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“I’m sorry, I think you’re mistaken.” Harry says blankly, staring at Hermione. “I thought you said I’m partnering with Malfoy, and I know that can’t be right.”
Ron stands beside Harry, staring at his wife like she’s just grown a second head. Hermione gives him a look of pity, but shakes her head. “No, Harry, you’ve heard me right. I need you both on this case; you’re the best auror I have, but Malfoy is the best potioneer in his field, and you know it. I’m sorry Ron, but you’re rather poor at potion making, and as we’re looking into a potioneer that kills people…” she says, trailing off.
“But Hermione, this is the worst idea you’ve ever had. Malfoy and I working together? We’ll kill each other by next Tuesday.” Harry says exasperatedly. “He can’t stand me and I can’t stand him, it’s as simple as that.”
“Harry, you have to be professional about this, you’re both aurors, you can’t focus on childhood rivalry forever.” Hermione states, her patience waning slightly.
“He tried to kill me, Hermione.” Harry snaps.
“You were both to blame for that fight in the bathroom and it was you that cursed him with a spell that could have killed him. And if you’ll remember, he saved your life in his mansion that night with Bellatrix.” she retorts, her hands going to her hips impatiently.
“I won’t hear another word about it, it’s final. I’ve already arranged for his desk to be moved into your office and he is in the process of moving in as we speak.” And with that, she turns on her heel and marches away. Probably in fear of Harry exploding, knowing he’s going to be sharing an office with the blonde.
“He’s WHAT?!” he finally shouts, the pieces all falling in place. Ron jumps beside him, obviously not anticipating the same response of Harry as Hermione did. “Ah, mate, it can’t be that bad, can it? It’s only for this one case. After you solve it, you two will part ways like you did after the battle and you’ll never have to share an office with him again.”
“On the contrary, Weasley, our new partnership appears to be permanent, I’m afraid. Granger told me this morning. I see she’s only just told you.” Malfoy says, walking lazily toward them.
“She said it’s only for this potion thing.” Harry says, still not believing his bad luck. Partnering with Malfoy? Is he still asleep?
“Yes, well unfortunately the more she thought about it the more she fancied the pair of us becoming permanent partners. Something about making amends for our past. I’m not sure that’s going to work out, but as Minister I suppose she can do as she pleases.” Malfoy hums, looking off toward one of the charmed windows lining the wall.
“It won’t last.” Ron says simply, turning to glare at the blonde. “Neither of you can stand each other. The minute Harry puts his feet on his desk you’re just going to break his legs. You two can’t sit in the same room for more than five minutes without insulting each other.”
Harry turns to look at his best friend and says under his breath, “he usually starts it.”
Malfoy casts Harry an unimpressed look and turns back to Ron. “Regardless, this is our job. If we want to keep them we need to be professional. I know you haven’t had to lift a finger to get here, Potter, but some of us have had to work to get here.”
“He defeated the worst dark wizard of our time. Is that not lifting a finger?” Ron snaps, glaring at the git. “Yes yes, but that’s not what I mean and you know it. You helped him defeat the Dark Lord, and yet you had to take your tests. But the Boy Who Lived Twice got to skate on in here without a single question asked his way.
“My training was twice as hard as everyone else’s because of that, Malfoy.” Harry says through gritted teeth, his ears reddening with his anger. Malfoy scoffs, turning around to walk back to their office. “You had to run through more of the dangerous spells, yes, but you didn’t have to learn the full course like the rest of us did.”
And with that, he disappears into the room. Harry looks at Ron, and says gravely, “I think this might be one of the rare times Hermione is utterly wrong.”
***~~~~***
As he figured, Harry was right. By the next week, Harry and Draco were about as close to being friends as a lion could be with a snake. The ministry workers in charge of fixing things had to be called to Harry and Draco’s office at least three times in that one week, always leaving with cotton sticking out of their ears to avoid listening to the shouting match between both boys.
“Oh dear, I had hoped they could act like adults for once.” Hermione said miserably, watching them shout at each other through the window. “He tried to tell you, ‘mione.” Ron says, rubbing her arm in comfort, chewing on a piece of bacon.
“Give them time. They might surprise you.” Pansy Parkinson says, throwing an arm around Hermione’s shoulder. “Just look at us. We became best friends after only a month of shouting matches like theirs.”
Hermione sighs, laying her head on Ron’s shoulder. “Our shouting matches weren’t quite as bad as this. And where on earth did you find bacon, Ron? It’s noon.” To this, Ron shrugs.
“Maybe not, but Draco isn’t calling Harry a mudblood, so there’s a start. Besides, their rivalry goes a little deeper than whatever hatred we held toward each other. I hated you because I was taught to think ill of kids like you. He was raised to hate anyone who his family hates. And unfortunately for Harry, that was- well, Harry. And Harry snubbed him when they were kids, which bruised his ego rather roughly.”
Just then, Harry storms out of the office snarling “fuck you, Malfoy,” stomping toward the elevators. Hermione was alarmed to see that he looked like he was about ready to cry.
She could see Draco standing in front of his desk, staring at the spot Harry had been standing in before he left. His shoulders drop and he raises a hand to his face, wiping his eyes tiredly.
Pansy removes her arm from Hermione’s shoulder and stalks toward the office. Hermione and Ron follow, hoovering in the doorway.
“What the bloody hell did you say, Draco? Merlin, he looked like you really rattled him this time.” Pansy scolds, planting herself in front of her friend, poking a finger in his chest.
Draco glances at the pair in the doorway then sighs. “I didn’t say anything kind, that’s for sure. Fuck, I don’t know why or how but he always manages to get under my skin just the wrong way.”
“What did you say, Draco?” Hermione asks softly, her eyes sparkling as if to beg him to tell her. Looking at his feet, he says, “I told him I don’t fancy working with someone that brings death with him wherever he goes.”
Hermione gasps quietly, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. Ron curses, turning around to go after his friend. Pansy stares at Draco, shocked he could say something like that to him. He’s grown from that evil little bratty kid he once was. He said he didn’t want to act like his father anymore, yet here he is, taking cheap shots.
“Harry struggles with that, you know.” Hermione says finally, her hands dropping to her sides. “In the seventh year, he almost didn’t let us come with him to hunt down the horcruxes. He was afraid he’d get us killed. When Fred died, it took him ages to come back to the burrow, because he felt responsible for his death. He felt responsible for everyone’s death, actually. He feels if he had just gone to the forest the moment Voldemort said, he would have prevented their deaths. But he still had to find the remaining horcruxes we hadn’t yet destroyed, or all our progress would have been for nothing. That decision haunts him everyday. He blames himself for making Teddy an orphan.”
Harry finally comes back after a spell, and Draco’s stomach gives an odd twist when he sees the red rim around Harry’s eyes, indicating he’s been crying. Even Ron’s eyes are rimmed red, but Draco doesn’t feel so bad about that. They probably talked about his brother.
“Alright, Malfoy. If we’re going to be working together from now on, I suggest we speak only about the case and keep it at that. No more bringing up the past, no more speaking about anything not related to our job. Sound fair?” Harry says blankly, holding out his hand.
Draco is suddenly transported back in time, to the train ride during his first year at Hogwarts. Holding his hand out to the Boy Who Lived, who his father had told him to befriend immediately. He sees himself holding his hand out, excited to make his father proud; to become friends with one of the most famous wizards alive. Then sees himself shut down and dismissed, just like he deserved.
Coming back to himself, he stares at Harry’s outstretched hand, and takes it in his shaky grasp. Finally, after all these years, they’ve shaken to become- well, not friends, but at least amiable co-workers.
“Deal, Potter.” Malfoy says cooly, looking up into Harry’s eyes. “And I’m sorry. I didn’t really mean what I said. You just pissed me off.”
Harry gives a small chuckle, turning back to his desk. “Yes, well that seems to be normal between us I suppose. Now, let’s get back to the case, shall we?”
And from that moment forward, they had an understanding. A shaky one, maybe, but one all the same.
***~~~~***
“I don’t think that’s correct, actually.” Harry says, flipping through the stack of maps on the left side of his desk. Finally he pulls out one particularly wrinkled one and nods. “Yeah, the informant said he’s been bunkering in Sundsvall out in Sweden.”
“Oh, alright, I got the country wrong. Sweden, not Switzerland.” Draco says, rolling his eyes.
“Hey, every detail has to be perfect, you know that.” Harry says with a hint of a teasing tone. “So, we’re looking for a man who sells potions to the sick, both muggle and wizards, that slowly kills them from the inside all the way from London to Sweden, apparently. Shouldn’t be too hard.”
“Oh yeah, it’ll be a walk in the park.” Draco tosses back. If you had told 11 year old Draco that he would one day be joking around with Harry Potter, he’d have sent you to the hospital wing to get checked.
“Ugh, ever since that movie I’ve been weirdly unwilling to step foot into Sweden.” Harry says quietly, rubbing his forehead.
“What's a movie?” Draco asks blankly.
“Oh, it’s a muggle thing. Basically, you have an electronic rectangle device called a television. They range in size, but they’re all rather large enough to show moving images, only they’re not like our pictures. The people you see on the tube- that’s what we call it- are all paid actors. People who read off a script and play out scenes that come together to tell a story. Most movies now-a-days are a couple hours long. Hermione and I introduced the Weasleys to it, they all rather love it. Now George and his father will fight over who gets to watch it.”
Draco blinks at him, face completely blank. Harry sighs, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I don’t really know how to explain it properly, I suppose. You’d have to just see it for yourself to understand. It’s like the plays our kind does, only you watch it through an electronic rectangular window and not from a seat in the stands.”
Draco slowly shakes his head, amazed at the ingenuity of muggles. “Fascinating. They’ll go to any lengths not to leave their sofas, huh.”
Harry snorts, thinking of his cousin when they were little. “Yes, some of them can be rather lazy.”
“So what was your- er, electronic play about?” Draco asks curiously.
Harry suddenly remembers telling Draco they wouldn’t talk about things that didn’t involve the case, but he stamps it out. Maybe, just maybe, he can turn a new leaf with Draco like they all had with Pansy.
“It’s called Midsommar. It’s basically about this village in Sweden that has an annual sort of festival that- well, it’s a long story and hard to explain. Basically, the villagers kill all of the American visitors in a sort of cult/religious practice except the girl who won May Queen at the festival.”
Draco stares at Harry, wondering if the phrase ‘why doesn’t it surprise me that you’d watch some shite like that’ would be offensive to the other or not.
Turns out it doesn’t matter, because Harry clears his throat and says, “either way, I don’t think it’s based on a true story anyway, so. No matter. When do you want to go check it out?”
“Well we’re going to have to tell Granger, and get a small team together. You know she’s not going to send you in there without help.” Draco says, writing something on his bit of parchment in front of him.
“She wouldn’t send you out there by yourself either, you know. Just because you used to bully us doesn’t mean she would send you into danger alone.” Harry says quietly. It’s silent in the office for a while, neither man willing to break the silence in fear of breaking the friendly air that seems to have fallen between them for the first time.
It’s not broken by either of them, but by Ron.
“Harry! Come on, let's go get something for lunch, I’m starving.”
“You need someone to hold your hand as you cross the street, Weasley?” Draco drawls, more so to watch the man’s face grow red than to actually insult him.
“Shove off, Malfoy.” Ron snarls, grabbing Harry’s arm and tugging him out of the office once he walks close enough to be snatched.
***~~~~***
It’s a few hours later that both Harry and Draco find themselves standing in Hermione’s office, giving her the run down of what they’ve found out and what they want to do next. She listens intently while they talk, nodding here and there to show she’s listening and understands.
“-so we’re thinking we should pop over to Sweden and catch him before he makes it any farther east. I don’t know about you, but I don’t fancy tracking him through Russia.” Draco finishes, straightening up to look down at Hermione as she thinks over what they’ve said.
“I do agree that you should head him off. We have plenty of evidence to have him locked up in Azkaban. Go out there and find a good spot to lie low and shadow his movements for a day or so and when you’re ready we’ll send a team out to assist in capturing him.” she says, leaning back in her chair with a nod.
Harry and Draco leave her office, heads bent close as they discuss their trip. “We need to pack warmly. It’s not as cold as going to Russia would be, but it’s still not warm in January either way.” Draco says, sidestepping Seamus who doesn’t seem to be watching where he’s going.
“I agree, I’ve been to Sweden once with Ron last year. In November, actually. Felt a little like London during Christmas, actually. Wasn’t terrible. Sounds like we’re going to be there a few days, but we should pack for at least a week just in case something goes wrong. I’ll contact Rostell and have him put together a portkey.”
The next day, they find themselves standing in front of Rostell with their luggage shrunken in their pockets, ready to go hunt down a killer. Rostell hands them a rusty wrench, saying, “here you go, lads. Enjoy your trip!”
Harry glances at Draco, hiding a grin. Rostell is an older wizard, about eighty if he has to guess, and he seems to have no idea that he works for aurors. “It will be ready to go in about ten minutes, so be prepared!” Rostell adds, turning around to putter about the rest of his rubbish-looking portkeys.
“Okay, let's go tell Hermione we’re off.” Harry says, hurrying toward his best friend’s office to offer her a quick goodbye.
“Oh, Harry, please be careful! Don’t let Draco die, either, please.” Hermione says as they get ready to leave, throwing herself into Harry’s arms. Draco stands off to the side awkwardly, and squawks indignantly at the last bit. “I can take care of myself, Granger, thank you!”
At the two minutes-left mark, they make their way to their office and look around, making sure they have all of what they need. Finally Harry says “it’s time, Malfoy.”
Draco steps close, taking the other end of the wrench, closing his eyes as he feels himself move through the off-putting process of long-distance apparating. It’s very uncomfortable, and he hates doing it.
They stumble into an alley next to a large building, and take a moment to collect themselves and regain their balance. “Merlin, I hate doing that.” Harry grumbles, rolling his shoulders. Draco nods, standing up straight and popping his neck. “Worse than floo.” Draco adds.
It takes them a few moments to figure out where they are when they leave the alley, but soon enough they find the way to the hotel Hermione picked out for them, thanking every deity that the desk clerk speaks english.
When they enter the room, however, they almost immediately turn around and leave.
“What the fuck.” Harry says, staring blankly into the room. Draco bumps into his back and snaps, “what are you doing Potter, get out of the way, I want to take a nap.”
“There’s a problem with that.” Harry says, finally moving into the room. Draco’s eyes zero in on the only bed in the room, and he promptly turns around and walks back down to the front desk. Harry hurries out after him, closing the door on his way out.
“-no, we asked for two beds, did something get mis-communicated?” Draco demands, the poor desk clerk looking terrified under Draco’s piercing glare.
“I’m sorry sir,” he says in his thick accented voice, “we have recorded that you requested a one bedroom suite. We’re booked up for the week as well; we can’t switch your room with another, sir, I’m very sorry.”
Harry pulls out a muggle cell phone from his pocket and dials Hermione the moment they re-enter the room. Draco looks at the device in angry confusion, blinking when Harry puts it up to his ear.
Hermione picks up the phone, and Harry immediately knows that she knows what she’s done. “Hello, Harry. Er, have you settled in-”
“Hermione what the fuck.” Harry says, cutting her off.
She doesn’t even bother trying to cover for herself. “Oh Harry, I was only trying to help the two of you come closer together. You’re both very polite to each other now, and that’s all well and good, but I wanted to help you two become friends!”
“And sharing a bed will help accomplish that?” Harry snaps, looking at the floor as if it were the one who killed Sirius and not Bellatrix Lestrange.
“If the two of you can’t handle sharing a bed for a week then you have no business being aurors. It’s your job to handle uncomfortable situations, Harry, so handle it.” and with that, she hangs up.
Harry removes the phone from his ear, staring down at it in irritation. “What did she say?” Draco asks, perching himself on the bed as if to claim it for himself.
“She said to figure it out.” he says finally, feeling suddenly exhausted. Then, he removes his coat, throws it over the back of an armchair beside the door before toeing off his shoes, and shucks off his jumper and pants, walking to the other side of the bed and sits down.
“What in Salazar’s name are you doing?!” Draco yelps, jumping off the bed as if burnt. Harry gives him an unimpressed glare and says simply, “I’m tired too, so I’m going to take a nap as well.”
“Not next to me, you aren’t.” Draco snaps, crossing his arms over his chest as Harry scoots under the covers, getting comfortable.
“Hermione is right, in some ways. Though I’ll never tell her out loud. It is our job to handle uncomfortable situations. This is one of them, so we just have to adapt to it and get over it. If we can’t handle sharing a bed, how are we going to handle bringing this bollock in.”
Draco stares down at him, looking both like he understands and like he wants to use the Imperius curse to make Harry get off the bed. Eventually, he too removes his jacket and shoes, only removing his trousers when Harry begins to snore, climbing in next to the idiot-who-lived, taking a great while longer to fall asleep than Harry did. But at length, he finally drifts off.
When he wakes, he feels as though he’s boiling. The room has gotten very warm, and he feels heavy with it. No, wait, that’s not the room- there’s something thrown over him. Something heavy.
His eyes flash open, and he registers a mop of brown hair tickling his nose. “For fucks sake, Potter.” he grunts, pushing the man off of him. He immediately feels cooler, sighing in relief.
The feeling of loss from shoving Harry off of him is swiftly thrown from his mind.
Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Draco pads to the bathroom, clicking the door quietly behind him, relieving himself before bending over the sink and splashing cold water over his face. Opening the door, he looks outside and figures they’ve been asleep for a few hours.
He hears shuffling behind him and turns just in time to see Harry open his eyes and blink at him. “Wha’sup?” he mumbles, looking around the room as if trying to figure out where he is.
“Good morning, Harry dear.” Draco says sweetly, swallowing a laugh as Harry’s head whips around toward him, eyes wide.
“Only joking, scarhead. It’s nearly sundown, I reckon we should probably make our way to the location. Get up and get dressed and we’ll go grab something to eat before heading out.”
Less than twenty minutes later they find themselves just outside of a sandwich shop, looking over the menu skeptically. “Er, can you read that?” Harry asks Draco, feeling only slightly hopeful.
Draco heaves a sigh, shaking his head. “No. Maybe the worker speaks english.”
No such luck. The man doesn’t speak any English, so both men just point to random ingredients, building a sandwich hoping that whatever they’re choosing will be good. Harry orders salami, only because that's the only word they could understand next to ‘agg’.
When they receive their sandwiches, they hunt down a table and take a seat, biting into their dinner. All things considered, they weren’t that bad. Harry got salami and brie cheese, while Draco got roast beef and cottage cheese.
“I thought keso meant normal cheese.” Draco says, his nose shriveled slightly at the idea of roast beef and cottage cheese. He takes a bite anyway though, humming. “I suppose they know a little bit of what they’re doing.”
Finishing their sandwiches, they take a stroll through the city, mapping out where important landmarks are just in case they get lost while chasing down their guy. Their hotel is just diagonal from a large park, so they walk over to it and sit near the fountain, and begin to discuss their next course of action.
“We were told he hangs out in a park across the river, so why don’t we go check out the park and get familiar with it. Then tomorrow we can disguise ourselves and hang about and wait for him to show up.” Draco suggests. Harry nods, standing up to brush off his jeans, walking around to a deserted alley, then apparates them both to the park.
“What did you do, use that search thing on your lap thing to familiarize yourself with this place so we could apparate?” Draco asks, righting himself and looking around in awe. The entire park is lit up with fairy lights, making the park look magical without actually using magic.
“It’s called a laptop, Malfoy.” Harry says with a laugh, looking around as well. “And yeah, I did. Looked up pictures and stuff so I knew where to go. Worked rather well, if I don’t say so myself. I can apparate us anywhere in the city, now.” Harry finishes, looking proud of himself.
Draco nods, slightly impressed, himself. Though he’ll never say it aloud.
“There!” Harry suddenly hisses, pulling Draco behind a bush, pulling his invisibility cloak out of his pocket and throwing it over them quickly. Draco feels a blush warm his face as he feels his entire body press up against Harry’s and he shakes his head. What in Salazar’s name is he blushing for?
The man they’re looking for is currently walking in their direction, looking down at a piece of paper in his hands, looking furious. Draco’s never seen a picture of him; he’s been too focused on dissecting the potions this man has been selling to people. Harry’s been handling most of the rest of the case.
He’s tall, which is the first thing Draco really notices. His dark hair is almost black but glints of chestnut and blonde shine in the dying sunlight, strands waving lazily in the breeze as the rest cascades down his shoulders. His wardrobe color choice makes Draco wonder if he was a Slytherin once, as well. With his emerald green vest and silver jacket, he looks like a clothing model for their house. As he looks up, Draco notices that his eyes are an icy blue, almost white with how pale they are.
As he passes, Harry lightly pulls on Draco’s sleeve and they follow behind him, and Harry tries to read over the man’s shoulder. They almost bump into him, however, when the man suddenly stops and looks around him, as if sensing people near him. Harry and Draco cover their mouths, standing stock still, as the man shrugs, and continues walking.
They follow him to a bar, and watch as he tucks the piece of paper into his pocket, then enters. After waiting for him to come out for an hour, they walk into the bar. Their suspect is nowhere to be found.
“Fuck. He must have realized we were following him and went out the back.” Harry curses, throwing himself into the window-side booth. Draco sighs, finds a bartender that speaks English, and orders them a couple of beers.
“Did you make anything out of that note he was reading?” Draco asks, taking a sip after sitting across from his partner.
“No.” Harry sighs, taking a long pull of his drink. “But I could tell that it wasn’t english. Looked like German. Could have been Swedish, too, I dunno.”
They watch the sun go down and walk into the alley next to the bar, apparating directly into their hotel room. Harry flops face first onto the bed, groaning as his body relaxes into the mattress. Draco’s body shudders, but he ignores it. What the fuck is going on with him today?
Harry’s muggle device thing begins to make a horrid bell noise and he picks it up, taps the glass and says “Hey, ‘mione.”
“Hi Harry!” Hermione’s voice says cheerfully, making Draco jump as he stares at the device. Harry notices this but doesn’t say anything, for once trying to be kind.
“How did the day go looking for that man? Oh, what’s his name again? There’s so many bad wizards out there I keep forgetting the names to them all.” she says with a whine.
“Hans of the Southern Isles.” Harry says blankly. Draco is immediately confused. Isn’t his name-?
“Oh ha, ha, Harry.” Hermione says with a fake laugh. Draco can hear Ron in the background say “good one, mate!”
“His name is Jacob Daniels.” Harry says, rolling onto his back, raising his eyebrow as Draco busies himself with lighting the fireplace that neither of them seemed to notice when they arrived.
“Right, right. Well, so how’s it going? Has my idea worked?” she asks, sounding eager.
“We haven’t had enough time for it to work yet, ‘mione. You’ll know when we come back.” Harry says, watching Draco throw some wood onto the grate. He feels strangely content here with Draco. Almost- domestic? Or something like that. He’s never been great with words.
Harry then fills her in on what happened earlier, and she sighs when he finishes. “I wish I knew what was on that paper. If you get a hold of it, send me a picture of it and I’ll see if I can get someone to translate it.” she says, and Harry nods before realizing she can’t see him. Draco has moved the chair over to the fire, and Harry notices his head start to droop forward. “Okay, Hermione, well I’ll call you tomorrow, we need to sleep if we’re going to go on a man hunt tomorrow.” he says, standing from the bed to grab his toiletries.
“Okay, Harry. Be safe tomorrow and good luck!” she says, and Harry ends the call. He looks at Draco and smiles softly, wondering when his normal glare turned endeared. Weird.
Poking Draco in the temple, he murmurs, “Malfoy, why don’t you go to bed.”
Draco grunts, turning his head away from Harry, and sleeps on. With a sigh, Harry bends, slips his arm under Draco’s knees and puts one on his back, picking him up bridal style. The jostle wakes Draco slightly and he gasps tiredly, wrapping an arm around Harry’s neck. “What’re you doing, Potter?” he asks, looking around in confusion.
“Taking you to bed.” Harry says, and Draco blushes slightly at the choice of wording.
After Harry deposits Draco onto the bed and disappears into the bathroom to change into his pajamas and brush his teeth, Draco lays there thinking of how it felt to be cradled to Harry’s chest. He’s never been held like that. Hell, he’s never been picked up like he weighs nothing before. He knows he doesn’t weigh a lot, but he’s a good 68 kilos. Maybe more, he hasn’t weighed himself since gaining all the new muscle he’s been working on.
He and Harry switch spots, Draco now taking over the bathroom to change and brush his own teeth. He deliberates on taking a shower, but decides he’ll just do it in the morning, he’s much too tired right now.
Sliding in next to Harry now feels a little different than it did earlier. A sort of wall seems to have fallen away, and he isn’t quite sure how to feel about it.
***~~~~***
The following day, Draco learns a little what it feels like to be jealous.
They’re walking around in the morning, looking for a restaurant with an English name when a man with a thick Swedish accent sidles up next to Harry, completely ignoring Draco.
“Hej.” he says, his eyes lowered sultrily as if expecting Harry to fall to his knees with that look alone. Harry looks at him in surprise, saying, “er, I don’t speak Swedish, sorry.”
The man gives a grin full of teeth and responds, “that’s okay, I can speak whatever language you need me to. Need a tour guide that can show you around?”
Draco’s vision darkens slightly as he watches Harry’s cheeks flush, but is pleased as Harry says, “no, my friend and I are familiar with the area, thanks.”
The man glances at Draco, shooting him a rather nasty look before turning his heart eyes back at Harry. “Your eyes are rather gorgeous, it’d be a shame if you looked at anyone else.”
Harry glances at Draco, giving him a look that screams ‘help’.
Draco pushes between them, his arm wrapping around Harry’s waist almost naturally before he snarls, “he said we’re fine. Get lost.”
If he were younger, Harry would completely deny that Draco ever looks terrifying. Right now, though, Harry can safely say he is rather happy to not be on the other end of the glare he is shooting toward the stranger right now. Even a month ago when they were hurling insults at each other he never looked at Harry this way.
The man quails under Draco’s look, scrambling away quickly. They look at each other for a moment, then burst into laughter. “I think- I think you made him piss his pants!” Harry gets out, erupting into another fit of laughter. Draco’s arm is still around him, holding himself up now more than anything.
People on the street are giving them strange looks now, so Harry pulls Draco along, still giggling together as they continue looking for a restaurant. They finally find one- some Chinese place next to a car rental shop- and stop there. It looks nice from the outside, and even nicer inside.
They order their food, happy to learn their waiter actually knows English, and drift into silence. This silence is tense, loaded with unanswered questions that neither of them know how to ask.
“The audacity of some people.” Draco finally grouches, looking out the window. “Just assumed you even like blokes. What if you didn’t? What if you were the biggest homophobe alive, he’d have never known until you blasted him off his feet.”
“I’d have gone to Azkaban if I had done that.” Harry says with a light chuckle. “Luckily for him though, he’d have been fine, seeing as I do like blokes.”
Draco’s head snaps toward him, mouth falling open. “But you and the Weaslette-” he begins, only to be cut off by Harry. “Ah, Malfoy, when are you going to stop calling her that? Her name is Ginny. Anyway, yeah, we dated for a spell before and after the war. It became quickly apparent that I- er, didn’t feel that way toward girls. And- as it turned out, she didn’t quite feel that way toward me, anymore, either. She rather missed Dean, so they made up.”
Draco hangs onto every word, not once blinking. Harry finishes, looking down at his water. He doesn’t want to see the look of disgust on Draco’s face, for some reason. Draco, however, is feeling rather light all of a sudden.
“I- I never knew.” he stammers, his cheeks going pale pink. Harry chuckles darkly. “I didn’t want people to know. I only hook up with muggles; they don’t know who I am. I don’t want the Daily Prophet getting wind of it. They know enough about my personal life as it is.”
“Not that well, I think.” Draco says. With the confused look he receives from Harry, he amends with, “I didn’t know you and Weas-Ginny broke up, so they don’t know it all.”
Shaking his head, Harry laughs and just then their food arrives, so there’s no more talk as they wolf down their lunch hungrily.
Shortly after they eat, Harry and Draco wander into an abandoned park, stepping behind a large fountain to disguise themselves. Harry now has dark brown skin, a short crop of black hair and has sprouted a head taller than Draco, which makes him grin victoriously at the blonde.
Draco’s white blonde hair has been dyed a deep brunette, and his pale ivory skin has been darkened to look like someone who spends all his time under the hot sun at the beach. His height stays about the same, but his lean build has been doubled to look similar to a light-weight bodybuilder.
“Freaky.” Harry says, noticing that Draco’s eye color has stayed the same. Draco, rather pleased, realizes Harry’s eye color is also the same.
A police officer walks by just then and notices them, then says something in Swedish that sounds reprimanding. At the blank look he receives from them, he says in English, “if you’re going to make out, don't do it in public, go back to your home or hotel and do it.” When he sees the blush spread over their faces he knows they understood them and walks off with a nod.
Harry and Draco emerge from behind the fountain, unable to look at each other. “Er, maybe we should go to the park now.” Draco says awkwardly, looking toward the river. Harry nods, walking forward as Draco follows after him.
It’s about noon on a Saturday, so the park is rather bustling today. Dozens of people walk up and down the sidewalk, a chorus of chatter in all sorts of languages washes over them as they look around. Harry spots the man they saw yesterday and elbows Draco in the ribs. Only, he forgets he’s now taller than Draco and elbows him instead in his armpit.
“Ow, watch it, Potter.” Draco hisses, looking in the direction Harry discreetly points. He takes Draco’s hand in his own, tangling their fingers together and walks down in the direction of the man. Draco doesn’t remove his hand, but asks, “what’s with the hand holding, Potter?”
“We look less suspicious if we’re just another couple enjoying their Saturday.”
“That’s… actually kind of brilliant.” says Draco. Harry scowls at him, grumbling, “it’s not surprising that I have good ideas sometimes.”
As they pass the man, something happens that makes the pair rather pleased. The man gets up from his bench that he’s been perched on, and walks toward Draco and Harry with a large predatory grin on his face. Keeping calm, they stop and allow the man to approach.
“Hello! Might I interest you boys in possibly making a purchase today? It would only take a moment for me to explain.” he says, looking between them with fake hope, as if knowing they’ll say yes.
“Of course.” Harry says, squeezing Draco’s hand. The man- Jacob- beams. “Thank you! Am I correct in assuming that the two of you are wizards?”
Harry and Draco look at him in alarm. He chuckles and says, “I should have led with the fact that I am able to feel magical pulses. Auras, if you will.” This makes the pair relax, but only slightly.
“Yes, we are.” Harry says. “Our families moved here years ago, so we went to Durmstrang.”
“Not Hogwarts?” Jacob asks, looking surprised. “Our fathers were friends, and neither of them were comfortable sending us to a school where a dark wizard was fretting about.” Harry says politely. Jacob nods his head understandingly. “Ah yes, the Dark Lord was rather terrifying in those days. Murdered a lot of people, he did.”
Draco’s hand twitches, and Harry squeezes it reassuringly. He noticed it too. Many of the people who called Voldemort ‘the Dark Lord’ were his followers. Is this man a former Death Eater?
Jacob grins once more and says, “anyway! Back on track, shall we? I’ve invented a potion that assists in the process of becoming an animagus. Instead of taking all those tedious steps to become one, you can now take this and be turned into whatever creature fate decided to bless you with.”
“Really?” Harry asks with fake enthusiasm. “That’s amazing! How does it work?”
Jacob’s grin seems to widen, and he says “It’s very simple, actually. All you have to do is take this bottle,” he hands Harry a small vial with glittery blue liquid inside, “and drink it when you return home. It will work as a sort of sleeping potion; you’ll go into a deep sleep and when you wake up, you’ll be able to shift into your animagus form.”
Draco peers down at the bottle, and asks, “how much is it? Do we need to take it once a month or something to keep it up or does it work like a forever thing like the normal steps do?”
“No need to buy them once a month, it works forever like you said. However, if you ever want to sell one to your friends, you only need send them here. I’ll be in the area for a little while longer. As for the price, each bottle is 5 galleons.”
“That sounds fair, for what it does.” Harry says, and then he nods decisively. “My boyfriend and I will each take one, then.”
Jacob gives them a smile that seems to say ‘I’m so glad I found two absolutely daft wizards’ and hands them each a bottle, taking the 10 galleons. “Pleasure doing business with you boys.” he says, then saunters off down the way.
“Well. He’s not very smart.” Harry says, looking down at the vial. “Just sells this stuff to anyone.”
Draco shrugs, following Harry out of the park and to an abandoned gazebo, apparating to their room. “Do you have your potions stuff with you, Malfoy?” Harry asks, giving his vial over to Draco. “Of course.” Draco scoffs, already pulling out his trunk, rummaging around inside it before pulling out a multitude of items.
“Wizards use microscopes, too?” Harry asks curiously, looking over Draco’s shoulder. Draco shakes his head, taking a dropper out of his bag and dipping it in a vial, then lets a drop fall onto a glass plate. Looking into the microscope, he says, “of course we do. We use quite a few things that muggles do too, you know.”
Blushing, Harry stammers, “that’s not what I meant and you know it. I just figured there might be some magicky way for you to dissect it, I dunno. Snape always had us do that thing where we would work potions backwards and take it apart piece by piece to discover the ingredients. Figured that's what you would do.”
Draco hums. “That’s normally what I would do, yeah. I’ve had a sample of this stuff once before already, though. Hermione brought me a sample when she pitched the idea of us becoming partners. It was the complexity and mystery of the potion that made me finally agree.”
Looking up from the eyepiece to Harry, he says, “I suppose my decision hasn’t been all that bad.”
“Thanks for the praise.” Harry says dryly. Going back to the bed and flopping on top of it. “You look like you’ve got this under control, I’ll let you be.” Harry says, before closing his eyes and letting his mind wander off.
He’s dreaming of a pony that can talk, only it’s being incredibly rude, when he’s shoved by an invisible hand. “Wha’?” he says groggily, looking around the room. “For fucks sake, Potter, now isn’t the time to be taking naps. Do get up and make yourself useful.”
Harry glares up at Draco, sitting up. When had he taken off his shoes and jacket? “Oi, don’t be rude. What am I supposed to do? I was shit with potions.”
“That’s true.” Draco says flatly. Harry examines his face and asks, “what’s wrong?”
Finally, Draco throws down his goggles that have somehow made their way onto his face. “I’ve been looking at this potion from all angles for hours, and I’m no closer to figuring out the poison now then I was before I came onto this case. And listening to you snore for the last few hours hasn’t helped me focus in the slightest.”
Harry feels his temper begin to rise but he stamps it down, understanding that Draco is simply stressed at not being able to find anything. Harry finds himself in the same predicament often.
“What can I do to help?” Harry asks politely. Draco casts him a glare and snaps, “you could stay awake and think of things I’m missing, for one.” Harry doesn’t point out that if Draco can’t figure it out he doubts he will. Instead, he listens to the ingredients Draco has found and reaches into his own trunk to fish out a book Hermione gave him listing all of the possible potions ingredients and what they can make potions do if used right.
They bounce ideas off each other for half an hour before Draco begins pacing. “I’ve been researching this potion for a month and I still have nothing. It’s like whatever poison he uses doesn’t exist until it goes into the body.”
“Are there any ingredients that will react the wrong way with stomach acid or something?” Harry asks absently. When he looks up, Draco is looking at him as if he just announced he’s Santa Clause.
“Potter, that’s brilliant!” he erupts, twirling around to look back through the microscope eyepiece. He begins rattling off about one special muggle ingredient that reacts not with the stomach acid, but with the stomach lining itself, causing it to disintegrate. Harry immediately forgets the name of the ingredient, but Draco seems sure, so he’s not too worried about not listening too closely. His area of expertise is dark arts, not potions.
“I think we’re ready to have the team come and help us arrest Mr. Daniels.” Draco says at last, turning to look at Harry. Only to realize he’s fallen back asleep.
“Potter!” Draco shouts, making Harry bolt upright, wand gripped in his hand and pointed at Draco, a spell just on the tip of his tongue before he realizes he’s still in the hotel room and he was about to throw a hex at his partner. “Merlin, Malfoy, don’t do that!”
“There isn’t time to sleep, we need to work out the next part of what we’re going to do!”
“What am I supposed to do, Malfoy?” Harry says, his temper finally spilling over. “There aren’t any dark wizards in here right now and we’ve got the next couple days still to figure out how we’re going to take him down, there’s no rush.”
“What if he escapes? We need to do this now, Potter. I’m not traipsing all over Russia to look for this lunatic.” Draco snaps.
Harry rolls his eyes, pushing a strand of hair from his face. “I doubt he would go to Russia. Too cold. Maybe somewhere in China.”
“That hardly matters, Potter. The point is, we need to catch him now before he escapes.”
Harry stands, stretching his body out and waves his hand at Draco. “Alright, then, send a letter to the ministry and tell Hermione to send the team. We’ll go in tomorrow or whenever they get here. There. Now we know what we’re doing.” and then he walks into the bathroom.
“Is this all a joke to you?!” Draco finally explodes, stomping over to the bathroom, banging on the door. “People dying isn’t a good enough motivation for you to catch this guy, is it?”
Harry flushes the toilet and opens the door, astonished. “Not motivation enough? What the fuck are you on about?”
“Everything comes easy to you, doesn’t it. Great Harry Potter, not worried about catching one murderer because others will work it out for him every time.”
Now Harry looks angry, staring at Draco like he’s just announced he’s still a death eater. “Excuse me? You think I’m just lazing about while you do all the work, do you? Think I’m not working out anything myself?”
“You seem to be enjoying your midday snooze there.” Draco sneers.
“What am I supposed to do? This potion dissecting shit is your area of expertise, not mine! How am I supposed to help you if I don’t know what I’m doing? Was it you, then, that figured out where Daniels was hiding out? You who hunted down the names of all the people he killed? Talked to the families of those who died? Listened to them sob about how they’ve lost their friend, their brother or sister, their son or daughter?”
Draco steps back, his cheeks turning pink, but he still looks angry. “Time is of the essence now, we don’t have time to be napping while we work, we need to wrap this up before it goes on much longer.”
“What is this really about? Are you really that ready to get away from me? I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but after this we’re still stuck together even after we leave here. So you’re going to have to just get used to seeing me.” Harry spits, his fists clenched beside him.
Draco rolls his eyes, cocking his hip. “You’re really that arrogant that you honestly think this all about you?”
“What the fuck else could it be? Forgive me for assuming, but I kinda thought we were actually becoming sort of friends or something.”
“Friends?! Potter, you honestly thought we could be friends?” Draco tries desperately to keep the words to himself, but all his insecurities- all of his fears- are tumbling out of his mouth like pieces of a shield. Just like he always does- he pushes people away before they can get too close.
“You’ve been a thorn in my ass since day one. I have never once wanted to be your friend.” Lies, all lies. “I only ever saw you as a means to gain popularity. If people saw me with you they’d see me as almost as powerful as you. Friends in high places, yeah? But then we entered sixth year. And all you were then was a threat. A threat to me and my family, someone who could potentially get everyone I loved killed. Honestly the fact that you only managed to get a handful of people you love killed is miraculous. Everybody’s Golden Boy, a walking menace to his loved ones.”
Harry has gone pale by this point, staring at Draco like he’s seen a ghost. “I never asked to be the Chosen One or whatever people called me. I didn’t want to be treated like a weapon, like a savior.”
“Oh sure. Like hell you didn’t lap it up growing up.”
“I didn’t even find out until I was 11, I had no idea who I even was until Hagrid came to collect me. The muggles I lived with- they tried everything to keep me from learning the truth. I grew up a slave. Dumbledore had me grow up that way specifically so I wouldn’t let the power go to my head.”
“Like hell. I’m not stupid, I know all that shit isn’t true. Muggles treating you like a slave? What utter bullshit. No one would dare treat you like anything less than a hero. All those stories people spread about your mean muggle aunt and uncle were just stories to fuel your popularity even more. ‘Oh poor mistreated Potter’” he mocks. “What utter crap.”
Harry’s temper finally snaps and he whips out his wand. “You want to see how I grew up? How I spent my summers?! Take a look!” he waves his wand, conjuring a pensieve out of thin air, removing strand after strand of memory, thrusting them into the bowl. Then, he shoves the bowl toward Draco. Raising an eyebrow, Draco looks from Harry to the pensive before finally giving in. Shrugging, he bends at the waist and looks through the little window that he sees.
Draco watches his vision swirl around him, and suddenly he finds himself standing in a kitchen. In the scene before him, he watches a fat boy with blonde hair and a piggy face whining to what he can only assume is the mother, telling her that Harry broke his toy gun. He watches the woman- who looks remarkably like a giraffe- raise the frying pan she was just washing and swing it at Harry’s head, who just barely ducks out of the way instead. “No I didn’t! He stepped on it and it snapped!”
The woman ignores him and demands he complete his chores then snarls, “and don’t even think about eating until you’re done!”
The scene swirls once more, and Draco now stands in the same kitchen, but a handful of years later, it seems. Harry looks thirteen now, and he is seen sitting at the dinner table, looking like he would rather be anywhere but where he sits as a fat woman is lashing out insult after insult about Harry’s parents. Even he almost cheers when Harry turns the woman into a living balloon.
He sees Harry- who looks to be the same one from second year- sitting on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Looking around, he notices bars on the window, a lock on Hedwig’s cage, and a cat flap at the bottom of the door. Suddenly the flap opens and he sees a bony hand push a bowl of soup through it, and then watches Harry scramble forward to dip the bowl forward into his mouth, then put some soggy vegetables into Hedwig’s cage.
Harry hurls memory after memory at Draco, standing beside him the entire time as they filter through his horrible past. Draco watches him get shoved into a broom cupboard that looks like his bedroom by his uncle at a young age for just saying the word magic, he watches the boy go nearly bald once as his aunt hacks at his wild hair.
He watches them neglect their nephew and subject him to a life worse even than his old house elf Dobby. His father was horrible to him, but at least as a young boy Draco would give him treats and speak slightly kinder to him while his father was nowhere in sight. Harry’s cousin doesn’t even seem to give him the courtesy of that until Harry saves his life. Hell, Harry is still treated like garbage after saving the life of their son!
When Harry finally brings them out of the pensieve, Draco’s knees give out and he stumbles, not stopping himself from falling to the ground, kneeling before Harry on his knees. “Father always said the stories were lies. That you grew up with muggles who treated you like a hero. I didn’t- I didn’t ever think he would lie about that.”
“Really? You didn’t think your dad would lie about something like that? You think he wouldn’t use your childhood jealousy against me to make you hate me?”
Draco looks down at his knees, shame rolling off of him in waves. “Potter- Harry, I’m sorry. I- I don’t know how I could ever apologize. I didn’t mean any of it for the most part anyway. I’m just scared.”
Harry stares down at him, utterly lost. “Scared? Of what? Of Jacob? We’ll take care of him without a hitch, you don’t need to be scared-”
“Not of that, you utter prat. I’m scared of you.” Draco interrupts impatiently. “I’m scared of you because you’re you.”
“What.” Harry says eloquently.
Lurching to his feet, Draco shakes his head and runs a hand through his blonde hair agitatedly. “Never mind, forget it. I’m going to go call the aurors, I’ll be back.”
“Wait, Malfoy-” but he’s gone.
“Well shit.” Harry says, sitting heavily back down on the bed. This feels like a bigger mess than it was to begin with.
Suddenly there’s a loud crash outside in the hallway and he hears Draco shout “what the fuck?!” before a sudden loud crack! snaps through the door and it goes silent. Bolting off the bed, Harry runs out into the hallway, shouting “Draco?!” but there’s no response.
***~~~~***
“Hermione, something’s happened to Draco.” Harry almost shouts as soon as Hermione picks up the phone. He can almost picture her holding the phone away from her ear, and he would laugh if the situation wasn’t so serious.
“Harry, what are you talking about? What happened?” Hermione asks, panic in her voice. Harry tells her the crash he heard outside the door and hears her gasp. “He went out to call the aurors to let them know we’re ready for the team. Jacob must have seen right through us in the park or followed us and figured out who we are. There’s no other explanation.” Harry rambles, pacing the room like a caged tiger.
“Harry you need to calm down. We’re going to find Draco and we’ll take that bastard to Azkaban, you just need to take a breath. We’ll send the team, where are you?”
Harry tells her where he is, then adds, “if he hurts Draco I’ll kill him.” venom dripping from each syllable. Hermione goes dead silent and asks quietly, “Harry what happened between you two? A month ago you wanted to push him in front of the Hogwarts Express, and now you’re freaking out over his disappearance.”
Before he can open his mouth to reply, a piece of paper slips under the door.
If you want to see your partner again, come to the abandoned warehouse by the bay. You’ll see it.
“I just got a note under my door- they want me to go to some abandoned building by the bay.” he says, rushing to his laptop to look up abandoned warehouses nearby. With a few clicks he finds it, rattling off the address to Hermione.
“Harry I don’t think you should go alone- we don’t know how many there are or how skilled they are. You could get hurt, or worse, killed.” Hermione tells him, willing him to listen. But of course he’s well past that.
“I’m not just going to leave him there and give up on him, I’m going after him. Please tell your team to hurry.” he replies, shoving his phone into his pocket before apparating just down the street of the building.
The streets are completely void of tourists and natives alike, the time reaching nearly three in the morning. Likely designed by whoever had kidnapped Draco.
Harry keeps his hand wrapped tightly around his wand, keeping it just inside his robes as he walks cautiously toward the warehouse, his eyes flitting around wildly, not unlike Professor Moody’s used to when he was alive.
He’s almost upon the dilapidated looking building when he hears a crash and a loud curse, heartbeat threatening to explode through his chest when he recognizes Draco’s voice through the wall. Blimey, he can get loud.
“You have no idea who the fuck you’re dealing with!” he shouts, the sound of him spitting drifts through the closed door to Harry.
Harry presses his eyes to the crack in the door, peering in. His blood both drops ten degrees then rises thirty when he sees what they’ve done to Draco.
Draco’s strapped tight to a chair, his normally pristine white-blonde hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and blood. His eye looks about twice the size as it’s supposed to, already beginning to bruise.
His lip has been split, blood trickling down his chin to drip onto the floor between his legs. His eyes still shine though, furious and calculating, as if daring them to try anything else.
To Harry’s horror, one of the men surrounding Draco points his wand at the blonde and shouts “crucio!” and Draco screams, the veins in his neck straining. His head falls back to his chest when the spell ends, and he starts laughing.
“You really think that’s going to work? I’ve had that curse used on me plenty of times; you won’t break me!”
“We know Potter will be here soon to rescue you. We don’t need to kill you, yet. No, we’re going to make Potter watch as we kill you. Nice and slow, the muggle way.” The man who says this picks up a knife, and Harry has to physically stop himself from bursting in. He has no idea how many people are in there or what they’re capable of.
“They have a fascination with these things in America, muggles do. Americans love their weapons. I once watched a man split his wife open from chin to pelvis just for cheating on him with his mate. Sick in the head, they are. I’ll demonstrate some of the shit I’ve heard them do on you, and have your precious boyfriend watch before I cut him up, too.”
This is what sets him off. In a fury, Harry storms through the door, pointing his wand at the man who just threatened Draco and roars “depulso!”
The man flies through the air, smacking into a concrete pillar with so much force a sickening crunch echoes through the air, and the warehouse is silent for one heartbeat before spells begin flying everywhere.
Harry accios the chair Draco’s strapped to, pulling him behind a stack of shipping containers, cutting his ties before he begins throwing curses back, casting crucio at one man who managed to sneak beside them, wand pointed at Draco, causing him to crumple to the ground in agony.
Harry sees nothing but red as he shouts spell after spell, glancing every so often toward Draco to make sure he’s safe.
“Avada Kedavra!”
Harry’s heart stops as he sees a spell hurtle toward Draco. His wand swings around, casting the same spell he cast on the first guy, watching as Draco flies into the wall, falling to the ground unconscious.
He stupefies the man who tried to kill Draco, backing up toward the wall before he reaches down with shaky fingers, checking for Draco’s pulse. He almost weeps in relief when he feels a weak pulse.
Suddenly, the doors bang open and a team of wizards that Harry vaguely recognizes storm the building, taking down the remaining wizards that Harry had yet to take out.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Harry reaches into the small bag Hermione gave him years ago, shoving his arm into the opening, his hand rustling around before they close around a familiarly shaped bottle, yanking it out.
Harry pulls the cork out of the bottle, quickly pulling Draco up to lean back on his chest, pouring the bottle into his mouth, massaging his throat to help get it down.
He waits a few heartbeats, beginning to panic. He feels for Draco’s pulse again, looking around wildly. Why isn’t it working? Has he done more damage than Wiggenweld is capable of healing?
Finally, Draco gasps and rolls to his side, retching onto the concrete. Harry rubs his back soothingly, apologizing and murmuring comforting words to the blonde as he gasps for breath, shaking like a leaf.
“What happened?” he rasps, looking around, watching as the aurors finish rounding up the evil gits.
“Oh Draco I’m so sorry, the killing curse was coming toward you and I had to get you out of the way, I didn’t mean to hurt you-”
Draco cuts him off, lunging toward him. Harry flinches before he feels arms slip around his neck, and lips crash into his own.
“You saved my life. Again.” Draco murmurs against his lips, pressing down again when Harry hums, his own hands coming up to grip the blonde’s waist tightly.
Harry tries to keep up with the boy, his hands reaching to fist into the blonde strands as Draco adjusts himself, now straddling his ex-nemesis.
The world around them fades into the background, only the two of them left as they taste each other, mapping out the shapes of their bodies, filing every scar, every sound, every motion to memory.
“Really mate? You had to go for the Ferret?”
Harry pulls away from Draco, glaring up at Ron. “At least I waited until after the fighting to snog him, unlike you and Hermione.”
Ron snorts, pulling the pair up off the floor. “We think we’ve got everyone. There aren’t any more wizards in the warehouse, anyway. Are any of these guys the one you spoke to in the park?”
Harry lets his gaze wander over every face, pausing on an unconscious one. “Yeah, that guy. I didn’t recognize him at first, but that’s the one that sold us the potion.”
Ron nods, shrugging. “That one’s spine was broken; he’s dead. So I suppose we don’t have to worry about him anymore.”
Draco looks at Harry in astonishment. “You shot him across the room so hard that you broke his spine?”
“It’s easier than you’d think.” Ron says, scratching his chin. “As wizards we’re already built sturdier than muggles, but it’s still really easy to break us. We’re only humans, after all.”
Harry and Draco answer a few questions, but Ron cuts them off before they get too far. “Those two have been through enough, let them go back to their hotel and get some rest. We’ll have them answer all those questions tomorrow when they get back to London.”
With a quick turn, both men apparate back to their hotel. “I need a bloody shower.” Draco grumbles, stripping his clothes off, leaving a trail of fabric in his wake as he walks toward the bathroom. Harry chuckles, picking up each article before draping them over a chair.
“Are you coming, Potter?” Draco drawls from the bathroom.
Harry hasn’t run faster in his life.
Draco is already in the shower, water cascading down his porcelain skin as he turns his head lazily to stare at Harry, his eyes glinting as he watches Harry soak in his figure.
His own eyes turn predatory as he watches the clothing strip from the Golden Boy’s body, his eyes roaming over a tan torso, lightly muscled from their line of work. A thin dark trail leads down his hips, hidden beneath his briefs.
Draco realizes Harry is frozen, his eyes flitting back up to his eyes, smirking when he sees the man’s eyes are zeroed in on Draco’s cock.
“Like what you see, Potter?” he drawls, letting a hand fall to stroke himself twice before he beckons the man forward with his finger.
Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs, Harry tugs down the last remaining barrier and kicks it away, stumbling into the tub, his hands automatically reaching for the blonde’s thin waist.
“Merlin’s beard, Malfoy, you’re already driving me crazy and we haven’t even begun.” Harry moans, crashing their mouths together, inwardly rejoicing when Draco immediately opens up for him, allowing Harry to push him against the wall.
He jumps as the cold tile presses against his bare skin, but Harry slips his lips down Draco’s throat, and his curse turns into a moan as Harry nibbles on the skin just over his pulse.
Harry reaches down between them, taking Draco in his hand, grinning against the blonde’s throat as he draws a long moan from the man, stroking him slowly.
“Fuck, Potter, if you don’t get on with it I swear-”
Harry cuts him off, capturing his lips once more as he speeds up his strokes, pausing for a heartbeat to take his own erection in his hand, moaning loudly as their cocks rub together, Harry’s hand pumping, hips thrusting into his hand as he swallows Draco’s own moans, their foreheads pressed against each other when Harry pulls back, looking between his glossy eyes and their cocks, a low whine leaving his throat when his hips falter, orgasm rushing through his bloodstream like a drug.
“Fuuuuuck…” Draco moans, his own orgasm crashing through him; Harry’s other arm the only thing keeping him from collapsing to the floor.
The warm water cascades around them, washing the evidence of their orgasms down the drain. Harry presses a soft kiss to Draco’s lips, letting his arms wrap around the man’s waist, pulling him close. Draco moves to let his forehead fall against Harry’s shoulder and he sighs happily.
“This isn’t what I figured the night would bring us, but I’m sure as hell not complaining.” Harry murmurs, his fingers now dragging up and down Draco’s spine.
Draco huffs, poking Harry in the side. “I didn’t think we’d ever end up tangled together, but here we are. Took you long enough, Potter.”
“Are you ever going to call me Harry?” he whines, pouting at Draco. The blonde shakes his head, smacking him lightly on the ass. “Sorry, Harry.” he says slowly, dropping his voice a timbre, watching Harry's pupils dilate.
“Fuck, I love hearing my name coming from your lips.” Harry groans, kissing him roughly.
Just like that, round two began.