Harry Potter: Chrysalis
By Bianca 1
It was still there. He checked his pockets in what had started as a habit, but by now was a full-fledged compulsion. He would check, go about his duties and then a few minutes later check again. The young man didn't dare put his hand in the pocket of his robe, just open it enough so that he could pat it, make sure it was still there and be satisfied...for the next few seconds. He had already checked it 30 times that morning by the time he heard a knock on his office door.
A ginger haired man he recognized as Dweedle stood in the doorway, "You're wanted upstairs."
"Upstairs?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer.
Dweedle didn't bother to answer; instead he hurriedly turned and left.
Suddenly the urge to check his pocket was back and stronger than ever. Thankfully he'd be rid of the damned thing soon enough. He closed the door to his office and he gave his pocket one last check. Yep, still there, just like a minute ago. He got up and hurried toward the lifts, only just managing not to actually run to them. The ride to the top level was dauntingly slow. He maintained they did this on purpose to make things as torturous as possible. As the lift doors opened, he gave his collar a nervous tug and then walked out into the empty corridor.
He paused, took a few deep breaths to try and calm himself, and then pushed open the huge, ebony doors before him. As they creaked open he swore his heart was beating so fast it was going to jump out his chest. He put one foot in front of the other and forced himself to step inside. The dark crimson carpet beneath him looked like blood, making him even more unsettled. He would have rather faced a score of Dementors than have to deal with this. He knew as soon as he walked in this morning that something was seriously amiss and silently cursed what he suspected was the real reason his superior ordered him up here today.
"Come in... No need to be afraid." A baritone voice both soothing and cheerful, called to him.
He inhaled deeply once more, shut the doors behind him, and then turned back towards the voice.
"Come, come." A hand waved to an empty chair in front of a large mahogany desk. He pulled himself together, walked over to the indicated chair and stiffly sat down.
"Would you like something to drink? Tea perhaps?"
He shook his head. Let's just get this over with. "No. No thank you, sir."
The Voice chuckled heartily in a way that reminded him of Dumbledore. "You seem nervous."
He swallowed past the lump in his throat and looked squarely into the eyes piercing through him. "I'm not nervous. Humbled, yes. Nervous? No."
"Good, because there's no need to be. This is mostly just routine. You're neither the first nor the last I will meet with today, so relax a bit."
The man felt his shoulder muscles loosen and his fingers unclenching in his robes as tension faded from him. He did suddenly feel more relaxed and so sat back in the chair.
"Thank you, sir."
"No, thank you for all your hard work. You have been a true asset to us."
His chin lifted in the air with a sense of pride. "I try, sir."
"I wanted to meet with each of the department heads to really get to know who I have working for me. To know where their loyalties lie." The Voice replied slowly.
He gulped in air as his muscles started to tense again, his mouth turning dry. This wasn't good. Next up will be the questions, the doubts about...
"Now, now, son. Relax. I am already well aware of who your family is," the Voice, once cheerful, took on a more somber tone, "what your family was."
Could he read his thoughts? His fears? He bit his lip so hard he almost drew blood. "O-Oh." He stuttered out. He hated his past, he hated everything about it. And he especially hated how he was never going to be allowed to forget about it, no matter what he did.
"He is in Azkaban as we speak, correct? For various crimes against the wizarding world."
It didn't need to be said who they were talking about. "Yes."
"And he was the right hand of..." the voice paused slightly, "Well we can say it now...Voldemort."
He felt his palms grow sweaty as he swore the room's temperature went up by 50 degrees.
"I know that you yourself ended up taking the Dark Mark."
His head shook back and forth emphatically, "that is in my past, sir. I've changed. I swear it."
"We know...we know. Relax son." The Voice continued, its tone now reassuring and causing the young Auror's shoulders to slacken again in relief. "The war was hard on all of us. It tested everyone, son. No one was left unscathed. You shouldn't be punished for the paths your father chose and forced upon you. That's why I was so insistent on making sure that we had opportunities for young wizards like you who had merely been led astray. And you've had considerable success with your assignments, proving that the program was the right thing to do."
"Thank you, sir."
"Yes, you really do have an excellent record." The Voice seemed to beam at him.
It made him feel more at ease, so he smiled and shrugged modestly. He felt better now seeing, that the Voice understood him, had even complimented him not once, but twice. He wasn't going to get sacked, which was his first thought when he was told by his boss to come up here.
"You gave us lots of useful intelligence on the Death Eaters hideouts. How commendable. Even, dare I say... heroic." The Voice's owner slapped a hand on the desk to emphasize his excitement. "Yes! You're just what we need here. A wizard with courage, with morals... with loyalty."
The Voice cooed to him, tickling the inside of his ears. Tickling? Such an odd...sensation. The young man looked up and for the first time looked directly into the grey eyes that belonged to the voice. They seemed to entrance him as the voice continued to speak.
"Ah...loyalties. Where do your loyalties lie?"
"With the Ministry, of course." He tried to look away, but those grey eyes were haunting him, almost burning his own eyes. He couldn't look away, so as he ran a hand nervously through his hair, he blinked a few times to break the trance.
The Voice chuckled, it almost seemed...cold now, making him shudder. "Good. Very good. Your superior told me you had something for me."
Finally he could be rid of the damned thing burning a hole in his pocket. "Yes. Yes sir."
He reached in his pocket and drew out a small metal box. It had been made him extremely nervous carrying it for the last few days so he was glad to be rid of the thing as he gently placed it on the mahogany desk.
"Are you sure this is it?"
"Yes, sir."
The Voice was silent as his hand, shaking slightly, opened the lid just for a moment, but then quickly closed it back with a snap. The sudden noise caused the young Auror to jump back in his seat a little.
"G-good. Very good." The Voice said shakily, unlike its previous smooth, calm tones, but it immediately returned to its former cheerful confidence, "this is of course, highly confidential. It must be kept...safe, after all. I know you understand the Ministry's need to protect information such as this. And now I have another assignment for you that I know you'll be just as successful in solving." A hand belonging to the Voice summoned over a burly man dressed all in black, which then handed a folder to the young Auror. "This is of the utmost importance to us, so I am authorizing your use of the all of the department's resources to support you in this."
Flipping the folder open, the Auror held in a gasp at what was inside the folder. Why, of all people, did I have to get this assignment? Merlin. He sucked in a bitter breath, but nodded. "I won't let you down, sir."
The Voice's lips smiled broadly. "I know you won't. You are dismissed, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco Malfoy stood crisply, bowed his head, and stepped out of the office, closing the ebony doors behind him. Once in the corridor, he couldn't scramble out there fast enough. He strode quickly to the lifts, gasping for air as if he were being suffocated. He'd only feared one other man like this before, his father. But this was different, it had to be. Right? He had no reason to fear Coogle. He was safe now and he even had, finally, someone believing in him. He looked down at the folder clutched in his hand. Always the thorn in his side. The lift opened and he stepped hastily in, pushing the button to his floor. As the metal doors shut out the view of the ebony doors, Draco Malfoy leaned his head back against the wall and for felt like the first time in days, was finally able to breathe.
Tap, tap.
Tap, tap.
"Bugger! What the-?"
Groan. "What time is it?"
"I haven't a clue…"
Tap, tap.
"What the bloody hell is that noise?"
Tap, tap.
"It's an owl, Harry. Get up."
Groggily, a tall figure arose from his comfortable bed, stumbled over to the window, unclipped the message and fed the snowy owl a treat before sending it back. He yawned and stretched before returning to his warm spot in bed and the figure sharing it with him, who turned and in a swift move, illuminated the light on the nightstand.
"Who's it from?" she asked, stifling a small yawn herself.
"Ow...too early, too bright" Harry groaned and held a hand in from of his face as his eyes attempted to adjust to the light.
"Sorry…"Hermione muttered, her own eyes blinking as she repeated the question, "so who's it from?"
"Probably from Ron. Remind me to kick his arse when I see him for waking me up at the crack of dawn."
Hermione gave him a glare, "Harry! That's not nice. Open it, it might be an emergency."
Harry grumbled and tore open the envelope, slightly irritated when he recognized the by now all too familiar seal, and pulled out the piece of parchment.
To: Harry Potter
From: Minister Cassius Coogle
The Ministry for Magic
London, England
I hope this correspondence finds you in good health. It is the pleasure of this Ministry to once again offer you a position as Special Auror in the newly formed Department of Defense Against Extreme Dark Arts. While I am aware that you have declined our previous offers, I ask you to reconsider and accept this position. Not only would you be a vital asset to the Wizarding community in this position, but I assure you that under my personal invitation, you would be able to choose assignments at your most trusted discretion. Once again, please take time to consider what we in the Wizarding community would gain from your much needed service as well as the benefits this position could give to you. I look forward to hearing that you will finally accept this important offer.
Sincerely,
Cassius Coogle
Minister for Magic
"Please tell me I did not just read that…,"Hermione Potter frowned at her husband, as he reread the letter. She reached for the parchment as if to take it, before yanking her hand back as if burned.
Harry returned her frown and crumpled up the parchment in a ball before throwing it in the wastebasket. "He's beyond thick if he won't take 'no' for an answer by now."
The couple settled back into their bed, listening to the relative silence of dawn in London around them. They watched the sunlight coming slowly over the peaks of the building and painting the sky in tones of pink and violet. If they had chosen to wake up this early on their own, they might have enjoyed it all. Harry yawned and ran his hand through his raven, bed ravaged hair. Well, that he couldn't actually blame from just coming from bed as it always looked that way.
The letter bothered him. He had gotten several of the letters in the last year, 15 in fact, and each time he had declined. At first he had declined politely, expressing his desire to enjoy his newlywed state, to go into a nice business in Muggle London and generally disappear out of the public's view. Later his letters were curt and not giving of any explanations beyond "leave me alone."
Harry had never wanted to be the Chosen One and now that Voldermort was finally gone, he saw even less reason for that status. No, he was content to fade into obscurity and just enjoy the simple things of life with Hermione.
Hermione had always fully supported his decision, and so had written a few scathing letters to the Ministry, herself. She wasn't going to sit back and let Harry be manipulated or guilted into letting the Ministry use him as some absurd publicity stunt or into any job he didn't want.
Harry watched her bite at her bottom lip, before looking at the clock on the nightstand.
"Five o'clock," she muttered.
She looked over to her husband and bit her lip again as she watched him fret silently over this latest attempt at recruitment.
"Well," she said softly, "so much for sleeping in. The nerve of them sending an owl at this obscene hour. I have half a mind to send that man an actual Howler"
"Right, absolutely awful. Fancy an early morning shag to help me get over it?" Harry said more than half seriously, as he wagged his eyebrows at her.
Hermione grinned over at him. "I'm always in the mood for morning shag, you know that," she gave him a light kiss on the lips, "but you have to send them a reply first. Oh just so we're straight, I was joking about the Howlers bit. And while you're doing that, I'm going to make us some breakfast."
"Hermione..." he whined in defeat. He had morning wood, for Merlin sakes. Where were the woman's priorities?
"This is important Harry. I promise, as soon as you write this, I'll jump on top of you."
Harry smiled as Hermione scooted out of the bed and trotted down the hall. He kept wondering what it would honestly take for them to be allowed to be normal…well, almost normal. Well okay, maybe a hint of normalcy. It was almost enough to make him yearn for the invisibility of his early days with the Dursleys, back when he was no one in particular. Though considering that was part of their years long abuse and neglect of him, maybe not.
Harry looked down the hall and shouted. "I want some bacon! And you can serve it to me naked!"
He could hear her laughter as he got himself out of the bed and sat at the desk. He looked once more at the balled up parchment in the wastebasket and was disturbed all over again. Sighing heavily, he pulled out a blank piece of parchment and began to write his latest rejection letter.
"Hullo!"
The floo burst into green flames as Ron Weasley's redhead poked out of the huge fireplace at the Potter flat.
He observed that Hermione still in her bathrobe and brooding over a mug of coffee, while Harry was reading the Daily Prophet with a set look to his face.
"Morning Potters!" Ron boomed from the flames with a wide smile on his face.
"Morning," muttered Hermione and Harry glanced up to give Ron a slight grin, before returning to stare fixedly at his paper.
"Right, obviously still not morning people. May I floo over?"
"Sure," Hermione replied and turned to the stove to retrieve the biscuits she knew Ron would be inhaling momentarily. She plopped them on the counter and looked over at Harry, who was resolutely keeping his eyes on the paper.
A burst of green flame later, Ron stepped out of the fireplace wearing a dirty and rumpled Chudley Cannons jersey. He had obviously just come from practice, and by the way his expression brightened at the sight of the basket of freshly baked biscuits, it must have worked up his appetite. Not that it needed working up to begin with.
"Mmmmm," he moaned after biting into one. "Well, what's got you lot so glum?"
Harry frowned, but didn't look up from his paper, so it was up to Hermione to answer. "Harry got another letter."
"Another? They're totally mental, aren't they?"
"Apparently so," Hermione replied as she refilled her mug. "It came at five o'clock this morning."
Ron chewed at the biscuit furiously. "Bloody hell, did you send back a Howler? Surely that deserves a Howler, Harry."
Hermione and Ron looked over at Harry, who was still seemingly engrossed in his paper. Hermione hated when he did this. When he retreated so deeply into his thoughts that he all but ignored everyone else around him. When he got this intense, it could feel like the air was being sucked out of the room. But at least now she knew why Harry was upset. The Ministry had been aggressively attempting to recruit him since the final battle and Harry just wanted to finally be able to live his life, not the one defined by Voldemort. It had been five years since Voldemort had been defeated, no…destroyed, and Harry still had a hard time dealing with all the loss and pain that creature had caused.
When they had married Harry had promised Hermione the peace he wanted more than anything, and that he knew she wanted as well. So, after two years of marriage they had settled in Muggle London, where they ran a mostly Muggle bookstore, and did their best to just live out their lives. They still used magic, and still took trips to Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade or the Burrow. However, they insisted on leaving all of the celebrity life behind. Ron, on the other had, reveled in his and used it to get a trial with the Chudley Cannons Quidditch team where his talent had secure him a position as Keeper.
"Riveting paper there, Harry?" Ron pointedly asked, noting how intently Harry was still reading the Prophet.
Harry glanced upward and looked apologetically at Ron, Harry glanced upward and looked apologetically at Ron, "No, just reading about another raid on Hogwarts. Carried out by Ferret boy himself."
Ron grimaced, "Malfoy?"
The raven-haired wizard nodded his head, "still boggles my mind that he's allowed to work for the Ministry."
"It's all that blokes Coogle's doing. Coogle's got Mum and Dad singing his praises, and goes without saying that Percy supports him, but then that's just the sort of thing that pillock would do. I mean so Coogle wasn't some Death Eater, but it's not as if he actually fought for our side during the war, either. I always wondered about that. But Dad always dismisses that and says Coogle's platform of Progress is much more important than anything he did or didn't do in the past," Ron stated, mouth full of biscuit. "He even got people to accept his program of re-assimilating former Death Eaters back into the Wizarding world. Still don't understand why people were so accepting of that one."
"Well, Harry and I don't support him or his platform, though it had to be well received by someone for him to be in power now," Hermione replied, taking another sip of coffee.
"Dad kept saying the Ministry needed a new direction and as he wasn't running Coogle was the next best thing," grumbled Ron. "Dad said anything was better than that incompetent hack Fudge being in charge. Personally I think most of the mishaps during the war were, because of that dim wanker's doing."
"Yeah and now instead we've got the likes of Draco bloody Malfoy heading up the Ministry's Search and Seizure Department whilst your dad, Remus and Tonks have all voluntarily retired. Brilliant."
Ron chomped on another biscuit, "Whatcha think they are looking for Harry?"
Hermione peeked over her mug, "they must still be on the prowl for Voldemort's wand."
"That myth is still going around? Its dust, Hermione," assured Harry.
"I know Harry. It's just could you imagine the likes of Malfoy with that much power?"
Ron got some pumpkin juice from the refrigerator. "That git. I mean even if he isn't all 'kill the muggles and mudbloods' anymore, he's still a sodding wanker. Merlin only knows what he did to my sister."
Before she could catch herself, Hermione asked. "How's Ginny?"
She knew it was a sore subject for Ron and she really wished she hadn't brought it up. After all, Ginny had completely disowned her family not long after the war.
"How would I know? Since she's taken up with likes of Malfoy, she has no interest in the rest of her real family any more," Ron spat.
Harry tried to console his now irritated friend, "it's alright Ron. She's just angry. Just give it time she'll come 'round."
"Doesn't make it right for her to take up with the Ferret. I mean, he insults all of us Weasleys for years and now she's shagging him?" Ron put down his biscuit; suddenly he'd lost his appetite. "It broke Mum and Dad's hearts when she announced to them that she was moving to Malfoy Manor."
"It's my fault," Harry frowned, finally putting down the paper. "I hurt her pretty deeply. I lead her on in a sense-"
"Ginny's a grown woman," Hermione protested. After the war Ginny had truly believed Harry would come back for her, but it didn't quite ended up happening that way.
Hermione still remembered that fateful day in vivid fragments. How she had pulled herself up, her right arm broken, blood streaming down her face and screaming for Harry. She remembered Tonks assuring her that while unconscious, Ron was still alive and fine. She remembered the cries of agony everywhere, but her calls to Harry seeming to drown them all out. She remembered stumbling over bodies and pools of blood, how despite her pain, she cried for Harry again and again and how after receiving no reply, had collapsed and using her last strength, she had turned onto to back to look one last time into the blue sky.
Then there was warmth and strong arms engulfing her. Then it was Harry and he was cradling her head and holding her and whispering how much he loved her and thanking Merlin she was alive. She knew that day he loved her and she knew she loved him more than anything and that she would never let him go. Ginny however didn't appreciate any of that when she visited the hospital wing. She had ranted and raved betrayal from her best friend Hermione and her true love Harry. She had rowed endlessly with Ron over his support of Harry and Hermione as a couple and quit Hogwarts to have a raging affair with Draco Malfoy.
Harry never forgave himself for the break in the Weasley family and subsequent wounded feelings all around. Hermione was tired of her husband taking the blame for everything under the sun; he shouldn't be taking Ginny's decision to sleep with what was practically the devil, on himself too.
Ron nodded in agreement. "Ginny chose her own path, mate. She's the one that decided to take up with the likes of Malfoy and disown us instead. Great bleeding hell Harry, you broke up with her in her sixth year. There's carrying a torch and then there is whatever Ginny thinks she's doing."
Changing the subject seemed the best route, so Hermione asked Ron how practice went. That sparked Ron to go into a frenzy of detail, as he relayed to Harry what a wanker the new Seeker was and how he desperately wished Harry was playing so he could get this bloke off his broom. The trio chuckled together at Ron's stories about the mischief of the Chudley players before Harry reluctantly announced that he too had to get ready to open the store.
Once Harry walked out of the kitchen and was out of hearing distance, Ron leaned over towards Hermione, "you think this Hogwarts thing is going to produce Voldemort's wand?"
Hermione shook her head. Harry was adamant he had destroyed all traces of the dark lord, including his wand, "it's impossible, Ron. I'm absolutely sure that Harry destroyed anything to do with that wretched creature."
"Good," Ron sighed heavily, "it's just he looked concerned. The way he was concentrating on that paper was well, you how he can get."
"I'm not sure what that was about, but I believe him, I believe in him" she crooked an eyebrow at Ron, "we both should."
"I bet you all the galleons in my vault that it's Malfoy and he's still trying to rile up some Death Eaters. If he could get a hold of Voldemort's wand…" Ron peered down the hall and heard Harry start his shower, "He could probably start a new war. Finally live up to dear old daddy's murderous name. The prat."
"I wouldn't be worried about the junior Mr. Malfoy. Not as if he's never ever managed to live up to anyone's stellar expectations. I doubt he can tie his own shoes," Hermione replied, setting her mug down. "Well it's time I got ready for work myself, we have a large book shipment coming in today. How about dinner tonight at The Painted Table, are you and Luna free at say 7ish?"
Ron nodded as Hermione passed Harry in the hallways walking up the hallway, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, drying his wet hair with a towel.
"Well, Potters, I'll see you tonight." Ron replied before stepping into the fireplace after throwing a fistful of dust to floo.
"Ginny. Ginny wake up," a voice growled.
She ignored it and instead burrowed back under the covers and willed sleep and her wonderful dream to come back. It was always lovely when he was in it.
"I know you're awake. Get up, damn it"
A blast of sunlight hit her face and she groaned in frustration. He had opened the fucking drapes. Only one person could be responsible for her misery this morning, and if she weren't suffering from a hangover, she would have hexed the shit out of Draco Malfoy. Ginny put a hand up in front of her eyes to block out the light and slowly sat up.
"Did you really fucking have to do that?" she groused.
"Yeah, I really have to fucking do that. It's the middle of the goddamn day," Draco spat, settling the drapes into place and walking to the door.
"I was kipping..."
"You've been 'kipping' since yesterday, I'm going back to work," he threw back.
She ran a well manicured hand through her fiery red locks and smirked, "so you came home to wake me up for a quickie?"
Draco's hand was on the doorknob, prepared to leave, but he paused and turned to look back at the witch lying in his bed in a little black negligee. Part of him could have taken her right then, but that would have been too easy. "I woke you up, because it's the middle of the fucking day. One might confuse you with a vampire with your sleeping patterns lately. Get up, shower, do something useful."
Ginny Weasley stretched her creamy legs out from the satin sheets and looked squarely at Draco, obviously awake now. He wanted to play...they could...play. "Useful? Like I said, come for a quickie?"
Draco sneered at the sight of her shedding the black slip that adorned her petite body a few seconds later. She tossed it unceremoniously off the bed and leaned back. She knew how to seduce Draco, it didn't take much. Apparently it was working the way by the way he was leering at her. In three quick strides Draco had his hands buried in her hair and pushed her forcibly back against the bed. She moaned as he attacked her neck and in turn she ran her hands down feverishly his back. He still had on his robes, 'no fair' she pouted to herself. She reached in his pocket and drew out his wand, then pushed him playfully away
"Take those off..."
He lifted an eyebrow and smirked at her, "make them go away."
A seductive grin crossed her face and with a flick of her wrist his Auror robes were gone. Back at her neck within seconds, he decided to meet her challenge; "I don't think there will be anything 'quick' about what I'm going to do."
She gasped as his mouth continued its assault downward, "oh Merlin, I hope not."