emmagrant01 | FIC: Surrender the Grey (26/30)

NOTE: This is the first draft of this story. The final version can be read HERE.

Title: Surrender the Grey
Author: Emma Grant
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Draco Malfoy returns to London after five years of self-imposed exile to start a new life with Harry. But will the secrets of the past destroy everything they've worked for?
Sequel to: Left My Heart. This will make much more sense if you have read that first!
Disclaimer: Not my characters, no copyright violation intended.
Length: 150,000 words
Status: COMPLETED November 2, 2005 (Posted March 2 - November 2, 2005)
Notes:
1. Please don't archive this story yet! This is the first draft, and in the next few months, it will be revised and edited. I'll post the final version on my website and a few other select archives, but in the meantime, feel free to link to this post.
2. There aren't enough words to say THANK YOU to

jedirita,

hazelhawthorne, and

(26)

Potter picked at the samosa on his plate, and Draco sighed. Dinner had been an uncomfortable affair so far. The events of the morning seemed to have changed something between them, and Draco was surprised how much he was disappointed about that.

"Snape and Avery were at dinner last night," Draco said. Potter looked up, his expression unreadable. "I was surprised to see Avery, to be honest. I've never known Father to consider him a confidant."

"Avery's nephew was killed by Voldemort a few months ago," Potter said, fingering the stem of his glass.

"He was?" Draco asked. He hadn't heard that before. It was surprising news, since Avery's family had been close to the Dark Lord for half a century. "Anyway, Father said--"

The waiter arrived with their main courses. Potter had cast some sort of spell that made their conversation difficult to understand by others, but they still had to be careful. A dish of rice and several small bowls of curry were placed before them, nearly overwhelming the small table. The waiter began to describe each dish in more detail than was required, taking so long that Draco began to grow agitated. Potter seemed patient, though -- even relaxed. It only irritated Draco further.

"Father said that the Dark Lord has been behaving more and more erratically," Draco continued when the waiter finally left. "His remaining allies are beginning to isolate him from those they find suspicious. Father hasn't seen him in a month -- Lestrange won't let him anywhere near."

"Really?" Potter asked. He seemed mildly surprised, but he continued spooning aloo matar onto his plate.

"And Snape has been doing some research, trying to figure out why Voldemort is deteriorating. He says he can't find any possible cause."

Potter nodded, as if he were absorbing this information but not thinking very hard about it.

Draco sighed when he realized Potter wasn't going to say anything. "So what do you think?"

Potter had just taken a bite of naan, so there was another long pause. "Do they think it's going to be harder for us to get to him now?"

"Well, if they're having a hard time, yes" Draco replied. "But I meant the deterioration. Doesn't it seem like something we should look into?"

Potter shrugged. "If Snape hasn't made much progress, I doubt we'll be able to learn anything."

"Are you kidding? Snape is stuck at Hogwarts much of the time, teaching courses. We can spend a good deal more time on this than he can." Draco snorted. Was Potter an Auror or not?

"We need to focus on our own task, on finding a way to trap him," Potter replied between bites.

"And perhaps understanding why he's deteriorating would help us," Draco said. "Besides, trapping him is only part of it. We've not thought at all about how we're going to incapacitate him." He shivered at the thought -- the man was still the most powerful and dangerous wizard in the world. They had a good chance of getting killed, which Draco preferred not to think about at all.

"We'll worry about that later," Potter said, his tone dismissive.

"Much later, at the rate we're going," Draco grumbled. He looked up, but Potter was still focused on his food. Draco began to push his own food around on the plate, trying not to let his frustration show.

They could talk about work on Monday, he told himself. He wanted to have fun tonight, and arguing with Potter when things were already tense between them wasn't going to help matters.

"This is lovely," Draco said at last. He took a bite of a creamy chicken curry, which turned out to be quite good, and scanned the colorful tapestries that hung on the restaurant's walls. "How'd you find this place?"

"I just walked by one day," Potter replied. "They do a good lunch business."

"And it's convenient to where we're going next."

Potter's smile seemed forced. "I promised to go, but I didn't promise to dance."

"You can't go to a dance club and not dance," Draco retorted. "I'll just have to find someone to dance with you, won't I? Someone you won't be able to resist." A look of panic flitted across Potter's face and Draco laughed. "Come on, trust me. I could even get you laid tonight, if you want."

Potter snorted and rolled his eyes.

Draco's smile was wry. "And you need it, I think."

+++++

The club was just starting to get busy, from the looks of things. The dance floor was full of smartly-dressed people who moved together in same-sex clumps. Most held drinks and conversed with each other over the music, occasionally turning to grin and cast meaningful looks at opposite-sex clumps of people. Nondescript house music blared, colorful lights flashed -- and Harry Potter looked miserable.

"Drink," Draco said, handing him one of the shooters he'd purchased at the bar. "It'll help."

"I'll get in the spirit," Potter replied. He downed the drink and inspected the empty glass. "I'll need a few more of these, though."

They spent the next half hour watching the scene and drinking more shots than Draco suspected was wise. He watched Potter's gaze flit around the club, trying to see if anyone caught his eye, but it looked as if Potter was more interested in watching than participating.

Draco elbowed him when a curvy blonde walked by. "What about her? She's cute."

"How would you know?" Potter replied.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm gay, not blind. She's hot. You should go talk to her, get her to dance with you."

Potter watched her walk over towards the bar and shook his head. "I dunno. She's a bit out of my league."

"Are you mad?" Draco retorted.

He stared at Potter for a moment, wondering if he had any idea how he looked. He was wearing his standard uniform of well-fitting jeans and a vintage rock t-shirt, his hair hanging down to his shoulders in artful disarray. His leather jacket was draped over one arm and he leaned casually against the wall, looking sexy and aloof. Draco had seen a dozen women and even a few men cast him looks of interest tonight, but Potter didn't seem to have noticed.

"Right," Draco said. "Excuse me for a moment." He handed Potter his half-empty glass and walked towards the bar.

"What are you--?" Potter asked, but Draco ignored him.

He stopped just behind the curvy blonde and touched her shoulder. She turned to look at him, and he smiled. "Sorry, but I just had to come right over here and ask you where did you get that shirt?"

She blinked at him for a moment, as if she couldn't remember what she was wearing. It was lovely -- a red sleeveless spandex shirt with a dragon embroidered over the chest. Her enormous breasts made the sides of the dragon look a bit warped, Draco thought, but it was nice all the same.

"Oh, I've had it for years," she replied, grinning.

"I love it," Draco said, "and it looks so lovely on. I was just telling my boyfriend how much I wanted a shirt with a dragon like that, and you go strolling by, looking good enough to eat."

She laughed and flipped her long hair back over her shoulder. "Oh, you're sweet, aren't you? Where's your boyfriend?"

Draco turned and pointed at Potter, smirking at the expression of surprise on his face. "That's Harry over there. He's a bit shy, though."

"Oh, he's adorable," she said, waving at Potter. Potter blushed and returned a weak wave.

"He's a doll, but he hates to dance. He's embarrassed, you know, to look gay in public."

"Oh, he shouldn't be," she cooed. "Not here."

"Well, he is," Draco sighed. "We're going to leave soon, I think."

"Oh, no!" she said, and then scrunched up her face -- apparently thinking. "Do you think he'd dance with me?"

"Would you?" Draco asked, winking at Potter. "He just might do, if you ask nicely."

She grinned and started to make her way through the crowd toward Potter, who seemed frozen to the spot at the sight of her. Draco watched as she whispered into his ear and then tugged him towards the dance floor.

It turned out that Potter really was a terrible dancer. He was stiff and self-conscious, and became even more so when the girl placed his hands on her hips and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She was talking to him as she gyrated against him, and after half a song he relaxed visibly, which helped -- he improved quite a bit.

She whispered something to him and he laughed, then pulled her a little closer. Draco leaned against the bar and sighed. What a waste, he thought.

"Hi," he heard, and turned to see a man standing next to him. The man's smile gave him an uncanny resemblance to Ewan McGregor.

Draco smiled back. "Hi."

They stared at each other a moment more, and then the man nodded toward the dance floor and raised an eyebrow. Draco grinned in response.

The man turned out to be a great dancer. They barely spoke, just stared at each other as they moved, arms and legs brushing more and more frequently until their bodies were pressed tightly together. In a haze of alcohol, music, and hormones, Draco hadn't realized how much time had passed until the man leaned in to whisper into his ear.

"This is about the time I would usually ask you if you wanted to go back to my flat, but I don't think your boyfriend would like that very much."

It took Draco a moment to process the words. The man was looking across the club to where Potter was standing, alone and glaring daggers at Draco.

"Shit," Draco said, and stepped back from the man. "He's not my boyfriend, though. It's just--"

"Whatever he is, I don't want to be in the middle of it," the man said. He pressed a card into Draco's hand and smiled. "If it doesn't work out, ring me up." With that, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Draco took a deep breath and turned towards Potter. He had no idea why he was so irritated -- after all, wasn't this why they'd come? Potter didn't look at him as he approached. He'd acquired another drink at some point; he slung the rest of it back when Draco stopped before him.

"What?" Draco asked.

"I can't believe you told her I was your boyfriend!" Potter said, his words slurring a bit.

"Well--" Draco began.

"And then you go and wrap yourself around Obi-Wan Kenobi there, leaving me in a bit of a spot. She tried to convince me to leave with her and her friends."

"You should have done," Draco replied with a snort. "You could've played the whole 'I hate men, so maybe I should give women a try' angle."

Potter looked horrified. "Is this the sort of person you are, really? Do you go around lying to people to get them to sleep with you?"

"I don't have to lie," Draco retorted, almost laughing. "I can get laid whenever I want."

"And you think I can't?" Potter asked. "Is that what this was about? You feel sorry for me, is that it?"

"I don't feel anything for you!" Draco said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Fuck, I just wanted to have a good time. Forgive me for thinking you might as well."

"This is your idea of a good time?" Potter asked, his tone incredulous. "I think I feel sorry for you."

"How can you be so fucking pretentious?" Draco spat. "What I do is my own fucking business, so fuck off!"

Potter rolled his eyes. "Could you swear a bit more? I don't think enough people are staring at us."

Draco glanced around to see that most of the people standing near them were indeed watching them curiously. He snarled another expletive and stalked towards the door. He stepped out into crowded Leicester Square, shivering in the January weather.

Potter was right behind him, shouting, "Hang on!"

Draco started walking. He was angry, angrier than he could remember being in a long time. He would find a dark alley and apparate straight back to his hotel room, where he would have another drink from the mini-bar and forget all about Potter.

He felt a hand grasp his arm, and he whirled around, glaring. "Just forget it, all right? Go home and do whatever it is you do on Saturday nights. I won't drag you out again."

"Stop, please," Potter said, his expression one of exasperation. "Can we just talk for a minute?"

Draco scowled at him and shrugged. "Here?"

"Come on," Potter said, walking towards one of the side streets leading out of the square.

They stopped when the sound of the square had receded and stepped off the street into a dark alcove. Draco leaned back against the brick façade and glared at Potter. "Well? Going to tell me what a fucked-up life I lead? Still trying to pretend you aren't homophobic?"

Potter grimaced. "Will you shut up about that? I don't have a problem with it. It isn't that at all!"

"Then what is it?" Draco asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from his tone.

Potter's jaw clenched and he shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak, but made no sound. He just stared at Draco.

And all at once, Draco understood: Potter was attracted to him, and he didn't know what to do about it. Draco wondered why he hadn't seen it before, but it all made sense -- the flirting, the way he looked at Weasley, his reaction to seeing Draco with men, his utter lack of a proper sex life -- Potter was in the closet, and he was fighting it.

Draco felt something flare in his chest, something he hadn't dared to let himself hope for. He stared back at Potter, knowing his own face was half-lit by the streetlight, softening his expression to something he hoped was inviting. Potter's face had softened as well, and he had leaned closer. Draco wet his lips and kept his eyes locked on Potter's. He couldn't bear this tension much longer.

"Go on," he whispered at last. "It's all right."

Potter caught his breath and stepped back, shaking his head. "I'm sorry," he replied, pressing a hand to his forehead. "I'm being a complete prick, and I apologize. It isn't you--"

"If you say 'it's me' I will strangle you," Draco said. He sighed and wrapped his arms around himself. "Look, I--"

"Don't," Potter interrupted, stepping out of the alcove. "We've both had a lot to drink, and… and things are a little weird, but it will be fine in the morning. So I'll just…" He waved his hand and sighed. "Good night."

He disapparated, leaving Draco alone.

+++++

Sunday, 28 January, 2001

Draco stared at his reflection in the mirror, straightening the clasp of his robe and smoothing down his hair. His mother wouldn't have liked it so short -- she'd have kissed his cheeks and told him he should wear it long like his father.

Draco turned away from the mirror and disapparated.

He was standing in a spot he hadn't visited many times before, despite it being on the grounds of his family's estate. He searched the stones until he found the one he was looking for, a relatively new one engraved with his mother's name.

He stared at it for a moment, feeling chilled. He'd known she was dead for months now, but something about standing here made it more real than it had been before.

He knelt by the stone, trying to think of something to say or do. He didn't know what one was supposed to do when visiting a grave. He'd only been to this family cemetery a few times in his life, usually when his mother had made him come. His grandparents and great-grandparents were buried here, along with many generations of Malfoys whom no living person could remember. They had scowled down at him from their portraits when he walked down certain corridors as a child, frightening him.

He picked at the dry grass beneath his fingers, wishing he'd paid more attention to those visits. He wished a lot of things, of course. His throat tightened, and he swallowed against it. What good would crying do him now?

His mother had always brought flowers. He transfigured a clump of grass into a bouquet of wildflowers and set them against the stone. He frowned at them. He didn't even know what sort of flowers she would have preferred.

"Good afternoon," he heard behind him.

He wiped at his eyes and stood, turning to acknowledge his father. "How did you know I was here?"

"I didn't," Lucius said, stepping forward. He looked down at the stone. "I come every Sunday afternoon."

"Oh," Draco replied. They stood together in silence for several minutes, both staring down at Narcissa's name carved into granite. Below the name was carved her birth and death dates. "I didn't know when she died," Draco whispered at last. "I only heard about it a few months ago."

"I tried to find you," Lucius replied. "It took me two months to learn where you'd gone. You disappeared without a trace."

Draco folded his hands into the sleeves of his robe. "It didn't occur to me that I'd need to be found for that reason."

Lucius took a deep breath, then hesitated a moment before saying, "She asked for you that last week."

His throat tightened again, and Draco closed his eyes. "I heard it was a lingering illness."

"No," Lucius said, his voice barely audible. "It was a curse."

Draco turned to look at him then, shocked. "A curse?"

Lucius clenched his jaw and stared off into the distance. "A terrible curse, one that no one could reverse. Severus worked for weeks, but there was nothing he could do for her. We brought in a specialist from St. Mungo's, but he was baffled as well."

"Who did it?" Draco asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Lucius didn't answer. He continued to stare off into the distance.

Draco felt his stomach churn -- there was only one wizard who could and would cast such a horrible curse. "But why?" he asked. Even as he said the words, he knew the answer.

"To punish me," Lucius said, looking back down at the headstone.

+++++

Tuesday, 30 January, 2001

Potter didn't show up to the office on Monday morning. Draco spent the day sitting at his desk, reading through a stack of materials he'd borrowed from the London Library of Magic and making detailed notes. Weasley was busy as well, alternately writing on rolls of parchment and casting spells on objects scattered across his desk. He barely acknowledged Draco's presence. When noon approached and Weasley got dressed for his daily run, Draco asked about Potter. Weasley had said he didn't feel well and wouldn't be in that day.

Potter didn't come in on Tuesday either.

Draco leaned back against his desk and stared at Weasley, willing the man to look up.

"I don't know where he is," Weasley sighed after ten minutes.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "If he's out sick, wouldn't he be at home?"

Weasley plastered a smile on his face and looked up. "Probably. I haven't heard from him. He could be in hospital for all I know."

"And you call yourself his best friend?" Draco snorted. Weasley gave him an odd look, but he didn't reply. Draco sighed and sat, ruffling through the stack of notes he'd made the day before.

Two hours later, to Draco's surprise, Weasley invited him out to lunch.

The conversation over their sandwiches was polite, if insubstantial. In half an hour, Draco learned more about infant care than he'd ever wanted to know. He could see why Potter was so desperate for companionship. By the time their coffee arrived, Draco couldn't bear it any more.

"I know you know where Potter is," he said, staring into his coffee. "And I'm not asking you to tell me. I just want to know why I'm being kept out of the loop."

Weasley gave him a quizzical look. "Out of the loop? Aren't you being a bit paranoid?"

"With good reason," Draco retorted. "I was with him Saturday night and he was fine. It seems odd that he'd have fallen very ill that quickly."

"Saturday night, eh?" Weasley asked. This was clearly new information for him. "What did you do?"

"Dinner and a club," Draco replied, "but that's not important. I--"

"You two have been spending quite a lot of time together," Weasley said. His eyes crinkled a bit, and Draco couldn't tell if it was due to humor or suspicion.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "And if we have?"

"None of my business," Weasley replied. He took a sip of his latte.

"He's your friend."

"Yes," Weasley said. "And if you hurt him, I'll kill you."

Draco nearly laughed. "It isn't -- are you implying--"

"I'm not blind," Weasley said, his eyes blazing into Draco's. "And I know Harry better than anyone. I see the way you two look at each other."

Draco gaped at him for a moment. How had Weasley seen this, when he hadn't seen it himself until Saturday? "I don't… Nothing has happened."

"And as I said, it's none of my business," Weasley sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "I don't want to know. Really."

Draco stared into his coffee. He'd thought about Potter a lot in the last few days, which had left him feeling confused and frustrated, for the most part. He didn't want to get involved with anyone right now, let alone someone who wasn't even sure if he was gay.

"Well, I've got to fly," Weasley said, standing. "I'm taking the rest of the day off. Going to surprise the wife."

"Tell her hello for me," Draco said, and immediately felt awkward. It wasn't as if he'd ever really known her, after all.

Weasley pressed his lips together. "I can't. She doesn't know you're here. In fact--" he scratched the back of his neck, wincing "--she doesn't know what we're doing."

Draco was momentarily stunned. He'd always thought Potter and Weasley couldn't make a move without Granger. "Why not?"

"She'd be worried sick. This is going to be horribly dangerous." Weasley sighed and studied his hands. "Besides, she'd want to come along, and it's too big a risk. Children need a mother."

"They need a father as well," Draco said. Weasley shrugged. "So what does she think you do every day?"

Weasley smiled. "The same thing I did before -- spell development and research for the Ministry. And I still work for them, of course. This is just a special assignment." He handed Draco some Muggle bills and pulled on his coat. "I'll see you in the morning, then."

It wasn't until he'd disappeared from view that Draco realized he'd never answered Draco's original question.

He frowned into his empty cup. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed that there was something going on that Potter and Weasley weren't telling him. And he would bet his new house-elf that Potter's two-day absence was related to it.

Go to the next part

ETA: Y'all are good. Some of your predictions about what's going to happen are so close that I'm amazed! Thanks, everyone -- really. And it will probably be more like 30 parts. :-P