Harry was jolted awake by a hand pressing firmly against his mouth. He tried to sit up in bed, but he was pushed down again. A spell was whispered, and a wand cast light over the face of his intruder.
It was Malfoy, and he was holding a finger to his lips signaling Harry to be quiet. He released Harry's mouth and whispered another spell, then swept a circle around the room with his wand. A small point of light appeared in a corner of the room, near the ceiling. Harry squinted at it and reached for his glasses. Malfoy whispered again, and a bubble of light emerged from his wand and floated across the room, encasing the point in the corner.
“Muggle listening device,” Malfoy murmured. “The CIA is fond of using them on us, because we tend to expect magical surveillance methods. It can't hear us now.”
Surveillance, Harry thought, the morning's conversation with Fallin returning to his thoughts. “How long has it been there?”
“No telling,” Malfoy said. “That's not important now. Harry, you have to leave, immediately. You're in great danger.” Malfoy stood and held out his hand. He pulled Harry to his feet. Malfoy was still dressed in the same clothes he had been earlier, though it was the middle of the night.
“What?” Harry asked, baffled. Was he dreaming? If he was, at least it was something new.
Malfoy pulled his silver bracelet from a pocket and placed it on the nightstand. “This is a portkey, and I've charmed it to work only for you, as soon as you touch it.” His tone was urgent, and different than Harry had ever heard before. “It'll bring you through the wards, straight into to my flat. You'll be safe there.”
“What's going on?” Harry asked.
“I can't stay here any longer,” Malfoy said. “Gather whatever you wouldn't want someone to find, and use the portkey. Hurry.”
He gazed at Harry for a moment, and then disapparated with a pop.
Harry was frozen to the spot for a full second. He had no reason not to trust Malfoy, but it was hard to believe he was in danger. The memory of Malfoy's tone jolted him into action, and he stuffed everything he could find into his rucksack. He switched the lamp on, glancing around for the most important item.
Wand. Where was his wand? It had been in his jacket, and he remembered taking it off and tossing – the bathroom. He found his jacket on the floor by the toilet, and located his wand.
And then he heard the distinct sounds of two people apparating into his room. He quietly cast a concealment spell on himself and peeked around the door frame. There were two hooded figures, now moving around his room.
“Our intelligence said he was here,” one of them hissed. The accent was British.
“He may be yet,” the other replied. The voice was strangely familiar. Harry clutched his rucksack to his chest and crept forward. If he didn't move too quickly, they wouldn't notice him. He only had to reach the bracelet on the nightstand.
The figures began searching the room, yanking the sheets off the bed and pulling drawers out of the dresser. Harry took another careful step forward. What were they looking for, other than Harry himself? He was running on adrenaline and a sense of detachment now – there'd be plenty of time to think later. For now, he focused on the bracelet, on escape. The silver band seemed to gleam in the soft lamplight, beckoning to him.
“Check the bathroom,” one of the men said. Harry froze, only steps away from the bracelet. The man walking towards the bathroom was on a path that would lead him right into Harry, and Harry couldn't move out of the way without catching his eye. He braced himself and tried to focus his mind, running through a catalogue of defensive spells that would work best from such a short distance. His mind was remarkably clear.
“Master, look!” The man had stopped and was pointing to the nightstand.
The bracelet, Harry thought, feeling a shiver of fear.
“Yes,” the other man said. “That is very interesting, indeed.” He produced a wand from his robe and pointed it toward the bracelet, whispering, “Accio.”
Harry dove forward without another thought, catching the bracelet in midair. Just before the sickening twist of his guts, just before the room disappeared around him, Harry was – for a split second – looking into the face of Lucius Malfoy.
And a moment later, he was standing in Draco Malfoy's flat, clutching his rucksack and panting, arm still extended and holding the bracelet. Malfoy was standing by the sofa, with the look of someone who'd been pacing nervously. He froze when he saw Harry.
They stared at each other for a moment. Harry was too rattled even to speak.
Then Malfoy made a strangled sound and charged at Harry. Harry dropped his bag, the bracelet, his wand – and found his arms full. Malfoy was kissing him, clinging to him and trembling.
“Oh god, I thought I'd lost you!” he whispered against Harry's lips.
“How did you know?” Harry asked, pulling him closer, trying to calm himself down. His heart was pounding. If Malfoy was frightened, he must have known something was going to happen. For the first time in years, Harry wondered if he'd narrowly escaped death, or worse.
“I was terrified,” Malfoy replied. “Oh god...” And he kissed Harry again, so hard their teeth knocked together. “I'm sorry,” he whispered into Harry's open mouth. “I'm so sorry I pushed you away.”
“I'm here,” Harry whispered back, and pulled Malfoy tightly against him. “I'm fine, it's okay.” Malfoy melted into him, arms around Harry's neck, whimpering into his mouth as Harry kissed him back with all of the feeling he'd kept pent up for days.
Everything else began to melt away – the room, the memory of Malfoy's father's face in the dark, the fear that had been pooling in his gut. It was all replaced with a steadily growing arousal. Harry pulled out of the kiss, worried that his sudden erection was inappropriate, that this was the wrong time and place to feel this way.
But Malfoy pulled him back and pressed himself against Harry, kissing him with a sort of desperation. Malfoy was hard too, and this time, he wasn't pushing Harry away.
Harry's mind was losing the battle with his hormones, slowly but surely. “I want you,” he whispered, moving his lips to Malfoy's ear and pressing their groins together. Their erections brushed, and they both hissed.
“Bedroom,” Malfoy whispered, and took a step backwards. They stumbled across the room, still intertwined, still kissing and touching each other as much as possible. Harry had never felt anything close to this level of passion before – he couldn't take his hands or his mouth off of Malfoy long enough even to walk, or to remove clothes.
They reached the door, but bumped into it so hard that it closed. Harry pressed Malfoy up against it, pinning his hands on either side of his head against the door, kissing him hard enough to bruise. Malfoy ground against Harry and hooked one ankle behind his knee to pull him even closer.
Harry shifted his position and their erections brushed again. His moan mingled with Malfoy's, and he started thrusting against Malfoy without even thinking. He became aware of Malfoy rocking against him in return, both of them pushing harder, growing more frenzied in their movements.
He didn't know how long they stayed like that, because time seemed to have stopped. It was just him, and Malfoy, and their lips and tongues, and their cocks pressed together through thin cotton and rough denim, harder, faster...
Malfoy cried out and pulled out of the kiss, tilting his chin up. Harry devoured his exposed throat, feeling his orgasm spiraling ever closer. He hit his forehead on the door, but he barely felt it – all he became aware of was the tightening in his groin, the rush of sensation, and the crest of it reaching the breaking point as he came. It seemed to last a long time, and then they were both shuddering together, supporting each other in the aftermath. When his mind had cleared enough to think, Harry released Malfoy's wrists, and felt arms slide around his bare torso.
“We didn't quite make it to the bedroom,” Harry said, breathing in the mild scent of sweat in Malfoy's hair.
Malfoy blew out a breath. “We didn't even make it out of our clothes. Is that pathetic, or what?”
Harry took a step back. Sure enough, they'd both soiled themselves. Harry looked back up at Malfoy's flushed face. “I don't care.”
They stared at each other for a moment, not quite sure what to do. Neither of them had meant for that to happen, and if Harry had been in his right mind, he'd have stopped them. He had no idea what this meant for them, or how it changed things. Did it mean Malfoy had changed his mind?
Malfoy gazed up at him, expression unreadable. Harry swallowed, and tried not to feel guilty that he was more worried about whether or not Malfoy would shag him now than he was about their safety.
Harry sighed, hoping his anxiety wasn't too obvious. “What do we do now?”
Malfoy pushed away from the door enough to open it. “How about a shower?” There was something almost shy about his manner, and it tugged at a place deep inside Harry. He could only nod in response.
He followed Malfoy into the bedroom and watched him strip out of his clothing layer by layer, holding Harry's gaze steadily all the while. Harry stood, mesmerized, as Malfoy pulled his shirt up over his head and then blew a few strands of hair out of his face. Malfoy kept his eyes locked on Harry's as one hand trailed down his chest to unfasten the button of his jeans, and he didn't drop Harry's gaze when he bent over enough to push them past his knees and step out of them. More and more pale skin was bared until finally, Malfoy was standing naked before him.
Harry could hardly breathe. He was afraid to move or to speak at all, in case this really was a dream. Harry felt a stab of fear that this was an elaborate tease, and that Malfoy had no intention of making love to him at all. Malfoy turned away then, and stepped through the bathroom door. Harry hesitated a few seconds before pushing his sticky pyjamas off and following.
Malfoy smiled over his shoulder at Harry just before he stepped under the spray. It seemed to be an invitation, so Harry followed. He stood at the side of the shower for nearly a minute, watching Malfoy tilt his head back under the water. Malfoy's eyes remained closed as he threaded long fingers through his red-streaked blonde hair. He pushed it away from his face, reminding Harry of the way he'd worn it as a child, and then tilted his head back a bit further. Water trickled down his cheek, under his jaw, and down his throat.
Harry found himself torn between continuing to watch and joining in. At last, he lathered his hands and tentatively ran them over Malfoy's chest. Malfoy started, but allowed Harry to touch him freely. Harry's hands moved smoothly over soap-slicked angles of skin and muscle, lightly over spots where Malfoy seemed far too thin, and lingered in places he found intriguing. His hands slid down Malfoy's back, down to where his body curved just above the swell of his ass. The dragon tattoo blinked at Harry, then yawned. It curled up like a cat when Harry traced a finger down its spine. Harry smiled, and let his hands move lower. Malfoy sucked in a breath when Harry's fingers delved into the cleft and teased at his opening before moving on again. Malfoy reached for the soap then, and tugged Harry under the shower as well.
Harry closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of slick fingers moving slowly over his chest, down his sides, tracing the length of his spine. He hadn't been touched this way by anyone in a long time, and he'd forgotten how vulnerable it made him feel. There was a part of him that wanted to push those hands away, before they made their way under his skin. He stayed still until he couldn't bear it anymore, and then kissed Malfoy instead.
They stood under the spray of the hot water for a long time after they'd rinsed all the soap away. Harry thought he might die from the slow slide of Malfoy's tongue against his, from the feeling of water dripping down their faces and into their open mouths, from the brush of hot lips against his own.
At last, Malfoy stepped back and turned the water off. He glanced down between them and grinned. “Is that for me?”
Harry took Malfoy's hand and wrapped it around his renewed erection. “You really need to ask?”
Malfoy pulled his hand away and passed Harry a towel. “We're going to do it properly this time. Lying down, on a bed.”
Harry grinned and started drying himself off.
They managed to keep some distance between them for the few minutes it took to get mostly dry and into bed. Harry felt oddly embarrassed when Malfoy fumbled through a drawer and produced condom packets and a bottle of lube. He set them on the nightstand and turned to Harry. The expression on his face was guarded.
Harry reached out to trace a line of shadow down Malfoy's side. “You said before that you couldn't bear to make love to me. Are you sure about this?”
Malfoy nodded and moved closer, stretching out next to him. “I'll probably regret it, but... I think I'll regret it more if we don't.” He kissed Harry's shoulder then, so tenderly Harry felt his throat tighten. “What about you? You said you weren't the sort for casual sex.”
Too late to worry about that now , Harry thought as he pulled Malfoy closer. He found himself hoping this encounter was far more than casual. He slid a knee between Malfoy's legs. “I assume we're safe here? From–” He paused, realizing he hadn't yet told Malfoy what he'd seen.
Malfoy kissed him, as if to stop him from saying any more. “We're safe,” he whispered. “Everything else can wait for morning.”
With that, he rolled onto his back, tugging Harry along with him. Harry smiled down at him, marveling at the feel of so much warm skin pressed against him for the first time in months. Malfoy was smiling – beckoning, really – and Harry couldn't resist dipping his head down for a kiss. Malfoy made a contented sound and shifted beneath him.
Harry forced himself to be patient. He didn't want to think this might be their only night together, but just in case, he wanted to make the most of it. He kissed Malfoy for a long time before leaving his mouth to pay attention to his neck and chest.
He'd never actually made love to a man, he realized. Not like this, at least: slow and careful, naked and vulnerable, and feeling so very much. He paused to look at each new patch of skin before he tasted it, to marvel at the fact that Malfoy's body wasn't as perfect as Harry had imagined – and that he didn't care.
Actually, he liked the fact that Malfoy had a few ugly scars in places he usually kept covered by clothes, and that he had a large bruise on his side that looked to be a week old. He liked the fact that Malfoy was too skinny in some places and strangely muscular in others. He ran his fingertips over the wispy strands of blonde hair scattered across Malfoy's chest that made him look almost boyish compared to Harry. He kissed the freckles on Malfoy's shoulders, making a note to scold him for spending too much time in the sun, fair skin unprotected.
Malfoy sucked in his breath when Harry flicked his tongue across a rapidly hardening nipple. He squirmed until Harry bit – and then he yelped. Harry glanced up, but Malfoy's eyes were closed. He moved to the other nipple, wondering if this was the sort of thing men did in bed. He had little more than his experience with women to go on, and he hoped it would be enough.
“I've never done this before, you know,” he whispered against Malfoy's chest.
“Hunnhh?” Malfoy grunted in reply. Speaking seemed to require effort. “What about... Colby?”
Harry licked along a rib, one that seemed much too prominent. “That wasn't like this,” he replied. “Standing up in a toilet is hardly an ideal sexual encounter.” He pressed his nose into Malfoy's navel, and Malfoy chuckled.
“Mmm, I suppose not.”
Harry nipped at the line of fine blonde hair running from Malfoy's navel south, and his chin brushed Malfoy's cock.
Malfoy inhaled, and Harry propped himself up on an elbow and took a good look. He didn't have so much to compare it to, but Malfoy's erect penis seemed to be about average in size. It was smaller than Harry's, bigger than Colby's, and maybe even looked a bit larger than it would on someone of normal weight.
Malfoy made a frustrated sound above him. “I don't suppose you could speed things up a little?”
Harry leaned forward enough to plant a kiss at the juncture of hip and thigh. “In a hurry or something?”
“No, I'm just about to go mad, is all!” Malfoy's tone was light, and Harry had the feeling he really didn't mind at all.
Harry kept kissing and exploring – hips, knees, and feet, and then kissed his way down the inside of one thigh. Malfoy made a whimpering sound when Harry's breath ghosted over his balls, and another one when Harry trailed the tip of his tongue up the underside of his cock.
Harry started to sit up, but Malfoy's knees closed around his ears. “No, no, don't stop! Please just...?”
Harry laughed and pressed the backs of Malfoy's thighs forward until his knees were touching his chest. “Haven't you heard of foreplay?”
Malfoy made a grumbling sound. “That's something girls fancy, isn't it? Along with chocolates and sappy films.”
Harry grinned and slid down onto his belly. Malfoy's breathing sped up when he realized Harry was getting comfortable. Harry released his hold on Malfoy's thighs, and Malfoy's hands moved down to hold his own knees back. It was a position Harry had always loved to see a woman in – holding herself open for him, trembling with need. He realized he liked to see a man that way just as much, even if the view was different.
He nuzzled Malfoy's balls with the tip of his nose, and then flicked his tongue over the skin just below. Malfoy stopped breathing for a moment, only to inhale sharply when Harry's tongue moved lower still.
“Oh god...” Malfoy mumbled.
Harry swirled his tongue around his entrance, and then pressed into Malfoy with the tip of his tongue, probing gently. Malfoy pulled his knees up harder and made an incoherent noise. Harry pushed in as far as he could, slowly fucking Malfoy with his tongue. He could feel Malfoy trembling, and he couldn't help but smile.
“Are you sure you haven't... done this before?”
“Girls have arseholes too, you know,” Harry laughed. He flicked his tongue lightly across the hole before pressing in again.
“Not fair,” Malfoy mumbled, and the mumble turned into a moan when Harry began small fast strokes, in and out.
He continued until his jaw began to ache from the effort, and then he licked his way back up to Malfoy's cock, not being so careful or gentle now. He took the leaking head into his mouth and sucked, trying to remember the movements of Malfoy's – Colby's tongue on him the night before. Malfoy released his legs, hooking his knees over Harry's shoulders, and clenched his hands in the sheets on either side.
“Oh god... Harry stop, please...” Harry released him and looked up. A fine sheen of sweat covered Malfoy's chest, making him almost seem to sparkle in the dim light. “I don't want to come that fast,” he panted.
Harry crawled forward, Malfoy's knees still over his shoulders, and smiled down at him. “What do you want, then?” Harry knew what he wanted.
Malfoy grinned. “I want you to fuck me. No, I need you to fuck me.”
“Need ?” Harry laughed. He thought about teasing Malfoy for his choice of words, but Malfoy was already reaching his hand out for a condom. He winked at Harry as he opened the package and rolled it on Harry's cock without even looking at what he was doing. Harry's eyes closed at the brief touch, and he began to wonder how long he could possibly last. He'd been fantasizing about fucking Malfoy for a while now, after all. The lube bottle was pressed into his hand then, and he blushed when he saw the amused smirk on Malfoy's face. He spread a copious amount of lube on his fingers and leaned forward enough to kiss Malfoy while he pushed one finger into him, and then another, moving slowly.
Malfoy's expression changed completely. “You're trying to kill me, aren't you?” he whispered against Harry's lips. “Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?”
Harry's tongue traced Malfoy's lips, and he smiled. “I'm making this up as I go along.” He removed his fingers and replaced them with his cock, pushing forward slowly, until he was sheathed in Malfoy's body. He could feel Malfoy pushing back against him, willing his muscles to relax. Harry's instinct was to thrust, but he forced himself to stay still, and to be in the moment as completely as possible.
The moment of entry was always amazing for Harry, and this time was no exception. The sheer heat of another body engulfing the sensitive skin of his cock, the pressure, the sense of reaching inside another person – he didn't know how people could give this away so easily, so casually. He had to close his eyes against the intensity of what he was feeling, lest it overwhelm him.
But then he opened his eyes again, and saw Malfoy's face. His eyes were closed, and his mouth was open, and his expression was somewhere between pain and pleasure, as far as Harry could tell. Malfoy's forehead wrinkled, and he exhaled slowly.
“God, that's perfect,” he said.
Harry could feel his heart beating in his head. “Yes,” he replied, and started to move. He forced himself to go slowly, excruciatingly so, in fact. It felt so intensely good he was afraid he'd come if he went even a tiny bit faster. Harry braced his forearms on either side of Malfoy's torso, pressing their chests together. Malfoy was nearly bent in half, but he didn't seem to mind. Harry tried to kiss him, but it was far too difficult to concentrate on more than one motion at a time. He settled for touching his forehead against Malfoy's, and finally found a rhythm he could maintain without losing control.
Harry had no idea what this felt like, and could only hope he was doing it correctly. He'd fucked Cho like this a few times, after a good deal of rimming and pleading. He'd always wondered why this particular act had seemed so erotic to him.
Well, maybe there was a good reason, he thought, stifling a smile.
Malfoy's eyes opened, and he grinned. “Having fun?” he whispered.
The question caught Harry completely off-guard, and he paused mid-stroke. “Yes. Are you?”
Malfoy's arms slid around Harry's shoulders. “Fuck, yes. Don't stop.” He lifted his head enough to kiss Harry, and Harry felt something melt inside his abdomen. He pushed Malfoy down into the mattress, taking his mouth as he was taking his body. Malfoy moaned and shifted his hips, moving with Harry.
“Can you come like this?” Harry whispered into Malfoy's open mouth. “I don't know what to–”
“Touch me,” Malfoy replied, and pushed one of Harry's hands down between their bodies.
It took some coordination and exertion of abdominal muscles, but Harry managed to stroke Malfoy's cock and fuck him at the same time. His own orgasm was hovering close by, but he wanted Malfoy to come first.
“You feel amazing,” Harry half-moaned.
“So do you... oh, keep doing that... with your hand...”
“I can't give this up,” he continued, brushing his lips against Malfoy's as he spoke. “I can't go back without you.”
“Not now, Harry,” Malfoy panted.
“Please, just... promise me you'll think about it.” Harry's thrusts were speeding up, almost unconsciously.
“Harry, please,” Malfoy whimpered. “Don't.”
“I need you,” Harry said.
Malfoy made a sound almost like a sob, but it seemed to be a cry of pleasure. “Oh god...”
They were both sweating now, and Harry's hand slid easily on Malfoy's cock. “I want you to come with me,” he whispered, conscious of the double meaning of his words. “Please...”
Malfoy cried out then, arching his back and forcing Harry's hand to stop moving. Harry braced himself against the mattress and kept pounding into him, startled when he felt Malfoy's body clench around his cock. He was losing control now, vaguely aware that his hips were slamming against Malfoy's ass. He buried his face in Malfoy's shoulder as he came.
They were still for a moment, except for their breathing. Malfoy's arms were wrapped tightly around Harry, so tightly he began to wonder if Malfoy was all right. Harry wriggled a bit and Malfoy let go, and then Harry's back was cool where the air from the vent above hit his sweat-soaked skin. He shifted his hips enough to pull out of Malfoy and spent a moment fumbling with the condom before relaxing against him again.
“That was amazing,” Malfoy said. “Oh, god.”
Harry grinned against his shoulder. “Please – call me Harry.”
There was a second of silence before Malfoy snickered and swatted his shoulder. “You are such a twat!”
Harry raised his head and kissed him. Malfoy squirmed and laughed, but finally gave in, letting himself be kissed. When he made a whimpering noise, Harry shifted his weight onto one elbow and gazed down at him.
“I meant what I said. I want you to come back with me.”
Malfoy closed his eyes. “Harry...”
“I can help you. I still have some pull with the Ministry, you know. All I'm asking is that you consider it, maybe just come for a few weeks.” Malfoy opened his eyes again, and Harry kissed the tip of his nose. “You could stay with me. We could do this every day.” He raised an eyebrow.
“And twice on Sundays?” Malfoy asked, smiling. Harry's heart skipped a beat. “I can't make any promises, Harry,” he continued, smile fading. “It's complicated, more than you can imagine.”
Harry nodded, and nuzzled Malfoy's cheek. “I want to understand. I want to help. But mostly – to be completely honest – I want you .” He settled his cheek on Malfoy's chest and sighed, listening to the beat of his heart. “I can't bear the thought of leaving here without you. I'd rather not go back at all.” He meant it, he realized.
“Not go back?” Malfoy asked, hand smoothing circles on Harry's back. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. I've been thinking about quitting and staying here. There's nothing for me back there.”
“Nothing but your job, your home, your friends...”
“None of that seems very important lately.” Harry sighed.
“You're not safe here,” Malfoy whispered, tightening his arms around Harry again.
“Neither are you,” Harry countered.
Malfoy was silent for a full minute. “All right,” he said at last.
Harry started. “All right?”
“I'll think about it.”
“Really?” Harry asked, head popping up. Malfoy nodded. He didn't look terribly enthusiastic, but Harry kissed him anyway. “Just for a few weeks, maybe. It's been ages since you've been home, hasn't it?”
“Yes,” Malfoy said, and closed his eyes. “It has been.” Harry's kisses on Malfoy's throat turned to nips and licks, almost unconsciously. “Harry,” Malfoy groaned, “it's almost five in the morning. Can we sleep before we do it again?”
“Sorry,” Harry whispered, settling down beside him. “Can't help it.”
“We have all day tomorrow, if you want,” Malfoy yawned. He turned onto his side, and Harry spooned against him. “All day, if my ass can take it,” Malfoy whispered. Within a few minutes, he was asleep. Harry clung tightly to him – something he rarely was inclined to do after sex – and managed to fall asleep at last.
11 February, 2004: Wednesday
The sun seemed high in the sky when Harry awoke. He stretched under the duvet and yawned. The pillow smelled of Malfoy, and the duvet smelled of sex. Harry grinned, almost giddy.
He rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. He was alone in the bed, but the scent of coffee was heavy in the air. He wondered if Malfoy would come back to bed eventually, if he just stayed there.
After several minutes, he began to feel lonely, so he sat up and squinted around the room. His glasses were on the floor, along with his pyjamas from the night before. He held out his hand and concentrated, and his glasses slowly rose in the air and moved toward him. It took effort, but it was much easier to do than he expected. Maybe he could apply for training in wandless magic when he got home. With this successful mission under his belt, he could even request reassignment, perhaps back to some sort of field duty. Maybe he and Malfoy could work together, even.
Among other things. He'd awakened with an erection, and his mind was now turning to ways to alleviate that particular problem.
He briefly considered walking out of the bedroom naked, hoping Malfoy would take the hint, but pulled his soiled pyjama bottoms on again instead. There was certainly a lovely memory attached to those .
He pushed the door open and wandered into the main room. “Draco?”
Malfoy was sitting on the floor of the living area, knees pulled up against his chest. His silver bracelet was floating in the air before him, revolving slowly. And he was surrounded by papers.
“Oh god,” Harry said.
The bracelet clattered to the floor, and Malfoy looked up at him. His eyes were red-rimmed, as if he'd been crying – hours ago. The expression on his face was unlike anything Harry had seen before.
“Draco, no–”
“I trusted you,” Malfoy said quietly. “He told me not to. He told me who you worked for, and why you were here, and that I was a fool for trusting you.” He shook his head and looked away.
Harry was frozen to the spot. He had no idea what to say, or what to do.
“I think you should go,” Malfoy said.
“Draco, please, I know what it looks like–”
“What it looks like?” Malfoy scoffed. “Fucking hell, Harry!” He picked up a paper from the floor and waved it before him. “ This looks like summaries of intelligence the CIA collected on me in New York , and this one is my phone logs, and this one lists people I fucked, as if that was any of their business.” He scanned the floor and picked another paper up. “And this one, Harry – this one is all about how you've been getting to know me, how you've been working so hard to gain my trust.”
“No,” Harry whispered, shaking his head. “Draco–”
Malfoy picked up another paper. “And once you'd gained my trust, you were going to hand me over to the Ministry.” He looked up at Harry then, expression hard. “And that's what last night was all about, wasn't it?”
“No!” Harry replied, beginning to grow frantic. “Oh, god, I know it's... You haven't seen everything. Let me explain–”
“There's nothing to explain,” Malfoy replied. “You lied to me, and you've been lying to me all along.”
Harry began to panic in earnest, and took a step forward. Malfoy's wand appeared in his hand, as if out of nowhere, and he pointed it at Harry. “Stay right where you are,” he growled, and leapt to his feet. “You almost had me, you know. I believed everything you said last night.” He shook his head, disgusted. “I was going to go with you. And you would have held my hand up until the very moment you handed me over, wouldn't you?”
“No,” Harry said. “You've got it all wrong. Please don't do this.”
“What have I got wrong?” Malfoy sputtered, brandishing a paper. Harry saw it was the one giving him authority to bring Malfoy back using any force necessary, and winced. “Did they send you here to seduce me into coming back, or was that part your idea?”
“It's not like that, I swear.”
“And why the fuck should I believe you now?” Malfoy snorted. His expression was one of intense anger, but Harry could see pain beneath it. “I never lied to you, Harry. I evaded the truth, certainly, but I never lied to you. Not about anything.” He clenched his jaw.
Harry could only stare at him. Malfoy was right. Harry should have told him the truth sooner, and now... He stepped forward, scanning the floor frantically. If he could find the paper he'd written threatening to resign, maybe that–
Malfoy growled something that sounded like a spell, but it wasn't one Harry had ever heard before. The papers on the floor swirled up around him, tearing violently through the air. They flew into Harry's empty rucksack, along with Harry's jacket and wand. And then the rucksack flew through air towards Harry.
He ducked, but the bag seemed to anticipate the movement. It hit him in the stomach, hard enough to knock the breath out of him. He staggered back, coughing, and stared at Malfoy. The wand was still pointed at him, and the expression on Malfoy's face was one of deadly anger. Harry swallowed, shocked at how much Malfoy resembled his father at that moment.
“You should leave, Harry,” he whispered. “Now, before I do something I'll regret.”
Dazed, Harry edged his way toward the door. This couldn't be happening. He had to be dreaming. Surely he'd wake up at any moment, and Malfoy would still be in his arms, sleeping soundly.
The door opened of its own accord, and Harry backed through it. He knew he should say something, but he had no idea what. He was completely, utterly lost.
The door slammed shut, and he was standing in the corridor outside Malfoy's flat in his pyjamas, clutching his rucksack to his naked chest. He heard a small gasp and turned to see an old woman peeking through a cracked door at him. He ignored her and turned back to Malfoy's closed door. Malfoy was hurt and angry, and Harry couldn't blame him for that. Perhaps he would calm down in a few hours, and Harry could come back, try to reason with him. He pulled his jacket and shoes out of the bag and put them on, and started down the stairs.
He wasn't sure if the Inn was safe, but he had nowhere else to go. The rest of his belongings were there, and he'd have to go back to settle his bill at some point. And he could call Hermione. He felt relief rush through him, and he picked up his pace. Yes, Hermione would know what to do.
He considered apparating from the alley, but just popping into his room seemed a bad idea. He was barely aware of the people around him as he walked up Castro. All he could think about was the look on Malfoy's face, and the horrible moment when Harry had realized he'd learned the truth.
But the truth had changed, at some point, when Harry wasn't paying attention.
He walked through the doors of the Inn , glancing about for any sign of danger. All seemed quiet, and completely normal. Harry's fingers tightened around his wand as he headed toward the stairs.
“Mr. Potter, is it?”
Harry turned to see a familiar-looking man in a suit glaring at him. He nodded.
“I'm Carl Unter, the manager.” He didn't extend his hand to Harry. “I'm afraid we'll have to ask you to settle your bill and check out, immediately.”
Harry gaped at him. “I... Sorry?”
Unter wrinkled his nose at Harry's odd appearance, only barely disguising his annoyance. “I don't know why you felt the need to destroy your room last night, but I can assure you we'll hold you responsible for the damage.”
Harry winced and nodded. “Yes, of course.” He doubted it would do any good to explain that two evil wizards had tried to kill him last night. “May I go up and collect my things?”
Unter nodded curtly. “I'll have your bill ready in ten minutes.”
If the staff had been in, his room was probably safe. Still, he held his wand before him as he pushed the unlocked door open – and stared. There wasn't a piece of furniture in the room that hadn't been overturned, damaged, or outright destroyed. The drapes were shredded, and the singed scraps of white fabric blanketing the room could only be the remains of the sheets. There was even a large scorch mark in the carpet in the center of the room. Harry began to feel lucky that he was only going to have to pay for the damage. The Inn would have been well within their rights to have him arrested.
He closed the door behind him and began sifting through the rubble, looking for any clothes that might have escaped notice. Behind the door of the bathroom, he found a pair of dirty jeans and a grey shirt. He couldn't find any underwear. He stripped out of his clothes and turned on the shower, but no water came out. The sink faucets were missing altogether, and his toothbrush seemed to have been melted into a large green lump of plastic.
Groaning, he cast a half-hearted scourgify and pulled the jeans on. Going commando in denim was hardly ideal, but he didn't have a choice. There weren't even any scraps of sheet large enough to transfigure into underwear. He turned the grey shirt right-side-out, and realized it was Malfoy's Queens College t-shirt, the one Harry'd worn to Haight Fair a few days ago. It seemed like a month ago now. He brought it to his face and inhaled. It smelled mostly like him, but there was a hint of cigarette smoke as well. He pulled it on and sighed.
The phone had been smashed apart, so he couldn't call Hermione. He searched the room for a few more minutes, but nothing else seemed to have survived. Malfoy had told him to gather everything of value, and he'd been right.
Harry sank to the floor and emptied the contents of his rucksack. The papers had organized themselves into a surprisingly neat stack; he only had to tuck them into the folder again. He folded his pyjamas and stuffed them back into the bag. There was something else at the bottom, something hard and smooth and–
He pulled the silver bracelet from the bag and stared at it for a moment, feeling a strange emotion fill his chest. He had no idea how it had got there. Draco could have put it in the bag intentionally, or the spell he'd used could have simply gathered everything Harry had arrived with. He had no way of knowing.
It certainly wasn't a portkey anymore. Harry slipped it over his hand, and was surprised when it fit itself snugly to his wrist.
Draco had known, somehow, that Death Eaters were coming last night. He'd saved Harry, and then Harry had betrayed him.
He didn't try to fight the tears that welled in his eyes. They spilled down his cheeks silently, only accompanied by the sound of his breathing. He didn't bother wiping them away. There was something cathartic about the feeling of tears on his skin.
Why did this hurt so much? He couldn't remember hurting like this even when Cho left him, though he was certain he had. Perhaps you couldn't remember how painful love could be, so that you wouldn't be afraid to fall in love again.
Was that what was happening to him? Was he falling in love?
A few minutes later, he made his way back downstairs. He knew it was obvious that he'd been crying, and that he needed a shower and looked like utter shit, but he didn't care. Unter had no sympathy for him as he handed Harry a document to sign and took another imprint of Harry's credit card.
Harry shouldered his bag and turned to leave.
“Mr. Potter, this arrived for you this morning,” someone said. It was one of the staff, and she was holding a large Fed Ex envelope.
Harry stopped breathing as he stared at it. The woman gave him a funny look and walked over to him, holding it out.
“Thanks,” he managed, and turned it over in his hands before opening it. The document was there, exactly as he'd requested, and signed with Bass's oddly loopy signature, as well as Fallin's illegible one. Harry's heart began to pound. He put the parchment back in the envelope and tucked the envelope into his bag.
He managed to walk calmly to the door, but he started running the second his feet hit pavement. He ran down Castro, back towards Draco's building, only realizing he could have apparated when he was nearly there. He pressed the buzzer for Draco's flat, but there was no response. He peered inside the door to see the foyer was empty. He looked both ways, and then apparated inside.
He was still panting when he knocked on the door. There was no answer, so he pounded. “Draco!” he called. “Please open the door. I have something important to show you.”
He heard a sound nearby, but it was only the neighbor peeking out her door at him again. He glared at her, and she scowled. He pounded harder on the door, and then rested his forehead against it.
And then he realized the wards were gone. His head snapped up, and he pressed both hands flat on the door. He couldn't feel anything, despite the fact that the wards had been immense only an hour before. He knocked again. “Draco?”
The neighbor coughed, and Harry whirled to face her. “Do you fucking mind ?” he hissed. She sucked in a breath and closed the door. Harry retrieved his wand from his bag and pointed it at the door, whispering a powerful unlocking spell he'd learned years ago in auror training. The lock clicked. Wand at the ready, Harry pushed the door open.
And gasped in surprise. The room was empty, completely empty, as if no one had been there at all. Every drape, every wire, every mug, everything was gone.
“Draco?” he called frantically, moving through the flat, opening doors. But there was no one there. There wasn't even any dust. In one hour, every trace of Draco Malfoy had vanished.
Harry heard footsteps, and whirled to face the door, wand before him. “Hello?” he heard, and tucked the wand behind his back just in time. A man Harry assumed was the super peeked through the doorway. “How'd you get in here?” the man asked, a wary glint in his eyes.
“I'm a friend of Derek's,” Harry replied, trying to quell his steadily rising panic. “I... it was open. Where is he?”
The man blinked at him as if he were stupid. “Moved out. Got a note from him this morning, along with a check paying off his lease. I don't know when he moved his things, but he was sure quiet about it.”
Harry nodded, feeling some of his anxiety lift. It was likely Draco had left of his own free will, then. “Did he leave a forwarding address, by any chance?”
“Nope.” The man pushed the door wide open and gestured. “I'm sorry, but I'll have to ask you to vacate the premises.”
“Of course,” Harry replied, and turned to stash his wand in his jacket. He glanced around the empty room. It was surprisingly full of memories for the short time he'd spent there. So much had happened, and much of it had happened here. He snorted at his own sentimentality and walked out, not looking back.
Once on the street again, he headed for the closest alley, and then apparated to an alley near the café where Draco worked. He was usually quite cautious about using magic in public, but no one saw him appear out of thin air.
Draco wasn't in the café either, and Rosie told Harry he'd dropped in not long ago and told them he was quitting. He hadn't wanted to wait around long enough to pick up his last paycheck.
“Could you give it to him?” Rosie asked, handing him a folded piece of paper.
Harry nodded and tucked it into his coat pocket. There was already something in his pocket, though – Colby's card. Harry pulled it out and turned it over in his hands. “Rosie, could I make a phone call?”
Colby's flat was in Pacific Heights , so Harry took a taxi there. Colby was sitting on the stoop, waiting for him. He stood and waved in greeting, seeming frazzled.
Harry knew he'd probably sounded half-crazy on the phone. “I'm sorry about this,” Harry said, stopping before him. “All of it. I just... I don't know anyone here, and...”
“Come on,” Colby smiled, gesturing towards the door with his keys. Harry followed him up to his flat. It wasn't nearly as nice as Draco's place had been. “Sorry ‘bout the mess,” Colby muttered. “I've been a little busy lately.” Harry shrugged and stared at the floor in front of him. Colby took his hand and led him to the sofa.
“Derek's gone,” Harry said, sitting.
Colby blinked at him. “Gone? I...” He sighed. “Harry, I'm sorry. I know you cared about him, but he's not exactly into commitment.”
“No, you don't understand,” Harry groaned. “He left. His apartment is empty. I can't find him anywhere.”
Colby's jaw dropped. “You're kidding! He's... he's gone?” He sank against the sofa, looking pale. “Oh my god. And you have no idea what happened?”
“No,” Harry replied. “I was hoping you might know where he was, or...” Harry leaned forward, head in his hands. He imagined he sounded horribly selfish.
Colby was silent, and Harry looked up to see he was staring at Harry's wrist. Harry pulled the sleeve of his shirt down over the bracelet, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Colby looked away.
“You have a lot of nerve to come crying to me about this,” Colby muttered.
“I know. I'm really, really sorry.”
“But it's okay,” Colby continued, with the tone of one trying to be strong. “I'll put on some coffee, and we'll talk, all right?”
Harry nodded, and Colby stood. Harry leaned back against the sofa and closed his eyes. He could hear Colby moving around in the kitchen, opening a cabinet, and then a container of coffee with a small pop . Harry didn't know what had motivated him to call Colby's mobile and insist he meet Harry right away. Colby'd been at work, but he said he'd go home straight away, it was no problem...
“Colby, you're an angel,” Harry said.
“Am I?” he heard, and then something hard and cold was pressed against the back of his head. Harry felt the blood drain from his face. “I wouldn't make any sudden moves, if I were you,” Colby said. “This is a 357 magnum. Your brains will be splattered on the floor before you can reach for your wand.”
For the third time that day, Harry thought he must be dreaming. “Colby?” he squeaked, bewildered.
“Hands where I can see them,” Colby replied. Harry held his hands in front of him. “Good boy.” Colby reached into Harry's jacket and removed his wand. The gun barrel was removed from Harry's skull, and he heard Colby cross the room. He turned his head enough to see that Colby had placed his wand on the dining room table.
Colby moved to stand in front of Harry then, and kept the gun pointing at Harry's chest. “Don't get too comfortable,” Colby said, smirking. “They'll be here any minute now.”
“What's going on?” Harry asked. His mind was reeling, and he had to pull himself together. “Who's coming?”
Colby smiled. “I can't believe you didn't figure it out, Harry. You have a reputation for rushing into situations without thinking, but this was far too easy.”
Harry struggled to keep his voice calm, though he was frantic on the inside. “What didn't I figure out, then?”
Colby's eyes were fixed on the bracelet, though. “He must trust you. Maybe he even told you everything. That makes you just as valuable as he is.”
“Valuable to whom?”
Colby laughed. “To everyone, Harry, but I'll settle for the highest bidder. There are quite a few people interested in Draco Malfoy, and you too, apparently.”
“Death Eaters?” Harry asked.
Colby laughed. “If that's what you like to call them. Stupid name, if you ask me.” He watched Harry's face for a moment. “I was approached a couple of years ago by a man – a wizard, actually, with very interesting connections. He was looking for his son, and he offered to pay me very well to find him. I did, but sonny boy didn't want to be found. Didn't want anything to do with daddy, it turned out.”
“Can you blame him?” Harry asked, letting a little sarcasm creep into his tone.
“I see you know him,” Colby replied. “Mr. Malfoy doesn't take no for an answer, now does he?”
“So you followed Draco here to San Francisco ,” Harry said. “And you struck up a friendship with him. You spied on him for his father.”
Colby grinned. “You're not as dumb as you look, Harry. It was easy enough to catch Malfoy's attention and get into his pants, but staying there...” He shook his head. “Not that you were any different.”
Harry took a calming breath. The shock of finding himself in this situation was beginning to wear off, and now he was thinking, planning. If he could just keep Colby talking, he might be able to distract him. Colby always seemed to love to listen to himself, and that might work to Harry's advantage.
“Why the interest in me, though?” Harry asked.
Colby shrugged. “I was hoping you could tell me. Everything was going along smoothly, until about a week ago,” Colby said, shifting his weight onto one foot. “My division chief at the CIA was delighted I'd found the fugitive they'd been looking for, and they assigned me to watch him here. Mr. Malfoy was reasonably happy with the arrangement.”
Harry swallowed. Colby had been the CIA agent all along, and he'd been convinced it was Manny. He hadn't suspected sweet, harmless Colby at all.
“It was fun, too. Sex, drugs, clubbing every night – who wouldn't enjoy that? All I had to do was write two sets of reports, three times a week.” Colby shifted the gun to his other hand. “And then last week, I noted that an old school friend of Draco's showed up, some Brit with a strange scar on his forehead. And all hell broke loose.” He shook his head in amazement. “Mr. Malfoy was particularly interested, especially when I told him you were fucking his son. My new assignment became... you.”
“Hence your sudden interest in me?” Harry felt oddly relieved.
Colby smiled. “Don't get me wrong, Harry. You're a great fuck, but not really my type.” His smiled faded into a thin line. “Besides, I'd already failed Lucius Malfoy once. I wasn't going to do it again.”
Harry frowned. “What do you mean?” Colby's hand was slowly dropping, and the gun was only generally pointed in Harry's direction now. He couldn't see his wand, but if he focused on the memory of it lying on the table, he might be able to retrieve it. He had to get it quickly, though, or Colby would shoot him before he could cast a single spell.
“Why do you care, Harry?” Colby laughed. “Besides, they'll be here for you very soon. Any minute now, in fact.” Harry closed his eyes and visualized the wand flying through the air and into his hand, and he pushed with his mind as hard as he could.
Colby gasped and tackled Harry, pressing the gun into his forehead so hard that it hurt. “Nice try,” he whispered. “I didn't know you could do that. Now drop the wand.”
Harry released the image, and heard his wand clatter to the floor a few feet away. He fought down a rising sense of panic. Now he had no idea what to do. He opened his eyes to see Colby glaring at him.
And then Colby's eyes widened in surprise.
“Give me the gun, Colby,” a voice hissed. Harry looked up to see Manny standing just behind Colby, his wand pressed into Colby's throat. “I know you've seen what these things can do. I can assure you a bullet is hardly a challenge.”
That wasn't quite true, Harry noted, but Colby didn't seem to want to call Manny's bluff. He opened his hand so that Manny could take the gun from him. Manny yanked him backwards, away from Harry. Colby was staring at Manny in shock, and he looked terrified.
“Get up, Harry,” Manny said. “We're leaving.”
Harry blinked at him.
“Don't do it, Harry,” Colby said, glancing back and forth between them frantically. “We work for the same people, and he just wants to be the one to turn you over to them.”
Manny made a sound like a disgusted laugh. “He's lying, Harry.”
Harry stood and held out his hand, and his wand flew to him. He studied both men's faces. He had no particular reason to believe either of them, at this point.
“Harry, we can go to the CIA instead,” Colby said. “If we leave now, we'll have time.” He stared wildly at Harry, clearly panicked. “He'll just turn you over to the Death Eaters.”
“Like you were planning to do?” Harry snorted. “Who's the highest bidder now?”
Manny shot an annoyed look at Harry. “We don't have time for this.”
Harry took a deep breath and gripped his wand. He could knock either of them off their feet with a word. Or both of them, for that matter, but it wouldn't get him any closer to finding Draco. He knew now that he couldn't trust Colby, and he had no idea what to expect from Manny. Choose the evil you know , Aunt Petunia had always said.
He touched the bracelet on his wrist, almost unconsciously, and it hit him: Draco didn't trust Colby, but he trusted Manny. And Harry trusted Draco, beyond a shadow of a doubt.
He leveled his wand at Colby and said, “Petrificus totalis.” Colby had a split second to look shocked before he stiffened and fell to the floor.
Manny raised an eyebrow. “Crude, but effective.”
“Should we tie him up, or something?” Harry asked.
“There isn't time,” Manny said, stepping towards Harry and holding out his hand. “I've got to port you out of here right now.”
Harry hesitated. “Port?”
Manny shook his head. “Or whatever the Brit term for it is... apparate.” He was starting to look nervous. Harry nodded and picked up his rucksack as he stepped forward. Manny pulled him into a tight embrace, and then everything shifted.
He found himself standing in a room with no windows, dimly lit by a single light bulb. Manny released him and stepped toward the door. He turned back to Harry as he opened it.
“Vamonos , Mr. Potter.”
Harry steeled himself and followed.
