Summary: Harry and Draco investigate a mysterious crime in Blackpool.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warning(s): Graphic yet comical descriptions of death by animal. Very minor drug use.
Epilogue compliant? No. Unless this is a failed relationship before the Great Ginny Hookup or something.
Word Count: ~5400
Author's Notes: platformnine, I tried to hit on several of your requests. I hope that this gives you some pleasure. Thanks to my beta and K & A for the moral support.
Harry used to consider Kingsley a friend. A dependable, solid, large, intimidating friend. A friend who could easily beat the shit out of him.
No. No, he had to stand up for himself. He had to put his foot down, regardless of the consequences.
“Kingsley, I’m sorry, but I refuse to accept this assignment.”
Kingsley raised his eyebrows and gave the barest hint of a smile. His apologetic tone did nothing to mask the steel in his voice.
“I’m disappointed. If you refuse this assignment I will have to make you redundant.”
“What about Goldstein? I like Goldstein.”
“No can do, Harry. I need the best Muggle liaison auror for baiting cases on this, and that’s him.” He motioned to the figure laying prone on the settee against the office wall. “Frankly, the case is just too weird.”
“How can Malfoy possibly be the best at dealing with Muggles?” He turned to address Malfoy directly. “How can you possibly be the best at dealing with Muggles?” Malfoy shrugged and went back to chewing a hangnail. “He hates Muggles.”
“We’re not here to discuss Malfoy’s likes and dislikes, Harry. We’re here to waste my time, apparently.”
Harry closed his eyes and reaffirmed his decision out loud.
“I don’t need this job,” Harry said sulkily, crossing his arms.
“He’s right, you know,” Malfoy interjected. “He’s independently wealthy. So am I, for that matter,” he went on, “but I’m slightly more mature than he is, so don’t worry. I’ll still work for you.”
“Fuck off, Malfoy.”
“See?” Malfoy nodded complacently. “I, on the other hand, am ready for this assignment. I know all about Blackpool. It’s basically a stomach and a penis. It’s everything that I need. I could survive there indefinitely.”
Harry stared. He turned to Kingsley. “Please,” he entreated. “I don’t think he’s even sober.”
“Not like you’d know. You’re a Puritan.”
“I am not a Puritan,” Harry replied icily. “I just don’t spend all of my money on Knockturn Alley whores.”
“Prostitutes, Potter. Show some respect.”
“That’s enough!” Kingsley shouted. “Draco, stop needling him. Harry, this is Draco’s field of expertise. He’s the one that has experience with this sort of thing. It has to be you and him on this case and that’s final. Now either the two of you shake hands and go pack or you’re both suspended. Good day.”
God hated him, Harry was convinced.
He’d broken a personal rule and gone for a pint in the daytime before meeting Malfoy. A couple of drinks later and he decided that it was a stupid rule and he should break it more often. He also resolved to do two things. First, calm the fuck down and do his job, and two, get along with Malfoy, no matter how difficult the man was. He also resolved not to hit him. Much.
Hell, it could be worse. He could be partnered with Smith.
When he arrived at the Portkey office Draco was already there waiting. The man was dressed like a dandy crack-addict. Disheveled hair, dark circles under the eyes, waistcoat, silk cravat, black trousers. He did a double take. Were those black spats? Harry looked at his own plain button-up and jeans with some measure of satisfaction. At least he looked like a normal person.
Harry nodded the affirmative and adjusted the rucksack slung over his shoulder.
“Wait, where’s your bag?”
Malfoy gave him a scathing look. “I don’t carry luggage. Do I look like a valet?”
“Well actually, now you mention it–”
“Time to go, sirs,” interrupted the Portkey clerk. The young man smiled dopily at Malfoy as he handed him an empty, dented can of honey roasted peanuts. “Less than a minute!” Malfoy walked over to a departure booth and Harry followed.
“How can you have no luggage? Did you use a shrinking spell?”
“No,” Malfoy replied in a bored tone. “Those are hell on leather. I had it sent ahead to our destination.”
Harry gaped. “How in fuck did you do that? We never know our exact destination until we get there!”
“Oh,” he said, scratching at his jaw lazily. “I fucked the Portkey clerk.”
“To be honest, I was just going to let him suck me off, but then he presented me with his arse and I thought ‘what the hell, I have a half an hour.’ Time to go, I think. Go on, Potter. Touch it.”
Harry impatiently placed a finger on the peanut can and braced himself.
The hell of using Portkeys for him was that he still couldn’t land on his feet. As they landed in an alley, he instinctively grabbed for Malfoy to keep himself from falling.
“Let go of me, you bloody ox.”
Harry released his arm, stumbling over to the nearest wall to retch. He leaned into the brick momentarily to catch his breath. The smell of the saltwater wasn’t helping at all. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the tip of Malfoy’s wand pointed at his head.
“What the fuck do you think you’re–”
Unexpectedly, his mouth began to tingle and was full of the taste of mint.
“This is our hotel. Don’t forget your bag.” Draco walked ahead, leaving Harry to scramble after him, nauseated and confused.
He caught up with him at the check-in counter.
“Come on, I have our room keys.”
“Thanks,” he said as they walked to the lift. “Which floor? Are they on the same one?” he asked, hand outstretched to the buttons.
“Eight.” As the lift began to move he went on, “It’s just one room, actually.”
“You’re having me on,” Harry replied stonily. Malfoy simply looked at him. “Fuck, you’re not.”
“Come on, it’s more of a hardship for me than it is for you. To breathe the same air as something so unbelievably breathtaking as myself is a pleasure and a privilege. As for me, it will be very trying having to fend off your advances.” He looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure I brought enough miniatures.”
“My advances?” Harry scoffed. “You’re the one who fucked that boy back there. You’ll probably get all hopped up and molest me in my sleep.”
Malfoy sighed deeply.
“Potter, if you’re going to accuse me of being a gay rapist, at least try to be subtler with your language.” Harry flushed. Malfoy eyed him, assessing. “Interesting. Is the chosen one a closet case? I’ll have you know that I'm not a homosexual. I mean, I've fucked men, and been fucked by men,” he explained, gesticulating with the keys, “but that doesn't mean anything. Here’s our room, by the way.”
“What do you mean, it doesn’t mean anything?” Harry asked, floored.
“What’s wrong with this lock?” Malfoy mumbled, distractedly. “Hmm?”
“I said, how does fucking men not mean anything?” He was not to be swayed from the point.
“Well, I’ve fucked a velvet jacket before, but does that make me a textilisexual?”
“You closeted homosexuals are always so concerned with labels,” he grunted, wrestling with the lock. He finally resorted to a tap of his wand.
“I saw that,” muttered Harry as Malfoy finally flung open the door.
They walked in to find Malfoy’s trunk (trunk!) in the middle of the bed.
The one bed.
“Why is there only one bed? Where’s the other bed?”
“Hmm.” Malfoy narrowed his eyes and scrutinised the room. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “You’ll just have to sleep in the bathtub, I suppose.”
“God really does hate me, doesn’t he?” Harry asked in innocent wonder.
“Yes,” Malfoy replied matter of factly. “He spat you out. He’s punishing you for being a pathetic failure.”
Harry nodded earnestly. “I consider being here with you as my penance.”
“Touche, Potter. Ahhh,” Malfoy said, throwing open a window. “An ocean view! Lovely. If I squint, I think I can just make out Dublin.”
“No you can’t.”
“Can too. I went to Ireland once. To try and stop drinking,” Malfoy went on, conversationally. “No one told me about the distilleries, so that didn't work out.”
“I hate you more than God hates me, you know.”
After an hour of putting things away and several sad attempts at transfiguring the small table into a cot, he was ready to give up and get smashed or something. “I need a drink.”
“I expect you often do.”
Harry tried to pretend for a moment that he was all alone, but finally gave up and looked over to Malfoy, who was reclining on the bed, smoking something that didn’t smell very much like tobacco. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Cigarette,” Malfoy exhaled.
“But that’s not a normal fag.” Harry went to sit on the end of the bed.
“Gauloises.” he answered, grinning lazily at him with reddened eyes. Harry cocked an eyebrow. “Would you believe a clove?”
“Try again,” Harry pressed.
“You try it,” Malfoy replied, offering it over. “I dare you.”
“What do I look, twelve? Is it just gillyweed or is it laced with something?” Harry wasn’t stupid.
“Just the gillyweed. Tell me, do I look anything but happy right now?”
“Alright then.” He took the fag, took a deep, long drag and handed it back to Malfoy, who looked on, impressed.
“Hmm. Not a Puritan, then. There may be hope for you yet, Potter.”
Harry fell back on the couch, exhaling. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. Damn.”
“Apparently, and yeah,” Malfoy agreed. “S’good. Get it from Longbottom.”
“Neville?” Harry asked, surprised. “He’s never mentioned it. Though, auror. I guess this makes us both hypocrites, huh?”
“I don’t particularly care. That would be sensible.”
“I find I’m happiest when I live my life as though I were a prostitute. Prostitutes and drunks instinctively understand that common sense is the enemy of romance.”
“You are a very strange man, Draco,” he replied, taking another drag.
“Draco, now? Well, Harry, now that we’re both hopped up, as you so elegantly put it, does that mean it’s time for me to molest you?”
Harry looked over and smirked. He found he really couldn’t help himself with a lead like that. He crawled over on all fours and straddled Draco. He held the other man’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. He could hear Draco’s breath quicken as he opened his mouth gently before covering it with his own, exhaling into it. Draco took the cue, inhaling languorously. Harry let the tip of his nose brush lightly against Draco’s cheek before he pulled back.
“Not homophobic,” Draco whispered, a bit breathlessly.
“Nope,” Harry affirmed. He couldn’t help but notice the erection sheathed by black trousers. Leaving Draco Malfoy off kilter left him surprisingly satisfied. “Now come on, let’s go down to the boardwalk and get something to eat. I’m starving.”
They were in the back booth of a greasy little seafood place on the boardwalk. They’d spent the first ten minutes scarfing down their food, and were now sitting back nursing their second pints.
“I’d rather you’d taken me someplace that serves wine,” Draco complained.
“This isn’t a date. And I didn’t hear you saying anything while you were inhaling cod.”
“Pfft. Philistine.” Harry rolled his eyes.
“So tell me about this case.”
Immediately, a change came over Draco. He sat up straight, moved his plate to the side, and was suddenly all business. “Penis theft.” His body language suggested that this was the most important thing in the world.
“Penis theft,” Harry repeated. “This is a joke.”
“Not at all,” Draco replied. “There have been reports from the immigrant population here of men’s penises being stolen. Those in question are all from the same part of Thailand. They call it koro. Here’s the rub, this sort of thing happens in Southeast Asia all the time. In Africa even more frequently. It’s even started showing up in the Middle East. Now, these are usually cases of mass hysteria, but this case is here, on British soil, and we have to investigate it.”
“So it’s probable that it’s mass hysteria.”
“Probably. But we have to make sure. They blame it on witchcraft.”
“Of course they do. How many cases have there been?”
“About twelve, but all of the men refuse to be examined by the medical authorities.”
“Because they’re lying.”
“Except one. He really doesn’t have a penis anymore.” Draco paused. “Well, he does, but it’s extraordinarily tiny, and he insists that it wasn’t that small before.”
“How tiny, exactly?”
“But how about when it’s–”
“One inch erect.”
“Oh. Another?” he asked, looking at their drinks. Draco nodded, and Harry motioned to the waiter for another round. “What made this guy agree to be looked at?”
“He’s supposed to be married next month, apparently, and is naturally very worried.”
“Doesn’t that point to him making an elaborate excuse to justify his wife’s disappointment on her wedding night?”
“Very good, Harry, but in this case, Mr Yodsuwan insists that a witch cursed him at work.”
“The zoo. He helps take care of the elephants,” Draco replied with a roll of the eyes.
“What? Are you opposed to elephants being kept in captivity?” Harry asked gently, attempting to be sensitive.
“Of course not.” He picked up his pint and drained it. “I’m opposed to elephants.” Harry stared.
“You’re opposed to elephants. You’re mad. How can one be opposed to elephants?”
“It’s very easy, I assure you. Elephants are murderous bastards. They hate people. Dark, dangerous beasts that shouldn’t even be on this continent, much less in Blackpool.”
“They do not hate people. They eat peanuts and paint pictures and...and...they don’t hate people,” he repeated stubbornly. “They’re gentle–”
“If I hear the phrase gentle giant escape your lips I will hex your knob off. They are vile creatures and the world would be better off without them. I will brook no arguments about this.”
“What’s wrong with them? This is ridiculous.”
“Elephants are one of the many beasts that are responsible for holding back the entire development of Africa. They’re worse than lions.”
“Lions eat people. How can they possibly be worse than lions?”
“Yes, lions may occasionally eat people, but it’s not actually that common.” He paused, a look of mild shock on his face. “I can’t believe I’m defending your house mascot.”
“Please,” Harry chuckled, “do go on.”
“Look, there are arguably things in Africa more likely to kill you, but none of them will be half so creative about it as the elephant.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Are you not aware that elephants kill over five hundred people a year? The ways in which they murder their handlers, not to mention farmers, are myriad,” he explained with a wave of his hand. “And unbelievably inventive,” he added as an afterthought.
“Five hundred? How?” Harry was fascinated. Even though deep down he thought that Draco was full of horse shit.
“In Africa, they say that the gunge between an elephant’s toes is really the remains of slow natives. There’s definitely something to that. One of their favorite methods is to grip a person firmly by their arm or leg, the more experienced elephants choose the leg, of course...”
“Of course,” murmured Harry.
“And methodically beat him to jelly against the handiest solid object. Such as a tree trunk or a termite heap. They’ve brought people home in buckets.”
“Then sometimes they’ll just stomp on you, knead, then stir the whole mess up with their tusks and go back to the kneading again. It’s amazing.”
“I’m not sure I’m glad that I’ve already eaten.”
“They also like to play ball. They’ll toss a person up in the air as high as they can over the trees, then run and see of they can hit it with their trunks before it hits the ground. Must be massively entertaining.”
“That’s...disturbing. I’m not sure what else to say.”
“An elephant once ate a person, you know. It was her friend, too. Very sad. At first they didn’t believe that the fingers and toes scattered everywhere really meant anything. However, when they fished bits of her dress and her bones out of the elephant’s shit, that was when they finally admitted that the poor girl had been a midnight snack. She slept in the next room. It was all very odd.”
“Fine. You’ve made your point, elephants aren’t as sweet and loveable as I thought. Alright.”
“After they play with a person they’ve been known to bury them. No one knows why they do that, though.”
“That’s enough,” Harry commanded.
“So when you add crop trampling and being responsible for the destruction and stunting of native agriculture, it’s easy to see why I cannot stand elephants.”
“Would you just fucking shut up already?”
Getting back to the hotel took forever because Draco was walking so slowly. He kept stopping at shops and staring into gambling establishments.
“I’d rather like to get back, if you don’t mind.”
“Mhmm,” Draco hummed, staring at a man who was desperately fishing through his pockets. “He’s just lost all his money, I think.” Harry looked to where Draco nodded. The man was bent over a street bin pulling out each of his cards in turn, giving little shakes of his head. “He’s used up all of his plastic money.”
Harry didn’t have the stomach for that sort of thing. “Life’s bad enough on it’s own without having to brood over some poor bastard who’s done it to himself, eh?”
“What about his kids?” Draco said with a sting.
“I didn’t...his kids?”
“There was a fold of photos in his wallet, did you see?”
“That’s too bad,” Harry replied as gently as he could manage.
“They never think of the fucking kids.” With that, he stormed off ahead, lighting a cigarette, leaving a cloud of smoke in his wake.
Harry stared after him, startled. He felt something stir, something in the chest, clenching. He realised suddenly that it was sympathy. He ran to catch up.
“Hey,” he huffed. “Fancy a milkshake?”
Harry dismissed the bathtub as a real option and started the night in the tiny armchair, his feet propped up on the bed. Strangely, the fact that Draco was no more entitled to the double bed than Harry was didn’t really occur to him.
After what must have been at least two hours of tossing and turning, Draco sat up in a huff.
“Just get into the bloody bed, Potter,” he said in an exhausted voice. “I won’t bite, fuck sake.”
“‘Kay.” Harry got tucked in to Draco’s right and turned to face the window. “Goodnight.” He fell asleep almost instantly.
In the pre-dawn he drifted out of a wonderful dream. He was warm and comfortable and a firm hand was wrapped around his cock. He felt a soft mouth place kisses against his neck as his bedmate’s hard cock thrust against his cleft.
What the fuck?
Harry froze, but the stroking and gentle rutting continued. He was too afraid to do anything. What if Draco was awake? Best if he just pretended to still be asleep, that way he could pretend he didn’t know anything about it in the morning.
And get another room.
“Mmmhaa, anh, gohhh,” he heard Draco gasp into his neck. He heard two deep moans before he realised that they were coming from him. Draco gripped him tighter as he continued to pull. Then, a soft, sleepy gasp behind him as a warm wetness spread over his lower back. When Harry felt fingernails dig into his hip, he came all over Draco’s fist, hard.
His heart was racing. The feel of Draco’s come on his skin was incredibly strange. As Draco continued to push his softening cock against him, smearing it around, Harry could feel himself getting hard again. An image of straddling Draco’s face and making him suck the come off popped into his head. Harry bit his own fist.
It became clear that Draco was still asleep when he rolled onto his back and began to softly snore. Harry quietly grabbed his wand off the bedside table and cast a quick cleansing charm. He wrapped himself back up under the blankets and tried to ignore his unexpected erection. Another image appeared in his mind...bending Draco over the edge of the bed and pounding into him mercilessly.
Harry was so fucked.
“The elephant and reptile house is this way according to the map.” Draco pointed off to the right.
“Odd combination,” Harry observed.
“But potentially useful.”
“True. Oh, I see it, just over there.”
They trudged along and Harry reached the door first, holding it open for Draco, who nodded slightly in thanks. Harry smiled to himself.
The entire morning had been strange. Draco seemed to remember nothing, behaving as usual. Harry was determined to forget that it ever happened. Problem was, he felt as though he were getting soft. He let himself be needled and provoked by Draco all through breakfast and simply took it. To be honest, his barbs seemed weaker than usual.
Draco nudged him and gestured to a young woman in a blue polo shirt. “She’s an employee. Come on.” Harry followed.
Draco’s strategy seemed to be to lay it on as thick as possible. It worked incredibly well, actually. Harry was impressed, and had to admit that she was a wealth of information, despite the fact that for the first time since Umbridge he had the urge to punch a woman.
“You can’t have worked here that long, you’re so young,” Draco purred. The woman blushed something fierce.
“Oh hush! I’m much older than you, I’m sure!”
“Lydia, I simply don’t believe it. How long have you worked here, two years at most?”
“Twelve,” she replied, giggling. “I came on fresh out of school. I’ve worked here with the elephants and reptiles ever since day one. I get on really well with the lizards. I clean the Komodo Dragon’s enclosure and give tours. I help a bit with the elephants, too. But that’s nasty work, so I prefer the lizards.”
“What about the snakes?” Harry piped in. Lydia made a face and directed her answer to Draco. Bitch, he thought.
“I don’t think many people like working with the snakes. We have one bloke who really knows how to get along with them and he takes care of everything.”
“What about the elephants? I see from your brochure that you have a new one?” Draco asked.
“Yes, our first African! Poor thing. Only been with us a couple of months. An orphaned bull. They found him wandering around by himself with no herd. And he was surprisingly gentle, not like those other rogue bulls.”
“All the rest are Asian females, aren’t they?”
“That’s right. We don’t often have Africans in zoos. Or males, for that matter. They’re unpredictable and moody. Plus the tusks scare the bloody hell out of the handlers, I don’t mind saying.”
“Rightly so,” said Draco, sympathetically.
“Well, I can’t help but think that they’re too rough with him. He’s never had any problems, but I know that they’ve used the cattle prod on him a lot. I think he’s depressed, too. He always carries around his stick and refuses to let go of it.”
“His stick?” asked Harry.
“Yes, he only lets go of it when he eats, and when he does he tucks high up out of reach, up on top of the wall, or in a tree when he’s outside. It’s so strange to see.”
“I’m sure it is,” replied Draco. “Don’t you have someone named Bapit Yodsuwan that works here?”
That was hardly the most casual segue in Harry’s opinion, but amazingly enough, Lydia continued to offer information.
“Yes,” she said with a slight frown. “Though I’m not sure that he’ll be back again. He hasn’t been in since last week, and I can’t say that I’m sorry about it.”
“Why’s that?” Harry prodded.
“Well, I didn’t have much use for him, personally. I don’t like the way he talked to the elephants.”
Harry looked over to Draco, expecting to see him roll his eyes, but to his surprise Draco was nodding earnestly at Lydia.
“He didn’t respect them, did he?
Lydia looked at Draco with bright eyes. “No! That’s exactly right, he didn’t! Said awful things to them. Now I know, because Suriya, who works over at the ice cream kiosk, well I’ve heard her say some very nasty things in her language about the girl from the gift shop. And I’ve heard Bapit saying the same nasty things to our girls. Poor Marcella, he really layed into her last month. Him and Ragnall, the head trainer. I shouldn’t say, but I just don’t like how they treat them.”
“Tsk, that’s terrible,” clucked Draco.
“May we see the him?” Harry asked suddenly. Both Draco and Lydia turned to stare. “The bull elephant, I mean.” Draco eyed Harry closely.
“Yes, Lydia, may we?”
“Of course you may! If you go down that way over there, you’ll see him. He just stands there most of the time. Poor Addo.”
“Thank you so much, Lydia, we really do appreciate it.” Draco lifted her hand and kissed it, bowing slightly. Harry rolled his eyes.
As they walked away, leaving a flustered Lydia in their wake, Harry couldn’t help himself.
“Just what was that all about?”
“What do you mean?”
“All that with that poor woman.”
“Just doing my job, Potter. Did you hear how much information I got from her? We hardly need to talk to anyone else. Also, she had a lovely pair of bosoms.”
“Well, it was disgusting.”
Draco stopped in his tracks. “You’re jealous!”
“Am not. I just thought it was silly.”
“I see. Did you catch the arse on her?”
“Why would I possibly want to look at her arse?”
“Right. Thought so.” Draco nodded to himself in a satisfied manner.
“What are you– fuck, let’s just go see this Addo.”
Addo was enormous. He looked to be around 5 tonnes. Draco stared at him for several minutes as Harry was taking notes in a Muggle spiral-bound.
His jaw dropped.
“What?” Harry cried, alarmed. He bent over to fish for his dropped pen.
“Look at that stick! Look at it!” Draco pointed manically.
Harry stared. “I’m damned! That’s a wand!”
Draco was practically bouncing. “Addo’s a wizard! He must be!”
Just then they heard shouting coming from the small room to the side of the enclosure.
“Oh my God, it’s GONE! GONE!!” a man sobbed loudly.
Draco cocked an eyebrow. Harry nodded and pulled on his invisibility cloak. When he cracked open the door, he could see a middle-aged man - the head trainer, according to his desk plate - with his pants around his ankles, tiny knob held between his thumb and forefinger.
After forcibly changing Addo back into a man, they were shocked to discover that he was only a seventeen year old South African wizard who was just trying to run away. Harry was fully prepared to do things properly, until Draco spoke up.
“You know, this is going to be a nightmare. The mess of deportation, the extra paperwork, the moral trauma.”
“What exactly are you suggesting?”
“I say we buy him a beer and send him on his way with a few Galleons and directions to Diagon Alley.”
“You can’t be serious!”
“Can’t I?” Draco grinned.
Draco suggested hot dogs, but Harry didn’t feel like eating anything that involved meat.
So they sat in a very nice Italian restaurant, eating pasta and drinking wine. There must have been three bottles open on the table because Draco was a pompous fop.
“I’ll use simple language so you’ll understand. You’re eating alfredo, but I’m having bolognese. Yours calls for a white, and mine for a red. We need at least a bottle of each. So I have the chianti, and the port for after because I like it.”
“That Addo should have known better. You can’t just become an elephant Animagus without proper training. My father had to train for seven years just to become a turtle, for fuck’s sake. Poor, stupid kid. I’d’ve done the same, though. Those abusive fuckers were asking for it.”
“Very, hic, gallant. Well, at least we know who was responsible for the shrippage, shrinkiff, er...”
“Yes, yes, I know what you’re trying to say,” Draco soothed. “Now drink your chardonnay.”
Harry did as he was told, and by the time dinner was over he was pleasantly tipsy. That was his excuse for staring at Draco’s mouth during dessert.
“Ready to go?” Harry asked, offering Draco a hand up.
Draco stared at his hand and smirked.
“I know that you’re in love with me, Potter, but I’m not a girl.”
“You’re a real bastard,” Harry hiccoughed.
“I know,” Draco replied seriously.
“Can you Apparate? I’m not sure I can.”
They arrived in the same low alley next to the hotel. Harry caught Draco as he stumbled towards the ground.
“My turn,” he smiled, steering them both towards the hotel.
“Thanks,” Draco replied. “Listen. I wasn’t trying to mock you for being a gentleman back there.”
“It’s okay. You’re such a girl, it brings out the man in me.”
“Oh fuck off, Potter. Your wit will never be a match for mine.”
“Back to Potter, now, are we?” Harry asked, grinning. “Come on, my darling girl.”
“If you don’t shut it, I won’t let you back into the room.” Draco huffed.
“Be good, Harry. I still have some gillyweed left, you know.”
They stepped off the lift and followed closely.
“I don’t think this was ever our room,” Harry suggested as he watched Draco fight uselessly with the lock.
“You may have something there,” Draco agreed. As he spelled the door open, he looked back at Harry over his shoulder.
Harry’s breath hitched.
What happened next...well, he couldn’t help himself. Draco opened the door, then Harry shoved him inside and kicked it closed behind them. He grabbed the other man and slammed him against the wall, kissing him deeply.
“Mmrmpmh,” Draco attempted to say before pushing Harry off him. “What are you trying to do, eat me?” he asked, acting affronted.
“We can get to that later, if you like,” Harry affirmed.
“Well then,” Draco breathed. “Carry on.”
Harry undid that silly cravat and began sucking on a nice bit of flesh behind his ear as he moved onto the shirt buttons.
“You know, you wear some difficult clothing. I think I’m just going to tear it off, if you don’t mind,” Harry warned.
“No, no, go right ahead!” Draco panted.
Harry tore it right apart, buttons flying, and pulled it down Draco’s shoulders. He kissed and sucked his way down his chest and stomach before ripping out his belt and pulling Draco’s trousers and pants off in one fell swoop.
“I’ll get to this soon,” Harry promised as he gently nibbled his way up Draco’s smooth, pink cock. “But right now I really, really need to fuck you into the wall. Is that alright?”
“Fuck yes, get on with it,” Draco moaned.
Harry spun him around to face the wall, and a quick Lubricatus later he was pounding into Draco just like he’d imagined. Being slightly shorter, every thrust ended on his tip-toes, and the sound of Draco’s grunts were making him crave something deeper.
He pulled out and steered Draco to the edge of the bed, tossing him down at the edge. He leaned over and thrust back inside.
“Is this good?”
“Harder, you lazy fuck.”
“Oh god yeah!” Draco gasped.
Draco was tucked against his chest as Harry languorously pulled at his cock, and kissed the back of his neck. Much the same position they’d been in the night before, reversed. He felt sated and surprisingly happy.
“I rather enjoyed that,” he said, breaking the silence.
“Of course you did. My arse is legend.”
“I’d really like to do it again,” he said softly. He felt Draco smile against his hand.
“I suppose I’ll let you. But only if it involves the spanking. Or the rimming. And I don’t just bottom, so you can get that out of your head right now.”
Harry’s heart thudded in his chest, and he did his best not to shout out loud with elation.
“What would you think of partnering up when we get back?”
“Isn’t it a bit soon to propose? I mean, we’ve only just fucked.”
“I meant for work, you ponce,” he said, grinning.
“Oh. Yes, I knew that.” Draco was quiet for a moment. “I’ll think about it.”
That was as good as a yes, coming from him.
Harry could live with that.