Gay Aurors

Draco had promised that he would give Harry a day. A day. It sounded like entirely too long to just sit around and wait, and he had been quite careful not to agree to give his word, exactly. He'd more... implied that perhaps there was the possibility he would wait a day by repeating what Harry had said.

It wasn't for lack of confidence in Harry, necessarily, but more that Draco didn't think Harry knew what he was up against. Antsy as he was about where Harry was and what he was doing, Draco was also exhausted from traipsing about the globe in borrowed clothes and landing in this dump. Sure, it was an ancestral Black dump, but a dump nevertheless. It looked like it had been stripped of most anything interestingly dark in it and after wandering aimlessly for a while, Draco took a steaming hot bath and hopped into bed.

The next morning, Harry still wasn't back and Draco let his paranoia take hold. Harry Potter was Harry Potter and would theoretically not need Draco Malfoy's help, except that Harry was terribly clueless in all of this. He had no idea what Mifune and his people were truly capable of. He wished that kidnapping were the worst of it.

Draco slipped out for takeaway and bought some clothes at a local store. He'd used charms to change his appearance, making his hair dark and his features rounder and less distinctive. He tried to pass the time peaceably, but his mind kept drawing back to the fact that Harry hadn't so much as sent an owl and the very real possibility that he might be in trouble.

A day. He'd asked for a day.

By evening, Draco had returned to Grimmauld with groceries and clothing necessities and a fear for the worst. A day. Morning until night. Day time was over and though Harry might technically have a couple more hours, Draco refused to wait any longer.

Dressed casually in Muggle clothes after dropping the charms, Draco stepped out of Grimmauld Place, not even looking back to see how the house leapt from the street, disappearing in the crush of the other houses taking over the space. He held up his hand to examine his dragon ring. Stroking the spot on its snout, he watched its eyes slide closed as it tilted its head up, opening its jaws impossibly wide.

Inside were two little red jewels. Originally, they had been the eyes of his dragon ring-- the jewelry a gift from Mifune. The little stones were designed to track and observe Draco. When he'd first made plans to escape, he'd had to figure out a way to remove them without removing them. Through a complex web of magic, he'd managed to enchant the dragon into eating its own eyes, keeping the tracking enchantments from working and blinding Mifune's observations without removing the jewels from the ring. To have kept the eyes intact would have been deadly.

Now it was time for a meeting.

It only took a few minutes before a sleek, black limousine pulled up to the curb in front of him. The door opened. After a quick look around, as if saying goodbye to his surroundings, Draco slipped into the vehicle.

***

The car was weaving its way through evening traffic. Draco was sitting with his back to the driver on the powder blue leather seats. He'd never quite liked the tin boxes Muggles rode around in-- even if he'd had to take them to King's Cross when he was younger. At least then they'd been controlled by magic and nothing so flawed as a Muggle. The feeling of moving backwards like this made him feel slightly nauseous and set him on edge; he had no doubt the seating arrangement was deliberate It was just one more petty discomfort to keep Draco anxious.

Draco curled his hand into a fist and pressed his nails into the palm of his hand, concentrating on the pain rather than the vertigo. It helped a little.

"I thought we might be hearing from you soon, Ryuu," said Mifune. He sat with the vampire Kyuzo next to him. They both looked supremely smug. Whatever hopes Draco had that perhaps Harry hadn't ended up taken vanished. He flexed his jaw, keeping his expression as stone-faced as he could.

"You know my name is Draco. You can drop the Ryuu..." Draco gestured his belief in how silly it was to continue the charade. The name Mifune had given him back when Draco was young and dumb enough to believe that he had found somewhere to belong.

"I like my pet name for you." Mifune laughed and Draco squeezed his nails into his palm harder.

"I am not your pet."

"But you would have been, wouldn't you have?" Mifune's smile was as cruel and genuine as it had ever been. It split his face in half, revealing pearly white teeth, so even, perfect.

Fangs would've been a warning, Draco mused as he looked away, watching a car pull up with them. Children pressed their faces to the window, curious but unable to see past the window tinting of the limo.

Draco thought about the first time he'd seen Mifune in London. In that alleyway where he was paying for sex, having sex. All that talk about celibacy for focus had been a lie. Either that or he wasn't taking his own advice. Then again, Draco had never been overly impressed with Mifune as a wizard. His skills lay in controlling people, leading, cunning, ambition. He'd reminded him so much of Lucius, it had been hard for Draco to see him for what he was.

"But no more," said Mifune smoothly. "You have a new paramour, do you not? Britain's Wizarding Boy-Hero? I remember well the loathing for him and how it drove you. How fine a line between love and hate?"

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but Mifune cut him off. "Don't even try. I saw the article. I know he saved your life. We both know too well how that so-called Sleeping Beauty hex works."

Pressing his lips together, Draco glared outside as another car drove up-- red, with a young woman in glasses inside. She threw a couple of curious glances at the limo and then sped up to get ahead of them.

"He's your true love." Mifune could've sounded mocking, he could've worded it as a question, but he did neither of those things, speaking instead with finality. A condemnation.

If Draco didn't know better, he'd think Mifune sounded hurt.

Mifune's wand tapped the windscreen and it lit up almost like a telly. Three figures were on the screen: Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and his Harry. They appeared to be in blank space, lit by a few bulbs. Draco recognized it as a masking spell to keep him from being able to identify where they were located.

"Mr Weasley?" Hermione's voice rang out tinny-like. She was tied to a chair. Harry was untying her and Ron was rubbing the back of his neck. "Why are you here? Do you know who those people were?"

"We're here to get you out," said Ron. He looked over his shoulder at something that must've looked insurmountable. His expression reflected his thoughts; they were trapped.

"But I thought you were a financier," said Hermione, looking terribly clueless as she rubbed her wrists.

Harry crawled around her to untie her legs from the chair. As if he could sense he was being watched, Harry looked directly up at Draco. Draco's heart stopped. He reached out to touch Harry's face as the vision vanished.

As much as Draco wanted to ask if Harry could see him, he knew he'd already given too much away as far as his feelings for Harry went. His fingers curled back to his palm as he pulled his hand away and glared at Mifune.

"True love. How touching," said Mifune, leaning forward with a vicious expression, getting into Draco's personal space.

Draco narrowed his eyes, not flinching. "At least he's capable."

Briefly, Mifune looked stricken and then he sat back and laughed. Draco spared a glance to Kyuzo, who seemed to have actually become stone.

"You know what I want, Draco," said Mifune as he smoothed his hair back from his face.

Mifune's face appeared more creased than he'd remembered. Stressed. There was something desperate about his manner that hadn't been there before. Then again, before, Mifune thought the world was coming to him. Draco just stared at him impassively.

"Not even your own government would bid for you. The Aurors will not protect you and I have the only person who would try. Not that he could. Not from me. If you give me what I want, I'll make sure your death is quick." Mifune slid his hands over his face and when he pulled them away, the lines in his face had vanished. Charms.

"I'm not sure how that's an incentive. Besides, I'm not even sure I could trust your word, even if I wanted to die," said Draco. He kept his eyes fixed on Mifune, watching for what effect his words might have on him.

"You're the traitor," Mifune growled, his fingers digging into his own knees. The pant legs of his charcoal trousers wrinkled and gaped before they were released and the fabric smoothed out again. "I might've misrepresented a few things to you, but I never outright lied. If I thought I could trust you, I'd take you back in an instant. You were always my precious Ryuu."

Those words had once filled Draco with such joy to hear. They made him feel valued and important. Now, they made his skin crawl. He let his disgust show on his face.

"Of course. You have your true love now. I could offer you nothing. Nothing but a quick death for both of you," said Mifune nastily.

Draco looked between the vampire and his once-mentor and boss. "It's under a heavy enchantment I can't end without him." He glanced at the window as if that would indicate Harry.

The message was received. "Impossible."

"Then you can kill me slowly and still not have it," said Draco simply. He shrugged and sat back against the seat. The leather grunted under his jeans. He splayed his arms out along the seat to indicate his resignation.

"You'll run with him. The other two mean nothing to you," said Mifune.

He must not have bought the gesture. Draco shrugged. "They mean nothing to me, but they're his best friends," said Draco. "He'd never forgive me if I just left them to die."

Mifune looked at the window and then back at Draco, giving this consideration. Draco could see the wheels in his mind rolling, ticking off this information. He must've done his homework, because it appeared that he agreed with Draco's assessment.

"Very well. I will have him brought to you. Kyuzo will accompany you. I could torture you for eternity if I were to let him turn you into a vampire," said Mifune, gesturing to his vampire before he pulled his wand again. "That would be a lot of suffering. Bear it in mind before you do anything foolish. Now, I have some arrangements to make. Tell me where he is to meet you."

"Center of Leicester Square. Half-three," Draco answered.

"Why that hour?" asked Mifune.

"The fewer Muggles, the better."

After another serious glare at Draco, there was a loud crack and Mifune Disapparated from the vehicle.

Draco eyed the vampire up.

"Your magic won't work on me, wizard. I'm a magical creature. I am beyond your reach," said Kyuzo, smiling smugly to himself.

"I'm aware." Draco switched to sit where Mifune had been to ease his nausea but scooted closer to the window to get away from the unwelcome undead. Then he leaned his temple to the window and closed his eyes, pretending to sleep to avoid any further interview with the vampire.

***

Three-thirty in the morning at Leicester Square on a weeknight was sparse. The wind blew lightly through the trees and there was a low-hanging haze that muted the brightness of the streetlamps and gaudy signs from businesses around the square, including the giant Odeon sign. Draco always mentally corrected it to "Odious" because it was often packed with Muggles and their craptastic "movies."

Even though there weren't loads of people about Draco put up a large circle of Muggle repelling charms around the statue of Shakespeare and then crossed his arms, waiting for Harry to arrive. Kyuzo had pretty much ignored everything that Draco was doing, instead keeping a distant look out for Muggles. Or a snack. It was hard to tell with vampires.

He knew his charms were working when an official-looking Muggle started towards him with purpose, then stopped, checked his watch, and then faffed off in the opposite direction. Brilliant.

Harry arrived a moment later with a pop. He looked harried and windblown, but as soon as he caught sight of Draco, he swept him up into his arms and clung tightly to him. Draco wasn't entirely used to the enthusiasm of emotion Harry often enjoyed, but he was glad of it now. He clutched him, smelling the unfamiliar scent of "somewhere else" on Harry, but Draco couldn't identify it. Mostly, though, he smelled like his Harry.

"Shakespeare!" said Harry after they'd finished their embrace and Draco gestured to the statue.

"Yes. He was a wizard, you know." Wizards, like some overbearing nationalities (like the Scottish), had a tendency to retroactively claim celebrities or Muggles that they appreciated the work of. In this case, however, Draco was correct. William Shakespeare had been a wizard; however, he was a Muggle-born.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course he was." He reached out to caress Draco's cheek and Draco closed his eyes, relishing the attention. He ignored the annoying throat clearing from the vampire behind them.

"Go on, get on with it," Kyuzo said. "I'm not here to watch you two have sex."

Draco perked a brow and looked over at Kyuzo. "That's what you think."

"There is no darkness but ignorance," Harry read, squinting at the statue of Shakespeare. He looked at Draco and then back at the statue and then to the vampire.

He could tell that Harry wanted to ask him what he was doing here and guessed that he hadn't been briefed on anything. He'd have to deal with that eventually, but for now, he just needed to get the damned thing. "I liked the dolphins, too," said Draco.

"We're here to get something?" asked Harry. Draco nodded in response. "Seems like the sort of egotistical place you'd put something."

"What?" Draco looked at Harry, surprised that he'd think this was egotistical at all. Ignorance was darkness. Shakespeare lived amongst Muggles. And what was so fucking egotistical about dolphins? Honestly, sometimes he had no idea where Harry got his ideas about him.

Pulling his wand, Draco flourished it with grand precision and said, "Take me to the House of the Cheeky Monkey."

"I'd love to if you'd--" Harry started. His voice broke off when he saw Shakespeare move from his leaning position against the pillar.

First, Shakespeare stretched, wriggling his back. "By the great tits of Circe, that's a horrible position to stand in. Even with the books added... no good on your back!" His stone hand stroked his stone beard, giving off a low, scraping gravelly sound. "But, House of the Cheeky Monkey, of course!"

Shakespeare knocked his stone cape from his stone hip and pulled out a stone wand. "The three of you?" asked the statue.

Draco looked over his shoulder at the Kyuzo, who was staring in gaping amazement as much as Harry was. Draco smirked. This was rather clever magic. He wondered if he should have Shakespeare do a little jig for them, but really, they didn't have time for that. "Er. Yes, all three," said Draco.

"Good on you, my boy. You'll have fun, then!" said Shakespeare.

"It's not like..." started Draco, wondering why he was about to argue with his own magic. "Right. Just send us on, then."

With a sensation that wasn't unlike the whirling of the Portkey, the three were sent face first down into Shakespeare's pedestal. It was, of course, made larger using Wizard space, looking much like a romantic boudoir with a large four-poster bed, ornately carved in swirls. On the bed was a large, silk duvet of silver and midnight blue that glinted in the light of a fireplace across from it.

On the table in front of the fire was a bottle of perfectly-aged brandy and two snifters set between two wing backed chairs. It was quite cozy, with walls covered in frilly velvet wallpaper that reflected the pattern on the duvet.

"Draco..." said Harry as he looked around at the room, stopping to sniff the white roses in full bloom on a table next to the bed. "What is this?"

"The thing is," said Draco, trying to keep his back to Kyuzo so he wouldn't see him blushing. "When I set this up... I'd thought... if it ever came to this... if I ever had to retrieve this... I thought... perhaps I'd still be a virgin and that... I wouldn't want to die a virgin, and I figured if I had to retrieve this sword... that... well, that Mifune would kill me."

"All right," said Harry as he looked around the room again. Draco could see the moment that Harry cottoned on to what that must mean. "Oh. OH! So... we have to..."

"Yeah. To get the sword..." Draco looked over at the bed.

"We're going to die? I won't let you die, Draco," said Harry, gazing at him sincerely.

In that moment, Draco believed him. If anyone could protect him from Mifune, then it would be Harry. But Draco also knew that there was going to come a moment when Harry was going to ask why he didn't know about this, and he wasn't sure if Harry was going to like the answer. Once again Draco chided himself for not making sure that Harry knew everything. Maybe it would've made a difference. Maybe not.

But in the next moment, he felt Harry's lips rich against his. So warm, welcoming, giving. Not that Draco had snogged loads of people, but he'd kissed a fair few, but with Harry he felt it down to his toes. Harry didn't just love someone in parts, he loved from his soul and it overwhelmed Draco, no matter what excuses they'd used to do it before.

Sometimes it scared him, the way Harry's hands warmed him when he touched his skin, sliding under his shirt, pushing it over his head as he backed Draco against the bed. The silk was almost cold on his back and he longed for Harry to be on top of him, but Harry had stopped to pull his shirt off. Draco undid his jeans as he toed off his shoes, watching Harry strip down.

This might be the last time they'd feel each other this way. Draco wasn't sure what he believed for the afterlife, but he knew if he was there with Harry, he'd be happy. He wished he'd been the sort of person to beg for Harry's life, that he'd been the sort of person who could've kept Harry out of this and just had sex with someone random, but he wasn't that person.

Strong as he was in some ways, he'd come to feel dependent on Harry. He shuddered as Harry kissed his neck and traced his fingers down his spine, wanting to touch every part of his body, and listen to the soft sound of their skin brushing together all night. He reached down to slide his hand over the sensual softness of Harry's prick, rubbing it to full firmness as he kissed him deeply.

Harry's hair brushed against his face, wiry and prickly, his scruff from beard growth burned his tender skin. This was what he wanted. He didn't know if he'd call it true love, even if that was what magic called it. To Draco it almost felt broken and strange to want something so desperately-- to want someone like this. It made his mind and tongue rebel, his independent nature contrary to his neediness.

It made him bitter. Raw. Vulnerable. Scared.

Harry found the lubricant on the nightstand next to the flowers. The room had been stilled exactly as Draco had left it when he'd hidden the sword in here. Everything was fresh and smelled of burning embers and roses. Now the room carried Harry's scent.

Reaching down to his own prick, Draco pulled at himself as his other hand slipped into Harry's hair, tugging slightly as he felt Harry's finger corkscrewing into him, working in slow, twisting motions. Draco kept eye contact with him as much as he could, whimpering at the intrusion, knowing it would become more intense as Harry slid another finger into him. He felt stretched, opening as he relaxed his body, concentrating on how Harry would be part of him very soon.

Draco closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the bed, pulling his legs up so that Harry could angle him up to enter him. Harry slid a pillow under his arse, keeping him tilted up. Draco brought his legs back, folding in half. He braced the backs of his knees to Harry's shoulders and waited for the first thrust, the pop of sensation as the head breeched him.

His breath caught as he felt stretched wider around Harry. It always hurt just a little when he first entered him, reminding him of how large Harry was. With Harry's shoulders against the back of his legs, Draco was able to control the speed and the depth in which Harry penetrated him. He let him in slowly, inching his thrusts in deeper and deeper with each stroke.

He loved the solid, full feeling of having Harry inside of him. He felt connected, part of Harry's body, an extension of him. In moments like this, he felt real, less broken, less like the stupid boy who managed to get in over his head twice and more like the confident Auror he played at being. Harry had almost always been the boy he had to overcome. The boy he had to defeat. If he could win against Harry, then he would have accomplished something. He would be something. Be someone.

When Harry was inside of him, the competition melted away. Harry's victories were his. They were shared and Draco was finally part of something worth being a part of. He wasn't on the Ministry's side. He was on Harry's side. Somehow that made all of the difference in the world.

Tugging Harry's hair to pull him up from their languid, sloppy kiss, Draco gazed into Harry's eyes. He'd said it before, but it had gotten lost in transport. Left in translation. Harry had never said a word about it and Draco wasn't sure he'd heard it. Whatever defenses he'd put up to protect himself from feeling, to protect himself from being disappointed, they all seemed trivial now.

Draco had attempted to say it before, when he thought he was about to be taken to do this deed without Harry-- when he thought they were both going to die. Now he was sure they were going to die, but now they were making love and he might never get to say it if he didn't now.

"Harry. I love you," he whispered.

Immediately, Harry's eyes fluttered closed in spite of what looked like a Herculean effort to keep them open. His mouth gaped open and he looked like an angel like this. Somewhere along the line his glasses had dropped off, and his face was pinched, exultant, scar bright on his damp forehead. He grunted. He was coming. Draco felt the slicking inside of him, easing Harry's movements as he continued to drive deeply into him.

He sped up his hand on his cock. Draco was going to come soon anyway; just knowing that Harry had come was enough to spark his own need.

"I love you, Draco."

Draco squinted his eyes open, trying to watch him as he came, but his body turned rigid and his back arched up off of the bed as he fisted himself, pulling, drawing up, body gathering, sparking and igniting as he twisted and came in a warm splatter against his own chest.

He was panting for air when Harry kissed him sloppy and wet, sweat raining down on him. Draco stole Harry's breath. One leg slipped off of Harry's slippery shoulder and bounced on the mattress as Draco returned the kiss, holding the back of Harry's head as if he'd slip away.

They'd said it. They'd both said it and the world hadn't ended. At least, not yet. Soon enough, it would. Their lives would end before that happened, but Draco couldn't have regrets about that. Not now. Not when Harry was holding him like this, warm tongue stroking his as his waning erection started to inch back out of him.

The moment was perfect until the vampire cleared his throat. Mildly embarrassed that they'd done this with an audience, Draco opened his eyes to glare at Kyuzo, finding that Harry was doing the same thing. This was what it was like to be in synch with someone else. To be attuned to them. Draco didn't hate it.

Reaching out, Draco concentrated on the sword and soon felt the cool metal in his hand, weighing it down. He let his arm flop against the bed as he broke the kiss. Harry gave the sword a questioning look and then looked back down at Draco in confusion.

"So you have it. Let's get out of here. There's a car waiting for us at Leicester Square to take us to your friends." Kyuzo reached for the sword, but it sent out a shock when he touched it. He yanked his hand back and glowered at Draco.

Draco smirked. "Doesn't go to anyone until I give it to them."

Kyuzo glared.

Dodging the inquiry in Harry's eyes, he wriggled out from under him after a quick, but tender kiss. "C'mon. We need to get Ron and Hermione," said Draco.

Harry looked suspicious, but nodded and grabbed his clothes.

***

In the car, Draco clutched and released the handle of the sword. He didn't really have to hold onto it as he was, but it gave his hands something to do as he waited for Harry to ask the inevitable question. He could tell that Harry was working up to it. Draco was far too familiar with Harry's pantomime of huffy questioning and side-long glances of accusation. He always bottled up till he exploded. With any luck, by the time Harry worked up to it, they'd be in mortal peril and they could avoid the Uncomfortable Conversation.

But Harry wouldn't or just couldn't leave things alone. It couldn't just be that Draco loved him. It couldn't just be that he loved Draco. Things had to be right and honest for his hero-Gryffindor-mind to wrap around it.

"I thought you told me everything about your involvement," said Harry, finally breaking the five-minute silence of the ride that was taking them to lands unknown. Like the Knight Bus, this limo was running on magic and the world outside was blurred with motion. Draco had no idea where they were headed. He supposed it didn't matter.

"I didn't tell you anything. I let you see it," said Draco, staring out the window. It made him ill to look, but he knew he couldn't face Harry's disappointed glare.

Harry wasn't having it. He pulled Draco's face by the chin to look at him. Draco wanted to tell him it didn't matter, because it really didn't. Not now. He didn't want to fight when there might soon be no point to it. He didn't want to die in the midst of a row.

"Draco," said Harry, his eyes focused, face stern-- the portrait of justified irritation and betrayal. "You didn't let me see everything."

Licking his lips, Draco looked over Harry's features, measuring the expression and then shook his head. "There was no way I could've stopped you from seeing everything, Harry. You just saw what you wanted to see. You just wanted to know if I'd killed anyone. When you found out that I hadn't, you... you let it go."

He looked stricken, his gaze averting as he took that news, reviewing what had happened. "You knew there was more to it, and you didn't tell me," said Harry, his voice wavering and weak as his face paled, realizing his mistake.

Draco hoped Harry didn't think his mistake was in trusting him. He cupped the side of Harry's face. "I was hoping it wouldn't matter. That it wouldn't come to this. They were... the boxes... the... magic... they were searching for this. I didn't think you wanted to know. I didn't think you'd need to know. I didn't think there would be... realistically... any way Mifune could compel me to give this over to him. I did some things I'm not proud of to be part of this group but... taking this was... finally the right thing to do."

Harry looked down at the old sword and back up at Draco, nonplussed by what Draco was saying. "Then why are you giving it back?"

He would've laughed had anyone else asked, but coming from someone as pure and brave as Harry, it was a legitimate question. His eyes were wet with shame as he realized that Harry was right. He shouldn't have this here. He shouldn't have given it up. He should've fought to the death and let it be lost to the ages as everyone believed this sword to be already. Maybe it wouldn't have made a huge difference in the long run, given Mifune's prodigious Machiavellian mind, but it certainly wouldn't have made it easier.

"I... I thought... maybe... he'd let you and your friends live if I did. Maybe he'd even... let me... stay with you," said Draco. This was why Harry was a hero and he was not. Harry would make the morally right call, even if it were a bit cold. Draco would do anything for those he loved.

To Draco's surprise, instead of being chided, Harry took him into his arms and hugged him tightly. Draco clung back to him. He felt incredibly foolish like this. He was raw and vulnerable and his mind stretched for something snarky to say about the situation. Something quippy and biting about how Harry had turned him into a great girl's blouse and that their dying was clearly going to be his fault.

He just couldn't make himself say any of it.

"I won't let you die, Draco," Harry whispered. "I promised you that, and I won't."

The car stopped and Draco began to tremble. If anyone could protect him, it would be Harry.

***

As they stepped out of the car, Draco scanned for wards against Apparition and was surprised to find there were none. Of course, Mifune was banking that Draco wouldn't come this far only to bail out now, which made sense.

Before him was a large manor built of stone with a slightly more contemporary wood take on the front entryway meant to look Grecian, but fell short somewhere in the execution, leaving it looking rather out of place. Once they crossed the threshold into the out-dated foyer's parquet floor, Draco had the claustrophobic feeling of magic closing in on him. All right. Mifune wasn't taking chances. It was good to know they could get out if they needed to, anyway.

Kyuzo had remained silent in the car and Draco had quite forgotten he was there at all. These things happened when you couldn't even hear someone breathe. He had the tendency to sit staring into space like a gargoyle anyway, which... actually reminded Draco sadly of Goyle, but he didn't have time to think about such things now.

He and Harry followed the vampire through the disorienting mirrored entry and past the grand staircase into a large living area. Ron and Hermione were sitting on a long, striped couch that sat before an ornately carved and gilt coffee table. The room was gaudy with an attempt at reproduction Victorian charm-- the sort of place that might've impressed the uninitiated, but rankled Draco's sense of real opulence. But then, there'd always been something fake about Mifune. Draco had just chosen to ignore it early on.

Now he was paying for ignoring his instincts.

Mifune stood from where he was sitting on a lounger of an indescribably patterned chair in muted tones of green, pink and yellow. "Ry-- Mr Malfoy, perhaps would be better now," he said, pulling his wand rather than offering his hand to shake. "And Mr Potter. Good to finally meet you in person. I've heard so much about you."

Harry stiffened and glared at Mifune. "I've heard nothing about you."

Laughing, Mifune nodded. "I'm sure you've heard plenty by now. We have our little dragon in common."

Draco twitched at the nickname, setting his jaw again.

Ron and Hermione looked up at Harry and Draco from the couch. They were holding hands, but Hermione still looked wide-eyed and bewildered by the whole ordeal.

"Let them leave," said Draco, gesturing to them. "That was the deal."

"You do realize that even if I let them walk out of here, that you will be dead and gone and there will be no way for you to protect them from me," said Mifune, grinning maliciously.

Harry looked at Draco for a moment, then down at the sword. Then he looked at Ron and Hermione, probably weighing what he'd do in the situation. "Let them leave. Ron can sort himself out when he's a wand to defend himself."

"Wait," said Ron, hopping up, leaving Hermione seated. "No one's getting killed. You want to kill them; you have to go through me."

Mifune raised his wand and Draco reached around Ron, holding the sword up in front of Ron's chest. "You strike him down; you have nothing to bargain with. Let him go," said Draco.

"Ron, you have to get Hermione out of here," said Harry, his tone pleading slightly. "She doesn't know what's going on."

"Hogwarts?" asked Hermione, her brows furrowing. "What's Hogwarts? It seems like there was a school and I've... known all of you."

Harry and Ron exchanged looks before looking down at Hermione. Draco pulled the sword away from Ron so Ron could move to Hermione. Mifune waved his wand, trying to get everyone's attention back, since he was the bad guy with the life-threatening instrument, but no one seemed that interested.

"Yes. You went to school at Hogwarts," said Ron, taking her hand as he knelt down in front of her. He took one of her hands in his and he scanned her eyes. "We were your best fiends. You and I..."

"Canaries. I set canaries after you!" said Hermione.

Ron laughed and nodded, his face brightening and reddening. "Yeah. You did. I was... an idiot."

"But how did I do that?" asked Hermione.

"Get out," said Mifune, pointing his wand at Ron and Hermione.

"What?" asked Ron as he stood, pulling Hermione up with him. He tucked her behind him, protecting her bodily from what Mifune might do.

"Just get out. You're both too distracting," said Mifune, shooing them. "Go on. Go! Kyuzo, show them out!"

Ron and Hermione started to back out of the room.

Mifune waved them on. "Go! Get out! I have business to do. Reunite somewhere else!"

"St. Mungo's, Harry!" Ron shouted as he grabbed Hermione and started at a run to get ahead of Kyuzo. Harry nodded back to them.

"Don't go too far, Kyuzo. I need you back in here," said Mifune, starting to calm down.

Harry and Draco stood in the middle of it all; looking back and forth between everyone speaking like it was a tennis match.

"But I'm hungry," Kyuzo whined.

"You can eat one of these," said Mifune.

"That's not what..." Draco started.

"I said quick. It's... in a relative sense, a quick way to die. Now," said Mifune as he pointed his wand at Harry. "Do you want to see how he sounds under the Cruciatus Curse, or do you want to give me that sword?"

Harry shook his head at Draco, making it plain he didn't want him to give it over. Draco couldn't watch Harry in pain, though and he had no doubts that Mifune would make good on his threat to end him if he didn't hand the sword over.

Draco assumed that Harry didn't have his wand; he couldn't imagine Mifune being that clumsy. Draco had his, but as he could do much of his magic without the aid of a wand, there didn't seem much point in disarming him. Plus, he'd needed it to acquire the sword in the first place. Now, as he held the sword up, he slipped his hand into his pocket, gripping his wand.

With any luck-- and Harry often had the best kind of luck-- they wouldn't die. With Draco's luck, it was going to end in Greek tragedy. But he couldn't think about that, not now. Mifune was pressing his wand against Harry's throat and Harry looked increasingly desperate to tell Draco not to do this.

"Mr Mifune, I am giving you this sword. Take it," he said, feeling the shiver of magic travel down his arm. It made the old, rusted sword vibrate creating a low, gentle hum.

"Oh, Draco," said Harry.

"Head's up," said Draco as he tossed the wand to Harry as Mifune reached for the sword.

Harry caught the wand, but not before Mifune could fire off, "Crucio!" Harry flopped to the floor, writhing in agony as Mifune called Kyuzo in to grab Draco.

Sword still in his hand, Draco took it up and whirled around, slicing the dull blade through the vampire's neck. It spat out a quick gush of blood against the cream-colored wall in a dramatic spray. The severed head flew back from the force of the blow, thudding against the wall before rolling off towards the entryway.

Kyuzo's body slumped and fell to the ground, smelling of rot and old death. His grey suit turned dark at the collar and soon a small pool of thick, black cold blood oozed out of him, dribbling onto the parquet.

Draco wheeled around as he heard the Cruciatus Curse end so that Mifune could hex him. He swung the sword at Mifune's outstretched arm as he wound up to kill Draco.

"Ava...," Mifune started.

In one clean swipe, Draco clipped Mifune's arm in the middle of his forearm, sending his wand skittering off with Mifune's hand still clutching it. While Draco was off-balance, Mifune lunged at Draco, knocking him back so that he tripped over the fallen vampire. His head bounced on the floor and Draco felt a rush of pain and his vision clouded. He tried to keep his grip on his sword, but even against a one-armed bleeding man, he was too disoriented to keep it from him.

Mifune had the sword. He was pale from rapid blood loss and it was evident he was in no position to strike the killing blow. Draco saw Harry getting up from the corner of the room. Mifune must've sensed this shift as well, as he tucked the sword under his good arm and fled for the door.

"Are you all right?" Harry shouted to Draco as he chased after Mifune. He fired off a couple of hexes that skittered through the house, disrupting plaster and sending pictures from the walls to crash and clatter on the floor.

"No. I'm not," said Draco as he tried to pull himself up. He sat up on Kyuzo's back and rubbed the back of his head where a knot was forming. He saw Mifune clear the door and vanish with a loud crack.

Harry tried to send a tracer spell, but it wasn't his wand and it didn't take. "Fuck!"

"Shit," Draco confirmed, in case Harry had any question about his fuck.

"Twatwaffles!" said Harry as he came back into the house. He handed Draco his wand back so Draco could see about repairing damage. Harry stretched, rubbing parts of his body that had to feel broken and sore from the curse.

"Dung diddlers, the lot of 'em," said Draco as he did a spot heal on the back of his head and a general relaxation charm on Harry, hoping that would help soothe him.

"Now what?" asked Harry. "What does that sword do? What did we just...?"

Draco took Harry's offered hand to stand up and peered around the room. Dead vampire. He didn't have time to deal with that now. Someone else's problem. "Let's get back to the Order of the Dragon. Then I'll tell you everything."

Harry didn't look thrilled with that idea. In fact, he looked rather keen to give chase now that his adrenaline was up, but now was not the time for that. Right now, Draco needed to take him home, find him a new wand, and tell him how he'd just screwed over the world as they knew it. Everything was going to change now, starting with Japan.