Secondhand Robes

DISCLAIMER: Warning! I make no claim to any property of J.K. Rowling's, and am in no way profiting by this. I do offer her my sincerest thanks for allowing us this garden of the mind in which we play. Further Warning! This story...and likely any I ever write...are dominated by gay themes and characters. That’s how it is, if this in any way makes you uncomfortable...do not read further.


Secondhand Robes (part 5)…by Samayel


Draco stood triumphantly at the entrance to the Astronomy Tower. The crumpled form of Harry Potter lay before him, and with a few hasty spells, there would be no running away from Draco this time!

It had been a tough trick to pull off, and had required discreet low level wards, tuned only to Potter, at key entryways about the castle, to alert Draco about Harry’s movements. Finally, after weeks of following the spectacled twit around the castle, Draco had finally sensed a late night excursion by Harry, triggering his hidden wards.

Harry had been staring out the window, paying no attention at all, when Draco had finally arrived and taken position behind a pillar. A few seconds to steel his nerve, and Draco finally tagged Harry with a perfectly rendered ‘Stupefy’. He’d had to cast a quick ‘Leviosa’ right after, to keep Harry from crashing to the ground, and as soon as he had Potter at rest on the stone floor, he followed up with a full ‘Body Bind’, just to make sure ‘The Boy Who Lived’ didn’t slip away.

The prat had been hard to catch, too! Draco wasn’t taking chances this time. If Harry had been any slipperier, he’d likely have been sorted into Slytherin by default. This was, to Draco’s way of thinking, the highest praise he could offer a worthy opponent.

Draco made himself comfortable, sitting down beside Harry’s head, and prepared to remove the spell. He paused a moment, looking at his elusive prey.

At rest, Harry Potter was quite child-like in his slumbering innocence. None of the tension and suspicion existed now, and the boy’s face was slack and unlined by worry.

Draco watched the slow rise and fall of Harry’s chest, the flutter of eyelids and small movements of Harry’s mouth. The unruly thatch of dark hair just cried out for a comb, and Draco found himself suddenly quelling the inexplicable urge to brush it down himself.

The reverie ended when Draco remembered that his spells wouldn’t last forever. He placed Harry’s wand a few feet away, for safety’s sake, and ended the spell that had knocked Harry out.

Behind those atrocious glasses, emerald orbs flicked open, wide and searching, taking in the scene as well as the situation. Potter struggled against the Body Bind to no avail, and eventually relaxed, his head back on the stone floor, glaring at Draco furiously. All Draco heard was a muttered curse, and Potter went silent, lips clamped tightly shut with fury, face wrinkled with anger and frustration.

“How was that again, Potter? I thought you said something…”

“I said…’fucking irony’, and that’s all I’m going to say.”

“I beg to differ. You have no idea how hard you are to track down. I can see how you got away from the Dark Lord all those times, when you don’t want to be found, you make it a real job to find you. After all that effort, I’m not leaving or removing those spells until I get some answers.” Draco smiled with satisfaction. Even Potter had to see that he was in no position to bargain at the moment.

“Well, I reckon it’ll be a long night, seeing as I have nothing to say to you, and I’m pretty comfortable right here. Have a good night!” Harry stared at the ceiling, trying rather obviously to look bored.

“Potter. Do you, of all people, really think that I would invest all this effort, then come unprepared for resistance?”

Harry’s eyes flicked to Draco for a second, then back to the ceiling. A faint sheen of nervous sweat appeared on Harry’s upper lip and brow.

Draco removed a bottle from his robe, and placed it beside Harry’s head. Then he drew his wand and twirled it about with amusement.

“Dealer’s choice, Potter. Since I feel a certain gratitude for your un-requested assistance, I will refrain from the traditional Unforgivables. You can have this one of two ways…Legilimency…or Veritaserum. How do want it?” Draco’s smile was that of a snake finding a new hatched chick. This was more fun than he had imagined.

Potter’s eyes widened suddenly. His struggle to move at least one muscle began again in earnest, but without success. When he collapsed again, a stream of vitriolic curses crossed his lips.

“You fucking prick bastard…you wouldn’t dare! Do you know what I’ll do to you when I get loose? What if anyone else finds out? You’ll fucking go down in flames, Malfoy! You’re fucking daft…loony…nutters…”

“Shhh…Potter…if you wake the castle cursing like that I’ll have to be a little more inventive about the questioning process. I don’t want to silence everything but the two of us and make this really unpleasant, but believe me…I’m a Malfoy…if you force my hand, you will regret it. So what’s it going to be? Do I rummage through your head like a flea market, or do I dope you until you tell me everything you know…which, by the way, for a Gryffindor, takes an average of approximately thirty seconds…a little longer for Granger…maybe. Clock’s ticking, Potter. Tick…tock…tick…tock.”

Harry looked livid…and more than just a little bit dangerous. Draco was never so glad that he’d practiced long and hard at hexes, curses and jinxes. The Body Bind would hold as long as it had to, and Potter was at his mercy, but Heaven forbid he got loose somehow. His face was almost a mask of rage.

Draco mused a moment, ‘He does look kind of cute when he’s really pissed.’ Then he shook his head, wondering why such a thing would even occur to him at a time like this.

Shadows and light flickered in the entry hall, and Draco turned and listened carefully in alarm. Not now! Hobnail boots were shuffling and the creak of an old lantern was clearly audible. Had to be Filch!!

Potter frowned, but hissed to Draco suddenly, “By the window…feel around…my cloak is there. It can cover us, but hurry.”

Draco wrinkled his brow in confusion. “What the hell are you on about? I don’t see a cloak, and what good would…”

“Invisibility Cloak…you prat! Get over there and feel the floor under the window…now!”

Draco hurried to the window, and sure enough, his fingers found silky cloth where nothing appeared to be. He ran back to Potter and whirled the cloak over the both of them, huddling close to Potter’s prone form. Not a second too soon, either, for Argus Filch wandered into the room, muttering curses and squinting mightily as he peered at the shadows and corners, desperately hoping to find a student he could punish.

“They think they’re clever…the lot of them. Gone soft they have. Oh…what I wouldn’t give to have me pillory back. Or just the bastinado! Anything! Shameful…shameful when you can’t even peel the hides off one or two of the little wretches. Just for an example! Hmmph!”

The surly git drifted about the room, missing them by only a few feet, then, contented, Filch turned and headed back to the hall and stairs. Draco allowed himself to breath again…collapsing with relief. That was much too close for comfort!

Speaking of comfort, it suddenly occurred to Draco that, in the haste for cover, he had been straddling Potter’s waist, and was currently at rest, catching his breath, with his head on Potter’s chest. Draco jerked his head up and scrambled off of Potter’s waist.

“Good save. Nice cloak, Potter. Handy, very handy.” Anything to change the subject. Draco really didn’t feel like dissecting the weird comfort he had felt, being so close to Potter. Hopefully, Potter wouldn’t feel like discussing that, either. Then Potter spoke up.

“Since I just saved our collective asses, despite being spelled helpless…how ‘bout just letting me go back to my dorm?”

Draco paused for just a second, feeling just generous enough that he really considered it. Then he shook his head. He sat down beside Potter again.

“Here’s a thought. Just to prove I’m not a complete bastard. Potter, if you’ll just tell me what you knew about my summer, and why you decided you needed to butt in, I promise I won’t use anything against you, and we can skip the Veritaserum and the Legilimency altogether. Better?”

Potter closed his eyes in frustration and sighed mightily. When he finally answered, his voice was low and serious, and held a plaintive, intimate tone that Draco had never heard from Potter before.

“Draco, I really think you mean that. I believe you. I just don’t want to talk about it. I made a mistake. It was my mistake and nobody else’s, and I’m the one who paid for it. I’ll never tell anyone what I know about this summer…you have my word. If you had your answers, they wouldn’t make you any happier, and I know there’s no way I can convince you of that, but it’s still true. I’m begging you. Okay? Please just trust me. Just this once. I’ll give you my oath, and then let’s forget this. Please.”

Somehow, in Draco’s imagination, having Harry Potter helpless and begging had always been more satisfying. This was just tense, vaguely frightening, and terribly disappointing. Draco thought quietly for almost a minute, genuinely unsure of what to do. Potter had called him by his first name, and seemed so deadly serious that it was hard not to believe him. Draco almost folded. Almost. He couldn’t look Potter in the eyes.

“I’m sorry, Harry. Don’t take it personally. Legilimens.”

And he was in Harry’s mind.


TBC