Ransoms Part Two

[dysonrules]

This fic is a belated birthday gift for Luna asr918 who gave me the following promptage:  albino dolphins, a tear-off calendar, Buddha, the number 158.23, stale popcorn, 17 cats, and a jawbreaker.  (Quite surprisingly evil, she is.)

Title:  Ransoms
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 8,041
Warnings: Slight meanness toward cat ladies.
Summary:  Draco and Harry are Aurors.  Everything else is pretty much PWP.  It's also pretty much non-canon and non-compliant and non-everything else, but it was fun as hell to write.  Sorry for the lateness, Luna!  Hope you like it.

            Kingsley’s rage was tempered only by the fact that Mrs. Eastgate had been released unharmed.  After their reaming, Harry offered to take Draco out for his seven-course meal so that they could lick their wounds together.

            Harry was already pissed by the fourth course.  He thought Draco wasn’t far behind.  They had both been drinking far more than eating.

            “I saw his face, Potter,” Draco muttered for the sixth time while picking at the food on his plate.  Harry could not remember what the dish was called.

            “Yes, darling, but you didn’t recognize him.”

            Draco scowled.  “Don’t patronize me, Potter.”

            Harry grinned.  When drunk, Malfoy tended to leap on whatever emotion struck his fancy.  It was usually an entertaining ride, if it didn’t lead to hexes or blows.

            “Of course not,” Harry said seriously.  “At least you’ll know him if you see him again.”

            “Quite right,” Draco said and jabbed the air with his fork.  Harry refrained from smiling, barely.

            “Did you go home?” Harry asked suddenly.  After the meeting with Kingsley, Harry had Flooed home, showered, and changed into jeans and a decent green shirt, before meeting Draco at the restaurant.  He had nearly worn red, because it annoyed his partner, but Malfoy was already in a snit.  No sense waving a flag before the bull, as it were.

            Normally Draco dressed to the nines whenever they went out, mostly to show what an “uncouth plebian” Harry was in comparison, but tonight he seemed to have merely shucked his Auror robes and combed his hair.  Of course, he still looked better than Harry.

            “No,” Draco admitted.  “I had an errand to run.”

            Harry was immediately suspicious.  He knew Draco far too well not to suspect that innocent tone, but he also knew wild Thestrals couldn’t draw the truth out of the Slytherin.  He let it drop.  For now.

            By the time they left the restaurant, they could barely walk.  Harry propped Malfoy up with an arm around his shoulders, but found himself leaning on his partner for balance.

            Draco chuckled at him.  “Some Chosen One,” Draco said.  “You can’t even hold your liquor.”

            “You should talk,” Harry said with a sneer.  “What sort of Slytherin gets sodding drunk after… nine measly drinks?”

            “Ten, Potter.  Ten drinks.  And I am not drunk,” Draco announced.  After which he promptly tripped, and brought them both crashing to the sidewalk.  Harry cursed when his knee slammed into the sidewalk.  Draco giggled harder and clung to Harry’s neck.

            “Ah… did ickle Potter get a boo-boo?” Draco asked, making no effort to help them to their feet.  “Want me to kiss it better?”

            Draco’s voice was a husky rasp in Harry’s ear, and he tried to pretend it didn’t send a jolt of want shooting straight to his groin.

            “You can kiss something, Malfoy,” he snapped harshly, “But it’s not my knee.”

            He used all his strength to force himself to his feet, dragging the blond with him.  Somehow, Malfoy ended up half-wrapped around him.  Their hips were pressed together, and Draco’s left arm curled around Harry’s back to grip his shoulder.  The other was wrapped around Harry’s waist in the front, and Malfoy’s head was tucked under Harry’s jaw.

            Harry kept his right arm around Malfoy’s shoulders, and wondered if he could reach the wand in his back pocket with his left hand.  Maybe with a Summoning Charm, but he sucked at using Accio with his left hand.

            Draco’s breath was hot against the base of Harry’s throat.  He needed to get the Slytherin home as soon as possible, before Draco discovered things Harry was just beginning to discover about himself.

            “We can’t Apparate,” Harry said.  “I don’t think I could safely Apparate us across the street.”

            “I trust you, Potter,” Draco murmured, tickling Harry’s neck with his lips and waking up even more body parts that Harry preferred remain asleep.  Harry chuckled.

            “Do you trust me enough to take a Muggle cab?”

            “Not on your life, Potter.”

            “Then it’s the Knight Bus for us.”

            Draco moaned.  “Oh god, no.  I’ll vomit.  And Malfoys don’t vomit.”

            “How do you propose we get home?”

            Malfoy gripped him more tightly and sighed heavily.  “Don’t care.  Just take me home.”

            God, he knew it wasn’t what Malfoy meant, but Harry would love to take him home.  Take him home and prop him in the center of Harry’s bed and…  It occurred to him he had no idea where Malfoy lived in London.

            “Malfoy, what’s your address?  You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?”

            “Falling asleep,” Draco repeated, which went nowhere as far as answering the question.

            Harry hailed a cab, and managed to maneuver his drunken partner inside.  As soon as the taxi began to move, Draco snuggled back against Harry again.  The driver grinned at them in the mirror.

            “I’m Ariel,” she said.  “You two boyfriends?”  Her tone was friendly and slightly amused.  Harry shifted Draco a bit, because the Auror’s hand was uncomfortably close to Harry’s waistband.  The movement backfired when Malfoy’s hand dropped to Harry’s thigh instead.

            “Um… no,” Harry said.  “We’re partners.”  He flushed and added quickly, “Work partners.”

            She giggled.  “Well, he seems to like you.”

            Harry laughed, remembering the countless times Malfoy had professed to hate him.

            “Do you like me, Draco?” he asked teasingly, not expecting an answer, because the blond head lay heavily against his shoulder, and Malfoy’s breathing was deep and even.  If he wasn’t asleep, he soon would be.

            “I love you, Harry,” Draco mumbled, causing Harry to leap half out of his skin.  Draco made a petulant sound and lifted the hand from Harry’s thigh to fasten on his shirt.  “Hold still,” the Slytherin added.  “’M comfy.”

            Harry’s eyes met Ariel’s in the mirror and she winked.  “I’m never wrong.  Where to?”

            Harry realized Draco had not supplied an address.  It was possible Draco returned to Malfoy Manor every night.  All of their interaction had either been at work, or out and about.  It seemed their personal lives had been an unspoken taboo.  Harry gave the driver the address to his flat, hoping Draco wouldn’t mind spending the night at his place.

            Ariel pulled the cab forward, and straight into a traffic jam.  “Ah hell,” she said.  “Looks like a bleedin’ accident.  Hope you lads aren’t in a hurry.”

            Harry shook his head and tightened his arm around Draco’s shoulder when the Slytherin began to slide downward.  Draco sat up with a snap and looked at Harry through wide silver eyes.  He looked suddenly lucid.

            “Where the hell are we, Potter?”

            “Stuck in traffic.  Could be awhile.  I’ll wake you when we get there, if you want to sleep.”

            Draco grinned lazily.  “I’m not tired.”  He leaned forward and fastened his mouth onto Harry’s neck.  He sucked gently, starting a fire in Harry’s abdomen that he tried desperately to quench.

            “What… what are you doing?” Harry asked.

            “God, you taste even better than I thought you would,” Draco said huskily, and latched onto another spot.  Harry was too transfixed to move.  A hand lifted and curved over Harry’s jaw before inexorably coaxing Harry’s mouth into position.

            Draco’s kiss felt like a Portkey into a river of molten lava.  It flowed into Harry’s veins like a torrent.  Harry succumbed to the heat for a moment.  God, he hadn’t known he could feel this way.  He’d been drunk before, and he’d been kissed before, and both at once, but it had been nothing like this.  Draco’s tongue stirred the flames until Harry thought he might explode.  Explosion became even more imminent when he discovered Draco’s hand caressing his bare chest.  He had not even noticed Malfoy unbuttoning his shirt.

            “Oh god, Draco, you have to stop,” he said raggedly, wrenching his mouth away to draw in precious air.

            “Why?” Draco murmured against the side of his mouth.

            “Why?” Ariel echoed.  Harry’s eyes linked with hers in the mirror.  He had completely forgotten her.  She laughed.  “Go for it, blondie, your friend looks like he needs it.”

            Draco hadn’t even paused.  Harry noted absently that the blond had his wand in hand.  Draco’s shirt was open, and the Slytherin shifted his position until he knelt on the floor between Harry’s legs.  Draco levered himself upward until their bare torsos touched.  Harry did not know if Draco cast a spell or used his hands, but suddenly Harry’s cock was free of the confining cloth, and Draco’s hand gripped it, nearly sending Harry straight over the edge.

            Draco took Harry’s hand and guided it downward.  Harry held his breath when the Slytherin moved Harry’s hand until it wrapped around Draco’s erection.  Harry moaned softly, feeling both awed and terrified until Draco kissed him again.  The blond’s hand stroked Harry, sliding and twisting in gorgeous perfection.

            Harry could hardly think at all, but he wanted more than anything to bring Draco to completion.  There was something astoundingly brilliant about the moment—Draco’s kiss, Draco’s warm skin on his, the rhythmic rocking of the cab as Ariel threaded it through traffic, and their hands bumping together, knuckles scraping as their movements became more frenzied.

            Draco’s mouth left Harry’s and parked itself near Harry’s left ear, where it panted liquid heat into Harry’s ear.

            “Come for me, Harry,” Draco breathed.

            “You first,” Harry countered, applying his own steam to the center of Draco’s ear.

            “So competitive.”

            “Pot, kettle,” Harry said and came, gasping at the strength of it.  An instant later, he felt Draco’s fluid mingle with his own, spilling over their hands and heated flesh.

            “I need a cold shower,” Ariel said and swerved back onto the road after narrowly avoiding a parked car.  Draco whispered a spell, cleaning them both, and then promptly curled up on Harry’s chest and went to sleep.

            Harry managed to straighten their clothes, with a little unobtrusive help from his wand, and Ariel helped him carry the sleeping blond up the stairs to his flat.  A Weightlessness Spell was more assistance than Ariel rushing ahead opening gates and doors, but the cab driver did not need to know that.

            He paid Ariel and sent her on her way with a large tip, even though she insisted she should be the one paying them.  He placed Draco in his own bed and removed most of the Slytherin’s clothing.  The sight of the blond Auror sprawled peacefully on Harry’s bed was both humbling and heart-stoppingly erotic.  He felt a crushing sadness, knowing that tomorrow everything would be different.  His natural pessimism expected the worst.

            Harry turned to leave, meaning to sleep on the couch, but a hand shot out and latched onto his wrist.  He bent down to hear Draco’s whispered words.

            “Stay with me.”

            Damn it.  Despite knowing it was the worst possible course of action, Harry donned his pyjamas and climbed into bed with Draco Malfoy, who promptly wrapped himself around Harry and fell into a drunken slumber.

 

            When Harry awoke, he reached out for the memory of a warm body next to his, but his hand encountered nothing.  He sat up, feeling a devastating sense of disappointment that magnified his hangover-induced headache.  Draco was gone.

            Harry swung his feet off the bed and groped for his glasses.  The room came into focus and he stared blearily at the wall, wondering how to salvage the brilliance of the previous night that had apparently turned to dust.

            Fuck, Malfoy had probably already talked to Kingsley and requested a transfer.

            As if called by his thoughts, Malfoy appeared with a crack of Apparition.  Harry gaped at him, and took in Draco’s disheveled appearance with surprise.  He wore the same clothes he’d worn the previous night.  Harry forgot that the instant he met Malfoy’s stricken eyes.

            “Harry, he’s taken her,” Draco said crazily.  He stepped forward and Harry leaped to his feet when Draco staggered.  He caught the Slytherin’s shoulders.  “The bastard took my mother.”

            “Oh god, Draco.”  Without thinking, Harry pulled the blond into an embrace, half-expecting a blow or a snarl of rage.  To his surprise, Draco relaxed against him with a small sigh.

            “I’m going to get him, Potter.  He will rue the day he decided to fuck with the Malfoys.”

            “We’ll get him, Draco.  I swear it.  Let’s go see Kingsley.”

            Draco nodded and went into the living room while Harry dressed.  He wondered if Draco remembered anything of the night before, and fervently hoped not.

            When Harry exited the bedroom, Draco said, “I went out this morning to get us some breakfast, since you seem to have a pathetic amount of food on hand.  I got Father’s owl before I reached the bakery.  You ready?”

            Harry blinked for a moment at Draco’s words, especially the “us”, but nodded.  Malfoy stepped close to him and cupped Harry’s jaw in one hand.  He placed a searching, almost possessive kiss on Harry’s lips.  Harry’s knees nearly buckled when Draco pulled away.

            “We have much to discuss,” Draco promised.  “As soon as we kill this man.”

            “Right,” Harry said breathlessly, but he felt a thousand times better.  “Shall we?”

 

            Once again, they waited at the ransom drop.  The clues at Malfoy Manor had been sparse and perplexing.  Narcissa Malfoy had been taken in the garden while drinking her morning tea.  Both Draco and Lucius had been incensed, but admitted that the kidnapper had to be someone they knew.  The wards around Malfoy Manor prevented entry by all but those personally granted admission.

            Which included about a dozen missing Death Eaters and countless ex-Voldemort supporters, Harry thought dryly, but managed not to mention that.

            “He knows us,” Draco said suddenly.

            Harry turned his head slightly.  Draco was right behind him, and their shoulders nearly touched.  Harry tried not to lean into the blond, but it wasn’t easy.  They had returned to their usual camaraderie with an ease that amazed Harry.  At the moment, they were both hidden beneath Harry’s invisibility cloak.  Their feet were visible, but from where they stood, no one passing would see them.

            “He knows us?” Harry repeated blankly.

            “Look where we are.”

            Harry looked.  The sign for the Aquarium of Aquatic Magic blinked at him from across the street, including a fluttering banner emblazoned with albino dolphins.

            “Coincidence?” Draco asked in a steely voice.

            “No,” Harry said.  “Not considering Narcissa’s capture.  I’ll bet he recognized you at the Temple.  This is a motivated by revenge.”

            “I did not recognize him, though, and I looked right at him.”

            Harry turned to look at Draco, whose face was closer than expected.  Harry felt stunned for a moment at the feeling evoked by the handsome face, as if Draco had stolen his very breath.  He concentrated on what he wanted to say, and managed to speak.

            “I’ve been thinking about that.  I think he used Polyjuice.”

            He felt the breath huff out of him in reality as Draco’s arms surrounded him and squeezed.  His partner chuckled into his ear, sending a shiver of delight down Harry’s spine.

            “That’s brilliant, Potter.  I should have thought of that.  I’ve been going crazy trying to pin down his identity.”

            Harry chuckled and started to make a snide comment, but Draco nibbled on the soft flesh beneath Harry’s ear, sending a jagged spike of lust careening happily through him.  He leaned back gently and slid a hand over one of Draco’s clenched around his waist.  Harry had no idea what was happening between them, but he was more than willing to follow wherever Draco chose to lead.

            Harry made in unintelligible sound as Draco’s teeth scraped over his throat.

            “Don’t get sidetracked, Potter,” Draco murmured.

            “You’re sidetracking me!” Harry hissed, and Draco chuckled.

            “Sorry,” the Slytherin said, but his voice sounded anything but apologetic—it was thick with seductive promise.  Questions tumbled through Harry’s mind, but they remained unvoiced when a group of teenagers approached.  Draco, back to business, released Harry and stepped back a pace.  Harry knew Malfoy’s wand was out and ready.

            The drop point for the ransom this time seemed to have been lifted directly from Muggle television.  The street they stood on was in a lesser-used section of wizarding London, filled with warehouses and a dotting of tourist attractions such as the Aquarium, and several kitschy shops and waterfront cafes.

            The Malfoy ransom had been placed into a valise and tucked into a trash bag on the curb, indistinguishable from a scattering of other trash bags but for a smear of blue paint on the front—specifically demanded by the kidnapper as an identifying mark.

            Harry had been somewhat surprised that Muggle garbage trucks collected trash in wizarding areas, but wizards found it easier than trying to dispose of their own garbage.  The Muggle sanitation workers did not seem to notice or care about the oddities they encountered.  Trash was trash, generally.

            The teens passed by, laughing and pushing at each other.  Harry relaxed slightly and cast a Tempus Charm.

            “He’s late,” Harry murmured.

            “He knows we’re watching.”

            It happened so quickly Harry nearly missed it.  A robed figure popped into existence nearly atop the ransom.

            “Got him!” Harry whispered and Disapparated.  He blipped across the street and latched onto the man a mere instant before the kidnapper winked out, dragging Harry with him.

            The man struggled to throw Harry off with a shout of rage and a wildly tossed curse, but the unexpected addition of Apparating with Harry seemed to have put him off-kilter.  “You idiot!  You could have Splinched us both!” the man yelled.

            Harry did not wait around to hear more.  A shouted Stunner caught the man, who collapsed.  Harry straightened and took in his surroundings.  They were on a rugged stretch of coastline that could have belonged anywhere on the eastern coast.  He barely had time to register it when Draco appeared, nearly knocking him over.  The Portkey Galleon was in his hand—its twin was in Harry’s pocket.

            Draco reached down and clenched his fists around the man’s robes.  He lifted the fellow roughly and peered into his face.

            “Not the same.  I think your Polyjuice theory is correct.”

            “Where should we take him?” Harry asked, and was sorry he had when Draco’s lips curled to expose a feral grin.

            “Malfoy Manor.”

            It was a bad idea.  Harry knew it was a bad idea.  It was such a bad idea that they would probably be fired the instant Scrimgeour got word of it.  But the bastard had kidnapped Narcissa Malfoy.  Harry could no more deny Draco the opportunity to question the man than he could have denied him air.

 

            The man was in decidedly dire straits when he awoke.  His eyes widened at the sight of Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, and Lucius Malfoy standing before him.  If he had any intelligence, he should foresee a veritable trilogy of pain.

            “How long?” Draco asked.

            “Should be any time now,” Harry replied.

            A few silent moments later, the man’s frightened features melted and changed, until Theodore Nott sat bound in the chair.

            “Theo?” Draco snarled.  “You kidnapped Mother?”

            Nott shook his head, looking properly terrified.

            “No, not me, Draco, not me!”

            “Who then?” Malfoy demanded and grabbed Nott’s robes in an enraged fist.

            Lucius cut in, sounding a dozen times more deadly than Draco.

            “Where is my wife?”

            Nott began to babble incoherently, and Draco released him.  Nott found his voice.  “Potter—save me!  Don’t let them kill me!  You’re an Auror, you help people!”

            “Potter, Theo here sounds thirsty.  He can barely speak.  Will you get him a glass of water?” Draco asked calmly.

            Harry scowled as Nott shook his head wildly in an obvious plea to keep Harry from leaving.  Harry leaned close to Draco.

            “He’d better be alive and in one piece, when I return.”  He stepped away.  “Water,” he said and fixed a warning glare on Lucius, as well.  “Right.”

            Harry walked through the door and leaned against the wall.  He ignored the screams emanating from the room.  After a few moments, he requested a glass of water from a steely-eyed house-elf hovering nearby.  The creature had been watching Harry, most likely to prevent him from sullying any pureblood artifacts with his tainted blood.

            Harry took the glass when the surly house-elf returned, but he thought it would be a good idea to check it for poison content prior to allowing it to be ingested.

            Harry walked back into the room to find Draco leaning against the desk.  Lucius was gone, and Nott’s head lolled against his chest.

            “Is he dead?” Harry asked in alarm.

            Draco made a scoffing noise.  “Really, Potter, what do you take me for?”

            “Unscrupulous and terrifying,” Harry said instantly.

            Malfoy looked pleased.  “Right you are, Potter.”

            “Where is your father?”

            “He went to fetch Mother, of course.”  Draco turned and began to rummage in the desk.  Harry sighed and considered various methods of torture to get his partner to fill him in.  Draco found what he was looking for with a happy cry and looked at Harry.  He grinned at Harry’s long-suffering expression.

            “Oh, all right,” he said and began to unwrap a crinkly package.  “Yes, Nott was the kidnapper.  He was also working alone.  Apparently, the little shite was doing it simply for monetary gain.  He never had much as a child.  Theo came from pureblood stock, but his ancestors never could handle their funds.  They always lived well beyond their means.”

            “But why you?  I thought he was your friend,” Harry said.

            Draco popped the sweet into his mouth and his expression transformed into one of sheer delight.  Whatever it was, it was too large to speak around, so after a moment Draco reached a thumb and finger into his mouth and withdrew it.  A large jawbreaker.

            “Theo was always jealous of the Malfoy fortune.  It was obvious in school—Theo never really liked any of us.  We just thought he was a loner.”

            Draco sucked on the confection a bit more, and then took it out again.  “When I nearly caught him at the Temple, he decided to get revenge.  As an added bonus, he got to make you look bad, just because you’re Harry Potter, you know.”

            The jawbreaker returned to the blond’s mouth and Draco sucked the sugar from his thumb and fingertip for a moment.  Watching him made Harry think very inappropriate thoughts, and his mind flashed back to their Muggle cab ride.  The room was suddenly too warm.

            “Where did he take your mum?  Is she okay?” he asked quickly to cover the rising color in his cheeks.  He shut his eyes when Draco removed the sweet.

            “Locked in a room of his house.  He always treated his victims well, so I’m not terribly worried for her.  Of course, if a single hair on her head is harmed, my father will do some very illegal things to Theo.”

            Harry hoped to hell Narcissa Malfoy was not harmed, because otherwise Harry would be forced to protect Nott from both male Malfoys… or all three Malfoys, more likely.

            “You shouldn’t eat so many sweets,” Harry said inanely.  “It can’t be good for you.”

            Draco walked over until he stood uncomfortably close.  The jawbreaker was in his fingers.

            “Worried about my health, Potter?” he asked teasingly.  Harry’s eyes moved away from Nott and locked with Draco’s.  Harry was close enough to smell the sweetness of Malfoy’s breath, and knew a kiss would taste like pure sugar.  Draco leaned forward slightly, and Harry felt himself sway toward the blond.  A loud pop halted him.

            Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy stood nearby.  Narcissa stalked forward and snatched Nott by the hair to drag his head back.  Nott’s eyelids fluttered slightly.  Narcissa shook him roughly.

            “You wretched little beast!” she cried.  “How dare you abuse our hospitality this way?”

            “That’s the other thing.  Theo has been here before, and therefore did not trigger the outer wards,” Draco commented.

            “We had better get him to the Ministry before anything… fatal… happens to him,” Harry said, eyeing Narcissa carefully.

            “Sorry, Mother, we have to take him into custody.  Aurors, you know,” Draco said in an apologetic tone.  Lucius seemed to wince at the term.  Narcissa glared at Harry, as though it were his fault that their son had a career, instead of living a decadent life of leisure.  She released Nott, whose head slumped again, although Harry could tell he was awake.

            Harry cast an Immobilizing Charm to keep Nott from trying anything.

            “See you at the office,” Harry said quietly to Draco.  He untied Nott and Apparated the kidnapper to the Ministry.

 

            Harry had nearly finished his report when Malfoy sauntered into his office.  Harry glared at him.

            “Nice of you to show up and help me with the paperwork,” he complained.

            Draco snorted and perched on Harry’s desk.

            “Posh, Potter.  You know I don’t sully myself with paperwork.  I was comforting Mother after her harrowing experience.”

            Harry gaped at him in disbelief.  Malfoy laughed and made a face.  “All right, she’s fine.  I just did not feel like seeing Shacklebolt.”

            Harry set his quill aside and sanded the report.  “Yes, thank you for leaving me to face him alone, partner.”

            Draco rolled his eyes.  “How bad could it be, Potter?  We caught the kidnapper, recovered my mother, managed not to kill—or even badly hurt—Theo, and most of the ransom money should be returned—”

            “Speaking of ransom money, it seems that Mrs. Eastgate’s horrible son surprisingly repaid my account for her ransom.  You wouldn’t happen to know anything about his change of heart, would you?”

            “I may have had a talk with him,” Draco admitted noncommittally with a shrug.  He seemed to find a spot on the ceiling fascinating.  Harry felt a rush of warmth that surprised him.  Draco had gone to see Eastgate’s son before the incident in the cab.

            Malfoy’s hand was splayed on the desk, propping him up.  Harry covered it with his own hand.  The silver eyes flew to his, and Harry saw surprise reflected there.

            “Thanks,” Harry said with a soft smile.

            Draco twisted and leaned forward.  He wrapped his free hand in the hair at the nape of Harry’s neck, and levered him into a hungry kiss.  Harry’s eyes slid shut, and he lost himself in sensation.  Draco still tasted of sugar from the jawbreaker, but the sweetness beneath was even better.

            “This is crazy,” Harry murmured when Draco pulled away.  He tried to retain a grip on reality.

            “This makes perfect sense, Potter.  Who else will ever put up with your stupid propensity to rush headlong into danger?  Who else can deal with the ridiculous hours you keep?  Who else can protect you?”  Before Harry could speak, Draco continued, “And who else can handle my temper tantrums, and not be bothered by my obvious superiority?”

            Harry opened his mouth, but Malfoy kissed him again and stringing coherent words together became impossible.  Draco drew back slightly and Harry tried to get his breathing under control.  Malfoy’s eyes were pools of silver.

            “Besides, I love you, you stupid git.”

            Harry gaped at him incredulously, but was saved from speaking by the sound of a cough from the doorway.

            “I love Potter, too,” Kingsley said dryly.  “So try to bring him back in one piece tomorrow, Malfoy.”  He sent a couple of files winging to the unoccupied corner of Harry’s desk.

            Draco smiled wickedly when Kingsley disappeared.

            “You see?  I have permission from the boss to have my way with you,” Draco said happily.

            “No shagging in the office,” Kingsley’s voice called from down the hall.

            Draco sent a spell that slammed the door shut.  Another spell locked it.  Harry picked up the files and opened them curiously.  Draco snatched them and sent them spinning across the room.  Papers slid out in a confetti stream to litter the floor.  Harry sighed.

            “And here I thought you wanted to know your APL score,” Harry said.

            Draco Summoned the flying papers immediately.  “APL?  Where?”  He held the stack in one hand and began to fling one piece of parchment after another onto the floor, searching for one page in particular.

            “Boring case, boring case, results of potion analysis, Potter’s evaluation, boring case, ahah!  Draco Malfoy’s evaluation.”  He held up the paper triumphantly.

            Harry Summoned the remaining papers and tried to put them into a semblance of order.

            “Hah, look at this, Potter!  Beat that, Super Auror!”

            He brandished the page under Harry’s nose and crowed.

            “160!  What did I tell you?  I knew I would succeed.  Don’t feel bad if you were only able to maintain you pathetic 158.67, Potter.  We need to celebrate.”

            “Draco,” Harry said nervously, setting the papers aside.  “We shouldn’t—”

            “Oh yes we should, Potter, we really should,” Malfoy said in a tone like silk on mink.  He dragged Harry out of the chair by his tie and kissed him again.  “I suggest we go to my place and get started.”

            Harry allowed himself to be wrapped in Draco’s embrace.  Before they Disapparated, Harry glanced at his evaluation, which rested atop the stack of papers.  He smiled.  It read APL Score 162 - Extra points awarded  for having Draco Malfoy as a partner.

            Harry wouldn’t have traded Malfoy for anything.