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It wasn't so much that Malfoy flirted, or even that he flirted constantly and with everyone—it was that somehow 'everyone' did not include Harry.
That was fine on a concrete level. It wasn't as if Harry wanted Malfoy to flirt with him. On an abstract level—the level where Harry's pride lived—it irked. That was all. Malfoy's behaviour was irksome.
And there was nothing new about that.
Harry sat in the Ministry canteen, pushing gelatinous and now cold mushy peas around on his plate and ignoring his chips. Hermione watched him with narrowed eyes.
'Mate,' said Ron, stealing a chip from Harry's plate and popping it into his mouth. 'You're miles away today. Is it the Berger case? I don't care what Dawlish says, that was not your fault.'
Malfoy tilted his chin and batted his eyelashes at the girl behind the food counter, telling her something Harry couldn't hear all the way across the room, but which made the girl blush and smile. She gave Malfoy an extra helping of treacle tart. Given she'd told Harry that they were out of treacle tart, she must have been saving the last bits specifically for Malfoy.
It wasn't fair. That was what was really bothering Harry: the injustice of the situation.
'Oi!' said Ron. A piece of boiled carrot bounced off Harry's nose.
Ron loaded up his spoon with a bit of cauliflower and took aim again.
Harry scowled and ducked just in time. The cauliflower hit Kingsley's secretary—an elderly witch with a famously vicious temper—in the back of the head, and then the three of them had to leave the canteen really quickly.
* * *
Harry had never been able to flirt. He remembered trying to ask Cho Chang to the Yule Ball and how his words had become tangled up with each other. As soon as he had, well, feelings toward another person, he froze up. If Ginny hadn't thrown herself across the room at him, he'd have probably stayed lurking in corners, his chest monster growling more and more furiously. And even since then, now that he was in his twenties and more experienced, his courting technique tended to be firm and direct. If he were interested in someone, he'd just ask them out. He didn't have time for all the winking, suggestive banter, and casual touching that flirting required. Didn't have the patience for it.
Didn't have the foggiest clue how to go about it, even if he'd wanted to.
It seemed to be like breathing for Malfoy, though. Now Malfoy sat perched on Creevey's desk, telling him how much he liked his new hairstyle. Creevey beamed as Malfoy fingered a lock of his dark blond hair and then trailed his hand down Creevey's shoulder before giving him a squeeze. Malfoy leant closer, talking about Creevey's bone structure. Creevey laughed; Malfoy winked. The tip of his tongue appeared and then vanished again between his lips.
Harry's quill snapped in half because he'd been pressing it too hard against the parchment. Ink splattered across the report and he had to vanish it away and start over.
If Malfoy had to flirt, Harry wished he'd pick someone whose desk wasn't right next to Harry's. And what was he doing in the Auror Office anyway? He didn't even work there. He should get back to legal where he belonged.
Malfoy stood, probably intending to do just that, and Harry didn't know why he slid his chair to the left and then extended his leg into Malfoy's path. He just needed to stretch. He'd been feeling tense. Stretching felt good.
Malfoy halted and then looked down at Harry leg. There was nothing flirtatious about his expression any more, in fact he looked positively grim. Or blank. Something about Harry made Malfoy lose all expression and that was depressing. Not that Harry enjoyed Malfoy's expressions, he just didn't appreciate being the cause of the lack of them.
Clearing his throat, Malfoy looked at Harry. At least that was something. One of his eyebrows went up. 'Did you need something, Potter?' He used his coldest voice, the one he used when he was interrogating the accused during a trial. When Harry had been the arresting Auror on a case, he'd go down to the Wizengamot and watch, making sure all the evidence he'd collected was referred to and the proper verdict was reached. He enjoyed witnessing Malfoy interrogate felonious wizards; there was nothing wrong with that. Malfoy was fierce and unrelenting in court. His tongue was like a viper, fanged and poisonous. He almost always won, and Harry enjoyed watching that kind of skill and talent in action, anyone would.
He didn't want to have to see Malfoy's blank, cold interrogation face here, in the Auror office where Harry worked, though. There was no need for it to be directed at him. He wasn't accused of anything; he wasn't on trial. It was simply inappropriate.
'Nothing from you,' Harry said, and that put a bit of colour in Malfoy's face, but it also sent a fission of nerves across Harry's skin. 'Er…' He said, then looked Malfoy up and down, trying to find something to take away the accidental sting of his words. As usual, Malfoy was wearing mostly black, but there was a colourful sweep of cloth knotted around his neck today. Not a tie. Something more billowy. It was patterned with green and lavender paisley swirls and made Malfoy's eyes shine and his skin look bright and creamy.
Malfoy stepped back, as if the observation made him uncomfortable; he crossed his arms. 'Could you move your foot, then? I have work to do.'
Harry slid his foot back a few inches, but not enough for Malfoy to pass. It wasn't fair that Malfoy paid more attention to Dennis Creevey, who hadn't even saved Malfoy's life and was kind of short and squirrelly. Not that Creevey wasn't a great bloke, Harry quite liked him. He just liked him a bit less when Malfoy was in the room.
He steeled himself. He could do this. 'That's a nice… thing you've got there.'
Malfoy's eyebrows knit. 'What on earth are you talking about?'
'The thing.' Harry gestured at Malfoy's neck. 'What is that? A scarf?'
The lack of flirting was irritating, but being stared at like he was a complete dimwit was worse. Harry cleared his throat. He moved his leg out of Malfoy's way.
'It's a cravat,' said Malfoy, stroking it lightly with his long, pale fingers. 'Have you seriously never encountered a cravat before?'
With a sense of creeping horror, Harry realised that he was blushing. 'We wore ties back at Hogwarts.'
'Yes,' said Malfoy, 'I remember. Did you hit your head recently, Potter?'
Harry swivelled to face his desk and hunched his shoulders. 'Didn't you have work to do? In the Legal Department? Far away from here?'
With a snort, Malfoy gave Harry a quick glare then swept by his desk and out of the Auror office.
'Merlin,' said Creevey. 'Even after all these years, you two still really hate each other.'
Cursing to himself, Harry snapped his broken quill into a misshapen ball, then tossed it in the bin.
* * *
How the hell had Witch Weekly got a hold of those photos? There were five of them, detailing a shirtless and unshaven Harry grumpily dragging a bag of rubbish out to the bins behind his house. The photographer had caught him from five different angles. His pyjama bottoms were rather thin and left little to the imagination. Harry groaned and shoved the magazine across the table, back to Hermione.
'I told you this would happen,' she said. 'At least put on a bathrobe before you go outside.'
'I will from now on,' said Harry. 'I promise.' He did his best to ignore the sound of Ron's laughter.
'At least those rumours about the naked Snape tattoo will stop now,' Ron said, then snorted and made a sound like a giggle.
'I never did figure out who started those rumours,' said Harry. Although he knew, deep in his heart, that it had been Malfoy. It must have.
He glanced across the canteen and there he was. Malfoy. Leaning close to that bald-headed bloke from legal whose name Harry didn't know. Malfoy looked the man right in the eye, his lids lowered, wearing a knowing expression. A lock of his hair had fallen out of place and rested, bright and pale, over his forehead. Malfoy should brush it back into place. Harry's fingers itched to do it for him.
What must it have been like working in the same office as Malfoy? Day in and day out? All that flirting must have been distracting. Harry was amazed the legal department was able to get anything done at all.
Malfoy pressed his shoulder against the bald man's shoulder. The bald man laughed and pushed Malfoy away, then got up and left. Good. Malfoy glanced around, then pulled something out of his satchel and spread it on the table in front of him.
'I'm done,' said Harry, and banished his empty plate to the kitchens. He stood and waved farewell to his friends, then moved off toward the exit. He was going to have to pass by the table where Malfoy was sitting. There wasn't any choice.
As Harry approached, Malfoy shoved his plate over whatever it was he'd been reading and covered the sides of it with his hands. That wouldn't do. Harry halted and looked at him. Those little spots of colour that always appeared when Malfoy was angry or embarrassed bloomed to life in his cheeks. Warm pleasure tickled through Harry's chest. Malfoy was so fierce in court, it was a nice to see him blushing, nice to see him being so human. It reminded Harry of when they'd been at school, before Malfoy had grown up and become so polished and controlled. When he wasn't flirting, at least.
But why was he trying to hide what he'd been reading from Harry?
'What have you got there?' Harry asked, moving closer and trying to peek between Malfoy's fingers to the paper below.
'My lunchtime reading habits are none of your business,' Malfoy said, then lifted his chin.
'You were trying to hide it. Whatever it is.' He leant over Malfoy's shoulder.
Malfoy hunched, then twisted and pressed his hand against Harry's chest. 'Back off!' He shoved Harry hard, making him stumble back.
Furious, and absolutely determined to see what Malfoy had been reading, Harry grabbed Malfoy's arm and pushed him aside. Malfoy shoved Harry again, then got to his feet. More of his hair had fallen across his eyes. Without thinking, Harry reached to brush it aside, but Malfoy slapped his palm against Harry's forehead and pushed.
Ow.
Fifteen seconds later, they were splayed across the table, fighting. Harry had a fistful of Malfoy's hair and Malfoy's hands were twisted in Harry's shirt. A knee bashed into Harry's thigh. He yanked at the hair. Malfoy yowled, then let go of Harry's collar to hit him, over and over again. His body felt hot and tremulous against Harry's. Something shattered against the floor, then Malfoy was gone, Harry was alone on the table, and everyone in the canteen was staring at them.
'For fuck's sake!' said Malfoy, struggling futilely against Ron's strong arms, which were holding him back. 'What is wrong with you, Potter? You're like a child. You shouldn't be let out without an adult to supervise.'
With his heart pounding in his chest, Harry rolled to the side and grabbed the magazine Malfoy had been hiding. Then he held it up in the air, like a prize or a trophy. 'Ha!' he said. 'Success.'
Malfoy stopped struggling and went still.
'Going to behave?' asked Ron.
Rolling his eyes, Malfoy nodded, and Ron let him go.
Harry looked at the magazine.
Witch Weekly.
Malfoy had been willing to fight him over that?
'I read it for the recipes,' said Malfoy, crossing his arms.
'Really,' said Harry, sitting up and trying to straighten his ruined shirt. 'You cook?'
'Of course I cook. I'm not a child.' Malfoy shook his head and his hair fell back into place.
With a shrug, Harry shoved the magazine into his pocket, just to irritate Malfoy.
'You could have had my copy,' said Hermione, who looked very disapproving indeed.
People began to return to their lunches and conversations.
'Keep it,' said Malfoy. 'You could use the fashion advice.' Then he spun around and marched out of the canteen.
With a sigh, Harry pulled the magazine out of his pocket and dumped it on the table, face down. For some reason, Hermione squeezed his shoulders and gave him a kiss on the cheek. 'We'll see you later,' she said.
Harry barely noticed her and Ron leaving. He was too busy staring at the ad on the back cover of Witch Weekly. After glancing around to see if anyone was watching, he tore out the ad, carefully folded it up, and shoved it into his pocket.
* * *
It came in a little blue vial, stoppered with a strawberry coloured cork and sat, currently, at the back of Harry's work desk between his quill pot and ink blotter. Biting his lip, Harry stared at it. Loosey Goosy Go-Get-Him Potion. 'Become the world's best flirt and get his attention.'
The name was enough to make him blush with shame. If anyone ever finds out about this, Harry thought, I will change my name and move to Siberia. Siberia definitely seemed like the best location; it was quite far away and very cold, so no one would be able to track him down just to laugh at him.
The potion had cost five galleons and taken seven days to arrive via owl post. Malfoy hadn't spoken to him or looked at him once during those seven days. Retrospective embarrassment at his behaviour in the canteen had kept Harry from seeking him out. He could apologise, he supposed. Maybe he would. After he took the potion.
He looked to the left. Creevey was busy with paperwork, his brow creased and his tongue poking out between his teeth. Whistling, Harry slid his hand across his desk and palmed the little vial. He then popped it into his breast pocket and stood.
'I'm off to the loo,' he announced, then cringed when Creevey gave him a bemused look.
'I'll alert Kingsley Shacklebolt,' said Creevey.
Harry wrinkled his nose at him, then left the office. He did go to the loo. It was, fortunately, empty. With his pulse pattering, Harry took out the vial and uncorked it. The potion smelled delicious, like fresh strawberries and cream. He took a deep breath, then drunk it down. It tasted sweet and tangy.
Harry waited. He wondered if something would feel different, maybe in his brain. Would he start to feel like Malfoy? There didn’t seem to be any difference except for a lingering tingle against his tongue. He looked in the mirror and stuck it out. Nope. Just his normal tongue.
Right. So that was possibly five galleons down the tube. With a sigh, Harry opened the door and went back to his desk to get back to finishing his report.
Whatever Creevey was working on must have been difficult. His brow creased even harder, Creevey slipped the top of his quill between his lips and sucked.
Harry leant back in his chair, enjoying the way the potion still tingled against his tongue, and said, 'Lucky quill. I can only imagine what else you can do with those lips.'
Creevey's eyes shot open and he turned bright red. 'What did you just say?'
Given he was frozen with shock, Harry didn't respond for a moment. He swivelled his chair to face Creevey and leant toward him, intending to apologise, but instead, said, 'You look adorable when you blush. It brings out the blue in your eyes.'
'You're talking to me?' Creevey's lashes fluttered. 'Are you? Harry?'
'I don't see anyone else here,' said Harry, and he hadn't even realised his voice could purr like that.
'Oh,' said Creevey. He swallowed. 'Well.' He grinned. 'Thank you, Potter. Harry. That's nice of you to say.'
Harry knew the wink was coming just half a second before it did, and he didn't stop it. He didn't feel embarrassed. He didn't feel ashamed. Instead, something mild and happy bounced about in his chest. When Creevey asked if he could borrow a new quill, because he'd bitten through the last one, Harry was happy to oblige. It occurred to him that he could brush his fingers along Creevey's as he handed over the quill, but he decided not to. Good. The potion seemed to work more like a strong suggestion than outright mind control.
Feeling good, feeling confident, Harry stood and stretched his arms above his head. His shirt rode up and he could feel the air from Creevey's desk fan blowing against the strip of bare skin he'd exposed. When he lowered his arms again, he saw that Creevey was staring, his face even redder than before.
Oh. Oh no.
Without thinking, Harry perched on the edge of Creevey's desk. Creevey gazed up at him, his lip trembling a little. A lot of people had looked at Harry like that after the war, with just that sort of dazed longing. It had been scary. It made him uncomfortable and he'd hated it. Soon, he learned to keep his head down, make as little eye contact as possible, and to never, ever touch someone unless he really wanted to touch them.
As the years passed, the looks became less frequent, and Harry had allowed himself to soften up and be somewhat friendly again. He'd never entirely relaxed, though.
'Harry,' Creevey whispered, letting his head drop to look at the papers on his desk. 'I'm really flattered, but… We have to work together every day. I just… We should keep things professional.' He peeked up at Harry. 'Shouldn't we?'
Bloody hell.
Harry slid off the desk and forcibly shoved his hands into his pockets. 'Yes,' he said. 'Of course. Ha ha.' You're just so cute. I can't help myself. I want to eat you all up. Certain parts of you more than others. Oh god, oh for fuck's sake. Gritting his teeth, Harry was grateful he hadn't let those last bits slip out.
He closed his eyes and resolved to stop this nonsense right away. Flirting was just as tricky and dangerous as he'd imagined. How long would the potion last? Things were going to be awkward with Creevey now.
Running his fingers through his hair, Harry said, 'I think I'll just go and check with legal on the Nicholson case.'
'Great,' said Creevey. He'd gone back to his normal colour and looked relieved. 'See you later then.'
'See you,' said Harry, and walked out of the office.
Damn. It wasn't fair. How come Malfoy could flirt and flirt and flirt and no one would think he'd meant it? Maybe it was because he did it so often and with so many people. No one took it seriously. Since Harry never flirted, when he finally did, Creevey had thought it meant something.
Awkward. This was so awkward.
Maybe Harry should just go home and wait it out.
Or maybe…
He'd bought the potion for a reason, after all.
Snickering to himself as he entered the lift, instead of pushing the button that would take him up to the Atrium, Harry pushed the button for Level Nine: where he intended to take the staircase leading to the courtrooms and Draco Malfoy.
* * *
Harry had only been to Malfoy's office a handful of times in the past, usually to either discuss specific evidence on a case or to pick up or drop off various documents. He always forgot how twisty and turning the lowest level of the Ministry could be. He had been sure Malfoy's office was at the end and to the right of the first corridor, but when he arrived there and opened the door, he found a room full of Goblins eating ramen noodles; they glared at him until he shut the door again. He didn't question it: the wheels of justice turned in mysterious ways, everyone knew that.
Retracing his steps, Harry now started to panic that the potion would wear off too soon and he'd end up simply stuttering a pathetic apology at Malfoy before turning to flee. How long did it last? He should have checked beforehand. Hermione was always having a go at him for taking potions without thoroughly reading the instructions. Someone in her office had an aunt whose boyfriend's cousin had neglected to read the literature that came with a skin clearing potion, and ended up with purple freckles everywhere after eating a grapefruit.
Too late now, though. Harry had already taken the potion.
Malfoy's office was definitely at the end of this corridor. He recognised the gargoyle lamp sconce with the missing nose. Before he could be one hundred percent sure, however, a door on the left opened up and out came… Bollocks. What was her name? Shirley? Shireen? Beatrice? Kingsley's secretary, the mean-tempered one, marched toward him, scowling. She wore voluminous robes and a tall, pointy, yellow hat, beneath which copious grey ringlets escaped, bouncing with each slightly hunch-backed step she took.
Harry wanted to run away. This woman had the power to veto his holiday requests, and also his requisition for a new Auror broom and real milk in the Auror office kitchen rather than that horrid powered stuff that just clumped together in a pasty mess when you added it to your coffee.
He moved to the side to let her pass, but before he knew it, he was speaking: 'New hat, Betty?'
Betty! That was her name. A rush of tickling pleasure shivered along his tongue.
'It suits you,' Harry went on. 'It's cheerful. I swear, Betty, you look ten years younger. No, twenty at least.'
She'd stopped stone still as soon as he started talking. Her eyes, the colour of granite, bore into him. Please don't take away my broom, thought Harry.
'In fact,' Harry persisted, figuring he was in for a penny, in for a pound. 'At first glance, I thought you were Andrea from Transportation.'
Those eyes. They reminded him of Buckbeak when the creature was pissed off.
'Only much classier,' said Harry, remembering that Andrea tended to wear her skirts on the short side. Gulping internally, he stepped toward Betty, letting the potion do what it would.
He reached out, took one of her curls in his fingers, and pulled it, gently, until it bounced back up again. 'I've always wanted to do that,' he said. 'So soft.'
Betty giggled.
Harry's muscles relaxed and he laughed along with her.
'Mr Potter, you are too much,' said Betty, smiling at him until her cheeks shone. She took his hand and squeezed it. 'Don't think I don't know exactly what you're up to. I'll have Minister Shaklebolt sign the requisition papers this afternoon, and you'll have your new broom by next week.'
Harry broke into an enormous grin. 'You're the best. If I was fifty years older, I'd have to be watching myself around you.'
She cupped his cheek, then patted it. 'Adorable,' she said, then moved off down the corridor. 'Get back to work, Auror Potter, or I'll report you to the Minister.'
Once she'd disappeared around the corner, Harry let out a breath and collapsed back against the wall. He felt good. He felt bloody great. Betty, of all people. He'd made her happy and that made him happy in turn. Maybe this was why Malfoy did all that flirting.
He nodded to himself, encouraged and even more determined to see his plan through. Malfoy's office was right there, just a few paces away. Harry didn't even feel nervous. He'd be fine; the potion would see to it.
The door to Malfoy's office was open. Spying a head of white blond hair inside, Harry knocked on the door frame and entered, bouncing on his feet and feeling cheerful. The figure by the side of the magical window turned to face him and, oh no, oh fuck, that was not Draco Malfoy, and not anyone he wanted to see, ever.
'Potter,' said Lucius, tossing back his hair and sneering.
'Malfoy,' said Harry, muscles hardening into blocks of wood beneath his skin. He glared at Lucius, and Lucius glared right back. 'Where's M— I'm here to see Draco.'
Lucius strolled forward. He held his chin at an even more imperious angle than his son did. 'Is that so? Well done, then. You've arrived at the correct office. As you can see,' he gestured around the room. 'Draco is currently absent.' He gave Harry a look of exaggerated pity. 'Bitter luck.'
While Harry wanted nothing more than to remove himself from Lucius's noxious presence, the potion wouldn't last forever. Dammit. He shifted on his feet. 'Will he be back soon?'
'Not soon enough.' Lucius moved closer. 'Come now, back to the Auror department with you.'
Harry stood his ground, grinding his teeth.
Lucius pointed his finger and jabbed it into the centre of Harry's chest. 'Go and play hero with your little wand.'
Harry grabbed Lucius's wrist. He lifted Lucius's hand. Higher. Lucius didn't resist. When Harry parted his lips and pressed the finger between them, Lucius's mouth fell open. Harry tickled the end of the digit with his tongue, then sucked. He slid it back out again, slowly, and said, in a voice made of silk and honey, 'Are you certain you want me to go, Mr Malfoy?'
Lucius's eyes went dark, and Harry immediately realised he'd made a terrible mistake.
'Harry Potter,' said Lucius, cupping Harry's jaw in his hand. 'What a surprise you are.' Lucius's fingers tightened around the back of Harry's skull.
With a breathless laugh, Harry ducked away and backed toward Draco's desk. Lucius prowled after him. 'Really, I was just waiting for Draco,' Harry said.
'Don't think I haven't had similar thoughts,' said Lucius, smiling like a toothy predator. 'The Boy Who Lived, bent over in front of me. Kneeling at my feet. Is that what you'd like, Harry?' He crowded Harry until Harry's arse was pressed up against the desk.
Harry shook his head, but his mind was spinning and the potion took over. 'Bent over, you say? Do you wanna spank me, Mr Malfoy?'
Lucius moved close enough that Harry could feel his breath against his face. 'That depends on how naughty you've been.'
'What the fuck is going on in here?' said Draco.
The shock of his sudden appearance momentarily cleared Harry's mind. He pressed his hands against Lucius's chest and pushed with all his strength. Lucius moved back, but Harry couldn't tell if it was because of the shove or because of Draco's arrival.
Draco looked at his father. Then he looked at Harry. There was something wounded about his expression.
'I…' said Harry. 'I was going to… And then he was here.' He gestured at Lucius. 'I didn't mean to—'
'Get out!' said Draco
'Malfoy, really,' said Harry, scrubbing his hands through this hair. 'It's not what it looked like, I promise you.'
'Get the fuck out of my office.' He spun to face his father. 'You too!' He huffed, his cheeks brilliantly red. 'Lunch is cancelled. And you're going to have to think of a truly spectacular Christmas present for me this year if you want me to keep my mouth shut and not tell Mother.'
If you had told Harry that Lucius Malfoy could look meek and repentant, Harry would have laughed. But that was certainly how he looked just then. Lucius didn't speak another word. He strode quickly toward the door, pausing only to shoot Harry a burning look behind Draco's back before exiting.
Once they were alone, Malfoy shouted at Harry. 'Why are you determined to ruin my life?'
Harry blinked, then hugged himself. He opened his mouth to apologise, but instead said, 'Has anyone ever told you you're beautiful when you're angry?'
'What?' Malfoy's mouth closed, then opened again. 'I'm what?'
'Don't be cross,' said Harry, stepping closer to him. 'That said, anger does suit you. Look at that flush.' He ran his fingers over Malfoy's cheek, then pressed his thumb into his lower lip.
Malfoy stood there, his eyes wide, and didn’t move.
'How come you flirt with everyone except me, Malfoy?' Harry asked, his voice low and warm. 'Don't I deserve a go? I did save your life, after all.'
'Argh!' said Draco, bursting into action. He shoved Harry away, and for a moment Harry thought they might have another fight, and that the fight might end up with them making out on Draco's desk.
But, alas, no. Draco deflated. 'Please leave, Potter. I don’t know what you're after, and I just don't have the energy to figure it out. Please. Just go.'
And then, at that precise moment, Harry's tongue stopped tingling. Ah, he thought. That's it then. The potion had run out.
He looked at Draco with his slumped shoulders and tired looking frown and couldn't think of a single thing to say. Giving up, Harry turned and returned to the Auror Department, dragging his feet as he went.
* * *
Flirting is stupid, Harry thought, staring across the canteen once again the following day. Even Malfoy saw that now. Malfoy wasn't flirting with anyone. He sat on his own, poking mournfully at his poached salmon with a fork. Harry felt strange, watching him. As if Malfoy's change in behaviour were his own fault. He wondered if he'd broken him.
'Harry,' said Ron. 'Stop staring at Malfoy for one minute and look at this.' Ron spread a map across the table. It was the location of their next Auror mission, somewhere in Lancashire. A group of thieves selling stolen property. They'd been tracking them for months and had finally located their warehouse.
Harry couldn't even get excited about it. He glanced back at Malfoy, and saw that Malfoy was staring back at him. For a few long moments, they simply looked at each other. What was Malfoy thinking?
'Don't you think you should be paying attention?' asked Hermione.
'To what?' Harry responded, and his two friends sighed loudly in unison.
Despite Harry's lack of attention and enthusiasm, the mission was a success. He, Creevey, Ron and his partner caught the thieves off guard and had them stunned, incarcerated and locked up in holding cells before the sun had set. Harry was glad, but couldn't bring himself to feel happy. When the others discussed heading to The Leaky to celebrate, Harry claimed he had a headache and crept back to his office to get the paperwork over with.
Malfoy was standing behind Harry desk. He was just standing there in the otherwise empty office, looking blank and holding a memo in his hand.
Harry stopped short. 'Hello,' he said, very aware of his sweaty hair and mission dishevelled clothing.
'Potter!' said Malfoy, his eyes widening. He thrust the hand holding the memo behind his back and Harry heard crinkling as he crumpled it up.
'What have you got there? Was that for me?' Why was Malfoy always hiding things made out of paper from Harry?
'Yes,' said Malfoy. 'I mean, no. I sent it. But I changed my mind. I just came up here to fetch it.'
Puzzled and curious, Harry walked to his desk and tried to peer behind Malfoy's back to see the scrunched up memo. Malfoy cursed, dropped the memo to the floor, then pulled his wand and incinerated it.
'Don't pout,' Malfoy said. 'It wasn't anything interesting.'
Harry pulled off his muddy cloak and hung it on the hook on the wall. He sat on his chair and took off his boots. His feet ached.
Malfoy hadn't left. 'Listen,' he said, straightening his back. 'I'm going to be very clear about this and I won't brook any argument. My father is a married man.' He moved closer until their knees were touching and leant forward, his face looming over Harry's. Harry tried to pull away, but the back of his chair was already pressed against his desk. Why did Malfoy men have to crowd you so?
Not that Harry minded. Malfoy smelled good. And his knees against Harry knees sent shivers both upward and downward.
'If I ever,' Malfoy went on, 'hear anything about the two of you… Well… Anything at all. I will remove every part of your body that isn't integral to breathing.'
'Sorry?' said Harry, unable to think of anything better than that.
'You heard me,' said Malfoy, leaning even closer. He was using that voice—the ice-cold, fierce one with which he interrogated criminals. 'Stay away from him. He's off limits. If you have to go around… manhandling people. Throwing them on tables and such. Asking them for spankings. Then find—' he leant closer. 'Someone—' Even closer. 'Else.'
Malfoy had very little stubble and his lips were much fuller than Harry had realised. His features were so sharp, you wouldn't expect him to have such a soft looking mouth. 'Who,' Harry asked, 'should I choose?'
Malfoy didn't answer. He just stared at Harry.
Harry grabbed Malfoy by the back of the neck and kissed him.
Malfoy made a surprised noise. Then he moaned. Then he started kissing Harry back as if he'd been starving for it for years, like he was desperate to fill himself up with what he'd been craving.
Or maybe that was Harry.
It was hard to tell, because fingers were in hair, pulling, and lips were pressing, and teeth were biting. The chair slid out from under Harry and they crashed to the floor. There wasn't any pain: just Malfoy's hands holding Harry tight, and their legs tangled, and their bodies twisting together.
'Why,' Harry gasped against Malfoy's mouth, 'do you flirt with everyone except me?'
'Shut up,' said Malfoy, and kissed him again, his hand snaking down through the collar of Harry's shirt and popping off the buttons.
'I mean it,' said Harry. 'It drives me mental! Everyone! But never me.'
Malfoy stopped kissing Harry. He pushed himself up on his arms, looking down with an expression of sincere exasperation. 'I was saving the good stuff for you,' he finally said.
Harry grinned.
'Or maybe I was worried you wouldn't do it back,' Malfoy continued, leaning on one elbow as he fiddled with Harry's fly, pulling it open. 'You never flirt with anyone.' Malfoy kissed Harry's neck. 'You just stare and stare.' He slid down to Harry's collarbone and sucked on it. 'And when you do talk to me, you're always so irritated.' Malfoy trailed his hot mouth down the centre of Harry's chest, whilst sliding his fingers down his ribs at the same time, making Harry arch his back and gasp. 'And we always…' Malfoy kissed Harry's bellybutton, then dipped in with his tongue. 'End up…' Malfoy grasped Harry's pants and trousers at his hips, then yanked them down. 'Fighting.'
Harry was hard. Very hard. Rather magnificently hard. Malfoy stared hungrily down at Harry's cock, and suddenly Harry lost all interest in any explanations, regarding flirting or otherwise, that Malfoy might possibly have. Whining, he pushed his hips up and buried his fingers in Malfoy's hair. Malfoy licked his lips, then swallowed Harry down.
Malfoy's viper tongue was good at things besides flirting and interrogating criminals. Harry banged his head back against the floor, trying not to pull Malfoy's hair out. He wanted to tell Malfoy how good it felt as his mouth slid up and down, sucking and licking— only he couldn't find the words. All that came out were moans and gasps, and—when Malfoy pulled off, giving Harry a wicked smile—a pathetic little whimper.
'You're delicious,' said Malfoy. 'But I've wanted this too long to settle for a blow job.'
Speechless, Harry pushed himself up on his elbows and nodded, indicating that Malfoy do could whatever he wanted. Harry's cock, damp and glistening from Malfoy's mouth, twitched a bit over his stomach. He watched as Malfoy unbuttoned his robes, then pulled them off and tossed them aside. He wasn't wearing a cravat, which was a shame, because Harry thought Malfoy could have tied him up with it or blindfolded him. Maybe next time.
As Malfoy made himself completely naked, Harry kicked off his pants and trousers. Then Malfoy was on top of him again, biting at Harry's lips with his fingers buried in Harry's hair. Flashes of heat swept across Harry's skin, as he kissed Malfoy and sucked at his tongue, that clever tongue. He wanted Malfoy so much, any way he could have him.
Malfoy slithered a hand down Harry's body, muttering a spell against Harry's mouth. He slid a finger between Harry's arse cheeks, and asked, 'Yes?'
Harry pressed his whole body upward, trembling, then nodded. Then he nodded again, just to be sure Malfoy understood.
Grinning, Malfoy nibbled at Harry's neck just below his jaw as he got him ready. Harry took his cock in his hand, stroking it, just lightly, not too firmly, not yet. Malfoy's fingers opened him up, making Harry spread his thighs and want, impatient with waiting. Once Harry was writhing beneath him and gnawing at his shoulder, Malfoy shifted his knees, placed the head of his cock against Harry's entrance, and thrust deep inside.
'God yes,' Harry managed to gasp. 'Fuck, Malfoy. Fuck me. Just do it, please, please.'
'Your arse is just as sweet as I thought it would be,' said Malfoy, doing just as Harry had asked. 'Tight and hot and perfect.' He snapped his hips forward, making Harry cry out, then did it again, staring avidly down at Harry's face. His voice low and breathless, Malfoy kept talking. 'I've wanted it for years. Wanted you for years. Below me like this.' He thrust into Harry so forcefully Harry almost came. 'Or above me. Behind me, inside me, I didn't care.'
He started fucking Harry hard and fast. Harry clung to him, hugging his hips with his knees as Malfoy pounded him against the floor, letting the pleasure build and build.
'Mmm!' said Harry. Then: 'Aaah!' He began fisting his cock with intent, timing his movements to Malfoy's.
Malfoy whimpered, and such a soft sound coming from Malfoy sent Harry over the edge. He arched his back and moaned as he spilled over his fingers and between their bodies. Malfoy shuddered above him, thrust in hard, then went still, his face creased with pleasure. Harry squeezed his cock, milking out the last bits, and then let all his muscles relax into bliss.
Neither of them had much to say for a while.
'I do have one question,' said Malfoy eventually. 'What, exactly, was going on between you and my father?'
Harry shuddered. 'I'll tell you,' he said, 'if you promise me that you'll do everything in your power to make sure I'm never alone in a room with him again.'
Malfoy nodded and gave Harry a small smile. 'It's fine. That's fine.' He gave Harry a kiss, then snuggled closer.
It was interesting, Harry told himself, trying not to fall asleep on the floor of his office. Harry wasn't as glib as Malfoy. Not even close. But there were different ways of getting what one wanted, and once he set his mind to something, Harry's ways worked just fine. He buried his nose in Malfoy's silky hair and inhaled; Malfoy's scent calmed him, sent shivers of happiness through his centre. Sometimes just reaching out and grabbing was more effective than anything else. As long as the other person wanted to be grabbed.
-- The End