Do You Still Believe?

(There's a complete list of what I'm working on at the moment in my profile, as well as completion percentages.)

-o0o-
And you're opening my eyes
And you're leading me on
And I'm following the light
That you shone on me
Caroline Lost - Stars
-o0o-


Potter's look turned murderous, and he shot a dark glance over his shoulder at Shacklebolt. Draco actually recoiled into the back of the chair he was still sitting in, bringing his hands up in a defensive movement. Potter snarled silently, his lips twisting up into a foul parody of a smile.

"You must be joking," he said laconically, oddly calm after his display of physical temper.

"Certainly not," Shacklebolt said tensely, waiting to see whether or not Harry would fight him again, or simply tear Malfoy's throat out there in the corridor. "He passed the entrance examinations beyond our wildest expectations, and has need of an experienced partner in the field. And you need someone to take half the paperwork, and bounce ideas off of. All the bonuses of having a partner, raising your case percentage." The carefully stressed words reminded Harry of the monetary compensation he was taking on for dealing with the unwanted partner. Suddenly the exorbitant amounts Shacklebolt had promised made sense. His rivalry with Malfoy in school had been legendary, and had passed into mythical status around the Auror's department. He'd been offered bonuses for partners before, but not such large ones.

Draco simply smiled calmly, the barest twitch of his lips betraying his amusement at the situation. He felt no compunctions about letting Shacklebolt defend him to the Golden Boy. Harry swore again, and then subsided with a sharp nod. "Fine," he said curtly. "This way." He stalked off without waiting to see if Draco would follow him.

He swept into his cubicle like a storm, and threw himself into his seat, muttering dire imprecations about the fate Shacklebolt would meet in a dark alleyway some night. Malfoy followed him at a more sedate pace, and looked around. There were not hints of personal effects in attendance. No family pictures, no Orders of Merlin, not even a jacket draped over the back of the chair. The entire cubicle was covered in reports of Dark Wizard sightings, bad magic crosses, old case files that remained open and unsolvable. Above the desk Potter wasn't occupying were pictures, Draco noticed at last. Victims, he realised after a moment, as their dates of birth and death were listed below them. Most were children, or teenagers, looking out of the photographs with hollow eyes and down-turned lips. Both desks were stacked with papers, organised into tidy little piles with sticky notes on them. Draco leaned over and read a few of them. Unsolvable, Open, Closed, Case Reports...

Potter was furiously scribbling on a piece of paper. On closer inspection, Draco realised he could make out words, and that it was actually the report he'd been in the middle of when he'd been interrupted. His handwriting showed a marked difference from before the delay. Before he'd come back to the cubicle so angry, his handwriting was neat and legible. After being saddled with Draco, it had turned into the familiar chicken-scratch he recalled from Hogwarts.

"Come away at once," Draco announced, steeling himself not to flinch under the force of the dark glare Potter tossed at him.

"Excuse me?" The arch tone brooked no argument - from any lesser beings.

"You're too angry to write at the moment, and I completely understand. When I asked for the best Auror in Britain, I was hardly expecting you. I'd rather been hoping for cousin Nymphadora." This was a complete lie; he was gratified by the fact that he recalled his cousin's name at all.

"She prefers Tonks." Potter bit out, and then threw the pen down with such force that Draco was tempted to check the desk for dents afterwards. "And I don't have time for a break. I've got to get this paperwork done."

"If you'd do it on time, you wouldn't be stuck with such overwhelming piles," Draco pointed out neatly, determined to remain affable despite Potter's manner.

"I work best this way," the dark-haired man announced. "Alone."

"No one's ever going to measure up to Weasley and Granger," Draco said suddenly. Potter's dazzlingly green eyes narrowed to slits. "Even I know that. But I don't want to be measured by their yardstick. I'm never going to replace them, and I don't want to, even if I thought I could. I'm here to learn how to be an Auror from the best, and I intend to be good at it. Your antagonism isn't doing either of us any good."

Potter stared at him as if he'd suddenly sprouted another head, but inclined his head in acquiescence. Standing suddenly, he said, "Fine. I'll take a break. Ten minutes."


"Thirty, or I'm taking your paperwork from you." Draco shot back, recalling the old days when they'd be hurling hexes at one another by this point. Harry considered, and then scowled.

"Fifteen minutes," he offered, voice flinty.

"Twenty five," Draco countered instantly. He wouldn't work with someone who couldn't relax, and wouldn't. Potter would loosen up or shatter; especially working with Draco.

"Twenty minutes, and not a second more," Potter said at last, and ended the argument by leaving the cubicle and vanishing down one of the many hallways that criss-crossed the Auror's department. Draco reeled for a moment under the force of his sudden victory, and then hurried after his new partner.

-o0o-

Short, but I had to write something, and Displaced is fighting me. Rather than starting a new fanfic that I'll take three years to finish, I decided to add onto another old one. Thanks for reading!