Chapter Text
“When did you last use an Unforgivable curse?”
Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco. It was certainly a question he didn’t mind answering but to talk about it in the atrium in the middle of the Ministry of Magic while hurrying to Auror training and trying to blend into Saint-Potter’s life? Oh well, who was he to deny Draco anything really? Especially after how wickedly good the blond had been only moments before.
“Three days ago. I’ll let you guess which one it was.” He said, watching Draco swallow hard as he was faced with that information but from the way his pupils dilated just the slightest fear wasn’t the reaction that made his body shiver. Harry couldn’t wait to show him just how real power looked and felt. “Though I’ll be honest with you, I mostly use them for show these days. I’ve found that there are thirteen other Dark Curses that are way more effective to inspire fear and dissuade descent. This one in particular is very similar to the Cruciatus, but it takes much longer for the target to go mental-“
Draco hushed him with a feverish desperation, even going so far as to body-blocking him to keep him from entering the thickening flock of people ahead of them. “Bloody mad fucking Potters-“ Draco muttered to himself. “Bloody mad the whole lot of them.”
Harry shrugged innocently. Draco had asked.
“We need to wipe the spell history from your wand, but I can’t do it because I’m not allowed to perform that spell, as per the Reparation’s Act.”
“Why?”
“Well if I could wipe the history on my wand I could use whatever spells I wanted and then just erase the evidence.” Even when they tried their hardest to not be patronizing the Malfoy’s never quite succeeded, but it was cute to watch Draco try to explain the situation and becoming flustered trying to not make Harry feel stupid.
“No sweet thing.” Draco’s cheeks flushed pink at that. Harry loved how any kind of sexual remarks had people on their toes in this world as if it wasn’t quite common for Harry and Draco to make bedroom-eyes at each other until the room was cleared even if they were in the middle of a war-meeting. “Why would we need to wipe my wand?”
“Because in about two minutes it will be examined for the Unforgivables and if you are found to have used them you will be arrested.” Draco hissed, the stress written over his face was really quite touching.
“Well it’s a good thing I didn’t use this wand then.”
It took Draco a second to remember. “Oh, right. The Elder Wand.”
“Mhm.” Harry agreed, using the crowd that was gathering closer around them now as more and more people floo’d into work and headed toward the security points ahead of them, as a means to put his hands on Draco’s body.
“I keep forgetting you didn’t destroy it.”
“I’ll think of a way to keep you from forgetting.” Harry promised. He already had a very good idea of exactly how to do that but it would be way more fun to keep Draco guessing. He swept past Draco into the throng of wizards and witches, leaving him to interpret those words and their implications on his own.
A witch with her blond hair pulled back into an uncomfortably high pony-tail stretched her palm out for Harry expectantly when he approached her little booth. Her smile was warmer than it had been for the wizard in front of him and Harry forced himself to meet it with equal enthusiasm. He’d hate being in this world for long if he had to be friendly to every damn person around every damn corner.
“That’s certainly a chance.” The witch nodded toward his hair and the rouge on her cheeks did nothing to hide that her cheeks warmed with blood. Ugh, how utterly basic that Potter was flirting with secretaries who used muggle makeup.
“Do you like it?” He leaned in close as he offered her his Holly wand. He always carried it with him even though he hadn’t used it to channel magic for years and what other people called paranoia came well in hand now. The Elder Wand was fickle, everyone knew that, and Harry refused to be caught off guard – especially since his own ranks were rife with descent these days.
The girl nodded and while he was disgusted by the utter idea of getting close to a woman in that way he did like the idea of embarrassing her. “It makes you look dangerous. Like you’d force me into a dark ally and threaten to hex me if I didn’t suck you off.” He stroked the leather brace on his left arm where the Elder Wand and the Phoenix feather lay. Whatever world he was in, it was his and Draco’s world and the rest of them were only there to amuse them.
“I think you’d do that regardless of a threat of violence.” Harry pushed and the girl nodded furiously.
“But I wouldn’t get as wet.” She admitted, tongue coming out to wet her lips.
Harry chuckled and leaned back enough that his proximity wouldn’t have such a strong influence on her. She looked horrified, embarrassed and so turned on. Harry hoped that he’d leave his double with a sexual harassment complaint when the worlds righted themselves again, that would be a fun little start to the karma he would receive. Or maybe this stunt would get the other Potter laid, Harry was alright with that too – he couldn’t hate himself too much.
He couched and made a come hither movement that made the girl’s eyes bulge. “My wand.” He asked after letting the silence stretch for an indecent amount of time.
She flushed bright red as she cast her spells over his wand before giving it back to him with shaking fingers. He was about to let their fingers brush as she gave it back to him just to see how she would react but someone suddenly bumped straight into him. Or more like, tackled him.
Draco’s eyes looked like lightings in a furious thunderstorm as they fixed Harry. It wasn’t that the Dark Lord got butterflies in his stomach per se because of course not. Definitely not, they hadn’t had breakfast that morning after all. But he did enjoy a jealous Draco very much.
“What?” Harry said innocently. “You told me to be friendly.”
“I’ll show you friendly.” Draco muttered, narrowing his eyes and stepping in close, deliciously close.
“I can’t wait.”
The Ministry of Magic, the Training Hall for Auror Cadets
Harry made a mental note to find out who had designed the Auror-in-training-uniforms to see if they had survived the war in his own world. He was truly impressed.
They all wore crisp white shirts that fit their skin perfectly, down to the magically tailored inch, obviously made to display the fact that the Aurors weren’t just magically superior to the rest of Wizarding kind – they could also fight a Hippogriff with their hands. Even their pants were tight enough to show off definitions of both quads and calves and in Draco’s case especially – ass.
Thick brown leather suspenders wrapped around their shoulders and apart from enhancing chest-definition they also doubled as utility belt for potions, wands and all kinds of nick-knacks that would be needed in the field. Buttons and fastenings were a polished gold and even though Harry held a violent hatred and complete contempt for the institution he had to admit that their logotype M looked very imposing pressed into the smallest details.
Most students had discarded the grey suit vests and blood-red ties embroidered with the golden M but Draco had kept both even though the first hours of the morning had consisted of spellcasting and dueling. It made him look all the more capable than the rest of them when not a single blond hair had fallen out of place, while the other Cadets looked disheveled with rolled up sleeves and cheeks red from exertion.
Harry couldn't wait to make Draco loose that composed, superior aura. He’d to it slowly he decided, until Draco was shaking with anticipation. Yes, he was truly a strategic genius.
Staring at Draco with blatant hunger in his eyes had definitely made the rest of the Cadets whisper among themselves. Harry let them wonder as he threw mediocre spells at a practice-dummy.
Two mentors stood out from the students by the way the Ministry-M’s on their uniforms had been replaced with A’s to proclaim them as fully educated Aurors wandered around the students taking notes and offering comments. That seemed to be the usual state of things but something that definitely wasn’t was the man in the corner that looked like he was way too busy and important to watch children play at sorcery. Harry knew the look, it was his signature whenever he inspected his own Cadets, though since they practiced on each other their displays of knowledge was at least somewhat interesting.
“That’s Gawain Robards. Head of the Auror’s Office.” Malfoy hissed when the two had the opportunity to pass each other’s paths. “Stop staring at him like you want to kill him.”
“But I do.” Harry said truthfully, the notion even more true now that he knew the man’s station.
“No you don’t. Robards likes Potter, they drink tea together every other week. He’ll know something is wrong if you keep that up.” Harry did not like the fact that Malfoy kept close enough track of Potter that he knew his bi-weekly schedule.
“You should throw the Bombarda with a downward motion instead of straight forward.”
“I know how to throw a Bombarda, as proven by that.” The practice dummy was piecing itself back from scraps as Draco and Harry watched. It had been a very good Bombarda, Harry wasn’t denying that, a controlled blast-area and destruction at an almost molecular level. But.
“It can be better.” Harry shrugged, thoroughly enjoying the way Draco bristled at being challenged.
“Why don’t you do it if you’re so much better?” Draco challenged, knowing full well that Harry couldn’t do that without making things very complicated for himself.
“God forbid the Chosen One does something halfway competent, they’d have to call the Daily Prophet.” Harry agreed. “But if you do it my way you’ll score some extra good will from your teacher.”
“I am top of our class, I don’t need extra good will from them.” Draco said dryly though the pride sneaking into his voice warmed Harry’s insides. He’d spent so much of their childhood trying to make Draco realize that he was competent and worthy of love and praise despite what Lucius said but it had never really taken hold. And then here was this other Draco who had realized it all on his own and wasn’t shy to admit that he was the best. It was horribly, distractingly attractive. Harry grinned devilishly.
“I’m teaching you now.” Harry leaned in close, hiding the motion as an attempt to push his way past Draco. “And what with all the sass this morning, I think you’d want to be earn every extra credit you can get.”
That made Draco miss the mark of his next Bombarda.
Then a stupid boy with a stupid face whose name Harry would never bother to learn pulled him off as they were instructed to pair off for the next exercise. Harry was very close to whining about how he preferred to be paired off with Draco.
He was halfway ready to snap his wand in half after the exercise was finished and they were allowed to drift off on their own again. He hadn’t realized that a big part of the Elder Wand’s allure was that no wand would ever feel to good again that giving it up would feel like giving up magic all together. The Holly was slightly off balance, a bit too fast and a bit too slow at the same time, always tugging and pulling at his spells. He too would kill to keep the Elder Wand with its natural flow, the way it was an extension of his mind. It was such a natural part of him that the Holly felt like a child’s plastic toy more than the capable companion that had helped him defeat dozens of Dark Wizards and Witches even before he’d finished school.
As soon as the Cadets were allowed to continue on their own Harry drifted back to Draco like a straw getting caught in a whirlpool even though he knew that he should avoid the blond like his own stupid self would have. It was a good thing that he liked having people stare at him or this day would have been a struggle.
“You have to keep your posture when you use offensive attacks too.” Harry admonished, kicking at one of Draco’s feet to broaden his stance and make him distribute the weight differently.
“No I don’t.” Draco muttered and made to move his foot back only to find that Harry had made that impossible by wedging his knee in between Draco’s legs just far enough to still be decent to an observer. There was no way Draco didn’t feel as if he was about to be bent over and fucked though.
“Yes you do.” Harry insisted. “Someone could come up behind you and try to… trip you.”
“Trip me right on their prick?” Draco hissed.
“Now there is an idea. How would that work exactly do you think?”
“Remind me of who is failing this class again?” Draco muttered
“The loser Potter from this world. I taught this class. In fifth year.”
“Well you are supposed to be failing this class. And you’re making people stare.”
“Let them. I don’t mind them all knowing that I’ll take you home after this and bend you over-“
“Potter!” One of the mentors with their golden ‘A’ stitched to the outside of their dark grey officer’s jacket called for him like one would call for an especially disobedient dog. Only Draco’s cool touch on his wrist saved the man from getting a demonstration of the fifth curse on Harry’s list of thirteen. He’d had the one that made ones blood boil in their veins all ready to go, consequences be damned.
“Please.” Draco whispered and Harry let the magic fizzle out, the tips of his fingers warming from the release of the unrealized spell. The desperation in Draco’s voice was completely unexpected and for a second he wondered if Draco cared about the mentor and that made him want to kill him even more. But no. There was something else in those deep grey eyes. His own Draco had always been the one who was good at reading people and it frustrated Harry now that he hadn’t picked up that skill as well as the blond had.
“Play nice with them, and I’ll do whatever you want me to, after.” Draco shifted from vulnerability to humor and flirting with the crack of a whip, pretending like he hadn’t just pleaded with Harry and like he couldn’t care either way. Like they were bartering and the price Draco was willing to offer wasn’t his soul. His smile was broad and self-assured, as if Harry couldn’t practically hear his heart beat at the pace of a humming-bird.
“You’ll do whatever I want you to either way.” Harry said but his legs moved to follow the order he’d been given on their own accord. Or rather they didn’t move to follow the Auror’s order – they moved as if Draco’s wish was his law.
No, wait. It was the other way around.
Sometimes he wondered if there was something wrong with the air in this world that addled the brains of those born to be Harry Potter. There might be something to that theory because his world did not spin around Draco Malfoy, Draco was just the brightest star in the sky in Harry’s world.
“You were instructed to stay away from the Malfoy boy, were you not Potter?”
Oh was he now?
“The Marked are still out there, biding their time.” The Auror warned sternly. “If they heard that Harry Potter is not only underperforming in his studies, but also that the boy who was trained as Voldemort’s right hand could easily beat him in a duel, that would give them something to rally behind. Someone.” Harry noticed that about half the class was staring daggers at Draco and the other half was working very hard not to look at the blond. He nodded as if that made sense. Well, people rallying behind Draco for any cause made a lot of sense, especially dressed in this uniform. But it felt as a flimsy excuse to keep the two of them apart. When had the Aurors ever been known to go easy on the Cadets in training?
“He was punished for the last time he incited a fight with you and he has been made aware that any more transgressions will severely impact his ability to take the final tests.” The Auror continued. “But you do yourself no favors starting fights someone else has to finish for you.” The Auror raised their voice pointedly as she finished the sentence, making the two closest Cadets look at each other and turn away whispering. As if this Harry cared enough about what the people in this world thought about him to feel shame on the behalf of his lesser self.
“Understood.” He said with a half bow and a smile that couldn’t possibly be interpreted as anything but mockery.
A bit later, still in the Ministry of Magic, the Training Hall for Auror Cadets
By the time lunch rolled around Harry was very suspicious, glaring at the teachers and the rest of the Aurors-to-be with an intensity that didn't go unnoticed. Something was wrong. He knew it with a certainty, the feeling of walking straight into a trap making the hairs on the back of his neck stand.
Gawain Robards couched as Harry was about to pass by for lunch, an obvious attempt at getting his attention. Harry was tempted to ignore the man out of spite but curiosity made him stop in his tracks. What couldn't be said about his performance in front of the other aspirants? Enough criticism about his methods had been voiced already, in public, clearly with the purpose of humiliating him so it couldn't be more of the same.
"Harry, if you would." He made a motion toward the little box in the corner of the training hall, presumably an office. So they were on a first-name basis, were they?
"I see that you are... envious of your fellow students who will graduate to full Aurors soon Harry." Robards spoke with way too much hesitation to be speaking to a shitty student that he was about to either put down and embarrass some more or try and manipulate.
Harry did not answer.
"I really wish you would reconsider Minister Diggory's offer of a more... administrative role with the Auror team Harry. That way you would still be a part of the good fight."
"You don't think I could fight a Dark Wizard." Harry kept his tone as neutral as possible though he was torn between bad laughter and thunderous anger.
The man's face twisted with pity. "You did very well defeating he who must not be named, no one is trying to take that away from you. It's just that, well, that seemed to have been a bit of a fluke? Doesn't it? I mean when the evidence is taken into account." The hurried way the man spoke as he finished his sentence was interesting. He called Harry a powerless dullard to his face, yet feared his reaction to a stated fact?
"Maybe I will ace my final tests. I've been practicing. With Draco." Playing at being Harry was pretty fun, he had to admit.
"Ahem yes that. We do wish that you wouldn't associate with the Marked Harry, it sends a very bad message to the rest of the Wizarding world does it not?"
Harry gave the man a look.
Robards cleared his throat again. "Harry the tests aside, even if you scored exceptionally well on them they are only half of your grade as you well know. How well you've done in training up until now is just as important and well."
So they were planning to fail Potter, even if he somehow managed to pass his tests?
The man's face softened and his voice became sickly sweet and filled with fake concern. Was it really this easy to lie to Potter? "It's just that we'd hate to lose you to a Dark wizard in the field."
They wanted to keep him as a trophy.
"And before you start, it will be terribly embarrassing for you to have to repeat your courses, wont it?" The pity in the man's voice dripped with insincerity and poison.
So when Potter failed he wouldn't be allowed another shot because the world couldn't be allowed to know that their hero was a failure. The hero that wouldn’t be allowed to do any heroics because he was too powerless to stand against another Dark Wizard, yet he was somehow too powerful to be allowed to graduate as an Auror?
They wanted to keep him on their side, give him just enough to do that he couldn't complain but keep him out of the public eye. There would be no headlines of the great deeds of the Chosen One, he wouldn't be allowed any more victories. Harry Potter would simply fade into the background to be a symbol that could be brought forth and dusted off whenever the Ministry needed him. But he couldn't be allowed to make a name of himself lest he chose to challenge the Ministry.
Harry nodded with a grave mask on his face as if he understood. "I'll give your offer another consideration Gawain." He said and the way Robards twitched at his name infuriated Harry. They were not on a first name basis apparently, the man just believed he’d get away with talking down to Potter like one would to a child.
Why on earth would the Ministry spend so much energy on controlling the worst aspiring Auror that the ministry had seen in decades? Why not just let him flunk out of the program and let him embarrass himself?
A quaint lunch-restaurant in France
“Everyone here is speaking French.” Draco remarked when they’d ordered their food, his voice so obviously fake neutral that it dripped with tension.
“Mhm.” Harry agreed and pretended to hide his smile behind the extensive wine-menu.
“Did you Apparate us to France for lunch?” The way Draco tried to scream and whisper at the same time was adorable.
“You love this restaurant.”
“My mother loved this restaurant, she said that the only thing muggles ever did better than wizards was wine, did you Apparate us to France for lunch?!”
Harry hated to admit it but he wouldn’t have been able to do it without the Elder Wand. And if a foe with enough magical skill to challenge him happened to come along he’d struggle keep up honestly. Inter-continental Apparition was very hard work and most times that it had been done successfully had been because the life of said wizard had been in danger and desperation helped fuel their magic. He had chosen the restaurant not only because he knew that it had sentimental value for Draco but also because it was located directly at the intersection of two ley lines, that always helped with Apparition. But the way Draco looked at him with a mix of daze, greed and worship made him hot in all the right places so he wasn’t about to admit that he’d struggled.
“Honestly, is there something Potter is actually good at? I’m sick of pretending to be ordinary.” Harry asked, feigning to not care about Draco’s impressed reaction, acting as if this was something he did all day every day.
Draco made a face. “His Patronus is actually pretty decent.” He admitted.
Harry groaned. “Out of all the useless spells.” He would strangle his own double.
Draco made another face, though this one was harder to discern. A mixture perhaps of distain and awe. Envy perhaps?
“What shape does your Patronus take, Draco?”
A waiter that had been about to approach their table turned on his heels as he felt the tension of Harry’s and Draco’s stares. Harry would not be denied answers to his questions and between the two of them he had always been the most stubborn.
“The Patronus is not compatible with the Dark Mark.” Draco sounded as if the words hurt him. They dripped with shame, disgust at having to admit his own failures out loud.
“You don’t have the Mark anymore.”
“I never learned to use it before the Mark.”
“It’s an overrated spell.” Harry placated.
Draco was quiet for a beat. “You don’t have a Patronus either.” Annoyingly clever blonds that never let him forget that he too was human.
The silence was charged to blow as Harry stared at Draco, daring him to force an answer out of him, knowing full well that his silence was all the answer he’d need.
“Well, his is a stag so I don’t think yours would be similar anyway.” Draco’s attempt at trying to downplay the impressiveness of being able to produce a full Patronus was quite cute and much appreciated, even though Harry didn’t need anyone to placate him.
“His all-powerful Patronus is bambi?” He took back any ounce of respect he might have felt for Potter before.
“I don’t know that reference.” Draco shook his head. “Anyway, he learned it in third year. The dementors seemed to think he was extra yummy.”
“Ooh.” Understanding dawned on Harry then. Harry in this world had practiced using a glorified glitter-shield to solve his Dementors problem, whereas he himself had actually done something challenging and proactive. “I suppose it will create some problems if I reveal that I’m an unregistered Animagus in the middle of the Ministry of Magic then?”
Draco choked on his food, eyes going wide. He strategically waited until Draco had swallowed and recovered before telling him that in his world, Draco was one too. They ate their lunch and talked about lighter things after that and Draco tried to sneak in animal guesses that Harry found very amusing to ignore.
After lunch, somewhere on the southern English coast
He made the jump over the English Channel and Apparated them to a lovely strip of desolated beach. The weather didn’t exactly inspire any beach goers with a drizzle that threatened to frizz even the most well-tamed hair-due and chilly winds. It was an awful place to spend the afternoon even for people who had grown up on the British Isles and was used to the weather conditions. But he’d splinch them if he tried to Apparate another mile that day and he had to shove his hands into his pockets lest Draco see them shivering from magical exhaustion.
“What are you doing?” Draco asked when Harry didn’t immediately Apparate them to a new place.
“Enjoying the beach.”
“Very funny, now come on.”
“I don’t really feel like going back to Potters mediocre life.”
“Well, you can’t just strand me here.” Harry chuckled at the unintended pun and was met with stern sterling eyes glaring at him for it.
“If you want to go back, you take us.” Harry plopped down in the muggy sand and leaned back with his head to the sky as if he was basking in the sun.
“That’s like, five long-distance-jumps at the least back to London.” Draco balked at the task and Harry tried to remember a time where any magical task had seemed challenging to him. He failed.
“Sure, but it shouldn’t be a problem for the top student of his class, now should it?” Harry raised an eyebrow and did nothing to conceal the challenge in his smirk. He crossed his feet in the sand in front of him just to show that he himself was in no hurry to go anywhere. Draco would have to do the heavy lifting, quite literally.
“So you back to your silly Ministry of Magic and dance their dance.” Harry’s voice came out with more venom than he’d meant but he wasn’t sorry for it. It irritated him like the sting of a fire ant that Draco was so compelled to go back, to follow the rules, to not dedicate his entire being to Harry’s whims. He never liked having competition for Draco’s affections or attention and he’d killed for it several times, he was very much willing to do it again.
“People saw us leave together. If I go back alone they’ll probably arrest me for kidnapping of the Chosen One.” Draco muttered darkly.
Harry laughed. Draco did not.
“Really?”
“Quite possibly. I’m not willing to take the chance.”
Harry hummed and ignored the way Draco tapped his dragon-leather shoe again the sand impatiently. He was piecing together the pieces of a puzzle and he did not like shape they were forming, not one bit.
“I didn’t remove your mark simply for the aesthetics.”
“Do not take this the wrong way Potter. I am very grateful for that.” He paused for emphasis and Harry inclined his head in a graceful nod. “But that doesn’t mean that I’m not still Marked in their eyes. They'll take one look at my forearm and rewrite the Reparations Act to include those who have previously been marked, or something, before the work-day is done.”
“I am at the top of my class because if I’m any less they’ll sweep me under the rug along with whatever freedoms being an Auror gives me.” He grit his teeth. “I convinced Voldemort that Harry Potter was dead and risked everything in doing so, I would have been a Prince in the new world order. But here I am, forced to be grateful for the scraps they throw me. At the first chance I give them they will kick me down even lower and force me to lick the slop off their boots. I won’t live like that.” Draco’s eyes turned darker as he spoke, like thunder rolling in over an open sky.
“So while playing with you has been fun, but I won’t risk getting in trouble with the Ministry over it.” He stood tall and regal, tense shoulders and a set face that made him look very dashing. As if he hadn’t just bared his soul to Harry.
Harry rose from the sand, a wordless spell vanishing every trace of dirt from his clothes. He reached for the blond but Draco was quick and managed to step out of his grip, twisting and refusing to look at him properly.
“Draco, you seem to think that I’m here to cause chaos and then return to my own world once I’m bored.”
“Well, yes.”
This time Harry made the sand form tendrils to wrap around Draco’s legs so that he couldn’t move away. He swooped in close and grasped Draco by the shoulders to make sure that the blond couldn’t angle his body away from his gaze. There would be no classic avoidance allowed for what he had to say next. He definitely took the opportunity to squeeze the definition of muscle that bulged under the ministry issued white shirt. It had gone quite damp in the not quite-rain-drizzle and suddenly Harry couldn’t resist the urge to flick the buttons of that shirt open anymore.
He’d been about to say something important surely, but all other thoughts vanished at the sight of more exposed ivory skin. Next to the newly exposed V the white shirt was plastered against Draco’s nipple in the most indecent way, hard from the cold in the air. He gave it a few flicks with his thumbnail and watched as thoughts of Apparition and The Future vanished to the back of Draco’s mind.
A cruel twist of his fingers made Draco’s knees buckle, finding that he was still held by Harry’s magic. The novelty of being held in place hadn’t worn off from that morning it seemed like, as Draco’s pupils extended rapidly. Harry soothed the sharpness with his mouth, laving his tongue over the sharp point over the fabric of the shirt to create delicious friction. He let a hand slither into the opening in the shirt, grazing along Draco’s sternum and chest with soft fingertips and teasing nails to keep him guessing as to how his other nipple would be treated once he found it.
He was merciless in his treatment of Draco’s tits, determined to leave them red and raw so that anyone who looked at him that afternoon would be able to see the shadow of color underneath the white uniform. After all, why would anyone make their Cadets wear such sexually explicit uniforms if they weren’t supposed to have sex in between lessons? Or maybe it was just Draco who managed to look like sex on legs in anything he wore, but then, let them look and be envious of Harry.
Only when Draco was shaking, and not from the cold, did Harry sink to his knees.
He hadn’t been in this position since he was a teenager and things were much less complicated. When he wasn’t constantly having to project an image of strength lest he face assassination attempts around every corner. When things weren’t all about domination and keeping people in check. And then he’d simply been turned off by the thought of the act as he’d watched how debasing it could be. Hell, after the way he’d treated his own Draco he feared retaliation. He knew how powerful he himself felt, standing over Draco with the power of the world in his hands and couldn’t allow anyone to be in that position over him. Not even Draco.
But this Draco wasn’t a treacherous whore plotting to ruin everything they’d build simply because he’d gone and found a conscience somewhere. This Draco was everything his double was not.
With the foreplay and the sight of Harry on his knees it didn’t take long for Draco’s thighs to tremble as Harry enveloped his cock in smooth warmth. He sucked slowly without making a mess of himself but seemed to do the trick.
“Who do you belong to, little dragon?” He pulled off to ask when Draco’s eyes drifted shut in bliss. “Is it your Ministry of Magic?”
Draco shook his head furiously.
“Me, then?”
A nod.
“Show me.”
It was very amusing to feel Draco’s muscles flex and tense under his hands as the blond tried his hardest not to push too much or too deep. Being on his knees had lost him no respect, even so close to his release Draco was still careful not to offend the Dark Lord. It was an unexpected thrill to the position that Harry thought he might like to spend more time on in the future. For now though he took Draco as long as he could without losing too much dignity and hollowed his cheeks. Looked up through his eyelashes and met Draco’s.
Draco needed no further encouragement.
Harry resisted the impulse to swallow and rose to his knees. There were much to Harry’s dislike still a bit of a height difference between the two of them but over the years he’d learned how to make himself tower over Malfoy despite the fact that the difference wasn’t in his favor. It had to do with commanding whatever space you inhabited, and sometimes with a little magic, bending the light. That wasn’t necessary now though – Draco looked beautifully dazed and properly humbled already. Much better than combative.
He leaned in and used a firm thumb to put pressure on Draco’s chin until he let his mouth fall open. Then he let the mixture of drool and come drip out to spill all over Draco’s mouth, chin and jaw. Making him taste himself and getting him looking absolutely filthy, like he’d been the one on his knees just then. Harry loved that look on his Malfoys.
“You are quite distracting my little Dragon.” Harry said, equal fondness and sternness in his voice. “I believe you were about to Apparate us back to London so we don’t get written up for tardiness.” Draco seemed to have forgotten his earlier protests that Apparating two people such a long distance was too much for him because he nodded at reached his hand out to Harry. It was good to know that screwing the blond would get him out of arguments in this world too.
And because Draco apparated them all the way back to the gates of the Ministry of Magic without making Harry travel-sick he reminded the blond that he still had drying come and drool all over his chin and the front of his shirt before they entered the Ministry. The shirt that was still open in the front and a bit disheveled from the Apparition, to the point of exposing a nipple. It was still rather red from Harry’s earlier treatment.
The last hour of the day, Ministry of Magic
Harry laughed out loud as he realized the full extent of what was happening.
One of the other students close by, his name was Dean and Harry had gathered that they were supposed to be friends, looked at him, startled.
"Draco said something funny." Harry shrugged and poked Draco in the ribs with an elbow. Draco glared at him and gave Harry another excuse to laugh.
"His face is funny." Dean muttered. He was obviously confused by Harry’s sudden relationship with Malfoy and quite obvious about disapproving. He yelped in pain as Harry let go of the curse crackling in his fingertips and let the curse whirl through his Holly wand.
"Mr. Potter while it is nice to know that you still master some hexes I would appreciate it if you applied the same effort to the one's we are supposed to be practicing today. Or is that too much to ask?" One of the mentoring Aurors looked down over his nose at him as if he was a naughty Hogwarts student. He nodded toward them and turned, he couldn’t be bothered with their attitudes now that he had confirmation.
He was being sabotaged.
Or rather, Harry Potter was being sabotaged.
That hadn’t been an ordinary hex. The curse he’d hit Dean with should have made bones in his face shatter, the jaw, the nose, the cheekbones, the small ones in each ear. It was an excruciatingly painful experience and the not even the most potent brew of skelegrow could speed the equally healing process up very much. It was one of his thirteen and he’d gotten the idea for it from the spiteful way the Weasleys had spent almost every single Quidditch match sending bludgers after him. And most importantly it shouldn’t have failed him because it was one of his – he should have been able to hit it with Draco’s wand, or even Hagrid’s stupid pink umbrella.
But as it was bruises formed across Dean’s nose and his cheeks were red and probably stinging. Childish and ineffective.
Harry would burn them all.
But not until he'd enacted an appropriate revenge.
Then it struck him. He'd given his wand to a witch upon entering the Ministry, in order to check that the persons entering hadn't used any of the Unforgivables.
Maybe he should have felt it before, but he was so used to the Elder Wand that the Holly wand felt alien and all around useless. He hadn't even considered the fact that maybe something was wrong with it until he’d used his own spell and had it betray him.
"After the war, was Potter a notably bad student?" Harry whispered to Draco when he got the chance.
"Perfect Potter was never bad at anything." Draco said with a voice as if he'd had a raincloud hanging over him and torturing him personally. Harry pinched him hard, this was not the time for quips. It was amusing to see Draco keep himself from jumping at the pain.
"Since I was Marked I knew I had to get impeccable grades if I wanted any hope at a future so I spent every second studying." Draco admitted bitterly. Harry could see the loneliness and isolation in his eyes. "It was the opposite for Potter. He was always good at magic without even trying and he was the Golden Boy, he didn't need grades to open doors for him. He partied his way through eight year and still managed to graduate with almost perfect marks."
That confirmed that it was someone at the Ministry who was sabotaging him. But who?
His thoughts were interrupted by a pair of Aurors bursting into the training hall, wands raised. They were walking over to Draco and Harry at a brisk pace, probably with stunners at the ready on their lips.
“Draco Malfoy, you are under arrest for first degree of torture, use of dark curses and several violations of the Reparation’s Act.” One of the Aurors said, not even bothering to keep the glee out of their voice.
"What is that about?" Draco took two steps back, his wand held at hip level. He looked like a cornered animal who knew that staying in the corner was equally as deadly as attacking to get out.
"The owner of Malfoy Manor was the victim of a brutal crime in the night."
"Officers if I may - Mr. Malfoy was with me yesterday."
“This arrest order comes from Minister Diggory himself. If you can provide an Alibi for Mr. Malfoy you may submit it to the secretaries for the department of Aurors and they will look it over. But Mr. Malfoy will spend the night in Azkaban.”