Chapter 14
When Draco awoke the next morning, his suit and shoes were floating outside the bedroom door. He plucked them from the air, the unmistakable thrill of Potter's magic caressing his fingers, noting the clothing looked free of creases and ready to wear. It was almost depressing, the thoughtfulness of the gesture, despite the fact Draco was clearly just a temporarily useful tool.
After a moment's consideration and a quick look out the window at the overcast sky, he decided to stick with his earlier choice of jeans, white long sleeved t-shirt and jacket. Muggle clothing had been his everyday wear for so long that sometimes wizard robes and cloaks, even with self-adjusting seams, felt oddly cumbersome. Besides, there was a distinct possibility that if the Head Auror thought their conclusions were worth investigating they would be sent out in the field and Potter had indicated that trading was taking place in muggle locations. Draco was under no illusions about his probable role; he would be Death Eater bait to draw out the ex-Slytherins.
He cast a cautious healing charm over the bruises on his face and neck, grateful that a largely sleepless night had given him ample time to practise wandless charms, then went down to the kitchen, his jacket slung over one shoulder and sleeves pushed up far enough that the Dark Mark on his arm was clearly visible. He was not going to pretend to be something he wasn't.
Potter was cooking bacon, his hair in even more disarray than normal and a sheepish expression on his face as he turned. Draco took his time hanging his jacket on the back of a chair and then raised his head to find a look of shock on Potter's face, grease dripping slowly from the spatula hanging loose in his hand.
Draco raised an eyebrow.
"Potter."
"Umm yes," Potter agreed, his gaze travelling up and down Draco's form in a startled way, without appearing to pause on the Dark Mark at all. He suddenly seemed to realise what he was doing and turned back to the sizzling pan as a red flush spread over his face.
"You, er, are wearing muggle clothes."
"It's not the first time you've seen me in them," Draco noted, a bit puzzled by the reaction and hoping he hadn't made some horrible faux-pas in his choices. "It makes sense if we get sent out today?"
"Yeah, good thinking," Harry nodded. "If Robards goes for it...and I think he will."
He loaded some bacon onto a plate and brought it over to the table, summoning a loaf of bread as he passed.
"About yesterday..."
By Potter's expression of mingled guilt and embarrassment, it was obvious he was about to launch into a Gryffindor-style analysis of his comments to the Weasel, a subject better avoided in Draco's opinion. He butted in smoothly, cutting Potter off in mid-sentence.
"Well, it's only a theory at the moment. But I'm hopeful it will bring some results."
Potter looked taken aback, but the heart-to-heart moment had been lost and he reluctantly moved on to discuss the case, all the while a little pinch of distress between his eyes.
Draco ate, a study in calmness as he cut and chewed a bacon sandwich, forcing each mouthful down in the hope it would still the anxious clench of his stomach. He observed Potter surreptitiously from beneath his eyelashes, noting in a rather hopeless way that Potter's rumpled morning hair looked so incredibly soft that he could almost feel the texture of it beneath his fingertips.
That's enough, he told himself sternly. It was time to concentrate on business. Potter, for whatever convoluted reason, had helped him out initially and it was now his duty to complete his part of the deal. Even if the Ministry hadn't been involved, there was still a matter of magical debt to honour.
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Their arrival at the Ministry caused a flurry and more than a few frowns. Aurors and building maintenance staff were still hard at work restructuring wards. Harry ducked out of the busy atrium as quickly as possible, glad that at least on this occasion the negative attention was more on himself than Malfoy.
"They're cross with you, Potter." The tiniest hint of a smile tugged at Malfoy's lips as he turned to summon the lift.
Harry followed him through the ornate gates, trying to ignore the way Malfoy's jeans hugged his thighs as he leaned in a casual manner against the back wall of the lift. Getting Robards' approval was of the utmost importance; there was no time for fantasies about the feel of Malfoy's body writhing beneath his own.
"Earth to Potter? Potter? Potter!"
Belatedly Harry became aware that the other man was regarding him with wry amusement.
"Do you intend to take the lift, or is there some vital clue in here that I should be investigating?"
"What? No!"
Harry slammed the gates closed rather more vigorously than intended and the lift shot backwards, causing him to stagger into Malfoy. A cool hand against the small of his back steadied him, but then made no attempt to move away.
They hurtled through the bewildering maze of shafts, Harry completely aware of the soft puff of breath against the back of his neck and the fresh tingle of magic from Malfoy's hand. The connection between their magical fields was less powerful since Malfoy's outburst of wandless magic, but was still clear enough that Harry could pick up a jumble of conflicting emotions.
It reminded him that it was odd there'd been no mention of his comments the previous evening; Harry had been expecting at the very least a sharp jibe or two. All his own attempts to bring up the subject had been swiftly diverted, but perhaps it was just another indication that Malfoy was no longer the school boy he remembered.
In turn this reminded him that adult Malfoy was almost unbearably attractive and what with one thing and another Harry found his stomach clenched tighter than even the motion of the lift dictated. By the time they alighted, he was wound tighter than a spring and there was an uncomfortable pressure in his trousers.
He rushed out of the lift as soon as it stopped, bursting into the aurors' office to be met with a hushed silence that warned him Robards was not far away. Sure enough, seconds later, the man's voice boomed overhead.
"Potter! In my office now. And bring Malfoy with you."
Harry winced and jerked his head slightly, indicating Malfoy should follow him into the Head Auror's office. Robards was seated behind his heavy oak desk, hands folded on the tooled leather top and a stern expression on his face.
"Sir..." began Harry.
An imperious hand gesture cut him off as Robards rose and walked ponderously around the desk, closing in on Malfoy until he was mere inches away.
"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," he said, his tone heavy with dislike. "I never thought the day would come when you were in my office." He rocked back on his heels, huffing a disgusted breath. "Let me make myself clear; I don't like your sort and I don't trust you; I'd just as soon throw you back into Azkaban..."
"Sir!"
Harry was waved to silence.
"You are here for one reason and one reason only; Potter here has given his word that you can assist with the investigation. But make no mistake - one foot wrong... Do you understand me?"
Malfoy's face was impassive. "Perfectly," he said in a langourous drawl that seemed deliberately pitched to set Harry's teeth on edge and bring a tightness to Robards' jaw.
Robards stared at Malfoy for a while, the room frozen in an uncomfortable silence, then spun on his heel to face Harry.
"Weasley has been to see me. He says you apparated out of the gym. According to him you were solely responsible for destroying the wards last night. Is that true?"
"Yes, sir."
"Any reason for that, Auror Potter?"
"Yes sir."
"Now would be a good time for you to elaborate."
"Bigotry. Sir."
Robards' nostrils flared. "Explain."
"There were a large number of insulting remarks made yesterday. It was a long day. I didn't feel like listening to any more. I didn't fight a war to put up with that sort of behaviour."
Malfoy's face held a hint of approval, though it was probably more at the snarkiness in Harry's tone than his Gryffindor boldness and sense of fair play.
"If you insist on working with the likes of a Malfoy you'll have to grow a thicker skin," said Robards mildly, with a dismissive glance in Malfoy's direction. "I don't expect any more damage to my wards because of the delicate feelings of a Death Eater."
"Right. Sir."
Harry was fuming at the easy dismissal of the situation, angry enough that a quill on Robards' desk began to tremble and quake behind his back. He wanted to shout and rant, but knew it would be counter-productive and would somehow make Malfoy's theory less acceptable. He fought instead for control, mildly shocked when Malfoy stepped forwards casually, his knuckles brushing against Harry's and transmitting a cool stream of reassurance. It allowed him to regain just enough balance to calm his roiling magic and Harry swallowed, taking a deep breath, the quill settling back against the desk.
"Malfoy has a theory," he said quietly, pushing his knuckles more securely against the other man's hand. "I think you should hear him out."
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Thirty minutes later they were back in Harry's office. He shut the door securely and turned to Malfoy.
"Thanks for...he wouldn't have gone for it if I'd lost my...you were...and I'm sorry, what I said last night, it wasn't..."
"Really, Potter, full sentences would help enormously." Malfoy regarded him warily, a slight pout to his mouth that drew Harry's gaze despite his best intentions. Harry gulped, trying to articulate clearly.
"When you explained, in there, faced him down when he wanted to...that was so..."
"So?" Malfoy's cheeks warmed.
"Hot, Malfoy." Harry stepped closer, his voice deepening as he found the words. "Really fucking hot." His hand alighted on Malfoy's hip, tugging him gently forwards. "I'd really like to kiss you now."
"Merlin, don't let me stop you."
Malfoy swayed into him, their mouths meeting fiercely as his long fingers curled into Harry's hair. A firm butt cheek in each hand, Harry pushed his tongue deep, Malfoy opening to him, their hips pushing forwards in a slow grind that was exquisite and frustrating in equal measures until Harry broke away.
"Is this okay, do you...?"
"Yes, Potter."
Malfoy's voice was shaking, his lips red and irresistible. Harry ran a thumb over them, his other hand rubbing against the heat in Malfoy's crotch.
"I want to make you come."
Malfoy's eyes went wide at that, his body shuddering as Harry's hands parted his thighs.
Harry pushed him slowly against the desk, watching all the time for signs of discomfort, then popped open the jeans' button, slid down the zipper and wriggled his fingers inside the tight space. Malfoy's cock was hot and hard, his skin silky smooth as Harry's fingertips freed it and slowly stroked its length, his eyes feasting on the pink flush spreading above the other man's collar as his head dropped backwards and his mouth opened. Harry leaned in, nibbling and kissing his exposed throat, mouthing at the nipple protuding through the thin material of his t-shirt.
"I'm going to make you come," Harry repeated firmly, his own balls clenching at the way Malfoy gasped and ran a tongue over his lips. His cock lay heavy in Harry's hand, twitching, leaking as Harry dragged his thumb over the head.
Heart pounding so hard he was dizzy, he dropped to his knees, tugging down Malfoy's jeans as he descended. The man's cock jutted out between them, flushed now and leaking copiously as Harry ran a tongue slowly over the tip.
"Potter..." Breathless, wanting, Malfoy's chin dropped, grey eyes dark and intent as Harry opened his mouth, looking up from under his lashes as he let the warm weight settle on his tongue. He closed his lips, suckled slowly on the salt-sweet fluid. Malfoy groaned and Harry spurted a little at the sound, his hips moving involuntarily as he sought friction against his own zipper.
He swirled his tongue, one way, then the other, running it up and down the underside before he swallowed deep, one hand kneading Malfoy's ass and the thumb of the other stroking his inner thigh, working under his balls to press against the perineum. Malfoy rocked into his mouth, a stream of muttered curses in what sounded like French falling from his mouth as the pace increased.
Eventually, needing to breathe, Harry pulled off, the noise wet and obscene as Malfoy shuddered and groaned his protest, blond hair falling loose around his face and lips parted as his long eyelashes fluttered. Harry stared at him, stricken, something unexpected churning in his stomach.
"You're beautiful," he breathed suddenly, shocking himself as much as Malfoy, who froze, his cock jerking against Harry's lips.
"Oh Merlin," muttered Harry reverently and sucked it deep in one desperate movement, hands tight on the backs of Malfoy's thighs as he swallowed. Malfoy thrust hard then, hands twisted in Harry's hair as he rutted into his throat with sharp gasps.
Harry swallowed convulsively, heat scorching his own spine as he felt Malfoy's testicles draw up; he gave a final series of spasmodic thrusts and came in back-arching streams into Harry's throat, blond head thrown back and moaning helplessly. Still swallowing, Harry orgasmed violently, completely untouched.
Malfoy's cock fell free as his legs gave out and he dropped to his backside, knees either side of Harry's torso. His mouth sought and found Harry's with soft kisses as aftershocks rocked them both.
"Fuck," whispered Harry, their breath mingling and something unfurling inside him that caused him to stroke back Malfoy's damp hair in a tender gesture.
"Yes," agreed Malfoy, voice soft and barely recognisable. "Fuck."
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Thank you readers! Hugs for the support and especially the bril reviews xx Anne, Willowohwisp, Merlin's spotty left sock