Author's Note: This was written in May 2021 for RoseHarperMaxwell's birthday. It's a loose continuation of my LDWS Round 3 NottPott drabble "The Match" ( /works/29091198/chapters/71803137). RHM, thank you for being a bright and beautiful light in this fandom. I'm grateful to know you, and I hope you have a very happy birthday. 3

Thanks so much to my beta, dreamsofdramione, for her laughter and deft suggestions.

Flyboys

Harry Potter sat at a vacant desk in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. By all rights, he should have been on Level 10 in the Ministry's Detention Area, but his arresting officer—a woman at least five years his junior and aptly named Seize—was apparently of the opinion that breaking protocol was preferable to locking up the saviour of the wizarding world.

And perhaps it was, though there would have been fewer stares on Level 10. The lift ride from the Atrium to Level 2 had been made in unendurably tense silence, and whispers had spread in their wake as she'd walked him, handcuffed, through the department's halls. Her version of restraint at the desk was a weak Temporary Sticking Charm applied to the seat of his chair. Seize leaned over and tapped her wand against his wrists. The cuffs disappeared.

"Thanks."

She could barely meet his eyes. Embarrassed, probably, that she'd had to arrest him in the first place. He considered trying to comfort her—it was protocol, after all—but thought better of it. Further conversation might make her faint or puke.

"Well, I suppose I ought to…" Seize grinned at him, gestured with both thumbs to a nearby office, and clicked her tongue.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Er, rather, someone's gotta know you're here."

After a nervous laugh, she walked away, leaving Harry to stare at his damaged knuckles and contemplate his most recent mistake in peace.

The sound of efficient footfalls interrupted his reflection. Hermione Granger turned the corner, looking like a politician on a warpath.

Which, he supposed, was entirely accurate.

"What did you tell them?"

"Hi, Hermione. I'm fine, thanks for—"

She cut him off with an inpatient gesture. "What. Did you. Tell them."

"Nothing." Harry sighed. "They picked me up right after it happened. I'm pretty sure Seize saw the whole thing. She worked security for the match, and—"

"Not another word."

"But I can explain—"

"You don't need to explain, because they can't just arrest you for—Malfoy."

"Granger."

Harry craned to look over his shoulder. Seize had returned with her boss, who looked characteristically smug. A prickle of annoyance, weak and tired from overuse, caused Harry to bite his tongue. There was just something infinitely annoying about Draco Malfoy.

"What is Harry doing here?" Hermione asked.

"Officer Seize picked him up after the match. She said he was instigating a public riot."

Harry's brow furrowed. "I wasn't instigating—"

"And did Seize inform him of his rights?"

The young officer flushed. "Yes. Yes, ma'am," she corrected.

Draco smiled, entirely satisfied. "I believe you'll find all the appropriate protocols were followed."

"Except that you've arrested Harry bloody Potter, and it's already made the Prophet's front page!" With a twist of her wrist, Hermione pulled the latest edition from the ether, slamming it onto the desk with the shush of paper. There, on the front page, captured in slow-motion black and white, was a snarling Harry, elbow cocked back to throw a punch.

Draco tsked. "Sloppy form, Potter. We should sign you up for a self-defence course."

"His form is not the problem here." Hermione closed the distance between herself and Draco. "This is an election year, and the last thing I need—"

"Is a scandal," Draco cut in, humour fading from his eyes. The point was valid; Hermione's lips thinned as it landed. "This was the right thing. The lawful thing. If you'd like to discuss further, I'm more than happy to set up some time…"

"Set up time…" Hermione repeated in a huff. "You wish. We're settling this now." She snapped a look at Harry. "Don't move."

Harry spread his hands, helpless. He was, after all, still stuck to the chair.

Hermione grabbed Draco by the elbow and marched him into a nearby conference room. Seize stared after them in awe.

"Is she always that…"

"Terrifying?" Harry finished. "Yeah."

Seize's brow furrowed. "And aren't they…"

"Married?" Harry leaned forward and dropped his head into his uninjured hand. "Wait for it."

Not a moment later, a loud bang sounded from the conference room, as though something heavy had slammed against the door. Seize jumped to her feet, hand at her hip holster. Then came the sound of rhythmic knocking. Her shoulders dropped, fingers going limp.

"Um, right then. I suppose we'll just, ah, wait."

"Wait for what?"

Harry jumped, and the chair he was stuck to clattered against the floor. He hadn't heard anyone approaching.

Not unusual for Theo Nott. The man had a knack for stealth and speed, attributes that made for both a formidable Seeker and a rotten flatmate. This was not the first jump-scare Harry had suffered courtesy of his lover.

"Theo, what are you doing here?"

"Bailing you out."

"How did you know where I was?"

"Aside from every paper across Great Britain reporting your arrest? Granger sent a Patronus."

"Ah."

"Speaking of which, where is she?"

Harry grimaced, Seize cleared her throat, and—as if on cue—a throaty moan emanated from behind the conference room's door.

"Worse than Nifflers." Theo pulled up a chair and looked over at Seize, hitting her with a charming smile. "Would you give us a moment, please?"

The officer shot to her feet. "Of course. I'll just be…" Another two-thumbed gesture and awkward tongue click, followed quickly by a wince. "Yell if you need anything."

"Will do." Theo waited until she was out on sight before turning to Harry. "Someone has an admirer."

Harry rolled his eyes. "She was fine until you came along."

"Who am I, a mere world-famous Seeker, against the Chosen One, who also happens to be a world-famous Seeker?"

Harry scoffed. The officer's reaction didn't help his and Theo's long-standing debate about who was more famous. They shared a brief moment of humour before Theo's expression fell. His easy-going, smooth-talking flyboy persona, carefully maintained for public consumption, dropped away. Theo looked human. And concerned.

"What happened?"

Harry looked back down at the table. "It was nothing."

"Nothing did that to your hand?"

Harry stretched his fingers, wincing at the ache.

"How about I heal this, and you tell me the truth." Theo pulled his chair closer. "I'll start."

Harry's eyes drifted shut as a cooling charm eased the pain from his swollen knuckles.

"It was after the match," Harry said. "Some reporter, I don't even know his name. He asked a question about you, and I ignored him."

"What'd he ask?"

"I don't know." Harry waved the question away. "It doesn't matter. I wasn't going to answer it."

Ever since he and Theo had made their relationship public one month ago, the press' focus had been less on their Quidditch performance and more on their personal lives. Theo knew how to handle it, dodging questions like Bludgers and providing glib soundbites that satisfied everyone's curiosity. Harry treated the press with the same quiet derision he had since childhood, declining to comment at every opportunity.

"Not a new practice for you." Theo conjured a bowl of water and a soft cloth before dabbing gently at Harry's split skin to wash the blood away. "What changed?"

Their eyes met.

"He made another comment."

"What did he say?"

Harry dropped his eyes and shook his head. The reporter's comment wasn't worth repeating. Those hurtful words would die with him.

"He deserved to be hit." Of that, Harry was certain. "I didn't throw myself in front of Voldemort just to endure ignorant hate from trash like him."

Theo's lips quirked into a grin. "A Gryffindor defending someone's honour. Who'd have thought?"

Harry breathed a laugh and watched with a grateful heart as the skin of his knuckles began to knit together. Theo had a way of smoothing things over, of providing perspective and healing when no one else could.

"Still," Theo said, "it was a bad play."

Harry's brows pulled together in a question. "What would you have done?"

"It's what I have done. I sent the reporter's name and place of employment to Zabini. He'll provide a list of the company's investors tonight. I'll send each of them a letter that details precisely the actions that I—and my considerable professional following—are prepared to take should they continue supporting a publication that employs bigots."

Harry's eyes widened as the plot points connected. "They wouldn't risk it. That reporter will lose his job."

"There's more than one way to fight ignorance. And my way happens to be far less painful." Theo smiled and pressed a kiss to Harry's healed hand and, lips inches away from his skin, continued quietly. "I'm sorry this happened to you. I know you were afraid of this when we came out. What we have isn't for anyone else to judge, but I understand if you don't… If you regret…"

"No."

Theo looked up, his hazel eyes wide.

"I haven't regretted a single minute with you," Harry said. "I don't care how many bigots I have to punch: you're worth the fight."

Theo's lips were soft and his hands warm as he cupped Harry's chin and drew him close. It was so sweet, so perfect, that Harry nearly forgot he'd been arrested.

Until Draco spoke.

"Did that sound like a confession to you, Hermione?"

Theo broke the kiss, and Harry craned his head. Hermione's shirt was untucked from her skirt, and Draco's pale cheeks were uncharacteristically pink.

"It sounds like a misdemeanor," Hermione said. "I've negotiated you down to a fine and time served, Harry. Draco, could you please unstick him?"

Draco wiggled his fingers; Harry stood.

"Thanks," he said. "I would offer you my hand, but I don't know where yours has been."

Draco smirked. "Sure you do, Potter."

Hermione whapped him in the chest.

"Disgusting," Theo noted, conversationally. "See you for dinner on Saturday?"

"Of course," Hermione confirmed. "Let us know what we can bring."

"A little self control would be nice."

Hermione blushed, and Harry took his turn whapping Theo.

On their way out of the office, they passed Seize's desk. The officer nearly tripped over herself trying to stand.

"Wait a minute!"

Theo cut between them. "Auror Malfoy released Harry on time served. There's no need for further..."

"What?" Seize's nose crinkled in affront. "No, no, Potter's free to leave. Only, my girlfriend and I are huge fans, and she'd kill me if I didn't at least try. So even though I know this is probably highly irregular and wildly inappropriate, do you think… Well…"

She unfurled a poster of Theo in his full Seeker kit.

"Could I have your autograph?"

Harry let out a laugh. Theo rounded on him.

"Don't you dare."

But it was far too late, Harry had already spoken his favorite three little words:

"Told you so."

The End