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Knight Dealings

Chapter Text

Title:  Knight in Shining…Panel?
Author: Makoto Sagara
Series: Harry Potter
Archive: The usual suspects; anywhere else, please ask first.
Category: drabble, pre-slash
Characters/Pairing: Draco/Harry pre-slash, Harry/Ginny
Rating: PG
Warnings: slash, angst, language, ooc, EWE, post-Hogwarts
Disclaimers: I don’t own Harry Potter. No copyright infringement is intended nor is any money made from this piece of fanfiction.
Words: 790
Prompt: Fandom: Harry Potter; Draco/Harry, Knight Bus. Run with it :)
Summary: Harry finds that taking a trip comes with a price, one that he may not be ready to pay.

Author’s Note: So, I posted a request on livejournal to jumpstart the creative juices after working so much. This was requested by my lovely new LJ friend, hidinginmybones. (Special thanks to Ileryo for Brit-picking this!)

~ * * * ~

When Harry had decided to leave Ginny—well, that is to say, when she tearfully told him that she had fallen in love with Neville because Harry was never at home anymore due to his heavy case load as an Auror and that she wanted to separate—he’d let her have the flat they’d been sharing for the last two years and told her he’d find a new place and that she was not to worry. Their conversation, the last as a couple, had taken all night and it had been after two in the morning when he finally decided it was time to wrap things up and go. He found he was too tired to Apparate to the Leaky and the Floo to Ron and Hermione’s house was more than likely shut down for the evening, since little Rose was probably asleep. So, left with very few choices, Harry decided that he’d pack his things and take the Knight Bus for the trip from Newcastle to London.

He figured that he’d be comfortable and possibly get some sleep before he had to try and convince old Tom to give him a room for the night, at least. When the doors to the purple monstrosity opened and good old Stan Shunpike greeted him with a wide, inviting smile, Harry knew he’d made the right decision. The blond man was just as pimply as Harry remembered him from when he was thirteen and just as jovial. He was ushered to the top level of the bus like royalty after giving the driver his destination.

“There ain't too many what hang about up here at this time o' night,” Stan whispered excitedly as he led Harry to a rather comfy looking four-poster bed. The gold and scarlet hangings brought back memories of the years the former hero had spent in Gryffindor tower. "At least it'll be quiet for ya, peaceful like."

“Thanks, Stan,” Harry replied, patting the older man’s arm amiably as he settled down onto the bed’s soft, feather mattress. He could hear the conductor’s footsteps as they walked away before the bus lurched forward to begin its breakneck journey throughout the countryside that would eventually end in London.

“Well, well, well, how the mighty have fallen,” a familiar, snide voice drawled from one of the other beds. Without looking, Harry knew that the world’s most annoying git was glaring at him, his obnoxiously pointy face twisted in a sneer that Harry would more than likely want to punch off of it.

It didn’t matter that Harry had spoken up for Narcissa and Draco Malfoy during the Death Eater trials after the war. The two blonds had been saved from Azkaban, but not Lucius, even though Harry had tried to speak up for the bastard. The Wizengamot and the Wizarding public both felt that despite what Lucius had ‘suffered’ at the hands of Lord Voldemort during the time Lucius kept him in his home, it wasn’t enough. No longer were the cries of being victim of the Imperius curse being heeded to.

In the end, Draco and Narcissa had been allowed to keep half of the Malfoy fortunes and the Manor, while the rest was seized by the Ministry in reparations. Draco had yet to forgive Harry.

“And what did you do that the beautiful and demure Weaslette has kicked you from your own home, Potter?” Malfoy asked with mock sincerity.  “I’m sure that it was absolutely horrendous for the love of your life to be rid of you.”

“I see that you’re as annoying as ever, Malfoy,” Harry said tiredly, knowing now that sleep would be too much to ask with the annoying blond so close at hand.

“Ah, you don’t have to be like that, Potter,” Malfoy replied, moving from the comfortable plush chair he’d been situated in at the back of the second level to the bed next to Harry’s. “I’m only trying to be cordial.”

“I can do without your brand of cordiality, Malfoy. My day’s been long enough without you making it worse.”

“Now, see, Potter, that is where you’re wrong,” the blond purred, leaning closer into the open space between the beds. “We’ve always been rather…connected, as the case may be. What you need is someone who…understands you.”

Before Harry could respond, the blond had grabbed him by the ears into a kiss that made his blood sing and his heart race.

~ * * * ~

Harry sat straight up in his bed, sweat pouring down his bare chest and face, taking great gasps of air to stop the panic induced by his nightmare. It was just a dream, he thought happily, smiling down at the sleeping form of Ginny, who shifted closer to him and grumbled about being chilly. It was just a dream…

 

Chapter Text

Title: Black Knight
Author: Makoto Sagara
Series: Harry Potter
Archive: The usual suspects; anywhere else, please ask first.
Category: drabble, pre-slash
Characters/Pairing: Draco/Harry pre-slash, Harry/Ginny
Rating: PG
Warnings: slash, angst, language, ooc, EWE, post-Hogwarts
Disclaimers: I don’t own Harry Potter. No copyright infringement is intended nor is any money made from this piece of fanfiction.
Words: 533
Prompt: None
Summary: Harry’s dreams have forced him to seek out a Potion Master. Guess who?
Author’s Note: This is the second drabble in a series I am referring to in my head as the “Knight Dealings.” Yes, I’m aware that I’m insane. Can’t be helped, can it?

~ * * * ~

“Harry, you’ve been distracted all week,” Ginny said as she leaned over the counter of their breakfast bar. “And you look as if you haven’t slept in ages. What’s going on?”

“Noth-”

“Don’t say it’s nothing,” she cut across him. “It’s obviously something. Is it to do with work?” She raked concerned brown eyes over her boyfriend’s body to see if there was anything physically wrong with him that he might be hiding from her.

“No,” he said through clenched teeth. It was touching, really, that she was so worried about him, but even after being a member of the Wizarding community for nearly ten years, he was still finding it difficult to deal with other people making a fuss over him. “I’ve just been having trouble sleeping, Gin. That’s it.”

She narrowed her big, probing eyes at him and sniffed disdainfully. Harry had no idea where she’d got that affectation from, but he wasn’t crazy about it, that was for sure. “Well, if you need, I can pick you up a Dreamless Sleep on the way home from practice tonight.”

“It’s okay, Ginny,” Harry said, barely holding his temper. “I’ll talk to one of the Potion masters at the Ministry. I’m sure that I can get them to brew me up a batch that won’t kill me or something else.”

“All right,” she said sceptically before going back to the big plate of bangers, eggs, bacon and toast Harry’d made for breakfast.

~ * * * ~

Since he’d become one of the top Aurors for the Ministry, Harry had lost track of which Potion masters made the potions that the Aurors took out on the field. When he walked into the labs on the far end of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, he really wished he had.

“Malfoy,” he said, just barely holding in a gasp of surprise at seeing the white-blond head bent over a row of cauldrons.

At the sound of his voice, he watched his boyhood rival stand up straight slowly and turn, a slow (and sexy) grin on his face. “Well, well, well, look who has walked into my laboratory. If it isn’t the famous Harry Potter?” Malfoy mock-squealed. “Please hold on a moment so that I can get some paper for your autograph, Mr Saviour.”

“Cut it out, you bloody prat,” Harry snarled. “Are there any more Potion masters in the office?”

A slim, perfect platinum eyebrow rose. “I am the only Potion master here for the entire month. Jones is on holiday, and Roberts was loaned out to the French Ministry until they can hire their own.”

“Bloody buggering fuck,” Harry growled. “I’ll go without then!”

“Don’t be daft, Potter!” Malfoy shouted, grabbing Harry’s arm before he could leave the lab. “Whatever it is, it must be important if you’re here. And, seeing as how I’ve been brewing all the potions for your section for the last two years, there is no problem with my skill.”

“I don’t give a rat’s arse about your skills, Malfoy.” Harry was desperately trying to forget the dreams that had been plaguing him for the last week involving him and Malfoy on the Knight Bus. “Let go, before I make you.”

“Or what?”

Chapter Text

Title: Knight Errant
Author: Makoto Sagara
Series: Harry Potter
Archive: The usual suspects; anywhere else, please ask first.
Category: drabble, pre-slash
Characters/Pairing: Draco/Harry pre-slash, Harry/Ginny
Rating: PG
Warnings: slash, angst, language, ooc, EWE, post-Hogwarts
Disclaimers: I don’t own Harry Potter. No copyright infringement is intended nor is any money made from this piece of fanfiction.
Words: 502
Prompt: philosophy, shots, giggling
Summary: Draco keeps running into Potter. And he looks like he needs a little rescuing.
Author’s Note: This is the third drabble in a series I am referring to in my head as the “Knight Dealings.” The prompt is from hidinginmybones, again. Thank you! *loves on* The name comes from Skeren Dreamera.

~ * * * ~

When Hermione had suggested that Ron and Harry go out on a guys’ night, Ron hadn’t wasted any time in dragging his best friend out of the house. The girls were having a few others over to talk about the upcoming wedding and kids. And as much as Ron loved his wife, he was tired of it.

He’d been so sure that it was over after Percy, George and he finally got married, but he’d forgotten that his mom was determined to have Harry and Ginny joined in blessed nuptials before the end of the year. Drinks were in order!

~ * * * ~

Harry hadn’t really fought that much when Ginny and Hermione practically kicked him out of his own house so they could have a girls’ night, complete with their babies and other female issues that were so pressing to them. He hadn’t really minded even that Ron had called up Neville, Dean, Seamus and George to go out drinking with them either. The more, the merrier, right?

By the third bar, he couldn’t remember why he’d wanted to go out drinking. All he knew was that he was happy, giggling even. And when they got to a table at their last place of the night, Neville, Seamus and he were talking philosophy over shots of Ogden’s Finest. It had been nice, until…

~ * * * ~

Draco had looked up as the rowdy group of Gryffindor males walked through the door of his usual Friday night hang out spot with Blaise, Theodore, and Greg. To say that he was surprised to see Potter so soon after their run-in at the Ministry was an understatement. He was expecting his boyhood rival to stay as far away from him as if he’d caught Dragon Pox.

He kept a cool eye on the group of giggling buffoons, watching as the blond Irishman got louder and more advanced in his attempts to hit on his companion while they talked about someone named Nietzsche. He didn’t really care much about Germans. They tended to be boring and loutish, in his opinion. Really, Italians and French were much better as lovers. Or, once in a while, a nice repressed Englishman was in order.
However, the group left not long after Longbottom shouting something about the abyss and then fell on his round arse. Really, and he was a pureblood.

~ * * * ~

The weekly invasion continued. Draco was starting to get rather annoyed. Finnegan—he’d learned the arsehole’s name from Blaise, thank you very much—kept trying his hardest to steal a kiss from Potter, while Potter seemed oblivious to the other man’s attentions. After the third week of watching his secret wank fantasy being all drooled over like some slobber rag, Draco set down his shot of vodka and stalked over to Potter’s table.

While the others were starting to turn to blink owlishly at him, he leaned in Finnegan’s stupid face and snarled. “This is how you let a man know you’re interested, you idiot,” he snapped before kissing Potter full on the lips.

Chapter Text

Title: Green Knight
Author: Makoto Sagara
Series: Harry Potter
Archive: The usual suspects; anywhere else, please ask first.
Category: drabble, pre-slash
Characters/Pairing: Draco/Harry pre-slash, Harry/Ginny
Rating: PG
Warnings: slash, angst, language, ooc, EWE, post-Hogwarts
Disclaimers: I don’t own Harry Potter. No copyright infringement is intended nor is any money made from this piece of fanfiction.
Words: 583
Prompt: cooking oil, vegetarian, chopped
Summary: Blaise tries to console a pouting Draco but trouble always seems to find them on their night out.
Author’s Note: This is the fourth drabble in a series I am referring to in my head as the “Knight Dealings.” Again, the prompt is from hidinginmybones.

“So, she said she was a vegetarian and I just left,” Blaise says, watching his best friend as he watches the door to their favorite pub. It’s Friday night and time for the weekly Slytherin Survivor’s drinking club to get together.

“Who doesn’t eat meat?” Greg’s beefy face looks utterly shocked that someone would do such a thing.

“Yanks, that’s who.” Theo, on the other hand, looks supremely bored and a part of Blaise has to agree. “Look, Draco, I don’t think Potter’s going to come. It’s nearly half-
eleven and if I don’t get home, Pansy will start to think I’m cheating on her.”

“Again?” Blaise can’t help but ask that. It seems like every week is another accusation from Pansy to her new husband about him cheating. Just because Blaise did it and Draco dropped her like she was a lost cause for dating after the Yule Ball doesn’t mean that Theo of all people would do something so dumb, especially when it means losing half of the Nott fortune to that acrimonious harpy. And Theo Nott likes his money, despite the fact that he thinks his father is a moron for not negotiating a better marriage contract. “Just go home, Theo. You too, Greg. I take care of this wanker here, make sure he makes it back to his flat before he does something dumb.”

“I don’t need a minder, Zabini,” Draco finally says after their friends have left.

“Of course not, Draco,” he replies smoothly, taking a drink of his third gin and tonic since half-six. Despite the blond’s snippy tones, Blaise is the one who’s most responsible out of the four of them and they all know it. That’s why he’s not a heavy drinker or a womanizer since Hogwarts. “Still can’t get that kiss with Potter out your head then?”

“More like the fact that he kissed me back.”

“I thought that Weasley’s head was going to explode.”

That earns him a slow, satisfied smile from the other man as he turns to face the rest of the people in room. “Both Weasleys, thank you, and Finnegan looked as if he couldn’t decide whether to hex me or make a go.”

“I’d pay good Galleons to see him try.” And, well, Blaise would. It’s been a while since he’s seen Draco hex someone for pissing him off. “I’m sure Longbottom would gladly take him to St. Mungo’s when you’re done.”

“Hm, it’s likely.” And because sighing is plebeian, Blaise ignores the huffy little puff of breath Draco gives as they both stand. “Since it’s nearly midnight, I suppose I shall retire as well. Mother has me attending a cooking class with her tomorrow.”

“You know, I still can’t get over the fact that your mother is doing things with chopped vegetables and cooking oil. I mean, you all have house elves for that sort of thing.”
And before Draco can reply, his attention is whipped away and his grey eyes widen before closing. And if Blaise listens very carefully, he can hear his friend whisper one word, almost reverently. “Harry…”

Sure enough, there’s Potter in the doorway, alone, looking fit to strangle someone. And that stormy expression only grows before he spots the man practically drooling on his delicate cashmere sweater. “Draco, wand, now,” Blaise mutters, letting his own wand slip down his robe’s sleeve and praying that the blond at his side isn’t stupid enough to think that Potter won’t try to pummel them by himself, again.

Chapter Text

Title: Rogue Knight
Author: Makoto Sagara
Series: Harry Potter
Archive: The usual suspects; anywhere else, please ask first.
Category: drabble, pre-slash
Characters/Pairing: Draco/Harry pre-slash, Harry/Ginny
Rating: PG
Warnings: slash, angst, language, ooc, EWE, post-Hogwarts
Disclaimers: I don’t own Harry Potter. No copyright infringement is intended nor is any money made from this piece of fanfiction.
Words: 1135
Prompt: colour, vision, network
Summary: Harry is out for blood when Malfoy kisses him in front of everyone. Or so he thinks.
Author’s Note: This is the fifth drabble in a series I am referring to in my head as the “Knight Dealings.” The prompt is from my friend AxiomaticGrue.

 

When this whole mess started two months ago, the dreams, the thoughts about a stupid blond ponce, the need to avoid the Potion Masters at the Ministry, I would have laughed if anyone would’ve said that I’d willingly kiss Draco bloody Malfoy for even a second. And then I’d probably have hexed them or thrown a nice right cross to make them take it back.

But, no, the soft touch of his thin, velveteen lips against mine felt…sweet, even though he was kissing me like he needed me for living. And it was in a pub full of blokes and our mutual groups of friends. A fire settled in my belly as his hand in my hair massaged my scalp and his tongue tried to pry open my lips gently. It was all so gentle, so unexpected, so…much like that dream I’d had about the Knight Bus so long ago.

And then I heard Ron’s roar and I ripped myself away from Malfoy as if burned. “What the fuck?”

A light pink colour dusted his high cheekbones and it actually suited the bastard. The self-satisfied smirk on his lips wasn’t even a surprise either. Those obnoxiously grey eyes open and they’re nearly black against his pale skin and lashes. “I was merely showing your friend here the proper way to show interest in someone, instead of hanging off of them like some sort of barnacle.”

I could hear Seamus making disgruntled noises as his chair scraped against the floor and some shuffling behind me. George whispered something and two pairs of hands pulled me back. It was probably for the best, considering I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, but the longer Malfoy stood there looking so pleased with himself, the more I could feel my anger growing.

Lucky for him, someone came and pulled on his arm, dragging him towards the pub’s door. Later, Neville told me it was Blaise Zabini. It didn’t really register until I thought back to Hogwarts and Slughorn’s Slug Club – the Slytherin who was there because his mother had been widowed seven times under suspicious circumstances. That was literally the only thing I could remember about him, since he hadn’t appeared to be close to the rest of his Housemates and neither of his parents were Death Eaters.

As soon as they were gone, all of my friends sort of looked at one another before Ron pulled me to the closest Apparation point, muttering under his breath about slimy Slytherins and pointy ferrets the whole time. “Why didn’t you hit him? Or let me?”

“Who the hell had time before his friend came up to drag Malfoy off? Besides, even if he doesn’t give a shit about things, I’ve got to work with him. Kingsley made it very obvious that I had to play nice with him because we’re grownups now.”

“Shit,” Ron muttered before sighing. “Well, I guess that makes sense, but you know that you should report him. I’m sure that Robards and Kingsley would be willing to let you stay away from Malfoy if they knew he was harassing you outside of work.”

“I’ll think about it.” I mean, what else could I say? It all made sense and if Malfoy kept at it, it would have to happen, wouldn’t it? But he was too smart for that. At work, he was professional and this was really the first time we’d exchanged words that weren’t about the potions he brewed for the Auror Corps since that day I’d walked into the Ministries laboratories. “Let’s just get home. I’m sure Gin and Mione are ready to send out more Aurors after us.”

“Yeah, mate. I don’t wanna end up on the couch again.”

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ~~~~ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

If only it had rested with that one (nearly) unwanted kiss from Malfoy. If only he’d gotten that I didn’t want to deal with him again. We’d never been friends. We’d saved one another a few times over the war and had ended as people who could work in the same building without someone dying. It was a good existence.

However, that damn kiss haunted me every night as I tried to sleep. I could still feel the softness of his lips, the subtle way he tried to get me to open my mouth and the soft scraping of his perfectly manicured nails in my scalp as he petted my hair. For two weeks, it kept me from getting enough rest that Gin and I ended up arguing. She went to stay with her parents, but that only made me feel worse, considering our wedding was three weeks away.

Despite the fact that the media had backed off to only reporting on my every movement to once a week, it didn’t take long for the Daily Prophet to find out that there was trouble with my fiancée and I, splashing our private lives all over the front page. And it was only made better by walking into a love letter, from Malfoy, in my bloody locker while changing after a particularly dangerous mission.

‘Potter,
How awful it is to hear about you and the Weasley girl having issues in the romance department. Do hope this won’t stop your upcoming wedding. I know that most of the Wizarding World is waiting on tenterhooks for the moment you two exchange vows and she finally becomes “Mrs Potter”.

Not that I’m one of them. I can’t stop thinking about the way your eyes slowly opened after I kissed you. Your lips are softer than I imagined and your hair is perfect just the way it is. I want to do it again. You know where to find me if you’re ready.

~ DM’

I read through it over and over again until my vision crossed the words made no sense. He made no sense. What the hell was his game? Once I got over the shock, I balled up the parchment and attempted to set it on fire with a well-timed Incendio, but for some reason, the paper wouldn’t catch on fire and when I tried to throw it in the trash, it popped right back up to hit me in the face. Finally, I gave up and shoved the damned thing into my coat’s pocket before trying to calm down.

It wasn’t going to happen.

Of course, it being Friday night, he was probably with his stupid friends at that pub, The Dragon and the Cauldron. Because of course he would, right? It didn’t even take a second thought to figure out where he’d be, let alone some sort of intricate informant network. And there he was with Zabini, looking pleased and ridiculous and I wanted to hex that placid little smile right off his pointy face.

“Malfoy, we need to talk.”