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A Dragon Is Not Just For Christmas

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Romania is cold, colder than Harry had been prepared for, and ludicrously picturesque. He doesn’t work abroad often, and the snowy mountains and endless stretches of evergreens make him feel like he’s in a Christmas card. It’s like being on holiday.

Or it would be if the safety of the wizarding world wasn’t at risk… again.

He’s undercover, something else he doesn’t do very often. Or at least not as himself. The odd short term stint under polyjuice, it’s not an ideal method as long-term polyjuice use has some very unpleasant side effects. Barty Crouch Jr might have been willing to risk the nerve damage, the paranoia, and the possibility of random bits of you never returning to their original shape, but sane people were not.

But he’s here as himself, as himself on holiday even. Although he can’t quite relax even there as his cover story for spending such an extended time visiting the dragon sanctuary in Romania has just arrived at the international Floo point to pick him up. Harry has been waiting outside for fifteen minutes for Charlie and it’s made him more nervous than he ought to be. He’s a seasoned Auror, he’s done this before… but not quite like this.

“Harry,” Charlie calls, climbing off a broom, wrapped in leather and fur against the cold.

“Charlie,” he replies smiling.

And then Charlie snags him around the waist and kisses him long and hard on the mouth.

“About time you got your arse out here,” he grins and grabs one of those arsecheeks in his hand, squeezing it with a dizzying familiarity.

Harry tries not to look shocked. He hadn’t been prepared for Charlie to throw himself into the act quite this enthusiastically. He supposed he should be thankful that at least Charlie wasn’t going to find it difficult to play their cover story.

It had been Ron’s idea, bizarrely enough. “Everyone knows you’re gay now, although Witch Weekly remains ever hopeful you might change your mind. Charlie’s the perfect excuse, I always thought the two of you would make a fantastic couple.”

“Are you trying to find me a good cover story or actually trying to set me up with your brother?” Harry had asked suspiciously.

Ron had shrugged. “Wouldn’t do you any harm to date someone for longer than a couple of weeks. And I mean really, how long has it been since you even did that? I’m not saying sleep with my brother, but you know… if you did, you could do worse.”

Harry had rolled his eyes, but Kingsley had loved it. “Perfect, the Romanian Ministry wants our top man, but they don’t want anyone to think the events of the last year have been anything more than accidents. Dragons are a very dicey topic in Eastern Europe, if we can’t get things under control the reserves could be closed entirely, and that would essentially doom European dragons to extinction. There’s nowhere else with enough space to house them without threatening Muggle populations. So it has to be a convincing alibi. Everyone knows you’re close with the Weasley family and Charlie Weasley’s a very plausible match, very plausible indeed.”

Harry didn’t accuse the Minister for Magic of trying to set him up with Charlie Weasley, but he seemed just a little bit too enthusiastic about what a great couple they would make.

Harry had nothing against Charlie Weasley, he was a good looking guy. He just wasn’t Harry’s type, and the Weasleys were the closest to family he had, which made it a bit weird.

But that was neither here nor there, for now he had to be very much Harry’s type, at least in public.

He cast another quick warming charm on himself before he hopped on the spare broom Charlie had brought with him and followed him into the night.

“Sorry I can’t side-along us,” Charlie apologised as they flew next to each other.

“That’s okay, most wizards can’t just side along another adult,” Harry replied over the wind. “Besides, this’ll give me more of a lie of the land.”

“It’s bastard cold, going to stay this way all week it says. I’ve got some furs back at mine that you can wear while you’re here.”

“Thanks.”

By the time they got to the cabins where the dragon tamers stayed, Harry was frozen despite his warming charms. He staggered a bit prying his legs off the broom and Charlie caught him and pulled him up against his sturdy body.

“Let’s get you inside and warmed up,” he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Harry let him man handle him up the stairs and through the door of his cabin, then he cast a bunch of what he thought ought to be entirely situation appropriate privacy charms as soon as the door was closed. He collapsed onto the sofa in front of the fire that was already burning, Charlie had roused the flames higher while Harry was casting.

Charlie thumped down onto the sofa next to him, his outer garments discarded and his boots gone. “Get your boots off,” he advised. “You’ll warm up faster that way, let the heat in.”

Harry did as he was told.

“So,” said Charlie. “As long as it doesn’t bother you I’d rather play this as straight, pun intended, as possible. I’m not much of an actor and if I have to keep turning it on and off I’m only going to confuse myself. Is that okay?”

Harry shrugged, feeling bone weary after the cold of the broom journey. “Makes sense, you’re not trained for this so whatever makes it easier for you.”

“Brill,” replied Charlie. “The privacy charms are a bit heavy, dragon tamers aren’t notoriously shy, but I’ll just tell them you’re a screamer. We better take them down before we go to sleep though, we never sleep with privacy charms up in case something happens on the reserve. Especially at the moment with everything that’s been going on.”

“Right,” said Harry. “Well you better fill me in now on anything you think I might need to know that we haven’t covered.”

“Yeah, all right.”

They spent an hour mostly going over stuff they’d already discussed at the Ministry. Charlie had made a few visits to England already to firm up their story, which was that they’d started dating while Charlie had been home for a weekend in August and had done long distance secretly for a bit until they were serious enough to go public.

Their going public had been a dinner date in Diagon Alley last week with the Daily Prophet carefully tipped off that Harry was going to be there. It had been their first and only real run at pretending to be a couple, all Charlie’s other visits had just been so that the dragon tamers would believe Charlie had been travelling back and forward to meet with Harry privately for a while. The whole operation was over a month already in the planning and execution. They hadn’t done much more than hold hands a bit and kiss fairly chastely outside the restaurant where Harry knew the Prophet’s photographer would be watching.

It wasn’t the first time Harry had been in the paper for going on a date, but it was the first time he’d done it on purpose and the first time he’d admitted to actually being in a relationship with a man. Typical of his life that his first public relationship since he’d broken up with Ginny was entirely fake. The wizarding world must think he had a real thing for Weasley’s.

Eventually he gave up trying not to yawn and suggested they turn in for the night.

“Good idea, I’m on early tomorrow,” said Charlie. “Come on.”

He tugged Harry up and led him into the bedroom where Harry eyed the large double bed as Charlie went off to the bathroom. He rarely slept over with anyone, usually giving some excuse for having to be up early and apparating home to sleep alone on his own bed. Not that he’d had to bother with excuses lately, it had been almost six months since he’d pulled anyone at all.

But it should be okay with Charlie, after all he knew and trusted him. A lot of his issues with sharing his bed while asleep were trust, he didn’t like to feel helpless around someone he didn’t know well. As a result he found it hard to fall asleep and if he did he tended to have nightmares, which was awkward and far from enjoyable.

When he came to bed in his pyjamas, Charlie was already under the thick duvet. Harry couldn’t tell if he was wearing anything, but he certainly had no top on. Harry tried not to stare at the broad chest, Charlie may not be his type, but still.

“Chuck your clothes about a bit,” Charlie said.

“What?” Harry brought his attention back to Charlie’s face.

“It’s almost certain some of my friends will burst in on us tomorrow morning at an ungodly hour, it’s fairly standard when we know someone’s bunking over, so we need the room to look like we spent the evening shagging,” Charlie explained.

That was when Harry clocked the bottle of lube out on the nightstand by Charlie’s head.

“For someone who isn’t trained in this stuff, you’re pretty good at it,” Harry commented as he draped his underpants over the back of a chair.

“I come from a big family, I’m just applying the opposite rules from when I didn’t want Mum to know I had someone over.”

Harry laughed at the thought of Charlie smuggling boys in and out of the Burrow. “Did you get caught much?”

“More than I like to admit,” he grinned. “Mum knows every trick, she’s a nightmare. I blame Bill, he gave her loads of practice before I even got started. And boys are even harder to hide than girls, they tend to be bigger and clumsier.”

Harry finished distributing his clothing in what he felt was a convincingly ripped off and chucked away fashion and, after a brief pause for consideration of the look of things, stripped off his pyjama top before climbing into the massive bed.

“Don’t forget to take down those charms,” Charlie said as he blew out the candle.

Harry finite’d most of his privacy spellwork. “No wards at all?” he asked uneasily.

“Nothing that’ll stop people getting in or that they’ll really notice, not if we want to get off to the right start with everyone, if you spoil their ‘surprise’ they’ll take the hump about it. I’m sure they’d believe that being who you are you had to put them up, but they’ll relax and trust you a lot faster if you don’t. It’s up to you.”

“Minimal wards it is then, I’ll just set a personal warning if the cabin’s entered, I’m the only one who’ll even hear it and I won’t let on that they triggered it,” said Harry, trying not to sound as uncomfortable with that as he was. He hadn’t slept unwarded since… actually he’d almost never done so. Privet Drive had been one big ward, Hogwarts was warded, and he always warded Grimmauld Place along with all it’s other security measures. The few times he stayed at the Burrow as a child were probably the only times, and even then he wasn’t sure Arthur and Molly wouldn’t have warded the house while he was there.

But apparently Charlie had picked up on the slight anxiety in his voice, as he rolled over and pulled Harry into a warm sleepy bear hug. “Don’t worry, you’ve got your boyfriend to keep you safe after all,” he joked.

And actually, that was kind of comforting.

Charlie fell asleep only moments after speaking, and Harry too fell asleep surprisingly quickly tucked into the heft of Charlie’s muscular body.

Sure enough, Harry’s alarm ward was tripped in the early morning. He woke instantly, but forced himself to lie still and just listen. It was hellishly difficult not to do more than curl his hand around the wand under his pillow. What if it wasn’t just Charlie’s workmates playing a prank… what if…

Then the room erupted with kazoo noises and fireworks and Harry nearly leapt out of his own skin he was up so fast and pointing his wand.

But he was the only one with his wand out, the rest of the room had frozen in surprise at the speed of his reflexes and the aggression in his stance.

Harry stood awkwardly on top of the mattress, thankful he had managed to restrain himself from actually casting, and lowered his wand.

Charlie put a hand on his calf from where he was still lying down. “Easy there, love,” he said. “It’s just the welcome committee.”

“Um… sorry,” said Harry. “I actually didn’t mean to do that, you were just so…”

“Loud?” suggested Charlie. “Obnoxiously invasive? Completely ignorant of the concept of a Dark Lord killing Auror’s likelihood of reacting badly to fireworks going off unexpectedly in his bedroom?”

“I told them the fireworks were too much,” said one of the intruders, a sturdy blonde woman in pigtails with a strong accent. “But they were not to be talked out of it.”

“It’s not every day our Charlie bags a legend!” shouted a bloke from the back of the crowd.

Harry put his face in his hand and dropped to the bed in embarrassment. Charlie hooked him around the shoulders and pulled him into the crook of his neck and Harry gladly buried his face there.

“Now, now. I told you, he’s just my boyfriend Harry,” he scolded them. “None of this Boy-Who-Lived stuff or I won’t be able to talk him into coming back. Now bugger off with the lot of you.”

There was a murmur of cheerful assent and Harry quite clearly heard someone say, “Never even got to see his cock”, as the crowd wandered out of the room.

Charlie sprawled onto his back as the door shut and stretched like a starfish. “I may as well get up now, I’m on the early shift through till mid afternoon. I presume you’re going back to sleep?”

“As soon as my heart stops pounding,” Harry muttered into the pillow.

Charlie ruffled his hair. “Abject terror is good for the constitution,” he claimed and hauled himself out of bed.

Harry rolled over in time to see his naked backside disappear into the bathroom. It was a pretty good backside, if you liked them built like a rugby player. Harry was more inclined towards a slender build, but all things considered, he probably would, and he probably shouldn’t. He fell back asleep before Charlie came back out of the shower.

It was mid morning when he got up, a lie in that had frankly been long overdue. He was on holiday after all, sort of. It would be suspicious if he didn’t have a lie in.

He had a long and enjoyable wank in the shower then wandered around Charlie’s cabin for a while in sweatpants and a Weasley jumper, poking at things, drinking a strange smoky tea he had found in the cupboard and preparing himself for how cold he knew it was going to be outside. The cabin’s built in warming charms must be top of the line. But he was going to have to leave if he wanted to eat anything other than stale bread or giant hunks of meat, which seemed to be all Charlie’s kitchen contained. He knew there was a canteen somewhere nearby that catered to everyone who worked on the reserve.

Finally he changed into his jeans. It was snowing outside, but he didn’t quite fancy being swallowed by one of Charlie’s massive fur coats so he decided to risk it in just the coat he had brought and an extra scarf, which looked like it had also been knitted by Mrs Weasley. His boots weren’t quite up to this kind of weather either, but they’d have to do as Charlie’s didn’t fit him.

The moment he opened the door the wind cut through him, swirling pretty flakes of snow into his face. He cast Impervius on his glasses and on his boots and forged his way out along what he thought was the path, the snow was slightly less deep on the bit he was walking on anyway. Romania was south of London wasn’t it, why was it so bloody cold? This was one of the many times he regretted Hogwarts lack of any non-magical classes, he knew plenty of weather based charms, but nothing about why or how weather actually happened or where in the world it might be likely to do so. Actually he hadn’t even been 100% on where exactly Romania was until he’d looked up a map a few months ago, he hardly ever worked on international cases.

After staggering around in the snow for about half an hour he located the canteen and fell gratefully inside. It was quiet and warm and solidly built, all the buildings in the encampment had thick stone walls and roofs of an unknown material, as they were all heavily covered in snow at the moment. Inside there were heavy wooden beams and a feeling of age. He knew the encampment had been purpose built for the dragon keepers, and that it had been constructed in the 1400s, which was when the wizards of Europe had realised that the dragons were dying out and decided to do something about it. Of course originally the sanctuary had been intended to provide rich wizards with a spot of contained and sustainable dragon hunting, a practice which was now thoroughly forbidden. Despite that there was a massive dragon skull suspended from the ceiling of the canteen, either from back when hunting was still acceptable or perhaps from a natural death. It looked old.

The food was… odd. With Charlie being British Harry had perhaps ignorantly assumed there would be plenty of British food available. It wasn’t that he was a picky eater, he just didn’t have the most adventurous of palates. Food at the Dursleys had been scarce and fairly boring, he’d eaten a lot of sandwiches and many many cans of cheap soup or beans. Food at Hogwarts was fantastic, but very traditionally British except for their few forays into other cuisines when the TriWizard Tournament had gone on, and Harry hadn’t tried any of them. He was a definite enthusiast of meat and potatoes and maybe the odd yorkshire pudding followed by a bit of treacle tart, or maybe some apple crumble and custard if he was feeling adventurous. He had been known to eat chip butties for lunch when no-one important was looking.

The canteen was serving a meatball soup called Ciorbă de perișoare with dark rye bread and as many different kinds of pickled vegetables as he fancied. He took a couple of gherkins and tried not to look confused. They did have tea, but when they handed it over it turned out to be some sort of sweet herbal thing. Harry found the soup to be sour, and the bread too, but he made the best of it, trying not to antagonise the natives by being an awful British tourist who just wanted a mug of builders tea and a fried egg sandwich with ketchup.

A s he was picking at his food the door opened and a well wrapped figure came in out of the cold, stomping snow off their boots and shaking it off their furs. Harry watched them peel off their layers with half an eye as he poked his bread around his plate, he picked it up to take another bite just as the person turned around from hanging up their coat and promptly dropped the whole slice into his soup with a splash that spattered his face with cold greasy liquid.

Draco Malfoy had just walked into the canteen.

What the fuck was Malfoy doing in the wilds of Romania? Last Harry had heard he was emigrating to France with his Mother and good riddance, though that had been about seven years ago. Harry had barely given him a second thought since, although he occasionally featured in the odd dream or nightmare. Most commonly in a variation on dying in a pool of blood on the bathroom floor, but occasionally handing him over to Voldemort or from time to time just playing Quidditch or generally skulking around Hogwarts. Either way he was never older than 16 in Harry’s dreams and it was a shock to the system to see him suddenly aged to 27.

Malfoy looked bigger, even though he surely couldn’t have grown any since Harry had last seen him when he was about 19. But he had filled out a bit and it made him seem taller, like many of them during the war and the immediate aftermath he had been skinnier than he ought to be back then. He had grown his hair out past his shoulders as well and that changed his entire appearance. He had it tied back in a braid down his back at the moment. And he wasn’t wearing black, Harry hadn’t seen Malfoy in any colour than black as far as he could recall. At the moment he was wearing navy blue robes of an odd cut that seemed to be local, as he had seen a few people wearing similar outfits. He looked like an adult, rather than the almost child Harry still had in his head. It had never occurred to Harry that Draco Malfoy might grow up too, just like the rest of them.

Malfoy looked around the room and spotted him immediately, after all Harry was staring straight at him with his mouth hanging open and soup on his face. He did a bit of a double take himself, then a familiar snide look planted itself firmly on his face. He narrowed his eyes and hovered but then seemed to decide to ignore Harry, as he turned away and headed resolutely for the canteen window.

Harry pulled himself back together and wiped the soup off his face. Well, this put a whole new spin on things. Suspicious bout of dangerous vandalism, and Draco Malfoy just happens to be in the area? Coincidences, in Harry’s experience, were never just coincidental. Harry fished out his soggy but still intact bread, braced himself, and swallowed down the rest of his soup in several quick mouthfuls, straight from the bowl. Crunching on a pickle, he stood up and put his tray away before swinging back to stop at the table Malfoy had just settled at.

“Malfoy,” he said in a neutral tone.

Malfoy made a small humphing noise and looked up from his coffee. Something they seemed to have in abundance here as the whole canteen smelled of it. T ypical , as Harry had never taken a liking to it, requiring vast quantities of sugar and milk to make it palatable if he was forced to try it. Malfoy was drinking his black. ‘ Black like his soul, ’ Harry thought to himself, before chiding himself for being juvenile.

“Potter,” Malfoy replied at last, stiffly. “I heard a rumour you were coming out here, but I thought it was just talk.”

I’m staying with Charlie Weasley,” Harry said, remembering his cover story suddenly. “He’s my boyfriend.”

Malfoy looked up at that, seemingly surprised. “What?”

“Charlie Weasley, you know, Ron’s brother,”

“Yes, I understood that bit, I do work here after all.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I do.”

“But you...” Harry just stopped himself from saying Malfoy wasn’t on the employee list, apparently all it took to get him to forget everything he had ever learned about working undercover was Malfoy’s annoying face.

But I what? You haven’t changed much have you Potter, still inarticulate and still unkempt.” Malfoy looked down his nose at the soup stains on Harry’s well worn jumper.

Harry tried not to flush or to wipe at his jumper, though his hand itched to. Seeing Malfoy here had completely thrown him and he kept wanting to revert to the sort of things he might have said when he was 16. “I was just surprised to see you,” he said as civilly as he could. “I thought you were in France.”

“Well,” said Malfoy considering. “I thought you were straight, so I suppose we were both mistaken.”

Harry didn’t have a clue what to say to that. “So… um, what do you do here, then?”

Malfoy looked deeply put out that the conversation was still continuing. “I consult.”

“On what?”

“Dragons, what else?”

“I’m just making conversation.”

“Well don’t. Go away and let me eat my soup, Potter.”

Right.” He felt he should say some sort of pleasant nothing to end the conversation, but Malfoy was an arse and he was over trying to be polite. Finally he ground out, “Enjoy your soup, then,” and walked away as calmly as possible.

Once he got outside he began frantically going over the conversation in his head. He was pretty sure he had blown it. Why had he been polite, did that even make sense? Malfoy hadn’t tried to be polite. Surely it was suspicious that he’d been so polite. He should have told Malfoy to fuck off, that would have been more natural. Probably. Did Malfoy believe he was here with Charlie? If he didn’t even know Harry was gay then that might be suspicious too. And if Malfoy was the one behind the sabotage he’d be suspicious of Harry already, because it was Malfoy and he’d never trust Harry not to be suspicious of him. Shit! This was disastrous, he’d probably blown his cover entirely and he hadn’t even been here 24 hours.

He trudged back through the snow to Charlie’s cabin to hide out and consider matters in more detail. Had Malfoy looked suspicious? What exactly had he said?

Harry spent the rest of the afternoon dissecting everything Malfoy had said, including reviewing the memory several times in the portable pensieve Hermione had given him for Christmas a few years ago.

By the time Charlie returned Harry was only certain of two things. One - he had no idea what Malfoy thought about Harry being there. Two – Malfoy had grown up to be really, irritatingly, hot . Neither of which was any use to him.

The first words out of his mouth once Charlie closed the door were, “Why didn’t you tell me Malfoy was working here?”

“And good afternoon to you too,” replied Charlie. “Run into him already have you? I thought he was away at the moment.”

“Why isn’t he on the employee list?” Harry demanded.

Charlie shrugged, stripping out of his outdoor clothes in the middle of the living room. “He’s freelance.”

“When did he start?” Harry continued with his pestering.

Dunno, about three years ago I think. I don’t see a lot of him, I’m mostly heavy lifting and hazard work, he’s international relations, behavioural theory and breeding with a bit of potions advice thrown in. He travels about a lot.He stripped off his shirt and vest in one go. “He’s not a massive fan of actually getting anywhere near the dragons. Got a bit of a phobia about fire.”

Harry huffed out a breath at the reminder of that day, the smell of burning flesh, “Yeah, well he has his reasons there,” he admitted.

“Oh?” Charlie peeled his trousers off.

What is it with you Weasley’s and getting your kit off in front of people,” Harry joked to avoid the subject. “I swear at Hogwarts I saw Ron’s cock as often as I saw my own.”

Charlie laughed. “Big family, small house. Modesty just doesn’t get a look in. Mum tried when Ginny started to get big enough to notice she was a girl and we were all boys, but even then it just never quite took.” He waved his wand and his clothes flew off to wherever the dirty laundry basket was. Even without them he smelled of smoke.

Harry tried not to stare, for some reason he was feeling particularly horny. It must be the frustration of wasting an afternoon on getting nowhere. Or maybe it was just having an attractive muscular man strip off his clothes in front of him, it’s not like that happened every day.

“Anyway I’m going to shower off the sulphur,” said Charlie, rubbing soot out of his hair. “You can grill me about Malfoy once I’m done.”

“Right,” said Harry absently.

Charlie paused on his way to the bedroom and turned back around . “Or was there something else you wanted?” he said, leaning an arm against the doorframe and point ed his cock in Harry’s general direction.

Harry noticed this because his eye line was already level with Charlie’s groin. He looked up quickly to Charlie’s face, blushing slightly. “Um… sorry, got distracted.”

“I’ve been told I can be quite distracting,” Charlie replied, and he was definitely hitting on Harry.

Harry felt a further flush of arousal coil through him from his stomach to his cock. Were they going to do this? “If there was something I wanted,” Harry said cautiously, letting his eyes flicker back down to Charlie’s cock and up again, “Can we be sure that won’t complicate things?”

“I’ve never been accused of being complicated,” said Charlie with an easy grin, and he let his hand move between his legs to lightly stroke his hardening cock.

Harry licked his lips and stood up. “Then yeah, I think there is something I want.”

“Good,” said Charlie, and continued into the bedroom. “Come on then,” he said over his shoulder.

Charlie turned the shower on and watched Harry strip out of his clothes with a lazy confidence that made Harry jealous. He’d never be that comfortable in his own skin, he didn’t think. Even now that he had grown into himself he was still self-conscious about his body. He knew he was small for a man, he’d never quite made it to 5’8 , and his hips were slender and his knees slightly knobbly. Yes, his shoulders had broadened and his stomach was flat and his legs and arms were strong, but he still felt like an awkward skinny boy when he took his clothes off in front of someone. Although Charlie wasn’t much taller than he was, he looked like he could snap Harry in two, and Harry had to fight not to try and cover himself up a bit in embarrassment as Charlie stepped towards him.

Very nice,” Charlie said as he hooked an arm around Harry’s waist and pulled him closer. “Water should be warm,” he continued and pushed Harry firmly but gently into the shower and followed him in. The water spattered down Harry’s face and Charlie took his glasses off and pressed him up against the wall, running a hand down his chest and stomach to curl around his cock. “You know I never really thought about you this way till this whole fake dating idea,” he commented, still watching Harry’s cock grow harder and harder in his firm grip. “Harry Potter, Ron’s scrawny little friend, all grown up after all.” Then he sank down to his knees and took Harry’s cock into his mouth.

Harry let his head fall back and his eyes close, he was starting to really like this shower. Charlie was good at what he was doing and it wasn’t long before Harry was starting to gasp and try to thrust faster into his mouth.

Uh, uh,” he said, standing up and kissing Harry deeply. “Want you to come while I’m fucking you,” he told him once he pulled away.

He cocked an eyebrow and Harry nodded agreement, turning around and bracing himself against the shower wall.

“Mmm,” hummed Charlie as he pressed himself against Harry’s wet back, thrusting lightly up the crack of his ass.

Charlie was thorough but quick in making sure Harry was ready to take him, and soon Harry was being fucked pleasingly hard and fast.

A s Harry panted against the tiled wall of the shower he found his mind wandering to his earlier conversation in the canteen. Maybe actually being fucked by Charlie Weasley would help to convince Malfoy he really was just here to visit his boyfriend. He should make a point of snogging Charlie in front of Malfoy next time he saw him. He was just imagining the priggish look on Malfoy’s face as he dared to stick his tongue into the mouth of a Weasley in his eyeline when his orgasm caught him by surprise. ‘ Take that Malfoy ,’ he though deliriously as he shot his load against the wall, still thinking about Malfoy’s appalled face.

The next day he got his invisibility cloak out for some proper reconnaissance. He didn’t use it as often as he had at school as the Ministry didn’t officially know of it’s existence, only the people he really trusted. After all, now he knew it was one of the Deathly Hallows he didn’t want people too aware of it. It made him more cautious of it as well, the other two Hallows had been dangerous. The cloak may seem innocuous, but he treated it with a certain respect all the same.

Sometimes he wondered if he had made the right decision, placing the Elder Wand back in Dumbledore’s tomb. But he knew he didn’t want it, and he was at a loss to know what else to do with it. Perhaps he should have destroyed it, but he wasn’t even sure it was possible to do so and somehow he couldn’t quite bring himself to try. He wasn’t sure if it was a safety blanket or just that it had been Dumbledore’s and that meant something to him.

He had an unusually large number of powerful wands for one wizard. His own holly and phoenix feather wand, which had held Voldemort at bay for years, the Elder Wand even though it was hidden away, and Draco Malfoy’s hawthorn and unicorn hair wand, which had the infamy of being the one he was using when he finally defeated Voldemort. After all he couldn’t tell anyone outside of his close circle that the Elder Wand had been the real reason for his success. He had never given it back to Malfoy after the war was over. Actually he still used it from time to time, when he had left his own wand in another room and Malfoy’s was closer to hand. It worked as well for him as his own ever had, he supposed perhaps it liked being his rather than belonging to a git like Malfoy.

The M useum of Wizarding History had tried to get him to donate it, but he had refused. He may feel quite all right about keeping it, but he didn’t feel he had the right to just give it away to someone else. Even if it was a “piece of history”. He had a feeling they’d happily stuff him in a glass display case too if they could get away with it. Instead they had a rather alarming moving waxwork of him looking about 15 in a set of Hogwarts robes and shouting “Expelliarmus” at random intervals . He’d attended the opening of the new display and had never regretted anything more. Ron still teased him about it.

He wrapped himself in one of Charlie’s furs for this expedition, since he planned to be outside for several hours. A quick Vestigium Dissimulus charm hid any marks he left as he trudged through the snow and Silencio also worked to make the crunch of his footsteps and the huff of his breathing disappear. He’d gotten a lot better at this since he’d been in school.

Ostensibly he wasn’t looking for anything specific yet, he was just looking for something that seemed off. But in reality he already knew what seemed off, and that was Malfoy. He had pretended to be heading off into town earlier for some sightseeing and then doubled back, determined to find out as much as he could about Malfoy’s movements.

Charlie had given him all the info he had on Malfoy yesterday evening, before fucking Harry into the mattress in a rather spectacular second round, which had left Harry a variety of aches and pains in interesting places. Charlie may not be his type, a good thing too as he could never condone the risk of an emotional attachment getting in the way of an assignment, but he was a spectacular if exhausting lay.

The facts he had were thus.

Malfoy had definitely been around for at least two of the series of six incidents which had occurred over the past eleven months, but he often travelled to other countries and was, as far as Charlie was aware, only on site for about half of the year. As far as Harry was concerned this meant nothing, being “away” just meant Malfoy could sneak back and get up to no good while people thought he wasn’t around. Harry would send an owl back to England this evening asking for someone to get him as much on Malfoy’s employment and movements as they could without giving anything away.

A further suspicious fact was that Malfoy didn’t have any particular friends at the reserve that Charlie knew of. If he was really just working here rather than working here as a front for something else, then why not make friends? Perhaps cause he wanted to keep people at a distance so they wouldn’t clue into what he was up to!

And then finally the fact that Malfoy was afraid of dragons, why come and work on a dragon reserve if you were afraid of dragons? Why, because you had an ulterior motive of course.

Now all he had to do was somehow prove that Malfoy was behind it, or at least involved.

After a couple of hours of lurking around he located Malfoy entering the building where the offices and meeting rooms were. Harry slipped quietly through the door behind him and followed him up to the office of the reserves manager, an elderly gentleman from somewhere in the former Yugoslavia, although confusingly many wizards still referred to the whole area as the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The manager of the reserve looked like he might be old enough to remember the actual Austro-Hungarian Empire. Harry only knew anything about it because Hermione had lectured him extensively on the geopolitics of the region and the reasons why it was so important to stop the sabotage of the reserve. Apparently not only were the dragons at stake, but turmoil in the area could result in another European or even World Wide War. Something to do with Russia and the Ukraine and something something something, he figured he’d solve the sabotaging dragons side of things and someone else could deal with the politics.

Anyway, he stood awkwardly in the corner of the warm office still wrapped in fur and sweating profusely as tiny cups of very strong coffee were produced and small talk about the managers great-grand-children was made. He noticed that Malfoy was very good at getting the manager to do all the talking about his personal life while saying absolutely nothing about his own. Very suspicious.

After two hours of small talk, more coffee than could possibly be healthy even for a man of Malfoy’s age never mind someone as ancient as the manager, and an extremely boring discussion of the complexities of transporting a family group of Ukrainian Ironbellies from somewhere near Sochi in Russia, Harry was about ready to pass out from a combination of inanity and heat exhaustion. Apparently Malfoy had been in Sochi until yesterday morning discussing this with the Russians and the Ukrainians. They sounded very annoying, apparently the Ukrainians wouldn’t let the dragons be transported over or through their country if they were coming from Russia, and the Russians were of the opinion that the Ukrainians had sent the dragons into Russia on purpose to try and disrupt Russia’s bid to host the Quidditch World Cup in 2010, and so they thought the Ukrainians should pay for the dragons being dealt with. Meanwhile the dragons were straying dangerously close to populated areas and being as massive as Ironbellies were took quite some moving.

But Harry had done his best to listen, after all this was to do with Russia and the Ukraine and Hermione had said the problems between the two countries were important. Perhaps Malfoy was sabotaging the attempt to get them to cooperate. Although how he was going to prove that he didn’t know, but he supposed he could tip the Ministry off to look into the negotiations. He wasn’t here about that kind of meddling, he was here because someone near the reserve was actively creating “accidents” that led to dragons roaming free and people getting killed. These Ironbellies hadn’t ever been on the reserve in the first place. Thought it might indicate there was a larger pattern of events that hadn’t been noticed yet.

Malfoy was finishing up with his meeting and getting ready to leave. Harry couldn’t wait to get back outside into the snow. But just as Malfoy stood and walked past him, he suddenly stopped in his tracks. Harry noticed his nostrils flaring slightly Malfoy turned back to the manager.

“Odd smell in here,” he said conversationally.

“Really,” said the manager. “I hadn’t noticed anything.”

Draco turned back and Harry thought that he stared for a millisecond right at where Harry was standing.

But he continued on and Harry followed him, unable to hang back as much as he wanted to for fear of not making it through the door before it closed. He just slid through as it swung behind Malfoy and he planned to pause a second and let the other man get a bit further away from him before he followed in case the smell Malfoy had mentioned was his own. But his plan was foiled as Malfoy stopped suddenly again, swung around and pinned Harry to the wall by the door.

Harry’s reflexes weren’t fast enough to stop the initial move, but they kicked in anyway and before Malfoy could do anything else Harry had stomped on his foot, broken his hold and run for it. Undoubtedly his feet were occasionally visible under the cloak, but it wasn’t as if Malfoy didn’t know someone was there now. Harry just hoped he didn’t know who, and that he could run faster than Malfoy could.

It turned out he could run faster than Malfoy, but that didn’t help much. He was panting behind a tree and watching to see if Malfoy came outside when he stormed out of the front door looking absolutely furious.

“Harry Potter,” he yelled across the cold air. “You take that damned cloak off and show yourself right now!”

“Fuck,” Harry swore, still under the silencio and therefore unheard.

“I know it’s you, Potter. We’re not thirteen any more!”

Harry realised Malfoy was referring to the time he had pelted him with snowballs in front of the Shrieking Shack on his first ever Hogsmeade visit. Despite the situation, the memory made him smile.

“Come out or I’m going back in there and telling Claudio that you were eavesdropping on our meeting!”

Shit, that Harry couldn’t afford. Only Charlie knew he was here investigating, he had already blown it with Malfoy, but maybe he could somehow use their past history to explain that if he could avoid blowing his cover to anyone else. He removed the invisibility cloak, and the spells, and stepped out from behind his tree.

“I’m here, Malfoy. No need to get worked up.”

Malfoy marched over to him and stopped just slightly too close for comfort, his cheeks were red with anger and exertion. “What the fuck are you up to, Potter,” he hissed. “I thought you’d grown out of following me around everywhere.”

Harry shrugged. “I was just curious. Charlie hadn’t mentioned you worked here and he didn’t really seem to know much about what you did.”

“So you thought you’d follow me around under an invisibility cloak, do you realise how insane that is?” Malfoy said incredulously. “I always knew you were deranged.”

Harry gave a crooked smile, “I guess I just thought it might be fun, you know, for old times sake.”

Malfoy looked at him, seeming a little calmer, if no less bewildered, “And was it? Fun?”

Harry shrugged again. “It was pretty tedious actually, and hot. I’m not surprised you smelled me.” He sniffed at himself. “This coat smells like someone died in it once it gets hot.”

Malfoy wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“Charlie says you’re scared of dragons,” Harry said suddenly, feeling like maybe he could get something out of this after all. “How come you came to work here then?”

“Weasley doesn’t know me very well, so I don’t know why you think his opinion of me is relevant. I am not afraid of dragons.”

“He said you don’t like to get near them,” Harry added doggedly.

“Nobody in their right mind ought to want to get near a dragon, Potter. They fry people and then eat them, when given the opportunity. Being friends with Hagrid has given you a very bizarre viewpoint on the world.”

“Well if you think they’re so awful...”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, why are you so obsessed with my feelings about dragons? I think dragons are brilliant, Potter, I just have a strong sense of self preservation and my skill set does not include dragon wrangling, I leave that to your overly broad lunk of a boyfriend. Being a Weasley his skill set doesn’t include complex thought, so of course he doesn’t understand what it is I do here. Given your lack of social grace or political savvy, I doubt you would either. We can’t all save the world from evil, some of us have to have normal jobs in order to feed and clothe ourselves.”

Malfoy turned away and headed down the path. With nothing better to do, Harry followed him.

“I thought the Ministry let your family keep most of their money?”

“Your thoughts are not of interest to me,” said Malfoy through gritted teeth.

“But they did, didn’t they? What happened to it?”

“Nothing happened to it, I just don’t have access to it anymore. Now will you stop following me?”

“But how come...”

Malfoy stopped dead again and turned to face him. “Because my father wanted me to marry and produce an heir and I told him I wasn’t going to marry anyone he wanted me to! So I’m cut off! All right? Happy now?”

“Who did he want you to marry?” Harry asked.

Malfoy made a sound of extreme frustration. “Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, hell I think he’d even have accepted Millicent Bullstrode or some Hufflepuff as long as she was pureblooded and a girl. One major issue there though, I’m not interested in sticking my dick in any girl, least of all to please my fucking father!”

With that Malfoy once more strode off and this time Harry didn’t follow him, as he was too surprised to do so. Both at Malfoy disagreeing with his father about anything and that, unless he was mistaken, Draco Malfoy had just come out as gay.

“I just assumed he was straight, I mean he was dating Pansy Parkinson for ages wasn’t he?”

“I really wouldn’t know,” replied Charlie tolerantly.

“Do you think it’s a rouse? I mean he knows I’m gay, maybe he thinks if he’s gay too I’ll be more sympathetic to him.”

“I mean this in the nicest possible way, Harry, but don’t you think you’re a bit too focused on Draco Malfoy?”

“People always say that,” Harry muttered. “And I’m always right, he’s always up to something.”

“I have no doubt that a Malfoy may be up to something, but I’ve asked about a bit and nobody has anything bad to say about him other than that he’s a bit of a loner.”

“Well exactly!” said Harry a little too exuberantly. “That’s what people always say isn’t it? He seemed nice, quiet, bit of a loner, we never thought he would murder twenty people and paint their entrails across the pavement.”

“Hmm,” said Charlie. “Didn’t you speak at his trial and persuade the Wizengamot that he was reformed and capable of becoming a constructive member of society?”

“Well, yes. But I’d just defeated Voldemort, I was in a forgiving mood. Besides, I wasn’t saving his life twice just to have him chucked in Azkaban.”

“So… why were you saving his life?”

“What? I don’t know… it seemed like the thing to do at the time. I mean I couldn’t just let him die. You are completely missing the point.”

“Which is?”

“Whether Malfoy is actually gay, or trying to trick me by pretending he’s gay, or actually gay but still trying to trick me by bringing it up.”

“Is telling you he’s gay likely to trick you into thinking he’s not up to something?”

“Well, no. But it all goes to motivation.”

“Anyway he is gay, or at least that’s what Clemence told me when she tried to set us up last year.”

“You went on a date with Malfoy?” Harry spluttered, struck with visions of Charlie pressing Malfoy up against the tiles of his shower.

“No, Clemence tried to set me up on a date with him and I told her I wasn’t interested.”

“Because he’s suspicious.”

“No, because I don’t go for blondes. He just doesn’t do it for me, pretty though he is. But if you like I can see if she can set you up with him.”

“I am supposed to be dating you!” Harry demanded, outraged at the idea.

“Well, there is that. But once the case is over I presume we’ll break it off. So maybe then?”

“I do not want to be set up with Draco Malfoy!”

Charlie shrugged. “Fair enough, if you’d rather do the legwork yourself. Anyway I’m going to bed.”

Harry shouted after his retreating back, “I am not interested in dating Draco Malfoy! I’m trying to prove he’s sabotaging the reserve! Which he is!!”

Harry fumed on the sofa for half an hour, still trying to figure out what he was supposed to do now. Then he called Hermione on the floo, via the international floo call terminus in Berlin, which took about fifteen minutes of him trying to make himself understood to the night staff who only spoke French and German. Harry had done one year of French in primary seven. It did not help his mood.

Hermione somehow spoke German, of course, and also didn’t seem very convinced that Malfoy was involved. But she’d promised to look into the Russian negotiations and into Malfoy’s movements in general. In return he’d had to promise to keep an eye out for other suspects and not just spend his time following Malfoy around. He’d pointed out he’d been right about him in sixth year, and she’d pointed out that he’d been wrong in second year, and he’d been just as sure then.

Harry didn’t see how that counted, he’d been 12 then, he was allowed to be wrong when he was 12. He knew much more about Malfoy now than he had then.

When he finally went to bed Charlie was asleep and snoring. Harry looked down at him, sleeping on his stomach with his bare shoulders broad and freckled against the sheets. It was kind of weird that he’d slept with Charlie. I mean not end of the world weird, but it was a bit weird. He hadn’t mentioned it to Hermione, he figured this was probably one of those things that was best just kept under the radar. Ron would only think he could talk them into getting together after all. What was it with friends in relationships and their desperate need for you to be in one too?

He climbed into the bed and tucked in against Charlie’s side for the warmth. It was nice not to sleep alone.

The next morning was the first that Charlie didn’t have to be up early, but he still woke earlier than Harry would have preferred. They had promised to have lunch in town with whomever could make it off the reserve, but they had the morning to themselves. Thankfully Charlie seemed to sense Harry’s mood well enough to do nothing more than snuggle for warmth before he got up to make tea.

“Were you up late last night?” he asked as he brought the cup into the bedroom.

Harry yawned and nodded at the same time. “Talked to Hermione for a bit, tried to figure out my next move.”

Charlie sat down on the bed. “I’ve been trying for weeks to figure out if anyone on the reserve could be involved,” he sighed. “The problem is the people I know well are the least likely to be involved and the people I don’t know... well I don’t know well enough to say.”

“We can’t rule anyone out, we’ve assumed the best of people in the past and what it comes down to is… you really can’t trust anybody. Which sounds cynical, but as an Auror it’s how I have to look at it. Peter Pettigrew was one of my father’s best friends, Professor Quirrel was a long-standing teacher at Hogwarts, the person you suspect most is often just a red herring and the harmless seeming one can be the worst of them all. I suppose I ought to bear that in mind with Malfoy, but he just pings my radar.”

Charlie waggled an eyebrow and tried to suppress a smirk.

“Oh, cut it out,” said Harry. “I didn’t mean like that.”

“Whatever you say, mate.”

Malfoy didn’t come along to lunch, not that Harry had expected him to. But it meant he was back on the reserve without Harry watching him, which was a niggling annoyance. On the other hand Charlie had taken them to a restaurant that served slightly less confusing food than most of the places round here and Harry was very much enjoying some meatloaf and mashed potatoes that were in no way sour or pickled. It was enough to take his mind off things, and he deserved an hour or two off from the feeling of frustrated inadequacy this case seemed to be igniting in him.

So he supposed it was typical that this was the moment that he most needed to be at the reserve paying attention.

The reserve didn’t have any fancy notification systems set up, so they had no idea anything was happening until a local entered the restaurant and paused by their table.

“Vhat are you lot ap to ofer dere today?” he asked in a strong local accent. “Got new dragons, eh?”

“No, nothing new. Why do you ask?” inquired the man closest to him.

“All dat smoke, looks like you set forest on fire!” he said cheerily. “Got to keeps dose dragons unter control.” He waved a finger jokingly at the table and went off to sit down.

Everyone exchanged looks.

“I’ll take a look,” said Charlie. “Probably just some local with a bonfire.”

He popped his head out the door, and then yanked it back in.

“Everyone up, we need to get back.”

Harry stood up quickly.

“Emergency at the reserve,” Charlie yelled toward the owner of the restaurant. “I’ll sort out the bill tomorrow.”

People were already racing out to the apparition point, and Harry followed with them, cursing himself for being in the wrong place at exactly the wrong time. But then maybe his absence had been exactly what the saboteur was waiting for.

He apparated to the front of Charlie’s cabin, as that was the place he was most familiar with. Darkness squeezed him to a point and then spat him back out into an inferno. For a moment he was thrown back into long repressed memories of the Fiendfyre holocaust in the Room of Requirement and it took him a second to get hold of himself. But there were no animal shapes in this blaze, it was dangerously out of control but it was not magical. Dragon fire had magic in it as it shot out, but once the fire spread to other things it was no more magical than putting a match to paper.

Ducking instinctively to make himself as small as possible he cast a shield spell against the searing heat. The entire encampment seemed to be on fire, the cabins were resisting as they had charms on them to aid in exactly such a situation, but even they were starting to smoke around the edges. The forest itself was firmly ablaze and through the fire and smoke Harry could make out large figures swooping and screams of challenge, the wards between the camp and the reserve must have gone down. The dragons were loose and they were angry.

Despite knowing that the first rule of not getting chargrilled in an inferno was to leave as fast as possible, Harry ducked into Charlie’s cabin. He had very few possessions of any real importance to him, but there was no way he was leaving his father’s invisibility cloak to the flames. He pulled it out of the drawer in the bedroom and stuffed it into his pocket, and although his mind wondered if there was anything Charlie would have wanted saved, his feet took him straight back out of the building. Although on his way out he did cast a few more charms to help shore up the weakening fire resistance the building was already imbued with.

He was about to apparate back to the restaurant to try and regroup somewhere he could actually accomplish something when he heard an all too human scream from just beyond the burning tree line.

Swearing between spells he ran into the flames shouting, “Fucking Aguamenti! I’m coming, where are you? Aguamenti!”

The water spells had little effect but to create rolling clouds of steam in the super heated air. His shield spell was keeping the flames from him, but the air itself was hot enough to scald. He threw off his cloak as it started to smoulder.

Ahead of him was a clearing and the source of the scream, wavering in and out of sight between gouts of flame and billowing smoke. Someone was facing down a dragon.

As he burst into the clearing he realised why, their wand had been knocked away and was the other side of the dragons head. They couldn’t apparate out of here without it.

“Accio wand,” Harry shouted and it flew to him. He threw it to the unknown wizard and they apparated away just before a burst of flame from the dragon’s mouth passed through the spot where they had been standing.

Harry was about to do the same when another figure burst through the flames into the clearing.

It was Draco Malfoy. He hadn’t seen Harry yet as he was distracted by the dragon taking off.

Without thinking Harry yelled, “Expelliarmus!”

Malfoy’s wand flew from his grasp into Harry’s hand.

He turned to Harry in shock, but there was a moment of relief as he recognised him which was then replaced by fury. “What are you doing? Give me my wand back you...”

By this point Harry had reached him and grabbed his wrist, twisting it up his back. “Who else are you working with?”

“Ow! You idiot! You’re letting him get away!”

“Who?”

“Dersky!”

Harry vaguely recognised the name from the employee list, he hadn’t met the man yet, although he’d seen his employee mugshot. Actually come to think of it, wasn’t that the man he’d just saved from the dragon? Harry let go of Malfoy’s wrist.

“Dersky’s gone,” he said. “I saw him apparate away.”

“Damn it,” Malfoy swore. “And I’m pretty sure Kamberley’s dead. We need to get out of here.”

That much at least Harry agreed with, Malfoy was the colour of a boiled lobster and his hair had clearly been on fire at some point in the recent past, and Harry didn’t feel much better. “Grab my arm,” Harry said, holding it out.

Deciding that escape was more of a priority than getting his wand back, Malfoy took it without argument and Harry focused on the apparition point in the nearby town and turned decisively, feeling the squeeze and drain of a successful side-a-long before they popped back into shockingly fresh and cold air.

Whatever Malfoy had been up to had clearly taken it out of him as he dropped to his knees, almost pulling Harry along with him as soon as he saw they were safe. Out of the whirl of smoke and fire he looked even more tattered. His clothes were burnt as well as the hair on the right side of his head, there was a shiny raw looking burn seeping through his shirt sleeve on that side as well and he had the beginnings of a black eye as well as an all over, uncomfortable looking, red burn that looked like he’d spent a day on the beach in midsummer without sun block. His breathing was hoarse and he began coughing and wheezing as the cold air hit his lungs.

“What the hell were you up to in that inferno, Malfoy?”

Malfoy tried to draw a steadying breath but subsided into coughing again.

Harry swore in irritation and flipped through his mental index of healing spells, every Auror had solid first aid training and he knew he had a charm for this in there somewhere. “Aether Oxygenae, Pulmo Integro,” he incanted, bending over Malfoy and holding up his head so he could trace his wand around his face and down his throat to his chest.

The two charms went to work, the first a variant on the bubblehead charm, creating a bubble of more oxygenated air around Malfoy’s mouth and nose, as the other charm encouraged his singed lungs to begin healing. A potion or two would be needed to do the job properly, but that was for the real medics to deal with, wherever they were. This would hold him for now.

Malfoy began to breath more easily and Harry propped him against a nearby wall. He was shaking, and Harry remembered Charlie telling him that Malfoy was afraid of fire. “Just breathe,” he said grudgingly. “We’re away from it now, you’re going to be fine.”

Malfoy took several long breaths, clearly trying to calm down. Eventually he spoke. “You need to find Claudio, the reserve manager.”

“I’m sure he’s got his hands full right now.”

Malfoy glared at him. “He’s the one you’re looking for you idiot. He’s behind it all.”

“What?”

“It’s taken me a year to pin him down and then you go and throw everything by showing up here.”

Harry just stared at him.

“And on top of that all my notes are in my cabin which is probably burning down as we speak!” Malfoy began to cough again, having pushed his throat too hard.

Harry thought fast. Malfoy could be lying to cover his own ass. But somehow Harry didn’t think so, he was too shaken. Although perhaps he shouldn’t underestimate a Slytherin’s ability to lie creatively under pressure. Either way, involved or not, he suspected Malfoy was telling the truth about the reserve manager.

Harry cast his Patronus and sent it to find Charlie, he needed someone who knew the area, knew the emergency back up plans for situations like this. His stag dashed off down the street, probably startling a few muggles on the way. But with actual dragons visible in the sky, a stray patronus was the least of their problems on that front. Whether he caught the culprits or not, this was already a disaster on every front.

Malfoy had slumped back down again, only half conscious. Charlie popped into the side street looking like some sort of angry God of Fire, his red hair and clothes smoking in the cold air, his wand pointed straight at them. “Harry, make it quick!”

“I need to find Claudio. Malfoy here,” Harry poked Malfoy with his toe, ”Says he’s the one behind all this.”

Charlie glanced down at Malfoy, “Is he...”

“He’ll be all right, could do with a Healer. Where can I find Claudio?”

“Merlin’s tits, Harry, fuck only knows. Everything’s chaos. We have emergency protocols but nothing that can cover this level of disaster. Every ward is gone, not just lowered but completely wiped out. It would take a month to rebuild them. Meanwhile we have nearly fifty adult dragons loose and on the move and every minute I stand here talking to you they’re travelling further and causing more damage. I’d love to catch whoever did this, but people are dying.”

Harry’s felt the shock of Charlie’s words percolate through his focus on the case. “What can I do?”

Charlie shook his head, “You don’t have enough experience to be much help here on your own. Can you get back to England? We need the Ministry to understand just how serious this is, and we can’t spare anyone to go. They need to send the Aurors and whoever else they’ve got, and get word to the other Ministries across Europe that we need help. We need to cover a huge area to get this under control and there just aren’t enough people.”

Malfoy coughed lightly at Harry’s feet then spoke weakly, “I’ll go to Russia,” he said. “And from there to Ukraine, Bulgaria and Turkey.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Malfoy,” said Harry. “You can’t even stand up.”

At that Malfoy struggled to his feet. “Give me my wand and I’ll show you just what I can do.”

“Let him try, Harry. We’ve set up a base at the Administrative Ministry building in Cluj. Tell everyone to go there first to be brought up to date.”

Harry could see how serious Charlie was, and how desperate he was to get back. “All right, get going and we’ll get you your reinforcements, promise.”

“Thanks, Harry,” with a look of relief Charlie apparated away again and Harry turned to Malfoy. “There’s no way I’m letting you try to apparate to Russia in the state you’re in. You’re coming with me to England to see a Healer and then we’ll discuss whether I give you your wand back.”

Malfoy glared at him, but as he was still wheezing heavily it didn’t have much effect. Harry took a deep breath as he took Malfoy’s arm and contemplated his options. Long distance apparating was hard enough without side-alonging Malfoy as well. His identification and paperwork for being in the country was currently in the middle of a giant bonfire so the International Floo point was probably out. He pictured Europe in his head, Germany was about half way between him and England, so that ought to do it. He pictured a familiar café from his weekend there a couple of years back and Apparated them to Berlin.

He staggered heavily on reappearing and half fell against a nearby wall as his head span. He’d need a minute before he took them the rest of the way if he wasn’t to splinch them both, so he dragged Malfoy around the corner and into the café to get himself a coffee with lot’s of sugar.

“Where the fuck are we?” Malfoy protested wheezily.

“Berlin, I just need a minute and we’ll be on our way.”

“You just side-alonged me 700 miles?”

“Yup,” said Harry shortly and went to order.

When he got back to the table with his espresso he spooned four sugars in, stirred it, then downed it like a shot of vodka.

Malfoy seemed a bit better, the healing charm still slowly working on his lungs was probably helping considerable.

“Let me take us the rest of the way,” he said as soon as Harry put the cup down. “You’ve already side-alonged me twice, you may be Harry Potter but you’re no stronger a wizard than I am and you’re wrung out.”

“I’m twice the wizard you are. Besides, you just want your wand back,” Harry accused him, but he could hear how weak he sounded. Malfoy was right, that last jump had taken it right out of him and now he was sat down he wasn’t 100% sure he had the energy to stand up again. The problem with side alonging was that the energy needed to transport more than one person increased exponentially with distance. Hermione had tried to explain the theory of it to him once, she had written a paper on it for some journal, he hadn’t understand more than one word in three. Something about folding space and the area of circles versus their diameter.

“Will you just trust me for once,” Malfoy bitched.

Harry had to laugh at that. “Fat chance,” he replied and stood up. Which was a mistake, his head spun and his vision went spotty and grey and the last thing he heard was Malfoy saying, “Shit!”

When Harry came to he was lying down on what appeared to be a sofa.

“… Mr Potter?”

“Whu?” he said. He had a bastard of a headache radiating from a sharp pain near his right temple.

“… slight concussion… the Ministry.” The voice faded in and out in time with the pulses of pain in his head. “Drink this.”

Harry felt a vial of something being pressed to his lips and obligingly swallowed what was in it. ‘Vile as usual, ha ha, a vial of vile,’ he thought. ‘Oh dear, I really do have concussion, don’t I.

His head started to throb less as the potion hit his stomach and he had another go at opening his eyes. He wasn’t in the Ministry as he had thought the voice had said. He sat up a bit, carefully.

He was on a chaise-longue in a pretty drawing room and the person who had given him the potion was Narcissa Malfoy.

“Where’s Malfoy?” were the first words out of his mouth.

“As I said he went on to the Ministry, our floo has a permanent connection to the British Floo network. He said it was important that he go straight there.” Mrs Malfoy looked worried. “I wanted him to wait, he was obviously in need of care himself, but he wouldn’t allow it.”

Harry swung his legs on to the floor, cradling his head as he did. “Where’s my wand?”

Mrs Malfoy picked up a wand from a nearby table and handed it over to him.

“I need to go too,” Harry said, trying to persuade his body of that as much as Mrs Malfoy.

“You should wait a little longer for the potion to do it’s work. Draco said you hit your head on a table when you passed out.”

“If he can floo in the state he was in then so can I,” Harry told her and hauled himself carefully to his feet.

“Well, if you must. Will you make sure Draco has been seen by a medic.”

“Of course. Where’s your floo?”

“Just through here...”

Harry headed out of the room at speed, angry at himself for passing out in front of Malfoy and thereby letting him get away. “Thanks for the assistance,” he called as he stepped into the floo calling out “The Ministry of Magic, London”.

Flooing with a half healed concussion was indeed deeply unpleasant, especially all the way from wherever he had been in France. He fell out the fireplace in the Entrance Hall of the Ministry backwards and landed right on his tailbone, letting out a yelp of pain.

Staggering to his feet, he headed for the lifts, pausing at the visitors desk briefly. “Has Draco Malfoy been here?”

“Yes, sir, Mr Potter,” replied the desk clerk, who was a big fan of Harry’s and always stiffened to near ridiculous attention whenever he saw him. He’d once told Harry that he had always wanted to be an Auror, but his grades hadn’t been high enough to be accepted. “Went up to the Department of International Magical Cooperation, sir. Still up there I believe, sir.”

“Right, thanks,” Harry muttered. He got into the lift and pressed the button for Level 5. As he passed the Aurors Office on Level 2 and the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes on Level 3 and headed up past the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures he realised just how much of the Ministry was going to be needed. Did he really have time to chase Malfoy? “Bugger,” he muttered. He cancelled the request for level 5 and took the lift back down to Level 2 to start sending help out to Charlie. He’d just have to hope Malfoy could be trusted for the time being, and if he was wrong he’d hunt him down and arrest him later.

Harry didn’t see Malfoy for nearly a week. Although he occasionally heard that he was speaking to the Russians or liaising with the Slovakians or doing any number of supposedly useful things.

Harry did see Claudio, the reserve manager. But as he had nothing but Malfoy’s word that he had been involved, Kingsley had refused to arrange an arrest warrant. For a start Claudio, full name Claudio Veraldus Sczerlowski, was a Romanian citizen so they had no jurisdiction other than to pass their suspicions on to the Romanian Ministry, where Claudio seemed to have rather a lot of friends. And Harry was starting to believe Malfoy was bang on about him.

In the midst of all the chaos there suddenly seemed to be a bill being pushed through the International Confederation of Wizards to re-legalise Dragon hunting, and Claudio had been quoted in several newspapers saying the reserve had been much safer and more stable, as well as much more financially viable, when it had been a hunting reserve.

Charlie was fuming at the idea being pushed forward that the “regrettable incident” had occurred because the dragons were inherently dangerous and that if they weren’t culled regularly they developed too much magical and physical power to be safely contained.

“A person took those wards down, pure and simple,” he raged over a pint in the pub in Cluj they’d taken to frequenting. Now that there were several governments working together to chase down the last few loose dragons the dragon handlers had been stood down to recover after working themselves to the bone. “And they did it from the inside, nobody could have just wandered in and dismantled them, it must have taken weeks of preparation and hours of complex spellwork.”

“I know, we know,” Harry agreed. “But we can’t prove it. Any traces of who did it were destroyed by the fire, possibly along with the person if what Malfoy said when I found him was right.”

“Where is he anyway?” asked Charlie.

Harry shrugged. “No idea, I’ve been on the ground with you guys aside from those few hours back at the Ministry that first day. As far as I know he’s been all over the place and I know Robards talked to him about what he knew, but that’s it. They seem to believe he wasn’t in on it.”

“You don’t still think he was, do you?”

“No, no,” Harry sighed. “If Robards and Kingsley think he’s on the up and up then who am I to say otherwise. And he did get word to the Ministry and side along me out of Berlin, which in his state took some doing. So I guess I owe him an apology should I ever see him again. I should probably send his Mum some flowers as well, I was a bit short with her.”

Charlie shook his head in faux disapproval, “Never disrespect someone’s Mum, Harry.”

“I had a concussion, it wasn’t my finest moment.”

“Well, speak of the devil,” said Charlie, looking over Harry’s shoulder. He looked surprised. “Better polish up that apology.”

Harry looked behind him to see Malfoy had just come into the bar, looking significantly better than he had the last time Harry had seen him. His skin was back to it’s usual pale colour and he had grown back the missing chunk of hair and let it all down, and it made him look soft and disturbingly touchable. He was with a group of older wizards, which only made him stand out the more against their chubby waistlines and greying hair.

He felt Charlie’s hand on his chin, pushing it up, and realised his mouth was hanging open. “Mind you don’t drool too much,” Charlie teased him.

Harry turned back. “What? No. I was just surprised to see him.”

“Sure,” Charlie smirked. “Now pull yourself together, he’s coming over.”

Harry straightened his posture automatically and then glared at Charlie and purposefully slumped a bit again.

“Weasley,” he heard Malfoy drawl from behind him. “And I presume that birds nest I’m looking at is Potter. How’s your head?”

Harry turned round, feeling prickly and awkward and not in a very apologetic mood all of a sudden. “My head’s fine, Malfoy. Um, thanks for… you know...”

“Not leaving you unconscious on a café floor in Berlin? You’re welcome. Mind if I join you, I could do with a break from politicians. It’s been a literal circus over the last week trying to keep everyone working together.”

“Sure,” said Charlie. “Grab a seat.” And he kicked out the chair next to Harry for Malfoy to sit in. “I was just going to the bar, what’ll you have?”

“Red wine, a malbec if they have it, or something similar. Get a bottle, I’m taking tomorrow off and I want to get drunk.”

Charlie laughed. “A bottle it is.”

Malfoy dropped his cloak over the back of the chair and sat down at the table, he smelled of cigar smoke and expensive aftershave. “So how long have you and Weasley been dating, then?” he asked.

“We’re not,” Harry replied before he could think better of it.

“Sorry?”

“It was a cover story… so I could look into the problems at the reserve.”

“Oh,” said Malfoy, looking put out. “Bit odd, pretending to be gay just for a cover, couldn’t you have fake dated one of the female dragon wranglers?”

“I wasn’t pretending to be gay, I am gay,” Harry protested.

“Oh,” said Malfoy again, looking less put out. “I see.”

“It’s not public knowledge though,” Harry added. “The Charlie thing, that it was a cover. Don’t want to tread on any political toes, you know. So if you could...”

“My lips are sealed.”

Harry looked at Malfoy’s lips. He really did fancy Malfoy quite a lot, he realised. Something else that had better not end up public knowledge. He finished his pint just in time for another one to be put in front of him along with a bottle of red wine and a glass for Malfoy. But no Charlie, just the barmaid. Maybe he had gone to the loo.

Malfoy poured himself a large glass of wine and Harry watched him sip it. The dark red liquid leaving a faint stain of colour on his mouth. He really needed to stop staring at Malfoy’s mouth.

Two more pints and most of the bottle of wine later Charlie still hadn’t reappeared, although Harry had pretty much forgotten he was expecting him too. It turned out Malfoy was pretty good company when you weren’t on opposite sides of a Gryffindor/Slytherin divide or, you know, a war. And Malfoy actually seemed to be trying pretty hard to be nice.

“… and then Pansy said ‘But I don’t wear underwear’,” finished Malfoy, breathless with amusement.

Harry roared with laughter. “Brilliant. Gotta go piss. I’ll tell you about the time Ron tried to use a muggle washing machine when I get back. I’m going to the bar too, need anything?”

Malfoy shook his head and Harry made his slightly unsteady way to the bathrooms.

When he finally got back with another pint and a packet of what he hoped were nuts, there was a man sitting in his seat. Malfoy was looking down his nose at him so he didn’t think they were friends.

“Who’s this?” he asked, putting down his pint.

“As I said,” Malfoy replied, to the man not to Harry. “I’m not here alone and that seat is taken.”

“There’s plenty of chairs here for everyone,” the man said, flicking a hand at Charlie’s empty seat and not even bothering to look at Harry. Instead he leaned forward towards Malfoy, who leaned back infinitesimally. “Or we could go find a table of our own.”

Before Malfoy could reply, Harry grabbed the man by the scruff of the neck and hauled him bodily out of the chair. Although he was taller than Harry, his job made him quite adept at being intimidating. Not that he usually needed to do it, being recognisably Harry Potter usually did the job for him.

“Hi,” he said in a friendly manner incongruous to the way he was dangling the man. “You seem to be sitting in my chair bothering my date. Do I need to do something about that?”

The man shook his head, startled out of his slimy confidence.

“Excellent,” said Harry, dropping him back off his toes and shoving him away. “Goodbye then.”

The man swiped his drink back off their table and made himself scarce.

Harry sat back down.

“Your date?” inquired Malfoy, with a perked eyebrow.

Harry shrugged, “Seemed the simplest way to get shot of him. Or were you just playing hard to get?”

Malfoy made a face. “I was most certainly not playing hard to get, he smelled of fish.”

“You and your delicate sense of smell. I hope I meet with your olfactory approval today?”

“Big words, Potter.” Malfoy leaned over and sniffed just as delicately as he was accused of. “I suppose you smell adequate.”

“Adequate?” Harry repeated. “I’m hurt.”

“Then buy better aftershave,” Malfoy responded. “That’s a Weasley product isn’t it, do you actually know any wizards who aren’t ginger?”

Harry blushed. His aftershave was from Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. They’d branched out a bit into general gifts in the last few years and George had given him some of their newest line for his birthday. To be honest, most days he considered himself well groomed if he’d remembered to use any at all. “I’m part owner you know,” he muttered. “I thought you were broke, how come you can afford to smell as good as you do?”

Malfoy smirked. “My own personal blend and of course good breeding. Malfoy’s sweat pure frankincense, or so you’d think to hear my Father talk.”

Harry laughed.

“But do tell me some more about how good I smell.” And Malfoy levelled a look at Harry that was pure sex.

Harry’s heart thumped suddenly in his chest. He’d almost forgotten who he was talking to. His mouth went dry and he covered his embarrassment by pulling his pint over and swallowing a good third of it.

When he put his glass back down Malfoy was still watching him, although he looked more amused than anything else.

“Well,” Malfoy said. “We’ve chased my fake date away. And yours seems to have deserted us, and our drinks are nearly finished...” He lifted his glass, which was filled with the last of the wine in the bottle, and drained half of it. “Whatever will we do with the rest of the evening?”

As much as he had been enjoying himself, Harry had not been prepared for the evening to suddenly swerve in this direction. I mean, yes, he had been perving on Malfoy a little bit, but in a strictly theoretical sense. And maybe he had laid it on a bit strong with that guy cause he wanted to show off, but just to... I mean not to actually… I mean he couldn’t just...

Malfoy formed a slow, predatory smile and downed the rest of his glass in one long swallow. “I’m staying in a guest house just around the corner from here,” he commented.

Harry picked up his pint and finished it off likewise. He was just going to pretend he didn’t know what Malfoy was suggesting, because that was absolutely the right thing to do.

Malfoy stood up and held out his hand.

Harry looked at it. I mean, if he took it, it wouldn’t be promising anything. Just a hand to pull him up out of his chair, right? Just a helpful hand between friends, nobody had actually said anything about actually doing anything that friends might not normally do. Even though they weren’t friends. Cause they didn’t even like each other. They had never liked each other.

Harry took Malfoy’s hand and let him pull him out of his chair. His grip was strong and he didn’t let go once Harry had stood up. His thumb stroked over the back of Harry’s hand and Harry was very aware that they were standing too close together.

Malfoy tugged his hand a little again and Harry took an unintentional step closer yet, close enough for Malfoy to only need to lean in a few inches to whisper against Harry’s cheek. “I’m going to take you back to my room now, Potter.”

Harry’s breath hitched in his throat, and this was absolutely the moment in which he needed to put an end to this before Malfoy thought he was in any way okay with that. Instead he just breathed in the spicy warm scent of Malfoy’s body as they stood there only inches apart, Malfoy’s breath curling past his ear.

Malfoy stepped away and tugged Harry after him as he headed for the door. Malfoy’s hand was firm in his, as they strolled around the corner to the guest house he was staying in.

Only once they had entered the bedroom did Malfoy let go of his hand, leaving Harry untethered in the middle of the room next to the large double bed.

Malfoy looked him over. “I thought you might require a bit more persuading than this.”

Harry swallowed. “So did I,” he admitted.

Malfoy leant back against the dresser and waited. The long line of his body displayed but still hidden.

Harry let go of his own bullshit. There was no denying how much he wanted to uncover that body, how much he’d wanted to ever since he’d set eyes on him in the cafeteria. He’d forgotten, over the years, just how much Malfoy always drew his eye. Forgotten those little moments in fifth and sixth year where he hadn’t just wanted to punch Malfoy, but he’d refused to admit to himself that there might be other reasons why he was so obsessed with the boy. If anything had caused him to take so long to admit to his own sexuality, it had been the person that had first stirred those feeling in him. Draco bloody Malfoy and his stupidly beautiful pointy face and that ridiculously blonde hair topping off a lean, firm body. The memory of flying alongside him, fighting for the snitch, pressed together from shoulder to thigh.

Harry strode over and grabbed the other man by the hips, pulling him into a hard kiss.

Malfoy went pliant at his touch, his mouth opening under Harry’s as Harry brought up one hand to twist it into Malfoy’s hair.

As he pressed himself along the length of Malfoy’s body he was very aware that they were both hard already, it was quite possible Harry had never wanted to fuck someone as much as this in his entire life. Despite his trust issues Harry often bottomed, he liked to be able to lose himself in the moment, drifting off into the feel of being fucked, often without really giving all that much thought to the person who was fucking him. Sex because sex was good, not because the person he was with held any real meaning for him beyond the moment.

But as Malfoy grabbed his arse and ground them together, Harry bit his bottom lip firmly and sucked it into his mouth. ‘Yes,’ he thought. ‘Definitely.’ He pulled Malfoy away from the dresser and spun them around so he could push him back onto the bed and followed him down with one knee pushing between his legs, his hands immediately going to the buttons that ran down Malfoy’s chest. He undid two and then took hold of the fabric firmly and ripped the row clean off with one sharp tug.

Malfoy’s arms had fallen back onto the bed, and he watched Harry with his cheeks pink and his eyes unreadable. But he made no protest at the destruction of his robes. Harry made short work of the lacings holding together Malfoy’s old fashioned trousers and stripped them down his thighs as Malfoy raised his hips to help. He wore no underwear and his prick bobbed up below the hem of his shirt. Harry ripped the shirt open too, from the bottom hem up to mid chest, scattering more buttons across the bed.

With Malfoy still lying amidst the tattered remains of his clothing, his trousers hanging off his calves, caught on his boots, Harry ducked in and took his cock into his mouth, sucking on the first few inches even as he pushed Malfoy further up the bed so he could get both his knees under him. Malfoy’s trousers were getting in his way now and he sat up only long enough to reach behind him and tug his boots off one by one, chucking them across the room. Malfoy kicked his own trousers off as Harry bent back down to swallow his cock more fully, causing the other man to let out a satisfactory moan.

Malfoy tried to grab Harry’s head, but Harry took his wrists and pressed them back into the mattress. Once he was sure they would stay there he let go so he could bring one hand underneath him to cup Malfoy’s balls. The hair between his legs was coarser than that on his head but still silky to the touch and a fair mink coloured blond. His cock was straight as a die, not even the slightest of curve to it, the deep pink of the head a strong contrast to the pallor of his abdomen.

Harry swallowed the head into the back of his throat, making Malfoy’s hands fist in the covers and his back arch. It made Harry’s eyes water, but it was worth it for the reaction it got. He tugged lightly on Malfoy’s balls, causing an interesting grunting noise.

“Careful there, Potter, those aren’t detachable,” Malfoy said, his voice ragged.

“It’s Harry,” replied Harry against the head of his cock, giving his balls another light tug.

“Um,” said Malfoy. “Swallow my cock like that again and I’ll call you whatever you like.”

But instead Harry sat up and brought himself up Malfoy’s body until they were face to face. He held Malfoy’s cock lightly, his thumb rubbing over the wet head. “You’ll call me Harry,” he said. “Or you can take care of your cock yourself.”

Surprisingly, this made Malfoy smile. “All right then… Harry,” he said, and his voice was low with promise.

Harry lowered his head to kiss Malfoy again, his mouth still tasted of the red wine he’d been drinking all evening.

Harry was too warm by far, with his clothes still on, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to pull away enough to undress. Besides, it was hot, having Malfoy naked underneath him while he was still fully dressed. He slowly worked Malfoy’s cock as he explored his mouth, nipping at his lips, sucking on his tongue. He remembered Malfoy whispering in his ear in the pub and he slid his mouth across his cheek to do the same. “I’m going to fuck you,” he told him.

He heard Malfoy’s breath stutter, felt his cock throb in his hand.

He smiled to himself and used his other hand to lift Malfoy’s thigh and push his leg up to hook around Harry’s waist. He pulled back to look at Malfoy as he let go of his cock and moved his hand down to find the tight entrance below his balls. He stroked over it with the tips of his fingers. “What do you think about that… Draco?”

“I think...” he gasped. “I think you’re going to need to take your clothes off to do that.”

Harry laughed softly. “I suppose I will.” But first he leaned back in to kiss him some more, his fingers still stroking between his legs, pressing in as his tongue did but not hard enough yet to enter him.

Eventually he sat up and slid off the bed to stand and strip off his clothes. As he did Malfoy lay still and watched him, his cheeks and his chest now flushed pink, his shirt still partially buttoned. It didn’t even occur to Harry to feel awkward about how he looked as he was too busy watching Malfoy watch him. The other man had brought his own hand down to lightly touch his own cock and balls, and with one leg still wide and bent up at the knee Harry could just see the entrance he intended to breach, Malfoy could see where he was looking and gathered his balls up to expose himself further, bending the knee of his other leg as well and hooking his hand under it to reveal even more.

As soon as Harry had got rid of the last scrap of clothing he bent to the bed and gathered Malfoy’s legs in his own arms, pressing his head back between Malfoy’s legs, but this time lower to lick at the exposed pink hole. He had never done this before, although he knew it felt good from the few times someone else had rimmed him. He didn’t think twice before pressing his tongue harder, to start to open him up.

Malfoy went boneless under him and began to swear softly. “Fuck, Harry. Fuck yes.”

Pleased at the response and enjoying the act more than he would have ever expected, Harry stiffened his tongue and pressed it inside. Malfoy’s thighs tightened around his head momentarily before relaxing again as Harry alternated lapping around his rim and fucking him with his tongue. Malfoy had one hand on Harry’s head, and this time Harry let it be as it played with his hair but made no attempt to control his actions.

It wasn’t long before Malfoy started begging. “Please… I want… need… ”

Harry sat back enough to ask teasingly, “Need what?”

“Don’t stop! Salazar, Potter, Harry… don’t stop!”

Harry laughed and bent back to thrust his tongue hard and as deep as he could, in and out, making Draco moan and pant. He pulled back again, “Do you have lube or should I...”

“Got lube,” Draco gasped. He waved his hand vaguely at the side of the bed. “In the drawer.”

Harry grabbed his wand from where he had left it on the side of the mattress. “Accio lube.”

The top drawer in the bedside table flew open and a small bottle hand-labelled “lube” flew into his hand. It looked like Draco made his own lube as well as his own aftershave. And he clearly knew what he was doing, the lube was slick without being at all sticky and completely scentless. Harry rubbed it between his fingers, momentarily distracted by it’s perfection.

“Yes, my lubrication potion is amazing,” said Draco prodding his side with a foot. “Now stop staring at it and use it!”

Harry leaned over him and pushed one slippery finger slowly inside. “This what you’re after?”

“Mmm, yes,” responded Malfoy. “You have no idea.”

“Oh?” encouraged Harry, as he moved inside him, already fantasising about how good it would feel to slide his cock into that smooth, tight passage.

But Malfoy didn’t say anything further, or at least not anything coherent.

When Harry woke up in the middle of the night it was to startled recollection and he held a swift argument with himself as to what he should do. He was undoubtedly wide awake, the surprised recall of the previous few hours enough to jolt him out of any sleepiness, he could just leave. He could feel Malfoy’s heavy body next to him and by the sound of things he was still fast asleep. He likely wouldn’t notice if Harry were to carefully extract himself from the bed and let himself out.

It was pitch black in the room though and he would probably make enough noise finding his clothes and wand that he would wake Malfoy and then what? I mean, surely it couldn’t come as any surprise that Harry might seek to avoid the awkward morning after of remembering that they didn’t actually like each other or have anything in common once they had their clothes on again. Malfoy would probably be just as relieved not to have him there when he woke up.

He rolled onto his side carefully, ducked his head in against Malfoy’s shoulder and breathed in that scent, mixed now with sweat and the smell of sex. Somehow that only made it better. He carefully placed one hand on Malfoy’s left buttock, still trying not to wake him. Malfoy was sleeping on his front pretty much where Harry had left him when they had finished earlier, they must have fallen asleep almost straight away. He supposed it had been quite… strenuous. He smiled. Though they had started with Malfoy on his back, as things had become more energetic Harry had moved him onto all fours so he could really put his back into it. He’d be feeling that in his thighs tomorrow. He remembered rolling off Malfoy where they’d collapsed, after several minutes of panting dizzily into his neck while recovering from a fucking spectacular orgasm, casting a lazy cleansing charm and then nothing.

Malfoy made a muffled noise in his sleep, Harry’s hand had become a little more proactive while he’d been remembering. He started paying attention, his cock was starting to harden again and his fingers were toying with Malfoy’s still tender arsehole, slipping easily in a little. Given the likelihood that they’d never do this again, maybe a second round wasn’t such a bad idea. He’d quite like to watch Malfoy’s face when he came this time. He threw a leg over Malfoy’s, pushing the other boy’s legs further apart and whispered in his ear, “You awake?”

In response the other man hummed and tilted his hips in an obvious invitation.

Harry rolled on top of him fully, he was pretty sure he could really draw this one out so there was no harm in starting with a nice slow fuck like this. He slicked his cock slowly with the positively magical lube that had fortunately been left lying under his leg when he had gone to sleep, kissing Malfoy’s neck, and once he was good and hard he pressed Malfoy’s buttocks apart with his hands and began to slowly work his way in, taking a slow, sweet time to feel his cock gradually getting deeper and deeper into the heat of Malfoy’s body. It felt different this time; wetter, more open and yet still tight at the same time. He could tell his cock had been inside him already, he liked how that felt.

“Good,” muttered Malfoy, in that state where you were awake, but everything was still relaxed and dream like. “Wish we’d done this sooner, wish we’d done this at school.”

“Yeah?” said Harry softly, finally settling his hips against Malfoy’s arse, as deeply seated as he could be in this position. “You think I could have just sneaked into your dorm in the middle of the night and done this?”

Malfoy made a guttural groaning noise, “Fuck, do you have any idea how often I fantasised about that?”

“Really?” Harry’s heart stuttered in the dark even as his cock throbbed approval as he slowly drew it back to slide in again.

“That invisibility cloak of yours...” Malfoy muttered into the sheets. “Potter the Gryffindor hero, sneaking into my rooms to have his filthy way with me.”

Now it was Harry that groaned. “Jesus, Malfoy.”

“Shocked?” Malfoy asked, sounding a little more awake.

“I thought about it too,” Harry admitted in the dark, his voice hoarse. “Sometimes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“We couldn’t have though, not really.”

“No,” agreed Harry, his breath hot on Malfoy’s shoulders, the slow slide of his cock in and out mixing with the thought of doing this back then to drive him crazy. “Not really, but fuck, if we had...”

“Yeah,” agreed Malfoy, moving to get his knees a little under him so he could push back and try and speed up the slow slide of Harry’s cock inside him as well as get his hands under him to touch his own cock.

Harry took hold of his hips and pulled out entirely.

“Hey!”

“Roll over,” Harry told him, moving him with his hands, lifting his leg up and past his face and settling it on his shoulder. He focused and managed to use wandless magic to light the lamp on the bedside table, it helped that his wand was in the bed somewhere nearby. Malfoy threw his hand over his face at the light, but Harry peeled it away. “Want to see your face. Want to watch you when you come.”

Malfoy’s face was still sleepy, and there were wrinkles on his cheek where it had been pressed against the bed clothes. His hair was flyaway. He looked gorgeous.

He hooked his other leg around Harry’s waist as Harry positioned himself for the slide back in.

“I’m not going to be able to walk tomorrow,” Malfoy teased him.

“Maybe I’ll just keep you in bed then,” suggested Harry, having entirely forgotten any escape plans he might have had earlier.

“Sounds like a plan,” agreed Malfoy.

The explosion went off somewhere near his ear and he shot out of bed with an empty hand from where he had tried to grab his non-existent wand from under the pillow he had been lying on and found himself standing on the mattress pointing his finger at a laughing Charlie Weasley and at least seven other people wearing party hats and blowing noise makers as Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes patented indoor use fireworks exploded colourfully around his head. This time he was most definitely not wearing his pyjamas.

“Potter cock!” someone cheered from the back, and he heard the sound of a high five being exchanged.

Beneath him he heard Malfoy groan, “How do they manage it every fucking time! How did they even know?”