So...my doctor appointment today didn't go as long as I expected it to. I was able to get some RL things out of the way and take care of the last bit of Hidden in the Depths. Thanks for reading, everyone. I hope you enjoy.


~oOo~

"Don't bother sitting," Draco says, rushing into the office Monday morning at a speed that sends several papers fluttering from his desktop to the floor. "We have a Portkey to catch."

Harry's hardly thought of anything at all over the last thirty hours other than the kiss, so Draco's words don't exactly compute. His mind works to catch up as he watches Draco swoop around their office, gathering papers and shrinking them down before shoving them into his pocket.

"What's going on?" Harry asks, grabbing the case file off the desk and following Draco out the door.

"This," Draco says as they step into the lift. He passes Harry one of the tiny papers, flicking his wand to enlarge it again.

"That's Jenson's arrest records from last night. Turns out that old barman was caught outside of Edith Dunroe's house with a few nicked items."

"Arbius?" Harry asks in surprise. "Really?"

"And, as much as it pains me to admit it, you were right."

Harry looks up from the parchment just as the lift clanks to a halt. "About?" he asks.

"The house-elves. He was paying them to get in and out of these places."

"I can't believe that," Harry says, examining the arrest record again as Draco takes him by the elbow and leads him out into the corridor of level six. "Do we at least get a chance to question him?"

"Believe it, Potter. I told you, people are bad. And, no. He's no longer in Ministry custody." Draco guides them through a set of doors labelled Department of Magical Transportation. A stout, grey haired witch greets them in a professional tone, handing Draco a small folded leaflet and fork with two of its tines curling in opposite directions.

"No longer in custody? What the fu…" Harry glances at the woman whose eyebrows are drawn down as she glares at him, silently daring him to finish that word in her presence. Harry wisely closes his mouth.

"Through the purple doors, gentlemen," she says, pointing to another set of doors opposite them.

Feeling very much like a child being ushered to and fro, Harry pulls his arm free of Draco's grip. "Wait," he demands. "Are you actually planning on filling in the blanks for me, or am I just supposed to follow along quietly and try not to get myself killed?"

"That would be fantastic," Draco says, closing the doors behind them. The room is small, a couch, just as purple as the doors, covers the length of one wall, a giant fish aquarium along the next. "But I'm sure you're being facetious." Draco startles Harry with a kiss to the cheek before crossing the room and taking a seat on the couch. He unfolds the leaflet, examining the Portkey information before pulling out his stack of tiny papers. "Have a seat and I'll show you. We have about ten minutes."

Draco enlarges the rest of the papers, spreading them out on the small, crooked table before them. Harry sits down next to Draco, opening the case file to follow along.

"Now, what we already know is that the items being stolen are all connected by the Law of Contagion. The materials are directly linked to the Lost City." Draco looks at Harry. "That is to say, they're all of the same rare materials used in building the city itself. Also, since each one of them can factually be traced back to Atlantis, it's safe to say the link is conclusive.

"Jenson was patrolling our area last night when he saw Arbius outside the Dunroe manor. He stopped to question him and that's when a house-elf appeared holding a diadem made of Orichalcum with an adamantite triangle on it. Arbius argued with Jenson as he put him under arrest, but even with the magical binds in place, the old man was able to Apparate away."

"Jenson didn't take his wand?" Harry asks. He hopes that none of his fellow Aurors could actually be that stupid, but one never really knows.

"Of course he did. But what Jenson didn't take into account was–"

"–the elf," Harry finishes.

Draco nods and passes Harry another piece of paper. This one is full of numerical formulas and small notes that seem to be in another language, even though Harry is certain they aren't.

"This report here describes the physics surrounding the moon's cycle and the impact it has on the tide. If you look here," he hands Harry a picture. It appears to be a sort of moving weather map, white clouds slowly drifting over the ocean, blocking out small bits of land.

"It's a satellite aeronautical chart. Shows there's a cyclonic eddy in the Bermuda region right now causing the tides to be at their lowest in decades."

"I'm still not following," Harry replies. "What does low tide have to do with a burglary case?"

"That's just it, Harry. This isn't just a burglary case. He was gathering these objects to put at the three corners of the Devil's Triangle." Draco pulls out yet another map. "Two of the items have been found in Puerto Rico, two in Miami, Florida. All hardwired to their places with irreversible Sticking Charms. The last spot," Draco taps the third dot making up the triangle, "Is where we're going."

"So Arbius escaped with the remaining objects, and wasn't aware that you had located the others? How did you locate the others, anyway?" Harry isn't sure how he should feel right now. Proud of his partner for putting so much thought and determination into this case, inferior for his own lack of interest in it to begin with, or—and this should by all reason be furthest from his mind, but isn't—concerned about the kiss he and Draco had shared that is certain to shift the dynamic of their friendship for better or worse. He's definitely confused, and completely distracted.

"I came in last night when I heard about Jenson catching Arbius. Did some more research, contacted some people through the International Floo network." He shrugs one shoulder. "The stupid stuff that makes me happy."

"You really are good at this," Harry says. As soon as the words leave his mouth, he wants to kick himself. Way to state the obvious, Potter.

"Thank you. Anyway," Draco shuffles through the papers and hands Harry another, "When he has all the objects in place, he should, by his logic, be able to create a web of magic that will amplify his own. And, as long as the tides are at their lowest, there's no reason it won't work to open the gateway."

"So, we're going to Bermuda in the hopes that we'll catch Arbius and stop him from opening Atlantis?"

"Yes, and no. It isn't just a matter of stopping him just because he stole the items he's using as his key. The sort of ancient magic that he'll need to conjure for this ritual of his is dangerous. It could be catastrophic to all the islands in that region. Flanning, Jenson, and a few others are already stationed around the triangle watching for him and guarding the other items. There's a team in Bermuda right now tracking him."

Draco flicks his wand, re-shrinking the paper work and tucking it away again. He holds the fork up to Harry. "All we have to do is get there and arrest him."

Harry nods, still in some state of disbelief, and wraps his fingers around the cool silver handle. The sharp tug behind his navel is familiar, but somehow still unexpected.

.

.

.

Harry lands on his arse just the same as he always does when travelling by Portkey. Draco reaches a hand out to help him up. They appear to be on a cliff above the ocean, the sound of waves crashing against the rocks below. The sky is a clear blue with thin wisps of clouds streaked throughout it. Harry inhales deeply, enjoying the crisp, fresh air before Draco's voice draws him back to reality.

"We've work to do, Harry." His voice is entirely lacking the hard edges of Auror Malfoy. "The honeymoon will have to wait," he jokes.

Harry smiles at him, trying not to imagine just what it would be like to be here in a place like this with Draco under any other circumstances.

Draco's fingers trace the bones up the back of Harry's hand before encircling his wrist. "I guess we have other things to talk about once this is over, too."

"Seems so," says Harry. He swallows hard around the lump in his throat.

"Better get to it, then. The sooner the better."

Harry follows Draco to the edge of the cliff where he crouches down to observe their surroundings. It isn't actually a rocky shore below them, but a vast, sandy beach twenty feet down.

"We're on the South Shore. Mostly beach, but this whole area here is normally covered in water," Draco says. "Flanning has a team north of here, in Somerset Village, and there are local Aurors all over the rest of Bermuda watching for him."

Harry and Draco explore the island for the better part of an hour with no signs of Arbius anywhere. Draco's typically confidant demeanour seems to be waning as the day carries on. There's been no word from Flanning or the other teams, and they're beginning to wonder if Arbius didn't just abandon his plan altogether. Draco continues to explain the case in greater detail to Harry, probably because he feels he needs to be doing something in order to be productively moving forward. Harry again finds himself admiring the conviction with which Draco handles his job, and wonders if he's just as passionate in other aspects of his life. A warm tingle travels up his spine when he allows himself a moment to reflect on the kiss of Saturday night.

Yes, he thinks. Draco is definitely passionate about other things.

Another warm tingle prickles over Harry's skin, only this time he knows it isn't from thoughts of Draco. He recognises it to be a surge of magical energy in the air around him. Reaching his arm out, he stops his partner from walking farther.

"Did you feel that?" he whispers, as he quickly scans the area around them.

"What was it?" Draco asks, holding his wand at the ready as he, too, searches the field.

"Magical energy. I think it came from over there, against that cliff."

Keeping low to the ground, Harry and Draco creep quietly through the trees. There's an opening in the cliff side, a small cave with a crystal clear stream trickling out and winding its way to the ocean.

"Revelio," Draco whispers. A sheer veil of pale blue light emanates from the tip of his wand. "Useless," he says. "He's set wards. Send a Patronus to Flanning. I'm going in."

"The fuck you are. Not without me," Harry replies, but Draco has already stepped into the cave.

Harry quickly sends off his Patronus and rushes in after him, casting Lumos as he does. The cave seems small, but there, at the back, Harry sees several openings leading off of the main entrance. He can't help but roll his eyes, having known something stupid and cliché like this would come up.

It's a bad idea to separate—it's always a bad idea to separate—but they haven't got much of a choice. After a brief and silent but animated conversation of hand gestures and facial expressions that Harry knows are only discernable to the two of them, they go their separate ways.

Harry has to remind himself that Draco is a big boy, and perfectly capable of handling any trouble he may encounter. Still, the sooner this is over, the better.

He walks for a good fifteen minutes before he reaches a low spot in the cave. Harry crouches down, noticing a soft green light at the other end. The ground beneath him is moist and squashy as Harry crawls through the tunnel. It stinks of stagnant saltwater and Harry has to hold his breath to keep from vomiting. He hears voices as he reaches the other side. There, through the opening, Harry spots Draco standing in the centre, wand aimed at Arbius. He slips out of the crawlspace, drawing his own wand.

"You'll be sorry, you bleedin' idiot. 'm tellin' yeh, he ain't foolin' around," Arbius says, neither of them noticing Harry yet.

"Yeah," Draco says. "We'll take care of him, too. Just give me your wand."

Harry has no idea what they're talking about, but from what it sounds like, Arbius isn't working alone.

"Do I look barmy to you?" he asks.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry's disarming spell sizzles out as it hits what appears to be a strong barrier that Arbius has in place.

He looks questioningly at Draco, who rolls his eyes.

"Thank you, Potter. I hadn't thought of that," Draco says.

Glaring at his partner, Harry reaches even deeper into his arsenal, pulling forth the heightened magic he has within. With another swish of his wand, a loud crack sounds and the barrier dissolves.

There's no time for any of them to be surprised; everything happens so fast.

Arbius shouts, and fires a spell that ricochets off of the walls, causing rocks to tumble down. Draco quickly casts a Binding Spell, but just as he does, Arbius fires a hex at him. Harry doesn't hear the words used over the echoing shouts and clattering rocks, but the hum of magic in the air suggests something more sinister than they had anticipated.

"Protego!" Harry shouts, throwing a Shield Charm around his partner just as the hex hits him, but as Draco drops to the ground entirely limp, Harry fears the worst.

The old man's wand clatters to the floor as the binds take hold.

"What spell did you use?" Harry shouts, but Arbius doesn't answer. The bind that Draco put him in is holding, so Harry knows his partner isn't dead, but he still can't find his own breath as he rushes across the cavern to reach him. There's blood trickling down the side of Draco's head, staining the blond strands a gruesome crimson that makes Harry's stomach roil.

"What the fuck spell did you use?" he yells again, his voice unrecognisable even to himself in this state of rage.

"Let me go and maybe I'll tell you b'fore it's too late."

The old man cowers as Harry stalks over to him. He raises his wand, fully prepared to use whatever means necessary to make him talk, but suddenly another surge of magic buzzes through the air.

Arbius smiles knowingly.

Harry whips around, searching for the source of the magic. A loud pop sounds and there, just beside Draco, stands Garin Lynch, and a hired house-elf.

"You?" Harry says, eyes wide with shock. "What the fuck?"

Lynch looks down at Draco, shaking his head as if he's disappointed. "I didn't want to involve you, Harry, but you've certainly just made my task a little bit easier. Our way would have probably worked fine, but with a blood descendant of the witch of Endor, now I have a direct link into Atlantis."

Harry barely has time to register his words before a flash of green is streaking towards him. He sees the house-elf Disapparate away with both Lynch and Draco just as a strange curse hits Harry's projected barrier, knocking him flat, ears ringing.

It takes but a moment for him to come back to his senses and realise what's happened. Harry reinforces the bonds on Arbius as he rushes across the cavern. He knows Lynch is still close by; he can't leave the third point of The Devil's Triangle when he's so close to accomplishing what he's set out to do.

Spells reveal nothing, and Harry is forced to search the dank cave the Muggle way. He assumes the elf is helping Lynch with the magical obstructions; Harry is certain that his own magic would be able to penetrate them otherwise.

Harry knows he's racing against time. He isn't sure what Lynch plans to do to Draco, but he has to assume the worst. After all, as Draco always says, people are bad.

Finally, as Harry turns a corner into another deep cavern, he's met with the sound of shouting and strange, unnerving laughter. Lynch's voice echoes throughout the cavern distorting Harry's perception of which direction it's coming from.

The smell of mildew and decay bring forth memories that Harry would much rather forget. His stomach roils as his mind conjures images of twisted, pale inferi climbing out of the water. Heart hammering erratically behind his ribs, Harry pushes away the thought and presses forward, making his way down yet another tunnel.

It isn't long before he comes to a wide clearing in the cave; emerald pools are illuminated from beneath the water. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees Draco, still unconscious, but alive, at the other side. He's covered in blood and some small part of Harry knows that it's from the head injury and no new harm has been done to him. Yet.

"Oh good!" exclaims Lynch when he spots Harry. "I was starting to regret killing you. Should have known that curse wouldn't work on the Great Harry Potter."

Harry tries disarming the man again to no avail. Lynch laughs maniacally.

"You're ruining the plan, Harry."

"What the fuck are you on about, Lynch? You're going through an awful lot of trouble racking up a list of charges just to open Atlantis. You sure it's worth it?"

"Oh, Harry. Of course it's worth it. I'm going to start a whole new world there." His tone is cool and matter-of-fact.

Harry's eyes flick from Lynch to Draco. The man is clearly off his nut and Harry isn't sure how much longer it'll take for Flanning and the others to find them. As long as Lynch doesn't physically harm him, Draco should be fine, though. Harry can still feel the effects of his Shield Charm around his partner.

Lynch doesn't miss Harry's look of concern. He cocks his head to the side, an exaggerated expression of sympathy on his face.

"Aww… I hope he isn't too important to you."

Anger boils hot in Harry's veins. "Let him go, Lynch."

The man shakes his head. "I can't. See, I need his blood to open the gates. His lineage goes straight back to the first occupants of Atlantis, Harry. I'd bring him along, too, if it weren't for his terrible past. People like him can't be helped. But you? You could come to this new world with me. We could build it together. Create the perfect society, cleansing people of all their inner demons before bringing them into the New World! It will be magnificent. Flawless!"

Harry is taken aback. He realises he hasn't been paying enough attention to this case, but even if he had been, he never would have guessed the small burglaries were linked to some psychotic, would-be tyrant with plans for world domination.

"Who's to say that your idea of perfect is right, Lynch? Everyone sees things differently. Diversity and balance: it's what makes life interesting."

"No, Potter." Lynch shakes his head and exhaled a frustrated breath. Harry can see the indentation where his wand is pressed into Draco's neck. "You don't understand," he continues. "Without the vile people like this, we could live in utter peace and harmony. A flawless utopian society, just the way it was meant to be."

The man's lip twitches, his voice quavering with lack of control and Harry fears for Draco's safety now more than ever.

"Yeah, well, there's a fine line between utopia and dystopia, and I think you're pissing all over it."

A bone-chilling cackle escapes Lynch's throat, sending a shudder up Harry's spine.

"As you said, Mr Potter, difference in opinion."

"You're fucking barmy, Lynch. Let him go!"

The force of Harry's shout combined with his emanating magic sends a ripple through the air.

"Join me, Harry," Lynch says, ignoring Harry's demand. "Think of the possibilities."

Harry silently spreads his magic out around him, searching for debilities in Lynch's defence shield. There's no give in any part of it. No weak spots for his magic to break through. He knows what he has to do. Casting one long glance at Draco, fear bubbles up inside him. He knows firsthand the consequences of second guessing his instincts and so, with some difficulty, he pushes all the self-doubt and insecurity back down and focuses entirely on the situation at hand.

Without a second thought, Harry lunges forwards, dropping his wand and grabbing Lynch with both hands. The two of them slam back against the ground, Harry landing on top of the other man. He presses his forearm to Lynch's throat, cutting off his oxygen as he struggles with his other hand to take the wand from him.

Lynch grips it tightly, thrashing his head as he tries to catch his breath. His other hand is scratching and clawing at Harry frantically until finally his fist connects with Harry's jaw.

The tang of blood fills Harry's mouth, only adding fuel to his rage. Both of them still holding Lynch's wand, Harry shifts his weight to the side. Drawing his own fist up, he lands a forceful hit to Lynch's mouth.

Lynch gasps, taking in great, heaving breaths of air as he continues to struggle erratically. Harry presses his thumb between the tendons in Lynch's wrist in another attempt to get him to drop his wand. He struggles with Lynch's other arm, trying to pin him, but Lynch throws his weight, rolling them to the side and pinning Harry's wrist instead.

There's blood dripping from Lynch's mouth, but the psychotic man smiles in spite of it. Harry brings his knee up for leverage, but just as he seems to be regaining control, Lynch receives a kick to the side of his head, sending blood splattering all over Harry as he's knocked to the ground beside him.

Harry looks up, blinking to try and focus without his glasses. Draco is standing there with his hand on his head and a pissed off scowl on his face.

"Where the fuck is that house-elf?" he asks.

They hear a squeaky whimper-slash-sob, followed by a pop as the elf disappears, taking her magic along with her.

Harry sits up, wiping the blood from his face and breathing hard. He quickly snatches Lynch's wand away while the man is unconscious.

Draco helps him to his feet, looking a bit dazed and out of it, Harry assumes—hopes— from the head injury. As Draco stumbles backwards a bit, Harry catches him by the arm.

"Do you know what spell Arbius hit you with?" he asks, but Draco doesn't have time to answer.

He pushes Harry by the shoulder, shoving him out of the way. As Harry turns, he sees Lynch, smiling his bloody grin as he aims Harry's wand at Draco.

"Fuck you," Harry says, raising Lynch's wand before the other man has a chance to speak the words on his tongue. "Avada Kedavra!"

The man drops to the ground with a heavy thump, eyes glassy and vacant.

"I don't think 'Fuck You' is actually a spell, Potter, but nicely done."

.

.

.

Arbius is still bound in the first cavern when Draco and Harry make their way back through to him. Harry's adrenaline is still surging and his thoughts are a tangled mess of anger and determination.

"What fucking spell did you use on Draco?" he asks the old man again.

Arbius scowls and spits at Harry.

In no mood to be fucked with, Harry aims his wand at the man. "Cru–"

"–Potter!" Draco interrupts, just in time.

"What? You said to be more brutal and to stop using juvenile defences!"

"And nowyou chose to listen to me? He's bound and unarmed. An Unforgivable is still an Unforgivable no matter your background credentials, you… twat-nugget." Draco's eyes are wide with shock, and if the situation weren't so serious, Harry would be tempted to laugh. Instead, he shouts back, matching Draco's tone.

"Well, make up your bloody mind! Sadistically mean, or… fluffy… bunny nice?"

"Do I get a vote in this?" Arbius asks.

"Shut it!" Draco shouts at the man, then turns an angry gaze back toward Harry. "So, there's no in-between then. It's all or nothing with you, is it?"

Fuck it, Harry thinks,it reallyisall or nothing.And with that, he closes the distance between himself and Draco. Grabbing his partner by the front of his bloody, ripped shirt, Harry pulls him into a pressing kiss.

"What the bleeding fuck is going on here?" The voice of their commanding Auror draws them apart.

"Flanning," Draco calls. "Just in time for all the action. Way to go."

After giving Flanning and his team of Aurors the brief but thorough recount of what happened, Harry hastens to be dismissed to take Draco to a hospital.

"He's been hit by some hex," he says.

"I have not. I'm not going to another hospital," Draco demands. The mediwitches who came in with the group of local Aurors are buzzing around him, clearing the blood and checking for missed injuries.

"Arbius hit him with something, but I didn't hear what. Could be something slow acting, so we need to have him looked over by a healer right away."

"He didn't hit me with anything, Harry." Draco says as the mediwitch heals his head wound. "It was his misfire and your shouty-angry-super-magic that knocked a rock onto my fucking head."

Harry can't help but laugh. Weak and exhausted, he makes his way over to Draco again, wrapping his arms around him and entirely disregarding the presence of the ten other people around them.

"Oh, god," he says, resting his head on Draco's shoulder. "I hate this fucking job."

Draco laughs, rubbing a hand up Harry's back. "Don't take this the wrong way, Harry, but aside from today, you're sort of crap at it anyway."

"Good," Harry replies. "Makes it easier to quit."

.

.

.

Harry sits at his new desk, scribbling notes into his planner around the schedule his assistant has inked in for him. Although he still has a desk and a stack of paperwork to do, working from home on his own time is much different than the job he recently left. For one thing, Harry makes all the rules for himself, which he quite likes. And another, although he doesn't get to spend 8 hours a day with Draco, the times they do see each other are much more appreciated than sharing paperwork and caseloads.

The combination of Ministry reports following the Atlantis case, and Harry buying out Terrortours on Diagon Alley to start his own business of magical travelling tours, have required the two of them to back away from each other a little, but Harry doesn't plan on letting that deter him for long. Draco still helps Harry with the opening of Atlantis when needed, but with Harry's level of magic, Draco's blood isn't really required.

Despite the barman's betrayal, Harry still finds the same sense of calm and relaxation whenever he steps foot into Bimini, and he finds himself oddly grateful that the name remained even after the pub's ownership passed on to Maddy. They still spend time together there, and they still share plenty of perfect kisses. Seamus and Pansy seem to have attached themselves to one another, so with the rest of the group paired off, but still happily together every Friday night, no one seems to notice the elevated sexual tension between Harry and Draco.

With a soft knock, Draco steps into the room and pushes the door shut behind him. He stands there silently, watching Harry with a cool confidence that sends a jolt of desire straight to his cock.

"Hey," Harry says, finally finding his voice. "I'm just trying to finish this up, and then we can head out."

Draco's only response is a suggestive smile as he stands there looking somehow more incredible than Harry has ever seen him. His shirt is open exposing the pale, smooth muscles of his chest and Harry swallows down a moan as he watches Draco drag the tips of his fingers down to his waistband.

The crisp sound of leather sliding through fabric as Draco removes his belt nearly causes Harry to come from five metres away.

Draco leans against the wall on the other side of the room, eyes dark with lust.

"So, I was thinking," he manages to say as he fingers the button of his trousers. "It's been nearly two months since we've worked together and, now that the Great Harry Potter is no longer owned by the Ministry…" There's a soft tick of each individual tooth of Draco's zip coming undone as he slowly slides it down. "Maybe you could be mine instead," he finishes, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his trousers and pants and dragging them down over his hips.

Harry thinks (when he actually has time to do so later) that he must have Apparated across the room, because suddenly he's there, kissing Draco, tasting and touching, and he knows there's no way any human—Muggle or wizard—could move that quickly without the use of magic.

He barely has the presence of mind to acknowledge the fact that Draco's just asked him to behis. He would laugh if it was funny, but instead it hurts. He wants that so badly that there's an actual physical pain accompanying the thought.

Harry simply nods before pressing another open-mouthed kiss to Draco's neck. His skin is warm and sweet against Harry's tongue, but nothing is more delicious than the taste of Draco's mouth.

Harry kisses him deeply, catching the moan that falls from his lips as their hips press together.

Reaching down between them, Draco drags his hand over the bulge in Harry's trousers. The warm friction on his straining cock feels so damn good, even through the layers of fabric, that it causes Harry's eyes flutter closed for a moment.

Without breaking their kiss, Harry slides his hands down to Draco's hips, pulling him forward and rubbing his cock against Draco's before moving his hands down farther. Harry pushes Draco's trousers down all the way and wraps his fingers around the long, smooth cock.

As Draco whimpers into the kiss, Harry is sure he can actually taste the sparks of desire on his tongue; delicious and warm and full of need. Draco's fingers caress the sliver of exposed skin where Harry's shirt has raised, causing them both to moan into each other's mouths. His fingers travel delicately up Harry's sides and back down again, twisting into the hem of his shirt.

Oh, fuck, Harry thinks. This is really going to happen.

Draco pulls back from the kiss only long enough to lift Harry's shirt up over his head. He twists his fingers into Harry's hair as his other hand works diligently to remove Harry's trousers.

Harry sighs in relief as he steps out of them, kicking them to the side. He wonders briefly if his office is the best place for this to happen for the first time. Kissing and licking the skin of Draco's neck, Harry shifts his hips, sliding their hard cocks together once more.

"Bedroom," he says, biting gently on Draco's ear.

"No," Draco whispers. "Like this." Shifting his weight, he lifts one leg, wrapping it up over Harry's hip.

Harry quirks a smile, remembering the things Pansy said in the bar. He nods.

Anything, his inner voice supplies. Any way you want me, as long as you want me.

Harry caresses the thigh that's wrapped around him as his tongue slides against Draco's. One hand comes up to curl round the back of Draco's neck, guiding him along in the kiss. The taste of Draco is intoxicating, dizzying, and Harry feels the force of it deep within, curling outward through his body.

How many nights has he dreamt of this, lying in his bed as he gazes out the window into the starlit sky? How many times has he brought himself off while imagining it was Draco's touch instead? Harry had fallen for his partner with the same intensity and passion that mirrors Draco's own determination in life, and suddenly Harry realises that perhaps that's the thing that he's meant to be good at; loving this beautiful, strong man.

Harry's hand traverses every inch of Draco's body that he can reach, relishing the feel of smooth, warm skin and savouring the closeness. The hard, heavy feel of his cock causes Harry to drop his head to Draco's shoulder again, watching as his own fingers stroke and touch and explore. He rolls Draco's balls gently in his hand before moving his fingertips to the sensitive skin just behind them. With a groan, Draco kisses Harry more deeply, his hands sliding across the muscles of his shoulders.

Harry is still somewhat shocked and awe-struck that this is really happening, but the feel of Draco's teeth scraping against his neck and jaw line are definite proof that he isn't dreaming.

With a whispered spell, Harry slicks his fingers and draws teasing circles around Draco's entrance. He gently kisses Draco's neck and slowly pushes one finger into him. The other man seems to go weak as he slides down the wall a bit and moans in pleasure. Harry catches him around the waist with one arm, holding him steady as he adds another finger. The slow, languorous strokes are each chased by quiet gasps and muffled whispers. Draco wraps his arms around Harry's neck, bringing their mouths together in a deep, passionate kiss.

With his shoulders pressed against the wall, Draco writhes and shifts his hips as if asking for more. Harry takes this as a sign that it's okay to proceed. Withdrawing his fingers from Draco's tight heat, he coaxes Draco's other leg up around his waist. Harry enjoys the feel of Draco's weight against him almost as much as the feel of his muscled legs wrapped around him.

With slick fingers, Harry strokes his own cock, coating it in the oil. He lines himself up with Draco's entrance and, with a groan, Harry rolls his hips forward as Draco sinks down onto him. Draco's fingers dig into Harry's shoulders as his back arches away from the wall. Eyes hooded and lips parted, he drops his head back and lets out a shaky, breathy sigh. The intense sensation of being inside him finally is almost too much. Harry bites his lip, bracing one hand more firmly against the wall.

He kisses his lips, sucking gently on his tongue as he allows Draco's body a moment to adjust to the feel of him. He seems to be holding his breath as he rests his forehead against Harry's. Harry feels the warmth of his sigh fan out over his lips before Draco begins to move finally.

Soft noises of pleasure mingle in the air between them as Harry slides in and out, slowly at first, before picking up the tempo. The grip of Draco's body, so tight around him, feels so fucking wonderful that Harry nearly loses himself in the sensation.

He loops one arm under Draco's knee, bringing himself even deeper. Harry knows his arms and legs will be sore tomorrow,—not as sore as Draco's arse, he's sure—but oh fuck is it ever worth it.

Pressing his shoulders to the wall for leverage, Draco aids the movements as Harry thrusts into him. Even in his dreams, he couldn't have imagined this. He watches Draco's face for any signs of discomfort, but all he sees are expressions of pure pleasure. Draco's eyes slide open, lust-blown pupils ringed by grey, locking on Harry's and causing heat to pool in his belly.

So good. So fucking perfect, he thinks. Leaning forward, Harry mouths the hollow of Draco's throat with moist, kiss-swollen lips. His skin sparks everywhere that Draco is touching him: his fingers on Harry's shoulders, his leg around Harry's waist, his cock sliding up and down the sweat-slick muscles of Harry's stomach.

"Fuck," Harry hisses as he leans back slightly, looking down at the sight. He watches, mesmerised as Draco brings his hand down to grip his own cock. "Fuck," Harry repeats, unable to think of anything else.

He wants to kiss Draco again, taste the moans coming from him as he strokes himself and rides Harry's, but he can't take his eyes off of those long, gorgeous fingers as Draco works to bring himself off. He watches Draco's thumb circle the tip of his cock, collecting the moisture there and spreading it around, each gentle tug pulls back the delicate foreskin, giving Harry a fantastic glimpse of the pink, moist head. He's overwhelmed with the desire to taste him, but he knows he can't stop what he's doing.

Harry finally manages to tear his eyes away when Draco slides a hand around the back of his neck, pulling Harry into a slow kiss. He groans against Harry's tongue as his muscles tense, squeezing Harry from the inside and out.

Harry looks down again on time to watch the come pulsing from Draco's cock, coating his stomach and hand. He's never seen anything so fucking beautiful in his life, and he can only hope that his next move won't scare him away. Harry takes Draco by the wrist, bringing his hand up to Harry's lips.

"Oh god," Draco breathes, dropping his head back against the wall as he watches Harry suck the come off of his fingers. His body continues to grip as the intensity of Harry's orgasm coils within, causing his back to arch as he comes, the taste of Draco sweet on his tongue.

Their mutual cries and moans of pleasure segue into quiet gasps as the bliss of orgasm ebbs away slowly. Harry's knees are weak and he's grateful beyond reason when Draco slides off of him and drops his feet to the floor, relieving Harry of his burden.

"We should have done that years ago," Draco says, surprising him when he slips his tongue into Harry's mouth and kisses him urgently, as if he's anxious to taste himself on Harry's tongue.

When they break the kiss, Harry's gaze drops. The last thing he wanted for their first time together was for Draco to get the impression that Harry is some sort of sexual deviant.

"You're fucking amazing," Draco says, drawing Harry's attention back to his eyes. He smiles and shakes his head. "You just thoroughly fucked me into this wall here and now you're acting like you're shy?"

Harry's head falls forward to Draco's shoulder again, shaking with laughter. They're sticky and sweaty and naked in Harry's office, and he hasn't been this happy in his entire life. He doesn't really know where the sudden burst of insecurity came from, other than the fact that he's been in love with Draco for so long that the idea of this actually ever happening became more like an unattainable fantasy.

"We should get cleaned up," Draco says when finally his own laughter subsides. "The group is expecting us at Bimini tonight."

Harry shakes his head against Draco's shoulder. "No," he mumbles.

"No?"

"I've waited too long," he says. "You're mine tonight. I'm not sharing you."

"Just tonight?" Draco asks. "Because I do have vacation time coming up, you know. And, since I was concussed throughout our last trip together, I think you owe me another."

"Definitely," Harry replies, knowing exactly where they can go together.

"I think I'll take you up on that bedroom thing now." Draco gently pushes Harry back, taking his hand and pulling him out of the room.

There's still a small, barely noticeable ache in his heart even now that he has Draco, and Harry thinks that perhaps it will always be there as a reminder of the journey.