Written for: Pining for writcraft at hd_tropes 2013
Beta(s): digthewriter
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione, Ginny/Blaise
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Rating: R
Warnings (Highlight to view): *Trigger warning for rape/child molestation. (Not detailed, but suggested in the story.) This is a dark!fic as in: the characters believe that the ends justify the means.*
Word Count: 7, 216
Summary: Harry learns how perfect he and his crush, Draco, are for each other, after partnering on a serial murder case.
Author Notes: This is my first Auror!fic, Dark!fic, and the first time I've used the word "cock" ever. Thanks to my beta, digthewriter, for fielding my constant questions about everything, and helping me fill in the holes where I tend to leave people hanging.
My first kill was Thomas Avery. He was a father of four—two girls about my age and two boys: one older than the girls and one younger. A well respected man who was friends with my father; everyone—including me—found him handsome, charming, and intelligent. He began hanging around, spending time and money on me just after my grandfather passed. No one else was there for me at the time. It was nice of him; everyone said so.
#
'We should be looking for a man.'
It was dreadful the way nothing Draco said bothered Harry anymore.
Even at work, he'd managed to distract Harry from the cases they were trying to solve, instead of doing his job and helping Harry. Harry had lost all ability to be angry with the prat and though he was irritated at himself, he couldn't even force that into his tone and continued smiling his idiotic, infatuated grin as long as Draco was in the room with him.
Psychoanalysis and Hermione; that's who was at fault here. He never would have seen it for himself without them and could have gone on merely acknowledging him as a co-worker and wouldn't have turned into a fidgeting fool every time Draco came into the room.
'All the eye-witnesses have stated the men were last seen with a young, blonde, girl.'
Draco smirked, but dropped the argument. It never got him anywhere.
They were sure they had the girl's motive: she dressed as a prostitute and killed the men after they hired her, leaving the bodies in the rooms they had rented. But that hadn't helped them catch her. They didn't know where she met up with the victims, and the Aurors were watching the usual places for months without seeing anyone of her description. They had been quite unsuccessful.
As Draco had suggested, she probably used Polyjuice or something similar, but everyone who saw her with the victims the nights in question always described her the same—down to the clothes she was wearing. She never seemed to have any trouble finding her victims.
'Fancy a drink?'
Harry dropped the file he was reading, causing a chain reaction of everything on his desk falling over or off of it as he tried to grab everything with his hands. Draco snorted, waved his wand, and everything froze, then began to put itself back together.
'A drink. Would you like to join me for one?'
Yes, yes, of course he did, but: 'Oh, I already promised Ginny I'd meet her for dinner tonight.'
'Ah.' Draco summoned his cloak and then Harry's. 'Another time then?'
'Yes! Of course.' Harry didn't miss the significance of Draco holding his cloak. Draco used magic for everything; Harry could probably count on his hands the number of things Draco made physical contact with. When he touched Harry's cloak, it was as though he was touching him. Harry restrained himself—like he did every day at this time—from wrapping his arms around him and pulling him into a kiss.
'Tomorrow?'
'Tomorrow?' Draco released the cloak as soon as Harry touched it. 'All right, I'll owl you in the afternoon.'
Perhaps he would take it in stride and act as though they always kissed goodbye, like how after Harry called him Draco for the first time and without hesitation Draco started calling him Harry right back. Or how when Harry decided to let the past go and start their professional relationship as though they'd always been friends. Draco never blinked nor questioned what Harry meant by it. He accepted it as though it was the way they had always been.
With a nod and a smile, Draco was gone, and Harry fought back regret as he left to meet with Ginny.
#
'He smiled at me!'
Ginny laughed. 'That's great, Harry, have you decided where you're going to take him?'
'Oh Merlin, no, I hadn't thought that far ahead.'
'You never do. Whatever you decide, make sure it's not the same places you took me.'
'Jealous?'
'No, they were just all horrible. There is a reason I pick our restaurants now.'
'Oh.' Since his excitement turned into dread, Harry turned the conversation around. 'What was it you wanted to talk to me about?'
'Right to the point, okay: I'm seeing someone.'
'That's gre—'
'I wanted you to know before it hit the Prophet.'
'I'm sorry. I hoped when I came out—'
'They'd forget all about me? I didn't expect them to. I'm more worried about you anyway. Especially with the 'partnering with a Death Eater' nonsense they've been at. At least I'll be out of the country for a while with the team. I'll have to deal with Mum when I get back, though.'
'Not too excited about that?'
Ginny shook her head.
That was interesting. Ginny never had problems with her parents meeting her boyfriends in the past, which meant she felt it would cause drama. 'Who is it?'
Ginny shrugged.
'Come on. I'm not going to care. Neville?'
She shook her head.
'Dean?' That earned him a glare.
'No.'
'Luna.'
She laughed. 'Sorry, I know you'd love that, but...' she paused for a moment. 'It's Blaise Zabini. And don't even start—'
'I didn't say anything!' Harry raised his hands in surrender. He didn't care, one way or another, but it explained why she wanted to warn him. His ex-girlfriend dating a friend of Draco's would show up in the Prophet. 'I know nothing about him. He was either very quiet or Draco was too loud for me to ever hear anyone else.'
'Oh, I'm sure he could have had a long, one-sided conversation with you, but if Malfoy were in the room—'
'That happened one time.'
'Three times, and I was your girlfriend.'
'Once.'
Ginny shook her head at him again, but she was laughing. 'No.' Then she held up three fingers and mouthed three times.
#
Harry tried to calm the knots in his stomach with whiskey as he waited for Draco to return. If Draco chose to return. Draco had arrived underdressed not expecting Harry to take him to such a fine restaurant, which Harry at first was delighted about, except they wouldn't allow Draco in. It called more attention to them than they already had received; Draco Malfoy being underdressed. Harry had not known about the dress code and wanted to surprise Draco with the restaurant. His plan had inadvertently failed. He must have expected a pub. Harry sighed.
Why did he have to pick a place that was reservation only? Swanky restaurants often made him feel uncomfortable, and the embarrassment would follow him through the entire meal. He couldn't read the menu—it was in French—and what if Draco didn't like the food? It also made the 'casual' dinner more obviously a date and less two friends out together. What if Draco hadn't really wanted to go on a date with him? His open-mouthed expression was shock, Harry was certain, not excitement when they entered. Harry busied himself with these thoughts as he waited for Draco to return, still hoping, praying, Draco would return.
Draco appeared—thank Merlin—with an awkward nod, and joined Harry at the table. As the waiter talked, neither of them responded as they watched each other. He waited, and then repeated himself. Harry still didn't catch it. Draco replied for them and the waiter left, Harry had difficulty breathing.
'This is a nice place.'
'I'd heard—' Harry choked and coughed. '—that. Excuse me, sorry. Have you ever been here before?'
Draco's smile was tense as he shook his head. 'No, I haven't. It's new.'
Of course not, Harry could have kicked himself, whom would he have gone with? His mother no longer left the house, his father was in Azkaban, and none of his friends had spoken to him since he signed up for Auror training.
Harry rested his arm on the table and fiddled with his napkin, until he noticed Draco was still watching him. Harry returned his hands back to his lap. That was it; they had nothing to say to each other. How did they get through every day together? Work, of course, they talked about work. At a pub, Harry might have been able to talk about work, but here Harry couldn't think of a thing to say that would seem appropriate.
'What are you thinking?' Harry could have hexed himself after the words left his mouth. Ginny used to ask him that all the time and he hated it. He wasn't thinking about anything, at least, nothing of interest. But Harry needed to know what Draco was thinking then. Was this okay? Did Harry make a huge mistake? Were they going to pretend that nothing had changed?
'Just that: this is a nice place.'
Harry nodded. It was going to be a long night.
#
Hermione was her usual supportive self. 'Harry it couldn't have been that bad. You were just nervous. If he hated you, he wouldn't have returned in the first place. Besides, didn't he say he thought the restaurant was nice and the food was excellent?'
Harry ignored what she said. 'It was like the first day we met all over again.'
'Really? The way you described it, it sounded like the exact opposite of what that was like. Then you hated him, didn't care what he thought, and he talked the entire time. Now, he was mostly silent, he seems interested in what you have to say, and you're in love with him.'
'I meant...he knows everything and I know nothing, and I couldn't talk, and—' Harry dropped his head into his hands and a moment later tears began to run down his face. Harry couldn't believe it. He didn't mean to start crying. Where was this coming from? Hermione sat down next to him and pulled him into a hug.
'I can't pretend that I understand your relationship with Malfoy; I didn't in sixth year, I don't now. But I don't think this has anything to do with Malfoy.' Hermione rubbed his back trying to soothe him as she talked. 'Harry, I've never seen you like this about anyone before. You were always so levelheaded in your relationships in the past. Awkward and nervous, yes - but filled with hopelessness and crying? Never. I think you still haven't gotten over the war and you need to talk to—'
'I am not crazy.'
'I'm not saying you're crazy. I go to therapy every week, and you should have been going since—'
He'd heard it all before. He should have been in therapy as a child to help him get over the loss of his parents, to help him deal with the way his family treated him, then after the war to deal with the death, the loss, and the fact that he lived with Voldemort inside his head for most of his life. He didn't want to talk about it; he couldn't talk about it—not to anyone.
'What therapist won't think I'm crazy when I tell them about magic? How can I really be honest if I'm lying the whole time? How can they understand, if they don't already know—'
'One who is a witch,' Hermione said. 'My therapist is a half-blood witch. I've told you, but you refused to listen. Not every single person decides to stay in the magical world. She went to Hogwarts, but was more interested in the way the human mind works than creating new potions and spells. After the war, she thought more people might be open to using Muggle ideas. There were plenty of people that needed it. If she gets enough patients, she's going to move over and find an office in one of the magical districts. Muggles have plenty of psychologists, but Wizards barely have any.'
Harry didn't reply as Hermione pulled out the card, again.
'Draco doesn't hate you, Harry. You know he doesn't hate you. If he was uncomfortable at dinner, it didn't have to be about you. Have you thought that maybe going to a place like that for the first time since the war might have brought back memories for him as well? He has ghosts from the war, too. In fact, he is talking with the therapist.'
'How do you know that?'
'He thanked me for giving him the card, and said she already helped him figure out how to deal with his mother. While we're still on the subject of Draco—not that we ever leave it—Ron and I wanted to have a get-together. We want to celebrate being out of training, entering the adult world, being young, and childfree. Could you let Draco know he is invited?'
Harry nodded as he sat up and composed himself. 'When and where?'
'Well...this weekend, but we were hoping—'
He forced a laugh. 'Let me guess, you want to do it at Grimmauld Place. I take it this means it's a we're all going to get too drunk to go home get-together, since you don't want to do it at your place. I'll let him know. Wait, childfree? You're not—'
'I'm not pregnant, but Ron and I have discussed it and it might not be too far away in the future.'
Harry couldn't stop from smiling then.
#
The party started in the kitchen—it always did, for that was where the alcohol was—but they soon moved to the sitting room. Draco, as always, kept close to Harry. His presence was accepted, but Harry could tell his friends made Draco nervous. Blaise and Ginny were still in the early stages of their relationship where they must stay in physical contact at all times, so everyone gave them a bit of privacy even when sitting with the group. They took the sofa as others took chairs, stood, or sat on the floor. Harry alternated in between standing and sitting, while leaning against the chair Draco occupied, as he had to fetch things from the kitchen rather often.
Harry didn't mean to glare at Dean, but it was the fourth time that night that someone had referred to Harry and Draco as a collective you—as a couple, as though they were already together. They weren't and that hurt. Draco, as usual, took it in stride and acted as if it was normal—which gave Harry hope that swiftly turned into hurt when he was reminded it wasn't true. Harry was reminded constantly, every time they brushed against each other, their eyes met, or someone asked what their plans were for such and such occasion. Honestly, who planned for Christmas four months in advance? Hermione, of course.
The only "they" they were, was at work: partners, which was probably what caused the conversation to go there. Everyone discussed the murder case they were working on. It had been the most murders in the news since the war. Draco said nothing, so Harry spoke for him, naturally.
'Draco thinks it's a man trying to rid the world of degenerates.'
Blaise asked, 'I thought it was a woman?'
'It is a woman,' Harry said at the same time as Draco answered, 'It is someone who makes themselves appear to be a woman. Nothing is for certain. We don't know.'
'So you're not getting anywhere with it?' Hermione asked.
'We aren't allowed to discuss it.' Draco sat up straighter in his chair and took a sip of his wine. Harry had a bit too much already and never was one to follow rules, so that didn't stop him. It also didn't help that as he stood behind Draco's chair, his hand resting on the back of the chair, Harry would look down at Draco and would have an intense desire to sit in his lap. Merlin, he was hopelessly in love.
'We're hopelessly lost.'
'Why do you think they are trying to kill degenerates?' Dean asked Draco. 'Not every person who hires a prostitute is a criminal.'
Draco laughed. 'You mean other than that crime, I'm sure.' He paused and Harry wondered if he was even going to answer. He normally evaded the question or dropped it when Harry asked. When he did answer, he watched Harry not Dean. 'According to the way she is described, it's obvious that the victims are targeted pedophiles. She might be wearing a miniskirt and fish net stockings, but she is also wearing a pixie dolls t-shirt and light pink glittery lip-gloss. Most witnesses can't decide what age she is, but none have guessed older than seventeen.' He snorted then he waved it off. 'I don't know, maybe, I'm only projecting.'
'That still doesn't explain the man part,' Harry argued.
'A smart criminal never lets people see their true face, and we know this one is smart.'
Harry had a rebuttal for this one, too, as that still didn't mean a man, but they'd had this conversation before and Draco cut him off with: 'We also know he's not using Polyjuice.'
Everyone perked up with surprise to hear that, including Harry.
'We do? How do we know that?' Harry teased Draco.
'Because, as I suggested before I became your partner, we worked through all the potion suppliers in England and investigated everyone who might have been brewing Polyjuice. They were all clean. They were all accounted for during the murders.'
Harry was Draco's fourth partner and as Harry was already on the case, when Ron resigned to help George with the shop, Draco joined the team working on it. Harry knew he was working the potions angle, but thought it was an impossible task to track every wizard brewing the potion. If Draco was certain the suspect didn't use it, what could she have used instead?
'De-aging potion?'
'It's impossible to track; it's sold at every beauty store, it's cheap and easy to make.' Draco sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. 'We shouldn't be talking about this.' No, they shouldn't have been, so the conversation was dropped. Harry was sure it was still on everyone's mind.
Soon thereafter, everyone headed off to bed; two by two. After Blaise took Ginny upstairs, Harry and Draco sat alone on the sofa.
Draco relaxed and let his leg rest against Harry's. 'I was surprised at how everyone welcomed Blaise, as though he was always one of you lot, but I don't know why. I guess I expected Weasley to be overly protective of Ginny or Dean to be jealous... or you.'
'Why would I be jealous?'
'She is your ex.'
'Yeah, but I'm in lo—I'm gay. You know that.' Harry's arm was over the back of the sofa with his hand rested next to Draco's left ear mere inches away from touching it. He could feign tiredness and allow his arm to fall, then he'd pretend it was an accident when he touched Draco. He could.
'I know.' Draco let his head fall back on Harry's arm; Harry's eyes fell shut. They were touching. Again, Harry found it hard to breathe. Draco asked if he was okay, and he replied that he was tired, though he was more awake than he'd been in hours.
'Then we should get you to bed.' Draco stood, taking Harry's hand and pulling him to his feet. 'Where am I sleeping?' He held Harry's hand, and when he didn't let go, neither did Harry.
Harry hadn't planned. Everyone else had an assigned room, as they'd been there and picked them before. Ginny usually slept alone, and now she'd just taken Blaise with her. Harry didn't have to worry about that. Harry never told anyone where to go; they knew which room was his and stayed out. Everyone else assumed and Harry had hoped—
'Come with me.' It was a request. Draco nodded and followed, until they got through the doorway of Harry's room, then he stopped. His hand went stiff and slipped out of Harry's. 'Is this your room?' Draco whispered, frozen by the doorway; he looked nervous—Harry's stomach dropped, scared.
'I'm sorry. I'm tired and I wasn't thinking. There are plenty of rooms.' Harry had to squeeze by Draco to get back into the hall, and on his way past, Draco grabbed his arm.
'It's okay. I wasn't expecting—it's all right. I'll stay.' He pulled Harry slightly and Harry stepped back into the room. Without letting go of Harry's arm, other than to reposition his grip, they made their way to the bed. 'I'll stay with you—I want to.'
That night, Harry lay next to Draco listening to him sleep, even breaths in and out, as he stared into the darkness thinking about the murder case. He remembered a phrase that he'd heard when he was in Auror training: Get inside the criminal's mind.
#
I hadn't meant to kill him; it was an accident. I'm not the type of person to seek out violence; at least, I wasn't. Now, I'm not so sure. I was working on a potion—I was under a lot of stress at the time—and he came to visit me. I'd thought a lot about how I'd kill myself, if I were ever brave enough to do it. The potion was step one.
No one would ever accuse me of being brave. I never would have drunk that potion, and Avery had never listened to me when I said stop.
The Aurors called it a suicide; apparently, he was under a lot of stress at the time as well.
#
'All right.' Harry burst through the door, ready to change the course of their investigation. 'Let's go with your idea.'
Draco looked surprised to see him full of energy, and his expression made Harry smile. 'It's not Polyjuice, I agree with you.' The look Harry received was what he had hoped he would have received from Draco at the restaurant. Hermione was right; Draco didn't hate him, and Harry's breakdown hadn't been over Draco at all.
'We've sent Aurors out undercover for this for months and came up with nothing. What can we do differently, taking your idea into count?' Harry waited for Draco to respond, and after a few seconds of him receiving nothing but a silent glare, Harry said, 'Come on! This is what you wanted. You must have thought of the next few steps.'
He couldn't contain his excitement; he knew they were close. They were going to catch her. Draco would see it soon enough.
'You have to wait for him to come to you.'
'They've tried that.'
'Where?' Draco sneered at Harry. 'Standing next to prostitutes? The murderer isn't looking for those types of men. We have to go to places with kids. Some place a little girl can be lost after dark and a nice stranger might try to help her.'
'You want me to walk around parks and look for lost kids?'
Draco nodded.
'What if they are really lost?'
'Then they won't try to kill you, though that isn't the real problem.'
They were both silent as they thought about their plan. Harry hadn't told anyone his theory on how she killed them with a kiss yet. He wanted something more solid, or maybe, he just wanted to catch her himself. If he didn't let her kiss him, how would he know it was her? If he did, he'd die.
'What if she doesn't try to kill me, because I don't make an advance on her...'
'Right.'
'Well, if I use Polyjuice—'
'Which you should.'
'Right, if I take Polyjuice and turn into someone different every time, then I could look for patterns. Everyone described her as the same; same clothes, same hair, same height, same build. If I spot her several times, then we'll know it's her.'
'Then we'll just pursue her and catch her in the act.' There it was—the twitch of excitement in Draco's eyes.
He was there with Harry, impatient for night to fall so they could track their prey. Harry loved it. He loved him. It filled him completely in that moment seeing Draco as excited as he was. Knowing that only he could tell what Draco felt right then. They were more alike than Harry had realised. He understood him then.
Draco didn't hate him; he hated seeing Harry pretend to be someone he wasn't for him. Harry hated that part of himself, too. He shouldn't have to change who he was to be with whom he loved. Harry was sure that Draco would kiss him back, if he kissed him.
And he did.
#
They never talked about it; that was the best thing. Without discussion or awkwardness, they left work together, ate dinner at Harry's, and went up to the bedroom. Of course, there was anticipation and nervousness, but no more uncertainty.
Draco took charge, pulled Harry into the bed, and used his hands to undress him. That told Harry that Draco loved him before he said the words. Draco looked at him as though he was unsure that it was real; he held him tightly as if he was afraid Harry'd disappear; his hands lingered on Harry's body, studying it, caressing it, kissing it, and he whispered, 'You have no idea how long I've desired this.'
'Then tell me.'
Draco smirked, pulled himself on top of Harry—his legs cradling Harry's hips—and let his lips brush Harry's as he said, 'No, I don't think I will.' He kissed Harry's protests away every time he opened his mouth to speak. After Draco took Harry's cock in his hand and moved to kissing his neck, Harry said, 'Sixth year, though I don't think I admitted it until after—' the fire. But Harry didn't want to bring up anything negative then, so he said, 'I saw you in training.'
That was when Harry had realised it was more than attraction; more than a crush. An obsession, with the one thing he knew he could never have. It was a deep, painful hole that filled with air and made Harry feel as though he'd float away when they were in the same room and drew near each other, then became heavy with stones when they had to part.
'I joined to impress you.' Draco pressed his and Harry's erections together in his hand as he watched Harry measuring his reactions to every movement he made. Harry kept his eyes open as long as he could. However, when Draco chewed his bottom lip as he traced circles around the tips of their cocks, Harry dropped his head back into the pillow and stopped fighting to keep them open.
Maybe he was crazy for such a silly thing like Draco biting his lip to completely undo him, but everything was more intense when in love.
'I admitted it to myself in third year, but then it only made me hate you more.'
'When did you stop hating me?'
'After the fire.'
Harry laughed and pulled Draco in for another kiss. Though Harry had come, Draco had not. Harry was sure it wouldn't take long for him to get hard again. Harry reached for Draco, but as soon as his hand brushed his erection, Draco froze.
'What's wrong?'
It was barely a whisper but Harry heard Draco's stop and pulled back. 'Did I hurt you?' He sat up and brushed Draco's hair away from his face. 'Are you okay?'
'I'm fine; no, you didn't hurt me. Just—let me touch you for now. Please.'
'Okay.' Harry pulled Draco down to lie beside him. He watched his expressions hoping to figure out what Draco was thinking. He abruptly sat up again and said, 'Hey, I'm going to go make some tea. Would you like some?'
Draco forced a smile. 'I'd love some.'
#
My second kill wasn't an accident. After Avery died, I met someone else who never knew when to stop. He was worse than Avery in a lot of ways. Potions make murder so much easier. See, I can't stand blood or violence; I hate fighting, yelling, screaming, hitting.
Potions are quiet.
All I needed was to figure out a way for the potion to be on my lips, but not kill me. It was ridiculously simple. If he had left me alone, he wouldn't have died.
#
It was Harry's third time out at a different park. Dusk was nearing its end when he heard the swing squeak from the other size of the park. It's her. He was sure. They didn't need to track her down twice, because she fit the description down to the glittered shoelaces lined with stars. She couldn't have been older than fourteen. They had a plan, and Harry knew he should stick to it.
But she was there—so close to him that he could catch her that night. They could end it right then.
He took his time making his way over to her. He watched her as she looked around, expecting someone to show up. She pretended she was waiting for her parents to come pick her up, and Harry could see it. He knew she was waiting for him, or rather someone like him. She was waiting for her next kill.
'It's getting late, you should probably head home.'
The girl was startled. She had been looking over her shoulder at the road and when Harry spoke, she snapped her head around making her blonde hair fly around her face. 'My mum. She promised, but she's late.'
'Is she late a lot?'
'Sometimes.' The girl shrugged. 'She forgets about me. She's busy.'
'Do you live far? I could give you a lift home.'
She bit her lip unsure, but accepted with a smile before she followed him to his car. Most of the victims were Muggles, and almost all of the victims owned cars. It was the odd way they died that brought the matter to the Aurors. Once the Aurors found the traces of magic, they modified the memories of the Muggles involved in the case. Harry followed her directions, which had him weave out of the neighbourhood they were in.
It was her. There was no plausible reason for a girl to be so far from home. He didn't ask her reason; he didn't care what lie she told the other men.
'Are you hungry?' Harry saw a sign for a deli and began to slow and look for a spot to park before she answered.
'I don't have any money.'
'Don't worry about it; I have plenty.'
The waitress assumed she was his daughter. Neither of them corrected her. Where would he take her? She obviously had no home for him to take her to. How long would she have him drive her around, before she just said pull over? Harry knew most of the victims took her to a restaurant first, because that is where all the witnesses came from. Sometimes they picked a place they knew also had rooms for rent above. The place Harry chose did not.
But there was one right across the street.
She probably killed them as soon as they got in the room. Harry wouldn't have to do anything but wait for her attack. He should be able to take a little girl. Plus, he had Draco as back up. Harry hadn't seen him all night, but he had Harry's cloak and he was a lot better at keeping still and silent than Harry ever was. He knew Draco was watching them, but he'd feel more comfortable if he knew from where.
Would Draco follow them into the room?
Would he try to stop them before they got there?
He could feel Draco's glare as he watched the girl eat, even if he didn't know where he was sitting. Harry knew Draco hated breaking from the plan even when it was necessary, and this wasn't. They'd already succeeded in their plan for the night. It was time to get this over with. If Draco was going to stop him, he could stop him on his way to get the key.
Harry excused himself to the loo; the girl nodded and smiled.
#
The girl thanked him for the meal. She didn't seem to notice that they weren't walking toward the car but away from it. She was deep in a conversation about her parents that Harry wasn't paying any attention to; he still wasn't interested in her lies. She was good at it, too. The stories flew out of her mouth so quickly and without hesitation that she seemed to be remembering the moments instead of making them up.
'Of course, he wasn't really my Uncle, Uncle Tom, but my parents liked to give everyone close to them some family relation—' She stopped talking abruptly once the back of her legs hit the bed. The shock on her face made Harry question, for the first time, whether he had the right girl.
Harry closed the door without a sound and took a step toward her. She tried to take another step back, forgetting the bed was behind her, and fell onto it. Harry was too nervous to speak. How would they act once they got her there? Would they attack her? Did they continue their nice guy routine through the whole thing? 'Careful there', he said, but it was too late for it to sound natural.
They both stood silent and still waiting for the other to make the first move.
She wasn't attacking; of course, it had to be him. He had to be the one to make the first move. She had to be sure and then Harry was sure, he didn't really want to catch her anymore. At that point, were the men really innocent anymore? Harry didn't have to sit next to her to feel it was time for her to kill him, but he did. 'D'you want to try something with me?'
Because of the files, he knew that her lipgloss—light pink with glitter—contained the poison. The kiss should have been the first thing they did together, instead of the last.
Harry no longer had the ability to keep his eyes open when Draco burst through the door, and to his surprise woke a few minutes later to Draco forcing him to drink the antidote. As soon as Harry's eyes opened, Draco started kissing him.
'I should be furious with you!' Draco kissed him again. 'I am furious with you.' He moved to his neck, then to his chest, and Harry tried to push him away as he continued down but his arms were still stiff. He twitched, but couldn't move. 'I thought you were going to die', Draco said before he took Harry into his mouth. It was too late by the time Harry could move to stop it.
After Harry returned the room key and they left to write up their report, Draco explained what happened. He was furious—as he stated before—that Harry deviated from their plan. First he waited outside, because without a plan he wasn't sure the best place to be. Harry rolled his eyes at this, knowing Draco was sulking, debating on leaving him all by himself. Then, once Harry took so long to leave, he had to find their room—which wasn't easy—and once he found it, he broke in—which was easy as Harry hadn't even bothered to lock the door—and the girl ran past him as Harry struggled to breathe on the bed.
'I had to choose; her or you.'
#
One day I realised, these men would always find me. So I decided to seek them out instead. I know what I'm doing is wrong; it's not the proper way to do things. Even people who sympathised with me (which I never wanted) would see why I needed to be stopt.
I didn't want to be caught, so I couldn't be myself. I was getting too old and I couldn't wear the poison all the time waiting for the next person to attack me. Plus, I was ready to fall in love. Real love. I didn't want to kill the person who would save me from myself.
#
They might have lied a bit on their paperwork.
Draco said they had no choice, because whether they knew it or not, Harry did kiss someone whom people could argue might have actually been simply a twelve-year-old girl. Harry was content to let Draco believe that was all that happened; it was enough in both their minds for her to have reason to kill him. Even with the edited version, Harry was suspended for pushing the investigation too far without prior approval; they were taken off the case. Draco was sacked, as he was no longer allowed to work with Harry.
Harry hadn't known it, but he was Draco's last chance.
They were cleaning the files out from their desks. Draco cleaned his out completely. Harry looked through the files one last time while he was still allowed to. 'You made a list of child abuse victims?' Harry shook his head at him.
'Four of the men murdered had records. Those are a list of suspects. Some of them were victims of more than one of the previous four. Some of them aren't victims at all, but it would be very easy for them to get the materials needed to commit the crimes. They are colour coded: blue means victim, green means materials.'
'You know, even though you were right about her victims, it still doesn't mean she was abused as a child. She could just want to help other people have as happy childhood as she had. Did you ever think of that?'
'No, I didn't think of that; I don't have a hero-complex like some people.' Draco raised an eyebrow and stared at Harry. Harry visibly gulped.
'Just stuck with the first thought that came to you?' Harry tried to brush off his nervousness. He finished reading the list and froze as he saw the last name on it; the only one written in red. 'Why is your name on here?'
'I wondered when you'd notice that.' Draco smirked. 'I hadn't proven myself innocent yet. Unless I'm working, I tend to be alone, so I don't have witnesses to say it couldn't have been me. The rest of our evidence was potion-related.'
'Do you always list yourself as a suspect and try to prove it wrong? It's an interesting strategy, but I can see why some of your previous partners wouldn't find it amusing.' Harry flipped through the pages of the four men's files. 'Wouldn't you not being a victim make you green; what does red mean?'
Draco stood quietly as Harry shuffled through the papers. Harry flipped through them scanning the names, reading where Draco compared the victims, then crossed out people who couldn't possibly have committed the murders; there were girls' names on his suspects list. Harry stopped reading, but didn't look up from the files.
'Draco? What does red mean?'
'Red means both.'
#
Most people don't report it. Harry thought to himself. He had learned that in Auror training and knew it first-hand. Sure, he'd not suffered from sexual abuse as a child, but had suffered abuse from family members. Society thinks children are safe with family members. Family members are sometimes the cause of a child's pain—the muffled cries at night. Draco must not have told anyone, so no one ever reported it.
They were in Harry's kitchen and Draco was chopping up the ingredients Harry needed for dinner. He was better at it than Harry, and it was one of the things he didn't use magic for, so Harry knew he enjoyed it. It was quiet as they worked around each other.
Harry had a lot of questions, but no idea how to start or even if he should. Draco had left it out for Harry to find though; he must have wanted to tell him.
'Are you upset with me?'
Harry's jaw dropped. 'What?'
Draco cleaned the knife off with his apron, set it next to the chopped up onion, and turned to lean his back against the counter. 'Are you angry with me?'
'Why would I be angry with you?' Harry couldn't keep his voice from shaking. Was he angry? Yes, furious, but not at Draco. He wanted to find the man who—he couldn't even think it—and kill him. He hadn't been filled with this much anger since he was a teenager.
'You haven't touched me since—you haven't even looked at me for over an hour.' Harry grabbed Draco before he could finish his sentence; he pulled him tight against him, kissed his tears off his face, and said, 'I'm not upset with you; I love you. I just—' Didn't know what Draco wanted him to do, but then it was obvious. He held him until his breathing returned to normal. Then he held him while they kissed. He didn't even move to get his wand as the food burnt on the stove.
Later, after Harry ordered take-out and they were cleaning up the mess of the burnt food, Harry asked, 'Who was it?'
'It doesn't matter.'
Harry glared at the pan being scrubbed in the sink.
'He's dead, Harry, he can't hurt me anymore.'
'Was it one of the men? Is that why you added yourself as a suspect?'
'You're not going to let this go, are you?'
He took Draco's hand and wrapped it around his waist, then rested his forehead against Draco's. 'I'll let it go if you want me to. But, I probably won't stop trying to figure it out.'
Draco was quiet for a moment, and they watched each other, before Draco spoke again. 'Do you remember our first night together? When you went to go make tea?'
Harry nodded.
'I read your journal while you were gone.'
Harry had never been so frightened in his life. His eyes widened with dread. He was used to being afraid of being too terrified to act; he wasn't used to this sort of numbness of fear flowing through him. It had been over a month. Draco couldn't have been upset enough about anything he read to leave
Harry, or to turn him in.
'I told you I loved you earlier that night, but it didn't hit me until I read entry number 16.'
'Oh my God.' Harry nearly panicked. Draco knew.
'Hermione is right; therapy does wonders, but the thing about therapy is that it doesn't work if you're lying. You don't have to keep secrets from me, Harry.' Draco paused and bit his lower lip. 'That entry showed me that I didn't have to keep them from you either: the first one was my grandfather. I have a lot of problems, too; we can work through them together.'
'I killed a man—'
'I've killed more.'
#
#16
People always say you need to get inside the criminal's mind, but I don't quite think this is what they mean.
It was a simple cosmetic spell. It was invented to keep lipstick from being ruined by, well, anything and everything, but what it did was create a magical barrier around the lips, which nothing—not even poison—could leak through. Instead of casting the spell after the lipstick is applied, the suspect casts it before to protect herself from the poison.
I couldn't go out as myself, even with a de-ageing potion. Polyjuice was too risky; what if the person I turned into was picked up later? But if I could go out as a person that didn't exist, then no one could trace her.
The potion that changes gender is similar to Polyjuice, and it was easier to obtain than I initially thought, especially as an Auror investigating a crime. I didn't believe anyone would try to pick me up and I believed him when he said he just wanted to make sure I got home all right. Did I know how dangerous the neighbourhood I was sitting in was?
The last thing he did was kiss me.
A/N: Explanation of the ending:
It was both Harry and Draco
'I've killed a man.' - Harry killed a man as he was investigating the case behind everyone's back, and went through a night as though he were the murder. He details it in his journal. Well, as much as he allows himself to.
'I've killed more.' - Draco was the original killer who they were looking for, the girl Harry catches, but 'gets away' because Draco had to choose between saving Harry's life or being the girl.
Journal entry 16 is Harry's journal.
And Maria asked: "My last question is the most important. When you wrote "The last thing he did was kiss me." Does that mean that Harry as the girl was raped first by the stranger that "picked him up" and then was killed by the lipstick when he kissed him/her at the end? And did Harry and Draco do the same thing, when it was Draco as the girl and Harry as the "kind stranger"?"
I left this vague on purpose so that it could be read how ever the reader wanted it to be read. But, yes, this was my original intention for that to mean. Many people have read it simply as the lipstick killed them, and this fine as well. This was my first dark!fic and there were certain ideas I wasn't comfortable detailing.