Gay Aurors

"It's just that he's… gone so much with work, Hermione. I just thought that you'd be concerned," said Harry. He'd tried to make himself comfortable on the couch, but each time he got settled in, Hermione would scoot so close she was practically in his lap. This time was no exception. He pulled his pint away in the nick of time to keep it from being dumped on him. That was the third time his Seeker reflexes had kept him from being drenched and he was starting to get the idea she was doing it on purpose.

"He's always been very busy with work, Harry. I know you know that," said Hermione as she traced her finger along the arm of Harry's glasses. The move made him shudder inwardly, but he managed to keep from slapping her hand away. "It's sweet of you to care, though. I should reward you."

Hermione rested her hand on Harry's knee, causing Harry to jump up so quickly that he almost dumped his pint on himself. "Erm… no reward necessary, Hermione. It's just that…"

As he looked down at her dull brown eyes marked up with too much kohl in a halter top that was anything but demure. The orange top gapped from her chest, revealing her saggy post-natal breasts. Even if Harry were straight, he wouldn't have wanted to see that. He looked away.

"What? Are you gay or something?" asked Hermione. He heard her shifting on the couch as he looked over the discarded toys around the living area. At the very least, Hermione seemed to know how to get the kids off to bed with minimal fuss. Harry suspected it had to do with potions slipped into their food, but as uncomfortable as things already were, he was grateful to not have infants clinging to his legs.

"What? I…" Maybe he should come out to her. They'd been friends for years, after all, and before her "summer makeover" where she came back… like this… she'd been good to talk to.

"No, I'm sorry. That's not fair is it? Sure, your partner's homosexual, but that doesn't mean you are, does it? You just don't find me attractive, do you?" she asked, standing up to cross to him.

Harry finished his pint and took a step back, not sure how to respond to that. "Erm… you're very attractive, I guess." In truth, Harry found Hermione more attractive before the makeover, but he'd always really seen her as a friend and then as "Ron's girl." This creature was alien to him, he decided.

Worse yet, she wasn't going to nag Ron into doing less work. And lately, it really had been work; work with Harry's erstwhile partner Draco Malfoy.

"Then I don't understand why you don't… do you want another drink, Harry?" Now she was close enough to wrap her hand around his on the pint glass and she leaned in against him. "I know you're not seeing anyone. Ron talks about how much you need to get laid all the time. Stick up your arse, he says."

"What?" Harry released the glass into her hand, not even sure where to start with all of that. "I don't need to get laid."

Taking the glass, Hermione's brows rose and she flipped back her bushy brown hair. "You have a girlfriend, Harry? What's her name?"

Her challenging tone irked him, as if it was so impossible or unlikely he could be seeing someone! "I don't have a girlfriend." Nor would he. It was beyond Harry's comprehension that no one had sussed him out. But then, he wasn't the center of anyone's world anymore.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

I wish. "No."

Hermione laughed and shook her head. "I was just kidding, Harry. I know you're not gay. You just have that gay Draco Malfoy as your partner. It's too funny, isn't it? You know, though, I'm starting to suspect that Ron's getting a little bisexual now."

Harry's heart stopped; his irritation with her washed away with the notion that his suspicions were being confirmed. He wasn't sure what he would do if he found out that Ron and Draco were solving crime the way that he and Draco had been. Swallowing hard, he worked to find his voice, wishing he'd had a bit more to drink. "Why… why would you think that?"

As if he could prove how casual a question that was, he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and shrugged. "I mean… you know… Ron's never seemed into blokes," said Harry.

"Oh, I don't know. Ron's always been a big talker about how a hole's a hole, hasn't he? Besides, he's been much more into doing my bum than my fanny lately. Even heard him use the term 'boypussy' seriously," she said, shrugging.

"Boypussy?" Harry looked up at her, paling at the implications and the anxiety it induced.

"Oh Harry, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have told you all of my little problems. I'm so… touched that you care so much," she said. Harry had no time to assure her that while he did care about her and her marriage, sham that it was, he was much more concerned about his Draco being defiled by her husband, because her lips were immediately on his and he found himself slammed against the wall. Her hands were under his shirt with such swiftness that Harry thought it was a pity she couldn't fly very well, because she definitely had some quick reflexes. Maybe that was another part of her "makeover," though.

She was so fast that it took a moment to detangle from her. He'd finally managed to wrestle her hands from under his shirt and caught her by the wrists to push her back enough to keep her from molesting him further. "Hermione… I can't. We can't. I…"

But then she started to cry and Harry was at a complete loss. He'd made her cry before, but those circumstances were so very different and she was different. Right now, all he wanted to do was to run-- run and try to grapple with what was probably going on between Ron and Draco. If he didn't run, he might well end up crying with Hermione.

"Why can't we? You know he's probably off shagging Malfoy right now!" she wailed.

Harry looked at her fretfully, knowing how she felt right now. So hurt, so angry, so betrayed.

"And he knows I want a threesome with another bloke! I bet its Malfoy who won't do it. Probably still calls me a Mudblood. That smarmy bastard!" Hermione cried. Her body went limp as she flopped against Harry to cry into his chest.

"Threesome?" Now Harry really had to leave before he became physically ill. "I don't think that…"

"Oh, I know, I know. Malfoy's gay. Still, he's stealing my husband, Harry. They spend all of their time together. I'm really afraid that I'm going to lose him."

Allowing her to hug him, since now she seemed truly upset, Harry patted her hair gently, hoping to provide comfort. The hug felt good to him, as well. It didn't make these revelations any easier to bear, but at least he didn't feel totally alone. He wondered if all of this meant Kirley was out of the picture. "Look, Tonks took a leave of absence so I don't really have much going on. Maybe I could… watch them and then you'd know?"

Hermione squeezed him and for a moment Harry thought she might well try and touch him improperly again, but instead, she nodded. "I know… I know that things with Ron and me are unusual, Harry. I know you don't understand it… I'm not always sure I understand it myself. But he's never been this… enthused… about anyone else and I just… I really do love him, Harry."

Harry had no idea what to say to that. Maybe he just had very different views on love, but he didn't think it included what she and Ron were doing. Hermione did seem honestly upset, though, and it gave him good rationale to do what he wanted to do for the past three weeks; spy on Ron and Draco. "I'll see what I can do, Hermione. Don’t worry."

--

Though Harry had intended to arrive early to the Ministry, the long night of drinking dictated that he would be hung over and therefore slow coming in. When he did, he knew he was a bit of a mess and just that side of late. The bullpen was abuzz per usual, few people looked up at him as he passed, but he took special care to see what Ron and Draco were up to.

They didn't talk much in the office, but that wasn't unusual to Harry's recollection. Draco rarely said anything outside of the necessary to him even though they had now fucked three times. He tried not to let those thoughts make him paranoid, but he couldn't help but wonder.

Stopping at Ron's cube, Harry squinted at the copy of the Daily Prophet he was reading. Page two featured a picture of Kirley Duke; his arm around Draco whom Harry fancied looked a bit irritated. Or was that aroused? He was sneering, which would normally be a bad thing, but it had always been the natural state of Draco's expression, so it was hard to say.

Ron's expression as he read the article beneath was just as unreadable. It appeared blank, but Harry thought perhaps he was a little pale. Was he pale or was Ron always that pale? Maybe it was the lights. But it at least answered the question as to whether Malfoy was still seeing Duke. Just how many blokes was Draco going to fuck? He felt himself growing flush with irritation and so it took Harry a moment to realize that Ron was looking at him curiously.

"All right there, Harry?" Ron pushed the paper away, but didn't bother closing or concealing what he had been reading. "You look like shite, mate. Pub crawl?"

"Erm, something like that." Harry desperately wanted to ask why Ron was reading that article and where he'd been and what was going on, but he couldn't figure out how to ask any of those things without sounding like a jealous lover.

"Sorry, mate. Just been busy with Malfoy picking up the slack what with Tonks on leave and you too new to go out on your own. Maybe we can go out next week?"

Harry took the comment as a barb, even if it hadn't been intentional. "It's not like I want to be stuck here doing paperwork!"

"That's not what I meant," said Ron. He looked irritated, like he wished Harry would just go away. Harry bet that Ron really liked having Draco as a partner. The no-strings-attached sex was probably exactly what he wanted and he wouldn't get Draco up the duff like the office rumor mill believed Tonks was. "It's just busy, is all."

"Got something going tonight?" asked Harry tightly. He hoped that they did, because he was quite ready to start out this new spy gig. There were too many questions and he was going to drive himself crazy with worry if he didn't find something out one way or the other.

"Think so. Shacklebolt's got us in for a meeting at half ten." Ron searched Harry's face. He beckoned him closer and looked around. Harry wasn't sure if Ron was trying to placate him with a secret or if he was just dying to say something. He tensed, trying to brace himself for what Ron was about to confess, but walked into the cube and leaned in to listen. "Did you ever see Malfoy… do anything?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… he's supposed to be this scary badarse, but all I've seen him do is some wandless magic here and there; turning lights on and off and shite. I'm not going to complain, because we're getting cherry assignments, but I don't see what the big deal is with him. I read your reports and it doesn't sound like you did, either. I think he's as big a fraud now as his family ever was, don't you?"

There was something comforting in the idea that Draco hadn't shown any grand displays of magic in front of Ron. It had taken a while for Draco to really loosen up and do something impressive in front of Harry, but Draco's life had been in danger. Harry wasn't sure it meant what he wanted it to mean. He wondered if Ron thought Draco was still looking at him that way, but here wasn't the place to talk about it. Besides, he wasn't sure if he could take it if Ron thought he wasn't.

"Yeah, Malfoy's a fraud." It felt good to say. Harry wished it were true on some levels. It wouldn't put him in this morally ambiguous place of not reporting what he'd seen. It was a little worrisome that Ron wasn't on about what fit bird he was shagging or trying to shag, but nice that he seemed more focused than he'd seen him in a while. They finished up their conversation with a few quiet remembrances of what a git Malfoy had been and Ron patting Harry on the back assuring him that at least now no one was questioning Harry's sexuality.

"Yeah. At least."

Between Ron's reassurances and the nagging headache from his hangover, Harry decided to slip off to the break room to fix a cup of tea and then headed to his office. Upon arriving in his cube, he noticed that sitting on the file he'd left open about a dull cold case sat a small, Oriental carving that appeared to be made of ivory.

Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be two Asian people engaged in copulation, only the figures were twisted around in such a way that it was obvious that they were both male and that the sex that was taking place was of the anal variety. Harry's eyes widened as he held the hand-sized figure and then he clamped his fingers around it and looked around the office in paranoia. Only one person in this office would know how that would appeal to him.

Squeezing the figure tightly, Harry tromped over to Draco's cube and kicked the frame to get Draco's attention.

Draco's placid expression as he whirled around in his chair, not even bothering to stand, heightened Harry's irritation. Harry held the figure out to him between thumb and forefinger and asked, "What is this?"

Casually, Draco plucked the piece from Harry's fingers and examined it as if it were the first time he'd seen it. Something about his sneer made it impossible for Harry to believe that he'd never seen this object d' porn before. "Hm... netsuke."

"What?"

"Netsuke; shunga netsuke to be precise. They were popular in the Edo period in Japan," said Draco in his maddening drawl. "They hung from the obi of a man's kimono to serve as a pocket of sorts. They're often decorative to reflect a man's preferences."

As Harry's face heated, Draco's sneer broadened. He watched in horror as Draco pressured the back of the entwined figures and they came apart enough to show a small compartment where tobacco or something small might be kept. Draco toyed with the small hinge between the two figures which caused the small, ivory penis to slide smoothly in and out of the bottom's arse. Harry sputtered and grabbed it from Draco's hands and looked around the office nervously again.

"Why did you give me this?" asked Harry as he shoved it into his robe pocket, thankful that Wizarding robes had the foresight to have pockets to put things into.

"Why do you think it was me?" Draco shot back. His expression was a honed portrait of blankness which Harry found unsettling.

"Who else would?" Harry was starting to feel paranoid and unsettled, which he could only imagine got Draco off. Somehow the idea that Draco was enjoying it made it more tolerable.

"Dunno. Weasley's been on about his interest in 'mangina,' perhaps he's sussed you out," said Draco, leaning in, his eyes alight with an inkling of malice.

Mangina sounded so much like something Ron would say, it was hard for Harry not to laugh. He could tell that Draco found something irritating, but he wasn't sure if it was Ron or himself. "Anyway," he said, starting to back out of the cube out of discomfort. "I'll just have to figure out who it is so that I can thank them for this... gift."

Draco's expression relaxed back to a sneer and he turned back around in his chair. "I'm sure your outburst was payment enough for whoever it was."

"Right." Harry felt a little dismissed, but he warmed to the idea that Draco had given him something. Sure, it was obscene, but it was a present nonetheless.

He was still going to follow Ron and Draco tonight because he'd go crazy if he didn't, but it was still comforting.

"Erm, I'll... be in my cube... if you need anything," Harry added.

"Thanks for the update." Draco turned his head so that Harry could see just a slight glint of Draco's eyes. "And by the way, Potter, should you have any questions about my mum, you should just ask me rather than poking about in the closed case files."

"I..." Harry nearly choked at being caught. He thought he'd been so careful, checking out the files around Narcissa Malfoy nee Black so that he could scoop them all up without anyone noticing. He'd even gone so far as to charm them invisible, but somehow Draco knew. "Sorry."

Draco turned back to his desk and waved a dismissive hand behind him and Harry slunk away.

--

Donning his trusty Invisibility Cloak, Harry followed Ron and Draco into a dilapidated row house in Islington. Much of this particular row was empty, but had the marks of undergoing renovations with scaffolding reaching to within a few houses of the one that he'd entered behind the other Aurors. It was curious that they weren't fixing the whole block, but Harry assumed that there was some greater Muggle politic keeping that from happening; in other words, these houses probably belonged to someone.

Harry had done his best to hide, even while he employed the cloak, as he wasn't entirely sure that Draco wouldn't be able to see through this magic. In his day, Dumbledore certainly had. Draco was not to Dumbledore's level of magical expertise as far as Harry knew, but he decided that prevention was better than the cure, and chose to skulk in the shadows, watching the interaction between Ron and Draco.

"Why do they send us out here after the action has happened? That's what I don't get," said Ron as he wandered the perimeter of the living area. There was no furniture in the room to speak of, just bare floorboards, candles in the corner, and a chalk outline of three half circles butted up to one another with a fourth circle that connected them all.

"I would assume that as they are not fortune tellers or mind readers, they don't know that there will be these bursts of untraceable magic, nor where they'll occur," Draco answered, sounding harried, but distracted.

Ron continued to wander aimlessly; ending up at a window in what would've been the dining area had there been any furniture. To his right was a cramped kitchen. All of the drawers were pulled out and empty. A small, yellow fridge stood open, blackened around the frame of the door with mold and spotted with rust. "Yeah. I know. Just... if they're such big bursts of energy, how are there no signatures?"

Draco knelt in front of the symbol and held out his hand. Around the room small spots glowed like footprints, some so small as to be mere pinpoints of light. Closing his hand into a fist, Draco squinted around at each of them as if memorizing their placement. When Ron turned around, the lights went out, leaving Ron clueless to anything happening at all. Harry had to appreciate the subtlety of the magic, as even he hadn't felt the prickle of it happening and he was well-trained and attuned to that sort of thing.

"Malfoy, did you hear me?"

"Yeah." Draco appeared quite distracted, if not disturbed by whatever it was he'd discovered. Then he looked over his shoulder at Harry and perked a brow before turning back to Ron.

"Well?" Ron pulled his wand and looked around, wrinkling his nose.

Draco sighed loudly and stood. "I'd wager that finding the answer to those questions is why we're here, Weasley."

"I guess." Ron seemed ambivalent to the phenomenon, which irritated Harry as much as it seemed to irk Draco. At times like this, Harry wondered just why Ron had bothered to become an Auror. But then, Harry wasn't sure he'd given him much choice. Maybe he'd just been so blinded by enthusiasm to do it; he'd never noticed that Ron didn't much care. "So, saw you and Duke were out and about again."

"Oh?" Disinterested, Draco headed towards where there had been a particularly bright glow of magic and knelt down. He traced a pattern in the dust that Harry couldn't see and then nodded to himself, as if solving the puzzle for himself.

"Yeah, it was in the paper, a picture of you two. Must be nice, you know. Two blokes and all? S'much easier. Just walk into a loo and some bloke's there waiting to suck you off. So much easier," Ron confirmed to himself. He cast a standard magic trace spell which shimmered brightly around a box in the corner opposite to where Draco was contemplating. Harry wondered what loos these were that had men waiting to give head, but Ron's world was different than his, evidently.

"Oh yeah. That's why I shag men. Because it's so easy." Draco rolled his eyes and looked back at Ron in time to see him crossing to the box. In a panic, Draco jumped out, holding his hand out, palm flat in warning. "Weasley, wait! Don't touch that!"

But it was too late. While Ron had turned to give a questioning look at Draco, his hand dropped onto the small, black box and after a horrid moment of a murky brown glow surrounded Ron's body, he crumpled to the floor.

Immediately, Harry threw his cloak off and jumped up from his hiding place in the doorway and shrieked, "What the shit happened?"

"Bugger." Draco folded his arms and walked over to Ron, nudging him with his toe. "Well, you saw what happened."

Draco wasn't nearly so surprised by Harry's presence as he'd hoped he'd be, but it was a bit much to expect that Draco hadn't noticed him after he'd looked directly at him. "Yes, I saw what happened, but why did it happen? Did you know that would happen?"

"Yes. Well, no. I mean, I didn't expect that Weasley would suddenly have a moment of competency while I wasn't looking. It's not as if he was arsed to scry for magic at any of the other locations we've investigated. How was I to know he'd pick this trap to spring?" Bending over Ron, Draco held his hands out a few inches from Ron's body and grumbled about the stupidity of Weasleys and cursed Gryffindors in general.

Harry took a calming breath, determined not to flip his shit over Draco's eerily relaxed demeanor. He decided to focus on the idea that if Draco was so blasé that it meant that he knew what was going on. "So you know what it is?"

Making a face, Draco took a seat next to Ron's body. Harry followed and reached out slowly to touch Ron, but paused, noting that Draco hadn't. Draco gave him a look of approval for his caution and gestured that Harry could touch him if he wanted. "I'm pretty sure he's knocked out by a yuurei."

After a beat and a questioning look from Harry, Draco continued, "A yuurei is a Japanese ghost that suffered, or at least believed it suffered miserably and has returned for revenge. It's generally a female ghost."

"Okay… so I guess the next question would be what is a Japanese ghost doing in London?"

Draco tapped his fingers on the ground, pressing his lips together in thought. "It's set up as a trap to discourage anyone looking to deeply into what's going on. These boxes are spirit containers and they keep the yuurei trapped. Touching one releases the ghost."

"What happens when it's released?" asked Harry, glaring at the box.

"I'm… not entirely sure, actually."

Harry looked at Draco in shock. He was so used to Draco having the answers that it was aggravating that he didn't have them now. "What do you mean you're not sure? Ron's knocked out. Your partner is unconscious! How do you not know?"

"I didn't exactly plan for my partner to be a lackwit who would go about touching black boxes of mystery. Who does that?" Draco shot back.

"Well he's your partner!" Harry huffed.

"He's your friend!" Draco replied.

"And he's my hostage! Mweeheeheee!" a high, familiar voice replied.

Harry and Draco stared at each other for a moment as if reality was closing in and that suddenly everything was a bit too insane to be real. At the same time, they both turned their heads slowly to the apparition floating over the black box and asked in unison, "Myrtle?"

"That's right, boys," she cooed, floating around them happily.

"You said a Japanese ghost. Myrtle's not Japanese!" Harry protested, as if that would change things. He wasn't at all sure what to make of this except that it Wasn't Going To Be Good.

"It was Japanese magic that trapped the spirit!" Draco pointed out. He grabbed the box and turned it over where a label read "Made in Japan." Draco held it up as proof of his theory, but Myrtle stuck her head through him and through the box to blow a lascivious kiss at Harry.

"So how did Japanese magic get an English ghost out of Hogwarts?" Harry asked after dodging the kiss.

"Hrmf! I'm floating right here, you know. I could tell you, Harry," Myrtle said coyly, twisting her hair around her finger.

"Fair enough," said Harry, particularly since Draco was just glaring at him and offering nothing by way of explanation. "How did Japanese magic trap you in that box?"

"I don't know!" she said, her mood changing suddenly again as she swirled around the room. "I heard someone calling to me in a funny language and he asked if I was bored with the loo and I said I was and he asked if I wanted to come with him and I said that I would. And then I was in a box! But now I can be your friend if I want to. Would you like that, Harry? I always thought you liked Won-Won as more than a friend." She giggled in that creepily hysterical way she could when she thought she was funny. "Wheee!"

"What does that mean?" Draco snapped.

Harry was shocked at Draco's reaction and as much as he wanted to stop and think about the implications of that, he needed to deal with what was going on with Ron. "Ron and I have never been... like that. He's married. And you are my friend, Myrtle. Malfoy's friend too, right?"

Draco glared.

"Ooooh yes," said Myrtle as she curled around Draco, resting her ghostly head on his shoulder. "My sensitive boy. You were both so sensitive, weren't you, hmm?"

She giggled again and Draco gritted his teeth. "Yes. I'm very sensitive. Right now I'm very worried about Weasley. What's wrong with him?"

"Oh! Poor ickle Dwako! Don't cry this time, all right? He'll be all right," she cooed, trying to stroke Draco's hair.

It was hard for Harry not to giggle at the spectacle, but Ron's limp body sobered him. "So Ron's just knocked out?"

"Oh, no. His body is preparing to take my spirit, so soon I'll really be your best friend, Harry!" she giggled. "I don't know that I wanted to be a ginger kid, but I'll take what I can get!"

"Ginger kids. Gross." Draco wrinkled his nose.

Harry looked between them as if they had both lost their minds, and he wasn't entirely sure it wasn't him. "Then what happens to Ron?"

"I don't know! You said he's married to that girl? The one who became a cat?" Myrtle giggled again. "Oh no, we'll have to change that! I don't like girls like that! But neither do you two! Maybe we could all…."

"No!" both men shouted before she could even finish that. They eyed each other and then looked away.

"Ooooooohhhh that takes the fun out of it!" Myrtle wailed as she started circling the room.

"Myrtle. Pay attention," said Draco. He held out his hand and she froze in place and turned towards him, seeming quite shocked by this predicament. "What happens to Weasley if you take him over?"

"He dies, I guess." She shook her shoulders and broke away from the grip Draco had on her. Myrtle gave him a curious look and then settled down on her knees in front of him.

"And what happens to you if this doesn't happen?" Draco asked gently. Harry had never really thought about what Draco's relationship with Myrtle might've been like. She'd called him sensitive and he assumed that it was because Draco cried. Now he wondered if there wasn't something more tender there. There were other places in the castle where Draco could've gone to cry, but he chose to go there, evidently repeatedly.

"I go back to Hogwarts."

Draco nodded and looked at her and then at Ron. "You don't want him to die, do you? Not really, Myrtle."

For the first time that Harry had noticed, Myrtle really looked at Ron. Slow, silvery tears rolled down Myrtle's cheeks and she shook her head. It was a sharp contrast to her usual hysterical yowling. "No. I don't want him to die."

"Then you're going to have to stop, right?" asked Draco.

Myrtle looked to Draco and then over at Harry then back again. Then her mood changed in an instant again, suddenly she looked impish. "You have to do something for me, first. You have to satisfy a condition for me. Otherwise the magic won't break."

Draco shifted, looking suddenly uncomfortable. "You know I can't… touch you."

Harry blinked, wondering again about the nature of the relationship between them again, but if how she behaved around him was any indication then maybe… he didn't really want to think about it.

"But you can touch Harry," she said, giggling wildly.

"Myrtle…" Draco looked shifty and then cut his eyes to Harry. "That's not appropriate."

"I know you want to, Dwaaaako!" she said, swirling around the room.

Harry did a double take at Draco, but he'd turned his back on Harry. "What does that mean?"

"She's been dead too long and is obviously delusional," Draco muttered.

"Oh, I know you two boys were watching each other. You could hardly take your eyes off of Draco sixth year!" Myrtle squealed before hovering over the little black box that she'd come from.

"That was different!" Harry protested. Draco was right. Myrtle was clearly delusional. "I thought he was up to something! And he was!"

Harry looked to Draco for confirmation on this topic, but Draco too busy prodding at Ron and casting detection spells on him. "Hm? What? Right, yes, I was doing something evil, wrong and bad."

"Yeah," said Harry, his look softening. For now, he was going to forget this weirdness about their sixth year, in lieu of what was going on with Ron. "Is he all right?"

"Time's just... running short. She's getting paler, and so is he," said Draco, sighing. "The transfer is working. Our time is going to be limited."

"Oooohhhhhhooohhh," said Myrtle. "Looks like we'll have to see what I wanted to see hm, Malfoy?"

"Is that entirely necessary?" Draco blushed, which surprised Harry as he was under the impression that the antichrist couldn't blush. But then it occurred to him that there was something that Myrtle evidently wanted to see from Draco that he'd never shown.

"It's nothing I didn't see Prefects doing in the bath, Draco, you know that." Myrtle cackled at Harry's horrified look. "Yes, well you know I saw you, Haaarrrry," she purred. "But Draco always knew I was there!"

"What? How did he know?" Granted, Draco was standing right there to ask, but Harry asked Myrtle anyway.

"I told you, he's sensitive. Sensitive to spirits, too!" she said.

Harry turned to Draco to confirm this, wondering if that wasn't the answer to some of his mysterious powers. Not that spiritual sensitivity necessarily meant that he was psychic, but if Draco were a Seer then... no, that was ridiculous. Draco was just as easily duped as anyone. Still, he filed it away to think about later.

Draco rubbed his face and looked at Ron several times, as if not tossing off was a viable option to letting Ron die. His face contorted into a horridly wicked expression that caused Harry to remind him, "Ron's your partner, Draco. The Ministry frowns on Aurors allowing their partners to die because they..." he paused as a really brilliant pun came to mind, "don't give a toss."

"Now I'll never get hard."

"I can help," said Harry.

"Oooh, yes! You should help him, Harry!" Myrtle encouraged. "In fact, Draco, take off your clothes and lean back against Ron. It will be like a threesome!"

"But Ron's unconscious, Myrtle!" Harry protested. Maybe he wasn't terribly fond of Ron lately, but that seemed pretty out of hand.

"From what I hear, that won't make much difference," said Draco, who had evidently made his mind up to do it, as he'd stood up and began deftly disrobing.

"Ooooh!" said Myrtle. "Not much has changed since Hogwarts, then!"

"Hey!" But really, Harry didn't know what to say to defend Ron. It wasn't as if he had personal experience to draw from on how Ron was in bed. In Harry's fantasies, he'd always been rather good, but this seemed an impolitic moment to mention those daydreams.

Draco spread his robe over the floor and over the part of Ron that he evidently intended to lean against. Harry still wasn't sure how he felt about Ron as a sexual prop, but Draco's supine form sprawled out over his burgundy velvet robe with his hand wrapped around his cock made it difficult for him to argue the point.

Harry was conscious only of his breathing and the soft rustle of Draco's wet hand sliding over his cock. He was moving in a predictably quick fashion, firming himself up to a more complete erection, and then he did something unusual. His fingers curled rather specifically over the head of his cock, pinching in around just the head. From that position, he pulled in short strokes, stimulating the head. It made sense, but Harry had never even thought to try anything like that.

"Oooh, I knew you'd do something unusual!" Myrtle enthused.

"Er... thanks." Draco squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as of trying to block the room out. Then he opened his eyes slowly, his gaze steady on Harry.

His already loud breathing was joined by the hard thumping of his pulse that echoed through his body, finally pooling in a hard beat in Harry's cock. Distantly, Harry could hear Myrtle cooing and squealing about how Draco was looking at him, but whatever embarrassment he should have felt was blocked out by the intensity of Draco's stare.

"Put something inside of yourself," Myrtle said. Harry heard that much and he was more than willing to offer up something to put into Draco. He quickly started to undress. "Hold on there, Tiger. Your turn is coming."

Harry had never quite experienced the sensation of lust as his mouth watering, but were he ever to, now would be the time. He turned to tell Myrtle off, but Draco shook his head at Harry. The shock of ginger hair behind Draco reminded Harry why he wasn't to upset Myrtle.

Holding his hand out, Draco's lips formed some word Harry didn't recognize and a formidable bright purple dildo appeared in Draco's hand. Harry wanted to cry foul, to say that Draco had protested that he was a virgin and yet, he had that thing that he knew well enough to conjure from thin air. Yet he realized that virginity applied to never having someone inside of him and not something. So then he fixated on whether it was bigger than he was.

It was.

Harry decided to un-fixate.

De-fixate.

Whatever.

He wasn't going to think about it anymore. Except... he was thinking about it still.

"Oooh, I wonder how he knew to get that," Myrtle pondered, floating closer to Harry.

"He was in a monastery. It was lonely," said Harry, grateful now that he hadn't taken his clothes off.

"Not that lonely, apparently!" Myrtle cackled.

Harry fidgeted and thought about leaving, except that Draco had brought the dildo to his lips and was now pushing it deep into his mouth, taking it down his throat, making a huge show of it, presumably for Myrtle, but he still hadn't stopped watching Harry. Was this the look that the other Aurors saw Draco giving him? Surely not. It was far too viscerally sexual, but still, Harry had never really imagined anyone looking at him like that, and he felt another thrill of sexual tension shiver down his spine.

Pulling the purple prick from his mouth, Draco prodded it against his opening, circling the tip around it first before purposefully pushing it into him. This was the first time Harry could really appreciate the way that Draco's anus stretched from such a small aperture to accommodate something so wide. His skin paled and then flushed as Draco worked the dildo into him. Hand stilled on his cock, Draco twisted his wrist, spinning the jelly dong into him as his head fell back, his cheeks bright with the effort and his body glistening with sweat. Once it was in, Draco pulled it back out slowly, then jammed it in again.

"That's it, fuck that boypussy, Draco!" Myrtle cheered.

Two mentions of boypussy in as many days. It had to be a sign. Of something. If Draco really was a Seer, Harry would have to ask.

Draco looked up at Myrtle, eyes wide and offended, but he gamely continued, looking back at Harry.

"Someone doesn't like that word, does he? Malfoy doesn't like it being called a boypussy. Does that bother you, Malfoy, talking about your dirty little boypussy?"

"Stop it, Myrtle, he doesn't like it." Harry rounded on Myrtle, obscuring her view of Draco protectively.

"I don't give a bloody fuck what he likes or doesn't like. I'm in charge here! Do you want your friend to die, Harry?" she asked.

It seemed a stupid word to die over; Harry wondered if Ron would appreciate the irony if he was ended over it. If Myrtle were any example for the standard of ghostly senses of humor, Harry imagined it would make Ron tetchy in the afterlife. He might even get haunted. "No, I don't want him to die."

"Get undressed," she said sweetly. "And tell Draco that you want to fuck his boypussy."

Harry winkled his nose, but then rolled his eyes as he finished undressing. He turned to look at Draco, who was staring at the floor as he fucked himself slower now. "I want to fuck your boypussy," said Harry flatly.

"Oh, that's no fun, that's no fun at all!" said Myrtle, swirling around Draco.

As far as Harry was concerned, she was right. It hadn't been fun at all. Draco looked honestly humiliated with the word and Harry hated himself for saying it so casually. It meant nothing to him, but obviously Draco was unhappy.

"Malfoy, I want you to ask Harry to fuck your boypussy."

"Myrtle, no!" said Harry, his brows furrowed as he stroked himself.

Draco's face looked tortured, his lips parted wantonly. He pulled the dildo from inside of him and set it on his cloak and resumed tossing off. He shook his head, finally.

"Do it. Do it or Ronald dies. Do you want Ronald to die because you were too chickenshit to say boypussy?" She shrieked with the fury of a ghost not getting her way. She fled around the room, screaming obscenities in frustration.

Pulling his arm over his face, Draco finally mumbled, "Fuckmboypussy."

Myrtle stopped and hovered over Draco, grinning happily. "What was that? I didn't quite hear it."

Draco winced and looked away from her. "Fuck m'boypussy."

"With conviction!"

Groaning, Draco said it louder with slightly more conviction. "Fuck my boypussy."

As much as he hated himself for it, Harry felt a twitch in his cock at Draco's humiliation. Something about the way he sheepishly lowered his face, his head ducked under in such a boyish way.

"Say it to Harry! Louder!"

Draco's face was blotchy red, his eyes rimmed red as if he were about to cry. It was surprisingly agonizing to get Draco to say it, but he narrowed his eyes, took a deep breath and said, "Dear god." After a pause he said, "Fuck my boypussy, Harry. I want you to fuck me hard over your best friend, because I need to feel you fucking my hot, wet boypussy right fucking now."

As much as Harry wanted to stand there gaping at him, his body had more pressing needs and tossing off wasn't going to sate it. Harry crossed the room and slammed down onto his knees on the edge of Draco's robes. Draco hooked his knees up on Harry's shoulder and Harry lined himself up with Draco and pushed solidly into his warm hole, not worried about how he'd take him because he'd just taken the dong.

Harry gathered Draco off of Ron, crossing his arms over Draco's back. He plowed into Draco as deeply as he could, Draco's speech ringing in his ears. Maybe it was just acting, something done to satisfy Myrtle, but Harry thought it was the sexiest thing he'd ever heard. Fucking Draco cheek-to-cheek, Harry breathed in his ear, a constant update on how good Draco felt enveloping and how effective his words had been, even if he could never imagine Draco saying such a thing again.

Between the intensity of Draco's muscular inner walls sucking around him and the memory of the searing, agonized look on Draco's face as dirty talk spilled from his angelic lips, Harry already felt the dizzying anxiety of his release approaching. Like a ship on a rocky storm far away, that is all too soon upon you, Harry was overtaken by the shuddering orgasm.

He released into Draco, still clutching him. Feeling movement on his abdomen, Harry looked down between them, Draco's hand working on the head of his cock. He observed the hot spit of come pushing through the slit and oozing over Draco's fingers and down the side of his cock.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Harry whispered before he could censor himself.

"I know," Draco panted.

Harry smiled and was about to tell Draco he was a class-A arrogant prat when Ron started to stir beneath them. Checking around the room, Harry was relieved to note that Myrtle was no longer with them, but Ron was awakening and Harry had no Reasonable Explanation for this. He didn't even have an unreasonable explanation, really. Worse yet, his wand was on the other side of the room.

"Stupefy!" said Draco. Ron stopped moving. Never had Harry been so grateful for wandless magic before this precise moment.

--

"So yeah, I don't remember anything else from that day. Kingsley thinks that Draco put the whammy on me so he could carry out his diabolical schemes," said Ron before he sipped his pint.

Harry was pretty sure that "The Whammy" was not a magical term and that it was not precisely what Kingsley had said, but Ron seemed happy enough with the explanation. If he only knew how much whamming had been going on atop him. "Yeah, I got notice that I was being assigned with him again."

"Don't see why. He could get the drop on you just as easily as he did me. Probably did, too. You just don't remember. Hey, is that Lavender?"

Because Harry was so happy to be assigned to Draco again, he chose not to take offense to Ron's remarks. He knew he was just feeling humiliated, but Harry hadn't told him to be truthful about his loss of memory. Ron had been taking the Mickey for "fainting" all week long. He turned to look at who had just walked in. She was decidedly not Lavender. "No, it's not. Hey look, Ron, maybe you should go home and tend to your wife?"

"What crawled up your arse?" Ron said, glaring at Harry.

"Nothing." Yet, but there was always tomorrow. "Just seems like a slow night, you might want to, you know, see your family."

Ron glared at Harry for a moment, seething with something that Harry couldn't place. It didn't seem that out of line to him to tell Ron to spend time with the woman he married.

"You know, I don't know who you are anymore. Every since you were partnered up with Draco, I'm not good enough for you. You just pick, pick, pick and judge me and my life." To punctuate his point, Ron slammed the glass on the Leaky bar.

"I just think you could treat your family a little better," said Harry. He regretted it immediately when he saw Ron's face redden.

"Me? Me treat my family better? Harry, have you seen my family? I've nothing to do with those kids. You know it, I know it, dogs know it! It's rubbed in my face every day. She even named them to mock me. So excuse the bloody hell out of me if I have a little fun when I can." Ron sneered at Harry for a moment, and then turned to make a beeline for the girl who was not Lavender.

"Ron, wait!" Harry stood, heart breaking that Ron did seem to know all of this. Harry had just assumed he was that dense; a horrid assumption on Harry's part. Perhaps it was wishful thinking because the alternative was this; Ron's extreme unhappiness.

"Piss off, Harry." Ron waved him off, not even pausing to spare Harry a glance.

At this point, Harry couldn't blame him. He stared glumly into the foam in his pint and sighed, wishing he could keep his big mouth shut. Harry tried to cheer himself by thinking about Draco being his partner again, and that worry being over. As happy as that made him, it wasn't enough to keep him in this pub with Ron shooting death glances his direction. After paying the tab, Harry headed home, hoping next week would be better.