Chapter Text
"Absolutely not" Harry leans back into his chair and crosses his arms. Hermione frowns and collects her papers into a pile to leave. "I'm afraid 'absolutely not' isn't an option here, Harry. Robards wants us to take leave while the backup teams fill in for a week and there's not much to say about that."
Harry sputters and sits back up, "I don't need a break! Neither does Ron, Seamus, Dean, and even—and I cannot believe I'm saying this—but even Malfoy seems to be doing his job just fine too. Whatever he does..." He mumbles out that last bit hoping Hermione won't catch it. She does.
"You don't even know what Draco does for this department, do you? Take this as a bonding experience and not just as a vacation. Get to know this team a bit better because I'm afraid you'll not only be stuck with them for the holiday, but for most of your career" Somehow that just makes everything ten times worse in Harry's mind.
Bonding was truly the last thing Harry could need on his plate right now, never mind forced bonding with Malfoy and his friends. He'd made peace with Malfoy after the war trials where he testified in defence of him. Sure, Malfoy was a bully and a right git, but he wasn't a villain. He did what he had to do to protect himself and his family despite being stuck on the wrong side of things. That's something Harry has come to terms with.
But the git part? That seems to have stuck around. And unbelievably, after the letters of apologies and forgiveness, Hermione and Malfoy have begun to get along swimmingly in their respective parts of the ministry. Turns out that oddly enough, their work ethics align perfectly and make them a good team on the occasion they work together. Malfoy even sometimes extends their meetings for a cup of tea and bloody biscuits during his reports back to her on a curse case.
He has to admit, when Malfoy slithers into one of the auror cases involving curses or ancient magic, whatever he does usually helps make their jobs a hell of a lot easier. He'll show up to the scene in billowing custom green robes and those stupid reading glasses that he forgets to take off in the rush that makes his face look criminally sharp. But that doesn't change the fact that he's still a poncy twat.
Hermione gives him a small smile from the door, "We leave tomorrow Harry, I'd suggest you start packing" And with that, she hugs the papers to her chest and reaches for the knob, sneaking out before more protest. Harry was so frustrated with the situation that he entirely forgot to ask exactly where they would be going. He'll just have to pack a little bit of everything.
"I know it's bonkers mate, but at least we get paid time off. Not much to complain about there I'm afraid" Ron echoes over the firecall.
Harry rolls his eyes and calls back to the fireplace "You're just saying that because you and Hermione will get a room together to do whatever you please". He pushes the wardrobe shut with his hip and tosses a few more shirts into his suitcase. "Where are we even going anyway?"
"Mione didn't tell you? We're staying at this posh villa in France. Sounds like great fun to me!" Since when did Ron get so bloody happy-go-lucky about being stuck in a house with their past rivals? Harry sighs and bends over to take out the winter coat he chucked into the case.
"Cheer up Harry, it's not like you're gonna be stuck there for your whole life. It's a week of stuffing your face with baguettes along the bloody French coast. I think you'll make it out alive." Harry supposes that's true. "Anyway, gotta go. Mione says she needs help with something or other. See you at the portkey tomorrow" Ron's face fades from the fireplace and the room settles into calm silence.
Harry flicks his hand over to the turntable to see what vinyl he left lying there last. Frank Sinatra's ' Somethin' Stupid' slowly judders to a start. It's a good song. Suitable enough as background. He packs (and dances) until the needle sputters on the run-out groove and he has to start the record over again. By the time he's finished, it's about quarter past nine. No better time for a glass of wine and to perch in front of the telly for a football match.
Sitting in the warmly lit room, Harry feels forever glad that he decided that Grimmauld Place truly wasn't for him. Although it was part of his and Sirius' past, It was far too big and much too dark for someone who needed a little bit of light to get him going after the war. Living in a small flat in Central London by Russell Square Station was the solution he needed. There are plenty of windows and a perfect amount of places for his grouchy friend Ozzy to perch.
When his glass is drained and the match is over Harry feels a bit better. Maybe France for a week won't be as horrible as he's chalked it up to be. Ozzy slinks around the corner and takes a wobbly hop up to the sofa to sit by him. Harry scratches behind his ears and makes little kissing noises. The calico purrs and Harry realises now he'll have to get someone to watch him while he's away.
He ponders for a moment about maybe setting charms on the food bowl and litter box for a moment. Ozzy meows from the cushions and Harry decides that he would probably much rather have some human company for Ozzy while he's away. He stands to fire call Luna—who has had a special bond with the creature ever since she helped care for Ozzy in the early weeks after his adoption.
"I would love to, Harry!" Luna says cheerily from the other end after a short amount of convincing on Harry's part. They talk for another few minutes about his unfortunate trip and just like everyone so far, she tries to tell him to look on the bright side.
"Just try to make the most out of it if you're going to be there. Who knows! Maybe you'll even figure out some new things about Draco and his friends while you're there" She chimes in after an enthusiastic praise over Ozzy. Harry scoffs and shakes his head.
"I'll come by often to care for Ozzy, and I want to hear back about anything that happens in France!" Luna ends the call after a few repeated goodbyes and Harry sits in the silence of the flat. He stands to give Ozzy a treat before finally stripping to his boxers and crawling under the cool sheets of his bed. His body sinks into the plump mattress and Harry tries not to think about France.
He does anyway though, drifting off wondering what the villa will be like and what they'll get up to, even how Malfoy and his friends will act around Harry's group. Will he make trouble and jab like he used to do in school? Will his calm and collected work form melt away and reveal his true self? Harry finally slips into sleep much too late, his dreams blurring with even more Malfoy scenarios.
"Looking sharp Harry" Ron laughs as Harry slumps through the door of Robards' office, bumping his shoulder on the way in. "Shove off" he rubs his arm and blinks slowly. Despite it being eleven in the morning (a perfectly generous amount of time to feel energized), Harry’s dark circles and curly hair were even more scruffy when he looked in the mirror this morning. That's what you get after a horrible night's sleep and far too many thoughts of Malfoy getting up to no good in fucking France.
Hermione walks through the door chatting to Pansy, who manages one of the branches connected to the Aurors. Harry suddenly realises while watching them chat that this is a bit of an odd bunch. It's a medley of Aurors, curse breakers, heads of departments and other people who do merlin knows what around the office building.
Neville comes in with Ginny who's tying her hair back into a ponytail, shrunken luggage in hand. "Who's ready for France?" She cheers happily, and Hermione and Pansy both whoop from the corner. Harry rubs his temples and truly doesn't know how this could get worse.
Malfoy walks in a moment later and Harry clicks his tongue. That’s how. He's wearing a black suit and a silver ring on his hand. It's not an engagement ring, Harry discovered a few weeks ago after noticing it on a case. He was curious about it, that was all, and after a bit of light research, he figured out Malfoy was single. No prior engagements.
Harry registers he's staring at Malfoy's right hand and turns his head up to his face because that's a much better idea than just looking away. He catches his eyes briefly and receives an almost puzzled look from Malfoy.
"Potter" Malfoy says, almost a question. Harry can smell his sharp cologne from where he's standing before him. All teakwood and cedar notes filled his nose and his mind with confusion. He almost forgets to reply. "Hm?" Harry raises a brow and watches Malfoy straighten his jacket.
"You were just.... staring" He looks Harry up and down, face still slightly confused before making his way over to Pansy and Hermione for a chat.
"Wasn't staring" Harry mumbles, feeling his cheeks heat up from the confrontation. He turns back to glance at Malfoy briefly. His suit is not black, but a dark green upon further inspection. The cufflinks are another shimmering silver accent that simply screams ' Look at me! I'm a rich prat'.
Harry converses with Ron and Dean to pass the time waiting for Robards. Seamus stumbles in late but is not exactly fashionable. He's sporting a pair of trousers that are far too small—evident with the ankle skin that he's showing in the gap between his socks—and a band t-shirt that Harry doesn't recognize.
"Seamus!" Ron calls over Harry and the group turns to the door. Seamus is flushed and by the looks of him, it seems to have taken a toll on him to simply arrive at the office on time. "You can breathe, Robards isn't even here yet" Ron laughs. Seamus audibly exhales and places his regular-sized luggage down on the floor.
"No shrinking charms today?" Harry smiles. Seamus scoffs and waves him off, too tired to respond. "Shhh" he manages and Dean lets out a chuckle.
"I had to leave without him. Wouldn't get out of bed in time even after I reminded him four times so I just left him to fend for himself". It's Ron's turn to laugh and Seamus finally shrinks his luggage out of spite, giving Harry the bird.
"Mind your manners, Mr. Finnigan, none of that in the workplace" Robards' deep voice calls across the room. Seamus shoots his hand to his side and goes tense. "I'm only joking," He laughs. Seamus' shoulders stay tense for another few seconds before relaxing.
"So I imagine Mrs. Granger has filled you in on the majority of the details, but I understand there may be a few questions about why you all are taking this holiday in the first place". Harry hums with an eye roll from the corner and Ron nudges his side with an elbow.
"The Ministry knows how hard this branch works and all those who connect to it, and upon investigation, we have discovered that the whole lot of you have managed to sneak past the recommended paid absence and somehow haven't taken even one day of leave in over..." He taps his wand on a stack of papers, one rustling free from the pile to display a data chart to the crowd, "Ten months".
The group looks around at each other. "I bet Seamus is only here because he forgets to clock out. His hours are absolute bollocks" Ron whispers. Harry snickers into his hand and stops himself when Robards turns to look at him.
"I'm not sure what is a laughing matter here, Mr. Potter. Out of everyone here, you are the one with the most clocked hours for the whole year. You're on the brink of breaking a department record if you're not careful" Harry falls silent. With Hermione in the room, that truly shows how little Harry actually rests from work. It's something he finds keeps his life in order. A nice day-to-day schedule and showing up to serve the community is the perfect situation for him. It gives him control and purpose and has done so ever since those first few months after the war.
Robards clears his throat to continue, "You all play a vital part in this field, but in order to have you working your best it is important to take a break and rest our skills for even a few days. This holiday is not meant to be a punishment," He turns toward Harry and lifts a brow, "And you shall take it as an actual holiday. Relax, get a horrible sunburn, drink an Aperol Spritz, and then get back to work in a week's time."
From across the room, Pansy and Hermione nod at the mention of a nice cocktail as Robards finishes his speech. "Now I know you all have worked together before, but I highly suggest you also take the time to actually get to know your colleagues. It won't do any harm to befriend the people who are already on your side". He goes on to explain the portkey and the instructions on magic use while they're away, and soon enough everyone is wrapping a hand around the sunhat in the center of the desk.
Harry grabs the rim and a slender pale hand joins him, a silver ring brushing briefly against his pinky finger before retracting. "Sorry," Malfoy says awkwardly, giving a small smile. Harry doesn't respond but studies Malfoy's face briefly. Relaxed with a slight flush, jawline sharp yet soft enough to not intimidate Harry as much as it would a stranger. He knows this face, the light freckles that have blossomed from the summer rays, and the grey eyes that change in the light.
Harry gets a pulling feeling in his gut, similar to his first time trying apparition with Dumbledore. His hair blows briefly in the wind as they spin quickly and he looks up to see Malfoy's face again, the usual calm complexion morphed into drawn eyebrows and anxious eyes. They touch down before Harry can think more of it.
The sun hits him immediately, giving no mercy as it beats down on his back and a layer of sweat materializes on his forehead. "Right," Hermione dusts off her work pants and turns in a circle looking around, "If I'm not mistaken the villa should be just up this hill here" She points with her instruction paper to a cobblestone path bordered by blossoming plants and fruit trees.
Someone in the back of the group groans, probably Seamus, and Draco laughs from the side as Blaise hauls Pansy over his shoulder to carry her up. "Oh come on, it's not that steep" Harry calls over, and Blaise smiles over at him shaking his head, "Tell that to Her Majesty up here" He tips her just enough to make her squeal a bit before securing her back into position.
Blaise is a very tolerable person, Harry has learned. Working with him occasionally as a partner makes for some of the best work Harry does when they combine Harry's focus and Blaise's attention to detail. He chuckles lightly when Pansy passes him and does a queen wave, mouthing peasant down to him from her perch.
Harry makes a point to pat his pockets to make sure his luggage is still secure, and when he feels the lump he begins the trek up the hill. It truly isn't that steep, but his legs still burn by the time they reach the top when the light work combines with the relentless heat. He sighs loudly and rests his hands on his hips to catch his breath.
"I thought the Aurors had a strict workout regimen, Potter? Looks like a lot of huffing and puffing over there" Malfoy’s lips curl into a smirk. Harry rolls his eyes and lifts his sweaty shirt to reveal a toned chest and defined abs, flipping Malfoy off.
Malfoy stares for a few seconds before meeting his eyes, only to give another smirk and walk up to the house leaving Harry stranded and confused. "Come on mate" Ron smacks him on the bum and Harry yelps before following him into the villa.
It's even hotter inside than out if possible, as the villa doesn't even have muggle air conditioning. Hermione quickly spans the house with cooling charms and the relief is almost instantaneous. The group lets out a collective sigh, silently thanking Hermione for her near-perfect performance of statis charms.
Once he can think straight, Harry takes time to appreciate the thoughtfully decorated entrance area that continues into the wide sitting room. Harry walks to tour the sizable kitchen, admiring the classic tiling along the walls, bearing an array of photos that each tell a story of their own.
There's a deck that overlooks the houses below and shows a sliver of the ocean waves crashing to the shore. Maybe this won't be so bad. When Harry makes his way up the spiral staircase, almost everyone has already picked out their rooms. Hermione and Ron together obviously, Dean and Seamus, Pansy and Ginny in the next one over, and Blaise and Neville roomed together as well. Perhaps they gained quite the friendship after a week of being partners just before the trip was announced.
Harry stops at the top step and turns slowly to the left to the only open door. Malfoy is unpacking his luggage with his wand, neatly folded clothes flying into the cupboard effortlessly. "No way" Harry speaks, dodging a flying pair of swim trunks on his way over to confront Malfoy.
"Oh grow up Potter. It's not like I picked to have you as my vacation buddy" His eyes flick to his wand and he lifts it to shut the navy suitcase on the bed. "Don't call me your vacation buddy" Harry takes a breath, "Can't you ask Blaise to switch with me?"
"Oh I think Blaise and Neville are very adamant about staying in the same room" Draco chuckles to himself. "What is that supposed to mean?" Harry takes the tiny case from his pocket and resizes it quickly before turning to await a response. Malfoy doesn't say a word, but raises both of his hands and pokes his index finger through the hole made by his other hand in a lewd gesture.
Harry flushes a deep red in a state of slight shock "They're..." he trails off. "Fucking?" Malfoy suggests, and Harry nods quickly. "Yep, that" he scratches the back of his neck and distracts himself with the task of sorting his clothes into drawers. "I guess that's what one week on a stakeout mission does to people," Malfoy says. Harry doesn't look up to respond.
"Just promise me you'll be civil if we have to share this room" Harry announces, trying to lay down ground rules. "When have I not been civil this whole time?" Malfoy asks, genuinely looking for an answer. Harry opens his mouth to respond then shuts it. Malfoy nods pointedly and shrinks the empty case back down to tuck into the bedside drawer.
"I think you're the one who needs to relax, Potter" He quips, walking out of the room before Harry can say anything in return. He's really beginning to hate that Malfoy always gets the last word.
Suddenly, Harry hears music abruptly turn on in the kitchen. Slowly moving out of the room and down the stairs, he watches as Pansy and Malfoy have a mini freak-out session over the song that starts playing. "Blaise, do you remember?" Pansy smiles, turning to the rest of the group, "We used to dance to this song all the time during our school's dance class before Hogwarts" She explains.
"Of course, your school had bloody dance class" Ginny huffs from the corner amused, though it lacks any venom. Pansy shrugs and turns around to find Malfoy holding his hand out in a bowed position. Harry watches closely, moving to sit beside Ron at the kitchen island.
"Mrs. Parkinson" He dips his head gesturing to the open palm, and Pansy touches her heart dramatically before taking his hand. "You remember it all?" She asks him, taking his left hand in hers and resting her other arm along his.
He snakes a hand around her waist and leads her gracefully around the kitchen to the beat of J'adore Venise. "How could I forget? Madam Auclair drilled it into us so hard that I can still feel the ruler on my back from when I slouched" He laughs, easily keeping step and releasing his grip on Pansy to twirl her around. Pansy giggles and her face goes stern in an impression of their old teacher, "Garde le dos droit monsieur Malefoy" Pansy says.
The rest of the group looks at each other briefly, impressed by her French. "I'm surprised you even remember that much French based on how little you paid attention" He shakes his head and pulls her close to his body, swaying quickly and finally dipping her at the end of the song. "I don't know how you stuck with it after all these years" Pansy retorts.
"Wait- so you three all went to French primary school together? Wicked!" Seamus calls from the bar followed by a few hums in agreement. "Well Pansy and I were always kind of shit, Dray is the only one who ever actually kept speaking after school. Almost fluent, the prat" Blaise laughs shutting the fridge and tossing a raspberry into his mouth.
Malfoy waves him off shaking his head "That's not true, stop with the false praise" He smiles and takes a seat beside Ron at the island. "Mate I've heard you sleep talk in French" Blaise stares with a brow cocked. Harry—intrigued, looks past Ron and over to Malfoy, who is flushed a rosy pink from the spotlight. Their eyes meet briefly before Harry finally looks away.
Dean comes walking over with a cocktail shaker, glasses floating behind him and falling into line on the counter space. "Who's up for a drink?" He calls, and everyone cheers and crowds to inspect his concoction. "What's in it?" Hermione peers into the first glass Dean has poured bearing an iridescent yellow and pink gradient. "Vodka, Lemonade, and grapefruit juice! Super basic but you can't go wrong with a greyhound can you?"
"I have no idea what that is, but you had me at vodka" Seamus lurches for the drink and swipes it before anyone could even think of stopping him. The rest are poured out and garnished with fresh lemons from the new stock-replenishing fridge—thanks again to Hermione's charm work. Everyone grabs their own drink by the time Seamus has downed half of his second and they fall into light chatter over their plans for the trip.
For the array of people, the group mainly gets along really well. Harry hadn't realized before, but his friend's lives and the Malfoy crew had intertwined far more than he had thought. Between cases, late work nights, celebrations at the pub, and, with disturbing recent discoveries, even stake-out case rendezvous, they've been brought to more of a solid group than expected.
Even Ron and Malfoy have been getting along recently. A shared love for chess and eager competition has led to the repeated conjuring of a chess set each instance they have time to spare. Over time their quick games have developed the ground for a friendship.
He has to admit that Malfoy's efforts to make amends after the war were very well thought out and meaningful despite how out of character they were. Harry kept the letter Mafloy had sent all that time ago. Just thinking about it sends him down a spiral of thoughts. He recalls the apology and the explanations, though no excuses for his actions. Harry appreciated that especially, the honesty of it all and the recognition that he was a total prick. It made it a lot easier to forgive him.
But what he remembers best was the loopy signature at the bottom of the parchment, neat cursive and tight letters plotted down with deep blue ink. "Harry?" A voice calls. Harry blinks and straightens his back, realizing all eyes are on him expectantly.
"Erm, what?" He clears his throat and blushes. "We were just wondering how you feel about the beach tomorrow?" Seamus asks, taking the last sip of his second drink. "Oh yeah, sure," Harry says nodding, thinking nothing of it.
"Splendid!" Ginny calls out and the conversation continues. Harry is glad to have kept her as a friend despite their romantic relationship not exactly working out. There was nothing really to be upset about when they broke things off. Ginny just wasn't right for Harry and, well, Harry was a bit too much of a man for Ginny. Somehow through it all, sexuality being the issue was less of a surprise to everyone than Ginny and Harry had expected.
In fact, he remembers that when they shared the news with the rest of the Weasleys, Fred and George thought Harry was the one with the sexual realizations. It was a bit of a blur explaining it all, but in the end, it was as though nothing had changed. Harry and Ginny knew they'd always stay friends because it was the main thing their relationship was built around. When they broke up, all they took away was the romantic elements. The strong bond they'd made over the years never shifted or faltered.
He catches her eye from across the room and smiles at her tipping his drink in a 'cheers' motion. She winks back at him, and Harry watches from afar as she resumes her conversation, twisting a bit of her strawberry hair between her fingers as she listens to Pansy with an admiring smile. Harry knows that look in her eyes from when they dated. They may have broken up, but her body language is something Harry will always notice. The elbow kneeling on the countertop and subtle fluttering eyelashes mean one thing only. He'll have to talk to her about that later.
A hand lays to rest on Harry's shoulder as he admires the scene. He turns his head to find Blaise standing beside him. Harry watches the other man drop the hand to his waist and clear his throat before taking a long sip of his drink. He smiles at Blaise and turns back to the scene to eye Malfoy and Neville enjoying their drinks at the kitchen island.
"Y'alright?" Blaise asks, brow cocking looking to see what has grasped Harry's attention. He glances down at Harry with sly eyes. Harry nods and tips back his drink, swirling the sweet and bitter taste in his mouth before swallowing. “What’s so interesting about Draco, hm?” Blaise’s gaze doesn’t leave Harry, prying for a response.
“Nothing,” Harry shrugs, feeling hot all of a sudden despite the cooling charms around them. It was Blaise’s hot glare down and the fact that he was far too tall for Harry’s comfort.
“You know he’s not the boy he was before,” Blaise starts, swirling his glass and looking up to see Draco, head tipped back in laughter at a comment from Pansy. “He’s made a life for himself after the war. Made amends where they were due and donated more than his share to charity. He even volunteers at St. Mungos on the weekends in the children’s ward”
Harry’s brows draw close as he stares harder at Malfoy, trying to see the man who donates and the man who plays with sick children in his free time. Malfoy smiles in a way that makes Harry think maybe Blaise is right.
“He’s still a twat sometimes” Harry contradicts, thinking over their conversation earlier in the bedroom.
“You’re a twat sometimes, Harry, but that doesn’t make you an awful person the rest of the time does it?” Harry closes his mouth and thinks. “Sometimes it seems that maybe you chose not to see him in a different light than you’re used to. Almost like it scares you”.
Harry freezes then, knuckles tight around the glass and throat scratchy. Harry isn’t afraid of Malfoy or the way he has changed. And he certainly isn’t scared of his crackling laugh and the way everyone else seems to be getting on with him just fine.
What does Harry do around Malfoy now that he is good? Harry recalls Hermione’s words from earlier yesterday. Bonding wasn’t the word Harry would use even still, but maybe a bit of light getting to know him wouldn’t hurt.
By the time dinner rolls around, everyone is very tipsy and Harry isn’t entirely sure if they will even be allowed into the restaurant they’re queued outside of. A slim young woman calls out Malfoy’s name for the reservation they had made earlier before the drinks got to their heads.
“Par ici, Monsieur” She smiles, bright red lips contrasting her pale cheeks. The group follows the hostess to the table like ducklings, claiming their seats around the stretched white tablecloth.
Seamus and Pansy cheekily order a few bottles of wine for the table and their earlier conversations resume over the dim candlelight. Harry is seated between Ginny and Hermione and has a nice chat about Dean’s cocktail success.
But when Ginny turns to Neville about another important matter, Harry lets his gaze pull back to Malfoy. His hair has become more ruffled in the humid air and his shirt has been unbuttoned thrice over to the point where it’s a bit scandalous.
He watches intently as Malfoy folds his cuffs up his forearm and takes a sip of the aged wine, throat bobbing as he swallows. When the waitress comes around to take their orders, Blaise Pansy, and Malfoy all take turns translating for the group.
Harry, of course, has been preoccupied and hasn’t even glanced at the options yet. He quickly picks a pasta choice that seems decent and tucks the menu into the pile the group had created.
Malfoy looks away from the waitress and meets his eyes suddenly. “Et toi, Harry?” Draco asks, though he’d forgotten to switch from his French and Harry is caught far off guard hearing him. “I- erm” his hand jets for the stack of menus as his mind blanks on whatever he had chosen, and in the process he manages to knock over a glass of water and push Neville’s silverware to the floor.
“He’ll have the Pasta Pissaladière” Hermione interjects before Harry can make more of a fool of himself. Ginny snorts beside him and he shoots her a pointed glare. The table waves off the disruption and resumes their chatter, but Harry sinks even lower into his seat trying his best to disappear. When he’s about halfway considering slipping under the table, Harry decides that he’s had enough wine for the night.