Gay Aurors

"What are they, Wonder Twins? Gundam Wing? Transformers?" Theodore Nott asked of the darkly wooden room filled with nothing but magical shiny machines rattling and jingling of their own accord. He scrubbed his eyes and then glared at the images before him-- Harry and Draco gathering themselves back together while Barty Crouch, Jr. drooled in the middle of the room looking confused.

"Every time! They get into a scrape of some sort and sex seems to sort them out every time!" Theo railed against the notion, shaking his fist to the sky and through the smoke-like screen in which Harry and Draco were batting their eyes at one another, trading quips. Being in the information business didn't necessarily make Theo an expert on Muggle cartoons, but he'd watched enough through the spy stones he'd set in the many properties he owned around London to make analogies like nobody's business.

One of Theo's pet projects, a mechanical Thestral made of leather and shiny black metal rolled over, sensing Theo's despair. "It's like there's some sort of enchantment on Potter's prick that makes Draco bend over for him. And Draco's arse is like the conduit for this magic to be set free! It's fooled Draco into thinking that it's love, but it's not, it couldn't be! Why would he be with that otherwise useless git?"

The Thestral nudged its metal head at Theo's hand and Theo patted it a little too hard. The head dislodged from its body and was left dangling limply from the decorative leather.

"Oh, Cassie. Oh dear, what have I done to you?" For a moment, Theo looked incredibly sad, sliding his fingers over Cassie and sighed. Pulling his goggles down from where they'd been holding his floppy brown fringe from his forehead, he tinkered with the neck, pulling out his wand as he whispered enchantments.

Abruptly, he stopped and sat back, looking at the wounded toy in a more calculating manner. Then he stood up and beamed.

"Oh Cassie! You're brilliant! Truly brilliant! I love you, Cassie!" he enthused before hugging the flaccid machine. "Brilliant," he reiterated as he raced out of the room to his library.

--

In spite of their promise of a date that night, it turned out there was far more to do after their dramatic arrest than go out. Instead of any sort of romance, they ate cold kebabs at their desks and traded lust-laden innuendoes until it was far too late to remain awake and then went to their respective homes.

Harry decided that the best way to deal with this Draco situation was to pretend as if they were just starting out-- as if Draco was someone he'd just met and found interesting and not someone he'd been shagging on the job for the better part of a year. This was a little difficult to wrap his head around, but if Draco was going to send them back to square one, he would need to play it like that. So, he decided to wait a good three days before contacting Draco about the where and when of their first date.

That was where the trouble started.

The first day went fine. They'd finished their paperwork quietly, giving the matter of Barty Crouch, Jr. all due respect to their superiors and the press. Harry let Draco tell the story of how they cornered him in a dark alleyway, how Crouch had shown up in Harry's patrol sector and that he'd summoned Draco to help him since they worked together so well.

Harry let it go that he certainly wouldn't have needed help capturing a drooling, soulless man because Draco seemed so pleased with himself explaining this, and truth be told, he wouldn't have had the first idea of how to capture Crouch without him. Draco's story also seemed to be pushing hard for them to remain partners, which Harry very much liked. He didn't care to be portrayed quite as helpless as Draco described, but in the end, he figured Draco knew what he was doing (or hoped so, anyway) and just let it happen.

By day three, Harry had decided to take Draco to Charmings-- an upscale Wizarding restaurant that went unmarked and mostly unfound in Diagon Alley, made visible only to those of the purest of blood or the most famous or powerful. Harry had never been there, finding the way they did business objectionable, but he thought it might really make an impression on Draco, so he figured he could bend the rules about it a little. He'd just never, ever tell Ron he went there.

That morning before work, he decided in the shower that it might take the edge off to rub one out. He gripped his dripping cock in the same way he always did, tugged and pulled, fondling his balls as the warm water spattered over his face. He thought about Draco, how hot and tight he was around him, the noises he made, the way he smelled... almost like he was perfumed with a light powdery scent. How he tasted salty sweet, how he looked with livid bite marks on his shoulder and neck when Harry got carried away.

Under normal circumstances, by now he'd be warring with himself as to whether he wanted to draw this out by sliding a finger inside of himself or just let it go, but instead, he was getting nothing. Not even a twitch from his cock. He was flaccid, limp, rubbery meat in his hand.

Though Harry had never had this problem before, he wasn't terribly concerned. He figured it was just the stress of having to sing for his supper with Draco. It could be off-putting, right?

Still, that he hadn't been able to perform ate at him during the day and he decided to put off asking Draco out until he knew exactly what the source of the stress was. He wasn't exactly a teenager anymore, but he wasn't so old that this should be a problem, especially not when Draco was traipsing around in very fitted robes and kept finding excuses to bend over around him. At least, Harry liked to think that Draco was doing it on purpose.

The next day, after another foiled attempt at masturbatory pleasure, Harry decided it must be Charmings that was causing his lack of erection. Clearly, that place was far too much pressure, and having to hide it from Ron and Hermione (if she even remembered what it was) was going to be more than he could handle, if his uncooperative prick was any indication. So he cancelled the reservations and decided that maybe he should wing it. He could have Draco over and cook for him if he couldn't find anywhere better.

With the reservations cancelled, Harry had nothing to blame when the next day he still couldn't get it up. He took lunch with Ron, fiddling with his chips trying to think of a way to ask Ron if he'd ever had this problem as Ron reviewed his sexual exploits with Luna, who still didn't know where he lived, but he thought was good enough to shag anyway. By the end of lunch, Harry wasn't merely angry with not being able to achieve an erection, but he was about ready to strangle Ron for the way he talked about Luna.

He decided then and there that he didn't much care what Ron thought of Charmings and he would make a new reservation to take Draco there, because he knew Draco would like it and if Ron said a word about it, he'd tell him off over Luna.

There.

Settled.

Except, he still couldn't get it up and he hadn't actually asked Draco to go anywhere with him other than to help him with an Acromantula that had crawled up through a Muggle drainpipe into someone's house. Muggles didn't enjoy spiders in general, let alone semi-sentient spiders that told them off when they tried to hit them with a shoe.

It left them both in the office alone late on a Friday night. Every time Harry looked up from his paperwork, Draco gave him an expectant look before shrouding it with a cocky smirk, as if he knew this was the moment he'd been waiting for and that Harry was going to invite him somewhere. Instead, Harry looked back down at his paperwork and cleared his throat.

How could he possibly go on a date with Draco and not get hard? It would be worse than not asking him out. It would be a full out catastrophe to have waited this long and then behave as if Draco didn't excite him anymore. He could only imagine how Draco would take that.

"Potter," said Draco. He'd started over-enunciating the "p" in Harry's last name again. It wasn't a good sign, but Harry wasn't entirely sure what to do about it.

"Malfoy," said Harry as he signed his name on the last bit of parchment and then blew over it. Maybe he could just ask him out for the next weekend and see about something to get him hard at the Apothecary. Then again, he could only imagine what rumors that would start. Maybe Ron would get it for him. No. Ron would never. Besides, then he'd have to tell Ron and he really couldn't do that. Ron had become a walking erection again-- he wouldn't understand what was happening to Harry. Not that Harry understood it, either.

Draco had moved over to him and leaned his hip against the edge of Harry's desk. Harry looked up at him, his beautiful porcelain face, grey eyes, and wisps of hair dangling around his face. He looked tormented and for a guilty moment, Harry took great satisfaction that for once, Draco was the one experiencing the anxiety of doubt about where things were headed. At least, that's what he thought Draco was thinking about. He was always so difficult to read.

"I was just about to go. Want to join me at the pub for a drink?" asked Draco.

If Harry didn't know Draco so well by now, he would've thought the question sounded casual, but there was a slight tremor in his voice and a flicker of tension behind his eyes.

Harry found himself looking at the detailed ornamentation of a unicorn and a phoenix racing around on the buttons at the front of Draco's robes rather than his face. He felt pale and weak and chastened that Draco had been the one to ask him out first. It was so casual. Just go out to the pub. Have a drink or two. Or five. Relax. If he could just relax enough, maybe he could get hard.

Or maybe he wouldn't.

"I don't know. I have so much paperwork to do," said Harry.

Draco's eyes narrowed at Harry's signature at the bottom of the report and Harry felt like he was going to be ill at the way Draco's face hardened.

"Right. Fine. Well, I'll see you around, Potter," he said.

"Draco, wait," said Harry. He stood so quickly he almost unsettled his chair.

But Draco was already turned on his heel and walking away. "Malfoy. My name is Malfoy, Potter."

It felt as if Draco had hooks in Harry's heart and was towing it away with each step he took towards the door. Harry couldn't breathe.

He shouldn't follow. He really shouldn't. He should let Draco weather this storm on his own. He should sort things out on his end and then talk to Draco about it, explain later.

But then, he was Harry Potter and he couldn't just leave it at that.

Harry raced after Draco. In the emptiness of the Ministry, his hurried footsteps sounded like a thousand Erumpents giving chase. Draco froze before him and whirled around.

"What? What do you want, Potter? Are you trying to force my hand? Make me live with you or you won't have anything to do with me?" Draco snapped. His face was blotchy and angry, body tight and obviously shivering in the dark hall. His voice reverberated, sounding like doom.

"No," said Harry, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of him. "No, that's not it at all."

He should've left it at that. He knew he was going to say too much, he knew he would make it worse, but there was no stopping it, because he was Harry Potter, and going too far was what he did. "But is it so fucking horrid to live with me, Malfoy?"

"Is it so fucking horrid to date me, Potter?" Draco spat back.

"No, it's not. I want to go out with you. I just can't right now!" Harry shouted, feeling frustrated and rushed and harried. Someone or something should be beaten, should be hurt. He needed to vent his frustration somewhere. On top of everything else, he hadn't been able to get off in a week and he felt the tension crashing in on him like waves.

"What, take a vow of chastity?" asked Draco.

"Don't be..." Harry's voice stopped as he thought about it. It would be one way of bypassing this situation. Draco wouldn't feel rejected if they made an agreement not to have sex. "I thought maybe we should... slow it down a bit. Maybe we shouldn't... have sex for a while. We could have a vow of chastity, then we would be forced to talk more."

Even as it came out of his mouth it surprised Harry. Maybe his body was trying to force something that needed to happen between them anyway. It was brilliant, but he wasn't entirely sure it was true. At least it might buy him some time.

Something lit up behind Draco's eyes. A craftiness that spoke promises of challenge and possible seduction and for the first time since their last encounter, Harry felt something twitch. As much as he really wanted to explore that, Draco was nodding and with that spark in his eye gone, Harry's his semi-hardness returned to flaccid nothingness. Harry tried not to sigh.

"All right. Then we'll have a date without sex," said Draco. The expression on his face made it look like the idea didn't sound particularly appealing to Draco, but Harry was at a loss for another way to approach things at the moment. Draco would just have to forgive him. "Great. So... how about Saturday night?"

Harry reasoned that gave him another week to try and sort things out and if it didn't work, they could go with the celibacy plan.

"All right. Saturday night. Pick me up at eight, then, and it had better be a bloody fantastic date if you're making me wait another week," said Draco.

No pressure or anything, thought Harry. "Yeah. Eight, then."

Now he just needed to sort out his dick.

--

Justin Finch-Fletchley, once destined for Eton, had found it difficult to establish his place in the Ministry of Magic after he'd accidentally hexed his boss's poodle into a squid and had no way of changing it back. Thus, he'd been forced to come up with a back-up career in order to make a living.

This was how the House of Erotica off-off-off Diagon Alley was born.

To his shame, Harry had never once set foot in Justin's shop, as he knew he would find all of the magical beast pricks hanging on the walls in all of their shiny, shimmying, unlikely neon colored glory. Not to mention that since he was a bit of a celebrity, if he ran into anyone there, he'd be mortified.

Fortunately, Justin was more than willing to open the shop up after hours to accommodate Harry, which left only one last giant hurdle to jump. He reasoned with himself that Justin was not only a friend, but an expert in such matters, because surely he couldn't have a store without having some inkling about pricks and how to get them hard.

So, after a long preamble of polite asking about Justin's business, about how he hadn't found the right girl yet and other such pleasantries, Justin finally asked, "So what are you after, Harry? Does Malfoy want some anal beads and is too scared to get them himself?"

He'd never even heard of anal beads, but they did sound like something Draco might like. It sounded a lot like jewelry for your anus. That line of thinking was cleared up when Justin pointed to the beads on a display beside Harry. The actual item looked innocuous enough, but the demonstrative picture with a witch and her tiny, bleached arse spitting out graduating sizes of little beads attached by a string weirded Harry out enough that he turned right back around, blushing brightly.

"Um. Erm. No. I'm not here... I mean, I guess I'm here because of Draco, but not for that. I'm having umm..." said Harry, looking shifty and awkward.

"Ooooh," said Justin, nodding sagely. "Bit of a back up in the old stiffy department, eh? Lot of mornings without wood?"

As embarrassing as the vulgarities were, Harry was grateful he didn't have to say the words. "Yeah, so... you know about... that, right?"

"Not from experience," said Justin. Harry thought he looked far too smug about this fact and he didn't care for the appraising look that Justin was giving him. "But I sell a load of stuff for that. Mostly to middle-aged men, though."

Finding that comment far too pointed, Harry looked around the store nervously again. He saw a stack of small cages in the department clearly labeled "Erectile Dysfunction."

Harry didn't care for that term. He wasn't caring for a lot of things about this whole experience. "What are those?"

"Spanish flies," said Justin as he headed over to them. He brought over one of the tiny mesh cages that contained a few small, buzzing black flies. They looked pretty British to Harry, but then, it wasn't as if he was some sort of fly expert. "Muggles got wind of them, but they seem to think you eat them. Pretty funny if you ask me."

"Those help with your... with um..." Harry mumbled, wondering what else you could do with them. He'd assumed they'd go into a potion at the very least.

"They get you hard, yeah. What you do is take one out and coax it into your urethra. You know-- the slit of your cock?" asked Justin.

Harry knew what a urethra was. That wasn't at all what was making him gape. It was inserting a fly of any nationality into your prick that was setting him into a very quiet fit of DO NOT WANT!!!

"Yeah, so, it crawls in there and does its Spanish fly thing. Oh, but you have to say 'El Erectione' when you want to get hard, and then 'El Flaccido' when you're done with it. Then it flies out and you can put it back in the cage. Though most people don't really want to and they just let them go. That's why the kit comes with a dozen," said Justin. His fingers traced over the edges of the little mesh cage as he watched Harry.

For his part, it was lucky that Harry didn't just pull up stakes and run for his life. He wanted to. He very badly wanted to. Instead, he reminded himself of Draco, of being inside of him. Surely this Spanish fly wasn't the only option. And yet... what if it was? "El Flaccido? Is that a spell?"

"No, it's not a spell at all. It's a command."

Harry looked over to the Erectile Dysfunction department; sure he saw other things that looked more likely. "Oh. That's... weird."

Justin sighed and pushed back his brush of curly locks. "It's Spanish commands. You can't expect them to learn a new a new language, Harry. They're just flies," he said in a tone Harry thought was condescending.

"Right, well, is there anything less... alive and needing to crawl up my prick?" asked Harry.

"Some blokes like it!" Justin announced, a little too loudly for Harry's sanity. Now all he could think about was Justin Finch-Fletchley stuffing live bugs in his cock. If he'd been able to get an erection at all, that thought would keep him flaccid for life.

"Yeeeahhhh... so... other options?" asked Harry as he turned around to look at the nice, soothing, fist-sized centaur prick. Somehow, that was a lot less scary than his conversation with Justin.

"Measured that one myself, it's modeled on Firenze. He's really quite well hung, even for a centaur," said Justin.

Harry covered his face. "Is there a potion or something I could take?"

"Oh yeah. The Viagrus potion is the most powerful on the market. I keep it behind the counter here and have to register who all takes it, just so that St. Mungo's will know before treating anyone for priapism-- when your dick is hard and won't stop? It's amazing how many blokes won't admit to taking a potion and what they'll endure to avoid admitting it. That said, I'll keep your name off of the list unless you encounter a problem."

Justin offered the little blue phial to Harry, who examined it curiously. "Take all of it?"

"That'll get you in St. Mungo's begging to have your prick removed. Just a few drops'll do ya. There are instructions on the box," said Justin as he started writing the sale down in his ledger.

"Yeah, all right. I'll give it a shot," said Harry, pulling money from his pocket.

That bloody date had better be fucking fantastic.

--

As a test-- strictly as a test, mind you-- Harry decided he should try out the Viagrus potion the next morning before work. While he'd have a difficult time explaining his priapism to his coworkers if he overdid it, he thought it best to at least try it before he went on his date. He wasn't at all anxious to wank. Not at all. He was not that kind of boy.

For once in his life, he read the instructions carefully and followed them as precisely as one of Snape's potions assignments. He measured the drops out carefully and let them melt on his tongue. Then he took a shower, toying with himself gently at first, getting progressively rougher as he became frustrated that this didn't seem to be working.

He looked down his dripping wet body, at the water spattering over his still pale prick as he pulled uselessly at it. He tried to imagine it was Draco's prick and even reached around with his other hand, raising one foot on the side of the bath to part him so he could work a finger into himself.

Wriggling his digit around, he found a certain spot that actually felt not so bad or awkward and pressed it, figuring that this was that legendary prostate everyone raved about. Well, not everyone. Some people. Girls didn't seem to talk about it much at all.

As good as it felt, he was still getting no interest from his cock.

Sighing, he let go of his prick and pulled his finger from himself, deciding to wash his hands extra thoroughly, venting his frustration in the scrubbing. There had to be a way to get hard and there had to be a reason for this, not that he could even begin to fathom what that reason might be.

For a moment, he wondered if Draco wasn't doing this, but then, why would he? It made no real sense so he shook that thought away and decided that he'd have to go back to the shop. Loath as he was to talk to creepy Justin again, his business did involve dick, so maybe that was as close to an expert as he was going to get.

--

After a long day at work feeling jumpy that someone would know that potion was in his pocket, Harry was more than ready to go to the shop. Draco had been looking at him oddly on and off throughout the day, or at least, Harry thought Draco was giving him the stink eye. It might've been something else. He did look a bit curious and worried more than irritated, but Harry was still suspicious that Draco might be hexing him. So, he avoided him most of the day-- partnering up with Tonks to deal with Aberforth's missing sheep (at least he'd moved on from goats).

He walked to the store slowly, pondering what he was going to do. No doubt Justin would try to sell him on the Spanish flies, but Harry couldn't imagine that Draco would want a dick full of insects in his rectum. If he did, Harry didn't want to know about it. Still, it would be a good test as to whether Draco was actually behind this or not. Surely the mere idea of Harry going to such great lengths would make him end whatever spell he might have on him.

Except that... he really couldn't quite bring himself to believe that Draco would curse him.

Most of the time.

He was just reaching for the door knob of the store when Luna Lovegood flounced out carrying a bag that was far too long and round for Harry's comfort. He tried desperately not to look at it, to stay focused on her face and concentrate very, very hard on imagining that it was French bread in that bag.

"Oh hullo Harry!" she chirped, flinging her straggly blonde hair back to reveal her shining face.

Harry wasn't sure he'd ever seen her look so happy. It ached inside to know what Ron thought of her. "Hullo, Luna," he said, wondering if his problems were really as bad as all of that. "Doing some shopping?"

He really, really hated himself for asking. His mind was flooded with how kinky Ron said she was and the enormity of that centaur cock.

"Oh, yeah. Justin's brilliant. Just buying something for a hen party," said Luna. She shook her bag and grinned.

"Oh! Yes! A hen party! Great fun! Imagine that's a brilliant prank, then!" he said a little too loudly as he gestured to the bag, relieved it wasn't what he thought.

"Yeah! And I bought a giant centaur cock for me!" she said, bouncing on her toes. "It was modeled on Firenze! He's so pretty!"

He could Disapparate. He really, really wanted to, but it would be so terribly rude. Instead, his face flushed and he went into a coughing fit, choking on his own saliva. Too much information. FAAAAARRRRRR too much information.

She whacked him on the back a few times and said, "All right, Harry?"

He cleared his throat and took his glasses off to clean them, trying not to think of Giant. Centaur. Cock. Of. Doom. "Yeah. I expect I'll be fine. Just... went down the wrong way."

"That happens to me a lot," said Luna and Harry wondered what exactly that meant, but decided for his own sanity to take it at face value.

"So I guess you and Ron are having fun then?" he asked, not wanting to know, but then, he wasn't sure how else to carry on the conversation.

At this, Luna sighed wistfully and shook her head. "Oh, dear, sweet Ronald. He's lovely and funny and I always wanted him, but... he's ever so vanilla, isn't he?"

Harry was immediately relieved that Ron wouldn't be getting up to anything with the centaur cock, but then he felt a strange defensiveness for Ron's performance. "What? Well, I suppose he's got a routine he likes and..."

"Yeah, I guess. Toys are fun too, though, and they don't brood about Hermione or cry after," she said, looking sad for a moment. "Poor man. I shouldn't have said that about him being vanilla."

"It's all right. I won't tell," said Harry, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. She didn't look pained, exactly, just sympathetic. Strangely, he felt better that at least no one's heart was being broken. Just because he had trouble separating love and sex didn't mean everyone did.

Luna smiled and sparkled at him. "So, you and Malfoy getting a bit kinky, are you?"

Harry looked up at her and up at the name of the shop and swallowed. "Erm..."

"It's all right, Harry. I won't say a word. I'm hardly in a position to judge," she said, rattling her bag.

"Yeah, well..." said Harry, shifting uncomfortably.

"Oh, Harry, is someone having trouble getting it up?" Sometimes, he hated how intuitive she could be. He flushed.

"You?" asked Luna, her eyes wide as she looked over him curiously.

He scrubbed his hand through his hair, which wasn't an answer, but he was totally at a loss for words and starting to think about making a break for it.

"The Viagrus potion works like a charm. Don't let Justin talk you into those flies. Firstly, they don't work, and secondly..." Luna shuddered. "You don't want bugs crawling around there or anywhere!"

Harry had to laugh and looked up to the sky, just shaking his head. It felt good to laugh, really, and what else could he do?

"It didn't work?" she asked, and Harry was both grateful and humiliated that she knew and that he was that easily read.

He shook his head and looked down.

"Well then, you're hexed, Harry. If it were at all physical or mental, the potion would've worked. You've an enemy out there somewhere that wants to keep you down... so to speak," she said, grabbing him by the elbow to turn him around from the shop. "Don't let Justin sell you anything more. He could've told you that after a simple spell. He's just trying to sell things."

"What?" asked Harry, his mind reeling. There was only one person he could think of that would do that, and it was Draco, but he couldn't imagine why.

"Come on. You can come over and we can talk about it," said Luna.

Harry was far too shaken for company, however, so he shook his head, his breath leaving him. "No. I think... I think I'd like to think about this alone, if you don't mind."

She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "I don't mind, Harry. Just let me know what comes up."

Harry was tempted to say that he didn't think anything was coming up any time soon, but he let it go. "All right. I'll see you around. And thanks."

After she nodded and turned away, Harry Apparated home.

--

There were several moments when Harry thought about calling it off. How could he possibly go on a date with Draco if he couldn't get it up? Yet, he'd hedged his bets with his handy excuse of chastity. Besides, every time he looked up at Draco, particularly when Draco was not looking at him, but was quietly sucking the end of his quill in thought or giving someone else a severe look for whatever social infraction they'd committed, something twisted in Harry's chest. He just couldn't bear to be away from Draco any longer than necessary.

Harry needed to do this. Needed to get over this hurdle and get back in the game before someone else got in the game. He'd been pondering that Friday afternoon, particularly when he saw Draco chattering into his mirror. Nott. Right. He needed to get back in this.

After Draco put the mirror away and he'd gotten up to head out for lunch, Harry stood in front of him, trying not to look like he was accusing him of anything.

"Potter," said Draco, his voice terse, expression trying to be brave.

Seeing some anxiety in Draco's expression again, Harry realized he really hadn't said much to Draco, and maybe he thought that Harry was going to call it off. "I just wanted to tell you to dress in formal wizard style tomorrow night," said Harry, feeling a bit flustered and on the spot.

Raising a brow, Draco looked at him curiously. "There aren't any galas, are there? Not many places one can go dressed up like that," he said.

Harry could see Draco working it out. Obviously there were private parties held with purebloods, but Harry wasn't likely to be invited to any of those. Before Draco could get to the obvious conclusion, Harry decided to just spill it. "We're going to Charmings, so..."

"Charmings? Really?" asked Draco, his eyes wide and face flushed with obvious delight. "I haven't been there since..." his expression darkened and he looked momentarily sad, but then he met Harry's eyes again.

If Harry didn't know any better, he'd think that Draco looked a bit weepy, which made Harry feel a bit giddy. He seemed to get what a big deal it was for Harry to go to such a place.

"All right, Harry," said Draco, grinning like a schoolgirl with you're going to be fucked silly in his eyes. "I'll be dressed and ready at eight."

Harry nodded and wanted to lean in for a kiss, but they were in the middle of the bullpen and while no one even pretended that he and Draco weren't a thing, it just wasn't professional. So, he shook his hand, which made Draco laugh and roll his eyes.

Draco smiled again and then passed him, slipping a hand out ninja-speed to slap Harry's rear. "Sounds like you're well on your way to making it a bloody fantastic date," Draco said before practically skipping out.

Grinning, Harry watched him go and closed his eyes. He hoped so.

--

Charmings had all of the charm of the Slytherin dungeons, as far as Harry was concerned. It was, in fact, underground, as many of the old Wizarding buildings tended to be. However, unlike the eerie green of Slytherin, Charmings was all polished dark wood, brass and red velvet curtains. The walls were made of stone and held large ever-burning torches, which made it seem medieval, but then the china and crystal brought it all up-to-date.

There were several rooms to the restaurant, all of which included a perimeter of private booths with the long, red velvet curtains that were charmed to keep anything and everything that went on in the private booth private. While this was reassuring for those who needed secrets kept, it led to a very strange entry into the restaurant. Harry was expecting to hear murmured conversation and the clatter of dishes and crystal, but instead, he heard nothing but the occasional swish of fabric and the footfalls of their host.

Once they were seated and handed their menus, Harry leaned in and whispered-- because it only seemed appropriate to whisper-- to Draco, "This is really weird. Are you sure there's anyone here?"

"Does it matter if anyone's here, Harry? The point is good food and unobtrusiveness," he said as he tapped his finger over the menu.

"I didn't even see any wait staff!" Harry protested.

"That's because there isn't any." Draco explained that they would tap their wands to the menu item that they wanted by demonstrating. He went on to talk about how the sommelier charms would handle the wine and that magic chefs would handle the food and send it out to them. "This is where every secret cabal ever started, Harry. There are so many stories here... Granger probably knows... knew... knows? Whatever. The point is, this is a really brilliant place. After my father was imprisoned... well, there just wasn't much reason to come here, I guess."

Draco looked radiant in starry night blue robes, his face lit up as he looked around the booth, seeming to relive some past fond memory.

Harry could do little other than watch the play of emotions and memories on Draco's face. He reached across the dark table and took his hand and Draco squeezed back. "I'm surprised you'd bring me here. This is probably where the Death Eaters started. Probably where..."

"Yeah," said Harry carefully. "But that's not what it is anymore, or not what it should be. Maybe it needs to be reclaimed. New memories made."

For a moment, Draco looked at Harry wearily, as if he didn't believe that things could change, but then he cracked a smile and said, "I guess if they let you in, things are changing. Unless they plan to kill you."

Harry's eyes widened as he felt paranoia welling up. First his cock goes flaccid and then murder? This was not a hero's death!

"Oh, Harry." Draco laughed, but Harry didn't think it was terribly funny. "I forget you really don't know a lot of things. There's a Sanctuary spell here. No one can kill anyone on the premises. No one's ever died here, and no one will. As for half-bloods? They let Tom Riddle in, right? Don't worry about it. I was just teasing you."

With a sudden pop, the wine arrived, causing Harry to all but jump out of his skin. Draco gave him a sympathetic look and then switched from across from Harry to his side of the booth, offering to protect him.

At that, Harry finally laughed, relieved that the tension had broken and pleased that Draco had slipped an arm around him.

The rest of dinner had gone as easily and as quickly as rolling downhill. They talked about work, about old school times and Harry was surprised by how much Draco really could talk, that his perspectives on their coworkers weren't that different than Harry's own. The more they talked, the more Harry realized that he and Draco really hadn't spent much time just chatting and maybe there was something to be said for taking things slowly.

The check arrived, flying in as an origami swan, unraveling itself in front of Harry. There was something strangely familiar about origami swans, like an echo of some unreality of something that hadn't happened before and yet, Harry remembered it. Weird.

He paid in Galleons he'd procured from Gringotts, since he didn't regularly carry that much coin on him and then Apparated them back within a few blocks of Draco's flat. He wanted to spend more time with him without the pressure of having to go to bed with him, since in spite of how beautiful he thought Draco was the whole night; he hadn't felt any stir from his prick. Not even with how much Draco had been rubbing his knee.

They walked in silence, just holding hands. London was a bit ripe, and the air had a bit of a damp cold edge to it, but as far as Harry was concerned, it was the most beautiful, perfect night he'd ever experienced. He squeezed Draco's hand a few times as they walked the last block to his flat and then Harry stood in shamed silence before the building, looking anxiously up at Draco's window.

"How serious were you about that celibacy thing?" asked Draco. He was leering and Harry was normally weak at the knees from his leer, but now he just felt flaily and helpless.

"Rather serious, I'm afraid," said Harry.

Draco looked pointedly at the front of Harry's trousers and it was obvious he expected to see an erection tenting it. When he didn't, his head tilted and he looked at Harry with hurt confusion. "Oh," he said, averting his eyes.

"It's not you, it's..." said Harry, feeling like he should explain.

"It's all right. I mean, it was just walking. I mean... right. You didn't... when I was rubbing you at Charmings so I guess it was sort of silly to think that..." said Draco, mock laughing at himself, or at the situation. Harry didn't really know what Draco was laughing at, because it wasn't funny and it sounded so pained.

"Draco," said Harry, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder.

Draco grabbed him and yanked him closer, pulling him into a fiercely possessive kiss. His hands were immediately everywhere, pawing at him through his green robes, rubbing his prick, tongue fucking him, probing, tasting, then pulling his tongue into Draco's mouth to suck at it.

It still felt good, and it took Harry's breath away, but he just wasn't getting hard, no matter how hard or soft Draco grabbed him, not even when he pulled him inside and threw him into the lift. Draco rutted against him as the floors dinged by, frenzied and determined.

Harry knew he should put a stop to this, that he should at least pause Draco long enough to tell him what was going on, that it wasn't his fault, but selfishly, he was loving the attention, loving the desperation and the need. Draco was such an island unto himself that watching him come unglued with passion like this felt almost rare.

He dragged Harry down the hall when the doors rolled open. His wand was out and they were through the door in seconds. Harry skidded through the living area and fell into Draco's bed, Draco on top of him, rubbing his erection against him. It stabbed into Harry's hip and all he could do was gasp at the feel of it, to moan and whimper as Draco bit and sucked and kissed at his neck.

Moving back against him was instinctive; helping Draco out of his robes as he shrugged out of his own was what he wanted. He was mentally aroused but his body just wouldn't cooperate and he could feel Draco growing more and more anxious. His mouth was around Harry's cock, sucking and pulling and it felt so dirty, so naughty that he'd be letting Draco do this, knowing there was no hope that he'd get hard, yet it still felt exquisite. Not as good as it might've felt, but still brilliant.

Mostly, Harry felt incredibly vulnerable, like he was letting Draco see the part of him that wasn't perfect. Draco had often pointed out Harry's imperfections to him with glee, but this was different. Draco was seeing his imperfection and trying to fix it, trying to make it better, make it right, make him function as he should be.

His prick twitched at that thought, or maybe it was that Draco had lowered his head to suck his balls. Harry let his legs fall open, letting Draco have his complete way with him. His head moved lower and lower until Draco sucked at his perineum, giving Harry the sensation he had when Draco had found that spot inside of him that felt so good, but this time without the pain of stretch.

Harry gasped and unabashedly shoved his arse into Draco's face, demanding more of that sensation. If he was going to get hard, that would've done it. If not, well, it still felt brilliant.

Then Draco's tongue went there.

The tip of it circled the rim and Harry all but pushed off of the bed. It was so completely and devilishly naughty that he blushed bodily. Draco's tongue flattened over the area, lapping slowly, swirling his tongue over and over him, reminding him of when Draco had come to live with him briefly at Grimmauld Place, when they'd declared their own Order, when...

Harry's train of thought derailed when Draco's tongue breached him, darting just inside of the rim at first, till it drove deeper and deeper.

He was being fucked. Fucked by Draco's tongue again. He grabbed his cock, pulling at it, willing it to respond, because the very fact that it wasn't when something that felt this good was going on was a tragedy.

Draco slipped a finger inside of him and sat up between Harry's legs, gazing down at him until he saw his hand on his cock. At that, Draco stopped abruptly and sighed sadly. "This isn't doing it for you, is it?"

"It feels really good," said Harry. "It's just that..."

"Does my moving in with you really mean that much to you?" asked Draco, sounding like he was breaking.

Harry saw the advantage to not correcting Draco's miss-thought, but he just couldn't do it that way. Manipulative as he wanted to be sometimes, it just wasn't right. Besides, it wasn't like he was going to get hard if Draco agreed to live with him. "It does, but listen," said Harry, sighing slowly. He was going to have to admit this and hopefully Draco would be sympathetic. "I'm cursed. I can't... get it up because... someone hexed me."

"What?"

"I don't know who, but I went to Justin Finch-Fletchley's shop and..." Harry started, pushing back against Draco's finger, wanting him to keep doing that. If he couldn't get off tonight, why not let Draco? Besides, it felt good when he rubbed his finger just so.

"You didn't buy any of those flies, did you? Because... ew," said Draco. His expression was uncertain, but he added a second finger, finding that spot easily.

"No. But I did take the Viagrus potion..." Harry hissed at the sting, but found himself enjoying the sensation. Even the slight pain felt good, cleansing in a way.

"And still no...?" asked Draco.

Harry nodded.

Draco closed his eyes, looking very stoic for a moment and Harry thought that he was going to throw him out, tell him to leave and find out who hexed him. But instead, he seemed to be cast in blue light, his skin growing paler, his eyes opening to reveal that feral silver color. He knocked Harry's hand away from his own prick, his hands looking slightly longer.

It was as if something electric had hit Harry's cock, at first jolting it to the point of pain, then filling it with warmth and he felt himself getting hard at Draco's touch.

Veela magic. Of course.

Harry was still only half hard, even being stroked as well as he was, even with Draco looking ghastly and more bird-like than he'd ever seen him.

"I'm going to have to fuck you to break it," said Draco, his voice almost a chirrup.

After a beat to consider bottoming for the sake of breaking a spell, Harry spread his legs out further and reached into Draco's nightstand for lubricant. "Considering the number of times you've done this to save others, I should at least be willing to do it to save myself."

Draco smiled and sat back as Harry wrapped his greased hands over Draco's cock. "You've bottomed for the sake of magic before. You did it to save me, or at least to wake me."

"This time you're fully awake at the start, if not fully yourself," he said, positioning Draco at his opening. Harry brought one leg up, hooking his knee over Draco's shoulder. Harry controlled how quickly Draco entered him with that leg, not wanting to let him in too deeply, not wanting it to hurt.

He used his leg to leverage the tip of Draco's prick against that spot. Filled with Draco and Draco's magic, his cock continued to plump and Harry focused on how it felt, rather than the sensation of something sliding in and out of him. He was sweating from the stretch, from Draco's cock sliding deep inside of him only to pull back out. It burned his skin and thrilled him beyond anything he'd ever felt.

It was Draco inside of him, his magic working its will in Harry's body-- working against this hex.

All Harry could do was stare at him, look at the way Draco seemed to sweat silver, the way it glistened on his forehead, collected down the side of his face.

Draco kept pulling his cock, dipping in for kisses, opening his quicksilver eyes when he could stare down at Harry. He was still Draco, even if he was part magical. This was always part of Draco, what powered him. It was amazing to have direct contact with the beast in Draco, as he was getting part of him that no one else ever saw, that nearly no one was even aware of.

"I love you," Harry whispered. "I love all of you. Even the parts you don't think I want to see. I love all of you."

Draco had been moving in and out of him, bypassing the stops Harry had used to keep him from getting too deep. He went a little wild at Harry's utterance, grabbing Harry's throat with his teeth for a hard bite as he moved erratically in and out of him, too fast for it to do anything but collect the twin sensations of stretch and thrill, to feel it build in Harry's groin.

His hand was too slick, moved too fast. Harry was collected up, trapped in this Veela web of adoration, of sensation from all of these unfamiliar places being touched and feeling so vulnerable while Draco exposed his hidden self to Harry. It was all too much after he heard Draco shudder and shout his name.

Soon Harry felt the tell-tale wetness, heard the slurping of wetness gushing back out of him and Harry let go himself, coming against his chest and onto Draco's hand. He wailed when he came, having built up for so long. He clutched Draco tightly, hating himself for denying himself this, for denying Draco this out of his stupidity and frailty. Most of all, he hated himself for thinking that Draco had any part in the hex.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered when he could speak again.

Draco rolled off of him, throwing a few tissues over his shoulder as he cleaned himself up.

It was unusual for Draco to move away immediately and Harry told himself it was because he was changing back to human and didn't want Harry to see.

That theory proved out when Draco turned back around, looking more like himself. He stood to pull the covers back and slipped in under them.

"What are you sorry for?" asked Draco.

"For not telling you I was hexed right away," said Harry, hoping he wouldn't have to explain the rest of it.

"It's an embarrassing problem, yeah? I don't know what I would've done... not that it can happen to me. I think I broke it, but that doesn't mean that whatever git put it on you won't cast it again. That's fine with me, of course, I can break it and get to shag you, but we might want to sort out who's doing it," said Draco as he held the covers up for Harry.

Harry hadn't wanted to hope that he'd be invited into bed with Draco, but he could hardly help it. Now that he was, it was such a relief that Harry melted under the covers and grabbed onto Draco tightly. He could still feel him inside of him, the soreness of the invasion. He hoped he'd feel it when he woke up. "Yeah, we should seek that guy out. But for now, just hold me?"

Draco nodded and wound his arms around Harry. "We'll save cock boggart hunting for the next date."

Though he was knackered, Harry managed a smile and a quick laugh. "I do take you to the nicest places, don't I?"

Kissing the top of Harry's head, Draco laughed, too. "Doesn't matter where we go, as long as I'm with you."

--

"What? But that's not faaaair!" Theodore wailed at the vision screen he'd been watching Draco's flat on. "How am I supposed to compete against magical creatures! The stupid spell doesn't..."

He picked up the book Scorned: A Lover's Guide to Revenge and chucked it across the room.

"You win that one, Potter," Theo said as Cassie, the mechanical Thestral, picked up the book with her Sepholite teeth and tenderly set it back on a shelf. "But the next time it won't be so easy. Draco Malfoy will be mine!"