When in Rome

Author's Notes--Beta'd by Alexa Black

Thanks to all who have reviewed! Each one gives me the encouragement to keep at this fic. I will get around to responding to individuals but time is short and I'm sure you'd all rather that I kept writing, right?

The mailing list is still available for updates on this story and other work by me at jessica(dot)cresswell(@)googlemail(dot)com

I hope you like this chapter, it contains the very reason I started planning a post-Hogwarts, Muggle world fic.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

"If there ever was a situation that could sum up our history, it is this."

"Forced into each other's company against our wills?"

"Exactly."

Harry let out a heavy sigh and slid down the wall, landing on the floor with a heavy bump. He surveyed Malfoy as the blond paced edgily before stopping in front of the door, hands balled into fists and his back to Harry.

Feeling uneasy, Harry began to curse his spontaneous streak that made him willing to follow his blasted ex-rival. Had he really been expecting an amicable discussion? He had just been so overwhelmed by the presence of another wizard after so long in the company of Muggles -- so desperate to re-taste the magical world.

Bitterly, he began to consider their lack of escape plan aloud. The sooner he could leave Malfoy's presence, the better.

"Well, let's go over this one more time..."

"To what ends, Potter?" Malfoy snapped.

Harry was about to automatically retort but before anything resembling 'Well, it's your own damned fault we're in this situation!' could slip from his mouth, Draco was apologising.

"Sorry. I don't mean to be short with you. It's just....I'm...claustrophobic."

Draco's voice was laced with self-disgust as he spoke and when he turned around, Harry noticed a hint of vulnerability in his eyes that quelled Harry's growing annoyance.

"Then why the hell did you use the lift? I wouldn't have minded taking the stairs."

"Why hide from my fears? Besides, it was only supposed to be a few flights worth of confinement time!" He kicked the door irritably, composure long since lost before sitting in the corner diagonally opposite to Harry, hugging his legs to his chest and resting his brow on his knees.

"Look, it'll be fine. Okay, we can't use Reparo because neither of us knows enough about Muggle electrics to magically fix them. We can't blast the doors open because, judging by the slight lurch when we first started to go down, we're between floors. But that doesn't mean we are going to be stuck here, okay? I used my mobile to ring the main desk and they have called out an emergency technician. If worse comes to worst, I can Side-along Apparate us out of here. I just don't want to risk it unless absolutely necessary because my magic is a bit out of practice."

"Out of control, you mean," Draco's muffled voice dryly quipped from across the lift. "I wish I'd learned how to Apparate legally. I just never got around to getting my licence as I usually use the Floo Network."

"Since when did breaking the rules bother you so much, Malfoy?"

"You were always the rule-breaker, Potter, not I"

His voice retained the scathing tone Harry remembered, but it held no spite or conviction and the irrepressible tremor in Draco's voice was palpable. He decided not to mention the Dementor trick, trying to kill Dumbledore, nearly using the Cruciatus curse on Harry in the girl's bathroom....

"Do you know, Potter, how very readable you are?" Draco had lifted his head at Harry's silence. The pupils of his eyes were dilated with fear and beads of sweat had appeared on his refined features. "I know for a fact you were just mentally listing every single damn one of my less-than-above-board escapades from when we were at school."

Harry laughed slightly as he nodded, whilst mentally deciding that he needed to distract Malfoy before he got worse. "Got it in one, Malfoy. And yes, many a time have I been told about how I wear my heart on my sleeve and how my emotions seem to write themselves on my forehead for everyone to read. In ninety-nine percent of situations, that is the case. I don't consider it a weakness; I'm proud of my lack of falsities. And, on the plus side, it gives me a façade to rival your mask of indifference when I want to hide something or manipulate something to my advantage."

"You, the Patron Saint of all things obvious, wholesome and Gryffindor-esque, a manipulator?! Bullshit."

"Oh, I don't know," Harry replied coyly, casually inspecting his fingernails, "did you know the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin?"

Thump. Draco's legs fell gracelessly from their defensive position, his lips parted; he blinked at Harry as though he had just sprouted a second head and decided to sing a round of nursery rhymes with himself.

"Yep. That's right, oh Slytherin Prince. You're gawping at a Slytherin so Slytherin that his sense of self-preservation sent him running away from the Snake Pit and into the Lions' Den, where the loyal and just could be found. Rather that than a house of conflict and backstabbing any day."

He saw that instead of distracting Draco's fear of confined spaces with past truths, he was bordering on killing the poor guy from shock. He decided to ease up a bit.

"Nah, I didn't know all of that back then. I didn't even know anything about the different Houses other than what the Sorting Hat had sang about. All I knew was that my parents' murderer, and that this arsey blond aristocrat, who had just insulted my first friend ever, were in Slytherin. I just thought to the Hat 'not Slytherin' again and again until it decided on Gryffindor."

Harry watched as Draco's tongue ran lightly over his shock-dried lips, absently wondering how such perfect, full lips could be so easily contorted into a heartless smirk. Draco noticed the path of his gaze and raised an amused eyebrow. Harry shook his head, slightly flustered at losing his train of thought because of Malfoy's lips.

"So......."

"So......."

"Since we have time to kill, why don't you explain to me what it is you needed to discuss so urgently earlier?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry massaged his temples as he lay flat on his back across the cool lift floor. His mind was trying to absorb everything the blond had explained during the last hour or so, but he was beginning to empathise with a saturated sponge. A sponge? The fact that that comparison had even flickered into his mind proved to him that he was losing his mind. Plus, if he didn't get some food soon, he'd probably starve to death and nothing Draco had said would matter. Well, not to him obviously; it would still matter to everyone else of course. And besides, even if he didn't die of starvation, he couldn't start to blame himself for all of this mess because he wasn't to know. He could always...

Draco laughed with wry amusement. Harry jerked slightly, hitting his head against the wall behind it, and cursed softly before sitting up.

"Sorry to interrupt your evidently groundbreaking mental progress. Did you realise that you were muttering odd words like 'sponge' under your breath? Shall we briefly recap? Voldemort is dead. Death Eaters, vastly depleted. Saviour-Boy-Wonder-Golden-Gryffindor guy took a long-term vacation. Enter the Department of Mysteries."

"The Department took control and the Ministry was restructured into a strict hierarchical, overly politically correct tyranny run by Rufus Scrimgeour?! A government under which saying 'Muggle-Born' or 'Pureblood' results in a fine and where the old families struggle to get places for their children in Hogwarts because the school governors are too scared to seem biased?!"

Harry was furious. Didn't these people learn? He had slain Voldemort to save their world from his sick dreams of fascist oppression -- and how had they responded?! A knee-jerk reaction to their new freedom: setting up a different fascist regime, with principles found on the other extreme of the spectrum than the ones Tom Riddle would have seen them enslaved under. They were conducting public executions of suspected Death Eaters, and of those who spoke out against the Ministry -- it was all too much for Harry to take in. But Draco had yet to drop the biggest bombshell that would round off the tale of insanity perfectly.

"You want to hear the best part, Potter? The reason this 'situation' requires the attention of both of us?"

"How could this possible get worse?" Harry questioned in dismay, not really wanting to know anymore.

"You, Harry James Potter, are still their flagship and trophy boy."

"WHAT?! How is that even possible? I've not been in contact with the Wizarding World for years!"

"Exactly. That's what makes you ideal -- the boy hero who doesn't argue about the slandering of his name because he is living in blissful ignorance of it. The Daily Prophet gives updates on 'poor Harry Potter, who felt the need to detach himself from the magical world after dealing with the horrors of The Dark Times, who serves as a living reminder of what could happen should we slip in our newfound vigour in bringing justice to our people'.

"I think my favourite article has to be the one that spoke of your creative talents -- 'Harry Potter, once our saviour, now riddled with depression and isolation, has taken on his late mother's maiden name and is using art and literature as an outlet for the sorrow that we, as a united magical nation, have inflicted upon this poor boy -- The Boy Who Lived to Never be Loved'. So yes, we are all trapped and the excuse is that we need the discipline to prevent hurting dear Harry Potter any further. All trapped. No way out," Draco laughed humourlessly.

Harry snapped out of his own shock for a moment to notice that Draco was shaking slightly.

"Malfoy? Malfoy...?" No response. The blond stared unblinkingly straight in front of him. The shaking was getting worse. Harry began to panic. The distraction methods were failing and Draco seemed to be going into full blown panic.

Cursing Muggle technology under his breath, Harry stood and began pacing the lift to see what he could do. With a look of deep concentration, he held out his right hand, pictured his favourite view of Oxford University park and let it flow through him, wandlessly projecting it onto the walls.

The strain of casting magic again took its toll and he fell to the floor beside Draco, panting and weakened. The blond didn't seem to have registered the change of scenery -- gently swaying flowers in a rockery to his left, carefully manicured lawns and an ancient willow tree whose long vines were matted together like a lush green carpet, shielding the trunk.

"Malfoy," Harry tried again. Still nothing. He shuddered slightly from the strain of the magic. "Draco," he murmured softly. That worked.

Draco blinked and began to actually see his surroundings rather than the chasm of panic he had been staring into. He blinked again as he reached out a hand and felt cool metal where there should have been a shrub. He looked to his left and saw the source of the gentle voice that had stirred him back to reality -- or whatever semblance of reality this strange place was -- and he saw Harry Potter, struggling for breath and looking like he'd just ran the London Marathon.

It made sense immediately. Draco felt uncomfortable; he didn't know what to say. Sure, he and Harry had been speaking civilly, but no real reconciliation had been made or even discussed. He'd considered the meeting business only. He realised he'd never got around to telling Harry the reason that his status as the Ministry's trophy boy affected the pair of them but it seemed irrelevant just then.

He stared at Harry, who had recovered slightly, with questioning eyes. Harry merely gave a sincere smile in response and remained flat on his back, head resting on his folded arms. Without really thinking about it, Draco lowered his head towards the raven-haired man beside him and kissed him delicately on the cheek -- the traditional Pureblood expression of thanks towards a family member or acquaintance.

Harry flushed at the sensation of tender lips lingering, for just a second longer than necessary, before Draco rose and surveyed him carefully. Deep jade eyes sparkled with some yet undecided emotion as they met the intense gaze of his companion. Something significant shifted in their relationship again -- another Quantum Leap akin in intensity to the Sectumsempra incident in Sixth year, or the shaking of hands earlier. And yet, neither man was given time to work out exactly what had changed as the elevator gave an almighty lurch.

"Shit! The walls!" Harry was on his feet in seconds and attempting to undo the complex charms he had cast.

"Calm down, you psycho. There is no need to undo the charms. Merely cast a charm that will make the scenery invisible to Muggles," Draco suggested calmly.

Harry glared at Draco in an outburst of immaturity usually reserved for those he felt comfortable around. He realised what he was doing, shook his head slightly and muttered, more to himself than Draco, "How come your presence has always been enough to disorient me?"

Draco heard Harry and stared at him in slight shock at the admission. Harry seemed to realise he had spoken his thoughts aloud and flushed in embarrassment as their eyes met. Draco's eyes flittered around Harry's face, almost as if he were assessing him, but he was saved answering the accidental question by the opening of the lift doors.

*~*~*~*~*~*

After a torrent of apologies and concerns from the owner of the hotel, Harry and Draco had finally been able to escape. Harry was grateful that Draco had handled the whole process for him -- the hysterical old man had barely seemed to register his presence.

The two men were out of the front entrance in a non-verbalised agreement to get away from the man before he insisted on moving them to nicer rooms or something. As they were leaving the door, Harry spotted Elise and Stephan. Briefly wondering where Kai was, Harry groaned to himself -- them seeing him was the last thing he needed.

Draco heard the groan and laughed softly. "Oh, they won't notice you, Potter," he whispered awkwardly as he seemed to be restricting his lip movement. "Didn't you notice me casting a Disillusion charm on you?"

Harry laughed, half in shock and half at Draco's poor ventriloquism techniques. The blond flushed so gently that his skin merely shifted a semi-tone in colour, but that was enough for Harry. He laughed again, only louder this time. A harassed looking middle-aged couple, who were trying to control their boisterous youths, turned around from were they had been standing on the veranda and looked at Draco confusedly. He flushed a little bit more and discreetly grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him away in a temper.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco sat down heavily and without ceremony in his favourite booth at his favourite pizzeria. He looked flustered and was in quite a sour temper. The poor waiter who came to take a drinks order was verbally assaulted in a rush of fluent Italian and ordered to stay away until his guest arrived.

That very guest had been ordered to make his way to the toilet and remove his Disillusion charm before coming to dine with Draco with a very good apology.

The walk to the pizzeria had been a disaster so terrible it made Mount Vesuvius erupting look tame in the aristocrat's eyes. The Lord Malfoy should not have to walk through the streets of Rome at an undignified pace, dragging an invisible Harry Potter and looking to passers-by like a deranged mime-artist who had been exposed to too much sun and had begun to speak -- or yell, as the case had been -- to himself.

People had been pointing and giggling at him and Draco was not amused. His composure had been replaced by a proper attack of blushing, making him look like he was sunburnt. And the thing that had really made things worse? Harry-bloody-Potter had been laughing musically the whole time, tears of mirth rolling from his invisible eyes.

Draco was so lost in his mental row with Harry Potter, that he didn't notice when the real thing came and sat down opposite him. He had obviously transfigured his clothes; gone were the faded jeans and T-shirt and in their place was a dark green, almost Kaftan-style top that had a V-neck and silver embroidered detail around the cuffs and neckline, and black trousers. To the Muggle eye, Harry looked like the artistic man he was but to Draco's eyes, Harry looked like a wizard and, he couldn't help but notice, a wizard whom green suited very well.

"So," Harry began conversationally, "when you've finished gawping at my attire, perhaps we could discuss why you Disillusioned me, dragged me around lovely Roma to this restaurant, and expect an apology for making yourself look like a first-class fruitcake."

A napkin hit Harry on the head. Draco gave a pained sigh before stating haughtily that Malfoys don't gawp. He smirked at his companion and Harry knew he was forgiven for laughing hysterically at him.

The waiter edged cautiously toward their booth. Draco asked Harry if he preferred red or white before yelling at the approaching waiter in Italian again, causing him to fall over a fortunately unoccupied chair in panic.

"I see you still enjoy striking terror into the hearts of poor innocents," Harry commented dryly.

"Some things, Mr. Potter, will never change," Draco declared regally.

Harry rolled his eyes. "So why are you in Rome anyway? Where did you learn to verbally dissect the locals in their native tongue and what was it you needed to tell me?"

"Long story, Blaise Zabini, and another long story, but one I think I really should get around to finishing.

"Basically, when I said tyranny earlier, I wasn't exaggerating. How do you think the Ministry knows when people say things like "pureblood"? They watch everyone and they are ruthless. Somewhere along the line, the Ministry gained enough undisputable power to put the ex-Death Eaters into positions of power within their offices. That's the cleverest con of them all, you see. On the surface, they are being politically correct to a fault; no one notices the promotion of Death Eaters as a problem. When no form of media advertises the deaths and disappearance of Muggles and Muggle-borns and instead focuses on the trials of purebloods, the Wizarding World thinks things are fair. What no one seems to notice is that the Purebloods that get put on trial are all "blood-traitors" anyway, like Arthur Weasley, and no one that would be important to the hidden cause.

"But that whole sorry mess can be explained in greater detail at a later date. The important issue that requires the attention of both of us is that they know your magic is awake once more. A report of you 'gradually beginning to reaccept your magic' was reported in the Daily Prophet today, 'bringing hope to the Wizarding World that our path into redemption may mean that our Saviour might yet return.' Well I've seen the British officials around Rome in action before and they are a force to be reckoned with, but no match for you if you're anywhere near as powerful in practice as you seemed to be when I aligned your chakras."

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Harry's minded flitted back to the event earlier and he felt the heat rise to his face. It suddenly seemed such a personal thing that Draco had done. It should have felt invasive, not soothing. Shrugging that thought aside, he listened again.

"...I don't think they mean to kill you; they couldn't do that and still produce regular pictures of you living your life and growing old in peace to keep the public at ease. But they can't risk you coming back into your powers so they're going to try something. You haven't done any magic with a wand, so they can't pinpoint exactly how magically attuned you are at the moment. There's a chance that they will just try to monitor you. But they know you can do wandless magic, so maybe they'll try to apprehend you just in case..."

Draco was rambling. Harry was staring, transfixed. The Wizarding World was worse than ever and yet again he seemed to be on the receiving end.

The bell on the pizzeria door tinkled and a small group spilled in from the street. A small group that consisted of one hyperactive French female, a sarcastic Irishman and a first-rate arse.

Harry sank down in his chair, hoping that his friends and Stephan wouldn't see him. He didn't analyse why he didn't want his friends to see him, but he knew deep down that neither the seriousness of Draco's conversation nor the fact that Stephan would cause a scene were the real reasons.

Draco noticed that Harry wasn't paying attention and stood up slightly so as to see over the top of the booth. With his ever ready Seeker's reflexes, Harry lurched forwards, captured Draco's hand and caught him mid-motion before guiding him back to his seat. Swift as the Harry had been, it had been unnecessary -- Stephan and the others had spotted the duo through the window and that was their only reason for entering the restaurant. Ignoring the waiter, they had spilled towards the booth and all began speaking at once.

"Blimey mate, you had us worried. We couldn't get in touch with your mobile or anything."

"Mon Coeur! Are you alright?"

"Where the fuck have you been? And why the hell are you holding his hand?!"

Elise and Kai stopped talking. Kai merely raised a questioning brow, amused at the instant mortification on Harry's face. Elise, on the other hand, squealed delightedly. "I knew it! C'est fantastique!"

"I certainly don't think it's fantastique," scoffed Stephan. He grasped Elise and pulled her away from the booth. From the moment his hand touched her arm, Harry noticed her withdraw. Excited eyes died and her expression became suspiciously suppressed. He switched his vision to a deeper level and felt for their auras. Once again, he saw wisps of fuchsia being dulled to lavender; what worried him most, however, was that some areas, presumably once lavender, were now beginning to grey.

Using a permutation of Legilimency, Harry projected the image into Draco's mind. It was easy since his magic was still attuned to Draco's from when the blond healed him earlier. Draco's breath hitched at the invasion of his mind, but he didn't turn to yell at Harry. Instead, he began to glare at Stephan with a reinforced loathing and something akin to trepidation. Something was far from right.

Harry's Slytherin side took over. Now was the time for cunning, not spontaneous bravery. Hexing Stephan wouldn't solve anything, however much he felt like doing so for the sake of Elise and Draco. He had never seen the man look even slightly scared, not even during the war when he had worked as spy.

"Might I suggest that Draco and I pay for our meal and meet you at the bar across the road? We can talk there -- here is not the place." Harry's tone was waspish and invited no arguments.

Even Stephan looked suitably chastised by Harry's words and glare. The fact that Harry's eyes were so emotive gave him even more power when he showed anger or disappointment in someone. The three left.

Draco looked Harry up and down, impressed. "Well it would certainly appear that you learned something useful from Professor Snape's lessons -- even if it wasn't potions."

Harry gave him a lopsided grin then sobered. "Is it safe for me to walk across the road? I don't want to bring a herd of officials down on my neck. You said earlier that this problem affects both of us. Does that mean you'll help me?"

"I think you'll be okay crossing the road. They probably know you're here by now; the magic you cast to undo my Disillusion charm would've alerted them. They will probably also know you are with me. I have a form of immunity in Italy as long as I keep my head down. They won't risk crossing me. I think that as long as we stick together, you'll be fine until we can come up with something more permanent. So yes, Potter, I will help you."

Harry nodded once. "Call me Harry. You may as well, and my friends would scoff at the formality. What's in this deal for you, Malfoy?"

"Draco," the blond offered with a shrug as if to say 'if we must'. "Nothing sinister. No ulterior motives. I just want the Golden Boy's help in doing what he does best: sorting out the mess that is the Wizarding World."

The two paid and left the restaurant. "Of course, I do think you owe me big time. Sticking around with you is one thing. But that pompous arse who is dating Elise, he is something else." Draco shuddered slightly.

"I'm guessing you saw the freaky aura thing then?"

"Yes, I saw the 'freaky aura thing'. I couldn't miss it after you forced it into my mind."

Harry was about to apologise but Draco waved it off. "I'm not mad. It's just that no one has used Legilimency on me since Voldemort. Now, about the 'freaky aura thing'...I've heard of it before, vaguely -- perhaps in a childhood fairytale? One of those good verses evil tales. In this one, the evil side could turn Muggles into creatures like themselves by de-charging their auras or something. That's how they spread and when they came into contact with a magical aura, eventually they could burn a Wizard's magical core and destroy it. Or I think that's what happened. It's been a long time since I read fairytales. But whatever the case, it's unnatural and I don't think it can be good for Elise. Or you for that matter, if you end up stuck with Stephan for a while."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry and Draco stuck in a lift together *grins* As irrelevant as that may be in the grand scheme of the plot, I just had to write it.

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