Harry blinked at the words hanging in mid-air.
Hold suspect. Back-up 6 mins out.
A moment later, they swept across his vision and disintegrated into dust mites. He glanced at Robards and Kingsley.
"Harry, come on." Robards rolled his eyes. "Don't start."
"I'm not. I just– is this really something the Department needs to be spending money on?"
Robards leaned back in his chair, giving Harry that judgmental frown from under his bushy moustache. He was the only person in the entire Ministry who would give Harry an honest opinion or expression when they disagreed, and usually, Harry was grateful for it. Not today.
A petulant sigh drifted over from the far side of the conference room, and Harry dug in his heels. He wasn't going to give in to this particular idea – from this particular person – without a fight.
"Patronus charms work just fine," added Harry. "Why fix what isn't broken?"
"They've worked all right in the past," allowed Robards, "but they're not perfect, Potter. You of all people should know that." He glanced to his right. "If you please, Minister?"
With an apologetic shrug at Harry, Kingsley raised his wand, his brow furrowed in concentration. His Patronus quickly emerged from the tip, taking shape beside Harry.
"Warrant is in place. Arrest suspect," the Patronus told Harry in Kingsley's low voice.
"Suspect hears that," Robards pointed out, raising his index finger at Harry, "and he can Disapparate on the spot, taking his Dark artifacts with him."
"That only happened once!"
"All right, Potter," said Robards, shaking his head. "We tried. If you really don't think it'll work, I'll go tell R&D that we're not interested."
Harry opened his mouth to respond, but the figure at the edge of the room stepped into Harry's vision. Christ. Just when he'd been doing so well at ignoring him.
Folding his arms over his chest, Harry made a show of only reluctantly turning around. "I get it, Malfoy," he muttered. "You need the work. But this charm of yours isn't going to save the Aurors any time soon, all right? Why don't you go peddle it somewhere else? Maybe the O.W.L. students at Hogwarts can use it to cheat on their exams."
That got a snicker from Kingsley and a roll of the eyes from Robards. Malfoy only glared at Harry from beneath a calm façade, his jaw set.
"We all know how fond you are of the Patronus charm, Potter," he said evenly, "and how terribly skilled you've been at it since you were thirteen years old. I do read the papers, after all."
That one got a snicker from Robards. Kingsley pressed his lips together and lowered his eyes. Harry's fist tightened around his wand.
"But it's time to move on. Aurors have been using the Patronus for over a hundred years. You need something more secure."
"No, we don't, Malfoy," said Harry reflexively. He pressed his lips together. All right, Malfoy had a point, and the charm was intriguing. Harry couldn't believe no one had thought of it before, but when he'd run the issue by Hermione the other day, her eyes had widened.
"I've read some research on that!" she'd said, already excited. "It's been really hard for developers to keep it secure; moving the charm's target from person to person causes leaks in some cases. A small number, maybe one or two percent. They can't figure out why, though." She'd given Harry a hopeful look. "Can I come to that meeting? If Malfoy's really perfected it, I have so many questions for him."
One look at Malfoy's smug face now, though, and Harry felt the same rush of heated emotions he'd felt since he was fourteen. No, he wouldn't give Malfoy the satisfaction. Maybe he could get Hermione to finish the invention for them instead.
"I think we're done here." He gripped the arms of his chair and began to rise.
"Security of sensitive information, Potter."
"I said we're done."
"Improved communication leads to an improved arrest record for the department."
"I said no, Malfoy."
Robards and Kingsley were already making to leave.
"We'll revisit it down the road, son," Kingsley told Malfoy, and even if Kingsley disagreed with him, Harry found himself grateful for the support.
"Wait," said Malfoy, his voice dead quiet. "Potter." Something in his tone made Harry look up and meet his gaze. Malfoy waved his wand, and Harry reluctantly let his eyes relax to focus on the message that appeared before him.
Robards is after your job. He's out of money and wants to be Department Head again. The higher-ups want new technology, and you're looking like the old stick in the mud who won't move the department forward. Say yes to this, and Robards will be back to square one. Trust me: I've heard things in circles you don't run in.
Harry blinked slowly. When the message disappeared, he glanced around to see Robards already packing up his files and shaking Kingsley's hand. Harry caught Malfoy's gaze and held it. Malfoy didn't flinch, although he did look a bit too pleased with himself, the bastard. Harry ran the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, considering.
"Always a pleasure, Potter," Robards said as he gripped the doorknob, his voice suddenly, to Harry's ears, full of triumph.
Robards glanced over his shoulder, and Kingsley looked up from his parchment.
"All right," said Harry slowly. "Let's do it. Six month trial period. Eight teams use it; eight keep the Patronus. I want Chang and Weasley to take the lead. All teams report to them every week with their results."
Robards stared at him.
"Malfoy," Harry continued, folding his arms across his chest and leaning forward at the table, "I'll send Chang and Weasley to you tomorrow to start training. Anything else?" He shuffled his own parchment back into the too-small folder.
Grinning, Kingsley held up his hands and shook his head as Robards glanced furiously between Harry and Malfoy, not daring to say a word.
"Just one thing, Potter," Malfoy piped up, leaning one hip against the wall and twirling his wand in his fingers.
Harry looked over at him.
"You'll need an on-site consultant for the duration of the trial period." His voice was velvet smooth, and Harry had to bite back a groan when he realised what he'd done.
He resisted putting his head down on the table.
"So," Malfoy concluded brightly, looking around the room. "Where's my office?"
An hour later, Malfoy was stretching like a cat in his new chair at his new desk in the bullpen with the Aurors, his hands coming to rest lazily on top of his head. He caught Harry's eye and gave him a small but confident smile, and it was all Harry could do not to hit him with a stapler.
"Limited contract, Malfoy," Harry reminded him, turning back to his own office. "You don't actually work here."
Malfoy waved him off, and Harry avoided eye contact with the surrounding Aurors who were giving him either incredulous, or annoyed, looks. He closed his door and tried to focus on the paperwork he needed to finish before he could call it a day. The Mason file – well, that could wait. He dropped it back in his inbox and shuffled through the others. Lipton... all right, one more signature and red stamp, and he could send that one back to Patricia for filing. Then there was the –
I've a real job now, didn't you hear? Can't go sneaking off anymore. One more hour, all right?
The words ghosted to life before Harry's eyes. They dissolved again in seconds, though. He looked around.
One hour, Zabini. At 5:01, I want you on your back – slick and open, just waiting for my cock.
Harry froze. With a quick blink of his eyes, the message dissolved again so quickly that he wasn't sure he'd ever seen it in the first place. On instinct, he glanced out the window of his office and saw Malfoy leaning back in his chair, an odd smile on his face as he surreptitiously swirled his wand over his desk.
Harry reached up under his glasses with his forefingers and rubbed his eyes. It didn't help. Apparently Malfoy's new messaging system worked with one's eyes closed, too.
Going to make you beg for it.
A small whimper escaped Harry's throat. Okay, this was not on. It had been far too long since he'd had sex, clearly, but also, why the fuck was he seeing Malfoy's private messages? Did he want Harry to see? Christ. He threw his door open and stormed out.
As if caught daydreaming, Malfoy jumped in his chair, his wand clattering to his desk. The Aurors around him snickered, and he shot them a murderous look. But his face was flushed, Harry noted, and his hands trembled slightly. If he'd known Harry could see the messages, wouldn't he have more of a satisfied smirk on his face? He looked like he'd actually just been caught balls deep in Zabini's slick, open –
"What are you doing?" snapped Harry.
"I'm– what?" Malfoy swallowed, then steeled his jaw and sat up straighter. "I'm acclimating to my new surroundings, Potter." He was back to his customary drawl, rolling his eyes at Harry, but Harry could see that his chest was still rising and falling too rapidly. "Is that what you do around here, stomp about shouting all the time?"
The words lacked their usual bite, though, and Harry appraised him. What was he playing at? Lifting his wand, Harry concentrated for a moment before conjuring the pattern he remembered from the conference room.
Malfoy's head jerked up. Slowly, he lifted his own wand, and a word appeared before Harry. Obviously.
Who else can see it?
What are you talking about? I told you the system is secure.
I don't have time for games, Malfoy. Can multiple Aurors see the same message?
Potter, do I have to say this in very small words? If you want the entire world to see and hear your communications, just keep the Patronus. This is one-on-one. That's the whole fucking point.
"Furthermore," exclaimed Malfoy, as if he'd been dying from holding the word in, "how do you know how to do that?" He thrust the index finger of his free hand towards Harry. "I haven't taught you yet."
Harry glanced down at his wand, then back at Malfoy. He shrugged. "I watched you do it earlier. Not that hard, is it?" He turned abruptly and headed back to his office, massaging his forehead. What the hell was going on?
"Not that hard...?" he heard Malfoy mutter faintly behind him. When he chanced a peek out his office window to the Auror desks again, he could have sworn Malfoy quickly lowered his own eyes.
An hour and a half later, Harry sat at the pub with Ron, Seamus, and a few others from their team, grinning, drinking beer and trying desperately not to think about what Malfoy and Zabini might be doing at that very moment.
It was a lost cause.
It was as though the words had exploded into vivid colour photographs behind his eyes, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't erase the images of Malfoy pushing Zabini – or any man, really; Harry didn't care – down onto a bed and climbing over top of him, maybe straddling his hips and trailing his fingers down the man's chest and stomach.
"There," he'd say, his lip curled in that same satisfied smirk he always wore for Harry, "just how I wanted you: on your back and begging for it. Did you prepare yourself like I asked?"
The man would writhe a bit underneath him, arching his neck when Malfoy's tongue trailed up it and smoothing broad hands down Malfoy's back. Bending the man's knees up, Malfoy would press into him slowly, sinking in inch by inch and watching the man's face melt in pleasure. Or, Harry assumed that was what the man's face would be doing; from his point of view, he was the one gazing up at Malfoy and digging his fingers into his arse to pull him in further.
He jumped, blinking at Seamus.
"Go on, buy us another round, you cheap bastard. It was your turn twenty minutes ago."
Smiling weakly, Harry saluted him and got up from the table. He used his time at the bar to pull himself together and banish all thoughts of Malfoy from his mind. This was the last thing he needed. Having Malfoy on staff now and feeling so smug that he'd apparently just saved the Auror force was bad enough; Harry could really do without adding sexual fantasy subject to his list of reasons to hate the bastard.
When he got home, he'd barely closed the door behind him before he had his jeans open and his fingers gripping his prick, tight and damp. His free hand curled into a fist and banged on the wall as he came a minute later, the imprint of the words Make you beg for it hurtling through his mind in Malfoy's cursive.
"Looking like shit, Nelson."
"Thanks, boss. You too."
"Got the coffee on, Muntz?"
"Fuck off, I made it yesterday."
Harry felt himself relax as he moved through the Auror division to his office, the familiarity of it wrapping around him and doing a great deal to cancel out his sleepless night. He stopped, however, at the sight of Malfoy's empty cubicle. The muscles in his neck tightened all over again.
Simmons glanced up. "Doesn't get out a bed for less than ten thousand Galleons a day, I'd wager." He smirked at Bones and held his hand out to trade her a light slap.
"Haha," said Harry with a sigh. "He's got training with Chang and Weasley at nine. Let me know if he's not in by then."
"Sure thing, boss."
Harry settled himself at his desk and frowned at the various piles of parchment littering the surface. Nobody had told him back in training that Auror work was ten percent action and a solid ninety percent paperwork.
I thought I told you to fuck off.
His frown deepened, until Harry's brain registered the likely source of this fresh hell. Oh, fabulous. He tried closing his eyes again, but if it hadn't worked yesterday, he didn't have high hopes for it working today.
It is not a 'crush,' you pervert. So I said one fucking name. We are never talking about it again.
Harry cracked an eye open. He shouldn't find any lovers' spat of Malfoy's funny, he knew that, but he still couldn't help but grin. Malfoy seemed just as whiny in a snit as Harry would have expected. He almost felt sorry for Zabini.
At that moment, Malfoy stormed into the outer office, his wand making furious if tiny movements in front of him as he stumbled to his desk. Harry stared. Malfoy looked exactly like he'd just come from a night of very good and very athletic sex. His robes were rumpled and open at the collar; a light covering of stubble shaded his jaw; and his hair was tousled instead of sleek. His lips looked bitten, too, if Harry thought about it, full and pink and –
Shaking himself, Harry clenched his quill in his fist and tried not to look. He probably had morning breath, Harry reasoned, and he definitely needed a shower. Disgusting. And if he couldn't even have been bothered with a simple cleaning charm on his outer appearance, he probably still had dried come on his stomach and thighs, maybe even bite marks on his hips or the curve of his arse.
No, we are NOT inviting him to join us! Fuck off. I have to go, I'm at the Ministry.
Unexpectedly, Malfoy chose that moment to glance up at Harry's office. He caught Harry's eye through the window only briefly before ducking his head down again and falling into his desk chair.
He's right here, you idiot. I'm not talking about this right now. Or ever. So help you, Blaise, if you get me fired on my second fucking day –
Harry froze. That could not possibly mean what he thought it meant. Taking a deep breath, Harry strode out of his office and approached Malfoy's desk. "You're late."
Malfoy rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. The look he levelled at Harry could have cut granite.
"And you look like shit."
"Then why are you looking?" Malfoy shot back.
It was too late to stop himself. Harry's gaze swept down Malfoy's torso and back up, lingering on his stubbled jaw and his full lips. Dammit. "Listen, Malfoy," he muttered, lowering his voice, "I don't give a fuck what you do with your free time, but if you're going to work here, you don't show up in the morning looking like you've just been shagged within an inch of your life."
Malfoy's face shifted. He wet his lips and looked Harry square in the eye. "What can I say?" he said slowly, holding Harry's gaze. "Blaise likes it rough."
Harry nearly broke the quill in his hand. "Clean yourself up." He clenched his jaw so that his lips barely moved. "Conference room, ten minutes. Chang and Weasley are already waiting for you."
He meant to mention the charm again, to confront Malfoy about the leak, but as he gazed down at him in that chair, rumpled with sex and smelling like the tangled sheets of another man's bed, Harry found he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was going to go back to his office, sit at his desk, and hope with every bit of his strength that Malfoy sent another filthy message before the end of the day.
He averted his eyes as Malfoy stormed past him, ignoring the way their shoulders brushed and Malfoy paused to glance back at him.
As it turned out, Harry didn't have to wait long. Malfoy was fighting with Zabini again by lunch.
I don't have anything to make up to you! It's just a fucking name. Don't think I didn't hear you call me SEVERUS that time with the spanking.
Harry took a deep breath, leaning back in his chair. It was like a Pavlovian response by now; as soon as he saw Malfoy's script, his prick began to thicken.
I don't want Potter! How many times do I have to tell you? And quit fucking laughing about it. The fact that you're willing to share is not the fucking point.
Harry closed his eyes, a shot of heat searing through him. No, Christ. This was wrong and dirty and he shouldn't be able to see this. He shouldn't want to see this. He definitely shouldn't want to know that Malfoy was fantasising about him or, fuck, calling his name during sex with another man. He hated Malfoy. They would never work as a couple anyway, even if Harry was interested, which he bloody well wasn't.
Except, God, the bastard's hair this morning, casually tousled like someone had just had their fingers in it, pulling his head back to lick a trail up his throat or to come all over his face. Harry could picture all too readily how good it would feel to be that man, leaning over him and pushing rough and hard into his body while his fingers twisted in that gorgeous fucking hair.
By eight o'clock, Zabini, I want you riding my cock and thanking me for the privilege.
A small sound escaped Harry's throat. Three minutes later, he was locked in a stall in the loo, his palm flattened against the wall and the cool tiles denting his forehead. His other hand wrapped around his prick and squeezed, rough and frantic, until his fist was coated with come and the sharp visions of impaling himself on Malfoy's big prick skittered away.
Malfoy and Zabini must have cooled off after that, because apart from the occasional message, Harry didn't see nearly the same frenzy of carnally inspired writing for a week and a half. The Aurors continued to train under Malfoy's new system, and no one else reported the kind of message malfunctions Harry was experiencing, so he decided to chalk it up to his own strong magic, or his weird history with Malfoy, or whatever.
Nothing to worry about. Probably.
The commotion in the bullpen edged just higher enough than normal that Harry raised his head from his scribbles and peered out his office window. He was just in time to see Cho storming in, flapping her arms and shouting at Ron, who was following her with his hand in his hair.
"... the most unprofessional behaviour I've ever seen, even from you, Weasley, not to mention I need to bleach my eyes now, thanks, so you can–"
"Oh, come on. It wasn't that bad, and anyway–"
"No? You want me to describe Granger's girly parts back to you in detail, or should I wait and send a memo to the whole office? Because if I can't unsee that, then everyone else should have to suffer, too."
Harry's eyes widened, and he jumped up from his desk as Ron's face melted into a fierce shade of red.
"Don't you say a word about her!" Ron was shouting, pointing his finger at Cho. "You weren't supposed to see any of that! She'll have my balls if she knew you saw, so just shut up about it, all right?" Belatedly, he glanced around to see the rest of the office staring at them. "And the rest of you can shut the fuck up, too," he muttered, waving his arm.
Striding out of his office, Harry stopped before the pair of them and looked back and forth, spreading his hands. "What is this?" he said as calmly as he could.
"Tell Weasley I'm bringing him up on sexual harassment charges if he doesn't keep to the rules of that charm," said Cho, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at Ron. "I don't need to know what his hairy prick gets up to when he's off duty." She said it in her usual tone of voice, a bit reserved and with the graceful lilt that had always warmed Harry's heart a little bit, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the sound of that voice taking on the inevitable crudity of Auror talk.
He held his palm up to her and turned to Ron, giving him a significant look. "What did you do?" he muttered.
"Nothing!" insisted Ron, but he wouldn't meet Harry's eyes.
Ron ran his hands through his hair and puffed out his cheeks as he exhaled. Looking around the room and shooting daggers at anyone caught looking back, his gaze finally landed on Malfoy. He was sitting back in his chair, tapping his wand in the opposite palm and looking a bit like the cat that just caught the canary. Harry followed Ron's gaze and immediately thought of all the private messages of Malfoy's that he'd been spying on lately, which – no, spying wasn't the right word; it wasn't Harry's fault the damn things kept assaulting him as he was trying to go about his work day.
"You!" Ron was bellowing, striding over to Malfoy. "You're sabotaging us!"
Malfoy only raised an eyebrow.
"It is your charm," Cho joined in, walking slowly towards him with her arms still crossed. "Why am I seeing Weasley's randy calls home if they're not meant for me?"
Malfoy sighed, looking bored. "What are you talking about?"
"Your messaging system, ferret," Ron snarled, placing his palms on Malfoy's desk and leaning over it. "I sent a private message to Hermione–" he paused to glance apologetically back at Harry – "and Chang here got all the gory details. And don't tell me I didn't do it right; my three-year-old could do that one with an old stick from the backyard. You aren't winning any awards for charm invention there, Malfoy. So what's the story?" Ron leaned down further, glaring at Malfoy. "Thought it'd be a laugh to make the whole fucking Auror team use a charm that doesn't work?"
Harry steeled his jaw but didn't speak. He rather wanted to hear Malfoy's answer to that one.
But Malfoy looked genuinely confused, although trying to mask it. Harry studied Malfoy's eyes, the way they darted between Cho and Ron and then over his desk, betraying the way his mind must be whirling. "It works, Weasley," he said at last. "I've been testing it for two years. It's secure and foolproof." He rose from his desk chair, making Ron rise to his full height as well.
"Then you're just a pervert, saving all the really good messages for your wank bank later? Let me guess: you get copies of 'em too." Ron looked a bit more upset than usual at this invasion of privacy, and Harry had to wonder what on earth he'd said to Hermione. Ew, no, he didn't want to know.
Malfoy tilted his head to the side. "You think you and Granger are on my list of wank fodder?" He came as close to grinning as Harry had ever seen in front of him and Ron, and he had to duck his head down to hide his own smile. Malfoy had a good point, especially considering what Harry now knew about his sexual activities.
... which was not at all the right thing to be thinking about right now. Christ.
"All right," said Harry, stepping forward and grasping Ron's arm before this went any further. "Chang," he said, turning to her. "The Department's apologies. We'll get to the bottom of this, but Weasley meant no offense. Take the rest of the day off and bleach your eyes out." He gave her a quick grin. She returned it, mock saluting him and glaring at Ron once more before striding back down the hall. "Ron."
Ron ignored him, lifting his chin and glaring at Malfoy instead, until Harry loudly cleared his throat.
He finally glanced over, and Harry raised a brow.
"Quit using the Auror communications system to get off with your wife."
Ron smiled sheepishly but gave Harry a mock salute like Cho had done, his gaze on the floor.
Harry jerked his thumb in the direction Cho had gone. "Let me talk to the Great Inventor here."
Ron gave Malfoy one last narrow-eyed glare. "Fine. But I don't trust him, Harry. He's up to something." But he dutifully headed back down the hall. With the commotion over, everyone around them seemed to have gone back to their own work.
Malfoy turned to Harry but said nothing, only giving him an expectant look.
Finally, Harry stepped towards him, maybe a bit too close, and inclined his head next to Malfoy's ear. "Are you?" he murmured.
He wasn't prepared for the hot flush that crept up Malfoy's neck. Taking in a deep breath, Malfoy slowly raised his head to meet Harry's eyes. "No."
"Are you sure about that?"
Harry folded his arms over his chest and leaned his hip against Malfoy's desk, mentally cataloguing the way Malfoy watched him do it. "Because that whole thing there?" He waved one hand briefly in the direction Cho and Ron had gone. "It sounds a bit familiar."
"Weasley and Granger's sex life?" Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you know more about it than you care to."
"I do, in fact, but that's not what I meant."
"Potter, I'm busy. You and your crackpot friends can bugger off if all you intend to do is slander me and my incredibly useful invention." He lifted his chin. "The other teams have been reporting remarkable success with it, as you know. So, I blame Weasley for doing something wrong, and also for being enough of an arse to try sending messages like that in the first place."
"Do you, now?" Harry lowered his voice even further, leaning as close to Malfoy as he dared. "By eight o'clock, Zabini," he recited, his chest pounding as he dove in before he could really even think about what he was doing, "I want you riding my cock and thanking me for the privilege."
Harry pulled back, watching Malfoy pale. His eyes seemed glued to Harry's mouth.
"Cho's not the only one who's seen some things." Harry stood up straight and turned back to his office, his pulse pounding in his ears. Christ, saying words like that to Malfoy, even as a quote, had done things to him he couldn't exactly deal with at the moment. His body felt hot and his prick had taken far too much interest in repeating Malfoy's old message. "Figure out what's wrong with the charm," he ordered from the edge of the bullpen.
Malfoy looked furious, but he didn't say anything. Harry moved off, but when he glanced back over his shoulder, Malfoy was watching him a little bit too carefully. Shaking his head, Harry only walked back to his office and shut the door behind him.
He kept one eye on Malfoy for the rest of the afternoon, but Malfoy didn't look his way even once. He spent most of the day in the padded duelling room, only his head and shoulders visible if he happened to walk in front of the window. Harry could see him from his office; he seemed to be doing a great deal of pacing, his brow furrowed, in between rounds of aiming his wand at the wall and muttering words Harry couldn't hear.
Long past the end of the day, he finally strode into Harry's office and stood stock still in front of his desk, arms folded aggressively over his chest. Harry blinked at the way the cut of his long coat fitted his hips, and the way the shade of his scarf brought out the hint of colour in his eyes. Dammit. Taking a deep breath, Harry lowered his head again to his papers.
"The charm works perfectly. There's nothing wrong with it, so you owe me an apology."
"The charm does not work perfectly," Harry countered, "so I owe you nothing, and in fact, you can go ahead and return this week's salary." He finally glanced up. "You owe me. Tell me, Malfoy, did Robards get a peek at that message of yours in the meeting that day? You two working together to set me up?"
Malfoy's lips parted, and he stared at Harry. "No, and that doesn't even make sense. Why would I do something like that?"
Harry shrugged, but he watched Malfoy carefully for signs of deception. "Oh, I don't know. To take my job? Embarrass me in front of the division? Any number of things that would just make your fucking day?" He pushed his chair out and rose, striding around his desk and stopping in front of Malfoy. "I gave you a shot, Malfoy. I tried to help you. Now you tell me what the fuck you're planning, or–"
"Tell me what the fuck you see," shouted Malfoy. "I'm not planning anything, you fucking idiot. You know I need this job," he added, his voice shaking, "and you know I'm not going to sell magic beans to the fucking Ministry, not when they've still got my family by the balls, so for the last time, I am not fucking with this charm. It's the best bit of magic this office has ever seen, and I know it works." He pointed his finger at Harry. "Tell me how you know what I wrote to Blaise. Tell me why you're spying on me."
Harry took a step back, leaning against his desk. He regarded Malfoy carefully. After ten years of interrogating suspects, he knew a how to spot a liar. Malfoy wasn't quite meeting the requirements, though. Tilting his head to the side, he took in Malfoy's eyes, the set of his jaw, and the proud but nervous slant of his shoulders. He decided to try a different tack. "I'm not spying on you, Malfoy," he said quietly, holding his hand up when Malfoy tried to interrupt, "but I think I should be allowed access to conversations that concern me, don't you?"
"My private business hardly concerns you, Potter."
Harry took a step forward. If he could just push Malfoy far enough, throw him off his game, he was sure he'd get a straight answer out of him. "Are you sure about that?" He slid his palm up Malfoy's chest, trying to keep his own heartbeat steady. He lowered his voice and wet his lips, holding Malfoy's gaze. "Sure it doesn't concern me, when you're fucking Zabini but calling my name?"
Malfoy shook his head slowly, as if in disbelief, but never took his eyes off Harry. "What did he tell you?"
"He didn't have to tell me anything. I can see your messages, remember?"
"Malfoy!" Without thinking about it, Harry leaned forward and grasped one end of Malfoy's scarf in his fist, hauling him closer. "Enough with this. It's obviously possible, or I wouldn't know any of that, would I? You have five seconds to give me a straight answer."
"Why would I want you to know that?" snapped Malfoy. His hair was dishevelled and a light flush crept up his face. Harry couldn't have looked away if he tried. "Fine: I came down Blaise's throat last week while moaning your name. Does that get you hot? Because I'd frankly rather vomit than even think about it. And if you think that's got anything to do with Robards or your precious job, then–"
Fuck. Yeah, that got him hot. He grasped the scarf in both hands and turned them until Malfoy's back was up against the desk. "Shut the fuck up," he managed, tugging him in close until his lips were inches from Malfoy's.
"Why are you spying on me?" murmured Malfoy, but the bite had gone out of his words. They came out as a heated whisper.
Harry could feel Malfoy's heart hammering next to his, but it wasn't enough; he kept trying to pull him even closer. "Why are you telling me what you like in bed," he said roughly, "what you let other men do to you?"
Malfoy's lips parted, and he started to raise one of his hands as though to push Harry's hair out of his eyes. He dropped it again just as quickly, though. "You weren't supposed to see that." His voice was low but sincere.
"But I did," Harry whispered, his eyes glued to the curve of Malfoy's lips. "So how am I supposed to stop thinking about it?"
Malfoy's mouth curved into a faint smile. "You want to do those things?"
Harry didn't even stop to think about what he was saying. "Every one. Christ, Malfoy. Every fucking one of them." He wanted to spread Malfoy out on his desk himself. Breathing hard, he finally closed the distance between them and slowly, deliberately, took Malfoy's bottom lip between both of his.
Malfoy let out a low noise, allowing the single, tiny kiss but then pulling back. He ran his tongue over that bottom lip even as he lowered his eyes, and Harry couldn't stop gazing at him. After a long moment, Malfoy pulled his wand out.
"Hey." Harry's jaw hardened and he tried to back away.
"No, just– Hold on." Malfoy aimed across the room, concentrating.
The words blossomed before Harry's eyes just like usual.
Held up at work. We'll talk tomorrow.
Harry tilted his head to the side. "Breaking a date?"
Malfoy blinked at him. "I sent that to Blaise."
"Um, yeah, I got that. I can see what you send to Blaise, remember?"
Malfoy frowned. "Then let's see if Blaise can see this." He waved his wand again, and again the words appeared before Harry.
That was a terrible kiss, Potter. What else can you do with that mouth? The corners of Malfoy's lips quirked.
Harry grinned, leaning in to bite at Malfoy's bottom lip again. Malfoy was already busy with his wand, though.
What was the last thing I sent you?
"Sending that to Blaise?"
Malfoy nodded. A moment later, his frown deepened.
Malfoy turned to him. "You can't see Blaise's, right?"
Harry shook his head.
"He said the last message I sent him was that we'd talk tomorrow. So, he can't see what I said to you."
Malfoy rolled his eyes, but the frown of concentration quickly reappeared on his face. "Then it's not just overlapping with the last person you were messaging."
Harry considered that. "But that's part of it."
Nodding, Malfoy stepped back and ran a hand over his face. "This started after the conference with Robards and Shacklebolt?"
"I showed you that message about Robards."
"Then I went to my desk and sent one to Blaise." He glanced over. "You saw that?"
Malfoy scratched at his jaw. Leaning against his desk, Harry was surprised to find how interested he was in just watching Malfoy's mind work through the problem. He folded his arms across his chest and tried to focus on the task at hand, not the lingering tingle in his lips or the tightness in his trousers. Christ, all he wanted was to reach out and touch Malfoy again. But Malfoy was...
... already heading for the door.
Malfoy turned, his face hardening. "Are you lying to me – about any of this?"
"No." Harry shook his head. "I swear. Are you?"
"I told you I wasn't!"
"All right! Christ. Just, come back here and we'll figure it out."
That earned him a rare grin from Malfoy. He held Harry's gaze and quirked an eyebrow. "Is that what we were doing?"
Harry felt his face heat.
"Potter, this is serious." His face fell back into its usual neutral mask. "As much as I despise having to admit there might be a problem with the charm, you just showed me evidence to the contrary. I've got to figure out what it is before the Aurors keep using it."
"I– well, yeah. Okay. But–"
He disappeared out the door before Harry could say another word.
Through his perfectly serviceable Patronus, thank you very much, Harry sent a message to his teams to stop using the charm for the time being. Then he went home and fumbled around his kitchen, trying to get the beans to stay on the toast and get his mind off the lingering taste of Malfoy. That whole encounter had been a terrible idea. He washed some clothes and tried to watch a game on the telly. Absolutely terrible. Now all he was left with was an ache in his body that he couldn't shake, flashes of the curve of Malfoy's mouth invading his every thought, and an entire team of Aurors using a charm for the past fortnight that could have given all their secrets to anyone passing by.
Harry finally climbed into bed just before midnight and tried to focus on the latest novel Hermione insisted he read. There were too many characters to keep track of, though, and the hero was always off trying to save the heroine, which Harry thought a dreadful waste of his time, and not once did it mention that the hero would probably rather get off with the far too appealing son of the Moon King, or whoever the villain was supposed to be, not the –
Harry dropped the book in surprise, blinking at the air in front of him. Slowly, a grin spread across his face, but he hesitated before picking up his wand. Yeah?
What, can't sleep?
You're the one bothering me at this hour, Malfoy.
Hardly. You're lying there thinking about my sex messages. Admit it.
Harry swallowed a laugh, trying to keep his wand steady. Well. Obviously.
Malfoy took a bit longer to reply. I think I figured it out, he finally wrote.
Harry settled back against his pillows, his free hand drifting slowly down his bare stomach towards his pyjama bottoms before he could even register what he was doing. It was strange, having neither the sight of Malfoy's face or body, nor the sound of his voice, to guide his arousal. This was based only on what his bloody handwriting looked like. Still, it encompassed enough about him that Harry had to admit he was entranced. Bugger. Yeah? he wrote.
Care to tell me?
No. Not yet.
Malfoy. Harry frowned. You told me earlier that this was a serious security problem for my teams. I think you'll tell me NOW.
No, Potter, I don't think I will, and don't use my charm for shouting. Your teams are safe. You haven't had any other complaints or reports of problems from them, have you?
Harry sighed. No.
So, this is something more... contained.
Ah. Harry's fingers slid under the loose tie at his waist. Between us?
Yeah. Something like that. I'll tell you about it later.
Harry considered his response. Do you swear to me that you aren't putting my teams at risk?
Do you trust my word?
Harry thought about that. Maybe I'm mad, but yes. I do.
Thank you. Then yes, I give you my word.
Harry sighed. Fine. What now?
I... want you to tell me which one was your favourite.
Of my messages to Blaise. Tell me.
Harry's heart thudded in his chest, and he felt the sense memory of that kiss tingling against his lips again. Taking a deep breath, he concentrated on the wand movements. Favourite... sentiment, or position?
Harry grinned. Well, my favourite sentiment was that you were worried about leaving work early on your first day. Very touching, Malfoy.
Oh, shut up. There was a pause. When the words faded, a new question appeared. And position?
Harry exhaled slowly through his mouth. His fingers were already touching his prick, feather light touches over his balls and the underside of his cock as he watched Malfoy's writing appear and disappear. You first.
Oh, nice. Fine. What are my options?
Harry thought back to those first messages. His fist closed over his prick. Would you rather have a man on his back, or riding you? His rhythm immediately sped up as a surge of arousal shot through him. Christ. This was a terrible idea. He felt his heart rate increase as he waited for Malfoy's answer.
Both have their appeal, he wrote at last. Hands and knees is another marvellous option, although not Blaise's preference, so I might have kept that one to myself.
Harry groaned, the cords of his neck straining and his head leaning back into the pillow as his cock thickened.
Are you touching yourself?
Harry gasped, almost laughing. "Of course I fucking am," he muttered. Yeah, he wrote back. And it's a pain in the arse trying to decide whether to do this sodding charm left-handed, or the other.
He pictured Malfoy smiling at that, maybe reclined on his own bed with one knee bent and his free hand wrapped around his hardening dick. Don't even tell me you can do this charm left-handed, you unbelievable wanker. I haven't even officially taught you the right-handed version yet.
Right hand's been too busy to learn it.
Tell me what you're doing.
What do you think I'm doing?
Were you doing it before I told you I was doing it?
What are you, thirteen? Of course I was. Your chicken scrawl talking about riding me... Fuck.
Harry's hand tightened around his prick, wet and desperate. He was about to drop his wand and switch hands, sod the messages. The image of pushing Malfoy down on this bed and climbing over him, lowering himself onto the bastard's thick cock and letting his thighs squeeze Malfoy's hips... Fuck. Got to switch hands.
His wand clattered over the side of the bed as he licked his palm and closed his right fist around his prick, sighing with relief. He pictured Malfoy doing the same thing across town at that moment, wanking himself to images of fucking Harry senseless. Pressure flashed through his body, and his stomach muscles tightened. He shoved his pyjamas down his hips just in time for his prick to start pulsing in his fist, come filling his hand as thoughts of Malfoy slamming into him filled his mind. With a low, deep groan, he closed his eyes and let the full weight of the fantasy settle over him, aftershocks still rumbling down his thighs.
When he caught his breath, he fumbled over the side of the bed for his wand. Malfoy's message came in before Harry could send another.
We are definitely thirteen.
Harry laughed. Was it good for you?
You have a lot to live up to if you're going to compete with my imagination.
Same for you.
So... goodnight, Potter. Next time, buy me dinner first.
Wait. What the hell just happened?
I am not going to explain it to you if you're confused. I know you were raised by Muggles, but surely
Shut up, you idiot.
Sometimes, Potter, when a man is inexplicably attracted to another man, even if they have nothing in common and the second man is a complete arse, they like to think about doing things that
I said, shut up! Despite himself, Harry grinned. He settled himself back against the pillows with one arm behind his head, tracing his wand in looping patterns above him. He was feeling lazy and happy, and it seemed Malfoy was as well. He could get used to this side of Malfoy. That was a terrifying thought.
It's just a fuck, Potter. Don't get sentimental on me.
Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, Malfoy.
Harry cleaned himself up, placed his wand on the nightstand, and tried to sleep. Not an easy task, he soon found, when images of Malfoy kept crashing through his mind, come filling his fist as he moaned Harry's name.
The next morning, Harry carefully buttoned up his uniform, pausing in front of the mirror to straighten his collar, and tried to see himself as someone who could actually be with someone like Malfoy. Little moments flittered back into his mind, words and looks exchanged between them, and even a few tiny touches.
He remembered the feel of that scarf in his fist, the way the colour had blossomed on Malfoy's cheeks when he was caught sending those first messages, and Harry exhaled slowly. The feel of his hand gripping his cock the night before, his libido having decided that Malfoy's written words were basically caressing him...
Yeah. He was already too far into this to turn back now. He found himself grinning back at his reflection like an idiot.
Certainly, sir. I'll come by as soon as I get to the office. Is there a problem?
The grin fell from Harry's face, and he focused on the words in front of him.
Yes, sir, it's secure. Your office might have ears in it, you know. Best for us to talk this way.
Harry's mouth fell open. That wasn't directed at Zabini.
Thank you, Auror Robards. My father has appreciated your support over the years. Certainly, anything we can do.
Harry felt his hands ball into fists at his sides. That lying fucking bastard.
Oh, I quite agree. Potter might have been lucky a few times as a teenager, but he's not fit to run the entire division. Did you know, he's been trying to go behind your back to cancel my charm trial?
Harry's fuzzy brain slowly cleared. He stood stock still, holding his breath as he watched the air in front of him.
Indeed! Listen, call a meeting with Shacklebolt as soon as you can. On my father's honour, sir, I assure you the charm works perfectly. Between us, we can show the Minister how inept Potter has been, how he refuses to use technology to aid the safety of the Aurors.
Harry's face melted into a grin. That lying fucking bastard. He laughed out loud, straightening his collar in the mirror once more before heading into work.
When he got there, Malfoy was waiting in his office with Hermione by his side. She was giving him a coy smile, although Malfoy's face was a mask.
"Auror Potter," Malfoy said. "I trust you are well this morning?"
Harry raised his eyebrows, glancing at Hermione. "Quite, Malfoy. And you?"
He only nodded. "And I trust you have been... apprised of the current situation?"
Harry grinned. "I have indeed. Who knew how useful security leaks could be?"
That got Malfoy's mouth to curve into a whisper of a smile.
"It's a terrible charm, Harry," said Hermione, giving Malfoy an amused glance. "My department gave up on it years ago. It's no wonder Malfoy hasn't been able to perfect it."
Malfoy scowled at her but held his tongue. "Yes, well," he said at last, lifting his chin, "we have a deal, Granger, so you can take your opinions of my charm work and stuff–"
"Ah-ah," she tutted. "The terms of the agreement state that if I am to give you a job, then you are to be a nice person. Believe me, I don't expect you to last a week, but you are the best charm inventor I've interviewed in years." She turned back to Harry. "I believe the Minister is waiting. And Robards, that scheming old blowhard, can't be allowed to take your job, Harry." Under the guise of smoothing the front of her robes, she cast a glance back at Malfoy and then a questioning look at Harry.
He could only give her a tiny, apologetic shrug.
She shook her head at him but grinned.
"You're both mad," Harry said with a sigh. "Just tell me what I need to say."
Half an hour later, with Robards having given an impassioned speech to Kingsley about Harry's sabotage of crucial Auror technology programs and having looked smugly over at Malfoy for confirmation, Hermione rose and opened a folder.
"That all sounds wonderful, Auror Robards," she began, "if a lick of it were actually true. Unfortunately–" and here, Harry really had to hand it to Malfoy. As much as he must have wanted to die rather than admit this, he sat quietly until his turn to back her up. Hermione took a deep breath and shook her head sadly. "My team has independently tested it. It's just as Harry suspected: Mr Malfoy's charm is deeply flawed. It appears Auror Robards is the one putting the Aurors at risk."
Harry held in a smile at the twitch in Malfoy's jaw. With a small movement of his wand under the table, Harry glanced over at him. Thank you.
Malfoy's eyes narrowed, but Harry saw the tiny smile on his lips.
As expected, Malfoy was summarily fired from the Auror division, but Hermione whisked him away to her department right after the meeting to put him to work. At the end of the day, Harry waited in the lobby for him to come down.
"So." Harry folded his arms over his chest as Malfoy finally approached, looking a bit haggard but pleased. "I see you're going to require constant surveillance."
Malfoy smirked. "You just never know what I might get up to."
"Truer words. I think I'd rather not have you responsible for my continued employment in future, though."
"Same here, Potter."
Harry tilted his head to the side, appraising Malfoy, before pulling out his wand. Are you ready to tell me yet?
Malfoy quietly moved his wand as well. You mean you haven't figured it out?
Oh, I've figured it out. I just want to hear you say it.
If you say it, Malfoy, there's a reward in it for you.
Malfoy wet his bottom lip. I want more information about this reward.
Harry laughed, ducking his head down. Three words, he wrote, trying to keep his hand steady. Hands and knees.
With his eyes fluttering closed, Malfoy wasn't able to respond right away. "Potter," he murmured aloud, his chest heaving.
If you're teasing, I'll hex your balls rotten.
I'm not. Harry caught Malfoy's sideways gaze. Say something dirty to me.
There was something thrilling about communicating like this in almost total silence across a crowded space. Colour crept up the back of Malfoy's neck, and Harry could hardly look away from him. Merlin, Potter.
Want you to...
Want you to spread your legs for me, he wrote at last, no longer looking at Harry. Want to see your back arch as you take it. Want to fuck you and call your name.
You'd better not call anyone else's.
That earned him an unexpected laugh from Malfoy, who quickly covered it by mashing his lips together. I'll try.
"Hey, Malfoy?" Harry stepped closer. Malfoy let his wand hand drop to his side as he looked at Harry. "Tell me how we broke the charm."
"You already know."
"Malfoy." Harry shoved one hand into Malfoy's hair, cupping the back of his head, while the other held tightly to his collar.
"Not here, you idiot."
With a grunt of annoyance, Harry grabbed Malfoy's arm and Apparated them to his flat. When they landed, he barely gave Malfoy any time to recover before pressing him against the bedroom wall and kissing him breathless. "Tell me it's based on some sort of attraction between the parties involved," Harry murmured against his lips.
"Now you're just making up mad stories," Malfoy breathed, but his lips quirked.
"None of the other teams had problems because, thankfully, none of them want to fuck each other. Am I right?"
Malfoy pressed up against him, his hips meeting Harry's and his hands framing Harry's jaw. His only response to Harry's words was to groan against Harry's mouth and pull him in hard, devouring him. Harry twisted his fingers in the back of Malfoy's hair and bit at his lips, his body alive with sensations he'd never felt before as Malfoy deepened the kiss.
"Wait." Harry tried to think through the haze of Malfoy's mouth on his neck. "Zabini?"
Malfoy tugged Harry's earlobe between his teeth. "Finished."
"That was fast."
Malfoy sighed, looking annoyed. "It was never serious, but he broke it off with me weeks ago, all right? Not really the jealous sort, but even he got suspicious when I wouldn't agree to share you."
"Also, you said my name."
"Yes, Potter." Malfoy bit at his jaw, amusement in his voice. "We've been through this."
Harry paused again, even as Malfoy's mouth slid down to his collar and Malfoy's fingers set to work on the buttons of his uniform jacket. He let out a low moan, closing his eyes. "Is Zabini going to want me dead?"
Malfoy waved the hand that wasn't already reaching for Harry's belt. "He's getting on famously with Pansy and her new boyfriend, last I checked. Doesn't exactly need our sympathy."
"Oh," said Harry as Malfoy lowered his zip. "Oh. Okay."
Now stop talking and get on the bed.
"Oh, Christ." Harry had his uniform and his shirt off in seconds, batting Malfoy away to finish his trousers.
"You like that, do you, Potter?" Malfoy slid his hands up Harry's back, his voice close to Harry's ear. "It wasn't just what I said to Blaise, was it? It was how I said it."
Harry grabbed his wand. It was far easier to do this kind of thing in written words than to say them, as much as he liked hearing Malfoy's voice. Obviously, he wrote, but Malfoy wasn't going for nonchalance, it seemed.
On your hands and knees, Potter. The words flickered in front of him even while Malfoy's fingers skimmed over his biceps and shoulder blades.
"God," he muttered, but he didn't waste another second climbing onto the bed, fully naked now, and kneeling. He closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing at the sounds of Malfoy throwing his own clothes to the floor. When the bed dipped a moment later, Harry found himself leaning back against Malfoy's chest before he could even register what he was doing. He saw the flash of Malfoy's faded Dark Mark on his arm as he smoothed his hands over Harry's skin, and he shivered.
When he reached out to touch it, tentatively, Malfoy watched him but said nothing.
Harry only shook his head, turning to capture Malfoy's mouth again.
Malfoy bit at his shoulder as his fingers moved down Harry's back and arse, sliding between his thighs. He'd barely even touched Harry's prick, but Malfoy clearly wasn't wasting time. With a whispered word, his slick fingers played at Harry's rim before sliding inside, slow and steady.
Have you been thinking about this?
Harry moaned as Malfoy penetrated him, two fingers at least sliding hot and deep inside him without much preparation. It was several seconds before he noticed Malfoy's wand sitting on the bedside table. He turned to give Malfoy a look over his shoulder.
"What?" Malfoy leaned forward, the tip of his nose a breath from Harry's cheek. "You think your left-handed trick is just so special, do you?"
Harry grinned as Malfoy kissed him, letting their tongues tangle slowly, thick and wet and just a little bit dirty. Malfoy slid his fingers out and back in again, and Harry dropped down to his hands and knees. He couldn't have focused his wand anymore if he tried.
I asked if you've been thinking about this, how it would feel to have me fucking you?
"Yes, God. Of course I've been fucking thinking about it."
Malfoy's lips moved up his back as he withdrew his fingers. Harry felt the weight of Malfoy's prick against his wet hole, nudging him without yet pushing.
He waited, his body tingling.
Finally, Malfoy began to push forward.
Going to make you come so hard.
The words flashed across Harry's vision at the same moment Malfoy slid inside him, big and deep and slow, so slow. He didn't stop, just keeping up one continual slide, every inch knocking the breath from Harry's lungs. When Harry finally felt Malfoy's heavy balls nudge against his own and the hair of Malfoy's lower abdomen scratching his arse, he exhaled, turning back to look at him.
Malfoy's face was drawn in concentration, his hair a mess and his face flushed. His stomach muscles were already clenched, as if he was holding everything back, and his gaze was riveted to where his cock was piercing Harry's body.
"Fuck, Malfoy," Harry managed, dropping down to his elbows. Malfoy withdrew, still far too slowly for Harry's liking, but feeling every inch slide back out was something he'd never paid attention to before, and Christ, it made every nerve ending in his body catch fire.
You feel fucking amazing, Potter.
Harry almost choked out a groan. "Tell me," he whispered. "I want to hear you."
But Malfoy wouldn't do it, not yet. This is how I'll tell you, he wrote, the words melting into the pillow. This is the only way you're going to hear about how tight you are, how hot and wet.
With that, Malfoy withdrew almost to the tip, and then surged forward much more roughly than before. Harry slammed forward, bracing himself with one palm to the headboard while his biceps flexed and he held onto the sheets for leverage.
Wider. Spread your legs.
Harry's head dropped between his shoulder blades as he worked his knees further apart, groaning with each of Malfoy's deep thrusts. He arched his back and pushed back to meet Malfoy, his thighs and arm muscles working together to withstand every push into his body. Each one caused sparks to fly up his spine. "Harder," he growled, turning around again to look over his shoulder.
God, next time they were going to have to do this face to face, one of them on their back or being ridden, just like they'd talked about before. Harry could hardly stand not being able to see the way Malfoy's lips parted and his chest heaved as he fucked Harry senseless.
One of Malfoy's hands slid from Harry's hip around to his prick, and Harry hissed out a noise of pleasure.
Harry. Come for me.
Harry almost stopped breathing. "Say it," he managed, his body drawing tight.
Malfoy's hand moved faster, squeezing Harry's prick even while his own thickened inside Harry's arse. Concentrating as much as he could, Harry bypassed his wand.
Say it, you bastard. Say my name and tell me to come.
"Fuck, how did you do that?" Malfoy gave a low groan. "Harry. Come for me. Come on, all over me while I'm fucking you."
Jesus, that did it. Malfoy's voice, not just the script, and the feel of his body so hot and damp and pressed up against Harry's, it all exploded in a rush, and Harry felt himself coating Malfoy's hand. The heat racing down his spine shook his entire body until he was boneless. Malfoy flattened his stained hand over Harry's abdomen and hauled him back on his cock, driving in even deeper than before. With a shout, Malfoy jutted his hips in tight little thrusts as he began to come, heat filling Harry's arse. Malfoy finally slammed forward and stilled. The pulses wracked Harry's body, and he felt a new tingle of energy as Malfoy came inside him.
They were both panting, sweaty and sated and tangled together in a sticky heap, and Harry could barely remember ever feeling so good. They neither wrote nor said anything for a long moment.
"Hey, Malfoy?" Harry said at last, rolling onto his back and pushing his hair out of his face. One hand rested lightly over his chest, and he tucked the other behind his head.
"Mmmf?" Malfoy was sprawled on his stomach beside him, his face buried in a pillow.
"I'm glad you're so crap at charms."
That earned him a raised head and a death glare. "Hey, Potter?" Like they were kids again, Malfoy mocked Harry's amused tone of voice as he spat the words back at him.
Harry only arched a brow. "Yes?"
"Before you get feeling so good about the probable cause of the charm's malfunction–" at that, Malfoy paused to wet his lips, letting his gaze trail down Harry's body and back up, and Harry started to harden again just from the intensity in his eyes. "–you might want to keep an eye on Chang and Weasley, hm?"
Harry winced, running his hand over his face. "Agh. Touché." He paused, turning his head on the pillow to look at Malfoy again, rumpled and lazy beside him. "Hey, Malfoy?"
Malfoy turned over, rolling his eyes. "Yes, Potter?"
Harry sat up, moving to his knees and then throwing one thigh over Malfoy's to straddle him. He gazed down at him, concentrating on the words.
This time, I want you on your back.
With a low groan, Malfoy reached up and curled his hand around the back of Harry's neck, hauling him down on top of him.