So that’s what this is about, love. Love won’t protect him any longer.

“You’re lying,” Draco said. Harry lunged forward

*

Fast forward.

The election is over. Lucius has won. All that sympathy, that charisma, that money.

It has won.

Draco doesn’t know who is more upset, Harry or him. He stared at Harry’s stoic face; he was assigned to guard the new Minister of Magic.

The irony is so great that Draco’s hands itch to pick up a quill and immortalize the moment forever.

Narcissa is standing beside Draco looking far more radiant than a woman should at her age.
Harry won’t look at him.

*

Stop

A surgeon cuts deep to heal. Draco is a surgeon with words; Harry does not want to be helped.

It’s why Dennis Creevey is dead.

Go.

Two weeks later Draco sprinted through the hallways of Harry’s apartment building. Not caring if the Muggles noticed the random sparks his wand was omitting, he even shot a stunner at the half-asleep security guard. The door burst open for him without him even touching the doorknob. A bottle lay on the ground.

“Potter!” Draco called out as he trekked through the apartment. It was even more of a mess than normal.

Draco followed the messy trail into the bedroom where Harry was on his knees in front of an inert body.

“I told him! I told him not to come,” Harry wept.

Draco bent down. Nothing. No pulse, no blood.

“What happened?”

“He died,” Harry said, wiping the tears with the back of his fingers.

Draco moved and transfigured the body before levitating it out of the window and letting it drop. It changed back the instant it hit the ground.

The Aurors came for him three days later.
Tags: [fic], rated: r, round: winter 2007
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