Original Sinn

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Chapter VI - Wrath

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8:05 pm

Draco was starting to believe he was developing a nervous tick. This was the second time he had paced over Potter's whereabouts. After Harry had left, Draco had kicked off his shoes and flopped ungraciously onto his bed. He lay there, arm thrown over his face for all of five minutes before he sat up, shocked that it had happened again. Harry had left without the comm.

"God dammit!"

I should go after him, Draco had thought, then immediately realised the he had no way of getting in range of casting the spell while Harry was in James' flat.

Maybe they aren't there yet, another voice said. It's only been a few minutes.

But what if he doesn't want me to come?

It had been at that moment that Draco truly realised what he had done.

Draco usually prided himself on being in control of the world around him - the situations he found himself in - but nearly this entire mission he had been completely out of control. At least where Potter was concerned, and where Potter was concerned him quite a lot.

In fact, it concerned him so much that he now stood and had started pacing the length of the room for a third time.

Okay, so I kissed Potter, and it was fucking brilliant, and then he left. He just left...for him. Okay, maybe not for him, but to him, sure. And I'm letting that cloud my judgment.

Use your instincts, Malfoy. You should go. You know you should.

So he Apparated. Landing lightly in the alley next to the pawn shop, he crouched in the shadows, listening intently for signs of inhabitants upstairs, but there was nothing. Distantly, he heard the sound of cars, and there was some music playing a little too loudly in a building down the street. Soon, the distinctive sound of a motorbike singled itself out from the rush of engines, and Draco tensed, pressing himself up against the wall before quickly casting a disillusionment charm to hide the fact that his skin and hair reflected light like the moon on a clear night.

The bike got louder and closer, and then pulled into the alley, the bright headlight blinding Draco for a second before the bike clicked off and the engine died down. The light glowed out, leaving spots in Draco's vision for a moment, and the now near-silence became almost deafening.

Draco watched Harry climb off the bike, pulling his helmet off. Draco could only really see his silhouette, but it was obvious that Harry was radiating discontent.

Draco was mildly surprised when James got off the bike himself and leaned over the seat to take Harry's hand. Draco raised up his wand arm, ready to cast the comm spell at the ample opportunity.

"Harry, what's wrong?" James asked, concern lacing his voice.

Harry shook his head, and looked up to smile. "Nothing. Just more roommate drama."

Drama? Draco thought, with a bit of indignant hurt. You call that drama?

"You wanna talk about it?"

"No. I just want to forget about him."

Draco froze.

I see, Potter. I see it all perfectly.

James smiled and leaned down, capturing Harry's mouth with his. "I think I can arrange that."

Shuddering with something akin to disgust and coupled with rage and perhaps even hurt, Draco Disapparated back to the hotel room.

~~~~~

8:09pm

There was a loud crack to Harry's left, and both he and Jamie jumped, looking down the dark alley, but there was nothing there.

"What was that?" Jamie asked, sounding slightly startled and with a dangerous edge to his voice.

"I don't know..." Harry trailed off, frowning a bit and sighing.

Are you here, Draco?

~~~~~

8:09pm

Draco threw his wand against the wall as soon as all of his particles were reassembled. It bounced harmlessly off the plaster and fell to the floor.

Malfoy, you're an imbecile. You thought Potter liked you kissing him? He was disgusted by it! How could you let yourself think-

Draco stopped his thoughts in their tracks and stepped over to pick up his wand, pocketing it. He slipped off his shoes and socks, curling his toes in the carpet.

Maybe a hot shower would help calm him down.

Draco went into the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind him. He avoided the mirror, crossing his arms in front of him to grab the hem of his jumper and pull it off, folding the dark grey fabric neatly and placing it on the toilet lid. His hair was ruffled, and he automatically smoothed it back down, his fingers deftly moving the strands to their rightful place.

He took his wand out of his pocket, his movements unhurried and deliberate, placing it with a soft 'clack' on the counter. Pulling on the leather strap of his belt, he released it from the tine and slipped it out of the belt loops in his trousers. Curling it in a tight circle, he placed it on top of his jumper, then straightened, his fingers moving to undo the buttons of his pressed trousers. Staring at a blank spot on the wall opposite, Draco's fingers moved with grace and agility, as though he had gone through the motions of unbuttoning his five-button, tailor-made slacks a million times.

With a little nudge, they slid down his thighs and to the floor, where he stepped out of them, bending over to pick them up and fold them neatly as well. With a short pause, he walked over to the shower stall and started the water running, waiting for it to turn warm against his fingers before starting the showerhead.

He shook the water off his hand and went to gather his shower things from his side of the counter. He had wanted to avoid looking into the mirror, honestly afraid of what he might see in himself. He looked up eventually, though, because some part of him said that the last thing he should be was afraid of his own damn reflection.

His corn-silk hair was the same pale shade of yellow it had always been, though he remembered an old portrait from when he was a baby hanging in the manor. His hair back then might as well have been white, for there was no colour lighter in the universe than the colour of his hair, his mother once said.

His grey eyes were the same grey they had always been too - but perhaps they had been jewel blue in the portrait. But that colour had faded, just like him.

His skin was still a flawless cream, with the exception of the five o'clock shadow dusting his chin with gold, and a small scar right on the line of his cheek, the injury so faded and white that it only cast a shine, making his face look sharper than it was.

His nose was still a bit pointy for his tastes, though as a child, he thought his complexion and bone structure were perfect...just like his mum's. But it was more his father's face he held; one of grace and beauty to be sure, but one that was sharp and could cut like a razor's edge.

Is that what he thinks of me? That I'll hurt him? That I'm too much like my father?

Why is it always about you, Malfoy?

He wished his inner voices would stop sounding so much like Potter.

The mirror was clouding; the water running hot and filling the room with steam. He stepped away from the counter, slipping off his pants and placing them atop his other clothing, then gathered up his shower things before parting the curtain and stepping into the warmth. He set his hair potions and soap in the corner and stepped backwards, letting the hot water beat down on his shoulders and neck. He took a moment to breathe before tilting his head back and smoothing his hair off his forehead with his hands as the water poured onto it, turning corn-silk into spun gold.

The heat relaxed his muscles, yet made the air thick and stifling, so Draco turned and leaned against the cool tile to shock his system awake again.

I shouldn't have left like that. Regardless of what he said, I should have just put us on comm and dealt with it. Forget what they might wind up doing while on comm. Leaving Potter like that was stupid, Malfoy, and you know it.

"FUCK!" Draco screamed, banging the side of his fist into the tile.

He breathed harshly, wishing the stinging in his eyes could be explained away by soap.

It shouldn't be like this. I'm not some pining school girl. I don't even like him most of the time, and it's not like he's the hottest guy I've ever seen... He's just...Potter. That infuriating sonofabitch.

That I'm attracted to for some similarly infuriating reason.

Draco grabbed his hair potion, pouring an ample amount into his palm and rubbing it all over his hair, building up bubbles and working the potion into his scalp; his fingers massaging almost vigorously.

He was angry, he knew that. Angry at himself, he knew that too, but that still didn't change what had happened, and how stupid he had been to think things might finally be different.

But when had they ever been? Draco walked into this case with the full knowledge that Potter was a self-righteous arsehole, and that he didn't really give a fuck what Potter did or thought about anything; he had just wanted to get this mission over and done with. The less time spent with Potter the better.

'And then the second James got close, you got jealous like he was trying to play with your favourite toy.'

Potter's not a toy.

'But you still got jealous.'

Of course I did. Potter's mine. He's always been mine.

'And here we find the root of the problem.'

Draco hated it when he talked sense into himself. Of course Potter had always been his; his adversary, his object of malicious amusement, his rival at work, in Quidditch, in school. In every way possible, Harry Potter had always been a part of his life, whether he wanted him to be or not. That was just the way things were.

And now that Draco had a different sort of interest in Harry Potter, his reasons for jealousy changed, and now he wanted things to change.

Finished rinsing the potion out of his hair, he put in a conditioning agent, gelling to his hair where it would set for a few minutes before he washed it away. Meanwhile, he rubbed some skin tonic onto his face and down his neck - feeling it automatically clean and tighten up his pores and moisturise the new skin while leaving him clean shaven at the same time.

He then grabbed his special soap bar, rubbing it across his chest, watching as bubbles formed then popped before the soap was washed away by the water. He slid the bar over his toned arms and under; down his ribs and across his hips. He washed his legs and then whispered a quick charm for the bar to run over his back, just where he couldn't reach. He loved this soap. It was a wooden sort of scent; something musky like sandalwood perhaps, but there was something sweet on top of that; some flora that he couldn't place. He knew it was made specifically for his skin, and he always asked the soap maker what was in it, but she'd just smile at him and say, "Just take your special bar of soap, Draco."

He smiled at the thought and stopped the charm, setting the bar aside and turning to let the suds wash away. Tipping his head back to let the water slick back his hair one last time, he sighed in a relaxing sort of way and turned off the water, pulling back the curtain into a room full of mist.

Grabbing the nearest towel, he put the towel right atop his head, letting the ends fall over his face.

"Why oh why hast thou forsaken me, great omnipotent being the Muggles blindly adore? Nothing I do is good enough for you, is it?" he said into the empty room.

No one answered, but it wasn't like he was expecting a sign from upon high. God didn't care about the Muggles who worshipped him so much, why would he care about those who his worshippers thought were the devil's children? Regardless, Draco still knew a wizard was more superior than a Muggle any day.

Well, he could inherently do things they couldn't, at any rate.

Drying off his body and hair, he thought about his lingering animosities towards Muggles. Was it because of James he was suddenly fuelling that fire again? He had no qualms with his friends, who were all Muggle. They were brilliant at whatever they did, and were wonderful people to boot - once past his barriers, Draco practically forgot all about the fact that they couldn't do some things he could and that he had to hide half of who he was from them. Having a flat full of Muggle appliances helped.

It was perhaps a little frustrating, but Draco got used to it in time; it wasn't as if lying wasn't his life. He just wished he could trust his friends that much more.

Like Potter. He would trust his friends until it killed him, and probably anyone else that proved themselves worthy.

Like Sameson James.

But he's not, Harry, can't you see that? Draco wanted to scream, but instead he simply cleaned and dried his towel before combing through his hair instead. He's not worth it. Not worth your life, you bloody, self-sacrificing Gryffindor. For all they knew, James had used the artefact and has just been hiding his malicious glee at being able to do amazing things all too well.

But then there was that one comment...

"If you want out of whatever the hell you want to call yourself..."

It certainly wasn't an awed sort of remark. It sounded more disgusted, actually, Draco thought.

Draco finished in the bathroom and gathered his shower things, drying them off and walking out into the front room to change into his pyjamas. He looked around the room quickly, thinking maybe Potter had returned while he was in the shower, but the room was just as empty as it had been when he'd gone in. Which was probably just as well, as he was starkers at the moment, having left his other clothes in the bathroom.

He set his things down on his dresser and pulled out a pair of silk pyjama bottoms and a white tee-shirt, slipping them on and returning to the bathroom to pick up his clothes and take a look at his hair before shutting off the light and leaving.

After putting his clothes away, he looked around the room, trying to find something to do while he waited for Harry to come back. He picked up the potions books he had brought over and thumbed through the pages, trying to find something that would catch his eye. He quickly grew bored however, and so he flopped back on his bed and grabbed the remote, deciding that if the telly couldn't at least entertain him for a few moments, nothing would.

He came across some chat show with this bloke Jonathan, who was by far campier looking than any gay man he had seen in a while, but in that pink-suit-and-tie sort of way. Draco was positive he was gay until he mentioned his wife and kids and then Draco had no choice but to mourn the loss of the comedian to the straight world. Jonathan was actually pretty funny, as was the kid he was interviewing. Some guy who had apparently done a whole bunch of films and was well known all over the world. And really hyper. He told Jonathan, "I'm just trying to prove to you that it's not past my bedtime." Draco smiled, and remembered those days when all the Slytherin boys would get together and stay up late into the night, telling ghost stories and teaching each other cool spells with their wands. This kid looked no older than seventeen, and if he had been just a few years older, Draco might have gone for him.

Draco frowned and flipped the channel to another chat show, but found that one lacking and so he turned back to Jonathan's and watched as the teen celebrity cracked jokes and played some song or another on his cheeks.

The show eventually ended, and Draco checked the time; it was almost midnight. Where the fuck was Harry? He'd been gone nearly four hours.

Swallowing his nervous frustration, Draco started flipping channels again; trying to find something he might be interested in, and found his eyelids drooping. He struggled to stay awake; he wanted to be alert when Harry came back. Just as he was drifting off, his ears picked up a whirr-click, and he opened his lethargic eyes and turned his head to see Harry at the door, his back to the room as he closed it. He had his right hand on the handle, lightly touching it with his fingertips, as if he was afraid to let completely go.

Draco sat up, suddenly awake. "Potter?" he asked, knowing his voice sounded more than little relieved.

Harry didn't move, so Draco stood and walked past Harry's bed to the entry-way, watching Harry's back. His shoulders were slumped, and his head hung low. All Draco would see were shadows.

"Potter? Are you okay?" Draco was getting worried. Harry still hadn't turned around, or moved. At all.

Something in Draco's peripheral vision moved, and the blond looked down to see a small, dark stain on the floor right beneath Harry's left hand. Draco watched in horror as another drop of blood fell from Harry's fingers, staining the floor deeper.

~~~~~

8:12pm

"So what's for dinner?" Harry asked as they walked up the back staircase, needing to distract himself from his thoughts of a certain, blond-haired individual.

Jamie smiled over his shoulder. "Homemade spaghetti."

"Mmmm, sounds good."

Jamie took his keys out to unlock the door. "It is."

"You're not modest at all, are you?" Harry said from a step below.

"Not at all. Haven't you noticed that yet?" Jamie turned around and pulled Harry up onto the next step.

Harry smiled. "Maybe. A little."

Sameson grinned, leaning down to capture Harry's mouth in a kiss. He pulled away, leaving Harry a little breathless. "Let's get that dinner started."

They entered the apartment, hanging up their jackets, and headed into the kitchen area, where Jamie had laid out the items to make dinner.

"You're making the sauce from scratch?" Harry said, picking up a tomato.

"Is there any other way?" Jamie asked with a wink.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Anything I can do to help?"

Sameson took the tomato from Harry's hands, patting the counter behind him with the other. "Just sit here and look pretty."

Chuckling, Harry hopped up onto the counter, and watched as Jamie got started, pulling a knife out of a drawer and taking out a cutting board.

"Are you thirsty? I've got some beer in the icebox if you want. Help yourself."

"Okay." Harry slid off the counter to the fridge and opened it, taking out two beers. Using the bottle opener that Jamie handed him, he opened both, sliding one over to Jamie, while hopping back up on his own bit of counter to watch.

Jamie made quick work of dinner. Chopping, dicing, boiling, seasoning... Harry was amazed at how adept he was in the kitchen.

"Wow...you're really good at that. That isn't the only thing you know how to make, is it?" Harry asked as an afterthought, taking a swig of his beer.

Jamie turned the sauce on low and checked the noodles before turning around, a raised eyebrow and a smirk on his face. "Do you really think so low of me, Harry?"

Harry's eyes darted around. "What? No, of course not. I mean, I didn't mean to offend you..."

Jamie laughed and stepped forward to curl his arms around Harry's waist. "You didn't. You're perfectly right. I can only make spaghetti. And anything in a box."

Harry laughed in return and they shared a kiss. "Dinner should be ready in a few minutes," Jamie said, turning back round to finish taking care of dinner.

"Should I set the table...?"

Jamie chuckled. "Do you see a table to set, Harry?"

Harry leaned to the right to see into part of the living room. "Er...no?"

"It's probably not proper, but we'll have to eat at the coffee table."

Harry shrugged. "That's fine. I've been ordering room service and eating in bed for the last two weeks."

"Have you guys found a new place yet?"

"No. We're...still waiting for the insurance money," Harry fibbed, hoping he didn't sound like a complete moron. He still really didn't know much about the intricacies of Muggle life, but he'd heard that on a film once, and hoped it worked.

Apparently it did, because Sameson didn't say anything about it. "Is your roommate still driving you crazy?"

"I thought that was obvious when you picked me up."

Jamie finished serving up the spaghetti onto two plates before turning around. "It was, but are you okay? You've been pretty quiet."

"I'm fine. I just...didn't have much to say. I was watching you."

"Watching me, huh? See anything you like?"

Taking the bait, Harry jumped off the counter and wrapped his arms around Jamie's shoulders. "Yes. Your back, for one."

"My back?" he replied, sceptical.

Harry nodded. "And your arms..." he said, moving his free hand down to squeeze one of the man's biceps, realising that he did kind of like Jamie's strong arms.

"And...?"

Harry felt his face turn warm. "Your bum."

Jamie threw back his head and laughed. "Now we're talkin'." He leaned down and kissed Harry breathless. "Dinner's ready. Let's take it into the living room and watch some telly."

Harry smiled. "Sounds good."

Okay...so food, alcohol, entertainment. But how am I going to find out where the damn artefact is...? Fuck, I wish I had some Veritaserum, that way I could just stupefy him, slip him some and get over with it.

Harry followed Jamie out to the living area with the beer, as Jamie insisted on carrying the plates. They settled themselves down at the coffee table, sitting on the floor and turning on the television. Harry dug right in, making a small moaning noise in his throat as the perfectly blended tomatoes and spices hit his taste buds.

"Good?" Jamie asked, smirking.

"Like you don't already know," Harry retorted, after swallowing his mouthful. "I bet you feed this to all the guys you're dating."

Jamie leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Only the ones I'm trying to sleep with."

Harry just gaped at him. "Really?"

"Sure," Jamie said nonchalantly, putting a forkful of tomato sauce and noodles in his mouth.

"Does it normally work?" Harry asked, feeling a little perturbed.

Jamie turned to Harry with a serious face. "Harry, it was a joke. You really are gullible, aren't you?" he asked, a small smile on his face.

Harry glared at his plate. "That's what my roommate says."

"Maybe this roommate has something to him, other than aggravating you."

"Gee, thanks."

"Oh, you know I'm on your side."

"So you say..." Harry went back to eating.

"So I bet you're wondering where the artefact is, aren't you?"

Harry sucked air in the wrong way just as he was trying to swallow his mouthful, so he started choking slightly. "Wha-what?" Harry turned to James with wide eyes, once he has finished swallowing, and his coughs subsided. Great, Potter. What a ridiculously unsubtle way to blow your cover.

Sameson James was looking at Harry with a very dangerous light in his eye, the dead stare on his face signifying many unpleasant happenings for Harry if he said the wrong thing.

"I'm sorry?" Harry asked, his heart caught in his throat. Oh god, holy crap, how did he find out?! Harry put his hand on the side of his right leg, where his wand was strapped.

"You're not a bad liar, Harry, but you're not that good."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

James leaned forward, inches from Harry's face. Harry deliberately didn't move away from the criminal's proximity. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't.

"I know what you are, Harry Potter. I even know who you are. 'The Great Saviour of your people'."

Harry swallowed. "I'm nobody's saviour, Sameson."

"So you say. But I have my sources." He suddenly grabbed a hold of Harry and threw his weight onto the floor, his hands fisted in Harry's shirt and holding him there.

"Sameson, let go of me," Harry said in a calm voice, his wrists trapped between Sameson's hands.

"I hear you're a cop," Sameson said, ignoring Harry's request. "I also hear you have a pointy little stick they call a 'wand' and that you always have it on you." Sameson used his own body weight to pin down Harry, while he took a hand and started feeling Harry up, trying to find his wand. When he touched Harry's crotch for an exorbitantly long amount of time, Harry glared.

"It's not there, if that's what you're thinking."

Sameson smirked. "I wasn't. Just thought it'd be nice to get in another feel before I destroy you."

Harry started to really struggle. "You sick fuck. You don't know the meaning of destroy. I could render you in two with a few whispered words, if I wanted."

Sameson leaned back a little. "Really? Then go right ahead." When Harry didn't move, he laughed. "You need your pointy stick, don't you?"

Harry snarled. "You're sort of pinning me down, you jackass."

"One thing I have that you people don't. The ability to fight with my bare hands." And then Harry knew nothing but pain blossoming from his jaw and nose and cheek. He looked back up at Sameson, and spit a little bloody saliva in his face.

Sameson snarled and wrenched Harry up, just to throw him down again, his head hitting the harder edge of the couch's armrest, but that didn't stop him from managing to tear one hand out of Sameson's grip and punch him in the nose.

James cursed and swore, raising a hand to his quickly bruising face. Harry wrenched himself away this time, pushing James to the side and scrambling up to his feet, bending over to quickly draw his wand.

He had it out and pointing straight at James, who was now regaining his footing, touching his tender nose.

"You nearly broke it, you sonofabitch."

"I can fight just as dirty," Harry said coldly, his wand steadily pointed at James' chest. "I wasn't raised a wizard, James."

"So what now? You gonna cast a spell on me?" he taunted.

Harry frowned. "I never wanted to have to, Sameson. But you're leaving me little choice. Unless you take me to the artefact, and tell me who gave it to you, this game is over for you. My 'people' will not be so lenient with you, and have ways of putting you away via your own government for a very long time."

"Like I haven't done a little time before."

"Not like this you haven't. Now, hand over the artefact. I am more than positive you don't have any real idea of the consequences, if it were used."

"Oh, I am perfectly aware. And I'm not stupid enough to hand over something that could make me a mint, and give me the type of power I've wanted for years now."

"You don't plan on using it, do you? Is that what your contact promised you? Fuck, Jamie, whoever it is, what makes you think they won't go back on their word? They're probably just using you. What use would they have for a Muggle anyhow? You do realise that putting that into the hands of anyone with even the slightest bit of power and no restraint will end our way of life, don't you? What do you think they'll do when they have the power and can do whatever they want to you? There are enough natural-born wizards that hate you just because you don't have magic. And trust me; you're hated even more if your blood isn't purely magical."

Sameson shrugged. "Why not make everyone a wizard then, Harry? Then everyone would have the power you do."

"Because there were meant to be certain balances on the earth, Jamie. Good and evil can't exist without the other. There's no light without dark. Magic can't exist in humans without the absence of it in others. Wizards and witches can't be magical if the earth itself has no power. That artefact will take that power away from the earth, and eventually destroy it."

"We're destroying it anyway, Harry. With our pollution, and waste and war. Why keep hiding it? Why hide who you are? Why not change the world with your magic? That's what it's there for, isn't it?"

Harry shook his head. "There is war and pollution and waste in our world too, Jamie. And there are more of you than there are of us. Magic scares people. Why do you think we hide?"

"Because you don't harness what power you do have to the full extent. I've felt magic, Harry. I know what it can do to people. What it can make them do."

Harry frowned. "Wait - has your contact put you under a spell? A spell that makes you do things against your will?"

Sameson smirked. "No, Harry. But I have seen a demonstration or two. It was rather fun to watch."

"You're sick, Sameson."

"Stop calling me that!" Sameson took a few steps forward, his fists at his sides, and Harry's slowly falling wand jerked back up again.

"How can you take pleasure in watching someone do something they don't wish to? Or watch someone in pain?" When Sameson didn't answer right away, Harry said, shaking his head, "I guess I never knew you at all."

"No, Harry. You knew what I let you know. You were the one that lied to me."

"I'm sorry, Jamie, but it was necessary. Would you have gone for me, if you knew I was a cop? Even if you didn't know I was a wizard?"

"You might as well hit me with a spell now and get it over with. But I'm not telling you anything about the artefact or who gave it to me."

"Jamie, please-"

"Stop it! Stop acting like you fucking care!"

"But I do!" Harry yelled, wondering why he did really care.

"You played me the second you saw me. You and that little blond twink. You don't even have a roommate, Harry! He's your fucking partner! He didn't get in with me, so he sent you along. Probably forced you, is like. You're not even gay!"

"Even if I were the straightest guy on earth, I would still care, Jamie!"

"STOP FUCKING ACTING!" James leapt the few steps to Harry, ramming him against the wall behind him. He stole the wand right out from Harry's hand, throwing it across the flat to land in the kitchen, where it skittered across the linoleum and stopped nearly underneath the fridge.

Harry struggled uselessly to regain control. James was just far too big for Harry to overpower him.

"A-accio..." He tried to call his wand back to him, but James' forearm was pressing on his throat.

"I was actually starting to like you, Harry."

Harry's eyes locked with Jamie's just a second before everything went dark in an explosion of pain.

~~~~~

9:57pm

"...No, of course not. I've got him secure. Yes, I took his wand away. No, I don't think he's been able to alert his partner. Okay. I'll see you soon."

There was a small clack, and Harry recognised the sound of a mobile snapping shut through the pain in his head. He groaned slightly, and tried to move his head to a more comfortable position, but the light behind him was blinding, and the carpet underneath his cheek was rough and somehow wet.

"You're awake. Great." Harry didn't get much choice in his new position, he soon realised. James had tied his hands roughly and tightly behind his back and grabbed his shoulders to yank him into a sitting position. Harry could now see what had made the old carpet wet...he had been bleeding rather profusely it looked, probably from his nose.

Fuck.

James knelt down in front of him. "Well, your glasses aren't broken. That's a good thing, I suppose. You should be able to see the company that's going to be here with very clear vision. He's been dying to meet you."

"Fuck you, Sameson."

Sameson sighed. "I really hate when people call me that, Harry." He leaned forward and whispered dangerously in Harry's ear, "So stop doing it."

James then stood. "You know, for someone who's apparently very powerful and skilful with his wand, it sure was easy to take you down."

"Might I point out that you're nearly twice the size of me?" Harry glared.

James shrugged. "You should have hexed me, Harry. But you had to try and talk some sense into me. That will prove to be your downfall." James knelt back down and leaned in really close. "I will be getting the power I deserve. I've been waiting for nearly twenty years, and not you or any silly, magical fags are going to stop me from getting it."

"You're mad."

"And you're a pathetic excuse for a wizard." James stood and went into the kitchen, where he appeared to be cleaning up.

Something puzzled Harry. "How is it you know so much about wizards?"

"I'm sure you're smart enough to realise that my contact has told me things, Harry." Sameson was wiping down the counter, acting as though this was a normal conversation.

"What has he told you?"

"Not much more than I already knew."

"Wait, you knew about us before?"

James smirked. "Let's just say I had my suspicions. My contact only confirmed them."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "Who is it? Jamie, please tell me."

James shook his head in return. "No can do, Harry. You'll just have to wait until he gets here."

"And when will that be?"

"Soon."

~~~~~

10:15pm

"Where are you?" Harry heard Sameson whisper furiously. "You'd think you'd like to get here--what? No, he's not being a problem. He's still tied up. What's the problem? Are you closing in? Does someone...? Fine, but just get here soon."

James snapped shut his mobile and slipped it into his pocket, picking up a kitchen knife he had just cleaned, and started juggling it one handed, a sour look on his face.

Harry felt his face itch where James hadn't wiped away the blood. Now, that had been a rather awkward moment. James had cleaned himself up while Harry had been unconscious, and then took the time to tend to some of the mess on Harry's own face.

"James?"

"What?"

"I need to use the bathroom."

"You can hold it."

"I really can't. You know me, one drink and I'm-"

"They always say that, you know."

"You normally have people tied up in your living room?"

James glared. "They say it so they can have an opportunity to escape. I'm not untying you, Harry."

"Jamie, I'm not just saying that. I really do have to go."

"Fine. But you're going to have to find your own way out of that rope. The only way that knot can be undone is with a knife."

Harry sighed. "I've noticed. My arms went numb about five minutes ago."

"Okay then." James walked past Harry and into the bedroom. He returned with a pistol. Harry stared at it with growing unease. "This, Harry, is a Glock 17 9mm. Nothing particularly special, but it can kill you." He released the clip and showed it to Harry, who was looking up from the floor with a determinedly straight face. He wasn't going to panic.

"As you can see, it is fully loaded." James replaced the clip and pointed it straight at Harry's head. "And the safety's off." Leaning down, James grabbed Harry by the arm and hoisted him to his feet. Continuing to aim the gun at Harry's face, he said, "Turn around and walk into the bathroom."

Harry did as he was told, walking somewhat unsteadily through the bathroom door next to where he had been sitting. James pushed him slightly on the back, causing him to stumble the rest of the way into the dark room. James flipped on the light, and Harry looked over his shoulder to see James staring down the gun at him.

"I'm going to cut the rope. Try anything funny, and you'll get a bullet in your head." James took the kitchen knife he had slipped into his back pocket out and moved slowly behind Harry.

Harry swallowed. How the hell was he supposed to take a piss with James standing right there?

Think, Harry, think!

Harry cried out at the pain of his shoulders falling back into place. "Ow, fuck..." He held his hands up, examining the slight rope burn the synthetic material left on his wrists. Rolling his shoulders to loosen them up and shaking his hands to get back some feeling in them besides pins and needles, he turned and glared at his captor.

"Sorry, Harry. It had to be done."

"So I can't get away and call my partner?"

"Draco Malfoy? Yes. That blond tease. I hear he's actually the gay one."

"Who the fuck do you know, James? You sound like you've been reading personnel files on us."

James shrugged. "Maybe I have been." He shoved Harry's shoulder. "Now take a piss already so I can tie you back up. It may not seem like it, but I really don't want to have to shoot you."

"I don't know if I can."

"What?"

"I mean, with you standing right there..."

"Oh, no, you're not getting me with that. I'm not leaving you alone. You better figure out how to piss with me in the room, because I'm not leaving."

"I know that. I'm just saying...it might take me a minute."

"You have five."

Sighing, Harry turned back to the toilet, fidgeting with his belt and fly. He was just about to pull himself out when he felt James move directly to the small space behind him. He could feel the heat of James' body against his back and his breath on his neck.

"Jamie, what are you doing?"

"It's really too bad things had to turn out this way, Harry."

"I take it you mean something other than the fact that you have a gun pointed at the back of my head."

Jamie ran a hand down Harry's arm, encircling his wrist with strong fingers. "You're still hot, Harry." He breathed in Harry's ear, whispering, "It's too bad you're not gay, either."

"Nor am I straight."

He turned Harry around to look him in the eye. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to Harry's, kissing him for a few moments. Harry stood there, unresponsive, and not sure how to respond, but not particularly sure if pulling away violently like he wanted to would be the best decision, considering the circumstances.

When James pulled away, he asked, "Why didn't you kiss me back, Harry?"

"It's hard to feel in the mood when someone has a deadly weapon pointed at me."

James didn't lower the gun. Instead, he smirked. "You may think I'm crazy, but I did sorta like you."

Harry turned around to continue trying to use the loo. "So you've said."

"Did I turn you a little, Harry?"

Harry turned back around, one more time. "No. Draco did."

Jamie backhanded him across the face, skewing Harry's glasses on his nose. When Harry moved his head to look at James again, the larger man took his thumb and wiped the blood away from the corner of Harry's lip.

"I don't understand you, Jamie."

"And you never will."

As Harry turned back around, Jamie said, "You lied to me."

"You lied to me too," was Harry's response. He managed to take care of business, as long as he concentrated on other things besides the fact that there was a man with a gun directly behind him. As he zipped up his fly and buckled his belt, he focused very hard and measured his movements just as carefully.

He turned around quickly, but it felt like it was in slow motion; his right arm flew out, knocking James' gun-hand away and to the side; with his left hand, palm open, he ducked the punch coming from his left.

"Accio wand!" He barely needed to say the incantation as the wand had already slapped into his palm, his fingers curling around the wood and then he had it pointing it up at Sameson before the man had a chance to bring up the gun again.

They stood there in the narrow bathroom, in a face-off that pushed the odds; gun vs. wand, trained on one another.

Harry tracked Sameson's movements very carefully; he had to time this just right...

I'm not going to make the same mistake twice.

He leaned sharply to the left, just as James pulled the trigger, and yelled out, 'Stupefy!' as the bullet whizzed past his ear.

James flew back with a cracking force into the shower stall while Harry dashed out of the room, intent on grabbing his jacket and getting to Draco. It was unspoken that he needed backup.

He didn't get much farther than putting his jacket on and opening the door however, as James yanked him back by his hair, the gun now at his throat.

"Tricky, tricky, Harry...I didn't realise you could call your wand like that..."

How the...? Harry thought quickly. Getting out of Jamie's hold was out of the question. Draco said it; you can't dodge bullets. No spell can shield against physical attacks, unless a talisman has been charmed to do such things...

Harry had just figured out how James had managed to shake off the stunning curse when all he saw was blackness as James hit him in the temple with the butt of the gun.

~~~~~

11:28pm

"Harry! Harry, wake up now...it's time for your life lesson..."

"No..." Harry said weakly. "No more lessons, Draco."

There was an annoyed chuckle. It was accompanied by a violent shake. "Harry! Time's up!"

Harry groaned as he realised where he was. He was tied up again, leaning against the wall. His arms felt like they had been wrenched out of their sockets. He cracked his eyes open. Jamie was kneeling right in front of him again.

"What...what time is it?"

"Nearly eleven thirty. You've been passed out a while now. In fact, my contact has come and gone, content to drag this out, I suppose. Perhaps he wanted to prep for the next stage in this plan of his."

"Malfoy will come looking for me..."

"Oh, I'm sure he will. In fact, we're counting on it. I was thinking he'd be here sooner. I have a feeling he doesn't like me much."

Harry looked up at James. One of his lenses was cracked, and he could feel the cuts on his face something fierce. Not to mention his ribs...

"Ow..." he said, leaning forward slightly. "What the fuck happened while I was out?"

"I must admit, I had to restrain my friend. He had a problem controlling this jerk in his leg, I think."

"You let him kick me?"

James ignored the question. "Ready for your lesson, Harry?"

"Lesson? About what?"

"Why your spells won't work on me."

Harry glared as much as he could through the pain in his head. "Fine. I'll take the bait. Why?"

"A few reasons, but I'll tell you the most obvious. This," he fished in his shirt and pulled out a necklace, which had a small, round, metallic ball dangling from a pewter setting. "No, it's not the artefact, if that's what you're thinking. It's a gift. From a friend."

"He charmed it to take the brunt of any spell cast at you."

"Good job! You get an A+ Mister Potter! In deductive reasoning, at least. However, your marks are rather poor in tactics."

"Fuck you."

James slapped him across the face. "Now, now. That's no way to speak to your professor."

"Just quit it with the bullshit, okay?"

"Yes, sir," Jamie mocked, saluting and standing up to walk over and lean against the back of the couch.

"Where's my wand?" Harry asked, following his movements.

"Oh, right here," he replied, pulling the wand out from his back pocket, along with the kitchen knife from before. "I thought about breaking it in half, but then I started studying it. It doesn't look like anything special. But I bet it is, isn't it?" he said, sending Harry a condescending smirk. "I mean...you can't really do magic without it, can you?"

"Sameson, put my wand down. I know you're not going to give it back to me, but don't play around with it."

"Why? Would you be worried if I did this?" And Jamie put a little nick in it with the tip of the knife.

"Jamie, don't!"

"Why? Will it not work?" He pointed the wand at Harry. "Abracadabra!" The wand lay dormant. "Well, it looks like it doesn't work anyhow."

"That's because you're not a wizard," Harry bit out, feeling very agitated. The loss of blood, the pain...his magic was becoming unstable under his skin, prowling like a tiger to get out.

"That wasn't very nice. What if I wanted to be? Wouldn't I need one? Maybe I should just take yours."

"It doesn't work that way."

"Then how does it work, Harry? I saw you bring the wand to yourself...so how is it you need this again?"

"It's called wandless magic."

"Wandless, huh? Interesting..." James studied the wand for a moment before putting it away and pulling out his gun from the front of his jeans. "Now this...this is something anyone can use. And you couldn't do anything about it, could you, Harry?" He pointed the gun at Harry's head. Harry was getting rather tired of seeing the wrong end of a gun.

"Neither could you."

Jamie chuckled. "Perhaps that's so. Either way, my contact will be back shortly. He's just dying to meet you face to face."

"Likewise."

Harry's magic burst out in a blast of power that knocked James back a little, and freed Harry from his restraints. He rolled out of the way as a bullet came flying over his right shoulder, plaster from the wall flying everywhere. On his feet, he dove for Sameson's, hoping to knock him off balance. His tactic worked, for a moment, but then they were struggling, landing punches and rolling over and over. Harry managed to knock the gun away, but then Jamie had his knife out, and pinned Harry down, bringing the knife down as well.

Harry blocked James the best he could, but the man was so much stronger than he, and finally the knife went into his shoulder, right near the joint. Harry let out a strangled scream. They struggled for a moment, the knife going deeper and moving slightly. The pain was excruciating, but Harry focused his power again, and instantly, Jamie was pushed back by an invisible force. However, the necklace around his throat still took the brunt of the magic, and as Harry was pulling the knife from his shoulder, Jamie leapt at him again. Though Harry was in pain, he was on an adrenaline rush now, and used Jamie's weight to flip them around. Harry straddled Jamie's waist and brought down his elbow, hard, on Jamie's face. The man howled in pain as blood burst from his nose, and Harry did it again and again until Jamie was knocked out.

Harry wasted no time; he pushed Jamie over, took a hold of his wand and Apparated back to the hotel.

~~~~~

12:05am

"Oh my god - Harry!" Draco exclaimed, stepping forward and putting a hand on the other man's left shoulder, meaning to turn him around. Harry swayed dangerously under the slight pressure, and Draco stepped forward again to catch him as he fell backwards.

Harry gripped Draco's arm with his right hand, trying to regain his balance. "Malfoy..." he said in a raspy whisper, and Draco couldn't keep his eyes from widening in horror and his mouth opening in shock at the cuts and bruises on Harry's face. His glasses were cracked in one lens, and the frames were slightly bent. His face had so much blood...

"Oh my god...Potter, what the fuck did he do to you?" Draco said angrily, as Harry swayed again, wincing as his injured shoulder pressed against Draco's chest.

"He knows. Knows what we are."

"Did he use the artefact?"

Harry shook his head. "No."

Draco gently pulled Harry to his bed, making him lay back. "Where was your wand?" he asked as he crawled over Harry and grabbed his own wand from the bedside table, using it to conjure a water-filled basin and a washcloth, which he set on a conjured tray on the bed beside him.

"Took it away..." Harry mumbled softly, closing his eyes.

"No, Potter. Stay awake. You gotta stay awake. Tell me what happened."

"My shoulder...it hurts..." he replied, wincing as a throbbing pain came over him.

"I know. I'm going to banish your clothes away, okay? Don't move."

Once Draco spelled Harry's shirt and jacket across the room, he saw exactly what was causing Harry so much pain. There was a two inch cut, deep into the joint of Harry's shoulder. It was slightly jagged at the ends, like James had jabbed it in and then it moved around as they struggled. There were also several ugly bruises on his ribs and stomach.

"Fucking Merlin."

"That bad, huh?" Harry joked, laughing softly.

"Dammit, Potter, this is no time to be making jokes, he could have killed you. I need to heal you so we can go kill the fucking sonofabitch." Taking a deep breath to release some tension, Draco sighed, picking up the washcloth and dousing it in warm water before tenderly cleaning the worst of the wounds he could see. Harry winced. "I'm sorry," Draco murmured, the statement hanging thick with meaning in the air. "I'm sorry I didn't cast the comm spell when I had the chance. I should have. I would have been there to stop the bloody prick."

"You were there, then," Harry whispered, looking up at Draco. In the better light, Draco could see that where Harry's glasses met the bridge of his nose, there was a deep gash that was seeping blood into his eyes.

"Do you have anymore injuries I can't see?" Draco asked, taking the man's glasses, repairing them and setting them aside, ignoring the question.

Harry shook his head. "Not that I know of. I just hurt."

Draco sighed, dipping the washcloth into the water to clean it. "Merlin, Harry..." He wrung out the wash cloth and got to working on cleaning his face and arm.

Harry scrunched up his face, and then gasped as the cut on his nose made itself known. "Why don't you just spell the blood away?"

Draco shrugged. "We did it this way last time."

"You mean when I broke your ribs?"

Draco met Harry's eyes. Smiling softly he continued his cleaning, replying, "Yeah." After a long pause he continued, "And then you put me back together."

Harry smiled lazily, nodding, before closing his eyes.

Draco shook him, panic in his voice. "Potter? Potter, wake up! Stay with me, okay?"

Harry opened his eyes. "Can't you just heal me already?" He sounded tired.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes. Lie still."

Harry did as he was told without much effort, and Draco took his wand, using the strongest healing charm he knew for the wound in Harry's shoulder, which knitted back together alright for the most part, but Draco could tell it was going to scar badly. The cuts and bruises on Harry's face and stomach faded away like they had never been there, and Draco breathed a sign of relief. Harry would start to feel much better and a little more coherent soon.

"I'll have to get some salve for your shoulder from my flat; I'll be right back."

Harry, even though it caused him to wince, put out his left hand to stop the blond. "No, wait. Stay."

"Potter, that wound will scar if I don't put something on it right away-"

Harry shrugged, running a hand over his face and through his hair. "It's just another scar. Hand me my glasses, would you?"

Draco frowned, handing them over. "Potter..."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm feeling much better. You've fixed me back up, don't worry," he said, moving to sit up. Draco pushed him back down.

"Potter, don't move. You've probably lost a lot of blood, and I don't need you passing out and hitting your head when I just fixed you up. Especially since we need to plan a revenge scheme." Draco looked off and glared at nothing in particular.

Harry was quiet a moment before he said, "You just want me in bed, don't you?"

Draco blinked, returning his attention to the black-haired man staring up at him. "What?"

Harry smiled again, this time with more amusement, and before Draco could really react, Harry grabbed a fistful of his tee-shirt and yanked him down, so they were maybe two inches apart and said, "Kiss me."

"What?" Draco repeated.

"I said, kiss me."

Draco looked at Harry for a long moment, trying to decide if he was hallucinating. "Potter...you must have a concussion. Do you not remem-"

And then Harry was kissing him and Draco couldn't decide how to react, but the kiss was unbearably intoxicating and he quickly found himself returning it. It felt so good, Draco thought, breathing Harry in, feeling his lips against his own, feeling Harry's hands running up his arms and through his hair...

But then Harry gasped and pulled away sharply as the wound in his shoulder shot pain down his arm.

Breathing hard, Draco asked, "You okay?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. My shoulder. It still smarts."

Draco sat back, regaining his composure behind a mask, just looking at Harry for a moment.

Harry propped himself up on his good arm. "Draco?"

"Why? Why'd you want me to kiss you? I thought you hated it."

Harry frowned. "Why do you think that?"

"Because..." Draco started; feeling like his reasoning was rather stupid now that he had to voice it out loud. "Because I heard what you said."

"And what did I say?"

Draco looked away. "That you wanted to forget about me." He wasn't hurt - he wasn't - but Merlin, did it sound so stupid. Harry was here now, wasn't he?

Harry looked puzzled for a moment before appearing to remember. Then he replied, "You actually believe I'd mean something like that?"

Draco shrugged. "It's probable."

"And 'us' isn't?"

Draco frowned. "'Us' is impossible."

After a long pause in which Draco decided Potter was trying to find a response to his statement, he was surprised that Harry changed the topic and said instead, "What I said was a partial lie, Draco."

Draco looked back to him, calculating. "Only partial? Meaning partially true."

Harry pushed himself up into a sitting position, looking Draco directly in the eye. "Meaning that I couldn't forget about you. I didn't hate it, Draco. I still don't know if I could...be with a man, but I...I couldn't stop thinking about that kiss, and it was distracting me. From doing the job."

Draco pressed his lips together. "So did you find out where it is? The artefact?" he said, feeling the need to change the subject again in case he either grabbed a hold of Potter to strangle him or to snog him bloody senseless.

Harry shook his head. "No. He attacked me before I had a chance to do any digging."

Draco's gaze turned dark and distant. "I'm going to kill that mother fucker."

"Not before I kill him first," said Harry.

Draco frowned. "You're not going anywhere. He could have killed you, Potter."

"Which gives me more right than you to do the same to him."

Huffing, Draco moved off the bed to stand. "I'm going to my flat to get that salve." He shoved on a pair of socks and sneakers. "Did he break your wand?"

Harry smiled. "No. I managed to get it back. How do you think I Disapparated?"

Draco shrugged. "For all I know, the great boy-wizard knows more complex wandless magic than he lets on." And the blond left without another word.

~~~~~

Harry knew what Draco meant by those last words. For all the blond knew, Harry really did know whether or not he was gay.

Well...I like you, isn't that good enough?

Of course it wasn't good enough. Not for Draco Malfoy.

Harry sighed, and flopped back down onto the bed. He knew what it looked like; after his and Draco's first kiss he went running off to his date with James. As if he really did hate it.

He doesn't understand. Kissing James and letting him grope me was nothing compared to what I felt when he kissed me.

Harry had been terrified. It had been like a floodgate had burst open with enough force to knock him onto his bum, and he would have fallen over if it hadn't have been for Draco holding him up. Harry didn't have any idea that all the tension between them was the result of some underlying sexual attraction, and it had taken the bike ride to James' and a good smack in the face for him to realise just how much.

Harry had thought just coming out with his intentions loud and clear would be the best course of action - to get it across to Malfoy without all the mess of words. Harry was never all that great with them anyhow. But apparently, Draco was too set on exacting revenge to really take Harry's intentions to heart. Either that, or there was a lot more to Malfoy than even Harry had imagined.

Well, Harry wanted to know it all; he wasn't diving into this for a fling; he fully intended to get under Malfoy's skin; in a way he hadn't before.

The fact that he nearly died several times that night gave Harry cause to not let any opportunity with Draco pass him by, even if this wasn't the best time to do it. Who knows what would happen next?

Just then, Draco Apparated back into the room, jar of salve in hand, and Harry got to his feet.

Draco sighed. "Potter, lay back down."

"No." Harry grabbed the jar and opened it, scooping out a bit of the paste and smoothing it over his wound. Then he set the jar on the table. "There. All taken care of. Now, are we going to address this?"

"Killing Sameson James? Yes, I think we should figure out something quick, before he thinks about skipping town."

Harry let out a short, frustrated breath. "Malfoy, I'm talking about this." And then Harry grabbed Draco's shirt and pushed him up against the wall, his lips crashing against Draco's before the blond even had a chance to take a breath.

Even though Draco kissed him back, the blond put his hands on Harry's shoulders and pushed him away, gently but firmly. "Potter, what are you doing?"

Harry, frustrated frown on his face, looked up at Draco. "You're making this difficult, Malfoy."

"Making what difficult?"

"I'm trying to tell you how I feel, and you keep asking me what I'm doing, like it isn't obvious!"

"How am I supposed to know how you feel when you're not saying anything?!"

"Because actions speak louder than words!"

"Then I guess whatever you're feeling for me you're feeling for James too!"

Harry stopped, blinking. "What?"

"You heard me. If actions speak louder than words, you must wanna fuck James."

"This isn't about fucking, Malfoy! And how could you say something like that considering what he did to me tonight?" Harry stepped closer, jabbing his finger into Draco's chest. "You told me you wanted me, and then kissed me to prove it. Well listen up, Malfoy. I want you too." And Harry kissed Draco again, putting his hands on the back of Draco's head so he couldn't pull away.

But Draco didn't even try. He kissed Harry back with the same intensity - that same intensity that had Harry melting at the knees a few hours before.

"Potter, do you even know what wanting me means?" Draco asked between kisses, trying to make sure that Harry was thinking things through.

Harry pulled away for second, holding Draco's gaze. "Anything I don't know, you can show me. I trust you."

Their lips met again, and again and again, and then Draco was pushing Harry back to the bed. "Merlin, I want you so bad, Harry." Draco hovered over him, Harry's torso propped up by his elbows.

"How long?" Harry asked. "How long have you wanted me?"

"Since the night James took you to Mr. Choy's."

Harry, unable to stop himself, let out a tiny whimper before pulling Draco down in a hurried but passionate kiss. Draco moaned, saying against Harry's mouth, "I want you all around me...I want to make you moan louder than James could ever make you..."

Harry, realising what Draco said, pulled back. "What?"

Draco looked down at him. "I want to make you forget James ever existed."

"No, no. Before that."

Draco frowned, puzzled. "I want you all around me...?" he asked, before smiling and leaning down to kiss Harry's jaw line. "I want to be inside you, Harry."

Harry pushed Draco away. "Wait, no. No, I can't do that."

Draco looked confused. "Well, then, what do you want?"

"You..." Harry said, his voice wavering in uncertainty.

"Well, you're getting me."

"But not that way. I'm not...ready for that. James asked me to do the same thing. I can't."

Biting his lip, Draco nodded in understanding. "Right. Okay." He leaned forward and kissed Harry on the cheek. In his ear he whispered with a lilt to his voice, "How about if you're inside me?"

Harry's breath shuddered in Draco's ear. "That-that would be okay."

"Only okay?"

"Let me fuck you, Draco," Harry pleaded breathlessly.

The blond sat up. "Oh, no, Potter. You may be inside me, but I'm fucking you."

This caused Harry to whimper again, and he arched his back as Draco ran his hands over Harry's chest, teasing his nipples slightly with his thumbs. Harry grabbed onto Draco's forearms and pulled him down and over, switching their positions so Draco was below him looking up.

"I don't think so, Potter," Malfoy said, and pushed Harry back to their original position. He leaned down and said, chuckling, "You're already a bottom, and you don't even know it."

"Like fuck I am, Malfoy," Harry practically snarled, and wrestled for positions again. Harry wound up on the bottom, Draco pinning his shoulders down. Sitting up, Draco straddled Harry's hips and pulled off his tee-shirt, throwing it off to the side. Harry sat up himself, holding Draco in his arms, letting his hands run over the creamy expanse of Draco's back and hooking over his shoulders from behind, kissing his neck and chest.

"Mmmm..." Draco hummed, threading his fingers through Harry's unruly hair.

Harry's fingers teased the waistband of Draco's pyjamas before finally sneaking inside, rubbing small circles at the crest of Draco's bum. But before Harry could fully enjoy his new findings, Draco pushed him roughly back, then grabbed a hold of Harry's belt and started to undo it. It was fast and rough and quick, and before Harry could think, Draco had his jeans and his pants down to his ankles, where the man helped by kicking them off, just as Draco took Harry into his mouth.

"God, Malfoy..." Harry groaned, his back arching. Draco's mouth felt so good...it was hot, and wet, and Harry decided that Draco was really good at that suction thing before the blond pulled away slowly and ran the flat of his tongue up Harry's stomach and chest, causing Harry to whimper, "No, don't stop..."

"Nothing could make me stop, Harry," Draco said, nibbling and sucking at Harry's nipples. While he knelt over Harry, he pushed the last of his clothes off, sliding the silk pyjamas over his ass and down his legs. "Are you ready?"

Harry took a moment to finally look at Draco's entire body, up close and in full view for the first time, before pulling him down and into a passion-filled kiss. He moaned deep in his chest as Draco lay completely on top of him, the heat and pressure intoxicating them both.

"Are you ready?" Draco asked again, breathless.

Harry took a deep breath. "Yes. Let's do it."

Harry enjoyed the way Draco's eyelashes fluttered as he moved steadily with the blond above him. Watching Draco was like sex itself, and while Harry was in a half-shocked state about just what he and his partner were doing, it felt so fucking good he couldn't concentrate on much more than the way Draco looked down at him like he was in control, even though Harry was controlling all the movement. The way the muscles in Draco's chest and stomach flexed was distracting too, because Harry had never felt more attracted to a person in his life, and even if Draco's weight wasn't pressing down on his chest, he knew he wouldn't be able to breathe just from the sheer intensity of Draco Malfoy.

Before Harry knew it, they had built up a rhythm, and animal need was forming in Harry's mind like a mist, muddling his thoughts and heightening the sensations. At one point, Harry just watched Draco, going through the movements as if on auto-pilot, and he could tell that the blond loved the attention. He lifted up his hands, running them up his torso, teasing his nipples and then running back down, giving Harry a show he knew he would never forget.

The mist turned into a fog, and that animal need took control, demanding that Harry give Draco the fucking of his life.

Draco then attacked Harry's mouth, brutal and bruising, biting his bottom lip. Harry, driven by primal need, grabbed a hold of Draco's hips with his own bruising fingers, and fell off the edge of conscious thought, and knew nothing more than Draco's mouth, his skin, his smell, and himself, plunging deep inside Draco, rough and unforgiving.

Draco was making beautiful noises above him, biting his lip and shutting his eyes tight as if eyesight was one sense that his brain couldn't handle dealing with; the ecstasy he was feeling was just too great. Harry couldn't tear his eyes away.

Draco finally opened his eyes, locking gazes with Harry for a moment, who was grunting with the effort to go deeper inside Draco than anyone had been before. Draco kissed him, a somewhat bumbling effort because they were moving so frantically that he couldn't quite make his lips meet Harry's properly, but then Harry took his bruising hands off of his hips and wrapped them around Draco's shoulders, kissing him so hard the blond couldn't breathe, and once Draco got his wind back he whispered,

"Yes, Harry...oh god...don't stop, don't ever stop..."

Harry, breathing hard, replied, gasping, "I won't. I can't."

Draco moved back to brace his weight on Harry's chest, his bodyweight driving Harry in farther. "Oh, god, Harry...ah!"

The world for Harry went black with utter ecstasy for a moment, his body arching with pleasure, the image of Draco coming burned into his brain forever.

Harry opened his eyes, his smudged glasses blurring his vision. He took them off, tossing them on the nightstand and looked up at Draco, whose face was now mere centimetres from his as he lay down on top of Harry.

Their breath mingled hotly, a sheen of sweat making Draco's skin slick against Harry's hands, the blonde's weight pleasantly warm and heavy against his chest.

The looked at each other for a long while; Harry was idly running his hands slowly across Draco's back, while Draco ran his fingers through Harry's hair and caressed his cheeks.

They shared a soft, lingering kiss, exhausted and happy and in wonderment. Slowly, tiredly, Draco slid off of Harry and to the side, lying on his side for a moment to look at Harry's profile before falling onto his back.

"Sorry I stopped," Harry offered. Draco took the pillow above his head and flung it at the other man's face. Laughing, Harry took it away and let it fall to the floor. "What was that for?"

Draco shrugged. "Because, Potter, you're really just so bleeding dim at times."

"Dim? What do you mean?"

"And there we go again." Draco turned back to Harry, propping himself up on one elbow. "That was the best fucking orgasm of my life, Potter. Who fucking cares if you had to stop? That just means we get to do it all over again." He grinned brilliantly, and Harry felt himself fall again.

"Really? I was that good?"

Draco rolled his eyes. Leaning forward he said, "You know, while having random sexual encounters is fun, there is something to be said for having sex with someone you actually have feelings for, Harry."

Blushing, Harry looked down at his messy abdomen. "I know that."

"What? Don't tell me that wasn't the best sex you've ever had."

Harry bit his lip and reached around for Draco's wand, hoping to have the man clean him up, since gods knew where his wand was at the moment.

At Harry's hesitation, Draco said worriedly, "It was, wasn't it?"

Harry gave up his search for the blonde's wand. He released his lip and turned to Draco with a serious face. He could tell the blond was starting to sweat about the topic.

Suddenly, Harry pounced on Draco, pinning him to the bed and attacking his neck. Sitting up he said, "Of course it was; it was bloody fantastic!"

Draco laughed, and they wrestled a little, falling into a comfortable heap of sweaty, entangled limbs.

After a few moments of Harry wondering why things weren't feeling more awkward between them, and then dismissing it because it was fucking fantastic and it didn't matter, he said, "Mmmm...well, you do know it's kind of hard to compare to the other sex I've had, Draco." His brow furrowed as he pulled out Draco's wand from where it was lying uncomfortably under his head.

"Oh? How's that?"

"Now who's being dim? I've only had sex with women, Draco. With...one, to be exact; but still, even though it was a little different with you, that didn't mean it wasn't absolutely wonderful."

"See? You are gay."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Maybe. We'll see."

"Oh, come on... You're not going to play the 'bi' card on me, are you? After what we just did?"

"What do you mean, 'bi card'?"

"Oh, being bisexual, it's such a fad. How can you like both? I mean, really, it's either one or the other for me."

Harry blinked. "You are still a bigoted arsehole, you know that, Malfoy?"

"What? That's how I feel."

Harry turned on his side so he could look the blond directly in the eye. "You do realise that if I'm bi, that just means I get more sex than you, right?"

"What? How so?"

"I have both sides to play with. You only have half. Okay, probably less than that, considering you're gay..."

Draco frowned, indignant. "Well, that's just faulty logic, that is!"

"Really?"

"Yes! Because, well, not everyone, gay or straight, likes brunettes!"

Harry laughed. "Draco...that was the lamest comeback I've ever heard coming from you. And that's saying something. Besides...my hair is black, not brown."

"Oh pish posh. It's dark. It's in the same category."

"Oh, in that case, since you're hair is nearly white, I can call you an old geezer, then?"

Draco's mouth dropped open in shock, but before he could regain his mental feet and get started on his diatribe, there was a knock at the door.

Draco sent a glare at the door, and then at Harry. Standing up, he grabbed the edge of the sheet, yanking it out from under the duvet and Harry, who squawked, flailing his limbs so he wouldn't roll off the bed. Draco wrapped the sheet around his waist and pointed at Harry. "Don't you go anywhere, Potter. I've got some words for you." Then he turned on his heel, and stalked towards the door, yelling, "I'm coming, I'm coming!" as the knock came again.

Harry scrambled to get under the duvet as Draco swung the door open, revealing the cute hotel clerk from the other day. He blinked at Draco's state of dress, and blushed as he caught sight of Harry in the room behind the blond. Looking away, he muttered, "Um, this telegram came for you downstairs, sir."

"Telegram?" Draco asked, taking the proffered slip of paper.

"Yes. Um...if you could sign here, please," the clerk said, holding out a clipboard and biro that he had tucked under his arm.

Draco signed and handed back the clipboard, not seeming to care that there was dried come on his chest, or that the sheet he tied around his waist was slipping dangerously low. Harry grabbed his dirty glasses and Draco's lost shirt and started cleaning them off, just as Draco bid a rather inappropriate farewell to their messenger.

"Care to join us?" he asked.

The clerk gaped for a moment. "I-er-uh..."

"Well?"

"Draco, leave the boy alone."

Draco cocked his head at the clerk and shrugged. "That's bad news for you. Harry here is a real fireball in the bedroom."

"Draco!"

"Heh. Thanks," Draco said to the clerk, closing the door and walking back to the bed Harry was sitting in.

"I can't believe you."

"Believe, Potter, believe."

"Who's it from?"

Draco frowned, turning over the slip. "Well, it's just a telegram, so it's probably from..."

"The Ministry," the both said in unison.

Draco tore the telegram open, and Harry leaned closer to read it over his shoulder.

"Sonofabitch," Draco swore.

"What?"

"The Ministry has been monitoring James' flat for me. They're reporting magical activity. Apparation, a few hexes, and...unforgivables." Draco turned to Harry. "Did you..."

"What? No! I barely had a chance to grab a hold of my wand and get out of there before he came at me for the fourth time."

Draco nodded. "Well, then. Looks like fun-time is over. We need to get over there. Now." He started to get out of the bed.

"Fun-time?" Harry said, frowning.

Draco stopped and turned, moving fluidly down to Harry and pressing him back onto the bed, giving him a deep, soulful kiss. "I'd let you fuck me again...if we weren't about to blow this case wide open." Kissing him again, the blond got up and went to his side of the room, grabbing some clothes and putting them on.

"Don't you want to get clean first?" Harry asked, slowly getting out of the bed himself.

Draco glanced down at his chest as he put a sock on. "Toss me my wand, then."

Harry did, and watched Draco cast a quick cleaning charm on his body, before pointing his wand at Harry and performing the charm again.

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed, wiggling around at the odd sensation. "That spell's not generally used on humans, you know."

Draco shrugged. "It'll do in pinch. Come on, let's go."

He and Harry quickly dressed, Harry happy to find his wand in his pants pocket at the foot of the bed.

"Ready?" Harry asked.

"One more thing," Draco replied, and pulled Harry to him, kissing him breathless.

"Draco, I-"

Draco shook his head. "We're going to bring this motherfucker down, Harry."

Harry smiled, nodding. On the count of three, the hotel room was empty.

~~~~~

1:17am

They landed back in the alley next to the pawn shop, just where Draco had been hours before. Giving Harry's hand a reassuring squeeze, Draco padded down the alley to the side door.

"I think we should go through the shop," Harry whispered in Draco's ear. "This way will make too much noise, and we could be trapped. It's only a narrow staircase."

Draco nodded, and let Harry lead the way, following closely behind. They crouched down below the large bay windows. They were dark, but Draco wouldn't be surprised if someone was still in there, waiting.

Harry unlocked the door with a quick 'alohamora', casting a quick disarming charm at the silent alarm system that was near the front counter. Draco followed him inside, closing the door with a soft click behind him.

In the dim light from the windows, he saw Harry nod towards the counter. "Staircase," he whispered, and Draco nodded for him to go ahead. They were just passing the front counter when a bright light turned on, and Harry and Draco were immediately on their guard, their wands pointed at Sameson James, who was leaning casually against the wall behind the cash register.

"You know," he drawled, "I think I really love magic. It can do all sorts of things. Like let you know when someone's Apparated just outside your house."

"Stupefy!" Draco yelled, and watched as James was pushed hard into the wall by his spell, and chuckled, shaking it off and standing straight again.

"Didn't Harry tell you? You're magic won't work on me."

Draco turned to Harry, who looked like he was beating himself up. "I'm sorry...I forgot...with all that happened..."

Draco's mouth turned grim, but he turned back to James. "I hardly doubt that whatever you have on you can counter a killing curse," he snarled.

"It's a charm, around his neck," Harry pointed out.

"And I hardly doubt," James replied, "that whatever you have can counter this," and he pulled out his Glock.

Harry took a hesitant step back, but Draco held his ground. "I heard you had one of those."

"Did you? Well, Harry is quite a talker. Does he talk during sex? Unfortunately, I wasn't able to find out, but he does make some delicious noises when my cock is near his bum..."

"Shut the fuck up!" Harry yelled, and wished to hell he could hex James' balls off.

"Where's your contact?" Draco fired, changing the subject.

"Oh, he's here. Biding his time..."

"Where's the artefact?" Draco fired again.

"Nowhere you'll ever get to."

"Patience, Draco. That's one virtue you never quite grasped hold of," said a new voice, coming from the staircase.

Harry and Draco's heads shot over to watch as a pair of well-shoed feet appeared, followed by tailored slacks, a fair clothed torso, and a familiar face.

"What the fuck?" Harry exclaimed, looking from this newcomer to James and back again.

Draco was also just as puzzled, but perhaps more horrified, because the man before him looked exactly like the man holding the gun; dark hair, dark eyes, pointed chin...

But his voice was fundamentally different. And Draco knew that voice better than any other in his life.

"Hello, son."

Father?

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