Rock Bottom

Published: 4/7/25

Draco rubbed his eyes, annoyed. It was 11:30. Potter probably was testing him already, but Draco had no patience for his crap. He had better things to do than play mind games with Harry-freaking-Potter. He scribbled down a pick-up request that floated up, zipped out of his office's message slot and went up to the Auror department. Technically, a pick-up for a probation meeting should have only needed an Auror trainee to execute, but Draco knew they had Potter earmarked for special treatment.

Though it wasn't right that they did that, this was all Potter's choice. It was his game with the Aurors, not Draco's. And he certainly wasn't going to feel guilty about it. He needed to bring the twenty-one-year-old grown child to heel, as quickly as possible. He knew that it wasn't going to be easy. Nothing with Potter was ever easy. He glanced at the file that he still hadn't finished, despite taking it home to read through and make notes. He set aside several incidents for further investigation.

Luckily, some control freak... not him... organized Potter's file in reverse chronological order, so he was only now getting to the first few months of the start of his spiral. It was so less about Potter and more about the Aurors hounding him. Most assuredly, they were responsible for this situation. If breaking up his clandestine hook-ups wasn't enough of a misuse of power, entering his home without a warrant or complaint was. He just read a report about how Dawlish and Smith entered a muggle home to arrest him for "resisting arrest".

Merlin... Draco thought, shaking his head. Potter could easily have all their asses fired for as many breaches as they have done, if he tried. Draco scrutinized the thick binder. Of course, it was mutually-assured destruction at this point. Sure, Potter could get them fired. He also could spend the next ten years in prison after they properly add up all the crimes he has done as well. The Aurors must have got their butts reamed at one point to stop the blatantly illegal stuff and stick to subterfuge.

This case was a mess. He really needed to stop the Aurors from messing with Potter, but that wouldn't happen unless Potter started cooperating. Draco was not going to fish an irritable, armed Potter out of his, most likely, drunken stupor to come to his probation meeting. Draco glanced at his secure drawer where his appointment orders and Potter's DOI was. He had other means of controlling him. Highly invasive and controlling means. He was resolved to approach this problem with incremental punishment.

Potter had, most likely, gotten drunk and missed their appointment time. That meant a stricter curfew and perhaps an accompaniment home. He probably should do that anyway. The Aurors and other probation officers always noted horrible living conditions whenever they arrested him. As Potter's guardian, it was on him to essentially take care of Potter. Draco grimaced as, taken literally, he could be held responsible to make sure Potter washed and dressed himself. Draco also could condemn his home, if it came to it, and commit him to St. Mungo's.

Draco sighed and tried to hope that there wasn't sufficient evidence to do that. If Potter were at risk of self-harm, he'd be legally obligated to commit him to the Janus Thickey Ward. Freakin' Kingsley for putting him, of all people, in this position. He resigned to waiting, sure that the Aurors were probably beating and hexing Potter to high heaven. He still felt guilty regardless, but as long as Potter was armed, he was not going to his home. He trembled at the thought. Kingsley and Penelope knew how bad his PTSD was.

He turned back to his paperwork and wrote a few requests for memories from the Obliviator Headquarters, sending them off. Then he wrote a few letters to his other charges, as a form of a check-up, as Potter would most likely be taking up all his time. He sighed and decided there and then, that he would have to pawn a few of his cases off, which he hated doing. There were only a few officers that he would hand his cases over to, anyway. He decided to send four to Susan as they were on track and were just juvenile mistakes. Two would go to Penelope to review for ending their probation period early. The others... he was determined to keep.

He would have to do the two final reviews that were going to Penelope and filled up his afternoon with appointments. He sent those letters out to external mailing, when he heard loud banging and voices in the hallway. Potter was here. Everyone knew when he was there. He didn't hear yelling on his part, so Draco could assume, again, that Potter was Silenced. The two Aurors came bursting in his door, struggling with Potter, who only had a t-shirt and boxers on and was bleeding.

Fucking Aurors. Potter's nose was broken and gushing blood, and his lip was cracked. Draco couldn't say that it was completely one-sided, as Proudfoot had a black eye, too. Williamson had nothing wrong with him. They were Aurors, and Draco highly doubted that Potter's injuries happened before he was bound. They beat him after he was restrained or just were extremely rough handling him here. They had magic. They could have Immobilized him or Stunned him even. No, they just used their fists.

They shoved him into the seat across from Draco and stuck him there. Then they turned as if to leave.

"Auror Proudfoot," Draco drawled.

"What, Death Eater?"

"Heal him."

"The hell I will," the Auror said, and his buddy nodded.

"I'm not going to fix your screw-ups. Heal him or I'll call the department field healer to do it. Surely, there will be a full report about it."

Proudfoot came around his desk, and Draco stood up. The Auror growled, "You playing us? You called us to bring him here. He's here. Don't complain about how we do it, or we won't do it anymore."

"Go ahead. I'll let Penelope know you aren't doing your job. He's bleeding on my carpet, Proudfoot. Heal him and get out before I get nasty."

"Nasty, Death Eater? I'm not afraid of you."

"I'm a Slytherin, Proudfoot. I know how to work the system. Mess with me and I'll have you assigned prisoner transports to Azkaban. Maybe even prison rotation... how's that sound?"

"You don't got that much clout, Death Eater."

"I will once I tell Kingsley how incompetent you are at bringing in a hungover, unarmed suspect. I believe that he won't appreciate that you beat the crap out of Potter."

"He was resisting arrest. He never comes quietly. You can't prove shit."

"Exhibit one," Draco said, nodding to Potter. "So, heal him, or I'll summon Kingsley to see that you don't even know how to detain a suspect. Here, I thought it was Auror 101 level courses."

Proudfoot swallowed his pride and healed him. "Happy?"

"I'm letting you clean up your mess, Auror. Get out of my office."

The Aurors left with some choice swear words. They would probably not be so prompt next time or else beat Potter in a less conspicuous way. He, at least, put them in their place. He looked at Potter, who was clearly either still high or drunk. Draco sighed, got up and went to his file cabinet. He drew out a Sober-Up Potion with the added twist of working to combat muggle drugs, too.

He freed his hands and handed it to Potter. "Bottom's up, Potter."

He swayed a bit and downed the potion. He squirmed a bit, and the blurry look in his eyes cleared up. He looked at him and down at the cup.

"I was good at Potions, Potter. It's a bit sharper than the stuff the healers give you. You're going to have to use the loo shortly. But do you need a healer? I can summon one?"

Potter shook his head and looked at the loo. Draco unglued him and he went inside. Potter groaned as he released into the toilet, as the potion was not pleasant on his bladder. Draco knew that from experience. Eventually, Potter came back and just sat back down. He didn't try to leave but gestured to his throat, again.

"You have anything worthwhile to say in your defense?" Draco countered.

Potter lowered his head and shook it.

"Honesty. I appreciate that. You missed our appointment. You do know how to set an alarm, right?"

He nodded.

"I know you are notorious for skipping these meetings, but I'm your probation officer and guardian, now. I will not let you get away with it, understand?"

Potter snorted and smirked. He mouthed, "I don't care."

He was crashing. That Draco could see. He had gone home and processed the DOI by getting flat-out wasted. His response was to carry on like nothing had changed. But it had.

"Okay, Potter. Live in your denial... your drugged-out state. I told you that I can't leave you like this. I can't let you slowly kill yourself, which is what you are doing. I'm letting you adjust to your circumstances, Potter, before I take drastic action."

Potter rolled his eyes.

"Fine. Sit there. Lucky for you, it won't be all day, but if you fail to report tomorrow, you can adorn my office from 09 till I leave. How does that sound?"

Potter glared.

"I'm not messing around, Potter. Evidently, you forgot what I explained to you yesterday. I'm your last chance to fix you. Then you get turned over to Azkaban for... a long time."

"You wouldn't," Potter mouthed. "You owe me."

Draco felt a lump in his stomach, and he had to keep from trembling. He couldn't meet Potter's eyes. Fuck, this was why he should have never agreed to do this. Potter figured out that pretty damn quick that he had considerable power over him. Draco had to fight to keep his emotions in check and look back up at him. Potter seemed wary, now, as he probably saw how much those words hurt him.

"I don't have a choice. I never had a choice," Draco whispered, fighting to keep the tears out of his eyes. "If I was just your probation officer... yeah... you're right Potter, I'd put up with your shit forever and never revoke your probation." He pulled out the DOI. "Kingsley trapped us both. I can't look away. I can go to Azkaban for my inaction. I have the means to stop you from doing... this. You'll hate me, scream at me, and probably try to kill me eventually, but I can stop this. Please... Potter... don't make me do it."

He met Potter's eyes. He was considering his words, but Draco knew that letting go, that hitting rock bottom, wasn't a place Potter was at, yet anyway. The Gryffindor wasn't going to give up so easily. They would do this song and dance until Draco essentially broke him, and it wouldn't be pretty. Potter was not in a state where he could easily recover from his pride and soul being shattered. Or at least the rest of it.

Potter looked away, as though mulling over his words. It was going to take many more to get through to Potter. All Draco could do was try to earn his trust along the way, which would be impossible after everything they had been through. Potter was going to hate him even more as they went through this process. Draco would have to take everything he had left, especially his lust for revenge, and Potter wouldn't love him for doing that. Hate was what was fueling Potter. Draco was sure of that.

Potter was grumbling internally, rekindling that fire that brewed his hate and reckless behavior. No, he wasn't going to yield anytime soon. Draco sighed and started reading, again. He was almost dreading what Potter's classified files were going to say. How Potter had defeated the Dark Lord was still a mystery. Draco had been there at the end of the Battle. Hearing Potter talk about Hallows and Horcruxes... the stuff of legend... and nightmares... was crazy. Potter even called himself the "Master of Death'. What the hell?

Horcruxes were lesser-known things, but Draco knew about them from his father's library. A soul-carrier. Draco was loathe to admit he was a bit fascinated by how the Dark Lord essentially achieved immortality for a short time. But the other side... how did Potter achieve it? He twice survived the Killing Curse. He mentioned love had saved him... and how using Draco's own wand, the wand that was currently in his hand, had overpowered the mythical Elder Wand.

He couldn't really doubt what Potter said, as he spoke to the Dark Lord as if they were old buddies. He called him 'Tom". How... strange that was? Draco had hoped and prayed to any divine being that Potter would win that day, as Potter and Dark Lord circled each other. He prayed for his freedom, despite being branded his servant. Draco resisted glancing down at that mark as he pretended to read, lost in his memories.

Potter mentioned the Elder Wand, too. That Dumbledore had the Elder Wand, and Draco had ripped it from the old Headmaster before Snape killed the defenseless man in front of him. Another thing Potter revealed at the end was that one of the worst memories Draco had was a setup. Watching his godfather kill Dumbledore in front of him was horrifying. They planned to kill him in front of him and Potter. That f'n hurt. More so for Potter, he assumed. He actually liked Dumbledore, but Draco had never been the same after that.

Of course, the Dark Lord punished him severely for it, within an inch of his sanity, for refusing to become a murderer. He understood why Harry had fallen into the same downward spiral that he had fallen into after he became disillusioned with everything he believed in. Draco wasn't too prideful to admit that potion abuse wasn't just something Potter did, but he fell into it, too. The end of the war stopped his abuse thought. He was just as scared of dementors as Potter is-was and sitting in a holding cell waiting for Azkaban broke him. He never touched potions, again.

He glanced up at Potter. He wondered if he should tell what happened, bond with him, but something told him that he wasn't ready. He was too angry, too hurt for the words to reach him. If Draco had to guess, he would be drunk or high within an hour of being released. Potter was probably going to have to rehab to quit at this point. Draco had been forced to quit when he was arrested and held for his trial.

Potter glared back at him. "What?" he mouthed.

"You're not going to make anything easy, are you?" Draco said, aloud.

Potter raised an eyebrow and smirked. Game on, he would probably say.

"This isn't a game, Harry. I'm not the Aurors. I'm not after you to hurt you. I... I want to help you."

Potter snorted and glared harder. He shook his head. Potter didn't believe him.

"I'm sorry I sent the Aurors after you, but I'm not breaking into your home to fetch you understand?"

Potter shrugged.

"You will report back here at 10 in the morning tomorrow or we get a repeat of today."

Potter shook his head.

"Hey, if you want to sit in my office every day, all day... fine. At least I know where you are and that you aren't breaking the law."

The Chosen One sighed and crossed his arms. Potter was too impatient to handle hours of doing nothing in his office. Today was different, though. Draco had appointments to keep so he stood up and looked Potter up and down.

"Did they walk you down here like that?" he asked. At least the Aurors had a private entrance for bringing in arrests. They would be seriously reprimanded if they used the main lobby, but that didn't mean that he wasn't dragged through the whole Auror department, in his pajamas and high as fuck. It might not have mattered when it happened, but Potter was stone-cold sober, now.

Potter growled and looked away, blushing. Potter was probably dead asleep when they broke into his place. They didn't even magically dress him. Damn Aurors. Draco went to his closet and pulled out an extra set of robes. He had muggle clothes, too, for emergencies, but he was going to portkey directly to Potter's house.

When Potter was put under probation, a portkey terminal was installed in his home, with blocks to prevent tempering. Aurors had to request access to the portkey to use, but normally they just break in. They also needed permission from the probation officer to use it or enter the residence. Draco, as his probation officer (and guardian) had unrestricted access to Potter's home. It was supposed to offer the probation officer a chance for a surprise inspection.

"Put these on and I'll be right back. Don't touch anything. It's all hexed as it is confidential."

Potter gave him a look, but Draco just dropped the robes in his lap. He went out to the hallway to reception and asked Maxwell to pull Potter's wand from Security. The man nodded and sent up the request. When he went back to his office, Potter was shaking his hand out. It was a mild Burn Hex that would increase in severity the longer Potter touched the files.

"Didn't believe me, huh? It doesn't matter if it's your file. You don't have permission. Be thankful or those dicks upstairs would be reading it and probably selling bits to the media. Lucky for you, Penelope and Kingsley laid down the law about your escapades."

Potter glared. "I don't care," he mouthed.

"Yes, you do. Maybe not when you're skunked, but right now, when you're sober, you care. You know there are still people who think the world of you, some who know that you aren't right in the head right now. You don't want to let them down, do you?"

Potter's shoulders tensed, he stood up and he spat, silently, "Fuck you!" And then he spit on the floor in anger. Draco's hex activated and it stopped before it hit the floor and went straight back into Potter's eye. He rubbed it away furiously.

"I warned you, didn't I?" Draco said, smirking. "You can thank Lupin for that idea."

Potter went from angry to confused.

"Third year? Waddiwasi? I adapted it."

Potter's eyes went distant. Lupin had passed during the battle. Draco knew that they had been close. He wasn't sure how much so until this point.

"Sorry. Come on, Potter. I'll take you home," Draco said, holding his hand out to the door.

Potter looked at him and shook his head.

"Sorry, Potter. It's home inspection-time. If you want, I can go alone and I'll have the Aurors put you in a holding cell."

He growled and stared, cursing him mentally, surely.

"There aren't cells down here and no one else will babysit you. Your choice. With me or stay with the Aurors."

Potter got up, gave him a smirk and waved his hand forward.

Draco led the way to reception and Maxwell handed him Potter's wand. Potter held out his hand for it, but Draco shook his head. No way was he handing over his wand to him. He pocketed it and led Potter to the portkey room. He logged their jump, as required, and pulled the requisite portkey from its locked and warded container. After they use portkey, the automatic retrieval spells activate to bring it back to the prescribed container. It was to prevent misuse.

"Just touch it and it will activate in about ten seconds, okay?" Draco said, and Potter nodded, though a little curious.

They were pulled to Potter's den and Draco had to steady himself as he landed in a cesspool of rubbish. Empty spirit bottles, half-eaten takeaway food containers and soiled clothes littered the floor. The smell was horrible. Potter gauged his expression with some laughter.

"What the heck, Potter? I realize that your life is in shambles right now, but seriously...?"

Potter shrugged. "I don't care," he mouthed, though he was blushing a little.

Draco noted that the couch in the middle of the room was nearly free of crap. That probably was where Potter passed out. Draco resisted the urge to start Vanishing everything. He could. He should, really, but he needed to give Potter a chance. He shook his head and made his way to the kitchen where there was even more rubbish and moldy food. Draco even saw mice and insects in the debris. Maybe he would have to condemn the building. His eyes noted the holes in the walls, the torn and frayed carpet, and peeling paint on the ceiling.

Draco could even feel the... oppressive, ominous feeling of the very soul of the house. It was a wizard's home. There were charms and wards on the house, but it had been neglected for decades if Draco had to guess. It had once been luxurious, but it was infested with both magical and muggle vermin. Draco was trying to decide if it was worth saving. It would surely cost thousands of Galleons to renovate and clean. He'd have to look into Potter's finances, first. To make the determination.

He swept the mansion, floor by floor. Some rooms were worse, others hadn't been used at all. He found Potter's room. The smell of stale liquor and bad BO lingered in the air. There weren't any dishes up here, but there were plenty of dirty clothes, some with blood, vomit and piss on them. He didn't want to know. He ended his inspection with the attic/loft. It also had once been a nicely decorated room, but there were old boxes of hexed items and cobwebs everywhere. Potter didn't even enter the room.

Draco returned to the main floor and summoned all potions, muggles drugs and alcohol he could think of and Vanished them all. There had been a lot, as well as quite a few injection needles. Potter sighed and sat on his torn and dusty couch.

"Potter. This is your last freebie. If I find any more illegal items at your home, I will impose more sanctions, got it?"

Potter crossed his arms and gestured to his throat, again. Draco had no intention of giving his voice back.

"As you clearly broke your restrictions last night, your curfew is now nine o'clock. That means be back here by then."

Potter glared at him. Draco could only imagine the swear words going through his head.

"Don't break curfew. I will check in on you."

Potter rolled his eyes and gestured to his den. "Enjoy."

"You have a week to clean this up, Potter."

Potter snorted and looked incredulous.

"I'm not just your probation officer. I'm your guardian. Your court-appointed parent. Congrats. I'm telling you to clean your house or I will look into alternatives."

Potter mouthed. "You clean it."

Draco stared. "Potter, this isn't a fit place to live. I'm responsible for your health, too. So, clean up your mess, cause you won't like the options that I decide on to handle this."

He just shrugged. Draco sighed and set Potter's wand on the side table out of his reach.

"Tomorrow at ten, Potter. Don't be late," he said and Potter flipped him off, as he Apparated out of that rubbish heap.

He landed outside of the Ministry, determined to clean himself off, lest something had attached to his robes. Then he went into the Auror entrance, he took the lift down to his office and sat back down at his desk. He whisked a letter to Gringotts to external mail and then prepared for his appointments for the day.