(A/N: Rated M for mature content and language.

Welcome back! Thank you all for the follows, favorites and reviews.

I'm probably gonna shy away from the Sam/Hermione thing (though I appreciate the feedback, folks) since it's already a 'thing', apparently. Oops. I suppose that's my bad for not reading anything that ain't slash. Heh. So, it might happen. It might not—I'm sorta leaving this one to the muse and just seeing where it goes. (I'm leaning more towards the 'not' though mostly just cause I'm a spiteful little shit.) Maybe they could just be study-buddies; swapping study-outline methods and highlighters, getting off on dusty-book-smell together as they roll their eyes behind the backs of the foolish and hard-headed (*cough*HarryandDean*cough*).

Warnings: MalexMale slash. Language. Lil' bit o' smut. Lil' bit o' violence and blood/gore.

Enjoy! :))

Bobby just sat quietly, occasionally sipping his luke-warm, nearly-opaque tea (good lord it was strong—he feared for the enamel on his teeth), and watched the wizards talk. He knew most of what they were sayin' was English (and he could get Latin well enough) but he was lost almost as soon as they both sat down with their own steaming mugs of tea. How they managed to drink three mugs, a piece, he had no idea. Fools must have cast iron stomachs, though.

He mostly watched the new fella—Draco. He had heard a little about him before, but not enough to make his appearance (or his irritatingly snooty personality) at his home expected. Or all that welcomed. He was only appeased by the fact Harry had seemed genuinely surprised the blonde 'popped' by. He still didn't know what to make of this Draco character. He spoke to Harry in a condescending way more often than he had ever heard anyone else manage—without getting a fist (or a dagger) in their gut or a wand up their ass. Harry didn't take shit, especially when his height or intelligence were called into question.

Which Draco did, numerous times—with a stupid little smirk on his face.

Bobby's eyes narrowed as he watched the pale asshole sneer at something Harry said (or did). Again. What the actual fuck was the guy's problem? If he was so offended or pissed off, why did he continue to sit there and talk with Harry? Why didn't he just fuck off and leave?

"Because I'm here to help."

Bobby grunted in disbelief. OK, he hadn't meant to mutter that aloud, but still... Now that it was out there... He glared right back, narrowing his eyes at the blonde dick. If the jackass thought he'd be intimidated, he had another thing comin'. "How?"

"I Mastered in Ward casting," Draco said, raising his chin and sniffing. He eyed the old Muggle, debating whether or not to explain what a Ward was when he only got an unimpressed flat look in return. He glanced at Harry and scowled when he saw the idiot Gryffindor giving the cranky old bastard a gooey, Hufflepuffly, sort of look.

It took a moment for things to click and then he chuckled, unable to help himself. "Oh, I see what's going on," he said, rubbing at his forehead, suddenly uncomfortable.

Yes, he could see how the old man could think he didn't want to be here. With Potter. In bloody America... Over all, he didn't mind that much—even though the America bit was pushing it just a little.

How did he explain, to a perfect stranger, the odd relationship he had with Potter? They were friends. Good friends (possibly best— since Weasel couldn't manage to get his head out of his own arse and hadn't talked to Potter since bloody Hogwarts). He knew, from the outside, it did not appear that way (and it was quite possible Potter had told the cranky old sod about their tumultuous past—which would not help explanations any). It was just the dynamic he was used to. And since Potter didn't get his knickers (oh Merlin, he hoped the git didn't actually wear knickers—the kinky little bastard) in a twist about a sneer or snarky jab, he didn't change it. He was less vicious and there was truly no malice behind such actions any longer, though.

It was just... habit. And, really, he could appreciate the older man currently glaring death at him being indignant on Potter's behalf. Potter didn't have the sense to demand better treatment but apparently his Muggle just might.

And he'd try to work on it. Maybe. Before he could answer, Potter was reaching across the table and patting the man's hand. It was interesting the way Bobby's fingers immediately relaxed out of the fist they'd been in, but they didn't do anything as sappy as holding hands. Thank Merlin.

But his relief was short-lived though, when he realized what Potter was saying. The utter prat...

"That's just how Draco is, love," Harry said with a snicker, waving a hand dismissively at Bobby. He gave him a warm smile, feeling all gooey—and like a completely smitten idiot—because Bobby looked ready to strangle Draco the next time the blonde's lip lifted in anything but a smile. Merlin, he was just so sweet. "He was born without a heart and his 'I have a soul' charm wears off every twelve hours."

Draco snorted a laugh, despite himself. "Shut it, Potter."

"No," Harry challenged, smirking when Draco scowled. He ignored the blonde and looked back at Bobby, resting his chin on his palm. "Seriously, it's just how he is. He can't help himself but he's got a squishy nougat core. Even if he tries to hide it under his complete prick-like attitude. He is here to help. He works with 'Mione, so that's why he came. He can't let her go off anywhere alone," he said, aiming a smug look at the blonde.

Draco merely shrugged at the accusation. It was true, why deny it? He'd become woefully attached to Hermione over the years. Their friendship had started grudgingly when they'd been forced to work in the same Ministry department. It didn't take long for him to see why she'd kicked his arse in marks nearly every damn year at Hogwarts and he'd found himself starting to respect the witch. By the time she'd been nearly kidnapped, they were mates and he felt protective of her. Even after she'd taken care of her would-be kidnappers herself (and putting two of them, permanently, in St. Mungo's), he made it his job to keep an eye on her.

Potter flitted about the world too damn much (and backed off, respecting Hermione's wishes—usually made at wand-point—when she refused to be 'taken care of'). It was pathetic really and Draco found himself amazed the Trio made it through their teenaged years alive and in one piece. Hermione, for whatever reason or motivation, did not seem to mind his habit of shadowing her. Probably because he had actually saved her skinny arse a time or two.

So, naturally, a trip across the world would include him.

"I see," Bobby murmured, only slightly mollified. Was all that supposed to somehow make him feel better about the whole thing? Looking at Harry he got the impression the answer was supposed to be 'yes'. Yeah, he'd dealt with some major assholes in his life (he knew he wasn't always a bucket of unicorn piss) but he wasn't exactly bothered for himself here.

"Can you help?" he asked the blonde. He figured it was better than making some long speech about proper manners and how much he wanted to unload a shotgun into his skinny ass. He had a feeling it wouldn't make any sort of impression anyway.

Draco looked back at Bobby, raising one eyebrow at the old Muggle. He was still being glared at but it wasn't as... bad as it was before. Still... no warm and fuzzy feelings there, though. And really, he probably should have realized this would happen. Potter had the most annoying habit of wrapping people around his bony little finger. Apparently that went for grumpy old Americans as well.

"Yes," he finally said, trying not to sound irritated. Did the man not listen to a word they had been saying for the past 20 minutes? He either didn't understand or he'd been off in his own little head, probably daydreaming about kicking his arse. Or groping Potter's arse.


Draco sighed and resisted the urge to snark something scathing about how a Muggle wouldn't understand the complexity of Magical Wards (and a look at Potter said he knew he was thinking it and would not approve). "I've managed to craft quite a few new wards since I got my Mastery... I'm sure I can come up with something appropriate for our situation."


Draco huffed and glared when Harry snickered. The arse; his talents or usefulness weren't being called into question... "As I was telling Potter, it'll take a few days to get them perfected." He looked up when Hermione and someone else wandered into the room, thankfully before Bobby (or Potter) could ask anything else. He raised an eyebrow at the tall Muggle, with his nose in a book, standing a bit too close to Hermione. "Hello," he said loud enough to get noses out of books.

"Hello," Sam said absently, turning a page. These books were fascinating and he was a little put out his time with them was extremely limited. And that he wasn't allowed to make notes or copies. Hermione (and Harry, probably) was already breaking a few laws even letting him look at it, though, so he really couldn't bitch too much. He slowly looked up, finally realizing he didn't recognize the voice. He didn't recognize the pale blonde sitting there, looking at him critically. "Uh, who're you?"

Draco smirked. My, Potter just found the most interesting Muggles... "Draco Malfoy." He barely had his last name finished when Hermione looked up sharply, closing her book with a snap, and glared at him. He shrugged unapologetically; she really shouldn't be surprised, or put out, by his presence here. He wasn't so stalkerish as to put tracking charms on the witch, but she was surprisingly remiss in engaging her cellphone's security features—it hadn't taken him long at all to go through her voice messages or texts. He twiddled his fingers at the witch in a cheeky wave and smirked.

"Malfoy," Hermione huffed. "What..." she trailed off, throwing her hands up, not even bothering to finish. It was no longer odd to have Malfoy acting as her guard dog these days and nothing she did or said could get him to change his mind or bugger off. Thankfully, he didn't hover or be overly oppressive and it was bearable, most times, having him around.

"When did you get here?" she asked instead.

Draco checked the time. "Not long. About a half hour," he said and sipped at his tea. He was confused when the tall man looked around, a curious expression on his face. He didn't get to ask whatever he was thinking, though, when another person came into the small kitchen. He didn't look pleased and it amused Draco immensely to watch the man scowl around the room, his posture taking on a definite defensive stance as he crossed his arms.

Harry huffed and stood. "C'mon 'Mione. And Draco," he said and headed outside before anyone could say another word. Thankfully, his friends followed without hesitation. "Sorry," he said, once they were outside. He looked down, kicking lightly at the gravel and slid his hands in his back pockets. "That was Dean. He's still adjusting to magic..."

"Dean," Hermione and Draco said at the same time, the same 'explain' inflection in their voices. They shared a grin and looked back at Harry, puzzled to see him glaring at them both.

Harry rubbed his palm into his forehead. He was starting to get a headache and he had no idea what Bobby was going to say, let alone Sam and Dean. Sam, he wasn't as worried about—he was, unsurprisingly, easy to get along with and took many new things in stride. "Dean is—" He broke off, unsure how to explain. "You've both met plenty of Hunters?" They both nodded. "Well, he's the quintessential Hunter. Kill it, ask question later. We're still... getting used to each other."

"Oh," Hermione said slowly. Well, that made sense. "And he's Sam's brother?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. There was a slight family resemblance but past that... She hadn't known Sam long, but she could already tell there were some marked differences between the two. She watched Harry nod and hummed thoughtfully.

"Has there been blood shed?" she asked, trying not to scowl. Or smirk. Obviously, they hadn't killed or maimed each other yet, but the image it brought was humorous and infuriating at the same time. Harry was deceptively deadly and she would bet all the Galleons in her vault Dean hadn't anticipated that.

Harry nodded sadly, looking back at the house. "Sorta," he said. "There was an... incident. But we've mostly been on neutral standing recently. I don't think he wants to kill me so much as he just doesn't trust me. Being around Bobby and all that," he added when they both looked at him curiously. He shrugged to show it didn't bother him.

"Well, it's his problem, Potter," Draco sniffed. "If he can't see—" He shook his head, not at all comfortable talking about feelings and all that shit with Potter and Hermione. It was obvious to anyone Harry wouldn't do anything, or allow anything to happen, to Bobby. "Anyway," he said, clearing his throat and looking at Hermione. "Did you find anything?"

Hermione shrugged. "No, but we just got here. I say we get some food and I'll sort through the books after dinner." She grinned slowly and nearly cackled with glee when both wizards gave her a pained, wary look. They really should be used to her research methods by now. And this way, there were three other helpers to give them a hand.

She turned on her heel and walked towards the house. "C'mon!" she huffed when they didn't follow.


Harry cleared the last plate to the sink and set the lot to wash with a flick of his wand. Merlin, it felt good to be able to do that freely. He didn't mind doing chores the Muggle way, but magic was so much easier and faster. Plus, he liked to keep his charm skills honed. He snickered when even Dean looked impressed as the dishes washed and dried themselves.

"Alright," Hermione said as she entered the room, getting everyone's attention off of the sink. She had a large stack of books in her arms, they were precariously balanced and were piled up past her head. Unsurprisingly, Sam was the first one up and grabbing a few to lighten the witch's load. "Thank you," she huffed, setting the rest of the stack on the table. She started dividing the stack amongst the seated men, glaring sharply when Dean made to open his mouth. "You read Latin?"

Dean fidgeted and shrugged awkwardly. He could, probably, but that was Sammy's forte. It was tempting to say no but he didn't want to look like an idiot. And he was pretty sure the woman would just give him something else to do—and he was sure it would somehow be worse than looking through huge ass, dusty books. "Not really," he finally said when Sam kicked at him.

"Right," Hermione said, switching out the books in front of Dean with different ones. Most were magical but there wasn't any help for it now. She took the largest stack for herself and sat down. "I'm sure you all know what we're looking for?" Once again, Dean was the one that looked lost. "Containment. Preservation," she said, keeping her tone polite. She knew the man wasn't stupid, but he was definitely trying to get out of research. As if.

Dean nodded and ignored Sam's snicker. "Uh." He scowled when the woman looked over at him, a look of supreme patience and annoyance on her face. How the hell did she do that? "I was just gonna say we already checked these books."

"No, you didn't," Hermione said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "I brought these from my personal library." She raised an eyebrow, waiting for Dean to try another tactic. He didn't; he huffed and yanked the book cover open and slumped in his seat as he started reading. She looked around and nodded with satisfaction when she saw all heads bent studiously over books.

It was over an hour later when Sam made an excited sound and pushed his book over towards Hermione and Draco, the pair sitting close together. "I think I found something," he said excitedly. He let go of the book and watched as Draco and Hermione both bent over the book, their heads nearly touching. He waited patiently as they read through the lengthy section he found. He slapped at Dean when his brother poked him and kicked at his bouncing leg.

"Well?" he asked, chewing on his thumbnail as he looked between the two anxiously.

"It's definitely on the right track," Hermione said, seeing Draco nod his agreement. She gave Sam a smile. "But I want to keep looking," she said, ignoring the chorus of groans. "Merlin, such whiners!" she huffed. "Harry, maybe some tea?" she asked, looking up at him hopefully. She'd go, but she didn't know Bobby's kitchen and she didn't think he'd appreciate her banging around in there.

Harry nodded and gratefully pushed back from the table. He stretched, grunting softly as things popped. He winked at Bobby as he got up, having noticed the older man's gaze on him instead of his book. He got the tea started, but got a few beers out for the Winchesters and Bobby, knowing they would prefer it over tea. It didn't take long enough to get the tea made and he divided out the mugs and bottles of beer, sitting back down and blowing on his tea. "So, did either of you take a look?"

"I did," Draco said absently. He was reading as he sipped at his tea. He had poked at the boxes containing the Boggart. He agreed with Potter: it needed better, more permanent, containment (even though Potter had done a more than adequate job of it). It was a very curious thing and he could only imagine how he was going to personalize a ward for the damn thing. The magic here was... raw and almost irritable. He looked up at rubbed at the back of his neck. "I'll need to be here for at least three weeks," he said.

Harry nodded but he saw Bobby tense. He laid a hand on his knee and gently squeezed. He knew the man was not looking forward to more time around Draco. He held a finger up at the blonde and leaned into Bobby, dropping his voice into a whisper. "Is that alright?" he asked. He really didn't want Draco staying somewhere unknown and the blonde couldn't pop back and forth across the continents. Part of the reason Draco needed to stay was to get his magic adapted to the area and to get in-depth readings on the area.

"No, but it'll have to do, won't it?" Bobby muttered back. He didn't want to open his home to ungrateful strangers, but he knew Harry wouldn't ask unless it was important. He sighed when Harry gave him a look that meant he was trying to think of something else that wouldn't suck so fucking much. And failing stupendously. "It's fine," he grunted. "I've had worse house guests," he said, trying not to look at anyone in particular.

Harry nodded again and slid a hand behind Bobby's neck. "I know it's hard to tell, but he does have manners. We probably won't even know he's here... unless you need the bathroom. The git spends more time in front of a mirror than a teenaged girl." He smiled when Bobby snorted a laugh. He knew Bobby had already agreed, but he didn't want the man regretting his decision later. "But he knows the best heating charms so they're never a shortage of hot water."

"Really?" Bobby murmured, unable to help himself. He liked taking hot, steamy showers. Especially with Harry. The thought that they wouldn't have to rush the end parts because the water suddenly turned colder than a witches tit was very good. It might even balance out the snooty dick's attitude. Maybe. He felt Harry nod and he grunted softly as he yanked Harry closer, nipping at his ear lobe. "Good."

He didn't say anything in protest when Harry immediately pulled away. Not since he saw the way Harry's neck was pinking and the way his wizard licked at his bottom lip. He watched Harry hurry into the kitchen and counted to 10 before he followed. He thought it was kinda stupid, being as it was his damn house, but it was kinda fun, too.

"Unless you want my hand down your pants—in front of everyone—don't do that," Harry muttered as soon as he saw Bobby. He rolled his eyes when the older man merely smirked and shrugged, as if he wouldn't care. He had his doubts the man would stay so unconcerned, though; Bobby was not an exhibitionist and there was little chance he'd enjoy that sort of thing. Especially if Sam and Dean were amongst those present.

Bobby pressed Harry against the counter, leaning down enough to nip at his earlobe again. As promised, Harry's hand wormed down the front of his jeans at the same time the wizard moaned softly. He knew it was a sensitive spot and he was fully aware of what it did to Harry. He stifled a grunting groan in Harry's neck when the hand down his pants moved, curling and tightening with practiced, exquisite pressure. Shit, he loved how talented Harry's hands were.

He tried not to make a lot of noise when Harry's freer hand opened his pants more while his occupied hand kept moving in a slow, tight pace that had Bobby pressing close and pulling the wizard into a messy kiss. "Shit," he muttered when he felt the way Harry managed to gently press that spot behind and cradle his balls at the same time. His head flopped forward with a moan.

Harry watched Bobby and tried not to chuckle at his shocked expression. His amusement was fleeting, anyway, once Bobby's eyes fluttered closed and the older man made that guttural grunting moaning sound as he worked him up, tight and slick, in his fist. He leaned in and kissed along Bobby's neck, unable to keep himself from murmuring in his ear. He wriggled closer, changing the angle a little, and readily accepted another kiss, taking a moment to nip and pull on Bobby's bottom lip.

Bobby made another embarrassing sound and he had to grab onto Harry's hips to help steady himself. He looked down briefly, amazed to see Harry's hand up to his forearm was down his pants and flexing as he did that thing with his palm and wrist, hot bolts of pleasure going through his body and pooling in his belly. He slid his hands around, palming Harry's ass and pulling him closer. It kinda smooshed them together and he figured Harry would have a harder time maneuvering but it didn't deter his wizard at all. It only made him moan against his ear as he got some friction, too.

Harry panted softly, trying to muffle the sound before it could become louder. There were people only a room away, after all, and he hadn't thought to put up a privacy charm. He doubled his efforts when he heard the near-constant quiet moans being puffed out against his neck, making his own sounds when lips and teeth playing along his neck. "Bobby," he murmured, working his palm over the sticky-slick warmth. He arched into the large palm that pressed against the bulge in his jeans and shuddered lightly at the pleasurable pressure. He didn't think he'd need much more than that at this point.

Bobby grunted again, muttering "Fuck" with a tone that was almost dismay when he shuddered and came in his damn pants. He felt a little bit better about the entire thing when Harry made a filthy sounding moan and did the same thing moments later. He didn't know whether to curse or thank god they were done when the soft sound of footsteps came from behind them. He groaned and flopped against Harry, pinning the poor wizard against the counter, and prayed whoever it was fucked off and didn't see the pair of them, panting, sweaty and with stained, ripped open jeans.

"Oh," Hermione breathed, catching the tale end of a toe-curling sounding moan and cursing herself for not coming in sooner. Damn! She couldn't see anything, not really. But the way both men were standing and the angle of their bodies... well, she was pretty sure they had their hands down each other's pants. Double damn! She jumped a little when she heard Harry hiss her name, he sounded pissed and a little embarrassed so she didn't linger. "Hi."

She rolled her eyes when Harry glared and set her empty mug on the table and walked from the room, twiddling her fingers over her shoulder as she left. "'Night!" she called out.

Harry groaned and let his forehead rest against Bobby's shoulder. Of all the people to walk in, why did it have to be the one person that was happy to just stand there and watch? Ugh. But he forgot to be annoyed when Bobby grabbed his face and kissed him, his fingers playing along the back of his neck. Once he got his brain back, he muttered a cleaning charm. They still looked rumpled but at least there wasn't any other evidence of his impromptu hand-job attack on Bobby.


"Jesus," Dean breathed. He knew he should do something besides just stand there and stare, but he was too stunned to move. Since he didn't see Sam rushing forward, he figured he wasn't the only one. Plus, they weren't really needed—as annoying as that was. "What the hell?" he muttered.

Now, he had seen first hand that Harry could handle himself (against him and demons) but he really didn't think that chick was the same way. Maybe it made him a bit of a—whats-it-called— a chauvinist or some shit like that, but he really didn't think a girl (especially one as dainty as Hermione) could use a sword so well or make so much blood come out of a vampire. It was... kinda impressive.

"Should we..." Sam started but trailed off, gaping stupidly when Hermione beheaded two vampires at once with a graceful sweep of her sword. "Holy shit," he muttered. Was it normal to be turned on by that sorta thing?

Dean nodded his agreement; Holy shit, indeed. "What the fuck, man. Where the hell did these two even come from?" He turned towards Sam and saw his brother shrug. It seemed like a moot point, really, especially since they were here with them now. And helping. A lot. He opened his mouth to give Harry a heads up—a vamp was closing in on his back, and quick—but the dude just spun around and there was another head rolling across the floor.

Harry looked around, straightening up from his slight crouch. He made sure Hermione was fine (a little bloody, but fine since it wasn't hers) and checked on the Winchesters. "Alright?" he called out, looking between the stock-still brothers. He nearly rolled his eyes at the pair, apparently stunned stupid from Hermione's performance. And she might've shown off a bit, but he did tell them she was capable of taking care of herself. He never had to worry about watching his back, or being distracted by checking up on her, when Hermione was with him.

"Yeah," Sam called out. He shook himself out of his daze and wiped his machete off on a rag. He grimaced and let the bloody rag drop to the floor of the warehouse. He looked around at the complete mess and sighed. He hated clean-up but it needed to be done. They couldn't leave bloody body parts laying around. He looked up when Hermione and Harry both took their wands out.

Dean looked at the wizards, feeling a little wary as he watched the pair waving their sticks—er, wands around. "What are you doin'?" he asked, unable to figure it out on his own. He didn't see anything happening but there was a definite feeling of mojo building.

"Cleaning up," Harry murmured and then started chanting under his breath. He grinned when each corpse caught fire. He snickered when Hermione started kicking the severed heads towards the various burning piles. He absently held up two fingers, indicating a score. He glanced over towards the Winchesters and couldn't help laughing at the expressions on their faces as they watched Hermione practically dance around as she played a rather gory sort of football.

Dean just nodded and finally got moving, nudging things that should be burned towards the still burning corpses. It was kinda gross but he was really digging the efficiency. He tried not to make a face when Harry gave him a smug sort of look, as if the little jerk could read his thoughts. Freakin' Hobbit better not be using his hoodoo to do that, though.

He was surprised when Hermione and Harry offered to come along, both of the actually perking up a little when Bobby told them about the vampire nest. He didn't know Hermione was a Hunter (well, she called herself a 'part-time' Hunter—whatever that meant) when he first met her since she had her face in a book. And it wasn't just because she looked like the picture next to the word 'bookworm' or because she was a girl. It was the way she went off on the snooty blonde about animal (or creature?) rights, arguing that enslavement and slaughtering a species was inherently wrong. She even thought vampires and werewolves shouldn't be killed as a matter of course. It wasn't something a Hunter said, really.

So, yeah, he'd been surprised when she was all gung-ho about taking out a nest of vampires. He felt a little bit like a dope when she'd rolled her eyes and pointed out that vampires that made a habit of killing people (children, especially) weren't part of the 'normal order' and needed to be taken care of. Rational discussion, her preferred method, rarely worked when they got to that point and she was realistic enough to know a dead vampire was no longer a threat. He figured it was smart not to point out that all vampires were against the normal order, but he knew that chick could argue and debate until she turned blue.

Even that Malfoy guy threw his hands up and stalked off, giving up. And he seemed to really get off on arguing and just generally being the epitome of a sack of dicks.


Sam nodded, agreeing completely. He grimaced when Hermione and Harry walked over, both of them heavily spattered with blood and... other stuff. He realized he and Dean were relatively clean, especially in comparison. He didn't know if that meant him and Dean were neater or just didn't do much. The bodies were all ash now, so he couldn't really do a count, but he was pretty sure out of the dozen vampires in the nest they had handled three each. Probably...

"Aren't you going to clean yourselves?" he asked, wiggling a finger at their messy clothes. They both made efficient work of cleaning everything else, he was surprised they had neglected themselves. Plus, he didn't want to hear Dean bitching about his baby's leather seats getting all 'goopy'. Blood was a bitch to get out of leather, but they did have plastic.

"Nah," Harry said with a shrug. "The fabric isn't ever right after I blast it with a cleaning charm." He liked the shirt he had on too much to risk ruining it. It had been a gift and he really didn't want to chance it.

Hermione snorted indelicately, shoving at Harry's shoulder. "That's because you're a brute and don't use the right ones." She rolled her eyes when Harry only grinned at her and with a few waves of her wand, swapped her clothing for clean ones. She'd still need a proper shower, but at least she wasn't going to be sitting in that coppery stink any longer. She did the same for Harry, giving him a flat look when he opened his mouth to complain. There was no way she'd be stuck next to him for the next while with him stinking and all bloody.

"Well," she said, twirling her wand and tucking it away into her messy bun. "Who's hungry?"

All three men just shared a look before shrugging. They could eat.


"I'd like to thank you."

Bobby looked up, surprised as hell to see Draco standing in his doorway. He was temped to play dumb, like he hadn't heard, to see if the blonde would say it again. Instead he nodded and waved the man in. He watched as Draco inclined his head and walked into his library, settling into the only chair not covered in books without pause. He had expected the blonde to pull a face at the old upholstery or the saggy seat, but nope. He just sat and picked up the closest dusty book without a sneer, tsk or eye roll.

OK. Maybe the guy wasn't so bad. Harry liked 'em well enough, so that had to account for something.

"You're welcome," Bobby finally said, nodding his head a little. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, both going back to their respective books, for a few minutes. "So, three weeks?" He looked up and saw Draco nod. "That some number you just pulled outta yer ass, or...?"

Draco snorted softly. He could see why Harry liked talking to Bobby. "Basically," he admitted, shrugging one shoulder. "I do need time to adapt to the... unique magical energy here but I'm not entirely sure how long that will take." He huffed, shaking his head a little. "Potter managed it in under two weeks, but us normal wizards might need longer."

"Yeah," Bobby said, a definite edge of pride in his voice. Harry might not like callin' attention to his strength, but he really liked it. He could almost understand the wizard's modesty, especially considerin' how some people reacted to him in the past, but he was glad Harry had stopped trying to dampen his magic or keep himself from using his magic fully. It had taken the idjit nearly getting his ass cursed off, and some hands-on personal encouragement, but at least it had finally sunk in.

Draco swallowed any reaction to the way the older Muggle's eyes glazed a bit and his posture straightened. As well as they got on now, he had no interest in that side of Potter and he knew if he asked any further, he'd get a clearer picture just how Bobby felt about that. Even if the older man didn't say anything, graphically, he didn't really need to.

"Is there really room?" he asked instead. He looked around, as if he could see the entire house. It wasn't a big house and there weren't many rooms. He certainly wasn't going to be locked in that coffin in the basement.

"Yeah," Bobby said, waving off the blonde's concern. "The Winchesters are used to sharing. Harry bunks with me and that'll leave the couch or the basement." He grinned when Draco made a groaning huffing sound at the mention of the couch. "The basement ain't so bad." It wasn't exactly cozy, but it shouldn't be too bad for a temporary place to sleep.

Draco cleared his throat, suddenly nervous and wishing he had waited to speak to Potter's Muggle when the git was around. "Would you be opposed to an additional room?"


Draco huffed a soft laugh, his nerves smoothing out at Bobby's unapparent concern. He had almost expected yelling or outright refusal. "Meaning I'd like to add a room to your home. Temporarily."

"Sure," Bobby said with a shrug. What did he care? "As long as you don't hog the bathroom, whatever."

Draco nodded his understanding and went back to the book in his lap. He had expected more resistance than that... But it probably helped, immensely, that Bobby had gotten so used to Potter and his magic, he didn't even think it an odd request. It was hard to tell how long they'd sat in the dusty library, both absorbed in their books, when the distinct sound of engines was heard. He noticed Bobby check the time and scowl.

"Took 'em long enough," Bobby huffed out. He knew there was no reason to worry with four trained, skilled, Hunters out together but it wasn't something he was able to always rein in. He looked up when he heard footsteps and smiled out of reflex when Harry burst through the door. He must've pushed his chair back as some point because Harry wound up in his lap without any real problems.

Harry chuckled lowly when Bobby's hands immediately settled on his arse. He gently pushed them away, very aware of the other people in the room with them. "All done," he said, giving Bobby a mock-salute.


"What took so long?"

Harry looked between Bobby and Draco, trying not to laugh, sorting out which question to answer first since they asked them at the same time. It was strange to see matching disgruntled expressions on their faces as well. "We got something to eat before we came home. Oh!" He sagged in Bobby's lap, suddenly feeling bad. "Did you eat?" he asked, fiddling with the collar of Bobby's flannel.

"I'm a grown-assed man," Bobby said trying for defensive and smitten and just about nailing it. "I can feed myself, you know. Been managing to for quite a few years."

Harry huffed and climbed off of Bobby's lap. Bobby hadn't starved yet but he certainly hadn't put much effort into it, either. "Draco?" The blonde gave a sheepish shake of his head and he rolled his eyes. Honestly. Grown men they were, but what sort of grown men didn't remember to feed themselves? "Are either of you hungry?" They both nodded and he resisted the urge to throw his hands up and just headed towards the kitchen. He really didn't mind but it was a little exasperating to offer and get grudging yeses.

Hermione followed Harry, happy to leave the Winchester brothers to tell Bobby (and Draco) about the successful trip. "Need any help?"

"No, thanks, 'Mione." Harry wouldn't mind the help but Hermione could burn Jell-o... and he really didn't want to have to Vanish inedible food when Hermione wasn't looking. Again. "So, I gotta ask—"

"No," Hermione interrupted, rolling her eyes.

Harry sucked his teeth and carefully flipped the burgers since they were starting to sizzle. "You don't even know what I was going to ask!"

"I do too," Hermione countered. She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms, giving Harry a dry look. "You're going to ask if Sam's tried to get in my pants." She tapped her chin, thinking. "Or if I tried to get in his," she added with a grin.

Harry snorted a laugh. "Alright, so you did know." He stuck his tongue out when she merely hummed with that 'I know' look on her face. When she didn't add anything else, he poked her in the side. "Well?"

"I don't see how it's your business."

Harry snorted again, poking Hermione a bit harder. "Touché. However, you ask me for details every time you see me."

"Yes, well..." Hermione trailed off. "Man-on-man sex is hot, so I'm going to be curious." She laughed when Harry merely hummed, a satisfied looking smile on his face as he stared off for a few moments. She really expected him to sputter or blush, maybe shove her about and call her a nosy cow. "And it's not like you'll actually tell me, anyway."

Harry hummed again, poking at a burger with his spatula. "Nope," he said, popping the 'p'. Not only would Bobby have a Hippogriff, he knew he'd never get Hermione to stop asking for more. She was a knowledge sponge and she needed to know everything. In his ever so humble opinion that did not need to include the (fantastic) minute details of his sex life.

"And for the record, I wasn't asking for details," he added, his nose wrinkling a little at the thought. He really hadn't any interest in hearing about girly bits, especially Hermione's. Just... no. "Merely if there was something there."

"I dunno," Hermione said, shrugging one shoulder. "I guess we'll see." She grinned when Harry only rolled his eyes at her.

(A/N: Can I just say how much I laughed when my spell-check had no problems spelling hand-job and squishy but didn't know nougat? I found that amusing and a little telling... Anyway, I didn't edit the hell outta this so I could get it up and out quicker, so please forgive any glaring errors.)