Trophy

Authors Note: Many thanks to my beta's for this story - Shannon and Robert! Also, if anyone would like to know about updates and/or new projects you can find me on Facebook or my Yahoo Group (see my profile for details).

Chapter 2 Rancor

As Lucius made his way upstairs to his own quarters, a pale shiver ran down his spine as if an insect had crawled along his neck. It was Draco leaving the house and the wards; no doubt on his way to the pub and to set his plans for the Gryffindor Hero into motion. On the bright side, Potter would be resistant at best to Draco’s brand of affections and if there was ever a person who could turn his son down altogether it was Potter. Unfortunately, his son was no fool and he would certainly anticipate this. He was also persistent and found it far more entertaining when a paramour rejected him at first. Draco wouldn’t stop until Potter was just another trophy in the room that he seemed to think he was keeping a secret from his parents.

At least he would have time to try and stop Draco before he went too far, or at least he hoped he did. But either way, time was running short and they needed to act.

He entered his rooms and spotted his wife right away, her gleaming white hair billowing softly behind her along with the sheer white drapes at her side. She was staring out into the garden, a wistful look on her face but she turned to give Lucius her full attention when he walked in.

The smile fell from her lips upon seeing her husbands state and Lucius could see the resolve beginning to emerge in its place. His wife was a clever and powerful witch and if he had listened to her during Voldemort’s rise they probably wouldn’t be in the mess they currently were.

“What has he done now, Lucius?” she asked in the perceptive way only she could manage to do.

“He’s going after Potter,” Lucius told her, almost reluctantly. He knew his wife didn’t like hearing about their son’s numerous affairs, but drastic times call for desperate measures. If he had to give Narcissa a detailed description of what Draco would attempt than he would do so.

He should have known better though, for his wife nodded and he could already see her mind turning that statement over in her head. She knew exactly what he had meant.

Silence lingered between them for several moments as she paced the wide stone terrace, her shimmering blue gown rustling below her feet. She didn’t appear as troubled as Lucius had expected, but merely thoughtful and slightly inquisitive.

“Has he already begun?” she asked at last

“Just now. He left a moment ago to begin his… courtship,” Lucius said, trying to find a word delicate enough to explain their son’s game. They both knew it was nothing of the sort, but his wife gave him an annoyed look.

“I’m not a flower, Lucius. Your words will not wilt me,” she told him with a smile. “I know just as well what our son does with his time.”

“Then you know how important it is that we stop him before he goes too far,” Lucius replied.

Surprisingly, she only shook her head. “No. Let him do what he will with Potter. It’s none of our concern.”

If Lucius were the type of man to gape widely at a shocking answer he would have done so then, but instead he straightened his shoulders and narrowed his eyes at his beautiful wife, who looked supremely content. “Have you gone mad? He’ll get us thrown into Azkaban with this behavior. Potter’s word is the only thing that kept us out.”

“My saving that boy’s life is what kept us out of Azkaban, and I trust you’ll remember that next time you feel the urge arising to call me mad,” she growled. It was a low and menacing sound to Lucius’s ears, though to anyone else it might only sound like a harsh whisper. But he knew the power behind that tone: the same tone that she used when she demanded that Lucius defect from the Dark Lord and take her and their son into hiding.

He hadn’t listened then, and it nearly cost them their lives. He would listen this time.

“Please just explain your answer to me then,” he reasoned and she softened at once.

“As ashamed as I am to admit it, our son is no match for Potter. The boy has a genuine charisma that Draco could never emulate, and no amount of manipulation on our son’s part will make Potter come to him,” she told him.

“But if he does?” Lucius asked, preparing for the worst-case scenarios as usual.

“If he does, then I think it would do us all far more good than it would harm,” she replied with a knowing smile that had always bewitched him.

“If you’re wrong,” he began to warn, but his wife cut him off with a firm press of lips.

“Trust me,” she whispered when they broke apart, her eyes sparkling in a way that they only did for him so he nodded. He would listen and trust her and hope that she would do more with his trust than he had done with hers during the war.

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The Grotto Café could only be described as a dingy hole. The staff was not even remotely friendly and the décor was neither charming nor, to be honest, very Irish, as the article had promised.

As Draco Malfoy made his way to the bar in the center of the pub, he looked around to see if the other thing mentioned in the article was a farce as well. He could care less how rude the barman was if he still found Potter sitting in the corner eating lunch.

He was trying to be inconspicuous, hiding his infamously platinum hair beneath a cap and keeping his head down as he scanned the booths. He also cast a gaze repelling charm, but Potter was notorious for picking up on the magical signatures given off from such things, so he didn’t want to rely solely on that. His reason for coming inside was strictly reconnaissance. He wanted to study Potter, get a gauge of his mood and try to see if he could pick up anything useful. Then he would ‘accidentally’ bump into him outside, claiming to be on his way to the Ministry, which was technically true since he had a fake meeting there in about an hour.

Really he didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of Potter before now. He was the ultimate conquest: rich, exceedingly powerful in both magic and social status, not to mention he wasn’t bad to look at – handsome, in fact. It would be in every paper, every magazine and tabloid when he shagged and then promptly kicked the Boy Hero to the curb. He’d be the hit of every party, and asked to recount his tale to hundreds of other powerful witches and wizards.

Garish red hair in the back of the room made Draco’s heart beat a little faster as he thought he had found his target, but no luck. It was the Weasel for sure – no one could imitate that hair color – but he was alone; no sign of Potter. He held out a moment of hope that his newest conquest was only in the loo, but ruled that out when he peeked down that hall and found the door ajar.

With a sigh, Draco took a seat close to the door, hoping that the Weasel might lead him to Potter when he left. The waitress never came over because of the repelling charm, so he was left in peace until finally Weasley stopped stuffing his face and got up to leave. He walked right past him without a second glance and Draco smirked to himself as he got up to follow. They made it almost a block away from the pub when Draco heard a laugh from up ahead.

“If you think you’ll find Harry this way you’re sorely mistaken, Malfoy,” Ron called back without even turning around.

Draco was dumbfounded; he thought that he had been so discreet. He quickened his pace slightly so that he was level with the Weasel and tried for nonchalance. “I haven’t the foggiest idea what you mean, but just out of curiosity, how did you know I was back there?”

“Auror,” the redhead replied, pointing to his chest and huffing in annoyance. “Constant vigilance,” he added, almost reverently.

“Right. Well I was just on my way to the Ministry,” Draco began, until Ron finally looked his way. His blue eyes were narrowed and wary.

“I saw you in the pub, Malfoy. Now do you want to tell me why you’re looking for Potter, or should I just tell him he has a new stalker?” Ron asked gruffly.

“I wasn’t-“ he started to protest, but Weasley stopped suddenly and grabbed his arm, yanking Draco to a stop as well.

“Despite what you may think, I’m not an idiot, Malfoy. There was an article in the Prophet this morning about that pub and how Harry frequents it and then suddenly you just show up? We’ve been going there for lunch for nearly a year and we’ve never seen you. I don’t believe in coincidences, so spill or I’ll drag you up to our department for questioning,” he spat.

Draco carefully and smugly pulled his arm from Weasley’s grip, brushing away invisible dirt as he did. “It just so happens that the Auror department is exactly where I’m headed, so lead the way, oh mighty weasel,” he replied with an overly dramatic wave.

Ron rolled his eyes but didn’t budge. “What do you want with Harry?” he asked again.

With a heavy sigh, Draco continued to walk toward the Ministry and Weasley followed after a moment, as Draco knew he would. “Potter has nothing to offer me that I don’t already have,” he answered finally, evading the real question altogether. Technically Potter didn’t have anything different to offer him, but that didn’t stop him every other time he took on a new conquest.

It seemed to be answer enough for Weasley, or at least it shut him up for a moment as they continued into the building and to the first floor. He did actually raise his scraggly red eyebrows in surprise when the secretary at the front desk said that Auror Cuttlebaum was expecting him.

“Good seeing you, Weasel,” Draco told him and followed the secretary down the hall toward the offices. He had to suppress a laugh at the redhead’s shock and dismay. Still, Draco had been caught off guard by how easily his schoolyard rival had noticed him, and Draco couldn’t afford to make the same mistake with Potter. No doubt with his training and expertise, the Golden Boy would be even more adept at sussing out fakes and phonies.

He would have to take a different approach with Potter, something he had never tried before.

It was easy to spot Potter’s office, as it was the largest of the ones they passed. Also, on the frosted glass door a shiny golden plaque read ‘Harry J. Potter, Head Auror’. The door reminded him of the one leading into his trophy room, which brought a smile to his face as he imagined Potter sprawled beneath him and then the crushed look when Draco booted him out. It would be a glorious defeat, one that might even be hard to top.

He detained Auror Cuttlebaum with trivial news that he made sound important, things like security at the Annual Fundraiser’s Ball that he always hosted, and keeping a more secure leash on his parents, his father in particular.

That served two purposes really, it not only irked his father to no end that his only son could so easily control his activities even inside the manor, but he had lingered in the hall outside the dining room long enough to hear the growl of challenge that emanated from his father’s throat upon discovering his new target. Lucius clearly didn’t want him anywhere near Potter and the man was by no means broken, and Draco always thought it best not to underestimate his father. He was a very clever and powerful wizard after all.

Once he was certain Potter would have had enough time to return from his own lunch he left off with Cuttlebaum and made his way back down the hall. When he came upon Potter’s office he slowed, trying to see if the ebony haired wizard was inside.

He lingered by the door and spotted his victim scribbling away at a set of parchments. He was still as devilishly handsome as Draco remembered from the Ministry Christmas Gala four years back. It had been the first time Draco had seen him in years and he recalled being slightly awestruck at how different he looked. He no longer wore the blasted round glasses that were constantly breaking or slipping down his nose –not to mention unsightly- and that allowed his emerald eyes to sparkle like never before. His hair was cut longish and shaggy, just enough fringe to cover his scar and curl around his earlobes when tucked back.

His body had filled out dramatically since his days as a scrawny malnourished orphan and the Auror training hadn’t hurt either. Even by then Draco had seen enough naked men to know that a brilliant physique could be found under the dress robes Potter had on that night.

Draco hadn’t seen him in person often since that night but he looked much the same now, only he was obviously more comfortable in his Ministry office than he had been on a dance floor.

“Malfoy,” called a voice that was low and familiar and he blinked to see that Potter was looking right at him and clearly wondering what he was doing there.

“I’ve just come from Edgar’s. We had some things to discuss,” he announced preemptively.

Potter rolled his eyes. “Ron said you’d been skulking around here looking for me but I didn’t believe him. I thought he was trying to pull a prank on me.”

“Why would that be funny?” Draco asked, “and I wasn’t skulking around,” he added for good measure.

Potter simply shrugged and then pointed to the chair across from his desk. “Sit,” he ordered and Draco felt oddly compelled to obey.

It was actually quite eerie the sense of command that emanated from Potter, the same person he used to taunt and tease and make generally furious in every way he knew how. It was clear that Potter was made for a position of leadership, and he wondered briefly if that would stop at Head Auror or continue up to Minister for Magic one day.

“So, tell me why you’re here,” he demanded. Potter made it sound easy and conversational, but Draco knew a demand when he heard one.

“I already told you, I was meeting with-“ he started but Potter only smiled.

“Edgar, I heard you,” he finished in Draco’s stead. “Ron said you came by the pub that was in the paper this morning.”

“Is it a crime to stop for a bite of lunch?” Draco asked.

“Ron said you didn’t eat anything. He said it seemed like you were looking for someone and then followed him out,” Potter replied knowingly.

“I’m surprised the oaf could see anything over his own mound of food,” Draco muttered and was slightly surprised when a crooked smile broke out on Potter’s lips.

“Well, he did see it, unless you’re challenging him, in which case I have formal complaint parchments right here,” Potter mentioned, gesturing to his top filing cabinet. “But I wouldn’t advise calling an Auror a liar unless you’re sure.”

Draco sighed and leaned back in his chair. “So I was curious. Is that so evil?” he said finally, trying his best to look bashful and innocent. “I haven’t seen you in years and I wanted to find out first hand what the Great Harry Potter was up to these days. I saw the article in the paper and thought I might look you up.”

Potter grimaced, not the expected response, but better than being laughed off he supposed. “Did you really expect me to go back there after that article came out? Even you should know that I hate publicity.”

“It was the only lead I had,” Draco offered.

“Clearly it wasn’t,” Potter corrected, gesturing between the two of them.

“Right, well… this was more of an accident, running into you here,” the blonde man replied.

Potter laughed, and it was an unrestrained thing, which worried Draco immensely. It was a nice laugh, fun and full of life, but the fact that he held nothing back meant that he wasn’t trying to impress Draco, which meant that he probably wasn’t interested in him in the slightest.

Not that that revelation would stop him… yet.

“Malfoy, I work here and you were gawking in my doorway for so long that I couldn’t ignore you. How was it an accident?” he asked at last.

Draco wished that he had purposely produced the blush that graced his cheeks, but in truth he couldn’t take that credit. He had just lectured himself on why he shouldn’t be too careless with Potter and here he was flubbing up from the very start.

“I don’t know what to say,” Draco admitted. “I wanted to see you.” Which was the truth, and Draco hated telling the truth, especially to a potential conquest.

There he was, already doubting himself with words like ‘potential’. He would take Potter on and then he would take him down. No question, and even though something about Potter clearly set him apart from all the others, Draco had known that going in, it was that very reason he had set his sights on conquering the Boy Hero. He wouldn’t let Potter shake him now.

“Well, now you’ve seen me,” Potter said, his smile fading around the edges until it was just a polite façade. “Should I send for Patty or do you know the way out?”

“What? Just like that?” Draco asked, slightly befuddled. Was Potter throwing him out? That just didn’t happen to a Malfoy.

“What did you expect?” Potter asked, looking genuinely perplexed. “Did you think we’d have a chat over a pint and talk about he good ol’ days? We’re not friends Malfoy. We never were.”

Draco allowed his eyes to widen slightly and his mouth to drop open in surprise, letting Potter clearly see the effect he had. “I’m shocked that you would want to keep it that way. I thought we could make amends for the past, patch things up and move forward, but you only want to sack me from your office?”

Potter rolled his eyes. “Unless you’d like to tell me what you’re really doing here, you can sod off, Malfoy.”

“Fine,” Draco huffed, throwing his hands into the air in defeat. “I wanted to ask you to dinner. Are you happy now? I fancy you and I’d like to take you out. Do you always make things so difficult, because if you do, maybe you’re not worth the effort,” he added dramatically.

“I’m not,” Potter replied coldly. “And don’t think I don’t know all about you, Malfoy. I’m not another notch on your belt, so bugger off.”

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Draco lied, trying to force an innocent expression to his features.

Potter scoffed and pulled a thick file from the back of his desk cabinet. “Do you know what this is?” he asked, and when Draco shook his head, Potter slammed it down in front of him. “This folder is filled with reports from men and women who have all filed complaints about you. Unfortunately I can’t arrest you solely on the basis of being a world class prat.”

“That was all consensual,” he replied, pointing to the thick manila folder.

“I know, which is why you’re sitting here instead of in my holding cell. Unfortunately you seemed to have charmed rather than forced your way into all these trousers, but if you think for a minute that your charm, good looks, money or power is going to work on these trousers, you have never so clearly underestimated me,” Potter growled.

He had been worried for a moment, but then a heavenly sense of purpose washed over him with Potter’s words. Most people would have taken what the Auror said as a rejection, a serious one at that, but not Draco. No he took it as a challenge and a clear signal that he should proceed as planned.

“So, just to be clear, you think I’m good looking?” he asked, a wide grin plastered on his pale face.

Potter didn’t reply for a moment, instead closing his eyes and staring unseeingly at the ceiling. He clasped his hands into fists at his sides, shaking slightly. “Out,” he ordered at last, still not looking at Draco and merely pointing at his open doorway.

With a laugh Draco stood and made his way to the door. “They were your words not mine, Potter. You think I’m rich, powerful, charming and good looking, what more could you want in a date?” he asked.

“Out,” Potter repeated, this time with a snarl to his voice that Draco found both frightful and appealing. He wondered momentarily if he could expect a noise like that when he finally bedded the former Gryffindor.

“I’ll get you to agree to dinner, just watch,” Draco challenged and left a cursing mad Harry Potter in his office as he made his way to the lifts.

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Authors Note: In the words of my illustrious beta (Ragnarok45) I'd just like to say 'Burn!' Anyhow, this story is fascinating to me at the moment, so expect more soon. Who would like to take a peak into Draco's file?