Title: Unity
Author: 
Confusedkayt
Team: Epilogue
Prompt: The World
Wordcount: 2,097
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None.
Summary: The world is bigger than England. The task is bigger than a hero. And the time is ripe.
Author's Note Thank you to my lovely beta, S, and to the very helpful N, and L for their zillions of contributions.
Maybe it was the sticky-sweet smell of lotus flowers in the planters, or the little boats carrying excited tourists across the Nile, the minty smoke coming from the hookah two tables down. It felt like vacation. He could almost forget the creeping feeling that he was always being watched. But then, of course, he was two stern aurors on the roof now, probably cursing him for keeping them out in the sun.
But this hotel was fantastic, all marble and hard-won freedom from the street hustlers that had somehow bundled Harry, with all his protection, into shops where they enthusiastically pressed a scalding glass of tea into his hand and explained how to make perfume or papyrus. The hot drinks here made you sweat from the inside, shaking off the oppressive heat more effectively than any cooling charm. Mmmm. That sweet, dark-red, what-was-it... He glanced down at the menu in front of him and an attentive waiter scooted out from his shaded station. "Yes, sir?"
"That, er, red stuff..."
"Karkeda." The man smiled, half-bowing in a way that never failed to leave Harry a little uncomfortable. "The nectar of the lotus. Soon you will be a real Egyptian."
That laugh was awkward, but the waiter seemed happy enough. Probably used to much worse from the over-tanned French women lounging by the pool who snapped their fingers and drawled impossible requests through accents thick as soup.
Harry was convinced they kept a special reservoir of the stuff in their serving island just for him, or they had some of Molly's kitchen magic, because there it was, steaming and sweating on his table within a minute. Too lazy to pick it up just at the moment, he let his eyes drift to the river. This place screamed Hermione, dripping history and worthy causes. Though she'd spoil it, the lovely, lazy calm...
The ice feeling that he was being watched, close, different, the bracelet around his ankle tingling to let him know that his guard had noticed it as well. He was too well trained to bolt upright. A yawn, a harmless crack of the neck... Malfoy?! It had to be. That white blonde hair... It was shorter, now, arranged just so. It hinted at pith helmets.
Malfoy hoisted the mouthpiece of his hookah, a half-assed salute. "Can't resist the chance to chat with an old school chum." His voice, chillingly like his father's...
Unprecedented. The last time he'd actually spoken to Malfoy... God, it might have been in school. Speech wasn't a part of the careful dιtente of two public figures at a school train station. "Errr..."
"Articulate as always, Potter." Smoke he had been hiding somewhere sailed out of his mouth in a ruler-straight line. "I would have thought you'd have fixed that little problem, in your current line of work."
Deep breath, in and out. You're a diplomat, for god's sake. "It's all down to my godson."
Malfoy's long fingers fiddled with the hose of his pipe. So pale paler than anybody ought to be in this kind of sun. "Ah, yes. Your speechwriter?" He smiled, a thin, mean little Grinch smile. "My son, too, hopes to go into politics."
This was dangerous, suddenly. Too much to be discussing on an exposed public balcony in Africa. Anyone might be listening, and to come so far, so far... The Prime Minister had almost agreed to bring Egypt fully into Worldwide Wizarding Wonks, and any hint of double-dealing on Harry's part would squash that flat. "So, err, what brings you to Luxor?" There. Calm, that sounded.
"I find the weather agrees with me."
"It's a hundred-and-ten degrees." An elegant shrug. "And you spent the winter in Helsinki."
"Why, Potter, I'm touched." A saucy smoke ring. "Keeping tabs on my whereabouts?"
His smug grin, his smoke, his stupid melting iced lemonade... Malfoy was frozen in time, the same smug bastard he'd always been. Harry picked up his karkeda, the steam long gone from it, and took a sip. Not half as good lukewarm. Another annoyance on Malfoy's account.
A sudden, loud burst of breath. "My mother's very ill, Potter." His hands were carefully nonchalant on the pipe, but pink splotches had appeared in his too-pale cheeks.
"I... I'm sorry to hear that." He thought she'd been looking frail lately, but oh... If you'd asked him at 18, Harry would have laid odds that he'd never speak to Narcissa Malfoy again. But something about her... Brilliant, that press conference, god, all her work... That woman had done more to bring former Death Eaters ex-Rebels, Harry told himself sternly, though the sanitized term always choked him back into society than anyone had ever dreamed possible.
Her own son, who'd spent the last three years as far away from English society as he could get. "I think," his eyes dipped to the edge of the table, "that she would like it if you would go to her."
"Of course." Harry twisted a wrist, his wand sliding smoothly out of his sleeve. "Accerso."
"Yeah, Harry?" In spite of himself, Harry nodded his apology for the voice Malfoy could not hear.
"Is there any way you could clear out that bar? The leathery one, with the fireplace?"
Malfoy reached out, laid two fingers on Harry's wrist. "You're going to call, Potter?"
It was dizzying, voices in, voices out... "Wait a moment, Teddy, I'll call right back." Harry shook his head, but the dizziness had already set in. "Sorry, the spell doesn't accommodate..."
"Potter," Malfoy's eyes were rivited to the hookah, his voice a touch rougher than normal. "She'd never say it, but she's been hoping that you'd notice over the Floo. She would like it if you would go to her."
Serious, then, but oh... It was such a bad time. Africa was tricky change dates, and it might look like they weren't serious about real, worldwide participation. Dangerous, too many international portkeys in a day and he would be slow, he would slur words, he would look weak and Hermione kept sending hectoring notes about how he absolutely mustn't do that (or use cooling charms in Tanzania, Harry, they'll think you're rejecting them and somebody got hexed just outside the embassy last month!) "I'm not meant to be back in England for a month."
Malfoy's eyes shrank to slits. "Ah, yes. Still avoiding the ex? I hear she's seeing Oliver Wood these days."
"And yours 'fell' out the window." Control, Harry, control yourself... Wizarding Ambassador Spills Confidential Investigation Information! The case was famous enough that new information would bring headlines, even now, and not the sort Ron would add to his collection of 'Harry and Prophet, sitting in a tree."
Malfoy's eyes shifted from the hookah to the edge of the table, his long fingers clenched around it. "I don't believe there is a month to spare."
"Shisha, sir?" Harry blinked, startled. Oh! The waiter. Silent, unusually so. Probably hoping to hear something juicy from these obviously tense guests.
The sun would set in half an hour. Damn if he'd let Malfoy scare him away. "Yes, thank you."
The waiter snapped his fingers, sending a boy scuttling off for his bucket of coals. Malfoy ignored the din of set-up, eyes fixed on the table.
A long drag of the minty smoke no strong street tobacco here. The sense of calm, that time moved a little slower, washed back over him, helped by Malfoy's long silence.
Of course, Malfoy had to spoil it. "Say you'll go. She won't ask you, Potter, but I am."
His voice so miserable, almost desperate, a doorway to all sorts of horrid memories. It was hard, hearing him like this, not to feel a bit sorry for him. Far from home, begging well, enemy was a strong word, but certainly not a friend to go to his mother. "I didn't know the two of you were still close."
"As ever." Malfoy reached out, stirred his lemonade. "She's not too happy about my little world tour."
God, and now he felt terrible about his earlier remark. Even if Malfoy was a right jerk, it had been horrible, horrible what the papers had done. He'd been proved innocent suicide, even the Aurors said it but the Prophet... "I'm sure she understands..."
"Six N.E.W.T.s my son has, Potter. Six. And still not a shop in England that will take him. That's what she understands." His hands were shaking, just barely, but oh.
Harry took another long pull on his water-pipe. Malfoy... It had been so long since Harry had been in England. Floo calls to the kids on holidays even worse, with Ginny's careful cheeriness Teddy, always up for a game of exploding snap, loads of colleagues traveling with him and even then... It was lonely, bone-deep lonely, to flit from place to place but never settle, never quite figure out how to spell "karkeda" or how to pronounce his favorite kind of curry. Outside, always, of everything, and it had to be worse for Malfoy, with no companions to speak of. And so he was here, talking, sitting long after he'd got his announcement with Narcissa all out of the way. Like a little old lady all done up to do her shopping, he was desperate for someone, anyone to talk to.
Maybe Harry did have a saving people thing. "Where are you off to next?"
A shrug. Nature had a funny way with things, sometimes. In this light, Malfoy's platinum looked like a halo, like Hathor, like one of the horrible warnings against attempting Animagus littered all over this country. "I told you I find the weather here suits me."
"Perhaps you and your son of course might also take a liking to Tanzania's climate?"
Malfoy turned, blinked slow and heavy lidded in the dying sun. "What are you on about, Potter?"
"We could use the help. We can only do so much. I could use another helper, we just can't keep up on logistics, and of course your social connections..."
"Which are clearly firmly rooted in Sub-Sahara. I don't need charity, Potter."
"It's not charity." Harry was surprised to find that this was true the task of communicating, bringing wizarding societies and governments that had long all but ignored each other into some kind of communication to stave off the next great war... Immense, so big... Every day felt like a tiny dent in the Great Wall. "We'll be going through Western Europe next. France needs a lot of convincing, and Scandanavia's none too friendly. Both Malfoy mother-ships, if I have heard correctly. If you're up for it - if you are committed to the Worldwide Wizarding Unity project, we can really use all the help we can get."
Malfoy was smoking again, spots of high color in his cheeks. "I suppose I could find time in my crowded schedule."
Neville was going to kill him when he found out who he'd put on payroll.
"Maybe you could start next Tuesday? I know you'll need time to pack, and perhaps to visit your mother?"
Malfoy turned, assessing, slit-eyed. "You know, I think you're right." Fast, Seeker fast, he was up, wand out. The strangest look on his face, intense, too intense; Harry shifted so that his own wand slipped into his hand. But Malfoy just stepped forward, took Harry into a solid and oddly comfortable hug. Where was this coming from, the heat in his cheeks? Malfoy pulled back, his face softer, eyes too big. His mouth fell open, just the slightest bit open, and oh, the speed of Harry's heart, and what was this except a very bad idea, here in front of God and everybody in an Islamic country and what was he at, anyway, thinking about things like that. Innocent, perfectly innocent.
"You have no idea how long I had wanted to do that," Malfoy purred, his voice richer than it had been all afternoon. He smiled, eyes-half-closed, half-feline. And then pop! He was gone.
A split second, and Harry was accosted by a panting Teddy, two very confused hotel workers in absurd and offensive fezes, two stone-face Aurors. "I'm all right." But of course, the Aurors had to prod at him just to make sure, and goddamn if Malfoy hadn't just disapparated in front of 20 Muggles. "We'd better get a memory team on this."
"And keep them around for a while." Teddy had that look the 'Uncle, Harry, you don't understand financial responsibility and person-time costs money' look. It was hard, suddenly to keep eye contact. "I think... I think he's coming back."