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Somehow Harry had learned to trust Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy was his Auror partner, so trust was a bit of a requirement, but Malfoy had also saved Harry’s life several times.

The first time he saved his life, they had only been working together for a few months, and Harry was still suspicious. Malfoy would always have that Dark Mark on his arm, after all.

Harry, being Harry, had charged into a burning building in search of their suspect. He made it all the way to the fifth level before realising how fucked he was. The fire had reached the stairs, then the corridor, virtually licking at his heels.

There was a window in the room, but the smoke was now black and impenetrable, and he couldn’t see it. He couldn’t see anything, and he was panicking. Which spell did he need to use to make it all better? Which spell?

Somewhere glass shattered loudly. “POTTER!” roared Malfoy.

“Over here! Lumos Maxima!” Blinding light engulfed the room, cutting through the smoke.

Malfoy grabbed him. “Quickly, through the window! I’ve got a broom!” He yanked Harry by the collar, damn near choking him. They made it to the window in two long strides.

Malfoy stepped onto the ledge and grabbed the broom floating in the air just outside. He scrambled onto it and reached out with both arms to Harry. “Get on!”

Harry chucked himself into his arms, nearly losing his grip and falling to the hard ground, but Malfoy buried his hands in his robes and didn’t let go.

“I’ve got you, come on,” Malfoy growled.

Panting, Harry hooked a leg over the broom and lurched himself onto it. He wouldn’t have been able to get a steady hold without Malfoy’s help. Harry wrapped his arms around Malfoy’s thin waist, holding tightly as they shot toward safety.

In the brief moments before they landed, Harry couldn’t help but remember the Room of Requirement. Oh, how the tables had turned.

Malfoy was yelling at him before their feet even touched the hot grass. “YOU STUPID ARSE! WHAT WERE YOU—” Malfoy caught himself mid-rant, his eyes wild, terrified, and he twisted around so he was no longer facing Harry.

Harry sat down to catch his breath. His head was spinning. His lungs burned. “I’m sorry,” he gasped.

Malfoy shook his head, not turning around.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

Malfoy was silent for several minutes. Behind them, the burning building sounded like an enraged dragon.

When Malfoy finally faced him again, his expression was back to being impassive, almost chillingly professional. It was the expression he seemed to always wear around Harry.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said again, surprising himself. It had been a long, long time since he had apologised so much.

Malfoy barely reacted. “Just don’t do it again.”

Harry stared up at him, and whilst Malfoy’s face was unmoving, his grey eyes sparked just a little. “I won’t,” Harry said earnestly, even though they both knew it was a lie.

They both knew Harry would do anything, absolutely anything, to save people.

Harry was a slag now. He was a bottom. He loved giving his arse to the blokes who wanted it. And not so surprisingly, many, many blokes wanted to fuck the Chosen One.

He didn’t feel bad for being a slag. It was fun. And hot. It was a great stress reliever, especially as he and Malfoy advanced up the Auror ranks.

The problem was that sleeping around got old. He had been doing it for the better part of five years, and well, it was time to settle down. It was time to have an anchor. He hated going to sleep at night with no one else warming his bed. He hated not having his person. A partner. Someone he told everything to. Someone he could rely on for all things. Yes, Ron and Hermione came close, but just close.

The other problem was that he was sort of in love with his Auror partner. He was in love with a straight man. A man with a little boy. A man who was still mourning the death of his wife.

It was a lot to handle, so Harry did his best not to think about it. Perhaps his feelings would go away if he ignored them. They had to go away. They were unrequited, after all.

Even after several years of working together, Malfoy barely smiled at Harry. Truly. It was a feat. He barely smiled at anyone. Sometimes his lips quirked at a joke; sometimes his eyes and mouth softened in gratitude as someone handed him a cup of tea.

But he barely reacted to Harry’s jokes, and when Harry handed him his morning cuppa, Malfoy barely even looked at him.

Yeah, Harry really, really needed to get over his feelings for this man.

The most frustrating part of it was that Harry knew Malfoy was capable of warmth and friendliness. He saw it every time the au pair brought little Scorpius around the office.

Malfoy utterly melted around his son. It was the only time Harry ever saw him smiling genuinely.

One afternoon, the au pair and Scorpius appeared in their office right when Harry was just about to try, yet again, to engage Malfoy in a meaningful conversation. Instead of responding to Harry, Malfoy dropped to his knees and gathered his son into his arms, holding him so tightly.

“I’ve missed you all day, darling,” Malfoy murmured.

Scorpius beamed. “I missed you too, papa! I had to beg Angelique to let me come see you.”

Angelique, a very pretty girl barely out of her teens, was from France. She looked at Malfoy with deep adoration. It was obvious the girl had a crush on him. It made Harry grumpy to see them interacting.

“I didn’t want to interrupt you, sir,” she said in her refined accent. “I know you are very busy.”

Harry wanted to snort at her use of sir, but it also made him feel a bit hot and bothered. He wondered if Malfoy liked to be called sir in the bedroom …

Malfoy picked Scorpius up in his arms as he stood. The effort made him grunt. “You are getting rather big, darling.”

Scorpius laughed and clung to him. He peered over his shoulder at Harry, now turning shy. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Harry said with a grin.

Losing courage, Scorpius buried his face against Malfoy’s neck. For some reason, he found looking at Harry rather intimidating.

“Have you had lunch?” Malfoy asked, now carding his fingers through his son’s blond hair.

“No, only our tea,” Angelique said. “We were hoping you would join us in the canteen.”

Malfoy spared Harry a glance. “No, unfortunately, I don’t think I can. Potter and I still have a lot of paperwork to fill out.”

“Don’t let me stop you from spending time with your family,” Harry said hastily. “I can finish the paperwork on my own.”

“Absolutely not,” Malfoy said, now easing his son back to his feet. “Your handwriting is atrocious. I wouldn’t subject Robards to it.”

Scorpius began to tug on Malfoy’s hand. “Please, please, papa. I came all the way here to eat lunch with you.”

Malfoy carefully eased his hand away. “I’m sorry, darling. Truly. But Potter and I have business to attend to.”

“Invite him along!”

Very faint colour entered Malfoy’s cheeks. “Scorpius, no.”

“I wouldn’t mind setting aside my work to have lunch with you lot,” Harry said.

Malfoy whipped around to face him. “No.” His voice was so cold that Harry damn near froze in his seat.

“Come along, Scorpius,” Angelique said, taking the boy’s hand. “Let’s leave your father alone now.”

Pouting, Scorpius, “I’ll see you at home, then.”

“Yes,” Malfoy answered stiffly.

After Angelique and Scorpius left, Malfoy sat at his desk, frowning deeply as he worked. Harry couldn’t help but watch him.

“Really, I wouldn’t have minded—”

“Drop it, Potter,” Malfoy growled.

Harry fell silent in frustration. Now he was frowning, too. He was so distracted by his thoughts that he could barely read the words on the parchment in front of him.

“Why don’t you want me to be around your son?” Harry asked suddenly. He was rather shocked by his own audacity.

Malfoy raised cold, cold eyes to him. “It’s called having boundaries, Potter. My work and home life do not mingle.”

Is that why you’re such a dick to me? Harry wanted to snap.

“We’re partners, Malfoy. Have been for years. Don’t you think it’s time for us to get to know one another?”

“No.”

Harry dropped the subject.

The second time Malfoy saved Harry’s life, they had been working together for nearly two years, and Harry had developed more than a little bit of a crush on him.

They had been in a warehouse, up in Manchester, the air salty and smoky. A corroded metallic stench filled the warehouse.

They were battling it out with a group of dark wizards. Illegal arms dealers. The wands they were hawking could cast Unforgettables without trace. Therefore, Harry wasn’t all that surprised when one of them tried to hit him with a snarled, “Avada Kedavra!”

What surprised him was how Malfoy cried out, anguished, and threw himself between Harry and the curse. Harry, acting on pure instinct, yelled, “Protego Maxima!” The curse hit the shield, shattering it, and Malfoy was thrown back several paces.

Harry, now pissed off beyond imagination, spun toward the dark wizards and unleashed a storm of curses, the force of his magic shattering windows. It only took him a handful of minutes before he had all the wizards imprisoned in a floating sphere high up in the air.

On the dusty concrete, Malfoy gasped in pain. His face was cut up.

Harry knelt beside him. “What were you thinking?” he cried. “You could have been killed!”

Malfoy didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at Harry.

“Christ, where are you hurt?” Harry said, reaching for him, but Malfoy threw his hands up.

“Don’t touch me!”

Stunned, Harry sat down and called for backup. They were silent but the imprisoned wizards were yelling obscenities. Harry couldn’t hear them over his own whirling thoughts.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said finally.

“Don’t tell me you wanted me to let you die.”

“You almost died yourself!”

Malfoy merely shrugged.

Harry stared at him for a long moment, not comprehending the strange man before him. He had about a thousand things to say to him, a thousand things he wanted to ask, but he let it all slip away. Malfoy wasn’t about to be honest with him, not right now, not ever.

“Thank you,” Harry said finally.

Sighing, Malfoy slumped back on the floor, and closed his eyes.

A few weeks after Malfoy lectured Harry about boundaries, they were both invited to a birthday outing at a posh London nightclub. Harry accepted without even imagining Malfoy would accept too.

Then Harry showed up at the nightclub and spotted Malfoy lingering with the other Aurors at a couple of high tables.

“What are you doing here?” Harry said in greeting.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “Calliope invited me … Just like she invited you.”

“I thought you were keen on keeping your work and private life separate?”

Instead of responding, Malfoy brought his glass of whisky to his lips. He sipped slowly as he gazed about the nightclub, looking everywhere except at Harry.

Harry watched him, fuming. Malfoy wore Muggle clothes. A dark grey shirt with smart black trousers. The two buttons at his throat were unclasped, revealing just a hint of his pale chest.

Harry had never seen him so unbuttoned, even on the nights they had spent hauled up in their office doing casework. Even then, Malfoy had never taken off his robes or unclasped a single button.

“You fancy her, don’t you?” Harry asked, mood darkening.

Malfoy’s eyes snapped to him in surprise. “What?”

“Calliope. You fancy her.”

“What in the—That’s none of your business.”

Harry nodded. “It all makes sense now.”

“What?”

“You being here. It makes sense.”

Again, Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “Am I not allowed to leave my house, Potter?”

Harry stomped to the bar. He needed a drink.

As he waited for his gin and tonic, he caught a bloke staring at him. The bloke was tall and blond. He smiled confidently at Harry.

Brilliant, Harry thought as he slipped around a few groups to get to the bloke.

A few hours later, everyone was quite drunk, Calliope had disappeared into the toilets with a man, and Harry was letting Doug snog his brains out.

Doug had pinned him against the side of the table—the same table that Malfoy currently occupied.

Vaguely, Harry wondered why Malfoy was still there. He had barely moved or spoken to anyone all night. Now he was just sitting there while Harry let a stranger have his way with him.

Then Doug’s hands found Harry’s arse, his mouth latching onto his throat, and Harry moaned drunkenly as he stared at Malfoy.

Malfoy was watching them with lidded eyes. He was drunk, that much was obvious, and he seemed entranced by the display in front of him. He raised his empty glass to his lips and tried to take a sip of whisky that no longer existed.

He likes what he sees, Harry thought with a hot, desperate shudder. Harry moaned outright and pressed himself against Doug, wanting it to be Malfoy.

The moan snapped Malfoy out of his trance. He blinked several times, then locked eyes with Harry. Harry stared back, even as Doug grunted and grounded his erection into him.

For a moment, Malfoy looked stunned, as if he hadn’t expected Harry to even notice him. Then something like anger flashed across his expression, and he jumped to his feet.

Harry wanted to say something to him, ask him to stay, ask him to take him back into the toilets, but his thoughts were too dulled to respond in time.

A minute later, Malfoy was gone, and Doug was still grunting in Harry’s ear. Harry closed his eyes and tightened his arms around him, and thought of Malfoy.

What did he have to do to get Malfoy to shag him?

Harry spent the weekend thinking about Malfoy. He was glad he hadn’t given Doug his mobile number.

Malfoy had been watching him. With interest. Maybe even with want.

No, no, that was taking it too far, wasn’t it?

Malfoy was probably just curious. Like any drunk and randy man would be. It didn’t mean that he was attracted to Harry.

When Monday finally arrived, Harry gave into the urge to get ready as if he were heading to a date, not to work. He shaved very closely and applied his favourite moisturiser. He even tried to tame his hair. The cologne he chose was deep and spicy, and something he usually saved for special occasions.

When he walked into their small office, Malfoy was already stationed at his desk. Of course he didn’t look up.

Harry slid off his coat and threw it over the small settee, then plopped down in his own chair. He tried to focus on the paperwork in front of him, but then the scratching of Malfoy’s quill came to a sudden stop.

Harry peeked up and found Malfoy staring at him. “Good morning,” Harry said, trying not to blush.

Malfoy’s grey eyes roamed over him. “You look … different.”

“I do?”

“Yes. Are you going on a lunch date or something? Perhaps meeting up with that Muggle Doug?”

Harry blinked in surprise. “You remember his name?”

Malfoy frowned at him.

“I didn’t realise you were paying that close of attention,” Harry said after Malfoy didn’t respond.

“You two were snogging two inches from my face. How was I not supposed to pay attention?”

Harry shrugged. “You could have left. Or switched tables.”

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed. “You are the one who decided to snog there. You had the whole bloody club but you chose to do it right there.”

Harry bit his lip. “Um. Yeah. I did. I’m sorry.”

Malfoy snorted and turned his attention back to the paperwork in front of him.

“You were watching us,” Harry blurted out.

Malfoy’s head popped up. “What?”

“You were watching us. Me, I think. I—I didn’t know what to make of it.”

“I was drunk and lost in thought, nothing more.”

“Oh.”

Nearly baring his teeth, Malfoy yanked his stack of papers closer, then attempted to get back to work.

“Is your son dropping by today?”

“Merlin, Potter!” Malfoy snapped. “I’m trying to work.”

“I was just wondering.”

Malfoy deflated. “Yes, I think he is. Angelique says he’s in an antsy mood today.”

“Will you have lunch with him?”

“Yes, perhaps. Or take him to a nearby park.”

Harry worried his lip. “Can I tag along?”

Malfoy looked as if he were going to snap, No!, but then he hesitated. After a moment, he gave a very curt nod. “Fine.”

“Oh,” Harry said, surprised.

“Don’t you dare.”

“What!”

“Don’t you dare make a big deal out of it.”

Harry smiled brightly. “Of course not. I would never.”

Malfoy glowered at him.

The park was bright and sunny, almost too sunny. It was a bit strange to experience a cloudless day in England.

Harry trailed behind father and son. They were holding hands and it was the most adorable thing.

Angelique walked beside him. She seemed quite interested in him. “Monsieur must really like you to invite you along.”

Harry shrugged. “I virtually begged. He just took pity on me.”

She laughed. “Monsieur can be quite grumpy, it’s true. He’s been very sad since his wife passed.”

“Merlin’s sake, I can hear you two!” Malfoy barked over his shoulder.

Harry and Angelique shared a look. Then they both laughed.

Scorpius jumped up and down and pointed excitedly. “Look, Papa. Flowers!”

“Yes, they are quite beautiful, aren’t they?”

Scorpius dropped his father’s hand and raced over to the side of the path. He yanked out a few daisies hiding among the grass. Grinning widely, he returned to his father, holding up his bounty. “Will you wear them, Papa? They are yellow like our hair.”

“Our hair isn’t yellow. It’s a distinguished light blond. There’s a difference.” Even though his tone was lecturing, Malfoy still bent down low for his son to reach him.

Scorpius rolled his eyes as he tucked two daisies behind Malfoy’s ear. “There. Now you look very pretty.”

“What did I look like before? Not pretty?”

Scorpius narrowed his eyes. “You looked grumpy.”

“Ah.” Malfoy took the remaining daisies from his son’s hands. “Do you want flowers in your hair? Perhaps a little crown?”

The little boy jumped up and down in excitement. “Yes please!”

Smiling with so much warmth, Malfoy used a bit of wandless magic to tie the flowers together, then gently placed the makeshift crown on his son’s head.

Harry felt his mouth go dry as he watched. There was so much tenderness in Malfoy’s expression. It was so bloody attractive.

They continued their stroll. Scorpius skipped ahead, so full of energy. He was even singing a little.

“Those daisies make you look rather fetching, Malfoy,” Harry said.

Malfoy turned and gave him a dark, dark look. Harry couldn’t help but laugh again.

“I don’t appreciate you taking the piss, Potter.”

“Well, that’s good, because I’m not.”

Malfoy turned back around hastily. The back of his neck was suddenly quite pink.

When they reached the playground, Harry and Malfoy sat on a bench while Angelique and Scorpius went to the swings.

Somehow, it now felt different sitting beside Malfoy. Their thighs were just barely touching. Harry hadn’t a clue if he was imagining the tension.

“I like seeing you with him,” Harry said.

“Oh, shut up.”

“No, I won’t. I like it. I think it’s cute.”

Malfoy glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. His flush was back. “Don’t get any ideas, all right. I still want boundaries.”

“So I shouldn’t hold my breath for a dinner invite? No Sunday roast at the Manor?”

“No.”

“Pity,” Harry muttered.

Malfoy exhaled loudly. He seemed rather worked up. Twitchy. “I don’t want you concerning yourself with my affairs. Or talking to Angelique.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Why can’t I talk to your au pair?”

“Because you two gossip about me.”

“So?”

“So, I don’t want it! You should mind your own business!”

Shaking his head, Harry crossed his arms and stared at the grassy expanse in front of him, barely seeing it. “You never talked to me about her death,” he said after a moment.

“What?” Malfoy barked.

“Your wife’s death. Astoria. She passed about two years ago, right? You never said anything.”

“Of course I didn’t say anything, Potter. We aren’t friends.”

Harry continued to shake his head. He was aggravated and in disbelief. “You’ve saved my life so many times. We’ve been partners for years.”

“I saved your life because it’s my job.”

“It never meant anything, then? You don’t care an ounce for me?”

Malfoy heaved a sigh. “You’re my Auror partner, Potter. Nothing more.”

Harry fell into a moody silence. Malfoy was still so insufferable. And he was sending so many conflicting signals. Did he want Harry to deeply dislike him?

Harry was frowning down at the ground, distracted, when Scorpius suddenly approached him. The boy was holding more flowers in his hands.

“Hi,” he said shyly.

Harry grinned. “Hello.”

Scorpius looked up at him through his eyelashes. “Um. Would you like some flowers for your hair? Like me?”

Harry leaned in, still beaming. “I would love some flowers in my hair.”

“Papa, will you make him a crown just like mine? Oh, please, oh please?”

Malfoy nearly glared at his son. “I doubt Potter wants—”

“Oh, no, I’d love a crown.”

“Fine,” Malfoy grumbled. He took the flowers from Scorpius, then used his wand to create another crown. Harry expected him to chuck the crown at him, but instead, Malfoy closed the space between them and dropped to a knee before him.

Harry stared with wide eyes.

“Lower your head for me,” Malfoy murmured, and Harry shivered as he complied. Then, staring into his eyes, Malfoy gently placed the fragrant crown on his head. The petals were a bit itchy against his skin.

“What does it look like?” Harry said, unable to drag his gaze away.

“Pretty,” Malfoy said.

Harry’s shiver turned into a shudder. Malfoy was kneeling before him. And the sunlight was making the grey of his eyes look like a deep blue.

You’re fucking with me, Harry wanted to say, but he wouldn’t say such a thing in front of Scorpius.

Malfoy continued to stare up at him. Several seconds passed. Scorpius giggled.

“Monsieur, what are you doing on the dirty ground? Are you all right?”

Malfoy stood hastily. The spell was broken. “I think it’s time for me to get back to work,” he announced, his voice strangely rough.

Scorpius groaned in dismay. “But, Papa, we just got here!”

“Yes, yes, but Potter and I only get an hour for lunch.”

“All right,” Scorpius said sadly.

Harry stood unsteadily and followed the little family back to the Ministry. He wore the crown for the rest of the day, even during his meetings with Robards and Kingsley. He got his fair share of weird looks, but it was worth it. He liked wearing a symbol of Malfoy’s affection on his head, even if Malfoy would never admit to harbouring affection for his Auror partner.

The third time Malfoy saved Harry, it was only a few months after the incident in the Manchester warehouse.

They were in a seedy club in Hackney investigating an illegal prostitution ring. There had been reports that dark wizards were using the Imperius Curse on Muggle women. It was awful, and Harry was determined to get to the bottom of it.

One dark wizard had taken to Harry quite eagerly. Harry and Malfoy were wearing disguises, of course, and Harry’s disguise wasn’t particularly attractive. Still, this dark wizard seemed obsessed with him. Harry, wanting to discover the club’s secrets, only encouraged the wizard.

“Be careful,” Malfoy muttered during a rare moment of privacy. “You don’t see the way that man’s looking at you.”

“Oh, I see it.”

Malfoy shook his head. “He looks like he’s about to gobble you up or something.”

“Good,” Harry said. “I need him desperate.”

Malfoy frowned deeply at him.

A few hours later, Harry found himself alone in a back office with the wizard. The wizard had him pinned to the wall. He was trying to kiss him, but Harry was refusing. The wizard’s breath was foul.

“The girls are Muggles, aren’t they?” Harry said.

“I don’t want to talk business.” The wizard tried to go in for a kiss again.

Harry turned his head at the last moment. “Why Muggles? They’re diseased, aren’t they?”

“Not these ones.” The wizard cupped Harry between the legs. He rubbed. “You’re not even hard for me.”

Harry grabbed his wrist. “Don’t. Not yet. I want to talk about the girls first.”

Suddenly a wand dug into his throat.

“I’m getting bored with your questions,” growled the wizard. “It’s time for you to get on your knees for me.”

Harry licked his lips. “And what if I say no?”

“I’ll cut this pretty little neck of yours.”

The office door burst open, revealing Malfoy. He looked enraged. And ferocious.

Malfoy reached them in two long strides. He grabbed the wizard, yanking him from Harry, and he punched the wizard with all his might. The wizard crumpled.

Malfoy grabbed him by the collar, hissing in his face, “Touch him again and you die.”

The wizard tried to fight him but Malfoy was too strong. “I didn’t fucking know!” he cried.

“Didn’t know what?” Malfoy hissed.

“That you two were together! I didn’t—”

“WE AREN’T TOGETHER!” Malfoy roared. He raised his fist as if he meant to punch the wizard again, but then he shoved him away and swerved on Harry.

Harry was too stunned to speak. He almost wanted to cower.

Malfoy grabbed him and hauled him over his shoulder. Like he was a damsel or something.

Then Malfoy marched them out of the club. He didn’t put Harry down until they were a whole street away.

It was drizzling outside, the night air like ice. Malfoy panted smoke as he paced. All Harry could do was stand there and watch him.

“You mean to murder me, don’t you?” Malfoy snarled, still pacing.

“Murder you? I was the one in danger.”

This seemed to only make Malfoy more furious. He was muttering to himself, and Harry only caught some of it. Stupid … Imbecile … Get himself killed … Making a bloody scene … Always fucking making a bloody scene …

“How did you know?” Harry asked shakily.

Malfoy’s steps halted. He gave Harry a look so dark it burned. “Did you really think I’d let you go off with that bloke and not follow? Not try to protect you?”

Harry raised his chin. “I don’t need protection.”

“OBVIOUSLY YOU FUCKING DO!”

Harry flinched.

Malfoy saw the flinch and took a deep breath, then another. He was forcing himself to calm down. “I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “I didn’t mean to shout.”

“So, you were spying on me through the door or something?”

“Yes.”

Harry gulped. His face grew hot. “I was flirting a lot with that wizard.”

“You were.”

“And he fondled me.”

Malfoy bared his teeth.

“I wasn’t … I’m used to taking risks.”

“Yes, you are, and it’s the most infuriating thing about working with you.”

Harry looked down at his feet. “I only defeated Voldemort because I took risks.”

Malfoy sighed. “The Dark Lord was a special case. Not every bad guy is going to be like him. One day, some tosser might get lucky and blow you to smithereens.”

“What does it matter?” Harry snapped. “It’s not like you care about me.”

Malfoy lunged forward, his hands outstretched as if he meant to grab Harry. “You stupid fu—” Instead of finishing his sentence, he spun around and Disapparated.

Harry was left alone in the eerie quiet. It was like the calm after a large storm. All he heard was his own thundering heart.

Then he grimaced in embarrassment. He had made an utter fool of himself, hadn’t he? You’re not even hard for me. God, Malfoy had seen that. And for what? All Harry had accomplished was getting their cover blown.

Touch him again and you die.

Harry shuddered. He didn’t think he would ever forget the memory of those words. The way Malfoy sounded as he said them. His voice had been dark, so dark. It had been dangerous.

Malfoy would have killed that man for him.

Fuck.

When Harry woke up in the morning, the first thing he saw was the flower crown. He had hung it off his bedpost, wanting to remember it. Now the flowers were all dried up.

The last couple of weeks had been so aggravating. Even after inviting Harry to the park, Malfoy had gone back to barely paying him any attention.

Harry glared up at his ceiling. Stop mooning over him, he told himself. He obviously wants nothing to do with you.

But … if that were the case, why had he knelt on the ground for him? Why had he looked at him like that? Remembering the intensity of those eyes took Harry’s breath away.

Groaning, Harry forced himself to get out of bed. If he remained huddled under his duvet, he’d probably need to have himself a wank and there just wasn’t time for it. He had to get to the Ministry.

When he walked in their office, he found Robards sitting in their visitor’s chair.

“Oh, hello, sir,” Harry said.

“Good morning,” Robards boomed in his authoritative voice.

There was a cup of tea waiting for him. Harry looked hopefully at Malfoy. “Did you make this for me?”

Malfoy raised his brows in surprise.

“No, I did,” Robards said.

“Oh.” Crestfallen, Harry sat down at his desk.

“I’ve come to speak to you two about a rather urgent case,” Robards said.

Malfoy nodded seriously. “Is it about the poisonings up in Whitehaven?”

“Very good, lad,” Robards said.

Malfoy almost beamed. Harry tried and failed at not being jealous.

Perhaps what I need is a promotion … Yes … then Malfoy might smile at me too …

Then Harry realised what he was thinking, when he was thinking it, and immediately felt like a prat.

Right. The poisonings.

“We are pretty sure it’s a nan behind it all—or someone pretending to be a nan. All the victims have been—just guess—Muggles.”

“It’s always Muggles,” Malfoy muttered.

Robards nodded grimly. “It's so easy to hurt the weak, isn’t it? Anyway, this old nan has a potions shop up there that carries the exact ingredients needed for the poisons. So, chances are, if she isn’t behind it, she knows who is.”

Malfoy took a deep breath. “When do we leave?”

“As soon as possible,” Robards said. “Today, preferably.”

“How long will we be gone?” Harry asked.

“For as long as it takes to solve the case.”

And this was why Harry didn’t have pets.

Malfoy grimaced. “My son—”

“He can’t come along,” Robards growled.

“Of course, sir, but … I’ll need to leave tomorrow morning. I need time to break the news to him.”

Robards nodded. “All right, fine.” Then: “There’s another thing. You two will be posing as a couple.”

Harry laughed. “Why?”

“People are nosy up there. They’re going to ask you questions. Wonder why you two are even visiting. Sure, you can be on holiday, but why would two blokes go on holiday together? Renting two different rooms? Sounds suspicious.”

“Perhaps we just like our space,” Malfoy said dryly.

“Or perhaps you’re a couple of outsiders sticking your noses where they don’t belong. This nan is crafty. We must take precautions.”

“So … Malfoy and I are going to pose as a couple on holiday? And share a room?”

“Yes,” Robards said.

Harry gulped thickly. He didn’t dare look at Malfoy.

“I suppose you want us to sleep in the same bloody bed, hmm? Perhaps even partake in some public affection?” Malfoy growled.

Robards snorted. “What’s so bad about that? I thought you were tough.”

Malfoy raised his chin. “I am tough, but what you're describing sounds inappropriate.”

“Just say you don’t want to take the case, Malfoy. I’ll pair someone else with Potter. I’m sure anyone would jump at the chance at partnering up with the Chosen One.”

Malfoy’s eyes flashed. “No,” he said through gritted teeth. “Potter’s my partner, no one else’s.”

Robards smiled. “Good.”

Harry, for his part, was more than a little bewildered. “Um. For the record. Um. I wouldn’t mind partnering up with another Auror. You know, temporarily. If it meant Malfoy could spend more time with his son.”

Malfoy twisted in his chair to glare at him. “What are you saying?”

“What?”

“Do you want to be re-assigned, is that it? Are you tired of me always saving your sorry arse?”

Harry just stared at Malfoy. He didn’t understand all the hostile emotion radiating from him.

Robards stood. “Leave tomorrow morning at the latest. I’ll have a Portkey and the case file sent to Potter’s house.” He paused at the door. “I’m not going to sack you if you don’t share a bed, but it’s highly recommended. What would the housekeeper think if she discovered that one of you slept on the settee? What delightful gossip it would make! And maybe, just maybe, this housekeeper knows a certain nan down the road …”

“A housekeeper doesn’t need to be a woman,” Malfoy said.

Robards rolled his eyes and walked out. In his absence was a deafening silence.

Harry fidgeted in his chair. “Malfoy—”

“Don’t,” Malfoy growled, standing up. He gathered his things with a swish of his wand. “I’m going home to my son. I’ll arrive at your house promptly at 8 am tomorrow. You better be ready.”

“But—shouldn’t we discuss—”

Nearly snarling, Malfoy left.

Harry remained in his chair, too wrapped up in his bewilderment to move.

Harry didn’t sleep very well that night. He lay awake thinking about how this was the last night he would sleep alone in a bed for a few days—weeks? Hopefully not months. There was no chance they would be on this assignment for that long, right?

Perhaps I should shave … just in case … He wasn’t thinking about his face.

No, that would be too pathetic, right? Why should he prepare himself for sex that probably was never going to happen?

But … but … What if it did happen?

Harry wanted to be prepared, no matter what happened.

Around two in the morning, when sleep still eluded him, he took himself off to the bathroom. He had a small army of grooming spells he needed to cast on his arse.

When Malfoy arrived at eight am on the dot, Harry was packed and ready to go. He was also thoroughly moisturised and smelling of bergamot and cedar.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at him. “You look different again.”

“Oh, I do?” Harry gave him a wink.

This only made Malfoy’s expression turn stormy.

Ignoring it, Harry said brightly, “Please come in. I believe the Portkey is ready.”

Malfoy stepped into his foyer. He looked around suspiciously. Then his gaze landed on Walburga.

“Hello, Draco,” she said. “Do you remember me?”

“Um,” Malfoy said, a little shakened. “Yes.”

She scrutinised him thoroughly. “I’ve heard you've been mistreating Harry. Is this true?”

“All right,” Harry said. “That’s enough chatter for now.” He grabbed Malfoy’s sleeve and yanked him into the parlour.

Malfoy looked amused. “Why does my great aunt think I’m mistreating you?”

Because you’ve been giving mixed signals for years, Harry wanted to say. Instead, he chose an easy lie, “Oh, she’s probably just remembering our school years. Must think we are still teenagers or something.”

“Right,” Malfoy said carefully. He looked around. “It’s ridiculous you even live here.”

“Ridiculous?”

“Yes.” Malfoy frowned. “You’re surrounded by snakes.”

Harry laughed. “I’m quite fond of snakes, actually.”

Malfoy didn’t look at him as he said, “What do you like about them? Their girth?”

For a moment, Harry didn’t respond. Only a minute ago Malfoy had grown angry because Harry had winked at him. Now he was flirting with him. (He was flirting with him, right?)

Staring at his profile, Harry said, “Yes, I love their girth. I love the way they feel in my hands. As I stroke them.”

Malfoy gulped thickly. His eyes were focussed on the damn wall. “You use both hands when you stroke it?”

“Yeah, definitely. Don’t you?”

Another gulp. “Only when I’m rather excited. But, you see, snakes rarely excite me. They are too familiar.”

“Oh.”

Malfoy fiddled with the Muggle jacket he was wearing, his head now cocked down. The back of his neck was bright pink. “But … when I come across a snake that’s special, I mean really special, I … I—Well, I lose my head a bit. I make a fool of myself. That’s how much I like it.”

“The snake?”

“Yes.”

Oh, if only old Walburga could have seen this interaction.

Harry took a deep breath, then another. He realised the conversation had aroused him. His cock had fattened up just a little.

“Well,” Harry said, voice cracking. “Shall we get going?”

Malfoy nodded grimly.

Harry went to the Portkey on the table. Malfoy, hesitating, followed.

“I believe we’ll need to be touching when I activate it,” Harry said as he picked up his travel case.

Malfoy gulped. “Okay.”

Harry took an unsteady breath. “Do you have everything?”

“Yes. Do you?”

“Yes.”

Harry wet his lips, not having the courage to reach for Malfoy just yet. Malfoy was staring determinedly at the wall. His pulse fluttered at his throat.

“All right … Shall we crack on?”

Malfoy gulped as if he were in jeopardy of being sick. “Yes. Do it.”

Harry grabbed his hand, yanking him closer. Malfoy nearly tripped over his own feet.

Ignoring how warm Malfoy’s hand felt, Harry grabbed the Portkey to activate it. A moment there, they disappeared with a whirling twist.

The Silver Stag was a cosy inn that peered out at the murky waves of the coast.

Robards had given them good advice, for Harry felt many stares as he and Malfoy checked in at the front desk.

“Just one bed, lads?” said the older woman behind the desk.

Malfoy shifted uncomfortably, his face utterly pink. “Yes. If it’s possible.”

Perhaps one of them should have disguised themselves as a woman …

The woman smiled. “Of course it’s possible. I’m Mae. I own this establishment.”

Harry returned her smile. “I’m Harry. And this is Dra—”

“Drason,” Malfoy said.

“Yes, we are Harry and Drason. It’s nice to meet you.”

Mae nodded vaguely. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” She handed over their room keys with a wink. “You enjoy yourselves, lads.”

“Thank you,” Harry squeaked.

Malfoy didn’t say anything.

They went up to their room, which turned out to be cosy and charming.

“We have a nice view of the water!” Harry said excitedly, peering through the curtains.

Malfoy nodded mutely as he began to unpack. He radiated a deep tension.

Frowning, Harry began to unpack. The silence left like a weight on Harry’s shoulders, bearing down on him.

Then, when all their things had been put away, the silence turned almost suffocating. Harry sat down on the edge of the bed and smiled nervously at Malfoy.

Malfoy looked at his smile, then at the bed. His face went from a delicate pink to a worrisome scarlet.

“I need a walk,” Malfoy said, and charged from the room.

Harry was just left to stare at the door in shock. What in the bloody hell was going on with him?

After a while, Harry, sighing, his stomach churning, retrieved their case file and sat at a small desk to look it over once more. He needed something to distract himself.

Around dinnertime, Malfoy still hadn’t returned, and Harry’s stomach was growling. He needed a bite of food.

Sighing some more, Harry put away the file, casting a protection charm on it just in case. Then he wandered down to the main level for some dinner.

Harry enjoyed a quiet meal sitting at the small bar. The bartender turned out to be Mae’s grandson.

“The Silver Stag is a family operation,” he explained with a jaunty wink.

Harry had the shepherd’s pie. The minced lamb was very flavourful. He was scraping up the very last bits with his fork when he felt a presence at his shoulder.

“You ate without me.”

Harry looked up and was caught off guard by Malfoy’s windswept appearance. His cheeks were flushed, the ends of his hair almost curled. There was a cool brightness to his eyes.

“That must have been quite the walk,” Harry said.

Malfoy nodded. “I walked for so long along the water that I ended up in Harrington.”

“Huh.”

Malfoy shrugged off his jacket and sat down. “No gin and tonic tonight?”

Harry grinned. “I could order one if you planned to have a drink.”

“Oh, I plan to.” Malfoy waved over the bartender. “A whisky, please. Neat. And whatever he had for dinner.”

The bartender winked again. “Coming right up.”

An hour later, they were ordering their third drink, and Malfoy had eaten half of his pie.

Malfoy’s eyes were just a touch glossy. He had an arm hooked over the back of his chair, his demeanour utterly relaxed.

“I like you like this,” Harry said.

“Like what?”

“At ease.”

Malfoy shrugged. “I can’t be at ease around you.”

“Why not?”

“I have to be ready to save your arse, of course.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I don’t need saving all the time. I can take care of myself.”

Malfoy gave a loud and dramatic snort. “Sure.”

“What? I can! I defeated Voldemort, didn’t I?”

A thoughtful nod. “Yes, you did.”

Harry poked him in the chest. “See? I am resourceful.”

Malfoy pressed a hand to where Harry had touched him. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes were trained on Harry. He was in no hurry to look away.

Harry felt heat build up in his cheeks. He squirmed in his chair. Still, Malfoy didn’t stop staring.

“Is there another reason why you can’t be relaxed around me?”

“What do you mean?”

More squirming. “I just … There’s tension, isn’t there?”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

Harry saw the lie in his eyes. He saw it. And it irritated him. Malfoy was playing games, wasn’t he?

Smiling, Harry placed his hand on Malfoy’s thigh. He felt the shock that went through Malfoy, as if the touch made him want to jump right out of his chair. He gave the firm thigh a squeeze.

“Are you sure about that, love?” Harry whispered.

Deep, almost alarming colour appeared across Malfoy’s face. It was hot and blotchy.

“What are you doing?” Malfoy asked through gritted teeth.

Harry leaned in. “We’re supposed to be lovers, aren’t we?”

Malfoy’s eyes glittered dangerously. “Go on, then.”

Harry scrutinised his expression. Was Malfoy really egging him on? “What are you saying?”

“You know what I’m saying.”

Harry shook his head.

It was Malfoy’s turn to lean in. “Touch me,” he hissed.

Harry’s head spun. “But I’m already—”

Malfoy grabbed his hand and pressed it between his legs. Harry gasped and yanked away. Malfoy was hard.

There was now dark humour in Malfoy’s face. “Don’t fuck with me, Potter.”

Harry stood shakily. He still felt the heat of him against his palm. “You are fucking with me.”

Malfoy just looked at him, his eyes still glittering.

Harry tried to turn away, but Malfoy caught his wrist. “Aren’t you going to give me a kiss goodbye?”

“Um.”

“Well?”

Harry glanced around nervously. No one was outwardly watching them but they were still not alone.

“Come on,” Malfoy said in a soft, dark voice, “don’t be a coward.”

Utterly pissed off, Harry wrapped his arms around Malfoy and pressed himself firmly against him. Malfoy’s hands moulded over his hips, the touch so casual, so natural, as if they were used to being there.

“You are an arse,” Harry whispered, his exhale brushing against Malfoy’s lips.

Malfoy pulled him even closer. “Go on, do it,” he whispered back.

Harry leaned in, staring into Malfoy’s eyes. He saw the grey darken in anticipation, felt how Malfoy’s hands twitched on his hips.

Harry brushed his lips just a little against Malfoy’s mouth, testing him more than anything, and he felt when Malfoy’s breath caught.

“That wasn’t a proper kiss,” Malfoy said.

Remaining close, Harry whispered, “Are you going to admit that you want me? Without stupid metaphors?”

“No.”

Harry yanked away so angrily that it caught the bartender’s attention.

“All right?” he asked with a frown.

Harry nodded. “Just a misunderstanding, that’s all.”

Malfoy took a long pull from his drink. He grinned darkly at the bartender. “A mere lover’s spat.”

Harry fled up to their room.

It was nearly midnight when Harry came out of the shower and discovered Malfoy sprawled on their bed, an arm thrown over his eyes.

Harry gasped and clutched at the towel around his waist. Malfoy had been away for hours. In truth, Harry hadn’t expected him to return that night.

At the sound, Malfoy raised his arm to stare at Harry. It was obvious he was very drunk. His eyes were so lidded they looked closed.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect—I’ll just Summon my clothes—”

“No, I want to see you.”

“See me?”

Malfoy sat up hurriedly. He rested his lolling head against the headboard. “Yeah, I want to see you get dressed. Go on.”

“But … I’m naked … and you’re drunk.”

Malfoy gave him a very calculating look. He dragged his tongue over his bottom lip as he did it. Then, softly, he said, “I’ve been hard all night thinking of you.”

Harry tightened his hold on his towel. “Don’t say things like that.”

“You don’t want me to tell you the truth?”

“You are drunk. It’s not proper.”

“Fuck what’s proper; I want to see your prick.”

Harry laughed, he couldn’t help it. He sauntered over to the bed and sat down on its edge. “I had no idea you were so desperate for me.”

Malfoy growled his disapproval.

Harry blinked innocently. “No, you’re not desperate? It’s just the booze talking?”

“You’ve let loads of strangers see your prick. You’ve let them touch you—come inside you. So why can’t I?”

“Do you think about it a lot? Me with other men?”

More growling.

Harry felt himself smirking. “Fine, I’ll show you my prick, but only after I see yours first.”

“What?”

“I’m not the one hard here. You are.”

Malfoy utterly glowered at him. A hot flush was crawling up his throat. He was silent for so long that Harry moved to stand up.

“No, wait,” Malfoy said. “I’ll do it.”

“Oh?” Harry said in surprise.

“Yes—but I want you to touch me first. Get me harder.”

Harry laughed. “What? Why?”

Malfoy gestured self-consciously. “You’ve got expectations, don’t you?”

Harry shook his head, not knowing what to say.

Patting the space beside him, Malfoy ordered, “Come here.” So Harry did.

Malfoy grabbed Harry’s wrist roughly and practically forced his hand between his legs. The action was so toppy that Harry made a noise of pleasure.

“Wrap your fingers around me,” Malfoy ordered, still holding tight. “Feel me.”

Gulping, Harry did what he was told, and they watched in silence as he began to stroke Malfoy through his trousers. Malfoy felt big.

“You like it?” Malfoy whispered.

“Oh, God.”

“Is it making you hard?”

Harry bit his lip. He nodded.

“Damnit, let me see you.”

Harry shook his head. “No, you first.” His words made the cock in his grasp jerk.

Sighing, Malfoy said, “Sometimes, I really can’t fucking stand you.” But he was undoing his belt, yanking open his flies. He shoved everything down, being quite matter-of-fact about it.

Harry’s mouth flooded with saliva as he gazed upon Malfoy’s cock for the first time. Without even thinking about it, he was lowering his head to suck him.

Malfoy grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head up. “What are you doing?”

“Fuck,” Harry gasped.

Malfoy tightened his hold. “I didn’t say you could put your mouth on me.” His voice was so dark, so heated. His cock was dripping precome.

“Oh my god.”

“Don’t you remember how this all started? I said I wanted to see your prick. Perhaps, after you finally choose to be good, I will let you suck me.”

Harry went utterly weak. His moan was low and desperate. Over the years, he had imagined sleeping with Malfoy, but his imagination had never conjured up this.

This was the same man who adored his son, who made flower crowns for him, who went to utter pieces at the sight of him, and now he was pulling Harry's hair and demanding that he be good.

This was the same man who had saved his life. Over and over. Touch him again and you die.

I’m in love with you, Harry wanted to sob, but, for once, his courage failed him. Instead, he said in a soft cry, “I’ll do anything for you.”

“Prove it.”

Harry stood up shakily. Malfoy grabbed for him, probably thinking he meant to flee, but he relaxed once he realised Harry wasn’t going anywhere.

Ducking his head, Harry let the towel slip from his hips to the floor. He was so overwhelmed that he couldn’t even look at his own erection.

It was so quiet in their room that Harry heard the snores from another occupant down the hall.

Then Malfoy made a noise, a gulped back moan, and Harry sneaked a glance at him. Malfoy was wanking himself as he stared at Harry’s cock.

“Do you … like it?” Harry whispered, breathless.

Malfoy didn’t respond but his hand sped up. Harry went to stroke himself but Malfoy growled, “Don’t you dare.”

“God,” Harry whispered.

“I want to see your arsehole,” Malfoy said darkly. “Will you show it to me?”

“God.”

Finally, Malfoy raised his eyes to Harry’s face. He didn’t look drunk anymore. “Will you?”

Harry nodded. Trembling, he turned around and parted his cheeks. He squeezed his eyes closed, feeling a strange mix of overwhelming embarrassment and reckless arousal.

Behind him, Malfoy had begun to pant. His wanking quickened even more, wet sounds now filling the air.

“Do you like it?” Harry asked again.

“Merlin, shut up.”

“You could put your cock in me, you know. I’d like that. A lot. Or you could taste me. Eat me out. I like it so much when a man has his tongue up—”

Malfoy made a sound as if he were dying. There was a grunt that turned into a heavy exhale. Harry knew Malfoy was coming. He recognised the sound of a man who was coming hard but trying to be quiet about it.

Unable to help himself, Harry turned back around and found Malfoy still shuddering with pleasure, his eyes squeezed closed, a wet fist still wrapped around the red tip of his cock.

Malfoy’s eyes snapped open. He glared at Harry. Orgasms usually soften people up, but not Draco Malfoy. Somehow he looked even angrier than he had before.

“You made me come.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah. I did.”

“Damn you.”

Harry wanted to shove Malfoy back onto the bed, crawl into his lap, and snog the snarl right off his face, but everything about Malfoy in that moment screamed don’t touch me.

Sighing, Harry said, “I’m going back into the bathroom. I need me a wank.”

Malfoy was too busy snarling Cleaning Spells at himself to pay Harry attention. Still, Harry hovered by the bathroom door, hoping Malfoy would follow him, but Malfoy never looked up.

In the morning, Harry woke up to a strong man wrapped around him. At some point during the night, Harry had stolen the entire duvet for himself, and Malfoy, probably freezing, had clung to Harry for warmth.

For several minutes, Harry didn’t move. Malfoy was snoring in his ear. The intimacy of it made a flutter go through him.

When he finally got up, he expected to wake Malfoy, but all Malfoy did was bury his face in Harry’s pillow and snore on.

Harry, utterly smitten, began to get ready for the day.

A few hours later, a very buttoned up Malfoy met Harry downstairs for breakfast. “Coffee, please,” Malfoy growled to Mae. “And a bowl of porridge, if you have it. No sugar.”

“Coming right up!”

The two of them didn’t speak as Malfoy ate his breakfast, but Harry couldn’t help but sneak a glance at him every couple of seconds.

“You really eat your porridge without any sweetener?” Harry asked as Malfoy scooped up his last few bites.

Malfoy gave him a look so dark it was almost a glower. “I’ve got to maintain my slim figure for you, don’t I?”

“For me?”

“Yes.”

“But … I don’t care about the shape of you. Just as long as you can help me nab the baddies.”

“From what I’ve seen, you only shag slim blokes, no? Or have I missed a few? You have such a long list of lovers, you see.”

Harry blinked. “I didn’t realise you were paying attention—or comparing yourself to them.”

Malfoy took an angry gulp of his coffee and didn’t say anything.

“You know … We should probably talk about what’s happening between us. About what happened last night. It seems we both have feelings—”

Malfoy stood up abruptly. “It’s time for us to actually do some work. I’m off to the apothecary. You can follow me or you can stay here. Your choice.”

Harry stood up. “Let’s get to work.”

The apothecary was called Midnight Bloom. It was in a very charming Tudor-style building. It was obvious the place had once been a family home.

Inside smelled of rosemary, mint, and lilac. Foliage hung from the ceiling and several cauldrons bubbled along the walls. At the counter was a kettle of steaming water and a teapot smelling of delicious bergamot.

Overall, it was a very calming atmosphere.

Their suspect gave them a good-natured smile. She looked like a nan who loved baking chocolate puddings for her grandchildren.

Harry smiled back. “I’m Harry, and this is Drason. We are on holiday.”

“It’s nice to meet you both. I’m Ethel and this is my apothecary. It’s been in my family for three generations.”

Malfoy’s eyes widened with fake admiration. “What an accomplishment. You must be very proud.”

Ethel straightened up. “I am quite proud, yes. Now, is there anything I can get you, petal? Any way I can help?”

“We were just having a look around,” Harry said.

“All right, but don’t stray too far, petal. We wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

Malfoy looked around with a smile. “You’ve got dangerous ingredients in here?”

Ethel shrugged. “Of course I do. Powerful potions require powerful ingredients.”

“So right you are,” Malfoy said.

They wandered to the other side of the apothecary. Harry was keeping an eye out for anything unusual. So was Malfoy.

They came across a tight corridor. Harry took a chance and said, “Pardon me, but do you have a toilet I can use? I drank too much coffee, I’m afraid.”

“Caffeine is terrible for you, petal. You should stay away from the stuff. Yes, the toilet is just down that way. Door on the right.”

“Thank you,” Harry said.

Malfoy gave him a very suspicious look. The look said, What in the hell are you doing?

Smiling, Harry shrugged and headed down the corridor. There was a door on the left. He felt powerful magic radiating through the wood.

Harry looked at the door, then at Malfoy. Panic flooded Malfoy’s expression. Don’t, he mouthed.

Harry ignored him and opened the door. He stepped inside.

Immediately the door slammed shut on him. Green powdery smoke filled the air. He tried the knob and found it locked. Trying not to panic, he attempted to unlock the door with a handful of spells but nothing worked.

Through the door he heard raised voices.

“Harry!” Malfoy yelled.

“Did he go into the room on the left?” Ethel said. “Naughty, naughty boy.”

There was the sound of heavy footsteps. Malfoy banged on the door.

“Are you all right in there?” Malfoy said urgently.

Harry realised he wasn’t all right. Not at all. The green smoke was making him cough. His lungs felt on fire.

“Draco—I can’t breathe—” he said through the door.

“GET HIM OUT OF THERE!” Malfoy roared.

“No, I don’t think I will, petal.” Ethel sounded awfully unbothered.

Harry racked his mind for ways to protect himself from the smoke. He needed to find a way to breathe—and quickly.

Harry pointed his wand at his face. “Accio Aer Bulla!”

A bubble of clean air encircled his head. He took a deep breath, then another, trying to calm himself. The bubble would last him ten minutes at most before the oxygen was depleted.

There was more shouting in the corridor. It sounded like Malfoy and Ethel were having themselves a duel.

“Lumos Maxima!” Harry said, wand raised. He used the extra light to survey his surroundings.

The room was filled to the brim with ingredients. Strange ingredients. There were vines hanging from the corners that hissed when Harry got too close.

“Revealo Malum,” Harry muttered. It was a detection spell that identified dark magic.

All around him ingredients glowed a green neon. It appeared as if every ingredient in the room was some level of dark.

A shiver went through Harry. If Malfoy didn’t overpower Ethel, there was a good chance they could both die here …

The fourth time Malfoy saved Harry’s life, Harry was doing his best not to hyperventilate as the green smoke thickened. The air in the room was growing hot, so hot, as if there were a fire somewhere.

There were several explosions in the corridor, then a scream that sounded like it came from Ethel. A moment later, the door burst open, revealing a wild-eyed Malfoy.

“HARRY!” he roared.

Harry raced for him, nearly tripping over his own feet. “There’s dark ingredients in here! Probably the same ones found in those potions—”

“Sod all that,” Malfoy growled. He grabbed Harry and hauled him over his shoulder again. Then he marched them out of the apothecary. On the way out, Harry spotted Ethel's unconscious form imprisoned in a bubble, and he knew Malfoy had called for other Aurors to arrest her.

“What are you doing?” Harry gasped.

Malfoy didn’t reply, his steps not faulting. People stared at them as they passed.

“Malfoy—Draco. Please put me down!”

“No.”

Harry squirmed and yanked at his shirt. “Come on, people are noticing—”

“I don’t care.”

At the Silver Stag, Malfoy marched right through the parlour. Mae and her grandson gaped at them.

“Is everything all right?” Mae asked.

“Oh, yes,” Malfoy growled. “Everything is just perfect.”

“Don’t mind us!” Harry said, so embarrassed.

Malfoy marched them upstairs. In their room, he slammed the door closed, muttered a Locking Spell, and practically chucked Harry onto the bed. Harry landed rather inelegantly.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked.

Malfoy yanked off Harry’s boots, then his socks. He was unbuttoning his trousers as he said, “I’m going to fuck you now.”

Harry grabbed Malfoy’s hands, stilling them. Malfoy raised burning eyes to him.

“Are you saying no?”

Harry gulped, his heart pounding so hard. “We need to talk,” he said weakly.

“We can talk after. Right now, I’m going to shag some bloody sense into you.”

“I didn’t know that room would be so dangerous!”

Trembling, Malfoy framed his face and kissed him. “You are a bloody idiot, Harry Potter. And I hate it.”

“I’m not an idiot!”

“You don’t use your brain. You have no patience. You just chuck yourself into danger as if your life doesn’t mean a damn thing, but, guess what you fool, it does to me.”

“Y-you care that much?”

Malfoy tightened his grip on Harry’s face, his fingers almost biting into the skin. “Of course I fucking care.”

“You ignore me! You won’t let me be around your son! You—you don’t even look at me most of the time.”

“Damn you, I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“Then we aren’t shagging!”

Malfoy released him and sat back on his heels. At some point he had crawled onto the bed.

Harry raised up on his elbows. “Tell me what’s going on. What has been going on. Tell me what you really feel.”

Malfoy ground his teeth. He was looking at Harry as if he wanted to set him on fire with his eyes alone. “Do you think courage comes easy to me? Hmm?”

“Um. Yes?”

Malfoy shook his head. “It doesn’t. And I need it for every single moment I’m with you.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you terrify me. I never know what you’re going to do. How you will make me feel. All I want is to be happy, do you understand? Happy and unbothered and alone. Just me and Scorpius. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Harry shook his head. “You have nothing to fear. I’m not going to hurt you—or Scorpius. Draco, I’m in love with you.”

Malfoy leaned down menacingly. “Do you think I don’t know that?”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. He was too shocked to speak.

Now Malfoy utterly loomed over him. “The way you look at me, Potter. Merlin. So eager. So misguided. You wanted it even when Astoria was still alive.”

Harry shoved at his chest. “Get away from me. I won’t stand you being cruel.”

Instead of moving away, Malfoy snatched up his wrists and pinned them to the bed. Harry’s eyes went so wide they hurt.

“You are Harry Potter. The Saviour. The Chosen One. You have no business loving someone like me.”

Harry shook his head. “You’re not a Death Eater anymore. You’re an Auror. A brilliant one. And you are a brilliant father.”

Malfoy’s breathing was very shallow. “How am I not supposed to be terrified when you say things like that to me? Hmm? I don’t deserve you.”

Hot anger rushed through Harry. “I could make you so happy. And you know it. You fucking know it.”

“I’ve never been with a man,” Malfoy snapped.

“So?”

Malfoy shook his head. “So I’ve only one chance to make it good enough for you, haven’t I? You must admit the competition is steep. I haven’t a clue what I’m fucking doing around you and I’ve got to compete with all of gay London. That isn’t even a bit fair, don’t you think?”

“I haven’t shagged all of London. Merlin!”

“That bloke at the club. Doug. The way he touched you … It came so naturally to him. To both of you.”

“I wanted him to be you. That’s why I snogged him in front of you. It was all for you.”

Malfoy leaned down so far that his nose brushed Harry’s. “I know that.”

Harry kissed him.

Malfoy made a noise in his throat, hot and desperate. He deepened the kiss, his tongue licking into Harry’s mouth with greedy possession.

Oh, please, oh please, Harry thought as he gave himself up.

Malfoy kissed him and kissed him, commanding him entirely. He ground his hips against Harry, his erection demanding attention.

“I want to see that hole of yours again,” Malfoy growled.

Harry nodded eagerly. “Yeah. Do it.”

Malfoy sat up and yanked off Harry’s clothes. His hands trembled as he did it. Then Harry laid before him naked, utterly on display. Harry was so aroused that he felt the precome bubble up from his tip.

“Look at you,” Malfoy murmured. “You’re gorgeous.”

Harry squeezed his eyes closed. “Please, I love you, Draco. Please.”

“Hush.” The word was whispered gently.

Malfoy put his greedy mouth on Harry, starting at his neck. He kissed and sucked and tasted damn near every inch of him. He even buried his face under Harry’s arms, opening his mouth to soft hair there, tasting his sweat.

He lavished attention on his tits, sucking with relish, his mouth so greedy that it left his nipples red and swollen.

When he reached Harry’s erection, he paused for a long moment, almost a whole minute. It made Harry squirm and open his mouth to speak. You don’t need to touch me there, Harry almost said.

But then Malfoy dragged the flat of his tongue up his shaft, lingering. It made both of them moan loudly.

“Oh, please,” Harry whispered again.

Malfoy took the head of his cock onto his mouth, whirling his tongue. He released it with a wet grimace. “Fuck, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“What—? No, keep doing that. It was good, so good, I promise.”

Nodding, his face set with determination, Malfoy took him back into his mouth, this time going deeper. He sucked awkwardly.

There was too much teeth, not enough suction, but Harry moaned and gasped. “Yes, like that. Fuck, it feels so good.”

Now encouraged, Malfoy began to bob his head, slurping. Harry watched his face as he did it. His cheeks were streaked with pink, his eyelashes fluttering. His mouth already looked swollen.

Harry touched his hair, threading his fingers through it, being so cautious. When Malfoy didn’t object, he tightened his hold and thrust up, just a little. Malfoy’s eyes went wide, then lidded, and he moaned.

Harry thrust up again and again, using his mouth so gently. Malfoy found his arsehole with his fingers, rubbing greedily.

“Oh, God,” Harry gasped, the sensation causing his orgasm to rush forward.

Malfoy did his best to swallow his seed, but he grimaced and choked. Harry laughed even as he still rode his high.

Malfoy released his cock with a frown. “You think this is all funny, do you?”

“No,” Harry said breathlessly. “I just love your commitment.”

Giving him a little smile, Malfoy helped ease him onto his stomach. “I’m going to—how did you describe it?—eat you out—”

“Please!”

Moaning, Malfoy put his mouth on him, sucking and licking like he had with the rest of him. Harry gasped and pushed back, wanting so much more.

Malfoy licked and licked, his moans deepening. He was getting everything so wet.

Harry’s cock was already beginning to stiffen up again.

“Please,” Harry gasped. “I want you, I want you. I love you.”

“You want me inside you?” Malfoy growled softly.

“Yes!”

“My cock—or my tongue? What about my fingers?”

“Your cock. I can take you. Please. Now.”

Malfoy shuddered as he raised up. He cast a lube spell, but awkwardly, and Harry felt it dripping down his thighs. “You must tell me if I do it wrong—if I hurt you—”

“You can’t do it wrong, trust me.”

Malfoy laughed darkly. “It’s your arse, Potter. Of course I can do it wrong.”

“Just put it in me. Please.”

For a few seconds, Malfoy didn’t react again, his breath coming fast, his hands trembling. Then he took himself in hand and poised his tip at Harry’s entrance.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

Malfoy pressed inside, stretching Harry open. It was the best thing Harry had ever felt.

Draco Malfoy was finally, finally inside him. The man he loved was finally inside him.

Gasping, Harry pressed back eagerly. “More, please. Merlin, more.”

Malfoy grabbed his hips, holding tight. He began to pound into him, his thrusts desperate, a bit uncoordinated. The truth was it did hurt. The truth was other men had fucked Harry better, but no matter. Malfoy would learn, he would learn—

Harry reached down to tug himself. “More, please. Harder. God, I love you.”

Malfoy whimpered as he sped up, utterly hammering into him. My poor hole … Harry thought.

“I’m going to come,” Malfoy gasped.

“Do it. God, I want it. I want to feel it.”

“Harry,” he gasped, shuddering. He managed just a few more brutal thrusts before he stilled, his cock pulsing so deeply inside.

“I love you,” Harry repeated.

“Harry.” Then, quieter, the words dripping with so much vulnerability: “I love you, too.”

Malfoy’s admission made Harry come a second time. He cried as his cock emptied itself, so much semen drenching the bedding.

A few minutes later, Harry was dozing in the warm protection of Malfoy’s arms. They were all cleaned up, cosy, and just enjoying the afterglow of their lovemaking. And it had been lovemaking.

Malfoy caressed his cheek as he stared down at him. “I was good enough?” he murmured.

Harry forced himself to wake up. He stared lovingly at Malfoy. “Yes.”

Malfoy finally gave him a true smile, his whole face lighting up. “Good.”

Harry captured his lips in a kiss.

The fifth and final time Draco saved Harry’s life, Harry was messing about in the Manor’s enormous kitchen. They were married, and Harry now thought of Draco's place as home.

Harry was still getting the hang of cooking with cauldrons. He had barred the house-elves from helping him.

Too late, Harry realised his cauldron of chicken soup was about to explode. He even heard the metal of the cauldron begin to crack.

Oh, fuck, Harry thought. He imagined Draco having to tell little Scorpius about his early demise. Oh, no, no … Harry and Scorpius had grown quite close, and the news would break the child’s heart.

Harry was racking his brain for the strongest Protection Spell he knew when the kitchen door burst open. It was difficult to think of work spells when he was in cosy pyjamas at home.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Draco said, racing for him.

“Cooking?”

“You’re about to blow yourself up!”

“Yes, I just realised that—”

A horrid crack echoed through the kitchen. An explosion of molten soup and jagged metal should have followed, but Draco threw up a containment bubble just in time.

Trembling, Draco gathered Harry in his arms. He kissed him over and over. “You always get yourself in the worst predicaments.”

“I was just trying to make dinner …”

“Still,” Draco growled, holding him close. “No more cooking for you. In fact, why don’t you never leave this house again? I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”

“Oh, Draco,” Harry sighed.

He kissed Harry deeply.

Harry clung to him. “It’s very sweet that you worry so much about me. So sweet. I’m still your Auror partner, though. Of course I’m going to leave the house.”

Draco made a dark noise and kissed him again. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“For what?”

“For choosing me.”

Harry beamed.