Chapter Text
“I fucking hate that idiot” Harry said to no one in particular. The canteen lady gave him a severe look but apart from that none of the witches or wizards in the ministry cafeteria seemed to have heard him.
He glared back at her until she turned away with a huff. The woman seemed to have it in for him for some reason and he could barely take her glares on a good day. This wasn’t a good day.
He stared down his tray, realizing he’d been shredding his napkin into little pieces that were now littering his plate. “Bastard” he muttered, not really thinking of the canteen lady anymore.
“Did you say something Mr Potter?” an old wizard at the table next to his asked. He briefly recognized him as one of Mr Weasley’s colleagues which had him bite back on the rest of the words lingering on his tongue.
“No.” He took a sip from his cup and spluttered.
“Are you alright?” the man asked as Harry spat lukewarm coffee mixed with soaked blots of shredded napkin.
“Goddamn it” he swore, incendioing the mess along with the cup and vanished the tray for good measure.
“Now, really” the canteen lady began but he left before her cursing had a chance to reach his ears.
“That bloody git” he swore as he stormed through the halls, no particular destination in mind. Ten years since Hogwarts and Draco Malfoy was still a nuisance to him.
Harry had done what had been asked of him, he’d defeated Voldemort at seventeen. That was more than enough, really. He could have cut himself some slack after that, but he’d stuck around for the death eater trials, ensuring the remaining bastards were put behind bars. And that could have been it, except new bastards with dark desires and empty consciences kept popping up. So he’d stayed with the ministry, training to be an auror, working tirelessly to keep the streets clean. Which was fine, he was more than happy to do it, most of the time he even enjoyed it.
Then voices were raised about the auror office being ruthless, chartering people directly from the streets to Azkaban where they were forgotten about, not getting put up for trials until months later. It was at least part true. The efficiency of the DMLE could not be matched by the Wizengamot who took ages to compile a case for court.
It might have resulted in a couple of innocent people who’d been unlucky enough to be at the wrong place at the wrong time having been forced to spend a considerable amount of time behind bars, but he figured that, on the whole, that was a small price to pay. The wizard rights advocates disagreed though and called for a change that eventually had the Wizengamot alter the rules of the current system. And that’s when the Universe decided to give him a good kick in the nuts, shoving Draco Malfoy right in his face like an annoying fly.
Here's how it worked; Harry spent days and nights rounding up criminals and when he finally managed to bring them in, sometimes after months of investigations, there was a remand hearing at which Malfoy swept in, cited a few paragraphs in his usual drawl and left them free to stroll out of there. Every. Single. Time.
The only occasions his team managed to put someone behind bars was when Malfoy called in sick, which fortunately was not too seldom. But Malfoy’s delicate condition was a small comfort today.
Harry clutched his fists, nails digging into his skin, only just managing to hold back on a scream of outrage as he passed a group of terrified looking witches.
He usually took things with slightly more ease. Ranting to Ron about it over a few drinks tended to do the trick, but Ron was currently on vacation with Hermione somewhere in the Swiss alps and this case…this case. He stopped to punch the wall.
“Oh fuck, goddamn it.” He stared at his bloody knuckles, hand throbbing in pain as the brick wall proved to be less soft than it had looked. He flinched as he tried to flex his fingers and mumbled an insufficient healing spell. It’d have to do, he’d be damned if he had to go to the infirmary for breaking his own bones again.
“What the devil are you doing Potter?”
He looked up at the familiar drawl, instantly forgetting about smashed bones.
“Malfoy” he roared, advancing on the other.
A reasonable man would have run but Malfoy didn’t budge.
Harry was a bit disappointed about that, he’d have loved to chase Malfoy down the corridor, catching him with a tripping jinx and sending the bastard dangling upside down but this was fun too, he thought as he slammed Malfoy against the wall, having him chip for air.
“Potter, you complete berk.”
“Four months” Harry hissed. “I spent four months trying to find Mundungus Fletcher.”
He pressed against Malfoy so that their noses were barely millimeters apart.
“Then maybe you should have been more thorough with how you handled his capture” Malfoy said, but it wasn’t the usual drawl. He sounded, Harry was pleased to note, a little frightened.
“I should have what?” Harry asked in a low voice, gathering Malfoy’s wrists, bringing them up over his head and locking him in position. Malfoy stopped twitching.
“I was more than thorough, he even confessed.”
“On veritaserum” Malfoy breathed, close enough for Harry to feel a warm puff of air against his cheek.
“Which makes it true.”
“Which makes it illegal. You’re not allowed to do that in this stage of interrogations without permission from the minister.”
“It was a Saturday night, Kingsley wasn’t available. He would have given it by the morning.”
“Then you should have waited.” Malfoy made a move to slip out of Harry’s grip.
Harry focused on holding him in place instead of considering the fact that Malfoy might be right and pressed against him, trapping him by pushing a leg between his thighs.
“You should have learnt that by now” Malfoy went on. “Remember the Selwyn case.”
Harry well did. Eugenia Selwyn had confessed to a tirade of crimes, including putting the imperious curse on two unspeakables, after Harry had shoved half a bottle down her throat. The following day, Malfoy had argued that the force-feeding of potion should be considered illegal according to some clause from the thirteenth century and that the confession should be scratched off record. Selwyn had been released from her holding cell. When the date of her hearing came, she was long gone.
“Potter” Malfoy let out, a hint of panic to his voice.
Harry regained his presence, easing the grip somewhat to not accidentally break the bones of Malfoy’s wrists. The last thing he needed was a charge for assault against an official. But Malfoy didn’t exactly look like he was in pain but his cheeks were rather flushed and he seemed unwilling to meet Harry’s eyes, which was somewhat odd and… He stopped his train of thought as he registered something pushing against his thigh.
“What the fuck.”
“Potter let go” Malfoy hissed, his face now beetroot red.
“Not likely.” He wasn’t going to be scared off by a boner. Yet he found the hardness somewhat distracting and used a well-practiced move to flip Malfoy around and have him face the wall.
“Ouch you fucking brute” Malfoy groaned as his nose hit the bricks but he seemed relieved by their change of positions and Harry got his brain back to working.
“Mundungus Fletcher is a bloody thief” he breathed into Malfoy’s neck. “He stole from Sirius, from me. If he hadn’t taken that locket, things would have gone different.”
Malfoy could have argued that was an old felony, barred long before now and not in any sense essential to the present case but he let Harry lose himself in a tirade of what-ifs and could-have-beens. He’d gone it over in his head plenty of times. If Dung hadn’t gotten his filthy hands on it, Kreacher would have safely passed them the locket and they could have remained at Grimmauld instead of freezing and starving in the woods. They might have solved things sooner, more lives could have been saved. They certainly wouldn’t have ended up at Malfoy Manor and Dobby…
He stopped himself, knowing he’d gotten caught in one of his loops. “Point is, he’s a thief, he was then and he is now, you know that” he hissed into Malfoy’s ear.
“He’ll have a trial” Malfoy said, almost soothingly. “It’s the right way to do it.”
“He won’t, he’ll be in Brazil by then. Or Bhutan or fucking Tonga.”
Of course he’d be. Dung was slippery as an eel. Once finally caught he should be chained up, that was common sense. Even Malfoy should know that, yet he had argued for a release on bail.
Harry leaned forward and let his teeth sink into his neck. It was somewhat unorthodox, there was probably a paragraph stating the inappropriacy of biting your legal opponents that Malfoy could argue to get him suspended but instead of his usual tirade he let out a low moan that stirred something in Harry. So he did it again. Leaning forwards, he realized he too was hard and unable to stop himself he pushed against him, finding the familiar crack of an ass to grind against, the only odd thing about it being that it was Malfoy’s.
Malfoy still didn’t say anything, so Harry kept up the grinding, losing himself in the feeling.
“Let me fuck you” he mumbled after a while.
It usually had the effect of the person attached to him dropping their remaining clothes on the spot but Malfoy went completely still.
The surprise of being turned down had Harry lose his grip somewhat and Malfoy managed to slip away from him.
“I most certainly will not” he said. His hair was standing on end but the tone was his usual sharp one.
Harry blinked for a few seconds and watched Malfoy barge away. Then he went after him.
He had been right, chasing Malfoy was satisfying. Malfoy didn’t break into a run but kept to a quick stride and Harry soon caught up with him, pulling him into a hidden alcove, backing him against the wall, pushing against him once more.
“You want to.”
“Excuse me?” Malfoy sounded appalled. “Whyever would I want that?”
“Because of this” Harry suggested, stroking a hand against the length that was still half hard and quickly filled out under the touch.
“Stop that.” Malfoy slapped his fingers away. Their hands kept battling until Harry managed to trap Malfoy’s between their cocks. He stilled as he felt Harry’s length against his palm and Harry took the opportunity to undo his fly, working his fingers between layers of fabric until he felt the hot skin of a pulsing shaft. He circled his fingers around it and gave it a few tentative pulls. It had Malfoy moan again and soon fingers were working his own zip.
It was good as far as pull offs went but nowhere near enough. He wanted the satisfaction of bending Malfoy over, taking him against the wall, preferably without prep and lube.
“Let me fuck you” he groaned. “I want to put it in you.”
Again, Malfoy tensed and the hand on Harry’s cock went still.
Usually, all he had to do was ask. Of course that wouldn’t work on Malfoy, but still. There was something odd about how he seemed to want it and not want it at the same time.
“You’re a virgin” he suggested, breathing heavily at the idea of being the one to break him open.
Malfoy made to push him away but did not object.
“You are.” Harry leaned back a bit to get a look at him and grinned at Malfoy’s flushed face.
“Shut it Potter” Malfoy hissed, as if he was afraid someone would hear. ”Just because I won’t let just about anyone stick it to me doesn’t mean…and I’m certainly not letting you of all people.”
“OK” Harry mumbled, somewhat taken by the words stick it to me and letting you. “OK” he mumbled again, more softly and started working Malfoy’s cock again which had him relax a fraction. He leaned in, sucking the porcelain white skin of the long neck, enjoying the idea of Malfoy returning to his office with a mark left by him.
The thought did not seem to occur to Malfoy who leaned back and breathed heavily. Harry kept up the sucking and let his fingers wander, finding firm balls and then went lower, softly brushing against a rim.
Malfoy didn’t bat his hand away but melted into the touch and Harry kept the motion up, grinning into Malfoy’s neck. Whatever the bastard might claim, he was definitely a bottom.
“I’ve topped heaps of times” he mumbled into his ear.
“Of course you have, everyone knows that, even the ones that doesn’t read Witches’ Weekly ” Malfoy muttered.
It had him laugh. “Yeah, maybe. It means I’m really good at getting people off.”
That wasn’t strictly true. He usually didn’t bother after he’d come and people didn’t seem to expect him to but he figured he could be good at it if he put his mind to it. The few times he took his time, he managed to get his partner to plead and scream. Sure, there might be something theatrical about it, and he suspected that he couldn’t rely on the usual holy-shit-I’m-sleeping-with-Harry-Potter-ecstasy with Malfoy. Still, he was more than up for the challenge.
“I’ll take care of you” he went on, appealing to the lazy side of Malfoy. “I’ll make it nice. All you have to do is to lie there and let me do all the work.”
The idea seemed to hit home. Malfoy groaned and grabbed onto his shoulder with his left hand. Harry groaned with him and pushed a finger firmly against the rim. It had Malfoy open his eyes and push him away instead of pulling him closer.
“Stop it” he said sharply, slapping Harry’s hand away.
It only had him want it more, but he reluctantly obeyed. “Alright.”
Malfoy made to button his trousers.
“Hey, at least let me wank you.”
Malfoy stopped, hesitating.
“You won’t have to do a thing” Harry tried softly, bringing both of his hands to rest on his shoulders.
Malfoy didn’t say anything else but he stayed so Harry got a hand inside his pants once more and worked him with a firm grip.
It didn’t take long before Malfoy came. He did so with his eyes closed and a slack grip of Harry’s shoulders. It annoyed him, he wanted him to grab on and moan.
Afterwards, Malfoy moved quickly, pulling up his pants and in an instant he was gone. Left was Harry, staring at his fingers coated in come. For a second he was confused by the dried blood on his knuckles before realizing he had completely forgotten about Mundungus Fletcher.