With a soft sigh, Blaise kissed Ginny ardently. They moved in unison, fingers tangling in hair and pressing against backs. Buried in lust, they made love for hours. Ginny's crooning rang in his ears as he took her over crest after crest, never stopping. To Ginny, the hands that caressed her did not feel like Blaise's touch at all. Blaise was forceful, borderline sadistic, when it came to sex. This was soft and never ending. This was forever.
"I love you," she whispered as they watched the sun rise from the window. They were drenched in sweat, limbs tangled together and lips pressed against skin. "I love you so much," she sighed blissfully, falling asleep in Blaise's arms.
"Hmm," he murmured, resting his chin against her fiery head of hair as he worked through all the things he had to do for that day. Having already pilfered information from the surface, he was going to have to start digging deeper. That meant higher clearance and more checks and balances that he needed to bypass.
He felt sweat trickle down his back and he squirmed with distaste. He eased out of Ginny's grip and padded to the bathroom. He was going to have to take a Pepper-Up if he wanted to stay awake.
He was gone before she woke up.
"God damn it," Harry swore as the contents of the folder came crashing down and scattering onto the floor.
Blaise knelt beside him and started gathering the parchment. "You alright?" he asked.
"Do I look alright?" Harry snapped. He pulled back after he finished, grimacing. "I-sorry," he apologized. "I'm fine…"
"Hmm," Blaise murmured, not commenting further. As he pushed the piles of papers together, he noticed the name on it. Bellatrix Lestrange. Then he read the words surrounding it.
… psychiatric evaluation scheduling of Bellatrix Lestrange has been postponed to…
He froze in shock. The date was a month from that day.
But… Bellatrix was dead… Wasn't she?
"I've just had a tough week," Harry sighed, pushing the documents into the folder. He took the papers from Blaise's unresponsive hand, apparently not noticing the aghast look. "Thank you," he said, getting up. Blaise got up after him, keeping his eyes from straying to the file. Harry smiled weakly before sidestepping Blaise and walking away.
But Bellatrix was dead…
She had been dead for thirteen years now.
All records indicated that Bellatrix Lestrange was, for all intents and purposes, deceased. Molly Weasley's spell, although not a Killing Curse, had struck Bellatrix dead in front of the Dark Army. It had driven Lord Voldemort wild. Her corpse was buried in the cemetery kept by the court. The papers had displayed images of her, complete with a mask of death. Try as he might, Draco could find no files that hinted that she was still alive and in custody.
Had the date on the document been an error in processing? A simple slip of the hand? He needed to find out more.
And more meant that he needed to get into the Head Auror's office. He needed to see that file.
Blaise knocked on Potter's door twice before opening it. He didn't quite hear the 'just a second' that Harry had said. So he found himself getting an eyeful of a rather shirtless Auror. Harry was sitting on the floor in front of a full-length mirror he had conjured. Blaise noticed a scattering of medical supplies around the man and a long strip of bandage down his back.
Harry glanced up, raising a brow. "I said just a second, didn't I?" he asked.
"I didn't hear you," Blaise said distantly, a slow frown dawning on his face.
Harry smiled, shaking his head. "It's fine. What did you need?" he asked, grabbing his shirt and sliding his sleeves in with a slight wince.
"What's this?" Blaise asked, moving towards Harry and kneeling down so he could inspect the medications that were on the floor.
"Work," Harry said simply.
"Why are you doing this yourself?" Blaise murmured, picking up the ointment pod. It looked like a topical poison antidote. Another one seemed to be a burn medication. "The nurses are three floors down."
"I already went," Harry said uncomfortably. "I was just about to re-dress the wound."
"Oh…" Blaise said. Then he became aware of the file in his hand. "This is the latest I have," he added, handing it to Harry.
"Thanks," Harry said.
"Mhm," Blaise nodded, reading the labels on the salves and creams.
Harry waited for a minute, watching Blaise with slight perplexity. When it became apparent that the man was not about to leave, Harry started saying, "You can g-"
But he was interrupted when Blaise said, "Show me."
"Oh, er… th-the wound?" Harry blushed.
"Let's see," Blaise said, tugging at Harry's shirt. Harry complied uncertainly, shrugging off his shirt. The bandage started at Harry's collarbone and ran down his shoulder to the middle of his back. "You can't do this on your own," Blaise noted.
"Sure I can," Harry argued otherwise.
"Hmm," Blaise didn't press further. He tried peeling a corner off, grimacing when he saw the bruised skin surrounding the invisible stitches that held Harry's skin together. "This looks serious. Shouldn't you be in bed?"
"It's fine," Harry brushed off, giving off the impression that his doctors didn't know that their patient wasn't eating chicken noodle soup while reading a book.
"What happened?" Blaise asked.
"Can't tell you," Harry answered.
Blaise nodded, slowly lifting away the gauze and bandages to reveal the irritated skin underneath. "Does that hurt?" he asked.
"No," Harry said, hiding his smile by turning his head down.
"But this might, okay?" Draco warned as he squeezed a healthy dose of ointment onto a gauze pad and pressed it against Harry's skin.
Harry hissed, swearing breathlessly as he gritted his teeth. Then he lurched forward when he felt cold air being blown onto his overheating skin. "Wh-what?" he stammered. Blaise pulled Harry back to him, gently breathing onto the wound. Then pressed the gauze to the next section, feeling Harry flex with pain before relaxing when he felt the air cooling him. "What are you doing?" Harry asked, feeling oddly breathless.
"The antidote heats your skin a lot," Blaise murmured. "It burns more than it really should. So Mother said that if y-" He stopped, his breath catching. He flicked his eyes up unconsciously, meeting Harry's gaze. He quickly looked back at Harry's skin, swallowing. That was a little too much to say. He wasn't supposed to spill the beans. He was just supposed to get on Potter's good side.
"Your mother said what?" Harry asked gently.
"It's nothing. Just a way to get rid of the heat," Blaise said, pressing the medication onto Harry's wound before blowing cold air onto it.
"What did your mother say?"
Blaise looked up at Harry again. He saw the expectant nod. Harry was truly interested in knowing. "She said if you blow on the wound, it'd go away. She said it was magic," Draco said with the ghost of a smile. "It isn't really. The cold just takes your mind off of the pain, that's all."
Harry nodded, looking down at his lap and fumbling with his fingers. "Okay. It's working," he said, sounding more like a child than a Head Auror.
Draco worked at an easy pace so as not to overwhelm Harry with torturous pain. Once he finished with the antidote, he started the burn salve. "This should feel better," he murmured as he squeezed a small amount onto the tips of his fingers and worked it along the edge of the cut. Dressing a wound was one thing. Touching Potter's skin while it was horrifying disfigured was another thing entirely. He tried to keep his look of revulsion away. "How long did they say you should rest for?" he asked.
Harry grimaced with guilt. "A week," he confessed.
Draco knew all about Harry's aversion to hospitals. Both Harry and Draco had seen a little too much of the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey. Harry would be groveling and clambering to get out of there as soon as his sling was all tidied up. "Gauze," Draco said.
As Harry handed it over, he asked. "So… where did you learn to dress wounds?"
"It's something everyone should know," Draco answered.
"I'd wager not half the Mediwizards know how to do it well," Harry countered.
"Quidditch," Draco said concisely.
Harry seemed to like that answer. "Yeah," he smiled. "Me too."
Draco rolled the sticky bandage up to Harry's shoulder and then scooted over to the front so he could finish up. He pressed the end of the bandage against the side of Harry's neck and pressed his wand tip to it, fastening it so it wouldn't fall off until it was time for the next dressing. "Anything else?" he asked, conjuring a wet cloth to wipe his hands while waiting for Harry to respond.
"You didn't even have to do that, Blaise. That was awkward as hell," Harry laughed with a thankful shake of his head. "Nothing else."
Draco got up, hands still hidden under the wet cloth as his skin crawled. That was one of the most disgusting things he had done. "That's my apology," he said and, with a curt nod, strode away.
Harry pressed his hand to his neck, feeling the edge of the bandage. He smiled abruptly, shaking his head at his musings. He grabbed his shirt and tugged it on. Then his brows started to furrow as he touched his bandage again. He looked up at the closed door, tilting his head in confusion.
Blaise found Ginny waiting for him when he got home late. Neither spoke, falling into bed with tangled tongues and wandering hands.
He was awake late at night, arms looped around Ginny but his mind on the events of the day. Especially Potter. So now they were on speaking terms. All Draco needed was an opportunity. That's what Slytherins did best – make use of opportunities. He had told no one of the words he had read, of his misgivings on Bellatrix's death. He needed to be sure.
He cast away those thoughts. He was losing focus. He blinked down at Ginny. Starting with Weaslette, Draco was slowly diverging from his goal. He needed to set things straight. He examined Ginny's shape for a short while. Maybe he could set things straight closer to his deadline. He rather liked this arrangement. No talking, just sex. And just sex with a respectable woman, not a two pence tramp. Although Draco supposed anyone who wanted Blaise for sex was a two pence tramp.
He closed his eyes. He needed at least four hours of sleep if he needed to function. He buried his face against the crook of Ginny's neck, lulled to sleep by her breath.
"What is this I hear?" Rabastan asked quietly, an amused lilt to his tone. "You found yourself a girl?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "Blaise found himself a girl. If it weren't for your incomplete report, I wouldn't have to deal with her, would I?' he asked.
"You couldn't possibly be complaining," the man winked.
"I'd never complain," Draco said with heavy undertones.
"Who is she?" Rabastan added.
"Potter's," Draco said.
Rabastan's eyes widened. "Wait. Potter?" he asked in disbelief.
"Yes. Ginevra Weasley. Works for the Prophet," Draco said.
"This is big, Draco," Rabastan said with an incredulous laugh. "We can do so much with this!"
"Figured I'd keep her around," Draco said, unaffected by his uncle's enthusiasm.
"Of course you will," Rabastan snickered, shaking his head at his nephew.
Blaise tilted his head questioningly when he read the note that had just flown into his office.
Going out for drinks with some people. Join us?
Harry
He tapped his quill against the words.
Yes, he wrote before flicking his wand at the parchment and sending it on its way.
