Gay Aurors

"You did what?" asked Harry. He rubbed his hair and stared at Ron incredulously.

The Leaky was crowded with the Quidditch World Cup going on. It was playing in various magical screens around the pub and most of the witches and wizards were more absorbed in that than they were in the flitting affairs of Aurors, gay or otherwise.

"Look, Harry, you don't understand. When I found out that Hermione wasn't Hermione, I really thought that... well, I thought that things would change and that I could get her back somehow and that..." Ron's voice trailed off and he sucked his lips around his braces.

Harry wasn't surprised. He was let down, but he wasn't surprised. "Yeah, but she's married."

"Happily. And then he came in after the therapist at St. Mungo's had explained magic to him and what was happening with his wife and they just looked so happy to see each other!" Ron looked miserable. He drank his pint almost in one swig and poured another from the pitcher.

"What was he like?" asked Harry. He sipped his own, figuring he'd leave the pitcher to Ron. Ron seemed like he needed it and though Harry's disappointment in him made him want more to drink, Ron won out.

"Blonde with grey eyes. Can you believe that? After you left she was on about how attractive Malfoy was and then she remembered more things about you and then her husband showed up and... not even a freckle, Harry. She forgot about me entirely!" Ron swigged halfway through his pint and started to sway on the stool.

It wasn't exactly the answer to the question that Harry had asked, but he figured Ron must not have spent much time in the room getting to know Hermione's husband beyond a cursory comparison to Harry's boyfriend. It made Harry feel a little tetchy that evidently Hermione was perving on Draco, and might've secretly lusted for him while they were at school, but he chose to believe it was merely coincidence.

"I'm not sure that's exactly how it works, Ron." Harry wasn't an expert on how it did work, but he couldn't really believe Hermione had unresolved feelings for him or Draco. It was a little weird she seemed to have forgotten Ron completely. "Maybe she's just saving the best for last," Harry offered.

"Yeah, maybe. Anyway, Luna was still in the room at St. Mungo's and she told me how funny I was in Hogwarts and then I spilled some tea on myself and she said she knew where the linens were kept in this closet in the back-- because she used to Sweet Stripe as a volunteer after the war?-- and before I knew it, we were in the cupboard and I had one leg on an upturned bin and my cock in her arse," Ron babbled before finishing another pint and setting up yet another.

Harry's eyes widened and a few men who had been paying attention to the game tried not to look at them out of the corners of their eyes. But they totally were. "I don't really need that kind of detail."

"Seriously! You wouldn't believe the dirty things that came out of Luna's mouth! She told me she was a 'dirty cunting slut' and that she wanted 'daddy' to fuck her 'raw.' Half of it didn't even make sense!" said Ron. He looked happier with that memory than he had all night, though. "Anyway, gave her my wrong address so tell her I move around a lot. Bit of a deviant, that one. Not sure I want her just showing up."

All of that information, all of it at once, and none of it was anything Harry ever in a million years wanted to know. He didn't know what it was he did want to know, so he wondered why he'd even asked. Next time he wouldn't. He said that all of the time.

"I'll be sure to not let her know you live, or where you live," said Harry, pushing his glasses. He'd had about enough of all of this. He felt horrid for Hermione, but almost worse for Ron, but it was Luna who was getting the bad end of this, although it sounded like she'd enjoyed it, so maybe it was just a wash.

"What about Malfoy?" asked Ron.

Harry wished Ron would remain disinterested in the situation. "What about him?"

"True love? Going to move in?" asked Ron.

It was Harry's turn to pour a full pint. "Draco's elected to remain in his own flat, finding that it would be putting too much pressure on our relationship to go on living together."

"..." said Ron. He gaped at Harry like he didn't believe what he was hearing.

Sighing, Harry said, "I know, right? But I have this theory that... he thinks he's protecting me from all of the fall out with what happened in Japan."

"I still can't believe that after saving their country and preserving their way of life, the Japanese would still treat it like an International Incident. I thought Malfoy was a shoe-in for the Order of Merlin," said Ron. His eyes averted a moment to check the Quidditch World Cup score.

Harry knew that Ron didn't care that much about the score; after all, the Chudley Cannons-- after a promising season-- weren't playing. He guessed that Ron just didn't want to look at Harry in his misery. It was hard to fault him for that. "Yeah. But really, it wasn't exactly the government Japan would've had for itself had it not been for the intervention of Allied forces."

Ron eyed Harry. "Look at who's been paying attention in history class." Smirking, Ron took another sip of his pint.

Blushing, Harry shrugged and ducked his head. "In any case, I think the Japanese Ministry of Magic were more irked that Draco overshot the sticking charm on an ancient holy relic and it's going to forever be labeled 'Made in China.'"

"Cheers to that," said Ron. He grinned sympathetically and Harry took another long, hard swallow off his pint. "At least they have it."

"And at least Malfoy still has his job." Harry wasn't sure if that fact made him happy or sad, because while he was pleased Draco would continue to be an Auror, it did give Draco a legitimate reason to keep his distance.

He was about to admit this to Ron when an announcer cut in over the Quidditch World Cup. "We cut into the broadcast of the Quidditch World Cup in order to bring you this pressing news: Barty Crouch, Jr.-- best known for his villainy with the Death Eaters and tampering with the Triwizard Tournament-- has escaped from Azkaban. Anyone who comes across Crouch is warned to keep their distance and to file a report to the Ministry at once. We repeat: Barty Crouch, Jr. is currently at large in London. We now return you to your scheduled programme."

"What? What's a soulless wraith going to do--" Ron started.

"We should head to the Mini--" Harry said at the same time. Their wands vibrated, summoning them to the Ministry.

Short of breath, Harry worried for what Crouch might do while he was on the loose, but on top of all of that, his heart was hammering over the opportunity to see Draco again.

"Soberus!" said Ron, casting it on himself before repeating it to cast on Harry-- a gentlemanly way of handling it, since a drunken wizard was often likely to hex rather than heal.

"Looks like they're playing our song," said Harry, pleased that Ron was summoned also. "Shall we?"

Off their stools with a few Galleons plunked down on the bar, Harry and Ron were in the Ministry within minutes.

--

"Yes, Barty Crouch, Jr. is on the loose in London," said Kingsley, standing at a podium in front of all of the Aurors at his disposal, "but no, he is not an imminent threat. He has no soul, so he's just wandering around in a daze, and as far as anyone knows, he is unarmed."

"Soulless and wandering around in a daze?" asked Draco. He was sitting in the second row, a few seats from Harry. He'd glanced at Harry once or twice with an inscrutable expression before the meeting started. Now he wasn't looking at Harry at all. "How will we tell him from Muggles?"

The rest of the Aurors tittered but Harry didn't. He wasn't entirely sure Draco was joking. If he weren't already angry with him for bailing after telling Harry he loved him, he'd hate him for that.

"Settle down," said Kingsley. It was obvious he was at wit's end. His pate glittered in refracted light from the beads of sweat and he fidgeted, shifting from foot to foot. Kingsley was normally so calm and cool, but Harry knew there was a lot of pressure on him since he'd made the decision to accept Draco in the first place.

Having the Wizarding world breathing down his neck over an escaped convict couldn't have helped.

Harry sat up straighter and hoped to get the meeting back in order. The best thing to do was to start from the top. "How did he escape?"

"Good question," Kingsley commended. "He'd been sent to St. Mungo's for a check-up and managed to just wander off. St. Mungo's has been thoroughly searched as well as the surrounding area. We're not ruling out that someone might've seen him and taken him home. He could be alive and at large, or some private citizen might've served up their own justice."

Would serve him right, Harry thought. The expressions on the other Aurors' faces bore out his conviction.

"Or maybe a Death Eater sympathizer took him in," Draco volunteered.

"Like you?" snapped Jugson, another fresh Auror from Harry's class. He was the son of a Death Eater, and always overcompensated by being the first to trash Death Eaters, and Draco when he could get away with it.

Normally, this would mildly peeve Harry, but today, he just wanted Draco to squirm.

Draco lifted his chin defiantly, pulling up to his full height as he puffed up his chest. "I did more than sympathize," he shot back.

The other Aurors murmured to themselves and Harry was left to wonder what would posses Draco to say that. Especially now that his job was on the line, it seemed obnoxious and stupid, but then, that was just how Harry remembered him from school.

"All right, pay attention, people," said Kingsley. His expression was almost wounded as he eyed Draco.

Chastened by the look, Draco flopped against his chair with his arms and legs crossed, looking petulant and spoiled. It was Hogwarts all over again.

"I don't need to tell you what kind of panic this has struck in the hearts and minds of the Wizarding world, so I'm putting all of you on this case. We need him accounted for and locked up as soon as possible. I've assigned you all segments of London to patrol. Keep your eyes and ears open. We'll track his magical signature, but I can't imagine that he'd remember spells even if he managed to get a wand."

Turning towards the meta-screen behind him, Kingsley pointed at the labeled map and then turned back to the crowd. "There are packets with information about Crouch and where his old haunts were, as well as the most recent picture we have of him. Pick one up on your way out. Good luck."

Harry was disappointed there wouldn't be partners assigned, but there was so much area to cover, and Barty wasn't really a threat, so he understood. When he opened his file, he saw a pale shadow of the Barty Crouch, Jr. that he'd seen fourth year-- and considering the state he was in when he saw him then, that was saying a lot. His cheeks were even more sunken in and his eyes vague, black holes staring with horror at the camera. He looked haunted and terrified.

Some big threat.

He was perusing the list of where Barty's known hang-outs once were, noting that most of them had gone by the wayside long ago when he smelled a hint of Draco's cologne. His pulse was racing and he was about to indulge himself in another look at Draco when he felt a familiar hand on his elbow.

"I think we should work together on this," said Draco, once he'd pulled Harry aside into his cubicle.

All Harry could think, aside from it's so nice to have you touch me again was, so I'm good enough to work with, but not to live with. Then, he consulted the map that had been enclosed in the packet to see where he and Draco were to go. "We're patrolling opposite ends of London, Malfoy."

For the merest of moments, Draco looked wounded at being called Malfoy and Harry felt a small triumph at his pain. "Sod that. I've a better idea, Potter," Draco shot back. "But we can't talk about it here. Come with me."

I'd follow you anywhere.

Harry hated his weakness when he should be telling Draco to sod off with his schemes. It probably wasn't even that Draco wanted to spend time with Harry, but that he wanted to get back into the Ministry's good graces by solving the case quickly. The notion crushed Harry. "No."

"What d'you mean 'no'?" asked Draco in a tone that suggested that he wasn't used to hearing that word.

As much as Harry wanted to feel victory in that, he was getting wrung out on his own chaotic emotions. "I mean 'I'm not going anywhere with you, you... non-flat-liver!" Not his best insult to date. Very possibly his worst, but he was rather strung out.

Draco blinked slowly and furrowed his brows. "It's not like I dumped you. I just don't think we should live together. The Ministry already..."

"The Ministry knows we're together, Malfoy! It was in the Daily Prophet. Our friends know it, the other Aurors know it, dogs can scent it out on us. Everyone seems to know that we belong together but you!" Harry all but shouted.

The bullpen got very, very quiet.

Harry blushed crimson.

He hated Draco for not having the decency to blush with him.

After tapping his finger to his own lips, Draco grabbed Harry by the back of the neck to pull him into a deep, hard kiss-- the sort that leave you breathless, curl your toes, and slash writers eventually run out of interesting physical reactions to show off its supreme awesomeness (particularly at 5 a.m.)

Before Harry could protest, or catch his breath, Draco grabbed his arm and steered him to one of the old courtrooms to chat.

--

Standing in the middle of the old courtroom gave Harry chills. Remembering sitting in the middle of the room, young and scared after a summer of being ignored by his friends and Dumbledore only to have him show up, testify on his behalf and tell him the truth about Figg did not improve his mood.

"Malfoy, if you don't want to live with me, then I don't want to work with you. Besides, we're on opposite ends of..." Harry started. His dialogue was broken off by Draco pushing him up against the stone walls and kissing him again. Damn him for shutting him up this way.

Damn him that it worked.

"Listen to me," said Draco, still pressing Harry against the wall. Harry was already hard from the contact and then Draco was right there, his angelic face right in front of him. Now that Harry looked at him-- really looked at him-- he saw the dark circles under his eyes, the cracks in Draco's facade of being all right.

All of Harry's resentment fell away as he realized just how stressed Draco was. No matter how much Harry wanted him to live with him, seeing Draco like this was more than he could bear. All he wanted now was to hold him, touch him, tell him it would be all right and fix things for him.

"I'm listening," said Harry. He pushed Draco's hair from his face, sighing and resigning himself to at least hearing him out.

"All right. Fair point that the Ministry knows about us, but my solicitor says that I do need to cool it somewhat with you, not to give them further cause to fire me unless I do want to be out of a job. I took this job initially for protection, I'll admit that. But Harry, I like working here. I love investigating crimes, getting into messes, using my wits to bail me back out of it. I see why you enjoy the hero thing so much," said Draco.

His breath was warm and soothing on Harry's face-- just the hint of white tea, so sugary sweet. Harry wanted to kiss him again but was fairly certain that wouldn't be welcome at this juncture. "Hero thing. It's not... it's a 'saving people thing' and anyway... fine. I get that, I guess. But if we work together, how does that..."

"I have an idea... and I need you there in case anything goes wrong. I guess I could get Weasley or Tonks to help but..." Draco trailed off and gazed at Harry and Harry blushed, hoping that he was reading what Draco was trying to say correctly.

"You like working with me the best?" asked Harry.

Draco nodded. "I've trusted you with my life and would do so again. I don't think this will come to that, but if it does, I'll need you there. Besides, if it works and we're credited together, the Ministry would be hard-pressed to spin it that our relationship gets in the way of anything."

"Unless it goes poorly," Harry pointed out. It felt so good to be touching Draco, though, he was pretty sure he'd agree to just about anything.

"It won't," said Draco. He took a step back and started rolling up his left sleeve.

The Dark Marks had vanished when Voldemort had died, or so Harry had thought. He hadn't specifically looked for Draco's but he figured it would stand out on his fish belly white arm. It didn't, until Draco pressed his wand to it.

Then the horrifying symbol that had so haunted his thoughts and dreams through most of his adolescence stirred on Draco's arm and a snake wove its familiar pattern over Draco's forearm up into the skull and slid out again between its teeth. It reminded Harry of so many horrid things, tragic things that had gone on between him and Draco, particularly sixth year. He remained silent.

Draco didn't look up at him. "I think you've probably seen a Calling before, if what my father told me was true."

Harry wondered what kind of father talked to his son about Death Eater meetings in which someone your age was killed whilst another waited to be ruthlessly murdered, but then, Harry never liked Lucius Malfoy. "Where the Death Eaters were summoned? I thought only Voldemort could do that."

Though Draco's breath halted at the name, he didn't flinch or comment. "Only the Dark Lord had the power to summon people with it at the time. It was his mark, but it is a mark that connects us all to an extent. Anyone with sufficient power could do a Calling."

"And you've a load of power now," Harry said, completing the thought. "But won't it pull all the Death Eaters to you? Would it pull them out of Azkaban?"

Draco laughed nervously and shifted his weight. "That's where having you around would be um... helpful. But no, they couldn't be pulled out of Azkaban. If it were that easy, the Dark Lord would've just summoned all of his loonies out of Azkaban when he first returned. There are wards that prevent it."

"Right," said Harry, exhaling and pleased that he wasn't going to have to round up all of the Death Eaters again. He wasn't sure he had it in him to start all over with bringing them in. It was grueling enough the first time.

"But the Dark Lord could also summon individuals. I believe it was just a matter of concentration. Surely calling Barty Crouch, Jr., who would have no defenses to this anyway, should be a snap," said Draco as he pushed his sleeve back down.

"Unless it all goes wrong," Harry pointed out, shoving his hands into his pockets. The firelight from the torches lit up Draco's hair again and all Harry really wanted to do was to snog and think about how Draco said he hadn't dumped him.

But there was business to attend to. An addled Death Eater on the loose.

"Yeah. There's that. I don't think it will, though," said Draco.

"Great, then... summon him here?" asked Harry. It would be brilliant justice, Harry thought, not that Crouch would likely appreciate it, but one could dream.

"Can't. Wards." Draco pointed around the courtroom as if it were the only room sealed off from interference.

"Where then?" asked Harry.

For a moment, Draco looked indecisive and Harry wondered how much thought Draco had put into this plan. Then again, they'd all just heard about it. It wasn't as if everyone had loads of time to sort things out. "My flat. I'll take down the wards and we'll get him bundled up for the Ministry. C'mon."

What else could he do, but comply?

--

For reasons all his own, Draco had decided that his practice room would be the best for summoning Crouch to his flat. He said it was the room with the most cleared out space, which was fair enough considering the couch and the coffee table in the main room and the way that his bed took up most of his bedroom, but the Japanese weaponry on the side wall seemed like an unnecessary danger.

While Draco took down the multitude of wards on his flat, Harry busied himself with setting up repelling charms on the wall of blades. Behind the teak wall mounts that held several expensive and lethal katanas was a gold-leaf patina of paint that brightened the room with its subtle reflection. The wooden shades were drawn tight against the night, aided by magic to keep anyone from the outside peering in. Harry imagined those wards never came down.

Opposite the windows was a long line of floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Along with the hardwood floor, the room appeared set up for a dancer but for the mutilated dummies and swords about. It was a nice set-up as far as Harry was concerned, but he was pretty sure he could emulate a room like this in Grimmauld. It was definitely big enough. Draco could easily practice in the attic while Harry fussed about and...

No. Draco said he didn't want to move in and Harry reminded himself that he had to accept that. Still, with each charm he cast, he couldn't help pining for Draco to move back in, to make it permanent this time. He sighed wistfully as he heard Draco pad back into the room.

Whatever spells he'd had to undo had left Draco dewy with perspiration; his face glistened under the upright lighting, making him appear golden, even in contrast to his starkly black robes. In those robes, Harry could really see Draco as a dark wizard, could see his fascination being piqued and his curiosity and abilities overwhelming his sense of right and wrong. Now he really could see Draco as a member of the Death Eaters.

As such, he wasn't surprised when Draco pulled up his sleeve and tapped his wand to the blank spot on his forearm and the deadly snake wove its way through the skull.

"I know you've seen this before," said Draco. His tone bordered on harsh, but when Harry looked at him, his expression appeared apprehensive.

"What, the mark? Yeah. I've seen it. Just..." Harry slid his finger over the mark. It was warm when he'd somehow thought it would feel like ice-- like the coldness he saw in those merciless red eyes before he'd put Voldemort down. Instead, it was warm, pliant and soft like skin. Like Draco's skin. It was an unavoidable part of who Draco Malfoy was, even if Harry tried to ignore it most of the time.

"It's not who I am. It never really was me, you know?" said Draco. His wand was unsteady over the mark as he stared at Harry.

Harry maintained eye contact and nodded. "Yeah. I know. But your family..."

"My family, yes. It's what I grew up with, what was supposed to have defined me, but it didn't. Not in the end. Now I really don't know what defines me or who I am. I want to--" Draco started. Then he faltered, staring down at Harry's fingers caressing his mark.

Something about it felt incredibly intimate. It was as if there were something extraordinarily private about Draco's mark and now Harry wasn't just seeing it, but touching it. "Want to what?"

"I want to figure out who I am before I let something else define me."

The phrase gutted Harry. All he could do was to stare at Draco's mark and blink, his breath short. "So you're... breaking up with me? You said you loved me."

"No, I mean, do you want to break up? That wasn't... I just thought living together was too much. I still want to... are you wanting to break up?" asked Draco. His eyes were wide and paranoid and no small amount of hurt. Harry knew that look intimately.

He felt guilty for his schadenfreude, but after fretting so much about what Draco not moving in might mean because Draco didn't give him a straight answer, he didn't worry about it so much. "No," said Harry, "I don't. I don't think that you're defined by where you live, but if this is what you want, we can work it out."

Draco looked immensely relieved and took Harry's hand from his forearm to kiss his fingertips. "Working it out sounds good."

"So. Right." Harry fought his beaming smile, because it wasn't really appropriate for the work they were about to do. It still crept out onto his face, the irrepressible little bugger. "Crouch, then?"

"Quite," said Draco. He dropped Harry's hand and moved his wand back from the crook of his thumb into proper swishing position.

"Should I stand back?" asked Harry, pulling his wand, ready to hex Crouch. He hadn't seen him since fourth year and was a little nervous as to how the reunion would go. Memory versus soul was something he'd never considered before. Would Crouch remember him? Would he know what to think if he did?

"No, I don't think you need to, unless you just want to. You might be too close, although I don't think I can control where someone appears when they're summoned. Maybe either really close or against a wall.

Harry opted to stay near Draco, pressing against him from behind as he looked over Draco's shoulder to the mark.

Draco sagged against him for a moment before swishing and flicking over his forearm. His wand vibrated and Harry felt a little unsteady. There was some powerful dark magic at work, likely bound by blood in some ancient ritual or another. Harry could never explain how he knew things like that. Sometimes he just did. It was almost as if he could smell the taint of blood on the air.

Ultimately, the smell dissipated and Draco rested against Harry. "I think you this close is probably distracting me," he said, turning around to hug and kiss Harry tenderly, brushing his fingers through Harry's hair, eyes darting over his face to read his expression.

"All right. I'll go over by the wall, then," said Harry. He squeezed Draco one last time before standing against the blank far wall that was painted only in the smattering of gold. Distracting-- that was a good word for the wood he'd been sporting since Draco showed up looking like a hot Death Eater stud.

He must've been frotting Draco's back. It wasn't very professional, but then, Harry and rules often didn't mix.

This time when Draco tried the summoning, Harry sensed even less magic reaching out. He could feel the magnetism (which he attributed to his scar), so he'd no doubts that Draco was doing it correctly. "It could be that Crouch is just too far away? We've no idea where he went. Or maybe he's dead?"

"No, he's not dead. I can feel him. I just can't seem to muster the power I need to bring him in," said Draco. He pocketed his wand and rubbed his temple in slow circles.

"So you can feel him, but can't bring him in? I thought you had all of these superpowers?" Harry sauntered closer to Draco, feeling an electric charge just by being near him. He could get addicted to this.

"I have powers, yes, but I'm not exactly the Dark Lord, you know?" said Draco, whose mood started to border on frustration.

"Right. I didn't mean... is there anything I can do?" The more Harry thought about it, the more he started to suspect that Draco thought this might happen. Draco didn't appear particularly surprised that Crouch hadn't shown up.

Given what had happened in their past assignments, Harry wasn't altogether surprised to hear Draco say, "Our power generally seems stronger when we're... together."

Flicking back his hair, Draco was obviously trying to look superior, but Harry could tell he wanted it. Wanted him.

"Joined together? I don't know, aren't you afraid that doing something like that with me will start to 'define you'?" Harry was being a prat, but he couldn't help taking the piss, particularly when it was offered to him.

"Oh hush," said Draco, slightly red-faced. "It's part of the job. We have to do it to protect society."

Harry wasn't fond of remembering the last time they'd had to do it, with Theodore Nott keeping his beady little eye on Draco the whole time they shagged and then coming in his hair. "Your arse does a lot for society."

"It does what it can to keep the public safe," Draco quipped. "I'd say we could hold hands and try again, but I think we'd both rather shag anyway."

After a quick sporfle of surprise, Harry had to agree, that honestly, he didn't care if just holding hands worked. It had been far too long between shags for him to want to spend much time debating the ins and outs of it. An internal monologue pun! Harry thought about sharing it, but Draco was eye-fucking him and he didn't want to lose the moment. Trying to sound calm, he said, "Yeah, all right."

Harry eyed the mirrors, thinking it would be nice to watch himself fucking Draco. Absently, he wondered if that wasn't why Draco had chosen this room for the ceremony, but then, Draco was often such a slave to creature comforts, it was hard to imagine that what he really wanted was a shag on the hardwood floor.

Staring at the floor for a moment, movement caught Harry's eye in the mirror at first, then he looked at Draco, who was stripping slowly, sensually pulling his buttons through the silken holes, wriggling his shoulders to get them through the robes so that his magnificently flawless skin shone in the golden reflective glow in the room. With so many reflections, it was hard to find a distinct light source, which lit Draco's body perfectly.

It had been a long time since he'd really had a chance to stop and admire Draco's body. He thought about when Draco had performed-- practiced yoga in front of him, the way his lithe body twisted in sinewy elegance. Now he was folding his clothes, setting them beside the mirror and standing before it, cock out, pink, glistening and straight, pale curls trimmed short around the base.

The pose seemed familiar to Draco. Of course he was the sort of man who would toss off staring at himself, looking for flaws, enjoying the fact that he didn't think he had any. There was something else in Draco's eyes as he looked at Harry in the mirror. Draco braced his wand hand against the wall as he stroked himself with the other. Jutting his arse out, he widened his stance, opening up for Harry.

By now, Harry had started to carry a tube of lubricant, 'just in case' of emergencies such as this. He liked the magical lubricant just fine, but he thought having his own showed a certain preparedness and a want, and maybe, just maybe, he thought Draco might catch him with it and question why Harry started to carry it. After the whole living together debacle, Harry couldn't help but sometimes want Draco to feel those moments of immobilizing doubt.

This wasn't the moment Harry wanted Draco to experience that particular emotion. Right now, what he wanted to communicate was how much he wanted Draco, how much he needed him, and how good he could make him feel.

Draco's eyes widened when Harry knelt down behind him. He started by kissing over Draco's perfect, rosy little bum, nibbling under the curve of it as he undressed himself. He bit one cheek as he shrugged out of his top and the other as he kicked out of his bottoms.

Moaning, Draco's head pressed against his forearm against the mirror, his erratic breath misted a small portion of the glass, fading slightly before another balmy breath blossomed another patch of humidity.

Once Harry was out of his clothes, he devoured Draco's arse. He dragged his teeth over the waxy skin, sucking and teasing around the hole. He loved the feel of the sheltered skin under his tongue, loved the twitches and contractions around the very tip of his tongue and mostly, he loved how completely incoherent Draco had become.

Harry had both hands on Draco's hips as he ate his arse out, ducking his tongue in and out of his dirty hole like he was lapping the last of an ice cream cone, stabbing his tongue in and out, lapping around the ring. He suctioned his lips around the hole, kneading and teasing it as he sucked whatever skin he could reach.

Draco was babbling like a Pentecostal, his hand balled into a tight fist around his wand. Harry hoped that his prick wasn't suffering the same fate. Now Draco was sinking, losing his legs out from under him in a slow, wanton fall to his knees. Harry tried to guide him down as carefully as he could, kissing up Draco's spine when he touched down.

Replacing his tongue with his fingers, Harry finger fucked him, taking his time since they seemed to have some. He was mesmerized by the way his fingers moved in and out of Draco, even more amazed at how sexy Draco was on all fours, how needy he sounded and how lost in the sensations he was.

The reflection of Draco's face showed an expression of utter bliss. Harry pulled his cock slowly at first, watching the way that each little shift, each adjustment of where his thumb went-- dipping into the slit versus sliding it over, the way he moved his fingers in a thrumming motion-- how each little change seemed to trigger another expression on Draco's face.

Harry had enough trust in Draco to know that he would cast the spell when the time was right, but he was a little anxious with how into it Draco was. He supposed he could gently remind him before they came-- provided he wasn't too into it himself by then.

"Are you ready?" asked Harry, not sure if he meant to be fucked or if he meant to cast the spell.

"Yeah. Fuck me hard," said Draco.

Harry caught a glimpse of Draco's blush before his head lolled forward to hide it. He lined up with Draco's wet hole. Harry could still taste the intensely bitter tang of Draco in his mouth, but was thrilled with how dirty he'd been, and how into the dirtiness Draco was.

With a decisive thrust, Harry sliced through him. Draco's back arched and his breath caught with how fast and how deeply Harry had entered him. Harry hadn't done it to be mean, he'd done it-- he didn't know why he had, but Draco seemed to like it as he was pressing his forehead into the glass mirror wall as leverage to push back against Harry.

Taking that as a cue, Harry fucked him harder, slamming in and out of him so deeply and with such force, that it almost hurt Harry to do it. Their bodies clapped and slapped together. He came all of the way out only to move all the way in, missing a few times in his excitement to let it all go and just take Draco.

That was what fuck me hard would get you.

Judging by Draco's loud, joyful moans and the way he thrust back, it was exactly what Draco wanted.

He wanted to make Draco promise he would live with him, that they would be together and that it would be forever, but he knew it was too much to ask from this encounter. He'd have to get him again, the next time on Harry's terms. Then he would have to prove to him that this wasn't just best practices of the Auror trade, but that they really were made for each other, that he really was Draco's true love and not even the Ministry stood a chance against that.

At least, he hoped not.

He pulled Draco's cock, eventually grabbing Draco across the chest to yank him up so that Harry could watch himself jerk Draco off whilst he was fucking him. They both looked weary, sparkling with sweat, expressions concentrated and blissful. He loved Draco. Loved him with all of his heart and all of his soul in ways that pained him to think about when the notion of not having Draco came up. He held Draco against him, still slapping into him, with an edge of possessiveness.

Draco was his, damnit. His. They were each other's firsts; they were able to break that curse together. The universe owed him this much after his childhood. After how he grew up, after all he'd been through with Draco. "Mine," Harry said, clutching Draco tightly.

"Yours," Draco responded before crying out his release into Harry's hand. When Harry looked at him, he saw Draco mouthing words, his wand pressed shakily against his outstretched arm.

Harry hadn't felt the spark that made his eyes cross and his body quiver in response until it was too late. Somewhere between seeing Draco's come spatter on the mirror and over his hand and the sudden, overwhelming calling spell, which spoke directly to his prick. All of it summoned his release deep inside of Draco, his grunting and gasping breaths, and the hard bite on the back of Draco's neck.

There was a blindingly white flash and they were not alone.

A skeletal older-looking man with wild eyes and a twitchy demeanor appeared in a swirl of yellow magic, deposited right behind them.

"Time for the orgies is it? I don't know if I like orgies. I'm not sure I remember them," Barty said, his voice stuttery and confused. "But I do like sherbet. D'you kind gentle... is this time for the orgies, is it?"

In an instant, Draco said, "Stupefy" and then added, "Not that I think he needs it. Addled, that one. Not sure how much more stupid-fied he was going to get."

Only then did Harry consider the drawbacks of having criminals show up whilst you were buggering your partner. They'd always just sort of been there, hadn't they? But it appeared there was no harm done, so it couldn't have been too bad.

He grabbed his robe and pulled it on quickly as Draco did the same, pausing to tend to cleaning the come dribbling down his thighs before he dressed again.

"Malfoy," said Harry, an amused smirk on his face.

"Yeah?" asked Draco as he put his wand away, his hot pink violated arse clean. Harry'd enjoyed the view of Draco's leg up while he cast the spell, seeing that little hole stretched wider. Stretched because of him.

"I thought you said there were no Death Eater orgies," said Harry. He looked down at the older man who looked more like he was going to stagger about demanding brains than anything else. How could Barty Crouch, Jr. have caused so much fear and pain? At his worst, he was just a man. Now he was barely even that.

"There weren't any in the Death Eaters, but some Slytherin have them, if they've... whatever. From what I've heard, Barty was a bit of a "househole," if you know what I mean," said Draco, straightening up as he pulled his clothes on.

"Househole? Who thinks of those kinds of words? That's just demented," said Harry, disapproving even more of Slytherin, if that was even possible.

Draco shrugged. "It was optional. Obviously I never participated. Thought it was cheap. Anyway, shall we run him in? I'll make sure you get full credit for... being here when I found him."

"Found him? You summoned him. You have to tell them that in your reports," said Harry, thinking about The Rules-- not that he ever put much stock in them, but he thought Draco did.

"No. I told you, we can't tell anyone. No one can know about how we did this," said Draco, looking a little disturbed.

Legilimancy could've been the cause for Draco's cottoning on to what was likely to be said or maybe Harry's suddenly sinister expression as he realized what he had. "Move in with me, or I'll tell the Ministry."

"Potter, I'm not moving in with you under pretense of blackmail. You wouldn't like that, you'd always doubt why I was there," said Draco with the forbearance of a father who thinks it's sort of cute that his son has figured out manipulation.

"A date, then?" asked Harry.

Smiling, Draco nodded. "All right, then. A date it is. Just the two of us. I think we should likely get Crouch back home, yeah?"

Draco flourished his wand to mobilize the body and waited for Harry to finish dressing to open the door.

"Yeah. Back to the Ministry, save the world from is impending doom again; have a press conference and then dinner?" asked Harry as Draco and Crouch moved through the door and towards the flat's Floo.

"Sounds like a late dinner, around ten, then?" asked Draco as he picked up a handful of Floo powder.

"It's a date," said Harry. He watched Draco and Crouch vanish into emerald flame and felt warmth growing in his chest. A date. A chance. He could win Draco over, he just knew it. It would just have to be the most perfect date ever.

No pressure or anything.

After a sigh and a quick look around Draco's flat, he cast a rudimentary ward he knew Draco could easily break if he needed to. It was better than nothing. He hoped he'd see this place again soon.

Wishes made, he grabbed his handful of Floo powered and tossed it into the Floo and said, "Ministry of Magic." This arrest was going to be a lot of paperwork, but he had a lot to look forward to. A date.