Gay Aurors

"Potter, we need to talk."

Harry turned around in his chair to see Draco leaning against the frame of his cubicle. His blond hair was a bit tousled and he looked a bit worse for wear, like he hadn't slept at all the night before. The fact that Draco had come in late hadn't escaped his attention, either. The seriousness of Draco's tone made his stomach tighten with worry that Draco had finally done the deed with Kirley Duke and was going to tell him that they needed to stop having it off together.

"I've time," said Harry. Already he was trying to control his emotions. He couldn't afford to lose his shit at the office. Kingsley wouldn't look kindly upon Harry's wild magic turning all of the cubes from grey to red. Or flattening the Ministry.

"It's about what happened the other night... this morning... whatever." Draco gave him a meaningful look, turning his head down and raising his eyebrows.

"Is it about Duke?" Harry gripped his mug tightly, hoping that would be enough to vent his worry.

"What? No." Draco's mystified expression eased Harry's tension. "He's nothing to do with this. At all. It's about... well... you know..."

Harry tried to tie together what they'd done with Draco's current state. Late in the morning and looking ill... "Are you up the duff?"

It was pretty evident that this was another question out of left field as far as Draco was concerned. At first he just said, "No," and looked for all the world that he was going to go on about what he did want to talk about, but instead his face screwed up in mortified shock. "What?"

"I mean... you're not... because you're part..." Harry looked around as if he could see past the cubicle walls. As he couldn't, he stood up and got closer to Draco. "Part Veela."

Draco's mouth dropped open and his brows furrowed as he just stared at Harry. "I'm a man."

"Yeah. I noticed that. But... I don't know, I thought maybe because you're... you know..."

"You think that being fractionally a Veela means that my colon could become a uterus?" Draco took a step back from Harry and crossed his arms.

"When you put it that way it sounds dumb. It's a magical creature. There are potions that can make a man--" Harry protested.

Before he could say another word, Draco clapped his hand over Harry's mouth and cupped the back of his head with the other. "Not another word, Potter. I don't know... where your head is at... but just... no." He looked hard at Harry again and then let go of him.

"I just read it somewhere."

"Oh my god, Potter. I don't want to know what kind of kinky things you read and fantasize about. I wanted to set up a time with you to talk about what we saw here when we got back!"

"Oh." That had vexed him, too. Harry was ashamed that he'd let his hopes Draco might want to talk about the sex they were having get in the way of business. "We could talk tonight. I could come over."

"I could go over to your place, even," said Draco. He was still looking at Harry as if he was a sick pervert, but at least he wasn't saying anything about it.

"Oh, well, I... that's... complicated." Harry was still living in Grimmauld Place which had the Fidelius Charm on it. As the Secret Keeper was long dead, it was impossible to tell Draco where he lived. He could and probably should get the charm broken; he just hadn't had a compelling reason to do so before now. "My house is... hidden."

"I see. Well then, I suppose my flat will have to do." Draco looked strangely uncomfortable with Harry coming over and Harry wondered if Kirley had moved in. "Half eight, then. Bring takeaway-- the Vindaloo 'round the corner is decent."

"Should I bring enough for three?" Harry almost didn't want to ask that question, fearing what the answer might be.

"I'm not pregnant, Potter!" Draco blurted out. There was a nervous silence and then tittering from the surrounding otherwise silent Aurors. Sulking, Draco shot Harry a glare. "Git."

Harry pressed his lips together to keep from snickering himself and shook his head. "I was asking about your musician friend."

Draco mouthed an oh and shook his head. "He's not invited."

That didn't really answer the question as to whether he was living with Draco or not, but Harry decided not to press his luck. Kirley wouldn't be there and that was good enough for him. "All right. I'll see you tonight, then."

--

It wasn't his fault that he was running a few minutes late. Harry was already trying to form the excuses that he thought might work best. Really, the people in the curry shop were less interested in getting him his order and more interesting in gossiping in a language Harry wished he could understand. There were charms for that, but off the top of his head he couldn't think of any and really, it was hardly the point. The Vindaloo was the point, and his anxiousness to see Draco and find out what he'd entrust him with.

He was consulting his gold reflection in the patina'ed steel when the lift chimed and the doors rolled open. Taking a step out, he stopped cold at the vision of Captain Cheese himself sitting against the door holding a vase with what appeared to be a floral hedge. It gave him an instant headache.

"All right there, Duke?" asked Harry. He gamely tried to be polite, although Kirley Duke's presence was surely the most vexing he could imagine.

"He's not there," said Kirley. He rolled up onto his stilt-like legs which made him stand unsettlingly taller than Harry by a few inches.

"Maybe he's just not answering the door for you. I'm expected." Maybe Ron was right that Draco was rubbing off on him. Normally he wasn't quite so snarky, but he was suddenly feeling very much on the defensive.

"Business dinner?" Kirley asked, sniffing at the air. "Vindaloo. He loves it, but it's too spicy for him. But I suppose that doesn't matter for business purposes."

Dinner menus weren't normally quite so exasperating, but suddenly Harry wanted to smash the food over the side of Kirley's smug face and stomp on his body until his ribs cracked. It wasn't really Kirley's fault that Draco had chosen food that might give him a convenient out for shenanigans later, although it did occur to Harry that Draco might've been using it as an excuse for Kirley. "Well, I wouldn't know. He's never complained about food to me."

"You're just his partner, I don't know why he would," Kirley shot back.

In spite of his quick retort, he was bristling and Harry decided to try and be optimistic that he'd hit a nerve. After all, Draco had clearly stated that he wasn't having it off with Kirley. Besides, what man would bring flowers to someone they'd already shagged? He looked down awkwardly at his own hands bearing no such luxuries.

But then, this was just a business dinner, he reminded himself. It wasn't like Draco brought him gifts. Other than that netsuke. That priceless artifact. He hadn't taken credit for buying it, but then Harry could scarcely imagine Draco playing with a functioning puzzle toy without knowing its precise origins. He was entirely too cautious for that.

"Oh yes, I'm just the person who spends fourty hours a week plus overtime with him. Just the person who was invited over when you did not merit an invitation and are slumped in front of his door like a lovelorn fanboy. Now, move out of my way." Harry could definitely tell he hit a nerve this time by the way Kirley's face flushed and his body shook. He was quite proud of himself before the guilt started kicking in. That had been cruel, but then, Kirley really had brought it on himself.

Shrugging it off, Harry rang the bell and waited expectantly. After a few minutes, he rang the chime again, tilting his head to hear the chime go off inside. Still nothing. He waited a couple more minutes and shot a look to Kirley, who was simply standing there glaring.

"Maybe he just doesn't want to see you when he comes out. We had a meeting." That was uncharitable, but at the moment, his momentary guilt had eroded and he was left feeling foolish and stood up. Granted, he was just there to talk about work and this wasn't a social call, but Kirley had put him on the defensive about his relationship with Draco and he really wanted to talk to him about it.

Even if it wasn't his right to ask, he thought as he pounded on the door, he felt he should know exactly why Draco was allowing Kirley to hang around. He hadn't seen any terribly incriminating photos in the Prophet of late, but who knew what that really meant?

In the last article, he could almost glean a faint look of disgust and Draco pulling away before Kirley kissed him, but it was hard to say where truth and fancy bid a fond but reluctant farewell. Looking at Kirley, however, Harry thought he was right on the money.

"Fine. But if he is in there, tell the little ponce that I'm running out of patience with his games." Kirley smacked Harry's shoulder hard as he passed and then binned the flowers before pressing the lift button.

Harry wanted to give an amen to that, or even a here, here. He himself was pretty tired of Draco's games, but then he was at least getting some and had an appointment. He stood at the door, deciding to stare at it instead of the back of Kirley's hostile head until he heard the lift close and chime down to the next floor.

Ringing and knocking again, Harry still had no answer. He set the cooling food down and pulled his wand, trying to decide what he should do. The segment of him that was hurt by this perceived mistreatment was giving way to a sudden paranoia that Draco might not be able to answer the door. To some that might've seemed an arrogant assumption, but given who and what they were, the idea was logical.

For all of his teasing and game-playing, Draco was deadly serious when it came to his job, and Harry assumed that he was just as serious about this mysterious Japanese man. He started chanting incantations, starting with the most standard for breaking wards. He'd've been disappointed if it had been that easy to get into Draco's flat, but the routine gave him somewhere else for his mind to go.

The disturbing notions of what he might find behind the mahogany door were too vivid given what he'd seen during the war. He wasn't sure he could bear it. But then, he would have to. Doing the right thing was just who he was, and emotions had to wait their turn.

As he started to weave through to the most arcane of curse-breaking spells that he knew, Harry started to get the sinking feeling that this wasn't going to work. A paranoid Auror could throw a roadblock on his home that could take weeks to break if he were so inclined. Draco definitely seemed the sort that would be so inclined.

Putting up an Impenetrable charm and an Invisibility spell, Harry set to work on the front door for hours. He thought to check the length of the wall, just to make sure Draco wasn't being lazy and only charmed the door itself. It was almost silly to believe that Draco wouldn't think to enchant the entire flat, but Harry was starting to feel hysterical with worry and trying everything.

By the end of a few hours, Harry was pale, sweating and starving. He was losing all hope of getting into Draco's fortress and feared he might have to call the other Aurors in. He wasn't sure what they'd say about it. Depending on what Draco really was doing, it could look bad for him. Then again, Harry could be wasting valuable seconds that could save Draco's life.

He was just about to give up and head back to the office when the door mysteriously clicked open. Warily, Harry entered with his wand out. In spite of how tired he was every muscle was tensed, ready for the attack.

Having never had a proper tour of Draco's flat, he wasn't sure if there were loads of Wizard Space rooms tacked on. Starting out in the entryway, Harry frightened himself with the mirror, starting at his own movement. He was glad he hadn't hexed himself. The living room was empty, sitting in its presumably usual blank slate state. The kitchen was immaculate. On impulse, Harry opened the fridge and found only a capsicum and tomato along with fresh milk. It was sort of bachelor-y, but not pathetic.

Harry headed into Draco's bed and bath and found no trace of Draco there, either. The bed was neatly made in shades of blue, the bed simple and oak with classic lines. Unobtrusive, but inviting. Trying not to think of what Draco might look like splayed out over the bed, Harry headed into the bath. It was huge. If Wizard Space was being used, it was probably on the tub and the giant wardrobe.

Evidently, Draco liked clothes. And shoes. There were fathomless rows upon rows of each, all categorized by season (he assumed since the jumpers were together) and color, making the space appear even longer as the hues lined up in subtle rainbows. The tub itself could seat at least four people and there were jets. Draco often seemed to prefer the Wizarding world almost to the point of fetish, so it was telling that he'd allow a tub with electric jets in his bath. At least he had those priorities straight.

The guest bath was elegant, but unremarkable beyond the fact that Harry used it. Finally he entered the last room. He remembered seeing Draco with the katana, but that was just the start of his arsenal. All along the walls were various styles of weaponry that Harry couldn't even guess the names of. Weird hooked blades and numchucks, poles of varying sizes and an impressive sword collection. On one wall was a small desk with files neatly stacked and color coordinated. Harry crossed the room to read them, but as soon as he attempted to touch them, they vanished.

"Hrmf." Harry crossed his arms and looked around the room, baffled.

One thing was for certain. Draco Malfoy wasn't home.

Feeling as if he'd looked over the flat pretty well for Draco, Harry went through it once more in search of clues. Though he tried to keep calm, he had the definite uneasy feeling that if Draco did not want to be found, he wouldn't be.

Worse yet, if someone had him and didn't want him to be found...

He couldn't think about that. Except that, he had to think about that if he was going to be effective at finding Draco. Though he hadn't really thought about it before, Draco had a multitude of enemies, far beyond those he tormented at school. If he really had bailed on the Death Eaters, then any one of them might want to hurt him. Then, there was the mysterious Japanese man that was meeting with Percy the other morning that Draco wanted to talk to him about. They'd played it pretty fast and loose around him in the alleyway, though. Draco either was confident in his disguise, or his bravado could've gotten him in trouble. Could Percy have told the Japanese man where Draco lived?

But that was stupid. Even Percy Weasley wouldn't have access to that kind of information. Sure, Harry had found him, but Harry was... an Auror of limited experience. No, that wasn't fair, because he had killed Lord Voldemort. He'd sought out and found Horcruxes... with the help of his friends. He'd call on them, but one was barely speaking to him and the other was hardly herself. He missed feeling as if he could count on them, but he supposed that people changed and it was idealistic to think that they would all be together as best friends forever.

Now that he wasn't sure if he felt more panicked or maudlin, he decided he needed a change of scenery. He would go back to the beginning, the last place he'd seen Draco Malfoy: at work.

Not everyone could get into the Ministry at odd hours of the night and morning. Aurors had special dispensation to enter the Ministry at whim. At this hour, there would only be a few early risers that had negotiated to start work at this hour, but there were very few of those. Walking through the atrium of the Ministry on off hours was always creepy. The place was dead silent, and the torches burnt low, casting weird shadows over the once-broken Fountain of Magical Brethren. He was glad to see that in its repair, the centaur was looking to the stars instead of the humans. The goblin also seemed to have its own inscrutable task that was more important to it than others, but the house-elf was ever gazing adoringly up at the magic folk.

Some things would never change.

As he rode the lift to basement level two, Harry pondered whether Percy had special dispensation to be at the Ministry after hours. He was technically in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, although not especially connected. How hard would it be for him to follow Draco home? Would Draco have opened the door to him?

Harry's robes billowed behind him as he made his way down the hall, praying for a sliver of light under Percy's door, hoping that he was there for him to put questions to. Alas, his door was dark and Harry walked the rest of the way to the Auror Headquarters.

The more he thought on it, the more certain he was that Draco had been captured. At the time he'd been too exhausted to really think on the implications when the door opened itself after all of his working. It wouldn't have done that if Draco hadn't willed it to. Magic was irrevocably bound to the caster, a form of will sent out by their concentrating to make happen. This meant that if Draco was able to change the magic from wherever he was, he was obviously still alive, as magic left cast when a person dies remained as it was a the time of the magician's demise.

Had he any further doubts that Draco had been captured and wanting to leave clues, they fell dead like useless shells upon his entry into Draco's cubicle. The entire area was a blank slate, as it always was, neat as a pin with nary a scrap of dust or misplaced parchment, but for a small roll of parchment sitting on the middle of his desk.

Harry fled for it. Obviously, whatever was written here would lead Harry to where Draco was. He must've worried that the receipt of this note would lead to something happening or he would've hidden it. As it was, it was all but set on a velvet pillow with a bright light shining on it and a flashing neon sign that read, "A Clue."

Taking a moment to be insulted that Draco felt the need to be so obvious, Harry sighed and unrolled the scroll to see very girly handwriting on a short missive.

Meet me at my house. We have things to chat about.

- Mione

"Mione?" Harry winced at her self-proclaimed nickname that had never quite caught on between the boys. He supposed her lovers and friends probably used it, but he'd always found it fucktarded. What vexed him even more than the presumed familiarity with Draco and the stupid name was the way the 'i' was dotted in the note. It appeared to be half a heart that was hastily scratched out. A full heart was realized over the 'i' in 'Mione' which made it even harder to look at. Hermione had never been one for such girly additions to her writing, at least not that he remembered from when she'd corrected his homework or revisions.

Suddenly, the whole queer spectacle of Draco and Hermione sizing each other up at The Leaky Cauldron flooded his memory; the way he'd looked at her and the way she'd balked and how defensive and morose Ron had been over it.

What had he said again? 'You're not yourself, are you Granger?' At the time, Harry couldn't have agreed more. She really hadn't been herself in some time, but he'd attributed it to survivor's guilt, or just wanting to change herself after the tribulations of being at war for so long. He'd certainly wanted to just let go of everything and become someone else, but what if she really had?

All of those changes she'd made that had been so annoying at the time were now quite chilling to recall. He wasn't sure what or who she might actually be, only that now he was certain that the woman who was married to Ron was not Hermione Weasley, and whoever she was, she had Draco trapped somewhere.

Pocketing the scroll, Harry knew he had only one place to be-- Ron's house.

--

The plan had been to walk into Hermione's house and ask about where Draco was. The letter was burning a hole in his pocket to show to her, as if she wouldn't remember writing it. But mostly, he was anxious to find Draco and to know that he was all right.

As he hadn't checked the time, he didn't seem to realize how early in the morning it was. It took a while before Hermione opened the door, looking exhausted and tawdry in her obviously thrown-on negligee, which she'd left open as if that were going to be at all tempting.

The lace stuck to her skin that still bore redness from her leaning against the pillow. Her hair was swept up on top of her head, but that didn't help the pillow welts on the side of her face.

"Oh, Harry come in! Ron's on a bender again," she said as she pointed to the couch. "Can I get you a pint?"

Harry just barely missed tripping over a toy unicorn on his way to the couch and flopped onto it. "No, tea... coffee would be better," he called back, sitting on the couch.

"Looking for Ron, Harry?" she asked. He heard the clatter of dishes as she created what started to smell like coffee. He looked down at the note, an obvious forgery, now that he thought of it. He probably shouldn't be bothering her with it. Hearts? Hermione? But the note said to come here, so perhaps someone meant to gather him from here. "Looking for Malfoy, actually. I thought he might've stopped by."

"Your partner?"

Harry turned at the loud crash of a mug hitting the floor. He waited for Hermione to repair it, but instead she got out a broom. "Er, yeah, Malfoy my partner. I had reason to believe he'd stop by here."

"That's weird."

"Reparo," said Harry, holding his wand at the broken cup. He gave her a pointed look.

"Oh, you know me. I don't know all of those charms. You say one letter off and suddenly the whole room is up in flames," said Hermione, giving a nervous laugh.

"You're the one who taught us how to pronounce spells properly, Hermione, remember?" It was all coming together, clicking off slowly in Harry's head. She really wasn't herself. She was someone else entirely. Hermione would've remembered that. She would've repaired the mug and moved on with her life. Makeover or not, this was just not Hermione.

"That was so long ago," she said, pouring a cup of coffee for him, but not one for herself.

Behind him, there was a flash of light. Harry turned his head to look at, catching a trace of blue before the light went out. It appeared to be emanating from the cupboard. "What was that?"

"Oh nothing, Harry. Just one of the kids." Hermione looked panicked and she headed towards the door but Harry reached it first. He knocked on it, but heard nothing in response.

"One of your children is in the pantry and that's nothing?" He knocked again, harder this time, keeping his eyes trained on Hermione, who was looking increasingly irritated.

"You know how Neville is. He's peculiar like his father was. He likes to sleep in strange places. Malfoy was here, he just left with his... friend. They were talking about going on holiday, I believe." Hermione looked cagey, but what she said made some sense, not in an Earth Logic way, but certainly in some way.

"Which friend? The bloke at the pub?" But still, the idea of Malfoy going on an unexpected holiday seemed crazy.

"Yes, the one at the pub."

She hadn't said Kirley Duke. If someone as famous as Kirley Duke stopped by your house to pick up his boyfriend, you called him by his name.

"Which bloke at the pub?"

"The one who was staring at him all night. Down the way a bit. Maybe you didn't see him. Think it's his boyfriend. He said he was having it off with someone at work, maybe you know him?"

Unless Draco was having it off with someone other than Harry, which was doubtful, but he'd ask anyway, Draco would've been talking about him. "So this bloke came and got him and they were going to leave on holiday?"

"Oh yes, they looked very happy. Haven't seen them since."

There was another blue flash of light and Harry whirled around to open the door. It took a couple of quick incantations, but the door was open and Harry saw a flash of Draco's angry face and heard, "You utter moron," before he was pitched forward and the door was slammed leaving them in darkness.

They'd been sitting in the dark a while, at least long enough for Harry to adjust to the miniscule light that the misaligned doorframe would allow in. He sat leaned against the door whilst Draco sat with his knees to his chest pressed against the back wall with the longer coats as cushion for how he was pounding the back of his head against the wall.

"Sorry," Harry muttered for what had to be the thousandth time. Still no response from Draco other than his muttered "fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," but that seemed more of a mantra than a response.

"Really, I am." There didn't seem any way for him to express it to Draco in a way that he'd accept. "She just surprised me."

"I got that impression." Draco sighed and brought his head forward to pound his forehead against his knees.

"With both of us missing... I mean, she can't just stash us away forever, can she?"

Draco looked up, but there wasn't enough light to make his expression entirely readable. "No, I suppose that eventually she'll just kill us."

"Oh. Right."

"Or Obliviate us."

Harry looked up at the ceiling and the way the light crept in around the door. "There must be a way out."

"Or use us as sex toys."

"We've got to get out of here." That scenario actually seemed fairly likely given the history of this not!Hermione.

Draco fidgeted. "Do you really think that's likely?"

"Not if it was really Hermione, but given whom it is..."

"Finally figured out that it wasn't Granger, did you? About time. I thought you two were close." Draco stood as Harry scooted out of the way; sliding his hands over the frame.

"Not really. I mean, she was bossy and naggy before. Then she was slutty and naggy and bossy. Ron kind of liked it at first and I didn't think much of it. I don't give a lot of thought to her." As Harry said it, he realized it was true. He never really had given loads of thought to Hermione other than when he wanted something from her. Typical male behavior, but it didn't make him a terribly good friend. But then, he wondered if he'd changed like that if anyone would've noticed.

"I just wonder who it is. I couldn't suss it out before I was in here. Not that it matters if I'm to be Obliviated and turned whore, but still, for curiosity's sake... it would be good to know. Hard to imagine who would waste all of this time and effort on Weasley, though. He wasn't the most popular bloke, was he? I'd an idea that it was that one bint..."

"Lavender Brown!" Harry jumped up. All of the clues fit. It just had to be!

With his face closer to the light, it was easier to see his irritated expression over being pre-empted in his grand conclusion. Worsened by the fact that Harry was confirming it, which meant he was right. Harry was best pleased by the look. It was much the same sort of mixture of shock and fury that accompanied him catching the Snitch out of Draco's hand. He'd missed that look.

"Well aren't you just Merlin's little helper?" Draco rolled his eyes and added; "I did all of the hard work."

Draco huffed as he slid his fingers into the cracks. There was the buzz of shock, which Harry could feel, but Draco barely reacted to other than a wince. When he pulled his fingers back, they were bright red with irritation and bubbling, but Draco merely waved a hand over his fingers to set them to right again.

"Well, Lavender's a decent spell binder, anyway. I can't do this wandlessly and she took my wand. I'd hoped that if you came for me you could get the drop on her, but alas." Leaning against the wall, Draco sighed and crossed his arms.

"If? You doubted that I'd come for you?" Harry frowned. Even if they were just partners he would've gone searching for him. Maybe not as thoroughly, which had made it take longer to actually find him, but he still would have always come for him. One thing it did tell Harry, however, was that Draco didn't understand how Harry felt. That was good and bad. He was just starting to worry that perhaps Draco was being purposefully obtuse to spare his feelings when it occurred to him that he still had his wand.

Pulling it from his pocket, he handed it to Draco and said, "At least she didn't get mine."

Draco's face was in shadow again, making it hard to read how he'd taken his question, but he did answer the notion of Harry keeping his wand with a, "Pfft."

Taking the wand, Draco looked it over, sliding his fingers over it curiously. "Is this the wand you killed Voldemort with?"

"No. That one was destroyed in the final battle. That one's new. Not as good, but phoenix feather again, anyway." Harry took a step forward as he shoved his hands in his pockets as Draco gazed at his wand. It was oddly personal, watching Draco touch his wand. He'd never really let anyone touch it before, other than Ron in the midst of a scramble in one of the Auror tests, but that wasn't the same, really, and he hadn't been offering to allow Ron to use it.

"Ah. That makes sense. I suppose I knew that." Draco flourished the wand at the door, intoning a variety of curse breaking spells. Each one bounced back and Draco caught them elegantly in a ball of white light emanating from his other hand, a catch-all shield that could be easily eliminated later. It was a technique they'd learned in Auror training, which Draco hadn't attended, leaving Harry again curious as to where he learned these things.

"No good. I'm not bonded to your wand. I can't get enough power behind it to break her spell. She... must be really good at..." Draco trailed off and looked at the door, his brows furrowed deeply. He looked almost anxious.

"We'll get out, don't worry," said Harry. He took his wand back and slid his hand up and down Draco's back.

"Yeah. We will. We're... together, I'm sure we're strong enough. She probably never counted on having to restrain two powerful wizards. It's just... what's been bothering me is... what did happen to Granger."

Harry paused, not having really given that much thought yet. In the midst of the mystery and confined spaces, he really hadn't given much consideration to Hermione or even what it would take to really restrain her. She'd always been brilliant, but she was as fallible as anyone and if the change happened when Harry thought it had, she wasn't nearly so savvy as Draco, nor was she as strong as he was. "Oh, God."

It was Draco's turn to comfort and he slipped an arm around Harry and crossed his arms protectively around him. Harry had received hugs in his life of varying levels of affection. His head had been kissed before, but somehow with Draco doing it, he felt a strange tingle that spread warmth over his skin. He tucked his face against Draco's shirt as Draco gently kneaded his back and pressed his cheek to Harry's temple. "I'm sorry. We don't know... but... I'm sorry."

It seemed silly to be so upset now. He didn't even know if Hermione had actually passed on, and if she had, it was probably many years before this. One thing was for certain; he wouldn't know anything for certain blubbering about it against Draco's chest. As good as it felt and as wonderful as Draco smelled in spite of being locked away for hours, he knew that he needed to get out of here.

"Should I try?" asked Harry.

Draco nodded as he pulled away from Harry and handed him his wand. He taught Harry the incantations and the precise movements of the more obscure hex breaking spells that he knew after Harry had run through the ones he knew. By the end of it, his head was left pounding and he felt incredibly drained. He could only imagine how tired Draco must be to have tried doing it sans wand before this.

Harry flopped against the wall and slid down, bending his knees against his chest as Draco had been sitting before. "Well. That's that, then. Maybe Ron will come home and want something from the closet?"

"Ron's a brick. You noticed the blue flashes right away. Ron thought it really was Neville."

As much as Harry wanted to object that Ron wasn't that dense and that Ron didn't actually realize anyone was missing and that he should be looking in the house, he was too tired to make the point to Draco. Besides, blaming someone else for this predicament felt better than blaming himself. "Then I'm out of ideas," said Harry.

After a long pause in which Harry decided that Draco must've dozed off standing, Draco said, "I've... one... idea."

The hesitancy of Draco's voice caused Harry to squint in the darkness to try and read his expression. There was a spark of something in his expression that came through in his voice somewhat. "What's that?"

"We could establish a connection to each other and then try to combine powers," said Draco as he peeled himself up from the wall in a clean, serpentine motion.

"You mean... sex? You want me to shag you in my best mate's closet?" As upset as Harry tried to sound, he was already hard at the notion of it. Ron might even be home by now, just sitting outside of the doorway not knowing what was going on amongst his winter wear.

After a quick, awkward chuckle, Draco said, "I thought we might try holding hands first."

"Oh. Right." Harry winced at being so transparent, although that didn't help his erection any. He closed his eyes and willed it down as Draco took his hand.

"You'll need to try the spells again. It's a powerful jinx but Brown's not nearly so clever as to make it completely unbreakable."

Harry could tell that there was doubt in that assertion, but he didn't care to call him on it. As it was, Draco's silky hand was sliding over Harry's, their palms caressing before Draco bent his fingers, sliding them between each of Harry's digits. Once they were interlaced, Draco slid his thumb soothingly over the back of Harry's hand, making his skin prickle with sensation. He wasn't sure if it was the magical connection or just the magic that seemed to happen each time he touched Draco.

He ran through the charms almost breathlessly. He wondered if Draco wasn't sabotaging the situation with his maddening finger caresses, as Harry was having a hard time concentrating on what he was saying and he accidentally hexed the door covered in rabbit fur.

"Erm, I don't think this is going to work," said Harry.

Draco stroked the furry door as he released Harry's hand and sighed. "Right, well... we could try kissing, but then you couldn't speak."

Kissing. Harry very much wanted to kiss Draco, especially after the tenderness of their hand-holding. In a strange way, this was turning into a very compressed date. With two men. In a closet. Lavender had closeted them.

"I could try to wordlessly charm the door," said Harry.

"I don't think you have enough charm to do anything wordlessly. That said, I think you're most charming when you don't speak."

"HAH!" It stung, but it was likely true, so Harry didn't say anything more to it. He looked down at his feet, trying to think of a way to bring up that he thought if they had sex it would be a pretty huge bond without sounding too eager to get into Draco's pants. Which he was terribly eager to do. Just thinking of the way that pale body squirmed under him, the supple ripple of muscle and feline lines and sleek grace with which Draco matched each stroke and...

He was about to just buck up and say it when Draco's fingers stroked his cheek and tilted his head up. Whether Draco meant to or not, he always kissed as if he were in love. His tongue swept into Harry's mouth and his hands cradled his face as he pulled him in closer. His fingertips swirled in Harry's rough hair, teasing his scalp and the back of his neck. Harry wanted to just lose himself in the kiss, enjoying the fluid warmth of his mouth and the familiar taste of him. Somehow Draco managed to maintain his own taste with just a hint of mintiness. Likely as not it was a charm, but Draco had made it his own, and he didn't taste artificial in the least.

So wrapped up in the kiss, Harry forgot that he was to be curse-breaking and wrapped his arms around Draco, pulling them chest-to-chest in the awkward meeting of bony limbs of their embrace. Draco's cock jutted out, teasing against Harry's hip and after a movement so subtle that it made Harry doubt it was intentional, Draco bushed their cocks together.

At this spark of sensation on his cock, Harry was reminded to focus lest he throw Draco against the wall and have his way with him. That idea was much more appealing at the moment than the draining mantra of spells he was to repeat, but he didn't think the advance would be welcome, so he ran through the spells, forming their words into Draco's mouth, his tongue swishing in the form of syllables and his lips kneading against Draco's. He hummed out the words as he thought them, trying to focus on the door. It clattered and rumbled in its frame at a couple of the spells, but otherwise, nothing happened.

Harry ended the kiss, breathless from their frotting and the concentration it took to run through the spells. He was about to comment to Draco that they might want to try something else, but very suddenly he was no longer face-to-face with him. At first he was inclined to turn around, but there was no way he'd be there, or that he could've Apparated away. That left only one place to go. He was just looking down when Draco's hand palmed the front of his trousers and his fingers deftly plucked through the belt and fastenings.

"Ah!" said Harry, more out of surprise than anything else.

"You can't suck me off, it's your wand. It'll be a stronger connection if I do it. I don't want to talk about it." Draco's eyes held warning and Harry nodded dumbly down to Draco.

"Right. Wasn't going to argue." And he really, really wasn't. All he was going to do was watch Draco finger open the plackets of his trousers and fish his cock out of his boxers, bypassing the slit and button in favor of pulling his cock out over the elastic band.

First, Draco just pulled at it, as if it could get any harder than it was. His boxers were already sticky with come and the tip glistened, catching the line of light from the door crevice. Draco moved into the light, half blocking it with his cheek, which bulged with Harry's cock as Draco took him into his mouth. Harry grabbed at the hanging cloaks as if they would give him any stability as Draco's lips stretched out over his cock. His hand was at the base, twisting slowly, making up for the lack of what Draco couldn't fit into his mouth.

Draco sucked him hard, almost too hard to be bearable as his tongue flicked over the over-sensitized skin, smoothing it over. Harry had never in his life received a blowjob and he relished each slurping noise and soft whimper of lust or embarrassment that Draco made. Each time he pulled back, his head was turned in a slightly different angle and his cheeks hollowed out. How in the world he expected Harry to concentrate while he was doing all of that was utterly beyond Harry's cognitive abilities. However, he was glad for the mental distraction so as to draw out the light touch of Draco's fingers on his balls, tugging and toying as Draco's mouth engulfed him repeatedly.

He was halfway through the charms when he realized that if Draco was so good at this... it had to mean that he'd been practicing on someone. Someone who was not him. Someone who was probably Kirley Duke. Viciously, Harry grabbed the back of Draco's head and plunged himself deeper into Draco's mouth. Immediately, Draco started to gag and shoved him back against the wall.

"What the shit was tha--" shouted Draco, his eyes wide and watering obviously even if it was hard to see.

"It's not working." Undaunted, Harry reached across the closet to grab Draco by the collar and threw him against the be-furred door. "Another connection."

"Fine, but what is wrong with--"

Draco's voice broke off as Harry yanked Draco's robes up and pressed against him. Harry yanked Draco's briefs down to his knees and then spelled his fingers lubricated and dug into him, pressing his chest into Draco's back to pin him against the door. He wanted to answer Draco. He was desperate to tell him how angry he was that though he hadn't fucked Kirley, he was obviously sucking him off, but the words caught in hurt lumps in his throat.

Eyes watering, Harry hid his face against Draco's neck, plunging his fingers into him and pulling them out, feeling the warm, safety and seeming security of the inside of Draco. His Draco. But not his Draco if he was sucking other men's cocks. The very thought of it made him want to cry as much as it filled him with an unspeakable rage that caught wind and already set the door to rattle.

"You're a little cocksucker, that's what's wrong." With that, Harry thrust deep into him, squatting to manage it. He slammed into him a few more times, watching Draco's hands wind up through the furry door, his light fingers twisting through the animal hair as he worked back against him.

"Your cock. I sucked your cock. Just now. Do you think that's dirty?" It was hard to tell whether Draco thought he was dirty talking or if he sounded scared.

Harry hoped he was scared. Hoped he loved this last fuck because he wasn't going to get it again. He was tired of playing these games with Draco, tired of being filled with all of this doubt. "Sucking Duke's cock."

His thighs burned from how hard he continued to slam into Draco, feeling like he was breathing fire through his lungs. He slid his hands up Draco's arms, weaving their fingers together as he pressed his entire body against Draco's, fucking in faster, shallower strokes. He didn't care if Draco got off on this. He hoped he didn't. Sucking another man's cock!

"I... what? I didn't. Just... just yours," grunted Draco. His pale face was pressed against the fur, nuzzling it as his palms flattened against the door for leverage to push back.

"I don't believe you," Harry grumbled in harsh tones breathily against Draco's ear. "You suck cock too well for that to be your first time."

Draco's body stiffened and at first Harry thought he was offended, but then he felt the last burst of energy that signified his release and before Harry could pull out or encircle Draco's cock to prevent it, he was already clamping down around Harry's prick in hard, fast squeezes, each one his body constricting to push come out against the fur. Harry could picture it matting and dribbling to the floor.

"In school. And... before... we were... partners," Draco wheezed between breaths.

"Filthy little cocksucking whore!" Harry's mind was scattered and while he understood it was unreasonable to expect that Draco had been completely untouched in boarding school, it was a horrible revelation for him to have here and now of all places. He wanted to be Draco's first and only for everything and now he knew he wasn't. He hated it. He hated wondering how many cocks were in his mouth before, if Draco had looked at them with that same lust that he looked at him.

He slammed into him a few more times, feeling like he was going to come in spite of how much he'd started to loathe Draco in these few moments. Harry felt betrayed and foolish and as if he wasn't going to stack up to other people who had probably come in Draco's mouth or in his face. Pearly come on that buttermilk skin, glistening as his snake-y grey eyes widened with lust and surprise.

"I want to come in your hair," Harry gasped in seeming non sequitur. The idea of Draco's hair matted with his come and the fantastic outrage that would be written on his face pushed Harry's body to begin the opening contractions to impending release. He tried to think of something to stave it off, truly worried that this was going to be the last time he could bear to be inside of Draco.

Just as his eyes were crossing and his body was giving over to the final release, Harry cried out, "Alohomora!" It was the simplest of all of the opening spells but with the combined anxiety of Harry's tension and Draco's confusion heightening everything, the door rattled hard.

There was a blinding flash of golden light that started at the top of the door and split in two, tracing the lighted outline in rays like lasers, shooting down the door. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, giving over to his release, half believing that the light was just in his head.

That is, until the door broke free of the hinges and Harry and Draco spilled out on top of the door just behind the couch on which Ron and Hermione were sitting peaceably having a conversation.

Harry laid there for a moment, balls deep in Draco, both of their shorts down round their ankles, blinking in the freshly bright light of the house. Lavender-as-Hermione jumped up and Harry had enough wits about him to cry out, "Stupefy!"

"Bloody hell Harry, what were you doing in my closet?" Ron screeched before jumping at his wife's frozen form. She tipped over and crashed over the coffee table and finally onto the floor with a loud clatter.

"Oh, I'd say it's fairly obvious that he was fucking me," drawled Draco.

"Malfoy!" Harry shouted as he yanked back from him, scrambling up to his knees and up to his feet. He dragged his pants and trousers up, buckling them as quickly as he could.

"What, we couldn't stay in the closet forever." Draco sneered as he rolled over onto his side and pulled his pants up. "This was a bit literal, but I'm sure it feels great to be out to your friends."

"Not funny, Malfoy!" said Harry as Ron looked between them.

"You're gay? With Malfoy?" Ron's face had gone pale, making his blue eyes and freckles seem more dramatic somehow. The burn of his angry eyes on Harry made him ache to somehow make it better.

"Not exactly. We just had to shag because Hermione, who is actually Lavender, locked us in there. The shagging was strictly to get us out of that jam!" Harry exclaimed.

"Right. It was all strictly business," said Draco tightly. Harry looked at him, imploring some indulgence as he tried to break it to Ron but found no mercy, only the angry blaze of betrayal. It made Harry feel defensive as he recalled all of the dicks Draco must've sucked to get as good at it as he was. "Perfunctory."

That just hurt. Harry gestured and shook his head, not even sure what he could say to Draco when Ron bolted out of his front door and into the night.

In spite of Draco's warning look that Harry just knew was an ultimatum at a glance, Harry raced after Ron, making a choice that he knew he might live to regret, but at the moment he couldn't get the vision of Draco sucking Kirley's dick out of his head.