dracoredeemed challenged me to write a 10 000ish word fic with some prompts (an Auror fic with a warm, confident Harry) as fast as I could. The first to post would win eternal glory! And...? A fully paid sandwich. Just for them.

So, it turns out that she sort of 'won' and I owe her that sandwich. But I don't mind as, when we met earlier, she told me I looked like-- wait for it--a female Draco! Yes. Possibly the highest compliment one could ever receive! (Unless you are in fact Draco Malfoy--then you might be a bit annoyed.) Now, I don't actually look like Draco, so please don't write asking me for pictures. Seriously. The tea she was drinking at the time went to her head (Earl Grey can do that to a person).

Incidentally, I've asked her to ensure her next challenges involve me completing my WIP fics. She has kindly agreed. And I'm going to BEAT HER GOOD!!!


Disclaimer: Full acknowledgement goes to JK Rowling for all Harry Potter characters, plots, and situations incorporated into this story. This is a not-for-profit work of fan fiction. No offence or copyright infringement intended.

Summary: A news article breaks out throwing Draco into immediate action. What follows is, well, 'inexplicable'. Just ask a very confused Harry. DM/HP.

Features a spoilt Draco with verbal diarrhoea (but he's cute—I swear!).

A/N: Ignores most of the Deathly Hallows but the Elder wand aspect still took place.


A series of inexplicable coincidences

By Naesy

Monday:

It was ten a.m. and the hustle and bustle of the Ministry was already in full swing as per usual by this time of day.

Tufts of platinum blond hair bobbed up and down quickly amongst the sea of slower moving heads on level two as Draco Malfoy, owner of the blond head, excitedly made his way from the elevator to the far end of the floor.

He wove through the mass of people, and his heart began to pound like a thunderous and accelerating timpani drum when the crowd thinned and a newly refurbished reception area came to view. It was just visible beyond two large wooden doors which--never failing to fascinate Draco--repeatedly slid open whenever anyone neared.

Draco, normally one to step back and forth a hundred times in front of them to watch them half-open and then half-close, with a delighted smirk, actually resisted the urge today. Instead, he marched right on through as if the magnificent moving doors were not even remotely interesting (Well, all right. So, he released a tiny smirk; but only a tiny one.).

Inside, a blonde old biddy of a woman sat behind the large front desk, her head bowed intently over a large tome, glasses on the end of her nose, and a finger absently scratching her chin. As soon as she heard the clap of shoes on the polished floor she lifted her eyes and took in the sight with a sudden yelp. She began to giggle coquettishly and uncontrollably behind her hand, her cheeks blooming into a rosy shade of red. He whisked by her, ensuring his always-mischievous eyes hovered warmly on her face, and nodded her a small, 'Hello'. Predictably, she nearly fell off her chair--at just the mere whisper of attention! But her reaction was just perfect as far as Draco was concerned. The day the Ministry retired that other guy--some ancient and balding bore of a man with a stupid over-affection for the rules--was a day worth remembering. Having this woman take the old codger's place was like a blessing in giggly old woman who just ADORED him disguise.

Well. Giggling aside, she certainly made things easier. That was for sure.

But he gave it all little thought today. Instead he happily moved through the second set of doors at the same fast pace.

Today, Draco was on a mission of utmost importance, and he could not be thwarted. And time was presently an issue--considering he was already four hours behind the mark. But he couldn't let that stop him from taking action, nor could he let such thoughts beat him down--not yet.

He advanced purposefully through the hallway that lay beyond, with a rolled up first edition of today's Daily Prophet gripped tightly in his hand. He rounded a corner and spotted the door down the end of the hall, the words 'Auror' and 'Potter' visible almost immediately and sending a thrilling chill down his spine.

Draco smirked and quickly crossed the distance, pushing the door open a moment later. Inside, a young man with tawny-bronze skin and ruffled blue-black hair was seated at his desk rocking backwards on his chair, scratching his head with the end of a pen, and lazily reading a folded magazine that was propped up in one hand. A large coffee cup and half-eaten biscuit lay beside him on the desk.

"Chop, chop. Listen up, Potter," Draco said as he entered and made his way swiftly toward the occupied desk, barely holding back on an enormously excited grin.

The green eyes remained fixed on the page and did not drift upwards for even a second. If anything, the laidback rocking became even more pronounced.

Draco ignored the casual display and slipped his bottom onto the opposite desk. He swung a leg as he began to relay his news: "The Davidson file has just become priority number one. Numero uno. That's Italian for Draco Malfoy knows everything and has his finger on the pulse. Right--" he clapped his hands together "--here's the scoop. Looks likes Davidson's on the move. I've got some hot leads, and some new evidence has just come to light." He leaned back and waved a knowing hand through the air. "I'm thinking it might be organised crime; perhaps Davidson's using false businesses to cover his illicit activities. Illicit of the most illicit kind. That means it's critical we get onto this ASAP, Potter. I suggest a stake-out. Undercover, of course. We can use one of those cars the Ministry now has at their disposal. I'm thinking silver. With leather interior. The ones that have the buttons that make the windows go up and down. If we hurry, we can get a move onto this straight away. They'll never know what hit them. We should start out Brighton way, along the coast. There, we'll have to stop for a bit. Scope the scene. There's no time to waste; we--we must make haste! Heh, heh... That rhymed! And yes, yes--I know, I know. It's a plan made of brilliance, pure brilliance. The whole thing. That's already clear to me." Draco crossed his arms and smirked. "So. What do you say…? Now or now?"

Potter did not look up. Instead he chewed on the end of his pen, rocked his chair back and forth twice more, and then put the magazine down on top of his desk to reveal a half complete Quidditch crossword. "Malfoy?" he drawled calmly as he leaned over the magazine and carefully penned an answer in some blank squares.

"Yes?"

Potter minutely raised an eyebrow and penned in another word, still not looking up. "There is no Davidson file."

Draco knew that might have been a problem. He reclined backwards a little on the desk. "Are you sure?" he said flippantly.

Potter nodded at his magazine. "Oh, I'm quite certain of it."

Draco nodded thoughtfully. "Right. Well, maybe... maybe there should be one."

Potter went back to rocking and chewing his pen, his magazine back in his hand and his eyes fixed once more on his puzzle. "Mm," Potter said noncommittally. "Does this Davidson person you speak of even exist?"

Draco frowned and looked out the window, deciding now was a very good time to inspect the weather.

"Malfoy…?"

"Well, who is to say when one exists and one does not? What even is existence, Potter? I mean… can we define it? Can we obtain it? Can we control it? Can we hold it? What even is knowledge? And reality, for that matter? Who's to say that our sense of what is currently taking place right this minute is not a dream or a wild hallucination."

Potter remained silent at first, still deeply engrossed in the puzzle, his pen again scratching across the magazine surface. "So you made this Davidson character up then?"

Draco sat uncomfortably for a moment. "What's your point, Potter?"

Potter stretched his muscular arms above his head and settled back comfortably in his chair; this time, resting a spectacular pair of Italian black leather shoes--one on top of the other--onto his desk. Draco gaped a little at their style and quality but then switched his eyes back to Potter, though Potter was yet to even glance Draco's way, eyes for his magazine and his magazine alone. Right now, all Draco could see was luminous green through the veil of long midnight lashes.

"My point...?" Potter began. "My point is... that you don't even work here, Malfoy." He began to rub the barely-there stubble that was just beginning to appear on his face. "That's my point." Another answer was scrawled onto the page.

Draco pursed his lips together and drummed his fingers on the desk beside him. "Okay. Right. So you're a details man. I get it now. But details can get in the way of making a difference, can't they? Of saving people and all of that. I'm certain you know this, and I'm certain you still care about waffle like that, Potter. And people's lives are always at stake when you're an Auror, Potter; their lives. And for that reason alone, we can't be idle--we cannot. We must take action. We must take the moment and seize it. And seizing it right now would involve a stake-out," Draco nodded sharply, "and a silver car. With buttons. Definitely with buttons. And Brighton. Definitely Brighton. And scoping; much, much scoping. As soon as possible. In fact, right away." Another nod and then more reclining with the swinging of a leg. "I'm sure you'll agree."

Potter put his pen down, yawned, and then stood to his feet, again stretching. He tipped his head to each side to ease an apparently stiff neck and then said, while moving languorously around the side his desk: "What I think is… that I need to show you something, Malfoy; something very important."

Draco's eyes widened. "What? What?" Excitement and intrigue exploded inside of him. "What is it? What is it?"

Potter headed to the coat rack by his bookshelf and grabbed his jacket and draped it over his arm. "Come over here," he said, waving Draco over and quickly glancing his way.

Fireworks erupted in Draco's belly. He quickly dropped his feet to the floor and practically galloped over to where Potter was presently standing, reaching up to collect his bag from the very top shelf.

"This way," Potter then said to him with hand motioning towards the door. Together they walked across his office and Draco's head began to fill with all sorts of images of where Potter might be taking him, of how Potter might look when they arrived there, of what he and Potter might look like together as they embarked on their journey.

Then Potter stopped and finally looked down at Draco from his two inch advantage; eyes green, intense, and determined… and maybe-- maybe even twinkling a little.

This was going much better than expected.

And then Potter opened his mouth and spoke in that deep and coarse voice of his; the one that made every molecule of magic vibrate inside Draco's body: "Do you see this, Malfoy?" Draco's eyes dropped and followed Harry's motioning hand. "This… is a door. It opens… just like this." He clasped the handle and pulled it open. "And do you know what you do with a door like this one? You walk through it, Malfoy. You walk through it and you never re-enter it again. That's what you do."

With that, Harry Potter walked out. And left Draco standing there, shock and horror rooting him to the floor. Draco watched as the other man strolled comfortably down the last section of the long corridor and rounded the corner, his tall and broad body disappearing out of sight.

Draco gripped the newspaper more tightly in his fist, his whole face crumpling under the force of extreme anger. After a second he looked down at the squashed paper he was holding and decided to unravel it. He held it open with two hands and ran his eyes hungrily across the front story, his face slowly smoothing out once more.

He took in a deep breath and stuffed the paper into his back pocket, setting his jaw determinedly.

Oh, this is far from over. Far from it, Potter.

He quickly began to fashion a Plan B.

TBC...