Gay Aurors

"CRUCIO!" the terse voice of the mysterious Japanese man pronounced, pointing his thick wand steadily at Kirley Duke. Kirley writhed and yelled under the curse. "So weak. Such a frivolous musician. Unworthy."

When the spell subsided, Duke twitched with the aftershocks of pain. His jeans were soaked through with sweat, his chest still left bare. Moments prior, he'd been snogging with this older, distinguished gentleman. The power the Japanese man held made the little hairs on the back of his neck stand on end; it was the sort of feeling he got when he watched Draco practicing magic.

Kirley likened the Japanese man to fire; it was pretty, but treacherous. Still, Kirley couldn't resist the risk, loving the energy that fed off of the unknown. He hadn't thought about this strange man being dangerous to him. When Kirley's stalker had been put away, he thought that was the end of any and all threats to his life. Now he wasn't sure if that was going to be the last of his poor decisions.

"I'm wealthy. I'll... I'll give you anything you want. Do..." Duke choked, coughing from the pain, from the feeling of incredible weight on his chest. He wondered if that meant internal bleeding. "Do anything you want."

"You will do what I want whether you wish it or not," said the Japanese man, holding up his wand. The man leered in the gloom of the expensive hotel room. It was a large suite, decorated in the garish shabbiness of hotels that bought in bulk but still wished to appear exclusive. Painted gold torches with globes of light hanging overhead, stock moving paintings of unlikely Victorian scenes where the people prattled on about inoffensive nonsense, unable to move from picture to picture because of the generic magic used to create them. It was just the sort of hotel room that one would believe a man on business from Japan might occupy.

Duke was raised from the carpet up to the yellow and white fleur-de-lys duvet and dropped unceremoniously back onto the bed he'd fallen from in the commencement of torture. Quietus charms had kept anyone from hearing Duke's wailing, but that part of the evening seemed to be over.

Beams of razor white light shot from the brass head and footboards of the bed, collecting Duke's arms and legs, leaving him bloodied, bruised and pinned down. The Japanese man sat down on the bed next to him.

"Just a little note for my dear Ryuu," he said, holding a dagger made of crystallized dragon's blood over Duke's chest. "This knife will make its mark. Permanently. If I don't handle this just right I'll strike too deep and you will bleed out."

"What are you doing? No. Don't!" Duke screamed.

"I must encourage you to remain still." Across his chest, the Japanese man spelled out in kanji the symbol for dragon. "Up until now, Ryuu has played a good game of ignoring our boxes. That is well enough, they weren't for him," he said, indifferent to Duke's howling as he carved into his skin.

"Mr Mifune," said a tall, preternaturally pale man who licked his fangs as he stared longingly at Duke struggling. "Can't I just have a taste?"

Kirley was shocked by the presence of someone else in the room. Or something else. It was good that the blade was off of his chest by then or his startled reflex might've ended him.

Mifune pulled the sodden blade from Duke's chest and spattered the blood at the vampire. "There. Your taste." Turning back to Duke, he said, with a wry grin on his face, "Should you survive to say anything, tell him Mr Mifune sent you. But I think he'll know where the message came from either way. So don't hang around on my account."

Duke stared in horror at the man, hoping that this wasn't the end. He memorized everything about Mr Mifune, from his eyes to his slight accent, down to his left hand with the severed pinky tip. He panted through his teeth, determined to hang on. "But I don't know any Ryuu..." he protested.

The weight on the bed shifted, dizzying now after the torture and the loss of blood. Mifune laughed as if he'd just heard an amusing cocktail joke as he handed his dagger to the vampire to let him clean and carry it. Before he left, he smiled pityingly and said, "My dear musician, that is where you're quite mistaken. You know our Ryuu quite well. It is Japanese for dragon. Tell our little dragon that we miss him for too much to let him stay gone. We are coming for him."


--

In retrospect, Harry wasn't sure why he hadn't anticipated his "great save" of Draco Malfoy to make the paper. Draco's cover as the 24-Karat Ferret had been blown when he was cursed and the Daily Prophet had speculated on Kirley Duke breaking the curse. That pair had been media darlings since their sham relationship first started, and obviously to draw out Duke's psycho stalker.

Now Harry was being cast as the interloper into the brilliant May-December romance and he found himself once again being referred to as hysterical and deprived of love. Though she was well-intentioned and actually right as far as Harry was concerned, Luna's Quibbler articles that Kirley Duke was a chicken-hawk and that Harry and Draco's romance spawned from that fine line between love and hate since early childhood didn't help matters.

To his credit as being a brilliant friend, Ron spent the weekend merely mocking the self-effacing moniker Draco took and relived the memory of Draco being turned into a ferret while Harry quietly sulked at what all of this attention was going to do to his job and his relationship with Draco. He'd never quite gotten around to sharing his feelings with Draco, and now Draco would have read at least a hundred times how he was brought back to life from the Sleeping Beauty Hex because of true love.

Harry Apparated several blocks from Draco's building with the theory that with a long enough walk, he would come up with the perfect thing to say to break the ice. There were so many ways this could go. He reasoned that surely Draco felt something for him, as he'd brought him presents and sucked ice cubes and him and.... the more that he thought about what he'd taken as signs of encouragement, the more ridiculous it seemed. Draco had tangible proof of Harry's feelings printed daily in the paper and Harry had a smutty netsuke he'd slipped into his pocket to bring with him as if it would ward off Draco's ability to deny feelings.

The vision of himself holding up a Japanese figurine and saying, "No! I know you love me! You gave me three-dimensional porn!" made him shudder inwardly over how pathetic it seemed even in his head.

Passing a flower vendor, he gave it some thought, but that just conjured images of Duke being outside of the door and Draco being kidnapped and Harry just didn't want to go there. He thought about showing up to their early morning meeting with nothing, but given what was being printed, he knew he had no shield to pretend he didn't have feelings. Coffee sounded reasonable, as it was morning and even though they were meeting at his flat, the gesture would be there.

He bought the coffee, grateful for the cold reality of the Muggle world in which he was not a household name, and schlepped the rest of the way to Draco's building, shivering in the early morning chill. Fall was coming and with it the inevitable grey days. It was no comfort for what he was to face.

By the time the gold mirrored doors of the lift pulled back, Harry was in full-on brood mode. He was pleased that at least Duke wasn't sitting outside of Draco's door and chimed the bell with a knuckle, half expecting Draco not to answer.

What he heard surprised him. It sounded as if furniture were being broken to get to the door and then the hard padding of running feet. Harry had moved one of the coffee cups under his arm as he pulled his wand at the ready when Draco threw the door open, looking a bit mussed in his indigo blue robes. Half of his face was red with a signature pattern of fabric on his cheek. Harry pressed his lips together to keep from laughing at Draco's state.

"You're late," Draco huffed, rubbing an eye with the heel of his fist like a sleepy child.

"We could've met after your nap, you know." Harry handed Draco the coffee. "I wasn't sure how you took it, but you look like you could use it."

"I was in a coma, you know," Draco huffed, but he stepped aside to let Harry in and shut the door behind him.

A short walk into the living room showed the riot of sofa cushions splayed over the upturned coffee table and magazines scattered over the floor. Draco pulled his wand and righted it all with a few quick spells.

"What, no fancy wandless magic?" asked Harry before he took his seat on the couch.

"What about my being in a coma did you not get?" he asked as he took a spot a chaste cushion down from Harry. "Did you get cream?"

Harry dumped a wad of non-dairy creamer and sugar packets onto the coffee table from his pocket. Draco gave him a pained look as if Harry had just thrown excrement onto his furniture and summoned cream and a container of raw sugar from his kitchen, letting it settle with two spoons on the table. He also summoned a proper mug for himself and transferred the steaming liquid into a tall cobalt mug and commenced with adding cream and sugar to his coffee while Harry sipped his own plain coffee in amused introspection over Draco's fussiness.

"So, we've much to talk about, Potter," he said, finally settled with his coffee. "The news media says that you're in love with me, did you know?"

Were he in a situation comedy, Harry would've done a spit-take, but as it was, he simply swallowed the bitter fluid and tried to figure out the proper response to that opening line. "I am aware."

"Seems you would need to be, or at least need to believe that you were, in order to break that enchantment. I'd say you'd found a way around it, except that given what we were doing when I awoke..."

"And I really am terribly sorry about that. It was presumptuous and were there any other way..." Harry started, already feeling that knot of guilt forming again.

Draco held his hand up and shook his head. "Don't be such a girl's blouse about it, Potter. You did what had to be done to break the enchantment. It wasn't merely a... joy ride... as it were."

"But I did enjoy it..."

"Did you really?" asked Draco, his eyes dazzling as he beamed. He cleared his throat and seemed to shut down again, forcing himself back to a more neutral, composed state. "In any case... any and all feelings that may or may not have developed over the course of our partnership are... perhaps understandable, given the way that we have worked in the past."

This was sounding a lot like the end and Harry stared at his coffee until he felt it start to boil. He set it down and crossed his hands in his lap. "But you don't wish to work that way anymore."

For a fraction of a second, Draco looked off to his room and it appeared as if his eyes were watering, but he blinked and turned to face Harry and nodded slowly. "I don't want... another partner. I don't want to be shuffled off with Tonks or Weasley. I want to keep working with you and if we... you know how the Ministry is. We can't see each other like that."

Somehow, it managed to both sting and be completely flattering to be told that Draco didn't want another partner, but didn't want to date him. He wanted to plead and say that the Ministry didn't have to know, except that most of the Wizarding world already knew and they would probably be lucky not to be split up when they showed up for work today.

He wanted to ask what would happen if the Ministry did split them up anyway when Draco leaned forward and said, "I really need a partner right now more than I need a lover. I need to trust you with something and I need it to be... I need you to be... we have to..." But before he could spit out what he was trying to say, he jolted and reached into his pocket.

Harry reflexively reached for his own wallet, feeling the vibration of his Auror badge shaking in an emergency alert. He flipped open his wallet to look at the shimmering card that normally held his identification, but now spelled out a message:

Kirley Duke attacked. Bring Draco Malfoy in for questioning if he does not voluntarily turn himself in.

Of course the Ministry would know that he was sitting with Draco given the coordinates with their badges, they probably narrowed in on it first thing. He looked up at Draco who was calmly pocketing his own wallet.

"I know you didn't do it," said Harry.

"They think I did it?" he asked, looking at Harry in sudden horror. Draco furrowed his brows and then suddenly appeared terrified when he looked into Harry's eyes. "I didn't do it."

"I know. You had your coma and you were asleep." Harry gestured, but realized he had no idea where Draco was the night before. "What did they tell you?"

"It just said he'd been attacked and to come in. Harry, it doesn't make any sense. Why would I attack him? I'm not even interested enough in him to attack him!" Draco looked around wildly and then back to Harry.

Harry wanted to ask what Draco had been about to tell him, but he felt another hard vibration and Draco's startled jump told him that he was being summoned again. "Let's just go in and we'll sort it out."

Draco rubbed his forehead and then looked at Harry, his expression making it clear he had resolved to trust Harry. As much as Harry wanted to hold him right then, to tell him that it would all be all right, that he would take care of it, he knew he shouldn't-- which was pretty much why he pulled Draco in and hugged him tightly. "Don't worry. I'll get to the bottom of it. You know I will."

At first, Draco was stiff, stunned. But then he melted into the warmth of the embrace and hid his face against Harry's neck. "There's so much I haven't told you. You might change your mind."

There were so many terrible possibilities that flew through Harry's thoughts at those words, but for now he pushed them aside and kissed Draco's temple. He remembered that Draco insisted that he needed a partner right now and not a lover and steeled himself to let go of him. "Come on, let's go."

--

As soon as Harry entered the Auror cube farm with Draco by his side, no less than four hit wizards leapt up to seize Draco.

"Good work, Potter. Good to see you've your priorities straight," said one with dark brown hair. He recognized him as a Hufflepuff of Cedric's year, but his name escaped him.

The statement speared through his heart and he couldn't help but feel he'd betrayed Draco in some way by bringing him in. He should've known something like this would happen given the phrasing. Harry cursed himself for not dragging Draco off so they could straighten things out.

Draco caught Harry's eye as they were binding his wrists and disarming him and shook his head, telling Harry not to worry about it, that he'd expected it. Draco didn't even look particularly frightened, not like he had earlier when he'd read the news. Mostly he looked bored but for that jut of his chin and determined glint in his eye.

Harry had seen that look far too many times at school to not know what it meant, and he was heartened with the thought that those hit wizards had no idea what they were in for.

"That's our Potty, work first every time," said Draco, the sneer so evident that Harry could hear it. When Harry looked at him again, Draco winked and nodded.

He wished he could share Draco's cool calm, but he didn't. "Where are you taking him? He didn't do anything."

"They're just taking him to the interrogation room for questioning," said Kingsley.

Harry wheeled around to glare at Kingsley. "Interrogation room? For what? Why would he attack Kirley Duke? It makes no sense!"

"Which is why they're going to ask him about it, Harry. He's not under arrest."

By the time Harry turned around to point out the bindings on Draco's hands, he was already down the hall, being led into the interrogation room. Harry knew that Draco's bravado was an act. He'd seen how frightened Draco had been when he'd gotten the news. He wished Draco had chosen to play it more contrite; the arrogance just made people want to break him, but that choice wasn't his to make. "Then why did they cuff him?"

"Because they're afraid of him," said Kingsley. Harry whirled around again to look at him and Kingsley nodded towards his office with a quick jerk of his neck.

"But there are four of them, and they took his wand," Harry protested as he followed Kingsley to his office. He fought the urge to fly into the interrogation room with his wand blazing. He knew the sort of techniques the hit wizards thought appropriate to use-- many of which were inhumane, but were sanctioned by an over-eager Ministry out to prove it was tough on dark magic since it was an election year-- and he couldn't even think about what they might do to Draco.

"I know, I know," said Kingsley as he shut the door behind him. He pulled his wand and swirled it in an intricate pattern. With a sharp crackle of light and electric pop, a mild orange glow hazed around Kingsley, extending out to wrap around Harry. "Now, we may speak freely."

Harry took a seat in front of Kingsley's desk, wild-eyed at this magic employed and why Kingsley of all people found it necessary. "Speak freely about... what?"

"I need to know what Malfoy's told you. There is a lot going on you don't know about." Kingsley took his seat behind the desk and leaned toward Harry. In spite of the magic already in place, he was speaking barely above a whisper.

Stomach knotting up at the second time he heard he was ignorant of who or what Draco really was, Harry searched his heart and knew without a shadow of a doubt that Draco hadn't done anything to Kirley Duke. Nor was he as bad as everyone seemed to believe. He had some awesome powers and no, the Ministry didn't know how or why, really, but he knew Draco and as angry as he may have ever gotten, he couldn't see him doing anything truly evil. "He hasn't told me anything."

Kingsley nodded slowly, eyes narrowed on Harry's face. "Not even about Kirley Duke?"

"He didn't do it."

"How do you know that?" Kingsley shot back.

Harry crossed his arms, looked at the edge of the desk a moment and then peered up into Kingsley's eyes. "I was with him last night."

Pressing his lips together, Kingsley just stared at Harry. Feeling the tendrils of Legilimency sliding over his mind, Harry blocked it out immediately. Thanks to the Auror training, he'd finally gotten good at that. He had to wonder how desperate Kingsley was to try. "Don't lie to me, Harry."

"I'm not."

"We can track your badges," said Kingsley.

"But Grimmauld is unplottable," Harry responded.

"Malfoy's flat is not."

"So you know he was there all night, then?" asked Harry, sitting forward, trying to figure out what Kingsley was playing at. He didn't need any keen intuition to figure out that things weren't adding up for Kingsley any more than they were for Harry.

"He could've left his badge at home."

"And maybe I left mine at Grimmauld," Harry retorted.

"It's possible," said Kingsley, leaning back in his chair. "But we both know that it isn't true."

Harry just stared at him.

"Harry, I'm going to need you to be honest with me. I need you to trust me so that I can trust you. I don't think Draco did this. In fact, I know he didn't. Everyone knows he didn't."

"What? How? Then why is he in there?"

"Tell me the truth."

None of this made any sense at all. If they knew Draco hadn't attacked Kirley Duke, then they wouldn't be interrogating him about that. He watched Kingsley for a long while, wishing he was better at Legilimency. He'd fought side-by-side with Kingsley in the war. He was his friend and his mentor, and had pled on his behalf to get him in as an Auror, but demanded that Harry have formal training. As much as he'd resented it at the time, now he was grateful he hadn't just been shoved out on the streets with no instruction. "I wasn't with him last night. But I did go to see him early this morning. He was going to tell me something, but we didn't get that far. All I know about him is that he trained at some monastery-- although I don't think it was a monastery, per se-- and that he seems to know a lot about Japan."

"Japan." Kingsley said with a low finality. He nodded slowly as if things were clicking into place in his mind and not painting a favorable picture.

"Is there something wrong with Japan?" asked Harry.

"Do you read the Wizarding news much?" asked Kingsley, conversationally.

"Erm... well, it's usually pretty sensational, isn't it?" Harry winced, feeling uninformed because of the implication, but given the quality of the Wizarding news, he didn't see the point in it usually.

"It is, it can be. You have to read between the lines a lot with it. Dig for the truth, as it were." Kingsley steepled his fingers and stared down at them. "A few months ago, there was a huge uprising in Japan. The Yakuza had for many years hired Wizards and magical beasts to act as Yojimbo-- assassins or mercenaries-- to enforce their leadership. These Yojimbo were traditionally mostly scattered, but they had begun to join forces, forming their own sort of organization, training and practicing and bringing in new recruits."

Harry's eyes widened as he also felt the pieces sliding into place. The Japanese man. Draco was afraid of him. The netsuke, the katana. He hadn't been trying to hide his connection from Japan at all, at least not with Harry. He cursed himself for not being more on top of things to catch Draco's hints, but then; he'd never really dug into the news. At least he hadn't inadvertently said anything before now that would condemn him. "And you think Draco was..."

"It would provide an explanation for why he is trained. Their xenophobic philosophy would've meshed well with the Death Eaters, but of course, Draco being English would've made it hard for him to be accepted in the group. But as we've seen, he does have some extraordinary power, which they would have seen and made an exception for." Kingsley tapped his fingers on his desk and said, "None of which is against the law, in particular. Not unless he'd actually committed any crimes under orders there. The Yakuza is an insidious part of Japanese culture, much more integrated into their politics starting from feudal times."

"So... I don't... understand. If it's not illegal to be part of this group..."

"The problem is, the Yojimbo banded together to form their own ruling class. They began trying to take over the Yakuza in what was to be a bloody war fought in the streets. Not all of the regular Yakuza members were Muggles, of course, but many were and there was a huge slaughter before they were mostly stopped by the Wizarding community in Japan."

Harry swallowed and brought his hands up to cover his face. "And Draco..."

"The captured prisoners blamed it on a Ronin. A blond devil who called himself Ryuu, the Dragon. As a gesture of apology for the bloodbath to the Yakuza, all surviving Yojimbo were made to sacrifice the tips of their pinkies as a sign of their wrong doing. The Ronin was said to have escaped mysteriously with his pinky still whole. That's about the time that we registered Draco Malfoy's magical signature back in London. Then he came to us seeking asylum."

Harry's mouth was dry, his lips parted as he took all of this in. He thought about Draco's temper, the way he'd almost tortured Greyback to death. Almost. His mind raced back to that scared boy in the tower, the way his wand faltered. How he'd never seemed able to commit to killing before, but so much had changed, it was hard to say whether he thought Draco capable of murder now. He seemed to know so much, and yet.... "You know he didn't attack Kirley Duke? How do you know that?"

"Because Kirley Duke is still alive and he testified it was a Japanese man with a vampire. They carved 'Dragon' on his chest and said it was a message," said Kingsley, keeping his eyes on Harry.

"And those hit wizards know that?" he asked, pulling his hands away from his face to drop them into his lap.

"Yes. They know that." Kingsley inhaled and exhaled slowly. "But the Ministry is taking this act as proof that Draco was involved in what happened in Japan."

"But you don't believe it," Harry stated, watching Kingsley's posture.

"Taking a life... " Kingsley began, his eyes foggy and distant as he stared at some imaginary point on the wall, "As you know... leaves a mark. It leaves a stain. There's something... something about it that changes you. I don't believe Malfoy's killed anyone. If I'd believed it at all, I would never have allowed him in as an Auror. I would not have put you at risk under any circumstances."

Hope welled up in spite of the damning evidence mounting against Draco. Harry had a hard time imagining Draco as a dark mastermind, but he knew that Draco was prone to being carried away with the ride. He could see Draco looking for shelter after leaving the Death Eaters in terror for his life. It would make sense that he'd try to get as far away from it all as possible, and the child he remembered from school would have been impetuous enough to join up with another band for protection.

Harry threaded his fingers together, bringing his hands up to press against his lips. "I appreciate your concern," he said quietly, formally. He couldn't think of what to say. His mind was racing with paranoid fantasies about Draco the dark lord mastermind to Draco the unwitting victim, puzzling it out, trying to reconcile who he knew with this new information. It was boggling. None of the pieces seemed to fit perfectly, but then, that was just Draco. Maybe now he was trying to do the right thing. Or maybe he thought being an Auror was another powerful group that could protect him.

"Harry," said Kingsley gently.

Opening his eyes, Harry looked up at Kingsley without moving a muscle.

"It would be a natural inclination for the Japanese to believe that someone foreign would've caused such an uproar, but you have to keep in mind that it is very unlikely he could've gotten them to follow him."

"Is that a fact, or is that a hunch?" asked Harry. It was an impertinent question, but one he felt needed to be asked. In Harry's experience, Kingsley's hunches were usually spot on.

"Both."

Harry nodded and then stood. "I need to... think about this... for a while... I think."

"Take the day off, if you need," said Kingsley. "I'll monitor the interrogation."

Harry winced, wishing that he weren't so stunned by what he'd just heard to worry more about what was going on in that room. At the moment, all he could feel was shock and let down and the dull ache in his heart that he couldn't quite place. His faith in Draco was faltering somewhat and he feared that it might never return to where it was.

I need a partner more than a lover right now.

"I'm going to... go for a walk," said Harry. The increased distance between he and Kingsley snapped the spell and Harry walked out of the door, holding his hand up to silence Ron's questions and left.

--

As Harry made his grand escape from the building, he brushed shoulders with an insufferably smug-looking Percy Weasley. His mind returned to that moment when he and Draco dragged in from a mission and hid in the hallway to see Percy meeting with the Japanese man and Harry halted for a moment, considering. He turned around to glare at Percy's back, watching the light spring in his step as if he'd just seen pay day early and he wondered if it was connected to what was going on with Draco.

After taking a couple of steps down the corridor towards him, Percy took the turn into his office and shut the door behind him. Harry clenched and unclenched his fists, gagging for someone to vent his frustrations on. But for all he knew, Draco was the true enemy and maybe Percy just helped to bring him in.

Stifled by how incomprehensible this mess was, and deciding that it was probably a better idea to walk it off than get into bigger trouble; he turned on his heel and headed out. His restraint surprised even him, but he knew that if Draco was innocent, Harry wouldn't be of much help stuck in the bullpen to cool off. He rode the lift up and let himself out into Muggle London stealthily, finding the grey day quite suited to his grey mood.

He eyed a news seller, wishing now that he had been paying better attention to the world around him. Then maybe he wouldn't have been so blindsided by this whole ordeal. There was so much that went on even in his little universe, though, that he had found it hard to keep up, to read between the lines. Kingsley had done it, he reminded himself.

Though he wasn't particularly hungry, he stopped into a kebab shop, dressing it with whatever he pointed to. It tasted awful when he got out onto the street, but he ate it anyway, wandering around in the light drizzle till the paper was wet and clung to the meat. He tossed it into a bin and kept walking, feeling the chill cut through him to the bone, barely realizing how wide a berth Muggles were giving a soaking, shivering, mad-looking man dressed inappropriately in wizard robes with a thousand-yard stare.

He rolled it over and over in his mind: the many ways he could've been duped, the many ways in which Draco had been asking for help, the speech Draco gave him about needing a partner more than a lover. He wished he'd had the sense to tell Draco that he could be both. That's what they had been doing this whole time, but now he wasn't even sure who Draco Malfoy was.

Harry could wrap his mind around Draco being devious. He knew him to be ambitious. Some might say he was more of a follower than a leader, but then, he'd had Slytherin house pretty sewn up even as a first year. He wasn't hassled in the ways that Harry knew that Draco could have been. The Slytherins had all been cowed for one reason or another, and it couldn't have only been his two lackeys. It would be a mistake to underestimate him in that capacity. But killing? Harry knew what it was to take a life; he knew what it did to someone, even if he usually pushed it out of his mind.

It wasn't as if he'd had a choice in the matter. It had been his destiny. He didn't understand those that would willfully do such a thing, couldn't understand how they'd rationalize it. But then, he and Draco had always been very different people. Draco hadn't shown much remorse over almost killing Ron or Katie Bell. Then again, how much remorse had he ever shown over almost killing Draco? Or dragging Ron and Hermione into situations in which they could've been killed?

Without even knowing where he was going, he found himself in front of Draco's apartment building. He blinked a few times, looking around the suddenly dark, empty street. His feet were sore from walking and his stomach growled at the distant memory of the half-eaten kebab from earlier. He wondered just how long he'd been walking, his mind churning with ideas, trying to fit pieces together.

Harry's pale face pointed up in the ever-present misting rain, his glasses speckled with water, he couldn't tell if Draco's flat light was on. He tried wiping his glasses with his wet robe to no avail.

Only one thing for it-- Harry headed inside and rode the lift to Draco's floor. He was watching the drips form on the carpet from his wet robe, trying to decide if he'd rung the bell when Draco opened the door.

"Potter," he said, his expression wary.

"I'm wet," said Harry, his shoulders slumped and he exhaled sadly.

"Fortunately, the hit wizards didn't strike me blind, so I was able to make that assessment on my own." Draco's face softened and he raised his brows. "Would you like help with this?"

Harry took a step forward, ready to agree to it, but stopped, furrowed his brows, feeling the oppressive weight of doubt settle in on him. "I don't know if I should."

"I see." Draco stretched out his hand and spoke a word and Harry was dry and he felt warmed. He could even see properly through his glasses.

"Thank you." Harry gazed at Draco, wanting to say more than that-- wanting to ask him a million questions that he couldn't bring himself to ask.

"The first one's free. Then I increase the price. Tell your friends where you got it." Draco gave Harry a wry smile and leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. He was wearing dark blue silk pyjamas. "It was a joke."

"I know."

"There's an old English tradition in which someone makes a joke and the person hearing the joke laughs."

Harry nodded dumbly and looked around as if there were someone else to laugh. He looked into Draco's eyes and pushed tentatively to see what was on the surface of his mind. He'd expected to be blocked, but instead, he saw the livid, yelling faces of the hit wizards, felt Draco's suppressed fear, blocked out by anger stemming from his core, something painful that he carried with him, used to propel him through situations he found unbearable. "I don't know if I can trust you," said Harry, pulling away from Draco's mind.

Draco leaned forward and took Harry by the wrist and brought him inside, shutting the door behind him. He escorted him to the couch they'd sat on that morning and Draco summoned a tea pot, tapping his wand over it. "Wand tea isn't as good as brewed, I've decided. But I also lack the patience to brew it most days. So you'll just have to suffer with me."

He poured them each a cup and then sat back and sipped his tea. Harry drank his, not sure if he really should. He eyed Draco for a moment, but it had come from the same pot. Draco grinned and rolled his eyes. "I'm glad you don't trust me out of hand, Potter. That says you're using your brain. But don't be paranoid."

"Maybe if I were more paranoid to start with, neither of us would be..." Harry gestured and shrugged before sipping his tea. He wasn't sure what Draco was on about, the tea was excellent.

"No, we'd've just been here sooner." Draco drained his cup and set it down.

"Did you kill people in Japan?" asked Harry. Draco was moving closer to Harry, and Harry wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. Everything seemed a bit surreal now in Draco's flat; the plainness of it punctuated by the bold spots of color.

"No. I've been the cause of people dying, but I've never killed anyone. It's important to me that you know that," said Draco as he wrapped his arms around Harry's neck.

"I thought you wanted a partner, not a lover," Harry whispered back, not sure why he was whispering, because there was no one listening. At least, he didn't know of anyone listening. He remembered Kingsley's spell and wondered if he should cast it, but Draco had moved; one hand rubbed his prick and Harry wasn't sure that he cared who was listening or why.

"You were right to be paranoid," Draco whispered into Harry's ear. His breath seemed to whirl and linger warmly as Harry's blurry mind tried to catch up with what Draco was saying.

"You poisoned me?" Harry tried to look at Draco, but Draco had pulled off his glasses and he fussed with the buttons on the front of Harry's robe.

"Sort of. Not exactly poisoned," said Draco as he leaned in to kiss Harry's neck.

Everything felt incredibly good, even his feet had stopped hurting, and his legs were no longer sore from all of the walking. There was nothing but Draco's lips moving down his chest as he opened Harry's sad business robes. Harry wondered if he should fight it, but instead of feeling defiant, he felt strangely calm but for the erection Draco's hands and kisses were giving him.

Draco moved to the floor and removed Harry's trousers and boxers; Harry arched up and he sighed as his cock sprang free of the material. His white shirt was open but not off, his chest bared and his legs spread wide with his cock hard and leaning to the right. He flexed it a few times to keep it from falling to his thigh and then looked up at Draco, who was pulling off his pyjamas.

"What are you...?" asked Harry.

Pressing a glossy, lubricated finger to his lips, Draco said, "Shhh." He reached behind himself as he straddled Harry, his eyes closed as his hand moved and Harry heard the slippery squelch of his fingers sliding in and out of him, coating him on the inside. Then Draco's slick hand wrapped around Harry's cock as Draco moved his face so close to Harry's that his breath fanned over his cheek. He brushed their lips together and Harry reached for him, kissing him slowly as Draco eased himself down onto Harry's cock.

As soon as he felt the solid warm clench of Draco all around him, Harry groaned and his head lolled back on the couch. He crossed his arms over Draco as he started to move into him, surprised they were doing this after all that Draco had said.

Then he saw Draco's mind, or maybe it was a hallucination, but he felt as if he were truly part of him, as if he knew him, knew his thoughts. Knew that he was worried about how Harry felt about him, whether things would work out. He saw the hard core of Draco's anger and how it was wrapped around his fear and how tired Draco really was of being afraid.

Then he saw to the deepest part of Draco, just as he was pushing to slide into him as deeply as he could. He saw his soul, his deeds, and his guilt. He saw the rage he held for his mum's death, why he'd left the Death Eaters, unable to kill and he felt the utter repulsion when he was told to complete his Yojimbo training he was told he would need to kill a family to show his solidarity.

Draco couldn't do it. He couldn't kill. Harry opened his eyes to gaze up at Draco's face, the way his hair stuck to the tracks of sweat that slid down his temples at the effort to take each of Harry's hard thrusts. Draco's thighs had to be burning from the effort, but Harry wanted to be buried as deep into Draco as he could be.

"The potion... it's so I could... " gasped Harry.

"Yesss... I know... you may not trust... but... wanted you to know...." said Draco, his steely eyes open slits, cheeks flushed as he ground back against him.

Harry wrapped his hand around Draco's cock and he worked it in time with his thrusts, biting his bottom lip as he kept Draco's gaze. He grunted and whined as the sensation built up, trembling from the tip of his cock, sending shockwaves down to the base of his prick. In response, his balls tightened, pulling up hard to shoot viciously inside of Draco. Harry's voice dragged out in a long growl with the release. He felt the backwash of his come slick Draco's insides in a hot liquid mess back over his thighs.

He continued to watch Draco's face, measuring his breathing, the twitches in his face as Draco got closer and closer to release until he felt it spatter over his chest in warm, wet glops that ran down his chest in a slow crawl to pool in his navel.

Draco stared back at Harry and then leaned into kiss him again. He tasted of tea and the growing aftertaste of the herbal potion. The potion could've been anything, Harry knew, but he also knew that without a doubt, this was what he wanted, what he needed. He slid his fingers through Draco's hair to caress the back of his neck tenderly. Each connection brought with it a new revelation, a new memory of Draco's guilt and complicity with the group, including potions that he feared may have caused harm.

"I am not above reproach, Harry. I.. did some horrible things," Draco admitted as he broke the kiss. "I'll understand if you don't want to be involved, but I wanted you to know."

"All right," said Harry as he worked to catch his breath. "But there's one thing I need you to know if we're going to... if I'm going to help you."

Draco nodded, flushed but alert with his eyes wide and his jaw set.

"Don't ever hand me something with potions in it and not tell me. I need to trust you. I want to trust you. I..." I love you. And there it was again. At the root of this, he loved Draco. He had proof of it, but there was a blind element to it now.

"I know. I'm sorry. I just wanted to forge a temporary bond between us so that you could see the truth."

Harry winced inwardly at Draco's dubious morality that would see this as a reasonable solution, but he understood it, and in a Draco logic sort of way, it made sense. It just presumed a lot. "I know. I get that, I do. Just ask me next time. I would've probably agreed to it if you'd've told me it was going to include shagging."

"Pervert." Draco smiled and leaned in for another quick kiss before hopping up. Harry slid out of him and landed with a wet slap against his own thigh. "I do believe you're quite smitten with me."

"Something like that," said Harry as he looked up at Draco. Whether he could trust Draco with it or not, there was no question he had his heart. It burned inside of him just looking at him. He prayed his faith would not be betrayed. They were in this together now.

"I'm going to have a shower. There are more jammies in my room if you're... well, I'd like you to stay," said Draco as he backed up towards his room. "I mean... if you don't mind. It was... a day, you know? Stay?"

Before Harry could answer, Draco had slipped from the room. The subtle manipulation to make him stay wasn't lost on Harry, but he was powerless to protest. It was just how he Draco was. There was nothing for it but to go with it.

Doesn't mean I have to play his game his way, Harry thought as he shrugged out of his shirt and robe and followed Draco into the shower. That one is going to cost him.