9 February, 2004: Monday
Harry had to read the fax twice.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry Potter, as an agent of the Investigative Services branch of the Ministry of Magic, is hereby granted permission to use any means necessary (including force not inflicting permanent injury) to take into custody and transport to the United Kingdom the suspected Death Eater sympathizer and former auror Draco Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy will be arrested by Ministry authorities upon arrival; hence this order expires at that time.
Certified this Ninth day of February, 2004
Arnold Bass
Director, Investigative ServicesApproved:
Typhebus Fallin
Minister for Magic
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Shit, he thought. This was serious. They wanted Malfoy brought back, and they had just given Harry carte blanche to do it. At this point, Malfoy had no legal rights anymore, except those Harry himself saw fit to grant him.
He placed the paper in the now-bulging manila folder he kept in his rucksack, and wondered what the hell he was going to write in his report. Hermione had awakened him with a 6:00 am phone call to remind him that they needed the report before midnight GMT.
He'd told her he needed more time to write it; that he didn't really have enough information to present a coherent picture just yet.
“I talked to Bass's office this morning, Harry. They want this taken care of by Friday.”
Harry had nearly dropped the phone. “Friday ?! You've got to be kidding!”
“I wish I were. I've made a reservation for you and Malfoy to portkey back to London on Thursday at noon , your time. There'll be aurors waiting to take him into custody when you arrive.”
Harry had laughed then, unable to help himself. “Hermione, he won't agree to that.”
“He doesn't have to agree, Harry.” Hermione had sighed then, and Harry could almost see the furrow in her brow. “I'm sending you a fax right now. You'll understand when you see it.”
And so he did. Somehow, he had to get Malfoy to the portkey station downtown, perhaps even against his will, portkey him to New York and then on to London , and then stand by as he was arrested and taken away by the Ministry. He closed his eyes against the headache he knew was coming.
I can't do it, Harry thought. It would mean betraying Malfoy in the worst possible way. Even before he'd got to know him, Harry wasn't sure he could have done such a thing. It reminded him yet again why he hadn't been able to stomach the field work required of an auror after the War. He couldn't stomach it now, either. He wasn't sure he belonged at the Ministry at all, if this was the way they treated people.
He worked on his report for the next two hours, hand-writing details about his days and nights spent with Malfoy. He left out the most personal information, but was very frank about their developing friendship, and about the fact that he had worked very hard to gain Malfoy's trust. He wrote that he thought Malfoy was close to opening up to him, and that he needed more time.
He had filled two pages with small print along these lines; all of it was leading up to his request. Well, demand was a more appropriate term. He picked up a third sheet of paper and began to write.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Director Bass,
As a result of what I have learned in the last week, I cannot in good conscience turn Draco Malfoy over to the Ministry of Magic. I am requesting: (1) an extension of my assignment by two weeks; (2) assurance that Mr. Malfoy will not be taken into custody upon arrival in the UK, but will retain the rights and privileges afforded a British citizen and an auror of his rank; and (3) full disclosure to Mr. Malfoy of any and all intelligence pertaining to his work and personal life in the US.
If these requests (or a reasonable compromise) cannot be granted, I will have no recourse but to resign from my position in the Ministry.
Sincerely,
Harry J. Potter
Assistant Director for Investigation of Unusual Spells
Investigative Services Office
~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry read over it several times before signing his name. He wasn't sure why he'd even thought of resigning, but once the idea had popped into his head, it had felt like the right thing to do. He'd become increasingly aware of how much he hated his job over the last few days – he didn't have very much to lose, really.
He sat and stared at the papers in his hand for a few more minutes, and then cast his encryption spell on them before walking downstairs to have the fax sent. He returned to his room ten minutes later, shaking.
Had he really just threatened the Investigative Services office and possibly wrecked his own career, all on behalf of Draco Malfoy? Well, it wasn't just about Malfoy, was it?
He decrypted each page of the fax as he read over it again, then placed the pages in the file. He paused, holding his wand over the coded page containing his ultimatum. There was something far too familiar about the way he was holding the paper and his wand. And the way he was feeling was almost like déjà vu – it stirred a memory he couldn't quite reach. He dropped the paper into the file, suddenly uneasy.
The Jumpin' Java Coffee House was nearly empty on a Monday afternoon. Malfoy smiled when Harry walked in; he looked relieved to see him. Harry sat in his usual spot in the far corner with a copy of the San Francisco Chronicle . Malfoy came over within a few minutes and set down a pint glass of coffee and a small plate with a muffin.
“As promised, a latte with a double shot and a little foam,” he said. “The blueberry muffins are good today. I know you like the cranberry scones better, but we're all out.”
Harry smiled at him, and Malfoy winked before walking back to the counter. Rosie made a comment to Malfoy as he approached, and he laughed and blushed before glancing shyly at Harry. Harry felt a little shiver in his belly, the same one he got when he thought about the way Malfoy had kissed him in the taxi last night. He'd thought about it several times that morning already.
And each time, he'd got a horrible sinking feeling when he remembered what he was supposed to do in three days. He stared into his latte, trying not to panic.
Should he sit Malfoy down and be honest with him, explain the situation? The problem was that Harry hadn't been honest all along, and Malfoy didn't trust him as it was. Admitting that there'd been good reason not to do so couldn't possibly improve the situation. And Harry didn't completely trust Malfoy either. Malfoy was still keeping lots of secrets, so why should Harry be the one at a disadvantage?
Besides, he was clinging to the hope that Bass would give him more time. With a few more weeks, he could get to know Malfoy better, and gradually explain the situation to him. Earn his trust.
And maybe earn his affection, as well. Harry closed his eyes and sighed. He wanted that very much, more than he dared admit.
Malfoy didn't have much to do that afternoon with so few customers, so he checked on Harry frequently. Harry switched to decaf after the first few coffees, lest he stay awake for the next three days. Malfoy brought him little packets of artificial sweetener when Harry asked for sugar.
“What, you think I'm getting fat or something?” Harry teased.
Malfoy laughed. “You eat too much sugar, that's all. It's not good for you.”
“Says the bloke who's been drunk every night for the last week,” Harry snorted.
Malfoy shrugged. “We're not talking about me , now are we, Harry?”
“We never talk about you,” Harry replied, emptying a packet of Splenda into his latte. Malfoy smiled and walked away again.
Harry was just finishing the editorial section when someone kissed him on the cheek. He looked up to see Colby smiling at him. “Thought you might be here,” Colby said, and sat across from Harry.
“Erm... hi,” Harry stammered, surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you,” Colby replied. “I'm taking a late lunch today.”
“Oh,” was all Harry could think of to say.
Colby's smile dimmed. “So what happened last night?” At Harry's blank expression, the smile disappeared completely. “You said you were coming back, and you never did.”
“Oh, shit,” Harry groaned, feeling a sharp stab of guilt. He'd completely forgotten about Colby after he'd found Malfoy in the alley. “I'm sorry, I...” He squinted at Colby, trying to judge if the other man was angry, or hurt, or disappointed.
“I assumed you'd found Derek,” Colby sighed, looking down at his folded hands. “It's okay. I know... It's not like I expect...” He stopped and shrugged, then looked up at Harry.
Harry felt terribly guilty. Colby had been very sweet, and Harry was growing to like him. They'd had sex twice, after all – it was the closest Harry had been to a relationship since his divorce. Harry closed his eyes. What had he got himself into? “I'm sorry, Colby.”
“No, I understand,” Colby replied. Harry looked up to see the smile had begun to return. “You can make it up to me tonight, if you want.”
“How?”
Colby reached across the table and took his hand. “Take me out tonight,” he said. The expression on his face was so earnest it made Harry feel worse.
“He can't tonight,” Malfoy interrupted, putting a glass of coffee in front of Colby and joining them at the table. He gave Colby a cool smile. “It's movie night, remember?”
“We haven't had movie night for nearly a month,” Colby replied, forehead furrowing.
“We're having it tonight,” Malfoy said. He and Colby stared at each other for a moment, until Colby looked away. “We order a pizza and watch a movie on Mondays,” Malfoy said, turning to Harry.
“You go to the cinema?” Harry asked.
“No, we watch one at mine.” Malfoy picked a bit off of Harry's muffin and ate it, licking his fingers.
“Yeah, he's got a sweet set-up,” Colby said. “68-inch plasma widescreen, six-point-two dolby surround, B&W speakers...”
Harry wondered why Colby felt compelled to describe Malfoy's flat in such detail. Harry'd spent a lot of time there, after all. He smiled. “Sounds like fun.”
No one said anything for a moment, and the tension between Colby and Malfoy became palpable. Thinking it might be best if he wasn't there, Harry excused himself from the table. When he returned from the toilet, the two were talking quietly. Harry peeked around the corner and tried to listen.
“Jealous?” Colby asked, sipping his coffee.
“Of you?” Malfoy retorted. “Hardly.”
“Could've fooled me.”
“As if that were difficult,” Malfoy snorted, and Colby's eyes narrowed. “Harry came here from England to visit me , Colby. The fact that he's decided to shag you on occasion doesn't change the fact that he's my friend. Don't think there's anything more going on between you.”
“Whatever is going on between me and Harry is none of your fucking business, Derek .”
A woman passed Harry on her way back from the toilets, and both Colby and Malfoy looked up when they saw her approaching. Malfoy stood, giving Colby an icy smile. Harry chose that moment to step around the corner, hands in his pockets. He smiled at them. Malfoy walked away.
Colby stood as Harry approached. “Listen, I get off around five. Do you want to get a drink or something before we head over to Derek's place?”
“I... sure,” Harry replied. Colby's expression brightened considerably, and Harry worried he'd just made another mistake.
“I'll come by your hotel when I get off,” Colby said, and then leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss. Harry watched him leave, feeling both flattered and panicked at the same time. He hadn't meant to give Colby the wrong impression; he liked him well enough, but it had just been sex for Harry, really. He sat back down and sighed.
“So, can you come over around eight?” Malfoy asked, appearing with another glass of coffee.
“Yes, of course,” Harry said. Malfoy was watching him, a strange expression on his face. Harry looked away.
Malfoy sat next to him. “Harry,” he began, and then paused, biting his lip. “Colby isn't really...”
Harry turned to stare at him. “Isn't what?”
“You don't know him, and I don't think you should... get involved with him.”
“I can't believe you're giving me relationship advice,” Harry snorted.
“I'm just saying that he's not... good for you.” The words seemed painful for Malfoy to speak.
“This is rich, coming from you. At least he's not pushing me away.”
“No, I'm sure he'd bend over for you anytime you wanted,” Malfoy retorted.
Harry gaped at Malfoy. “And you don't do that for everyone else?” Malfoy's jaw clenched, but Harry didn't stop. “Honestly, Malfoy, if that isn't the pot calling the kettle black–”
“Stop it, Potter.”
“It's the truth, isn't it? You'll fuck anyone, but you won't fuck me.”
Malfoy buried his face in his hands. “Please don't do this.” His voice was small and tired.
Harry looked around the café to see that the few customers present seemed quite interested in their conversation. “I'm sorry,” he sighed. “I'm just a little frustrated.”
Malfoy looked up again, eyes searching Harry's. “I don't care if you fuck half the men in the city, Potter. In fact, I encourage you to do so. But Colby's just... complicated. I don't think you should get involved with him.”
Harry tried to smile, and failed. “Are you offering me an alternative?” Malfoy bit his lip and said nothing. Harry's half-smile faltered. “I thought not.” He stood and pulled some bills out of his wallet, and tossed them on the table. “For the coffee. I'll see you tonight.”
He glanced over his shoulder as he left the café to see Malfoy still sitting at the table, staring down at his own hands.
There was a message waiting for him at the Inn . “Your mother, again,” the man behind the desk told him as he walked by. He handed Harry a slip of paper that said he should expect an important phone call tomorrow at 6:00 am . Harry sighed and walked up to his room.
It was midnight in London , but Hermione was usually awake at this hour. He dialed her number and sat on the bed. He was fairly certain this “important phone call” was related to his earlier faxed demand. Any advance warning of what to expect would be helpful.
After five rings, someone answered. It wasn't Hermione.
“Sorry,” Harry said. “I must have a wrong number.”
“Harry? Is that you?”
Harry's heart seemed to stop beating momentarily. He opened his mouth, and his voice was barely more than a squeak. “Cho?”
“Yes, I stopped by to check on the cat while Hermione and the kids are up at the Burrow overnight,” she replied. She sounded as if he'd awakened her. “They'll be back tomorrow.”
“Oh, shit,” Harry groaned. The Burrow. He'd forgotten. “I just wanted to catch her before they left, since... Molly still doesn't have a phone... miscalculated the time change...” He cringed, feeling as bad about the lie as he did about forgetting.
“No, it's fine, really,” she said. It sounded like she was yawning, and then she continued. “I'm sure they miss you this year.”
“Why didn't you go?” Harry asked. He hadn't spoken to her in months, and it seemed quite surreal to be doing so now.
“I didn't think it would be appropriate, without you. I don't know. I never knew Ron well, anyway. I didn't want anyone to be uncomfortable.”
“Yeah,” Harry replied, not sure what to say. It was probably for the best. Molly still hadn't forgiven Cho for cheating on Harry, despite the fact that Harry had repeatedly told Molly it was already over by that point anyway. “How are you?” he asked.
“Fine, good,” she said. “You?”
“Fine.” There, that wasn't so difficult.
“Hermione said you were in San Francisco, working.”
“Yes. It's lovely.” He had no idea what Hermione had told Cho he was doing.
“Aaron's been to San Francisco . He said it was really beautiful, tremendous fun.”
Harry swallowed down the lump in his throat. “How is Aaron, then?”
“He's great. He loves teaching at Cambridge.”
There was an uncomfortable silence, and Harry wracked his brain to think of something to say. Something other than, ‘Does he still love fucking you in that nurse costume, too?'
“That's good,” Harry replied at last, wincing at the memory. Unfortunately, the image had been burned into his brain. It wasn't every day one came home early to find his wife playing “doctor” with her boss. Straddling him in their own bedroom...
“Well, I've got to get up early. I'll tell Hermione you called.”
“Yes, of course. Sorry to have disturbed you.” Harry closed his eyes and sighed.
“Owl me when you get back to London , all right? We should have lunch sometime.”
“Sure,” he replied. “Good night.”
He hung up the phone and lay back on the bed, feeling immensely sad. He'd forgotten how talking to her made him feel. He'd forgotten how hurt he'd really been when their marriage broke up, and how he'd felt no one else could possibly ever love him. If she didn't love him, who would?
He'd been so numb these last few years, but in the last week he'd felt and thought and remembered more than he had in a long time. And then he'd forgotten even to send an owl to Molly. Hermione would make excuses for him, of course, but he'd been every year since Ron died. He and Hermione and Cho and Ginny and Fred, and Bill, if he could make it – they'd visit the family graveyard, and then they'd all stay up late and talk, and cry, and laugh. Molly would put the twins to bed so Hermione could relax, and they'd drink hot cocoa around the fire.
The Weasleys were the closest thing he had to a family. He suddenly, wrenchingly missed them.
He was walking down a corridor at Hogwarts again, but this time, something was different: he knew where he was. He'd always wandered aimlessly in this dream, but now he looked around, and he was clearly in the corridor that led down to the dungeons. A little flare of excitement ran through him at the realization. This dream had made him so uneasy in the past, but now–
He rounded a corner, and saw Ron sitting on the floor.
“I'm sorry,” Ron said, looking up at him.
“I'm not.” Harry tried to smile, and found he couldn't.
Ron held out his hand, and Harry reached for him. Ron was holding something in his closed fist. Harry opened his palm.
“Are you sure?” Ron asked.
The phone rang at 5:30 , startling Harry awake from a nap he hadn't even realized he was taking. He sat up slowly, and picked it up.
“You have a guest waiting for you in the reception area,” he heard.
Colby. “Right, sorry. Tell him I'll be right down.” He hung up the phone and stretched. The dream began to fade from his mind, like wisps of smoke he couldn't quite catch with his fingers. It had never seemed important to recall the details of it before, and now that he wanted to do, it was difficult.
He shook himself awake, then went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and tame his hair into something presentable. As he was studying his reflection in the mirror, it occurred to him that he was going on a date, of sorts. He grinned at himself.
“As a matter of fact, Cho, I'm having a fantastic time in San Francisco ,” he said to the mirror. “If you only knew.”
He winked at his reflection and headed out, making certain to hide his wand in his jacket. Colby was sitting in a chair by the front door in the foyer, flipping through a magazine. He smiled when he saw Harry approach.
“Hiya,” Harry said, and leaned down to kiss him in greeting. Colby beamed. “Where to?”
“There's a great little bar just down the street,” Colby said as he stood. “It's on the way to Derek's place.” The manager winked at Harry as they walked out, and Harry couldn't help but grin in return.
They walked down Castro to a place Harry had noted nearly every time he'd walked past. It was simply called “The Bar”, and it always seemed to be busy. When they made their way inside, Harry was momentarily stunned. The club was full of men, most of them young and well-dressed – the term “meet market” came to mind. A dark-haired man dressed neatly in black bumped Harry as he passed. He started to apologize, but smiled and looked Harry over instead. Harry smiled back. The bloke was hot , and he was looking at Harry as if he could eat him for dinner. Colby pinched Harry's arm and shot the man a glare, and he moved on. Harry grinned at Colby, unable to help himself.
“You and Derek,” Colby sighed, shaking his head. “Maybe you really do deserve each other.”
“Oh, don't be like that,” Harry replied, putting an arm around him. “I'm not used to being able to look , you know?”
“Why not?” Colby asked. “Got a boyfriend at home?”
“Er, no.” Harry replied, and pulled him towards an empty table.
It was Happy Hour, so they ordered martinis at half price and scoped the scene. Harry found that he and Colby had quite different tastes in men.
“That one,” Harry said, pointing out a boy with green-streaked hair. “He's adorable.”
“Too skinny,” Colby replied, wrinkling his nose. It was an expression Harry found strangely endearing. “I want a man , you know? Like...” He scanned the room again. “That one. Black jeans, ponytail.”
Harry's eyes widened. “No, no, no. He's a bit frightening, actually.”
Colby tossed back the last of his martini. “Maybe I like that in a guy.”
“Then I have no idea what you see in me,” Harry retorted. Colby opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Harry wondered if he'd assumed too much. “Well, I don't think I'd like a bloke who's bigger than me,” he continued.
“Well, you haven't got much to worry about in that department,” Colby quipped, glancing at Harry's crotch suggestively.
Harry blushed, though it would be difficult to tell in the soft red light of the bar. “That's not what I meant.”
Colby signaled the waiter to bring them another round, and then studied him for a moment. “I think you like boys who remind you of girls.”
Harry nearly choked on his drink. “Sorry?”
“I think you do. Derek's a good example. He's not exactly the macho type.”
“I...” Harry blinked, realizing it was somewhat true. He hadn't had much of a chance to think about it, really. “I suppose so.”
Colby grinned. “Are you having an epiphany, or something?”
“I don't know,” Harry said. “I'm sorry. It's been a weird day.”
“How so?” Colby asked, retrieving his wallet to pay for the drinks.
Harry considered for a moment. He wasn't sure how much personal information he should reveal, but he'd already decided to try to gain Colby's trust. He was one of Malfoy's friends, after all, and could be a good source of information. “I talked to my ex-wife today.”
Colby's jaw dropped, as did that of the waiter, who was just setting their glasses on the table. “Ex- wife?”
“Yeah,” Harry said, hoping the waiter would make Colby's change and leave before he had to continue. “It was a mercifully short marriage. But still, divorce isn't fun.”
“Ex- wife?” Colby repeated.
“Right. So, I'm bisexual, actually.” It was the first time he'd said it out loud, he realized. It felt good. “I guess Derek didn't mention that?”
Colby pushed a martini glass toward Harry, eyes wide. “He didn't say much about you, to be honest. You fuck girls, for real?”
Harry grinned. “Yes, I fuck girls, Colby.” He took a sip of his martini and raised an eyebrow. “Boys too, if memory serves.”
“Wow,” Colby said.
“Yeah,” Harry replied. This conversation wasn't going the way he'd expected. Maybe he'd have to be more direct in order to get any useful information out of Colby. Colby was tossing back his third martini. He was smaller then Harry, so the alcohol would probably work in Harry's favor. He put his own glass down and smiled coyly. “So how'd you meet Derek, anyway?”
Colby blinked. “Ummm... In a club, I think. We hooked up one night, and we kept running into each other. Had a little fling, very intense until you-know-who got finished with a trial and came back to reclaim his boy toy.” He rolled his eyes, then looked thoughtful. “So what's it feel like to fuck a girl, anyway?”
Harry laughed. “Maybe you should try it sometime. Just for kicks.”
Colby snorted. “I hear girls are really hard to pick up in bars. Boys are easy.” He winked at Harry. “I should know.”
“So you and Derek had a thing, then?” Harry asked, determined to keep him on topic.
“Two glorious weeks,” Colby said, sighing dramatically. “We must have fucked three times a day.” He leaned forward and whispered, “He pounded me so hard a few times that I could barely walk afterwards.”
Harry's eyes widened. He'd never thought of bottoming for Malfoy. He'd always pictured it the other way around.
Colby grinned at him. “What about you? How did you two get together?”
“You've already heard the story,” Harry replied, taking a tiny sip of his martini. He wasn't sure he could remember the one Malfoy had spun.
Colby pursed his lips. “Well, how did you end up coming out here, then, to visit?”
“I needed to get away,” Harry said, studying the olive floating in his martini glass. “The divorce, work. I'd never been to the States before, and I'd heard good things about San Francisco .” He looked up to see Colby studying him intently. “What?”
The expression broke and Colby grinned. “You're so fucking cute, do you know that?”
“No, I'm not,” Harry replied, smiling. “But thanks. What happened with you and Derek, in the end? You're still friends, unlike the other thousand blokes he's fucked and forgotten.”
“That's not bitterness I sense, now is it?” Colby grinned. Harry shrugged. “I was persistent, I guess. He decided to keep me around for some reason.”
“That hardly sounds like friendship,” Harry retorted.
“Derek is one of those people it's fun to be around,” Colby replied. “You accept whatever he offers you, because it's better than nothing at all.”
“And you're happy with that?”
“I never said that,” Colby replied. They were silent for a moment, both contemplating their martini glasses. Harry plucked the olive from his and popped it in his mouth. He looked up to see Colby watching him again, the same intent expression on his face.
“Is something wrong?” Harry asked.
Colby shook his head and looked down. “Harry,” he began, and paused, as if steeling himself. He looked up to meet Harry's eyes with his own. “I should tell you–”
“Another round, boys?” the waiter asked, nearly spilling the many drinks on his tray. “Happy Hour's almost over. Get ‘em while they're half off!”
“We don't need another round,” Harry groaned. “Walking is going to be difficult as it is.” He'd had enough to drink already, and he needed to focus on his job tonight.
“Sure we do,” Colby replied, and nodded at the waiter. Money was exchanged, and drinks set on the table. Harry sipped his martini and waited for Colby to continue talking, but he didn't. He smiled at Harry and changed the subject completely, as if he'd lost his nerve.
It was 7:30 when they finished their drinks, so they decided to head to Malfoy's flat. They'd had several martinis each by then, and soon found themselves giggling uncontrollably outside of Malfoy's building.
“Did you know Manny has a key?” Harry blurted.
“Of course he does,” Colby snorted. “Hurry up. I hafta pee.”
“Fucking key,” Harry muttered, and pushed the buzzer for Malfoy's flat.
“Hello?” he heard, after a moment.
“Oi, open up,” Harry said. Colby giggled.
“Harry!” Malfoy replied. “Thank god. Get up here!”
Harry and Colby looked at each other. They were almost half an hour early . The lock clicked open and they went in. Colby trudged up the stairs ahead of Harry, and Harry found himself mesmerized by the sight of Colby's ass moving in front of him. He slid an arm around Colby's waist to halt his progress up the stairs, and bit into his butt playfully.
Colby yelped, but didn't wiggle away. “God, Harry–” Harry bit again, hard, and Colby laughed. “You're going to be fun tonight.”
There was a cough at the top of the stairs, and they looked up to see Malfoy standing in the doorway of his flat, arms crossed over his chest. “Coming in?” he asked. “Or coming out there?”
Colby and Harry snickered at the joke, but Malfoy didn't seem to find the situation funny. His face was stony and pale, and he almost looked angry. Harry and Colby unsteadily made their way up the last few stairs. Malfoy allowed Colby in, but blocked the doorway with his arm when Harry started to walk through.
“Where the fuck have you been?” he hissed. “I've been trying to call you for two hours.”
“You said eight o'clock ,” Harry replied. “We went out.” He shrugged, confused. What was Malfoy angry about?
“I was worried, and...” Malfoy paused. “Are you drunk?”
“Maybe,” Harry replied, leaning towards Malfoy. “Had a few drinks with Colby is all.”
“Harry...” Malfoy began.
Harry leaned closer, until his lips were almost brushing Malfoy's. “You were worried about me? How sweet.”
Malfoy exhaled, and the corners of his mouth turned up very slightly. If either of them leaned forward a hair's breadth, their lips would touch. Malfoy closed his eyes.
“Derek, do you want me to go ahead and order the pizza?”
Harry froze. He looked up to see Manny standing in the doorway, just behind Malfoy.
“Yeah,” Malfoy said, and dropped his arm to let Harry pass.
Harry and Manny stared at each other for a moment. They'd barely spoken since Harry had spotted him in Haight Fair several days before. Manny had not looked pleased to see them there, and he didn't look happy about Harry's presence now, either. Harry felt himself grow tense.
“Pizza, now,” Malfoy said, tugging Manny's sleeve. Manny turned away. “Harry, what do you want to drink?”
“Got any vodka?” Harry asked. A small voice in the back of his head warned him that would be a bad idea. He told it to fuck off.
“Yes, but not for you,” Malfoy retorted, closing the door of the flat. “You'll be six sheets to the wind at this rate.” He walked to the kitchen and pulled a beer from the refrigerator.
“Amstel Light it is,” Harry sighed, taking the bottle. He took a sip and winced. “Do you have to keep it so fucking cold ?” Malfoy ignored him.
Manny was calling in the pizza order, and Colby returned from the bathroom and collapsed on the sofa. Manny hung up the phone and whispered something to Malfoy. Malfoy made an exasperated sound in response and shook his head. Harry wondered how long Manny had been there that evening.
“Sorry if we interrupted anything, boys,” Colby said, echoing Harry's thoughts.
“Not as sorry as I am,” Manny muttered. He and Malfoy exchanged a glance.
Harry gritted his teeth. He was jealous and frustrated, but now he was worried that Malfoy had apparently made up with Manny. When had this happened? Was it because of the argument Harry and Malfoy had got into that afternoon? Had he sent Malfoy running right back to Manny, right back to the CIA agent who might just be waiting for an opportunity to turn him over to the US government? Harry could feel the strength of the wards around Malfoy's flat; he knew it would be nearly impossible for Manny to harm Malfoy here. But Manny was much bigger than Malfoy – bigger than Harry, too. He didn't necessarily need to use magic to hurt him.
Fortunately, Malfoy sent Manny to pick up the pizza after a few minutes, and Harry got a break from glaring at him from across the room. He was opening his third beer when Malfoy took the bottle from his hand.
“Harry, we're having wine with the pizza,” he said, quirking an eyebrow.
“So?” Harry retorted. Malfoy's mothering of him was getting annoying, especially since it was the only attention Malfoy seemed to be paying him tonight.
Malfoy contemplated Harry's expression for a few seconds before pulling him into a kiss. Harry's muffled sound of surprise melted into something more like a moan. Malfoy pushed away again after a moment, sucking lightly on Harry's lower lip as he did. “You taste good,” Malfoy whispered. “Don't get too blotted tonight, okay?”
He tweaked Harry's nose before turning away, and Harry's heart pounded in his chest. He turned to see Colby watching from the sofa. Colby smiled weakly, and Harry felt guilty for the fifteenth time that day. What the hell was he was doing? And what was Malfoy doing? He seemed to push Harry away until Harry was ready to give up, and then he'd reel him back in again. It was almost like he was playing a game.
I'm not here to play, he reminded himself. I have a job to do. He hadn't a clue where to begin, though.
Harry watched Malfoy cross the room to hand Colby the beer he'd just confiscated from Harry. The two smiled coolly at each other.
“Having fun?” Malfoy asked.
“Always,” Colby replied.
“Drink up,” Malfoy said.
Harry watched Colby glare at the back of Malfoy's head as he walked away. He'd been so busy watching Manny earlier that he hadn't noticed the tension between Malfoy and Colby until now. Was this really about him ? He couldn't stifle a smile at the thought. Colby's eyes moved back to Harry then, and the expression on his face changed to a weak smile.
Manny returned with the pizza a few minutes later, which seemed to relieve Malfoy immensely. He handed Harry a bottle of wine to open and shooed him into the kitchen. Harry had to rummage through a drawer until he found the corkscrew, only to find it wasn't a corkscrew at all: it was a cork puller , which he hadn't a clue how to operate.
He looked back and forth between the bottle in his left hand and the cork puller in his right, thinking. A shadow fell over the bottle – Manny was standing before him, looking annoyed. He took the bottle from Harry and, without breaking eye contact, passed his hand over the top of the bottle. The cork popped out.
Wandless magic, Harry thought. It was clear what Manny was trying to do, and Harry could play that game as well. He'd been playing around with wandless magic for the last few years, though he couldn't do much yet.
All of those thoughts flashed through Harry's mind before the cork began its downward trajectory. He raised his hand and focused on the cork, and it halted its fall in front of his chest. With a flick of his wrist, it started a slow spin. He smirked at Manny.
“Where's the wine?”
Harry snatched the cork out of the air. They turned to see Malfoy peeking around the corner. He glanced back and forth between them, as if surprised to see them in such proximity and not swinging at each other. “Come on, then. Time to eat.”
Manny gave Harry an appraising look before leaving the kitchen with the wine bottle in hand. Harry leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Wandless magic took a great deal of concentration, but Manny had done it effortlessly. Harry swallowed, realizing he – and Malfoy – might be in far more danger than he'd thought. He'd best keep his eyes open and his mind clear.
They squeezed onto the sofa with wine glasses in hand and plates carefully balanced on their knees. Harry had put himself between Malfoy and Colby, much to the chagrin of each of them. Manny sat on the other side of Malfoy, and kept casting suspicious glances in Harry's direction.
“So, what's the gay cinema feature tonight?” Colby asked, just before taking a bite of his pizza slice.
“Gay cinema?” Harry asked, nudging Malfoy ever so slightly with his elbow.
“There's a theme,” Malfoy told him.
“What, porn?” Harry asked. Colby snickered.
“Would you prefer porn, then?” Malfoy grinned.
“I just didn't know there were that many gay films,” Harry mused, sipping his wine.
“You'd be surprised,” Colby retorted. “Derek can find gayness in strange places.”
“Like what?” Harry asked.
“Here we go,” Manny muttered, rolling his eyes.
Malfoy shot him a mock glare before turning back to Harry. “It so happens there is a tremendous amount of homoerotic subtext in modern film. You just have to look for it.”
“Try him,” Colby said, absently picking an olive off of his pizza. “Give him a movie, and he'll tell you why it's about being gay.” Colby and Manny settled into the sofa. Clearly, they'd had this discussion before.
“Okay, give me a minute,” Harry said through a mouthful of pizza. For some reason, he couldn't think of any films he'd seen recently. “Oh,” he said, and swallowed. “Star Wars.” Manny and Colby groaned in unison.
“Easy,” Malfoy replied, settling back against the sofa. “Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were so doing it.”
“What?” Harry laughed.
“It was obvious,” Malfoy said, gesturing casually with his wine glass. “All those intense little looks, the way they touched each other. The only Star Wars character gayer than Obi-Wan Kenobi is C-3PO.”
“Come on,” Harry sputtered. “Obi-Wan Kenobi is not gay.”
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “He was trapped for days on a ship with a bunch of teenage girls, and he spent the entire time whinging about when Qui-Gon was going to come back.”
Harry paused. That was strange, he had to admit. “But... they're Jedi. Jedi are like priests, or something. They don't have sex.”
“Then where did Luke and Leia come from?” Malfoy retorted.
“Well, Anakin Skywalker is hardly a good example, now is he?” Harry scoffed. “Besides... Natalie Portman? Not even a Jedi could resist that .”
“I could say the same about Ewan McGregor,” Malfoy replied, grinning.
“Can we just start the fucking movie already?” Manny groaned.
“Natalie Portman?” Colby asked. He made a face. “She can't even act.”
“Who cares when she looks like that?” Harry asked. “It took me three hours to get through the DVD of Where the Heart Is because I kept having to pause it.” He made a universally crude gesture, and the room went completely silent.
“Dude, wasn't she like, pregnant for half of that movie?” Colby asked.
Harry turned beet red.
Malfoy burst out laughing. “On that note, I think we'll introduce tonight's feature presentation.” He picked up a DVD case from the coffee table and held it up.
Harry squinted at the cover, which showed a picture of two men in drag under the words Party Monster . “Is that Macaulay Culkin?” he asked. Malfoy nodded, grinning.
“This should be interesting,” Manny mused. “Actual gay boys this time, and not just you trying to twist it all around?”
“Actual gay boys, yes,” Malfoy replied, and picked up the remote control.
Ten minutes later, Harry wondered if he was obligated to watch the entire film. He glanced sideways at Malfoy to see him staring blankly at the screen. He looked the other direction just as Colby was stifling a yawn.
“He's not such a good actor, is he?” Harry mused aloud.
“No, but he's cute,” Malfoy replied.
“He's too skinny,” Harry noted, squinting at the screen. “Looks like you, actually.”
“Like I said, cute.”
Colby snickered. “I'm sorry, but this movie sucks.” He got up from the sofa and returned a few minutes later with a bottle of clear liquor and some shot glasses. He carefully poured out four shots and handed one to each of them. “It'll help, I swear,” he told Harry, winking. “I don't remember half the shitty movies I've seen here, but I've always had fun.”
Harry clinked his glass against Colby's and they each downed a shot. Vodka , Harry thought, shivering slightly. It burned its way down his throat, but it was a pleasant sensation. Colby promptly refilled their glasses. Malfoy elbowed Harry again, and Harry turned to see he was sipping his drink very slowly. So was Manny.
Hadn't he just promised himself he'd be careful tonight? Harry winced and settled back against the sofa. He wasn't sure if he should feel flattered or irritated that Malfoy didn't approve of Harry's growing friendship with Colby. In fact, Malfoy seemed to be doing his best to submarine it, despite the fact that his own boyfriend was present.
Colby tugged the blanket draped over the back of the sofa down over him and Harry, and snuggled closer. Harry smiled – it had been a while since he'd cuddled up with anyone. He didn't mind when Colby's head leaned against his shoulder, or when his hand drifted to Harry's thigh.
But then his hand drifted higher, and started caressing Harry's cock through his jeans. Harry swallowed and glanced at Colby, but his eyes were fixed on the screen, as if there was nothing going on under the blanket. Harry had no idea what Colby's intentions were – was he just teasing?
Colby's fingers pressed more firmly and Harry could feel himself getting hard. He slid down on the sofa a bit and spread his thighs apart in an effort to get more comfortable. Colby took this as a sign to continue, and moved his fingers to the waistband of Harry's jeans.
It took him nearly a minute to unfasten the button and work the zipper down without making a sound. Harry bit his lip when Colby's fingers slipped beneath his underwear and contacted skin. He glanced down, but the blanket had been expertly tented, so it wasn't obvious what they were doing.
Colby's fingers moved in slow teasing strokes; it wouldn't be enough to bring him to completion, but it felt good. Harry knew he should probably reciprocate, though he couldn't really move his hands. Perhaps he could do something for Colby later; for now, he concentrated on keeping his breathing even.
Colby's fingers ghosted over his skin, making him shiver. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Malfoy turn to look at them. He didn't dare turn his head. If Malfoy saw his face, he'd know; Harry was sure of it. At that moment, Colby's hand wrapped around his dick and squeezed. Harry bit his lip.
Malfoy made a sound like a cough, and Harry couldn't ignore it. He turned his head just enough to glance sideways at him.
Malfoy tugged lightly at the blanket. “This is more interesting than the movie, I imagine.”
Harry sucked in a breath, preparing to protest, but Malfoy pulled the blanket away. Colby snickered, and Manny whistled as he peeked around Malfoy to look.
Malfoy's eyes widened, and Harry realized Malfoy had never actually seen him erect before – not from so close, at least. He allowed himself a smug smile just as Malfoy's eyes darted up to meet his. Malfoy's eyebrows raised a hair, just enough to return Harry's expression, and a smile spread across his face.
Malfoy settled back against Manny's chest. “Well, get on with it, Colby.” Colby glanced back at Harry – who was sure he was turning pink – and started moving his hand again.
Harry was just drunk enough not to be completely mortified, but he was still embarrassed as hell. He doubted he'd be able to come in front of an audience, and that made him feel even worse.
“Suck him,” Malfoy said. Harry's head jerked toward Malfoy just as Colby leaned down and swallowed his cock. His intended protest turned into a grunt of surprise.
Colby was sucking enthusiastically, as per usual. Harry looked down at the dark head bobbing in his lap and thought he must be dreaming. It was too ridiculous to be happening, really.
“God, Colby, you always did give terrible head,” Malfoy snickered.
“There's such a thing?” Manny asked. He'd turned back to the television.
Harry threaded his fingers into Colby's hair and let his head fall back against the sofa cushions. “For the record, Colby, I'm not complaining.”
“No, no, stop,” Malfoy said. Colby looked up, lips wet and swollen. “Let's do this properly. Start by licking. Slowly.”
Colby hesitated for a moment, and then did just that.
“Lick around the head... good. Then one long lick up the underside. Use the flat of your tongue.”
Harry shivered at the sensation of Colby's tongue sliding against his cock. It was better.
“Slip the tip of your tongue under the foreskin,” Malfoy said, voice huskier now. Harry whimpered at the feeling of hot wet tongue probing the head of his cock. “Tap your tongue against...” Harry closed his eyes and bit his cheek to keep from making any noise. “Lightly,” Malfoy continued. “He's really sensitive.”
Harry opened his eyes, wondering how Malfoy was able to read him so well with his eyes focused on Harry's dick. Malfoy's cheeks were flushed, and his hair was falling into his eyes. He reached up with one hand to push it back, and chewed his lower lip. Harry found himself transfixed.
“Now take the head in your mouth and suck lightly.” Colby wasn't making a move without Malfoy's instruction now, and he was doing exactly as he was told. “Swirl your tongue around the head, then...” Malfoy swallowed and paused before continuing. “Come off again. Lick.”
Harry closed his eyes and clutched the sofa cushions.
“Press just the tip of your tongue into the slit,” Malfoy said. Harry bit his lip, and Malfoy said, “He likes that. Do it harder.” Colby did, and Harry clenched the sofa even more tightly. “Take it in your mouth again.” The wet heat of Colby's mouth was amazing after all of the licking, and Harry had to concentrate not to moan. “Take him in, slowly.” Colby's lips slid down his shaft, and Harry felt him shift his position on the floor. His lips slid down further, until Harry could feel the back of Colby's throat. This had to be one of the best blow jobs he'd ever had.
“Careful, there. Deep-throating is not for amateurs,” Malfoy said, with a hint of humor. “Come back up before you choke yourself.” Colby's mouth moved upwards, sucking lightly. “Use the flat of your tongue when you come up,” Malfoy said. “Keep your tongue moving, and keep the suction as strong as you can.” Colby's mouth descended again, as far as he could.
“Use your hand at the base to make up the difference,” Malfoy said. His voice sounded closer, as if he were leaning forward to see better. “Yeah, like that. Now, pull down when your mouth comes up, and push up to meet your mouth when you go down again.”
Colby managed to coordinate the movement, to great effect: Harry moaned aloud before he could stop himself. After a few more strokes, he was getting too close, and he put his hand on Colby's head, panting, “Wait!”
Colby paused. “Good boy,” Malfoy whispered, and Harry felt him settle against his side and drape one arm behind him on the sofa.
Harry opened his eyes to see Colby looking up at him, waiting. He nodded, and Colby went back to work. He was perfecting the hand-mouth coordination now. Harry's cock was wet with saliva, and Colby's hand was sliding easily against his skin.
“Now twist your hand too,” Malfoy said, so close Harry could feel his breath against his cheek as he spoke. “Keep moving your tongue. If your jaw isn't aching, you're not working hard enough.” He nuzzled Harry's cheek with his nose.
Colby made a muffled sound, which could have been born of pain or of pleasure. Harry's pleasure was spiraling now, swirling in his belly and spreading out, beginning to draw him under. All he could hear was Malfoy's voice explicitly describing what the hot mouth on his cock was doing, and it was driving him mad.
He shifted his hand and brushed Malfoy's thigh. He kept reaching until he was stroking Malfoy's erection through his trousers, desperate to touch him. Malfoy gasped and pushed Harry's hand away, then pinned his wrist to the sofa.
Harry whimpered again, feeling a bizarre combination of frustration and pleasure. He was on the edge, but so consumed by it that he couldn't ask for what he wanted, or say what he needed. He could only sit there, sprawled on the sofa, engulfed and feeling .
He felt Malfoy's lips brush his ear, and felt hot breath tickling his skin before he registered the whispered words: “Are you thinking of me, Harry?”
He wrenched his hand free and grabbed a handful of hair, yanking Malfoy's head down. With a muffled squeal, Malfoy fell forward, almost on top of Colby. Harry kissed him roughly, probably hurting him – but he didn't care. He needed to consume Malfoy somehow, to do something .
And then he was coming, so hard he nearly bit Malfoy's tongue. His hand clenched tighter in Malfoy's hair, and he moaned loudly into his mouth. Malfoy pulled away, and Harry was vaguely aware of Malfoy's soft curses as he pried Harry's fingers out of his hair. Harry sank into the sofa, panting. He forced his eyes open, even though he was still trembling from the aftershocks. Colby released his cock and looked up at him.
Malfoy grabbed Colby's shirt, pulled him up with surprising strength, and kissed him. It was a brutal kiss, not unlike the one Harry had just given him. Colby tried to push Malfoy away, but couldn't manage to do so.
Malfoy released him after a moment, staring down at Colby and licking his lips. Colby wiped a sleeve across his face. He looked stunned.
“God, Derek. You're such a freak,” he said, voice sounding more surprised than anything else. Malfoy grinned maniacally at him.
Manny pulled Malfoy backwards into his lap by a handful of shirt. “He just likes the taste of spunk,” Manny remarked, a touch of forced humor in his tone.
Harry looked back and forth between Colby and Malfoy. They were staring at each other intensely. Malfoy was grinning, but there a definite maliciousness to his expression, and Colby seemed to recognize it.
Suddenly, Harry felt like the air had been sucked out of him. That hadn't been about him at all. It had been about the blossoming rivalry between Malfoy and Colby. It was Malfoy's way of staking a claim, even though he had no intention of claiming Harry for himself. He had merely reminded Colby that he could, and that Harry would come when called.
In his own twisted way, Malfoy had just used Harry to fuck Colby over.
Colby looked away then, and pushed himself onto his knees. He poured himself another shot of vodka. Harry leaned forward and took the glass from him, downing it. “Excuse me,” he muttered, and handed the glass back to Colby. He stood unsteadily and pulled his jeans back up, and then walked to the hall toilet.
He felt sick, so he leaned his head forward against the toilet bowl for a few minutes. He wasn't going to throw up, though, so he settled on the floor instead, against the wall. He closed his eyes and struggled to contain his emotions.
He'd completely lost control of this fucked-up situation. Malfoy had learned how to play Harry like an instrument, while Harry was no closer to understanding what Malfoy was doing than he'd been a week ago over sushi.
A week ago, he'd thought he was straight. He'd thought his lack of interest in dating was a natural reaction to the divorce. He'd been certain it would only be a matter of days before he would solve this mystery and portkey home.
But a week later, his entire life had been turned upside-down. He was aware of things he hadn't noticed before; so many things, all the time, almost so much that it was overwhelming. What was happening to him? Was there some sort of magic being used that he didn't know about? Was he in danger?
He couldn't do this anymore. And the worst part was that he was starting to feel . If he wasn't careful, he might even fall in love with Malfoy – and that would be a complete disaster.
There was a knock on the door. He didn't answer it.
“Harry?” he heard Malfoy call.
“Go away,” he groaned. “Leave me the fuck alone.”
The doorknob clicked, despite the fact that Harry'd locked it, and the door opened. Malfoy peeked inside. “Decent?” he asked, though he came in without waiting for an answer. He closed the door behind him and sat on the toilet, facing Harry. “You all right?”
Harry snorted. “Oh, yes. That's why I've locked myself in your toilet.” He stared at the tile between his thighs.
“Harry–” Malfoy began.
“Don't,” Harry interrupted. “Please, don't.”
“Don't what?”
Harry looked up at him and sighed. “Just... stop playing whatever game this is you're playing, all right?”
Malfoy's jaw dropped. “What are you–”
“Either fuck me and get it over with, or stop this game of teasing me and pushing me away. I can't deal with it anymore.” Harry paused, and Malfoy just stared at him. “I think I'd prefer the latter, if it's all the same to you. I'm not like you, you know. I can't just have meaningless sex with people.”
“You seemed to being doing just fine with Colby,” Malfoy retorted.
“Yeah, well...” Harry shook his head. “Not anymore. That's over.”
“Could've fooled me. He just sucked your cock for twenty minutes. You made an awful lot of noise.”
“Oh, come off it, Malfoy. That was you . And you know it.” Malfoy furrowed his brow and looked away. “You won't even have sex with me, except through other people. I can accept the fact that you're not interested in me, all right? Just... stop flirting with me. Stop kissing me. Stop looking at me like...” He trailed off and picked at a spot on his jeans.
“Harry, it's not that I'm not interested. It's just... it's complicated.”
“It's sex, Draco. It's not that complicated. My dick, your ass. Or some variation thereof.”
Malfoy bit his lip, as if trying not to smile. “That's not what I meant.”
Harry snorted. “Look, I've made no secret of my feelings. You obviously don't return them.” He paused, in case Malfoy wanted to correct him. He didn't, and Harry felt his heart sink even more. When had this started to matter so much? At this moment, Harry couldn't care less about his assignment to bring Malfoy back to the UK . All he wanted was for Malfoy to feel something for him – anything. “I should go. I'm sorry.”
“You're drunk, Harry. You're not going anywhere.”
“You think I want to stay here and be tormented by you? Sit back on that sofa again and watch the rest of that horrible film, with you sitting next to me, reminding me...” He pressed his face into his hands and laughed. It felt oddly good to say these things out loud, to be honest at last. “I am so fucking pathetic.”
“No, you're not,” Malfoy sighed. “Harry...”
“I don't think I could handle a one-night-stand with you, anyway,” Harry mumbled. “I'm just not cut out for casual sex. I've finally realized I like men, but apparently I'm still the relationship sort. Funny, that.” He dropped his hands to see Malfoy watching him, a strange look on his face. “What?” Harry asked.
Malfoy extended a hand. “We'll talk about this in the morning, all right? Come on, let's get you to bed.”
Harry allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, and then remembered his morning phone call. He winced. “I should just go back to the Inn ,” he said. He couldn't explain why, and he hoped Malfoy wouldn't ask.
“Nonsense,” Malfoy replied. “It's too far to walk by yourself this time of night.”
Harry squinted at him. He'd managed to get himself home every night for more than a week, and Malfoy had never once expressed concern for his safety. “I'll apparate, then.”
“You've had too much to drink,” Malfoy said, tugging him towards the door. “You'll splinch yourself.”
Harry pulled back. “Draco, no . I'm not sleeping here.”
Malfoy looked irritated, and crossed his arms over his chest. “All right, I'll take you back, then.” He opened the door and walked out, ignoring the incredulous expression on Harry's face.
Harry took a few minutes to collect himself before walking back into the main room. Colby was sprawled on the sofa, watching the film play, and Malfoy and Manny appeared to be arguing quietly in the corner. Harry crept closer, but he couldn't make out anything they were saying. Manny looked angry, that much was clear. Malfoy noticed Harry and turned to face him. Manny released his breath slowly, as if trying to maintain his temper.
“Ready?” Malfoy said. Harry nodded.
“You're leaving?” Colby slurred, looking up. Harry noted that the vodka bottle was nearly empty.
“Yes,” he replied. He couldn't think of a good excuse, so he said nothing more.
Colby shrugged and flopped down onto the sofa again.
Manny caught Malfoy's arm as he started towards the door. “Fifteen minutes,” he whispered.
Malfoy nodded. “All right. Fine.” He turned towards Harry and rolled his eyes. He plucked his coat from the hook on the back of the door, then opened it and nodded Harry through.
“What about Colby?” Harry asked.
“Manny will call him a taxi. Don't worry.”
Once the door was closed behind them, Malfoy opened his coat and smiled at Harry. Harry stepped forward into his arms, pressing his body against Malfoy's. He was enfolded in the warmth of the sherpa coat for a moment before he felt the world shift around him. He heard a pop and opened his eyes. They were standing in his room at the Inn .
Malfoy released him and stepped back. “Would you like me to tuck you in?” he asked, smiling mischievously.
Harry grinned. “No, it's fine.” He sat heavily on the bed and toed off his shoes. “The world is just spinning a bit.”
“I'll pop over with some hangover potion on my way to work,” Malfoy said.
“Okay,” Harry replied, and pulled his shirt over his head. He tossed it to the floor and unfastened his jeans.
“Maybe tomorrow night we can do something,” Malfoy continued. “Just you and me.”
“Sounds good,” Harry said, pulling his jeans off. He flopped back on the bed, and groaned. “I really am drunk. Shit.”
“Come on,” Malfoy said, and helped him under the sheets. Harry stretched out and yawned, then looked sleepily up at Malfoy.
“We'll talk about everything tomorrow, all right?” Malfoy stroked his forehead, and Harry closed his eyes.
“M'kay,” he whispered. He felt Malfoy trace his scar with a fingertip, and he smiled. No one ever wanted to touch him there. Even Cho had avoided it.
“I'm going to put up a ward. It'll be temporary, until you open the door in the morning. Call me if you need anything, all right?” Malfoy's lips pressed gently against his forehead, and a moment later Harry heard the door open and close.
The last thing he was aware of as he drifted off to sleep was the gentle thrum of the ward around him, cradling the room in magic.