Original Sinn
Chapter One - Pride
Harry/Draco | R/NC-17 | 7,184 words | 05 October, 2006
Beta: Michelle
Summary: Harry and Draco get thrown together as partners on a stake-out case, and have to learn to live with each other pretty quickly.
Notes: Written for the Two Broomsticks Fic-A-Ton Challenge, Fall 2006. Unfortunately, a Work in Progress. (One more chapter!)
Bold italic text in quotes is Draco speaking through the comm spell, or noise from his end. Italic text in quotes is Harry. :)
Prompt:
HP/DM. "Everything is working out according to the plan and that IS the effing problem!!" Post-war. Harry and Draco are Aurors/cops and have to work on a mission together. Part of said mission consists in catching some bad guy to get something from him. In order to do so, it is decided that Harry would seduce him and gain his trust. The guy starts falling for Harry, but he's not the only one... Draco does too. How will he deal with the newfound attraction?
***
“You’re joking, right, McGuire?”
“I’m afraid not, Harry. I do wish it could be another
way, but he’s the only one available. Besides, his…preferences
might come in handy,” Harry’s superior in the Auror offices,
Patterson McGuire, informed him, giving Harry a sympathetic but stern
look.
Harry closed his eyes as if in pain, his brow furrowing. “But
Patt, please, you know how well we don’t get
on. We never have. This assignment’s going to be a disaster
if you put the two of us together for however long it’ll take
to get this artefact back.”
Patterson, who was nary five years Harry’s senior cast a fatherly
look at his most accomplished Auror. He’d been working with
Harry for almost four years now, and while Harry was certainly not
a teenager anymore, and he was more than capable in the field, Patterson
still felt as if he had to conduct parts of his office as if he were
watching a playpen full of five-year olds.
“Harry, don’t you think it’s time to move past
your history with him?”
Harry sighed heavily, and tilted his head back in the armchair he
was sitting in. “Well, yes, I do. But it’s not anything
specific, Patt. Really. We just rub each other the wrong way. I accept
him now; as one of us. I get it, and I believe him. After sixth year…” Harry
waved a hand in a lazy, all-encompassing motion, “I’ve
seen him differently. But still…that doesn’t change
the fact that’s he’s an overbearing, pompous, self-absorbed,
poncy git.”
“How am I pompous and self-absorbed, Potter? I’m
not the one that struts around this office, claiming even more spectacular
feats everyday. I just do my job; you get favours.”
Harry stood and spun around quickly. “Do I need to remind
you of how many times I’ve nearly died, Malfoy? And
I noticed that you didn’t refute the allegations that you’re
overbearing and poncy,” he added with a curling of his lip.
Draco Malfoy stood in Patterson’s doorway and sneered. He
opened his mouth to reply but Patterson cut him off.
“Gentlemen, stop. Sit down. I still need to give you both
the particulars.”
With hard glares at each other, Draco moved forward and took the
second armchair, while Harry resumed his seat, crossing his arms
quite petulantly.
Patterson huffed and shut his door firmly with a swish of his wand. “You
two are like bloody children.”
Harry’s glare softened slightly, and he relaxed into a professional
demeanour, sitting up straighter to better pay attention to McGuire.
Malfoy’s slouch also straightened, and both men listened intently
as their boss laid out their newest assignment.
“Okay guys, here’s the deal. Someone, most definitely
from the inside, has stolen a very sensitive artefact from
the Department of Mysteries. Unfortunately, we don’t know who.
However, we know that a Muggle by the name of Sameson James
has been fencing the artefact; but has been unable to fetch a price
for it. We don’t know how this artefact got into his possession,
nor do we know if he knows what it truly does. I need you two to
interrogate this guy without suspicion. And we need to know who gave
it to him; we most likely have a mole, and rather than start interrogating
the whole department, we’d rather lay low and see if we can’t
catch this guy before he takes off and goes into hiding and we can’t
track him. Catch him off-guard in other words.”
“What’s the artefact?” Malfoy asked. “I’m
assuming we need to get the artefact back if it’s this sensitive
an object.”
McGuire nodded his assent. “Yes, you need to get the artefact
back as well. To avoid alerting the perpetrator, I have no documentation
on the object. But the verbal description is this: a small spherical
object made of mixed metals and gems. Changes colour constantly.”
“That’s it?” Harry asked. “That’s
all we have to go on?”
“Yes. But you guys will know it when you see it. It apparently
has more magical energy than most wizards.” Patterson leaned
forward. “I can’t stress how important and sensitive
this object is. You must get it back.”
“What does it do?”
Patterson seemed to measure his words before replying: “With
the right commands, it steals the Earth’s natural magic and
makes a Muggle a magical being.”
There was a heavy silence for a moment, until Malfoy blurted out, “It
turns Muggles into Wizards?”
“That is correct. And vice versa if a Wizard has a nasty vendetta
against you.”
“Jesus…” Harry breathed.
“Your Muggle God won’t save you on this one, Potter.”
“I’m not religious, Malfoy. It’s a fucking expression.”
“Whatever.”
“You mentioned Malfoy’s…preferences, Patterson,” Harry
said with a dubious glare in the blonde’s direction.
“Do you have a problem with my ‘preferences’,
Potter?” Malfoy asked with a sneer.
“No,” he replied. “I’m just wondering
what it has to do with this particular case.”
“The Muggle, James, was seen walking into a gay bar by the
same person he tried to fence the artefact to.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Was this person Mundungus Fletcher?”
Patterson smirked. “Indeed. Thankfully, Mundungus knew we
were looking to find out who gave it to him, and rather than buy
it, he followed him. He actually approached James about any goods
he had, just to make sure he still had it. Anyhow, Mr. Malfoy’s
take on things might come in useful. There might be an in there.”
“We’ll see,” Harry muttered, which earned him
a glare.
“I don’t want to be in the situation any more than you,
Potter, so shove it.”
“Stop being such a pansy.”
“Boys!” Patterson barked. When both men sat back and
weren’t glaring at one another, Patterson continued. “I
expect you both to work together on this one, regardless
of your animosities. I mean it. You two are in the top five, and
I can’t have this assignment botched, do you understand?” He
waited until they both nodded their understanding. “The balance
of the Earth’s magic rests on this. You’ll find folders
with the details of his whereabouts on your desks. You are dismissed.
Good day.”
“Good day, Patt,” said Harry.
“Goodbye, sir,” Malfoy murmured.
Both men left the office, shutting the door behind them.
“I hate you, Potter.”
“Likewise, Malfoy.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Early,” Malfoy
said as he walked towards his desk.
Harry rolled his eyes. “At your command, Master Malfoy.” And
then he worked his way to his own desk on the other side of the office.
***
Today was not a good day for Harry Potter.
In fact, he was pretty sure that because he was Harry Potter,
he was meant to have a bad day. Perhaps if he had been someone else,
he could have had a normal day. Even a good one.
But fate had landed him here, stuck in a Muggle hotel room with
Draco Malfoy, the person most likely to annoy him for all eternity.
“Potter, this is my bed, you got it? I don’t want you
touching my things.”
“Jesus Christ, Malfoy. Get a grip. I don’t want to
touch your things.”
“And I get the first shower. Every morning.”
“Whatever.”
“You don’t snore, do you?” Malfoy eyed Harry suspiciously,
as if he’d fall into a snoring comatose any second.
“No. Do you?”
Malfoy scoffed. “Of course not. I am quite a bit more dignified
than you. Malfoys don’t snore.”
“I doubt that.”
“Shut up, Potter.”
“I will if you will, Malfoy.”
“I told you to first.”
Oh, this was going to be a long couple of weeks.
***
“There’s our guy.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do, Potter, stop arguing with me.”
Harry sighed, and gazed back through his omnioculars to Sameson
James, a man not much older than he, dressed in a thick black jacket
and dark blue jeans. He had dark hair that was falling in his eyes
but cropped close in the back, and a nose that was almost as sharp
and pointy as Malfoy’s, with a chin to match. In fact, if it
wasn’t for the fact that the man’s eyes were practically
black, Harry would have thought he was staring at an older Malfoy,
with dyed hair.
“He looks like you,” Harry muttered unconsciously.
“What?” Malfoy snapped. “Are you comparing me
to a Muggle, Potter?”
Harry shrugged. “Not really. You just have the same kind
of poke-your-eyes-out kind of face.”
“Fuck you, Potter,” Malfoy spat, standing from his crouch
on the roof next to Harry and walking back to the propped open roof
access door, only to let it fall completely shut behind him.
Harry sighed again, and turned back to watching their man. He was
talking on a mobile, standing in front of a flower shop on the corner,
and generally glaring at everything around him. He didn’t seem
to be carrying anything spherical, Harry thought, but then again,
Harry still didn’t know how big this thing was. “Small” could
mean that it was the size of a pin-head or it could mean it wasn’t
so big you couldn’t pick it up. Harry watched as Sameson pulled
a pack of fags out of his inside jacket pocket and lit one, pulling
in a long drag before barking something to whoever he was talking
to and snapping his mobile closed.
He seemed like a lovely chap.
Harry put his omnioculars away and left the roof, smirking at Malfoy’s
obvious but sorry attempt to keep him up on the roof. It probably
had more to do with the symbolism of locking him up there rather
than actually doing it, Harry mused as he charmed the door unlocked
and went down the stairs in search for his…ugh, partner.
***
“I think we should go.”
“We? Why we?”
“Well, why are there two of us at all, Potter? Because I certainly
have no problems with trying to navigate the Muggle Gay Scene. But
poor, innocent, straight you…yes, you might
be gobbled up by some bear with a bondage fetish. That’s what
you’re afraid of, isn’t it?”
“It is not!” Harry exclaimed quickly.
“Ah…so quick to answer…. I’d rather like
to think you are.”
“Oh, shove off, Malfoy.”
Malfoy sat down on his own bed, across from Harry. They had been
staking out their man for two days, and had used some Extendable
Ears to find out that he was going to a club called “Original
Sinn” that evening, and Malfoy was now trying to talk Harry
into going.
“Look, Potter. The reason there’s two of us is in case
something goes wrong. We don’t know what this guy might be
capable of, and I’d prefer some back-up in case he thinks he
can just pick me up and walk all over me.”
“Wow, Malfoy, asking for help? For Merlin sakes, you’re
a wizard; you can defend yourself.”
“Not from bullets, Potter.”
That made Harry pause for a moment. “Okay. Fine. But I’m
not dressing up all…” He made a vague gesture which
Malfoy took to mean “flamboyant”.
“Fine then. You can come as my straight friend who has nothing
better to do on a Friday night but hang out with the gay boys at
the gay clubs. Or, you can be the awkward twink in the corner who’s
just come out.” Harry watched as Malfoy stood and moved towards
his chest of drawers and started pulling out garments and inspecting
them.
“Being your ‘friend’ will have to suffice, I
guess.”
“Hm.”
“Hey Malfoy?” Harry asked as the blond moved to the
bathroom.
“What?”
“How is it you know so much about Muggle gay culture? I thought
you hated Muggles.”
“I do, Potter. But if I want a nameless and easy fuck, it’s
better to find a Muggle. They’re gullible and stupid. Not to
mention that there really isn’t a gay scene in the Wizarding
World at all.”
“Oh.” Pause. “Hey Malfoy?”
“What is it, Potter?”
“If you hate Muggles, why do you have sex with them?”
There was a long suffering sigh. “Because, Potter, they’re
easy, and not all of them are horrible looking or bad in bed.”
“Are there any wizards you haven’t slept with yet?”
Malfoy poked his head out of the door. “Potter, are you dim,
stupid, or just so full of yourself you can’t see what’s
around you?”
“Er…”
“There isn’t a gay Wizarding scene. Being gay
isn’t accepted there. And thank Merlin my father and mother
are dead, because he’d have killed me, and her broken heart
would have killed her. Now, are you finished with your asinine questions,
so I can get ready?”
“Er, yeah. Go ahead.”
Harry sat there and mused on the information that Malfoy had given
him. It seemed rather odd that Malfoy would talk about his parents
at all; especially to Harry, but now Harry knew why Malfoy seemed
to know so much about the gay Muggle scene.
What seemed like hours later, Malfoy finally came out of the bathroom,
a creamy hotel towel around his waist and another wrapped around
his head. Harry cocked an eyebrow at him, thinking that the blond
hadn’t much more hair than him, and that he hardly needed to
put his hair up like a girl.
“Your turn, Potter. Don’t take too long. I still need
to do my hair and set up our comm spell.”
“Comm spell?”
“Yeah. The spell I created that allows us to communicate without
the use of those Muggle contraptions that go in our ears.”
“You mean, the standard comm spell? You created that?”
“Yes, of course. Now stop wasting time. Go clean yourself.”
Harry huffed. “It’s not like I’m dirty.”
“You might as well be. I’m going through your stuff
to find you something to wear,” Malfoy called as Harry shut
the door. The brunet opened the door back up and asked flatly,
“What.”
“I’m going to try and find something suitable
for you to wear tonight,” Malfoy said with a tone that said
that it most likely that Harry would have to go naked, for nothing
the man would own would ever be up to Malfoy’s standards.
Harry’s eyes flicked down to the silvery scar marring Malfoy’s
chest. “Fine,” he bit out. “Just…don’t
throw anything away.”
“I’ll try my hardest not to touch your undies, Potter,
don’t worry.”
With one final glare, Harry went back into the bathroom and emerged
fifteen minutes later to a disaster area of clothes.
“Malfoy, what-”
“Don’t move, Potter! You’re about to upset my
sorting!”
“Your—what?”
“My sorted piles. You’re practically standing on ‘Completely
and Utterly Disgusting’.”
“And that pile over there?” Harry asked, pointing to
a heap on his bed with the hand that wasn’t holding up his
dirty clothes along with the towel around his waist.
“Not Suitable Even for Disposal.”
“Jesus, Malfoy. You are a Complete and Utter Prat.”
“Ha, Potter.” Malfoy, who was still dressed in only
a towel, gestured to the piles around the room. “I think I
may need to pick something and modify it. Easier than conjuring at
any rate.” He picked at a grey t-shirt of Harry’s. “I
think…something with a collar…and a bit shinier…” As
he said the words, he waved his wand over the garment and the shirt
gained a collar and a silver sheen. “Oh, and I can’t
forget the buttons.” And shiny buttons appeared along the front
and it split down the middle.
“Here,” Malfoy said, thrusting the now improved shirt
in Harry’s direction, “put this on. Wear that black t-shirt
under it, with those black jeans I put on your pillow, and…this
belt.” Malfoy tossed a black belt with a silver Union Jack
buckle at Harry, who caught it, but wound up dropping the clothes
he was trying to keep a hold of. “Be careful with that belt,
Potter. It’s mine, and I am only letting you borrow it because
your wardrobe is ridiculously pathetic.”
“Yes, Malfoy,” Harry replied with a condescending tone.
Malfoy grabbed a few garments of his own and disappeared into the
bathroom, emerging fifteen minutes later with his hair dried, and
wearing what could only be described in Harry’s mind as “whoa”.
Malfoy had on black jeans, similar to Harry’s own – a
little baggy but straight legged – and a tight, sleeveless
black shirt, that shimmered blue when he turned in the light. His
hair was loose in his eyes, and swung above his ears, accenting his
grey eyes and his sharp eyebrows. He had on no belt, and it was easy
to see that he had on no underwear either.
“Whoa, Malfoy,” Harry said, reflecting his thoughts. “I
don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything but baggy
robes…”
“Yes, Potter, I’m hot. I know this. Stop ogling me.”
Harry frowned. “Just trying to pay a compliment…”
Malfoy remained silent.
“Malfoy, are you ready to go?”
Malfoy turned and glared, then pointed his wand at Harry’s
head and whispered the spell to activate the two-way comm, before
connecting the spell back to himself.
“You’ve seen me in Muggles clothes before, Potter,” Malfoy
said as he grabbed a leather jacket and made for the door.
“Well, yeah, but only these past few days. And you’ve
been wearing slacks and dress shirts. Hardly close to what you’re
wearing now.”
“I expect to turn some heads tonight, Potter. Let’s
go.”
Harry grabbed his own jacket, and they left their hotel room and
caught a cab to the club.
When they got there, there was an obvious line to get in. The neon
blue sign stating “Original Sinn” was shining dull light
over everyone, turning their skin an icy shade. Malfoy got out the
cab, waited for Harry to pay the fare, then marched right past the
line and to the large black bouncer at the front.
“Evening,” he said, with all the air of someone who
was used to getting what he wanted. Which, he probably was.
The bouncer looked at him and said in a deep baritone, “Can
I help you?”
“Yes,” Malfoy said, and he shifted his arm. “We’d
like to be let in. Now.”
The large man looked as though he was about to protest, but then
he blinked and said, “Yes, sirs. Please, go ahead.”
Malfoy smiled charmingly, and Harry followed behind, looking shocked.
“You used Imperius on him!” Harry whispered hotly
as they shoved their way inside amongst angry shouts from the line
behind them.
“Anything to get the job done, Potter. If I hadn’t,
we’d’ve been outside for hours, and probably would have
missed our man.”
“Who says he’s already in here?” Harry yelled
over the thumping music.
“Because he’s sitting at the bar. Just over there.” And
Malfoy pointed as he checked his jacket in. Harry followed suit,
and looked over to where James was sitting.
He was dressed in all black – as always, it seemed over the
past few days – and was at the bar, nursing a beer. He didn’t
seem to be paying any attention to the people around him. Which,
also seemed to be the usual.
Harry and Malfoy stood at the top of a short set of stairs, leading
down into the dance floor. Straight next to them, the bar stretched
out, circling half the dance floor, with the same three steps leading
down. Far in the back, on the opposite side, Harry saw booths and
small tables filled with people, laughing, and drinking, and watching
the dancers. The place was dark, but there were splashes of coloured
light moving all over the walls and ceiling, and the same neon blue
from outside was lighting the steps.
Harry looked around the club, and it was full to the brim already
with people of all kinds. Mainly scantily clad young men, writhing
around and up against each other; and a few men in tasteful drag,
talking up the lesbians and the pretty boys hanging around them.
The rest were lurkers, Harry thought, dark people hiding in the shadows,
watching the happenings with detached or lustful eyes, and Harry
avoided looking at them for too long.
Malfoy cocked his head towards the back of the club. “Go catch
us a table. I’m going to get drinks.” And he sauntered
off towards the bar.
“Malfoy! Wait, Malfoy! Are you going to talk to him? Hey Malfoy!” But
Malfoy kept walking as if he didn’t hear him. “Do you
even know what I like to drink?” Harry yelled, huffing. Glaring
at the blonde’s back, he stepped down into the dancing area,
manoeuvring around the edge to the tables in the back. Luckily (very,
it seemed), there was a tall pub table with two chairs waiting to
be occupied, with a few left over drinks abandoned for the dance
floor. Harry pushed the glasses to one side, and sat down, leaning
on the table and trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.
Now that Harry was sitting down and no longer trying to follow Malfoy,
he noticed just how uncomfortable he was. Harry didn’t know
anyone who was gay besides Malfoy, and hadn’t the slightest
idea of how to act in a gay bar, or around so many gay people. A
few of which were eyeing him as if he were fresh meat. There was
a particularly ugly-looking bloke, who was obviously a lurker, an
older guy, who, by Harry’s guess, probably got his jollies
by watching the young and beautiful gyrate on the floor, all sweaty
and slick. The thought of being watched by him made Harry shudder
in revulsion.
Harry couldn’t see over the crowd of people dancing, so he
was a little surprised when Draco suddenly plopped down next to him
with a beer and a Cosmopolitan. He placed the beer in front of Harry,
and took a gulp of his Cosmo.
“Aren’t those expensive, froo-froo, fairy drinks?” Harry
asked, taking a swig of his off-brand beer, wincing at the bitter
taste. He wasn’t the biggest fan of beer, but this beer really
was quite terrible. He’d prefer a nice, smooth, honeyed mead.
“Potter, have you forgotten that I am an expensive,
froo-froo fairy?”
“I just expected you to be more of a hard liquor kind of guy.”
“I am. I just felt like a froo-froo drink tonight, alright?
Just shut up, Potter. You’re more useful when you’re
quiet and you do what I tell you to.”
“I’m not just someone you can walk all over, Malfoy.”
“Finish your beer, Potter. Then we’re going to dance.”
“Excuse me?”
Malfoy gulped down the other half of his drink. “We need to
get closer to our man. He isn’t moving.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“No. Tonight I’m just going to observe. See what he
drinks, what kinds of guys go up to him, and which ones he
responds to. What he’s into.”
“And I have to go with you why?”
“Because I need you to keep the stalkers at bay.”
“The what?”
“The stalkers. The guys who follow you around and try and
dance with you regardless of your protests. You, are going
to dance with me, and inadvertently fend off the ‘stalkers’.”
“Dance? Are you crazy? Malfoy, I am not dancing with
you.”
“Oh, piffle, Potter. You are dancing with me. So deal
with it.” He grabbed Harry’s wrist and pulled him off
the stool. “But tell me, you can dance, can’t
you? I do remember that you were absolutely atrocious in fourth year
at the Yule Ball.”
Harry tried to yank his hand away and wound up grabbing onto Malfoy’s
wrist so as not to get torn away from him as they squeezed through
all the people dancing. “Malfoy! Wait! I’m not – I
can’t-”
Malfoy pulled hard on Harry’s wrist, swinging him around until
he was in front of the blond, and then wrapped his arms around Harry’s
neck. Harry jerked away, saying, “Malfoy, it’s called
personal space.”
“I don’t want to hear it, Potter. Just grab onto my
waist and let me lead.”
“We’re not ballroom dancing, Malfoy.”
“No. We’re not.” Malfoy said, then leaned forward
and put his head next to Harry’s. “I’m not going
to get hard over you, Potter. Now, turn.”
“What?”
“Turn, Potter.” And Malfoy pushed his elbow against
Harry’s shoulder to get him to turn so Malfoy could look over
his shoulder.
Harry as good as growled in Malfoy’s ear and tentatively put
his hands on Malfoy’s hips. “You’re taller than
me, you know. This looks odd.”
“Fine. You wanna be the girl? Here,” Then Malfoy shoved
his arms underneath Harry’s and pushed them up to his shoulders,
then wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist.
“Ack! Malfoy! That wasn’t what I meant!” Harry
exclaimed as Malfoy moved them with the rhythm of the song’s
fast beat.
“Look, Potter, I’m trying to watch our guy while pretending
to not look like I’m watching him. So just shut up and
do as I tell you. Or, you can go back to the hotel.”
Harry glared up at the annoying blond prat. “I think I will.” Then
Harry pulled himself out of Malfoy’s arms and left the club,
getting his jacket on the way out.
***
Once outside in the fresh air, Harry was immediately overcome with
a sense of nausea, and ducked into the closest alley, leaning against
the dank wall to steady himself. Taking deep lungfuls of air, he
pushed the nausea down and tried not to scream in frustration.
What was wrong with him? Why was he letting the situation get to
him? And why oh why was he letting Malfoy of all people
push him around?
He thought about the club – all the men looking at him, and
the way Malfoy just assumed that he’d be okay being
there, dancing with him – he was straight, and he didn’t
know that many gay people, and he’d never been around that
many…
The nausea took over and Harry found himself being sick behind the
closest dumpster.
Wiping his chin, he Apparated back to the hotel room, intent on
washing every uncomfortable thing away with a hot shower.
***
“Potter. Hey, Potter. Are you still on comm? You’d
better be listening, because I’m only going to say this
once.”
Harry jumped when Malfoy’s voice spoke calmly into his ear
as he was rinsing the shampoo out of his hair in the shower a few
minutes later.
“Well, fine. I realise you probably don’t want
to talk. I’m not the talking sort myself. But, well, I
apologise. For dragging you into a situation you probably weren’t
very keen on being in.”
Harry took a deep breath as he listened, standing idle under the
hot spray.
“I…I remember coming out to my friends just after
the war. I thought maybe that I would marry Pansy Parkinson.
Do you remember her? But something happened. Something changed.
I won’t tell you what. But I had to tell people. That was
uncomfortable. And I’m sure you know I don’t like
being uncomfortable. I tend to lash out. So. I’m sorry
for making you feel anywhere near as uncomfortable as I had to
be when I realised I was gay.”
Biting his lip, Harry reached for his conditioner.
“There. Don’t expect me to like you any greater
than I already don’t. And don’t mention this conversation
to me. Unless I start it. I’ll see you later.”
There was a little ‘pop’, and Harry heard Malfoy end
the comm spell from his side. Harry wondered why Malfoy was still
at the club at all, because he could hear the thump of the music
in the background. Probably found some “twink”, as
he put it, to de-virginize then leave memory-less. Bloody, blond
bastard.
***
Harry was lying in bed trying unsuccessfully to sleep when the key-card
to the room clicked and the door opened quietly, and then there was
a bright sliver of light before it shut just as quietly.
Harry lay there, stiff as a board, breathing shallowly as he listened
to Malfoy stripping off his clothes and going into the bathroom to
take a shower.
Much later, Malfoy emerged, steam billowing into the room, before
the light went off and Harry heard Malfoy crawl into the bed next
to him.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
He heard Malfoy pause in his shifting. “You’re welcome,
Potter.”
Harry finally closed his eyes, feeling that resisting sleep finally
come to him.
“But I told you not to bring it up.”
Harry chuckled under his breath. “Goodnight, Malfoy.”
“Yeah. ‘Night, Potter.”
***
“I’m going to Sinn again. Yeah, tonight. And no,
I haven’t fetched a price. I’ll get one, I swear. People
are just wary, you know? They don’t know what it is, and
they don’t really believe me. Yes, I had to tell them. Look,
I’m putting my rep on the line, here! If you want out of
whatever the hell you want to call yourself, and you want the real money
to do it, then you have to go through me, and we’re doing
it my way. Got it?”
Sameson James flipped his mobile closed and shoved it in his pocket.
It was two days later on a Saturday night and he was sitting in Ed’s
Easy American-themed diner in Soho, a few booths away from the Auror
pair, waiting for a burger with cheesy fries and sipping on a thick
strawberry shake.
Draco sipped on his own chocolate shake and nodded past Potter’s
shoulder to James. “You heard that, right? He’s going
to Sinn again. Should I fly solo?”
Potter finished off his burger. “No. I’ll – I’ll
go. Just…let me actually be the straight friend this
time, okay? No leaving me to fend for myself, and no dancing.”
“Yes, Potter. I’ll keep your sorry little straight virginity
intact.”
Potter glared. “Why must you be such an ass, Malfoy?”
Draco smiled around the chocolaty goodness in his mouth. “You
like me being an ass.”
“I’m used to you being an ass.” He finished off
his coke and grabbed the ticket. “Let’s go. I’ll
pay.”
“I’ll not have you paying my bills, Potter.”
“You can spot me for drinks tonight. And get me a better beer
this time. Or better yet, one of your expensive, froo-froo, fairy
drinks.”
“Ha, ha. You are your own brand of fairy, you know that?”
“Shove off, Malfoy.”
“I do wish I could, Potter. I really wish I could.”
“Me too, Malfoy.”
***
Draco checked himself in the full-length mirror on the bathroom
door. Yep, he looked hot. Hot enough to snag the dark-haired,
black-wearing psychopath that he and Potter were tracking.
So hot that Harry-Fucking-Potter was ogling him again when he stepped
out of the bathroom.
“Tongue in your mouth, Potter. You’re drooling.”
Potter’s mouth snapped shut. “Whatever, Malfoy. You
wish I was looking at you.”
“Are we back to twelve-year-old comebacks? Because I can pull
one out, if your tiny brain requires it.”
“Really, Malfoy. Shut up. You think after almost a week we
could get along just a bit better. I mean, the other night,
you were actually apologising to me. I was shocked. I was
also naked. In the shower. And no, that doesn’t give you the
right to have mental pictures.”
“Ooh, much better comeback, Potter. And thanks for
the warning. I really didn’t want the mental images anyway.
And I told you not to mention that. Ever. So don’t.”
“Right-o Captain.” Potter saluted him in mockery.
“I am not one of the Village People, Potter. Get over it.”
“Ha. Let’s go.”
“Not so fast. Let me check your outfit.”
Potter rolled his eyes and stood there, waiting for the ‘okay’ from
Draco. He was wearing an ensemble similar to his last, but with a
matte black over shirt and a green under. His belt was changed out
for a simple black leather, and his hair actually managed some semblance
to “sexily tousled”; assuming Potter had ever lost his
cherry.
Draco nodded his approval. “Alright. You look the same as
you did last time. But that’s fine. You’re not going
to impress anybody. Ready for comm?”
With another roll of his eyes, Potter nodded. “Yeah, sure.
I’m just going to watch from the background, alright? Just
don’t…go into the bathroom with him or whatever.”
“Hey – that might be his thing, not mine. I might
not even be able to get an in here, okay? I may have to switch tracks
and pose as a buyer real quick. Though I’d rather do that and
just catch the loser before I have to shag him to get the information,
but nothing’s ever easy, is it?”
“Certainly not this assignment.”
“But look at it this way, Potter. At least you won’t
almost die,” Draco said with a sweet smile as he pointed his
wand at Harry’s head.
“Oh, yes. Dodge death for the millionth time or go to gay
clubs with you. Wonderful choice in options.”
“You have gotten much too cocky in your old age, Potter.”
“Old? You’re almost two months older than me. What does
that make you?”
“Just shut up.”
***
The club was thumping and much more crowded than Thursday night,
and Harry felt obligated to turn his head when Malfoy charmed the
bouncer again. He was surprised that the blond didn’t just
use Veritaserum on James to get him to talk. It wouldn’t
be hard to slip it into a drink when he wasn’t looking. Probably
wanted to get laid by whoever he could, thought Harry.
They found James sitting at the bar again, on the far side near
the other tables and booths. Harry made Malfoy pay for his beer before
snagging a short table at the edge of the crowd, so he could watch
Malfoy’s progress. Malfoy circled through the bar, making his
way down to their man. When he reached him, he got a strange, predatory
look in his eye, and to Harry, it definitely looked strange.
At least now I know what he looks like in case he ever starts
cruising me.
“Hi. Can I buy you another beer?” Harry
heard Malfoy say through the comm spell, as he leaned on the bar next
to James.
“You could, but it won’t do you much
good.”
“Oh? Do you have a boyfriend or something?”
“No, but you’re not my type.”
“How do you know that? I could be the man of your dreams.
Your soulmate even.”
Oh, Malfoy, don’t make me gag. Soulmate? Please.
“No, I really don’t think so. I don’t like
blonds.”
Ouch.
“Would you like to dance?”
“Huh?”
Harry looked up to see a rather charming topless boy standing
in front of him holding out his hand.
“Oh, er…no thanks. I’m straight.”
The boy looked at him with quite a bit of confusion. “Then
why are you in a gay bar?”
“My friend. He’s gay. He went to go get himself a drink.”
“Really? Because I saw you sit down, and you’ve been
all alone this whole time. This your first time coming here?”
“No! I mean…He’s taken me here before. Really.
He’s at the bar. I think he got lost. He’s that blond,
right over there.” Harry pointed out Malfoy, who, if he caught
the last bit of conversation correctly, was trying unsuccessfully
to get James to dance with him. Ugh. “He’s a horrible
flirter,” Harry said, thinking he was probably telling the
truth. “I think he brings me here to torture me and turn me
gay or something.” Well, that was definitely telling
the truth.
The boy shrugged. “Well, I’m sorry to hear you’re
not one of us. You’re awfully cute.” He put his arms
on the table and leaned in close. “Especially with those bookish
glasses.” He cocked his head in an endearing way then straightened. “If
you change your mind…I’ll be right over there.” And
he nodded towards a table on the other side of the dance floor.
“Er…yeah. I will. I mean, if I do.” Holy crap!
I was just hit on by a boy! I’m definitely not telling
Malfoy. He’ll never let me live it down.
“Are you sure I can’t die
my hair and change your mind?” Harry heard Malfoy say once he’d tuned
back in.
James chuckled. “No, I’m sure. Besides, you look
good as a blond. You’re just not my type.”
“Well, you can’t say I didn’t try. And don’t
worry, you can keep the beer.” Harry glanced over
and saw Draco leave James with a smile, heading in the opposite
direction towards the front of the club.
“Potter,” Harry
heard in his ear. “Meet
me in the loo in two minutes. I need to talk to you.”
“You’re talking to me now, Malfoy,” Harry
whispered, taking a swig of his beer to cover it up.
“In person. Now.”
“I’m not going into the loo with you.”
“I’m not playing, Potter. You missed something.
Don’t think I didn’t hear your own little exchange
with that topless twink.”
Damn.
“Okay. Fine. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Harry stood and made his way to the toilet, shoving past people,
and passing his topless encounter standing next to a booth full of
other topless twinks, and felt the boy’s eyes follow him all
the way to the loo.
Nervously, he dodged two men coming out and slipped inside, his
stomach dropping as he heard a few sighs and heady moans coming from
the stalls. Oh, he was going to be sick.
“I’m in the last stall.”
Harry moved to the last stall in the row and knocked hesitantly
on the door. It opened, and Harry saw Malfoy’s face and gratefully
ducked inside.
Malfoy waved his arm and provided an Imperturbable charm to their
stall. No one would hear, and no one could get in.
“You have to do it, Potter.”
“Excuse me? Do what?”
“Get in with James.”
Harry stared at Malfoy. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“You didn’t hear him, Potter. He likes brunets. He’s
going to recognise me if I die my hair. Besides the fact that I already
asked if I should.”
“You could use some glamour charms, Malfoy.”
“No, Potter, I can’t. You know as well as I do that
glamour charms only work for so long, and they’re dependent
on the caster’s strength and ability. I can’t keep that
many spells up that long, and you’re crap at charms.”
“I am not.”
“Even so. If James already knows Wizards exists, it’s
not going to be that hard to for him to see through it. And Polyjuice
only lasts an hour at a time. We both need to be alert. We can’t
be constantly using charms. They’ll drain us and we need to
focus on getting the information and the artefact back fast. I’ll
talk you through everything. Tell you what to say. What to do. I
promise.”
“Malfoy, I’m not going to play gay for you. We can use
Muggle methods. We can get some hair dye, and maybe some prosthetics-”
“Potter, you’re not listening to me. Do you know
how to use that stuff? Let’s just do this my way, okay?”
“No, Malfoy, I don’t think you’re listening
to me. I can’t do this. I won’t. I. Am.
Not. Gay. And I will not be gay, even for this case.”
“Potter, please. It’s just pretending. You…could
be a prude. I’m not asking you to have sex with him. Just…I
don’t know, get to know him, be his friend. If he hits on you,
let him kiss you. That’s it. Do only what you feel comfortable
with. That’s a given, even for me.”
Harry stared, or rather, glared at Malfoy. For a very long time.
“Potter, I don’t mean to break this special eye-lock
thing we’ve got going on here, but we’re wasting time.
We have to start this tonight.”
Harry closed his eyes. “I really hate you.”
“I’ll help you with everything. I’ll be
in your ear the whole time.”
“Oh, yes. That gives me so much comfort.”
“Oh, hush. Just think – you can catch all the glory
for this one too.”
“And go down as the man Draco Malfoy could make gay. Don’t
you ever think that maybe I don’t like getting the so-called
glory for every case I’m on? Argh! You’re just so infuriating.”
Malfoy sighed. “But you’ll do it?”
“Yes, fine! Let’s just get this over with.” Harry
turned to leave the grungy stall.
“Wait a minute. We still have to cover your scar.”
“Why? I thought you said no glamours?”
“I’ll use a small one. One I can control so you don’t
have to. It’ll be small enough that I can keep it up whenever
you’re in his company.”
“Just do it.”
***
Draco practically had to shove Potter out of the loo. He could see
that his hands were sweating, and he was sure he was going to hyperventilate
any second.
“Breathe, Potter. Relax. You have to be at least semi-comfortable,
here.”
“There’s nothing comfortable about this, Malfoy.”
“Look, I gave you the money. When you get to him, sit
down on the stool next to him, and offer to buy him a drink.”
“How do I do that?”
“Did you listen to me earlier?” Draco
sighed heavily as he made his way to a dark corner to watch, putting
up an Imperturbable charm just so he wouldn’t be bothered,
but so he could still watch Potter and James. “Say, ‘Hello,
could I buy you a drink?’ It’s that simple. Strike up
small talk like you would with any other guy. Find a common interest.
Maybe that Muggle Football thing?”
“Okay, okay. I gotcha. If you keep yakking in my ear, I
might not be able to do this.”
“You wanted my help, Potter.”
“No, I think you wanted mine.”
“Whatever.”
Draco watched Harry edge towards his target. Merlin, he was really
nervous.
“Potter, wipe your hands on your jeans. You don’t
want to be all sweaty.”
“Shove off, Malfoy.”
“Again, helping here.”
He heard Potter sigh, and then saw him approach his subject. He
was lucky; as he walked up, two women left the bar with drinks, providing
Potter with a perfect spot to sit down next to the unmoving man in
black. Why was James even here?
Potter cleared his throat. “Um…could I – could
I buy you a drink?”
James turned and looked over at Potter, who blushed, looked down
at his fidgeting hands, and glanced back up. Nice, Potter, if
he likes the insecure type. Maybe I was too cocky. Possibly. Not
really. Never.
“You’re the second guy tonight,” James
replied.
“Am I? Well…er…I’m sorry to bother
you then…” Potter started to stand.
“Don’t you dare stand
up, Potter, or I will publicly boil your blood with my favourite
curse from the war,” Draco whispered ferociously into Potter’s
ear.
But it seemed he needn’t have worried. James stopped Potter
with a hand on his arm.
“No, it’s okay. That guy wasn’t my type.”
Potter blushed darker. “Oh. And I am, I take it?”
James smiled. “Sameson James. What’s your name?”
“Harry Potter.”
“Well, Harry. Feel free to buy away. I tend to stay a while.”
“How long is ‘a while’?”
James smiled. “Until I find something I like.”
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