Title: Going Once, Going Twice
Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling. I do not claim any ownership of the characters or settings contained within. This story is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.
Pairings: Harry/Draco
Warnings: Contains mature language and sexual content
Rating: M
Summary: Draco Malfoy has been missing for two years. Now the Malfoy estate is going up for auction, and Harry decides it's time to find out what happened to his former school rival.
Author's Note: This story almost didn't get published. It's been sitting in my "failures" folder since I finished it in June because it needed rewrites and I thought it couldn't be salvaged. If you've read any of my other fics you might notice that I pilfered ideas from this one for Bringing Up Weasley and Under Pressure. I have another Drarry in edit right now that also borrowed ideas from this one because I assumed it would never see the light of day. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. The idea of the Malfoy estate auction was something I just couldn't put away. So here it is, finally complete, not without its flaws but a fun story nonetheless.

oOo

"You cannot waste your time off sitting around here, doing nothing."

"Says who?"

Hermione and Harry glowered at each other. Hermione folded her arms across her chest and raised an expectant eyebrow as Harry dug his bottom deeper into the sofa cushions. He stretched his bare feet out across the coffee table and hefted the telly remote control.

"Don't you dare," she narrowed her eyes.

"They're my days off, Hermione," Harry said. "I can waste them on the sofa if I want to."

"You've not gotten any sunlight in three days. You're going to get rickets. Tell him, Ron."

"They're his days off," Ron said from the kitchen doorway. Hermione glared at him. "Then again you really shouldn't miss out today. Everyone's going to be there."

"I don't care if Merlin himself shows up," Harry's thumb hovered over the power button on the remote. "I've been on duty for five months straight without a single day off. I'm going to do what I want to do for a change."

His friends were silent. He was right, he hadn't had any time off in ages. Being the savior of the wizarding world and the youngest auror to join the force had eaten up most of his time, and he had made his leisure plans known weeks in advance to anyone who would listen. He hadn't bothered looking up resorts or planning any trips. His holiday would be spent at home, sacked out in front of the telly, and anyone who suggested otherwise in the days leading up to it got an earful.

"Harry," Hermione sat down and removed the remote from his hand. "This is a once in a lifetime event. How often does the entire estate of one of the richest pureblood families in England go up for auction? Just imagine the artifacts that will be up for bids."

"I don't care."

Hermione looked to her boyfriend for help. Ron shrugged, unwilling to make a big case out of it. Hermione glared at him and silently told him to think of something. Harry wasn't blind, he could see them arguing wordlessly as they both tried to come up with bait that would be tempting enough to get him off of the couch.

"Malfoy," Ron blurted out.

"What about him?" Harry pretended he didn't care.

"No one has seen Draco Malfoy for two years," Ron said. "They say he's gone mad. Don't you want to see that nutter for yourself?"

It was Harry's turn to glare at Ron. That was a low blow. He knew better than anyone that Harry wanted to know what had happened to Draco Malfoy, but he'd chosen the wrong argument. Harry hadn't exactly hidden his thoughts on the matter.

"Are you asking me if I want to see Malfoy as a broken, demented man who is ridding himself of his worldly goods in what is likely a suicidal gesture?" Harry asked. "No, that's not something I want to see."

"Well," Ron stammered. "Maybe he'll be there and he'll be fine."

The three friends fell quiet, each pondering the fate of their former classmate. The rumors of Draco Malfoy's present whereabouts were rampant. In the two years since the war ended his complete disappearance had fueled some bizarre theories about what he had become after the fall of Lord Voldemort. Some said he had killed himself, and that his ghost walked the halls of Malfoy Manor, sobbing for his lost childhood. Others said he had fallen into madness after his father was murdered in Azkaban and his mother landed in St. Mungo's with a bad case of nerves.

And then there were the crazier theories circulating amongst the muggle-born that he had become a real-life Bruce Wayne who spent his nights patrolling the streets of London as a Batman-wizard crime fighter. That was Harry's favorite theory, simply because it was completely ridiculous but it portrayed his former rival with the strong spirit Harry had always secretly admired. He hated the idea that anything in this world could break Draco Malfoy.

"Ron is right. Maybe he'll be there overseeing the auction," Hermione suggested. "He invited the whole community to his property, surely he plans on showing up."

"Maybe this is all a carefully planned coming out party," Ron nodded. "He's been in hiding for two years, and this is his official reentry into society with a repaired reputation."

"It's not really repaired, though, is it?" Harry thought about all of the terrible daytime telly he would miss if he went with them. Plus he would have to shower and shave and put on some real trousers.

"We never get to do anything together anymore," Hermione blinked back tears that Harry knew were summoned just for effect. He wasn't going to fall for it. "Just the three of us, like the old days. I miss us. Don't you miss us, too?"

Well shit. Maybe it would work after all.

"I miss us, too," Harry sighed. He was always busy at the Ministry. And Hermione and Ron were always busy teaching classes out at Hogwarts. Coordinating their schedules had proven harder than they had anticipated.

"Then come with us," Hermione raised her hand to his cheek. "You're our best friend. We want to spend time with you."

"Hermione," Harry moaned and flopped his head back on the cushion.

"Please?" she cranked up the puppy dog eyes to maximum sweetness.

"Okay fine!" he chucked the remote at the shabby recliner in the corner. "But I need to shower first."

"I'll say," Ron wrinkled his nose and fanned the air.

"Very funny, arsehole," Harry grumbled. He ignored Hermione's brilliant grin as he shambled off to the bathroom to wash up.

He climbed into the tub and stood beneath the shower spray, refusing to rush if he was being strong-armed into attending this silly event. It wasn't a put-on, he really didn't want to go. He rattled off reasons in his head as he scrubbed his hair. First, it was at Malfoy Manor, a place he'd visited before and come away with rather unpleasant memories as keepsakes. Second, the items to be auctioned off weren't likely to appeal to him, since he wasn't all that attracted to the opulence and ornate trappings that the Malfoys were known for. Third, there would likely be plenty of dark arts artifacts, and he worried that they would fall into the wrong hands. Staying away would allow him to at least pretend that wasn't happening. Fourth, the event would be crawling with on-duty Aurors. And holiday or not, his colleagues would naturally expect him to be on duty with them. If there was any trouble due to the aforementioned artifacts, he'd have to respond even if he wasn't technically assigned to cover it.

He rinsed down and recounted his list again. There was one more reason. Malfoy. He was afraid of finding out what had happened to him.

Harry climbed out of the shower. He toweled dry and raked a comb through his thicket of hair and made only a passing effort to push it to the side so it would lay down a bit. He lathered his cheeks and chin and hefted his straight razor, then muttered a quick protection charm that would prevent any inadvertent nicks. He knew it would be manlier to shave charm-free, but in the privacy of his own bathroom he could admit that he was still a bit nervous about cuts and blood. The memory of a misguided Sectumsempra flashed through his mind, as it always did whenever he hefted a blade.

When he was finished he slipped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom to find some clean clothes. His flat wasn't much to brag about, just a minimum set of sparsely decorated rooms, but it was his. And the fact that the bedroom was entirely separate from the living room, with a door and everything, was something to be proud of. It meant he was actually doing well, well enough to afford his own London flat, anyway.

"Wear something a bit posh," Hermione called. "It's a big social event, and you don't want to be seen in trainers."

Harry rolled his eyes again, as he tended to do a lot around Hermione these days. She had become bossier since taking her teacher apprenticeship at Hogwarts. Fortunately Ron hadn't adopted the same quality since taking over for Hagrid, probably because the care of magical creatures meant scooping lots of dung, and that tended to keep a man humble.

He flipped through his closet and honestly couldn't tell the difference between what was nice and what was not. He picked a collared burgundy shirt that buttoned down, figuring buttons were probably preferable to no buttons. He found a pair of tan trousers that still had the crease in them from when they were purchased, and a pair of relatively unscuffed brown leather shoes. It would have to do. He wasn't going to wear a bloody jacket to this thing.

Hermione inspected him with her lips pressed into a thin line. "I suppose," she sighed, then went to the loo to freshen up and reset her hair clip. Ron was wearing a shirt and tie with an argyle sweater vest. It was a bit much in Harry's opinion, but he wasn't the one going home with her at the end of the day.

"Things going well?" he asked as he stepped around Ron and retrieved the water pitcher from the refrigerator.

"Going great," Ron nodded. "Hagrid wasn't much on documentation, so I've started writing down everything I'm learning about creature care as I go. So the next caretaker has something to go on, you know?"

"No hippogriff injuries?" Harry asked.

"Not since the first week," Ron grimaced. "But that's the perfect reason to take notes, right?"

Harry nodded and drank thoughtfully. He hadn't been back to visit Hogwarts since the war. He hadn't seen it in its newly rebuilt state outside of photos in the paper. He wasn't sure he could return without being overwhelmed with memories he wasn't particularly interested in reliving.

"Is it strange?" he asked.

"Yeah," Ron said honestly, surprising Harry a bit. He'd expected his friend to prevaricate a bit, to explain why it was fine when they both knew nothing would ever be like it was. Ron shrugged, "But look, it's Hogwarts, you know? It's an institution. The world needs it. Kids need it. I want to support that."

"That's admirable."

"You should come visit," Hermione said as she came back from the loo. "The reconstruction is finally finished and we're talking about throwing a grand reopening party for alumni."

"We'll see," Harry ducked his head and deposited his glass in the sink. "Are we ready?"

"Let's go!" Hermione clapped and skipped happily to the fireplace.