Draco waited till he was home to open the envelope. Living far away from the Wizarding world did have its benefits and he was nervous about stepping back into his past. He sat down on his sofa and played with the envelope for a few minutes, before opening it. A small piece of parchment shot out and landed on his open palm to reveal:
Renault Pippin, Esquire
Monday, 10 a.m.
Lobby of Hotel Aliquant
Wear a carnation and look for a red coat
Surprised at the directions, Draco reread the note. It seemed straight out of a badly written children’s mystery book and he wondered if this was some elaborate joke that Pierre had set up. After all, his mentor had used unusual teaching methods in the past. But the challenge, and the prize meant Draco Malfoy’s pride had to give it the good ole try.
On Monday morning, Draco stood in front of the tall mirror in his bedroom dressed in a sharp grey suit; a wilted white carnation in his hand. Grimacing, he pinned the flower to the lapel of his breast pocket and pocketed his wand. After so many days spent living as a Muggle, his wand felt strange to the touch. The last time he had used it had been the night he had apparated away from Hogwarts, before Snape had let him loose in Muggle London and covered his tracks for him. With one last look at the mirror, Draco walked out of his apartment to meet his mystery client.
Draco apparated a few blocks away from the hotel, at eight thirty a.m. He felt uncharacteristically nervous and decided he could use the walk to calm his nerves. At ten minutes to nine, he strolled into the lobby and looked around. Draco immediately felt the strong hum of magical energy in the background and sure enough, even in the early hours of the morning, the hotel had enough magical guests for Draco to realize he was a wizard again. He strategically placed himself in a comfortable chair behind some large potted plants, which afforded him a view of the front door and the ability to form an opinion on the mysterious Mr. Pippin in the red coat.
Along with the front door, Draco had an unobstructed view of the hotel’s bar. Since there was a lull in guests walking into the lobby, Draco took the time to scrutinize the poor slobs who were wasting their lives away, drinking first thing in the morning. His eyes raked over a tall, slender brunette who was draped attractively over a barstool. He idly wondered if the man might still be around after he had met with Mr.Pippin, and which of his pick-up lines might work. Draco allowed his imagination to fast forward to the time when the job had been completed, and he might re-enter the Wizarding world. A Ministry ball would probably work best. He could promise to donate a sufficient sum, the prodigal son returning to clear the illustrious Malfoy name. If asked about his absence, he could explain it away with a few hints of holidaying in the Continent.
Suddenly, a buzz gripped the elegant Hotel Aliquant. Draco turned to see his age-old nemesis striding through the lobby, looking for all the world like he owned the place. In an instant, Draco was reminded of all the hate he held for Harry Potter, with his smug, superior ways. And all the reasons that a Malfoy had been reduced to conning Muggles to make ends meet. But what caused Draco the most anguish was that all those memories did not stop his mind from registering that he wanted Harry Potter more than anything else in the world. And he would never be able to explain why.
Harry Potter had not noticed Draco; this was the way it would always be. Draco watched Harry walk to the bar, pick up a drink and sit next to the brunette Draco had noticed earlier. Harry immediately struck up a conversation with the other man, and even as Draco watched from afar, the conversation seemed to be moving quite well. In about fifteen minutes, Harry had his hand on the small of the man’s back as they leaned into each other. So the rumours had been true after all – the great Harry Potter was probably gay! This realization only served to underscore the fact that Draco Malfoy would never be able to get what he wanted, regardless of the circumstances.
Draco’s observations were interrupted by the chill point of a wand pressed against his neck, followed by a familiar voice hissing in his ear.
“Draco. It’s good to see you. Now, why don’t we go someplace private where we can talk?”
“Father!” Draco jumped up and turned around to come face to face with Lucius Malfoy. He had not seen the man in over twelve years. The senior Malfoy still radiated power and charisma, though it was easy to see that the years had taken their toll on him. Draco’s heart beat painfully harder; his surprise at seeing his father alive overshadowed by his worry over the presence of Harry Potter and the imminent arrival of Mr.Pippin.
Lucius Malfoy merely raised an eyebrow before turning around and walking away. Draco had no choice but to follow. It was getting close to the hour when he was to meet with Mr.Pippin but he couldn’t very well leave word with the hotel staff. He looked around nervously but nobody seemed to be paying attention to him. Least of all, Potter. Who now had that idiotic tramp draped all over him.
Some days, the universe really did not cut you any slack.
Draco’s head reeled as he stepped out onto the street. His meeting with his father had barely lasted a half hour, but he felt as if his world had been turned upside down. Not only had his father been more than aware of what Draco had been up to these last couple of years, he had actually commissioned him for a very important task. His father seemed quite proud of him. Draco was elated. He knew the senior Malfoy did not pay compliments to his own flesh and blood easily. The mere fact that he had specifically asked for Draco and the sheer magnitude of the task, spoke volumes of his faith in his son.
As he apparated home, Draco slowly went over the details of the conversation in his mind. Father and Severus had worked out a deal with the Minister of Magic, which would allow Lucius to return to the Wizarding World hailed a hero. According to the terms of the deal, the Malfoys would fund the Minister’s peace efforts with the Merpeople by helping build an underwater office of the Ministry. The Malfoy fortune would also contribute to the Minister’s re-election efforts. In return, the Ministry (with Severus’ help) would create a trail of evidence to establish that Lucius had been helping Snape with the spying he had done for the Order.
The success of the plan hinged on Draco. It was anticipated that the members of the Order would raise a furore if Lucius was proclaimed a war hero and pardoned. The Ministry would be able to effectively silence people like Remus Lupin and Minerva McGonaggal, but Harry Potter was different. If Harry Potter refuted these claims and had any evidence to show that Lucius was nothing but a Death Eater, Lucius was sure to be back in Azkaban and Kissed. And Lucius knew that Potter was indeed sitting on a very important piece of evidence – his memory of the final battle. Minutes before he had killed the Dark Lord, a Death Eater had attacked Harry. Harry had managed to disarm him and pulled at the mask before he knocked him out with a powerful Stupefy. And in that instant, Lucius Malfoy’s face had been revealed.
The task before Draco was simple. Retrieve Harry Potter’s memory from that night so Severus could distort it and replace Lucius’ face with a Death Eater who had already received the Kiss of Death. Then Draco would have to replace the doctored memory in Harry Potter’s mind. Once again, the survival of his family lay on Draco’s shoulders. And this time around, there was nobody to save him from his destiny.
Draco had also learnt that Mr.Pippin was one of his father’s solicitors and would serve as the go-between. Lucius trusted Renault Pippin who, though he was not privy to all the details of the plan, knew it involved Harry Potter. Draco was to call on Renault Pippin at his earliest convenience. All further communications on this matter had to be channelled through Pippin. Lucius took pains to impose the need for discretion on Draco. Any letters sent had to carry the Malfoy crest (only the male members of the family wore the crest on their ring and it was impossible to duplicate the pattern). And any communication was to be coded using the system created by Cartier Malfoy. The code was passed down from father to son (Draco had learnt the code before he was ten) and nobody else in the Wizarding world, including his mother, was aware of its existence.
For two days Draco stayed holed up in his flat, refusing to talk to anyone. Pierre had called at least five times, hoping to worm some details out of him. To Draco though, the project had become a matter of life and death. Here was the chance he had been waiting for, for the past two years. A chance to restore the Malfoy name and get his family back together. Draco had wanted that every day since his Father had been thrown in prison in his fifth year at Hogwarts. And to do all that he would have to pull the wool over Harry Potter’s eyes. Draco closed his eyes to savour the moment. As nerve wracking as the pressure to succeed was, the thrill of defeating Potter and walking all over him would be sweeter than all the galleons in the world. This was the challenge he had been waiting for and he would not allow himself to fail. With new resolve, Draco returned to his careful planning.
The sun shone brightly overhead. A slender brunette who greatly resembled Draco Malfoy in his build stepped out of Draco’s apartment, wand securely tucked in his pocket. He was dressed casually in a shirt and trousers and carried a bagful of Wizarding Weekly magazines on his shoulders. He looked around before apparating away.
Harry Potter whistled as he cooked breakfast in his kitchen. A fantastic shag the night before had put him in good spirits and he hoped to see Ken again next week. He was happily sniffing the aroma of pancakes, when the doorbell rang. Wondering who on earth would come calling at such an early hour, Harry casually pocketed his wand and walked to the front door. He looked through the peephole and saw a pale silhouette. He only knew one person with that colouring and there was no good reason for that person to come calling first thing in the morning. Harry carefully opened the door and brandished his wand in the caller’s face.
“I was wondering if you would like a subscription to Wizarding Weekly magazine,” the stranger drawled slowly even as he held out both his arms. His bag dropped to the floor with a loud thump. Harry bent down to retrieve it and came level with the stranger’s crotch. A strange jolt of something shot up his spine. He straightened up and peered at the stranger’s face. The man was very attractive, tall and slender with dark hair and a friendly smile. Harry put away his wand and put out his hand. The stranger looked at him carefully before grasping his hand in a firm shake.
“I’m Harry. Would you like to come in? I was just making breakfast,” said Harry.
“Bill here. Thanks for inviting me in. You’re my first call of the day and it’s a little early to be calling on people, pitching subscriptions,” sighed the man as he stepped past Harry into the living room. Harry, still holding onto the man’s bag, followed him into the house and shut the door.
“Nice place you have here, Harry” he said as he looked around the living room admiringly. Just then, the smell of burning food wafted into the living room and Harry let out a loud gasp.
“I forgot about the pancakes!” Harry shouted even as he dropped the bag and strode briskly into the kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable, Bill. I’ll be right back. Would you like some tea?” he called out from the kitchen.
Draco quickly stowed the bag under a chair and moved slowly around Harry Potter’s living room, drinking in all the details. Renault Pippin had been most helpful, providing him with Potter’s address as well as some interesting little titbits of knowledge. For instance, he had learnt that Potter had a soft spot for brunettes (which explained what he had seen in the lobby). And that Potter seemed to tire of his amorous companions rather quickly. Which suited Draco just fine, he was not looking to be a brunette any longer than necessary. He had also learnt that Potter preferred to have his escapades at home, and not risk publicity by holing up at a hotel. So if Draco managed to seduce Potter, he could count on access to his house and belongings.
The house looked comfortably furnished and well lived-in. Draco was surprised to note that it actually resembled his apartment in many ways. Who would have ever thought that he and the Boy Who Lived would have similar tastes?
“Bill, would you care for some tea?” Harry repeated from right behind Draco. Draco jumped but quickly hid his surprise and nodded yes. Harry disappeared back into the kitchen and reappeared with a tray bearing two steaming cups and some biscuits. They made themselves comfortable on Harry’s sofa and a companionable silence fell over the room, interrupted only by the sounds of drinking.
“So, would you be interested in some subscriptions?”
Was it Harry’s imagination or did Bill sound reluctant to bring up the magazines? Frankly Harry wasn’t the least bit interested in the subscriptions but he was very interested in learning more about the person who was peddling them. So he put down his cup of tea and turned around to face Bill.
“Hmm… yes. I’ve read Wizarding Weekly in the past and enjoyed some of the stories. Does Rita Skeeter still write for them?”
Draco had no idea what he was saying but he dutifully launched into a monologue on the benefits of a subscription and the quality of the writers. He answered that Rita Skeeter still wrote pieces for the magazine, though he wasn’t sure if this was true. Mostly though, he was congratulating himself on the fact that Harry had bought his story and if he wasn’t mistaken, was planning on asking him out. Things were going according to plan.
An hour later, Harry was saddled with a lifetime subscription to Wizarding Weekly. In addition, he had managed to brush his hand across Bill’s thigh five times, touched him on the arm twice, held his hand for a full two minutes, and was currently leaning over him under the pretext of reaching for his wallet. All in all, the hour had progressed well. Harry was surprised at how comfortable he felt with Bill and how well Bill looked, sitting on his sofa. All thoughts of Ken were forgotten as Harry leaned further in and found he was staring into Bill’s pale eyes. Obligingly, those eyes fluttered close.
Harry pressed forward until his nose bumped up against Bill’s and tilted his face slightly to the left. Bill sighed and it sounded very loud against the sudden stillness in the room. Harry carefully placed his lips against Bill’s and revelled in their softness. And just like that, the stillness shattered. The kiss turned hungry and full of need. Bill fisted his hands in Harry’s head even as Harry grabbed him around the shoulders and pushed him down onto the sofa. Harry followed, the kiss never breaking. Their hands roamed all over each other, as if they could not get enough. Harry’s body felt like it was on fire, and a few drops of sweat soon gathered on his forehead. The kiss went on for what felt like ages before Harry felt Bill’s hand sneak into his trousers. He gasped and threw his head back as the hand skilfully massaged his cock. Harry knew he was harder than he had ever been before. Recovering his breath, he pushed Bill’s hand away and tore open his shirt. Peppering his chest with kisses, he worked his way down before opening Bill’s zipper with his teeth, and licking his cock. He was rewarded with a loud moan.
Harry licked his cock a few more times before swallowing as much as he could, and used his one hand to fondle Bill’s balls while the other strayed up to play with his nipples. He soon had Bill writhing and whimpering on the sofa. The soft noises egged Harry on and he sucked harder. Within a few minutes Bill threw his head back and moaned Harry’s name, even as he shuddered and came in long spurts.
Even in his lust filled daze, Harry noted that Bill had called him, “Potter”.
After a few seconds, Bill seemed to have recovered completely. He reached up and kissed Harry and their dance started all over again. This time, Bill went down on him and Harry had to admit, the man was talented. When Bill sucked on his cock, Harry swore he saw stars. And Bill’s hand twisted in his as his other hand fondled his balls. But what struck Harry the most was how comfortable he felt around the man and what strong reactions they were able to elicit in each other. Harry had never thought that sex with a stranger could be so passionate. It had taken him and Ken at least three tries to get to what he previously thought had been fantastic shag levels. Now he really understood what fantastic meant, and they hadn’t even shagged yet. Bill had Harry moaning in orgasm in a few minutes. And if he noticed that Harry clamped a hand tightly over his mouth when he came, he didn’t mention it.
It had been a week since Draco had showed up at Harry Potter’s door. On the first day, two mutually satisfying blowjobs had run in to a lunch invitation. Harry promised to cook in the nude and Draco sat on a counter and fed him bits of leftover breakfast pancakes. Lunch was followed by a quick hand job in the hallway and some heavy snogging. After which Harry had asked him to stay for supper. Since he had proved to be an excellent cook, Draco accepted. That night, Harry and Draco fucked like bunnies. Literally. They lasted four rounds.
Which meant Draco was sore all over when he woke up the next morning and of course; Harry had to take care of him. Under the pretext of checking for bruises, he managed to sneak in a small rim job and a quick blowjob. Far be it from Draco to be indebted to Harry, he had hastened to even the score. Day two ran into day three, a pleasant blur of hands and lips and teeth and tongue. Leaving behind softly whispered exclamations of adoration and hard evidence of sex. When Harry had to step out to buy food on day four, Draco found he actually wanted to go with him. It was only when they were at the register that he remembered that he should have stayed behind and poked around Harry’s house. Harry. Draco found that though he remembered his original plan, somewhere along the way fantastic sex had addled his brain. He found himself entirely too willing to lose himself in Harry Potter. And the fascinating way his eyes lit up when he pounced upon Draco. Or the way his hands would always reach for Draco’s when they were watching telly or eating dinner.
Both of them pretended not to notice that after that first time, neither of them had called out names during sex. In fact, “Bill” and “Harry” were not heard again that week.
On day seven, a note arrived from Pippin’s office for Draco, when Harry was taking a bath. Pippin wanted to know what progress was being made in the case, as certain parties had called to ask for an update. What exactly could he pass on? Draco hastily scribbled out a reply saying that things were progressing according to plan. He would have more news for him soon. In the meantime, could Pippin arrange to have an elf bring some of Draco’s clothes over?
When Harry came out of the bath, he looked happy. Draco assumed the water had been just right. After all, he did draw a good bath.
A week turned to two, which grew into three. Slowly but surely, all of Draco’s things were brought over. Since he had been living as a Muggle, none of his possessions seemed to raise Harry’s suspicions. Pippin and Draco continued to correspond about once a week, though the man quickly turned into a conduit for bringing Draco’s things over rather than a source of any concrete help.
That night they went to a little French restaurant around the corner for dinner. Between the main course and dessert, Harry squeezed Draco’s hand and asked him if he had ever thought of colouring his hair blonde. Panicking, Draco shook his head and said “No!” louder than he had intended. Harry merely smiled warmly and took a sip of his drink. The incident was forgotten over the fruit tarts, chocolate mousse and Harry’s foot creeping up Draco’s trousers. Later that night Draco turned to Harry and asked him if he had any enemies. Harry held his face, kissed his cheek and looked him straight in the eye and said “No. No, I don’t”.
When they came back to Harry’s home, Harry grabbed Draco, pushed him against the wall and trapped him between his hands. He slowly popped open every one of Draco’s buttons and slid his shirt off his shoulders. He then kissed all the visible skin reverently, before moving back up to capture his lips. Draco sighed deeply into the kiss and tangled his hands around Harry’s neck, drawing him closer and closer until he found himself staring into Harry’s eyes.
Something changed in that instant. Later, neither of them could tell if it had been something in the air, or something in their wine.
Draco knew he could not cheat this man as he had cheated hundreds before him. And would probably cheat hundreds after him Years of petty rivalry and depths of hatred had been washed away by a few weeks of passionate, unhindered togetherness. Harry didn’t even know he was making love to his archenemy, but nevertheless, he had been making love. Since that very first day they met, Draco had been lost in the magic that was Harry Potter. Fleetingly, his mother’s face passed before his eyes. He closed his eyes to draw a deep breath and pushed Harry away. Draco bowed his shoulders and buried his head in his hands.
This was to have been his greatest victory and Harry had taken it away from him without nary a word. How was he to go back to his father? What was to become of the Malfoy family? Draco cursed the irony that had defined every moment of his life since his father had been thrown in prison. It felt as if at that moment, his entire life had been coded using the infamous Cartier Malfoy Method™ and Draco had since lost all keys to decode it. The plan, the magnificent plan, that was to accomplish so many things. Even now, Draco could recite the details in his sleep. Seduce Harry Potter. Gain his trust. Gather access to the penseive in which he had placed all memories of the final battle. Knock him out with a few drops of the Sleeping Potion. Sift through the memories using the spell his father had taught him. Grab the memory he was looking for and store it carefully in the vial that Severus had supplied. Send the vial to Pippin directly.
There was more. Stay at Potter’s for a few more days; Severus needed seven days to doctor the memory. Knock Harry out again, and wait for the eagle owl to deliver the doctored memory. Replace the memory in the penseive and leave Harry behind. Walk out that door and never look back. Never Look Back. Maybe Draco could still follow one part of the plan.
He vaguely registered that Harry was shaking him and calling out his name. Calling out his name. He looked up, startled.
“Draco, look at me. Look at me! What’s wrong? Draco!” Draco stared wordlessly at Harry, who went from scared to sheepish in what had to be a world record for a turnabout.
“Maybe we should talk,” he offered and led a shocked Draco to the sofa and sat them both down.
It was dawn when they were done talking. Just in time for an eagle owl to deliver a note from Lucius Malfoy to his son, letting him know that Lucius and Narcissa were back at the Manor and Draco was welcome home any time he pleased. Harry read the note out loud to Draco and then kissed him soundly.
Draco grabbed the note and read it again. And again. He still couldn’t believe everything that had happened. Harry was Mr.Pippin! He had been aware that Lucius had been planning something since before Draco had entered the picture, and had been pretending to be that kindly old solicitor for over a year now. The real Mr. Pippin was on a Muggle cruise with his wife, enjoying his well-earned retirement. Harry had known Draco was Bill as soon as he had whipped out his prick, that first day. Draco might have fooled him, except that Harry had spied on Draco and Terry Boot getting up to all sorts of things in the Hogwarts greenhouse, while hiding under his invisibility cloak in sixth year. And he had never forgotten Draco’s cock. Draco was flattered on hearing that piece of news. Harry had also taken a detour to explain that his preference for brunettes began at that time – he had fallen so hard for Draco and had been so jealous of Boot that he had sworn off blondes. It said a lot about the two of them, that this made perfect sense to Draco.
Did Draco know he talked in his sleep? Harry had woken up one night, thirsty, and heard Draco obligingly reciting his plan verbatim. Harry had heard him out, thought it was a good idea and carried it out on Draco’s behalf. He had originally intended to muck it up so badly that Draco would get thrown in prison along with his father. Somewhere along the way, that changed. Lucius Malfoy had been sent Harry’s memory from the final battle and nobody was any the wiser. And no, Harry couldn’t tell Draco the exact moment when he had the epiphany that some things mattered more than others. And that Draco mattered to Harry, most of all. Harry had been waiting patiently for Draco to have the same epiphany. Draco had been upset on hearing that Harry had reached that conclusion ahead of him. The argument and the pleasant interlude after, had taken some time away from all the talking they had done.
So now, the rest of their lives stretched out before them. It felt strange to both Harry and Draco that circumstances had worked themselves out the way they had. Both of them wondered out loud if it was just the sex. They agreed it was fantastic sex and would probably last them longer than relationships based on talking and understanding. Who needed words, after all? Draco had gone silent for a bit after that and then pointed out that they also shared similar tastes in decorating and Draco enjoyed Harry’s cooking. He felt these facts ought to help guarantee their happiness somewhat. Harry agreed.
Once again, life had run away from Draco Malfoy but for the first time, it felt like a good thing. Now he had to see about teaching Harry the Cartier Malfoy Method ™.
THE END
Author's Chapter Notes:
Author: wildegirl_05
Rating: R
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/ Harry Potter
Summary: Draco Malfoy has finally found the perfect outlet for all his Slytherin talents – working as a con man conning Muggles. But one mysterious note later, he finds himself back in the Wizarding world, facing far more than he had anticipated.
Warnings: None
Originally posted here .