Harry Potter fic: A State of Affairs
Hola! *waves*
I know some of yous are Harry Potter fans, and hopefully you're also Harry/Draco fans. If you are and you're bored, I wrote a fic (after, like, two years of not writing anything for Harry Potter at all).
So yeah... It's here for your perusal if you'd like.
Title: A State of Affairs
Author: amycoolz
Pairing(s): Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, mentions of Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger
Warning(s): swearing, a little violence, slight Ginny-bashing
Word Count: 6,666 (just thank Godric it's a four-digit number)
Summary: While working on a domestic violence case as an Auror for the Ministry of Magic, Harry discovers his wife, Ginny, is having an affair. Meanwhile, Malfoy is being a grade-A pain in the arse. But it’s only a matter of time before Harry runs into Malfoy’s arms.
~***~
“Meddle not in the affairs of the dragon; for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup.” -Unknown
(This quote literally has nothing to do with this story, but it’s hilarious. And my original idea was Malfoy’s wife cheating on him, but yeah…)
~***~
Harry Potter looked up from his paperwork when there was a knock on his office door. “Yes?”
The door opened and a short, brunet witch poked her head inside. “Auror Potter, your wife is here to see you, sir.”
Harry gritted his teeth. “Damn it; I told her never to visit me at the office. What does she want?”
“She didn’t say, sir, only that it was important.”
He sighed. “All right, send her in.”
Thirty seconds later, Ginny Potter née Weasley appeared in his office doorway. “Why did you keep me waiting? You don’t want to talk to me? Hiding something?”
Harry nearly snapped his quill. “What do you want now?”
“Oh, now it’s what I want.”
“Would you just spit it out and leave? I have a lot of work that needs to be done.”
Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. “I just wanted to remind you that we’re going to Ron and Hermione’s for dinner tonight; you haven’t forgotten about your brother-in-law, have you?”
“Of course not,” he said through a clenched jaw. “Why couldn’t you tell me this through a Floo call or an owl?”
“Would you have answered if I had?” Harry stayed silent, knowing that if he said anything there would be a huge fight again. “That’s what I thought.” She turned away and walked out the door again. “Don’t be late!” she called.
Harry took the model of the Golden Snitch off of his desk and threw it at the wall next to the door, barely missing the head of the blonde that had just walked through the door, and watched as it shattered into a hundred tiny pieces. Draco Malfoy blinked at Harry and then smirked.
“Now is that any way to greet your company, Potter?”Nevertheless, he muttered a quick Reparo and picked up the fixed Quidditch piece, placing it back on Harry’s desk.
“Hey, Malfoy,” Harry murmured, dragging a hand through his hair.
Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing beneath the fringe covering his forehead. “No scathing remarks today, Potter?”
“I’m not in the mood, really.”
“Trouble in paradise? Is the Weaslette not putting out?”
“No. I mean yes! I mean- Argh!” He huffed out an irritated breath. “What do you want, Malfoy?”
Smirking and sitting on the edge of Harry’s desk, Malfoy pointed to his robes where the Ministry’s insignia was printed. “I work here, Potter; and, as much as it pains me to say, I am your partner.”
“You don’t have to remind me.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” The reply was as sarcastic as they come, and Harry clenched his fist in annoyance. “I merely came to discuss the case we’ve looming in front of us, Potter. The murder that happened early this week? Shacklebolt suspects domestic violence.”
“I’m familiar with it, yes.”
“It seems, though, that he won’t let us proceed with the investigation until all of the paperwork from our previous case is handed in.” Malfoy leaned closer and peered at the file on Harry’s desk. “I assume that’s it?”
“Yes, it is, actually. And it would be finished more quickly if you’d actually help.”
“Come now, Potter, you know I don’t sully my career with measly paperwork.” He waved a dismissive hand in Harry’s direction. “I’m a man of action, not desk work.”
“I’ve come to realize this, and I suddenly wish I had had my own pick of partners. At least he would have been willing to complete paperwork.”
“How are you so sure it would be a ‘he’?”
“I don’t- Look, it wouldn’t matter, now will you leave and let me finish this damnable paperwork so we can start on the next case?” Harry’s face was flushed fuchsia with frustration as Malfoy rose from the desk.
“Now you’re starting to make sense, Potter.” He placed the model he had been toying with - a tiny pewter phoenix - back onto the desk and straightened his robes. “Send me a memo when you’ve completed the paperwork; I’ll meet you in my office when you’re ready to start on the next investigation.” Malfoy swept out of the room, robes swishing behind him and fluttering out the door behind him.
“Damn Malfoy…” he grumbled, immersing himself in his task again. His last thought before an awry spell whizzed in through his open door and hit his desk, setting it aflame, was “Could this day get any worse?”
Yes, he told himself, even as he was battling against the fire threatening to consume his office and - more importantly - the paperwork he had been working countless hours on. It just did.
~***~
Three hours later, Harry sent the small memo zooming out of his door and to Malfoy’s office; he honestly couldn’t understand why he didn’t just walk there since Malfoy’s office was a couple meters down the hall. When he finally arrived at his partner’s office and said as much, Malfoy scoffed. “Potter, how do you know I’m not getting a blow-job underneath my desk at times like that? I don’t need you wandering in on us and getting all hot and bothered because you haven’t been laid in four months.”
Harry gaped, and the only thing he could get out of his mouth was a simple figure. “Seven.”
“Excuse me? Could you repeat that?”
“Seven.” He didn’t know why he told him that, but it was something Harry felt he needed to get out. “It’s been seven months.”
Instead of the sarcastic remark he was expecting, Harry was thrown when Malfoy’s expression turned sympathetic. “No wonder you’ve been so uptight lately. You need to unwind.” He wrapped an arm around the Gryffindor’s shoulders. “If you’re interested, I could introduce you to a few of my good friends. Just to get your rocks off and return to normal.”
Dislodging Malfoy’s arm, Harry turned and glared at the blonde man. “I’m not going to cheat on my wife.”
“How do you know she’s not cheating on you?”
Harry opened his mouth to say something but snapped it shut at that thought. What if she is cheating on me? It would make sense, all the nights that I spend alone nowadays, and I know that her job involves traveling, but never staying over more than one night at a time… The wheels were turning in his head a million kilometers per hour, coming up with thousands of possibilities he’d never even fathomed before. And if she is cheating on me… why am I not angry about it?
“It’s just something to think about.” Malfoy led the way into his office, sitting down behind his desk and pulling out the case file. “Shall we?”
Nodding, Harry sat, but his mind was only half on the subject matter. Somewhere off in the corner of his brain he had a feeling Malfoy was right about Ginny.
He could only pray that he was wrong.
~***~
Opening the door to his and Ginny’s shared flat, he was surprised and annoyed to find her sitting on the couch, arms crossed across her chest and glaring at him. “You’re late,” she snapped.
“Yeah? Well, excuse me for having a demanding job so I can pay all our bills and still afford to buy you the stupid stuff you want on the side.” Harry had had just about enough of their bickering; three long years of it.
She snarled at him, standing up. “How dare you!” She picked up a plate from the coffee table in front of her and threw it at his head, narrowly missing as he ducked out of the way. It shattered against the wall behind him. “That’s the way you’re going to talk to me? After all the things we’ve been through together?”
“Don’t try to turn this around on me!” he shouted, pointing at his own chest. “I’m not the bad guy in this situation!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know what it means! Ever since we got married you’ve been distant and quiet; now you’re just overbearing and annoying.”
She didn’t say anything to that, just stood, hands clenched into fists by her sides and hair in disarray; Harry barely noticed the short black dress she had on. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. “Fine.” She picked up her wand and grabbed a handful of Floo powder next to the fireplace. “I’m going to Ron and Hermione’s without you, then; make sure you send them a card before their next anniversary. You’re sleeping on the sofa tonight.” She threw the powder down, stepped into the flames, stated her destination, and was gone in the blink of an eye.
Harry glowered at the ash that settled on the carpet afterwards. “’Sleeping on the sofa’, my arse.” He grabbed a bag, filled it with clothes, and Apparated to the only place he thought would be safe for him right now: Draco Malfoy’s.
~***~
He arrived outside of a small house that had large bay windows on the front end and a well-tended garden under them. Harry stepped onto the lawn and hit the invisible barriers Malfoy had placed around the property.
Summoned by the disturbance of his shields, Malfoy stepped out of the front door with his wand at the ready; he lowered it when he saw Harry standing with his bag slung over his shoulder.
“I don’t suppose you could let me in?”
“What are you doing here, Potter?” he asked, though there was no malice in his voice; only mild curiosity.
“Ginny kicked me out.” He smiled at Malfoy, even though the memory of the fight was still fresh and very much alive in his mind.
“Ah, the Weaslette finally came to her senses, did she?” He waved his wand in the air in a sweeping motion and let the shields down enough so Harry could enter; once his partner had stepped across the threshold, he put them up once more.
Harry shrugged. “You could say that.”
They walked inside and Harry dropped his stuff next to the sofa in the parlor, sitting upon the soft cushions; Malfoy sat in the chair opposite him and set his wand on the small table in the middle. “So what happened?”
Harry’s eyebrows went up. “You really want to know?”
“Potter, you show up on my doorstep and ask to come in, telling me that your wife kicked you out of the house, and you didn’t expect me to ask you what happened?”
“I suppose the thought had crossed my mind, yes.” Malfoy scowled at him. “Fine, I’ll tell you.” He put his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. “I got home and she was sitting on the couch; the first thing she says to me is ‘You’re late.’ We were supposed to be going to Ron and Hermione’s for dinner, but I had told her that work might keep me late.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair; he watched Malfoy watch the movement with a thrill of delight, but quickly squashed it down. “Then I guess I said something wrong, Godric forbid, and she went mental; she started screaming and she threw a plate at me, and even though it missed, I actually don’t appreciate plates being thrown mercilessly at my head. And so, instead of sleeping on the sofa like she’d demanded, I came here.”
Malfoy smirked, and Harry knew what was coming. “Well, Potter, I hate to disappoint you, but you’ll be sleeping on the sofa either way tonight.” Harry nodded. “Unless you wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with me.” The smile on Malfoy’s face was absolutely predatory, and Harry had to try desperately to stop his blush before it gave him away.
“No! No, the sofa is just fine,” he insisted, smoothing his hand over the fabric of the seat next to him. “It’s quite comfortable, actually.”
Shrugging, Malfoy rose from his spot. “Suit yourself.” He walked into the kitchen and hollered back out to Harry, “I was going to make something for dinner, but if you want to order something, that would be okay.”
“W-What were you going to make?” Harry was insanely curious, now; he had no idea Malfoy could cook.
“Just something simple, like spaghetti or fettuccine Alfredo.” He poked his head back out into the room and regarded Harry with a raised eyebrow.
“That sounds great.”
Malfoy actually smiled, but Harry only caught a glimpse of it before he disappeared back into the kitchen. “If you want to get cleaned up before we eat, the bathroom is down the hall, first door on the right. Towels are in the cabinet under the sink if you’re taking a shower.”
“Which of the products in the shower am I allowed to use?” he shot back, not able to hide the smirk.
“Potter, anything’s fair game in there. But if you tamper with them and I walk out with blue hair tomorrow, don’t think I’m going to let you live.”
Harry laughed and walked into the bathroom. “I’ll keep that in mind!”
~***~
After his shower, which was one of the best showers of his life, he ate dinner with Malfoy at the table in the kitchen, which was one of the best meals of his life. He had groaned as his teeth sank into the first bite of the creamy Alfredo sauce covering the fettuccine pasta that was cooked to al dente perfection. Malfoy had laughed, asking him if it was really that good. Harry’s only response was to take another bite and positively orgasm.
They sat on the sofa in the living room after they cleaned up, Harry insisting on helping because he was intruding on Malfoy’s privacy, and talked about their next case.
“So this woman, Amelia Tyler, 32 years old, was found dead in her flat; her husband, Lucas Tyler, 34 years old, was nowhere to be seen while the Aurors were investigating the place.” Harry opened the file folder on the table, pulling out some pictures and spreading them out on the table. The crime scene photos were ghastly; the woman, a young brunette with a very pretty face, was lying on the ground in a pool of her own blood, her hand clutching her wand and her eyes wide open. She had a large, deep gash across her chest which had ripped through her shirt.
Harry glanced at Malfoy from the corner of his eye to see Malfoy watching him carefully. Silently, Harry pulled out another piece of paper from the folder, and cleared his throat nervously. “It, uh, it says that the Aurors don’t know what spell or curse was used that killed her.”
“Potter, I think we both know what curse it was that killed her.”
Harry hung his head, ashamed. “Yeah…”
“All right, look, it’s getting late.” Malfoy collected the files and pictures, stuffed them back into the folder and placed it on the table in the foyer. “Why don’t we both get some sleep, and we’ll talk about it a bit more in the morning.”
Harry nodded. “I’ll just sleep here, then?” he asked, indicating the sofa.
“Yes. I’ll get you a sheet to cover up with.” He went down the hallway, opened the closet, and pulled out a large, comfy-looking down blanket; he brought it back and handed it to his partner. “Well, Potter, good night.”
“Yeah, ‘night, Malfoy.”
~***~
Harry awoke to the soft light of the morning sun, the smell of fresh tea, and the sound of sizzling bacon. He rose from the sofa, stretched his arms above his head, and padded into the kitchen, where he found Malfoy darting around the small area with a plastic spatula in one hand and a fork in the other. “’Morning,” Harry greeted, taking a seat at the table.
Malfoy turned around and returned the salutation, setting down a mug of steaming hot tea in front of him. Harry took a sip and realized that it was brewed to perfection, even though it was left black. “Godric, this tea is amazing.” He took another taste, delighting in the warmth of it. “Where did you get it?”
“My mother sent it to me from Paris; it’s Mariage Frères’s Manjhee Valley blend.”
Harry blinked, not understanding what all the words meant, only knowing that this was the best tea he had ever tasted. “It’s delicious.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her you enjoyed it,” Malfoy joked, and went back to cooking.
They ate breakfast in silence, save for the occasional “pass the marmalade, please” or “more bacon?” Afterwards, they went back into the parlor to discuss the case once again.
“Okay, so I think the best place to look is back at the flat where they lived. It might give us insight on their relationship, and we can see if we can’t find any more evidence,” Harry suggested, taking out the personal file on Amelia Tyler; she and her husband lived at 763 Stutler Lane in London, flat 26B. “Do you want to Apparate there or travel by Floo?”
“Don’t be silly, Potter.” He stood up and dragged Harry up by the hand with him. “We’ll Apparate, of course.” He took out his wand, pictured his destination, and turned on his heel.
He and Harry landed outside of a small building, no doubt enhanced with space expansion spells. They climbed up the steps and into the foyer, noting the location of the exits. Harry pointed to the staircase in the corner and to the magical lifts on the back wall. “We should take the stairs,” he suggested.
Malfoy looked at him with a raised brow. “You can take the stairs, Potter; I’ll be taking the lift.” He went over to the lifts and waited for a few seconds before one appeared with a small house elf operating it; he stepped in and said, “Flat 26B, please.”
Harry, meanwhile, made his way up the stairs, meeting Malfoy when he got up to the correct floor. “Malfoy, come here.”
Scowling, Malfoy walked over to where Harry was standing, pointing at the hallway containing the stairs. “What is it?” He followed Harry’s line of sight, but couldn’t see anything. “What am I looking for, Potter?”
“There’s blood,” he said, moving closer. “There, on the underside of the railing.”
Malfoy reached out and touched the blood stain, but it was completely dry. “It must have been there for a while. It might not even be one of the Tylers’.”
“Well, we should still analyze it.” He pulled out his wand and waved it over the stain; it glowed blue for a second and then returned to normal. “There, now we just have to wait for an owl from the Ministry on the results.”
“Wonderful, Potter, now let’s go and investigate this place.” He led Harry down the hall to the door of flat 26B and opened the door.
The place was a mess: there were picture frames shattered on the floor, papers thrown around in disarray, and blood smears on the walls. “Merlin…” Harry breathed, stepping into the room. “Well, there was certainly a struggle.”
Malfoy pushed past Harry, walking over to the wall with the biggest blood splatter on it; he pulled out the file and found the corresponding picture. “This blood was already analyzed. It belongs to Amelia Tyler.” He stooped down low and ran his finger along the floor where it met the wall; Harry had a hard time not staring at his partner’s form, but how had he never noticed the arse that Malfoy had on him? “Potter, I think I found something.”
Shaking his head to free himself from his day-dreaming, he walked over and crouched down low with Malfoy. The blonde raised his hand, and in between his index finger and thumb he held a short black strand of hair. “What’s that?”
“What do you mean, ‘what’s that’?” He opened the file again and shoved the two personnel files of Amelia and Lucas Tyler in Harry’s face. “This hair doesn’t match either of the Tylers’. Amelia had strawberry blonde hair and Lucas was a blonde.” He brought the hair in front of his face to examine it further. “This, Potter, is real evidence.”
Just then there was a pecking at the window; Harry got up and opened it, allowing the Ministry-sent owl to fly in; the letter in its beak fell to the table and it flew off. Harry ripped open the letter, unfolding it to read,
Auror Potter,
The blood you analyzed belongs to Mr. Thomas M. Dean, blood type B+.
Sincerely,
The Department of Magical Law Enforcement
Ministry of Magic
“See, Malfoy, that blood stain was important.”
“That blood stain could have been anyone’s, Potter. Some twat living on this floor could have cut himself and left that there.” He ran his wand over the strand of hair he found, sending the sample back to the Ministry for analysis.
“We’ll see, Malfoy.” Harry pulled out the file on Lucas Tyler; he scanned the pages, eyes finally landing on one name that stood out: Thomas Dean. “Malfoy, look at this.” He held up the paper for Malfoy to see, pointing to the name.
Malfoy’s eyes snapped up to meet his partners’; Harry had never noticed before just how beautifully grey-blue Malfoy’s eyes were. “Well, Potter, it looks like you’ve got something there.” There was another tapping on the window, and the same Ministry owl from earlier was back with another message. Malfoy let it in and took the letter, letting it fly back outside.
Auror Malfoy,
The hair you sent us to be analyzed belongs to Mr. Thomas M. Dean.
Sincerely,
The Department of Magical Law Enforcement
Ministry of Magic
Harry blinked several times and then smirked a very un-Harry smirk. “It seems to me, Malfoy, that we not only have a case of domestic violence on our hands, but I think our victim was fooling around.”
“How do you know it wasn’t the husband cheating on his wife?”
“But that-”
“Is completely legitimate and should not be thrown away as a possibility just because you’re homophobic.”
“I’m not homophobic!” Harry shouted.
Malfoy smirked, and damn it, if it didn’t make him ten times more attractive, Harry didn’t know what would.
~***~
Back at Malfoy’s house, they discussed their findings over lunch, Thai food Malfoy had ordered from the new restaurant down the street from his home.
“So how do you think Dean really ties in with this case?” Harry asked, slurping a noodle from his fork.
“Honestly, Potter, have some manners.” He ate his own mouthful of noodles from the pair of chopsticks he held in his hand. “Anyway,” he said after he swallowed; Harry followed the bob of his Adam’s Apple as the food went down, and he had to suppress a groan. “I think that Lucas is sleeping with Dean, and that when Amelia found out about it, she threatened to expose him at work. He’d lose his job because his bosses aren’t gay-tolerant, so he killed her to keep her mouth shut.”
“Do you mind telling me how that makes any sense?”
“Honestly, Potter…” But he didn’t say anything more.
Harry scowled. “Well, I think that Amelia was cheating on Lucas with this Dean fellow; Lucas found out and killed her.”
“We’ll see, Potter. For now, finish your lunch.”
They ate in relative silence, and then decided to go back to the Ministry to see what else they could dig up about Thomas Dean and his connection to the Tylers. Harry sat on the floor in Malfoy’s office and sorted through stacks of papers to find something pertinent to their investigation.
Finally, after nearly an hour and a half of looking, he found it.
“I found something! It’s a letter that Amelia wrote to Dean a few days before she was killed.”
“What does it say?”
Harry read the note aloud:
Dear Thomas,
I regret to inform you that our clandestine meetings must come to an immediate end. While I enjoy our time together, I fear my husband will find out about my affair and do something drastic. Please, do not try to contact me anymore; it would be better if we do not communicate any longer.
My deepest apologies,
Amelia
“Wow.” Malfoy took the letter from Harry and reread it a few times. “You were right. But now it doesn’t seem as if Lucas is our killer.”
“Exactly. We need to track down this Thomas Dean guy and ask him some questions.”
~***~
“So how are we even going to start this search for Dean?” Harry asked, flipping through more pages of reports and findings the Ministry had on file about him. “We barely know anything about him.”
“Well, I think we should look for Lucas Tyler first. They were best mates after all; maybe he’d have some idea of where he is.”
“Okay, that sounds reasonable. But where are we going to look for him?”
Malfoy was already shuffling through some papers, and found the one he was looking for. “Right here, Potter,” he said, pointing at the page. “The Ministry sends out a missing persons poster every time something like this happens, and there has been a sighting of Lucas Tyler somewhere outside of Muggle London.”
“Little Whinging?” Harry’s eyes grew wide. “Malfoy, this is mad. I used to live there.”
“Well, then, you should feel right at home.” Malfoy stood from his desk, grabbed Harry’s shoulder, and Apparated them both to a street Harry was all too familiar with.
It wasn’t Privet Drive, but one of the neighboring streets, Wisteria Walk; Harry dimly remembered Mrs. Figg and briefly wondered if she still lived there. He shook off the thought and followed Malfoy down the sidewalk, having to jog a bit to keep up. “Godric, Malfoy, what’s your hurry?”
“I want this case to be over, Potter. As much as I like this job - which, coincidentally, happens to be quite a bit, for some reason - I hate the chases. Why can’t everything just be ‘find the guy, arrest him, and be done with it’?” Malfoy scowled as he passed the houses, giving each one a cursory glance to see if he could recognize the one they were looking for. “Why do all these houses have to be the same?!” He growled in frustration.
Harry chuckled; the blonde could be damned impatient and demanding, quite a lethal combination. “If they were all different then our job would require less talent, leaving it in the hands of half-witted witches and wizards.” He decided to completely ignore the rant Malfoy had given before, not wanting to anger his partner any more than he already was.
“We can’t have that happening, Potter. Merlin, could you imagine such a place?” He sneered as the images ran through his mind. “The Wizarding World would be run by Squibs. Or worse, Mudbloods.”
Frowning, Harry replied, “Well, it’s already been ruled by a half-blood, so what-”
Malfoy suddenly rounded on him, pulling out his wand. “That half-blood did not rule anything,” he hissed; Harry had the sudden urge to lunge forward and kiss Malfoy, but restrained himself. Where had that thought come from, anyway?
Moments later, after calming down somewhat, Malfoy pulled away and pocketed his wand once more, resuming his brisk pace and quick glances at the hundreds of houses. “This is bloody impossible,” he complained, and Harry sighed. A complaining Malfoy only meant more violent outbursts and nobody wanted that.
“Well, what house number was listed in the file?” Malfoy came to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk, and glared at Harry. “What?”
Malfoy mumbled something under his breath and then turned away, a blush marring his cheeks; Harry sucked in a breath at the sight, deciding that he needed to see that blush on the blonde’s face more often.
“What did you say?” he asked softly.
“I said, ‘I didn’t think about that’.”
Harry could see the blush reach the tips of Malfoy’s ears and smiled, placing a hand on his partner’s shoulder. “It’s okay; that’s what I’m here for. And, consequently, it’s what you’re here for, too. I make up for your mistakes, which are few and far between, and you make up for mine. Based on the fact that the majority of the mistakes on cases are made by me, just consider us even for now.”
Nodding, Malfoy reached into his robes and pulled out the file, flipping to the wanted poster. “Number 27, Wisteria Walk.”
Harry grinned and led Malfoy in the right direction, clutching his wand in his hand tightly, on guard for anything unexpected to happen. They found themselves standing outside of number 27, and Harry suggested Malfoy go around back just in case Lucas was there and tried to escape. Malfoy nodded and disappeared around the side of the house.
Steeling himself, Harry trekked up the small walkway and knocked on the door of the house; there was no immediate answer, so he tried again, even ringing the doorbell. He pressed his ear to the cold wood and found himself wishing he had thought to bring along one of the Weasleys’ Extendable Ears; but his own hearing devices were enough as he heard someone shuffling around inside. He reached for the door handle, giving it a turn, but it was locked; casting a muffled Alohamora, he was finally able to open the door.
He brandished his wand, just as he saw the hem of a robe flutter and vanish around the corner into a hallway. He ran towards the hall, his foot losing friction with the floor, and slipped, crashing into the door at the end of the hall; a man jumped out from the shadows, hit him with a Petrificus Totalus, and shot out the back door.
Malfoy was waiting outside, having heard all of the commotion inside, and hit the man with a Stupefy as he exited the house; the blonde incarcerated him with magical bonds and left him in the grass as he went inside to check on his partner. He was annoyed that he couldn’t rush in and stop the man from hitting Harry with any type of spell, but his job required him to stay outside as back-up, just in case. Malfoy tsked as he picked up the other man’s wand and removed the effects of the spell from Harry’s body.
Harry jumped up, wand at the ready, and ran outside. “Is this Lucas Tyler?” he demanded of Malfoy, but his partner shrugged.
“I didn’t check yet. I was too worr-” he stopped himself, changing his words. “I had to make sure he hadn’t brutally injured you. I don’t want to fill out any more paperwork than we’ll already have to.”
Harry’s heart did a happy flip when Malfoy said he was worried about him, but he blew it off; he hadn’t actually said it aloud, after all. “You mean that I’ll have to do.”
Malfoy visibly relaxed, obviously not wanting to comment on the fact that he was worried about the brunette. “Of course, Potter.”
Smiling, Harry grabbed a hold of the man’s shoulder and also took Malfoy’s hand in his. “Now let’s get this guy to the Ministry so we can solve this case and go home.” With that, he Apparated right into the Ministry’s main lobby.
~***~
“So, what have you heard from the Weaslette?”
Harry froze so immediately, it looked as if he had been hit with a Stupefy. They had been so caught up in questioning Lucas Tyler, who finally - through questionable methods - revealed the whereabouts of Thomas Dean; they tracked the man down and apprehended him. The trial had proved to be long and quite boring, as Dean did not want to answer any of the questions asked and seemed content to stall as long as possible. Lucas Tyler, though he claimed to have nothing to do with the murder of his wife, was exposed to the Wizengamot as an accomplice to the crime, even going so far as to provide safe-house for Dean. It seemed that when he found out his wife was cheating on him with his best mate, instead of trying to stop Dean, he allied with him; realizing his actions after it was already too late, Lucas fled.
So the thought of how his wife was managing had never crossed Harry’s mind in the least.
He swallowed, trying to formulate a response. “I, uh, I haven’t heard anything.”
Malfoy flashed him a knowing smirk; he leaned close to his partner across the desk, where Harry was busy filling out the paperwork from the case. “Do you still believe she’s not cheating on you?” He raised a brow in suggestion.
Harry’s anger flared and the Snitch on his desk shattered again. “Why are you so intent on convincing me that she’s cheating on me?”
“I have it under good authority that she is, Potter.”
“Would you care to tell me who told you this?” he gritted out.
“As it happens, Potter, Blaise Zabini told me.” He rose from the desk and opened the door, pausing just before exiting. “And he happens to be the person she’s sleeping with.” At Harry’s gaping mouth and twitching eye, he waved a happy little wave as he left. “Ta-ta, Potter.”
~***~
Harry Apparated a few houses down from his own, not wanting to call attention to himself just yet. He snuck up the drive and pulled an Extendable Ear from his pocket, having learned his lesson from Wisteria Walk earlier that day. It wormed its way under the door and he placed the end to his ear, listening. He could hear moans coming from the direction of the bedroom, and he growled lowly in his throat.
So Malfoy was right, the bastard.
He heard a man’s voice groaning Ginny’s name and then a few grunts, followed by Ginny’s exclamation of “Oh, Blaise!” as she no doubt had her orgasm.
His magic was flowing all around him now, his anger uncontrollable after learning about these events. The windows shattered and there was a scream from inside. Harry peered around the door into one of the glassless windows and saw Blaise Zabini, dressed in nothing but a pair of black silk boxers, darting down the hallway with his wand brandished. When he saw Harry’s face, he skidded to a halt. “Oh, shit!” he breathed, turning around to run back into the room, but Ginny had already come out with the sheet wrapped around her naked body. One glance at the window had her eyes growing wide.
Harry busted the door down with one foot, and threw an angrily-shouted Expelliarmus at Zabini; the wand he was holding flew out of his hand and landed in Harry’s outstretched one. He threw it aside, disgusted. He then pointed his wand at Ginny, who cowered behind Zabini meekly. “Ginny,” he breathed, trying to calm himself, but to no avail. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Harry!” she exclaimed, as though she just noticed he was in the room. “I didn’t know you’d be home so early…”
“Clearly.” Harry surveyed the parlor, noting the discarded clothing all over the place. “This is what you’ve been doing while I’m gone? Sneaking around my back for a quick lay?”
“No, Harry,” she insisted, shaking her head vehemently. “That’s not what this is.”
“What is it, then? You love him? Is that it?”
“Hey, she’s free to make her own-”
Harry’s wand was back to being pointed at Zabini. “I didn’t tell you to talk,” he sneered. “And for your information, she’s married, or didn’t you notice the ring on her fucking finger as you no doubt made her use her hand for things other than holding onto the bed sheets?!”
“Harry!” Ginny was crying by now, clutching the sheet closer to her body.
“No, you know what, enjoy yourself, Ginny. If this is what you really want, you can have it. Because you and I are done.” He walked back out of the doorway, leaving the door on the floor. “I’ll send someone over for my stuff and I’ll have the Ministry owl the divorce papers over. Goodbye.” And he Apparated away from his wife, from his house, from his past.
~***~
Malfoy was waiting outside of his house, smirking when he heard the tell-tale pop! of Apparition and saw Harry standing at the end of his driveway. “Well, it took you long enough, Potter,” he teased, nevertheless taking down the shields around his property once more.
“Shut up, Malfoy. I hate it when you’re right.”
“Come now, Potter, you know deep down that’s not true.” He regarded Harry carefully, looking for any scratches or signs of a fight. “I didn’t expect the Weaslette to let you go willingly.”
Harry growled and the glass of Malfoy’s yard lamp burst. “We’re getting a divorce, obviously; I hope you’re happy.” He shoved past Malfoy and into the house, sitting down heavily upon the sofa.
“Actually, I am.” Harry looked up as Malfoy shut the door and sat down next to him. “This way I can have you all to myself.” Harry’s eyes went wide and Malfoy smirked. “Now you didn’t really think I told you that because I care about your marriage?” Harry didn’t say anything, but his expression gave him away. “Honestly, Potter, you Gryffindors and trying to find the good in everyone. I’m a Slytherin; of course I would have ulterior motives.”
“Did you…?”
“No!” Malfoy cleared his throat, knowing exactly what Harry had been about to ask. “No. I did not set this up, Potter; I’m not that cold-hearted.”
“So then-”
Malfoy sighed. “Blaise came to me, said he had finally found someone worth ‘fighting for’. Naturally, I asked him about her, and when he said the Weaslette’s name I suddenly knew what he meant. He was willing to duel you for possession of her, as it were.” He rubbed his temples, and Harry followed the motion with glistening eyes. “Obviously, though, when I learned about this, I began to formulate a plan. I just didn’t expect it to work so perfectly.”
“So you used Ginny’s affair with me to your advantage?” Harry couldn’t help but smirk as the realization finally hit him; Malfoy wanted him, just as much as Harry wanted him. “You’re such a Slytherin.”
“Through and through, Potter.”
Their lips finally met for their first blissful kiss, and it was everything Harry had imagined and more; Malfoy’s lips were soft and fair, but firm and demanding. Harry ran his tongue along the crease of Malfoy’s mouth, coaxing it open for him to explore; the blonde yielded and Harry was finally free to roam, tasting Malfoy’s teeth, tongue, and cheeks. Malfoy cupped his hand behind Harry’s neck, pulling him closer so they were pressed flush against each other; Harry wrapped his arms around Malfoy’s waist to steady himself, and tugged so the blonde was lying atop him.
The kiss was over too soon, however, when Malfoy pulled away and gazed down at Harry. “So you don’t have anywhere to stay now, do you?”
“How ever did you guess?” Harry laughed when Malfoy slapped him lightly upside the head.
“I was going to ask you if you’d like to stay here, but now I’m not so sure.”
“I’ll stay here.”
Malfoy smirked at the quickness with which this statement was said, and leaned in close to kiss Harry again. “And just so you know, I don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon. It took me this long to capture you finally…” He trailed off, obviously remembering something from long ago.
Harry took this opportunity to buck his hips up into Malfoy’s, receiving a surprised yelp; the brunette chuckled. “I’m not going anywhere, Malfoy. But I might just consider it if you don’t do something soon,” he intoned, looking pointedly downward to his own groin.
“Well, then, may Godric have mercy on my soul if I should deny the Gryffindor Golden Boy, Savior of the Wizarding World, what he wants.”
Laughing, Harry took everything Malfoy was willing to give him.
Which, as it turns out, was everything.
fin
I know some of yous are Harry Potter fans, and hopefully you're also Harry/Draco fans. If you are and you're bored, I wrote a fic (after, like, two years of not writing anything for Harry Potter at all).
So yeah... It's here for your perusal if you'd like.
Title: A State of Affairs
Author: amycoolz
Pairing(s): Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, mentions of Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger
Warning(s): swearing, a little violence, slight Ginny-bashing
Word Count: 6,666 (just thank Godric it's a four-digit number)
Summary: While working on a domestic violence case as an Auror for the Ministry of Magic, Harry discovers his wife, Ginny, is having an affair. Meanwhile, Malfoy is being a grade-A pain in the arse. But it’s only a matter of time before Harry runs into Malfoy’s arms.
~***~
“Meddle not in the affairs of the dragon; for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup.” -Unknown
(This quote literally has nothing to do with this story, but it’s hilarious. And my original idea was Malfoy’s wife cheating on him, but yeah…)
~***~
Harry Potter looked up from his paperwork when there was a knock on his office door. “Yes?”
The door opened and a short, brunet witch poked her head inside. “Auror Potter, your wife is here to see you, sir.”
Harry gritted his teeth. “Damn it; I told her never to visit me at the office. What does she want?”
“She didn’t say, sir, only that it was important.”
He sighed. “All right, send her in.”
Thirty seconds later, Ginny Potter née Weasley appeared in his office doorway. “Why did you keep me waiting? You don’t want to talk to me? Hiding something?”
Harry nearly snapped his quill. “What do you want now?”
“Oh, now it’s what I want.”
“Would you just spit it out and leave? I have a lot of work that needs to be done.”
Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. “I just wanted to remind you that we’re going to Ron and Hermione’s for dinner tonight; you haven’t forgotten about your brother-in-law, have you?”
“Of course not,” he said through a clenched jaw. “Why couldn’t you tell me this through a Floo call or an owl?”
“Would you have answered if I had?” Harry stayed silent, knowing that if he said anything there would be a huge fight again. “That’s what I thought.” She turned away and walked out the door again. “Don’t be late!” she called.
Harry took the model of the Golden Snitch off of his desk and threw it at the wall next to the door, barely missing the head of the blonde that had just walked through the door, and watched as it shattered into a hundred tiny pieces. Draco Malfoy blinked at Harry and then smirked.
“Now is that any way to greet your company, Potter?”Nevertheless, he muttered a quick Reparo and picked up the fixed Quidditch piece, placing it back on Harry’s desk.
“Hey, Malfoy,” Harry murmured, dragging a hand through his hair.
Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing beneath the fringe covering his forehead. “No scathing remarks today, Potter?”
“I’m not in the mood, really.”
“Trouble in paradise? Is the Weaslette not putting out?”
“No. I mean yes! I mean- Argh!” He huffed out an irritated breath. “What do you want, Malfoy?”
Smirking and sitting on the edge of Harry’s desk, Malfoy pointed to his robes where the Ministry’s insignia was printed. “I work here, Potter; and, as much as it pains me to say, I am your partner.”
“You don’t have to remind me.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” The reply was as sarcastic as they come, and Harry clenched his fist in annoyance. “I merely came to discuss the case we’ve looming in front of us, Potter. The murder that happened early this week? Shacklebolt suspects domestic violence.”
“I’m familiar with it, yes.”
“It seems, though, that he won’t let us proceed with the investigation until all of the paperwork from our previous case is handed in.” Malfoy leaned closer and peered at the file on Harry’s desk. “I assume that’s it?”
“Yes, it is, actually. And it would be finished more quickly if you’d actually help.”
“Come now, Potter, you know I don’t sully my career with measly paperwork.” He waved a dismissive hand in Harry’s direction. “I’m a man of action, not desk work.”
“I’ve come to realize this, and I suddenly wish I had had my own pick of partners. At least he would have been willing to complete paperwork.”
“How are you so sure it would be a ‘he’?”
“I don’t- Look, it wouldn’t matter, now will you leave and let me finish this damnable paperwork so we can start on the next case?” Harry’s face was flushed fuchsia with frustration as Malfoy rose from the desk.
“Now you’re starting to make sense, Potter.” He placed the model he had been toying with - a tiny pewter phoenix - back onto the desk and straightened his robes. “Send me a memo when you’ve completed the paperwork; I’ll meet you in my office when you’re ready to start on the next investigation.” Malfoy swept out of the room, robes swishing behind him and fluttering out the door behind him.
“Damn Malfoy…” he grumbled, immersing himself in his task again. His last thought before an awry spell whizzed in through his open door and hit his desk, setting it aflame, was “Could this day get any worse?”
Yes, he told himself, even as he was battling against the fire threatening to consume his office and - more importantly - the paperwork he had been working countless hours on. It just did.
~***~
Three hours later, Harry sent the small memo zooming out of his door and to Malfoy’s office; he honestly couldn’t understand why he didn’t just walk there since Malfoy’s office was a couple meters down the hall. When he finally arrived at his partner’s office and said as much, Malfoy scoffed. “Potter, how do you know I’m not getting a blow-job underneath my desk at times like that? I don’t need you wandering in on us and getting all hot and bothered because you haven’t been laid in four months.”
Harry gaped, and the only thing he could get out of his mouth was a simple figure. “Seven.”
“Excuse me? Could you repeat that?”
“Seven.” He didn’t know why he told him that, but it was something Harry felt he needed to get out. “It’s been seven months.”
Instead of the sarcastic remark he was expecting, Harry was thrown when Malfoy’s expression turned sympathetic. “No wonder you’ve been so uptight lately. You need to unwind.” He wrapped an arm around the Gryffindor’s shoulders. “If you’re interested, I could introduce you to a few of my good friends. Just to get your rocks off and return to normal.”
Dislodging Malfoy’s arm, Harry turned and glared at the blonde man. “I’m not going to cheat on my wife.”
“How do you know she’s not cheating on you?”
Harry opened his mouth to say something but snapped it shut at that thought. What if she is cheating on me? It would make sense, all the nights that I spend alone nowadays, and I know that her job involves traveling, but never staying over more than one night at a time… The wheels were turning in his head a million kilometers per hour, coming up with thousands of possibilities he’d never even fathomed before. And if she is cheating on me… why am I not angry about it?
“It’s just something to think about.” Malfoy led the way into his office, sitting down behind his desk and pulling out the case file. “Shall we?”
Nodding, Harry sat, but his mind was only half on the subject matter. Somewhere off in the corner of his brain he had a feeling Malfoy was right about Ginny.
He could only pray that he was wrong.
~***~
Opening the door to his and Ginny’s shared flat, he was surprised and annoyed to find her sitting on the couch, arms crossed across her chest and glaring at him. “You’re late,” she snapped.
“Yeah? Well, excuse me for having a demanding job so I can pay all our bills and still afford to buy you the stupid stuff you want on the side.” Harry had had just about enough of their bickering; three long years of it.
She snarled at him, standing up. “How dare you!” She picked up a plate from the coffee table in front of her and threw it at his head, narrowly missing as he ducked out of the way. It shattered against the wall behind him. “That’s the way you’re going to talk to me? After all the things we’ve been through together?”
“Don’t try to turn this around on me!” he shouted, pointing at his own chest. “I’m not the bad guy in this situation!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know what it means! Ever since we got married you’ve been distant and quiet; now you’re just overbearing and annoying.”
She didn’t say anything to that, just stood, hands clenched into fists by her sides and hair in disarray; Harry barely noticed the short black dress she had on. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. “Fine.” She picked up her wand and grabbed a handful of Floo powder next to the fireplace. “I’m going to Ron and Hermione’s without you, then; make sure you send them a card before their next anniversary. You’re sleeping on the sofa tonight.” She threw the powder down, stepped into the flames, stated her destination, and was gone in the blink of an eye.
Harry glowered at the ash that settled on the carpet afterwards. “’Sleeping on the sofa’, my arse.” He grabbed a bag, filled it with clothes, and Apparated to the only place he thought would be safe for him right now: Draco Malfoy’s.
~***~
He arrived outside of a small house that had large bay windows on the front end and a well-tended garden under them. Harry stepped onto the lawn and hit the invisible barriers Malfoy had placed around the property.
Summoned by the disturbance of his shields, Malfoy stepped out of the front door with his wand at the ready; he lowered it when he saw Harry standing with his bag slung over his shoulder.
“I don’t suppose you could let me in?”
“What are you doing here, Potter?” he asked, though there was no malice in his voice; only mild curiosity.
“Ginny kicked me out.” He smiled at Malfoy, even though the memory of the fight was still fresh and very much alive in his mind.
“Ah, the Weaslette finally came to her senses, did she?” He waved his wand in the air in a sweeping motion and let the shields down enough so Harry could enter; once his partner had stepped across the threshold, he put them up once more.
Harry shrugged. “You could say that.”
They walked inside and Harry dropped his stuff next to the sofa in the parlor, sitting upon the soft cushions; Malfoy sat in the chair opposite him and set his wand on the small table in the middle. “So what happened?”
Harry’s eyebrows went up. “You really want to know?”
“Potter, you show up on my doorstep and ask to come in, telling me that your wife kicked you out of the house, and you didn’t expect me to ask you what happened?”
“I suppose the thought had crossed my mind, yes.” Malfoy scowled at him. “Fine, I’ll tell you.” He put his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. “I got home and she was sitting on the couch; the first thing she says to me is ‘You’re late.’ We were supposed to be going to Ron and Hermione’s for dinner, but I had told her that work might keep me late.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair; he watched Malfoy watch the movement with a thrill of delight, but quickly squashed it down. “Then I guess I said something wrong, Godric forbid, and she went mental; she started screaming and she threw a plate at me, and even though it missed, I actually don’t appreciate plates being thrown mercilessly at my head. And so, instead of sleeping on the sofa like she’d demanded, I came here.”
Malfoy smirked, and Harry knew what was coming. “Well, Potter, I hate to disappoint you, but you’ll be sleeping on the sofa either way tonight.” Harry nodded. “Unless you wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with me.” The smile on Malfoy’s face was absolutely predatory, and Harry had to try desperately to stop his blush before it gave him away.
“No! No, the sofa is just fine,” he insisted, smoothing his hand over the fabric of the seat next to him. “It’s quite comfortable, actually.”
Shrugging, Malfoy rose from his spot. “Suit yourself.” He walked into the kitchen and hollered back out to Harry, “I was going to make something for dinner, but if you want to order something, that would be okay.”
“W-What were you going to make?” Harry was insanely curious, now; he had no idea Malfoy could cook.
“Just something simple, like spaghetti or fettuccine Alfredo.” He poked his head back out into the room and regarded Harry with a raised eyebrow.
“That sounds great.”
Malfoy actually smiled, but Harry only caught a glimpse of it before he disappeared back into the kitchen. “If you want to get cleaned up before we eat, the bathroom is down the hall, first door on the right. Towels are in the cabinet under the sink if you’re taking a shower.”
“Which of the products in the shower am I allowed to use?” he shot back, not able to hide the smirk.
“Potter, anything’s fair game in there. But if you tamper with them and I walk out with blue hair tomorrow, don’t think I’m going to let you live.”
Harry laughed and walked into the bathroom. “I’ll keep that in mind!”
~***~
After his shower, which was one of the best showers of his life, he ate dinner with Malfoy at the table in the kitchen, which was one of the best meals of his life. He had groaned as his teeth sank into the first bite of the creamy Alfredo sauce covering the fettuccine pasta that was cooked to al dente perfection. Malfoy had laughed, asking him if it was really that good. Harry’s only response was to take another bite and positively orgasm.
They sat on the sofa in the living room after they cleaned up, Harry insisting on helping because he was intruding on Malfoy’s privacy, and talked about their next case.
“So this woman, Amelia Tyler, 32 years old, was found dead in her flat; her husband, Lucas Tyler, 34 years old, was nowhere to be seen while the Aurors were investigating the place.” Harry opened the file folder on the table, pulling out some pictures and spreading them out on the table. The crime scene photos were ghastly; the woman, a young brunette with a very pretty face, was lying on the ground in a pool of her own blood, her hand clutching her wand and her eyes wide open. She had a large, deep gash across her chest which had ripped through her shirt.
Harry glanced at Malfoy from the corner of his eye to see Malfoy watching him carefully. Silently, Harry pulled out another piece of paper from the folder, and cleared his throat nervously. “It, uh, it says that the Aurors don’t know what spell or curse was used that killed her.”
“Potter, I think we both know what curse it was that killed her.”
Harry hung his head, ashamed. “Yeah…”
“All right, look, it’s getting late.” Malfoy collected the files and pictures, stuffed them back into the folder and placed it on the table in the foyer. “Why don’t we both get some sleep, and we’ll talk about it a bit more in the morning.”
Harry nodded. “I’ll just sleep here, then?” he asked, indicating the sofa.
“Yes. I’ll get you a sheet to cover up with.” He went down the hallway, opened the closet, and pulled out a large, comfy-looking down blanket; he brought it back and handed it to his partner. “Well, Potter, good night.”
“Yeah, ‘night, Malfoy.”
~***~
Harry awoke to the soft light of the morning sun, the smell of fresh tea, and the sound of sizzling bacon. He rose from the sofa, stretched his arms above his head, and padded into the kitchen, where he found Malfoy darting around the small area with a plastic spatula in one hand and a fork in the other. “’Morning,” Harry greeted, taking a seat at the table.
Malfoy turned around and returned the salutation, setting down a mug of steaming hot tea in front of him. Harry took a sip and realized that it was brewed to perfection, even though it was left black. “Godric, this tea is amazing.” He took another taste, delighting in the warmth of it. “Where did you get it?”
“My mother sent it to me from Paris; it’s Mariage Frères’s Manjhee Valley blend.”
Harry blinked, not understanding what all the words meant, only knowing that this was the best tea he had ever tasted. “It’s delicious.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her you enjoyed it,” Malfoy joked, and went back to cooking.
They ate breakfast in silence, save for the occasional “pass the marmalade, please” or “more bacon?” Afterwards, they went back into the parlor to discuss the case once again.
“Okay, so I think the best place to look is back at the flat where they lived. It might give us insight on their relationship, and we can see if we can’t find any more evidence,” Harry suggested, taking out the personal file on Amelia Tyler; she and her husband lived at 763 Stutler Lane in London, flat 26B. “Do you want to Apparate there or travel by Floo?”
“Don’t be silly, Potter.” He stood up and dragged Harry up by the hand with him. “We’ll Apparate, of course.” He took out his wand, pictured his destination, and turned on his heel.
He and Harry landed outside of a small building, no doubt enhanced with space expansion spells. They climbed up the steps and into the foyer, noting the location of the exits. Harry pointed to the staircase in the corner and to the magical lifts on the back wall. “We should take the stairs,” he suggested.
Malfoy looked at him with a raised brow. “You can take the stairs, Potter; I’ll be taking the lift.” He went over to the lifts and waited for a few seconds before one appeared with a small house elf operating it; he stepped in and said, “Flat 26B, please.”
Harry, meanwhile, made his way up the stairs, meeting Malfoy when he got up to the correct floor. “Malfoy, come here.”
Scowling, Malfoy walked over to where Harry was standing, pointing at the hallway containing the stairs. “What is it?” He followed Harry’s line of sight, but couldn’t see anything. “What am I looking for, Potter?”
“There’s blood,” he said, moving closer. “There, on the underside of the railing.”
Malfoy reached out and touched the blood stain, but it was completely dry. “It must have been there for a while. It might not even be one of the Tylers’.”
“Well, we should still analyze it.” He pulled out his wand and waved it over the stain; it glowed blue for a second and then returned to normal. “There, now we just have to wait for an owl from the Ministry on the results.”
“Wonderful, Potter, now let’s go and investigate this place.” He led Harry down the hall to the door of flat 26B and opened the door.
The place was a mess: there were picture frames shattered on the floor, papers thrown around in disarray, and blood smears on the walls. “Merlin…” Harry breathed, stepping into the room. “Well, there was certainly a struggle.”
Malfoy pushed past Harry, walking over to the wall with the biggest blood splatter on it; he pulled out the file and found the corresponding picture. “This blood was already analyzed. It belongs to Amelia Tyler.” He stooped down low and ran his finger along the floor where it met the wall; Harry had a hard time not staring at his partner’s form, but how had he never noticed the arse that Malfoy had on him? “Potter, I think I found something.”
Shaking his head to free himself from his day-dreaming, he walked over and crouched down low with Malfoy. The blonde raised his hand, and in between his index finger and thumb he held a short black strand of hair. “What’s that?”
“What do you mean, ‘what’s that’?” He opened the file again and shoved the two personnel files of Amelia and Lucas Tyler in Harry’s face. “This hair doesn’t match either of the Tylers’. Amelia had strawberry blonde hair and Lucas was a blonde.” He brought the hair in front of his face to examine it further. “This, Potter, is real evidence.”
Just then there was a pecking at the window; Harry got up and opened it, allowing the Ministry-sent owl to fly in; the letter in its beak fell to the table and it flew off. Harry ripped open the letter, unfolding it to read,
Auror Potter,
The blood you analyzed belongs to Mr. Thomas M. Dean, blood type B+.
Sincerely,
The Department of Magical Law Enforcement
Ministry of Magic
“See, Malfoy, that blood stain was important.”
“That blood stain could have been anyone’s, Potter. Some twat living on this floor could have cut himself and left that there.” He ran his wand over the strand of hair he found, sending the sample back to the Ministry for analysis.
“We’ll see, Malfoy.” Harry pulled out the file on Lucas Tyler; he scanned the pages, eyes finally landing on one name that stood out: Thomas Dean. “Malfoy, look at this.” He held up the paper for Malfoy to see, pointing to the name.
Malfoy’s eyes snapped up to meet his partners’; Harry had never noticed before just how beautifully grey-blue Malfoy’s eyes were. “Well, Potter, it looks like you’ve got something there.” There was another tapping on the window, and the same Ministry owl from earlier was back with another message. Malfoy let it in and took the letter, letting it fly back outside.
Auror Malfoy,
The hair you sent us to be analyzed belongs to Mr. Thomas M. Dean.
Sincerely,
The Department of Magical Law Enforcement
Ministry of Magic
Harry blinked several times and then smirked a very un-Harry smirk. “It seems to me, Malfoy, that we not only have a case of domestic violence on our hands, but I think our victim was fooling around.”
“How do you know it wasn’t the husband cheating on his wife?”
“But that-”
“Is completely legitimate and should not be thrown away as a possibility just because you’re homophobic.”
“I’m not homophobic!” Harry shouted.
Malfoy smirked, and damn it, if it didn’t make him ten times more attractive, Harry didn’t know what would.
~***~
Back at Malfoy’s house, they discussed their findings over lunch, Thai food Malfoy had ordered from the new restaurant down the street from his home.
“So how do you think Dean really ties in with this case?” Harry asked, slurping a noodle from his fork.
“Honestly, Potter, have some manners.” He ate his own mouthful of noodles from the pair of chopsticks he held in his hand. “Anyway,” he said after he swallowed; Harry followed the bob of his Adam’s Apple as the food went down, and he had to suppress a groan. “I think that Lucas is sleeping with Dean, and that when Amelia found out about it, she threatened to expose him at work. He’d lose his job because his bosses aren’t gay-tolerant, so he killed her to keep her mouth shut.”
“Do you mind telling me how that makes any sense?”
“Honestly, Potter…” But he didn’t say anything more.
Harry scowled. “Well, I think that Amelia was cheating on Lucas with this Dean fellow; Lucas found out and killed her.”
“We’ll see, Potter. For now, finish your lunch.”
They ate in relative silence, and then decided to go back to the Ministry to see what else they could dig up about Thomas Dean and his connection to the Tylers. Harry sat on the floor in Malfoy’s office and sorted through stacks of papers to find something pertinent to their investigation.
Finally, after nearly an hour and a half of looking, he found it.
“I found something! It’s a letter that Amelia wrote to Dean a few days before she was killed.”
“What does it say?”
Harry read the note aloud:
Dear Thomas,
I regret to inform you that our clandestine meetings must come to an immediate end. While I enjoy our time together, I fear my husband will find out about my affair and do something drastic. Please, do not try to contact me anymore; it would be better if we do not communicate any longer.
My deepest apologies,
Amelia
“Wow.” Malfoy took the letter from Harry and reread it a few times. “You were right. But now it doesn’t seem as if Lucas is our killer.”
“Exactly. We need to track down this Thomas Dean guy and ask him some questions.”
~***~
“So how are we even going to start this search for Dean?” Harry asked, flipping through more pages of reports and findings the Ministry had on file about him. “We barely know anything about him.”
“Well, I think we should look for Lucas Tyler first. They were best mates after all; maybe he’d have some idea of where he is.”
“Okay, that sounds reasonable. But where are we going to look for him?”
Malfoy was already shuffling through some papers, and found the one he was looking for. “Right here, Potter,” he said, pointing at the page. “The Ministry sends out a missing persons poster every time something like this happens, and there has been a sighting of Lucas Tyler somewhere outside of Muggle London.”
“Little Whinging?” Harry’s eyes grew wide. “Malfoy, this is mad. I used to live there.”
“Well, then, you should feel right at home.” Malfoy stood from his desk, grabbed Harry’s shoulder, and Apparated them both to a street Harry was all too familiar with.
It wasn’t Privet Drive, but one of the neighboring streets, Wisteria Walk; Harry dimly remembered Mrs. Figg and briefly wondered if she still lived there. He shook off the thought and followed Malfoy down the sidewalk, having to jog a bit to keep up. “Godric, Malfoy, what’s your hurry?”
“I want this case to be over, Potter. As much as I like this job - which, coincidentally, happens to be quite a bit, for some reason - I hate the chases. Why can’t everything just be ‘find the guy, arrest him, and be done with it’?” Malfoy scowled as he passed the houses, giving each one a cursory glance to see if he could recognize the one they were looking for. “Why do all these houses have to be the same?!” He growled in frustration.
Harry chuckled; the blonde could be damned impatient and demanding, quite a lethal combination. “If they were all different then our job would require less talent, leaving it in the hands of half-witted witches and wizards.” He decided to completely ignore the rant Malfoy had given before, not wanting to anger his partner any more than he already was.
“We can’t have that happening, Potter. Merlin, could you imagine such a place?” He sneered as the images ran through his mind. “The Wizarding World would be run by Squibs. Or worse, Mudbloods.”
Frowning, Harry replied, “Well, it’s already been ruled by a half-blood, so what-”
Malfoy suddenly rounded on him, pulling out his wand. “That half-blood did not rule anything,” he hissed; Harry had the sudden urge to lunge forward and kiss Malfoy, but restrained himself. Where had that thought come from, anyway?
Moments later, after calming down somewhat, Malfoy pulled away and pocketed his wand once more, resuming his brisk pace and quick glances at the hundreds of houses. “This is bloody impossible,” he complained, and Harry sighed. A complaining Malfoy only meant more violent outbursts and nobody wanted that.
“Well, what house number was listed in the file?” Malfoy came to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk, and glared at Harry. “What?”
Malfoy mumbled something under his breath and then turned away, a blush marring his cheeks; Harry sucked in a breath at the sight, deciding that he needed to see that blush on the blonde’s face more often.
“What did you say?” he asked softly.
“I said, ‘I didn’t think about that’.”
Harry could see the blush reach the tips of Malfoy’s ears and smiled, placing a hand on his partner’s shoulder. “It’s okay; that’s what I’m here for. And, consequently, it’s what you’re here for, too. I make up for your mistakes, which are few and far between, and you make up for mine. Based on the fact that the majority of the mistakes on cases are made by me, just consider us even for now.”
Nodding, Malfoy reached into his robes and pulled out the file, flipping to the wanted poster. “Number 27, Wisteria Walk.”
Harry grinned and led Malfoy in the right direction, clutching his wand in his hand tightly, on guard for anything unexpected to happen. They found themselves standing outside of number 27, and Harry suggested Malfoy go around back just in case Lucas was there and tried to escape. Malfoy nodded and disappeared around the side of the house.
Steeling himself, Harry trekked up the small walkway and knocked on the door of the house; there was no immediate answer, so he tried again, even ringing the doorbell. He pressed his ear to the cold wood and found himself wishing he had thought to bring along one of the Weasleys’ Extendable Ears; but his own hearing devices were enough as he heard someone shuffling around inside. He reached for the door handle, giving it a turn, but it was locked; casting a muffled Alohamora, he was finally able to open the door.
He brandished his wand, just as he saw the hem of a robe flutter and vanish around the corner into a hallway. He ran towards the hall, his foot losing friction with the floor, and slipped, crashing into the door at the end of the hall; a man jumped out from the shadows, hit him with a Petrificus Totalus, and shot out the back door.
Malfoy was waiting outside, having heard all of the commotion inside, and hit the man with a Stupefy as he exited the house; the blonde incarcerated him with magical bonds and left him in the grass as he went inside to check on his partner. He was annoyed that he couldn’t rush in and stop the man from hitting Harry with any type of spell, but his job required him to stay outside as back-up, just in case. Malfoy tsked as he picked up the other man’s wand and removed the effects of the spell from Harry’s body.
Harry jumped up, wand at the ready, and ran outside. “Is this Lucas Tyler?” he demanded of Malfoy, but his partner shrugged.
“I didn’t check yet. I was too worr-” he stopped himself, changing his words. “I had to make sure he hadn’t brutally injured you. I don’t want to fill out any more paperwork than we’ll already have to.”
Harry’s heart did a happy flip when Malfoy said he was worried about him, but he blew it off; he hadn’t actually said it aloud, after all. “You mean that I’ll have to do.”
Malfoy visibly relaxed, obviously not wanting to comment on the fact that he was worried about the brunette. “Of course, Potter.”
Smiling, Harry grabbed a hold of the man’s shoulder and also took Malfoy’s hand in his. “Now let’s get this guy to the Ministry so we can solve this case and go home.” With that, he Apparated right into the Ministry’s main lobby.
~***~
“So, what have you heard from the Weaslette?”
Harry froze so immediately, it looked as if he had been hit with a Stupefy. They had been so caught up in questioning Lucas Tyler, who finally - through questionable methods - revealed the whereabouts of Thomas Dean; they tracked the man down and apprehended him. The trial had proved to be long and quite boring, as Dean did not want to answer any of the questions asked and seemed content to stall as long as possible. Lucas Tyler, though he claimed to have nothing to do with the murder of his wife, was exposed to the Wizengamot as an accomplice to the crime, even going so far as to provide safe-house for Dean. It seemed that when he found out his wife was cheating on him with his best mate, instead of trying to stop Dean, he allied with him; realizing his actions after it was already too late, Lucas fled.
So the thought of how his wife was managing had never crossed Harry’s mind in the least.
He swallowed, trying to formulate a response. “I, uh, I haven’t heard anything.”
Malfoy flashed him a knowing smirk; he leaned close to his partner across the desk, where Harry was busy filling out the paperwork from the case. “Do you still believe she’s not cheating on you?” He raised a brow in suggestion.
Harry’s anger flared and the Snitch on his desk shattered again. “Why are you so intent on convincing me that she’s cheating on me?”
“I have it under good authority that she is, Potter.”
“Would you care to tell me who told you this?” he gritted out.
“As it happens, Potter, Blaise Zabini told me.” He rose from the desk and opened the door, pausing just before exiting. “And he happens to be the person she’s sleeping with.” At Harry’s gaping mouth and twitching eye, he waved a happy little wave as he left. “Ta-ta, Potter.”
~***~
Harry Apparated a few houses down from his own, not wanting to call attention to himself just yet. He snuck up the drive and pulled an Extendable Ear from his pocket, having learned his lesson from Wisteria Walk earlier that day. It wormed its way under the door and he placed the end to his ear, listening. He could hear moans coming from the direction of the bedroom, and he growled lowly in his throat.
So Malfoy was right, the bastard.
He heard a man’s voice groaning Ginny’s name and then a few grunts, followed by Ginny’s exclamation of “Oh, Blaise!” as she no doubt had her orgasm.
His magic was flowing all around him now, his anger uncontrollable after learning about these events. The windows shattered and there was a scream from inside. Harry peered around the door into one of the glassless windows and saw Blaise Zabini, dressed in nothing but a pair of black silk boxers, darting down the hallway with his wand brandished. When he saw Harry’s face, he skidded to a halt. “Oh, shit!” he breathed, turning around to run back into the room, but Ginny had already come out with the sheet wrapped around her naked body. One glance at the window had her eyes growing wide.
Harry busted the door down with one foot, and threw an angrily-shouted Expelliarmus at Zabini; the wand he was holding flew out of his hand and landed in Harry’s outstretched one. He threw it aside, disgusted. He then pointed his wand at Ginny, who cowered behind Zabini meekly. “Ginny,” he breathed, trying to calm himself, but to no avail. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Harry!” she exclaimed, as though she just noticed he was in the room. “I didn’t know you’d be home so early…”
“Clearly.” Harry surveyed the parlor, noting the discarded clothing all over the place. “This is what you’ve been doing while I’m gone? Sneaking around my back for a quick lay?”
“No, Harry,” she insisted, shaking her head vehemently. “That’s not what this is.”
“What is it, then? You love him? Is that it?”
“Hey, she’s free to make her own-”
Harry’s wand was back to being pointed at Zabini. “I didn’t tell you to talk,” he sneered. “And for your information, she’s married, or didn’t you notice the ring on her fucking finger as you no doubt made her use her hand for things other than holding onto the bed sheets?!”
“Harry!” Ginny was crying by now, clutching the sheet closer to her body.
“No, you know what, enjoy yourself, Ginny. If this is what you really want, you can have it. Because you and I are done.” He walked back out of the doorway, leaving the door on the floor. “I’ll send someone over for my stuff and I’ll have the Ministry owl the divorce papers over. Goodbye.” And he Apparated away from his wife, from his house, from his past.
~***~
Malfoy was waiting outside of his house, smirking when he heard the tell-tale pop! of Apparition and saw Harry standing at the end of his driveway. “Well, it took you long enough, Potter,” he teased, nevertheless taking down the shields around his property once more.
“Shut up, Malfoy. I hate it when you’re right.”
“Come now, Potter, you know deep down that’s not true.” He regarded Harry carefully, looking for any scratches or signs of a fight. “I didn’t expect the Weaslette to let you go willingly.”
Harry growled and the glass of Malfoy’s yard lamp burst. “We’re getting a divorce, obviously; I hope you’re happy.” He shoved past Malfoy and into the house, sitting down heavily upon the sofa.
“Actually, I am.” Harry looked up as Malfoy shut the door and sat down next to him. “This way I can have you all to myself.” Harry’s eyes went wide and Malfoy smirked. “Now you didn’t really think I told you that because I care about your marriage?” Harry didn’t say anything, but his expression gave him away. “Honestly, Potter, you Gryffindors and trying to find the good in everyone. I’m a Slytherin; of course I would have ulterior motives.”
“Did you…?”
“No!” Malfoy cleared his throat, knowing exactly what Harry had been about to ask. “No. I did not set this up, Potter; I’m not that cold-hearted.”
“So then-”
Malfoy sighed. “Blaise came to me, said he had finally found someone worth ‘fighting for’. Naturally, I asked him about her, and when he said the Weaslette’s name I suddenly knew what he meant. He was willing to duel you for possession of her, as it were.” He rubbed his temples, and Harry followed the motion with glistening eyes. “Obviously, though, when I learned about this, I began to formulate a plan. I just didn’t expect it to work so perfectly.”
“So you used Ginny’s affair with me to your advantage?” Harry couldn’t help but smirk as the realization finally hit him; Malfoy wanted him, just as much as Harry wanted him. “You’re such a Slytherin.”
“Through and through, Potter.”
Their lips finally met for their first blissful kiss, and it was everything Harry had imagined and more; Malfoy’s lips were soft and fair, but firm and demanding. Harry ran his tongue along the crease of Malfoy’s mouth, coaxing it open for him to explore; the blonde yielded and Harry was finally free to roam, tasting Malfoy’s teeth, tongue, and cheeks. Malfoy cupped his hand behind Harry’s neck, pulling him closer so they were pressed flush against each other; Harry wrapped his arms around Malfoy’s waist to steady himself, and tugged so the blonde was lying atop him.
The kiss was over too soon, however, when Malfoy pulled away and gazed down at Harry. “So you don’t have anywhere to stay now, do you?”
“How ever did you guess?” Harry laughed when Malfoy slapped him lightly upside the head.
“I was going to ask you if you’d like to stay here, but now I’m not so sure.”
“I’ll stay here.”
Malfoy smirked at the quickness with which this statement was said, and leaned in close to kiss Harry again. “And just so you know, I don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon. It took me this long to capture you finally…” He trailed off, obviously remembering something from long ago.
Harry took this opportunity to buck his hips up into Malfoy’s, receiving a surprised yelp; the brunette chuckled. “I’m not going anywhere, Malfoy. But I might just consider it if you don’t do something soon,” he intoned, looking pointedly downward to his own groin.
“Well, then, may Godric have mercy on my soul if I should deny the Gryffindor Golden Boy, Savior of the Wizarding World, what he wants.”
Laughing, Harry took everything Malfoy was willing to give him.
Which, as it turns out, was everything.
fin