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Author's Chapter Notes:
Author: dark0feenix
Rating:
R
Pairing:
Draco/? (also hints at previous Harry/Draco)
Summary: Draco’s mission becomes a mission impossible when a somewhat familiar stranger interferes in it.
Warnings:
Slash, some cursing
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling and various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author notes: Thank you for all the people who offered to beta this and huge thanks to my betas Emma (monifieth ), Sarah (haloisi ) and Elsie (elsie ) who did an amazing job with it. I’m so very grateful. Any remaining mistakes are solely mine, since I couldn’t keep my fingers away from the keyboard.

My first ever fic in English. Yay!

Originally posted here

The alarm went off and Draco cursed. This was not the way he had planned things, but it seemed that sometime between accepting the assignment and going to the party earlier that night, all of his plans had flown out the window. He hadn’t acted so foolishly since his days at Hogwarts. What was it that made him feel like a hot-headed teenager again, playing a game that he could never win?


* * *


Draco stared at the reflection in the mirror, trying in vain to fix his ghastly red hair. Freckles! Merlin, he hated them. They made him feel like a Weasley. There was no escape from it though; it was now or never. He gave one last glance at his alien self and headed out of the bathroom. Showtime.


* * *


Limousine after limousine pulled over at the main entrance. The mansion was huge, a palace really, and it was full of light and sound. The front doors were wide open and packed with glamour and glitter as people dressed in their finest filled the entrance. This was the party of the year; the guest list was straight from who’s who of the Wizarding and Muggle worlds alike. Draco adjusted his bowtie nervously. He knew he could do this. He took a deep breath, flashed one of his charming smiles at the doorman and stepped inside.

The assignment had been simple, as promised. The note in the envelope Pierre had given him had contained only two things: Richard Mahony, the name of the target, and the Jade Tiger, the desired object. Draco had done his research; he had discovered that Richard Mahony was an extremely wealthy American wizard, who visited his so-called modest country house in Britain a few times a year. He had made his fortune with Muggle business dealings, hence his extensive connections with members of the Muggle upper class. He also had some very good connections amongst the Wizarding world’s crème de la crème; he was one of the biggest investors in post-war rebuilding projects, as well as a welcoming host to some very important Ministry officials, who were often invited to enjoy the benefits of his many estates worldwide.

Richard Mahony was also a passionate collector. He collected historical treasures and artefacts, and objects of high magical value. To Muggles, his large collection seemed only a random, but clearly priceless, selection of oddities. To many wizards it was the cause for endless envy. The newest addition to his collections had been the Jade Tiger, a fairly small and ancient statuette. Its powers were not well known, but Draco was sure that it possessed powerful dark magic. The fact that he had been hired anonymously at such a huge price only supported his beliefs. It had to be a very valuable object indeed.

Draco felt slightly anxious about the whole thing. He wasn’t really worried about the con part; lying was second nature to him by now and he was well prepared for this case. The problem was that this wasn’t just another cunning sham: this time he was also supposed to play the part of a thief. He hadn’t expected this, but once he had accepted the envelope, there was no way out of it without tarnishing his reputation. The actual theft would raise the stakes, not to mention stealing something from a wizard.

Luckily for Draco, Richard Mahony had one weakness: redheads. Young red-haired men, to be precise. It was the perfect excuse to take care of two things at once: it would not only be easier to catch Mahony’s attention, but he could also go through with it unrecognized. Taking Polyjuice potion was always a nasty procedure, but this time it was twice as bad. He couldn’t afford for it to wear off as quickly as usual, so he had used one of his own concoctions – the aftereffects would last a week or longer. He decided to worry about that later while lying on a sunny beach with a fruity drink in his hand and half a million Galleons in his pocket.

When Draco entered the great hall, it was already full of guests. He moved to a table, grabbed a drink and stood there for a moment, scanning the crowd. He located his target easily. The man was standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by a large group of people who were laughing at something he had said. The man was in his late fifties, chubby, merry and loud. Draco didn’t take him for the jovial man he was trying to portray for a second; Richard Mahony was a sharp and hard man, and a wizard at that. There was no room for mistakes.

With a determined look on his face, Draco set the glass aside and walked through the crowd decisively, taking his time. He passed the group of people, and at the moment when Mahony lifted his gaze, Draco gave one of his most enigmatic smiles and walked on.

He came to stand next to a huge Muggle painting on the far side of the room and pretended to study the picture. His heart was pounding in his ears, but he didn’t dare to look back. The big irony in all this was that he had to be seductive, looking like somebody with a wildfire on his head, and he felt as insecure as ever. He had counted on his information that redheads were the way to go, so, insecure or not, the game was on.

"Hello there, young man. I don’t believe we’ve met."

Draco turned around to see Richard Mahony right behind him. He nearly licked his lips. So far so good. He offered his hand and gave another one of his charming smiles.

"Good evening, Mr. Mahony. My name is Ryan Scott. Thank you for the invitation; I’m really impressed with the lovely party you’ve organized. I was just admiring your painting – it never ceases to amaze me how these Muggle paintings manage to capture the moment so perfectly, even though they don’t move at all."

There was a knowing glint in Mahony’s eyes, as Draco confessed belonging to the Wizarding world, and he smiled broadly while shaking Draco’s hand but still observed the other man keenly.

"Quite true. You are most welcome, Mr. Scott. You must forgive me, but I seem to have forgotten our connection. Refresh my memory, will you; how do we know each other? I’m quite sure that we haven’t met before, because I wouldn’t forget a face like that."

Draco didn’t even blink. "That’s right, sir; we haven’t met. I’m here on behalf of my senior partner, Mr. Emerson. I’m from the main office."

"Oh, I see. What a pity he wasn’t able to come." Mahony sounded pleasant, but the sharp look in his eyes didn’t change. "I do know Mr. Emerson, Matthew, quite well, but isn’t it odd that not once in our dealings has he mentioned a younger associate?"

"Well, I’m hardly ever there. I’m mostly doing the fieldwork."

"What sort, Mr. Scott?"

"Research and negotiations. Usually searching for the lost artefacts."

"Oh, you are the treasure hunter then."

Draco gave a delighted laugh. "I guess you could put it that way. Although I can assure you, Mr. Mahony, it’s not even half as exciting as it sounds. It’s mostly dull paperwork done in dusty libraries and such."

"Oh please, call me Richard, dear boy. And quite the contrary. It does sound very intriguing. It seems that we share a mutual interest for objects of beauty, young man."

Draco winced slightly at the constant reminder of his age. The downplay made him feel uncomfortable, and he almost had second thoughts about choosing this twenty-something form for this occasion. Almost. So far it looked as if Mahony was buying his cover story, and things were going quite smoothly.

"So, Ryan, what are you currently after?"

"It’s supposed to be top secret, but I guess it won’t matter much if I give a little hint. It involves a certain Incan Mask, spotted in a European city with a seller who doesn’t want to part with it unless the price is high enough. There is no knowing the authenticity, though. It could be fake." It didn’t hurt that Mahony had a special interest in ancient Incan Masks.

"An Incan Mask, you say?" Mahony scratched his beard. "I might be able to offer some assistance, but I would need to know more about it, of course. Would you care to stop by at my town house tomorrow? We could discuss it some more and then see what to make of it."

Draco adopted his most genuine look of regret. "I wish I were able to come tomorrow, but my flight leaves early in the morning, and there’s no knowing when I’ll be back."

"What a shame. Couldn’t you — "

At that moment a brunet clapped Mahony’s shoulder.

"There you are, Richie. Isn’t it time for the much-awaited tour you promised us?"

Mahony looked a little annoyed at this interruption, but he gestured at his other guest. "Yes. I did promise to show you around a bit, but let me first introduce you to Ryan Scott from Emerson and Co. He was just explaining his opinion of the painting. He seems to share your interest in Muggle art."

"Oh, does he now?"

The young man turned to look directly at Draco, his clear blue eyes curious. He extended his hand and gave Draco a firm handshake. "Very nice to meet you, Ryan. I’m Remy Jareth Pastor, but you can call me Jay like all my friends do."

"Nice to meet you."


The man continued to hold Draco’s hand a bit longer than necessary. Draco was sure he had never seen the other man before in his life, but he couldn’t help feeling somehow familiar with him. He snatched his hand away and tried to shake the strange tingling sensation off.

"So, Ryan, like what you see?"

"Excuse me?"

Remy pointed at the painting on the wall, and Draco turned to look at the elaborate and colorful scene of angels and demons and tried not to show his irritation. Things had been advancing quite well before this clown had shown up.

"I — "

"If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I need to look after the other guests. Remy." Mahony gave a curt nod. "Ryan, I hope to see you again later this evening. I’m giving an exclusive tour of the house to a select few to show some artwork from my extensive collections. You are, naturally, invited, and it would give me great pleasure to see you there."

Draco forced a smile. "I wouldn’t miss it for the world."

Mahony turned and left them alone.

"So…"

"So."

"What was it that you do again? I didn’t quite catch it."

"That’s probably because I never said it."

Remy gave a short laugh that unnerved Draco. Something was out of place here, but he couldn’t quite figure out what. It was almost as if the other man knew him, but how could he? There was no way he could see through the Polyjuiced disguise. Unless, of course, something had gone astray and Draco was standing there in the hall full of guests, one half of his hair flaming red and the other half pale blond. But that was most unlikely. He didn’t made mistakes with potions.

"You must be an artist, if you caught Richie’s attention that quickly."

"You are quite wrong, I assure you. I couldn’t paint a decent picture even if my life depended on it."

"Okay, no artist then. But there are other forms of artistry. I bet you still have talented hands. I can tell."

"Really?"

"Really. Pray, what is it then that you do at Emerson and Co. Surely you aren’t just a common desk rat?"

Draco was starting to get angry. Maybe it was partly the nerves, maybe because he didn’t feel as confident as usual in his loan body. Normally, he knew how to control his feelings better than this.

"With all due respect, Jay, I don’t know what you’re getting at, but hands aside, I’m a junior partner at Emerson’s and it’s up to me to find and evaluate the precious historical or magical artefacts they sell."

Remy looked more interested at hearing this. "Oh, so you’re their treasure hunter then. You’re going to love the tour of the house. Richie’s collection is one of the biggest in Western Europe. And the jewel of it is the Jade Tiger, but you must know all about it, don’t you?"

Draco’s heart leaped up in his throat, and he didn’t quite know how to respond. "Yes, I do. Why?"

It must have sounded a bit defensive, but Remy only shrugged nonchalantly. "No reason. I’m a bit of a collector myself. I might need your services sometime."

Draco had to suppress a snort. What a jerk.

Remy continued, undaunted. "I’m serious. I own a gallery and I’m constantly searching for things to sell there. Like this one here," he said pointing at a painting next to the demons. "I lost it to Richie for not using the right sources. If you — "

This night was his only chance to get the Jade Tiger, and Draco’s patience had worn out. He cut the other man short. "Pardon me, I have little interest in things that lack substance," Draco said, referring to the painting but looking the other man straight in the eye. "If you catch my meaning."

Remy flashed a wide, teeth-baring smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. A strange expression passed fleetingly over his face, but was quickly gone. "Some things require a second look."

"I doubt it."

Draco was about to leave, when Remy shoved something into his hands. "Look, here’s my card. If you change your mind, please give me a call. Any friend of Richard’s is a friend of mine."

Draco didn’t bother to answer. He merely took the card and walked away. He glanced at the business card briefly. It had the name Remy Jareth Pastor written on it in delicate, curved letters. What kind of a name was Jareth anyway? he thought. He turned the card around, and on the other side he saw the contact details for the man’s gallery and home. Draco shoved the card in his pocket and forgot about it almost instantly. His mission was all he could think about and there was no more time to waste.

The rest of the evening was extremely frustrating. Whenever Draco tried to get close to Mahony again, Remy was always there. He didn’t get a second chance to talk to Mahony alone. He was almost starting to get ready for plan B, which meant giving the area a thorough look in order to break in later. He really wasn’t looking forward to it, since it would either put him at great personal risk or make him go through another extra hard Polyjuice treatment. He didn’t know if his stomach could take it.

When he was about to give up hope, he saw a small group gathering at the far side of the room. He made his way there just in time to see Mahony opening the door and showing the guests into the next room. The man stayed at the door to keep it open, and when Draco walked by, he whispered in his ear.

"I was thinking that perhaps we might meet later in my private quarters after the tour…for a talk. I have some old books about South American Indian Masks that you might find useful. To get there you need to climb up the stairs. The password is Cornucopia."

Draco was having a hard time answering, his heart was pounding so excitedly in his chest. He had little doubt what the man was after in his private quarters, but he sure wasn’t going to stay there long enough to find out. There was little he wouldn’t do for half a million Galleons, but he wanted to try and avoid spending any more time than necessary with the old perv. With effort he composed himself, showing his most innocent face.

"You are far too kind. I’d appreciate it very much."

Once in the next room, Draco saw Remy, who was nearby, putting something long and stringy back into his pocket. Draco looked at him suspiciously, but the man only winked at him and moved on.

In other circumstances the tour of the house might have been interesting, but Draco followed it only until he found the stairs leading to the next level. He slowed down his pace and waited until the last guests were out of sight. Then he sprinted up two stairs at a time and found his way quickly to the most guarded room of the house, the bedroom. If he had done his homework well, the Jade Tiger would be waiting for him on the other side of the door.

Draco whispered Cornucopia, and the doors opened before him. And the Jade Tiger was right there on a pedestal, just twenty feet away. Draco smirked; it was like robbing a candy from a child. Mahony was obviously very confident in his warding spells. How stupid of him. Draco was not Malfoy for nothing, and he knew quite a few spells more than the average Hogwarts graduate, spells that would be particularly handy in a situation like this. Resolutely, he set to work.

In twenty minutes Draco had passed the warding spell, retrieved the object and Disapparated as far from the house as possible. He clenched the surprisingly small green object in his hand and felt the Galleons starting to fill his pockets. It had been child’s play, really. All he had had to do was to dismantle the warding spell for a second and switch the statuette on the pedestal with the one he had brought with him to the party. It was an exact replica; nobody could tell the difference without a proper investigation.

He studied the small tiger in his hand carefully, now that the immediate danger was over. It didn’t really look all that special, but surely there had to be something to it. The mysterious wizard who had hired him would hardly want it just for its beauty. It took him a moment to realize that something was missing. The magic that he had felt vibrating from the tiger back in the house was gone. As a matter of fact, he couldn’t feel anything, no magic whatsoever pulsating inside the object. He frowned. This wasn’t right.

Draco leaned closer, and suddenly the tiger roared. He yelled at the unexpected outburst and dropped the thing. The minute it hit the ground, it shattered into a million pieces. It gave Draco the shock of his life. This couldn’t be true. This couldn’t be happening to him. Carefully he bent down and picked up the biggest piece that was left of it. There was some tiny writing on it that he hadn’t noticed before. He squinted hard and to his utmost horror he realized what the writing said: Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

At that moment a small sheet of parchment dropped to his hand from the inside, and he just stared at the curved blue text, stunned. Better luck next time.

Draco gave a frustrated cry and hurled the tiger’s head to the nearest bush. This was…this was unacceptable! He had been used like bait to get the needed information and then tossed aside. This was humiliation. He had been bested in his own game! And he knew exactly who to blame, even without the short note. It had been that Remy-call-me-Jay guy all along. He had listened at the doorway to get the right spell and gone in just before Draco.

He was simmering with rage as he felt his golden future slip away. No harm done, surely. He could just return home, tail between his legs, explain to Pierre that he had made a fool of himself and that was that. No tiger, no money. He would just have to resume the life he was living and hope for another opportunity to come by. An opportunity that might never present itself. Or.

Or he could go after the statue and finish this. It would be stupid and reckless, since he hadn’t planned it at all, but he was too close to give up now. Besides, he was positively sure where to go look for it.

Draco reached for the business card in his pocket and checked the address. Two could play this game. It was time for that second look.


* * *


And so, there he was, one moment creeping along the walls in a dark and silent mansion that seemed all but deserted, looking for any sign of the tiger or the man himself and the next moment triggering the Muggle burglar alarm just by stepping on the only wrong tile on the whole floor. Damn it. He should have known better. When he had arrived, he had been careful enough to check the mansion for spells, all kinds of them, hexes even, and found nothing. It should have been obvious that something was wrong. This was a trap, and he had walked straight into it.

Suddenly the lights went on, and Remy appeared at the end of the hallway.

"Lost something, did we?"

Draco snarled. He was one second away from hexing the man right on the spot, when the room was suddenly filled with men. And not just any men, Aurors. Shit! There were at least ten wands directed at him, and it didn’t look as if they were going to cast a harmless Jelly-Legs Jinx or a Leg-Locker Curse. Then one of the men noticed Remy in the corner.

"Sir. The alarm went off and we thought that there was an intruder in the house."

"It’s okay, Harris, the situation is under control. I will carry on from here."

"As you wish, sir."

With that the men were gone. Dissapparated, each and every one of them. Only Draco and Remy remained in the room that had suddenly dimmed. Remy came closer, smiling at Draco in a way that was not completely unpleasant. It was the look of a man who knew he was in charge of the situation. Draco felt a weird twitch in his stomach and he mistook the feeling for disappointment. There was no way he could get the Jade Tiger now. Silently he kissed the fortune goodbye.

Remy came very close. Very, very close, so that Draco had to take a few steps back. And then a couple more. Except that there was nowhere to go. Draco was pressed between the wall and this man, who held sway over his future, and Draco didn’t like it one bit.

"So. Breaking in, not once but twice, stealing other people’s property. Looks like someone is having a busy night."

"Cleaning out the trash you left behind can hardly be called stealing," Draco spat.

Remy tutted. "It’s your personal trace they have all over the place, since you were there last person in the room. That’s what counts."

For a moment Draco froze until he remembered that he hadn’t used his own body. It gave him a little hope. If only he could make it out of here in time before the Polyjuice wore off, he might be able to escape. He licked his lips, not nervously.

"What do you want?"

"No, Ryan, the question is, what do you want?"

Remy caressed Draco’s cheek lightly. It shocked Draco to no end that his body was starting to respond to the caress. Remy was only a few inches away. His blue eyes were piercing, but there really wasn’t anything special about him, and normally, Draco wouldn’t have looked twice in his direction. When exactly had he lowered his standards to include average-looking nobodies on his fuck list? He needed to keep his wits now, if he was to come out clean from this mess.

"I — I’m not sure what you’re getting at."

Draco bit his lip. That hadn’t come out the way he wanted. Where was his famous Malfoy charm, when he needed it? Probably buried under the countless freckles.

Remy grinned at him, and there was nothing average about that grin. The man leaned closer still, and his breath ghosted Draco’s ear.

"Tell me, when will your Polyjuice wear off?" A shiver ran down Draco’s spine, a mixture of fear and something else. I’m lost.

Draco looked at the man in front of him and gasped. Not only had the other man blown his cover but he realized too late that the brunet had also drunk his share of Polyjuice. As if on cue, when his own red hair started to morph back into the usual pale blond locks, an all too familiar lightning bolt shaped scar that had haunted his dreams in more ways than one for so many years manifested itself in Remy’s forehead.

"You?!"

Draco grunted. Remy Jareth Pastor was none other than the insufferable git, Harry James Potter. He wanted to kick himself. Hard.

"Hullo, Draco, long time no see."

The blue was rapidly fading and giving way to a pair of startlingly green eyes that sparkled with amusement.

"Potter, just cut the crap. What is it that you want from me?"

"I thought I made myself pretty clear."

The man’s hand came to rest heavily on Draco’s belt, and suddenly it was considerably more difficult to focus on the words spoken.

"No matter what you might think, I’m not that easy." The word ‘anymore’ was left unspoken, but it didn’t sound convincing to even his own ears.

When he spoke, Potter’s voice came from somewhere between Draco’s ear and neck. The words tickled Draco inexplicably; they were light, but there was something almost tender in their tone.

"And why would I think that?"

Potter’s hand softly squeezed the bulge in Draco’s crotch, and Draco hissed. He refused to give in to the memories, but he was fighting a losing battle, as was often the case when dealing with the man in front of him.

Potter turned his head slightly to look into Draco’s half-closed eyes.

"Tonight was only a test. I wanted to see how good you are, whether your performance can still satisfy me."

Draco’s eyes shot wide open with indignation, but he managed to control himself just enough not to push too wantonly into the other man’s touch.

"Oh? And did you find my performance…satisfying?"

"I don’t know, it’s hard to tell. Yet. There is a gig, but it’s highly demanding. It involves a lot of sunbathing and fruity drinks and it’s extremely dangerous."

"Like what? Mowing your lawn?" Funny how little weight sarcasm held when it was delivered as a mewl.

"There’s this Galleonaire who’s currently spending time on his yacht in the Adriatic Sea. Fancy working with a partner with brains for a change?"

"What are you? An Auror or a thief?"

Potter’s laugh was alarmingly pleasant. It made Draco itch in all the right places.

"Wouldn’t you like to know?"

Draco knew he was being childish, but he almost pouted; he had nothing else left.

"I want my half a million Galleons."

Potter’s good spirits were almost contagious, and the money wasn’t the foremost thought in Draco’s mind. "Oh, but there is so much more to be had than your half a million. Leave now and you get nothing. Join me and you get to share the profits."

"Join you?" Instead of a challenge with slightly flirty undertone, as intended, it came out as a breathless yelp.

"Yes, Draco, join me. What do you say?" For better emphasis Harry Potter licked Draco’s earlobe. That was the last straw for Draco’s undoing. He simply melted. He lifted his hand, first a bit shyly but then with more conviction, to trace that very familiar jawline. It had been a long time indeed, and he wasn’t just thinking about their school years.

Despite the irritation and humiliation of the events of the evening, Draco felt something warm inside him. It was infinitely small but it resembled hope. His body decided it for him, and he thought that maybe, maybe, there could be something to this after all.

"The Adriatic Sea, you said?" He felt a bit light-headed, especially since Potter’s hand was still down there, teasing. Could they really make it the second time around? "Why, Scarhead, you must be reading my mind, you Legilimens, you. I’ve always wanted to visit Greece."

Potter’s smile was bright and inviting. "I thought you might say so."

He pulled his hand away, and Draco grunted in disappointment. The sentiment was soon forgotten, however, when Potter grasped his hips and pressed him firmly against himself, their erections brushing each other almost accidentally. The next words were spoken against Draco’s lips.

"We need to get out of here before the real owner of the house returns."

Draco managed a weak nod. Their breaths mingled for the briefest of moments, and then their lips met a split second before Harry Apparated them away.


* * *


The sky was gloomy and cloudy, and it threatened to rain at any given moment. Pierre was standing by the window without really seeing the view, still pondering the postcard he had received that very morning. He didn’t really know that many people in Greece, but the elegant handwriting didn’t leave much room for guessing. In the card, Draco had told him that he would be extending his unexpected stay under the sunny skies for an unknown period of time. He couldn’t say when he would be returning, but obviously not any time soon, since he was rather busy learning things from his new partner. Of his new partner. However, he sent his heartfelt greetings to his old mentor and encouraged him to pay a visit to the south whenever the grey of England became too much.

Pierre turned away from the window and saw the card lying on his desk, depicting a sunny beach and an impossibly blue ocean. He chuckled and shook his head. The sneaky little bastard. Some people were just born lucky.


Fin.