Original Sinn, Harry/Draco, R/NC-17

Original Sinn
Chapter Four - Envy

Harry/Draco | R/NC-17 | 14,557 words | 19 November, 2006
Betas: Michelle & IcyAurora8
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?

***

Draco woke with a start, shivering. Judging by the light streaming through the open blinds of the balcony, it was fast approaching noon, and he was still in bed.

Correction; he was still on Potter’s bed.

That fact was literally right in his face, because at some point in the night, Potter had shifted and was now facing him, curled on his side and so close that Draco could smell the lingering scent of his aftershave from the night before.

Carefully, Draco rolled off the bed, landing lightly on the floor. He stood and stared down at the ragged mass of hair poking out from Potter’s covers, and the slight curve of a cheek, a nose, a mouth; a face that he had been so close to moments before.

Potter still had baby-cheeks, Draco thought. It really was adorable, and that thought jumped around in Draco’s stomach for a few moments before settling in as acceptable.

Except it wasn’t acceptable. Draco wasn’t allowed to think about Potter that way, because they were partners. Partners in the professional sense only. And Potter was straight. He tried his damnedest to forget his revelation from the night before, when he had been staring at his blood on Potter’s flushed cheek.

He was falling for Potter. But he couldn’t. It would never work anyhow. Potter was straight and just why did Draco like him again?

There were not many things Draco liked about Potter. Okay, so he really wasn’t all that bad to look at. Nice body, a few scars here and there, like that one in the middle of his bloody forehead…bright green eyes that were always hidden behind those stupid glasses, a constant mess of black hair, and a really mean right hook. Not to mention a temper and an irritating need to nose his way into everything…. Yes, not much to like about him at all.

But something must have charmed him, Draco thought. Something that Potter had, but didn’t know how to use, because if he acted like that all the time, even men like Draco, who were perfectly content to fuck nameless men as long as they were hot, would gobble the poor man up; using him and spitting him out when they were finished with him. Draco even knew of a few women who would do the same thing.

So maybe Draco felt like he had to protect Potter? From people like himself? No, that couldn’t be it, really; Draco felt no need to use Potter like that. It just…wouldn’t seem right. He had known the prat too long for that. There was enough bad blood between them to begin with.

However, this Muggle, this “Jamie-James-Sameson-Whatever” threw Draco off. There was just something about him…and it wasn’t that he was a Muggle. Obviously, considering his lifestyle, Draco had gotten accustomed to the species of unenlightened men, and was perfectly capable of even liking one or two. One had to have a few gay friends to rely on, didn’t they? Yes, Draco didn’t fuck the ones he liked…it made things messy.

Shaking his head of his progressively accumulating thoughts, he moved away from the bed and into the bathroom, taking care of his morning needs and washing his face and teeth. He still had to tail James today, and get those books for Potter…and forget that his little crush on Potter existed. It, like so many other things in his life, would make things messy and generally amount to disaster.

Yes, it was better for the both of them if it was never looked upon again.

***

Harry awoke to the sounds of someone Disapparating. The crack jolted him awake, and he squinted in the midday light. Oi…what time is it?

He looked blearily around the room and decided that Malfoy must have just left, going God knows where, but he was prat enough to leave loudly, rather than through the front door. Maybe he had to go far, and didn’t want to bother with being seen?

Harry groaned, not really caring. His leg was a little stiff and throbbing at the knee, and he suddenly realised what was so different.

The fight. Blood. Bruised skin. An icepack. Malfoy.

He and Malfoy had gotten into a fight the night before, then patched each other up. Malfoy had been acting strange. Hot and cold, gentle and impatient.

He’d also woken Harry from his nightmare, taking away the icepack and laying with him awhile. Harry looked to the other side of the bed and saw that the covers were slightly mussed from the top, as if Malfoy had fallen asleep too.

A slight flush burned Harry’s cheeks. He’d have to thank Malfoy whenever he got back.

His knee throbbed again and Harry turned over, remembering that Malfoy was supposed to bring him books on healing sprains. He also remembered that he was on his own today; that Malfoy fully planned on making him stay off his knee until it was healed.

Like he needed a mother, telling him what to do. He was twenty-one for Merlin sakes!

Okay, so in reality, he did need a mother, but that’s what Molly Weasley was for. He suddenly wished he had Hedwig or a floo or something. He dearly wanted to talk to Ron and Hermione about his current predicament. Of course, Ron would probably go ballistic, and Hermione would be sympathetic but methodical in her encouragement to keep going. “It’s only pretending, Harry,” she would say. “You can make it through this; you’ve been through worse before. Besides, isn’t it nice to have someone doting on you? It’s been so long…”

Yes, it had been a long time. Closing in on two years. Two years since…

Harry shook his head of unpleasant thoughts and rose from the bed, hobbling his way gingerly to the bathroom. He was getting past it, he thought. He knew she wasn’t coming back, so the best thing to do was to move on but not forget her. As he stood there, he heard the crack of someone Apparating into the room.

“Potter?” Malfoy called, sounding worried, Harry thought. He smiled a little. Malfoy was surely an enigma.

“In here, Malfoy,” he called, finishing his business.

Before Harry had a chance to fully tuck himself away, Malfoy opened the door, barging into the small room.

“What are you doing out of bed?” he demanded. “Do you want to make your knee worse?”

Harry squawked, turning quickly to cover himself as he finished what he was doing. “Ow!” he exclaimed as his knee started to give out. “Malfoy! Don’t just barge in on people – I was going to the bathroom, you moron!”

Malfoy dived over to link his arms around Harry’s waist, holding him up until he regained his footing. “And now look what you’ve done.”

“What I did? You startled me, you dumb arse. You didn’t let me finish! And I still need to wash my hands. Let me go!”

Harry wrestled out from Malfoy’s grip, glaring at him. He went to the sink and started washing his hands. “Well?” he said, looking over at Malfoy. “Did you have something more to say?”

Malfoy set his mouth in a firm line, looking away. “I’m sorry I barged in on you. But you really shouldn’t be on your knee!”

A little surprised at Malfoy’s apology, Harry said, “I have to go to the bathroom somehow, Malfoy.” He dried his hands and made his way past Malfoy to his bed. Malfoy followed him dutifully.

“I brought you books… But don’t try anything until I get back, okay? You might make it worse.”

“And you’re such the expert on all things medical, right?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes in exasperation and went to the nightstand, fiddling with the icepack and towel. “Let’s get this back on your knee.” Harry sat down and swung his legs up onto the mattress, letting Malfoy fiddle with the pillows and icepacks and towels, until everything was just right. “Here,” he said, taking shrunken books out of his jacket pocket and enlarging them, setting them on the nightstand. “I’m going to continue tailing James this afternoon. I’ll bring you some food in a little bit.”

“I can conjure something or ask for room service.”

“Not if you’re confined to this bed. Do you want me to magically spell you there?”

Harry was really getting rather irritated. “What’s with your mother act, Malfoy? I can bloody take care of myself. I’ve been though a whole lot worse.”

Malfoy looked mollified for a moment. Then he picked up the basin of water and the blood-stained washcloth and took them to the bathroom. Harry heard him rustling around, before he came back out and stared at another blood stain on the floor. Pulling out his wand and spelling it clean, he said, “I’m just trying to help, Potter.”

Harry sighed. “And I appreciate it. But really, stop worrying. Just do your job.”

“Do you mind if we go on comm? So you can call me if you need anything?”

Harry quirked his eyebrow and picked up a book. “If you feel the need to be attached to me at all times, go ahead.”

“It’s not that, Potter, Merlin. You’re such a prat, you know that?”

“And you’re not?”

Malfoy’s eyes widened and his jaw set in frustration. “Whatever. Just hold still.” Malfoy set the spell and went to rummage for his stake-out things. Mainly, his omnioculars.

“I’ll see you later, Potter.”

“Bye, Malfoy.” Harry looked up from his browsing of the index of the book in his lap. “Oh, and Malfoy?”

Malfoy turned, his hand on the door handle. “Yes?”

“I’d like a blueberry scone, a cinnamon raisin bagel with cream cheese, and some English Breakfast with a little bit of cream.” It was said with a growing smirk.

Malfoy’s expression was priceless. “I am not your servant, Potter,” he said, somewhat scathingly. “But you can expect it brought up to you in a half-hour,” he finished, closing the door behind him while Harry chuckled in his ear.

“Hush, Potter.”

“Somehow, Malfoy, you amuse me. You’re softer than you let on.”

“Oh, shove off. No scone for you.”

Harry chuckled again, turning back to his book, listening idly while Draco ordered his breakfast for him downstairs, advising them to bring a room key, as the man inside was bed-ridden. Harry smiled as he flipped to page 193, knowing he’d be getting his scone after all.

~~~~~

Watching this man was boring. If Draco whinged, he would. Seriously, this was pathetic. Didn’t this man do anything bad?

Other than stealing Harry away from him?

Wait…where the fuck did that thought come from? Harry – no, Potter – wasn’t his, so James couldn’t possibly…

Draco groaned. This infatuation sucked.

He remembered all too vividly the way Potter’s form felt under his own while they had been fighting; sensations he hadn’t noticed at the time, because he was too busy administering and receiving pain, and arousal tingled in his belly as he felt Potter between his legs again, and the way Potter had pushed his hips up, unwittingly, just trying to get Draco off of him…

Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

Draco clenched his jaw and focused back on his job. James was doing things that bored him. Really. He was at his boring Pawn Shop – which Draco was happy he could see into from across the street – and he really just talked with customers, took things out of the jewellery case, put them back in, chatted with people he knew, talked on the phone…blah blah blah.

Really, Potter actually deserved better.

Then he had an idea…watching James lock the jewellery case back up for the nth time that day, he thought to himself…what if he posed as a buyer? Get this over and done with, right now?

Just as Potter was realising his homosexual tendencies? A sneaky voice in his head asked.

Draco pulled back from the roof’s edge of the building he was staked out on. He turned and sat on the ground, leaning against the short wall, musing over this new thought.

It was a moral dilemma, Draco realised. Continue with a ruse that could have the possible positive effect of turning Potter gay, with the adverse effect that he’d become increasingly uncomfortable and probably have to…do things that even Draco wasn’t keen on doing with James – all at Potter’s risk; or, successfully get the artefact now, so they could both go home and Draco could forget about this silly crush.

He didn’t have a crush, though. Really. Crushes were for silly teenaged girls.

He’d forget about it if it were the last thing he did today, he swore to himself.

“Malfoy?”

Draco jumped as Potter’s voice sounded quietly in his ear. “What is it, Potter?” he asked in a somewhat harsh tone, shaking off his insecurities and turning back around to focus on James.

“I’m…well… I have to use the loo, and I think I found something. Maybe.”

“And?”

Potter sighed. “And…you’ve been awfully quiet, so I thought you could spare the time to come over here and help me out.”

“I’m not going to help you take a piss, Potter.”

Draco had the feeling that Potter rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. I could maybe use some help to the bathroom, seeing as how you’ve threatened me if I try to get out of bed on my own, but it’s mainly this spell…it looks complicated.”

“Maybe we should just take you to St. Mungo’s.”

“If anyone needs to go to St. Mungo’s, it’s you, Malfoy. You had multiple fractured ribs. There’s a possibility of internal bleeding.”

“I feel fine, Potter, minus a few bruises and still feeling sore. I’m more worried about your knee.”

“Really? You’re worried about me?” Potter mocked. “Can Draco Malfoy really care about anybody else but himself?”

That did it. With a loud crack, Draco Apparated right next to Potter’s bed, startling the man so badly he emitted some type of scream and the book in his hands flew up in the air, landing with the pages down and bent near Potter’s uninjured knee.

Draco leaned in to Potter’s flustered face. “Of course I care about people other than myself. Sometimes that includes you, Potter. Deal with it.”

Potter blinked. “Er…okay, Malfoy.”

Draco straightened. “What was this spell you found?” he asked, ending the comm.

“Can we do the bathroom first?” Potter asked, shifting in his seat.

“Yeah, yeah.” Draco moved the icepack and held out a hand for Potter to take. Potter’s hand slid firmly and warmly into his, and Draco found it so easy to slip that hand around Potter’s waist after he’d pulled him to his feet. It felt…good, his side firm against Potter’s, helping him to the loo…

Merlin, who was he kidding? He was attracted to Potter. That was all there was to it. And Draco wasn’t stupid; he knew that he would never be able to get Potter to see him the same way. But it wasn’t like Draco wanted a relationship. That thought was just…absurd. It was Potter.

Draco made sure Potter was steady on his feet before leaving him there, shutting the door behind him. He stood just outside, like a sentinel, chewing on his lip in thought.

Potter was different, though, wasn’t he? He still irritated Draco to no end, sure, but they’d had a nice day yesterday, hadn’t they?

If you ignored the part when they had been fighting, of course.

Potter opened the door, and Draco immediately hooked his arm around that slim waist, helping Potter back to the bed.

“Okay – so what did you find?” Draco asked again.

Potter picked up his fallen book as he settled back. “Well, I’m not really sure. It seems to be in two parts – diagnostic and cure, but it’s not just two different spells – the diagnostic seems simple enough, but the cure part is a little beyond my understanding.”

“Meaning it contains a potion.”

Potter frowned. “Yeah. I’m good at recognising symptoms from poisons and administering potions, but I’m still crap at making them.”

Draco held out his hand. “Let me see the book. Then I’ll get the ingredients, and make the bloody thing for you.” Potter handed the book over, watching Draco as he scanned the contents of the pages. Eventually he sighed, closing the book and looking at Potter sadly. “It’s not going to work, Potter.”

Those large green eyes looked up at him, and Draco actually started to feel quite terrible.

“Why not?”

“Because this spell-potion set is for animals only.”

Potter looked puzzled. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“I was sure it said not to use it on animals…”

Draco rolled his eyes. “It does, Potter. Merlin, you are so gullible.”

Opening his mouth in shock, Potter cried, “I am not!”

Draco sat down next to him and opened the book. “Of course you are.”

Potter grumbled under his breath and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, then? Will it work?”

Draco flipped through the pages, stopping suddenly. “Well, I think I found something better…”

“What? What is it?”

“A salve for all joint injuries.”

Potter looked surprised. “Oh.”

“Yeah. It was on the next page.”

“Well then.”

“I’ll need to get some things…” Draco turned the page and scanned it. “It will take overnight to cure properly.”

“Don’t you have to keep trailing Jamie?”

“James you mean? Yes.” Draco, feeling irritated all of a sudden, closed the book and stood. “I left my stuff on the roof. I’ll be back later tonight with everything. You get some rest.”

“All I’ve been doing is resting, Malfoy.”

“Well, you’re not getting up, okay?”

Potter frowned. “You know, you really confuse me.”

“Really?” Draco started turning away. “Good. It’s best to keep you on your toes. Metaphorically speaking of course,” he said, glancing at Harry’s injury out of the corner of his eye. It was bruising in patches around the joint and up his thigh.

“Why are you like that?”

“Like what?”

“A total ass one second, then all helpful and shit the next?”

Draco, with his back facing Potter, stopped. He couldn’t seem to keep the emotions off his face, and he couldn’t let Harry see how much he affected him.

“I’m…trying here, Potter. I’m an ass, you know this. Not that the fight was completely my fault, but you mentioned that we had been getting on better. So, I’m making an effort. We can’t do this case without you.” He turned around, his usual glare firmly in place. “But that doesn’t mean that you still don’t irritate the shit out of me.”

Potter tilted his head. “Like you don’t do the same to me?”

Draco took a deep breath. “I’ll see you later, Potter.”

Draco was practically out the door before he heard Potter murmur quietly, “Goodbye, Malfoy.”

“’Bye, Potter.”

***

Once Draco got to the roof, he scooped up his belongings, shrunk them, shoved them in his pocket and swiftly Apparated to the doorstep of his favoured professor. Severus Snape.

To say Snape was delighted to have his life-long sabbatical interrupted by an emotionally confused young man was a gross miscalculation.

“Mr. Malfoy,” he snarled with a sneer.

“Professor Snape, I’m sorry to bother you-”

“I am no longer a professor, Draco. Remember that. But come in anyway. What is wrong this time?”

“What makes you think anything’s wrong?” Draco asked as Snape led him into the sitting room and gestured for him to take a chair.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Walls, Draco. You’re like an open book. Keep your walls up at all times.”

Draco sighed. “Then shall I even tell you what’s wrong, or do you know already?”

Snape’s lip curled. “You’ve grown, should I daresay, enamoured with Potter.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about this mission, Draco.”

“It’s not allowed. It’s classified.”

“I’m better at keeping secrets than you are, young man.”

“Fine,” Draco growled, feeling as if he’d been reprimanded by a parent. “A Muggle managed to procure an extremely volatile artefact from the Department of Mysteries. Someone from the inside, most likely. Potter and I are to get the artefact back, and find out how he got it. Subtly. It was found out that the Muggle was gay, and so naturally, I tried to get an in through that. Apparently, he doesn’t like blondes, so I managed to convince Potter to go in.”

“Why’d you get involved with the Muggle in the first place?”

Draco frowned, knowing his answer would sound stupid. “It was an easy way in. Mundungus Fletcher posed as a buyer – or rather, he was trying to get some Muggle stuff, cheap, and found out the Muggle had a magical device. He couldn’t afford it, followed the man, then reported it.”

“Draco, you should know never to get involved-”

“Yes, Severus, I know. But I’m not involved here. Potter is.”

“Which seems to bring us back to your personal dilemma. You managed to fall for him. Good job.”

“Severus, don’t patronise me-”

“I am not trying to patronise you, Mr. Malfoy. I am merely amused at your plight.”

Draco rolled his eyes and glared. “I didn’t come here to ask for your advice or to talk about my extremely confidential case.”

“Then what did you come here for?”

“I came here for a few ingredients.”

“For what?”

“A joint salve.”

Snape raised that condescending eyebrow again, and stood, motioning Draco to follow. “Well, you don’t seem to be injured. What did Potter do to himself?”

“It was more a combination of the both of us being arses.”

“Forget it. I don’t want to know.”

“He mended my ribs back together fairly well.”

Snape whirled around. “He broke your ribs.” It wasn’t a question.

“More like fractured…but I messed up his knee pretty bad, so it’s not a big deal.” Draco said flippantly, but his eyes gave him away.

Holding back a snarl, Snape pulled back a book from the bookshelf in standard secret room fashion, stepping aside to let it open. “What is it you need?”

“Quite a few things, actually.” Draco opened up the book as he stepped inside, hunching over from the oppressing feeling that only Spinner’s End could provide. Draco never much liked Snape’s old house. It was much too dilapidated and creepy for his delicate tastes.

“Most of its Northwest American…Shepherds’ Clock – the leaves, Hemlock oil, leaves of Lamb’s Quarter, Fir Club Moss, Flannel flower leaves, and Willow’s bark.” Draco looked up to see Snape standing very still with his hand resting on a bottle of Hemlock oil, staring at him questioningly.

“Can you name the true names of those plants?”

Draco smirked, his posture straightening with the challenge. “Shepherds’ Clock – commonly known as the dandelion; Taraxacum officinale. Hemlock; Tsuga mertensiana heterophylla. Lamb’s Quarter; Chenopodium. Fir club moss; Lycopodium selago. Flannel flower – also known as Mullein; Verbascum thapus. And Willow; Salix.”

Snape nodded, but did not smile. “Very good, Draco.”

Draco didn’t show it, but his chest swelled with pride, and he beamed to himself in satisfaction. He watched silently as Snape procured the rest of the items, setting them down on a work table in the centre of the room.

“How much of each do you need?”

Draco consulted the book. “Three dandelion leaves, twenty drops of Hemlock, five leaves of Lamb’s Quarter, 1 bunch of Fir club moss, 1/8th ounce of Flannel flower, and 1/4th ounce powdered willow’s bark or equivalent that I can powder myself.”

“Yes, all I have of willow is stripped bark. You’ll have to grind it yourself.”

“That’s fine.”

As Snape measured out all of the supplies and prepared a small satchel for transportation, he asked casually, “Are you going to pursue a relationship with Potter?”

Draco started, thrown off. “What? No! He’s not even gay!”

“And that rubs you more than anything, doesn’t it?”

Draco glared at Snape. “No, actually. It’s ‘Jamie’ that’s the bloody problem.”

When all Snape did was raise an eyebrow, Draco felt inclined to explain, which he knew was exactly the reaction Snape wanted. Oh well. “Jamie is one of many nicknames for Sameson James, the Muggle, okay? He’s acting like he’s not a criminal. Like he’s the sweetest boyfriend on earth or something. It’s sick.”

“And no doubt Potter’s falling for it?” Snape asked, measuring out twenty drops of Hemlock oil and putting it in a small phial.

“Of course. He’s a soppy, trusting Gryffindor.”

“And he’s also an Auror.”

“So?”

“So…perhaps he’s not too trusting. Perhaps our boy-hero might actually like the ‘sweetest boyfriend’ routine, or whatever you want to call it,” Snape said with disdain, stopping the phial and adding it to the satchel. “But you said yourself he’s not gay, so what makes you think he’s trusting this Muggle? If anything, I’d bet he’s trusting you to get him through this mess you talked him into.”

Draco stood there, quiet and contemplative. Finally, he said, “I said I didn’t come here for advice.”

“Was I giving advice?” he asked, closing the satchel and holding it out to Draco.

Draco took the satchel, placing it in his pocket. “I’m not sure.”

“When you figure it out, let me know.”

Draco frowned. “I hate it when you’re cryptic.”

“I’m always cryptic.”

“Yeah. I hate that too.” Draco tucked the book under his arm. “Thank you, Severus.”

Snape waved him off. “It’s of no consequence, Draco. I’m sure I’ll hear from you later. Perhaps when Potter’s hexed your balls off and you need them and your pride reattached.”

“Thanks for the lack of faith,” Draco said dryly.

“Always here to help.”

“Goodbye, Severus.”

“Goodbye, Draco.”

***

Harry didn’t hear when Malfoy returned – he was passed out on his bed, overwhelmed by boredom. The remaining books Malfoy had brought were only so entertaining, and Harry was wishing the blond had included a Quidditch manual or something. He should have known that Harry had nearly no interest in anything that came from a text book. Though Harry did file away some quick medical fixes for the field, should he ever need them.

When he awoke, it was to a quiet bubbling in the far corner, and the smell of roast chicken and mashers filling the room.

“You’re up,” he heard Malfoy say, and he rolled over in his bed to see Malfoy enjoying a nice supper in his bed, and covered tray waiting at his pale feet.

“What time izzit?” Harry slurred, pushing his glasses out of the way to rub at his eyes.

“Nearly seven.”

“When did you get back?”

“About an hour ago.”

“Is that the salve? There in the corner?”

“Yes. It was very easy to make. I just had to get the proper ingredients. It seemed to be written by some Northwest American Indians or something…most of the plants originated from there. It’ll be ready in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“You hungry?”

Harry sat up, belatedly noticing that he had been covered in a blanket. “Er…yeah. Thanks for the blanket.”

Malfoy stood and brought over the tray to rest on Harry’s lap, leaning down for a lingering moment. “No problem,” he smiled.

Harry found himself smiling back, watching the blond as he moved back to his own supper, picking up the same book he had been reading at Choy’s. Harry lifted the lid of the tray and breathed in the wonderful scent of food. “This looks wonderful.”

“I got room service.”

“I figured.” Harry picked up his fork and dug into his mashed potatoes. “What’s that book you’re reading? I saw you reading it at the restaurant last night.”

“Harry Potter and the Muggle Man.”

Harry started choking. “What?”

Malfoy laughed. “Merlin, Potter, you really are gullible. It’s a murder mystery. ‘Who dunnit?’ and all that.”

Harry grabbed the glass of water on the night table and gulped half of it down. His eyes had started to water and his throat was sore from coughing.

“That was my water, you know.”

“I’m not afraid of ‘Malfoy germs’,” Harry replied, wiping his mouth and taking a deep breath.

“Sorry to make you choke.”

“No you’re not.”

Malfoy’s head swung over to look at him with a frown. “Yes, I am. I wasn’t intending for you to choke on your food, Potter.” Harry wasn’t certain, but he thought he heard hurt in Malfoy’s tone.

Harry looked away. “Okay, I believe you…” He went back to his meal, and saw out of the corner of his eye, Malfoy flick out his wand and conjure up a new glass of water for Harry, taking his own and sipping from it. “I could have just-”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Are you mad at me or something?”

Malfoy set down his book and turned to him. “Why do you always think I’m out to hurt you, Potter?”

Harry swallowed his mouthful and set down his fork. “Because you’ve never been out to help me, Malfoy.”

“I’m helping you now, aren’t I?”

“Strangely, yes.”

“And why is it so strange?”

Harry looked down to his plate. “I don’t know…it’s just…it’s just strange because I’m not sure why you’re doing it. I thought you still hated me.”

Draco shook his head, looking away himself. “Hate is a relative term, Harry.”

“Meaning…?”

“Meaning I don’t hate you. I think I still despised you for a while – I mean, like I said, you still irritate the shite out of me sometimes-” Harry chuckled softly at this, “-but I don’t hate you.”

“I don’t hate you either. Haven’t for a while now,” Harry offered.

“I’ve actually…sort of enjoyed your company,” Malfoy said quietly, and the admission hung thickly in the air.

While Harry was still wracking his brain for some kind of reply, Malfoy suddenly moved, setting his tray to the side and getting up to go check on the cauldron still bubbling away in the corner.

“Does it have no smell? Most of the potions I’ve come across, especially medicinal ones, always seem to have a horrible stench,” Harry put in, watching Malfoy stir whatever was in the pot.

“Oh, this mainly smells like plants and roots, but I’ve added a few drops of lavender to make it smell better and evoke calm and relaxation. It also promotes love, peace and health,” Malfoy added, putting out the magical fire underneath the cauldron. “There. We’ll let that sit overnight, and by morning, we should have a nice, thick salve that we can apply to your knee.”

Harry watched closely as Malfoy went back to his own bed and resumed his reading and dinner. “Thank you, Malfoy.”

Malfoy looked up and smiled. “It’s no problem, Potter. You did mend my ribs back together, after all.”

Harry rolled his eyes and picked up his fork again. “I still think you should go to St. Mungo’s.”

“Well, I’m not going to, so stop asking.”

“I wasn’t asking, I was expressing an opinion.”

“Well, stop expressing your opinions, then.”

“You just want to control everything in my life, don’t you?”

“Seeing as you’re pitiful on your own, yes.”

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but decided against it, finishing his dinner quickly and washing it down with the water Malfoy conjured for him. “Malfoy, I need to use the loo again.”

Malfoy finished off his plate and water and put it all aside to move to Harry’s bedside. Instead of holding out his hand, he reached over and scooped an arm under Harry’s and across his shoulders, pulling him off the bed, his other hand on Harry’s waist to guide him up. Harry hadn’t been expecting this and wound up leaning heavily into Malfoy’s circle of arms. “Oof. Sorry.” He pulled back a little and nearly bumped his nose against Malfoy’s.

“It’s okay,” said Malfoy, watching Harry carefully.

“I…er…you’re confusing me again,” Harry said quietly, not moving.

“I’m sorry.”

“No! No…it’s fine. I just…it throws me off. I don’t know if you’re going to help me or hit me next.”

“How about this? No more hitting. Then you won’t have to guess.”

Harry swallowed, feeling funny, and nodded. “Okay. Sounds fair.”

“How’s your knee?”

“It feels much better, but you should probably still help.”

Malfoy shifted his position, to have Harry leaning on his side instead. “Okay then, off to the loo.”

***

Harry waited until Malfoy shut the door behind him before hobbling the few steps to the toilet and unbuttoning his pants to relieve himself.

Malfoy was acting very strange, Harry still thought. Sure, he was being helpful, but why? It wasn’t like common courtesy was one of Malfoy’s strong suits…

Then Harry recalled the way their noses nearly bumped a few minutes ago, and how Malfoy hadn’t flinched away. Or how the blond didn’t scramble away immediately when they had fallen to the floor while dancing…

Before Harry even fully realised what he was thinking, he refuted it. There was no way. Not really. He was just…being a little nicer than usual, and you’re blowing it out of proportion. He just doesn’t get a weird feeling in his stomach when pressed up against a guy; he likes it…

He likes you, Harry.

Harry’s mouth dropped open a fraction at letting his realisation come to fruition, and his eyes crinkled with confusion.

No. No way. It’s Malfoy. He can’t like you. It’s just…just…

Entirely possible and completely illogical.

That weird feeling blossomed in Harry’s stomach again and he didn’t even try to suss it out. He didn’t want to think about what it meant. It was just nervousness…he was weirded out by thinking such ludicrous thoughts about his partner.

Case partner, to be more specific.

He finished up and washed his hands, taking a bit of a breath before opening the door. Malfoy turned from his sentinel position immediately, holding out his arm and pulling Harry close to him when he stepped gingerly up next to him.

They moved back to the bed, and Malfoy helped Harry move aside the covers and get settled in before taking away all the dirty silverware and putting it aside for the staff later.

Harry watched Malfoy very closely, for any signs of his previous thoughts, but found none. Other than that he was, again, being nice and helping Harry out. But wouldn’t Harry have done the same for him?

He sighed under his breath and shuffled down into his blankets, turning away from Malfoy, who was reading again, knowing he wasn’t going to go to sleep for a long time.

***

Potter had been very quiet since he came out of the bathroom. Not your normal, I-have-nothing-to-say-right-now quiet. Quiet like he was really on edge about something, didn’t want to talk about it, and didn’t want anyone knowing he was even thinking about it. The kind of quiet that makes you think you did something wrong.

It’s obvious, Malfoy. He’s caught you. He knows.

Knows? How could he know? He’s completely dim when it comes to matters like these, not to mention he wouldn’t ever think that you of all people would like him that way. Because he certainly doesn’t like you that way.

Right?

Right.

So Draco went back to reading, his eyes scanning the words but not registering them, until he finally exhaled loudly and tossed the book aside, standing to shuck off his trousers and shrug out of his shirt. He spelled them clean and charmed them to fold themselves and put them in their proper drawers. He then peeled back the duvet of his own bed, sliding between the half-warm, half-cold sheets, trying to get comfortable.

He remembered when he had gotten home that evening. Potter had passed out sort of sideways on his bed, an open potions book forgotten beside him, and his glasses slightly askew. The sight actually made Draco chuckle to himself before setting all of his things on a table and conjuring a blanket to cover Potter up. The black-haired man murmured in his sleep and shifted, and Draco had to catch himself from doing something stupid and soppy – like kissing the fool on the forehead.

Then he called room service, and went to work on the salve decoction, casting a notice-me-not spell when the food arrived. Shortly thereafter, Potter awoke, and oh, Merlin, was he utterly adorable all sleepy and bed mussed. It made Draco want to pounce on him, snog him senseless, and shag him until he couldn’t remember just why he’d been straight in the first place. It really was a conundrum. He felt assured that he had kept his thoughts off his face and that Potter had been too sleepy to notice, but perhaps he had been wrong.

Or, perhaps, he was just being paranoid, and Potter’s silence had nothing to do with him.

Draco wasn’t sure which option he wished were true.

***

Draco woke up to find that he’d slept in terribly again – it was nearly noon. He was becoming lazy. It was as if the case didn’t even exist. He should be up all hours of the night, watching James and plotting ways to kill the bastard. After securing the artefact and the name of who gave it to him, of course.

He rolled over and looked at Potter, who was still curled up, facing towards the door of the room. It looked like he hadn’t moved all night. Draco sat up, rubbing his eyes and yawning before padding to the bathroom. Once finished, he walked over to the cauldron, happy to see that it had solidified and cooled and that he now had a thick, green-tinted salve to apply to Harry’s injury. He lifted it up and sniffed, pleased that adding the lavender oil had worked. It smelled much better. Not that nature didn’t smell great and all, but so many different essences of plants was not like laying in a field of freshly cut grass.

He set the pot down and glanced over to see that Harry was still asleep. Sighing, he walked over to the phone and ordered breakfast service, climbing back into bed and grabbing his book to read while he waited.

***

Harry woke up to a loud knock on the door. Blearily, he cracked his eyes open and saw Malfoy walk over to the door to answer, still in his underwear, and not caring a wit that the cute waiter was eying his bare chest as he signed for the food.

He realised that he had slept with his glasses on again, and that he felt increasingly stiff and sore, as if he hadn’t moved at all last night, which, he thought as he stretched and felt all his muscles ache and his joints pop, he probably hadn’t.

“Oh, good. You’re up.” Malfoy moved back into the room with a large tray, setting it on the table. “I ordered breakfast.” He turned to look at Harry. “How’re you feeling?”

Harry exhaled and relaxed his whole body as if he were a rag doll. “Sore.”

“All over or just your knee?”

“All over.”

Malfoy grabbed the pot of salve. “I don’t think you moved at all last night.”

Harry moved his glasses and rubbed at his eyes and face before replacing them. “I don’t think I did either.”

“The salve is ready. Do you want me to apply some now, or after breakfast?”

“Now is fine, I guess.”

“Okay, move the covers,” Malfoy instructed. As Harry complied, he sat down on the edge of the bed beside Harry. “Actually, I’m going to have to get between your legs here so I can reach your knee easily.”

Harry nodded and moved his uninjured leg, lifting and laying it on Malfoy’s opposite knee, as he shifted to get a better angle. “Is that okay?” Harry asked, as Malfoy set the pot of salve on the bed between Harry’s legs.

Malfoy nodded. “It’s fine. I just needed to get closer to your other knee.” Then Malfoy dipped his fingers in the thick, creamy substance, scooping out a generous amount and applying it to Harry’s knee. Harry hissed, and Malfoy asked, “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

Harry winced. “It’s just sore. And the cream is cold.”

“It’ll warm up,” replied the blond as he used both of his hands to gently massage the cream into Harry’s skin, rubbing down the calf, under the joint, and up Harry’s thigh.

Harry wiggled a little as Malfoy’s hands crept higher, tickling him as well as jumpstarting his morning erection again and that silly feeling in his stomach. It was all fluttery and made his breath catch in his throat. It reminded him of how he had felt around Ginny sometimes, when their relationship was still new, and he was amazed at how normal that one thing in his life was.

“Am I tickling you?” Malfoy asked, spot on.

“Er…yeah, a bit.”

“I can stop. It’s not all the way rubbed in yet-”

“No!” Harry found himself saying. “No, er…that’s fine. You can keep going.” He bit his lip. “It’s already feeling much better. And it smells good too.”

“That’s the lavender.”

“It’s kind of…musky? And sweet too.”

Malfoy nodded. “It’s a relaxing scent.”

Harry took a few deep breaths and sagged back into his pillow. “Mmm…that feels good,” he murmured, watching Malfoy’s pale fingers massage the joint and the flesh surrounding it.

“Good,” Malfoy replied, glancing up at Harry for a brief moment before concentrating back on his task.

Oh… Harry thought. That look… That wasn’t just a casual glance, Potter. It was a look that-that smouldered. That was sultry-like and said, “I want you.”

The thought of that look did not help Harry at all, and he was surprised Malfoy wasn’t noticing what should have been a very noticeable arousal – but no! Harry wasn’t attracted to Malfoy; he wasn’t even attracted to men! So how come Draco was making him feel so good? It was a long neglected libido, Harry told himself. That’s all it is…just the fact he hadn’t gotten any sort of action save for his right hand in a long, long time…

“I’ve got to use the loo,” Harry cried shortly, startling Malfoy from his rhythmic ministrations.

“Oh. Okay. Here, let me help you…”

Harry tried to stay as calm and relaxed as possible as Malfoy helped him across the room, the familiarity of the motions comfortable and contradictorily unnerving. Once inside, Harry stood there, leaning against the water basin and trying to calm down. He didn’t have to go to the bathroom, but there was nowhere else to be alone in the room.

After several moments, he turned on the tap and splashed cold water on his face.

“Potter? Are you okay? You’ve been in there for a while…” he heard from the other side of the door.

“Er…yeah. I’m just going to take a shower, okay Malfoy?”

“Do you need any help?”

“No-no! I’m fine. My knee feels a lot better already. Thanks.”

Exhaling, Harry stripped his boxers off quickly, setting his glasses down on the counter and reaching over to turn on the water – as hot as he could make it without scalding himself. Gingerly, he stepped into the shower, shivering in a strange pleasure as the water sprayed down onto his neck and shoulders. Harry didn’t waste much more time – he leaned forward, bracing his arm against the wall behind the showerhead and took a hold of himself, almost moaning loudly as relief from his problem began. Under the cover of running water, Harry allowed himself panting breaths and whimpering moans, trying to just feel instead of thinking – anything not to see in his minds eye Draco between his legs, his deft fingers massaging his own darker skin, reaching higher and higher –

“Malfoy-” gasped quietly as he came.

Oh fuck. He thought. Am I gay all of a sudden or something?

Angry, he quickly shut off the water and yanked open the shower curtain, yelling in surprise and slipping in the water as a very shocked-looking Malfoy stood there, already stepping away.

“What the fuck-” Harry yelled as he fell.

Instead of continuing his trip out of the bathroom, Malfoy rushed forward and grabbed onto one of Harry’s slick arms, hauling him up and onto his feet again.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Malfoy asked quickly, cutting off any protests Harry had on his tongue.

Harry was panting in panic, gulping in lungfuls of air and trying very unsuccessfully to ignore Malfoy’s bare chest against his, how tightly he was being held, and how naked he was. Malfoy looked startled and worried, but Harry didn’t have time for it.

“Malfoy, let go of me!”

“You just fell!” he yelled back in Harry’s face. “I don’t want you to fall again-”

“I’m fucking fine! Why don’t you go spy on some other unsuspecting male in the shower! Someone who’s just dying for you to fuck him!”

Malfoy jerked as if slapped, his façade even more startled than before, before turning cold. “Fuck you, Potter. You don’t know the first thing about me.” Malfoy promptly let go of Harry, little droplets of water glistening on his chest. The blond turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him.

How much had he seen? Harry thought, glaring after the man. Had he been watching? Harry knew he hadn’t closed the curtain all the way…had Malfoy heard him say his name?

Fuck.

Harry shivered as the water dried on his skin, and he grabbed the nearest towel and dried himself off, scrubbing it in his hair roughly. He dropped the towel on the floor and slipped his boxers and spectacles back on, taking a huge breath and letting it out before opening the door.

Malfoy was sitting on the opposite side of his bed, still only in his boxers, hunched over with his arms braced on his knees.

“Whatever rant you’re about to go on,” the blond said, “don’t. I was just going in there to make sure you were really okay. You’d been acting weird before bed last night, and again this morning. I was worried. I wasn’t trying to spy on you.”

“You still should have said something.”

“Yes. I should have. I’m sorry. But I thought something was wrong-”

“Well you should have minded your own business! It’s not like you haven’t been acting all weird around me either!”

Malfoy stood and turned to look Harry in the eye. “And why do you think that is, Potter?”

Harry grabbed for words. “I-I don’t know.”

“Well maybe you should figure yourself out before we continue this conversation.” He stood and walked over to his dresser, snatching the first fresh set of clothes he came upon. Harry watched as he grabbed a few muffins from the breakfast tray. “I’m going to go tail James. You can have the rest of the breakfast. I’ll be on comm if there’s an emergency.” He grabbed his wand and pointed it at Harry’s head, setting the comm before leaving loudly and abruptly.

Harry waited a few moments before whispering, “You don’t need to worry about me getting around. I just realised I should have conjured crutches.” There was no reply. “If you care.”

Harry flexed his knee, sighing as it ached, but happy that he felt like he could bend it much farther without it screaming in agony. Having his leg in a partially bent position for two days without being able to stretch it out had made the joint stiff.

Favouring his injured leg, he shuffled over to his bed, flopping down on it. He grabbed his wand from the nightstand and flicked it over to the food, charming it to stay fresh. Setting his wand back down, he relaxed back and thought about his current predicament. Sod Malfoy. What was he trying to do? Make Harry gay? Actually doing it, not just playing dress up? If anything, he was just confusing him…

Or maybe, he’d never really questioned his sexuality. He certainly never paid much attention to it before; he was too busy trying to stay alive to really think whether he might like boys too. Harry couldn’t really think of any particular times he would have thought of a guy that way… Except for thinking they were good-looking, like Oliver or…or Cedric. But couldn’t that just be chalked up to being curious? To wondering if he measured up to the popular guys in school? Ginny and Cho seemed to like him well enough. And that Romilda Vane chick – Merlin, did she need her head checked. But that still didn’t answer the question that was now stuck in his head.

Was he attracted to guys? Could he be?

Harry really didn’t think he was gay…he was attracted to girls… So he had a random fantasy about Draco Malfoy while in the shower – but really, the blond had practically been feeling him up a few moments before! Although, that kiss with Jamie was rather nice… So maybe he needed to see if he could fantasize again, without previous stimulation. See if he could think only about a guy and get off on it.

Harry closed his eyes and cast around for a visual that he could work off of. Malfoy immediately came to mind, and his near-naked state of dress that morning, with the wait service ogling him, but all that did was make jealousy twinge unexpectedly in this chest, so he ignored that vision with a note to himself to look into the jealousy later.

Then, naturally, Sameson James materialised against the black of his eyelids, and Harry mentally studied his face. It was thin and angular – sculpted, really. High cheekbones; straight nose; nice, rounded, but pointy chin with a slight dip in the middle; dark eyes and creamy skin. His features were remarkably like Malfoy’s, but Malfoy was perhaps even paler, and maybe even more angular – with the slim body of a boy barely become man, where Sameson’s frame was larger, and screamed power and protection. Malfoy was taller than Harry, but his thinness only made him look more delicate than manly, if Harry wanted to use that word.

Sameson’s hair was longer in the front and fell into his eyes, dark and silky. Harry would have thought it’d make his pale skin even paler in contrast, but even Malfoy’s white-blond hair out-ranked Sameson there. Forcing himself to stop comparing the two men, Harry concentrated again on visualising Sameson in a sexual way.

It was harder, as Harry hadn’t seen him in anything less than a t-shirt and jeans. But he looked closer at his remembered visuals, and saw the shape of his muscles, imagining the heat from his body, like when they had been dancing, or when Harry’d been pressed against his back, holding onto his well-defined torso.

He kissed Sameson again, feeling the slight scratch of stubble against his chin, and the soft pressure from his lips, and imagined those lips opening up to let Harry explore that mouth with his tongue. Harry was starting to pant now, and forgot to keep his mouth closed as he ran his fingers lightly down his chest, bumping into his hard nipples, and he moaned quietly in his throat. He forgot that Malfoy would hear.

Harry tried to imagine Sameson’s arms around him; unsure about how it was between guys, as he had always had someone in his arms, not the other way around. He imagined it, and it felt different, but good, in his mind’s view.

His hands reached the waistband of his boxers and he quickly shoved them off, slowly touching his growing arousal. He kissed Sameson again, and felt stubble on his tongue as he ran kisses down Sameson’s neck. Sameson moaned his name in his mind, and Harry took a firmer hold of himself as he started to masturbate.

In Harry’s mind, Sameson took Harry’s shirt and pulled it off, and Harry did the same to him, feeling with certain clarity the feeling of another man’s bare chest against his. He felt arms around him again, and Harry couldn’t get much farther, as he wasn’t quite sure where two men went from there.

But he continued to masturbate anyway, rolling the images and sensations around in his mind’s eye, everything becoming more heated and rushed and perhaps, even, animalistic, and Harry came with a cry on his lips and an arousing force that startled him.

He bit his lip hard as he came off his high, and wish he could taste blood, so he could ignore the burst of rising panic that was flooding his veins.

He was gay. Or, at least, he was beginning to have some serious doubts about his heterosexuality.

Holy crap.

***

Draco almost dropped his muffin when he started hearing panting breaths in his ear. He whirled around as he walked down the street, just to make sure he wasn’t hearing things.

Then Potter moaned and Draco shuddered, nearly creaming himself. He ducked into an alley and Apparated to his own flat, forgetting about James for a moment. He listened intently as Potter obviously masturbated, and wished to all that was holy and magical that he could see it. He had only gotten a glimpse of Potter in the shower – much too shocked to hear his name on the man’s lips to really register what he’d been seeing.

He ran to his bedroom and stripped quickly, falling sideways on his bed as his arousal grew and clenched his teeth so that he wouldn’t make a sound as he took a hold of himself and masturbated along with Potter. He came at nearly the same time, opening his mouth wide and breathing deeply so Harry couldn’t hear him.

He must have forgotten I could hear him, Draco thought.

Re-robing and feeling distinctly dirty, but not in the bad way, Draco resumed his spying duties and went to watch James, easily becoming bored and occupying his thoughts with those of Harry all wet and naked beneath him.

***

Draco returned home very late as a sexually frustrated, horny, wet, cold, and grumpy blond.

When Potter looked up from his book to nod a greeting and caught the generalized glare at the world that Draco was emitting, he quickly looked away.

Draco slammed the door shut and stomped past Harry and straight into the bathroom, deciding a very hot shower was exactly what he needed. He almost yelped as the scalding water hit his skin; pinpricks of pain running up and down his body. Soon, though, he relaxed, and let all the tension ease out of his muscles.

When he emerged from the bathroom, it took him a moment to see anything, as a cloud of steam followed him out. He had a towel wrapped tightly around his waist, and his hands held his sopping wet clothes, that he happened to be charming dry as he walked across the room.

“Get caught in the thunderstorm that just hit?” Potter asked casually, flipping a page of a very familiar book.

Draco set his dry clothes on the top of his dresser and sat down on his bed, facing Potter. “Yes. Just as I was coming out of the alley nearby. Didn’t want the Muggles to think it was weird that I was walking around not getting wet when I didn’t have an umbrella.” He leaned back on his hands. “Isn’t that my book?”

“Yes,” Potter replied.

“Do you like it?”

Potter shrugged. “It’s better than potion texts. Kind of bizarre, actually, considering we do stuff like this all the time.”

“Yeah. But that’s what I like about it. It keeps me sharp.”

“It’s a Muggle book, Malfoy.”

“So? Muggles, I will actually admit, can be quite clever when they don’t have magic to cover up their tracks.”

Potter hummed in agreement, and after a moment of still silence, he finally set the book down. “I’m sorry about this morning, Malfoy.”

“Why are you sorry, Potter? I was the one in the bathroom while you were obliviously taking a shower.”

“Yes, but I shouldn’t have said some of the things I did.”

“And I shouldn’t have been in the bathroom.”

Potter sighed. “I’m trying to apologise here.”

“I know you are. I’m just… I’m tired of you always insinuating I’m some kind of male-whore. I don’t sleep around, Potter. Not nearly as much as some of the guys I’ve probably slept with have.”

Draco watched as a light blush infused Harry’s cheeks. “I’m really sorry, Malfoy. You were right; I don’t know you. Not really.”

“You know more than you used to a few days ago.”

“True.”

“And I know more about you.”

Potter ducked his head. “Yeah, I suppose you do.”

Draco narrowed his gaze. “So, what’d you do today? I see you conjured those crutches.”

Potter looked to the two wooden crutches that were wedged between his bed and the table. “Yeah. I really can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. Would have saved both of us a bunch of trouble.”

Draco nodded and stood, moving over to his dresser. “Did you have fun jerking off in my ear this afternoon?” he asked with a self-satisfied smirk.

“What?” Potter squeaked, then cleared his throat and asked again. “What?”

Draco, smirk still intact, turned to level a look at Harry. “You forgot you were on comm, didn’t you?”

If a blush had infused Harry’s cheeks just moments before, it certainly had spread and deepened across his entire face, all the way up to his ears. “I…er…”

“Its okay, Potter,” Draco shrugged, turning back to finding his pyjamas. “Though I do wish the sound had had picture.” Deciding to be bold and push Potter just a little further, Draco dropped his towel where he stood, stretching his arms over his head as he slipped on a shirt, knowing that Potter was staring at his bare ass intently. He could practically feel the green gaze. Then he bent down and stepped into his pyjama bottoms, turning ever so slightly as he pulled them up and over his slightly hard length. Turning all the way around to take in the shocked and almost…apoplectic expression on Potter’s face, he said, “There. Now we’re even. You’ve seen me naked.”

Potter looked strangled for a second before looking away and muttering, “Not completely…”

“What’s that, Potter? You think you didn’t get a good enough show? I can strip again if you’d like.” The look on Draco’s face was predatory, but lazy, knowing he was hitting all the right spots. “You know, I went directly home and wanked the second I heard you going at it.” When Harry’s face snapped back around, Draco nodded. “Yes. I jerked off to your little moans and gasps, Potter.”

Potter finally glared. “Stop it, Malfoy.”

“Stop what?” the blond asked, flopping onto his bed and stretching languorously.

“Stop…trying to make me gay. I’m not going to sleep with you, or kiss you, or touch you, okay?”

Draco rolled over onto his side and propped his head on his hand. “I’m not expecting you to, Potter. I’m just wondering what got you so worked up that you started jerking off five minutes after I was out the door.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Who was it? Jamie?” Draco said in a sickeningly sweet drawl.

“Why? Jealous?”

“Do you want me to be?” Draco shot back, rolling back to look at the ceiling. “Do you want me to want you, Potter? Do you want me to get jealous, so I can fight for your hand?”

“No, Malfoy, I don’t. Just drop it, alright?”

“Whatever you want, princess,” the blond said, moving up to pull the covers out from under him and settling into bed.

“I don’t know why…” he heard Potter mutter.

“Don’t know why what?”

Harry raised his voice, sounding harsh. “Why I actually felt bad for being an ass. Why I actually missed your company today.” Harry turned off the light. “Goodnight, Malfoy.”

***

A half-hour later, Harry was still awake, and he knew that Malfoy was too. He rolled over onto his back and said abruptly into the quiet:

“Do you think Sameson is hot?”

There was a distinct pause, where Harry swore he heard Malfoy’s semi-even breaths falter.

“Excuse me?” came the long drawl.

“You heard me, Malfoy.”

“Actually, I was nearly asleep,” he said as he rolled over to face Harry. “Thanks for waking me up.”

“Do you think Sameson James is hot?” Harry asked again.

“What has that got to do with anything, Potter?”

“I want to know. From an actual gay man’s perspective.”

Harry heard Malfoy open his mouth, then close it, probably rethinking his answer.

Finally: “He’s definitely better looking than most of the gay men out there.”

“On a scale of one to ten.”

“One being what?”

“Ugly.”

“Ten being?”

“I don’t know…gorgeous, hot, pretty, whatever you call guys that look really good!”

“Well, those words describe very different types of men, Harry. What would you classify Granger?”

Harry frowned, puzzled by the question. “I don’t know…pretty, I guess. I don’t think about her that way.”

“And I don’t think about James that way. So there’s your answer.”

“What, that he’s ‘pretty’?”

“No, Potter. That I don’t give a flying fuck. He’s fair-looking, okay? Now can we go back to sleep?”

“Neither of us was sleeping, Malfoy.”

“Yeah, well, I almost was.”

“You didn’t really answer my question.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No. I want to know. If you had met him, outside of this case, would you have gone for him? Chatted him up or whatever?”

Harry was sure he felt a glare coming from the other bed. “You are highly annoying, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Only you, just now.”

Malfoy sighed in frustration. “Maybe, okay?”

“Where do you think you are on the scale?”

At that, Malfoy scoffed. “Come on, Potter. Obviously fuck-me-on-the-dance-floor hot.”

Harry had to laugh at Draco’s brazen answer. “And…me? Where do I fit?”

Malfoy shifted in the other bed. “You’re…a little harder to define, Potter.”

“Meaning I’m ugly.”

“I didn’t say that!” Harry saw Malfoy’s silhouette against the balcony curtains as he sat up. “You’re just…well… I don’t know. You can be a lot of things.”

“Like what?” he asked quietly.

“Like… Like kind of annoying. Go to bed.” Malfoy laid back down and Harry felt put out. He really wanted to know what Malfoy was going to say.

After a long silence, Harry whispered, “You can be a lot of things too, Malfoy.”

“I know, Potter.”

“Will you tell me? Someday?”

“Perhaps. Goodnight.”

“G’night.”

***

Harry woke a few hours later to a throbbing pain in his knee. Groaning, he rolled over, bending and unbending his leg, trying to get the pain to ease its way out of his body.

“Ow…” he whispered, and blinked in the darkness. Looking over to Malfoy’s side of the room, he noticed that the blond was not in his bed, and then saw the light in the bathroom.

Sitting up, Harry grabbed his crutches and hoisted himself up, balancing on one foot. He blearily made it over to the bathroom door, and had just stopped to knock when the door opened, blinding him, and Draco almost ran into him as he came out of the room and simultaneously turned off the light, blinding him again.

“Whoa,” Malfoy said, putting his hands on Harry’s hips. “You okay?”

Harry, still blinking away spots, nodded. “Er…yeah. I was just…coming to ask you where the salve was.”

“Oh. Um…on the table. Is your knee hurting again?”

Harry tried to step back a bit. “Yes, it woke me up.”

Draco still had a hold of his waist, but let go to step past him and retrieve the salve. “Go sit down. When was the last time you put some on?”

Harry hobbled back over to his bed, sitting down and tucking his crutches away again. “Er…when you did it yesterday…”

Malfoy, who had been walking over, stared at Harry. “What? That was nearly fourteen hours ago!”

“Well, it’s not like you gave me an instruction manual,” Harry growled.

Malfoy sat down on his right side and whispered Lumos, and his wand, which was laying on the nightstand, lit up, casting odd and cold shadows across both of their faces. Malfoy’s face was a pale blue blurry shape to Harry. Setting the pot down next to Harry’s hip, he automatically scooped up an ample portion, but looked up at Harry in hesitation. “Do you want me to, or…?”

Harry blinked. “Oh, er…yeah. That’s fine. It felt…good, when you did it last time.”

“It’s not like I do anything special Potter, I just rub it into the skin.” Malfoy started to gently apply the cream, but pulled away when Harry winced and jerked in pain. “I’m sorry, does that hurt?”

“Just a little.”

“I’ll be more careful.” And he resumed smoothing the cream over the bulk of Harry’s knee, using feather-light touches.

“Knowing me, I would have applied too much pressure and messed up my knee for good. Whatever the hell I did to it to make it this bad anyway,” he muttered to himself.

“I probably kicked it or knelt on it or something when we were fighting. Potter, you really ought to put this stuff on every four hours, at least. It’ll keep the swelling down. Not to mention heal the bruises, stop the pain, and heal the damage.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t even notice that it had started to hurt again…I was sorta busy getting mad at you.”

Malfoy’s eyes averted to his own lap. “I was acting like an arse, wasn’t I?”

“Yes. Actually, you were teasing me.”

Malfoy shrugged. “I do that sometimes. Got to get in a good flirt every now and again.”

Harry rolled his eyes, deciding not to answer. “Mmm, that feels good,” he murmured though, closing his eyes to half-mast.

Malfoy cleared his throat, causing Harry to open his eyes again. “The discolouration is already going away…that’s good.”

“No, I thought it was bad, Malfoy,” Harry deadpanned.

“Shut up, Potter. This stuff seems to be pretty powerful, even though topical solutions are usually not as effective as solutions you imbibe, because getting it into your bloodstream is easier through your stomach than your skin.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at the mini-lesson. “Good to know…”

“Yes, it is. But still, with this, I think you’ll be ready to go dancing at Sinn on Friday. Though this sure is a waste of time…you could be practicing. You need it.”

The dark-haired Auror ignored the jibe. “You really don’t like him, do you?”

“Who? James?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course I don’t, Potter. He’s a criminal. Though you wouldn’t think so, with all the lack of criminal activity going on about him.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what if we have the wrong guy? I’ve been watching him for two days, Potter, and he doesn’t do anything out of the ordinary. I managed to plant little bug charms around his pawn shop, and in his flat above it, and there’s been nothing. He seems like a totally normal business man. Minus that conversation he had on the phone last week.”

“Which one? He’s always on his mobile.”

“The one we heard in the diner. Remember? He was obviously talking about the artefact. This witch or wizard, whoever they are, must be desperate. Or very clever. And James must be a pretty big name for a wizard to be able to find him. There’s just no other explanation for when James said, ‘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’. It’s too suspicious. But he doesn’t seem to do any other illegal fencing.”

“You have a pretty good memory, you know that?”

“Lift your knee a little. Yes. I know I do. You have to, in this business.”

“Yeah, I suppose you do.”

“Okay, there. You’re all done.” Malfoy started to take his hands away from Harry’s knee, but Harry impulsively put a hand over his own.

“Uh…Potter-”

Harry took Draco’s hand and held it up. “You have rather nice hands,” he said absently, ignoring the other man’s discomfort.

Malfoy was already leaning forward, so when Harry pulled a little on his hand to look at it more closely in the dim light, he automatically shifted forward to prevent from falling over. The movement took Harry away from his musings and he looked at Draco, who was now much closer than he had been.

“Um…Potter…you have my hand.”

“Oh! Yes, here,” said Harry, dropping it, suddenly realising how close Draco was.

But Malfoy didn’t move. Harry could feel the man’s breath, hot on his lips, but he didn’t move. He just sat there, staring at Harry intently.

“What’re you doing?” Harry said in a rush.

The blond pulled away suddenly, grabbing the pot of cream and sealing it again to prevent it from drying out. He stood, hopping off the end of the bed and going to set the salve on the table. “Nothing,” he said. “You’re all done now. We should go back to bed, or we’ll be sleeping all day again.”

Harry felt a flush build on his cheeks, and wondered where it came from. “I just need to use the loo,” he said, and grabbed his crutches and quickly made it into the other room.

Oh, god, he was hard. And he really didn’t know why. It couldn’t really be Malfoy rubbing the salve in, though that did really feel good, Harry thought back. They had managed to have a conversation, which seemed to have distracted Harry long enough that he didn’t pay attention to the wonderful feeling of Malfoy’s fingers on his skin, and up his thigh, and oh – god –

Harry set his crutches against the counter and leaned against the wall across from the toilet, taking himself out and jerking off in quick, harsh strokes. It was only a little bit of stimulation, but it did the trick, and he was thinking about seeing Malfoy before bed, when he’d been naked, and Harry had gotten just the tiniest glimpse of Malfoy’s slightly hard cock. And there was all that creamy skin…

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

Harry came, gasping Draco’s name quietly, over and over again, feeling as if he were going to cry. What he didn’t know, was that at that same moment, Malfoy was lying in his bed having his own quick wank session, thinking everything he could about Harry.

***

Malfoy said he’d see Harry at the club – but now Harry was wondering just how he was going to find the blond. Original Sinn was packed, and not in that normal, it’s a Friday night, end of the week, let’s unwind sort of way. Like…there must have been some sort of birthday party or theme party or something going on…because Harry could hardly breathe, and had nearly gotten his glasses knocked off a few times just trying to get through the entry way.

Jamie had picked him up on his bike, and had definitely grabbed Harry’s ass as he hugged him upon seeing him in his, or rather, Malfoy’s very tight, sleeveless, blue-turned-red top and black jeans, which were also rather tight. Harry had, of course, complained when he put them on, but Malfoy insisted that tonight was the night to go in for “the kill”, so to speak – to get Sameson to show Harry the artefact, and where he kept it, so they could figure out a way to get it back and arrest the dark and tall man. And the way to do that was to make him want to take Harry home. Malfoy had even suggested spiking his drink with Veritaserum, but Harry refused, saying he only would if he were desperate to find the artefact.

Harry cried out as he lost his grip on Jamie’s hand, but felt relief as a hand connected with his and he was finally pulled through the crowd to the bar, falling into his “boyfriend’s” arms.

“Oh, thank god, I thought we’d never make it out of there.”

James chuckled in his ear. “It’s all going down into the dance floor and the rooms beyond.”

“There are other rooms here?” Harry asked, pulling away and looking up at him.

“Yeah. You didn’t know that?” When Harry shook his head he replied, “Maybe I’ll have to give you a tour sometime.”

Harry wrinkled his nose, not wanting to think about it. “I’d rather go to your place.”

Sameson quirked an eyebrow, then his eyes brightened. “Let’s dance!” he said, and he pulled Harry towards the crowd on the dance floor.

“I think I need a few drinks in me to do that!” Harry replied, tugging back.

Sameson rolled his eyes but took Harry to go get a few drinks. He got some kind of wine cooler, because it tasted like strawberries, and his date rolled his eyes again and ordered a beer before taking Harry’s free hand and leading him to the edge of the bar on the far side, leaning on the railing divider of the stairs to watch the fun going on.

It was definitely some sort of party, Harry thought, watching all the people, men mostly, writhe to the pounding beat of the music. It was centring around this one blond – but Harry didn’t see any birthday type of décor or presents anywhere…

“Hey! That’s the guy from dinner the other night! The same guy who hit on me!” Jamie suddenly yelled, pointing to the blond in the centre of the ring of dancers. “I was right!”

Harry’s eyes widened as he looked back over and saw Draco Malfoy of all people, riling up all the people, dancing like there was no tomorrow.

No. No way.

“Him? He’s the one that hit on you?” Harry asked, feeling a little weak. What was Malfoy doing?

“Why, do you know him?”

“No, I just…wouldn’t have figured he was gay,” Harry lied through his teeth.

“Yeah, that’s him. He was at the restaurant, remember?”

“Vaguely…”

“Come on, let’s go dance!” Sameson yelled, slamming back the rest of his beer and taking Harry’s from him and setting them both on the steps. Harry had barely a second to contemplate how irresponsible and dangerous that was before Sameson grabbed his hands and dragged him down the stairs, pushing into the crowd.

He pulled Harry against him and started to move, rubbing their bodies together, and putting his hands around Harry’s waist and around his back. Harry automatically put his arms around Sameson’s neck, bending his knees and moving his hips with the other man. His knee only twinged with pain a little bit, and he was glad he had Malfoy put some more salve on right before he left.

“Hey! I remember you!” Harry heard behind him, and looked over his shoulder to see Malfoy dancing next to them, looking at James.

“Yeah,” Jamie said disinterestedly.

“Who’s this here? Cheating on me already?” Malfoy flirted.

From under Jamie’s chin, Harry sent Malfoy a pointed look. It said, “What on Merlin’s Great Bloody Earth are you doing?!”

“This is my boyfriend,” Jamie said, and Harry felt his arms tighten around his shoulders.

“Boyfriend? When did you two meet?”

“The same night you hit on me.”

“Wow, so quick to move on… You wouldn’t mind if I took him for a spin on the dance floor, would you, dark, handsome stranger?”

Jamie glared. “Any particular reason why?”

Malfoy raised his arms up in the air. “I’m the birthday boy; I should get everything I want tonight!”

Harry was caught off-guard for a moment. If it was Malfoy’s birthday, why didn’t he say anything? Wait a minute…isn’t his birthday in June? It’s May… Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation, and waited for Jamie’s answer.

James looked at Malfoy…quirking his eyebrow. “You wouldn’t be trying to steal him from me, would you? I see you have penchant for us dark and handsome strangers.”

“No, no!” Malfoy said, waving his hands around in some weird gesture. “It’s all perfectly innocent. I’d just like to dance.”

“Do you mind, Harry? It is his birthday, after all,” Jamie said to him with a roll of his eyes.

Harry shrugged. “If you don’t, it’s fine.”

“Alright then!” Malfoy exclaimed, grabbing Harry by the hand and pulling him across the dance floor, only to take him in his arms in a similar fashion that Sameson had.

“Malfoy!” Harry whispered. “What the fuck are you doing? It’s not your birthday!”

“Oh, I know that, Potter. I just needed to get you away from him for a minute.”

“Where’d all these people come from, Malfoy, and why do they all seem to love you?”

“These people?” Malfoy asked, gesturing to the bodies around them, “They’re my friends.”

“Your friends.” It wasn’t really a question so much as a statement of incredulity.

“Yes, Potter. I have some gay Muggle friends. Please try not to have a heart attack.”

“Sorry, I just…how’d they get here? Did you invite them?”

“No, actually. They were waiting in line when I arrived, and I got them in with me. Surely you heard me on comm?”

Harry sighed, clenching his fists in Malfoy’s shirt a little. “You’ve got to stop using Imperius on the bouncer, Malfoy.”

“Yeah, yeah. Ooh… James looks like the jealous type, if the glare he’s giving me is anything to go by.” Malfoy laughed and tucked his face into Harry’s neck, catching him by surprise with shivers of pleasure. “Turn and give him a smile, Potter, so he doesn’t get the wrong idea.”

Harry turned a little and looked over his shoulder, spotting James against the wall, and smiled at him with a little wave, receiving a smile in return.

“Anyhow, I just wanted to let you know that I’m still paying attention to you and James, even though my friends are here, okay?” Malfoy said, bringing Harry’s attention back around to him.

“Er…okay. Whatever, Malfoy.”

“You’re impossible, Potter.”

“And you’re what? Easy?” Harry jibed, smiling at the bit of shock on Malfoy’s face.

Malfoy glared as Harry laughed at his expense, twirling Harry around and pushing him towards Sameson, just as the song was ending. “I’m sorry!” Harry said, smiling, but quickly lost that smile when Malfoy slapped him hard on the ass and yelled to James,

“This one’s a keeper, Stranger! Come find me if you ever want a third!”

Harry turned to stare at Malfoy, but the blond had already disappeared into the crowd. Rubbing his bum, he made his way back over to his date, who was leaning against the railing again.

Sameson pulled him close and put his arms around him. “Have fun?” he asked.

Harry shrugged. “He’s an interesting bloke.”

“Did you find out his name?”

“No, I didn’t bother.”

“Well, as long as you know you’re mine, I don’t much care what that guy thinks.”

Harry frowned. “Yeah…”

“Come on. I didn’t really get to dance with you.”

“Okay.”

Harry allowed Jamie to pull him back onto the dance floor. Feeling a little uneasy and not knowing why, Harry danced with the taller man, allowing him to pull Harry closer. Harry was getting sweaty quickly – the amount of bodies and the friction of his chest against Jamie’s was making the breath in his lungs catch in the back of his throat.

Then his hands were back on Harry’s hips, and he was pulling him closer and Harry could feel his arousal, and he felt himself harden in response. Oh no… he thought, and bit his lip in way that made Jamie growl in his ear. Jamie’s growl was followed by hot kisses on Harry’s neck, and he couldn’t help but whimper in this throat; it felt so good.

“Potter? You okay?” came Malfoy’s worried whisper.

“Yeah-” Harry gasped, getting lost in the sensation and the beat of the music, and Jamie’s large, warm body against him and all around him…

Sameson finally abandoned Harry’s neck and started attacking his mouth, and Harry got lost again, never feeling so totally helpless to another person’s affections, and wanting it to never end.

Breaking free for air, Harry found himself looking up dazedly into Sameson’s serious face, and was then pulled by the waist to an unoccupied part of the dark wall next to the bar, free from other couples or lurkers. Sameson shoved him somewhat harshly against the wall and started snogging him again, tilting Harry’s head back with a hand on his chin, just as passionate as before, if not rougher.

Jamie stopped this time, looking at Harry’s debauched appearance before kissing his cheek, neck and ear, whispering hotly, “God, I want you, Harry.”

Harry cleared his throat and asked, “You do?”

“Yes,” Jamie said with passion, pressing Harry into the wall with his body. “I want to be inside of you, and I want you all around me, hot and tight and perfect.”

Harry didn’t know how to react; he had never had anyone say things like that to him before, and he didn’t want to think of the strange ache he suddenly had in his rear end and what it meant. So he did the only thing he could think of, and grabbed Jamie’s face and kissed him, hard, hoping that it conveyed the message Jamie was expecting.

Jamie pulled back quickly. “Bathroom,” he said, taking Harry’s hand and pulling him through the crowd and up through the bar to the front of the club where the restrooms were located.

Harry’s heart leapt into his throat, but not necessarily in a pleasant way. Sameson wasn’t going to fuck him the loo, was he? Because Harry knew a few good wandless hexes he could use if Sameson went anywhere near his bum with his dick.

Then that weird ache pulsed down there again, and he wondered if maybe he didn’t want Sameson’s dick near his bum.

Harry grimaced. He didn’t want to lose his…gay virginity or whatever to a criminal in a dirty loo in a gay club.

Assuming he wanted to lose anything to a guy in the first place. Harry was hoping to bypass the thought of him being gay by just focusing on the case and how kissing a guy and liking it when he hadn’t been with anyone in such a long time didn’t make him gay.

Really. It didn’t.

Jamie found an empty stall, surprisingly, and pulled Harry into it before closing and locking the door. He ignored words for actions, pushing Harry against the wobbly metal wall between their stall and the next, kissing him and putting his hands under his shirt and touching his bare skin.

Harry arched and moaned, starting to feel lost again, until Jamie started undoing the fly of Harry’s jeans, and his eyes snapped open and he sucked in a breath.

“Jamie…”

Jamie pulled back and looked into Harry’s eyes. “Are you okay with this?” His gaze pleaded for the answer ‘yes’.

“I…” Harry hesitated, swallowing. “Yeah, I just…um…not sex. Not here. It’s…dirty.”

Jamie nodded seriously then smiled with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I like dirty.” Harry felt laughter bubble up in his throat and wound up chuckling in embarrassment. “Does this mean I can’t suck you off?” Jamie asked, nibbling on Harry’s earlobe.

“Er…if you really want to…” Harry said, his wide eyes roaming the painted black ceiling and wondering what the fuck was going on.

Malfoy’s voice came in, with a twinge of jealousy and a lot of ice. “My last bit of advice to you for the night, Potter. Try not to act like a straight man. Or a virgin. You’ll embarrass me, and you’ll blow it.”

Harry had no idea what to think about that, since he couldn’t respond, so he didn’t.

Jamie kissed his neck, moving down to his collar, then bent to kiss Harry’s chest, yanking up on his tight shirt to expose skin. He nibbled on Harry’s right nipple, and Harry’s eyes rolled back and his fingers scrabbled on the smooth metal of the stall wall behind him. When Jamie reached his jeans, he finished opening them and swiftly took Harry’s hard length in his hand, grinning with feral intent before leaning forward and taking the tip into his mouth.

Harry snapped his head back up, half in pleasure and half in panic.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god… I’m getting a blow job from a guy in a loo!

James was good. That was the only coherent thought at that moment in Harry’s mind, other than near-blind panic at the situation. It felt too good not to be real, he thought, and oh fuck, he was enjoying it. It was hot, and wet, and so much better than jerking off any day. And the man knew how it was done.

Jamie was sucking and taking more and more into his mouth, and doing something with his tongue that Harry couldn’t even fathom, and touching his balls and caressing his thighs, and all Harry felt was heat and wetness and pressure, and soft tickling but arousing sensations all focused on the area Harry loved most.

A spike of pleasure lanced his groin and his left hand shot out to grab onto the top of the door, and he found himself moaning and gasping loudly, adding to the cacophony of the atmosphere. It was so amazing, and he couldn’t help but feel that it was right somehow, in some way, that the situation – him with a guy getting a blow job in a dirty gay loo – wasn’t as wrong as he thought it was supposed to be, but he couldn’t think on it long, because Jamie was sucking hard, and oh FUCK, that felt good...so good…oh god…yes, yes, yes…Jam-Jamie –

He hadn’t realised he had been talking out loud until he’d come down Jamie’s throat, and regaining what consciousness he could from nearly blacking out, he was still moaning slightly and breathing harshly, and Jamie was putting him away and standing, breathing hard himself and looking red-mouthed and smiling and whispering in his ear, “You’re a talker, Harry, I can tell.”

Harry smiled lazily, and let Jamie kiss his head and rub his hands all over his body.

“Oh, I want you, Harry. I want you bad.”

“What?” asked Harry, still trying to get his mental and emotional bearings.

Sameson took Harry’s left hand from where it still clutched the door and pressed his palm firmly against his own erection. “You’re doing this to me, Harry. I want you. All of you.”

“Oh god,” Harry groaned, closing his eyes and swallowing.

“Let’s go to my place,” Sameson suggested.

“Al-alright,” Harry agreed, accepting the messy kiss James gave him before opening the door and leading him to the coat check-in.

Oh my god, what’s happening…?

“Malfoy, we’re going to his place… Will you come stand by for backup?”

Silence.

“Malfoy?” Harry whispered again. “Malfoy?!” he whispered more fiercely.

Harry slipped on his jacket and followed Sameson out to his bike.

Oh shit. Oh shit. Fuck…Draco, where are you? Why’d you cut off the comm?

With something akin to dread, Harry jumped on the bike with James, speeding off to some unfamiliar destination, hoping the wand tucked into his sock wouldn’t be needed later.

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