Chapter 16
This one is for you, Willowohwisp
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They apparated straight to Grimmauld Place, setting off a shock wave of concern that rippled through the house and served to increase Harry's anxiety ten-fold.
"What happened back there?" He insisted.
Malfoy shrugged, glowering at the memory.
"I bought a drink, made the usual conversational moves. It was going well; in fact I'm sure I had a positive contact with a third party, then that..." He broke off, the muscle flexing in his jaw. "Someone who was camped out at the Manor in the War recognised my smell, made a few comments, started casting hexes. I defended myself, but it got a bit out of hand."
Before Harry could reply, the floo crackled into life and Ron stuck his head out of the grate.
"Are you OK, mate?"
"We're fine, Ron."
"I got your patronus about the same time a message came through about a blast at The Hag's Skeleton."
"Did Aurors attend?"
"Yeah, but no-one was talking. They brought in a couple of known suspects. Robards wants Malfoy to take a look, see if he recognises any of them. He doesn't know you were down there today."
"Let's keep it that way. I'll tell Malfoy not to identify anyone he only recognises from seeing them in the pub." Harry looked over his shoulder. "Are you okay to...?"
"Let's get it over with," snapped Malfoy, heading for the grate. "Step aside, Weasley."
.
Robards was waiting for them outside the detention cells.
"Doesn't this blow my cover?" Malfoy enquired in an icy tone.
"The suspects won't be leaving here, or communicating with anyone, until your investigation is completed." Robards gave Malfoy a hard look. "I hope you're keeping a close eye on Mr Malfoy, Harry."
Harry scowled at him and didn't bother respond. Instead he gestured to the door to Detention Cell 1. Malfoy took a quick look inside and shook his head. It was the same in Cells 2, 3 and 4. None of the occupants spoke and none of them appeared to realise they were in the presence of the wizard who had blown their pub apart mere hours before. Harry deduced that the character who'd been able to smell his way past Malfoy's glamour was not in custody.
Then Robards pointed across the corridor. "One more," he said in a bland voice, moving aside with a tight smile as Malfoy crossed to the metal door.
The nature of that particular cell made it necessary to open the outer door and step inside to view a caged area. Some instinct kept Harry close behind Malfoy as he entered and his instincts were proved right immediately. There was the sound of movement and a deep growl resonated through the cell block. Malfoy froze, his breath catching audibly.
"I knew that was you," sneered a husky voice from the shadows inside the cage. "The Malfoy whelp. I'd recognise that smell anywhere. What's this then? Working for the Ministry now are we? Wouldn't Daddy be disappointed."
Behind Harry, Robards pushed forwards.
"Well, Mr Malfoy? Surely you recognise this one?"
It didn't seem as though the ex-Death Eater was going to move or speak and Harry took hold of his upper arm in a firm grip, unsure if he was offering mute support or simply preventing Malfoy from backing up into him. Even clothing could not stop the emotional transfer of fear and horror, so intense that Harry flinched as he peered around the other man.
"Mattock!" Fury reddened Harry's cheeks as he recognised the werewolf. He turned to Robards. "What are you playing at?"
It was no secret that Mattock had run with Fenrir's pack or that he'd been a regular visitor and on-site torturer at the Manor, facts with which Robards was well-acquainted. The Head Auror ignored Harry, keeping his sharp gaze on Malfoy.
"I had to be sure," he said simply.
"C'mon," urged Harry, tugging on the arm in his grasp until they were back in the well-lit corridor. Malfoy stumbled along with him, half-falling into Harry's side before righting himself with a curse.
"Merlin!" He gripped at the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger, eyes closed, breathing in shallow puffs.
"Sit down," said Harry sharply, pushing him gently towards a wooden bench. Malfoy obliged, sinking down in a surprisingly graceless manner.
"Put your head between your knees."
Malfoy made a small noise of disagreement, but did lean forwards to rest his elbows on his knees. He looked as though he might vomit.
Robards managed to sound apologetic, a somewhat difficult feat given the amount of satisfaction on his features.
"I had to make certain he was on our side," he insisted. "There's too much at stake to risk a Death Eater plot getting off the ground." He raised a hand at Harry's expression. "I know, you found him, not the other way around, but it could have been a set-up from the start."
Harry swallowed the venom he felt and settled for a cold glare at his boss.
"We're going now," he stated flatly, seriously tempted to simply disapparate through the wards again. Robards must have read his body language because he straightened with alarm and rushed to offer the use of his private Floo.
.
They burst out of the Floo into the calm ambience of the main parlour in Grimmauld Place, the leather settees and warm lamplight a welcome relief after the stark lights of the detention block. Harsh, white lighting had been a modernisation approved by Robards himself, on the grounds the old-style candlelit lamps were reassuring to the average wizarding criminal, who most likely had that sort of lighting at home.
Harry turned, on his lips were questions he had no idea how to present, but they were never uttered, forestalled by the broken air of the man before him.
Malfoy stood perfectly still for a moment, his face white and set, then he took a deliberate step forwards into Harry's personal space, grey eyes wide and his fingers tracing a shaky path along Harry's hip. Harry understood, with shocking clarity, that they were going to fuck, and that it was somehow essential to Malfoy's sanity that they did so right now and at his instigation. It made Harry a little breathless, stirring adrenaline in his belly, that understanding and the subsequent willing acquiescence of any control he had over the situation.
He waited patiently, his stance open and welcoming as Malfoy leaned in and pressed a ghost of a kiss against Harry's lips, its tentative nature making it clear it was a request for permission. Even that soft touch of cool lips was enough to send Harry's blood rushing south and he was more than ready when Malfoy closed the remaining gap between them, fastened his hands on Harry's hips and kissed him again.
Their mouths moved together, opening soft and sweet at first and then faster and more forcefully as their desire grew. Harry's hand found its way into the soft fall of hair at the back of Malfoy's skull while the other hand reached around, taking a firm arse cheek and tugging Malfoy flush against him, hip-bone against hip-bone, chest against muscle, hard flesh against hard flesh. Malfoy's hands slid under his shirt, one caressing his back while the other pushed up between them, long fingers finding and rolling his nipple and sending sparks of pleasure into his groin.
"Clothes," murmured Malfoy, a question in the arch of his eyebrow. Harry nodded and just like that, they were gone, draped neatly over a chair even as his skin shuddered with the shock of the cool air. Then Malfoy was naked too, his body lean and sculpted and warm against him and Harry was instantly hard, wanting the other man so much it was painful.
"You're beautiful," he blurted for the second time that day and then they were on the floor, the woven rug coarse under his back and a desperate and vulnerable set to Malfoy's features that made Harry's chest constrict, even as his cock jerked against the heat of the man's thigh.
He waited, letting Malfoy make the play, contenting himself with the slide of his hands over the long planes of Malfoy's back, the bone-deep pleasure of his weight lying between Harry's thighs.
Malfoy leaned down and kissed him again, their tongues curling wantonly around each other. The brush of stubble against cheek, teeth against jaw and neck and collarbone built the tension until they were both leaking, a warm pool sliding between them on belly and groin.
Then Malfoy was moving down, his tongue caressing Harry's nipples, teeth nipping at his stomach and at the soft skin inside the dip of his hip-bones. Fingers fondled his balls as Malfoy's wet tongue and warm breath worked the inside of his thighs until Harry was gasping his need and pushing his hips up against the cool silk of the other man's hair.
Finally a warm mouth encircled his cock, pulled it in, slowly, tasting, caressing, sucking. It was familiar, yet completely different than Ginny's enthusiastic efforts, than the surprise of that first gent's room blow-job just before Harry's relationship fell apart and he realised that he wasn't as straight as he'd thought.
Malfoy's mouth was bliss, lavishing care as his tongue wrapped slow stripes around Harry's cock, dipped into the coarse hairs at its base, teased his testicles and the sensitive skin beneath. Harry arched desperately into him, much too close to do more than groan and pat stupidly at the crown of Malfoy's head in warning.
Malfoy pulled off, looking at him with a considering gaze as the air settled icily around the places where his warm mouth had been. His lips were wet and shiny and Harry made an embarrassing mewling sound at the sight, unable to stop the instinctive rise of his hips.
Then Malfoy knelt up between Harry's thighs, taking himself in hand and sliding his fingers up and down his own length, swirling his thumb over his slit and spreading pearly pre-cum over the gleaming head. Harry raised himself onto his elbows, watching avidly as Malfoy reached one hand behind himself and whispered a spell. His eyes went wide, startled, almost frightened, then he moved forwards with determination so that his knees were on either side of Harry's hips, a question on his face.
"Merlin, yes!" Harry's cock was rigid, dark, his balls clenching in anticipation as Malfoy slowly positioned himself and then lowered himself until Harry's cock was nudging against his entrance.
Harry moaned, nearly losing control as he felt himself sliding inside, slow inch by slow inch, squeezing past the ring of muscle as Malfoy settled, taking him inside deeper and deeper until they were bone against bone, a strange, hard clench to the other man's expression and his face as white as the teeth showing through his parted lips.
Harry reached up, rubbing soothing patterns with his thumbs, along the bunched muscles of Malfoy's thighs, up over his hips. Keeping eye contact, he slowly sucked the fingers of one hand into his mouth, wrapped them slick around Malfoy's cock and pulled gently, setting up a rhythm that milked a slow ooze of fluid that glistened as he used it to lubricate his strokes. Malfoy's breath quickened, his mouth opening a little more as he began to rock, slowly at first, the momentum building as he raised himself, sliding back down with a slight twist that sent a red flush into his cheeks. Harry pushed upwards, meeting each descent with increasing force, his hands moving involuntarily to grasp jutting hip-bones. Malfoy's head went back, throat and chest flushed, his breath audible as he slammed himself down to meet Harry's thrusts. Just looking at him was enough to send Harry over the edge.
"Malfoy!" He gasped. "I...I need..."
Malfoy glanced down at him, his eyes silver and shielded. "Come on then, Potter."
And Harry did, hips thrusting upwards jerkily as he emptied himself in searing spasms.
He was still gasping for breath when he felt Malfoy lifting away, his cock jutting in front of him and flushed pink.
"Wait." Harry snared his wrist, wrapped his fingers around it. "Don't go." He raised the wrist and kissed Malfoy's knuckles. "Upstairs. Please."
Without waiting for a verbal response, he apparated them both to his bedroom and toppled Malfoy onto the bed.
.
Draco fell onto cool sheets, Potter close beside him. Immediately Potter raised himself on one elbow, turning towards Draco and draping an arm over his waist. His fingers caressed Draco's ribs, soothing and titillating at the same time.
After a moment he shifted the hand upwards and gently moved a few strands of hair away from Draco's heated forehead. His green eyes were intense, full of unspoken questions. Draco imagined they would be along the lines of "What was that?", "Why didn't you?" and maybe even "Why now?" Thankfully he didn't say anything and Draco was able to catch his breath, although Potter's meandering fingers did nothing to slow the pounding of his heart or lessen the throbbing in his groin.
It was almost affectionate, the way Potter was stroking him with his work-roughened fingertips, the way he kissed Draco softly on the corner of his mouth and mouthed the side of his neck. Draco steeled himself mentally from the hurt that would result if he let himself believe such things; Potter was a hugger, that's all. It didn't mean anything other than he was basically a nice person and wanted to make sure Draco was alright and got off too.
Potter's hand worked its way down, caressing Draco's inner thigh as he laid kisses along his throat, teeth scraping lightly at the juncture of his neck and collarbone.
Draco shuddered, allowing the dominance of Potter leaning over him, partly because it was Harry Potter and he trusted him, partly because his backside and thighs were already slick with Potter's semen, mainly because Draco's last experience of being penetrated was now a pleasurable, consensual thing rather than a scene from nightmare.
Potter seemed to read the change, or perhaps some inkling of it was transmitted between their skin. Whatever the reason, his movements became more focussed, his hand closing around Draco's cock as his teeth caught at his throat. Then a firm hand had turned him, fingers spread across the flat muscles of Draco's stomach, pulling him back against Potter's body and Potter was erect again, his hard cock sliding in the slick of Draco's crack. Draco pushed back, raising one thigh, feeling the blunt end of Potter's cock rubbing over his entrance and then pushing back inside.
Potter groaned into the nape of his neck, the vibration running through Draco's nerves. He rocked back, forcing Potter deeper and Potter threw a heavy thigh over him, half turning him into the mattress as he began to fuck into him in earnest. Draco grasped the mattress, pushing back into the thrusts wildly as Potter's cock dragged over his prostrate. He made a noise then, helpless, wanting, his cock crushed into the mattress as Potter gripped his hips and rutted hard into him, grinding over his prostrate with every flex of his hips.
Draco's balls clenched, his back arching as sensation exploded and he came, hard, shuddering and crying out with Potter following immediately, shooting hot and deep into him. Then Potter's hand was on his cock, sliding over the super-sensitised tip.
"Draco," he whispered, "Draco," and Draco came again, moaning as the room went white and silent as he arched into Potter's embrace.
He came back to himself briefly to find Potter stroking his face and looking at him with a soft and curious expression in his eyes. Draco wanted to watch him for longer, but it was warm and comfortable and he was suddenly very tired. Unthinking, he turned his face into Potter's chest and fell asleep.
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