Draco is gobsmacked when he opens the parcel of clothing. There are suits in various colors along with multiple sets of dress robes, all of which are nicer than anything he has ever owned. There are several more casual outfits - some nicely tailored trousers, a few exceedingly soft sweaters and half a dozen or more button down shirts - and then there are the pajamas.

Draco is not sure he's ever seen pajamas so nice. A few of them are silk, but the vast majority are some sort of knitted cotton that seem impossibly soft. He can't wait to get into them at bedtime.

But before he can do that, he has a mission to attend to.

He pulls the tuxedo out of the box and performs a quick wrinkle release spell on it. With nothing to wait for, he starts getting dressed. Harry has gone back to his house to get his own tuxedo, but Draco doesn't want to wait for him.

Instead he kicks off his shoes and strips down to his underwear for what seems like the twentieth time that day.

When he pulls on the trousers, the first thing he notices is how well they fit. He is not surprised - Bertie did take very thorough measurements - but he is pleased. He quickly finishes dressing and then looks at himself in the mirror. He looks good. And he knows it. It is confirmed when Harry materializes behind him with a crack and takes in his appearance with briefly undisguised lust that is then quickly hidden. Draco feels butterflies in his stomach again, but squashes them down.

He turns his attention back to his reflection. His tuxedo is navy with a shiny black lapel. It was a color pairing he wasn't sure would work, but it looks nice paired with his black cummerbund and bow tie.

"You clean up nicely," Harry says.

"Thank you, but I'm not finished," Draco says, brushing past Harry on his way to the bathroom. He quickly styles his hair, parting it to the side and securing it with the smallest amount of gel. Then he steps back and admires himself again. He nods once at his reflection and then joins Harry again on the landing.

"Yes," Harry says, looking him up and down. "You're attractive enough to be my boyfriend."

"You're not too bad yourself," Draco replies. And it's true. It is clear that Bertie had a hand in Harry's suit too, as it fits him like a glove.

"Shall we?" Harry asks, holding out his arm.

"Yes," Draco says. He takes Harry's arm. He forces himself to relax for the side along apparition again, but is surprised when instead Harry reaches into an inner pocket of his jacket and pulls out a silver shimmering cloth. Draco stares at it, eye agog.

"Undetectable extension charm," Harry says, pointing at his pocket. "You wouldn't believe how much I have in there."

"But is this," Draco gestures at the cloth. "An invisibility cloak?"

"Yes, we hid under it the other night," Harry says. The image of he and Harry crouched under a cloak while Pansy tried to find them floats to the top of Draco's mind. He's not sure why that hadn't stuck out to him more at the time. He supposes it is because he had been busy fearing for his life.

"Right," he says. "What's it for?"

"For us to be invisible," Harry says. "I would have thought that was obvious."

"Yes, I got that," Draco snaps. "But why do we have to be invisible? We're going to a party."

"In Muggle London," Harry points out. "To which we are apparating." The pieces click together in Draco's mind.

"I see," he says. "Ready when you are." Harry swings the cloak over them and Draco grips Harry's arm. He takes a deep breath and relaxes as Harry apparates them both away.

Harry and Draco emerge in the shadows of a small mews street near the back of the hotel. Harry looks around and once he sees they aren't in eyesight of anyone, whips the invisibility cloak off of the two of them and pushes Draco against the nearest wall, both in one swift movement. He presses his lips against Draco's for a long moment and then pulls away, in the hopes that it will seem like they have just been kissing in the shadows, rather than appearing out of thin air.

Then he grabs the rather dazed Draco by the hand and pulls him in the direction of the hotel, stuffing the invisibility cloak in his inner pocket as he does.

"Come on," he says. His mouth quirks up at the corner in a half smile as they emerge onto the main road.

"What's that little smirk for?" Draco asks.

"Nothing," Harry says. He turns to Draco and takes a moment making sure that Draco's bowtie is straight. Draco bats his hands away.

"Get off," he says. "My bowtie is fine." They cross the street and walk towards the main entrance to the hotel.

"Are you ready?" Harry asks as they draw closer to the doors. He glances to the side and sees Draco chewing on his lip. He reaches out and takes Draco's hand again. He squeezes it once before dropping it. "It's going to be fine. I will be with you the whole time. And Parkinson will be there too." Draco nods slowly and stops worrying at his lip.

"Let's do this," he says.

The Ballroom at the Dorchester, normally beautiful, is today overshadowed by corporate drab. There are unassuming round tables set with the plates they reserve only for the blandest of functions. Even the candles, many of which are stuttering in their wicks, look stifled.

Men in suits and women in dull colored dresses mill about the room, forming impromptu circles before drifting apart again. While the dress is black tie, it is clearly not celebration black tie. This is a work function for everyone involved.

A few heads turn as Harry enters the room and Draco gets a few curious glances, but for the most part people are more concerned with networking to pay them much mind. Harry takes Draco's elbow and steers him toward the bar. Parkinson does not acknowledge them until they are right in front of her.

"What can I get you?" she asks.

"Gin and tonic," Harry replies and then nudges Draco.

"Make that two," the blond says. Parkinson nods once and then busies her hands. Harry leans casually on the counter.

"Seen our guy yet?" he mutters.

"It's a little difficult to see the whole room from here, but no, I haven't seen him yet," Parkinson says into the measures she is pouring. "Mottić arrived about five minutes before you did." Parkinson looks up briefly and Harry follows her gaze until he spots the Croatian diplomat. He nudges Draco with his toe and waits until he is sure Draco has also noticed Mottić.

"I will go introduce myself," Harry says. "Draco, you stay with Parkinson and keep and eye out for Thiessen." Parkinson hands Harry his drink and he raises it to Draco in a brief toast before heading out into the crowd.

It is time to do what Harry enjoys least about his job: small talk.

Draco watches as Harry walks away. He feels a bit slighted by the fact that he has been told to stay with Pansy, but this is his first mission and he isn't quite sure what he is supposed to do. From what he can see, all Potter does is talk to the group of people he has joined and he feels like that is a skill that is safely in his wheelhouse. He was brought up as a Malfoy after all. But he does as Potter asks and stays near Pansy, sweeping the room with his eyes.

He is not entirely sure what he is looking for, aside from Thiessen himself, so he makes sure to note as much as possible. After a few minutes, he realizes he is only looking at the people in formal attire, rather than also looking at the waiters and he corrects himself. He is glad that he does, because a few minutes later, he sees a man walk in carrying a tray of passed hor d'eurves. It is not Thiessen, but as he looks at the man's face, he knows, with that flash of clarity, that it is an associate of his. He keeps his eye on the man, and leans back against the bar. He lifts his glass at Pansy to get her attention. He puts it down and lifts his hand to idly scratch his temple, turning on his skin mounted communication charm.

"What can I help you with?" she asks. He nods in the direction of the the man with the tray.

"Those crab cakes look awfully good," he says.

"Crab cakes?" Pansy seems momentarily confused and Draco realizes he has not given enough information.

"Yes, those ones on the tray." Here he lowers his voice. "Carried by Thiessen's associate. A man by the name of Earles. He's currently passing table twelve."

He watches as Harry looks up from his conversation and spots Earles, who is nearing their group. He appears to make a joke because the group laughs loudly enough that Draco can hear them from across the room. Harry's arm wave large, seemingly as part of his joke, and he manages to knock the tray of appetizers out of Earles's hands. Harry's hand grazes his temple as he lowers his arms back down and suddenly Draco can hear exactly what is being said.

"I'm so sorry," Harry's voice says in his head. "I didn't see you there." He crouches as if to help pick up the spilled appetizers, but other servers have swarmed in and they wave him off. Earles looks irritated for a moment, but he picks up his tray and Draco watches as he leaves the room. He is surprised to see Pansy follow him a second later. He had not noticed her leave from behind the bar.

A moment later he hears her say, "I've got him," and Draco relaxes a little bit. He continues to sweep the room with his eyes while Pansy does what ever she has to do to secure Earles. His vigilance is rewarded as he spots Thiessen when he slips in, wearing a tuxedo.

"Thiessen just walked in," he mutters.

He picks up his drink and makes his way into the crowd, keeping an eye on Thiessen as he does. He smiles and nods at people as he passes them. The social skills learned from years of navigating his parents' social parties come right back to him and he says a quick "pardon me," or "I'm sorry," as he slides past people.

Draco joins Harry's circle of conversation with practiced ease, though his attention is still on the alleged poisoner. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Thiessen picks up a champagne flute from a tray and joins another conversation.

Draco feels as though he is back at the Malfoy Manor Christmas party, quietly keeping tabs on Vince's surprisingly attractive French cousin, Pierre. He could have told you at any moment where Pierre was in relation to him in a room, no matter how crowded, and while he doesn't find Thiessen attractive, he pretends that he does.

Once he is introduced to the members of Harry's conversational circle, he joins in the conversation on the current downturn of the economy, all the while tracking Thiessen's movements out of the corner of his eye. He discusses the effect that the economy is having on apparent support for the Tories while he watches Thiessen circle the tables, and what this might mean in terms of the Prime Minister as he observes Thiessen switch a pair of name cards at a table. He is not sure how to convey this information to Harry however, as they are still stuck in the same circle of people.

He looks around and pretends to spot someone in the crowd, raising his glass as he does. He excuses himself and walks away. He briefly greets a confused looking woman before he meanders his way over to the table where Thiessen was previously skulking. Thiessen, he notes, has taken his place in the conversation with Harry.

"Thiessen has switched a name tag on Mottiç's table," Draco mutters, hoping that his voice spell will pick it up.

"Which one?" Pansy's voice asks in his head.

"Looks like he picked up another name and replaced it with his own. He is now next to Mottiç's wife."

"Well, you two are at their table too, so you can keep an eye on him."

"Clever."

"What else would we be?"

"Fair point."

He joins another conversation, this one about the upcoming Beijing Summer Olympics - "I've heard that young Tom Daly is promising" - before a voice comes over the loudspeaker calling them all to dinner.

Harry is so focussed on Thiessen and what he might be up to that he barely tastes dinner. He is aware of the fact that the steak that he is eating is cooked to the perfect temperature, but it could be a bowl of cereal for all that he savors it. Draco has come to life across the table from him, chatting amiably to everyone at the table. He can hear the conversation inside of his head and he is surprised that Draco can concentrate even while hearing two things at once. It is a skill that usually takes people years to master.

But for as much as Harry concentrates on Thiessen out of the corner of his eye, he does not see the other man do anything. It is only when he hears a loud clearing of a throat that he looks up at Draco, who is staring pointedly at Thiessen that he realizes anything is wrong. Thiessen is leaning over Mottiç's wife and shaking the diplomat's hand. Harry activates his recording spell and hopes that Draco has already done the same. There is a long moment where nothing happens, and then Thiessen sits back in his seat and continues their conversation. Harry keeps his recording spell on and decides that he should just keep it on for the rest of dinner.

Their dinner plates are cleared and Harry stays on high alert while dessert is served. Thiessen excuses himself to go to the restroom and Harry tracks him with his eyes as he leaves the room.

"Parkinson?" he mutters.

"On it," he hears her say. Content, he relaxes for a moment. And that's when he notices that Mottiç is rapidly turning blue. A moment later, his wife begins to shriek. Draco is the first out of his seat, running over to the Croatian diplomat and talking to him. Harry rushes over and joins him. At the sound of screaming, most people flee to the exits. Harry ignores them.

"Stay with me, Heilgar," he hears Draco say. "You're going to be just fine." Harry grabs Mottiç's hands and looks at them. As he suspected, there is a small puncture mark on the heel of his palm.

"Shit," he mutters. He reaches into his inner pocket and pulls out a blood test strip and a small lancet. He quickly pricks the pad of Mottiç's ring finger and then holds the strip up against it. Then he slips his wand up his sleeve before surreptitiously waving it over the test strip. He reaches into his jacket pocket again and pulls out a piece of parchment, onto which his wand then pours out its data.

"What are you doing?" Draco hisses. The diplomat has now fully slumped down in his chair, so Draco lowers him to the floor and lays him on his side.

"Figuring out what the hell is wrong with him," Harry snaps.

"He's clearly been poisoned."

"Yes, thank you Captain Obvious, but I'm trying to figure out what he was poisoned with."

"Well, what does it say?" Draco asks. Harry quints down at the parchment and his heart sinks. There is a complicated mess of several poisons in Mottiç's system. He shoves the parchment at Draco.

"You're the potions whizz," he snaps. "You tell me." Draco snatches the parchment out of Harry's hands and stares down at it. His forehead creases as he reads.

"Fuck," Harry hears him mutter. He is not sure if he hears it more because he is standing next to Draco or because their communication spell is still in full effect.

Harry leans down and listens to Mottiç's breathing. It is starting to sound labored and Harry knows they do not have much time.

"Any ideas?" he asks.

Draco's mind races through antidotes, all of which take time to brew. And Mottiç needs at least three of them.

"Do you have," he starts to ask and then he stops. Their conversation from this afternoon plays itself back in his head.

"Yep," Harry had said. "All I could think of was a bezoar."

He grabs Harry's arm, suddenly sure of what to do. "Do you have a bezoar?" He watches as comprehension dawns in Harry's eyes.

"Possibly," the brunet says. He swings his jacket off in one smooth motion and begins to rifle through the inner pocket. Any muggle watching must be confused as Harry all but puts his entire torso into the inner pocket of his jacket. Draco can hear the tinkling sound of glass bottles being pushed against each other and then, happily, the popping of a cork.

"I've got him," Pansy's voice says over the comms spell.

"I've got it," Harry says a moment later. He extricates himself from his jacket pocket and slaps a small round stone into Draco's hand. Draco doesn't hesitate, but opens Mottiç's mouth and shoves the stone inside it. Then he holds his breath while he counts to ten, releasing it only when he sees Mottiç's color start to return to normal.

"I think he's stabilizing," he says.

"Let's get a medical team in here just in case," Harry says.

"Already called," Pansy says.

"Good job, Parkinson."

"I'm going to bring this asshole into the Ministry, along with his pal Earles."

"Copy that," Harry says and Draco feels like he is in a muggle spy movie. Which, he supposes, isn't far off the truth. He is for all intents and purposes, a spy now.

A small crowd, made up of the few people who did not run to the exits, has formed around them, but Harry asks them to give them some space. Draco stays where he is, kneeling by Mottiç's head. He is in a bit of a daze and almost doesn't notice when Mottiç's wife (Rita, but a different Rita from Heilgar's first wife) comes over to thank him. She throws her arms around him and he fights to stay upright under her sudden barrage of affection.

He looks up at Harry and scowls when he sees that the brunet is quietly laughing at his situation. But really he can't complain because they just saved a man's life and it's the most alive Draco has felt in a while. So he turns his scowl into a smile.

The medi-wizards arrive a moment later and take charge of the situation, leaving Draco to extricate himself from Rita Mottiç.

"Nicely done," Harry leans in and whispers in his ear once he has stood up. Without thinking, Draco reaches out an arm and pulls Harry closer to him.

"Are all your missions this high stress?" he asks. He feels Harry place a hand on the small of his back and he immediately feels some of the tension leave his shoulders.

"Eh, some are, some aren't. But remember," Harry says, starting to trace small circles onto Draco's back. "I will be with you anytime you might be out in the field."

"Good."

"Now, come on. Let's get out of here." He nods at the medical team, one of whom returns the nod, and then he steers Draco out of the room.

Harry takes Draco into the nearest empty room and closes the door. He pulls out his wand and secures the room, putting up wards to hide them, to keep people out, and to muffle their sounds. Every time Harry does this, he thinks back to his time spent camping with Ron and Hermione before the Battle of Hogwarts. He knows he is more proficient at these spells than most of the team, save for Hermione, thanks to that time.

Once the room is secure, he calls Hermione on his watch, projecting the image up on the opposite wall so that Draco can see it too. The debrief is short. Hermione congratulates them on both saving Mottiç and capturing Thiessen, and promises a full debrief in the morning, once they've had time to process Thiessen and Earles.

"We'll have a better idea on how Mottiç is doing as well," she says. "Good thinking on the bezoar by the way. That may well be the thing that saves his life."

"Thanks," Harry says. "That was all Draco."

"Great job, team," Hermione says. "Now go home and get some well earned rest. After all, Draco, you have work in the morning." Draco groans and nods and the call connection is cut off.

"Come on," Harry says, wrapping an arm around Draco's shoulder. He steers the blond out of the room and then out of the hotel. It is only when the cool night air hits their faces that Draco shrugs off Harry's arm. They walk in silence back to the alleyway that they arrived in before Harry throws the invisibility cloak around them and they apparate home.

"I am far too wired to sleep right now," Draco says once they reach the landing of 34 Sorella Gardens.

"It is only eight," Harry points out and Draco glances down at his watch to see that the other man is correct.

"I meant because I have adrenaline flooding my system."

"I know," Harry says. "I'm right there with you. But there's time to relax before bed." He reaches up and unties his bow tie, instead letting it hang down from his collar, the first two buttons of which, he undoes at the same time. Then he runs a hand through his hair, freeing it from whatever spell or gel had been holding it in place.

Draco feels suddenly heady at sight of the disheveled Harry that now stands in front of him.

"Oh, that's better," Harry says. "Far more comfortable." Draco nods and then shrugs out of his jacket.

"I might change into my new pajamas," he says. As soon as he had spotted them in his box of clothes, he had wanted to wear them, and now that they are home, he has no excuse not to.

"Brilliant," Harry said. "I'm going to do the same."

"Is that because you're highly unoriginal?"

"Or is it because you're a genius?

"Good point. Definitely the latter." Draco grabs a pair of the pajamas from the box that is still sitting on the floor of the landing and then disappears into the bathroom.

The pajamas are everything he has ever wanted in a pair of pajamas. They are soft, which makes them unbelievably comfortable, and yet they also actually look good albeit in a very relaxed way. He hadn't worn pajamas since Hogwarts, thinking that they were things that only school aged people wore, but he regrets this decision now as he feels like he could just live in these pajamas all the time. He hugs his arms to his chest in delight and then joins Harry again on the landing.

He stops in the doorway when he sees that Harry is wearing matching pajamas.

"What are those?" he asks, incredulous.

"Pajamas."

"Yes, but they're the same as mine."

"We go to the same tailor," Harry says as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yes, but what's Greg going to think?"

"That we're fucking adorable?"

"Potter, we've been 'dating'," and here Draco uses air quotes, "for two days."

"Fine," Harry says. He disappears into Draco's bedroom.

"Where are you-" Draco starts to ask, following him. He stops when he sees that Harry has pulled the pajama shirt off and is now shimmying out of the bottoms. His mouth goes dry. At least Harry is wearing boxers. But the boxers are a little tight, and they hug Harry's butt in a way that Draco really likes.

And then he notices that Harry is rummaging through a bag, which means that Harry is clearly planning to stay for a while. This, he supposes, answers the question of what the sleeping arrangements will be. But that also presents problems… Problems like Draco wanting nothing more than to walk across the room and wrap his arms around Harry's naked torso. And pull down those boxers to reveal the gorgeous arse that Draco knows is underneath them.

Harry pulls another set of pajamas out of the bag and puts them on. Rational thoughts return to Draco's brain.

"There," he says, turning around. "Now we don't match."

"Thank you," Draco says quietly.

"Now where's the whisky?"