A/N: Well, here's the next part. I'm changing this fic from "complete" to "in progress." Technically, each story stands alone (more or less), but since there does seem to be sort of a plot here, and since I'm not done posting, it's not actually complete. If anyone has ideas you want used, comment or PM me. I try to update once a week.

Warnings: Voyeurism. Smut. Sappiness.

Spies Like Me

Harry couldn't help feeling annoyed and irritable as he shuffled his motley group of junior-level Aurors into their positions. The entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement was on the job, despite the fact that their presence was unnecessary at this wedding. The mother of the bride was convinced that her precious angel, who was marrying a well-known Quidditch player, was in mortal peril and had bribed—er, enlisted the services of—Ministry personnel. It hardly made a difference that there had been peace in the Wizarding world for thirty years.

When Harry had complained about it to Draco the last time they were together, Draco had only laughed at him. He'd said, "That's Pansy for you. Her only daughter from her second—no, wait third? I'm not sure—marriage is getting married herself. She's going to be over-the-top about everything."

Speaking of Draco, that was another cause of Harry's misery. So far, they were taking their relationship at an agonizingly slow pace. They'd fooled around at those two previous weddings and been out for drinks at Muggle pubs a handful of times, but that was it. He didn't care that they weren't defining their relationship, but it was absolute torture keeping his hands to himself out of respect for Draco's post-divorce emotional state. At that point, he just wanted a decent shag, damn it.

It didn't help in the least that Draco was in attendance at the wedding. Whilst Harry and his crew of inexperienced Aurors lurked in the shadows and sampled food in the kitchens, Draco was enjoying himself with the rest of the guests. By the time they had served cake, and a lot of alcohol, Harry was physically and mentally exhausted, causing him to be snappish with his Aurors. He wound up making Allsworth cry twice, though the second time was mostly Allsworth's fault for being an incompetent fool. Harry apologised regardless and said he needed some air, escaping to the balcony to stare moodily out over the countryside.

He felt a hand on his back and turned his head to look. Draco stood slightly behind him, smiling faintly. "It's been quite an evening."

Harry sighed. "Yeah. This is fucking ridiculous. Why am I here again?"

"Because Pansy is rich, paranoid, and demanding."

"Right. Besides that, of course."

Draco chuckled. "I am glad you're here." He leaned in and brushed his nose against the side of Harry's face.

"I thought you wanted to keep this private. Someone might see us out here."

"Mm. True." He stepped back. "Maybe we should find someplace else."

Harry glanced over his shoulder. "I might have an idea."

Because he'd had to place his Aurors at strategic locations, Harry now knew the venue far better than he had when James had gotten married that summer. He had a good idea where all the private locations were and whether they would be any good for an impromptu groping session. Not that he'd been counting on that, of course. He led Draco through the building to the back, where there was a business office and several storage rooms. He chose one of the larger rooms and let them inside.

This particular room held all the linens for the tables. There was a low desk in the middle, and the walls were lined with shelves. Harry grinned. It was just about perfect. They could even transfigure the desk if they liked. He reached for Draco.

He was too slow. Before he knew what was happening, Draco had shoved him up against the wall and was kissing him as though he might never be able to do so again. It was rough, greedy, and desperate, and Harry gave in willingly. He had just enough presence of mind to cast a locking spell and a Muffliato before he was consumed. In no time, they were grinding against each other, and Draco's hands were all over him, trying to work the clasps on his purple robes.

Between grunts, Harry managed to throw in a desperate, "Oh, god, please!" here and there. Draco took the hint and backed off, letting Harry shed his own robes whilst he did the same. They kissed deeply in between yanking off layers of clothes, all of which ended up in a heap.

"I've wanted to do this for ages," Harry panted once they were naked. "You've no idea."

"I think I've a pretty good idea, actually," Draco replied.

"Are we here to fuck?" No sense in beating around the bush.

Draco stepped back. "I don't know. Are we?"

"God, I hope so."

He dug his wand out of the pile of clothes and transfigured the desk then dragged some of the table linens off the shelves and turned them into bed-covers. Meanwhile, Draco carefully set their clothes on one of the shelves. Harry glanced over his shoulder and chuckled at Draco's fastidious care. He was rewarded with a slight sneer. When Harry was through making things comfortable, he stepped behind Draco and ran his hand down his back, following it with light kisses.

"Mm. Maybe I don't really want to just fuck after all."

"Oh?"

Harry span Draco around to face him. "I want to do this right." He pulled him in for a long, sensual kiss.

The only reply was a contented hum.

Pansy was surprised when Draco disappeared from the reception. He hadn't looked like he'd been having much fun, which disappointed her. She would not stand for miserable guests at her only daughter's wedding. When he ducked out, she followed him for some combination of scolding and cajoling. She located him heading for the balcony and quickened her pace to catch up.

To her surprise, he wasn't out there alone. He was talking to none other than Head Auror Harry Potter. Pansy scowled. Potter had been nothing short of unfriendly and unhelpful the entire time they were preparing for the wedding. He clearly did not understand how important it was—or how important she was, rather. There was no earthly reason Draco should be talking to him; it wasn't as though they were friends. Draco was her guest, and Potter wasn't going to make the night worse for him—that was her job. She intended to interrupt them, if for no other reason than that they both deserved her wrath.

When she got closer, she saw that Draco had his arm around Potter's waist from behind and—was he actually nuzzling Potter's face? Her mouth hung open for a moment, but she shut it quickly when she heard Draco say, "Maybe we should find someplace else."

Well, that was certainly interesting. She didn't catch Potter's reply, but when they stepped away from the balcony, she followed them, keeping to a reasonable distance. They made their way down a corridor and slipped through one of the doorways. Pansy waited a few minutes and then approached. She paused outside the door.

The sound of kissing and heavy breathing drifted out from under the door, but it was replaced by an odd buzzing sound. Pansy tried to clear her ears, but it didn't cease. She understood them to be using some sort of silencing spell. That was no trouble; Pansy was always prepared. She had long ago learnt to keep a set of extendible ears on her at all times, knowing she might catch one of her children—or one of her husbands—at something. She worked it through the crack under the door.

"Oh, god, please!"

Pansy smirked. Harry Potter, practically begging Draco to give it to him? Yes, that sounded about right. She listened to the sound of them kissing a bit more, along with some nebulous rustling sounds. They were talking again, and Pansy distinctly heard Potter ask, "Are we here to fuck?" She missed Draco's answer because she was too busy thinking, Now, that I've got to see. She reached back into her robes and pulled out an extendible eye. Who knew the Weasleys could invent such useful products? She released the eye, and it followed the ear under the door.

They were in the linens room. Potter had just finished making a bed—where the hell did that even come from?—and Draco was neatly laying their clothes on a shelf. Potter laughed at him a little, and Draco scowled back. Potter came up behind him and touched him gently, then trailed kisses down his back. Pansy shivered as though Potter had touched her instead.

"Mm. Maybe I don't really want to just fuck after all," Potter said.

"Oh?"

Potter turned Draco around. "I want to do this right." They kissed deeply, and Pansy sighed.

She half-expected Potter to just shove Draco up against the wall and for them to start going at each other like animals. Instead, Potter stepped away and took Draco's hand. He pulled him towards the bed, where they lay down on their sides, facing each other. For a few minutes, they weren't even kissing. Potter put his hand on Draco's cheek and slid it down, caressing his neck, his shoulder, his arm. At last he leaned in and captured Draco's lips, delivering a lingering, sensual kiss.

Pansy nearly moaned. She stifled it, afraid her voice would carry through the door. As Potter and Draco's naked snogging intensified, she grew increasingly aroused. She muffled a gasp when Potter rolled Draco onto his back and began kissing, licking, and sucking his way down Draco's chest. He took his time, seeming to have made it his personal mission to cover every inch of Draco's pale skin. When he reached Draco's cock, he put out his tongue and tasted just the tip before engulfing it in his mouth.

Draco drew up his knees, and Potter settled between them, his head bobbing up and down. Draco arched his back and groaned. "Stop. Please."

Potter released him with a slight pop. "Tell me what you want."

Propping himself on his elbows, Draco took several gasping breaths before he answered, "It's my turn."

He turned over, and Potter lay down on his back. Draco ran his hands over Potter's chest reverently. Even Pansy could see that he had kept himself in excellent shape. She didn't care that this was Potter she was admiring—she knew a good body when she saw one. In addition to his firm muscles, she had an excellent view of his dick. It was absolutely beautiful, the sort she liked her own lovers to have—full, but not excessively long and not too thick, slightly curved with a dusky pink tip, jutting out of a crop of neatly trimmed dark curls. No wonder Draco wanted him so badly. He was bloody gorgeous. She wondered which of them was going to do the fucking.

While she was thinking all of that, Draco had moved on to sucking and stroking Potter's perfect penis. He was writhing under Draco's ministrations until he finally said, "Shit…I'm getting close."

Draco pulled away and sat back. "Do you have—"

"I can do it with a spell."

"Wandless?"

"Yes."

"That's sexy." A moment later, Draco twitched and looked down at his hand. "Nice."

"Mm. Go slow, will you? It's been sort of a while."

Draco didn't move. "It has?" He frowned.

Potter propped himself up. "Yeah. I wanted—well, I wanted you," he said. His cheeks coloured.

Almost too quietly for Pansy to hear, Draco said, "Me, too."

Potter grinned and dragged Draco down for another kiss. They stayed that way, rocking against each other until they were both gasping. Draco reached down between them, and Potter spread his legs further. Pansy braced herself against the door, her thighs pressed together as her arousal intensified. She watched Draco use his long, slender fingers to open Potter up, taking his time and making Potter wriggle beneath him.

Draco withdrew his hand and aligned himself. He pushed in slowly, pulling out and thrusting forwards a little further each time. Pansy allowed the tiniest whimper to escape her lips at the erotic sight. She clenched and released her muscles, her heart rate increasing steadily. By that time, Draco was moving rhythmically, and Potter had a hand around his own cock, stroking in time with Draco's thrusts. They were both panting and groaning.

With a shout, Draco's body tensed and his movement ceased momentarily. He began to move again slowly. Potter sped up his wanking, but Draco stopped him and replaced Potter's hand with one of his own. He stroked until Potter's face contorted and his hips bucked up, spilling over his stomach and Draco's hand. Pansy's body tightened, and she shuddered. She hadn't truly come, but she was very nearly as satisfied as if she had. She breathed deeply, descending from her high.

Draco wiped his hand on the sheets and slid out, flopping down next to Potter. They lay together quietly for a bit, Draco's head pillowed on Potter's chest and Potter stroking his hair lightly. Pansy relaxed, preparing to reel in the extendibles and return to the wedding reception. She was stopped by Potter and Draco's conversation. Curious about their post-coital pillow talk, she remained where she was.

"Harry, what exactly are we doing?"

There was a pause, and Potter's hand stilled. "Didn't you hear what I said before? When I said I wanted to do this properly, I meant that you're not someone I'm fucking just because I can. Our history won't allow it, and you mean more to me than that."

Draco extracted himself and turned onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, his brows knit together. Potter saw his expression, and his face fell. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—never mind."

He made to stand up, but Draco grabbed his wrist. "Wait." When Potter looked back at him, he continued, "You mean more to me, too."

Potter's shoulders slumped and a look of relief passed over his face. He settled back on the bed. They kissed for a bit longer, light but full of meaning and emotion, caressing each other's faces and hair. Pansy's eyes brimmed, and she dabbed at them. Her first six husbands had all been some variation of bastards, terrible lovers, or both. If I get married again, I want whatever they have, she thought, glancing at Potter and Draco one last time. She discreetly withdrew the extendible ear and eye and hid them in her robes once more, slipping quietly around the corner and back towards the reception.

Harry and Draco put their clothes back on, and Harry sent Draco ahead, offering to stay behind and clean up. Eventually, he too made his way back amongst the guests. In a much better mood, he sought out his team and told them to relax and enjoy themselves for the last bit of the evening. It was obvious nothing untoward was going to happen. Judging by Pansy's behaviour, she was too tipsy to notice or care whether the Aurors kept to their posts.

After another hour, Harry returned to the balcony. This time, he was just there to appreciate the cool air and the shimmering stars. Once again, he felt a hand on his back.

"Thought I'd find you here."

Harry looked over his shoulder at Draco. "Just enjoying the view." He decided to take a chance. "Do you want to come to mine when we're through here?" He cleared his throat. "Maybe spend the night?"

Draco's eyes danced. "Absolutely. Where do you live these days?"

"London. But it's unplottable, so I'll need to write it down for you." He drew out a slip of parchment and put his address on it, then pressed it into Draco's hand.

"I think I'm leaving soon. I have to find Pansy first, though. She keeps avoiding me, and every time I see her, she turns around and walks the other direction. I think she's still angry with me for being a miserable git earlier. I should probably apologise."

Harry laughed. "I wasn't much better." He glanced around before leaning up for a chaste kiss. "I'll see you later, then?"

"Count on it." Draco flashed him a smile and disappeared back inside, leaving Harry's stomach twirling pleasantly with anticipation.