AN: This took forever to write. I was stuck at 1k words for who knows how long. Plus, the WoW expansion is coming out soon! On top of that, my auditions are picking up. Thanks so much for the support and reviews, you all are lovely, and this fic was a fun variation from my usual love of all things domestic. D/s at the end of the chapter.
Chapter 12: Crime and Punishment
Never had Ron Weasley been so close to punching another official of the law, on Christmas Eve of all nights. "Give me," he snapped through gritted teeth. "The fucking warrant."
Behind the counter, a nervous little man was having a meltdown. A rather inopportune meltdown, considering Ron was on the verge of being done with the case that had crawled into his mind and refused to leave. "Probable cause—" The man sputtered out, feeling himself sweat right through his undershirt. "You need to do the, the thing with Auror Zabini, and—"
"Why the hell won't you give me the warrant?" Ron demanded of the judge, slamming his hands down on the mahogany table that separated them. Every second that Ron spent at the Ministry was a second that Draco Malfoy was running from the law. That stupid prick fucked with his life, his sister, and his best friend (literally).
Now, the perspiring man could never tell the truth. Mostly because that man was David Watts, client of a certain Auror's sister. If Gail was revealed, then her client list was coming down with her. David couldn't let his wife find out, and what about the kids? So, for their sakes (and his own reputation, really), he was holding off as long as he could. "I'll give it to you," David nodded quickly, hoping he hadn't enraged a war veteran.
"Hand it over."
"I'll give it to you," David repeated, his head nodding like one of those bobble people he saw muggles put in their cars. "But I need to see the proof. The evidence, I mean."
Ron's teeth were going to be down to nubs by the end of the night if he kept grinding them at this pace. "That's not according to protocol!" he shouted, face as red as his hair. "I'll have your job, and I'll have your damned career so long as you make sickles from the Ministry unless I get that goddamn warrant!"
So, a goon who had fallen in lust with a 'fallen woman' had to make his choice. Losing his job due to halting the promised speed of the legal system, or having everyone read in The Prophet that he liked getting choked out by hired help. The choice was clear.
"I need Potter," David decided. After all, that poof had saved the whole world from sure doom once, hadn't he? "Bring Potter and his confession here, and then you get the warrant."
"Consider yourself fired," Ron growled before apparating back to Grimmauld Place so recklessly that it was a wonder he didn't splinch himself.
The very reason Draco Malfoy always knocked upon entering the most humble and quaint home of Natasha and Horatio Aspasia was to avoid messes like this.
"Sorry! This is important!" Draco yelled.
Natasha pushed her bright red skirts back down, shocked by the entrance. The bell-boy prince, however, was left to zip up his pants in a quiet embarrassment. It seemed they were amidst a very festive roleplay. Ah, the life of married couples.
"Draco," she huffed. "What—?"
"Your office," he panted back, rushing to the couple at the bottom of the stairs that led up to their room. "You need to go, you need to get rid of all of it."
"You can't mean—" Horatio started without getting so much as halfway through his sentence.
Panicked, Draco cut him off. "The Aurors know. We have to go." The thought of Harry being left alone in the house with the Aurors made Draco's stomach churn, but that had to wait for another time to be worried about. Harry would never be foolish enough to keep evidence in his home, right?
Draco really didn't want to think about the answer to that.
"Let's go," Natasha said bravely, marching past her flustered husband and distressed employee to fetch her coat. "We're shredding it all. Nothing can remain."
She had known this day would come, but she hadn't known it would be this soon. Some of her girls were even out working that night. They'd have to be notified, and clients would, too… This was such a mess.
Horatio rushed after her.
"You guys go there, I think I have to go be arrested," Draco murmured a little numbly.
Natasha spun around to face him again. "What are you talking about? No, you're coming with us. We'll contact the lawyers and we won't say a thing. They can't convict us without proof."
Shaking his head, Draco tried to get back his grip on reality. "No, Natasha… Auror Weasley. He walked in on Harry and me tonight."
"But you weren't even booked tonight," she said after a moment, confused.
"That's because I quit," Draco decided right at that very moment. Well, that was an awfully rash decision, but he'd said it. Now was no time to be taking things back. "Yeah, I think I'm quitting. Definitely quitting. I'm sorry, and it's not because of the Auror attention, but it's him. It's Harry fucking Potter, who I just left alone to deal with the mess we made."
Horatio gave his wife a trying look. Now was no time to have chats about emotions. All of their asses and their futures were on the line. "We have to go. If he's too in love to think straight, then we're not going to be of any help."
"Draco, don't say anything to them. I don't care if you're not working for me, I'll use my lawyers."
Draco nodded, looking at the couple a little distantly. "You should go," he nodded. "I should go, too."
Bracing for the worst, Natasha didn't pass up the opportunity to haul Draco in for a crushing hug. "We'll come to the station after my office, okay?"
"Okay," he murmured against her large silicone breasts. She had really got her money's worth, which was so typical of her. If he was going to miss one thing, it was the people that Draco had met and befriended. The men he'd slept with, the hotel maids he'd shared gossip with, the bartenders he'd charmed… They were all worth it.
Sure, it was a terribly lonely feeling to know that they were in his past, to see oneself move from one phase of their life to another, but it wasn't as awful as Draco had envisioned. He'd even been having stress dreams about it.
"Okay," Draco repeated. "I'll see you, believe me. I'll see you."
"We need to go," Horatio reminded them both, his worried and anxious nature having predicted this day and played it over a thousand times in his head. "Now."
With that, Draco watched them leave. Alone in a house that wasn't his, Draco figured he may as well apparate back to a house that wasn't his but rather his… Lover's? Friend's?
He supposed he'd see when he got there.
What Auror Weasley hadn't been expecting upon his apparation was a world of fire and brimstone. Fuck, had he messed up the apparation and ended up in the core of the earth?
His eyes stung so that he couldn't take very much in, but he knew that there was someone next to him who was wheezing like a madman. The other man had been there longer, and was beginning to crumple under the heat.
"Fire," Ron choked out, grasping ahold of the sleeve of whoever was next to him.
"No shit," Draco spat back, allowing himself to be dragged by the officer through the ash around them. His hair better have not been burning. Odd how your priorities worked out when you thought for a moment that you'd entered hell. "I think I always knew I'd end up here."
Ron yanked him along, clearing debris with his wand. "What?" he demanded, not having any goddamn time for Malfoy's dramatics when he was trying to save his bloody life.
Obviously the thought of leaving him there was a strong one, but it brought back memories of the Room of Requirement. Harry had gone back for him. Go figure. Ron really couldn't see why Harry had a liking for him even then, because the man wouldn't shut the hell up.
"…I mean, I've always thought religion was a joke! But now we're in hell. Surprise seeing you here, fuck. I thought all Gryffindors went to heaven," he blabbed on in a distant sort of way that Ron might have mistaken for drugs if they weren't close to being cooked alive. Maybe, if they were all lucky, Malfoy would sustain permanent brain damage.
"Shut up," Ron snapped. "Do I have to carry you?"
"I'm flattered, but I imagine gay romance in hell only puts you a level lower."
If the flames didn't kill Malfoy, Ron might.
The rancid smell of smoke and burning food tore through the house. Ron would have recognized Grimmauld Place if the structure wasn't falling to shit around him. A beam crashed where they had been moments ago, causing Ron to latch onto Malfoy with a force he hadn't realized he had in him, and dragging him to the moonlight outside.
Draco sputtered and coughed all over Ron's black Auror robes. "Fuck," he gasped, feeling the air go thin around him. Could you die if you were already in hell?
With one final burst of energy—considering Ron was nearly exhausted under the weight and too disoriented to cast a spell—Ron smashed through what used to be the front door of the home of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black.
Harry gaped, wand in his hand. He'd panicked once the building had actually caught on fire, and had to work at containing the fire to just one house. Harry hadn't intended to put the entire neighborhood to the torch.
Like many of his other ventures, this had gotten wildly out of control from lack of planning and general bad luck. While Blaise grumbled in protest from the other side of the street, Harry had been busy casting Augamenti left and right.
"Draco?" he panted between casts. "Ron?"
That was the first hint that Draco may have not been damned for all eternity. Harry had killed the incarnation of evil, hadn't he? Harry would probably argue that he'd just killed a man, and that alone was noble enough to assure him a spot in salvation, right?
"What," Ron coughed, scraping himself off of the sidewalk. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"I'm sorry!" Harry yelled, casting one last dousing spell before the fire was at least contained on the first floor. "I hadn't known that you'd—I'm sorry."
"You nearly killed me. You nearly killed him!"
Harry's eyes burned as smoke flew to them, but he was upset enough to be tearing up anyway. "I'm sorry, Ron. I'm so sick of being sorry, but I am. I lied to you, and I've been lying to everyone. That was wrong and I get that, but you have to understand. You would do anything for Hermione, anything to protect her—"
"Don't you dare compare Hermione to Draco," Ron scowled when he was finally able to stand. "Hermione and I have been in love since school, and Malfoy's just some prostitute that's filling your lonely void!"
Draco would have thrown in a 'still here!', but he was too busy trying to adjust to normal breathing again. The sidewalk was making a poor resting bed, but it was all he had.
Harry coughed and covered his face. "Help me," he begged through the charred blanket. "Please, Ron. I know you hate me, and I know you've hated me for a long time, now. Please, just help me put this fire out."
"You complete idiot!" Ron yelled before standing at his side. He wished he had Hermione's vocabulary so that he could throw more insults at him. "You daft, mental berk! I have never hated you at any moment but now! And even now—" Ron sent a bolt of water to the top floor of the building, watching helplessly as it crumbled down. "—I am so fucking mad at you. You've ruined my case, I now need a new partner, and I've got nobody that I can trust but Hermione."
A little desperately, Harry pulled away from casting spells to face Ron. "I'm sorry, I am. This wasn't the way I wanted things to go, you have to know that!"
"What did you want, then? A quickie with some twenty-galleon-an-hour bloke who could have any number of diseases?"
Finally, Draco could speak. "I am much more than twenty galleons an hour."
The whole thing was ludicrous and left Ron to wonder where he had gone so horribly wrong with this. "Aguamenti!" he roared, sending a jet of water right at the center of the house.
That, apparently, angered the burnt house. Seconds after the jet of water hit a support beam it all came tumbling down. Grimmauld Place collapsed in an implosion that Harry had never seen the likes of before. It was almost beautiful if you didn't think about all of Harry's belongings coming down with it.
Luckily, a crushed house was easier to douse than a multiple-story hidden mansion. The neighbors' houses were relatively unscarred except for some charred-looking bricks, and once Harry made the house disappear like Sirius had showed him the first time around, the fire had almost never existed. Almost.
Draco struggled to his feet when he saw number ten and number fourteen close the gap in between them. He hadn't even known the bloody place could do that. "Wow," Draco murmured. "You're out of your mind, Harry."
"I thought you'd noticed that before," Harry countered with a hint of sleepiness creeping into his voice.
"Oh, I noticed. You're Buy-a-Prostitute-crazy, but I never suspected arson-crazy."
"Well, it looks as if I am," he sighed.
From the other side of the street, Blaise could begin to wiggle his toes. Potter really was shite at casting paralysis spells.
Numbly, Harry continued. "I suppose you should actually arrest me now. Arson is a pretty serious charge, and I believe you have all the proof in the world for that." He wasn't going to run anymore, especially now that Draco had… Returned? Wait, why did he even leave? Harry held out his hands for the cuffs once again. "Go ahead, I'm staying here."
"You contained the fire," Ron said, thinking back to his minimal legal training. "And it's your property with no outstanding debts to Gringotts. You're burning refuse without a permit."
Harry couldn't believe his ears. "Why are you helping me?"
"Because somebody needs to," Ron muttered before snapping on the handcuffs. "You're not making a claim with the insurance company, so you're not getting charged with fraud—" It sounded more like a command then an admission. "—But you have to agree to some conditions if you want me to charge you only with that."
Draco narrowed his eyes. Fucking Weasley, he just knew that there had to be a catch. "He doesn't have to do anything he doesn't want to," Draco snarled protectively, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder.
"Draco," Harry murmured softly. "I'm ready to do this on my terms, okay?"
With a sigh, Draco backed down.
"My terms," Ron corrected with a hint of his rising anger. "I pick your lawyer, and you plead guilty. The lawyer will strike a deal of five years' probation, ninety days community service, fine of four thousand galleons." Damn, that was more than he'd spent on Draco. "I'll be your probation officer, and you report to me once every month. You see a psychiatrist, one that won't suck you off when you're sad. Then, I don't care where, but you get a fucking job. Be a waiter, wash dishes, whatever."
Harry nodded. It was the best deal he was going to get. "Yeah," he mumbled. The 'psychiatrist' bit wasn't agreeing with his stomach at all, but Harry couldn't fight it anymore. When both your whore and your best friend thought you needed therapy, you probably needed therapy.
"And as for you," Ron said, giving Draco an icy glare. "I'm shutting your business down. I may not have proof, but I have influence. Parkinson may have talked me out of knowing that, but now I see. No charges, you just end all sex trade for money."
"Done and done."
"What?" Ron asked. Was the Man of the Night turning in that easily?
"As of tonight, I am unemployed," Draco explained. "But if it gets your knickers out of a twist, I will advise my former boss to discontinue her operations." Natasha wouldn't go down on that one without a fight, but it was better she heard it from Draco than from the enemy in black.
"Unemployed?" Harry questioned without thinking about it.
"Yeah," Draco said with a little laugh. "I'm unemployed and you're homeless."
Harry even had to laugh at that. "Oh, Merlin. I am, aren't I? I'm homeless. But… I thought you loved your job."
"I did. It was good for a long time, but I have to tell you something." Of all places, he had to tell Harry on the sidewalk while he was in some non-sexual bondage. Ridiculous. "I haven't been seeing anyone but you. I dropped them all."
If Harry's hands weren't bound, he would have rushed to Draco. "Really?" Everything he had been feeling was real and returned? No, that was too good to be true. That couldn't be true. Too many awful things had happened to Harry for his luck to be changing.
Maybe, he thought. It hasn't got anything to do with luck.
"Yes, really," Blaise snarled from the other side of the street. "You've done the impossible, Potter. Draco loves you better than he loves anonymous sex. By the way, did anyone ever even teach you how to cast a proper spell? I'm barely stunned over here. Also, I told you to burn the letters in the fire place, not set the whole fucking street on fire."
"You're unemployed, too," Ron reminded him bitterly. Maybe his next partner would be better at showing up on time and actually listening to him.
"And you're a load of touchy-feely cocksuckers. I hate you all," Blaise announced miserably.
"Shut up," Ron and Draco both said at once.
This time, Ron was the one to guide Harry by the arm to his fate. Draco followed.
"Well, well, well," Draco purred, watching his drained-looking boyfriend enter, reeking of the trash he'd been picking up for community service. "Look at what the cat dragged in."
Harry gave him a sour look. "I have sand in places where sand should never be."
"Weasley got you on beach duty again?"
Not even dignifying that with a response, Harry marched to the shower. Who the hell knew teenagers could make such a mess in one night? There were red cups for miles where a party had been, with used condoms and rotting food strewn across the dunes. The other ruffians that Harry was on duty with didn't make anything better.
One woman was there for her third charge of petty theft. This time, Misses Julia Briggs had lifted a pack of cigarettes from a stand in Knockturn Alley.
"You're Harry bleedin' Potter!" she'd yelled, a full three sticks of gum in her mouth cracking intermittently. "Oh, officer! Get a picture of us together."
Harry hadn't even smiled in the photo.
Then there was Otto Jenkins, a con-artist that refused to give up his partner's name. He was a quiet one, at least. Harry liked to think that he and his con-artist friend were more than friends.
After him were Reggie, Angela, Georgina, and Timothy. Harry had never met a 'Timothy' that didn't shorten his name. It was a strange crowd, and Harry had never seen himself as the sort to be labeled a criminal or a convict. There went any remaining shot at the Auror Academy, he supposed.
"Don't forget to wash behind your ears!" Draco teased when heard the water come on in the bathroom. He could remember showering the night after Harry had torched Grimmauld Place to get the ash off of his skin and scrubbing himself raw in that shower.
After a quick wash and the discovery that a twig had been in Harry's hair all day, he was finally clean again. Not even bothering to put clothes back on, Harry made the trek to the bed that Draco was lounging on, drifting through job offers in the Daily Prophet. On page ten was an 'inside' story about Harry's 'descent into violence' that Draco had gotten a good laugh out of.
Harry rested next to him. "Any luck?"
"The last two I owled haven't responded, but that accounting firm sent me back a rather nastily-worded message about what a menace to society I was." At least they hadn't been a former client.
"Sucks," Harry offered.
"Your consolation means everything," Draco snarked before putting down the newspaper and draping an arm over Harry. "Talk to me."
Suddenly, Harry didn't know what to say. The fact that his day was crap was pretty self-evident, and he was more interested in what Draco had on his mind. It was always something strange, new, or wonderfully smutty. "I'm happy to be home," he tried.
Draco was secretly happy that Harry was calling the upscale apartment a home. It was better than him staying in the skeleton of Grimmauld Place. "I'll have to be more persuasive, then," Harry murmured, nudging his nose up against Draco's. Even without his glasses, Harry thought that Draco was beautiful.
Draco gave Harry's side a little swat. "Obviously. I'm being incredibly kind by letting you stay here."
"It certainly doesn't have anything to do with our committed relationship," Harry nodded. 'Mutual exclusivity' had become his favorite phrase.
"Not at all," Draco agreed with a grin. "I just like having a live-in shag."
At that, Harry crawled onto his lap and began sliding off Draco's shirt. "Then I should probably be performing my duty."
"Maybe—for novelty's sake—I should start paying you," he laughed as he raked his fingernails down Harry's back.
Harry mewled happily and arched into him. "We're already in enough trouble, don't you think?" Harry mumbled in his ear.
"I suppose," Draco grinned, his eyes fluttering shut at Harry's kisses along his neck.
With a little tug, Harry rolled Draco on top of him so that their chests lay flat against one another. "I had a tough day," he articulated a little better this time. "I need you."
With a devilish grin, Draco curled his hands into Harry's hair. "When don't you?" he joked, happy that Harry got his sense of humor. Very few people did.
"Some time that isn't right this second."
With a deep laugh, Draco sat up to straddle him so that his wand was in a reachable distance. "Then you better remember that you ask for this," he warned before they began.
Harry nodded eagerly, which Draco had entirely expected. Bloody masochist.
"Slut," Draco accused blamelessly and the magic went to work. From under the bed, a chest of treasure (it was treasure to them, they supposed) floated up to Draco's hand so that he could open it. When Harry reached up to peek inside, Draco wordlessly bound the naked man to the bed with silk ties. "Stay where I put you."
"Yes, Sir," Harry sneered just to challenge his authority.
A sharp smack against Harry's thigh shut him up. The bonds had spread him out so tightly that he felt a warm stretch in his muscles, and leaned into it.
Out of the chest came a bright red switch. "You think you'd get enough punishment being treated like a fucking criminal all day."
"I want you to punish me, Sir," Harry insisted. Not the Aurors who looked at him like he was the main event of the carnival. A freak-show.
Draco brought the switch down on his stomach to make a stripe the same color as the tool. "Of course," Draco scoffed, secretly loving every word. "I can see you in that jumpsuit picking up filth. All the while, you're hard as ever. Does that turn you on?"
Harry wriggled beneath him. "No, Sir."
Another slap of the switch was lower on Harry's stomach, right above his tuft of black hair. "Don't lie to me," he snarled. "You'd kill for me to be there breathing down your neck. Mm, I'd gladly be your corrections officer. Fuck fines, I'd throw you over my knee whenever you so much as looked at me wrong."
A groan escaped Harry's mouth.
"Exactly," Draco said before bringing the switch down on the base of Harry's swollen cock.
Beneath him Harry let out a little sob, unable to as much as arch away from the blows. "Fuck," he shuddered. "Hurts."
Draco flicked the switch along the head of his cock to send both ends mad. "You say that like I'll stop," Draco chuckled and gave him another flick with the toy, and another, and another. Harry's cries echoed off of the walls.
With that, Draco decided to up the ante.
"Make another noise and I won't even let you come."
Harry's eyes widened in a mix of horror and excitement. He wouldn't… Right?
The switch's next target was Harry's scrotum. Draco started with gentle slaps against the sensitive skin before rising to a crescendo.
Struggling against the bonds and to keep his mouth shut, the effort made Harry's teeth clench down. "Good boy," Draco assured him, fondling the paddled skin. "That's it."
Again came the switch's sting against Harry's foreskin. His body convulsed against the bonds and the struggle to stay silent became even harder.
The tension on Harry's face was absolutely delicious. To add to his frustration, Draco closed his fist around Harry's reddened length and pumped with his entire arm. This time, Harry had to hold back groans as his toes curled under.
"Now there's the boy who listens so well," Draco murmured before dipping in for a kiss.
Harry kissed him back with a surprising force. He hadn't even known that he'd been clenching his hands the whole time.
Just to speed things up, Draco then Vanished his clothes. He didn't have any time for that undressing nonsense today.
"I'm going to gag you," he decided before pulling out a thick leather strap with something on the other side that Harry couldn't make out. "I'm sure you'll like this one." Draco flipped over the strap to show Harry the silicone head of a fat cock that Harry would obviously have to suck on. It wasn't long enough to interfere with breathing, but it was sure long enough. "Open wide, whore."
Silently, Harry did what he was told.
Draco grinned as he clasped the strap behind Harry's head. "I bought it just for you. I know how much you love to suck cock," he growled, tugging on Harry's hair to get him at a better angle. "Now suck."
Harry obeyed in spite of the nagging feeling that the cock in his mouth felt like a pacifier.
Interested in filling his every hole, Draco began to lubricate his fingers in order to stretch Harry open. Watching him writhe had been enough to get Draco excited as ever, his erection bobbing between his thighs.
With the gag in his mouth, Harry let out a barely-audible whimper when Draco pushed two fingers inside of him. Thankfully, Draco had decided that all noises from this point on were to be ignored. Not that he would give Harry the satisfaction of knowing that.
"Relax," he ordered even though Harry had gotten used to it. Quickly, Draco pushed his throbbing member inside of his bound-and-gagged beauty. Harry tested out another noise to see if he would be held back, and let out a sigh of relief. That was muffled by the silicone cock in his mouth, however.
Clenching around him, Harry tossed his head back and let everything happen to him. That was that passive, submissive allowance he adored. "Drafbo," he tried around the gag.
"You're so tight," Draco hissed, slowly drawing out his cock and pushing it back in. The gentle pounding set a fire inside Draco that he could only stoke and stoke.
"Mmbpf," Harry responded, pushing back as hard as he could without being in too much pain from the bonds. Whatever muscles beneath his arms that stretched down his sides—a muscle Draco most likely knew the name of—were going to be sore in the morning.
Thrust after thrust, the pressure rose inside the both of them. Never had Harry been so acutely aware of himself going over the brink, a boiling over that resulted in a plea. "Shir," he begged. "Can I comf?"
"Not yet," Draco said, giving his arse a spank as his quickened his pace.
Harry whimpered, not even able to cross his legs for a little relief.
"Not yet," he said again. This time, the spank left a mark.
Completely helpless to convince Draco otherwise, Harry was left to bite down around his gag.
"A little more," Draco panted.
Like the good boy he hoped he would be rewarded for being, Harry held himself back as long as he could. He could feel the telltale tremors of Draco beginning to come undone and hummed around his gag, eyes pleading for release.
"Now!" Draco cried before pulling out and covering Harry's chest in bursts of white.
Less than seconds later, Harry came with him, making even more of a mess than was there before.
That's what they were, after all. One big mess of rights and wrongs that were never clear no matter what the intentions behind them were.
"Harry," Draco panted after having laid down next to him and Vanishing the silk bonds and gag to return them to the box. "Harry."
"That shower I took," he said out of seemingly nowhere. "Was totally pointless."
"I'm sure you'll get over it."
Harry laughed and rested his head on one of Draco's pillows. Or was it one of their pillows? "I should take another one."
Draco chuckled along with him. "You seriously cannot be horny again after that."
"No," Harry grinned. "I just want to be somewhere warm with you, and maybe get your semen off of me."
"Berk," he smirked before taking Harry's hand to lead him to the shower. They wouldn't be out of there for hours, and when they were, an owl would be waiting from Natasha.
Draco had a feeling she'd like Amsterdam much better, even if it meant their friendship had to endure the distance.
AN: That's all, folks!