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Sorting Out Their Priorities

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Draco stepped out of the Floo at Draper's Hall and into the elegant outer area of the ballroom. Large chandeliers twinkled above, creating tiny prisms of light against the white walls. Had he not been late, Draco would have spent a few moments admiring the room. But he was late and knowing his date he was probably in trouble.

He crossed the room quickly and opened the door to the grand ballroom. After the silence of his mission and his Floo journey, the cacophony of noise hit him like a bludger to the head. Draco took a moment to steady himself, then entered the room, the heavy door closing at his back.

He paused to scan the room. It looked like every single employee from the Ministry had decided to attend this year's gala and aside from the dozens of couples dancing there were people crowded into almost every corner of the room. Draco snatched a flute of champagne from a toga-wearing elf as it passed, taking a sip as he entered the throng.

The minister was standing surrounded by the usual staff and hangers on, his purple and gold silk robes shimmering in the candlelight from the crystal chandeliers Draco nodded as he passed and went to his left, turning sideways and apologizing briefly as he moved through the crowd. Looking into a far corner, he scanned the people standing along a long bar, stopping in his tracks. Leaning casually on the gleaming black surface was Harry Potter. Long gone was the gangly, awkward teen Draco'd known in his youth. Potter had grown several inches and gained the body of a senior Auror. Draco appreciated a man in well-tailored robes as much as the next bloke but Potter, in his formal Auror uniform, was incredible.

The day to day Auror uniforms were red, of heavy wool and Draco thought they were singularly ugly. Unfitted, lumpy short jackets over black shirts and trousers, Potter's were always ratty and torn, singe marks marring the faded red. His rank was reflected by black chevrons on his sleeve, but that was the only indication he was deputy chief Auror. Draco complained about it with enough frequency that Potter accused him of Obliviating Smithers, head of the Department of Mysteries, influencing him so that his own work robes were almost the exact gray of his eyes. Tailored and fitted to his tall frame, he thought they were very attractive, even with his exacting standards. He hadn't Obliviated Smithers, but if his day to day uniform had been as ugly as Potter's, he might've.

But Potter's dress uniform; well, it seemed tailored to show off all of his best attributes. Loosely designed after the Queen's guards from an earlier time, the short, fitted cardinal jacket nipped in at his slender waist and accentuated his broad shoulders without any unnecessary padding. Black cuffs and epaulets with white braid trim stood out against the red, more braid and brass buttons down the front. There were three embroidered gold stars on the high collar, which was a much more appropriate display of his rank as far as Draco was concerned. But Draco's favorite part of the uniform was the perfectly fitted black trousers with the red stripe down the outside of each leg. They had a sharp, knife edge crease (thanks to superior tailoring spells) and were snug enough to show off strong thigh muscles and the healthy bulge between his legs. But Draco's favorite part was the way the wool seemed to caress the curve of a truly world class arse. The way he was standing, with one leg on the railing as he leaned on the bar, made that particular asset even more obvious.

"Hello, Draco," a voice said behind him. Draco turned to find Hermione Weasley smiling up at him.

Draco leaned over and bussed her cheek with a fond smile. "Hermione," he said affectionately, "aren't you stunning this evening. If you were my type, Weasley would have cause to be concerned."

Hermione laughed. "As if you have eyes for anyone else in this room." She looked towards the bar, a twinkle in her eye. "But you might want to stop flirting with me and go claim your date. Unless you two are still pretending you're not arse over teacart for each other."

Turning back towards the bar, Draco's eyes narrowed as he saw some foreign dignitary, Spanish if the robes were any indication, touching Potter. And not just in a I'm so pleased to meet you way, but in a I'd like to rip your robes off and have you for dinner way.

"Excuse me, Hermione," Draco said tersely. "I need to go eviscerate that cretin with a rusty spoon."

"Please don't," she said, clearly still amused but hanging onto his sleeve for a moment. "That's the representative to the International Gaming Commission from Madrid, and even though he's a terrible bore, I don't want to have to explain to Harry why I'm charging you with homicide."

Draco gave her a tight smile. "I'll hide the body. No one will suspect a thing."

She released him. "Have at it, then. Just so long as I don't have to become involved."

He had the feeling she was laughing at him as he walked away, but he was fuming as he circled around the dance floor. The representative from Madrid, was he? If he smiled up at Potter with that 'can I drop to my knees and suck you off right here' look one more time, Draco was going to pull his wand and send him a Bat Bogey hex that would make Ginevra's look like a Tickle charm.

As Draco pushed his way through the crowd, and got closer to the bar, he could hear a deep, accented voice saying, "But Señor Potter, did you never consider professional Quidditch? I understand you are a brilliant flyer."

Draco saw a slight flush spread over Harry's cheeks. Draco's irritation grew as the Spanish delegate rubbed his finger over the back of Harry's hand.

"Perhaps you could spare some time to give me… a private lesson?"

Draco drank the rest of his champagne, then placed his glass on the bar behind Harry with a bit more force than was necessary as he arrived at his side. Harry turned and looked at him with a delighted smile, and some of Draco's irritation faded. No one would look at his lover with such open delight, not if he was welcoming someone else's advances. Or even aware of them, Draco thought with a wry smirk. Oh, Potter…

"Esteban," Potter said, gesturing to Draco. "This is my, uhm…allow me to introduce Draco Malfoy. Draco, this is Esteban Gonsalves, representative to the International Gaming Commission from Spain."

The man gave Draco an irritated look. Clearly, he didn't want anyone else cutting in on his action. Draco felt a moment of vengeful satisfaction when he pressed himself against Harry's side, reaching out at the same time to with his hand. He felt Harry stiffen in surprise.

It had been his idea to keep their relationship under wraps around their Ministry co-workers. Harry might be on the verge of being Chief Auror, everyone thought so, but Draco had to work hard for his position as an Oblivator within the Department of Mysteries. He didn't want to find himself either promoted or held back because he was sleeping with their 'golden boy'. Suddenly in that moment, his earlier concerns flew right out the window and it became far more important that he mark his territory.

" Señor Gonsalves," Draco said smoothly. "It's a pleasure."

" Señor Malfoy," Gonsalves said, bowing stiffly over Draco's hand. "The pleasure is all mine."

Draco's smile widened to include teeth. "Somehow I doubt that." He slipped his arm around Harry's shoulders. "Harry, love, may I borrow you for a moment? I'm sure Señor Gonsalves can spare you. After all," Draco ran his finger over one of the lengths of braid on Harry's chest, "I haven't seen you since yesterday morning." Draco cut his eyes to Gonsalves. "He didn't get home last night until after I'd fallen asleep. I'm sure you understand."

Gonsalves already strained smile grew even tighter. "But of course."

"Thank you."

Draco grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him away from the bar.

"Draco, what the hell -- ?"

"Nothing from you, 'Mr. Allow me to introduce you to a sexy Spaniard who clearly wants in my pants'."

"He did not … "

"Oh, Merlin, Potter. Sometimes you are so bloody clueless." Draco pulled Harry through the crowd, looking for the men's. His first priority had been to get his date away from his admirer, but once he'd seen how clearly chuffed Harry was by his arrival, even with an admittedly handsome man giving him his undivided attention, he wanted to get him alone even more. He knew they were attracting attention but he just couldn't, in that moment, be bothered to care. He was about to break down and ask someone when he spied something even better; the hat and coat check.

There was an attractive young woman standing behind a counter across an open door, leaning on it, chewing on a wad of gum. Behind her hung racks thick with coats. It was late enough into the evening that most of the checking of outer wear had been accomplished and no one was leaving yet. Draco pulled his wand from his sleeve and whispered a spell, and the girl straightened a vaguely uncomfortable look on her face. She lifted the counter up and ducked beneath it, disappearing down the hallway.

"What in hades did you do?" Harry said in a furious whisper as Draco pulled him through the now abandoned coat check door. "Did it escape your notice that I'm an Auror? Having to arrest my date might put a damper on my evening."

"Oh, don't be hysterical," Draco said, continuing to the back of the room and pulling Harry between two coat racks. Once they were blocked from view, he turned back to him. "I simply reminded her she needed to use the loo."

"Draco," Harry began.

"Oh, hush." He put his hand in the middle of Harry's chest. "It was either send her to the loo, or drag you into the men's. And frankly, I'm not much interested in kneeling on the floor of the men's in these robes."

"What – " It took a moment, but Draco could see when Harry's brain caught up with his mouth. Draco looked into his wide green eyes and gave him a slow smile.

"There's a good boy." He leaned in and gave Harry a slow, melting kiss. "Realized what I said, did you?" He slipped his hand from Harry's chest down over his hard stomach, then further to cup him in his palm. He was soft, but Draco knew he wouldn't stay that way long. Harry was nothing if not reliable.

"Merlin," he gasped, and Draco leaned back in, pressing his mouth against Harry's neck. He flicked his tongue out, then caught a pinch of skin between his teeth. "Draco, Christ."

"Just Draco will do nicely," he murmured, his palm circling on Harry's prick. As expected, he felt him filling behind his flies. Harry caught Draco's wrist but instead of pulling his hand away, he pressed his hips forward.

"Gods, it feels like forever since you've had your hands on me," he groaned. Draco rolled his eyes, nipping Harry's neck.

"It's been three days," he muttered against his skin. "You drama queen." Draco squeezed and Harry gasped.

"Draco." Harry leaned back into the thick coats and wraps, spreading his legs and using his hand on Draco's wrist, directing his touch further back. Draco smiled into the curve of his throat.

"Balls aching, Potter?"

"Don't be a tease."

"Oh, trust me," Draco sucked hard on Harry's skin before taking another quick nip, "I'm not teasing."

Draco slid gracefully to his knees, reaching for the fastener on Harry's slacks. He opened them easily, lowering the zip. Leaving them to sag around his narrow hips, he lowered the waistband of the black briefs, freeing his cock which was now half hard and flushing red at the tip. Draco stroked him a few times from base to tip, then leaned forward and took him into his mouth.

Draco had hardly been a virgin when they'd gotten together. He'd been twenty four years old, after all. And he'd had a cock or two in his throat before then. Potter's was neither the thickest nor the longest he'd ever sucked. It was, however, the only cock he ever wanted to suck again. There was something about the scent of Potter, a hint of body wash clinging to his pubic hair that made Draco almost instantly hard. He took such pleasure relaxing his throat and burying his nose in the springy black curls. His taste was slightly salty but clean and the feel of him growing even harder between his lips always made Draco's toes curl with pleasure. He yanked his own robes up as he worked him with his mouth, swallowing around the tip, pulling his own prick out and working it roughly with his hand.

"Merlin, Draco." Harry's hand moved over his head. Draco pulled off for a moment.

"Hair, Potter," he snapped.

"Gods, you insufferable poof," Harry laughed. "Can I touch you at all?"

"When we get home you can fuck me rotten. Now shut up. We don't have all night before the attendant gets back. Concentrate, if you would." With that, he took Harry back in, from his mouth to his throat in a smooth glide. He felt Harry's thighs tighten and reached between them to curl his fingers around his balls, squeezing them gently. Harry gasped, and moments later he was coming down Draco's throat, his legs shaking. Draco startled himself by being right behind him, spilling onto the ugly carpeting under his knees. He'd stiffened as he came, and when he was done he sagged, his face pressed into Harry's thigh.

"Come here."

Harry reached down and caught Draco under his arms, lifting him until they were face to face. He gave Draco a slow, sexy smile, encircling him with his arm and pulling him in, kissing him slowly, his tongue moving through Draco's mouth. Finally Draco pulled back, resting his forehead against Harry's chin.

"You sick bastard," he muttered, his voice trembling. "You like your taste almost as much as I do."

"If only one of you liked the idea of a Silencing Spell as much as the rest of us would."

They both stiffened. It was Hermione's tart voice, and their widened eyes met and held.

Harry was the one who broke first, chewing his lower lip. "So much for keeping things under wraps."

"Yeah, that's out the bloody fucking window." That was Ron, his tone wry. "I'm going to need brain bleach before I can look at either of you, ever again. Go home before someone else figures you out, will you please?"

"Uhm, can I get your coat, sir?"

The attendant was apparently back, sounding confused as to why she was outside the counter. They heard it lift, and Harry pulled his wand.

"Hold onto your prick," he whispered with a jaunty grin. Draco curled his fingers around Harry's softening cock.

"I'd rather hold yours." He gestured toward the wet spot on the floor. "Clean that up and get us out of here, would you please?"

"Absolutely." Harry muttered a Cleaning Spell before pressing his lips to Draco's throat. "Home?"


The last thing they heard was Ron's dark mutter.

"They'd better not have got anything on my coat."