The Goodness of Their Hearts

Draco was jolted from slumber, his body reacting much faster than his mind. His toes were curling up, his fists clenching, his head pressing back into the pillow long, long before his mind recognized the wet heat surrounding the one part of his body that seemed to be completely awake.

Draco's mouth dropped open as he tried to protest or beg or, hell, even breathe. Instead he let out the deepest and most embarrassing groan as fire pounded through his whole body. He dug his heels into the mattress as his hips pushed up. Hands gripped his hips, holding him in place.

Gods, it had been so long.

The pressure of Potter's mouth was almost unbearably tight. It flung Draco straight to a desperate pitch. He clenched one fist in his hair, wrapped his other hand around a slat in the headboard, and exploded.

Harry said something. Draco couldn't hear it over the rushing in his head. His heart was pounding so hard it almost hurt. Not a bad way to die, really.

His brain slowly unscrambled. Harry was sitting on the side of the bed beside his sprawled legs, dressed in a t-shirt and sweat pants. Smirking.

"Bastard."

"Are you going to hex me?"

"You didn't unbutton my pyjama top."

"I didn't want you to wake up too early. You might have stopped me."

"Is sexual assault a habit of yours?"

The smile dropped off Harry's face. He looked off to the side and Draco could feel the Seeker's weight shifting as he prepared to leave the bed.

Draco grabbed a fistful of t-shirt. "You have no imagination, Potter. No appreciation for the proper way of things. No wonder you can't keep any lovers, if all you can manage is a quick grope."

Potter scowled. "My lovers know what they want and how to get it."

Lightning struck. "You mean your lovers always come after you and all you've ever had to do was lie back and enjoy it, is that it?"

"No!" Harry protested, so quickly it couldn't be sincere.

"Well well well. Harry Potter knows nothing more than how to get waited on in bed."

"Fuck off, Malfoy," he muttered, flushing.

"Time to fix that. Take off your clothes."

Harry looked up quickly. "What?"

"Take off your clothes. And give us a bit of a show of it."

Harry looked at him through narrowed eyes.

"Up up. Or shall I just roll over and go back to sleep?"

Harry stood up and pulled off his t-shirt. No show, per se, but the faint light coming through the window spilled over the cut abdominals, the flat pectorals, the strong shoulders and the defined arms. Draco swallowed and told himself not to touch. Next went the sweat pants, and Draco could spare little attention to the long muscles of his legs with that fully erect penis filling his vision. Draco's mouth quirked up. Oh, he was going to have fun with that.

Harry smiled back. "What next, milord?"

"Before it gets too interesting, lube?"

Harry picked up a small white tube from the nightstand, holding it up for Draco to see. He must have brought it with him.

"Cocky bastard."

"I plan ahead."

"Since when?"

"Shall I take my show and leave?"

"Do what you promised, like a good little Gryffindor."

Harry growled. Perhaps in reference to 'little.' It was not, Draco conceded, an accurate assessment.

Harry straddled him on the bed, careful not to touch him. And then he carefully, carefully slipped one button of Draco's pyjama top after the other from its hole, with light touches spreading the garment open. Then, he ran his hands over Draco's chest, warm palms smoothing over his throat, along his collarbones, over his chest and stomach. His hands were just a little rough, and the friction against his skin made Draco shiver.

"I remember the next step," Harry said, his voice low and rumbling. "But I think this calls for a little change." He leaned down, lowering himself on Draco until he was stretched out on top of him.

This was not Draco's favourite position. On the occasions when he bottomed he preferred to be facing down, or to be spooned. The face-to-face closeness tended to be suffocating, especially as his partners were almost always heavier and larger than he. And yet this time it felt different. He enjoyed the firm soft skin rubbing directly against his own. The weight was a welcome anchor, especially once he shifted a little and wrapped his legs around Harry's waist, so the Seeker settled directly against his groin with satisfying thoroughness.

It took all his self-control not to grind up. He would not let himself rush this. It was time Potter showed a little style somewhere other than the air.

"Is this the sort of thing you were thinking of?" Harry asked before running his tongue along the curve of Draco's ear.

"It's only the beginning, Potter." Draco fought not to squirm in reaction to the onslaught on his ear. "The very beginning."

"What other requests does milord have?" followed by a swath into that sensitive area behind the ear.

"If you had any class at all you'd be telling me why you want me, and convincing me you're worthy of having me."

Harry chuckled. "So it wouldn't be a good idea to tell you that all through school you looked like you desperately needed to get laid, and you still do?"

Draco learned of another disadvantage of being flat on one's back with a professional Seeker between one's legs. Not much leverage for shoving someone off. He tried, though.

Harry chuckled again. "Temper temper, Mr. Malfoy." He settled into Draco's hips. "I suppose you want instead to hear about how your poncy clothes just shriek a challenge to tear them off. Just like your perfect hair demands ruffling." Which he did with one hand. "And your oh-so-cultured drawl begs to degenerate into moaning." A quick kiss to the mouth. "And pleading." Another to the hinge of the jaw. "And screaming." And to the hollow of the throat, with a flick of the tongue for good measure. "That precise grace of yours makes me want to see you clumsy. See you awkward. See you curled up and clutching and thrashing." He rubbed his thigh against Draco's cock, hard long strokes, and Draco grit his teeth in the quest to remain still. "Like, just now, when you were thrusting into my mouth and coming down my mouth, and it looked like it was all you could do not to shake apart." He trailed his tongue from Draco's left nipple up his throat to his mouth, where he whispered, "I liked that." And then he kissed him, sealing their mouths together, thrusting his tongue in deep.

And Draco moaned.

Fuck the challenge. Fuck teaching Harry Potter a lesson. What the hell did he care? He let go of the sheets beneath him and sank his hands into Harry's hair.

Draco curled into Harry. Ground into him. Arched into him. And when Harry slid into him, and then thrust into him, he thrashed and begged and shattered and gods it felt so good.

"So, milord," Harry asked when he could breathe enough to speak. "Was that adequate?"

Draco ran his hands over Harry's shoulders, encouraging him not to roll off him quite yet. "Barely," he answered, pressing a kiss to the side of Harry's mouth.

"Figure it's something I might get better at with practise?"

Harry was smiling, a slight curl of the lips, but he was holding Draco's eyes in a steady gaze that Draco couldn't break.

Draco brushed Harry's sweat-dampened hair back. "It's possible. If you exercise discipline. Practise diligently. Put your back into it, you might say."

"I'm very good at practising," Harry murmured, pressing his lips against Draco's throat and sucking. "I wouldn't want the great Draco Malfoy to feel he had to wait on me."

"Though there can be satisfaction found in service."

Harry raised his head and quirked up an eyebrow.

Draco groaned, but not in a good way. "Not immediately, Potter. Not all of us are ravenous animals."

"Poor you," he retorted. "So can I stay the night?"

"It's technically your bed."

"You have no great fondness for straight answers, do you?"

Draco curled his leg around Harry's. He figured that as answers went that was straight enough.

He woke up tense and feeling constricted. He wasn't used to having someone plastered against his back, arms wrapped around his waist. In the past, he or his partner had left without sleeping. He had never liked the idea of people being with him while he was sleeping, defenceless.

But of course Harry Potter broke all the rules. He always had and people forgave him and respected him for it. When Draco had broken the rules, he'd gotten slapped down for it.

And he'd broken a huge rule. Slept with a client. Slept with Harry Potter. It was going to end in some kind of disaster. He didn't know how yet, but it would.

He was such an idiot.

"You're thinking too much," said a sleep-roughened voice from behind him.

"There's no such thing."

"You're a living example."

"You're a Gryffindor!" he snapped back.

He felt Harry shift behind him to look over his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!"

"When's your mother's funeral?"

"That has nothing to do with anything!" Draco moved to get up, but Harry tightened his grip.

"Are you disgusted with yourself for fucking me?"

The tonelessness of that question made Draco freeze. He slumped down again. "No."

"Then what is it?"

That he had just become another Harry Potter groupie. Since he was eleven he had sworn he wouldn't fall into that trap. And in a few days or a week he would look back on this and know Potter had already moved on or just forgotten him in that haze he seemed to live in.

Gods, he was turning into such a girl.

He just prayed he didn't turn up in Harry Potter's biography some time in the future.

He sighed. "Nothing. I'm just frustrated that I haven't been able to pin anything down yet." And worried that the next attempt would be the successful one.

"Is there anything you can do about it this very moment?"

"Not this very moment, no."

"Then relax," Harry purred, licking his ear.

Draco pulled away and sat up. "Perona will be here soon. Don't bother getting dressed if you don't mind giving her a show."

"Like the one I gave you last night?" Harry asked with a smirk.

Draco stiffened, his stomach clenching. "Goal met and it's time to move on to the next one, is that it, Potter? Though I can't promise you she'll be much of a challenge." Then again, she couldn't be any less of a challenge than he had been.

Potter looked alarmed. "That's not what I meant."

Draco pulled on his trousers. He didn't have time to think about what Potter meant. He didn't have time to get his feelings in a jangle because he was just another notch on Potter's broomstick.

He was so stupid.

Potter sighed and rolled off the bed. "Who would have thought?" he said.

"Thought what?" Draco snapped.

Potter grabbed him, and Draco found himself pressed against the wall, kissed to the tonsils while the hard naked body of Harry Potter wiggled against him in all sorts of interesting places and way. "Tell her to come later," he murmured as he briefly released Draco's mouth.

"No, it's too - "

His words were cut off by Harry's mouth.

"Then I guess you'll have to come now." Kissing him hard, Harry's hand dove into Draco's trousers and around his cock. Draco moaned helplessly as the ruthless strokes drove him and wound him tight and he sank his nails into Harry's bare arms as he came.

"I can't believe you did that to me again," he gasped.

"I'll do it again after she leaves, too," Harry promised. "Sometimes speed is fun, eh?"

"Stupid Seeker. That's the second pair of trousers you've ruined."

"Maybe you should start wearing more practical clothes."

Draco leaned his forehead against Harry's shoulder. Up, down, confusion, resentment. The day had just started and he was tired already.

He heard the Seeker chuckle, and felt him deliberately ruffling his hair.

"Hey!" he pulled back.

"Sometimes I wanted to do that in school, you know," said Harry with amusement. "Just wanted to grab you and muss up that perfect hair. At the time I thought it was because I found you aggravating and vain, but maybe there was something else at work, eh?"

Draco was not prepared to appreciate the suggestion that Potter may have suppressed a crush on him all those years ago. He just couldn't think about it, no right then. Maybe he'd feel smug about it later. "I've got to take a shower."

"Want some company?"

"Oh gods."

"Yes!" Harry kissed him. "I want to suck you off in the shower. See you all slippery and wet."

Oh yes. "No, Potter. Harry. Stop it." He caught Harry's wandering hands. "This is not a lost weekend in Bangkok, Harry. I'm here to do a job. Remember?"

"No reason we can't do both."

"Yes, there is." His peace of mind, for one thing. "I want to get in and out and read the reports I didn't get to last night." There were no reports unread from the night before. He just couldn't afford to sink into Harry Potter right then. He had to think.

"After?"

Who would have thought Harry Potter was a sex maniac? Other than those rag journalists and their fans. "We'll see."

For the first time, when Draco met with Perona, Harry sat down with them. Perona raised her eyebrows at that but said nothing. To Draco's relief. He was sure he had 'we had sex' stamped across his forehead.

"So what were you going to tell me about the physiotherapist?" Draco asked her.

"What have you got against Rex?" Potter demanded.

"Me? Nothing," said Perona. "But the Aurors might be interested in knowing he's been selling off the team's medical potions to street dealers."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "What?"

"It's not all that uncommon, really. In sporting circles."

"But someone would have to notice the sudden drain on medical supplies. He's new."

"They sure did, sweetie. But he told them how demanding you were, how you were deteriorating, and they just upped the inventory."

Harry leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he clenched his jaw. "Fuck," he spat. "Fuck."

"You said he changed his name?" Draco asked.

"Twice, as it turns out. Selling drugs is not the only problem he has with them."

"Fuck," Harry said again.

"Is that all you have on him?"

"All?" Harry demanded.

"We've got to focus, Harry. All we care about are direct threats to you. This isn't on the pitch. Perona?"

"I don't think he's a candidate," she said.

"Alright. Ditch him."

"There's nothing on Rickers. She's so clean she squeaks."

"Alright. What about Oban?"

"Ah, there's where things get a little interesting." Perona grinned toothily. "Oban has a bit of a gambling problem, and there are rumours that during her last position she fixed a couple of matches."

Harry glowered at her.

"You knew this?" Draco demanded.

"I heard the rumours."

"Son of a bitch!"

"Rumours, Malfoy! Innocent until proven guilty."

"Not in my line of work. Fuck! Has she had any recent contact with bookies?"

"Of course."

"Fuck! Damn it, Potter!"

"Look! I'm sorry, alright!" Potter snapped. "I didn't think of her!"

"You didn't think of her?" Draco echoed incredulously. "Someone is fiddling with your gear and it never entered your head that it might be the Head Coach with her unrestricted access and a gambling problem?"

"You said someone was trying to kill me, not fix the games!"

"I said you were to write a list of everyone you knew, with the people with opportunity right at the top! Merlin! And here I always thought you weren't a complete idiot!"

"Boss!" Perona said sharply, cutting across his ranting, and he shut his mouth.

"Please forgive my employer, Mr. Potter," Perona continued, putting a light hand on Harry's wrist while glaring at Draco. "He can moody and ... stupid."

"No, no, he's right," Harry grumbled sullenly. "I didn't give enough attention to the list. I just didn't ...." He broke off and stared down at the table.

"Think you should take another look at the list?" Draco asked him.

Harry held out a hand, and after a bit of a search Perona put a piece of parchment in his hand. Draco slid a quill to him.

Draco knew he should have felt better, maybe a little triumphant, about seeing Harry read over the list and add a name. The subdued air dampened the glee somewhat.

"And what about our favourite?" he asked Perona.

Perona brightened up at that. "It was a private investigator, and the lodging receipts were in Hogsmede."

Hogsmede. There was nothing there. "And that tells us ...?"

"Well, nothing. But he did have a private investigator, and I doubt he was spying on his wife."

"Ah. Anything else?"

"Not really. He's only been in touch with his usual personal and professional connections. And an actor."

"An actor?"

"Professional, sort of, but he hasn't done much paying work. He's not a family member or anything like that, that I can find."

"Alright." Draco sighed. "Knock off the surveillance on the Beater and Smith. Concentrate on the other three. Unless Harry here comes up with someone sterling."

Harry looked up at him, a starkness to his eyes that chilled him. Draco had a feeling there wouldn't be any sex romps after Perona left after all.