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firethesoundTitle: All Our Secrets Laid Bare
Wordcount: 15 chapters, 145k total, 9k for this chapter
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 for sex. Also, swearing and small amounts of violence.
Pairings: brief and non-explicit Harry/OMC, Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters and this is written purely for entertainment purposes.
Summary: Over the six years Draco Malfoy has been an Auror, four of his partners have turned up dead. Harry Potter is assigned as his newest partner to investigate just what is going on.
Author's Notes: A great big huge thank you to my beta. You are undoubtedly the best.
All Our Secrets Laid Bare - Chapter 13
Harry woke slowly, snug layers of sleep flaking away as vague impressions of warmth and darkness dissipated into roiling nausea. When he finally worked up the nerve to open his eyes, the bright early-morning sunlight felt like ground glass against his corneas. Harry let his eyes fall shut again and groaned.
The mattress dipped as someone shifted beside him. “Here,” Draco said and pressed something cool and smooth against Harry’s palm.
Harry cracked open one eye and squinted through the pain at the small vial he held. “Oh thank god.”
He shoved himself to a sitting position and yanked the stopper out, then took one deep breath to brace himself before he tipped the vial into his mouth. The fetid potion coated his tongue in a thick sludge and his throat worked three times before he could actually force himself to choke it down. His stomach heaved, and Harry squeezed his eyes shut and mentally ran through all the Quidditch fouls he knew in alphabetical order. He made it to Cobbing before the potion kicked in properly and his nausea settled.
Harry flopped back onto the pillows with a sigh. “I’ve never figured out why they make that one taste so bloody awful,” he griped.
Draco propped himself up on one elbow. “It’s all to do with how the aconite interacts with the shrivelfig pulp. The pulp is acidic and once it begins to break down the—“
“Ugh,” Harry said and clapped a hand over his eyes. “It’s too early for Potions lectures.”
“Well you asked,” Draco said, then added, “I’m developing a better tasting version.”
“Really?” Harry asked and lifted his hand from his face. “Have you got it working?”
Draco shrugged a shoulder. “Sort of. It doesn’t taste like sweaty socks anymore, but you’ll burp broccoli for the rest of the day. Not much of an improvement in my opinion.” He shrugged again. “I’m still working on it.”
“When you get it working, you’ll make millions,” Harry told him. “Absolute millions.”
“I’ve already got millions,” Draco said with a smile. “What would I do with more?”
“I don’t know,” Harry said distantly, distracted by the way the early morning sunlight slanted across Draco’s skin. In the bright golden warmth of it, even his scars looked beautiful. “Buy a small country?”
Draco snorted. “What on earth would I do with one of those?”
“Hmm. Rule over it with an iron fist?”
“Sounds like a lot of work to me,” Draco sighed.
Harry grinned. “Yes, but you’d have loads of people to worship you and kneel before you. Though I’m more than willing to get on my knees for you right now. You like me on my knees, as I recall.” He shifted closer to kiss the long slope of Draco’s neck and winced as his arse twinged with the motion.
“Are you all right?” Draco asked, leaning back out of Harry’s reach. His brows drew together in concern.
“Fine, fine,” Harry said and leaned in for a kiss.
Draco dodged his efforts. “Right. Only… You were rather, ah, enthusiastic last night. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Harry shook his head. “No, not at all.” He smiled a little sheepishly and rubbed a hand through his hair. “I, er, told you I like to bottom when I’m drinking.”
“Yes, you said you like to bottom,” Draco said. “I like Quidditch. I like trifling with potions. I like my afternoon cup of tea.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Oh please, you’re an absolute bear if you don’t get your afternoon cup of tea.”
“Fine, that’s a poor example,” Draco allowed. “However, it doesn’t change the fact that you were something of an animal yourself last night.”
Harry shrugged with all the casualness he could muster. “All right then, I like it rather a lot. And a bit rough.” He glanced at Draco. “Does that…bother you?”
For a moment, Draco frowned. “No, it just surprised me. I’ve always thought of bottoming as the more passive role, and last night you showed me how wrong that assumption was.” He nudged Harry with an elbow. “So, speaking of tea…”
Harry pulled a face as he slid out of bed. “That’s another thing you’d get with your country: loads of people to fetch your tea for you.”
Draco rolled over onto his stomach and propped his chin on one hand. “What would I need them for? I’ve got you, haven’t I?”
Harry felt his heart turn over and he couldn’t keep a soppy smile from spreading over his face. “You absolutely do, for as long as you’ll have me.”
Abruptly, the pleasant ache in his chest turned painful, and Harry turned away and hurried into the kitchen where he filled the kettle and set it on the stove. He leaned back against the counter and folded his arms over his chest as he waited for it to heat. He’d meant what he’d said, that he belonged to Draco for as long as Draco would have him. But he was afraid that Draco wouldn’t want him for much longer, not after Harry told him about the investigation. Draco’s birthday was next Monday, and then on Tuesday Harry would confess everything. It hurt to think that he might only have a little over a week left with Draco. He sighed and scratched at his bare thigh, sort of wishing he’d thought to put on underpants before he’d gone dashing out of his bedroom.
Well, if he only had one week left, he was sure as hell going to make that week count. And maybe after Draco got done screaming at him and his anger cooled a bit, Harry could make him see that their relationship was genuine. He’d do everything he could in the next few days to show Draco how much he cared, and then trust that Draco would remember this after it all exploded.
The shrieking of the tea kettle jerked Harry out of his thoughts. He took it off the flame and set up a cup with tea leaves to steep. He determinedly put any thoughts of next week from his mind. If he did only have one week left with Draco, he didn’t want to waste a single moment of it worrying.
Harry added a splash of milk to the cup before he picked it up and started back to the bedroom. He walked out of the kitchen and found that Draco had moved to the living room to sprawl on the sofa, unconcernedly naked with his cock half-hard. He blushed a little when he saw where Harry’s gaze had gone, but made no move to cover himself, and Harry found that he suddenly didn’t mind his own nakedness quite so much. They’d probably end up shagging before the morning was out, and it seemed a bit silly to dress only to undress again so soon.
He handed the cup to Draco who took it with a grateful smile. “None for you?”
Harry shook his head. “Stomach’s still a little tetchy.”
Draco raised the cup to his lips and took a sip, then pulled a face. “You didn’t make it hot enough, Potter. You never make it hot enough.”
Harry had a sudden flash of himself bringing tea to Draco decades from now, the pair of them wrinkled and grey and stooped, and Draco still bitching that Harry hadn’t made it hot enough.
“I love you,” Harry said without meaning to.
Draco promptly spilled his tea, and Harry was glad that he hadn’t made it hot enough because most of it went splashing across Draco’s lap.
“You what?” Draco stared up at him like Harry had just admitted to harboring a secret crush on Umbridge.
The cup in his hand tilted alarmingly, and Harry took it from his numb fingers and set it on the coffee table before Draco spilled what little tea remained in the bottom. He sat next to Draco on the tea-dampened cushion and very carefully took his hand.
“I love you,” he said softly.
Draco continued to stare at him as if he’d gone mad. “But how can you? It hasn’t been that long.”
Harry laughed. “It’s been thirteen years, Draco.”
“Yes, and we hated each other for half of it and did our level best to ignore each other for the other half. We’ve only been here for a couple of months.” His fingers tightened around Harry’s.
Harry smiled at him. “I guess that’s all I needed.”
Draco watched him warily for a few seconds. “I’ve never been in love,” he admitted.
Harry let the smile slip from his face and went quiet for a moment before he said, “It’s pretty nice, from what I’ve seen so far.”
He could practically see Draco picking apart his words, turning them over in his head and decoding them like tea leaves. “Do you mean to tell me,” he said slowly, “that I’m the first?”
Harry nodded solemnly. “My first and only.”
The words had barely left him before Draco lunged, mashing their mouths together awkwardly. It took them a few seconds to adjust into a proper snog, and then Draco’s hands were everywhere, pressing Harry back onto the sofa, sliding up Harry’s chest and back down to grasp his hips. Harry did what he could to assist, but Draco didn’t seem interested in his help. He barely tolerated preparation, chasing Harry’s hand away from his arse after only two fingers, and when Harry entered him he was so tight that Harry had to resort to alphabetically listing Quidditch fouls for the second time that morning. Draco rode him in short, quick little thrusts that Harry felt down to his toes, and both of them only lasted a few minutes.
After, Harry lay on his back, the damp patch of tea beneath him and Draco’s spunk cooling on his belly, and Draco himself pressed warm and a little sticky against his side. He had one leg thrown over Harry’s thighs and one arm draped loosely over Harry’s chest.
“No one’s ever told me they love me before,” Draco said eventually without lifting his head.
Harry lightly stroked his fingers along Draco’s arm. “Really? Not even your mother?”
Draco shook his head against Harry’s shoulder. “No. It’s not really something that purebloods do. I mean, I know she does. She’s my mother, of course she does. She’s just never said it to me.”
“Oh.” Harry thought that was pretty sad but didn’t say so aloud.
Another length of silence slipped past before Draco asked, “You’ve really never been in love before?”
Harry tightened his arms around Draco. “Never.”
Draco hummed. “I would have thought you’d have felt like this toward David. You were together for nearly four years.” He didn’t sound jealous, to Harry’s relief, just genuinely curious.
“I really can’t imagine feeling like this about anyone else,” Harry said. “Not to say I didn’t care about him. I did, very much so. But it wasn’t anything like this.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Draco’s head. “You’ll understand soon.”
“That’s presumptuous of you, Potter,” he said, warm and teasing, and finally lifted his head.
Harry smiled, and loved how the use of his surname contrasted with the genuine affection shining in Draco’s eyes. “I prefer to think of it as optimistic,” he said. His stomach twisted, and Harry pushed the anxiety away.
Draco made another small humming sound. “I’m halfway there already, I think.” He put his head back on Harry’s shoulder. “I just need a bit more time.”
Harry pressed another kiss to the soft blond strands of Draco’s hair. “Take as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”
And he could only hope that Draco wouldn’t, either.
****
Monday morning found Draco in abnormally high spirits. Harry had wandered in a full fourteen minutes late, a fact that Draco hadn’t commented on even before he found out that Harry had been held up buying cheese Danishes for Draco.
“You seem unusually chipper this morning,” Harry commented as he set the box on Draco’s desk.
“Yes, well,” Draco said. “It seems that spending the entire weekend in bed with a gorgeous man will do that to me.” He’d even blown off Sunday lunch with his parents while Harry had skipped his weekly Weasley visit, and it had been brilliant. He bit into his Danish and hummed in appreciation. “These are amazing. You’ve got to tell me where you’re getting them.”
Harry grinned. “But if I don’t, you’re forced to keep me around.”
“I keep you around for more than pastries, Potter,” Draco said with a slow smirk. “You demonstrated that quite aptly earlier this morning.”
Harry seemed a little thrown by Draco’s blatant references to their relationship during the workday, but his grin broadened. “I’ve got plans to demonstrate it again when we get home tonight.”
“You’re insatiable,” Draco said with a faint leer. He rather liked that about Harry.
Harry laughed. “When it comes to you, absolutely.”
They both settled into their paperwork for the morning, but Draco found he had a hard time concentrating. His gaze kept straying across the room to Harry, and every time his eyes fell on him, Draco couldn’t help but smile as a giddy feeling bubbled up behind his ribs. He loves me, he thought.
Draco was glad that Harry had told him, although he’d admitted afterward that he hadn’t actually meant to say the words, which had explained why he’d looked as shocked as Draco felt to hear them come popping out of his mouth. As they lay together on the sofa after shagging, Harry had explained about being old together and Draco still complaining about the tea, and Draco had absently scraped a nail through the come drying on Harry’s belly and replied, “I’m sure that won’t happen. I’m positive I’ll teach you to brew tea properly before even one hair on your head has turned grey.” And Harry had just chuckled and kissed his forehead and told him, “Well I’m sure you’ll find something else to bitch about.”
Although he may not have meant to say it the first time, he meant it the second time he said it, holding Draco’s hand on the sofa. And the third time, as he held Draco close that night after they’d had sex again. And the fourth time, whispered against Draco’s lips just that morning right before Draco had ducked through the Floo to his own flat to shower and dress for work. Draco wasn’t ready to say it back because he wanted to mean it with every inch of himself when he finally said those words, but he still wanted to do something to show Harry how much he cared. That even though he couldn’t bring himself to apply the word ‘love’ to his feelings, they still ran deep.
He slipped one hand into his pocket and ran the his fingertip over the ridged edge of his bottle cap, and the answer popped into his head so suddenly and unexpectedly that he sat up straight and jerked his hand free of his trousers. Yes, that was it. He stood and started for the door.
“Where are you going?” Harry asked, concern shading his voice.
“Toilet,” Draco said and hurried into the hall without even bothering to put on his Auror robes first.
One quick Floo-Call later, Draco had an appointment booked for four-thirty on Friday. He went back to his office with a spring in his step and a flutter of nervous excitement settled in his belly.
“Everything all right?” Harry asked as Draco shut the door behind him.
“Hm?” Draco asked, belatedly remembering how he’d gone running out of here as well as his excuse for doing so. “Oh, yes. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Stomach’s just a little…” He trailed off and wobbled one hand in midair. “You know.”
He settled back behind his desk and began sorting through his paperwork. Across the room, Harry watched him suspiciously for a few moments before doing the same.
****
On Friday afternoon, just past four o’clock, Draco stood and stretched. Harry looked up from Patricia Porterson’s customer records and blinked as Draco reached for his robes.
“Where are you going?”
“I have an appointment,” Draco said, doing up his buttons.
“What appointment?” Harry asked with a frown. “You didn’t tell me about any appointments.”
Draco’s hands stilled momentarily as he raised his eyebrows. “Are you my secretary, Potter? I don’t tell you everything, you know.” He slipped the last few buttons through their holes. “I won’t be able to make it to the pub tonight, I’m afraid, but you should go without me.”
“Oh,” Harry said uncertainly. “Um. All right.”
Draco nodded to him, then paused with one hand on the doorknob. “Why don’t you come over to mine tonight. Say, around eight? I should be finished by then.” He swept out of the room without waiting for a reply, leaving Harry more than a little baffled behind him.
He tried not to worry about it, he really did, but Harry couldn’t help it. Draco never left work early, for any reason. And he certainly never kept secrets from Harry. He’d even told Harry about the optometrist’s appointment he’d booked over his lunch break last Tuesday, why would he hide this one? For a moment, Harry worried that Draco had discovered something about the investigation. But no, if he had he certainly wouldn’t have invited Harry over to his place, and there’d have been a lot more shouting besides.
Harry sighed and bent his head back to his paperwork, but he couldn’t concentrate. He’d only made it through another two folders when someone knocked on his office door at a quarter to six. He flicked his wand and the door swung open. Even so, Ron was cautious as he peered inside.
“It’s safe,” Harry said dryly. “He’s not even here.”
“Really?” Ron asked and looked around the small room as if Draco might be hiding behind the sofa. “But it’s pub night.”
“I know,” Harry said. He picked up a green hoodie from the pile behind his desk and yanked it over his head. “He said he had an appointment and couldn’t make it.” He forced a bright smile. “So it’s just me tonight.”
Thankfully, Ron let it go. Harry tried his best to let it go as well.
****
Draco hurried to his door at five minutes to eight and pulled it open to reveal Harry standing on his front stoop. His face lit up in a nervous smile as soon as he saw Draco.
“Hi,” he said as he stepped inside.
“Hello,” Draco replied and shut the door. He turned to find Harry looking around, and realized with a small start that he’d never had Harry over to his place before. “Shall I give you the long tour or the short one?”
Harry glanced at him over his shoulder. “What’s the difference?”
“Long tour, I show you the house. Short tour, we skip straight to the bedroom.” Draco let his gaze heat as he swept it from Harry’s head to his toes and back up again. “Your choice.”
“Short tour, please,” Harry said, and kissed Draco soundly.
He’d been drinking cider at the pub, Draco noted as Harry swept his tongue against Draco’s, and something else. Whiskey, perhaps? Maybe scotch? Whatever it was, it gave a darker, smokier flavor to the bright apple taste of the cider. Harry broke away, breathing heavily.
“Bedroom?”
Draco took him by the hand and together they went up the curving staircase to the second level, down the hall, and into the bedroom. Harry barely spared the rest of the room a glance before he dragged Draco over to the large four poster bed and shoved him onto it.
“It’s funny,” he said as he clambered up and straddled Draco’s hips. “I would’ve thought you’d have done it up in Slytherin greens.”
Draco stretched against the pale blue duvet, tucking one hand lazily beneath his head. “I really should. A nice emerald, I think, to match your eyes.”
Harry leaned forward and captured Draco’s wrists, pinning them to the mattress. “Don’t you dare,” he said. “You look brilliant against this blue.”
He went back to kissing Draco, and Draco let him even though he was dying to take off his shirt. After what felt like ages, Harry finally let got of his wrists and fumbled at the small buttons fastening his waistcoat. Draco sat up to shrug it off, and Harry leaned back a little to undo the buttons on Draco’s shirt. He jerked it down Draco’s shoulders, leaving Draco to shake it the rest of the way off as he went for the hem of Draco’s undershirt. He’d gotten it halfway up Draco’s chest when Draco freed his right arm from its sleeve and Harry saw it.
He let the undershirt fall back to Draco’s waist as he slowly reached for Draco’s wrist and tilted it to get a better look at his forearm. “When did you get this?”
Draco looked down at the fourteen dots and the faint lines sketched between them that stood out black from the pale skin of his forearm. “I told you I had an appointment.” He smiled at the delightedly surprised expression on Harry’s face. “Go on, touch it.”
Carefully, Harry reached out and stroked his finger over the dot closest to his wrist. It blossomed into a stylized star, then slowly folded back in on itself to become a dot again.
“Do you recognize it?” Draco asked.
Harry laughed. “Of course I recognize your constellation. I took the same astronomy classes you did, you arse.” He stroked his fingertip over the dot again, and watched it blossom and fade.
“Watch,” Draco said.
He swept the palm of his hand down his arm from elbow to wrist so all the dots unfurled into stars at once, and the faint outline of a dragon appeared around them for a few seconds before fading into dots and lines again. The surprise on Harry’s face had begun to heat into a slow hunger that Draco knew well from watching Harry watch his other tattoo.
“I’m really glad you like it,” he murmured.
Harry’s eyes snapped up to meet his and for a moment he only gaped. “You got this for me?”
Draco shifted slightly on the bed, suddenly a little uncomfortable. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about getting for a while. But yes, I got it now because I thought you’d like it.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t love you,” he said. “Not yet, but I wanted to show you…”
He trailed off when Harry gave a disbelieving laugh. “You’ve permanently marked your body to show that you don’t love me? You’re mad, utterly mad, and I love every barmy inch of you.”
“I told you, it was something I wanted anyhow,” Draco had time to protest before Harry was kissing him again.
Things progressed quickly from there until Harry got Draco’s trousers off and reached a hand behind him and found him already slick and loose. He hesitated, breaking off the kiss to look down at Draco.
“Did you…?”
Draco felt his cheeks warm as he remembered working lubed fingers into his arse just before eight o’clock, and how deliciously naughty it’d felt as he pulled his trousers back up and refastened them. “I assumed that we’d end up here before too long. I know how you are about tattoos.”
“Just yours,” Harry said. “My first boyfriend had tattoos and they didn’t get to me nearly this way.” He brought Draco’s arm to his mouth and licked a broad stripe down his wrist, stars blossoming beneath his tongue.
Draco felt a warm curl of possessive pleasure at Harry’s words, colored with only the faintest hint of jealousy. Harry was his. Harry loved him. No one else mattered, no one else in the world.
“So how long have you wanted to get this?” Harry asked.
“A few years,” Draco told him. “I’ve got plans for a few more, you know.”
Harry’s eyes lit up. “Really? What?”
Draco hummed. “I think I’ll leave that a surprise,” he said, and kissed Harry before he could protest.
Afterward, they lay together, with Harry gently stroking Draco’s ribs so that the dragon tattoo reacted. Draco sighed when it twisted in on itself and then turned around and stretched so that its head sat near his hipbone and the tip of its tail curled up to his shoulder.
“It’ll take me ages to get him to turn the right way up again,” he complained.
Harry kissed Draco’s shoulder, and the dragon tattoo flicked its tail away from him. “Don’t worry, it’ll be my pleasure to get him turned around.” He swiped a finger down Draco’s ribs, and the dragon snapped at him.
Draco watched him with an amused little smile. “Frankly, Potter, this obsession of yours with my tattoo is somewhat…”
“Flattering?” Harry offered hopefully, looking up from his task. “Endearing?” He grinned at Draco and waggled his eyebrows. “Sexy?”
Draco couldn’t help but laugh. “I was going to say worrisome, but I suppose I’ll let you have one of those other adjectives as well.”
“I’d like to go with sexy then, if you don’t mind. I think that’ll be best for my chances of getting laid again tonight.”
Draco snorted. “You are so—“
“Wonderful? Amazing?” Harry put in. He tipped his head to one side peered up at Draco through his fringe in what Draco assumed was meant to be a smoldering look, the effects of which were utterly ruined by the way the corners of Harry’s mouth twitched as he fought back a smile. “Sexy?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Exasperating.”
Harry snickered. “What, you’re not going to let me have an extra adjective again?”
“No.”
Harry prodded Draco in the ribs. “Come on. It’d do wonders for my self-esteem. Think of it as your good deed for the day.”
“The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” he said gravely.
Harry waggled his eyebrows again. “Yes, but the path to blowjobs is paved with excessive flattery.”
Draco snorted. “Shall I break out my thesaurus then?”
Harry propped himself up on his elbows and looked at Draco eagerly. “Oh yes please. You know nothing excites me more than a man reading aloud from a reference book. I think it’s a weird holdover from spending so much time with Hermione during my formative years.”
For a moment, Draco honestly couldn’t tell whether or not Harry was serious. But then Harry’s eyes sparkled mischievously, and Draco decided to play along. “All right then. Hm, let’s see. I suppose it’s best to go alphabetically. Assertive. Brilliant. Courageous.”
Harry bent his head to nibble at Draco’s collarbone, and for a moment Draco forgot what came after C.
“Go on, then,” Harry whispered against his skin.
“Dashing. Um. Exasperating.”
Harry grimaced. “Oh, I’m flattered.”
Draco grinned. “Flattering. Good. Hard.”
“Hard?” Harry murmured and shifted his hips to press his cock against Draco’s thigh. He rocked against him.
“Hard-headed,” Draco corrected. “And irritating.”
Harry laughed. “And insulted.”
“Irksome,” Draco gasped as Harry bit at his neck. “Infuriating. Ingrate.”
Harry laughed again. “I’m supposed to be grateful, now?”
“I’m about to let you shag me again, aren’t I?” Draco pointed out. “You should be.”
The teasing smile faded from Harry’s face, and he reached up and cupped Draco’s cheek in one palm. “I am,” he said. “I’m so grateful for every moment with you.” He swallowed. “Draco, I’m in love with you, so much it feels impossible, and I’m afraid that I won’t be able to make you see just how much, and…”
“Harry,” Draco interrupted, made suddenly uncomfortable by the frightening intensity in Harry’s eyes and the serious turn their conversation had taken. “Shut up and kiss me.”
For a moment, Harry looked like he might argue, but then he just nodded and whispered, “Okay,” and did as he was told.
****
Harry woke the next morning and opened his eyes to an unfamiliar canopy. He blinked a few times before he groped for his glasses and slid them on. He was in Draco’s bed, in Draco’s home, but he didn’t see Draco anywhere. He slid a hand over the sheets on the other side of the bed and found them cool. A few moments later, the faint rush of a running shower registered. Harry sighed and snuggled deeper under the covers.
A minute later, the shower turned off and Draco came back into the room wearing only a towel tucked neatly around his waist. He moved quietly, carefully sliding open drawers of his bureau, obviously trying not to disturb Harry. For a moment, he considered letting Draco know that he didn’t need to bother with keeping quiet, but then Draco dropped his towel and Harry decided that he’d much rather just enjoy the show.
He watched as Draco dragged a clean white undershirt over his head, hiding the dragon from view, then pulled on a pair of black underpants, which meant either the white shirt and the black waistcoat with silver pinstripes, or the black shirt and the black waistcoat with all the little gold buttons up the front. Harry hoped for the latter; he liked Draco in unrelieved black nearly as much as he liked him in blue.
Draco wandered into his closet and Harry listened to the faint rustle of cloth being pulled from hangers, then Draco returned wearing a pair of black trousers, the fly hanging undone, and – yes! – the black shirt. He shrugged into it, covering up his scarred left arm and his tattooed right arm, and as he fastened the buttons at the cuffs, Harry realized that somewhere in watching Draco dress, he’d grown uncomfortably hard.
It was somewhat disconcerting to realize that he found Draco dressing nearly as arousing as Draco undressing, but there it was. Draco finished with the buttons on his shirt and tucked it in before he fastened his trousers and pulled on his waistcoat, every movement quick and efficient. He was putting on more than clothes, hiding more than his body as he dressed.
Draco had walked into the bedroom, with his pale skin flushed from his shower, scars and tattoos on unashamed display. Draco, who laughed with Harry and came up with alphabetical lists of adjectives for him and kissed him like he’d die if he went another second without it. Draco was warm and soft and open and heartbreakingly, terrifyingly vulnerable.
But as he cast charms to dry and smooth his rumpled hair, Draco had almost completed the transformation to what Harry thought of as Malfoy. His black clothes made him look severe, the dark color sharpening the angles of his features. He looked perfectly composed, and serious, and more than a bit haughty. He looked like the type of person who never smiled, though Harry knew better.
It lit his blood to know that he was the one who could strip away those layers Draco cloaked himself in, peeling them off as easily as he could remove the fussy clothing from Draco’s body.
Draco picked up the small array of things from the top of his dresser and slid them into his pockets one by one: glasses, handkerchief, keys, and a small round something Harry couldn’t quite make out. As he settled the chain of his pocket watch into an elegant curve over the flat plane of his stomach, he glanced over at Harry and caught him watching.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said.
“You didn’t,” Harry said. “Why are you up?”
Draco scowled. “You can blame Weasley and his arsehole partner for that. They found another safe house and called me in as consult. On my bloody day off, I might add. I’m sure this is Smith’s doing.”
“Oh. Shall I come along?” Harry offered. He propped himself up on his elbows.
Draco shook his head. “Don’t bother. I’ll take a look around, ward the place, and we can deal with it together on Monday.” He glanced down to where Harry’s erection tented the bed sheets and smirked. “Think you can hold on until then?”
“I like watching you dress,” Harry said.
“Watching me dress?” Draco repeated, bemused.
“Yes,” Harry said. “It’s like you’re two people, and I’m watching you change from one to the other.”
Draco’s eyebrows lifted. “You’ve lost me, I’m afraid.”
“There’s Draco, and there’s Malfoy,” Harry said, and Draco didn’t look any less confused, which Harry supposed was fair because he really wasn’t explaining this very well. His aching cock made it hard to think straight, and he slid his hand down under the sheets to give it a squeeze. “And Malfoy’s cold and distant and kind of a bastard, and that incredible self-control you’ve got.” He swallowed and gasped a little as he palmed his cock. “And then there’s Draco, and when you’re him you’re the bloke who spends all weekend in bed with me, and can always be won over by takeaway curry, and I’m so in love with him it’s almost painful.”
Draco said nothing, but he stepped a little closer.
“And it’s like with the duel, there you were all tightly-reined anger and you looked so bloody dangerous, and all I could think of was how that morning you’d smiled at me and lay back and let me fuck you, and that fucking tattoo on your side, and your Mark and all your scars.” Harry was rambling now, unsure if what he said made any sense at all but he kept talking because he wanted Draco to understand. He groped for better words. “It’s the juxtaposition of it all, between who you are and the front you put up for everyone but me. It drives me mad.”
Draco came to a stop by the side of the bed. “And am I to take it that you like it when I’m Malfoy?”
Harry nodded eagerly. “Yes, because I know you don’t really mean it with me. I know what you’re like underneath. The same way I like it when you call me Potter, because I know you think of me as Harry.”
Draco regarded him evenly. “You're an odd one, aren’t you, Potter?” he asked flatly. “I treat you warmly, and that makes you like it more when I hold you at arm’s length. You’re obsessed with my tattoo when I’m in my altogether, and when I’m dressed you’re obsessed with the fact that you can’t see it.”
“Tattoos. Plural,” Harry said. “You’ve got more than one now.”
Draco’s mouth quirked in the barest smile before he fought it back to a grim line, still playing along with Harry. “So I have. However, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re very strange.”
Draco put his hand over the fist Harry had wrapped around his cock and pressed down, and Harry’s hips gave a helpless twitch up into the pressure. He nearly came undone when Draco looked down his long nose at him with a faint sneer curling his lip, leaning close.
“I expect to find you right here when I get back, because I have every intention of continuing this very enlightening conversation.” He removed his hand from Harry’s groin and straightened. “I shouldn’t be more than an hour.”
He turned and swept out of the room, his bare feet padding soundlessly across the dark wood floor.
“Oh my god,” Harry said and stroked himself hard and fast. It only took a few minutes to bring himself off.
After the warm lethargy of his orgasm faded and he’d cast cleaning charms on Draco’s sheets, Harry stood up and stretched and looked around Draco’s bedroom. Draco kept it as neat as he kept his side of the office at the Ministry, all of the mahogany furniture bright and free of dust and clutter. Harry wandered into the bathroom to relieve his bladder, then hesitated.
Draco had left him here alone because he trusted Harry. But Harry knew that he wouldn’t get a better chance to search around Draco’s flat, like he’d told Kingsley he was angling to do all along. A surge of guilt flared through him, and Harry quashed it. They were going to search Draco’s flat anyhow, right? Wouldn’t it be better for Harry to do it rather than some faceless Auror armed with a search warrant and a grudge against Death Eaters? If Harry had the search on record before he removed himself from the case, then it would stand and no one else would come back to do it again after him. It was better this way.
Swallowing his distaste, Harry opened Draco’s medicine cabinet and sifted through the neatly labeled single-dose bottles. Hangover Potion, Headache Tonics, Dreamless Sleep. Nothing out of the ordinary, though Harry was somewhat concerned with the amount of Dreamless Sleep, given its addictive nature. He made a mental note to bring that up with Draco later. He’d say he was looking for something for a headache. He took one of the bottles of Headache Tonic and dumped it down the sink to corroborate his story before he searched the rest of the cabinets.
In the bedroom he paused to pull on his underpants and the green button-up Draco had worn yesterday. He fastened the middle three buttons and rolled up the sleeves before he poked through Draco’s bureau and bedside tables. He felt another flash of guilt when he discovered that Draco kept his borrowed copy of The Once And Future King in the drawer beside his bed. There was a bookmark tucked between the pages about halfway through, and Harry imagined Draco reading a few chapters in bed before turning out the light and rolling over and settling in to sleep. Harry slid the drawer shut with a thud and turned his attention to the rest of the room. The clothing in the drawers of Draco’s bureau were neatly folded. In Draco’s closet, he wasn’t at all surprised to find all the clothes hung in rainbow order.
The rest of Draco’s end terrace didn’t take long to search. Everything was neatly organized, and Harry idly wished that all of his suspects had such tidy homes. It’d make his job so much easier. He felt briefly guilty at the thought, then quickly pushed it away. This was to help Draco, ultimately. Harry knew that Draco had nothing to hide, and he was afraid Kingsley might take him off the case if he didn’t keep submitting new evidence. Harry just needed to hang on to it long enough to turn over to Ron. Really, this was all to help Draco in the long run.
His search turned up nothing of interest, until he went down into the basement. Draco had converted the entire space into a potions lab, though all of the cauldrons sat cold and empty at the moment. Draco probably hadn’t been home long enough to work on anything recently, Harry thought, what with him spending all of his free time in Harry’s bed. He looked through the glass-fronted cabinets of ingredients, and noted almost all of the things necessary for brewing up a batch of Verve. A small desk sat in the far corner, and Harry found three leather-bound journals of notes. He chose a few pages at random, detailing some obscure research about the effects of Veritaserum, because he had to turn in something, and one quick Duplicating Charm later, Harry left the basement just as he’d found it.
He shrunk the handful of pages and tucked them securely into the pocket of his trousers before he went back to the kitchen and began sorting through the cabinets there.
****
The bloody Apparition coordinates were off.
At least, that was what Draco had assumed until he’d tried to Apparate closer and found he couldn’t. A few sensing charms confirmed the Anti-Apparation ward that blanketed the area. This was as close as he could get by magic.
Draco blamed that on Smith, repeatedly and emphatically as he slogged along a muddy path toward the house he saw in the distance. The cold mud squelched and slid under him, and he nearly lost his footing twice. Several times he unexpectedly sank several inches into the muck and the freezing mud seeped into his shoes. Already his toes had grown painfully cold and were rapidly nearing numb, despite the warming charms Draco had aimed at his feet.
“Hello there, Malfoy,” Smith said cheerfully, confirming Draco’s suspicions. “Have a nice walk?”
“Sorry, Malfoy,” Weasley said, ignoring his partner. “We don’t really need you here, but he put in the request without telling me.”
“It’s fine, isn’t it Malfoy?” Smith said. “I know you haven’t got anything better to do with your Saturday morning.”
Draco ignored him and swallowed down his irritation. He thought he’d put an end to Smith being an arsehole with that duel. He should have known that such a public humiliation would only have him redoubling his efforts to get under Draco’s skin. Really, he should have seen it coming, because back at Hogwarts hadn’t he redoubled his own efforts every time Harry bested him? Biting back a sigh, he turned to the house, shook his wand into his hand with a practiced flick of his wrist, and set to work dismantling the wards. A few minutes later, the last of them fell, and Draco turned to Smith and Weasley.
“It’s unwarded now. You should be able to cast the detection spells without any interference now, though the wards didn’t feel like they’d been touched in years,” Draco said. “Ward it up again when you’re done, and Harry and I will deal with the rest of it on Monday.”
“Thanks, Malfoy,” Weasley began.
“I don’t think so,” Smith interrupted. “I insist that we check the inside. It’s protocol to thoroughly check any suspicious areas.” He paused to aim a nasty smile at Draco. “I believe in being thorough.”
Draco glowered at him, his temper fraying. “Let it go, Smith. You’ve had your fun. You’ve dragged me out of bed on my day off. A bed that, I might add, was occupied by someone other than myself—“
“What’s the matter?” Smith asked cheerfully. “Haven’t paid her for the night yet?”
For a moment, Draco saw red, and only Weasley’s hand clamping down around his wrist stopped him from hexing the stupid bastard.
“I for one don’t want to hear anything more about who may or may not be in Malfoy’s bed,” he said. “We don’t need him for this, Smith.”
Draco flushed slightly at that. Weasley already knew who was waiting for him at home.
Smith sighed theatrically. “It’ll look bad on his record, though, when I report that he declined a direct request for assistance.”
Weasley stared at him. “I don’t know what your bloody obsession with needling him is, but you need to stop. One day you’re going to poke at him and he’s going to turn around and bite your hand off.”
While Draco resented the implication that he was little more than an ill-tempered dog, he had to admit that there was some amount of truth to it. Yes, he’d gotten far better at reining in his temper since his youth, but even he still had his limits.
“It’s fine,” he ground out. “I’ll just pop in and make sure it’s fine.”
“I don’t trust you,” Smith said. “We really ought to come along.”
Draco nearly argued, but sighed instead. He wanted nothing more than to get this over with so he could get back to his home. An image of Harry flittered through his mind, tucked snugly beneath the covers on Draco’s bed, his hard cock pushing up at the blankets. Draco wondered whether he was still there. He hoped so.
“Fine,” he said. “Don’t touch anything. I mean that.”
Weasley gave the fingers of his right hand a rub. “Believe me, mate, once with a curse was enough,” he said.
Without waiting for Smith to respond, Draco strode up the front walk, flung a series of detecting charms at the porch, and activated the spell that would safely open the door and light up the protected path through the house.
“Don’t touch the door, don’t touch the doorjamb, don’t step on the threshold,” he said. “And don’t leave the path.”
He moved through the entryway quickly, casting detection spells as he went, making note of the curses and traps he found. Based on the ones around the door, he suspected that this was another Carrow house, and they never bothered to set up timed triggers. Still, Draco wanted to check for himself. In the sitting room, he came across a densely layered cluster of curses and had to slow down. Smith began to gripe.
“You’re the one who insisted that I do this,” Draco couldn’t help but point out. “And don’t leave the path!”
Smith snorted and wandered just inside the safe path’s limits. “Touchy, touchy,” he chided. “You must be eager to get back to your whore.”
Draco snapped. He cast a wordless, wandless Tripping Jinx before he could even think to stop himself. Smith stumbled over his own feet and threw out a hand to catch himself. His palm slapped against the large ornately framed mirror hung on the wall just beside him and he fell through it.
“Fuck!” Weasley swore as Draco came running over.
For a moment, Draco panicked, but then he saw Smith in the mirror, yelling soundlessly and pounding his fists against the glass. Oh thank Merlin, it was just a Trapping Glass. It was a struggle to not let his relief show. He turned away from the mirror.
“He’ll be fine in there,” he said to Weasley, shoving down a wave of irritation with himself for allowing his control to lapse. If Smith had been seriously hurt in a Death Eater safe house, Draco didn’t even want to imagine what would have happened to him. Azkaban, at the very least. “We’ll get him on the way out.”
They quickly finished searching the house, and Draco released Smith from the mirror. He sputtered wordlessly for a moment, then went storming outside.
“I’ll just be off, then,” Draco said. “I’m sure you two can finish up on your own.”
Weasley sighed. “Say hi to Harry for me.”
Draco nodded to him and Apparated on the spot. As he landed in his front entryway, he took a moment to be thankful that the Anti-Apparition ward only prohibited Apparating in, not out. Then he toed off his shoes and cast a series of cleaning spells on his trousers, getting rid of the muck that spattered the lower six inches. They came clean, but remained puckered and wrinkled. Draco hoped a good laundering would rescue them. The shoes, he Vanished with a pang of regret. Such a shame; he’d really liked those shoes.
He started up the stairs for his bedroom, but the clatter of a plate on a countertop gave him pause. He went into the kitchen where he found Harry in front of the stove, wearing nothing but Draco’s shirt as he prodded at something in a pan with a spatula.
“Hey there,” he said, smiling at Draco over his shoulder. “I made us some breakfast. Hope you don’t mind I went through your cabinets.” He flipped over the flapjack in the pan.
“Hm. I suppose I may be willing to forgive you, but only because you’ve made bacon,” Draco said, swiping one from the plate on the counter. He bit into it and found it perfectly crunchy, exactly the way he liked. “Mmm. I recall telling you to wait for me in my bed, but I think I might have to keep you here instead.” He slipped a hand under the tail of Harry’s stolen shirt and was disappointed to find him wearing underpants. Draco Vanished them, and Harry flinched. “I like you in nothing but my shirt,” he murmured in Harry’s ear as he slid his hand back under the shirt to cup Harry’s bum.
Harry leaned back against him. “I like it too. However.” He shifted away from Draco’s hand. “I can’t leave the stove unattended right now. Breakfast first, then shagging.”
Draco heaved a put-upon sigh. “Fine,” he said. “But only because you’ve made bacon.”
He stole another piece, then turned to fill his tea kettle from the tap. Harry might make perfect bacon, but he still couldn’t be trusted to make a proper cup of tea.
****
Harry woke up screaming. He was a little surprised it hadn’t happened before now, actually. He didn’t usually go this long without nightmares. He sat up, his skin clammy, his shirt damp and sticking to his back. Beside him, Draco rolled over and turned on the light. He watched Harry without speaking for a moment, then pushed himself out of bed.
“Stay there,” he said, and disappeared into the hall.
Harry dropped his head to his knees and tried to clear his head. He’d dreamed of the Battle of Hogwarts again, vague impressions of screaming and death that solidified into the Forbidden Forest and Voldemort, and a jet of green racing at Harry. It was over, he was safe, he told himself. The war was over. He shivered.
A minute later, Draco returned with a mug in his hand. He went to his bureau and pulled out a clean shirt and tossed it to Harry.
“Put that on,” he said, and waited while Harry obeyed. “Here.”
Harry took the mug Draco held out to him and wrapped his hands around it, letting the bright sting of hot water through porcelain ground him. He took a small sip and burned his tongue.
“You made it too hot,” he said.
“I made it properly,” Draco said, but he aimed a mild cooling charm at the mug before sliding back into bed beside him and scooting so close that his thigh pressed against Harry’s. They leaned back against the headboard together. “Would you like to talk about it?”
Harry shrugged. “Not really. It’s just the war.” He looked down into his tea. “You can go back to sleep, if you want. You don’t need to sit up with me.”
“It’s fine. We have to be up for work in an hour anyhow,” Draco said and went silent for a few moments. “I still dream about the Fiendfyre most often, myself. And about Nagini.”
“I dream about dying,” Harry said.
Draco slid his palm, warm and comforting, over Harry’s leg. “At least it’s just a dream.”
“It’s not,” Harry said and gripped his mug tighter. “I really did die.” He sucked in a deep breath and couldn’t look at Draco. “The second time he cast the Killing Curse at me, in the Forest. Everyone thinks it didn’t work, but it did. I just… came back, after.”
Draco went silent for a few moments. “What’s it like?” he asked.
And Harry could have kissed him for it. There was no pity in his voice, no horror or revulsion or disbelief at what Harry had been through. Just simple curiosity.
“It was nice,” he said. “Calm and bright and quiet. I nearly didn’t. Um, come back, I mean.”
Draco’s fingers curled around his thigh. “I’m glad you did.”
“Me too,” Harry said. He took another sip of tea and didn’t burn his tongue this time. The nightmare was fading fast in the warm glow of the lamp on Draco’s bedside table, and the rest of it – the clean shirt, the tea, the quiet companionship of Draco beside him – gave him an easy sense of comfort that he didn’t think he’d ever found before. “How did you know exactly what I needed?”
“Because it’s what I always wish I had someone to do for me when I wake up from nightmares of the war,” Draco said, and his eyes slid away from Harry. “And don’t worry, you’ll get your chance to reciprocate sooner or later.”
Harry thought of those bottles of Dreamless Sleep in Draco’s medicine cabinet and nodded. Draco had assured him they weren’t addictive, but Harry still didn’t like him taking them. “Thank you.”
“You know,” Draco said. “Given all the shit we’ve been through, we really are two remarkably well-adjusted individuals.”
Harry smile wryly. “I don’t feel like it sometimes.”
“Sometimes I don’t either,” Draco admitted with a sigh. “There are days when I feel like I’m barely holding myself together. Perhaps that’s why we’re so good together. You understand me like no one else.” He leaned his shoulder heavily against Harry’s. “And I understand you.”
Harry thought so too, and was glad. Because they really did understand each other. They fit together perfectly. Harry sighed a little and slid down just enough to rest his head on Draco’s shoulder, and Draco brushed a gentle kiss against his hair.
Everything would be okay. He and Draco would be fine. Harry just had to believe that everything would work out okay in the end.
.
.
.
.
.
Continue reading with Chapter 14
Wordcount: 15 chapters, 145k total, 9k for this chapter
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 for sex. Also, swearing and small amounts of violence.
Pairings: brief and non-explicit Harry/OMC, Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters and this is written purely for entertainment purposes.
Summary: Over the six years Draco Malfoy has been an Auror, four of his partners have turned up dead. Harry Potter is assigned as his newest partner to investigate just what is going on.
Author's Notes: A great big huge thank you to my beta. You are undoubtedly the best.
All Our Secrets Laid Bare - Chapter 13
Harry woke slowly, snug layers of sleep flaking away as vague impressions of warmth and darkness dissipated into roiling nausea. When he finally worked up the nerve to open his eyes, the bright early-morning sunlight felt like ground glass against his corneas. Harry let his eyes fall shut again and groaned.
The mattress dipped as someone shifted beside him. “Here,” Draco said and pressed something cool and smooth against Harry’s palm.
Harry cracked open one eye and squinted through the pain at the small vial he held. “Oh thank god.”
He shoved himself to a sitting position and yanked the stopper out, then took one deep breath to brace himself before he tipped the vial into his mouth. The fetid potion coated his tongue in a thick sludge and his throat worked three times before he could actually force himself to choke it down. His stomach heaved, and Harry squeezed his eyes shut and mentally ran through all the Quidditch fouls he knew in alphabetical order. He made it to Cobbing before the potion kicked in properly and his nausea settled.
Harry flopped back onto the pillows with a sigh. “I’ve never figured out why they make that one taste so bloody awful,” he griped.
Draco propped himself up on one elbow. “It’s all to do with how the aconite interacts with the shrivelfig pulp. The pulp is acidic and once it begins to break down the—“
“Ugh,” Harry said and clapped a hand over his eyes. “It’s too early for Potions lectures.”
“Well you asked,” Draco said, then added, “I’m developing a better tasting version.”
“Really?” Harry asked and lifted his hand from his face. “Have you got it working?”
Draco shrugged a shoulder. “Sort of. It doesn’t taste like sweaty socks anymore, but you’ll burp broccoli for the rest of the day. Not much of an improvement in my opinion.” He shrugged again. “I’m still working on it.”
“When you get it working, you’ll make millions,” Harry told him. “Absolute millions.”
“I’ve already got millions,” Draco said with a smile. “What would I do with more?”
“I don’t know,” Harry said distantly, distracted by the way the early morning sunlight slanted across Draco’s skin. In the bright golden warmth of it, even his scars looked beautiful. “Buy a small country?”
Draco snorted. “What on earth would I do with one of those?”
“Hmm. Rule over it with an iron fist?”
“Sounds like a lot of work to me,” Draco sighed.
Harry grinned. “Yes, but you’d have loads of people to worship you and kneel before you. Though I’m more than willing to get on my knees for you right now. You like me on my knees, as I recall.” He shifted closer to kiss the long slope of Draco’s neck and winced as his arse twinged with the motion.
“Are you all right?” Draco asked, leaning back out of Harry’s reach. His brows drew together in concern.
“Fine, fine,” Harry said and leaned in for a kiss.
Draco dodged his efforts. “Right. Only… You were rather, ah, enthusiastic last night. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Harry shook his head. “No, not at all.” He smiled a little sheepishly and rubbed a hand through his hair. “I, er, told you I like to bottom when I’m drinking.”
“Yes, you said you like to bottom,” Draco said. “I like Quidditch. I like trifling with potions. I like my afternoon cup of tea.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Oh please, you’re an absolute bear if you don’t get your afternoon cup of tea.”
“Fine, that’s a poor example,” Draco allowed. “However, it doesn’t change the fact that you were something of an animal yourself last night.”
Harry shrugged with all the casualness he could muster. “All right then, I like it rather a lot. And a bit rough.” He glanced at Draco. “Does that…bother you?”
For a moment, Draco frowned. “No, it just surprised me. I’ve always thought of bottoming as the more passive role, and last night you showed me how wrong that assumption was.” He nudged Harry with an elbow. “So, speaking of tea…”
Harry pulled a face as he slid out of bed. “That’s another thing you’d get with your country: loads of people to fetch your tea for you.”
Draco rolled over onto his stomach and propped his chin on one hand. “What would I need them for? I’ve got you, haven’t I?”
Harry felt his heart turn over and he couldn’t keep a soppy smile from spreading over his face. “You absolutely do, for as long as you’ll have me.”
Abruptly, the pleasant ache in his chest turned painful, and Harry turned away and hurried into the kitchen where he filled the kettle and set it on the stove. He leaned back against the counter and folded his arms over his chest as he waited for it to heat. He’d meant what he’d said, that he belonged to Draco for as long as Draco would have him. But he was afraid that Draco wouldn’t want him for much longer, not after Harry told him about the investigation. Draco’s birthday was next Monday, and then on Tuesday Harry would confess everything. It hurt to think that he might only have a little over a week left with Draco. He sighed and scratched at his bare thigh, sort of wishing he’d thought to put on underpants before he’d gone dashing out of his bedroom.
Well, if he only had one week left, he was sure as hell going to make that week count. And maybe after Draco got done screaming at him and his anger cooled a bit, Harry could make him see that their relationship was genuine. He’d do everything he could in the next few days to show Draco how much he cared, and then trust that Draco would remember this after it all exploded.
The shrieking of the tea kettle jerked Harry out of his thoughts. He took it off the flame and set up a cup with tea leaves to steep. He determinedly put any thoughts of next week from his mind. If he did only have one week left with Draco, he didn’t want to waste a single moment of it worrying.
Harry added a splash of milk to the cup before he picked it up and started back to the bedroom. He walked out of the kitchen and found that Draco had moved to the living room to sprawl on the sofa, unconcernedly naked with his cock half-hard. He blushed a little when he saw where Harry’s gaze had gone, but made no move to cover himself, and Harry found that he suddenly didn’t mind his own nakedness quite so much. They’d probably end up shagging before the morning was out, and it seemed a bit silly to dress only to undress again so soon.
He handed the cup to Draco who took it with a grateful smile. “None for you?”
Harry shook his head. “Stomach’s still a little tetchy.”
Draco raised the cup to his lips and took a sip, then pulled a face. “You didn’t make it hot enough, Potter. You never make it hot enough.”
Harry had a sudden flash of himself bringing tea to Draco decades from now, the pair of them wrinkled and grey and stooped, and Draco still bitching that Harry hadn’t made it hot enough.
“I love you,” Harry said without meaning to.
Draco promptly spilled his tea, and Harry was glad that he hadn’t made it hot enough because most of it went splashing across Draco’s lap.
“You what?” Draco stared up at him like Harry had just admitted to harboring a secret crush on Umbridge.
The cup in his hand tilted alarmingly, and Harry took it from his numb fingers and set it on the coffee table before Draco spilled what little tea remained in the bottom. He sat next to Draco on the tea-dampened cushion and very carefully took his hand.
“I love you,” he said softly.
Draco continued to stare at him as if he’d gone mad. “But how can you? It hasn’t been that long.”
Harry laughed. “It’s been thirteen years, Draco.”
“Yes, and we hated each other for half of it and did our level best to ignore each other for the other half. We’ve only been here for a couple of months.” His fingers tightened around Harry’s.
Harry smiled at him. “I guess that’s all I needed.”
Draco watched him warily for a few seconds. “I’ve never been in love,” he admitted.
Harry let the smile slip from his face and went quiet for a moment before he said, “It’s pretty nice, from what I’ve seen so far.”
He could practically see Draco picking apart his words, turning them over in his head and decoding them like tea leaves. “Do you mean to tell me,” he said slowly, “that I’m the first?”
Harry nodded solemnly. “My first and only.”
The words had barely left him before Draco lunged, mashing their mouths together awkwardly. It took them a few seconds to adjust into a proper snog, and then Draco’s hands were everywhere, pressing Harry back onto the sofa, sliding up Harry’s chest and back down to grasp his hips. Harry did what he could to assist, but Draco didn’t seem interested in his help. He barely tolerated preparation, chasing Harry’s hand away from his arse after only two fingers, and when Harry entered him he was so tight that Harry had to resort to alphabetically listing Quidditch fouls for the second time that morning. Draco rode him in short, quick little thrusts that Harry felt down to his toes, and both of them only lasted a few minutes.
After, Harry lay on his back, the damp patch of tea beneath him and Draco’s spunk cooling on his belly, and Draco himself pressed warm and a little sticky against his side. He had one leg thrown over Harry’s thighs and one arm draped loosely over Harry’s chest.
“No one’s ever told me they love me before,” Draco said eventually without lifting his head.
Harry lightly stroked his fingers along Draco’s arm. “Really? Not even your mother?”
Draco shook his head against Harry’s shoulder. “No. It’s not really something that purebloods do. I mean, I know she does. She’s my mother, of course she does. She’s just never said it to me.”
“Oh.” Harry thought that was pretty sad but didn’t say so aloud.
Another length of silence slipped past before Draco asked, “You’ve really never been in love before?”
Harry tightened his arms around Draco. “Never.”
Draco hummed. “I would have thought you’d have felt like this toward David. You were together for nearly four years.” He didn’t sound jealous, to Harry’s relief, just genuinely curious.
“I really can’t imagine feeling like this about anyone else,” Harry said. “Not to say I didn’t care about him. I did, very much so. But it wasn’t anything like this.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Draco’s head. “You’ll understand soon.”
“That’s presumptuous of you, Potter,” he said, warm and teasing, and finally lifted his head.
Harry smiled, and loved how the use of his surname contrasted with the genuine affection shining in Draco’s eyes. “I prefer to think of it as optimistic,” he said. His stomach twisted, and Harry pushed the anxiety away.
Draco made another small humming sound. “I’m halfway there already, I think.” He put his head back on Harry’s shoulder. “I just need a bit more time.”
Harry pressed another kiss to the soft blond strands of Draco’s hair. “Take as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”
And he could only hope that Draco wouldn’t, either.
****
Monday morning found Draco in abnormally high spirits. Harry had wandered in a full fourteen minutes late, a fact that Draco hadn’t commented on even before he found out that Harry had been held up buying cheese Danishes for Draco.
“You seem unusually chipper this morning,” Harry commented as he set the box on Draco’s desk.
“Yes, well,” Draco said. “It seems that spending the entire weekend in bed with a gorgeous man will do that to me.” He’d even blown off Sunday lunch with his parents while Harry had skipped his weekly Weasley visit, and it had been brilliant. He bit into his Danish and hummed in appreciation. “These are amazing. You’ve got to tell me where you’re getting them.”
Harry grinned. “But if I don’t, you’re forced to keep me around.”
“I keep you around for more than pastries, Potter,” Draco said with a slow smirk. “You demonstrated that quite aptly earlier this morning.”
Harry seemed a little thrown by Draco’s blatant references to their relationship during the workday, but his grin broadened. “I’ve got plans to demonstrate it again when we get home tonight.”
“You’re insatiable,” Draco said with a faint leer. He rather liked that about Harry.
Harry laughed. “When it comes to you, absolutely.”
They both settled into their paperwork for the morning, but Draco found he had a hard time concentrating. His gaze kept straying across the room to Harry, and every time his eyes fell on him, Draco couldn’t help but smile as a giddy feeling bubbled up behind his ribs. He loves me, he thought.
Draco was glad that Harry had told him, although he’d admitted afterward that he hadn’t actually meant to say the words, which had explained why he’d looked as shocked as Draco felt to hear them come popping out of his mouth. As they lay together on the sofa after shagging, Harry had explained about being old together and Draco still complaining about the tea, and Draco had absently scraped a nail through the come drying on Harry’s belly and replied, “I’m sure that won’t happen. I’m positive I’ll teach you to brew tea properly before even one hair on your head has turned grey.” And Harry had just chuckled and kissed his forehead and told him, “Well I’m sure you’ll find something else to bitch about.”
Although he may not have meant to say it the first time, he meant it the second time he said it, holding Draco’s hand on the sofa. And the third time, as he held Draco close that night after they’d had sex again. And the fourth time, whispered against Draco’s lips just that morning right before Draco had ducked through the Floo to his own flat to shower and dress for work. Draco wasn’t ready to say it back because he wanted to mean it with every inch of himself when he finally said those words, but he still wanted to do something to show Harry how much he cared. That even though he couldn’t bring himself to apply the word ‘love’ to his feelings, they still ran deep.
He slipped one hand into his pocket and ran the his fingertip over the ridged edge of his bottle cap, and the answer popped into his head so suddenly and unexpectedly that he sat up straight and jerked his hand free of his trousers. Yes, that was it. He stood and started for the door.
“Where are you going?” Harry asked, concern shading his voice.
“Toilet,” Draco said and hurried into the hall without even bothering to put on his Auror robes first.
One quick Floo-Call later, Draco had an appointment booked for four-thirty on Friday. He went back to his office with a spring in his step and a flutter of nervous excitement settled in his belly.
“Everything all right?” Harry asked as Draco shut the door behind him.
“Hm?” Draco asked, belatedly remembering how he’d gone running out of here as well as his excuse for doing so. “Oh, yes. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Stomach’s just a little…” He trailed off and wobbled one hand in midair. “You know.”
He settled back behind his desk and began sorting through his paperwork. Across the room, Harry watched him suspiciously for a few moments before doing the same.
****
On Friday afternoon, just past four o’clock, Draco stood and stretched. Harry looked up from Patricia Porterson’s customer records and blinked as Draco reached for his robes.
“Where are you going?”
“I have an appointment,” Draco said, doing up his buttons.
“What appointment?” Harry asked with a frown. “You didn’t tell me about any appointments.”
Draco’s hands stilled momentarily as he raised his eyebrows. “Are you my secretary, Potter? I don’t tell you everything, you know.” He slipped the last few buttons through their holes. “I won’t be able to make it to the pub tonight, I’m afraid, but you should go without me.”
“Oh,” Harry said uncertainly. “Um. All right.”
Draco nodded to him, then paused with one hand on the doorknob. “Why don’t you come over to mine tonight. Say, around eight? I should be finished by then.” He swept out of the room without waiting for a reply, leaving Harry more than a little baffled behind him.
He tried not to worry about it, he really did, but Harry couldn’t help it. Draco never left work early, for any reason. And he certainly never kept secrets from Harry. He’d even told Harry about the optometrist’s appointment he’d booked over his lunch break last Tuesday, why would he hide this one? For a moment, Harry worried that Draco had discovered something about the investigation. But no, if he had he certainly wouldn’t have invited Harry over to his place, and there’d have been a lot more shouting besides.
Harry sighed and bent his head back to his paperwork, but he couldn’t concentrate. He’d only made it through another two folders when someone knocked on his office door at a quarter to six. He flicked his wand and the door swung open. Even so, Ron was cautious as he peered inside.
“It’s safe,” Harry said dryly. “He’s not even here.”
“Really?” Ron asked and looked around the small room as if Draco might be hiding behind the sofa. “But it’s pub night.”
“I know,” Harry said. He picked up a green hoodie from the pile behind his desk and yanked it over his head. “He said he had an appointment and couldn’t make it.” He forced a bright smile. “So it’s just me tonight.”
Thankfully, Ron let it go. Harry tried his best to let it go as well.
****
Draco hurried to his door at five minutes to eight and pulled it open to reveal Harry standing on his front stoop. His face lit up in a nervous smile as soon as he saw Draco.
“Hi,” he said as he stepped inside.
“Hello,” Draco replied and shut the door. He turned to find Harry looking around, and realized with a small start that he’d never had Harry over to his place before. “Shall I give you the long tour or the short one?”
Harry glanced at him over his shoulder. “What’s the difference?”
“Long tour, I show you the house. Short tour, we skip straight to the bedroom.” Draco let his gaze heat as he swept it from Harry’s head to his toes and back up again. “Your choice.”
“Short tour, please,” Harry said, and kissed Draco soundly.
He’d been drinking cider at the pub, Draco noted as Harry swept his tongue against Draco’s, and something else. Whiskey, perhaps? Maybe scotch? Whatever it was, it gave a darker, smokier flavor to the bright apple taste of the cider. Harry broke away, breathing heavily.
“Bedroom?”
Draco took him by the hand and together they went up the curving staircase to the second level, down the hall, and into the bedroom. Harry barely spared the rest of the room a glance before he dragged Draco over to the large four poster bed and shoved him onto it.
“It’s funny,” he said as he clambered up and straddled Draco’s hips. “I would’ve thought you’d have done it up in Slytherin greens.”
Draco stretched against the pale blue duvet, tucking one hand lazily beneath his head. “I really should. A nice emerald, I think, to match your eyes.”
Harry leaned forward and captured Draco’s wrists, pinning them to the mattress. “Don’t you dare,” he said. “You look brilliant against this blue.”
He went back to kissing Draco, and Draco let him even though he was dying to take off his shirt. After what felt like ages, Harry finally let got of his wrists and fumbled at the small buttons fastening his waistcoat. Draco sat up to shrug it off, and Harry leaned back a little to undo the buttons on Draco’s shirt. He jerked it down Draco’s shoulders, leaving Draco to shake it the rest of the way off as he went for the hem of Draco’s undershirt. He’d gotten it halfway up Draco’s chest when Draco freed his right arm from its sleeve and Harry saw it.
He let the undershirt fall back to Draco’s waist as he slowly reached for Draco’s wrist and tilted it to get a better look at his forearm. “When did you get this?”
Draco looked down at the fourteen dots and the faint lines sketched between them that stood out black from the pale skin of his forearm. “I told you I had an appointment.” He smiled at the delightedly surprised expression on Harry’s face. “Go on, touch it.”
Carefully, Harry reached out and stroked his finger over the dot closest to his wrist. It blossomed into a stylized star, then slowly folded back in on itself to become a dot again.
“Do you recognize it?” Draco asked.
Harry laughed. “Of course I recognize your constellation. I took the same astronomy classes you did, you arse.” He stroked his fingertip over the dot again, and watched it blossom and fade.
“Watch,” Draco said.
He swept the palm of his hand down his arm from elbow to wrist so all the dots unfurled into stars at once, and the faint outline of a dragon appeared around them for a few seconds before fading into dots and lines again. The surprise on Harry’s face had begun to heat into a slow hunger that Draco knew well from watching Harry watch his other tattoo.
“I’m really glad you like it,” he murmured.
Harry’s eyes snapped up to meet his and for a moment he only gaped. “You got this for me?”
Draco shifted slightly on the bed, suddenly a little uncomfortable. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about getting for a while. But yes, I got it now because I thought you’d like it.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t love you,” he said. “Not yet, but I wanted to show you…”
He trailed off when Harry gave a disbelieving laugh. “You’ve permanently marked your body to show that you don’t love me? You’re mad, utterly mad, and I love every barmy inch of you.”
“I told you, it was something I wanted anyhow,” Draco had time to protest before Harry was kissing him again.
Things progressed quickly from there until Harry got Draco’s trousers off and reached a hand behind him and found him already slick and loose. He hesitated, breaking off the kiss to look down at Draco.
“Did you…?”
Draco felt his cheeks warm as he remembered working lubed fingers into his arse just before eight o’clock, and how deliciously naughty it’d felt as he pulled his trousers back up and refastened them. “I assumed that we’d end up here before too long. I know how you are about tattoos.”
“Just yours,” Harry said. “My first boyfriend had tattoos and they didn’t get to me nearly this way.” He brought Draco’s arm to his mouth and licked a broad stripe down his wrist, stars blossoming beneath his tongue.
Draco felt a warm curl of possessive pleasure at Harry’s words, colored with only the faintest hint of jealousy. Harry was his. Harry loved him. No one else mattered, no one else in the world.
“So how long have you wanted to get this?” Harry asked.
“A few years,” Draco told him. “I’ve got plans for a few more, you know.”
Harry’s eyes lit up. “Really? What?”
Draco hummed. “I think I’ll leave that a surprise,” he said, and kissed Harry before he could protest.
Afterward, they lay together, with Harry gently stroking Draco’s ribs so that the dragon tattoo reacted. Draco sighed when it twisted in on itself and then turned around and stretched so that its head sat near his hipbone and the tip of its tail curled up to his shoulder.
“It’ll take me ages to get him to turn the right way up again,” he complained.
Harry kissed Draco’s shoulder, and the dragon tattoo flicked its tail away from him. “Don’t worry, it’ll be my pleasure to get him turned around.” He swiped a finger down Draco’s ribs, and the dragon snapped at him.
Draco watched him with an amused little smile. “Frankly, Potter, this obsession of yours with my tattoo is somewhat…”
“Flattering?” Harry offered hopefully, looking up from his task. “Endearing?” He grinned at Draco and waggled his eyebrows. “Sexy?”
Draco couldn’t help but laugh. “I was going to say worrisome, but I suppose I’ll let you have one of those other adjectives as well.”
“I’d like to go with sexy then, if you don’t mind. I think that’ll be best for my chances of getting laid again tonight.”
Draco snorted. “You are so—“
“Wonderful? Amazing?” Harry put in. He tipped his head to one side peered up at Draco through his fringe in what Draco assumed was meant to be a smoldering look, the effects of which were utterly ruined by the way the corners of Harry’s mouth twitched as he fought back a smile. “Sexy?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Exasperating.”
Harry snickered. “What, you’re not going to let me have an extra adjective again?”
“No.”
Harry prodded Draco in the ribs. “Come on. It’d do wonders for my self-esteem. Think of it as your good deed for the day.”
“The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” he said gravely.
Harry waggled his eyebrows again. “Yes, but the path to blowjobs is paved with excessive flattery.”
Draco snorted. “Shall I break out my thesaurus then?”
Harry propped himself up on his elbows and looked at Draco eagerly. “Oh yes please. You know nothing excites me more than a man reading aloud from a reference book. I think it’s a weird holdover from spending so much time with Hermione during my formative years.”
For a moment, Draco honestly couldn’t tell whether or not Harry was serious. But then Harry’s eyes sparkled mischievously, and Draco decided to play along. “All right then. Hm, let’s see. I suppose it’s best to go alphabetically. Assertive. Brilliant. Courageous.”
Harry bent his head to nibble at Draco’s collarbone, and for a moment Draco forgot what came after C.
“Go on, then,” Harry whispered against his skin.
“Dashing. Um. Exasperating.”
Harry grimaced. “Oh, I’m flattered.”
Draco grinned. “Flattering. Good. Hard.”
“Hard?” Harry murmured and shifted his hips to press his cock against Draco’s thigh. He rocked against him.
“Hard-headed,” Draco corrected. “And irritating.”
Harry laughed. “And insulted.”
“Irksome,” Draco gasped as Harry bit at his neck. “Infuriating. Ingrate.”
Harry laughed again. “I’m supposed to be grateful, now?”
“I’m about to let you shag me again, aren’t I?” Draco pointed out. “You should be.”
The teasing smile faded from Harry’s face, and he reached up and cupped Draco’s cheek in one palm. “I am,” he said. “I’m so grateful for every moment with you.” He swallowed. “Draco, I’m in love with you, so much it feels impossible, and I’m afraid that I won’t be able to make you see just how much, and…”
“Harry,” Draco interrupted, made suddenly uncomfortable by the frightening intensity in Harry’s eyes and the serious turn their conversation had taken. “Shut up and kiss me.”
For a moment, Harry looked like he might argue, but then he just nodded and whispered, “Okay,” and did as he was told.
****
Harry woke the next morning and opened his eyes to an unfamiliar canopy. He blinked a few times before he groped for his glasses and slid them on. He was in Draco’s bed, in Draco’s home, but he didn’t see Draco anywhere. He slid a hand over the sheets on the other side of the bed and found them cool. A few moments later, the faint rush of a running shower registered. Harry sighed and snuggled deeper under the covers.
A minute later, the shower turned off and Draco came back into the room wearing only a towel tucked neatly around his waist. He moved quietly, carefully sliding open drawers of his bureau, obviously trying not to disturb Harry. For a moment, he considered letting Draco know that he didn’t need to bother with keeping quiet, but then Draco dropped his towel and Harry decided that he’d much rather just enjoy the show.
He watched as Draco dragged a clean white undershirt over his head, hiding the dragon from view, then pulled on a pair of black underpants, which meant either the white shirt and the black waistcoat with silver pinstripes, or the black shirt and the black waistcoat with all the little gold buttons up the front. Harry hoped for the latter; he liked Draco in unrelieved black nearly as much as he liked him in blue.
Draco wandered into his closet and Harry listened to the faint rustle of cloth being pulled from hangers, then Draco returned wearing a pair of black trousers, the fly hanging undone, and – yes! – the black shirt. He shrugged into it, covering up his scarred left arm and his tattooed right arm, and as he fastened the buttons at the cuffs, Harry realized that somewhere in watching Draco dress, he’d grown uncomfortably hard.
It was somewhat disconcerting to realize that he found Draco dressing nearly as arousing as Draco undressing, but there it was. Draco finished with the buttons on his shirt and tucked it in before he fastened his trousers and pulled on his waistcoat, every movement quick and efficient. He was putting on more than clothes, hiding more than his body as he dressed.
Draco had walked into the bedroom, with his pale skin flushed from his shower, scars and tattoos on unashamed display. Draco, who laughed with Harry and came up with alphabetical lists of adjectives for him and kissed him like he’d die if he went another second without it. Draco was warm and soft and open and heartbreakingly, terrifyingly vulnerable.
But as he cast charms to dry and smooth his rumpled hair, Draco had almost completed the transformation to what Harry thought of as Malfoy. His black clothes made him look severe, the dark color sharpening the angles of his features. He looked perfectly composed, and serious, and more than a bit haughty. He looked like the type of person who never smiled, though Harry knew better.
It lit his blood to know that he was the one who could strip away those layers Draco cloaked himself in, peeling them off as easily as he could remove the fussy clothing from Draco’s body.
Draco picked up the small array of things from the top of his dresser and slid them into his pockets one by one: glasses, handkerchief, keys, and a small round something Harry couldn’t quite make out. As he settled the chain of his pocket watch into an elegant curve over the flat plane of his stomach, he glanced over at Harry and caught him watching.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said.
“You didn’t,” Harry said. “Why are you up?”
Draco scowled. “You can blame Weasley and his arsehole partner for that. They found another safe house and called me in as consult. On my bloody day off, I might add. I’m sure this is Smith’s doing.”
“Oh. Shall I come along?” Harry offered. He propped himself up on his elbows.
Draco shook his head. “Don’t bother. I’ll take a look around, ward the place, and we can deal with it together on Monday.” He glanced down to where Harry’s erection tented the bed sheets and smirked. “Think you can hold on until then?”
“I like watching you dress,” Harry said.
“Watching me dress?” Draco repeated, bemused.
“Yes,” Harry said. “It’s like you’re two people, and I’m watching you change from one to the other.”
Draco’s eyebrows lifted. “You’ve lost me, I’m afraid.”
“There’s Draco, and there’s Malfoy,” Harry said, and Draco didn’t look any less confused, which Harry supposed was fair because he really wasn’t explaining this very well. His aching cock made it hard to think straight, and he slid his hand down under the sheets to give it a squeeze. “And Malfoy’s cold and distant and kind of a bastard, and that incredible self-control you’ve got.” He swallowed and gasped a little as he palmed his cock. “And then there’s Draco, and when you’re him you’re the bloke who spends all weekend in bed with me, and can always be won over by takeaway curry, and I’m so in love with him it’s almost painful.”
Draco said nothing, but he stepped a little closer.
“And it’s like with the duel, there you were all tightly-reined anger and you looked so bloody dangerous, and all I could think of was how that morning you’d smiled at me and lay back and let me fuck you, and that fucking tattoo on your side, and your Mark and all your scars.” Harry was rambling now, unsure if what he said made any sense at all but he kept talking because he wanted Draco to understand. He groped for better words. “It’s the juxtaposition of it all, between who you are and the front you put up for everyone but me. It drives me mad.”
Draco came to a stop by the side of the bed. “And am I to take it that you like it when I’m Malfoy?”
Harry nodded eagerly. “Yes, because I know you don’t really mean it with me. I know what you’re like underneath. The same way I like it when you call me Potter, because I know you think of me as Harry.”
Draco regarded him evenly. “You're an odd one, aren’t you, Potter?” he asked flatly. “I treat you warmly, and that makes you like it more when I hold you at arm’s length. You’re obsessed with my tattoo when I’m in my altogether, and when I’m dressed you’re obsessed with the fact that you can’t see it.”
“Tattoos. Plural,” Harry said. “You’ve got more than one now.”
Draco’s mouth quirked in the barest smile before he fought it back to a grim line, still playing along with Harry. “So I have. However, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re very strange.”
Draco put his hand over the fist Harry had wrapped around his cock and pressed down, and Harry’s hips gave a helpless twitch up into the pressure. He nearly came undone when Draco looked down his long nose at him with a faint sneer curling his lip, leaning close.
“I expect to find you right here when I get back, because I have every intention of continuing this very enlightening conversation.” He removed his hand from Harry’s groin and straightened. “I shouldn’t be more than an hour.”
He turned and swept out of the room, his bare feet padding soundlessly across the dark wood floor.
“Oh my god,” Harry said and stroked himself hard and fast. It only took a few minutes to bring himself off.
After the warm lethargy of his orgasm faded and he’d cast cleaning charms on Draco’s sheets, Harry stood up and stretched and looked around Draco’s bedroom. Draco kept it as neat as he kept his side of the office at the Ministry, all of the mahogany furniture bright and free of dust and clutter. Harry wandered into the bathroom to relieve his bladder, then hesitated.
Draco had left him here alone because he trusted Harry. But Harry knew that he wouldn’t get a better chance to search around Draco’s flat, like he’d told Kingsley he was angling to do all along. A surge of guilt flared through him, and Harry quashed it. They were going to search Draco’s flat anyhow, right? Wouldn’t it be better for Harry to do it rather than some faceless Auror armed with a search warrant and a grudge against Death Eaters? If Harry had the search on record before he removed himself from the case, then it would stand and no one else would come back to do it again after him. It was better this way.
Swallowing his distaste, Harry opened Draco’s medicine cabinet and sifted through the neatly labeled single-dose bottles. Hangover Potion, Headache Tonics, Dreamless Sleep. Nothing out of the ordinary, though Harry was somewhat concerned with the amount of Dreamless Sleep, given its addictive nature. He made a mental note to bring that up with Draco later. He’d say he was looking for something for a headache. He took one of the bottles of Headache Tonic and dumped it down the sink to corroborate his story before he searched the rest of the cabinets.
In the bedroom he paused to pull on his underpants and the green button-up Draco had worn yesterday. He fastened the middle three buttons and rolled up the sleeves before he poked through Draco’s bureau and bedside tables. He felt another flash of guilt when he discovered that Draco kept his borrowed copy of The Once And Future King in the drawer beside his bed. There was a bookmark tucked between the pages about halfway through, and Harry imagined Draco reading a few chapters in bed before turning out the light and rolling over and settling in to sleep. Harry slid the drawer shut with a thud and turned his attention to the rest of the room. The clothing in the drawers of Draco’s bureau were neatly folded. In Draco’s closet, he wasn’t at all surprised to find all the clothes hung in rainbow order.
The rest of Draco’s end terrace didn’t take long to search. Everything was neatly organized, and Harry idly wished that all of his suspects had such tidy homes. It’d make his job so much easier. He felt briefly guilty at the thought, then quickly pushed it away. This was to help Draco, ultimately. Harry knew that Draco had nothing to hide, and he was afraid Kingsley might take him off the case if he didn’t keep submitting new evidence. Harry just needed to hang on to it long enough to turn over to Ron. Really, this was all to help Draco in the long run.
His search turned up nothing of interest, until he went down into the basement. Draco had converted the entire space into a potions lab, though all of the cauldrons sat cold and empty at the moment. Draco probably hadn’t been home long enough to work on anything recently, Harry thought, what with him spending all of his free time in Harry’s bed. He looked through the glass-fronted cabinets of ingredients, and noted almost all of the things necessary for brewing up a batch of Verve. A small desk sat in the far corner, and Harry found three leather-bound journals of notes. He chose a few pages at random, detailing some obscure research about the effects of Veritaserum, because he had to turn in something, and one quick Duplicating Charm later, Harry left the basement just as he’d found it.
He shrunk the handful of pages and tucked them securely into the pocket of his trousers before he went back to the kitchen and began sorting through the cabinets there.
****
The bloody Apparition coordinates were off.
At least, that was what Draco had assumed until he’d tried to Apparate closer and found he couldn’t. A few sensing charms confirmed the Anti-Apparation ward that blanketed the area. This was as close as he could get by magic.
Draco blamed that on Smith, repeatedly and emphatically as he slogged along a muddy path toward the house he saw in the distance. The cold mud squelched and slid under him, and he nearly lost his footing twice. Several times he unexpectedly sank several inches into the muck and the freezing mud seeped into his shoes. Already his toes had grown painfully cold and were rapidly nearing numb, despite the warming charms Draco had aimed at his feet.
“Hello there, Malfoy,” Smith said cheerfully, confirming Draco’s suspicions. “Have a nice walk?”
“Sorry, Malfoy,” Weasley said, ignoring his partner. “We don’t really need you here, but he put in the request without telling me.”
“It’s fine, isn’t it Malfoy?” Smith said. “I know you haven’t got anything better to do with your Saturday morning.”
Draco ignored him and swallowed down his irritation. He thought he’d put an end to Smith being an arsehole with that duel. He should have known that such a public humiliation would only have him redoubling his efforts to get under Draco’s skin. Really, he should have seen it coming, because back at Hogwarts hadn’t he redoubled his own efforts every time Harry bested him? Biting back a sigh, he turned to the house, shook his wand into his hand with a practiced flick of his wrist, and set to work dismantling the wards. A few minutes later, the last of them fell, and Draco turned to Smith and Weasley.
“It’s unwarded now. You should be able to cast the detection spells without any interference now, though the wards didn’t feel like they’d been touched in years,” Draco said. “Ward it up again when you’re done, and Harry and I will deal with the rest of it on Monday.”
“Thanks, Malfoy,” Weasley began.
“I don’t think so,” Smith interrupted. “I insist that we check the inside. It’s protocol to thoroughly check any suspicious areas.” He paused to aim a nasty smile at Draco. “I believe in being thorough.”
Draco glowered at him, his temper fraying. “Let it go, Smith. You’ve had your fun. You’ve dragged me out of bed on my day off. A bed that, I might add, was occupied by someone other than myself—“
“What’s the matter?” Smith asked cheerfully. “Haven’t paid her for the night yet?”
For a moment, Draco saw red, and only Weasley’s hand clamping down around his wrist stopped him from hexing the stupid bastard.
“I for one don’t want to hear anything more about who may or may not be in Malfoy’s bed,” he said. “We don’t need him for this, Smith.”
Draco flushed slightly at that. Weasley already knew who was waiting for him at home.
Smith sighed theatrically. “It’ll look bad on his record, though, when I report that he declined a direct request for assistance.”
Weasley stared at him. “I don’t know what your bloody obsession with needling him is, but you need to stop. One day you’re going to poke at him and he’s going to turn around and bite your hand off.”
While Draco resented the implication that he was little more than an ill-tempered dog, he had to admit that there was some amount of truth to it. Yes, he’d gotten far better at reining in his temper since his youth, but even he still had his limits.
“It’s fine,” he ground out. “I’ll just pop in and make sure it’s fine.”
“I don’t trust you,” Smith said. “We really ought to come along.”
Draco nearly argued, but sighed instead. He wanted nothing more than to get this over with so he could get back to his home. An image of Harry flittered through his mind, tucked snugly beneath the covers on Draco’s bed, his hard cock pushing up at the blankets. Draco wondered whether he was still there. He hoped so.
“Fine,” he said. “Don’t touch anything. I mean that.”
Weasley gave the fingers of his right hand a rub. “Believe me, mate, once with a curse was enough,” he said.
Without waiting for Smith to respond, Draco strode up the front walk, flung a series of detecting charms at the porch, and activated the spell that would safely open the door and light up the protected path through the house.
“Don’t touch the door, don’t touch the doorjamb, don’t step on the threshold,” he said. “And don’t leave the path.”
He moved through the entryway quickly, casting detection spells as he went, making note of the curses and traps he found. Based on the ones around the door, he suspected that this was another Carrow house, and they never bothered to set up timed triggers. Still, Draco wanted to check for himself. In the sitting room, he came across a densely layered cluster of curses and had to slow down. Smith began to gripe.
“You’re the one who insisted that I do this,” Draco couldn’t help but point out. “And don’t leave the path!”
Smith snorted and wandered just inside the safe path’s limits. “Touchy, touchy,” he chided. “You must be eager to get back to your whore.”
Draco snapped. He cast a wordless, wandless Tripping Jinx before he could even think to stop himself. Smith stumbled over his own feet and threw out a hand to catch himself. His palm slapped against the large ornately framed mirror hung on the wall just beside him and he fell through it.
“Fuck!” Weasley swore as Draco came running over.
For a moment, Draco panicked, but then he saw Smith in the mirror, yelling soundlessly and pounding his fists against the glass. Oh thank Merlin, it was just a Trapping Glass. It was a struggle to not let his relief show. He turned away from the mirror.
“He’ll be fine in there,” he said to Weasley, shoving down a wave of irritation with himself for allowing his control to lapse. If Smith had been seriously hurt in a Death Eater safe house, Draco didn’t even want to imagine what would have happened to him. Azkaban, at the very least. “We’ll get him on the way out.”
They quickly finished searching the house, and Draco released Smith from the mirror. He sputtered wordlessly for a moment, then went storming outside.
“I’ll just be off, then,” Draco said. “I’m sure you two can finish up on your own.”
Weasley sighed. “Say hi to Harry for me.”
Draco nodded to him and Apparated on the spot. As he landed in his front entryway, he took a moment to be thankful that the Anti-Apparition ward only prohibited Apparating in, not out. Then he toed off his shoes and cast a series of cleaning spells on his trousers, getting rid of the muck that spattered the lower six inches. They came clean, but remained puckered and wrinkled. Draco hoped a good laundering would rescue them. The shoes, he Vanished with a pang of regret. Such a shame; he’d really liked those shoes.
He started up the stairs for his bedroom, but the clatter of a plate on a countertop gave him pause. He went into the kitchen where he found Harry in front of the stove, wearing nothing but Draco’s shirt as he prodded at something in a pan with a spatula.
“Hey there,” he said, smiling at Draco over his shoulder. “I made us some breakfast. Hope you don’t mind I went through your cabinets.” He flipped over the flapjack in the pan.
“Hm. I suppose I may be willing to forgive you, but only because you’ve made bacon,” Draco said, swiping one from the plate on the counter. He bit into it and found it perfectly crunchy, exactly the way he liked. “Mmm. I recall telling you to wait for me in my bed, but I think I might have to keep you here instead.” He slipped a hand under the tail of Harry’s stolen shirt and was disappointed to find him wearing underpants. Draco Vanished them, and Harry flinched. “I like you in nothing but my shirt,” he murmured in Harry’s ear as he slid his hand back under the shirt to cup Harry’s bum.
Harry leaned back against him. “I like it too. However.” He shifted away from Draco’s hand. “I can’t leave the stove unattended right now. Breakfast first, then shagging.”
Draco heaved a put-upon sigh. “Fine,” he said. “But only because you’ve made bacon.”
He stole another piece, then turned to fill his tea kettle from the tap. Harry might make perfect bacon, but he still couldn’t be trusted to make a proper cup of tea.
****
Harry woke up screaming. He was a little surprised it hadn’t happened before now, actually. He didn’t usually go this long without nightmares. He sat up, his skin clammy, his shirt damp and sticking to his back. Beside him, Draco rolled over and turned on the light. He watched Harry without speaking for a moment, then pushed himself out of bed.
“Stay there,” he said, and disappeared into the hall.
Harry dropped his head to his knees and tried to clear his head. He’d dreamed of the Battle of Hogwarts again, vague impressions of screaming and death that solidified into the Forbidden Forest and Voldemort, and a jet of green racing at Harry. It was over, he was safe, he told himself. The war was over. He shivered.
A minute later, Draco returned with a mug in his hand. He went to his bureau and pulled out a clean shirt and tossed it to Harry.
“Put that on,” he said, and waited while Harry obeyed. “Here.”
Harry took the mug Draco held out to him and wrapped his hands around it, letting the bright sting of hot water through porcelain ground him. He took a small sip and burned his tongue.
“You made it too hot,” he said.
“I made it properly,” Draco said, but he aimed a mild cooling charm at the mug before sliding back into bed beside him and scooting so close that his thigh pressed against Harry’s. They leaned back against the headboard together. “Would you like to talk about it?”
Harry shrugged. “Not really. It’s just the war.” He looked down into his tea. “You can go back to sleep, if you want. You don’t need to sit up with me.”
“It’s fine. We have to be up for work in an hour anyhow,” Draco said and went silent for a few moments. “I still dream about the Fiendfyre most often, myself. And about Nagini.”
“I dream about dying,” Harry said.
Draco slid his palm, warm and comforting, over Harry’s leg. “At least it’s just a dream.”
“It’s not,” Harry said and gripped his mug tighter. “I really did die.” He sucked in a deep breath and couldn’t look at Draco. “The second time he cast the Killing Curse at me, in the Forest. Everyone thinks it didn’t work, but it did. I just… came back, after.”
Draco went silent for a few moments. “What’s it like?” he asked.
And Harry could have kissed him for it. There was no pity in his voice, no horror or revulsion or disbelief at what Harry had been through. Just simple curiosity.
“It was nice,” he said. “Calm and bright and quiet. I nearly didn’t. Um, come back, I mean.”
Draco’s fingers curled around his thigh. “I’m glad you did.”
“Me too,” Harry said. He took another sip of tea and didn’t burn his tongue this time. The nightmare was fading fast in the warm glow of the lamp on Draco’s bedside table, and the rest of it – the clean shirt, the tea, the quiet companionship of Draco beside him – gave him an easy sense of comfort that he didn’t think he’d ever found before. “How did you know exactly what I needed?”
“Because it’s what I always wish I had someone to do for me when I wake up from nightmares of the war,” Draco said, and his eyes slid away from Harry. “And don’t worry, you’ll get your chance to reciprocate sooner or later.”
Harry thought of those bottles of Dreamless Sleep in Draco’s medicine cabinet and nodded. Draco had assured him they weren’t addictive, but Harry still didn’t like him taking them. “Thank you.”
“You know,” Draco said. “Given all the shit we’ve been through, we really are two remarkably well-adjusted individuals.”
Harry smile wryly. “I don’t feel like it sometimes.”
“Sometimes I don’t either,” Draco admitted with a sigh. “There are days when I feel like I’m barely holding myself together. Perhaps that’s why we’re so good together. You understand me like no one else.” He leaned his shoulder heavily against Harry’s. “And I understand you.”
Harry thought so too, and was glad. Because they really did understand each other. They fit together perfectly. Harry sighed a little and slid down just enough to rest his head on Draco’s shoulder, and Draco brushed a gentle kiss against his hair.
Everything would be okay. He and Draco would be fine. Harry just had to believe that everything would work out okay in the end.
.
.
.
.
.
Continue reading with Chapter 14
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Date: 2014-01-22 06:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-22 07:02 pm (UTC)Smith is terrible. Draco should have just left him in there.
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From:no subject
Date: 2014-01-22 07:22 pm (UTC)I'm a bit scared for the next chapter though, to be honest! :P
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Date: 2014-01-22 09:11 pm (UTC)Next chapter... um, it's almost over? Just two more! It'll be okay! :D
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Date: 2014-01-22 08:13 pm (UTC)I really like that you revisited the nightmares, it's is definitely something I always think of them having in common. And yay for more tattoos! :D
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Date: 2014-01-22 09:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-22 09:08 pm (UTC)I love Draco in the blue sheets (you've made that my headcanon, too!), and dear God, I love the way Harry saw Draco changing, dressed up that is, how he saw it, you know? How happy and grateful and honoured he felt to be allowed to see this side of Draco, bare and vulnerable. Beautiful.
I love the tattoo, I loved it was so telling, just as the little beer cap is telling, he almost doesn't need to say it, it's there for you to see if you only look close enough. And Harry is looking.
I loved this chapter, thank you because it was a bit like a balm, i was so afraid at the end of last part, but this makes me feel, believe, they are going to be all right. Not that I didn't trust you before! It's just that, this chapter gave me confidence in them that they will find their way back to this moment and be reminded of how they feel and good they are together, because, oh my god, Draco IS going to bitch about his tea never being hot enough in twenty years. I know he will.
Oh, and yeah, I hate that prick Smith! Stupid. :P
But yeah, beautiful chapter, lovely. I'm good, I'm good. *lol*
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Date: 2014-01-22 09:16 pm (UTC)Bingo. And this:
this chapter gave me confidence in them that they will find their way back to this moment
is EXACTLY the feeling I was hoping to get across.
Nothing makes me more ecstatically, deliriously happy than someone picking up on exactly what I was trying to say. So, thank you a million billion times. :D :D :D
I'm very pleased to have converted you to the Way of the Blue Sheets.
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Date: 2014-01-22 09:23 pm (UTC)Smith deserved what he got though. LOL!
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Date: 2014-01-22 10:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-22 09:34 pm (UTC)And Smith - I hate him, and I have the feeling that he is the one responsible for Dracos Partners dying... 2 more days and then I know :)
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Date: 2014-01-22 10:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-22 09:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-22 10:23 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2014-01-22 09:37 pm (UTC)But he's completely in love, I'll give him that. Absolutely crazy for Draco. They're just perfect together. I don't think Harry should be forgiven too soon but he deserves to be eventually forgiven because no one's going to love Draco as much as he does. They can be really, really happy together.
“The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” Yes, indeed, Draco... *^sighs*
I see Smith's still a complete jerk. I loved when he got trapped in that mirror, heh. And I loved even more Ron's new way to come into Harry's office XDDD Poor thing, he must be scarred for life XD
There are only two chapters left! And so much things to happen! *running around like a headless chicken*
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Date: 2014-01-22 10:58 pm (UTC)Lol, knocking is something Ron is going to be very, very good about from now on. Once burned, twice shy and all that. XD
They really are perfect for each other, they've just got a ways to go at this point. :D
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Date: 2014-01-22 09:48 pm (UTC)he said gravely.
I see what you did there. xD
Harry should tell him! Before talking to Ron, it was just oblivious Harry being oblivious, but now he does know he's risking Draco here. I know he's afraid, but he's being selfish.
Smith is a little cockroach. They should have left him there, nobody'd miss him.
PS. Ron knocked! xD
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Date: 2014-01-22 11:01 pm (UTC)He really is being selfish. He just doesn't quite see that. Excuses, excuses...
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Date: 2014-01-22 10:46 pm (UTC)Harry had a sudden flash of himself bringing tea to Draco decades from now, the pair of them wrinkled and grey and stooped, and Draco still bitching that Harry hadn’t made it hot enough.
HOW PERFECT IS THIS? SSSSOOOOO PERFECT. I can so picture that! XD Gawd, Harry, I want to smooch you sometimes. Please let them have a fluffy, schmoopy happy end, yes? Pleaaaase. *cough*
And oh God, “Yes, but the path to blowjobs is paved with excessive flattery.” This is so priceless. Their conversations. I love you for bringing out so many emotions in me.
And the new tattoo and Harry's obsession with them and that thing about the juxtaposition of Draco's two "personalities" - gawd, that was so poetic.
Though I'm mentally flailing when I think about what's going to happen :((( And Harry, you idiot. Why're you investigating Draco's house? I can see so much about them falling apart if that and everything else comes to the light. My heart won't take iiiit.
But...
OH MY GOD, is Smith under a spell like Kingsley? Some sort of obsession spell (Kingsley being obsessed with Draco being guilty and Smith... just with Draco)? OMG, what if it's got to do with that Verve case? OMGOMG conspiracy theories in my head xD Sorry if I'm totally off the mark, I've really never been too good at guessing. Ahem.
Brilliant work as always. But I must say I'm a little like
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Date: 2014-01-22 11:07 pm (UTC)I'm really terrible at guessing things too, so don't apologize to me! Besides, it's been really fun watching everyone's speculation about what's going on and what's going to happen next. :)
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From:no subject
Date: 2014-01-22 11:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-22 11:09 pm (UTC)(And Smith really is an ass.)
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Date: 2014-01-23 01:09 am (UTC)If wanting to lick the tear off his face is wrong, then I don't want to be right.
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Date: 2014-01-23 01:34 am (UTC)Again, all the nice is making me terrified for when the not-so-nice hits.
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Date: 2014-01-23 01:55 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2014-01-23 02:06 am (UTC)We both, do, Harry! That's the only way we can get through this!! D:
Oh God. Oh God. You are ace at building tension. I am literally on tenterhooks right now, with my eyes bulging (not a pretty sight, I tell you.)
I foresee two outcomes to this. One, is just.. full of moments that will make me cry, and the other is full of moments that will make me cry slightly less. ACK!
Can tomorrow hurry up and come already?
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Date: 2014-01-23 02:29 am (UTC)I don't know how I feel about making people cry. D:
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Date: 2014-01-23 04:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-23 05:14 am (UTC)And Draco does, too, even if he needs to be Mr Analysis first and MAKE SURE.
I nearly had a fucking HEART ATTACK when Smith was being a complete ASSHAT and making Draco go into the house. SO TENSE, OMGGGGGG. I was sure something would happen in there. Probably as you intended, Ms Suspenseful. *stares pointedly*
It was super-satisfying when Draco accidentally on purpose hexed that bastard into the mirror, although it would have been even cooler if the mirror OOPSIE fell off the wall and smashed. I can't believe Ron let that chance slip by. Of course, Draco would have been blamed by proximity, so I suppose we can let it slide this time. *sigh*
I was also expecting Draco to pop back in and catch Harry rifling through his house. *grabs Harry and SHAKES AND SHAKES HIM* WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING ARE YOU CRAZY? *shakes a few more times* Merlin, he's giving me apoplexy. I need a
notherdrink. I shall prepare myself for tomorrow's episode when there shall possiblyprobably, absolutelybe some more capslock. Maybe some gifs. A little screaming. A bit of ugly crying. >.>no subject
Date: 2014-01-23 05:18 am (UTC)SHUT UP, I CAN BE RATIONAL SOMETIMES.
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Date: 2014-01-23 01:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-23 10:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-23 05:51 pm (UTC)The road to hell is paved with good intentions - indeed, Draco! Harry should tattoo this across his chest...
Looking forward to the next chapter, although with a little apprehension.
(Btw, would it be okay if I added you as a friend?)
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Date: 2014-01-23 10:44 pm (UTC)Lolol, well, Harry does have a thing about tattoos... that'd be a good one for him to get! XD
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Date: 2014-01-24 01:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-24 02:14 am (UTC)THIS MADNESS IS ALMOST OVER!
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Date: 2014-01-24 09:35 pm (UTC)such build up
so romance
wow
so scare
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Date: 2014-01-25 08:17 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2014-01-26 04:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-26 09:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-26 06:33 pm (UTC)Also, see? That's exactly what I mean when I say that you have an amazing way of inserting "I love you." And Harry is so open with saying it all. the. time.
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Date: 2014-01-26 09:15 pm (UTC)Thank you! In my mind, Harry would fall in love hard, and then open himself up completely about it, so I'm glad you liked that. :)
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Date: 2014-01-30 02:41 pm (UTC)*pulls blankets over head*
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Date: 2014-01-30 06:04 pm (UTC)