A Cure for Boring Wednesdays (HP - Drarry)

Chapter 2: Umbridge

It took them a ridiculously long time to find Umbridge's office. Though Harry knew she still worked at the Ministry, he'd spent the past five years assiduously avoiding her. The few times he'd glimpsed her - across the cafeteria, crossing the Ministry lobby after hours, skulking about the edges of one of the infernal holiday office parties - she'd shot him a knowing smirk and he'd turned hurriedly away to avoid the overwhelming temptation to hex her with something really nasty.

He'd only managed to avoid doing so by forcefully reminding himself that provoking her would only make him look petty, and that there was nothing to be done about the infernal compulsion. Even Hermione had concluded, after countless sleepless nights scouring every book she could find, that there was no way to remove it. So Harry had learned to force it back with the power of his will, much as he did with Imperius.

Only, if Malfoy were to be believed, there actually was something that could be done. And as they made their way to her office, wending ever deeper into the bowels of the Ministry and alternately coaxing and threatening directions from the officious employees who stood in their way, Harry simmered with righteous anger, boiling hotter and closer to the surface the closer they got.

Malfoy stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm when they finally reached her door.

"Potter," he said firmly, "perhaps you should wait out here."

"What?" Harry stared at him. "Why?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed slightly. "Because, Potter, your magic is practically fizzing around us right now, and while I understand your frustration, it won't help if you accidentally murder her before she can remove the curse."

Harry deflated slightly, noticing the crackling along his nerves, suddenly, and the way Malfoy's pale hair floated around his head in a frizzy cloud. "Oh."

Malfoy studied him intently. "Can you control it? I think you need to be there, but I don't fancy taking a loose cannon into what is essentially a diplomatic mission."

Harry nodded. That made sense. He didn't think he would trust himself in a mission right now, and the fact that Malfoy both recognized this and was asking his opinion on his ability to hold it together said a lot. Malfoy trusted him. And, strangely enough, he trusted Malfoy. He swallowed, pushing some of the bubbling rage down, taking a deep breath and letting some of the tension bleed out of him.

"Yeah," he said finally. "I can control it. You'll take the lead?"

Malfoy studied him for a moment, frowning slightly as his hair settled slowly back around his face, then his expression cleared and he nodded. "Come on, then," he said, and wrenched open the door.

Dolores Umbridge's office was - well, it was just like her office back at Hogwarts had been. Harry stared around, taking it all in: the pink, the lace, and, of course, the cats. They stared unblinking out at him from nearly every surface in the room.

"Why, Mister Malfoy! What a pleasant surprise! Oh, and Mister Potter, too! Goodness. What can I do for you, gentlemen?"

She looked the same, coiffed and curled and dressed head-to-toe in pink - but her hair was streaked with gray, her face was lined and sort-of-stretched, and she gave the overall impression of someone who had been very tired for a very long time. Harry wondered uncomfortably if perhaps he had misinterpreted those smirks.

Then she turned to look him up and down, and her face twisted into a nasty sneer, and Harry stopped feeling sorry for her because he knew suddenly that she'd done it on purpose. She knew he'd been unable to find a way to remove the curse. But, more than that, she knew how to remove it and she hadn't told him.

Five years - five fucking years! - He'd worked here, in the same building, forced to sit behind a desk like some kind of fucking Auror department figurehead, sorting paperclips and going soft while his fellow Aurors mopped up Dark wizards because the curse made him a liability in the field. He'd nearly gotten several of his fellow Aurors killed, that first year - blown entire investigations because he couldn't hold back the truth.

He was going to fucking kill her.

He lunged for her - or, tried to. Malfoy tapped his wand lightly against his thigh and whispered something so quietly Harry didn't catch it, and his arms and legs locked stiffly in place and refused to budge. He couldn't open his mouth, either, he found, when he tried to protest.

It seemed Malfoy meant for him to only watch. He glared daggers at Malfoy's back, and relished the faint flush that crept up his neck, as if called from beneath his skin by the force of Harry's stare.

Malfoy shot an apologetic smile over his shoulder, and Harry attempted to inject as much disapproval as possible into his scowl.

"As much as I'm enjoying your little... tableau," Umbridge said suddenly, "I do have work to do. So, if you don't mind..." She tipped her chin pointedly at the door. Malfoy ignored the obvious dismissal.

"Dolores," he said, raising his hands placatingly, voice saccharine and practically oozing charm, "Potter and I have come to ask your help in a very important matter."

"You have?" she asked, glaring suspiciously between them. "And what, pray tell, do you need my help with?"

"This," Malfoy said, grabbing Harry's hand and thrusting it at her, turning it so the scarred words were clearly visible.

She blanched. "Oh. I - see." She plastered a bright smile onto her face. "Well, I'm afraid I won't be of any use to you boys, then. I have no idea how one would go about removing the curse, and —"

Malfoy smiled, slow and lazy and predatory. "So you do agree that it can be removed," he drawled.

The remaining color drained from Umbridge's face as she stared at Malfoy, hands twisting nervously. "Well, I, uh, no, no, of course not, I —"

Malfoy moved suddenly, fast as any snake. The left-most china cat portrait leaped off the wall and dashed itself to pieces on the floor. There was a horrible screeching yowl, and the china shards shivered and rearranged themselves, disgorging a wisp of pale... cat ghost?

"Snuggles!" Umbridge wailed, rushing to the shattered plate and kneeling beside it, "Oh, my poor, precious snuggles!"

Harry goggled as the cat-ghost tried to rub up against her hand. Malfoy watched, arms folded, as she turned slowly back to stare up at him, tears tracking down her face and eyes shining with betrayal.

"D-Draco," she whispered, "How could you? You know —"

"I know what they are," he interrupted her coldly, "and I don't care. I will smash all of them if you don't remove that curse."

Her eyes widened and she sniffled. "But... What happened to you, Draco? You used to be such a sweet boy..."

Harry snorted. Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I grew up, Dolores," he said, voice gentler. "Don't you think it's time you did too?"

She glared at him, whipping out her wand and jerking it in a complicated spiral, and Harry tried to jump in front of Malfoy. Auror instincts, he told himself firmly. That's all it was. He hoped Malfoy hadn't noticed - he still wasn't able to really move much, so maybe...

But Malfoy's eyes widened slightly, and his cheeks were stained suddenly with a delicate pink. He really was entirely too gorgeous, Harry thought, distracted, and then he shivered as a chill shot through him. He stared down at his hand as it went cold, then tingled and burned with a flash of blinding pain that slowed to a dull ache and then was gone. And... so were the words. The skin of his hand was smooth and unblemished.

"Get out of my office," Umbridge said, face turned away from them. "I've done what you asked - now just leave me in peace."

Malfoy studied her for a moment, still kneeling by the ruined plate and staring longingly at the slowly fading cat-ghost. "Goodbye Dolores," he said gently, and then he turned, grabbed Harry's hand, and dragged him out the door.