Hissy Fit Chapter Seven

[dysonrules]

Title:  Hissy Fit
Rating:  NC17... maybe???
Warnings:  More charts and graphs
Summary:  Does Harry finally get a clue?

The Beginning - Hissy Fit - Chapter 1

Chapter Seven

 

            Carter was not exactly a fountain of information.  The man refused to utter a bloody word without his lawyer, who had a distinct need to bury them in paperwork merely for the sake of proving his superiority.  It had taken the department half the day just to get a written statement from the man denying his culpability.  They were forbidden to use Veritaserum on him, since he had not actually been apprehended in the act of committing a crime.  He only appeared to have been purchasing illegal creatures.  Harry’s Pensieve memory confirmed that Carter had not specified which creatures he had attempted to buy.  Carter insisted he had been collecting perfectly legal Kneazles, despite the fact that there were no Kneazles in the container with the baby hippogriff, the nundu kitten, and the bound Fwoopers.

            Harry had been frustrated enough to demand Kingsley use Legilimency on the obstinate bastard, but unless they Obliviated him afterwards, the lawyer would have slapped a lawsuit on them.  Harry did not even dare to threaten Carter for the same reason.  The best they could do was acquire a search warrant to check out the Knockturn Alley shop.  Harry took Dean along, although he debated calling Malfoy.  In the end, he decided not to risk Malfoy making some comment and tipping Dean  off that he had made a previous, unauthorized search.  Of course, that was merely an excuse.  In truth, Harry did not trust himself around the Animagus any more.

            He and Dean seized what records they could and then returned to the Ministry to go over them.  Every time Harry’s office door swung open, he lifted his head hopefully.  After his “secretary’s” fifth quizzical look, he put his head down with a sigh, realizing he was looking for Malfoy.  He set his jaw and intentionally worked through dinner, although to little purpose.  There was little pattern to Carter’s appointments and sales.  Only one name jumped out at Harry, and that only due to its similarity to his own:  Harvey Porter.  He finally went to the cellblock and talked to Carter.

            “Who is Harvey Porter?” he asked.

            Carter shrugged insolently.  “Regular customer.”

            “What did he purchase?”

            “This and that.”

            “If he was a regular customer, certainly you remember what he purchased.”

            “Not offhand.  That’s what I got notes for.  I’m sure you been all through those, already.  You know better ‘n I do.”

            “What does this Harvey look like?”

            Carter rolled his eyes.  “Shortish guy.  Blond.  What’s the difference?”

            “Any distinguishing features?”

            “I don’t think I’m at liberty to discuss my customers without talking to my lawyer first.” Carter said.  His tone was smug and Harry’s intuition screamed at him that he was on the right track.  He spun on a heel and went back to his office to go over and notate every possible mention of Harvey Porter.  It was late by the time he finished and finally decided to call it quits for the night.

            He left a report for Kingsley and Apparated home.  Harry’s flat was empty, as expected.  His kitchen was tidier than he had left it, as was the living room.  Harry’s eyes went straight to the chaise and he flushed at the memory of Malfoy.  The blankets were gone, probably folded neatly in the hall cupboard.  Harry poured himself a drink and sat on the couch while his mind went back over every minute of their morning encounter.  Had Malfoy really been cold last night, or had he just used the excuse to sleep with Harry?  Ice cubes clinked in his glass and the sound seemed overly loud in the empty room.  He suddenly wished he had at least talked to Malfoy before running away.  He wouldn’t blame the Slytherin if he chose never to speak to him again.

            He left the drink half full and went to the bedroom to shed his clothing.  The bed was also made, looking untouched.  Harry climbed beneath the covers and reached for his wand to cancel the light.  He froze with his hand barely touching the wood.  One wall of his bedroom had been completely covered with what looked like a massive chart.

            He picked up his wand, anyway, but brightened the light.  He climbed off the bed and walked to the wall, amazed.  There were boxes and lines and colour-coded notations, divided into several sections.  Across the top were the names of every person Harry had dated in the past… three or four years?  How could Malfoy have even known about them all?  Harry had completely forgotten the name of the girl he had met at the Quidditch match—and dated twice!—until he spotted it written in brown ink.  Beneath her name was written Dated Twice, No Snogging.  Harry backed up and sank down on the bed, stunned.

            The sheer volume of data was mind-boggling.  As Harry looked at it, he began to detect the pattern.  Malfoy had been right.  He really did seem to prefer blonds… and slender… and the slightly dominant-minded…  Damn it.  At the bottom of the chart wall were written words in green ink.  Harry could practically hear Malfoy’s sardonic tone.  Only one possible conclusion, Potter.  Maybe you’ll figure it out.

            Harry put out the light, took off his glasses, and went to bed.

            His sleep was tormented with dreams.  Faces of the women he had dated swam in and out of focus.  Malfoy appeared often, once shifting into a snake as Harry watched and then speaking in perfect English instead of Parseltongue:  Only one possible conclusion, Potter.  He saw Ginny’s eyes shining with tears, as they had been on the day he had broken up with her.  Maybe you’ll figure it out, she said.  Carter’s face sneered at him.  Maybe you’ll figure it out, Potter.  Hagrid’s roaring laugh bellowed through his dream.  Only one possible conclusion, Harry!  Malfoy appeared again and his grey eyes were soft with concern as he held Harry’s wrist.  Maybe you’ll figure it out.  He was a snake again, wrapping around Harry’s healed arm before baring his fangs and sinking them into Harry’s flesh.  Figure it out, he hissed.  Figure it out.

            Harry sat bolt upright, clutching his blankets.  Only one possible conclusion.  Harvey Porter!  Of course!  Harry grabbed his wand and cast a Patronus.

 

            Malfoy’s head appeared in the fireplace fifteen minutes later.

            “This had better be good, Potter,” he snapped.  “Do you know what bloody time it is?”

            “I sort of didn’t when I cast the spell,” he admitted.

            “It’s three o’ clock in the fucking morning, Potter.  Unless you woke me to offer me the best blow job of my life, you had better prepare yourself for a brutal hexing.”

            Harry was silent for a few moments too long and Malfoy’s pale brow rose.  He looked positively demonic in the flames of the Floo call.

            “Is that why you woke me?” Malfoy asked in a purring tone.

            “No!” Harry cried, shaking off his stasis.  “I called you because I think I know who was purchasing the creatures from Carter!”

            “You woke me in the middle of the night for that?”

            “Well… I was dreaming…”

            Malfoy sighed.  “I’m coming through.”

            Harry stepped back, suddenly questioning the wisdom of his impulse.  His only excuse was that he had been half-asleep and dream-fuddled.  A moment later, Malfoy stood in his living room, brushing Floo-powder from his dove-coloured silk dressing gown.  Harry wondered what he wore under it and then wondered if it were too late to finish his drink.

            “It’s Colin Creevey,” Harry blurted before he could say or do anything foolish.

            Malfoy yawned and sat gracefully on the chaise.  He crossed his legs and Harry noted they were covered in black silk pyjamas.  “What’s Colin Creevey?”

            “He’s been buying creatures from Carter.”

            Malfoy covered another yawn with one pale hand and Harry marvelled at how elegant such a simple gesture could look.  He tore his eyes away.  “Why would Colin Creevey buy illegal creatures from the likes of Carter?”

            Harry floundered.  “I don’t know.”  The silver eyes fixed on him and Harry realized he had been a complete idiot to call the Animagus with such half-arsed information.  “Um… it was the name he used.  Harvey Porter.  It took me a while, but I finally remembered where I had heard it before.  It was shortly after we left school.  The twins had a party and Colin came.  We were all half-arsed and started joking about who we would turn into if we had access to Polyjuice and any hair in the world.  Colin said he would turn into me and walk around calling himself Harvey Porter.  The twins picked up on it and called him Harvey Porter for weeks.”

            Also at that party, Harry had admitted that he would Polyjuice into Draco Malfoy.  At the time, he had said it was because he wanted to feel like an over-entitled jerk, but now he wondered if his motivation had been different, even back then.  Certainly Malfoy was usually the first one that came to mind regardless of the circumstance.

            “That’s fascinating, Potter.  And what do you propose we do about it at this hour?  Do you intend to go roust the little monster from his bed?”

            “I don’t think that would be very proper,” Harry said.  Kingsley would kill him if he did that and it turned out to be a dead end.  After divulging the tale to Malfoy, it sounded even more half-arsed.  It still made no sense that Colin would be a participant in the insane scheme.

            “All right, then.  I’m going home.  Call me when you have a more tangible plan.  And make certain it is daylight before you do so this time.”

            Malfoy rose and headed for the fireplace.  Harry hurried over to block his path.

            “Wait,” he said, suddenly not wanting the blond to leave.  Malfoy’s grey eyes watched him sardonically, waiting.  Harry found himself tongue-tied.  The silence stretched into awkwardness and he swallowed hard, knowing Malfoy’s patience neared the snapping point.  Indeed, the Animagus moved slightly in the direction of escape.  Harry’s fingers curled into the dressing gown, sliding against the silk as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Malfoy’s.

            The blond made no movement or sound at all.  Harry tasted him gently, urging a response.  He was surprised the sound of his heart was not audible, as hard as it drummed in his chest.  After long moments, Malfoy still did not move and Harry felt cold terror take the place of the intensely unfamiliar feeling.  What if he had been wrong about the chart—about everything?  He allowed himself a last tiny suction of mouth on lips and then pulled away.  He did not get far before a hand clenched in his hair and twisted his head to the side.  Malfoy’s lips were back against his, but no longer passive.  They moved roughly over Harry’s for only a moment before his tongue demanded entrance.  Harry did not hesitate, opening up and allowing him access even as he pressed himself closer to the hard body before him.

            He felt normalcy spiralling away from him as his world focused to the feel of Malfoy’s mouth on his and the tongues of fire licking their way through his blood.  He was fully plundered and marvelled at Malfoy’s apparent intention to draw on every surface of his mouth with his tongue, because he was doing a damn fine job of it, discovering erogenous zones Harry had not dreamed existed.  It was more than a kiss—it felt like baptism by fire.  Long before he was ready to stop, Malfoy shoved him away.

            Harry stared at him, panting and shaken.

            “Figured it out, have you?” Malfoy asked coldly.  “It only took four years and a bloody chart plastered on your wall.  Or is this just another ploy?”

            Harry drew himself up and wished his hands weren’t shaking.  “What do you mean?” he asked.

            “I took the liberty of stopping by Gringott’s yesterday, only to discover that Grimsby was assigned to a Ministry audit in my absence.  It all became crystal clear at that point, Kingsley’s insistence on my ‘helping’ you with this bloody ridiculous assignment.  It’s all part of a plan to keep me out of Kingsley’s hair, isn’t it?”

            Harry flushed, unable to deny it.  “Yes, but…”

            Malfoy’s handsome features turned hard.  “Such an obedient Auror.  Taking on every stupid case assigned to you and watching lesser Aurors steal your glory with high-profile assignments, merely because Kingsley is secretly terrified that one day you’ll wake up and decide to take over.  I’m curious to know how long you planned to string me on and how far you were willing to go to obey orders.”

            Harry gaped at him.  “This has nothing to do with that!”

            “Whatever.  To use your own words, Potter, go play your annoying games with someone else.  I’m not interested.”  With that, the blond turned, snatched a handful of Floo powder, and was gone.

            Harry stared into the flames and wondered what the hell had just happened.  He staggered to the chaise and sat down.  Fuck.  Every time he thought he had a handle on something in his bloody life, something else came along and threw a hex at it.  His lips felt raw and bruised.  His tongue slid over them and his breath caught at the taste of Malfoy that still lingered there.

            Surely Malfoy didn’t believe Harry’s attraction was something he faked for the sake of his job?  A flare of annoyance washed over Harry’s insecurity.  Damn the man!  Was nothing ever simple with Malfoy?  He grinned ruefully, knowing the answer.  The blond was maddening at the best of times, but Harry had finally discovered that it might be worth the trouble, especially if that kiss were anything to go by.  He pushed himself off the chaise and went back to sit on his bed and look at the chart.  In addition to the things written there, Malfoy possessed qualities Harry appreciated but that Malfoy had overlooked.

            Persistence, for one thing.  He had been in Harry’s hair almost daily for the past four years, apparently waiting for Harry to wake up and put the clues together.  He was also quite intelligent, something that he had come to appreciate in the past few days, along with a wicked sense of humour.  Harry had missed the never-ending commentary last night during his solitary research and had found his mind inserting dry phrases he thought Malfoy might utter.

            Not interested.  Harry smiled softly as he looked at the chart, painstakingly created over Merlin knew how many hours.  Malfoy knew where he lived.  Malfoy had standing orders that only he could approve Harry’s expense reports.  He knew exactly what buttons to press to set Harry off every single time.  Not interested.

            “We’ll see about that,” Harry muttered.  He lay back on his bed, crossed his arms behind his head and waited for daylight, making and discarding plans.

 

            Harry stood outside the gates of Malfoy Manor, fuming.  Malfoy’s house-elves had informed him that the Lord of the Manor refused to see him.  His Floo-calls had gone unanswered.  He had even killed an hour by going to the Ministry and verifying Colin’s address.  He could probably have gone alone, but he really wanted Malfoy to come along, and not just because he admired the blond’s arse.

            He supposed the silent treatment was to be expected.  On reflection, he had decided that Malfoy had probably expected Harry to follow him the moment he stepped through the Floo.  The Animagus was likely accustomed to being pursued, but Harry had little experience as a pursuer.  Normally they fell all over themselves for the opportunity to be seen with him—it was a novel change to have to track someone down and force his attentions on them.

            Malfoy, of course, was not making the tracking down easy.  Harry knew he was at the Manor, but all the normal forms of entry had been barred to him.  He would have to use all the ingenuity at his disposal.  Finally making up his mind, Harry stepped forward and touched the wrought-iron bars of the gates.  They were heavily warded against intrusion with spells and curses both.  It took him awhile—perhaps twenty minutes of pure concentration—but he managed to dispel the last of the curses and unlock the gates.

            The instant he stepped through, he was surrounded by angry house-elves.

            “You is not welcome here, Harry Potter!” one yelled in a squeaking voice.  “You go away now!”

            “I’m here to see Draco, whether he likes it or not,” Harry said adamantly.  One of the elves raised a hand and Harry cast his ace in the hole—a spell that temporarily nullified house-elf powers.  It was a closely guarded Auror secret, but necessary in Harry’s line of work.  House-elves could do horrific things if provoked, and they considered home invasion to be definite provocation.

            One of them squawked angrily and threw himself—or herself—at Harry.  As teeth sank into his calf, he reflected that even nullifying spells could not stop them biting and scratching.  Stunning Spells could, however, and he was quickly surrounded by unconscious house-elves.  He sighed and continued up the drive to the mansion.  He did not have long.  House-elf constitutions being what they were, the nullifying spell had a limited period of effectiveness.

            Harry banged on the door in annoyance and was met with silence.  He thought about casting a spell that would shatter the doors into splinters, but thought it might not be the best way to win Malfoy’s heart.  Instead, he spent precious minutes finessing the door locks until they finally clicked open and admitted him.  He stepped into the foyer to find Malfoy waiting for him, leaning against the wall with a cup of tea.

            “Impressive,” he said.  “I don’t think many people could have managed that feat.”

            “You could have just let me in!” Harry snapped.

            “Where would be the fun in that?  I wanted to see how persistent you intended to be.  Also, it was an interesting test of the Manor’s defences.  Pathetic, I’d say.  I see I shall have to make some serious modifications.”

            “You do realize I’ve wasted nearly half the day on your…”  He barely stopped himself before uttering the word “games.”

            “What do you want, Potter?”

            Merlin, Harry wanted to answer that question honestly, but the hard light in Malfoy’s eyes led him to believe it was not the time for confessions.  The blond had been rejected and he was not about to make reconciliation easy.  Harry was not sure exactly how angry Malfoy was about the deception involving the audit, also.  Slytherins had a tendency to hold onto anger, he had noticed.  He only hoped Malfoy’s eventual retaliation would not kill him.

            “I want you to come with me to Colin’s,” Harry said.

            “You still expect my assistance?”

            “Yes, of course,” he replied.  “This is our case and has been from the beginning.  Regardless of Kingsley’s motives, it is a valid case.  Laws have been broken and people have been hurt.”  Unwittingly, his hand moved to his hip where the huge bruise still marred his skin.  Malfoy’s sharp gaze caught the movement and Harry immediately covered by trailing his hand down his leg as though smoothing his robes.  “Besides,” he continued softly, “I want you with me.”  In more ways than one, he thought.

            Malfoy Vanished his cup and straightened abruptly.

            “Fine.  Let us be done with this ridiculous ‘case’ so that I may get back to my real job.”  He changed immediately into the green Bush Viper, but made no move to climb up Harry’s leg like usual.  Harry clenched his teeth in annoyance.  Malfoy was determined to make it as hard on him as possible.  He sighed and stalked over to pick up the snake, which would have wrapped around Harry’s wrist, except that Harry used both hands to drape the Animagus firmly over his shoulders.  The snake hissed, but twisted around Harry’s neck once more.

            Harry Apparated them directly to the outskirts of Sheffield, near Colin’s residence.  Harry had been there once before, reluctantly attending a party Colin had thrown.  As expected, Colin had spent nearly the entire occasion snapping photos of Harry and the other guests until they were all ready to dismantle his camera.  Subsequent invitations had been turned down.

            Harry walked up the front steps of the small but tidy cottage and hoped Colin was home.  He had expected to catch him in the morning, but his partner had nixed that idea.  Harry knocked politely and was pleasantly surprised when Colin opened the door.

            “Harry!” he yelped.  “Bloody hell, come in!”

            Colin appeared more flustered than usual and bustled around the room snatching up magazines, clothing, and detritus from the furniture.  “Where did I put that camera?” Colin muttered.

            “No, Colin,” Harry said firmly.  “No cameras.  I’m afraid I’m here in an official capacity.”

            Colin froze and gaped at him.  “Official?”  He took in Harry’s robes.  “You mean, as an Auror?”

            Harry smiled.  “That is my job, yes.”

            “I…  all right.  I’ll cooperate, of course.  What is it you want?”

            “It’s about the magical creatures that have recently been discovered in Muggle pet shops.”

            Smooth, Potter.  Have you learned nothing about subtlety from me?  Harry was about to retort that he could have used a bit less subtlety, charts, and graphs and a little more openness recently, but he restrained himself, unwilling to have a row in Colin’s living room.

            Colin blinked as Harry reached up to pet the viper, earning an irritated hiss.

            “Your collar!  It’s real?”

            “Yes, it’s a Bush Viper.”

            “That’s fantastic!” Colin said excitedly.  “Hey, would you like a cup of tea, Harry?”

            “Erm… no, not really.”

            “Just sit tight and I’ll fetch you one,” Colin went on, picking up a few more items on his way into the kitchen.  Harry sighed and sat gingerly on the couch.

            Aren’t you afraid he’ll bolt? the snake asked.

            I can see him from here, Harry replied.  It was true; he could see Colin’s head and shoulders as he bustled around in the kitchen, apparently making tea with a combination of magic and Muggle methods.  He chattered the entire time.

            “I never pictured you as the type to have a pet, Harry.  I mean, you had Hedwig and all up until that… incident.  Sorry, you probably don’t want to be reminded of that.  What made you decide to get a snake?  It’s the fact that you speak Parseltongue, isn’t it?  Must be awesome to be able to talk to your pets.”  Steam rose around Colin as he poured water from a kettle, which flew through the air and settled somewhere behind Colin.  Harry heard the sound of stirring and sighed, knowing Colin did not need to ask how Harry took his tea.  He seemed to know everything about Harry.  Well, he amended, not everything.  Apparently, Malfoy knew quite a few things Colin did not.

            “I have a pet Kneazle, you know,” Colin went on.  “She’s around here somewhere.  Amazing pets, Kneazles.  Almost seems like they can talk to you.  Of course, almost isn’t quite the same as actually being able to talk to them, right?  It must be nice to be a Parselmouth, even though you can only speak to snakes.”

            Colin returned and handed Harry a steaming mug.

            “Can you talk to your snake now?  Does he want anything?”

            I want him to shut the fuck up.  Can you wring his neck and drag him back to the Ministry so we do not have to listen to his prattle any longer?

            Colin bounced excitedly, nearly spilling his tea.  “What did he say?  What did he say?  It’s a he, right?  Seems like a he, the way he’s glaring at me.”  Colin gulped half his tea as he sat down.

            Harry politely drank a couple of sips and was pleasantly surprised at the slightly citrus aftertaste.  He wondered what brand of tea it was—Malfoy might like it.  He shook off the thought in annoyance.  “As I was saying, Colin, someone has been selling magical creatures to Muggle pet shops.  I ran across a name in my investigation that reminded me of you—Harvey Porter.  Apparently this Harvey has been purchasing creatures illegally from a dealer in Knockturn Alley.”

            “Drink up, Harry, it’s not good when it’s cold,” Colin admonished.  “And yes, that was me.  I’ve been buying animals from Carter.  Didn’t think it was illegal, though.  I walked straight into his shop and asked if he could get me the creatures.  He never said anything about shady dealings.  Have I done something wrong?”

            Harry drank his tea and looked at Colin over the rim of the mug.  He seemed innocent enough; Harry had not actually expected him to admit it.

            “Why?” he asked.  “What possible reason could you have to sell dangerous creatures to Muggles?”

            I’d say because he is obviously a complete—  The snake’s words suddenly blended into incomprehensible hissing.  Harry frowned.

            Colin shrugged.  “It was all Hagrid’s idea.”

            Harry set down his cup in surprise.  “What?”

            Colin nodded.  “Yeah, he said the poor Muggles have been deprived of seeing all these fabulous magical creatures and deserved the right to have them as pets, same as wizards.  Something about promoting the harmony between Muggle and wizard or some such thing.  Apparently he got the idea from listening to Hermione.”

            “Hermione?” Harry yelped.

            Malfoy hissed again and Harry touched the viper’s head.  Why are you hissing like that?  I can’t understand a word you’re saying.

            Colin shot to his feet suddenly.  “Merlin!” he yelled.  “It works!  It actually works!  I know what you said!”

            The snake shifted and hissed.  Harry’s brows drew down in consternation as Colin practically crowed and danced around excitedly.  “Your snake just said, ‘Stop fucking around, Potter!’  He’s not really very nice, is he?”

            “What?  You understood…?”  Harry gasped in sudden realization.  “What did you do, Colin?”

            “Say something again!” Colin yelled, peering close to look at Malfoy, who reared back against Harry’s neck.  Colin laughed.  “Oh, he is a rude one!  I wonder if I can talk to my Kneazle, now?  Prissy!  Come here, Prissy!  Here, Prissy, Prissy!”

            “What did you do, Colin?” Harry bellowed.  The man blinked at him.

            “It’s a potion, Harry.  I’ve been working on it for months, trying to come up with a way to talk to animals.  Hagrid says they want to go to the Muggle world, but I’m not so sure.  I wanted to ask them.  My last batch nearly worked—I was certain I could understand Prissy, but this—I seem to have finally done it!”

            “You gave me the potion?” Harry asked.  His fingers tightened reflexively on Malfoy’s scales.  The snake was hissing nearly non-stop now, but Harry could not understand a word.  “I could already talk to snakes, Colin!”  And now I can’t.  The thought panicked him.  He stood, shaking at the realization that he could no longer speak to snakes.  It would not have been that great a loss a few days ago, but now…  He touched Malfoy with both hands, feeling stripped of something vital.  “I can’t understand you,” he said hollowly.  Malfoy suddenly unwrapped from Harry’s neck and dropped to the tea table, hissing balefully.

            “I think your snake is angry with me,” Colin said uneasily as Malfoy coiled into a striking position.

            Oh no, Harry thought.  The Bush Viper launched itself at Colin and Harry shoved the idiot aside.  He cried out as sharp fangs sank into his arm and he realized belatedly that he had forgotten to pick up the antivenin Malfoy had suggested.  “This day is getting better and better,” he said sardonically and sank back to the couch.

            Malfoy was suddenly human.  “Damn it, Potter, why must you always play the fucking hero?”

            Colin climbed to his feet.  “Draco Malfoy?” he asked incredulously.

            Malfoy unceremoniously pointed his wand at the blond man and cast a Stunner.  Colin collapsed.  Pain poured itself through Harry in an agonizing path centred on his arm and tingling through the rest of his body.

            “Shit.  Shit, shit, shit,” said Malfoy before enveloping Harry in his arms.

            “At least I can understand you now,” Harry said weakly and then clenched his teeth as a spasm shook him.  “Oh, this is not good.  You’re really quite poisonous.”

            “You always knew that, Potter,” Malfoy said dryly.

            Harry cupped the handsome jaw with a hand.  “You’re not so bad.  Will you kiss me once more before I die?”

            “You’re not going to die, Potter.  I’m taking you to St. Mungo’s,” Malfoy said, but he lowered his lips to Harry’s anyway.  Harry sighed blissfully and wished he had not waited so long to find what had been in front of him the whole time.  Agony destroyed the pleasure of Malfoy’s mouth on his and he gasped as his back arched.  He could not seem to stop shaking.  Malfoy’s grip tightened.  “Hold on.”

            Harry barely felt them Apparate through the red haze.

Hissy Fit - Chapter 8 - End