Title: At The Ashwinder, Part 2/2
Harry paused on the doorstep, his hand frozen over the snake’s head knocker. This was such a monumentally bad idea.
He was almost ready to turn and go, Shacklebolt be damned, when the door swung open in front of him. He looked around in confusion until a piping voice addressed his kneecaps.
“How can Pinkie help Harry Potter?” the house elf squeaked, her large ears twitching in excitement. “Pinkie is friends with Dobby, who always talks about Harry Potter!”
Harry took a deep breath. “Just take me to see Draco Malfoy, please, Pinkie.”
“Harry Potter is to be following me!” She ushered him in and shut the door, then padded ahead of Harry, peeking over her shoulder every few feet to give him an enormous smile.
He smiled back grimly, and followed her through the wide green-carpeted corridors.
Pinkie paused in front of an open set of doors and motioned him in. “Harry Potter is here to visit Master Malfoy!” She disappeared with a muted crack, leaving Harry to wonder whether Kreacher and Dobby made so much noise on purpose.
He peeked into the room to find a stunned Malfoy frozen in the act of buttering his toast, the Daily Prophet still open on the table next to him.
“What are you doing in my house?” Malfoy demanded, a pink flush creeping up from his collar.
“Um.” Harry shifted uncomfortably, his hands frantically searching for the back trouser pockets his damned robes didn’t have. “Malfoy. I’m here to apologize.”
Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up.
“On behalf of the Auror department,” Harry added hastily. “I’m here to apologize about the misunderstanding.”
“This is hardly a misunderstanding, Potter,” Malfoy said tightly, waving the Prophet at him. “Have you seen this?”
Harry shook his head, and reflexively took the paper Malfoy thrust at him. He read the headline, then stared at the picture in mounting horror.
“Malfoy, I’m so sorry,” he said, hands shaking as he watched Malfoy’s head hit the floor. He tossed the paper back onto the table. “Shacklebolt told the Prophet yesterday…”
“I don’t care what you told them,” Malfoy snapped. “I care what they print.
“They don’t.” Harry laughed mirthlessly. “I’ve had years of it. Remember our fifth year?”
“You fed Skeeter all sorts of lies about me, and they printed all of it.” He shook his head, grimacing. “I’m probably not your most sympathetic audience.”
Harry held up his hand. “Malfoy. Forget about it.” He looked up, meeting Malfoy’s still-angry eyes. “I can only apologize for what we did. I’m sorry we arrested you and Crabbe and Goyle, and fucked everything up so badly.”
He took a deep breath and plunged on. “I presumed the worst about you, despite having no real knowledge of your past five years, and for that I personally apologize.”
He chewed his lower lip nervously, waiting for a response.
“Lovely, Potter.” Malfoy’s voice was strained. “But you should leave. Pinkie!”
The house elf peeked around the doorway. “Bring me the Ministry’s cloak.” She scurried off.
“Can I at least sit down?” Harry asked, suddenly exhausted. He should have just told Shacklebolt to stuff it this morning- he’d clearly made a hash of even the basic apology, much less anything else.
Malfoy nodded, and Harry flopped into down with a sigh, closing his eyes.
He peeked up at Malfoy, who seemed to have reverted to manners to deal with the uncomfortable situation. He nodded, and Malfoy levitated a cup and teapot to his side of the table.
He poured and drank in silence, watching as Malfoy looked everywhere around the room but at Harry.
“Look, Malfoy, I’m sorry if I make you uncomfortable,” he said, “but I honestly just want to help.”
Malfoy finally looked back at him. “What makes you think I want your help, Potter?” He leaned forward in his chair, sneering. “You’ve got a perfect life- you’re the brave Auror, with adoring fans everywhere you go.”
Pinkie tiptoed into the room and tucked the cloak over the back of Malfoy’s chair before fixing Harry with a terrified look and scooting back out the door.
“Well, I’m not one of them.” Malfoy sat back, glaring, arms folded. “You’re still the same self-righteous prat you were in school.”
Harry started to answer, but was caught by a dark flicker of movement over Malfoy’s shoulder.
“Saving the world from a crazed Half-Blood seems to have gone to your head,” he continued, oblivious to Harry’s distraction. Was the cloak actually moving? “At least I don’t think the world revolves around … aaraghk!”
The dark shape lunged towards Malfoy’s neck, looping around as Malfoy clutched his throat, eyes bulging, clawing at the rippling fabric. Harry hurled himself out of his seat, smashing into Malfoy and sending them both to the floor.
He grabbed one end of the cloak and pinned it against the floor with one knee, hauling Malfoy out of the overturned chair to get at the rest of the murderous material. He yanked out his wand, pointed it at the cloak, and yelled “Diffindo!”
The cloak ripped in half, and the newly-severed piece attempted to launch itself into the fray. Harry barely managed to keep hold of the end under his knee. “Stupefy!” The fabric shuddered for a moment, but kept moving.
”Incendio!” he yelled, desperate. The cloak burst into flame, letting out a high-pitched scream as it jerked away and turned swiftly to ash.
Harry turned back to Malfoy, who was on his back, still struggling with the other half of the cloak, his face tinged with blue.
Harry straddled Malfoy’s hips, grabbed the trailing end of the cloak, pointed his wand carefully, and yelled “Incendio!” again.
The cloth around Malfoy’s neck flamed brightly, springing apart as he batted it away frantically. He flopped back onto the ground, panting heavily, eyes closed.
“Are you alright?” Harry asked, leaning forward to inspect Malfoy’s neck more closely, running a finger lightly over the skin. It was covered in bruises and a light burn, so he cast a pair of quick healing spells before tucking his wand away.
Malfoy’s eyes snapped open. His pupils were dilated, his cheeks flushed, and he was still breathing erratically.
“Malfoy?” Harry leaned forward again, concerned, when suddenly Malfoy bucked and twisted underneath him, sending them rolling to one side.
Harry found himself on his back with Malfoy seated firmly on his hips, head cocked to one side, panting.
“You don’t play fair, Potter,” he growled, rolling his hips.
Harry inhaled sharply, fighting the urge to lean into the contact.
Malfoy grinned wolfishly. “So neither will I.” He leaned forward, grinding his pelvis against Harry’s as he put his hands on his shoulders and licked Harry’s neck.
Harry squeaked incoherently, earning himself a nip on the ear. He shivered as Malfoy’s mouth worked along his jaw, alternating lips and teeth and hot moist breath on Harry’s skin.
He shifted his hands into Malfoy’s robes without conscious volition, slipping them under his shirt and against warm skin before he could stop himself. One hand wandered about Malfoy’s chest and back, the other down the back of Malfoy’s trousers, kneading his arse.
Malfoy responded by bucking his hips against Harry, and sucking hard against his neck.
“Malfoy,” he gasped, “What are we…”
“Shut up, Potter,” Malfoy hissed in his ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth. “You have no idea how long I’ve thought about this.” He leaned heavily against Harry’s chest, his left hand clenched in Harry’s hair while the right worked the buttons on the front of his robes.
Harry seized the opportunity and rolled, reversing their positions again as he pinned Malfoy on his back, hands over his head, their bodies flush against each other.
“I just might,” he whispered, staring into Malfoy’s eyes as he reached down with one hand to grab his wand. “Incarcerous subtilis.” Malfoy’s eyes widened as a thin red silk band wove a careful figure eight around his wrists, binding them together.
“Better,” Harry said with a grin. He dove forward, pressing his lips hard against Malfoy’s as the other man writhed underneath him. He held Malfoy’s wrists with his left hand, and as their tongues met he arched up, snaking the right back inside Malfoy’s robes and down the front of his trousers, pressing his stiff cock up against Harry’s.
“Fuck, Potter…” Malfoy moaned into his mouth. “More.”
Harry pulled back, watching with satisfaction as Malfoy licked swollen lips, tracking Harry with a predatory gleam in his heavy-lidded eyes.
“Upstairs, Potter. Now.”
Gods, Potter felt good. He even tasted good. Draco hadn’t been this hard in- fuck, his brain wasn’t working, and his hands were tied. This couldn’t be a good thing… except that it was.
He gasped as Potter’s hand slipped down to cup his prick, and ground against his hips.
“Fuck, Potter,” he moaned as the man nipped at his lips. “More!”
Potter sat up, taking that wicked mouth away from Draco’s, and looking inordinately pleased with himself.
Draco licked his lips. “Upstairs, Potter. Now.”
He looped his arms around Potter’s neck, dragging him down again. He sucked Potter’s lower lip, scraping his teeth along the top before letting it go.
“Upstairs,” Potter echoed, sounding dazed and more than a bit giddy. Draco gave him a feral smile.
“Any time now, please,” said an amused voice from the doorway.
Potter turned and flushed scarlet. Draco rolled them over, turning to see Vince leaning against the doorway smirking, as Greg peered over his shoulder looking a bit traumatized.
He yelped and scrambled to his feet, adjusting his trousers and robes as best as possible with his still-bound hands.
Draco glared at his so-called friends, but Vince’s grin only widened. He spun to face Potter, who was still sitting on the floor in shock, his hair sticking out at all angles and several bright hickeys starting to show on his neck.
“A bit of help here?” he asked tightly, stretching his tied wrists out. At least Potter looked properly embarrassed- he fumbled for his wand, and banished the band before lurching to his feet.
“Are they decent yet?” Draco’s mother’s voice floated into the room. She peeked around Greg’s bulk and gave Draco a knowing smile.
He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. He righted his chair and slumped into it, leaning forward to grab his coffee cup. The slug of coffee was cold and bitter as it hit the back of his throat, but just what he needed to clear his head. Damn Potter- what had he done to Draco’s mind? He’d made a total fool of himself in front of his friends and family. He took another swig of the cold coffee, grimaced, and sat up.
The rest of the group had seated themselves at the table, and Vince and Greg were already hard at work on devouring the remaining fruit and biscuits.
His mother was seated next to Potter, chatting earnestly with him in a low voice, his left hands clasped in hers. Draco winced. At least it wasn’t the hand that had just been down his trousers- was it?
“At first I thought you were trying to arrest him again,” she told Potter, “But Vince persuaded me to wait for a moment.”
Vince nodded, smirking at Draco over a mouthful of buttered scone.
“You seemed to be too… friendly for that,” she continued, the smile evident in her voice, “So I thought it best to give you a bit of privacy. There are just some things a mum shouldn’t see.”
Potter’s eyes met Draco’s over his mother’s shoulder, and they shared a look of sheer horror.
“I trust we’ll be seeing much more of you soon,” she announced, giving Potter’s hand a final pat as she rose.
Greg snorted, showering the table with crumbs.
“Be good, boys,” she said, fixing Draco with a look that said “don’t you dare fuck this up” as clearly as if she’d spoken.
He nodded and she smiled, dropped a kiss on the crown of his head and left the room.
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, broken by Vince’s dry chuckle. Potter, quite sensibly, looked worried- his gaze skittered back and forth between Vince, who had put an arm around Greg and was barely managing to repress a snickering fit, and Draco.
He chose his words carefully.
“Can we all agree that this… event isn’t open for public discussion?”
Potter nodded in fervent agreement, no doubt worried about explaining himself to Shacklebolt.
“On one condition,” Vince said, smiling lazily. He nodded to Potter, whose eyes went wide.
Oh god. “What’s that?” Draco asked warily.
Vince gave Greg a squeeze, and they shared a smile before turning back to Draco.
“Your boyfriend has to hook us up with the Weasley twins.”
Harry stormed into Shacklebolt’s office, funneling all of the day’s frustration into righteous indignation. The door slammed shut behind him, and he cast a quick Imperturbable.
“I checked the entire house,” he said, his voice clipped, “And even questioned the house elves. The only Dark artifact present was the one we put there.”
He thumped a vial of ashes down onto the desk.
“What is this, Mr. Potter?” Shacklebolt prodded the vial with his wand.
“The remains of the cloak we sent Malfoy home with on Saturday night,” Harry said grimly. “The one that tried to strangle Malfoy this morning.”
He waved his wand, levitating a large wooden box onto the desk next to the ashes, where it sat, twitching. Shacklebolt’s eyebrows climbed higher.
“This holds the cloaks we sent home with Crabbe and Goyle,” Harry continued. “They seemed normal at first, but went homicidal too when Malfoy came into the room. We barely managed to lock them up, but couldn’t get a magical signature off of them.”
“What exactly are you suggesting, Potter?”
Harry fixed his boss with a furious look.
“You know exactly what this means,” he said. “Someone in our department is trying to kill Malfoy.”
“I presume you have a list of suspects?” Shacklebolt asked, floating the box into a corner where it rattled against the walls for a moment before subsiding.
“It has to be an Auror who was at the club on Saturday night,” Harry said. “He put a timed curse on the robes in the emergency supply cupboard, but had to hex all three just in case.”
“Unless it’s a grand conspiracy,” Shacklebolt said helpfully. “Am I in on it?”
Harry glared at him. “You would only have needed to hex one of the robes, so you’re off the list.” He paused, and added pointedly, “Sir.”
Shacklebolt nodded. “That gives you three options: Binks, Addams, or Michaels. I want an answer this week- I won’t have this kind of vigilante nonsense in my department.”
He dropped the vial of ashes in the trashcan and shuffled his papers before looking back up at Harry in surprise.
“What are you still doing here, Potter? Go!”
Draco walked into the study and threw himself down into the armchair in front of the fireplace.
“I need help,” he growled. “This is your area of expertise, as Mother has pointed out.”
“I spoke with your mother,” his father announced, peering down at him from atop the fireplace. “She had… interesting news.”
He waggled his eyebrows at Draco, leaning against the gilt frame that surrounded him. “What’s this I hear about you and Potter? A good choice, since you insist on that persuasion- such a match will get you far in Wizarding society.”
“I’m not interested in society,” Draco muttered. “Someone’s trying to kill me!”
“Then Potter is an especially good choice,” his father continued. “He’s a senior Auror now, isn’t he? Well-positioned in the Ministry, and with access to both the Potter and Black fortunes.”
This was beyond embarrassing- his father trying to play matchmaker with Potter? He made a mental note to avoid his mother for the next few days- she’d only be worse.
“Do you have some useful advice, or not?” Draco demanded, hauling himself out of the chair. “I need to find this attempted murderer before thinking about my social life.”
“I’m not likely to be much help from here,” his father said, gesturing at his frame. “Ask Potter for help- lure the killer in, and let him save you.”
He smirked down at Draco, clearly enjoying his son’s frustration. “You must admit- it’s a wonderful excuse for a date.”
Harry sat silently while Hermione fussed over him, not even complaining when she tugged the brush through his hair.
She stepped back and eyed him critically. “What’s the matter, Harry?”
“Nothing,” he mumbled, fidgeting with his cuffs.
“It’s perfectly normal to be nervous about your first proper date in years,” she said, adjusting his collar. “At least the twins will be there- if Malfoy pulls anything they’ll take care of you.”
Ron walked in, put an arm around Hermione’s waist, and kissed her affectionately on the cheek.
“My brothers will definitely keep the Ferret in line for you, mate,” he said, “but I don’t think you need to go looking for trouble. I’m more worried about my brothers, quite frankly- those women are seriously out of their league.”
Harry sighed. “You have no idea.”
Ron grinned mischievously at Harry. “It’s just a date- what could go wrong?”
“Right right,” he said, waving his hands at Harry’s grim look. “The whole murderer thing. We’ll clear that up in no time- you’ve only got three suspects.”
“They almost got him last time, and I was right there,” Harry muttered. “It’s not safe to try this in such a crowded place.”
“Look, Harry,” Hermione said, squeezing his shoulder, “We’ll all be right across the room- that’s why you chose The Ashwinder in the first place.”
“You look good,” she added with a smile. “No, really- the green looks good on you. It brings out your eyes.”
Ron rolled his eyes at Harry over his wife’s shoulder. “We’ve got to go pick up Luna and Neville- see you there.”
“No arguments- I’m NOT carrying the Polyjuice for you this time,” Draco said testily, waving his hands wildly. “I don’t have room in this stupid Muggle get-up.”
Greg sighed and murmured a shrinking charm. “You do look hot, though,” she said, tucking the miniature flask into her stockings.
“Why couldn’t you have just done that last time?” Draco asked, indignant. “I had to put up with all of that sloshing…”
“It’s the principle of the thing,” Vince interjected, fluffing her blonde tresses and arranging them artfully over her shoulders. “And you’re not allowed to take your frustrations out on us tonight. Save it for Potter- we’ve got murderers to find and Weasleys to seduce.”
Draco found he had nothing to say about that, and settled for seething quietly.
“Zip me up, Draco?” Greg asked, turning around.
Draco sighed, and did as he was told.
Harry sat at the club next to Fred and George, fidgeting nervously and fighting his desire to actually get up and do something. He’d already seen all three of his suspects, but his friends were spread out, keeping an eye on them. Neville had taken up residence on a bar stool, Ron and Hermione were chatting at a nearby table, and Luna was on the dance floor again, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings. The twins had bought Harry a fruity drink as thanks “for hooking us up with those hot women,” and were now playing some sort of drinking game that involved thumbwrestling.
He sighed. Malfoy was late- he hoped nothing had happened to him already. Crabbe and Goyle were with him, and the suspects were here- why was the prat late? He sipped his drink and watched the door, brooding.
When the door opened to reveal Crabbe and Goyle in their twin Polyjuiced forms he breathed a sigh of relief. The giggling women entered arm-in-arm, this time dressed in matching short blue robes. The Weasley twins bolted to their feet, abandoning Harry with an enthusiastic “Thanks, Mate!” as they bounded towards the door.
He rolled his eyes and took another sip, and choked again as he looked up to see Malfoy approaching his table.
Malfoy was dressed Muggle-style in trousers and a T-shirt, but the shirt was sparkly silver and the trousers were- oh god- skin-tight black leather.
“Malfoy,” he breathed, pressing against the other man and tilting his head for a brief kiss. Harry was hard already, and silently blessed the fact he’d worn robes.
He looked up, startled, as Malfoy pulled him towards the dance floor. “Oh no,” he said warily. “I don’t dance.”
“Tonight you do, Potter,” Malfoy said with a wicked smile. “We’ve got to make a halfway-decent target. Oh, and green is definitely your color.”
Harry’s protest died in his throat as Malfoy turned, presenting the most glorious arse he’d ever seen, and he allowed himself to be towed into the press of bodies.
Malfoy wrapped his arms around his neck and ground against him. “You can do this,” he breathed into Harry’s ear. “It’s just like what we did on the dining room floor of the Manor, just vertical.”
He pulled back with a smirk, his hand cupping Harry’s arse through his robes, their hips still locked tight together.
Harry’s head was spinning, and he clutched at Malfoy for support, ending up with a double-handful of leather-clad arse for his trouble. Malfoy grinned and leaned in for another slow kiss, running his hands through Harry’s hair as he began to slowly gyrate against him.
Harry kept his hands firmly on Malfoy’s arse, keeping their hips locked together as they moved in time to the music. He could feel Malfoy’s dick pressing against his through the layers of clothing, and groaned in frustration.
“Want to take you home now,” he growled, lips against the base of Malfoy’s neck. “I can’t take much more of this.”
Malfoy’s eyes gleamed wickedly. “Meet me in the loo,” he whispered, releasing Harry and cutting across the room, casting a smirk over his shoulder.
Harry stared after him in confusion, and jumped as someone pinched his arse. He turned around to see one of the Polyjuiced twins giving him an exasperated look. “Follow him, you stupid git!” she yelled over the music, turning back to her Weasley without waiting to see if Harry obeyed.
He blinked twice, and turned to follow Malfoy.
Was Potter actually that dense, or were the hormones just fogging his brain? Draco shook his head, and continued weaving towards the back of the club.
He wasn’t about to wait until the end of the night to jump Potter- he’d collapse from blood loss if his dick got any stiffer, and they still had a job to do. He looked over his shoulder again to see Potter following him, and grinned. This was… a necessary break.
Draco ducked through the door into the men’s loo, and suddenly found himself flying across the room. He hit the wall with a crack, his head bouncing off the tiles, and gasped in pain as he slid down to the floor. He looked up to see the tip of a wand pointed directly at his chest, held by a small man in brown robes. He was shaking, his face a twisted scowl.
“I always swore he’d pay,” the man hissed furiously, “But he died before I could get to him. You’ll have to do.”
“I don’t even know you,” Draco choked out, clutching his head. “What do you want?” This was insane- and where was Potter?
“You’re a Malfoy,” he spat, stepping back and raising his wand higher. “That’s more than enough to condemn you.”
The door swung open again, distracting him just enough for Draco to kick out, connecting with the wand and sending it flying away before he hit the floor again, the room spinning around him in a painful haze.
“Stupefy!” Potter had good reflexes- he’d give him that, even though it took him bloody ages to get here.
“Malfoy, are you OK?”
He opened his eyes to see Potter hovering over him anxiously, wand in hand.
“What took you so long, Potter?” He croaked. “Fix my bloody head.”
Potter knew his healing spells too, he reflected as he climbed to his feet a few moments later. He couldn’t feel a thing, except for- well.
Draco gave the man a vicious kick in the ribs, cast locking and silencing charms on the door, then turned back to Potter.
He shoved the other man against the wall, putting Potter’s hands back on Draco’s arse where they belonged. “I’m not letting that poisonous little rat get in the way of a perfectly good blowjob,” he whispered, leaning in to suck on Potter’s neck as he palmed his still-stiff prick.
Draco’s dick was recovering nicely, and he frotted gently against Potter’s hip in sync with the motion of his hand on Potter’s crotch. Potter inhaled sharply, squeezing Draco’s arse and thrusting forward into his hand.
He unbuttoned Potter’s robes with one hand, and fumbled with the button and zip on his trousers for a few moments before they gave way. With a last nip at Potter’s jaw he slid down, his cheek against Potter’s chest and his free hand on his back, until he was nuzzling against Potter’s shorts, nose in the wiry hairs at the base of his stomach.
With a quick flip Draco sent the shorts tumbling after Potter’s trousers, his dick now waving just in front of Draco’s face. Draco steadied himself on Potter’s hips and inhaled briefly, closing his eyes and biting his lip at the smell of sweat and desire and Potter.
He glanced upwards for a moment, catching the look of momentary terror on Potter’s face before smiling and sucking that gorgeous prick into his mouth.
What was it about Malfoy and near-death experiences, Harry wondered as he leaned back against the tiled wall. None of his fights with Voldemort had turned Harry on at all, but attempts on his life seemed to make Malfoy incredibly horny.
He squirmed and gasped as Malfoy touched him, grabbing a firmer hold on that tight arse. Not that he was complaining- in fact, maybe he would have been this horny if Malfoy had been offering blowjobs after every battle- his own hand just hadn’t been nearly as compelling.
This almost couldn’t be real. He looked down in fascination as Malfoy undid his trousers, and his breath hitched as he watched the other man crouch in front of him.
Harry’s nervousness mounted as Malfoy removed his shorts and stared at his cock, clearly appraising it. Oh god, if he left now… but Malfoy smirked up at him, and closed his mouth around Harry’s dick. His knees almost buckled, but Malfoy pressed him back against the wall.
He stared in fascination as Malfoy’s head bobbed over his cock, then moaned and closed his eyes, threading his hands through Malfoy’s sweat-soaked hair. One of Malfoy’s hands cupped his balls gently while the other slid back towards his arse, circling around his opening, tickling and testing.
Harry gasped at the combined sensations, bucking his hips to drive deeper into Malfoy’s mouth, but the hand on his balls kept him in place. “Gods, Malfoy,” he groaned, and felt the vibration of Malfoy’s laughter around his cock.
Malfoy’s finger finally slipped into his arsehole, and Harry gasped again, trying to relax against the intrusion. Malfoy’s tongue swirled around the head of Harry’s dick before he dove deeper, sucking even more into his hot velvety mouth as his hands squeezed and probed.
Harry closed his eyes, trying to hold back, but that warm suction was too much. “Malfoy,” he gasped, “Gonna come.”
He felt Malfoy give his balls a final squeeze, and then he arched back against the tiles, twitching as he came, feeling Malfoy suck every last drop out of his pulsing cock. He slid to the floor, overwhelmed, and sighed as Malfoy leaned forward to give him a long kiss.
Malfoy’s mouth was still tangy with Harry’s come, which turned out to be incredibly hot. Harry sucked on Malfoy’s tongue as he leaned forward to undo the zip on those leather trousers.
Harry looked down, somehow not surprised to discover Malfoy hadn’t bothered to wear anything underneath. His cock was already out, a stiff and angry red, and Harry put it in his mouth without hesitation.
Malfoy moaned underneath him, and fell back against the floor, his feet scrabbling for purchase against the slick tiles. Harry followed him down and crouched between Malfoy’s spread legs, bobbing up and down on his cock. He wasn’t sure if he was doing it right, but with the noises Malfoy was making he figured it was good enough.
He hooked one hand under Malfoy’s leg, holding him in place, and ran the other up under his shirt, rubbing through the fine hair spread across Malfoy’s pale stomach. He felt Malfoy’s muscles clench, then his mouth was filled with waves of salty come.
Harry did his best to swallow, and milked Malfoy’s cock dry, giving a few extra sucks for good measure. He collapsed onto Malfoy’s hip, running his fingers over the other man’s stomach just to watch him shiver, both of them panting.
“Potter,” Malfoy said, levering himself up. “We’ve got to go.”
“Why?” Harry rather liked it here- staring at the light curls of hair around Malfoy’s dick, watching his stomach rise and fall with each breath.
“Because we’re lying on the floor in the loo at a public club,” Malfoy answered, “And there’s a would-be murderer out cold next to us.”
Unfortunately, he had a point.
Draco pushed open the door to find quite a crowd gathered around the loo.
“Auror business,” he said firmly, waving the disgruntled looking wizards out of his way. “Shoo.” They seemed mollified when Potter emerged with the little man in tow, his rope-covered body floating along behind him at waist height, finally stepping aside to clear a path. Draco smiled grimly as the man’s head nicked the doorway with a crack.
Potter stopped to confer with Longbottom about some bit of Auror procedure, so Draco slipped ahead to check on Vince and Greg.
Unfortunately, they were bracketed on either side by the twin Weasels, and all four of them were smirking at Draco.
“Took a while to subdue him, didn’t you?” Vince asked with an innocent smile, twirling a bit of blond hair. “We were almost worried about you.”
Draco glared. “Auror procedures,” he growled. “Questioning, that sort of thing. It takes time.”
“Right.” Greg giggled, exchanging torrid looks with the nearest Weasley.
“Well, now that we know you’re safe,” Vince said, “We’ll be off- see you tomorrow.”
They waved and started for the door, the Weasels barely able control their excitement.
“Goodnight, girls,” Draco said with a slow grin. “Weasleys, I can promise you have no idea what you’re in for.” A freckled head turned to stare at him in annoyed confusion before following the rest of the pack out the door.
He turned to find Lovegood watching them go.
“I recognized them, you know,” she said, fiddling with her necklace. “Their auras are the same - Polyjuice can’t change that.”
“Really,” he said, smirking. “And what do you think?”
She smiled at him as she turned to go. “I think it’s perfect.”
Draco headed back to find Potter, who was still deep in conversation with Longbottom, Granger, and the Weasel. He grabbed Potter’s arm in mid-gesticulation.
“They can take it from here,” he said firmly. “You and I have unfinished business.”
“But I have to…” Potter began, but Granger cut him off.
“Neville can take care of the paperwork, Harry,” she said with a grin at Draco. “Go home.”
Potter looked at her in confusion.
“Harry, just go,” Longbottom said. “Shacklebolt won’t mind- I’ll take care of everything.”
“Get out of here, mate,” Weasley said, waggling his eyebrows madly and pointing at Draco.
Hardly subtle, but Potter still wasn’t getting it.
“Potter,” Draco said, grabbing him around the waist. “When a cute blonde boy in leather pants tells you it’s time to go home, you say yes.”
He leaned forward and kissed Potter firmly, feeling strong arms wrap around his back, squeezing tight. After a moment he pulled back.
“Potter,” Draco said, breathless. “Do you want to go home?”
Potter smiled at him, and the rest of the world disappeared.