- The Dark Arts
- Draco Malfoy Harry Potter
- Mystery Slash
- Multiple Eras
- Order of the Phoenix
Published: 11/04/2003Updated: 01/06/2004Words: 40,796Chapters: 17Hits: 231,087
The Goodness of Their Hearts
- Story Summary:
- Malfoy Security Inc. is hired when Chudley Cannons' star Seeker Harry Potter starts receiving disturbing letters.
- Chapter Summary:
- Malfoy Security Inc. is hired when Chudley Cannons' star Seeker Harry Potter receives some threatening letters.
- Author's Note:
- In addition to those who provided me with feedback previously (many of whom contacted me at later chapters) I also received feedback from bonebiddy, magical_lioness, Bailey James, Arwen Radcliffe, thrnbrooke, orissa, Manicus Inice, and Marks. And Shezan, I was thrilled to know you were recommending my story. Thank you all!
DEATH EATER'S SON GUARDS BOY WHO LIVED?!
A recent series of threatening letters sent to Chudley Cannons' Seeker Harry Potter has prompted the team's management to take the extraordinary measure of hiring professional protection for their star player. That protection, ironically enough, comes in the form of Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy, former Death Eater.
Draco Malfoy was a hated rival of Harry Potter during their years at Hogwarts, where they were classmates. According to sources, the two never met without the confrontation ending in a duel or even, in some cases, physical violence.
So why was Malfoy Security Inc. chosen for such a vital assignment? "Malfoy has a reputation for being the best," states Dennis Zimmer, general manager of the Cannons. "His company was thoroughly researched. Potter himself spoke to him and had no problem with his selection."
Others are not so sanguine about the selection, however. Some fear that the personal animosity between the two men will make the protection of Potter impossible. Further, there are those who suspect Malfoy may be the source of the letters himself.
"Fuck!" Malfoy flung the Daily Prophet on the kitchen table, too disgusted read on.
Potter looked up from where he was burning the hell out of some streaky bacon. "What's up?"
"That idiot Zimmer is talking to the press! Why the hell would they do that?"
Potter looked back into the pan. "It'll probably help ticket sales."
Draco stared at him. "It'll sure as hell help your stalker. He'll change his methods. Or he might decide to wait it out, lay low for a while."
"Do you want some bacon?"
"Damn it, Potter! What the hell is the matter with you? Don't you care that someone might be trying to kill you?"
Potter gave him a bent smile. "Got used to it, I guess." He added some more strips of bacon into the pan. "Has Zimmer made your job incredibly difficult?"
"I can handle it." He hoped. "It won't be nearly as debilitating as your lack of survival instinct."
Potter crossed the kitchen to the fridge. "Want some eggs?"
"I'm not fucking hungry, Potter!"
Potter chuckled and pulled out a carton of eggs. "I don't remember you being so excitable, Malfoy."
That was because he wasn't excitable. Not in front of other people. Potter brought it out in him. He always had. And it seemed even worse at the moment because, unlike their school days, Potter was perfectly calm.
"Why are you so insistent on feeding me?"
"You're too skinny."
Draco was shocked into looking down at himself. He was not skinny. He was trim.
Potter poured him a cup and put it on the table by the paper. "So you don't eat. You don't read newspapers - much - or watch movies. You have no significant other. Nothing in your life that will be disrupted by shacking up in here." Four eggs cracked into a bowl. "Do you have any life at all?"
He worked. He worked hard. It took dedication to build a successful business. He had friends though, granted, he didn't see them all that often. And just because he currently had no 'significant other' didn't mean he had no sex life at all. It just meant it was a bit more - solitary - than he might like.
But hey, no awkward morning after the night before conversations.
Not that he was going to explain himself to Potter. He took a seat at the table and picked up the mug of coffee. "Babysitting celebrities leaves little room for a life, Potter."
Potter just grinned and handed him a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon.
Later in the morning, Perona arrived bearing files. They set up in the kitchen with a pot of coffee. Draco invited Potter to sit in on their meeting but the Seeker chose instead to answer some of his fan mail in his room. Just as well. He'd only be in the way.
"These are all the negative paper letters Potter has gotten since he joined the Cannons, minus the first few, which he threw out." Perona opened one of the files to reveal a thick sheaf of stationary. "And, of course, these don't include Howlers. Most people with issues with our Mr. Potter send Howlers. From the sounds of it, the Howlers were all out and out hate mail. The paper letters are all of the love letter variety."
"These are all stalkers?"
Perona rocked her head in a gesture of ambivalence. "I don't know that they're all stalkers. They're all romantic letters with a certain creep factor, though. And two of these people had restraining orders placed on them."
"What's so special about this latest crop that the management called us in?"
"That's where it gets interesting." Perona got that little glow that warned Draco she was letting the challenge of the puzzle cause her to forget there was a life involved. "The first time I read these I thought they were just the same as all the others. Then, I realized just how the same they really were."
He frowned. "You're irritating me."
"You have no appreciation for my brilliance. This line caught my eye. A description of Potter when he's flying. 'The visual harmony as of the kestrel in descent.' What do you think of that?"
He grimaced. "Nauseating."
"Not common, though."
"So then why is the same line, the identical line, used by this person here?" Perona pulled out another letter, according to handwriting and signature written by a different person, with 'The visual harmony as of the kestrel in descent' highlighted in yellow. "And then we have 'the burning light of my soul' which shows up in this letter - " she showed him a letter written by yet another writer " and then this line about palmistry. 'My lifeline is destined to be intertwined with yours.'"
"Oh that's vile."
"Yes, and it shows up in this letter here. These are just some of the examples I found where lines, distinctive lines, from this latest batch of letters were found in all these earlier letters from all these other writers."
"So either all these letters are from the same writer, using different personas, or - "
"This last batch was written by one person with access to all the earlier letters, who mined them for material."
Draco breathed in as he thought about that. That put a different spin on things. "Where were the letters kept?"
"The Head Coach kept them in her desk in her office. Usually unlocked."
"Someone on the team or its staff is obsessed with Potter?" That just seemed bizarre. His team members were right there. They could see Potter was a normal person, with flaws and irritating quirks. That wasn't the way it was supposed to work.
"It looks like it."
"But why would anyone, imagining himself in love with Potter, want to use ideas expressed by other people? It's all supposed to be about intimacy and a special connection. Being unique. He'd want to use his own words."
"Maybe he can't. Maybe he can't turn a phrase and it frustrates him. Or maybe after seeing how these were written he thinks he has to write the same way."
Draco shook his head. It didn't make sense. "Well, at least it narrows down the field of suspects."
"I've compiled a list of everyone on the team, their handlers and their entourages. Also the cleaning and administrative staff."
"Any recent additions?"
"That I know of, the new Beater, Tracy Rickers. And Potter's physiotherapist - "
"I thought the team had physiotherapist, that they shared."
"Potter's schedule is pretty relentless. They use him more than the other players."
Draco raised an eyebrow at him. "Do I detect disapproval?"
She shrugged. "The other players are rotated out occasionally. Potter never is. Quidditch is really hard on the wrists and shoulders."
"Get as much as you can on these two. We'll start with them."
"Alright. I'll leave these for you to look over." She separated most of the files out and slid them to him.
"Good then." He finished off the dregs of his coffee and was surprised that Perona had made no move to leave by the time he had lowered his mug. "What?"
"Who?" Of course he knew who.
And she knew he knew. "The two of you here, all alone, a perfect opportunity to ... resolve lingering tension."
The last thing he needed was suggestive suggestions from his staff. "There is no lingering tension," he said coolly.
"Alright then, resolve new tension."
"I don't sleep with clients."
"Who said anything about sleeping?"
If Potter was hearing any of this, he was going to kill her. "You can go now."
"Aye aye, milord Malfoy. Can I sleep with him?"
"Out!" Impudent little wench. Really. He had eyes. He knew exactly what Potter looked like. He didn't need telling.
And if anyone was going to violate policy by sleeping with this particular client, it was going to be him, thank you very much.
Draco sighed and rubbed his eyes.
Potter was writing his letters at the desk in his bedroom, using a blue Muggle pen. His left hand buried in his shaggy black hair, his thin t-shirt stretched across his shoulders, a frown line between his eyebrows.
Yes, he was hot.
"So what's up?" Potter asked without raising his head.
"You have practise in a couple of hours."
"Any chance of cancelling it?"
"There's no need." Potter finished his current letter with a signature and added it to a pile. "The public's never been welcome at practises, and they've tightened security since this all started."
"We don't think it's someone from the public. We think it's a team member or one of the hangers-on."
Potter looked up at him, eyes narrowing into a glare. "You're wrong."
"We don't think so. If you look at the letters - "
"I've seen all the fucking letters." He slapped his pen on the desk and rose to his feet, pacing to the window and back. In an instant he had morphed from lax to tense, and Perona's remark came back to haunt Draco. "It's not one of the team."
"Or one of the staff."
"Potter - "
"I know what I'm doing."
Potter sneered. "Do you?"
A little spurt of anger rose up in Draco's chest. "Yes, Potter, it just so happens that I do."
"It's no one on the team."
"You keep repeating that to yourself if you want. Just remember to duck if the Chaser throws a curse at you instead of the Quaffle. But only if you give a damn, of course." He walked out of the room, uninterested in Potter's reply.
So maybe he'd been lying when he told Perona there was no tension anymore.