A/N: This is the final chapter to this story. Thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing. I hope you enjoy it.
Chapter Seven: The, er, Climax
Monday 2nd September 2013
Well, I've done some hard things in my life, but writing this letter is about the hardest of all. And to be honest, I don't even know where to begin.
Draco, I'm sorry. I just can't do this anymore. I thought I could, but I can't. I refuse to be the one who stops you from having a normal, sexual relationship with someone. And to be perfectly honest with you, these last few months have literally been hell. I think we have to accept that we're just not working, and to finish our relationship now, before we start to hate each other.
I wanted to wait until Lily was back at school to make this easier for her, and now she's back it's time to end this charade. I've extended my leave at work and I'm going away for a few weeks. We'll discuss it properly when I get back, if we need to, and work out what we're going to do about Lily.
I will never regret you, or Lily, and part of me will always love you. But I just can't keep lying to myself, or to you. This is just not going to work.
Thank you for fourteen wonderful years. Be happy, Draco.
PS- tell Ron, Hermione and Lily that I'm sorry, and that I'll write to them soon.
The Ministry owl hooted dolefully as the letter was tied securely around its leg. It cocked its head once, looking directly at Harry almost in puzzlement, then took flight out of the Auror Office window.
Wait, what? Back up for a second there…
The previous day:
"Lily! Hurry up!" Draco called up the stairs. "We'll hit traffic and miss the train if you're not downstairs in the next two minutes!"
A loud, incoherent complaint was the only response, followed by the thunk thunk thunk as Lily began to drag her trunk downstairs. Harry smiled slightly and, taking pity on his obviously struggling daughter, flicked his wand at the trunk, levitating it down the remaining stairs. Lily shot him a grateful look.
Unfortunately, it wasn't possible to load the trunk into the car with magic, in case any neighbours happened to be looking at them. So he and Draco took a side each and loaded it into the boot of their Ford Focus.
Harry had learnt to drive the Muggle vehicle when Lily was a toddler. He hardly ever actually drove a car- trips to King's Cross and other Muggle-inhabited places being about the extent of it- and if he was honest, he didn't much like driving. Now he thought about it, he didn't like any methods of travel really, with the exception of flying on his broomstick. Apparition, Floo, Knight Bus, Portkey, car… they all left him feeling slightly sick and disorientated.
Finally the trunk was loaded, Lily was in the back with Phoebe locked securely in her cage, and Draco was in the front wearing the look of mild panic he always had every time they had to travel by car, and they'd set off on the five-minute journey to collect Teddy and Andromeda. By the time two trunks, two hooting owls, and two extra people were loaded into the car, Harry was wondering why they did this every year and didn't just Floo to the Leaky Cauldron or the Ministry and hail taxis from there. Or, better yet, he could just shrink the trunk, take Lily by Side-Along to the gates of Hogwarts and forego the whole fucking King's Cross thing in the first place. But he knew why he did this; it was a tradition that virtually all wizarding children experienced and he didn't want his daughter to be the exception.
Apart from a small moment when they were nearly rear-ended in the Hindhead Tunnel by an impatient boy-racer in a Z3, resulting in Draco sending a small and illegal Stinging Hex at the other driver, the journey to London was without incident and they arrived at King's Cross at quarter to eleven. The adults quickly unloaded the trunks from the car onto trolleys that Teddy and Lily had found, and they entered the station in good time.
They passed through the magical barrier easily, and Harry felt the familiar wave of nostalgia as he saw the Hogwarts Express, the comforting smell of the billowing steam immediately transporting him back twenty-two years to the day when he first journeyed to school and met Ron and Hermione as a tiny and scrawny eleven-year-old boy.
Harry turned as Victoire all but launched herself at Teddy, and rolled his eyes. The two had seen each other less than a day ago. His eyes then switched to Lily, who had given the pair a filthy glance but nothing more. Indeed, her eyes were now fixed on a tall boy with copper hair, whom Harry had a strong suspicion was this Wayne Brixey person. Teenagers and their fickle hormones. At Lily's age, Harry had fancied Cho Chang. The memory still made him cringe. He waved quickly at Bill and Fleur.
A guard's whistle blew, and Harry helped Draco load Lily's trunk onto the train, and then helped Andromeda with Teddy's, before saying goodbye to Teddy as he went to find his friends. He looked towards the barrier then, where Ginny, Neville, and the twins were sprinting towards the train looking stressed.
"Got lost," Neville panted, hands on his thighs as he gasped for breath. "I've only done the journey with Gran, and we used to Floo half the way. I've never driven up from Devon before."
At two minutes to eleven, and with his stomach in knots, Harry pulled Lily to him and kissed the top of her head, telling her to have a wonderful term, to behave herself, and that four months wasn't that long a period of time- more to reassure himself, he suspected, than his daughter. He reluctantly let go as Draco repeated Harry's actions, hugging her tightly and offering more words of advice and comfort, and then she was stepping onto the train, heading towards the compartment that Harry could see contained the Slytherin fourth-year girls.
"I'll miss you, Lily," he called, as the guard closed the door and the Express whistled and let out another gush of steam. "Write soon."
"I will! I love you both!" Lily called, as the pistons of the train began to fire and the coupling rods began to turn, and the Express made its way out of King's Cross station, taking Lily out of their lives for a few months with it. Harry never had got used to this part. He stared at the train until he could no longer see anything except empty track, then closed his eyes and pressed his lips together.
As a boy, when he was leaving for Hogwarts, he'd always thought that the parents always looked as excited as the children did at King's Cross. He'd never given a second thought to how their departure affected the parents. All he remembered were smiling faces waving them off. Now, as a parent himself, he realised what an act that had been; as soon as the scarlet engine was no longer visible, all around him smiles slipped and were replaced with sad or worried expressions. Some parents even cried. Harry noticed that Ginny was buried in Neville's arms, her shoulders shaking slightly, as Neville stoked her hair and whispered words of comfort into her ear, looking very upset himself.
"Let's go," Draco said quietly, taking Harry's hand. He looked pretty much how Harry felt, and Harry wondered if he was the same shade of almost-grey that Draco had turned. "Come on." They crossed back through the magical barrier and made their way to the car-park. Andromeda was staying in London shopping for the day, and was going to Floo home from the Leaky Cauldron later, so it was just them on the drive back. Harry switched the engine on, put the car into gear, and pulled out of the station. He and Draco hadn't spoken since they'd left Platform Nine and Three-quarters.
"Do you fancy stopping for lunch?" Draco asked him, as they turned onto the M25. Harry shook his head.
"I just want to get home," he replied. He pressed down on the accelerator, and watched the speedometer tick straight past seventy, but still he went faster.
"Slow down," Draco told him once the dial reached ninety miles an hour. "You're going too fast."
"Do you want to fucking drive?" Harry snapped, instantly regretting it. He was in the wrong, he knew that, and taking his mood out on Draco was out of order. Draco was hurting just as he was, and Harry was just making it worse. He eased off the accelerator and watched the speedometer needle drop back to seventy. "Sorry."
Eventually they pulled off the motorway and made their way through Petersfield. Harry parked the car outside their house, then followed Draco inside. The house was silent and spotless. No loud, obnoxious Muggle pop music, no dirty bowl in the sink with cereal remains left inside, or overflowing laundry basket in the utility room. No carton of orange juice left on the kitchen table festering in the late summer heat. Harry hated it.
"I'm going to my office," he said. "I've got paperwork to do, and I'm back at work tomorrow." He kissed Draco swiftly on the cheek, headed inside, and closed the door.
Harry rose early the following morning, before the alarm, with an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. He hadn't slept well the previous night again, thinking about Lily and worrying about his return to work (as people tend to do after a period away). He climbed out of bed, grabbed the Auror robes he'd placed over the back of a chair the night before, and crept out of the bedroom, choosing to use the main bathroom rather than the en-suite for his toilette that morning. By the time he heard the alarm go off upstairs, at seven, he was showered, dressed, and eating a slice of toast which felt like cardboard in his mouth. Five minutes later, Draco appeared at the door dressed in a silk robe, still looking sleepy. Harry threw a teabag into a mug and poured on boiling water, before pushing it towards Draco.
"Thanks," Draco muttered, clearly still half asleep. Harry sipped his own mug of tea absently, his mind on the day ahead. He had a staff meeting to conduct, then read through schedule for Wyatt's trial which was in three days' time, and then…
"Sorry, Draco, miles away," Harry said.
"Are you OK?" Draco asked. "You seem very distant this morning."
"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry said, forcing a smile. He drained the dregs of his tea. "Just don't want to go back to work, that's all." He checked the kitchen clock. It was still early but he had a lot to do, and figured the quicker he got on with it, the quicker he'd be finished. "I'm off. See you later." With that, he turned on the spot and Disapparated.
To his relief, the morning passed quickly as he was extremely busy. Auror Matthews had been standing in for him, and she'd done a brilliant job. Her handover took nearly three hours, and by the time Harry had overseen the recruits' Advanced Shield Charm training, it was lunchtime.
He ate in the Ministry's canteen with a few of the trainees, then returned to his office for the afternoon. It didn't pass as quickly as the morning had. After he dispatched three Aurors to Stonehenge, along with a team of Obliviators, after a suspected Dark artefact had cursed four Muggles, he settled down to read the details for Wyatt's trial. However, it was incredibly dull, and he found his mind kept wandering off on its own. Thoughts turned, naturally, to Lily. He wondered how she was getting on, and how her first day of lessons was going. He was just going to give up reading the document as a bad job and go home with a headache, when Isabelle came in with a pile of post for him, all of which was marked 'urgent'. He groaned, but pulled the first envelope towards him, swearing under his breath.
It was gone six by the time he'd finished, and the Auror office was empty; Ron and his team were on the late shift and out in the field, and everyone else had gone home. Or almost everyone as it turned out, for Isabelle suddenly reappeared in the doorway, causing him to jump violently.
"Still here, Head Auror Potter?" she asked.
"Yeah, but I'm leaving now. See you tomorrow, Isabelle," Harry replied, waving his wand and tidying his desk.
"Are you OK, Head Auror Potter? You don't look well," Isabelle said.
"I'm fine, thank you," Harry said. "I'm just missing my daughter, that's all."
"Oh, you poor thing," Isabelle cooed then, to Harry's absolute shock, she pulled him into a hug.
"Er, Isabelle, what are you doing?" he stammered, trying his best to push her away without accidentally putting his hands on her breasts or something.
"Stop trying to fight this magnetism between us," Isabelle whispered into his ear. "I know you want me just as much as I want you." And then she kissed him.
Harry roughly pushed her away instantly, not caring which part of her anatomy he touched this time. This was not- not- happening to him again, for the second time in a month. It just wasn't.
"Isabelle," he said quietly, "go home. Take the rest of the week off, and when you return on Monday I expect nothing but professionalism from you, do you understand?"
"I can't do that I'm afraid, Head Auror Potter," Isabelle said. "I'm in love with you, and you are with me, and you need to stop trying to resist me."
Harry gaped at her. When had he ever given her the impression that he even particularly liked the woman, let alone felt anything stronger for her?
"I'm sorry if I ever gave you the idea I felt more for you than as a colleague," he said, knowing full damn well that any sane person would know he hadn't, but when had Isabelle ever been sane? "But I'm very much in love with my partner and I'd never consider adultery. Good evening, Isabelle."
"And you're happy, are you? When Draco Malfoy cannot even satisfy your basic needs in a relationship? All these months without sex, and you still claim that he's the one you want to be with?" shrieked Isabelle.
"There's a lot more between us than just sex, like… hang on, how the fuck do you know about that?" Harry said, incredulous.
"Oh, Head Auror Potter, you're a wonderful head of department, and a charming, beautiful and witty man, but sometimes you really can be quite dense," Isabelle replied. She pulled further away from Harry then, and, to his horror, he realised she'd drawn his wand from the pocket of his robes, and was now pointing it directly at him. "So very dense. Stupefy!"
Draco was in a foul mood. He'd been upset by Harry's abrupt exit that morning, he was missing Lily, and at work he'd spilt corrosive Runespoor venom onto his bare hand, burning a hole straight through it, which resulted in him cauterising the flesh and having to seek medical treatment on the wards. Then he'd choked on a grape at lunchtime and had nearly passed out by the time his colleague noticed and yelled a panicked, "Anapneo!" at him, causing the grape to dislodge from his throat and shoot across the room, whilst Draco gasped for breath. Then, just as he was leaving for the day, a small child had thrown up green bile all over his robes in the lift as he was heading for the Floo. So, all in all, he was already having an entirely shit day by the time he arrived home and found the house completely empty.
"Harry?" he called, but received no answer. It wasn't unusual for Harry to have to work late, but it was unusual for him to not even let Draco know. Draco's instinct prickled uneasily as he peeled off his bile-stained clothing and jumped in the shower. By the time he'd shut off the water, dried himself roughly with a towel, and redressed in clean clothes, it was beginning to get dark. Draco frowned.
Tap tap tap!
Draco jumped as the sound filled the otherwise silent house, and turned to the window. There was an owl waiting to be let in; an owl that Draco recognised as Harry's personal owl for Ministry correspondence. It had a letter in its beak. Relief flooded Draco as he opened the window and let the owl in. He retrieved the letter from the bird's leg, and it immediately took flight back out of the window. The letter was obviously from Harry apologising for having to work late. He tore it open and began to read.
A minute later, trembling all over, he choked back a sob as he turned on the spot and Disapparated.
Harry let out a small moan of pain as he came to. His head hurt. He was also really uncomfortable- why was he sitting on the floor?
"I see you're awake, Head Auror Potter," came Isabelle's voice, and suddenly Harry remembered exactly what had happened, in hideous clarity. He tried to move, but realised he was completely incarcerated in ropes. He let out a sardonic laugh; Tom Riddle, the most evil Dark wizard who had ever lived, couldn't finish him off with not one, but two Killing Curses, yet Isabelle, his timid, meek, quirky and apparently bat-shit crazy secretary who lived with a bunch of cats was going to. How utterly humiliating.
Isabelle came into view then, and Harry's stomach lurched. She was dressed only in her underwear- a grey bra and knickers set, both of which were too baggy for her skinny frame, and showed off her abundance of body hair: from her armpits to her pubic area to her legs, she had tufts of coarse, dark hair poking out from the material. Harry closed his eyes quickly before the image to burn itself onto his retinas.
"It's been four months, Harry," Isabelle said. "I've waited very patiently for you, but I will not wait any longer. It's been far too long, and I will have you tonight." She leant in, clearly intending to kiss Harry, who spat in her face with as much force as he could muster.
"What did you do to me, you psychotic bitch?" he yelled, pulling at the restraints. Isabelle just laughed as she wiped spit from her cheek.
"You deserve someone much better than that horrible man," she said. "And thanks to me, you're going to get it."
This time when she leant in to press her mouth against Harry's, he couldn't pull away.
Draco arrived outside Hermione and Ron's cottage in Ottery St Catchpole and immediately began pounding the door. Eventually Hermione opened it, looking irritated.
"Shh! The kids have just gone to bed!" she snapped. Then, seeing Draco's expression, ushered him inside, much as she had done to Harry a few months previously. Wordlessly, Draco handed her the letter, and Hermione began to read.
"Well, surely you don't think it's actually from Harry, do you?" she said, when she'd finished.
"Hermione, it's in his writing," Draco replied.
"And can you not think of a single spell that can emulate another's handwriting?"
"I… oh fuck," Draco said. He put his hands over his eyes. "I don't know."
"Well, what does it mean here, about 'a proper relationship'?" Hermione asked.
"Weasley didn't tell you?" Draco said. Hermione shook her head. "Well, it all started around the fifteenth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts…"
He finished his story and looked at Hermione. She was biting her lip.
"I'm positive that this wasn't written by Harry," she said. "Think about it. When has Harry ever just walked away from a situation? Do you seriously think he'd just walk out without a goodbye to Lily, or me and Ron? And leave you a letter, of all things? Does that sound like Harry to you? I'm certain this is the Copy Cat Charm. He just wouldn't behave like this, Draco."
"Then what the fuck has happened to him?" Draco shouted, alarmed now. If Harry had written it and left him, at least he was safe. But if someone had written this, wanting Draco to believe Harry had left him… Harry was Head Auror. Even with the Death Eaters long gone, he still had a lot of enemies. Did someone want him hurt? Had he been captured or something?
"Is he in danger?" His voice was trembling now.
"I don't know. But I think this letter pretending to be written by him and his sexual dysfunction are connected," Hermione said. "Honestly, I know I'm a woman, so he probably didn't want to talk to me about this, but I could have told you what is wrong with him, if he'd just confided in me. He's been cursed with the Castitudo Curse."
"But when he was in hospital recently, the Healers said there were no spells on him," Draco said. He was beginning to panic now. Where the fuck was Harry?
"Yes, well, if you'd both listened to Professor Binns in History of Magic instead of falling asleep, you'd know what it was, and why it didn't show up," Hermione said, in the same voice she'd adopted over the summer, when she was teaching Lily. It was her lecturing voice. "The Castitudo Curse is archaic magic, last used about two hundred years ago, and is now illegal. It was performed when arranged marriages were common, in order to force one of the partners to fall in love with the other, if they were reluctant. It was most commonly used in pure-blood families where the parents were forcing their homosexual son or daughter to marry someone of the opposite sex. It worked on both the mind and the body, meaning the subject fell madly in love with their intended, and was incapable of having sexual relations with any other person but them. The spell even prevents masturbation. It explains exactly why Harry cannot, ah, perform."
"But why didn't this show up on his tests recently? And, hang on, Harry's been forced to be in love with someone else? And he'd be able to have sex with them, but not me?!" Draco was close to hysteria now.
"Calm down, Draco. And, no, I don't so, despite someone's best efforts. Harry is very strong-willed, you know. But to answer your question, the curse wouldn't have shown up, as it's not performed on him, as such, but on a series of objects belonging to him. It's a ritual that has to be performed at each full moon in order to keep it in place. It gets stronger each time it's performed, and can only be broken by the caster, or by the ritual not being performed on the full moon. The curse is placed on his personal items, not his person. Almost like a voodoo doll, in a manner of speaking. The items charge Harry's spirit, and the curse manipulates it."
Draco remembered Harry being very upset when his favourite cufflinks- a gift from Lily one Christmas- had gone missing back in March, after he'd worn them to work when he was giving evidence at the Wizengamot. He'd also lost several other small, less sentimental, items- a handkerchief, a comb he'd kept in his drawer for tidying himself up just before interviewing detainees, and a spare belt that he kept looped over a hat stand. The one thing they all had in common was they'd all gone missing from his private office at work; an office to which very few people had access.
And the owl. It had been Harry's own owl that delivered the letter this evening. That meant the only person who could have sent it was Harry himself, or someone with access to it…
"He's at the fucking Ministry!" Draco yelled. "It's that maniac secretary of his!" Hermione's eyes widened.
"Go!" she said. "I'll send a Patronus to Ron and get him to come, and Molly will come over and sit with the children. I'll meet you there in about five minutes."
Draco didn't need to be told twice. With a last look at Hermione, to whom he was grateful beyond words at the moment (how had he ever once called her a 'filthy Mudblood'? Merlin, he had been vile when he was a child), he disappeared with a loud pop, arriving messily in the Atrium of the Ministry.
Harry clamped his lips together tightly and turned his head to the side, preventing Isabelle from reaching his mouth as she tried to kiss him. Isabelle gave a huge growl of frustration.
"If this resistance is because of Draco Malfoy, don't worry. I wrote him a letter, explaining you were no longer in love with him. You can thank me later, after we've made love."
"Fuck you," Harry said. "If you were the last person on Earth I still wouldn't want you." Isabelle looked angry then.
"Why are you fighting me?" she shouted. "I know you want me. I performed the spell myself!"
"So that's how you did this, is it? A spell? Well, guess what? I feel nothing for you beyond disgust and loathing, you stupid cow," Harry snapped. "What will it take to get that through your thick skull? Now, get. Off. Me."
To his surprise, Isabelle did take a step back then, and looked at him in shock.
"I don't understand," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "That spell was meant to make you fall in love with me."
"I've been able to resist the Imperius Curse since I was fourteen. Voldemort himself couldn't keep me under it," Harry retorted angrily. "If I can beat him, I can sure as hell resist whatever shitty little curse you've put on me. You may have control over my body, but my mind belongs to me. And no one except me controls that."
"You're really not in love with me?" Isabelle's voice was full of hurt now, and a fat tear rolled down her bony cheek. Harry found he couldn't care less.
"Not at all. Your vicious little plan has completely failed," he said. Isabelle stopped for a moment, and seemed to be considering Harry's words. Then a small smile filtered across her face.
"Not completely failed," she said. "I still control your body." Then she leant forwards and began to unfasten Harry's fly.
"Get your disgusting fucking hands off him," a voice suddenly called out, and Harry could have wept from relief.
"Draco," he said. "Oh, thank Merlin." But Draco wasn't looking at him. He was staring at Isabelle, his wand tightly held in his hand, and Harry had never, in the almost fifteen years they had been a couple, seen him look so utterly livid as he did in that moment.
"Expelliarmus!" he called, and Harry's wand flew out of Isabelle's hand and into Draco's outstretched one.
"You will not touch Harry Potter," Draco said, pocketing Harry's wand in that icily-calm voice that Harry knew spelt danger. "You will not dare to defile him with your filth. Now step aside."
Isabelle squeaked and stared between Harry and Draco with her huge eyes. Harry was ludicrously reminded of a busy baby- and one that had just been caught in the headlights of a speeding car.
"M-m-m-mister M-m-m-malfoy!" she shrieked. "I m-m-meant H-h-harry no harm!"
"Do not call him 'Harry', you do not have that right," Draco snapped. Then, without taking his eyes off Isabelle once, he waved his wand and cast Finite on Harry, removing the bonds that had secured Harry tightly.
"Now take the spell off him," Draco commanded, and Harry didn't know how Draco knew about it, but he obviously did. And he was obviously irate about it. Isabelle appeared frozen, as the realisation that her plan had spectacularly failed seemed to crash around her. "I said take it off!" Draco yelled, clearly beyond angry now when she hesitated a second too long in obeying his command. Then Draco did something that Harry never thought he'd see him do. He unbuttoned his left sleeve and rolled it up to his elbow, baring his forearm to her.
The Dark Mark had faded significantly over the years, but its outline was still visible, particularly if one knew it was there. And Isabelle clearly did. She began to shake violently all over as she stared at it.
"Don't hurt me, please," she sobbed. "I'll take it off, I swear."
"That's all I ask," Draco said, not once lowering his wand.
Just then, Harry heard footsteps and turned to see Hermione, puffing and slightly out of breath, arriving in his office. He didn't even question why she was there; Draco had obviously contacted her.
"Oh, my," she said. "Harry, are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Hermione," he replied. "Draco's a tad pissed off though, I think."
"Fucking take off the spell!" Draco roared to Isabelle then, as if to prove Harry's point.
"The- the objects. I n-n-n-need to destroy those. They're in my drawer. The spell worked better if the objects remained in close proximity to the target," Isabelle said. Then she exited Harry's office, Draco following her, and returned seconds later with the objects, which were inside an ordinary cardboard shoebox.
"Destroy them. Now," Draco said, and Isabelle drew her wand. With almost convulsing hands, she pointed the wand at the shoebox, and uttered, "Confringo."
The shoebox exploded with a huge bang, and Harry winced as it caught fire; the flames rose several feet into the air. One they'd died down, he could see that all that remained was a small pile of ash, a melted lump of plastic that had once been his comb, and two charred squares of metal that had been his beloved cufflinks.
"Now what?" Harry asked.
"I need to Vanish these," Isabelle said. "The Blasting Curse destroyed the connection, but the objects need to cease to exist." She waved her wand again. "Evanesco." Everything Vanished.
Ron and another Auror arrived then, both red-faced and wands out, their Auror robes billowing behind them.
"What's going on?" Ron said, and Hermione began to fill him in, whilst his partner confiscated Isabelle's wand and bound her wrists together in magical rope. Harry was barely listening to her though; he only had eyes for Draco. Draco, who was panting and sweaty, his normally immaculate hair tousled and his cheeks pink. His eyes were still sparkling from his recent anger and worry, and his posture was one of absolute dominance, and was staring at him with a look of fierce, possessive love, that clearly said, 'mine'. Harry thought that, in that moment, Draco looked absolutely beautiful. He thought how Draco had been there for him when he needed him most, when he'd been at his most vulnerable, and how genuine and raw Draco's emotions had been. It was all suddenly so clear to Harry; they shared a love that couldn't be ruined by spells or curses, or drunken kisses. And Harry just knew, in that second, that they were going to be just fine. He also became aware of something else rather wonderful; something so unfamiliar yet delightfully familiar all at the same time. He was rock hard.
Grinning like the cat that got the cream, he called out to Ron and the Auror, "Can you two deal with Miss Honeycutt please? Arrest her and put her in the cells for the night. We'll interview her in the morning." He then walked over to Draco and pulled him into a hug, clinging to him. And then, gently, he leant forwards and pressed his groin against Draco's thigh.
Draco's eyes widened, and a huge smile fell across his face. Then, so suddenly that Harry stumbled forwards, Draco pulled him by the hand roughly towards the door.
"We're off, Weasley. Sorry to leave you to deal with this, but something's come up," Draco said, deadpanned; hunger having replaced the fury that had been in his eyes.
"Oh, um, right," Ron said, rather bemused. "I'll just sort this out then, shall I, Harry?"
"Thanks, Ron!" Harry called. "I'll see you later! You too, Hermione!" Then he stopped, turned round, and looked Isabelle in the eyes. "Oh, and by the way, you're sacked."
Draco's laughter echoed all through the corridor until they reached the Atrium where Harry took Draco by the arm and Apparated them home.
In his desperation to get home, he misjudged the jump by about thirty feet, and ended up in his study.
"Crap. I was going for the bedroom," he said. "I just thought- Mmm!" For Draco had cut him off mid-sentence with a fiery kiss, which was all tongues and teeth and saliva, and desire- pure, unadulterated, beautiful desire- surged through Harry, making him feel giddy. He let out a moan, and Draco moaned into his mouth in response, as has fingers began fumbling with the buttons on Harry's robes, and Harry realised that there was no way they were going to be making it to the bedroom.
This real, this is actually happening, he thought to himself, as physical arousal pulsed through him, leaving him desperate for contact.
"This is actually happening," Draco echoed, as if reading Harry's mind. "I…you… oh fuck, Harry."
By now Draco had got Harry's robes off, and they were pooled messily around his feet. Harry had unbuttoned Draco's shirt, and Draco slithered out of it whilst turning his attention to Harry's fly. He slid the button out of its button hole and pulled down the zip. Then he tugged down the trousers fully, taking Harry's underwear with them for good measure.
"Hello. I've missed you," Draco teased as he stared downwards at Harry's erection. Then he fell to his knees and licked a stripe from base to tip, swirling his tongue around the head, and Harry's legs buckled.
It was super-intense; maybe it always was, and he'd just forgotten, or- as Harry suspected- maybe it was due to the fact he had gone without for so long, but the one simple touch was a shock that sent spine-tingling sensation coursing through every capillary in his body and stole the breath from his lungs. And after over four months of just wishing he could come, now he was terrified he was going to all too soon. Because, despite feeling as desperate as he felt at the moment, he wanted this to be incredible, and it wouldn't be if he blew his load from half a blowjob.
"Draco, not too much too soon," Harry said, and Draco seemed to know exactly what Harry meant. He stood up with a grin and shed the rest of his clothes in record time, and soon they were both naked, Harry was pushed up against the office door with Draco's erection pressing gloriously into his hip, and they were snogging like a pair of randy teenagers.
"Missed you. Missed you so much," Draco murmured against Harry's lips, before Harry captured his bottom lip between his teeth and nibbled on it, receiving an appreciated humming noise from Draco for his efforts.
"Fuck, Draco, I need you," Harry replied, as he reached between Draco's legs and began to stroke him leisurely, savouring the feel of the hard, silky flesh in his hand, and wanting nothing more than to bring them both to climax now.
Draco was still pressed flush against him, and Harry's back was pressed against the wall. It was wonderful, but it wasn't enough. He gave a small pushed forwards and, not once breaking the new kiss that Draco had begun, began to walk him backwards, until the edge of Harry's desk hit the back of his lover's thighs. For once, it was tidy and clutter-free, which was perfect, as Draco had clearly taken the hint and lay down on it. Harry quickly scrambled on top, which brought their groins together. He couldn't resist sliding his erection over Draco's, the slickness that had formed on both of them adding delicious lubrication to the thrusts.
As white-hot pleasure began to surge and peak, Harry forced himself to stop moving, lest it all be over within a minute. His body screamed in protest as he pulled away, moving off Draco and crossing the room back to his robes, where he picked up his wand. He cast a familiar charm- one that he hadn't used in so long now- which coated his fingers in lubricant, and then moaned as Draco spread himself suggestively for him.
"You're doing all the work," Draco said lazily. "I'm not letting that-" he pointed at Harry's erection, which was bobbing happily close to his stomach- "go to waste. Come on, Potter."
Harry chuckled, more than happy to oblige his demanding lover. He climbed back onto the desk next to Draco, and guided his slick fingers lower, giving a teasing stroke to Draco's erection, before continuing south, over the rock-hard perineum and between Draco's buttocks, where he circled the flesh gently before breaching slowly with one finger.
It was marvellous. It had clearly been a while, as Draco was incredibly tight, and Harry knew this part was going to take longer than he was used to. That was fine with him- every touch, kiss and caress of Draco's skin felt like heaven.
"Gonna take a while," Draco said. "Sorry."
"Not a problem," Harry said, as he crooked his finger, brushing against Draco's prostate and causing him to clench further around Harry's finger. Harry tried to insert another finger, but felt some resistance, and Draco looked slightly uncomfortable. He soothed him with a kiss to the mouth, then the jaw, neck and chest, and continued lower, across Draco's naval, and- pausing only to momentarily tease Draco by taking him into his mouth- journeyed even lower, until his mouth was level with his fingers. He withdrew the digits and replaced them with his tongue.
"Fuckfuckfuck," Draco hissed, his hands balled into fists attempting to grab bed sheets that weren't there. This wasn't something he and Draco had done that often over the years; Draco had always felt too self-conscious. Harry didn't think that was going to be a problem tonight, however, as he swiped his tongue in a circular motion around the perimeter and pressed slightly inside, causing Draco to tremble. He licked upwards to Draco's perineum then as he re-inserted two fingers- a much more comfortable fit now Harry's tongue had been at work- and began to massage that sweet spot inside once more, before taking Draco's sac into his mouth. He sucked lightly, then hummed, knowing the gentle vibrations from his voice would be driving his love insane.
"If you don't stop that now, I'm going to come," Draco said, and the hitch in Draco's breathing told Harry that it wasn't an empty threat. He released Draco from his mouth and removed his fingers, before reaching for his wand once more and repeating the earlier spell. He smeared the lubricant on himself and, trembling slightly himself from nerves and anticipation, he positioned himself at Draco's entrance.
"Mine," Harry said, and pushed in.
Merlin, how had he ever managed to exist without this for so long? The hot, slick tightness that gripped him nearly sent him spiralling over the edge like some nervous virgin. He forced himself to remain still whilst the threat of imminent orgasm subsided slightly, but he still didn't think this was going to take very long, which was understandable in the circumstances, Harry thought. He was grateful now that he'd brought Draco so close during foreplay.
He opened his mouth to say something to Draco- how much he loved him, how wonderful this felt, anything really; no words would come, however. Draco's legs locked around his waist then and Harry gazed into Draco's eyes as he pulled out then slammed home. The eyes were the soft pewter Harry adored, pupils huge with lust, and as Harry grazed his prostate on the thrust back in, pink eyelids with perfect, long eyelashes fluttered closed over them, and Draco gasped.
"Open your eyes, Draco," Harry said, and Draco did, fixing the irises directly on Harry. And as soon as he did so, Harry was lost. He didn't break eye contact at all as he slammed in to Draco feeling the crescendo building far too quickly, but allowing it, because he was inside the man he loved, and who loved him, and nothing was ever going to keep them apart. His cock throbbed for release, and his breath was coming in short pants now, whilst Draco was writhing and gasping beneath him, a deep pink flush spreading from his cheeks down his neck and mingling with beads of sweat, and it was too much. His rhythm faltered and his breath caught; he managed to thrust in one final time before his climax tore through him.
"Oh god, you're coming, I can feel you coming," Draco rasped, but Harry's ears didn't hear the words; blood was rushing through them leaving behind a thick ringing as wave upon glorious wave of pleasure crashed over him and he cried out, his nails dug deeply into either side of Draco's hip, and then, after what felt like an eternity, he collapsed onto Draco's torso, mouth opened as his oxygen-starved brain forced him to take huge breaths. The part of his mind that was still lucid reached between his and Draco's bodies and took hold of Draco's straining erection. He stoked it quickly and with determination, and it was less than a minute later that Draco stiffened and came into his fist.
The pair laid together afterwards, Harry still atop of Draco, as they tried to catch their breaths, and simply stared at each other.
"Harry," Draco said finally, after a few minutes, "this is lovely, but could we take it to another room? Your desk is starting to really cut into my thighs now."
Harry grinned and, for once grateful that Lily was at school so the evidence of their debauchery didn't need to be immediately cleaned up (although the table would need a good scrub with hot, soapy water, he thought with amusement), he Apparated them both to the bedroom.
"We should go away this weekend," Draco said the following morning, as the pair laid together sweaty, naked, and incredibly satisfied. Neither had gotten much sleep the previous night; pausing only to grab a quick bite to eat around midnight, they'd made love repeatedly until the first shimmers of early dawn light began to filter in through the window, at which point they'd fallen into an exhausted heap, curled tightly together.
"Sounds lovely. Where did you have in mind?" Harry said.
"Leave it to me," Draco said, with a huge grin. He suddenly looked serious. "You know- when I got that letter yesterday… Harry, never do that to me, OK? You have no idea how terrified I was."
"I never would. You must know that," Harry replied. "You're my world."
The resulting smile that Draco gave him made his heart flip pleasantly, and it wasn't long before they picked up exactly where they'd left off only a few hours previously.
Sunday 8th September 2013, Olde Moat House Hotel, Rye
Thank you for your letter letting us know how your first week back went, and I'm glad that you've settled back in and are doing well. Firstly, yes, I'm fine, but thank you for asking. I had hoped to keep that particular story out of the Press; it's rather embarrassing when the Head of the Auror Office is beaten by an insane middle-aged woman with a cat obsession, after all, but alas, it was not to be. Isabelle Honeycutt has been carted off to the Janus Thickey ward, where she is going to be enjoying a very long stay.
I'm sure Wayne Brixey didn't ask you out just to get tips on how to improve his Seeker skills. He asked you out because you're a beautiful, funny, intelligent (if somewhat stroppy at times) young woman. He clearly just has very good taste. Besides, he's a Ravenclaw. He's intelligent enough to know that if he ever deliberately hurts you, you have two fathers who will be having serious words with him. One of whom defeated Voldemort, remember? Although how much of a threat this is still, after this week's news story about me, I don't know.
Your father has taken me to a beautiful little hotel in Rye for the weekend. We came here once before, when you were only a few months old, and it has hardly changed. I think this is the most relaxed I've felt in years.
You know before, when I said I was fine? Scrap that. I'm not fine. I'm so much more than that. I have you, and I have your father, and I am thankful for you both every single day of my life. So, no, I'm not just 'fine'. I'm the happiest man on the planet.
With all my love, always,