Chapter Text
The Death Eater trials had happened fairly soon after the War ended. Lucius got forty years. Harry had given evidence for Draco and Narcissa. Malfoy junior had sung like the proverbial canary and passed on lots of useful information on Death Eater hideouts and safe houses. Both ended up with six months house arrest, and five years full time community service, with a restriction on their wands and spells until the sentences were complete.
Mrs Malfoy was a model citizen. She spent her five years sentence time mopping floors and emptying bedpans without magic at St Mungo's. She kept her eyes lowered and was the perfect penitent reformed criminal. Harry ran into her from time to time at the hospital and she was always scrupulously polite, calling him ‘Mr Potter.’
After her sentence was complete at the start of 2004, she joined various charities and continued to do good works. She read to the children at the newly opened SIMMTEW primary day school: Socially Integrating Magicals and Muggleborns To Eradicate War, and manned the tombola on fundraising days. She was very persuasive at selling raffle tickets.
Andy and Narcissa had resumed a cordially distant relationship after the war, and every so often Harry ran into her when he visited the Tonks home to see Teddy.
Occasionally Harry met Mrs Malfoy for afternoon tea, though he refrained from telling her he had turpentined her aunt. He did mention some of the cursed objects from Grimmauld and they had several interesting discussions.
Narcissa was delighted when he gave her the silver snuffbox: the Wartcap powder cleaned out, and the Biting curse removed. She reported that it had once been the property of the long dead Achernar Black, and Harry was amused by her tales, wondering if Sirius had ever heard them too. Narcissa endeared herself further to him by telling him some childhood memories of the young Sirius.
Another occasion, she produced a few childhood albums and offered Harry some photos of a very sweet looking Sirius, aged two, and some more mischievous older ones.
Harry rewarded her by inviting her to Grimmauld, though he put a Disillusionment charm on the wall where Walburga had spewed her bile. Narcissa was gratified to see the house, looking in a much better state than when she had last seen it in the 1980s before the old hag had died, and professed to be pleased Harry had removed the house-elf heads and given them a decent burial. They had an interesting afternoon with Mrs Malfoy telling him some of her memories of the property, when she had been a tiny child.
Harry would even have described them as friendly, though not friends.
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The younger Malfoy, however, could not remove the sneer from his face. Centuries of pureblood breeding had left him looking like something was rammed up his perfect aristocratic arse. His community service involved working in the canteen at the Ministry, and he also mopped floors and cleaned bathrooms. But he could never bring himself to be as apologetic as he should have been.
Though Malfoy had no contact with the remaining Death Eaters (who would have cheerfully murdered both Draco for squealing, and Narcissa for reading ‘Elmer the Patchwork Elephant’ to Muggleborn kids), he still looked at certain people as if they were shit on his shoe. He could not help but curl his lip when he saw Hermione in the Ministry, but she rose above it.
Ron retaliated by bringing Malfoy in for questioning every so often, letting him cool his heels in a cell. Eventually though, he too worked through his community service and got a paid job doing grunt work in the St Mungo’s potions laboratory in January 2004, though he was soon promoted to more challenging duties.
But the git had grown into his looks. His thin ferrety face had broadened slightly. His cheekbones were chiselled, and all those mopped floors and polished cauldrons had left him with more muscles than could be considered fair. His hair had darkened slightly from white blond to platinum and he was devastatingly handsome. Whatever was rammed up his perfect aristocratic arse, Harry wanted to remove it and shove his cock in there instead.
Harry, with his usual lack of self-awareness, would never have labelled this a crush or admitted that he fancied Malfoy. Instead he dismissed it as the result of not enough sex, and increased his visits to Muggle gay clubs. The fact that he tended to pull tall, lean blonds if there was a choice, and posh ones with a filthy mouth if that was an additional option, rather passed him by.
The first time he actually did anything about the infatuation, to which he absolutely was not admitting, was when he ran into Malfoy at the Moon and Sickle, on a balmy June Saturday night five months later. Apparently it was his twenty-fourth birthday so Harry bought him a drink to celebrate. Draco looked contemptuously at him despite the free gin and tonic, and Harry was very close to punching him in the face.
The evening got a little more raucous as more alcohol was consumed. It was close to closing time when Harry found himself pissing next to Malfoy at the urinal. He was drunk enough to forget protocol and normal manly behaviour. He took what he thought was a sneaky look at the manhood destined to produce the next generation of pureblood babies. However Harry clearly was far less subtle than he thought because Draco snickered. In his cut glass accent, he suggested that when they had finished urinating, he would be happy to show Harry his, if Potter would return the favour.
Harry cast a Colloportus on the door, before lunging towards Draco. Their lips and teeth met in a clash whilst Harry pounced on Malfoy’s prick. His own felt good in those slim white hands. It was mutually satisfying, if rushed. Harry collapsed back against the wall, feeling the aftershocks of his pleasure and he took his eyes off Draco for just a moment too long. Malfoy must have palmed his wand from wherever he had stashed it, and cast Obliviate at a wary Harry before Harry realised what he had done. Harry's self preservation and practise at dissemination kicked in. He was so used to the pins and needles now he didn't even wince. He let his face go blank.
“You came in for a piss. You saw that twat Malfoy from school but you ignored each other as straight men do in the loo. You will go home and sleep off however many pints of cheap lager you downed tonight. By tomorrow you won't even remember seeing him.”
Harry turned like an automaton, tucked himself away, washed his hands and left the toilet.
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The following day, in the blur of his hangover, Harry did wonder if he had dreamed it. Malfoy had looked so hot last night, despite the disdainful expression. But he was fairly sure on the balance of probabilities that it had happened. After the hangover potion had kicked in, he was more convinced it was real.
Harry was horny as hell and wanked a couple of times during the day. As soon as it was dark (so bloody late as it was June) he apparated to Manchester where he picked up a fair haired man in a club in Canal Street, and fucked him hard in the back room. The following day he tossed off another couple of times, fantasising about drilling into that perfect aristocratic arse.
Harry couldn't believe having finally got his hand on Draco’s dick had affected him this much. For some reason the Obliviate had sent his libido into overdrive. Was it the deviousness? The Slytherin behaviour, which ten years ago would have repulsed him, now just made him so fucking randy. He wondered whether Malfoy was pulling one off, thinking about having corrupted an innocent Gryffindor, or whether he had Obliviated himself afterwards for the shame in touching a halfblood's hard on.
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At work on Monday, Bill and Harry were called out to deal with a slightly sentient bookcase which had started swallowing members of the family. It only took them a couple of hours to dismantle all the legitimate library spells on the bookcase, the magic which sorted books by topic and then author, and subtle hexes which discouraged readers from folding down corners, or licking their fingers whilst turning pages. Then they had to determine exactly which combination of spells had gone awry, and why.
It turned out that the previous weekend, the owner’s six year old triplet great-granddaughters had visited, along with their two older brothers. The sheer number of sticky fingers and ripped pages had sent the bookcase into a frenzy and it had declared war, in the way only an ancient piece of enchanted furniture could do. It had increased the magical power of the subtle hexes from nought to sixty, until it decided, in its sentient way, that eating people was a fair punishment for tearing pages out of several dozen first editions and crayon all over its shelves. The younger great-grandson and the middle one of the triplets were recovered from inside the woodwork, slightly bruised, smeared in some gelatinous fluid, and covered in mauve and daffodil crayon, but otherwise unharmed. The knots in the wood of the bookcase seemed to have formed a sanguine expression.
On the journey back to the office, via the really good bakery with the fabulous cinnamon Danishes, Harry disclosed to Bill that there was a new spell to add to the list of which he was protected. Without going into more details than Bill needed to know, Harry said he'd had a sexual encounter with a wizard, and the man had tried to Obliviate him afterwards. He'd faked his memory being wiped and gone home. He did mention that he hadn't been one hundred percent sure the following day, in his hungover state, whether it had actually happened, but once he was sober he was certain it had.
He decided it was not necessary for Bill, happily married, heterosexual father of three, to know just how fucking horny Harry had been since then.
Bill quirked an eyebrow and mused as to whether alcohol impaired Harry’s Teflon coating but Harry pointed out the time on Ron's twenty-third birthday when Harry had got so wasted he tripped over Dean’s Muggle trainers, and ended up with a broken wrist, and they decided it was just the usual complications of getting blind drunk and nothing more was said on the matter. Harry refused to repeat the experiment by falling over some magical footwear.
Wednesday night was pub quiz night at the Moon and Sickle. There was a Gryffindor reunion with Seamus, Dean, and Neville, though Ron was a bit late with Auror work. Harry saw the far table of Slytherins with the head of platinum blond and was instantly hard. He covertly cast the spell every thirteen year old boy learned to cast in Hogwarts: the one to disguise an erection.
At the break, he headed to the loo to relieve himself, struggling to pee with a hard on but eventually managing it.
“Back so soon?” Malfoy had joined him.
Harry put on a puzzled expression, his eyes widening and then narrowing, “What are you talking about, Malfoy?”
This time Draco cast the Colloportus, before crowding Harry against the wall of the pub's bathroom.
“Nice stiffy, Potter. Want to show it to me?”
Fuck, Harry liked it. He liked Draco’s hard body against him. He liked it when Malfoy bit his ear and then stuck his tongue in there whilst Harry panted into his neck, and scrabbled at Draco's fly. He liked the grip of the long, smooth fingers. Fuck! Malfoy must use some fancy hand conditioning cream. Malfoy’s cock was so hot in his hand. He thrust into Draco's fist and the whole thing was over in less than three minutes. Harry's breathing began to slow when, fast as lightning, Malfoy’s wand was out and he'd cast an Obliviate.
Ignoring the faint sensation of pins and needles, Harry repeated his previous performance. Blank face, blank eyes, slightly open mouth.
“You saw a whole crowd of Slytherins in the quiz, but you ignored them as you righteous Gryffindors do. Then you had a piss. There was no one in the bathroom so you took your time. Now you are going to go and try to answer a few questions, but, like the pathetic parvenu you are, you won't get many right. By tomorrow you won't even remember seeing anyone from Slytherin tonight.”
Harry turned like an automaton, tucked himself away, washed his hands and left the toilet.
He carefully missed a few obvious questions in the second half of the quiz, and even Neville was a bit reproachful about his lacklustre performance. Harry steadfastly kept his eyes off the Slytherin table for the rest of the evening but that night he wanked himself raw.
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The following day Harry briefly reported to Bill he’d had another hook up with the same wizard as last time, and again he’d been Obliviated. Bill barked a laugh, and asked Harry if this was going to be a regular event. Harry shrugged, saying he didn't care if the other bloke was getting off on getting one over on The Great Harry Potter, as long as he didn't end up in the newspapers.
Bill nodded, saying that as long as nothing changed about it, he didn't need to report to Bill next time, but he would ask Harry to record how many encounters in case there was any long term damage from the memory spells. Harry teased him about boring, married men having to get their kicks any way they could.
Bill snorted, “Have you seen my wife?!? She's a bloody Veela, mate!”
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The weeks passed. A few times a fortnight, Harry would meet his mates in the Moon and Sickle. Mysteriously Malfoy had also claimed it as his local and was often there with Slytherin pals or sometimes the younger members of the St Mungo's Potions Department. Most of the visits would end with a mutual hand job behind the locked door of the gents, or occasionally in the alley at the back of the pub, when Harry ‘just needed a breath of fresh air.’ He was convinced Draco had something like the Marauders map as he always seemed to be able to find Harry.
Harry enjoyed Malfoy's range of approaches to initiate sexual contact. It kept him on his toes. He tried to vary slightly his initial response each time to keep himself amused. He always made sure to look cautious when Draco whipped out his wand and Obliviated Harry, and then look stupid when Malfoy told him what had really happened.
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On Harry’s birthday, the usual crowd met at the Burrow for one of Molly's amazing meals. It was a Saturday night, so it wasn’t difficult to persuade his peers to come to the Moon and Sickle afterwards. Draco just happened to be there too, and managed to insult Harry whilst buying him a birthday firewhisky. It didn’t stop him sucking Harry off in the back alley, and Harry loved pulling his hair whilst the blond was on his knees.
The following Friday they all headed for the pub again. It had been an extremely difficult week at work. The whole team was challenged by a cursed bracelet a poor innocent girl, Adalina Fawley, had been given by her possessive boyfriend, Demetrius Burke. Like Sleeping Beauty in the fairy tale, she’d fallen asleep and only his kiss could wake her.
Demetrius had enjoyed his power over the Fawley family. Then he'd got bored, buggered off, and left her for someone new. Adalina was still sound asleep. What a fucking arsehole. Harry hated certain members of his sex and their entitled attitude about women and girls. It didn't take much work to be a passably decent human being, but that was far too high a standard for fuckwits like Burke.
Fuckwit Burke was currently in a holding cell, refusing to disclose the curses he'd put on the bracelet. Ron had been so busy with him he’d cancelled their morning run.
Then, when Harry had gone to the fancy Muggle greengrocers at lunchtime to get some healthy fresh fruit, he'd been stung by a wasp. A perfectly ordinary non-magical wasp, so the Teflon coating didn't work.
Harry had a headache from lack of sleep caused by Malfoy induced wanking. He hadn't been able to de-stress by running, and his skin felt too tight for his body.
Even after a few pints he hadn't relaxed. He was in the mood to head off to one of the clubs and find a Malfoy look alike. He was so up for fucking an aristocratic arse.
Just before he did, he went for a piss. He hadn't even realised Draco was in the pub, that's how out of it he was.
“Come here often?”
Harry scowled. He was too tired for Malfoy's shit.
“Fuck off, Malfoy. I’m too tired for your shit.”
“Are you too tired for a bit of fun? Or are you going to be difficult?”
“Fuck off, Malfoy!”
“You've already said that. Wouldn't you like to fuck me instead? Work off some of that sexual tension? I'll take you to mine. You can have me anyway you like. In the shower, bent over my dining table, legs above my head on my bed, up against the front door. What about spanking me over your lap whilst I am naked except for a Slytherin tie? You can do anything you want to me. One night only offer, Potter.”
Harry snapped. Took Draco's arm hard and twisted it round, until Malfoy’s ear was by Harry’s mouth. “What are you waiting for then, arsehole, Apparate us!”
Malfoy did.
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That night Harry fucked him for the first time. Malfoy cast all the usual protection spells and cleaning ones. Harry was so riled up with pureblood fuckwits and no sleep and wasps, he went absolutely wild. He was normally far more considerate of his partners but he felt Draco had been asking for it for too bloody long and now he was going to reap what he sowed. He bared his teeth, biting Malfoy’s shoulder, his back, his perfect aristocratic arse. He spanked him too, and, Merlin and Morgana, that was satisfying. Draco made the sexiest little yelps and shrieks.
The blond offered Harry the choice of lube or a spell. Harry was used to muggles and lube, and he fingered him whilst the Slytherin begged and pleaded. Godric, then Harry finally got to stick his cock in that perfect hole. God it was amazing. How could someone so uninhibited be so bloody tight?
Harry was usually fully up with consent and asking what his partner wanted but Draco had told him he could do whatever he felt like so he did. His nails raked down Harry's side so Harry returned the favour and he hadn’t had a sodding manicure. Malfoy seemed to love having blood drawn and he came unexpectedly. Harry was so hard, he kept thrusting and scratching and biting until Draco came again. Finally Harry emptied himself into that beautiful, perfect, aristocratic arse he had been fantasising about for so long.
He collapsed, hoping to finally fall asleep, but Malfoy was wriggling and fussing, so Harry opened his eyes. He saw bloody, scratched skin, bites, red hand prints, and angry marks covering the smooth alabaster skin and his heart sank. He'd never made such a mess of a partner before and he felt so guilty.
Again Malfoy whipped his wand from only God knew where (considering he was starkers). Harry just had time to put on a wary expression when Malfoy said, “Forget about it. Obliviate. You had a tiring day. You Flooed but must have got muddled with the address. You strip off to go to bed then you realise you are in the wrong place. You put your clothes back on, and Apparate home.”
Harry mentally ground his teeth. He just wanted to sleep. This wanker was going to be the death of him. Still, he turned like an automaton, gathered up his clothes, pulled on his jeans, and Apparated home.
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He slept all day Saturday and didn't wake till late afternoon. He felt bloody amazing. Shagged out, but on such a high. He fucked that perfect aristocratic arse, and Merlin it was even better than he could possibly have imagined. He could see the scratch marks Draco left on him. He wondered about the state of that fair skin after what he did to Malfoy last night. He just hoped Narcissa didn’t drop by unannounced and see what a mess he made of her darling son.
He was going to find Malfoy again tonight. He was going to find him this time and not wait for Draco to find him.
Harry got to the Moon and Sickle before anyone else he knew. In fact he did a whole circuit of the pub and the beer garden before he realised he may have been a bit too eager. He felt a bit like a faithful Crup waiting for his beloved master. He decided to check the loos before getting a beer.
Surprise, surprise Malfoy sidled up to him in the toilets. He definitely must have something that alerted him when Harry entered the room.
“Hello, Potter.”
Harry put on his most gormless expression and pretended he didn’t recognise Draco immediately. “Malfoy,” he said, “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you. Wanna hookup?”
Harry was slightly flummoxed. Hogwarts Malfoy was pretty predictable. This Malfoy kept him permanently off kilter. Harry loved it.
“Do you want to come back to mine? I live in a Muggle area but we can Apparate to the back of Tesco?”
Draco raised a blond eyebrow, possibly at Harry’s eagerness. Possibly at the concept of Tesco. He placed his hand on Harry’s arm, and Harry Side-Alonged him to the alley behind the supermarket. A knackered looking woman, in the blue and red uniform, was smoking a fag. She ignored them and they ignored her.
They walked the five minutes to Harry's flat. Harry unlocked the door with his keys and dropped his security wards. He lived in a bland Muggle area but wasn't stupid.
He made them both tea. Of course Malfoy asked for some fancy herbal shite: whole rose buds loose leaf tea. But coincidentally, it was the same fancy herbal shite as Luna liked so he had a box. They sat down on the bland Muggle settee and Draco looked rather snootily around at the bland Muggle furniture.
“Mother said you were living at the old Black place in Islington. This is not the old Black place!”
Harry laughed. “I don't bring hookups to Grimmauld. This place is for hookups.”
Malfoy arched a patrician’s brow, and pretended to look shocked. “Potter! You have hookups! I thought you worthy Gryffindors marry the first person you shag.”
Harry laughed again. “Malfoy, you don't have a clue!” He was surprised when Draco put his fancy rose bud tea down and kissed him full on the mouth. It wasn’t the first time they kissed but it was the first time without a clash of teeth or a bleeding lip. It was passionate and sensual and Harry wasn’t sure anyone had ever kissed him like this in his twenty-four years. He melted into it.
When his brain logged back in, it started him thinking that if Malfoy could kiss him like that, there was more going on than Draco was prepared to admit, in any scenario. And maybe Harry would just have to surprise him right back again. But not just this second. He wanted to keep kissing him, and he wanted to know how this was going to play out, and he didn’t know which move Malfoy would take next. Harry had never been that good at chess and Draco was so mysteriously unpredictable.
Malfoy stood up. Harry assumed they were about to christen his bland Muggle bed, and got up too. But Draco pushed him to his knees.
Harry lied, “Er, I’ve never actually…”
Malfoy sniggered. “You'll pick it up.”
Harry gave the blow job of his life. All his experience in the dirty back rooms and grubby toilets of dozens of Muggle bars and clubs felt like they were all preparing him for this very moment. He gave the best blow job he'd ever given, like he was going to suck Draco's soul out of his cock. His hands in Harry's hair; his face when he came; it was almost angelic.
Malfoy collapsed on to the bland Muggle settee. He roused himself after a minute or two, pulling Harry back up onto the cushions, and undoing his jeans before returning the favour. It was pretty good. It wasn’t the best blow job Harry ever had but Draco didn’t realise Harry was auditioning for a full time position in his life. Draco still thought Harry thought this was their first encounter.
Draco stirred, slightly punch-drunk from Harry's superb blowy. “The first time, you see, it was panic that pulled that spell from my lips. But now, you see, there's the thrill of knowing you'll choose me, despite my Dark Mark, despite our history. I know you'll choose me over and over.”
Harry turned dazed, recently orgasmed eyes to him, as Draco pulled out his wand from fuck-knows-where.
He purred, “Here’s my parting gift. Obliviate!”
Harry sighed. He was going to keep Draco but he might still absolutely punch him in the mouth. Maybe not just after he had a pretty good blow job. But probably quite soon.
“Draco Lucius Malfoy! I could resist the Imperius Curse when I was fourteen. I killed Voldemort when I was seventeen. I’m twenty-four and my magic is getting stronger all the time. I've no idea where you got the idea that Obliviate would work on me, but it doesn't, sweetheart, it really doesn't.”
Draco's shocked face, like a niffler caught in a security ward, was better than the blowjob. Harry pulled him close and kissed him again. And that was better than both.
THE END