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Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Originally written for the 2009 hds_beltane fic exchange. Thank you for reading; comments are always appreciated. Cheers.
A Potion and a Buddy
“Alright, everybody listen up!” Shacklebolt called, his loud voice filling the room.
The group of Aurors gathered together in the meeting room stopped talking and faced their superior, a few conversations trickling slowly on before Shacklebolt’s gaze focused on them and all sound ceased. All sound except for the quiet, excited muttering of two heads bent close together in the far corner of the room. Shacklebolt cleared his throat significantly, but all that happened was the blond turning in even closer to his raven-haired partner.
“Malfoy! Potter!” Both men started and looked to the front of the room. “If you don’t mind, there are a few announcements that need to be made that affect even the two of you.”
Malfoy arched an eyebrow and Potter flushed slightly, but they both turned their chairs in the proper direction and sat quietly as Shacklebolt began to speak.
“Now, the reason you’re all here is twofold. First off, the surveillance team headed by Auror Weasley has turned up some new evidence in the Dwight-Fyler case. Auror.” He gestured, and Ron Weasley stepped forward, carrying a Pensieve with him. They all dipped their heads in, viewing the memories and listening to his analysis, heads bobbing in agreement with the lead strategist in the Auror department.
“Now,” Shacklebolt began once Weasley was finished, “second order of business. The Department of Mysteries has been conducting research into the effects of working in the field for Aurors and Unspeakables alike, and it’s been determined that a bit of precaution should be taken in order to ensure the psychological well being of all the Ministry’s employees. Therefore, you will all be meeting over the next few weeks with a mediwizard from St. Mungo’s who is specially trained in post-trauma psychoses and issues.”
“Auror Shacklebolt,” Malfoy called out, “what exactly is it that the Department of Mysteries is trying to gather from these interviews?”
“To be perfectly honest, I don’t rightly know. All I can tell you is that it’s designed to help you cope with the vigorous demands of your job, and that it is a mandatory appointment which you will all participate in.” Shacklebolt looked sternly across the room at his Aurors. “Anyone have a problem with that, come see me. And be ready to turn in your credentials when you do. Meeting dismissed.”
Malfoy and Potter exchanged an uncertain look, before they got up and followed the rest of the room out.
~~~~~~~~~
“How long have you been partners with Auror Malfoy?”
“Two years,” Harry answered.
“Did you request this partnership?” Mediwizard Clayborne asked, looking up at Harry from beneath her glasses.
“No. He was assigned my partner after the last one, Auror Fitzwallace, moved to France to be with his fiancé.” Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. They had been at this for some time already, and he had already described the routine of his casework and talked about how well he slept at night. He didn’t see what Malfoy had to do with his mental health as far as this woman was concerned.
“I see.” She scribbled something down on her pad that Harry couldn’t make out. “Would you say you enjoy working with Auror Malfoy?”
“Well enough.”
Clayborne waited patiently. After a bit of silence, Harry rolled his eyes a bit and elaborated.
“We work well together. Our cases get solved, there’s usually not a messy clean up, and every once and a while we’ll get a drink at the pub afterwards. He’s an okay guy.” He shrugged.
“If given the option, would you prefer to be partnered with someone else?”
“I guess it would depend on who that someone else was,” Harry answered slowly.
“You identify yourself as a homosexual, is that correct?”
“I have on occasion slept with men, but I don’t see how my sexual orientation is relevant to my performance as an Auror or my partnership with Malfoy,” he said stiffly.
“Hmm.”
For a few minutes there was only the scratch of the quill against her pad of parchment. Harry looked out the window, observing the patterns the light rain made against the glass.
“You’re currently working on the Dwight-Fyler case, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“I believe the potion at the center of the case was initially discovered in the Bittenwader incident from a few months back.”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you tell me about it,” Clayborne said, looking up at him.
Harry flinched involuntarily. “I’d rather not.”
“I insist.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “Old pureblood family got into a bit of a tussle with their Muggle-born neighbors. One of the girls got scared, asked her boyfriend over to intervene, things got out of hand, and next thing you know, someone’s fallen down the stairs and broken their neck. Auror Malfoy and I were called to the scene, we interviewed all the witnesses, determined that no one had actually pushed or hexed the old woman down the stairs, and then called it a day.”
“Then what happened?”
Harry walked over to the window, not speaking. Clayborne watched him silently, quill poised and ready. A few moments after he started speaking, however, she set her quill down, and just listened.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Draco looked up sharply as Harry entered their office, then quickly did a double take.
“What the fuck happened to you?”
Harry groaned. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He slumped into his chair and laid his head face down on the desk, jumping slightly as Draco slammed the door shut for privacy. “Did you have to do that?”
“Yes,” Draco said decisively. “What happened?”
Harry’s voice came out muffled as he spoke directly into the wood. “I told you, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I thought this therapy bullshit was supposed to make you feel better, not worse.” Draco frowned.
“It is. She just wanted to talk about the Bittenwader case is all,” Harry sighed, looking up at his partner. Draco didn’t look impressed.
“And?”
“Draco, do you remember the Bittenwader case?”
Draco shrugged. “Sure I do. Another case of Muggle-borns and Muggles not mixing well. Happens all the time.”
“Draco,” Harry started, shocked, “people died because of us!”
“No,” the blond corrected, “people died because some hysterical witch called over her boyfriend, who then proceeded to shove her old lady down the stairs, and then that old lady’s husband went crazy from that damn potion and started casting Unforgivables on the whole lot of them.”
“Which we should have known!”
“They were Obliviated! How were we supposed to know?” Draco looked expectantly at Harry. “Legilimency is not allowed without just cause, and they weren’t showing any of the usual signs of memory loss; it looked like a done deal. Please explain how we were supposed to know?”
“I don’t know!” Harry shouted, frustrated. “But we’re Aurors! We’re the best! We’re supposed to know these things. We have investigative abilities, or whatever. We should’ve known.”
“Well we did figure it out eventually.”
“Not before half the family was tortured and killed because their grandfather had gone round the bend,” Harry muttered.
Draco sighed. “You take things too hard, Potter. This was four months ago. You have to get over it eventually.”
“Oh, because death just stops mattering after a few months? Because the trauma of seeing your grandfather digging a knife into your sister’s stomach is supposed to just fade away?” Harry snapped.
“No, but it didn’t happen to you, and it’s not your fault.”
“I know that!”
“Do you?” Draco look at him calmly. After a moment he reached over and lightly smoothed the hair that was brushing Harry’s collar, before pulling his hand back carefully. “It wasn’t you, Potter. It wasn’t you.”
Harry took several deep breaths, raking his hand through his hair and completely undoing the neatness Draco had just accomplished. Draco tried not to let it bother him.
“What do I need therapy for? I have you.”
Draco chuckled lightly. “Yeah, well, pretty soon you’ll have both.”
“What?” Harry asked, confused.
“Our next session.” Draco rolled his eyes at the look of bewilderment still painting Harry’s face. “Do you never pay attention to anything? Only the first session is by yourself. After that you have a therapy buddy.”
“A therapy buddy,” Harry repeated slowly. Maybe if he said it slowly enough it would make sense.
“Yes, a therapy buddy. And guess which devastatingly handsome Slytherin is going to be your partner in yet another way?” Draco smirked.
Harry lay his head back down on the desk.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“How would you describe your relationship with Auror Potter?”
Draco didn’t even blink. “He’s my partner. I trust him to investigate the cases assigned, to defend my back in a fight, and to fill out the paperwork at the end of the day.” He paused. “Actually, I really only trust him with the first two. Potter can’t write for shit.”
Draco watched as Clayborne scratched away with her quill.
“Do you trust him beyond the fulfillment of his job?” she asked.
“That would be dependent on the situation. Do I trust him to behave himself in public? Sure, if he’s just wandering around Diagon Alley. Do I trust him to be polite to the Minister at an important Ministry gala? Hell no. Harry’s got both political and magical power in spades, but none of the politics have anything to do with his own efforts. He’s absolute crap at pretending to get along with people he despises.”
“Would you consider yourself and Auror Potter to be friends?”
Draco lifted an eyebrow. “Sure, why not. He’s the Boy Who Lived, I’m the son of a Death Eater: it’s a match made in ironic heaven.”
“Do you ever think that maybe your sarcasm is a defense mechanism that you employ in order to cover your own vulnerability?”
“No, I think my sarcasm is an offensive weapon to be used against people much stupider than I am. It also doubles as a source of amusement for all like minded parties.”
Clayborne made a thoughtful noise, and then wrote something down.
Draco wanted to snap the quill out of her fingers and stab it into her hand. But then again, he’d always had rage issues. Therapy was supposed to fix that.
“Do you ever feel the pressure to live up to other people’s expectations of you?”
Oh great, Draco thought. Daddy issues.
He leaned back on the couch, getting more comfortable, before he adopted the sad, woebegone face of a son long victimized by his father.
This was going to be fun.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry bit into his sandwich, licking the side of his wrist where some of the sauce from the meat had trickled down. He chewed happily, enjoying the snack as he sat in the old pub, watching Guy Dwight-Fyler chat up a pretty blonde woman at the bar.
He’d been on surveillance detail ever since Ron had visited Neville at Hogwarts and accidentally walked right into a carnivorous eggplant-flytrap hybrid. Very experimental. And not all that fond of large men trampling all over its leaves. Ron was staying at home for the rest of the week, enjoying the attention his mother gave him (along with the abundance of baked goods that would appear on her every visit). Hermione watched it all with a gleam in her eye, sort of the same expression she had when discussing the slavery of house-elves. Harry decided very early on that he would only visit when Ron was alone in the flat.
He checked his watch, rolling his eyes at the time. Malfoy was late. Again. His partner was supposed to take over tailing Dwight-Fyler so Harry could go get some sleep. Dwight-Fyler’s schedule made the rumors of the sleep enhancing potion viable: only one hour a night, and complete alertness for the rest of the day. Harry could only be so lucky. Pulling fifteen-, sixteen-hour work days when his caseload got heavy was not making him appreciate the lumpy mattress he had randomly selected when he, Hermione, and Ron had gone furniture shopping several years ago. He was due for an upgrade, but finding the time was proving to be impossible at this point.
Harry looked at his watch again. Maybe he could call one of the other Aurors to relieve him. He rubbed his palm into one eye, blinking rapidly and staring with loathing at his assignment and his assignment’s current piece of arse. The woman was thin, and wearing a tight, black dress which only served to highlight her figure.
God, what the hell was she wearing? Ace bandages? Harry paused a moment.
She reached up slightly out of her chair to signal the bartender, revealing a healthy view of her arse, which Harry pretended not to stare at. He was here to follow Dwight-Fyler; he didn’t have time for sexy women with long blonde hair and grey eyes and a smile that seemed to crook to the side just like---
Oh.
After the realization, Harry continued to stare, unable to believe what he was seeing. It shouldn’t have surprised him, really. He and Malfoy had to go undercover all the time when working cases; he just hadn’t expected Malfoy to go the extra mile this time around. Really, the Dwight-Fyler case wasn’t that important. Sure, illegal potions being sold on the black market that were turning people’s brains to mush was never good, but really. Draco dressing up to tempt every man with a pair of eyes in the room was not the most subtle way of tailing their assignment.
Then again, as Harry watched Draco flirtatiously brush against Dwight-Fyler before making his way to the loo, and the look on Dwight-Fyler’s face…oh yeah. The man wasn’t going anywhere tonight without Draco by his side.
Harry slurped down the last of his drink and tossed some money on the table, and then headed discreetly back to the loo. He gave one quick glance around the room and then ducked in, wand at the ready in case there was another woman inside that he might need to Obliviate. There wasn’t, however. Just Malfoy, standing in front of the mirror and reapplying blood red lipstick to his lips. He arched an eyebrow as Harry entered. God, didn’t the man have any other expressions?
“This is the ladies room, Potter,” he drawled.
“I don’t see any ladies here.”
“Oh, your dazzling wit takes my breath away. Come and get me, big boy,” Draco cooed, before rolling his eyes and smacking his red lips soundly.
Harry ignored the sharp curve of his mouth.
“You know, I don’t recall Shacklebolt telling us to fuck the information out of our suspects,” he said thoughtfully.
Draco tossed him a scornful look in the mirror. “Please, Potter. As if I would let that piece of shit anywhere near my cock. I might catch something.”
“Well, then what’s the point of all…this?” Harry asked, gesturing to his appearance and definitely not noticing the curve of his calf in four-inch stilettos.
“This was,” Draco said, finally turning around and waving a piece of paper in Harry’s face. Harry took it, staring at the blank piece of paper in confusion.
“Am I supposed to be impressed by Dwight-Fyler’s stationary of choice?”
Another eye roll. “No, you idiot.” He waved his wand and a sentence appeared on the paper.
“‘Only God may judge me,’” Harry read aloud, frowning. “Not that it isn’t a pleasant sentiment or anything, but--”
“It’s a password,” Draco cut him off.
“Seriously?” Harry asked dubiously. “That’s his bloody password?”
“We’re not here to judge, Potter.” Draco’s teeth gleamed in the light as he smiled harshly. “We’re here to break and enter.”
Harry looked up at his partner, a grin spreading across his face.
“Let’s go.”
~~~~~~~
Harry stared at the mess before him, Draco towering over him thanks to the stilettos he was still wearing.
“Fuck me,” Draco breathed.
Harry ignored the gooseflesh that suddenly danced across his skin and focused instead on the horror before him. “So…many…files.”
“We’re never going to get through all those tonight,” Draco said.
“Maybe we could just shrink them and take them with us?”
“Then he’d know we were on to him,” the blond pointed out.
“Oh…copies, then?” Harry raised his wand to do the necessary spells to copy all the files and then send them to their office back at the Ministry.
“Wait,” Draco said, grasping Harry’s wrist lightly to prevent him from casting. “We’d still have to sort through everything once we have all the files. What if….Reperio thema viaticus venenum!”
From the bottom of a precariously stacked column of papers in the far left corner of the office glowed a blue light.
“Ha! I am a genius,” Malfoy announced, waltzing over to the pile and extracting the glowing files. He copied them quickly, and then replaced the originals. Harry watched, both impressed and annoyed.
“Where did you learn that spell?” he demanded. “Why don’t I know that?”
Draco paused, not meeting Harry’s gaze. “My father taught it to me.”
Harry had no response. At the risk of saying something stupid, he decided to simply nod sharply and follow Draco out of the room, grasping his arm lightly as he Apparated them back to their office at the Ministry. An hour later after they had finished reading through all of the evidence, Harry found he still had nothing appropriate to say. He looked up from the papers after rereading them for the third time and tried to subtly clear his throat.
“What is it, Potter?” Malfoy asked, not looking up from his notes. “And don’t do that damned throat-clearing thing, it makes you sound like an oversized zebra in the middle of giving birth.”
Harry refused to be insulted by such a ridiculous and clearly half-hearted insult. “We have enough to pin Dwight-Fyler for the next thirty years, but I think there may be something else going on here. I don’t think the guy is smart enough to pull this operation off. There has to be another player.”
“Of course there is,” Draco answered. “We just have to figure out who has access to both the necessary supplies and the know how to make the potion, knowledge that Dwight-Fyler obviously does not possess.” He reached for one of the files strewn about his desk. “Fortunately, the number of Potions masters in the world have declined recently, which narrows our search considerably. Unfortunately, the majority of them have gone into seclusion since the first war with You-Know-Who, after he began picking them off when they refused to brew him the potions he required. There’s really no way of tracking them down without a reliable source, which, as usual, is hard to come by.”
An uncomfortable idea formed in Harry’s head. He looked at the clock, which was pointing to a little past two in the morning. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep for a week. Then again, there had been another death from this potion only two days prior, bringing the body count up to twelve. It was essential that they find and subdue the brewer immediately. Harry resigned himself to a sleepless night.
“We have to go visit Snape, don’t we?”
Draco finally looked up, that damnable smirk already in place. “Why, Potter, what a brilliant suggestion. Shall we then?”
Harry groaned inwardly, but accepted Malfoy’s arm for the Side-Along-Apparition, bracing himself for what was to come.
~~~~~~~~~~~
“Draco, have you known me to be in the habit of giving out life-threatening secrets to cloaked strangers in dark alleyways?”
“Well no, sir, but--”
“Then explain to me why you have come here in the middle of the night to disturb my sleep with inane and bothersome questions that have no logical grounding.”
“I--ah--you’re absolutely right, sir.”
Harry rolled his eyes at Draco’s immediate submissiveness. It was only a portrait for Merlin’s sake.
“Come off it, Snape. It’s not like you actually sleep.”
Snape turned his gaze onto Harry, who stared back defiantly. He was no longer an eleven-year-old boy. He would be damned before he let a bloody portrait intimidate him.
“Mr. Potter,” Snape said slowly, face expressionless.
“Snape,” Harry nodded.
“Have you perhaps come with Draco in an effort to strip all methods of sense from your madness?”
“No, I’m just here for the show.”
“Indeed.” Snape stared at him for a long moment, before turning back to Malfoy. “I need a moment with Potter, Draco.”
Draco looked stunned. “But--”
“It will be just a moment, you needn’t worry over your favor slipping too far. Though--” the Slytherin lowered his voice, “--you might want to reconsider your choice in partner. It is a fine line you are walking, and I would not have you trip by letting your emotions run away with you.”
To Harry’s surprise, Draco’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly before he nodded stiffly and immediately walked out of the corridor where Snape’s portrait was hung.
What was that about? Harry thought.
Snape stared after the blond, a frown on his face. “That boy always was too agreeable in following others’ orders.”
“I thought that’s why you liked him,” Harry said absently, still confused by the previous interaction.
“No. That’s why Lucius did.” He turned back to Harry. “Why are you here, Potter?”
Harry took a deep, calming breath. “There’s a new potion that’s hit the market. It claims to stunt the need for sleep. Essentially, you take the potion, sleep for an hour, and then you’re golden for the next 24-hour period. The problem is that there are mad crazy side effects, and I mean that literally. People who take it have--”
“Insufficient REM sleep. Desires of the unconscious manifesting. Synapses in the brain and other organs ceasing to function. Prolonged use might lead to insanity or death. Most likely both,” Snape said thoughtfully.
“Er, well, yeah,” Harry replied, a bit put out at having his thunder stolen, and also impressed despite himself. “How did you know?”
Snape turned his sharp gaze on to Harry. “Because, Potter, I invented the potion.”
As Harry stared at Snape’s portrait, he couldn’t help but think that he really should have seen that one coming.
~~~~~~~~~~~
“So,” Draco said, sloshing his chip around in some vinegar before bringing the food to his lips, “Snape invents this potion, realizes that the damage outweighs the benefits, and decides to destroy all remaining copies of the instructions. But somehow, one copy manages to survive, and gets into the hands of less than honorable yet skillful potion brewers, who make and distribute the potion, and now we have a crisis on our hands.”
Harry looked up, only to immediately return his gaze to his own plate of food upon witnessing Malfoy lick salt and vinegar off his long fingers.
“Now, from what Snape remembers of the potion, it has to be brewed under the light of the full moon. To make it even stronger, the sand of an eastern sea should be sprinkled along the perimeter of the cauldron. I’d explain why, but we’re trying to catch the criminal before any more people die, so I’ll hold back until we have a good month to coach you through the process.”
Harry ignored the jibe and took a long swig from his lager. “So we go visit the coastline during the next full moon…which is a week from now. A dozen more people could die before then.”
“Which means we’re going to have to do something else to prevent any more deaths. I say one of us poses as a buyer, and then we arrest and torture--excuse me, interrogate our way back to the top of the chain.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Why can’t we just question Dwight-Fyler?”
Draco paused. “Well, because…er, because…”
“Will you be dressing up again, or going as yourself this time?” Harry grinned wickedly.
Draco gave him the finger, before standing up and throwing a few notes onto the table. “Well?” he said. “Dwight-Fyler isn’t going to answer our questions all by himself.”
Harry chuckled and followed Draco out of the pub, whistling “Pretty Woman” and laughing as Malfoy quickened his pace in annoyance. They continued in that vein for awhile before they reached their destination, a dark alley nearby where they could Apparate back to Auror Headquarters and check up on Dwight-Fyler’s information before they paid him a visit. The second they were clear of the main street, Draco spun around angrily.
“Now look here, Potter,” he began, before cutting himself off abruptly and shoving Harry to the ground.
Harry spat out the dirty water that splashed into his face from the sudden impact. “Malfoy, what the fuck--” was all he got out before the blond started exchanging spells with someone at the end of the alleyway.
“Shit!” Harry exclaimed, climbing quickly to his feet and drawing his own wand. He made a quick turn of the alleyway, making sure that there were no other attackers, before he fired off a few spells of his own. Malfoy was doing well against his masked dueler, but Harry didn’t like the fact that the majority of the spells were blocked not by Malfoy’s shield, but by Draco moving out of the way just in the nick of time. The blond was leaving too much to chance; either Draco was being careless on purpose, or he was being outmatched. Shit, was he trying to get himself killed? Another curse grazed his left shoulder, and all he did was laugh it off.
“Expelliarmus!” Harry cried, waving his wand broadly.
The attacker simply chuckled and made a complicated wand gesture to counter Harry’s spell. Harry and Draco exchanged glances, and Harry inclined his head to the left. Draco growled darkly, and slashed his wand viciously as he cried, “Sectumsempra!” just as Harry also cast the Disarming Spell again, putting his full force behind the spell.
Harry looked at Draco in surprise; he had never heard him use that spell before. It worked, however, as the attacker’s wand fell to the ground and his wand arm began bleeding profusely. The attacker cried out in pain, clutching his forearm. Harry walked over and punched the attacker square in the jaw, making a satisfied sound when the man dropped like a dead weight to the ground.
Malfoy leaned down and ripped off the attacker’s mask, revealing Dwight-Fyler’s pale face. “Ha! Easy as a niffler in springtime. Let’s bring him in.”
Harry spun on Draco, his breathing heavy. “What the hell were you thinking? You could have been killed, you stupid git!”
“What are you talking about?” Draco asked, confused as hell.
“What were you playing at letting him get so close to taking you down?”
The blond stared at Harry, stunned. “You think I was letting him throw me around the alley? For fun? What the fuck, Potter! I know you’re normally a berk but--”
“Those curses were too close a call. If I hadn’t been here--”
“If you hadn’t been here, I might have started pulling out the Dark Arts curses a little earlier. That might have helped me, too,” Draco bit back.
“Don’t joke about this! I was really worried about you!” Harry shouted. “Damnit, Draco, I--”
“Potter,” Draco said loudly, grasping Harry by the shoulders to stop his movements. “Potter. Potter!”
Harry stopped struggling to break free.
“Look, I’m sorry, alright?” Draco said. “I just--I’ve been itching for a good fight lately. All this bullshit with the therapist and the mountains of paperwork and Weasley being in hospital--”
“You’re using Ron as an excuse?” he asked, disbelieving.
“No, I’m using you,” Draco snapped, before his voice softened. “You’ve been on edge lately. I don’t know what’s going on with you. Weasley getting hurt, the Bittenwader case--”
“You dressing up like a bloody bint and throwing yourself at assignments,” Harry said before he could stop himself.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I--I don’t know. I don’t know why I said that. I…”
“Harry?” The blond moved closer, his hand shifting from Harry’s shoulder to the back of his neck. Harry instinctively pulled away, but Malfoy held on tight, unwilling to let go. “Harry, what does me going undercover as a bird have to do with anything?…Harry?”
Harry stared back at Draco, unable to respond. After a few seconds, Draco rolled his eyes and said “Fuck it,” before leaning in and pressing his lips against Harry’s. The brunet was frozen in shock, before he succumbed with a moan, want spreading through his body and heat coiling in his groin. He pulled Malfoy against him, shivering with shocked pleasure at the feel of an erection pressed tightly against his hip. He had never -- well, he had, but there had always been that bubble of denial, the voice inside of his head that said it would be stupid to get involved with his partner, stupid to get involved with Malfoy of all people. As that voice tried to convince him once again that he was making a mistake, Harry told it to firmly shut up and leaned forward to press Draco into the wall, stroking his tongue and feeling an insane kind of pleasure when Draco returned the favor and explored his mouth in return. They continued kissing, heavy breaths and moans mixing between them, before a very different kind of groan voiced in the darkness.
Draco broke the kiss to stare down at Dwight-Fyler. “I think he’s waking up. We should probably take him in.”
Harry growled in frustration. “The paperwork will take hours.”
“Fuck the paperwork. We’ll just dump his arse off and leave.” Draco reached down to cup Harry’s crotch, sending sparks of fire running up through his body. “And then you are coming home with me, Auror Potter.”
“Yes, sir,” Harry grinned.
A flick of a wand later, and the alleyway was empty.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The jolt of Apparition disoriented Harry for a moment, but then warm arms embraced him from behind, and he found his focus returning. A trail of kisses tickled the spot underneath his ear, and hands were creeping dangerously lower with every passing second.
“I’m not the noble sort; I think you know that about me, Potter,” a warm voice said in Harry’s ear. “I don’t know what you want from this. So I’m just going to say this once, and then if you’re still here, anything after is not my fault. We clear?”
A hand cupped his groin and the zipper of his trousers was pulled down. “Clear,” Harry managed to say.
“I am going to fuck you.” Draco paused briefly as Harry’s hips rocked into his. “I am going to fuck you hard, and fast, and well. You will enjoy it. I don’t do cuddling, I won’t want to talk about it afterwards, and I will most likely get up and shower immediately. If things go well, round two can happen in there.”
“Malfoy,” Harry said seriously, “I’m not a fucking girl, and at this moment I don’t need assurances. If I didn’t want this, I wouldn’t be here. So shut the fuck up and fuck me already, would you?”
Draco smirked. “As you wish.”
He spun Harry around, immediately attacking his lips with tongue and teeth, pulling Harry’s tongue into his own mouth and sucking lightly. The sensation sent shivers down his back. Draco backed him into the wall, quickly disposing of all clothing, ripping off a few buttons in the process. Harry gave as good as he got, loving the firm arse beneath his hands, and wrapping his leg around Draco’s calf to pull the man closer. He was extremely satisfied to hear the man groan and press himself even further into Harry. Every move brushed their erections against each other, but before Harry could establish a real rhythm, Draco was pulling back, ignoring Harry’s protests in favor of sliding a finger down the crack of his arse. Encouraging the brunet to spread his legs and wrap one high around his waist, the heel digging into the top flesh of his arse, Draco brushed his fingers lightly against Harry’s opening, before pressing more firmly. One quick spell and lubricant covered Draco’s fingers, and he plunged in one finger, a second following almost directly after, making Harry wince.
“Sorry,” Draco said immediately, finding and brushing Harry’s prostate in apology.
“Not your fault,” Harry gasped, pleasure making him light-headed. “It’s been awhile.”
“Well, I intend to change that,” the blond said, inserting another finger and leaning down to mouth the head of Harry’s cock simultaneously. Harry could feel the curve of Draco’s lips as he grinned against warm flesh, murmuring about the intoxicating smell and taste of the man’s cock, which made Harry that much harder.
“You haven’t fallen out of practice, I see.”
“Maybe I’m just a natural.” Draco winked, making Harry laugh out loud, before his laugh turned into a moan as Draco’s fingers flicked against his prostate once more.
“I’m ready.”
The blond simply nodded, slicked his cock with lubricant and lined himself up against Harry’s entrance. Before pushing in, Draco rubbed the head of his cock against the rosy pucker, letting the soft skin stimulate thousands of nerve endings and build Harry’s anticipation to a near breaking point.
“Damn it, Draco, if you don’t hurry up and--” Harry was cut off as Draco worked his hips in a quick thrust, pushing halfway into his partner in one stroke. He paused, looking down at Harry’s face and checking for signs of pain. Harry’s eyes had closed when Draco entered him, but at the pause they opened, and Draco could see the lust flaring brightly within them. He pushed himself the rest of the way in, and then savored the incredible feeling of a tight arse clenching rhythmically around his cock, the warm breath panting into his neck, the fingers that gripped tightly to his hips and would surely leave bruises in the morning. Before he could move any further, Draco reached down and gently cupped Harry’s balls, rolling and squeezing them before releasing them. He trailed a finger up the underside of Harry’s cock, massaging the liquid that had gathered on the head further into the soft flesh.
“Please…” came the low moan, hands mapping their way across his chest and teasingly pulling on his nipples.
Draco obliged, unable to delay any longer, and pulled himself out until just the tip of his cock rested within Harry, and then plunged swiftly back in. The thrusts continued, increasing in speed but never breaking rhythm as Draco took full advantage of the wall to support Harry’s weight. Harry was incredibly responsive, a soft noise escaping his mouth on every thrust, even when he bit his lip in an effort to quiet the sound. Not every thrust delivered a loud cry, but the hitches in Harry’s breathing told Draco enough. He thrust harder, even retreating several times so that he left Harry’s body completely and could then penetrate him all over again, stimulating that tight ring of muscle that clenched so beautifully with Harry’s every movement.
He could feel a golden heat building deep down in his core, and Draco abandoned technique, giving himself to desire and lust and allowing his body to take over. Harry’s face was flushing, and Draco prayed it meant Harry was close, because he didn’t know how much longer he could last. The incredible heat and tightness created an urgency within him, and Draco could feel his rhythm becoming erratic, yet he was powerless to change it. He thrust wildly, grabbing hold of Harry’s cock and squeezing. Two strokes and Harry was crying out loudly, liquid dripping through Draco’s fingers and onto the pristine carpet. It was enough: Draco came himself, yelling out a phrase he couldn’t distinguish and flooding Harry’s arse with come. He leaned heavily against Harry, who in turn had only the wall for support. They slowly slid down, coming to a rest on the floor, still inhaling deep breaths and trying to recover, limbs entangled and sweat dripping from one body to the next.
After a few minutes, Harry recovered enough to say, “Not to sound demanding or anything, but that was kind of amazing, so I’d really like to know if I’m going to be experiencing that again in your shower in half an hour, or if I should start gathering my clothes and heading home. And I know you don’t want to talk about it, and we don’t have to right now, but later don’t you think we should address how we’re going to handle work from now on and--”
“Potter,” Draco said.
“Yes?”
“You talk too much.” With that, Draco reached for his wand and Apparated them onto the large bed in his bedroom. He yawned and pulled the covers over them, and promptly shut his eyes.
“We’re sleeping then,” Harry concluded. “But no cuddling. Right.”
He shrugged slightly and reached for a pillow, tucking it neatly under his head and exhaling deeply, telling himself that Draco was only doing what he had promised to do, and that if he had a problem with it, that was just too bad then, wasn’t it.
But when Harry woke up in the middle of night to find Draco pressed tightly against him, an arm wrapped possessively around his waist, he couldn’t help but smile.
~~~~~~~~~~
“I expected you back days ago, Mr. Potter,” Snape said, disappointment ringing through his voice. “The life of a hero too busy to save the common people from the most dangerous potion on the market?”
“Oh, shut it, you old grump,” Harry said good-naturedly.
Snape raised an eyebrow. “Your spirits are remarkably high for an Auror investigating several deaths.”
“Things are good. We already have Dwight-Fyler in Auror custody, and this list will narrow down potential suspects and colluders even further,” he said. Harry held up the list of known potions makers that Snape had requested. “Take a gander.”
Snape looked down his hooked nose to analyze the list Harry held aloft, before turning his dark gaze on Harry.
“Potter, this is an incomplete list.”
“No it isn’t! I put down every name that the Ministry has on registered Potions masters, and I double checked with the Headmistress about any recent Hogwarts graduates who might be skilled enough to make the potion and--”
“Nevertheless, you left off a name that should most certainly be on this list. A person who has all the knowledge and skill to both make and sell the potion on the black market. Someone who is as comfortable around Knockturn Alley as he is his own backyard. Or, should I say, the forest abutting his manor.”
An ugly thought crept its way into Harry’s brain. “You don’t mean--”
“Yes. The most likely person behind this potion is Draco Malfoy.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“It just doesn’t make any sense. What was Dwight-Fyler’s motivation for attacking us? If he was scared we were catching on to his operations, the smart thing to do would have been to leave the country, not find the nearest Auror and attack him.”
Sitting comfortably in an old armchair, his bandaged leg propped up in front of him, Ron watched Harry pace up and down the length of the room before holding out a hand for him to stop. “You’re giving me a headache, mate. Take it easy for a minute.”
“Malfoy picked the pub,” Harry continued, unable to stop himself from speaking. “He was the one leading us down the alleyway. I thought we were completely alone, but somehow he knew; he knew to stop Dwight-Fyler. How did he know to do that?”
“Are you sure you weren’t just a little bit pissed?”
“One pint, Ron, that was it. We were discussing the case for Merlin’s sake…right in view of the public. Draco’s the one who brought it up, too.” Harry paused. “Snape must have known. That’s why he told Malfoy to leave. Snape knew it had to be him. And I didn’t see it.”
“Well,” Ron said thoughtfully, leaning down and scratching under one of his bandages, “the way I see it you got three options: one, you go to Shacklebolt and tell him what you’ve got and let him handle it. My surveillance team hasn’t picked up anything on Malfoy, but you never know, something could have slipped through the cracks. Two, you go ransack Malfoy’s place and try to find some evidence.”
“I was there the other night, Ron. It all looked normal. Besides, don’t you think he’d be smart enough to hide any evidence?”
Ron shrugged.
“The logic is all there. Snape is right. I just…I don’t want to believe it.”
“You’ve been partners with Malfoy for a while now, and I know you two have gotten pretty close. I mean, you spend more time with him than you do me at this point. I know,” Ron said quickly at Harry’s affronted look, “it’s mostly work related. But I know you’ve become friends, and you trust him. You have to, he’s your partner. But can you honestly say there isn’t even a possibility that Malfoy is behind this?”
Slowly, Harry shook his head.
“And Dwight-Fyler hasn’t talked yet?”
Harry shook his head again.
“Well, there’s always the third option. But I don’t think you’ll like it.”
“What is it?”
“Talk to him.”
Harry immediately blanched. “I don’t think accusing him would be the best way to go.”
“Neither do I, but it’s all I’ve got. And one way or the other, you’ll know.”
“When did you turn into Hermione?” Harry asked. “Here you are, advice-man. To be honest it’s a bit strange.”
Ron shrugged again. “I’m bored out of my skull. I guess something good had to happen. I’m surrounded by only two people all day long; it was either Hermione or my mum--we all know how well the later would have gone.”
“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “I’ll take advice giving Ron any day, thanks.”
Ron grinned broadly, and Harry answered with a small smile of his own. He was just about to suggest getting some take away for them to enjoy when the fireplace flared to life, and Shacklebolt’s grave face appeared.
“Weasley, you need to come in immediately. You too, Potter. There have been three more deaths linked to the potion. And that’s not all: Auror Malfoy is missing.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Shacklebolt looked grimly at Harry over the top of his desk.
“Are you sure you’ve told me everything?”
“Yes, sir,” Harry said, trying to not let his mind wander to the previous night, when he had returned the favor and fucked Draco on his massive bed, all the while watching the effect of a streetlamp’s glow coming through the window and framing Draco’s face. Harry firmly pushed the image out of his mind and focused on his superior.
“Alright. We’ve sent out a scouting team to search for Auror Malfoy, but hopefully he will find some way to contact us before drastic measures need to be taken. Snape confirmed that these were the only possible makers of the potion?” Shacklebolt asked, indicating the list Harry had created.
“Yes. Anyone else with the necessary skill is dead.”
“The potion has to be brewed under the full moon?”
“Yes. Snape said it had something to do with lunar power and nocturnal patterns; but that the lunar power was also the most likely reason behind the side effects of insanity-- after the lack of sleep and disembodiment of the consciousness, of course.”
“Of course…Potter, you are to organize a team to find Auror Malfoy and the brewer. We have two days until the full moon. If Malfoy is not recovered before then, we go without him. Stake out the necessary spots where the potion could be brewed, and catch the potion maker in the act. We can’t have any more deaths, Potter.”
“Sir.” Harry nodded, before exiting the room. He was going to find Draco, they were going to capture the potion maker, and everything was going to be alright. It had to.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry waited, Disillusioned but shivering under his cloak as the sea breeze blew harshly along the beach, whipping up the waves and crashing them forcefully against the rocks. He’d been on stakeout for five hours, ever since sundown, and there was still no sign of activity. Every available Auror had been stationed at different coastlines where Snape said the potion would most easily be made. It was ridiculous; there simply weren’t enough of them. They were leaning on sheer dumb luck, hoping to find the one grain of sand along a thousand beaches. But somehow Harry had insisted on staying at this beach. He couldn’t explain why, but he just couldn’t leave.
Harry wrapped his cloak around himself as tightly as he could, peering into the darkness. The sky was particularly cloudy; perhaps that was why the potion maker wasn’t showing, the moon was obscured. Just as Harry made to leave and check in on the rest of his team, a flicker of movement caught his eye. Someone had Apparated onto the beach, and had begun writing runes in the sand, runes that remained even when the water passed over it. This had to be it, Harry thought. He extracted his wand and sent off his Patronus with the message for the rest of the team to join him. It took at least three wizards to set up an anti-Apparition shield, and Harry had no intention of letting the potion maker get away.
The full moon emerged from behind the clouds, bathing the beach in soft light, and Harry could see that there were not one, but two figures in the sand. One stood still and watched as the other continued to draw runes and then began setting up a cauldron. Flames shot out of the watcher’s wand, igniting the wood in spite of the water; a spell must have been cast to deviate the waves from that small pocket of sand. The extra brightness was enough to light their faces, and Harry watched numbly as Draco took a vial out of his pocket and poured it into the cauldron, discussing something with his accomplice and then stirring the cauldron quickly. Harry didn’t recognize the other man, only noting that he appeared to be in his late forties and had very curly black hair that was streaked with grey, and penetrating eyes that darted around rapidly as he observed everything around him.
Harry cast the Tempus charm, nodding quickly to himself. It had been five minutes since his Patronus had taken off, plenty of time for the rest of the team to fall into place. They were to go on his signal. He raised his wand, prepared to send the signal, when Draco looked up straight at him, making direct contact even though Harry was Disillusioned. Draco tilted his head to the left, the same signal Harry had used in the alleyway. A shot of adrenaline and relief overcame Harry, before he fixed his face into a determined grin. They were going to take down this man, and they were going to do it now, together.
He gave the signal and the anti-Apparition shield came up, creating a bubble that could not be penetrated but still allowed movement within. Harry Apparated directly behind the potion maker, tackling him to the ground. They fought in the sand, wet spray hitting their faces as often as punches.
Draco made an exasperated sound above them. “You’re such a Muggle-born, Harry. Always reverting to violence instead of magic. Somnio.”
The spell bounced off the man, but distracted him long enough that Harry got in a good right hook that knocked the man unconscious. Harry was inclined to leave him lying face down in the sand, but instead pulled him onto his back and away from the surf so the water wouldn’t cover his face. He then turned to Draco, who was standing a little way to the side with a large grin on his face. In three strides he had Draco in his arms, open mouth pressed against his and tongue swiping along his lower lip.
Harry pulled back a fraction so he could speak. “You’re such a wizard, Draco. Always relying on magic to do everything for you.”
Draco’s eyes darkened. “Not everything.”
“Later.”
The blond made an agreeable sound, before he went on, preening. “Am I not incredible? I went back to Dwight-Fyler’s apartment and there were some trace magical signatures that I followed, which led me to Rosier’s underground facility where he was doing all the brewing. I convinced him to let me help since he remembered Lucius but then he would just not shut up--”
Draco was cut off as Harry kissed him again. He pulled back after a few seconds, too proud of himself to pause in his gloating. “So that reverse tracking charm worked, then?” Draco asked brightly. “I only just came up with the idea yesterday, so I was worried that it wouldn’t work.”
“You invented a reverse tracking charm?” Harry asked, disbelieving.
“Did you feel a strange, inexplicable urge to come here tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“Then yes, I did. Good thing it worked, too. I did not want to go back to that hell hole Rosier is living in.”
“Wait, Rosier? This is Evan Rosier?” Harry kicked the prone body. “I thought he was dead.”
“Faked his death. He used to be part of Severus’s group at Hogwarts, and had a bit of skill with potion-making, so he made some Polyjuice. Apparently the Aurors killed a Muggle under Imperius. He’s been underground ever since. That’s why he wasn’t on that list you made for Snape.”
Harry looked up sharply. “You know about that?”
“Of course. Did you really think I was just going to let you go off without me? Stupid Gryffindor,” he said, almost affectionately. At the look on Harry’s face, he added, “It’s alright, Harry. I know you suspected me. I don’t mind. I would have suspected me, too. I just hope that this gets rid of any lingering doubts about me.”
Harry nodded. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry. And I’m glad to see you. Obviously,” he said, blushing a bit.
Draco simply smiled back. A discreet cough sounded to their left. Harry glared up at the men who had come with him, who had finally made their way down the edge of the shore. “And where the hell were you when all this was happening?”
There was an awkward silence. “We were maintaining the anti-Apparition shield, sir,” one finally volunteered.
“There are four of you. It only takes three men to maintain the shield. What about you, Randall? What were you doing that was so important?”
Randall shifted his feet. “I was letting you have a moment, sir. You seemed to have everything under control.”
“Mm-hmm,” Harry said. “Clearly. Well, confiscate all these materials as evidence and take Rosier back to a holding cell. And fill out your paperwork.”
The men set to work immediately, bustling about so quickly that in less than a minute they had all Apparated out, leaving Harry and Draco alone on the beach.
“Look at you, man in charge,” Draco commented. “I wasn’t gone that long was I?”
“Shacklebolt gave me the necessary tools to get a job done, that’s all. I’m sure I’ll be back behind my desk on Monday.”
“Or on top of it,” Draco suggested, leaning forward.
“Draco,” Harry said, pulling back slightly, “before we start this, I need to know what this is."
Draco looked Harry directly in the eyes. “It’s whatever you want it to be.”
“I want everything,” Harry said slowly, enunciating as clearly as he could.
“Good.”
“Does this mean I get to kiss you now?”
Draco grinned. “It means you better.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“What do you think you learned from your last assignment?”
Harry threw Draco a disgruntled look. “That my partner doesn’t trust me to keep my mouth shut, apparently.”
“It was undercover work, Potter, how many times do I have to say it?” Draco stated, annoyance ringing through his voice.
They continued to bicker back and forth, the creases around their eyes the only indication that they were teasing rather than being malicious. Clayborne watched it all with a blank expression, writing a few of their comments down quietly. After a few minutes they seemed to remember that she was still in the room.
“Sorry,” Harry apologized.
“It’s quite alright. An entertaining show you both put on, to maintain appearances. Other than that little performance, do you feel that your sexual relationship will impact your working one?”
Harry sputtered, “What? How did you--”
“It was brought to my attention by another patient, though frankly after five minutes of watching you interact with each, it’s fairly obvious. Though fraternization between colleagues is discouraged by the Auror force, inter-office relations are not grounds for dismissal, so you needn’t worry there. I simply ask for your discretion.”
“Of course,” Draco said mildly. “Anything else for today, then?”
“No. I’m recommending to Auror Shacklebolt that he clear both of you for field work. There will be a follow-up one month from now, and every three months thereafter. Any questions, gentlemen?”
They both shook their heads ‘no.’
“Very well. It’s been a pleasure working with you both. See you in a month,” Clayborne stated.
Harry and Draco rose from their seats and exited her office, making their way down the corridor back to the Auror offices.
“You know, I think I might miss having you as my therapy buddy,” Draco said.
“Really?”
“Oh, yes. It was so amusing to watch Clayborne’s face whenever I made a sexual innuendo and you didn’t catch it.”
“You were making innuendos?” Harry asked.
Draco sighed. “How about I try one a little less subtle. Do you remember what I said about your desk?”
Harry felt a flash of desire course through him and a blush steal across his face.
“I see that you do.“ Draco leaned in to speak softly in Harry’s ear. “You better get in there and prepare yourself, because I am walking in and fucking you into next week.”
With a quick tug on Harry’s earlobe with his teeth, Draco immediately turned around and began walking towards their office. Harry stood speechless, watching Draco walk away. With a quick shake he recovered, and took off after him, following the sound of laughter echoing down the hall.
~~~~~~
Finis.