Fic for the Free Range Challenge - Clearly an Idiot, R
Title: Clearly an Idiot
Author: dacro
Pairing: H/D
Rating: R (frottage, light blood play, light bondage)
Disclaimer: It's all mine! (except the entire Harry Potter world and it's characters. *sigh*)
Beta: The amazing melpomene170. She went above and beyond on this one, bringing out the whip whenever I strayed into the wrong tense. Heh. Thank you so much for asking questions and seeing things I didn't. *glomps* (thanks also to luciology, my secret brit-picker in the wings)
Challenge: The Free Range Vampfic Challenge on hpvamp
Scenario: Two Aurors tracking a murderer are running out of time. The little information they have managed to scrape together leads them to a shady Goth club, and a former enemy.
Notes: This fic is also a gift for saladbats. *sends out lots of love and shared kinks* I think I covered everything in the original request, but added a twist to the blindfold part. This was a bit of a departure for me, style wise, but quickly became a labour of love. I hope you enjoy.
*psst* there's Parseltongue!
Original scenario by saladbats: Harry runs into either Draco or Snape in a Goth club in London. Through observation and using senses other than just his sense of sight, he figures out his companion is a vampire. A heated physical encounter ensues. Bonus points for sweaty bodies grinding up against each other on a crowded dance floor.
Cool things: Leather, the scent of cloves, blindfolds, neck nibbling, the look of a belt riding low of someone's hips.
Clearly an Idiot
Most self-respecting wizards are sleeping peacefully at this hour-- but not me. Every morning when I climb into bed just before dawn, smelling like sweat and those spicy cigarettes the kids with too much black make-up like to smoke, my wife asks me why I'm still doing this to myself. I just tell her it's 'part of the job' for now.
I blink my eyes, trying to adjust to the dimness of the room, and cast an Ear Protection Charm. The music in these places is always loud enough to cause permanent damage. Couldn't be worse than the smoke, though. Shame I didn't think to leave my lungs at home.
I still can't believe I accepted this case in the first place. I'm clearly an idiot.
An idiot standing watch at this new post in painfully fashionable boots, all because the Muggle authorities finally contacted the Ministry after exhausting their resources and contacts. What they did have was a large number of 'missing', and only a few drops of blood as evidence. My partner and I assume that we we're facing either vampires or a new Dark wizard looking to silently collect an army of Inferi.
I pray that our second guess is wrong.
Draco Malfoy is the clear choice for vampire involvement, although we've been having a time proving it. Six months on his trail and nothing to pin on him except a few shady 'meetings' with the surviving members of known Death Eater families, the fact that no one ever sees him out during the day, and an unnatural attraction to places like this.
What's this one called? Oh yes --
The Cave.
The club pulses, dark, warm, and ripe with perversion of every kind imaginable. This is the sort of place Malfoy is keen on, where he thrives. The Cave is hidden behind the other sin boxes on Charing Cross Road, charges a hefty cover, and resembles a Muggle fire station. Inside, there's a battered stage for the droning band of the night and several metal staircases lead to platforms of different heights above an oval dance floor painted to resemble a brick wall, or perhaps it's meant to be cobblestones. A good number of dark booths line the back near a bar lit only with a red light bulb. I'm perched on a metal catwalk, some twenty feet above the sea of bodies, wrapped in black and seriously considering a change in profession, or a nice boring desk job.
Well, at least I don't have to be the one dealing with Draco.
My partner is already in place on the dance floor, swaying to the beat of the swishy-smooth music that often plays after a string of more intense songs. I notice he's already managed to lose his shirt and gain the attention of a good portion of the room. At least I have a good view--for surveillance reasons.
We've signed a contract that forbids drinking on the job, but he indulges from time to time. The predators willingly get the barman to pour him anything he wants. In a place like this, it's suspicious not have a glass of something in your hand. He's not the kind of Auror who plays by the rules; I knew that going into this whole mess, but there's no one else as sure to capture Draco Malfoy's absolute attention.
Potter is key.
His knowledge of Malfoy borders on obsessive. Six months have given me a file full of Malfoy's actions, practices and preferences, but to Harry, Malfoy is fast becoming a religion. Three months ago, Draco was seen leaving one of the more specialised clubs a block away from here. The next day we began our 'adventures in clubbing'. Research, he calls it. Harry's idea, naturally.
We've located Malfoy a couple of times. He and Harry shared a few words over a drink or two, the odd dance, and a cauldron-full of suggestive glances, but no information worth the gold this investigation is costing the Ministry. It's beyond maddening. The little information we've managed to acquire from shady witnesses and anonymous tip-offs point a giant glowing wand straight at Malfoy, but actual proof keeps running from us faster than a worked-up Nogtail.
We have a week left to find something substantial. If we come up empty, it's a non-negotiable transfer to the High-profile Protection Division for the both of us. Glorified body-guarding might be fine for Potter, but I'd only be of use for standing in front of an unforgivable.
I've never been much for brute force.
After the war, Harry could have created any life he wanted. But no, he needed to stay close, stay involved. He wouldn't know the word 'holiday' if it indented itself across his fading scar.
And here's Malfoy's entourage - two tall, dark, and attractive henchmen beside him. Glad to see he's traded up from Crabbe and Goyle. Trailing just behind are two pale, slender teens dressed in silver, androgynous from this distance with their sleek black hair. However, most of the patrons are staring at Draco in his tight, high-necked black t-shirt and dark green leather trousers.
The clock behind the bar says one thirty. Potter bet they would arrive before two. That's another pint I owe him. You would think I'd know better than to bet with the man by now.
Harry's spotted Malfoy, but is doing his best to appear oblivious. The hulking bloke with his hands sliding over Potter's hips isn't as well schooled. Draco locks eyes with him and waits. Even with the movement of the other bodies and the pounding of the music, the stillness of the two challengers stands out like a nun in the Hog's Head. The only member of our little group seemingly tension free is Harry. Eyes shut and face tilted towards the ceiling, he dances alone between them. Draco takes a deliberate step forward, still glaring. The man holds out a minute longer, but finally lowers his eyes and backs away.
A whispered 'Subausculto' and a flick of my wand over where Harry dances allows me to hear every sound that occupies that space. A few weeks ago, Harry found a way for the listening spell to be more effective in clubs so that the voices would be clear, but the music would stay in the background. I didn't tell him at the time, but it's been a vast improvement.
In one fluid movement, Draco aligns his lips with Harry's ear, and places his hand on a bare shoulder. Harry's eyes open, but he doesn't stop dancing. Something moves from under Draco's collar and winds quickly down the bridge of pale arm and onto Harry's body. It's a small snake, less than a meter long - black with a silver stripe down its shiny little back. The Muggles don't even notice as the reptile makes a new home for itself around Harry's neck.
"Thank you for the visitor. I've never seen a more beautiful or appropriate spy," Draco remarks, almost lazily.
There's no translation spell for Parseltongue, but I assume the soft hiss Harry makes is some sort of a greeting to the snake licking at his neck with its little red tongue. Harry strokes the back of his fingers over her head. "She must have slipped out of my pocket that last time we met," he says, slowly looking up through his lashes, his innocent-looking smile fooling neither one of us. "You've taken good care of her, thank you."
Draco plays back with a toss of his head and a bored expression, but the hand on Harry's shoulder pulls him a fraction closer. "Well, spy or no, she's very affectionate, and I am nothing if not an excellent host."
"That's what I've heard," Harry says, sounding oddly out of breath as he locks gazes with Draco.
I know it's against the rules, but I really wish I had a drink. No one should be sober while being forced to watch the two of them play their strange little games.
A snap of Draco's long fingers and his henchmen step back, fading into the shadows along opposite walls. The androgynous two stay within his reach. "Well, Potter, ask your snake what you need to in order to trust me," Draco whispers.
I don't know why Harry thought Draco would believe his little-lost-snake routine, but it was a rather clever move on Harry's part. I still shiver every time he starts communicating with snakes. It's not that it's unpleasant-- quite the opposite, actually, but it does raise all the hair on my body in a way that's not completely comforting either. I can't hear the response from the snake, but from the occasional nods, it looks like Harry is getting the message.
"And what does she report, Potter?" Draco inquires, moving his hands down Harry's sides, and swaying them both to the new song.
Harry's hand slides slowly around Draco's waist as he follows his lead into the dance. He lifts his eyes and gives Draco a sexy smile. "She calls you 'icy one'."
Draco throws back a look of mock-hurt and gently scratches the snake just under the mouth. "And after my warm hospitality and fresh crickets. Ungrateful serpent."
"No, she was very happy in your company, but I think she's referring to your body temperature. She likes to be warm."
"Don't we all," Draco whispers, leaning forward and pressing his chest against Harry's.
I can tell Draco's sharp tug on Harry's belt and the resulting contact of both their hips takes Harry by surprise. The sound he makes is something between a gurgle and a loud swallow.
"Anything else from our little spy?"
"She says those two," Harry says, glancing to either side of Draco. "follow you everywhere-except into your bedroom. And she also told me you never eat at dinner, but always make sure your guests are well fed."
From this angle, Draco's mouth is so close to Harry's ear it looks as if he's trying to crawl inside a secret tunnel under all that black hair. I get my wand ready as Harry's breath hitches.
"And what did she tell you I do eat?"
Harry lets the moment go by without saying anything, but his hand moves up the back of Draco's t-shirt, along his neck and on into the damp hair. His eyelids fall again as Draco continues burying his face against the skin behind Harry's ear.
"Drink- from the two young ones. One boy, one girl-- twins."
Draco moves down, licking a very dangerous path from the hollow of Harry's collarbone to just under the curve of his jaw. They've never been this physical before, so I'm at a bit of a loss to know how this all fits into the plan. I hate where this is going, yet I can't make a move until Harry gives me the word, or until Malfoy hurts him.
Draco stops his licking and looks up into the lights of the club, and past them, right at me. I watch helplessly as his grip tightens on my partner. The snake returns to Draco, hiding once again under his collar.
"So, now you have a testimony, of sorts. Are you and your little Weasley watch-bird going to arrest me?"
My wand twitches in my fingers, waiting for Harry's word to strike. I stare back at Malfoy, silently daring him to make a move.
"No," Harry's whisper breaks the standoff.
If my mother could hear the string of words I'm thinking right now, I would never hear the end of it. I should have made a move the moment Harry closed his eyes. I don't think his mind's on the job any longer.
Draco turns him around in his arms so that Harry's facing away from him. One hand slides over Harry's eyes and the other clamps over his slick chest. Malfoy makes sure I'm watching as he drags his near-white tongue along the ridge of Harry's ear. The male version of Draco's silver twins mimics the dominant position with the female. A quick look around the dance floor shows a similar scene, about seven nearby couples are locked chest to back, melting into each other, swaying in unison.
"Tell me why not, Potter," Draco purrs. The hand pressed over Harry's heart begins to slide down the flushed skin. The mirror couples follow his lead.
And my wife wonders why I never tell her what goes on in these places, and why, on occasion, I reek of sex.
"You don't need to kill Muggles when you have two willing donors. Also, you're the only vampire she mentioned, so I'm guessing you're not feeding any others," Harry rasps, squirming in Draco's arms, and shamelessly moving his hips to a beat that doesn't have a chance of matching the music.
"Very clever assumption." Draco's fingers brush the edge of hip barely holding up Harry's trousers. "You know, I would have told you if you had asked. It's true I'm not advertising my condition from the top of the tower, but you must have known."
Draco spins Harry back around to face him, places one foot forward and slowly leans in until Harry is nearly riding his thigh. The black kohl under Harry's eyes is now smudged and shadowy where Draco's fingertips had been. The copycat dancers have increased in number.
"I did, but I wanted to be wrong," Harry says breathily as Draco rocks them forward and back, turning them to the right a little more each time.
Draco's eyes narrow. "How sweet. Feeling sorry for my condition?" Harry shakes his head and pulls himself higher onto Malfoy's leg.
I can't see his eyes from here, but I can imagine what Draco sees. I've seen it before, that intense stare-the one he always gives when he knows what he wants.
"I watched you fight Voldemort's vampires during the war. You never would have voluntarily joined them," Harry half-shouts over the pounding beat of the new song.
One cool grin from Draco, and they're kissing. Maybe 'kissing' is the wrong word. I'll replace it with 'devouring'. The other dancers melt into one another and several start dragging their partners into the dark corners. I'm beyond edgy from watching this pitiful display of a trained Auror's interrogation skills. What the hell is Harry thinking? This is not even close to professional behaviour.
I've got to move.
I barely hear the 'pop', but it's already too late. The wand being ripped from my hand gets my attention. The railing bars pressing into my ribs and the icy feeling of Impedimenta as it spreads from my shoulders downward reminds me of my idiot status. I send up another silent trail of curses as Draco's bodyguards force me to continue watching the scene below.
Harry pulls back to explore the cut on his bottom lip with a finger. Smiling devilishly, he offers up the smudge of blood to Draco's waiting tongue. The moan reaches my ears, but I'm not sure who made it.
"I almost don't want reveal who you should be hunting. I'm getting used to being followed, seeing you in my shadow, so to speak, and I've grown fond of your attention," Draco muses, spreading both hands over the curves of Harry's pectorals.
Draco slowly pushes Harry into a backwards walk away from the writhing couples and flailing single dancers. Unfortunately, they stop almost directly below where I'm being held. I have to strain my neck, but I still have a clear view. I want to kick at my captors, but I know that would be as impossible and fruitless as expecting my father to give up his toasting machines.
"I'm sure I can find many reasons to keep following you, Malfoy, but I need to know who's killing the Muggles, or next week I'll be replaced and you'll have a new stalker," Harry baits.
"Well, can't have that, can we?" Draco teases, in an almost sing-song voice. "Why don't we play a game, just the two of us?"
Harry's hands seem to be incapable of removing themselves from Draco's hips and flat abdomen, but he looks up quickly enough to catch the dangerous glint I can see in Draco's eyes from here.
"Game?"
Draco's hands cover Harry's and push down until they rest against the top of Draco's trousers. "The kind where we take turns asking questions."
Harry swallows, looking down at where their hands are joined. "All right. You first."
"Such manners, I'm shocked, Potter," Draco says with a look of mock-disbelief.
His hips begin to sway again, taking Harry's hands with them. The men behind me are moving slightly as well, as if the whole room was somehow connected to Draco's desire to continue his dance with Harry.
"What do you already know about your quarry?"
"It's someone clever enough not to get caught, but careless enough to leave blood evidence every now and then," Harry answers, licking his lips. Draco moves a hand up again into Harry's dark hair and pulls back firmly.
Harry seems to have forgotten I'm here, because instead of searching the metal platforms, his eyes are closing again.
"Very good, Potter. Now, who detests Muggles, considers them disposable-someone who's name I might be reluctant to disclose?" Draco asks, right before licking the side of Harry's throat he had ignored earlier and guiding Harry's arms behind his own back.
"Pansy?"
"No."
Draco flicks his finger at Harry's belt, the useless black one with more rivets than I can count. It winds tightly around Harry's wrists before he can protest.
"I'm going to punish you for your wrong answer," Draco warns, suddenly grinning around fangs that were non-existent a second before. His mouth drops quickly to Harry's skin, teeth scratching a jagged path from his left shoulder down to a flushed nipple.
Harry twists against his bonds, but arches into the assault on his chest, hissing when Draco follows the angry red trail with his tongue.
"Oh, and don't worry about your partner spoiling our fun, he's busy entertaining."
Harry's eyes snap open, and widen when he sees my predicament. Draco's sentries push against me from behind to get a better view for themselves. I try to communicate that I'm really not in any danger, but I can see the guilt already moving behind Harry's eyes.
"Relax, Harry, he's fine," Draco purrs, rubbing his cheek against Harry's.
I nod immediately.
"Now, I believe it's your turn. Tell me your theories and I let you know if they're correct or not."
"I think we're looking for a vampire, that's why I came to you."
"Yes, this I know. Theories, Potter," Draco growls under his breath, a hand snaking between them to the top button of Harry's trousers. Harry's chest heaves as Draco lowers his lips to an exposed collar bone.
This has all gone way beyond a game, and there is nothing I can do to protect him while being restrained. I'm completely useless.
"Inferi."
"Why?"
"I don't know-a small army, maybe. Muggles are easy to capture, easy to kill."
"Grand scheme. What if he's only feeding and then transfiguring the bodies?"
"I, we would have found the objects where the victims were reported missing from, or picked up traces of magic, but there's never anything to find."
"It just so happens you are right about the Inferi. I think you've earned yourself a reward."
Suddenly, Harry's mouth falls open in a silent scream. It's a moment before I notice where the hand that was playing along the top of Harry's trousers has landed. Draco whispers something I can't make out, but a second later, Harry's hands are free.
"Mmm. Impressive, Potter-both your guess work, and this treat you've been hiding from me."
Harry's hips start to roll and I can see how Draco's hand plays into the chosen rhythm. Harry releases a growl and my face grows hot. I've seen this sort of behaviour on the dance floor before, but it's different somehow, watching Harry lose control this way. Trapped between the fingers pulling on his hair, the lips trailing up his throat, and the palm rubbing into his groin, he looks as if he was born to it, completely oblivious to observers or the seriousness of the situation.
"An ex-Death Eater?" Harry chokes out his question, his fingers turning white where he grips Draco's shoulders.
"Yes. Seems he didn't get everything he was promised before the Dark Lord's demise, thanks to you."
"When-- when's he going to move?"
Harry's shaking hands fall to the leather surrounding Draco's obvious bulge, but are swatted away before any chance of reciprocation.
"This is your reward, Potter, enjoy it."
Harry nods, or at least gives his best try with Draco's hand still tangled in his hair. He hooks his fingers into green belt loops and holds on for the ride. Draco pulls sounds from him that make the men behind me start rubbing against each other, and send my skin crawling.
"He's trying to persuade me to join him before he makes a move," Draco continues, sounding as calm as when he first arrived.
Harry releases one of the belt loops and covers Draco's hand between his legs. Even with the pulsing lights, I can see how flushed he is, and hear the rapid breathing. Nearby bodies forget to keep up the appearance of dancing, and are now openly staring.
"Are you going to…" Harry sputters, gasping through his open mouth.
"No, Potter. War doesn't interest me."
"Good. Kiss me."
Their lips collide as the music swells as if on cue. A girl trips, splashing some of her drink onto Harry's back, but he doesn't seem to notice at all. Draco moves their entwined hands, quickly bringing their hips together and thrusting forcefully.
I close my eyes, but that doesn't stop the sounds that reach my ears. I don't need my eyes to know when someone is lost in physical pleasure, and it's not long before the grunts and random praises and curses inevitably climax. I hear a smattering of applause, and I open one eye when Harry's breathing starts to even out.
"Draco, who…"
"Shh. Come back tomorrow and I'll consider giving you more information," Draco answers, brushing Harry's damp fringe away from his eyes.
"Tomorrow?" Harry asks, sounding slightly disappointed.
"Certainly. There's no love lost between myself and the vampire you're looking for. I have no reason to protect him any more."
Draco takes a long draw on the half-burned black cigarette he's just nicked from a tall girl walking past. He lets go of Harry's hair and offers the cigarette to him. They stare at each other as Harry inhales. Draco's fangs are suddenly at his throat again, and this time I don't blush at Harry's moan when I hear it.
"Tomorrow, then, Potter, " Draco whispers, leaving a smear of Harry's own blood on his lips.
Draco and his four loyals Disapparate as the last trails of smoke leave Harry's lungs. I'm on the dance floor the moment they release me and my wand is back where it belongs. Cursing the professional ethics of my partner, I Apparate us both back to Grimmauld Place.
~*~
"Exciting night, eh, Percy?" Harry says, flopping down on the sofa, casting a cleaning charm over his trousers.
When he looks up, I give him a glare that I hope conveys my less than glowing review of the 'evening'. "You're still bleeding," I say, eyeing the small cuts at the base of his neck. Harry's fingers go to them immediately.
He smiles.
"Well, at least we know who we're really looking for," Harry says, cheerily.
I throw him another of my unimpressed expressions. "We don't know anything! I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, but we can't give report of that display to our colleagues and expect not to be promptly sacked."
Harry waves a finger, and a glass of fire whiskey appears in his hand, and another on the low table in front of me. "It's Lucius, Percy. Draco good as handed him to us."
"What? We have no evidence to support that theory, and no reason to believe Lucius is a vampire," I protest. I need the drink then, so I clean it in one.
Harry shrugs. "He could be, nobody's seen him in months. Anyway, that's why we're going back tomorrow. Collect some more information, right?"
"We most certainly are not!" I refill my own glass and stomp over to the fireplace. Out of the corner of my eye, his palms come up, attempting a calming gesture.
"Ok, listen. I'm sorry about how I behaved, but we got more information tonight than the last few months put together. So what if the methods are unconventional?" I turn back around as his fingers move again to the small wound on his neck.
"Unconventional? You had vertical sex in a public place-- with a vampire!"
"Yeah, but we've got our man now." His shy smile is infectious.
"And what makes you so sure it's Lucius?
"Draco never once insulted the murderer, and if you think about it, Lucius would have personal reasons for turning Draco. Although, it seems to have backfired."
Months with the man, and still there are very few times I actually understand anything he likes to pass off as speech. "Backfired?"
"It went sour, ok? Look," his voice has a softer tone now. "What are you going to report tonight?"
I take a breath and set down my glass on the mantelpiece. "I'll report the facts." I can feel him giving me that 'look' again, the one that begs me to trust him. I let go of the breath I'm holding and return his gaze. "Fine, only the facts we need to get us back in there tomorrow."
He grins and leaves for bed, cuffing my shoulder on the way out. He knows I won't mention his questionable behaviour to our superiors because as much as I fuss over the 'rules', I love this job as much as he does.
The very reason he chose this idiot.
Part II
~*~
Clearly an Idiot limerick by jadarene
Harry shakes it in The Cave,
Draco visits, he gets brave,
A sexy glance,
A risky dance,
And truth's not all he'll crave!
~*~
Author: dacro
Pairing: H/D
Rating: R (frottage, light blood play, light bondage)
Disclaimer: It's all mine! (except the entire Harry Potter world and it's characters. *sigh*)
Beta: The amazing melpomene170. She went above and beyond on this one, bringing out the whip whenever I strayed into the wrong tense. Heh. Thank you so much for asking questions and seeing things I didn't. *glomps* (thanks also to luciology, my secret brit-picker in the wings)
Challenge: The Free Range Vampfic Challenge on hpvamp
Scenario: Two Aurors tracking a murderer are running out of time. The little information they have managed to scrape together leads them to a shady Goth club, and a former enemy.
Notes: This fic is also a gift for saladbats. *sends out lots of love and shared kinks* I think I covered everything in the original request, but added a twist to the blindfold part. This was a bit of a departure for me, style wise, but quickly became a labour of love. I hope you enjoy.
*psst* there's Parseltongue!
Original scenario by saladbats: Harry runs into either Draco or Snape in a Goth club in London. Through observation and using senses other than just his sense of sight, he figures out his companion is a vampire. A heated physical encounter ensues. Bonus points for sweaty bodies grinding up against each other on a crowded dance floor.
Cool things: Leather, the scent of cloves, blindfolds, neck nibbling, the look of a belt riding low of someone's hips.
Clearly an Idiot
Most self-respecting wizards are sleeping peacefully at this hour-- but not me. Every morning when I climb into bed just before dawn, smelling like sweat and those spicy cigarettes the kids with too much black make-up like to smoke, my wife asks me why I'm still doing this to myself. I just tell her it's 'part of the job' for now.
I blink my eyes, trying to adjust to the dimness of the room, and cast an Ear Protection Charm. The music in these places is always loud enough to cause permanent damage. Couldn't be worse than the smoke, though. Shame I didn't think to leave my lungs at home.
I still can't believe I accepted this case in the first place. I'm clearly an idiot.
An idiot standing watch at this new post in painfully fashionable boots, all because the Muggle authorities finally contacted the Ministry after exhausting their resources and contacts. What they did have was a large number of 'missing', and only a few drops of blood as evidence. My partner and I assume that we we're facing either vampires or a new Dark wizard looking to silently collect an army of Inferi.
I pray that our second guess is wrong.
Draco Malfoy is the clear choice for vampire involvement, although we've been having a time proving it. Six months on his trail and nothing to pin on him except a few shady 'meetings' with the surviving members of known Death Eater families, the fact that no one ever sees him out during the day, and an unnatural attraction to places like this.
What's this one called? Oh yes --
The Cave.
The club pulses, dark, warm, and ripe with perversion of every kind imaginable. This is the sort of place Malfoy is keen on, where he thrives. The Cave is hidden behind the other sin boxes on Charing Cross Road, charges a hefty cover, and resembles a Muggle fire station. Inside, there's a battered stage for the droning band of the night and several metal staircases lead to platforms of different heights above an oval dance floor painted to resemble a brick wall, or perhaps it's meant to be cobblestones. A good number of dark booths line the back near a bar lit only with a red light bulb. I'm perched on a metal catwalk, some twenty feet above the sea of bodies, wrapped in black and seriously considering a change in profession, or a nice boring desk job.
Well, at least I don't have to be the one dealing with Draco.
My partner is already in place on the dance floor, swaying to the beat of the swishy-smooth music that often plays after a string of more intense songs. I notice he's already managed to lose his shirt and gain the attention of a good portion of the room. At least I have a good view--for surveillance reasons.
We've signed a contract that forbids drinking on the job, but he indulges from time to time. The predators willingly get the barman to pour him anything he wants. In a place like this, it's suspicious not have a glass of something in your hand. He's not the kind of Auror who plays by the rules; I knew that going into this whole mess, but there's no one else as sure to capture Draco Malfoy's absolute attention.
Potter is key.
His knowledge of Malfoy borders on obsessive. Six months have given me a file full of Malfoy's actions, practices and preferences, but to Harry, Malfoy is fast becoming a religion. Three months ago, Draco was seen leaving one of the more specialised clubs a block away from here. The next day we began our 'adventures in clubbing'. Research, he calls it. Harry's idea, naturally.
We've located Malfoy a couple of times. He and Harry shared a few words over a drink or two, the odd dance, and a cauldron-full of suggestive glances, but no information worth the gold this investigation is costing the Ministry. It's beyond maddening. The little information we've managed to acquire from shady witnesses and anonymous tip-offs point a giant glowing wand straight at Malfoy, but actual proof keeps running from us faster than a worked-up Nogtail.
We have a week left to find something substantial. If we come up empty, it's a non-negotiable transfer to the High-profile Protection Division for the both of us. Glorified body-guarding might be fine for Potter, but I'd only be of use for standing in front of an unforgivable.
I've never been much for brute force.
After the war, Harry could have created any life he wanted. But no, he needed to stay close, stay involved. He wouldn't know the word 'holiday' if it indented itself across his fading scar.
And here's Malfoy's entourage - two tall, dark, and attractive henchmen beside him. Glad to see he's traded up from Crabbe and Goyle. Trailing just behind are two pale, slender teens dressed in silver, androgynous from this distance with their sleek black hair. However, most of the patrons are staring at Draco in his tight, high-necked black t-shirt and dark green leather trousers.
The clock behind the bar says one thirty. Potter bet they would arrive before two. That's another pint I owe him. You would think I'd know better than to bet with the man by now.
Harry's spotted Malfoy, but is doing his best to appear oblivious. The hulking bloke with his hands sliding over Potter's hips isn't as well schooled. Draco locks eyes with him and waits. Even with the movement of the other bodies and the pounding of the music, the stillness of the two challengers stands out like a nun in the Hog's Head. The only member of our little group seemingly tension free is Harry. Eyes shut and face tilted towards the ceiling, he dances alone between them. Draco takes a deliberate step forward, still glaring. The man holds out a minute longer, but finally lowers his eyes and backs away.
A whispered 'Subausculto' and a flick of my wand over where Harry dances allows me to hear every sound that occupies that space. A few weeks ago, Harry found a way for the listening spell to be more effective in clubs so that the voices would be clear, but the music would stay in the background. I didn't tell him at the time, but it's been a vast improvement.
In one fluid movement, Draco aligns his lips with Harry's ear, and places his hand on a bare shoulder. Harry's eyes open, but he doesn't stop dancing. Something moves from under Draco's collar and winds quickly down the bridge of pale arm and onto Harry's body. It's a small snake, less than a meter long - black with a silver stripe down its shiny little back. The Muggles don't even notice as the reptile makes a new home for itself around Harry's neck.
"Thank you for the visitor. I've never seen a more beautiful or appropriate spy," Draco remarks, almost lazily.
There's no translation spell for Parseltongue, but I assume the soft hiss Harry makes is some sort of a greeting to the snake licking at his neck with its little red tongue. Harry strokes the back of his fingers over her head. "She must have slipped out of my pocket that last time we met," he says, slowly looking up through his lashes, his innocent-looking smile fooling neither one of us. "You've taken good care of her, thank you."
Draco plays back with a toss of his head and a bored expression, but the hand on Harry's shoulder pulls him a fraction closer. "Well, spy or no, she's very affectionate, and I am nothing if not an excellent host."
"That's what I've heard," Harry says, sounding oddly out of breath as he locks gazes with Draco.
I know it's against the rules, but I really wish I had a drink. No one should be sober while being forced to watch the two of them play their strange little games.
A snap of Draco's long fingers and his henchmen step back, fading into the shadows along opposite walls. The androgynous two stay within his reach. "Well, Potter, ask your snake what you need to in order to trust me," Draco whispers.
I don't know why Harry thought Draco would believe his little-lost-snake routine, but it was a rather clever move on Harry's part. I still shiver every time he starts communicating with snakes. It's not that it's unpleasant-- quite the opposite, actually, but it does raise all the hair on my body in a way that's not completely comforting either. I can't hear the response from the snake, but from the occasional nods, it looks like Harry is getting the message.
"And what does she report, Potter?" Draco inquires, moving his hands down Harry's sides, and swaying them both to the new song.
Harry's hand slides slowly around Draco's waist as he follows his lead into the dance. He lifts his eyes and gives Draco a sexy smile. "She calls you 'icy one'."
Draco throws back a look of mock-hurt and gently scratches the snake just under the mouth. "And after my warm hospitality and fresh crickets. Ungrateful serpent."
"No, she was very happy in your company, but I think she's referring to your body temperature. She likes to be warm."
"Don't we all," Draco whispers, leaning forward and pressing his chest against Harry's.
I can tell Draco's sharp tug on Harry's belt and the resulting contact of both their hips takes Harry by surprise. The sound he makes is something between a gurgle and a loud swallow.
"Anything else from our little spy?"
"She says those two," Harry says, glancing to either side of Draco. "follow you everywhere-except into your bedroom. And she also told me you never eat at dinner, but always make sure your guests are well fed."
From this angle, Draco's mouth is so close to Harry's ear it looks as if he's trying to crawl inside a secret tunnel under all that black hair. I get my wand ready as Harry's breath hitches.
"And what did she tell you I do eat?"
Harry lets the moment go by without saying anything, but his hand moves up the back of Draco's t-shirt, along his neck and on into the damp hair. His eyelids fall again as Draco continues burying his face against the skin behind Harry's ear.
"Drink- from the two young ones. One boy, one girl-- twins."
Draco moves down, licking a very dangerous path from the hollow of Harry's collarbone to just under the curve of his jaw. They've never been this physical before, so I'm at a bit of a loss to know how this all fits into the plan. I hate where this is going, yet I can't make a move until Harry gives me the word, or until Malfoy hurts him.
Draco stops his licking and looks up into the lights of the club, and past them, right at me. I watch helplessly as his grip tightens on my partner. The snake returns to Draco, hiding once again under his collar.
"So, now you have a testimony, of sorts. Are you and your little Weasley watch-bird going to arrest me?"
My wand twitches in my fingers, waiting for Harry's word to strike. I stare back at Malfoy, silently daring him to make a move.
"No," Harry's whisper breaks the standoff.
If my mother could hear the string of words I'm thinking right now, I would never hear the end of it. I should have made a move the moment Harry closed his eyes. I don't think his mind's on the job any longer.
Draco turns him around in his arms so that Harry's facing away from him. One hand slides over Harry's eyes and the other clamps over his slick chest. Malfoy makes sure I'm watching as he drags his near-white tongue along the ridge of Harry's ear. The male version of Draco's silver twins mimics the dominant position with the female. A quick look around the dance floor shows a similar scene, about seven nearby couples are locked chest to back, melting into each other, swaying in unison.
"Tell me why not, Potter," Draco purrs. The hand pressed over Harry's heart begins to slide down the flushed skin. The mirror couples follow his lead.
And my wife wonders why I never tell her what goes on in these places, and why, on occasion, I reek of sex.
"You don't need to kill Muggles when you have two willing donors. Also, you're the only vampire she mentioned, so I'm guessing you're not feeding any others," Harry rasps, squirming in Draco's arms, and shamelessly moving his hips to a beat that doesn't have a chance of matching the music.
"Very clever assumption." Draco's fingers brush the edge of hip barely holding up Harry's trousers. "You know, I would have told you if you had asked. It's true I'm not advertising my condition from the top of the tower, but you must have known."
Draco spins Harry back around to face him, places one foot forward and slowly leans in until Harry is nearly riding his thigh. The black kohl under Harry's eyes is now smudged and shadowy where Draco's fingertips had been. The copycat dancers have increased in number.
"I did, but I wanted to be wrong," Harry says breathily as Draco rocks them forward and back, turning them to the right a little more each time.
Draco's eyes narrow. "How sweet. Feeling sorry for my condition?" Harry shakes his head and pulls himself higher onto Malfoy's leg.
I can't see his eyes from here, but I can imagine what Draco sees. I've seen it before, that intense stare-the one he always gives when he knows what he wants.
"I watched you fight Voldemort's vampires during the war. You never would have voluntarily joined them," Harry half-shouts over the pounding beat of the new song.
One cool grin from Draco, and they're kissing. Maybe 'kissing' is the wrong word. I'll replace it with 'devouring'. The other dancers melt into one another and several start dragging their partners into the dark corners. I'm beyond edgy from watching this pitiful display of a trained Auror's interrogation skills. What the hell is Harry thinking? This is not even close to professional behaviour.
I've got to move.
I barely hear the 'pop', but it's already too late. The wand being ripped from my hand gets my attention. The railing bars pressing into my ribs and the icy feeling of Impedimenta as it spreads from my shoulders downward reminds me of my idiot status. I send up another silent trail of curses as Draco's bodyguards force me to continue watching the scene below.
Harry pulls back to explore the cut on his bottom lip with a finger. Smiling devilishly, he offers up the smudge of blood to Draco's waiting tongue. The moan reaches my ears, but I'm not sure who made it.
"I almost don't want reveal who you should be hunting. I'm getting used to being followed, seeing you in my shadow, so to speak, and I've grown fond of your attention," Draco muses, spreading both hands over the curves of Harry's pectorals.
Draco slowly pushes Harry into a backwards walk away from the writhing couples and flailing single dancers. Unfortunately, they stop almost directly below where I'm being held. I have to strain my neck, but I still have a clear view. I want to kick at my captors, but I know that would be as impossible and fruitless as expecting my father to give up his toasting machines.
"I'm sure I can find many reasons to keep following you, Malfoy, but I need to know who's killing the Muggles, or next week I'll be replaced and you'll have a new stalker," Harry baits.
"Well, can't have that, can we?" Draco teases, in an almost sing-song voice. "Why don't we play a game, just the two of us?"
Harry's hands seem to be incapable of removing themselves from Draco's hips and flat abdomen, but he looks up quickly enough to catch the dangerous glint I can see in Draco's eyes from here.
"Game?"
Draco's hands cover Harry's and push down until they rest against the top of Draco's trousers. "The kind where we take turns asking questions."
Harry swallows, looking down at where their hands are joined. "All right. You first."
"Such manners, I'm shocked, Potter," Draco says with a look of mock-disbelief.
His hips begin to sway again, taking Harry's hands with them. The men behind me are moving slightly as well, as if the whole room was somehow connected to Draco's desire to continue his dance with Harry.
"What do you already know about your quarry?"
"It's someone clever enough not to get caught, but careless enough to leave blood evidence every now and then," Harry answers, licking his lips. Draco moves a hand up again into Harry's dark hair and pulls back firmly.
Harry seems to have forgotten I'm here, because instead of searching the metal platforms, his eyes are closing again.
"Very good, Potter. Now, who detests Muggles, considers them disposable-someone who's name I might be reluctant to disclose?" Draco asks, right before licking the side of Harry's throat he had ignored earlier and guiding Harry's arms behind his own back.
"Pansy?"
"No."
Draco flicks his finger at Harry's belt, the useless black one with more rivets than I can count. It winds tightly around Harry's wrists before he can protest.
"I'm going to punish you for your wrong answer," Draco warns, suddenly grinning around fangs that were non-existent a second before. His mouth drops quickly to Harry's skin, teeth scratching a jagged path from his left shoulder down to a flushed nipple.
Harry twists against his bonds, but arches into the assault on his chest, hissing when Draco follows the angry red trail with his tongue.
"Oh, and don't worry about your partner spoiling our fun, he's busy entertaining."
Harry's eyes snap open, and widen when he sees my predicament. Draco's sentries push against me from behind to get a better view for themselves. I try to communicate that I'm really not in any danger, but I can see the guilt already moving behind Harry's eyes.
"Relax, Harry, he's fine," Draco purrs, rubbing his cheek against Harry's.
I nod immediately.
"Now, I believe it's your turn. Tell me your theories and I let you know if they're correct or not."
"I think we're looking for a vampire, that's why I came to you."
"Yes, this I know. Theories, Potter," Draco growls under his breath, a hand snaking between them to the top button of Harry's trousers. Harry's chest heaves as Draco lowers his lips to an exposed collar bone.
This has all gone way beyond a game, and there is nothing I can do to protect him while being restrained. I'm completely useless.
"Inferi."
"Why?"
"I don't know-a small army, maybe. Muggles are easy to capture, easy to kill."
"Grand scheme. What if he's only feeding and then transfiguring the bodies?"
"I, we would have found the objects where the victims were reported missing from, or picked up traces of magic, but there's never anything to find."
"It just so happens you are right about the Inferi. I think you've earned yourself a reward."
Suddenly, Harry's mouth falls open in a silent scream. It's a moment before I notice where the hand that was playing along the top of Harry's trousers has landed. Draco whispers something I can't make out, but a second later, Harry's hands are free.
"Mmm. Impressive, Potter-both your guess work, and this treat you've been hiding from me."
Harry's hips start to roll and I can see how Draco's hand plays into the chosen rhythm. Harry releases a growl and my face grows hot. I've seen this sort of behaviour on the dance floor before, but it's different somehow, watching Harry lose control this way. Trapped between the fingers pulling on his hair, the lips trailing up his throat, and the palm rubbing into his groin, he looks as if he was born to it, completely oblivious to observers or the seriousness of the situation.
"An ex-Death Eater?" Harry chokes out his question, his fingers turning white where he grips Draco's shoulders.
"Yes. Seems he didn't get everything he was promised before the Dark Lord's demise, thanks to you."
"When-- when's he going to move?"
Harry's shaking hands fall to the leather surrounding Draco's obvious bulge, but are swatted away before any chance of reciprocation.
"This is your reward, Potter, enjoy it."
Harry nods, or at least gives his best try with Draco's hand still tangled in his hair. He hooks his fingers into green belt loops and holds on for the ride. Draco pulls sounds from him that make the men behind me start rubbing against each other, and send my skin crawling.
"He's trying to persuade me to join him before he makes a move," Draco continues, sounding as calm as when he first arrived.
Harry releases one of the belt loops and covers Draco's hand between his legs. Even with the pulsing lights, I can see how flushed he is, and hear the rapid breathing. Nearby bodies forget to keep up the appearance of dancing, and are now openly staring.
"Are you going to…" Harry sputters, gasping through his open mouth.
"No, Potter. War doesn't interest me."
"Good. Kiss me."
Their lips collide as the music swells as if on cue. A girl trips, splashing some of her drink onto Harry's back, but he doesn't seem to notice at all. Draco moves their entwined hands, quickly bringing their hips together and thrusting forcefully.
I close my eyes, but that doesn't stop the sounds that reach my ears. I don't need my eyes to know when someone is lost in physical pleasure, and it's not long before the grunts and random praises and curses inevitably climax. I hear a smattering of applause, and I open one eye when Harry's breathing starts to even out.
"Draco, who…"
"Shh. Come back tomorrow and I'll consider giving you more information," Draco answers, brushing Harry's damp fringe away from his eyes.
"Tomorrow?" Harry asks, sounding slightly disappointed.
"Certainly. There's no love lost between myself and the vampire you're looking for. I have no reason to protect him any more."
Draco takes a long draw on the half-burned black cigarette he's just nicked from a tall girl walking past. He lets go of Harry's hair and offers the cigarette to him. They stare at each other as Harry inhales. Draco's fangs are suddenly at his throat again, and this time I don't blush at Harry's moan when I hear it.
"Tomorrow, then, Potter, " Draco whispers, leaving a smear of Harry's own blood on his lips.
Draco and his four loyals Disapparate as the last trails of smoke leave Harry's lungs. I'm on the dance floor the moment they release me and my wand is back where it belongs. Cursing the professional ethics of my partner, I Apparate us both back to Grimmauld Place.
~*~
"Exciting night, eh, Percy?" Harry says, flopping down on the sofa, casting a cleaning charm over his trousers.
When he looks up, I give him a glare that I hope conveys my less than glowing review of the 'evening'. "You're still bleeding," I say, eyeing the small cuts at the base of his neck. Harry's fingers go to them immediately.
He smiles.
"Well, at least we know who we're really looking for," Harry says, cheerily.
I throw him another of my unimpressed expressions. "We don't know anything! I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, but we can't give report of that display to our colleagues and expect not to be promptly sacked."
Harry waves a finger, and a glass of fire whiskey appears in his hand, and another on the low table in front of me. "It's Lucius, Percy. Draco good as handed him to us."
"What? We have no evidence to support that theory, and no reason to believe Lucius is a vampire," I protest. I need the drink then, so I clean it in one.
Harry shrugs. "He could be, nobody's seen him in months. Anyway, that's why we're going back tomorrow. Collect some more information, right?"
"We most certainly are not!" I refill my own glass and stomp over to the fireplace. Out of the corner of my eye, his palms come up, attempting a calming gesture.
"Ok, listen. I'm sorry about how I behaved, but we got more information tonight than the last few months put together. So what if the methods are unconventional?" I turn back around as his fingers move again to the small wound on his neck.
"Unconventional? You had vertical sex in a public place-- with a vampire!"
"Yeah, but we've got our man now." His shy smile is infectious.
"And what makes you so sure it's Lucius?
"Draco never once insulted the murderer, and if you think about it, Lucius would have personal reasons for turning Draco. Although, it seems to have backfired."
Months with the man, and still there are very few times I actually understand anything he likes to pass off as speech. "Backfired?"
"It went sour, ok? Look," his voice has a softer tone now. "What are you going to report tonight?"
I take a breath and set down my glass on the mantelpiece. "I'll report the facts." I can feel him giving me that 'look' again, the one that begs me to trust him. I let go of the breath I'm holding and return his gaze. "Fine, only the facts we need to get us back in there tomorrow."
He grins and leaves for bed, cuffing my shoulder on the way out. He knows I won't mention his questionable behaviour to our superiors because as much as I fuss over the 'rules', I love this job as much as he does.
The very reason he chose this idiot.
Part II
~*~
Clearly an Idiot limerick by jadarene
Harry shakes it in The Cave,
Draco visits, he gets brave,
A sexy glance,
A risky dance,
And truth's not all he'll crave!
~*~