InsaneJournal

The Venice Job, Epilogue
Title: The Venice Job
Author: nishizono
Pairing: Draco/Harry
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Disclaimer: Sadly, they aren't mine.

Summary: Harry Potter was one of the youngest Aurors in history. He was the Boy Who Lived, and the Boy Who Lived Again. He loved Guinness and Quidditch, and hated pineapple. He wrote letters to Hagrid every Thursday, and on Sundays, he visited Hermione and Ron. Harry Potter was also not gay.

Author's Notes: Because everyone should write Auror!H/D at least once. Humor, fluff, a touch of angst, and AU because I refuse to acknowledge the existence of Book Seven. Also, written in four days and un-beta'ed, so please ignore or point out any mistakes.


~*~*~

“Fuck- yeah- don’t stop-“

“So fucking tight.”

“Mmph,” Malfoy agreed as Harry’s teeth closed over the side of his neck. Writhing against the wall, he twisted in just the right way to make Harry’s cock feel like it was burning him from the inside out.

“You’re going- make me come- don’t stop doing that,” Harry gasped as his lover’s legs tightened around his waist. Lifting Malfoy higher, he angled his hips upward, striking Malfoy’s prostate with every thrust.

“Fuck,” Malfoy whined, tilting his head back against the wall and gripping Harry’s shoulders so hard his fingernails bit through the fabric.

“Touch yourself,” Harry whispered heatedly. “Want to watch you come.”

They’d been doing this for two weeks, and it showed no signs of letting up any time soon. Unfortunately, this was pretty much all they’d been doing, because every conversation they tried to have about the status of- whatever this was - always seemed to end with someone’s cock in someone’s mouth or arse, and both of them coming so hard they couldn’t speak afterward.

Harry tried to tell himself he was okay with that, but he knew he wasn’t.

“Bite me,” Malfoy requested in a groan.

Acquiescing, Harry bowed his head and took the side of his lover’s neck between his teeth. There was a perpetual bruise there that had to be covered with a glamour, but they both seemed to be acutely aware of its presence, and there had been a few times when Malfoy had turned his head just so, and Harry had to bite his hand to keep from reaching out and running his fingers over the reddened flesh in the middle of a division meeting. Sometimes, he privately wished Malfoy would forget the glamour, and come to work one morning bearing the indisputable evidence of their affair.

“Harder,” Malfoy whined, arching away from the wall.

Growling quietly, Harry stopped just short of drawing blood. When Malfoy’s body clenched around his cock, that familiar heat shot through his veins, down his spine, and straight to his balls, which drew up against his body. Malfoy’s prick was leaking precome through the front of his shirt, and Harry shifted until his lover could rub against his stomach as he stroked himself.

“Come for me,” Harry groaned, pulling away from the tormented flesh and tracing the darkening bruise with his tongue.

“Close,” Malfoy told him in a gasp. “Fuck- Harry- please don’t stop- I-“

“MALFOY! POTTER!”

“Shit,” Harry cursed as Shacklebolt’s booming voice echoed down the hall just outside the office. Too far gone to stop, he increased his rhythm, squeezing his eyes closed and pleading with his cock to be cooperative for just a few minutes longer.

The effort was rewarded with a quiet sob from Malfoy, who tensed in his arms and came with a convulsive shudder, covering Harry’s stomach with liquid heat. That was enough to send Harry over the edge as well, and he muffled his own cries in the side of his lover’s neck.

“We really need to stop doing this at the office,” Malfoy panted once they’d caught their breath enough to speak.

Harry nodded mutely.

~*~*~

“I’m not going to ask,” Shacklebolt said as his two youngest Aurors stumbled into the office, straightening their rumbled clothing.

Harry offered him a sheepish grin and took a seat in one of the chairs at the desk. Thankfully, the Head Auror had put a stop to the catcalling and leering by threatening anyone he caught in the act with two weeks of security patrol at Gringott’s. And although Shacklebolt’s rules rarely applied to Shacklebolt himself, even he had refrained from mentioning the intra-office affair.

“We just got a wire from Tokyo,” Shacklebolt said once they had all settled into their seats. “I know you two haven’t had long to recuperate, but the Kempeitai Mahou is throwing a fit because the suspect is English, and I need someone out there as soon as possible.”

“What’s going on?” Harry asked, feeling suddenly nervous. The fact that he and Malfoy had just been called into the office together inevitably meant that Shacklebolt was going to ask them to take the case as partners, and he had a feeling that his lover’s reaction was going to tell him everything he needed to know about the status of their haphazard relationship.

“There have been several attacks on the Imperial Palace,” Shacklebolt explained, tapping his fingers on the desk. “I’m sure you know the Palace houses a few magical objects, and intelligence is reasonably sure they’re after the Jin Staff, one of the oldest dark artifacts in the world.”

“Who, exactly, is they?” Malfoy asked, narrowing his eyes.

“They’re led by an English wizard by the name of Harrod O’Dorchaidhe,” Shacklebolt hedged. “Ten years ago, he was a suspect in a number of assassination attempts, and he fled to Japan shortly after his partner was arrested.”

“You’re avoiding the question,” Malfoy pointed out with a mad glimmer in his eyes. “Who is they?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Shacklebolt said tiredly, closing his eyes as if praying for the strength to go on, “He’s leading a band of-“

“Say it,” Malfoy whispered excitedly, leaning forward and bouncing slightly in his chair. “Come on, say it.”

“Of-“ Shacklebolt seemed to be stumbling over the words.

Malfoy made a quiet sound of glee.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Shacklebolt cursed exasperatedly. “A band of ninja samurai.”

“Yes!” Malfoy cried, leaping out of his chair and doing what Harry could only guess was some sort of victory dance that involved a lot of hopping around, pointing, and singing, “I told you.”

The Head Auror buried his face in his hands and mumbled something that sounded a lot like, “Please kill me.”

Once Malfoy had regained his composure and reclaimed his seat, he immediately asked, “So when do we leave?”

“Er,” Harry said, his throat suddenly very dry, “You want to take the case?”

“Of course I-“ Malfoy began, but stopped abruptly, his smirk fading. “Oh. I’m not sure. Maybe?”

“Oh,” Harry replied, and cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Shacklebolt repeated to his hands, “Potter, Malfoy has been obsessed with you for at least the last three years, if not longer; he takes the cases no sane person would even consider because he’s trying to impress you- also, because he’s insane.”

“I am not!” Malfoy cried, but didn’t bother to clarify which part of the statement he was disagreeing with.

“Malfoy, you’re probably the only person in the division who hasn’t caught on to the fact that Potter is all but crawling at your feet,” the Head Auror continued, undeterred.

“I am not!” Harry protested, ignoring the heat slowly creeping across his cheeks. It was more like sulking quietly whenever his lover wasn’t paying attention to him, really.

“You’re both gay, you’re both mad for each other, and you’re both absolutely brilliant idiots,” Shacklebolt announced, finally lifting his face from his hands and glaring impatiently across the desk. “Now, let me make something very clear gentlemen.”

Harry and Malfoy sat in silence as the Head Auror rose from behind his desk and pointed at the wall of his office.

“Do you see that?” Shacklebolt demanded. “Those are my degrees, certifications, and licenses.”

“Uhm,” Harry agreed.

“Not one of them says Relationship Therapist,” Shacklebolt continued. “Nor do any of them say Matchmaker, School Counselor, or Mommy.”

“I see,” Malfoy said slowly.

“The two of you are going to leave early today,” the Head Auror told them. “You’re going to go home, you’re going to shag one another senseless, you’re going to actually talk about your relationship- do not start with me, Malfoy- and when you come back here in the morning, I expect you to at least pretend to be sane and ready for a case briefing.”

The two younger men both nodded mutely.

“Now get the hell out of my office,” Shacklebolt snapped, pointing at the door.

Heads hung, they filed out of the office into the corridor.

“So, uh,” Harry began after a moment had passed and neither of them made any move to actually leave. “That went well.”

“You’re an idiot,” Malfoy replied, rolling his eyes.

Harry couldn’t help but to grin at the lack of conviction in his lover’s voice. “Says the man who’s been obsessed with me for three years.”

“At least I’m not crawling around at your feet like a lost puppy,” Malfoy shot back with a smirk.

“I’m really tired of your cheek,” Harry told him with as much seriousness as he could muster.

“I’m really tired of your face,” Malfoy retorted with a huff.

“So I’ll meet you at your flat at six?” Harry asked, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

“Make it five, and we can watch King Boxer,” Malfoy replied.

Harry stared at him. “Isn’t that a Kung Fu movie?”

“Research,” Malfoy replied with a nonchalant shrug. “I’ve always said the world needs to be prepared for a surprise attack by a band of ninja samurai, and I was right.”

“You really are insane,” Harry laughed.

“Eccentric,” Malfoy corrected him. “Besides, insane or not, it’s one of the best movies of all time.”

“I thought you didn’t watch movies,” Harry pointed out, remembering their gasped conversation in the lift.

“I lied,” Malfoy replied with a smirk.

Snorting quietly, Harry shook his head and turned away with a muttered, “I’ll see you at five.”

Just as he was about to turn the corner, someone called his name, and he paused. When he turned, Malfoy was staring at him with an odd expression, and Harry tilted his head to the side in a silent question.

“Uhm,” Malfoy began, and there was no doubt about it, he was actually blushing. The next sentence came out in a rush, “Ireallydocareaboutyoualot.”

It took a moment for Harry to insert the spaces that hadn’t been there, and when he did, he smiled. “Do you ever tell the truth, Malfoy?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” Malfoy said quietly, meeting his gaze for a heartbeat of silence. “Yeah, I do.”

Nodding, Harry walked backwards for a few steps before rounding the corner. A moment later, Malfoy’s voice followed him down the hall.

“Bring bacon so you can make me breakfast tomorrow!”

Alone in the corridor, Harry smiled. Of course he’d bring bacon. And coffee, and chocolate, and anything else Draco wanted.

That’s just what partners did for the people they cared about.