drapery_mods (drapery_mods) wrote in drapery_snarco, @ 2009-03-08 17:30:00 |
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Current mood: | cheerful |
Fic: Look Who's Stalking
Title: Look Who’s Stalking
Author: gypsyflame
Pairing: Snape/Draco/Harry
Length: 9700
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling et al. This was created for fun, not for profit.
Warnings: Voyeurism/exhibitionism; light bondage; established relationship (S/D)
Prompt: 74. After the war Draco and Snape disappear from wizarding society. One day Harry catches a glimpse of Draco entering a store or building…
Summary: Some habits are impossible to break.
Author Notes: Betaed by the incomparable fbowden. Title comes from an episode of Veronica Mars. Also, this fic takes place in 2003, before civil partnership became legal in the UK.
He almost ignored it.
For the past five years, Harry had been doing double-takes every time he caught a glimpse of white-blond hair, but he’d recently decided that enough was enough. The Malfoys had disappeared in the chaos following the Battle of Hogwarts, along with several other Death Eaters – and, disturbingly, a few corpses – and if they had any sense at all, they’d fled the country and never looked back.
Still, Harry had never been able to shake the feeling that he hadn’t seen the last of Draco Malfoy. Every time somebody in his vicinity had hair that distinctive platinum shade, Harry found himself turning towards them automatically, pulse pounding, heart in his throat. It wasn’t that he thought Malfoy was a danger to him, really, it was just…the lack of closure, perhaps.
The upshot of this stupid little tic was that Harry came off as nervous and jumpy to those who didn’t know him well, in addition to making innocent blond strangers very uncomfortable. Therefore, he had firmly resolved to not let it get the better of him anymore.
So, when he saw a flash of white out of the corner of his eye while walking down a street in Muggle London, he almost ignored it. But a habit of five years – or twelve, if he was really being honest – is hard to break, and Harry couldn’t quite keep his head from turning.
He hadn’t expected it to actually be Malfoy.
Looking older and considerably healthier than the last time Harry had seen him, Malfoy was striding down the street in the opposite direction, dressed in a finely-tailored Muggle suit and carrying, of all things, a Muggle briefcase. The unreality of seeing Malfoy here, like this, with no warning, left Harry gaping after him for much longer than was strictly becoming of an Auror.
In fact, if Malfoy hadn’t been distracted by a window display, Harry probably would have lost him. As it was, though, Malfoy ducked into the high-end shoe store that had caught his attention, giving Harry the opportunity to compose himself.
Malfoy was still wanted by the Ministry – for questioning, if nothing else. Harry had to bring him in. But there was a chance that if Harry followed him back home, Malfoy would lead him to his parents or even some of the other missing Death Eaters. Lucius Malfoy had never even gone to trial for his crimes, and that didn’t sit well with Harry.
He was positive that Malfoy hadn’t seen him, so he still had the advantage. Harry didn’t have his Invisibility Cloak with him – not that he would have been able to pull it out on a street full of Muggles, anyway – so he stood against the wall of the store and cast a subtle, heavy-duty Disillusionment Charm that had been created for just this circumstance. It incorporated elements of a Notice-Me-Not Charm to make eyes slide away from him as he faded out of view – very handy when one needed to conceal oneself and there was no time to duck into an alleyway.
After twenty minutes of waiting, Harry was beginning to think that Malfoy had seen him after all, and had only gone into the store to Disapparate. Feeling very foolish, he was about to enter the store himself to see if he could pick up the trail when Malfoy suddenly walked out the door, carrying a large shopping bag.
Harry didn’t dare cast a tracking spell; there was too great a chance that Malfoy would sense it. Instead, he kept close on Malfoy’s heels as he followed him down the street, being careful to avoid colliding with unwary Muggles.
They’d only gone a block when a shrill ringing made Malfoy fish in his jacket pocket with his free hand and draw out a mobile phone, which in turn made Harry almost trip over his own feet. Malfoy using a mobile was just too surreal. Harry briefly wondered if this was all a very vivid hallucination.
Malfoy glanced at the Caller ID and sighed before flipping the phone open. “I know I’m late. I got held up at work.”
He didn’t slow his pace at all, and Harry was finding it increasingly difficult to keep up, steer clear of the other pedestrians, and listen to Malfoy’s conversation all at once.
Malfoy frowned as he listened to whatever the person on the other end was saying. Then, sullenly, he said, “Shoes.”
Whoever Malfoy was talking to obviously knew him well. Maybe it was one of his parents.
Now a wicked smirk was spreading over Malfoy’s face. “Is that so?” he said. “Well, I’d better hurry home, then.”
Okay, probably not his parents.
Malfoy shut the mobile, returned it to his pocket, and lengthened his stride. Goddamn, he had long legs. Had he always been such a fast walker? Harry practically had to jog to keep up with him.
After a couple more blocks, Malfoy headed into a parking garage. Garages were popular Apparition points for wizards in Muggle areas; they provided plenty of darkness and privacy, and nobody questioned a person walking in and not walking back out. So Harry readied his wand. If Malfoy was going to Apparate, Harry would have to chance casting a tracking spell before he did so.
Malfoy didn’t Apparate. Instead, he pulled a set of car keys out of his pocket and unlocked a nearby silver Maserati.
What the hell was going on? Malfoy was the last person Harry would ever expect to ‘go native’, as upper-crust purebloods tended to disparagingly term the use of Muggle technology by one of their own. Yet here he was, dressed like a Muggle and using a mobile and driving a bloody sports car. At least, Harry hoped Malfoy knew how to drive it.
There was no way Harry was going to be able to follow further; he’d just have to cast the tracking spell on the car and hope for the best. At least Malfoy was less likely to notice it there.
He worked quickly, casting the subtlest tracker he knew and adding a timer that would alert him when the car was shut off. The final bits of the spell fell in place just as Malfoy started to reverse the car.
Harry watched Malfoy drive away, comforted by the slight tugging sensation of the tracking spell in the back of his mind. Whatever Malfoy was up to – and he was always up to something – Harry would get to the bottom of it.
Malfoy may have gotten away five years ago, but he wasn’t getting away this time.