Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters.
Chapter One
Draco Malfoy leaned over the porcelain sink and splashed cold water on his face, the shock of the frosty liquid vibrating throughout his entire body. He looked at himself in the mirror and noted that his eyes were red with exhaustion, stingingly so, and his face looked even paler than usual. Tonight had been a particularly troubling case for him— it was always hard to capture and convict someone you knew, and he had known Victoria Skyeland very closely from his father's Ministry work. Yeah well, he thought, should have known then that she was up to no good. Victoria, a former Death Eater and known Werewolf, had been a suspect in the case of the Werewolf Cult for months. Rumor had it that a new and fairly large cult had been rising in the underground of London, and apparently, it all had to do with one very angry Werewolf, Victoria Skyeland, who, after the death of her husband Fenrir Greyback, decided to convert more werewolves to fight against the Order. Now they had a lead on the Cult, and Skyeland was being shipped straight to Azkaban after they got what they needed out of her. Draco smiled at the thought of another accomplished catch. He and many others, including former schoolmates such as Pansy Parkinson and Neville Longbottom, worked in a Secret Society of the Order called The Righteous. Voldemort was dead, had been for over three years now, but that didn't mean there still weren't wizards and witches in the world who were raising hell, and that meant that the Order was still needed.
He sighed and pushed his white-blonde hair out of his face when he heard the door to his apartment open and Ron Weasley stepped in, throwing his briefcase to the ground and undoing his tie. Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy had been secret lovers for two years, out for two, and roommates for one. Draco sat on the sink, observing Ron with quiet affection, as was his nature. Ron worked at the Ministry as an Auror, alongside his best friend Harry Potter. However, Harry wouldn't be working as a fulltime Auror for much longer—he was currently in the running for Minister of Magic, and if he won, would be the youngest Minister in ages. He deserved it though, despite his young age of 20; he had defeated Voldemort, after all. It made Draco smile that Harry would even consider such a position, given his obvious aversion to the Ministry before, but when he asked Harry about this, he had just shrugged and said he wanted to make a change, and it was better to change things than to sit around and complain about it, even if you hated its ways sometimes. Draco smiled at the thought—like the way he had hated the little fluttery feeling he got every time he saw Ron at school so many years ago, or the way his lips used to always feel so rough and chapped when they kissed, or how Ron had been such a whiney little virgin when they first started going at it…
But he loved Ron all the same, despite all of his small imperfections.
"Draco, you here?" Ron asked, taking off his shirt and pants and running a hand through his long, red hair. Ron yawned—he wanted to get to bed soon, he had had a long day at the Ministry, mostly caused by his brothers Fred and George being such gits and apparating into he and Harry's case every five seconds to offer them their new merchandise, Weeping Whoppers. Ron, of course, had been stupid enough to try one and couldn't stop crying for five hours, his face red and tired. He turned around and saw Draco sitting on top of the sink, his hands folded in his lap, a playful smirk playing on his face as his eyes traveled up and down Ron's tall, lean body. Ron smiled and feigned tiredness, although the mere sight of Draco still gave him goose bumps sometimes.
"What are you doing in there?" Ron asked, smiling and sitting on the green bedspread that he and Draco shared. Draco hopped down and strutted out of the bathroom, turning off the light as he went. His smile disappeared when he got close to Ron and he leaned down, scrutinizing his face.
"Have you been crying?" Draco asked, shrugging off his blazer. Draco was probably the only member of the Righteous to even bother wearing a blazer, but it's hard to take the rich and spoiled out of the boy. Ron looked puzzled for a moment before shaking his head and scowling.
"No. Well, yes. It was my idiot brothers, trying to show off their new merchandise…" Ron explained. Draco laughed, standing back up and lifting off his dress shirt.
"And you took the bait," he smirked. Ron sighed, rubbing his eyes.
"I'm bloody tired. Have you been home long?" Ron asked. Draco shook his head, stepping out of his shoes.
"Just got here," he said, and he fell back onto the bed, sighing with relaxation and closing his eyes. Ron turned off the light and got underneath the covers, with Draco shortly behind him. He felt Draco's naked body bump against his side, as Draco never slept with clothes on, and suddenly Ron was at full attention, no longer nearly as tired as he had been only moments again. He turned to Draco, wishing he could see his lover's beautiful gray eyes in the darkness, and Draco pushed himself on top of Ron.
"I hope you're not too tired to fuck," Draco said, his voice low and husky, a chuckle playing beneath his words.
Ron smiled. "Never."
---
Fred Weasley was searching for the shop's new stock of Pigmy Puffs when George came sauntering into the stockroom, carrying a large red envelope, frustration playing across his face. Fred smirked at the Howler.
"From an old girlfriend?" he asked, finding the box he was looking for and turning to go back into the shop. George frowned and shoved the letter in Fred's face.
"It's from mum," he said, his voice tense. "I haven't opened it yet, but I suspect it's about the stupid dinner she's been planning." Fred pushed his hair out of his eyes, put the box of Pigmy Puffs down, and took the letter out of his brother's hand. Each year, their mother planned a dinner to bring the entire family together, and each year, Fred and George found an excuse not to go. Not only were they very busy with the shop, being they were the sole owners and liked to be as interactive with their merchandise and customers as possible, but they were trying to avoid any awkward contact with formerly estranged family members; that being, Percy. Although Percy had finally apologized to his family and quit his raunchy job as the Minister's pathetic second-hand-man to adopt a more considerable position as Editor of the Daily Prophet, Fred and George had still not quite forgiven him for being such a prat the past few years.
"I mean, it's one thing for her to bug us about it, but to send a Howler? While we're working?" George said, the irritation oozing out of every letter he spoke.
"She's absolutely mental," Fred mumbled, holding the envelope cautiously in his hands. "Well," he sighed. "Let's get this over with…"
He and George counted together: "One…two…three!" And Fred opened the letter, immediately wincing at the piercing, exasperating sound of his mother's voice.
"FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW UPSET I AM THAT YOU HAVE BEEN AVOIDING MY OWLS! YOU KNOW HOW IMPORTANT THIS DINNER IS TO ME, AND FOR YOU TWO TO NOT SHOW UP FOR THE PAST TWO YEARS IS DEVASTATING! IF YOU DON'T COME THIS TIME, I SWEAR TO MERLIN I'LL GO INTO THE SHOP MYSELF AND HOLLER THIS AT YOU!"
Fred shot a worried look at his brother, who returned the same look, and they turned back to the letter.
"The dinner is at seven o'clock this Saturday. I expect you both to be there. Bye, I love you."
Fred grimaced and crumpled up the Howler, tossing it into the trash and looking back at his brother.
"Well, you know what this means," Fred said.
"We have to go," they both said at the same time. George shook his head. "Any chance we'll be able to avoid Percy?"
Fred considered this only for a moment before answering, a dissatisfied frown playing on his lips. "No way in hell."
---
Pansy Parkinson stared at Draco out of the corner of her violet eye. He was wearing a dark green suit today, with a blue tie that had snakes curling about the silk. The corners of her lips curled up into a slight smile when he looked over at her, winked, and took a flask of firewhiskey out of his jacket pocket, taking a fairly large swig. Pansy and Draco had been very close during their years at Hogwarts together—they had even been boyfriend and girlfriend, kind of, but that was before Draco had to become a Death Eater, and especially before she knew that Draco was gay. He licked his lips at her and smiled. Maybe bisexual, she thought playfully. It was nice that they had remained close after school; Pansy and Draco enjoyed each other's company, both of them delightfully wicked and intolerable in their own way. It was he who had convinced her to join the Order and work under the Righteous, after all. After Lord Voldemort was defeated, and Draco had pronounced his formerly secret love affair with Ron Weasley, the Order had forgiven him, blaming most of his cruel affairs on his father, Lucius Malfoy, who was still locked rotting away in Azkaban. After that, he joined the Order and began to work under the fairly new group called the Righteous. And here he is today, Pansy thought, sneaking firewhiskey out of a flask during work, still the same old Draco.
The Righteous headquarters were located at the Ministry, in a small quarter of the building located in the east wing. Pansy sat at her desk, reading the Daily Prophet and searching for any unusual news that would give her and her colleagues a lead. She read the paper through three times and sighed, finally throwing it into the trash, much to the dismay of the plump woman on the cover who had just opened her own Wand Shop.
"Got anything?" a jubilant voice asked. Pansy turned around and looked up into the cheerful face of Neville Longbottom. She leaned back into her chair and folded her arms, taking a sip of coffee. He peered down at her anxiously.
"Three murders. Twelve suicides. They're suspecting vampires," Pansy said seriously. Neville cringed and looked around her desk.
"Where is the paper?" he asked. He frowned down at the wrinkled Daily Prophet she had thrown in the trash can. "You git."
Pansy giggled. "Sorry, Neville. Unless you want vampires going on a killing spree."
"Of course not," Neville stammered. Draco waltzed up to them and put his hands in his pockets.
"Got anything?" he asked. Damn, he looked good today, Pansy thought, staring up at Draco. He raised his eyebrows at her, looking nearly as anxious as Neville, and she shook her head.
"Nothing more interesting than a baby dragon that that right old loon Hagrid brought to Hogwarts and lost in the castle. The search is being conducted right now," she said, throwing her hands up in mock enthusiasm. Draco smirked and walked away and Pansy followed him as he went. Draco had always been good looking, and aging did him well. He still had the white-blonde hair, but had since grown it out and now he wore it straight and down over his eyes, the longest hairs reaching the sides of his strong jaw. He had also grown another few inches since his years at Hogwarts, standing at a beautiful 6'3. And if Pansy remembered properly, he still had a strong, lean body, and perfect porcelain skin that he hid under all those fancy clothes. She put her elbow on the table and rested her head on her hand, staring at Draco and fantasizing about walking over there and asking him for a good old-fashioned fuck.
"Pansy?" Neville asked, peering down at her and interrupting her daydream. "Are you all right?"
"Ugh, not anymore Neville," she groaned. "And I was just about to find my way out of boredom."
Neville shrugged and walked away, leaving Pansy to her work, or lack thereof, in the case of today. She often became restless if there weren't any interesting murders or long-term cases to work on, and now with the Werewolf Cult left up to a higher order, she feared monotony for months. Pansy sighed and stood up, going outside for a smoke. Maybe she could ask Draco to go for a walk, she thought. Maybe they could hang out together sometime. I mean, sure, he was gay and all, and he was currently shagging Ron Weasley, a very highly respected Auror, but that couldn't stop Pansy from still liking Draco. She had, after all, been Draco's very first shag, and Pansy knew from experience that you never, ever stop loving your first good fuck.