"I'm back," McLaggen announces, interrupting Pansy's thoughts by placing his gin and tonic and her whisky soda water on the table in front of her.
"I can see that." She drains the last of her old drink and sets the empty glass to the side of the table. "Thank you." He nods once.
"Where were we?"
"You were bemoaning the fact that the Reliquary was off on a European sojourn."
"Right."
"But no need to fret. You have me."
"Do you have an encyclopedic knowledge of all criminal activity in the wizarding world?" McLaggen asks, mock hopefully.
"No, you dick. But I have a brain and I'm better at our job than you are."
"Oh," McLaggen says, clapping a hand to his chest. "You wound me."
"Good. That was the point. Now tell me more about the Sim-whatchamacallit's plan to take over Muggle real estate." McLaggen takes a large quaff of his G&T. He wipes his mouth on the back of his sleeve.
"OK," he says. "It's just a theory right now." Pansy narrows her eyes. "But it's based on an overheard conversation.
"Yes," Pansy says. "You showed me that conversation. It wasn't overly conclusive."
"Right, but I think I've spotted a pattern. Starting with the murder that Potter and Malfoy walked in on," McLaggen says.
"That could have been a murder-suicide."
"No," he says, his words clipped in irritation. "I told you, I think a wizard did it."
"So, not a murder-suicide?"
"No, there was the broken window. Which, if both Potter and Malfoy are to be believed, broke after they arrived because they heard it shatter."
"Ok, so what?"
"My theory is that someone killed the victims, heard Potter and Malfoy coming, broke the window, jumped out and apparated mid-jump."
"But they were killed with a knife," Pansy protests. "A wizard wouldn't have done that. It's too messy."
"I'm not sure they were."
"Oh?"
"Blood splatter seemed inconsistent."
"Says who?"
"Someone on Forensics." Pansy sighs.
"Inconsistent how?" she asks.
"There wasn't the blood splatter one might expect from someone whose throat was cut. It appeared that they were dead before that happened."
"Has anyone run magical signature tests?"
"I tried," McLaggen says. "But I was too late. Anything that might have shown up had faded. You know the half life on those spells."
"Let me get this straight," Pansy says. "You arrived at a crime scene that had two wizards at it - who you arrested - but you didn't run magical signature traces on the victims?"
"I fucked up, ok?"
"That's not good enough, McLaggen. You say you're on this special task force, or whatever you want to call it, to prevent another secret group from doing whatever bad things you say they're trying to do-"
"-About that," McLaggen interrupts. "Another person died on Potter's street a day later."
"What?" Pansy is so distracted by this that she stops telling McLaggen off for his failure to check for magical signatures.
"He was in his eighties, so Muggle doctors think he died of old age."
"And you don't?"
"His wife died two months ago, also apparently from natural causes."
"So? They were old."
"Four people, dying on the same street in two months? That seems significant. Not to mention, the person who had owned Potter's house died of an apparent drug overdose in August."
"So, five people in four months," Pansy muses. "You might be on to something. But what does this have to do with undermining Tusneem?"
"We haven't figured that part out yet," McLaggen admits.
"Hang on," Pansy says. "Who is we?"
"We call ourselves the Coalition Undermining Nefarious Traitors."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Pansy asks. "You're cunts?" McLaggen's eyebrows go up and Pansy watches as extrapolates the first letters of each word.
"Oh, I'm going to kill Banks," he says, shaking his head. Pansy smirks.
"Well I'd rather be a cunt than a nefarious traitor," she says.
"Cheers to that." He holds out his drink and she rolls her eyes but clinks her glass against it nonetheless. "So you'll join us?"
"I'm not sure I want to go that far yet," she says. "But I'll help."
"Wonderful," he says. The word rolls around his mouth like a marble. "You're first-rate, you know that?"
"Ugh, I'm not doing this for you."
"Not even a little bit?"
"No, you dick."
"Why do you hate me so much?"
"Do you really want me to answer that?"
"No, I suppose I don't." He sighs and takes a long sip of his drink. "Wish you'd give me a chance though."
"What? A chance for you to spread me out on a bed and fuck me?" McLaggen blushes at this and covers his face with his hands. "Oh don't play innocent with me now, McLaggen. I saw into your mind."
"Can you blame me? You're gorgeous."
"And you're a prick."
"I should have been more professional," McLaggen says.
"You should have, yes."
"I'm sorry. I'm just desperately single and rather tipsy."
"Not an excuse," she snaps.
"Wasn't saying it was." They lapse into silence. Pansy sips awkwardly at her drink and McLaggen twiddles his thumb.
"We could try being friends though," he suggests after a while.
"Only if you can get your head out of your arse."
"You know, I feel like I could say the same thing about you."
"Well at least I don't seem to think I'm god's gift to women," she snaps, leaning forward to glare at him.
"No," he retorts, leaning in to sneer at her. "You just think you're god's gift to all humanity."
"I can't help it if it's true," she says, smirking.
"Oh, Pansy Parkinson, you're going to be the death of me," he says as he leans far enough over the table to kiss her.
Pansy's eyes widen in shock. Her first impulse is to slap him again. Her second impulse is to tear all his clothes off and have him bend her over the table. Her third impulse is to slap herself.
But what about Greg? a small part of her brain asks. What about Greg? Sure, they've ended up in bed together a few times, but they've never talked about what their relationship is - or even if it is a relationship.
It's a flimsy excuse, but Pansy's had three drinks now and hate sex with Cormac McLaggen sounds oh so appealing. She's seen him in the training facility and knows exactly what kind of irritatingly attractive physique is under those robes.
She makes a split second decision. She pulls back and slaps him.
…
The bathroom door swings open and Draco steps sharply back from Massi. Massi stands dumbly, for a moment before he blinks, tosses his hair and laughs like Draco had just been telling him a funny joke. Massi reaches out and puts a hand on Draco's shoulder.
"That's a good one," he says. The older gentleman who has just entered the restroom frowns at them for a moment before he walks to the nearest urinal. Massi jerks his head towards the door. "Let's go." Draco nods and follows Massi out of the bathroom.
"You want to get out of here?" Massi asks once they are in the corridor.
"What about Harry?"
"What about Harry?"
"We're just going to leave him?" Draco asks. He is stalling, trying not to leave alone with Massi. He trusts the man about as far as he can throw him.
"You think he's going to appreciate you sucking me off?" Massi asks. Draco shrugs.
"I think he might appreciate being involved."
"What? Like a threesome?" Draco shrugs again.
"Unless you're scared," he says. He hopes that Massi will take the bait. Draco will feel better about the whole thing if Harry is at least involved. There is still a knot of disgust in the pit of Draco's stomach, but if Harry is there, Draco feels much more like he they will be able to pull this off. Even if the this in question is Massi.
"Do you think he would go for it?"
"Yes," Draco says with confidence he doesn't feel. He hopes that Massi will give him a moment alone with Harry to explain what is going on, but he doubts he will be that lucky.
"Alright," Massi says. "But no one fucks me, ok?"
"Ok."
…
"What?" McLaggen blinks at Pansy, stunned from the slap.
"You're so fucking presumptuous," Pansy says. She slides out of the booth and drains the last of her drink. McLaggen hasn't moved. He is still leaning over the table, staring dumbly at her. She almost slaps him again. She can't believe that she briefly thought about sleeping with him. What had come over her?
Hormones. Of course. And alcohol. Pansy curses the fact that it is that particular time of the month where she finds herself wanting to screw anyone who gives her a second glance. Sometimes being a woman is a fucking nightmare. She wonders what Greg would say if she showed up on his doorstep right now.
Probably 'yes'.
But does she want that? She is wary of forming deep connections with people. She's been burned too many times before. At school, during Hit Wizard training, the last time she dated someone. Maybe meaningless hate sex with McLaggen would be better?
He has sat back down in his seat but is still staring at her, not saying anything.
"What?" she snaps at him. He shakes himself.
"I don't know," he says. "I think I read the room wrong."
"I would say so," she says. She stands a short way away from the booth. She crosses her arms and stares at him.
"I just thought - the banter - that it was flirting."
"Banter? I was insulting you."
"Sometimes that counts as flirting," he mumbles. He pulls his glass to himself and drains the last of his gin and tonic.
"What? Do you think we're eleven? Grow up, McLaggen." He pushes himself up from the booth and slides out. He runs a rueful hand through his hair and then turns back to the booth in order to collect his empty glass.
"Sorry," he says. He turns to walk out of the VIP area. "I'll let you know if I hear any more about those murders. Or houses, or whatever." He sounds so defeated, Pansy almost caves.
"Sounds good," she says and watches as the door shuts behind him.
Then she apparates straight to Greg's doorstep and kisses him as soon as he opens the door.
…
Draco sidles into the Battaglia family box and walks up behind Harry's chair. Harry is drowsing in his seat at the back of the box. He keeps jerking awake again every few seconds.
"Hey lover," Draco leans down and whispers in his ear. Harry sits upright, instantly awake.
"What?" he asks.
"Just go along with this, ok?"
"Sure."
"I'll explain fully later."
"I trust you."
"Come on," Draco says. "We're leaving." Harry nods once and stands up. It doesn't feel safe to say any more right now, with all the family around. They both grab their coats from where they have stashed them by the door and then exit the box. Draco's not sure any other member of the family has noticed. They are all very caught up in the opera.
Massi is waiting for them in the corridor. He is already wearing his coat. He says nothing, only jerks his head in the direction he wants them to go and they follow. Draco swings his coat on as he walks.
"Side-along?" Massi asks once they reach the foyer of the theater.
"What?" Harry says. "Here?"
"No." Massi gives him a withering look. "There's a side alley."
"Of course," Harry says quickly. They follow Massi to the alley and he grips both of their arms. A thrill of fear goes through Draco. Massi could take them anywhere. But, he reasons, they outnumber him two to one. And he's with Harry fucking Potter after all.
…
"Welcome to my home," Massi says. They are in a grand entrance hall with a fifteen foot ceiling (at least), an intricate mosaic covered floor and marble pillars. There are various statues scattered around the room, which Draco can tell at a glance are from Roman times. It should look classy, but it doesn't - it looks gauche.
"It's lovely," Draco says. "This floor is spectacular." It is not. The mosaics clearly depict Muggle torture, from people being hung upside down by people with wands aloft, to Muggles who have been torn limb from limb, but haven't been allowed to die, to Muggles being boiled alive in cauldrons. It is made all the more horrifying by the fact that the mosaic is constantly moving. Draco tries hard not to look at it.
"This is the only place in the whole house that you can apparate to or from," Massi says. "We have incredible wards."
"Cool," Draco says. He makes a mental note of where in the entrance hall this spot is. Right under the large dome in the ceiling.
"We brought in specialists," Massi says and Draco realizes that Massi thinks this is impressive.
"Wish my house had that," he says.
"Yeah," Harry agrees. "You must be quite important, Massi."
"You don't know the half of it." Massi smirks at them. "Drinks?" He leads them from the entrance hall into an equally over the top sitting room. There is a decanter set in the corner which they follow him to. He pours three measures of what appears to be whisky, judging by the silver tag on the bottle. They toast and Massi gestures for them to sit down.
As he does, a flash of silver enters the room and resolves itself into a goose patronus. It speaks to Massi in rapid fire Italian. Draco looks at Harry who shrugs. They have been pretending that they don't understand Italian all night. It's true in Harry's case, but Draco had been pleasantly surprised when the Reliquary began translating things in his head. He listens intently to the patronus. He keeps a bored, pleasant expression on his face even as what Massi's father is saying slowly becomes clear.
Massi had not been supposed to leave the theater that night, and it had ruined all of the plans that the family had. They'd been informed by a friend that Harry Potter works for the British Ministry and they had been planning to, shall we say incapacitate him. But the heads of the family had conferred and now they think it's best if they take care of Harry at the important dinner with the Luczkowski family on Wednesday. There will be so many bodies, he might get lost in the shuffle. So Massi needs to keep Potter and his blond harlot close. The family doesn't care how he does it, but they're Massi's responsibility now. Oh, and sometime before the dinner on Wednesday, Massi needs to pick up their newly acquired Hand of Glory.
A den of vipers indeed.
"What was that?" Draco asks once the patronus has finished speaking and has vanished. Massi is pale but trying to play it off like nothing is wrong.
"Oh, nothing," he says. "My father just wanted to let me know that he liked you both so much that you should come and stay with us. None of this hotel nonsense."
"That's very kind of him," Harry says. "But we couldn't."
"He insists. We have plenty of space. Plus, I thought you were spending tonight in my bed anyway." Harry catches Draco's eye and Draco returns his stare cooly, praying that Harry will pick up on what he's trying to convey.
"I think I might have missed something," Harry says. "Did you invite us back here for a threesome?"
"Did Draco not tell you?"
"He just told we were going to do something fun," Harry says. He leans back comfortably in his chair and takes a sip of his whisky.
"Well, was he right?"
"Of course. I just thought you'd said you were into women." An amused smile plays across Harry's lips. Draco is amazed at how at ease he looks. But then, Harry's had training for this. And he doesn't know what Draco knows. Unfortunately, Draco can't bring him up to speed until he gets Harry alone and for that, it seems that Massi will need to be asleep. Perhaps in a post coital haze.
"Massi wanted a bit of an adventure tonight," Draco says.
"And you said you wanted to suck my cock," Massi shoots back. Draco smirks and shrugs.
"What of it?"
"All this talk of cock sucking and threesomes is making me horny," Harry says. "Why are we sitting here drinking and not naked in a bed?"
"Massi needs the liquid courage," Draco says.
"I do not," Massi protests.
"It's ok to be nervous," Harry says. He crosses his ankle across his knee and lounges almost further back in his chair. He looks very at home and it is a stark contrast to Massi who is sitting ramrod straight in his chair, clutching his drink like it's going to save him from this situation. Harry hadn't even understood the patronus's message and yet he is still playing the situation they way Draco would have. He supposes Harry must be feeding off of what he is doing and not for the first time he marvels at what a great team they make.
"I'm not nervous."
"And if you can't get it up, that's fine too," Draco adds.
"I'm very good at getting dicks up," Harry says with a wink.
"He is," Draco agrees.
"I'm not nervous," Massi repeats.
"Well, drink up buttercup," Harry says. He takes a large sip of his whisky. "I want to see what's under those clothes." Something akin to unease crosses Massi's face and Draco feels guilt for the briefest of moments before it is replaced with vindication that they have made Massi feel how he made both Draco and those women feel the week before. Perhaps he will learn his lesson. Plus, he reminds himself, Massi's family are plotting to kill Harry, and quite possibly Draco, so they deserve everything that's coming to them.
But they'll get out of this. Harry is sure to come up with a plan once Draco tells him what the patronus said. Draco wonders at the audacity of them assuming that Draco is harmless. But it is not the first time someone has underestimated him. Blond harlot. How dare they?
…
Massi's bedroom reminds Draco a lot of his bedroom in Malfoy Manor. It is spacious and tidy, with bookshelves lining one wall, a sitting area with a fireplace, and a large four poster bed that is large enough to sleep three comfortably. Which is good, as that is what they are anticipating happening.
Draco is nervous as they cross the threshold, and he reaches out and brushes his hand against Harry's. The contact puts him more at ease. He is with Harry. Harry won't let anything bad happen to him.
"So," Massi says, swinging his arms awkwardly. "How does this work?"
"Get your kit off," Harry says. He shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it over the back of the sofa that sits in front of the fireplace. Draco follows suit, though he places his jacket more carefully than Harry does, worried about the glass memory phials in the pockets. The undetectable extension charms should keep them safe, but one can never be too careful.
"What? Just get naked?" Massi looks scandalized. "No foreplay?"
"Oh," Harry says. "You want kissing and romance and all of that? You should have said. I thought you just wanted to fuck. That seemed more your style the other day." Massi flushes.
"I just mean, why not take our time? We have all night."
"That's true," Harry says. He crosses the room until he is standing in front of Massi. Then he extends an arm and rests his hand on Massi's shoulder. Draco feels a flare of jealousy go through him. He tamps it down. He doesn't have the luxury of thinking about his feelings right now. They need Massi to think they are here because of him, and that they're going to stay because of him. Because the inklings of a plan are starting to form in the back of Draco's mind. A plan to keep Harry alive and bring in the Battaglia family.
He watches as Harry gently massages Massi's shoulder through his suit jacket, before slipping his hand inside the lapel and sliding the jacket off of one arm. Harry moves behind Massi and pulls the jacket off of his other arm. He throws the jacket away - it lands in a heap on the floor near the sitting area - and slips an arm around Massi's waist as he steps back in front of him. Massi arches an eyebrow at him and Harry tugs Massi flush against him, slipping one leg in between Massi's.
Draco has never seen this suave side of Harry before. He had never needed to seduce Draco - Draco had been more than willing to drop trou without it. Now he half wishes he'd played a little harder to get.
He saunters over to the pair of them. They are intently staring at each other. Draco wonders who will blink first. Then he decides he doesn't want to only be an observer, so he presses up against Massi's side, one arm around Harry's shoulders, the other around Massi's back. They're still both staring at each other, so Draco dips his head and begins to move his lips down Massi's neck. As he does, Harry closes the gap between himself and Massi and presses their lips together.
Draco's nostrils are overwhelmed by the scent of Massi's cologne. He smells like eucalyptus, and its coldness seems fitting. He's the opposite of Harry's warm bergamot and citrus.
Draco moves his right hand off of Harry and uses it instead to undo the top pair of Massi's shirt buttons. Then he cups Massi's face and turns it towards him, breaking Harry and Massi's kiss. He moves his lips up Massi's neck to his face. And then their mouths are moving against each other.
Massi is tentative with it, like he's still not sure how he got himself into this situation, but slowly his shoulders relax. Draco pushes his tongue into Massi's mouth and tastes the whisky Massi had just been drinking. He feels Harry's mouth on his neck and Harry's hands on his shirt buttons. He keeps his mouth pressed to Massi's, but returns to his one handed disrobing attempts and soon both his and Massi's shirts are hanging open.
Draco shrugs out of his shirt and feels Harry's hands on his torso. He pulls away from Massi and jerks his head towards Massi. Harry understands the unspoken communication and presses his mouth to Massi's. Draco pulls Massi's shirt off of his shoulders and Massi lets him. The Italian's hand scrabble maladroitly with Harry's buttons but eventually gets them undone. Massi pulls away from Harry and pushes him towards Draco.
Draco suppresses a moan as Harry's lips meet his. Harry feels like home. Kissing Harry makes Draco feel less like this entire situation is fucked, and more like things are going to work out - even as Massi's hands tentatively roam Draco's chest and ever so slowly make their way down to the tops of his trousers. Draco moves his own hand southwards and squeezes Massi's ass. He has to admit that it is a very nice ass.
As Draco had told himself earlier. Massi's a pretty object. That much hasn't changed.
Only now Harry has Massi's trousers undone and is easing them down over his thighs. Massi's boxers are tented out over his erection, which Draco is half surprised to see that he has. Perhaps he's not as nervous as he seems. Draco quickly removes his own trousers - he's done waiting for anyone else to disrobe him - and then Harry is the only one still mostly clothed. Draco makes quick work of that and then begins herding them towards the massive bed. They fall onto it in a tangle of limbs.
They take a moment to reorient themselves in the center of the bed. Massi ends up on the bottom, with Draco and Harry both hovering over him.
"Honestly," Harry says, hooking a finger under the waistband of Massi's boxers. "Why are these even still on?"
"Har," Draco says. "I could say the same about you."
"So that's it then?" Massi asks. "We're all getting naked?"
"Looks like it," Draco says. He turns until he is lying on his back next to Massi and shimmies out of his underwear. His own erection pops loose from its cloth confinement. He turns his head and sees Massi staring at it. "You like what you see?"
"Uh," Massi stammers. Draco shrugs and turns to Massi. He pulls the other man's boxers down and Massi doesn't protest. He looks him right in the eye, unblinking, as he then reaches out and wraps his hand around Massi's dick.
He sees Massi gulp, but he doesn't protest and he doesn't take his eyes from Draco's. Massi pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth and worries at it. And goddamn if it's not sexy. And even as Draco thinks that, he hates Massi for it. For being so damn attractive that he can be a complete arsehole and yet have Draco still want to fuck him.
Fuck it, Draco thinks. There's no point thinking about how much of a dick Massi is right now. He's going to let pheromones and hormones and whatever the fuck else take over.
Draco lets go of Massi's dick and instead turns the other man on his side, so they're face to face. He shifts closer and then wraps both of their cocks together in his hand. Massi lets his lower lip slide out from between his teeth. His eyebrows raise ever so slightly.
"You like that?" Draco whispers.
"Non lo so," Massi says. Draco frowns at him, keeping up the pretense that he can't understand Italian. "I don't know." Draco smirks and begins to move his hand up and down. Massi closes his eyes. "Si. Mi piace." Draco doesn't need to understand much Italian to know that he means yes.
Then his eyes fly open and he looks panicked. Draco looks past him to see that Harry has pressed up against Massi on the other side, effectively making a Massi sandwich with Harry and Draco as the bread.
"Harry," Draco says. "Massi only wants to be a top."
"I'm not doing anything," Harry protests.
"I was just surprised by him," Massi says. "That's all. Please Draco, keep doing what you were doing."
"Are you sure you're comfortable with everything, Massi?" Draco asks. "We can always just leave."
"No," Massi cries. "You should definitely stay. Yes, you should stay all night. And as I said earlier, you should forget your hotel and stay with us." Harry catches Draco's eye over Massi's shoulder and raises his eyebrows. Draco stares back at him and after a long moment, Harry nods.
"What about our clothes?" Draco asks once he thinks Harry has understood him.
"One of you can collect them tomorrow," Massi says. "But right now." He doesn't finish his sentence, instead he leans forward to capture Draco's lips.
…
Later, when Massi is asleep, they hold a brief, whispered conversation. Draco tells Harry what he heard from the patronus and his start of a plan.
"I don't know what the Hand of Glory is for," Draco whispers. "But if I were part of a crime family looking to take out my rivals-" at this, Harry raises his eyebrows and Draco glares at him "-I might use Peruvian Instant Darkness powder when they're not expecting it, and then ambush them since I can see using my Hand of Glory."
"Like you did to me," Harry whispers back.
"I didn't ambush you," Draco hisses. "I just used it to get away."
"So it seems like we're going to need a Hand of Glory of our own then, if we're going to get out of this unscathed." Draco nods. "I don't suppose you still have yours?"
"Please, the Ministry confiscated it years ago."
"Worth a shot," Harry says with a shrug. "No matter. I have one."
"You what?"
"For Ministry emergencies."
"Fair, I suppose," Draco says.
"And we have the cloak," Harry continues. Draco nods again. He has a knot of worry in the pit of his stomach. Harry must notice something on his face because he puts a comforting hand on Draco's shoulder. "It's going to be ok."
"So you keep saying."
…
"Draco," Massi says as they lounge on his overly large bed the following morning. He is munching on some toast that a house elf delivered on a tray. "Can I show you the city today?"
"Sure," Draco says. "But what about Harry?"
"He can get your bags from the hotel, right Harry?" It is a very obvious ploy to keep them apart, and to make sure they don't leave. But they are playing along because that is the only way they're going to be able to recover the stolen object and/or bring the Battaglia family in to the Polizia Magica.
"Of course," Harry says. "It's probably best if I do that either way as the hotel room is in my name." It is not, but it's a convenient lie.
"Great," Massi says, clapping his hands together and spraying toast crumbs everywhere. "We can meet back here for lunch, after which I think we should go swimming."
"Swimming?" Draco asks. "But it's December."
"We have an indoor pool," Massi explains. "And a hot tub."
"Do you mean to say we can get drunk in a hot tub like we did in Zermatt?" Draco asks. Massi smiles and nods.
"Only this time we can be naked."
"For someone who claims to be straight," Harry says. "You sure seem interested in getting us naked with us."
"What can I say? I like sex." Massi reaches out and places a hand on Draco's hip. Draco shakes his head.
"Not now, Massi, there are toast crumbs everywhere."
