Do You Still Believe?

Do you still remember all the time that has gone by?
Do you still believe that love can fall out from the sky?
If from where you're standing, you can see the sky above
I'll be waiting for you, if you still believe in love

~*~*~*~

The morning dawned bright, early, and entirely too sunnily for Harry's foul disposition. Not that he had any reason to be in a foul mood; it was simply a state of being for him.

He'd gone into work an hour before anyone else was even hoped to be there, and at least three hours before the majority of his office were scheduled in, and he'd been finishing the paperwork that he needed to catch up on. Paperwork in the Auror Corps was a complete waste of time, as far as Harry was concerned, as the same thing needed to be gone over again, and again, and again, on five different sheets of paper, with twenty different questions, all asking the same thing over and over again. What happened, and when and how?

He usually let it pile up for a week, and then pulled all-nighters or early mornings like this one to finish it all. He didn't need to write it down immediately; he had an eidetic memory, and could recall details from cases he'd closed years ago. As an Auror, no one had a better record, and no one had a worse reputation. Hermione had gone mad under Cruciatus during the war, and Ron was dead, killed in the final show down between himself and Voldemort, and Harry saw no need to allow anyone else into his life. He was an auror because he had nothing else, and he was a good auror because he just didn't care.

He didn't care if he was late, or early, or whether or not he didn't make his mark. He didn't care if he almost died, and he didn't care who they partnered him with. Nothing mattered, except his job, and he did it with exception.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, head of the Auror Corps, London, wandered in shortly after Harry, still a good fifteen minutes before the earliest of the early birds were due in. "Potter," he said by way of greeting, unsurprised to see the dark-haired young man sitting at his desk. "Are you still here, or did you just get here?"

"I've been here about half an hour," Harry answered truthfully, without taking his eyes off his papers.

Shacklebolt sighed, rummaged around a bit, and then stood near Harry's desk for a good five minutes. Harry supposed he was waiting for Harry to initiate the conversation, to ask why he was there, but Harry wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. If he had something to discuss, he'd discuss it, whether Harry participated in said discussion or not.

Finally, when other people started trickling into the office, and Harry still hadn't initiated conversation, Shacklebolt wandered off to do whatever it was he did during the day. Harry sighed, wondering what that waste of time had been all about, and returned to his paperwork.

*

By mid-afternoon everyone was back from break, and Tonks had been called out to the streets to deal with some minor tussles, and Harry was finished with his paperwork. Having nothing better to do, he climbed out of his desk chair and was making his way towards the coffee pot when a small paper bird fluttered into his face. He smacked at it, before realizing that it was a message from Shacklebolt, who preferred origami cranes to paper airplanes as a means of communication. There was something vaguely familiar about the bird, but the message was more important than the means in any case.

Potter, it read in a lazy scrawl. Shacklebolt needs you in his office urgently. Don't waste time. It was unsigned, and Harry wondered who in their right mind would dare to send him a note such as this one, especially on a paperwork day. Scowling, he delegated the remains of the bird into the nearest rubbish bin, and made his way towards Shacklebolts office. It was the one true office on the floor, the rest of the room comprised of double-wide cubicles. Harry mostly ignored the other desk in his cubicle, seeing as how it was more often than not empty. He had no desire for a partner, and on the few occasions they deigned to foist one off on him, he made short work of getting rid of them.

Irritably, he shoved open the door to Shacklebolt's office, and slammed it behind him, ignoring the whispers that flew furiously behind his back.

"Have a seat, Potter," Shacklebolt said easily, and one of the chairs pushed itself out invitingly. Harry glowered at it, opting to remain standing.

"You called?" he prompted darkly. Shacklebolt sighed, leaning forward over his desk and steepling his fingers together in front of his face.

"I have something very important to ask of you," he said, and Harry immediately knew that they were going to attempt to foist another partner onto him.

"No," he said, and turned around to leave. The door clicked locked, and Harry turned back to see Shacklebolt's wand pointed past him at the door.

"You are not leaving this office until you hear me out, unless you are willing to leave your job here with you!" He rose to his feet menacingly, and Harry was made aware of how small he remained, despite being nearly twenty four. Refusing to let Shacklebolt cow him into accepting an unwanted partner, Harry boldly yanked the other chair loose of it's position, and sank into it.

"Talk then, Shacklebolt," he said, looking disinterested.

Shacklebolt clasped his hands on the desk, and began explaining.

*

Outside the door, the waiting person Harry had stalked past without even a cursory glance leaned back against the wall, trying to eavesdrop without seeimg too conspicuous about it. He heard the lock click, and wondered what had been said.

A few minutes later, he heard Harry's voice raised in protest.

"Absolutely not!"

"Harry, hear me out!" Shacklebolt said, sounding frustrated.

"I'm not going to take on one of your charity cases, Kingsley!" Harry shouted. "I don't care how much of a fan he is, or how much he's willing to donate to your worthy cause, or even if he's the Prime Minister of muggles himself, I'm not taking on a partner. I don't want a partner!"

"You not only need a partner, I think that if you stop suffocating your human emotion you'll see that you truly crave the companionship-"

"Don't try to tell me what I need or don't need, Shacklebolt," Harry hissed angrily, and even the listener cringed away from the unadulterated hate for a moment. "You've never known what's up your ass, much less what I need."

"You need a partner, Potter," Shacklebolt repeated almost calmly. "You need someone to help you with your cases, to file some of the paperwork every once and a while, to take the stress off of you. You're going to kill yourself-"

"Then I'll die," Harry said dispassionately.

"Look, I know you'll never do it for yourself, so do it as a favour to the Ministry, Harry." Holding up a hand to ward off the disgusted scoff that was coming, he went on. "This man needs our protection, and well, I'd rather see him under our roof, abiding by our laws, than out running the streets somewhere where we may one day have to kill him."

"So it's just a little babysitting," Harry sneered. "I don't care if this is Albus Dumbledore himself back from the dead, I don't wa- I don't need a partner!"

Outside, he flinched. For Harry to have brought up Dumbledore in a conversation like that...

"Look, Harry," Shacklebolt said, his tone suddenly wheedling. "If you take him on for one year - one standard training year, as a rookie with a veteran Auror, you're free, we'll find him a new partner, and you can forget you ever had him."

There was no immediate refusal this time, and he wondered if Harry was considering this. Shacklebolt pounced on the opportunity, and began in a saccharine tone, "Harry, we'll give you a great, big fat bonus each month that you have him on as your partner."

Oh great, he was being offered a bribe to take a partner. What was he getting himself into, asking for Potter this way?

"And a raise on top of that," Shacklebolt said, and Harry almost spoke over him.

"Alright, fine, who is he?"

Almost unable to believe his luck, Shacklebolt checked the clock. It had taken just over an hour to convince Harry to take on the young man as his partner, which was a lot quicker than most had been anticipating. Most of the office guesses ran from about two hours to five, and the rest said that he wouldn't ever accept the partner.

"He's sitting outside the office right now," Kingsley said, almost congenially. "You must have passed him on your way in."

Harry wracked his brain, but couldn't recall seeing anyone outside before he'd stormed the office. Of course, he'd been so intent on getting to Shacklebolt that Voldemort himself could have been sitting in the chair, and Harry wouldn't have noticed. Yanking the door open, he looked around briefly, before his eyes fell onto the familiar occupent of the chair.

"Hello, Harry," Draco Malfoy said brightly.

--
TBC

Hehe. I was reading Gay Aurors, by charlottesometimes, and thought to myself, that I've been writing a list of fics that most authors write at least one of in their writing careers (Veela fics, dark!harry, leather trousered-Draco, auror fics. XD) and that I haven't yet written an auror fic, and immediately sat down to write one. As always, everything else is in progress, but i'll be honest, and say that little progress is being made on anything at the moment.

This is also my opportunity for Dark!Harry, and possibly Leather Trousered-Draco. One day, once I've thought up more to add to the list, I'll post it here so ya'll can see it XD