𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

Chapter 17

A Hint of Normalcy

The grip on Draco's arm was little better than a vice and he felt a tremor of fear wrack through him as his back slammed into rough plaster. Mindless eyes glinted at him in the darkness and there was manic certainty in that beloved voice when it informed, "I can fix you. I will."

His knees buckled without his consent and the fingers twisted tighter to keep him upright. His eyes rolled back as two emotions warred for dominance within him: his fear and his undying trust. "Harry, please," he managed, but it was weak and whimpered.

The eyes flashed mockingly and the voice demanded of him, "Please what, Draco?" He felt the sharp edge of a knife press diligently just under the bend of his elbow and looked down to see his skin denting boldly around the point. Suddenly the tip was withdrawn and Harry tapped the flat of it against the ink dark patch of skin menacingly. "I'm offering to make it all better," he told him with a wistful persuasion. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

Draco's gaze dropped down to their feet and he noticed with a lightheaded brilliance that they always seemed to be in opposing positions. Something soft brushed his cheek and his head snapped up to find Harry watching him imploringly. He gripped Draco's arm like an offering and assured him with a growl in the back of his throat, "I'll cut it out and then people will see. They'll see that I'm not fucking some evil wannabe minion." Draco felt a pinch as the first pinprick of blood dribbled down his forearm and he closed his eyes tightly. "Isn't that what you want," Harry whispered encouragingly, "for them to know you're sorry for what you've done?"

The blade sliced in with a slow and artful cadence and Draco swore he could feel every nick in the dull edge. He let out a low moan and felt his knees give out entirely as they took him to the floor with them. He only managed a desperate and pleading, "Harry—" before he gave up on words entirely.

Harry sank down with him and Draco felt fingers curl around his own, as if to say 'we go down together'. Draco took in a deep gulp of air and felt a forehead press tight against his own and he was sick with the thought that this was worth whatever followed, that this closeness with Harry could outweigh any pain that might come.

Breath ghosted over his dry lips as Harry shushed his slight whimpers with a reassuring, "It'll only hurt for a moment," before he rammed the blade in up to its hilt and started to cut away his betrayal.

~*~

The secretary glanced at him with poorly concealed revulsion when she waved him over with a sharp, "Disloyal Mercenary."

Draco sneered down his nose at her and was nearly past her desk when he stopped and rounded on her, trying to channel his younger self with a dash of Pansy's spot on cruelty. "And exactly how long did it take you to think of that, sweetie? Since I sat down, hmm?" The girl gaped, completely taken aback, and Draco cocked his head with a shrewd look on his face. "By the way, the way you chomp on that gum makes you look exactly like a cow chewing its cud. And with hips like that people will get there eventually so why force the observation?"

He strode off to the door and paused at the handle to throw over his shoulder at the devastated girl, "By the way, hun," he whispered in a stage voice, "the roots are supposed to match the rest of the hair." He grinned to himself as he entered the office in front of him, slowly remembering how easy it was destroy someone.

He straightened his posture as he realized that the world could beat him down but that didn't mean he couldn't beat back. Somewhere in his transition from adolescence to adulthood, he had forgotten what it was like to feel confident in himself and he was determined to get that feeling back.

He stalked into the middle of the room purposefully and threw his hands down on either side of the desk as he leaned forward into Millard Barnus' face determinedly. "I want a job," he said coolly.

The man's eyes widened in surprise before he chuckled and said in a voice that seemed to rumble up directly from his belly, "You're not alone, Fido." He gazed at Draco's undiminished ferocity in cock-eyed interest and asked with hearty humor, "Makes you think 'm gonna give you one? No offense, young 'un, but you're inexperienced and not much welcomed in the wizarding world 'sides," he indicated Draco's left arm and added, "ain't no one gonna give you an interview, you're more likely to get a kick."

Draco tossed the folder he'd been diligently working on for the past three weeks on the man's desk triumphantly. "That's where you're wrong." He smiled victoriously as the man thumbed through the first few pages curiously. "Caroline Schaffer's—the new headmistress'—interview, haven't you been after her for months?"

Barnus lit up like a kid on his first broom as he whipped through the rest. He growled up at Draco happily, waving the folder, "This ain't half bad."

Draco knew as much but he felt himself flush with pride that the man was willing to admit it. He ordered the thoughts in his head into a sort of honest dishonesty and laid his cards on the table, hiding the ace up his sleeve.

"You're right that I'm not well-liked," Draco said, putting his limitations out in plain sight but twisting it to his advantage—whether there actually was one there or not... well, "practically a pariah in fact and, while that may lead to private derision, outwardly, it leads to effortless intimidation. And that's what got you that interview," he jabbed his finger pointedly at the folder in Barnus' hand, "and it's not something just anybody off the street can offer you."

The man leaned back contemplatively, eyeing him like a hawk and rubbing his wobbly chin. "Makes you think I wan' o hire someone who can scare You Know Who-fearin' cit'zens into talkin'?"

This one he knew and Draco stood nonchalantly, examining his fingernails before saying coolly, "I was under the impression that the Prophet didn't care how the results were gotten, only that they were."

The man laughed outright and glanced at him in speculative amusement. "You worked fer a paper 'fore, boy?"

"No, sir," Draco answered primly.

"Then that's just natural talent, eh?" He chuckled, a calculating gleam to his eyes. Clearly the accent didn't mean this man could be discounted as a true shark. He watched Draco in deep contemplation and seemed to be weighing the pros and cons of something before he stuck out his hand and grumbled, "Well, boy-o, I'm gonna take a chance on ya. Yer hired."

Draco smirked and grasped the other man's hand in a strong grip. Barnus tugged him closer and his expression turned serious. "I'm expectin' you'll deliver."

Draco's smirk widened. "I guarantee it, sir."

The other man backed off with a genial grin and chuckled with a hand on his rotund stomach. "Now that's what I like to hear, Malfoy." He placed a hand on his shoulder and escorted him to the door, saying robustly, "I don't doubt it. I don't doubt it, boy."

Draco walked out of the building feeling as though a weight had been lifted. For the first time in a long time, he felt like himself and he couldn't help the grin that broke out over his face at the thought. He paused and realized he wasn't just an extension; he really did have a personality and an identity that deviated from Harry's own. He was free of him. Finally.

He took the long way home, luxuriating in the fresh air, and was glad he had when he walked through his apartment door and found what was waiting for him. If only he'd known he wouldn't be getting out of bed for the next few days, he would have stopped off at the park first.