Chapter Text
Head Auror Robards barged into the hospital room where Harry was sitting, idly chatting with Ron.
“Third time this month. How do you expect me to continue sending you on missions if you can’t keep your arse out of St. Mungo’s?” He lectured, pointing an accusing finger at Harry.
Harry snuck a furtive glance at Ron, his Auror partner. He was staring back at him with a mischievous smirk on his face, gesticulating wildly in an effort to mock their beloved boss. Harry forced a smile down as he drew his attention back to the still-yelling man in front of him.
He coughed a laugh. Merlin, Ron’s impression was too accurate.
“...keep this up, I’ll have to split you idiots up. Are you even listening to me?”
Harry’s eyes were focused on the pretty nurse that walked into the room. She looked uneasy.
“Hm?” he asked, not even bothering to look like he was listening. “It wasn’t even that bad. I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
The last thing he heard from Robards was a tired scoff, and then he was off.
*
Harry shoved his way into his office the next morning, half-awake. He never was very good at waking up early, not even in his Hogwarts days. To no one’s surprise, Ron wasn’t even there yet. See? He wasn’t the one jeopardizing this partnership.
He threw his red Auror cloak off to the side somewhere, anywhere and ambled over to his desk. On it, there was a note from Robards. He rolled his eyes, crumpled the paper, and tossed it straight into the bin. He’ll deal with that later.
As he sat on his chair, the door clicked open and Harry looked up excitedly, expecting to see Ron.
That was not the case. Not at all. What he did see was a flurry of platinum blonde hair step into Harry’s office. Harry and Ron’s office.
Harry hadn’t seen Malfoy for years since his trial, when Harry testified for him. They haven’t spoken for longer. He looked very different, Harry entertained. His jaw was sharper, eyes darker, even paler than before. But Harry could still recognize that barely-hidden contempt, the waves of hatred coming off of him after experiencing it for more than half of his life.
He stared at Malfoy. The boy hadn’t gone more than a step into the office before fixing him with a glare. Harry narrowed his eyes.
“Lost your way, Malfoy?” he asks, bemused.
Now it was Malfoy's turn to narrow his eyes. His silver-blue, piercing eyes. He sneered. God, it’s the exact same. “Unfortunately not.”
Harry just stared.
“Robards informed me you already knew,” he continued, picking out the dirt from under his perfectly-manicured fingernails. Because of course they were.
“Knew what exactly?” Harry could feel his rage spiking by the second.
“That I’m your new Auror partner?” he still didn’t look up.
Before another word could spill out of Malfoy’s ever-infuriating mouth, Harry had his robe crumpled under his grasp and began striding furiously to Robards office.
Malfoy stumbled into the office after Harry and looked up calmly with a soothing smile on his face. Harry, on the other hand…
“What the fuck is this? Since when did I need a new Auror partner? Ron and I are perfectly compatible with each other.” he started, voice quickly rising in contrast to Malfoy’s calm demeanor.
Robards glance shifted between the two of them before sighing.
“You and Ronald are too reckless. The top priority of this institution is the safety and security of our employees and our community. That simply cannot be achieved with you two being partners, “ his voice went monotonous, as if he were reading off a script.
“Why didn’t you let me know? We could've figured something out.” Harry rebutted.
“That’s exactly the point. I tried. Clearly, you weren’t listening last night, nor did you read the note I had personally left on your desk. I’m sorry, but this is for the good of the Auror department. There is nothing to be done,” he ended softly, like explaining something to a little kid. It only did well to aggravate Harry more.
This was all so fucking stupid. Robards knew about their volatile past. How could he think that having Malfoy as his partner would keep anyone safe?
Robards seemed to have read his mind, because he quickly reassured, “As long as you two are busy trying to murder each other, no one else will get hurt,” he subdued.
Malfoy peeped in obediently, “Of course sir. I’ll do my best to see to it that he won’t get hurt again.”
Harry had to look up at the ceiling to keep from rolling his eyes again. Malfoy would be the one hurting him, what is he on about?
“Great. Your first mission is sitting on your desk,” his voice was calmer now.
Robards gave a stiff smile at Malfoy before sending them off to their office once more.
The walk back was strained. Harry was staring down at the floor as if it had personally led him upon this fate and Malfoy’s head was raised high.
“Who do you think the Weasel’s new partner is?” the blonde pondered out loud.
Harry didn’t reply.
“I’ve begun thinking it's that new hire. You know, that girl. What do you think?”
“Don’t call him Weasel, Malfoy.” Harry finally sighed out, “And her name is Ruby.” It’s hard to speak to the guy, how was he supposed to work with him?
“Not an answer.”
Harry slipped inside first, settling at his desk and looking at Malfoy, who had his wand pointed at his own. What was he doing now?
Malfoy cast a non-verbal spell at his desk. Instantly, it polished itself. The wood was crisp again, the light reflecting onto it and casting a glow onto the muted surface. He did the same for his chair before sitting down.
“It’s rude to stare, Potter. Didn’t your mummy ever tell you proper manners?”
“Fuck off. I didn’t know you could do non-verbal magic. Your ability was always lacking in school,” Harry remarked.
What a great start to their partnership.
Malfoy hummed, “I had other things going on.”
It was weird to hear Malfoy talk about what had happened all those years ago. Frankly, Harry would much rather just forget it. But that didn’t seem possible, seeing the press outside his house daily, the countless stalkers and fangirls, and The Daily Prophet desperate for any kind of detail about Harry’s life. If he could recall, the last article was about how he’d switched his brand of toothpaste. Harry himself didn’t even notice!
He didn’t know what to reply to Malfoy, so he didn’t.
Malfoy began pulling things out of his bag. A few pens, notebooks, regular office supplies. Harry stared at his golden snitch desk lamp in shame.
Suddenly, he glanced down at his phone. Harry could only hear a faint buzz from here, but Malfoy stood up tersely and speed-walked to the corner of the room. The motion was so quick that he had forgotten to cast a silencing charm, but that didn’t seem like it mattered.
One click and Malfoy was speaking rapidly to the person on the other end. Harry couldn’t pick up anything. It must have been in a different language.
“Quoi? Que veux-tu dire? Comment?...”
The pureblood using a muggle phone was surely a sight to behold. Malfoy certainly wasn’t the same person he was at Hogwarts. Changed for the better or worse, Harry couldn’t tell you.
Malfoy rushed out of the room, leaving Harry alone with his wonders. After a few moments, Harry decided he would leave as well.
*
The crack of apparition filled the small living room of Hermione and Ron’s house. They got married quickly after the war. There’s only so many things a couple can experience without falling in love.
As expected, Ron was already there, ranting to Hermione. He was pacing the room ceaselessly with his head in his hands, whining.
“I just don’t get it. Ruby’s great, for sure, but why did we have to switch?”
Hermione nodded sympathetically as she scribbled something down expeditiously on a document.
Hermione was the first to notice Harry’s presence, and she greeted him accordingly: “Hi Harry, how was your day?”
Ron whipped his head up and flew to Harry’s side, “Harry! Mate! Who’s your new Auror partner?”
Harry let out a long exhale.
“You won’t believe it.”
Ron’s voice dropped in pitch slightly, matching Harry’s mood. Harry could still detect the childhood anticipation in his voice, though.
“Who? Who is it?” he said questionably.
“Draco sodding Malfoy.”
Ron snapped his teeth together so quickly you could hear the sound. Hermione let out a noise of surprise and looked up.
“Now I’m not as mad about my Auror partner,” Ron said deferentially.
“Ronald!” Hermione lectured.
“What? Just saying!”
Harry pulled out the chair next to Hermione and sat down, defeated.
“Harry,” Hermione began in that motherly tone, “It’s okay. He won’t do anything.”
Ron encouraged, “Yeah, mate. He’s had to have changed since the war.”
Harry knew exactly what Ron was talking about, but he didn’t want to talk about Malfoy let alone the war.
“It’s fine, I can deal with him,” Harry reassured, “It’s just Malfoy.” But Harry’s jaw was clenched and he couldn’t shake the feeling of adolescent hatred in his gut.
“He’s always been good at getting under your skin,” Hermione mused.
Harry scoffed lightly. He bid farewell to his friends and prepared to apparate back to his home. All he wanted to do right now was sleep. They were clearly busy with each other. Sometimes, Harry envied their bond. Their ability to just be. Sometimes, he craved connection like theirs. Someone to just talk to and laugh with and act like children all over again. As if he knew what that felt like.
Harry drifted his focus to materializing the grey walls and dim lighting of Grimmald Place and apparated abruptly. He landed in his living room.
He decided to busy himself. Too much was on his mind, and he couldn’t deal with it right now. That can be for later Harry.
Harry stepped into the modest kitchen and began cooking himself a drab, unimaginative meal. Chicken, greens, and rice.
He never had a knack for decorating, he realized. The empty, unfurnished rooms of his “home” were proof of that. Honestly, he never had time. Harry strolled aimlessly through his house, lifting his wand up to fix a few out-of-place pillows on his couch, a newspaper from a few weeks ago on the floor, the robes he threw to the side.
Without anything of significance to do, his mind drifted back out of his will. How long has Malfoy been in the Auror department, he mulled. Harry tried to imagine him during a mission, fighting off dark wizards, defending others, but all he could think about was the Mark on his left hand that makes him one of them.
The Malfoy’s were pardoned a long time ago. Hell, Harry had even helped them clear their name. Why was he so pissed that Malfoy was doing something with his life? Wasn’t that what he wanted?
Harry had had nemeses all throughout his life. Honestly, he didn't remember the last time he hadn’t had one. How was this so different? It’s just Malfoy.
Or so he tells himself.
Harry stalked up to his bland bedroom and flopped onto his bed, exhausted. He didn’t even bother to change out of his uniform as he dozed off, his dreams plagued with images of Malfoy. Because it’s always Malfoy.
*
Harry woke up early to the squawking of birds, the blaring sunlight in his eyes, and his hair falling unkempt around his face. He groaned loudly to the pleasure of no one being around to tell him otherwise and sat up.
The muggle digital clock read 6:00AM on his bedside table.
Harry mulled in bed for another 30 minutes (just on the brink of being late) before getting up and casting a cleaning charm onto his clothes. He was still in his uniform, so why bother to change?
He ran downstairs, grabbed an apple from his kitchen table and burst out the door, apparating once again.