FIC: Look Who's Stalking
Title: Look Who’s Stalking
Author: Xandra (gypsyflame)
Pairing: Snape/Draco/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 9700
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling et al. This was created for fun, not for profit.
Warnings: Voyeurism/exhibitionism; light bondage; established relationship (S/D)
Summary: Some habits are impossible to break.
A/N 1: Written for drapery_snarco, prompt 74: After the war Draco and Snape disappear from wizarding society. One day Harry catches a glimpse of Draco entering a store or building… Many thanks to the mods for such a great fest!
A/N 2: Betaed by the incomparable fbowden. Title comes from an episode of Veronica Mars. Also, this fic takes place in 2003, before civil partnership became legal in the UK.
He almost ignored it.
For the past five years, Harry had been doing double-takes every time he caught a glimpse of white-blond hair, but he’d recently decided that enough was enough. The Malfoys had disappeared in the chaos following the Battle of Hogwarts, along with several other Death Eaters - and, disturbingly, a few corpses - and if they had any sense at all, they’d fled the country and never looked back.
Still, Harry had never been able to shake the feeling that he hadn’t seen the last of Draco Malfoy. Every time somebody in his vicinity had hair that distinctive platinum shade, Harry found himself turning towards them automatically, pulse pounding, heart in his throat. It wasn’t that he thought Malfoy was a danger to him, really, it was just…the lack of closure, perhaps.
The upshot of this stupid little tic was that Harry came off as nervous and jumpy to those who didn’t know him well, in addition to making innocent blond strangers very uncomfortable. Therefore, he had firmly resolved to not let it get the better of him anymore.
So, when he saw a flash of white out of the corner of his eye while walking down a street in Muggle London, he almost ignored it. But a habit of five years - or twelve, if he was really being honest - is hard to break, and Harry couldn’t quite keep his head from turning.
He hadn’t expected it to actually be Malfoy.
Looking older and considerably healthier than the last time Harry had seen him, Malfoy was striding down the street in the opposite direction, dressed in a finely-tailored Muggle suit and carrying, of all things, a Muggle briefcase. The unreality of seeing Malfoy here, like this, with no warning, left Harry gaping after him for much longer than was strictly becoming of an Auror.
In fact, if Malfoy hadn’t been distracted by a window display, Harry probably would have lost him. As it was, though, Malfoy ducked into the high-end shoe store that had caught his attention, giving Harry the opportunity to compose himself.
Malfoy was still wanted by the Ministry - for questioning, if nothing else. Harry had to bring him in. But there was a chance that if Harry followed him back home, Malfoy would lead him to his parents or even some of the other missing Death Eaters. Lucius Malfoy had never even gone to trial for his crimes, and that didn’t sit well with Harry.
He was positive that Malfoy hadn’t seen him, so he still had the advantage. Harry didn’t have his Invisibility Cloak with him - not that he would have been able to pull it out on a street full of Muggles, anyway - so he stood against the wall of the store and cast a subtle, heavy-duty Disillusionment Charm that had been created for just this circumstance. It incorporated elements of a Notice-Me-Not Charm to make eyes slide away from him as he faded out of view - very handy when one needed to conceal oneself and there was no time to duck into an alleyway.
After twenty minutes of waiting, Harry was beginning to think that Malfoy had seen him after all, and had only gone into the store to Disapparate. Feeling very foolish, he was about to enter the store himself to see if he could pick up the trail when Malfoy suddenly walked out the door, carrying a large shopping bag.
Harry didn’t dare cast a tracking spell; there was too great a chance that Malfoy would sense it. Instead, he kept close on Malfoy’s heels as he followed him down the street, being careful to avoid colliding with unwary Muggles.
They’d only gone a block when a shrill ringing made Malfoy fish in his jacket pocket with his free hand and draw out a mobile phone, which in turn made Harry almost trip over his own feet. Malfoy using a mobile was just too surreal. Harry briefly wondered if this was all a very vivid hallucination.
Malfoy glanced at the Caller ID and sighed before flipping the phone open. “I know I’m late. I got held up at work.”
He didn’t slow his pace at all, and Harry was finding it increasingly difficult to keep up, steer clear of the other pedestrians, and listen to Malfoy’s conversation all at once.
Malfoy frowned as he listened to whatever the person on the other end was saying. Then, sullenly, he said, “Shoes.”
Whoever Malfoy was talking to obviously knew him well. Maybe it was one of his parents.
Now a wicked smirk was spreading over Malfoy’s face. “Is that so?” he said. “Well, I’d better hurry home, then.”
Okay, probably not his parents.
Malfoy shut the mobile, returned it to his pocket, and lengthened his stride. Goddamn, he had long legs. Had he always been such a fast walker? Harry practically had to jog to keep up with him.
After a couple more blocks, Malfoy headed into a parking garage. Garages were popular Apparition points for wizards in Muggle areas; they provided plenty of darkness and privacy, and nobody questioned a person walking in and not walking back out. So Harry readied his wand. If Malfoy was going to Apparate, Harry would have to chance casting a tracking spell before he did so.
Malfoy didn’t Apparate. Instead, he pulled a set of car keys out of his pocket and unlocked a nearby silver Maserati.
What the hell was going on? Malfoy was the last person Harry would ever expect to ‘go native’, as upper-crust purebloods tended to disparagingly term the use of Muggle technology by one of their own. Yet here he was, dressed like a Muggle and using a mobile and driving a bloody sports car. At least, Harry hoped Malfoy knew how to drive it.
There was no way Harry was going to be able to follow further; he’d just have to cast the tracking spell on the car and hope for the best. At least Malfoy was less likely to notice it there.
He worked quickly, casting the subtlest tracker he knew and adding a timer that would alert him when the car was shut off. The final bits of the spell fell in place just as Malfoy started to reverse the car.
Harry watched Malfoy drive away, comforted by the slight tugging sensation of the tracking spell in the back of his mind. Whatever Malfoy was up to - and he was always up to something - Harry would get to the bottom of it.
Malfoy may have gotten away five years ago, but he wasn’t getting away this time.
***
While he waited, Harry Apparated back to Grimmauld Place. It was standard procedure for Aurors following an unplanned lead to leave behind a coded message for the MLE just in case the mission went south. If Harry didn’t touch the paper and speak the keyword within the next six hours, it would be sent straight to Gawain Robards so that he would know exactly where Harry had gone and why.
Harry decided that he might as well grab his Cloak, too; it would be more reliable than his Disillusionment. He kept it locked in a trunk underneath his bed when he wasn’t using it, so he bounded up the stairs to his room. He had to move quickly - he had no idea how long it would take Malfoy to get wherever he was going, and Harry wanted to be ready.
He knelt by the bed and tugged the trunk out just far enough to unlock it and pull out the Cloak. He tossed it on the bed and relocked the trunk, trying to push it back into place, but something caught on the bottom of the trunk and resisted. It felt soft, like cloth. Probably Harry had accidentally kicked a pair of joggers under the bed and forgotten about them. Impatiently, Harry shoved the trunk aside and grabbed the obstructing object.
It wasn’t sweatpants. It was one of Ginny’s nightgowns. She must have left it behind when she moved out.
All thoughts of Malfoy forgotten for the moment, Harry sat back and stared at the gown. It was silky and sheer and light blue - it had been one of Harry’s favorites. Maybe it hadn’t been an accident that Ginny had left it here.
They had broken up almost a month ago, but the pain was still fresh. Harry had chosen that night to propose, and Ginny had chosen that night to tell him that she was moving to Egypt to take up Bill’s old cursebreaking position. She wasn’t ready to settle down, she’d said. She didn’t want kids yet. She didn’t know if she’d ever want kids.
For Harry, it had come as a complete shock. He’d thought they were happy together, and he’d seen their future so clearly - marriage, three kids, maybe a Kneazle. But Ginny hadn’t seen that, hadn’t wanted it. Hadn’t wanted Harry.
Harry lost track of how long he had sat on the floor staring at the stupid nightgown before an insistent buzzing noise in his ear brought him back to himself. For a second, he wasn’t sure where it was coming from, and then he remembered Malfoy, and the tracking spell on Malfoy’s car.
Malfoy must have gotten home - wherever home was for him these days - and Harry couldn’t afford to be distracted like this. He had to put Ginny out of his mind. He was positive she’d already put him out of hers.
After a brief hesitation, Harry tossed the gown back under the bed. He’d deal with it later. Then he donned his Cloak, grabbed his wand, and Apparated along the tugging thread of the tracking spell.
***
He ended up on a tree-lined, residential street in what looked to be an upper-middle-class Muggle suburb. The houses were large but not ostentatious, the lawns lush and well-kept. All in all, it rather reminded Harry of a wealthier, more tasteful Privet Drive.
The spell was indicating a handsome red-brick Tudor shaded by large oaks. The driveway was empty, but the subtle yet unmistakably strong layers of wards surrounding the property were all Harry needed to know he was in the right place. Malfoy’s car was probably in the garage.
Caught in his contemplation of the wards, Harry barely reacted in time to step out of the path of a Muggle woman pushing a pram and leading a golden retriever. The dog sniffed curiously in Harry’s direction, but fortunately didn’t pause. Mum, baby, and dog continued happily down the sidewalk in the late summer sunshine, and Harry was struck by the storybook normality of it all. This was the kind of life he’d fantasized for himself and Ginny. He couldn’t imagine Malfoy living here at all.
Once the woman was safely out of sight, Harry turned his attention back to the wards. They were intimidating, but Harry didn’t want to dismantle them - just create a gap large enough to slip through.
Still, it took him nearly ten minutes just to untangle a small portion of the weakest section, in the far corner of the front yard. The wards were incredibly intricate; no way was Malfoy capable of this kind of spellwork. Harry’s curiosity about who Malfoy was living with intensified.
He finally managed to break through to the other side without setting off any of the myriad alarms and counter-curses. The second he stepped onto the lawn, the wards closed back up behind him, completely whole again. Hopefully he wouldn’t need to make a fast getaway.
Harry worked his way around the side of the house to the beautifully landscaped garden. The back wall of the house took advantage of the view; the first floor was almost entirely windows, giving Harry an unobstructed view of the living room and the kitchen.
The kitchen, in which Snape was not only alive but quite well, if the enthusiasm with which he was pounding Malfoy’s arse was any indication.
Harry stumbled back in shock. Nobody had ever bothered to find out why or how some of the Death Eaters’ corpses had disappeared after the battle; to be honest, nobody had really cared. Snape had been exonerated posthumously, but if the rest of the missing bodies were alive as well, then the Ministry had a big problem on its hands.
Embarrassment began to outweigh Harry’s shock when he realized he hadn’t looked away from Snape and Malfoy’s very private moment. But he’d never seen two men having sex before - although he may have thought about it once or twice - and he was curious.
Just curious.
They must have started going at it as soon as Malfoy got home, and they hadn’t even bothered undressing. Malfoy’s jacket was lying on the floor, but his shirt was only half-unbuttoned and he was bent over the kitchen table with his trousers pulled down to mid-thigh. Snape himself was fully dressed in an odd, overly formal Muggle style. Harry wondered if there was anyone else on Earth who would have raunchy kitchen sex with their starched white shirt still buttoned up to the throat.
Then he wondered what it was like to want someone so badly, to need them so desperately, that you couldn’t even wait to take off your clothes before having them. He and Ginny had had an active sex life, but Harry couldn’t remember ever having sex with her anywhere but a bedroom or a bathroom, and certainly never with their clothes on.
Almost unconsciously, Harry drew closer to the window, his eyes drinking in every detail - the tight grip Snape had on Malfoy’s hips, the way Malfoy’s fingernails were digging into the table, the burning intensity in Snape’s eyes and the absolute ecstasy in Malfoy’s expression. Harry’s eyes traveled down Malfoy’s body to where his cock peeked out from under his shirt, slick and straining.
He was close enough now to hear Malfoy’s soft cries, and fuck if it wasn’t one of the sexiest things he’d ever heard. Harry took a shaky breath. He needed to turn around and walk away, right now.
Right now.
Malfoy was about to lose it, Harry could tell. Snape apparently thought the same; he moved one hand from Malfoy’s hip to his cock and gave it a few brisk tugs, leaning forward to whisper something in Malfoy’s ear that was too quiet for Harry to catch.
Malfoy let out a low scream and clawed at the table as he came all over it. Snape pressed his chest against Malfoy’s back and put his hands over Malfoy’s, lacing their fingers together. His eyes fell shut and he thrust erratically for a few more seconds before slamming their hips together one last time, muffling his groan in Malfoy’s hair.
Harry stood still, breathing heavily and feeling shell-shocked. God, he was hard. When had that happened? He couldn’t remember.
Snape and Malfoy hadn’t separated yet. Snape was kissing Malfoy’s neck and murmuring softly, while Malfoy wore a contented smile, looking like he was half a second away from literally purring. It was painfully tender, and finally, Harry was able to tear his eyes away. Desperate to look at something else - anything else - his eyes fell upon their interlaced hands…and the simple platinum bands on their left ring fingers.
It was too much. He had barely been processing everything that had happened today - finally finding Malfoy, seeing Malfoy living as a Muggle, learning Snape was alive, seeing Snape and Malfoy shagging, for God’s sake - and the rings were just the final straw. He couldn’t deal with all of this at once.
Harry turned his back on the couple the way he should have done ten fucking minutes ago and hurried back to the weak corner of the yard. The wards were easier to get through now that he was familiar with them, and in less than five minutes he was standing safely on the pavement again.
Just as he was preparing to Disapparate, Harry noticed the ornate address plaque that stood next to the driveway, proudly declaring that this was 688 BAILEY LANE. Underneath that, in smaller print, was a name: VAN DER PRINS.
Cute.
Harry committed the name and address to memory and Disapparated, determined not to return until he knew what the hell was going on. He wouldn’t let Snape and Malfoy catch him off-guard again.
And if his mind kept straying to Snape and Malfoy while he was wanking that night… well, that was only natural, wasn’t it?
***
The next day found Harry trying to sweet-talk the clerk in the Muggle Liaison office into getting him Muggle dossiers on the residents of 688 Bailey Lane without proper MLE authorization.
He hadn’t told Robards or anyone else about his discoveries, but he wasn’t exactly sure why. As an Auror, he had a legal obligation to report both Malfoy’s whereabouts and Snape’s continued existence, but something was holding him back. He needed more information before he decided on the next step.
Harry felt a little guilty playing the “Chosen One” card with the clerk, but it wouldn’t do her any harm and it was for a good cause. Or an important one, anyway. She couldn’t resist, and a couple of hours later Harry was sitting at his desk in the Ministry with what seemed like a million sheets of paper spread out in front of him.
Snape and Malfoy had been incredibly thorough in falsifying their Muggle backgrounds, and Harry couldn’t help but be impressed. Schuyler and Lucas van der Prins were ostensibly Dutch nationals who had taken up residency in the UK two years ago. Birth certificates, passports, visas, even driver’s licenses - everything was accounted for, including a marriage certificate issued by the Kingdom of the Netherlands in May of 2001.
That must be why they were pretending to be Dutch. Although same-sex marriage was and always had been legal in wizarding society, it wasn’t legal in Muggle society in the UK. If Snape and Malfoy wanted their marriage to be considered legitimate by the Muggles they were hiding among, it made sense for them to claim Dutch citizenship.
May of 2001, though - Malfoy would only have been twenty years old. That wasn’t exactly unheard of in the wizarding world, either, but still…how long had Snape and Malfoy been involved before that? Had they been sleeping together at Hogwarts?
Harry shook his head and put the marriage certificate aside, turning his attention to their employment records. Malfoy, who claimed to have been educated at Oxford, was working for a venture capital firm in London. By all accounts, he was doing quite well for himself, which didn’t surprise Harry at all. Snape was purporting to be a retired chemistry professor, which surprised Harry even less.
All in all, it seemed that Snape and Malfoy had done their best to keep their cover as close to the truth as possible, a standard espionage tactic. They lived a quiet, practically anonymous life.
Harry’s unease with exposing them deepened. They weren’t hurting or bothering anyone, just living peacefully in Muggle suburbia. What right did Harry have to disrupt that?
He was strongly tempted just to let it go and try to forget he had ever found them. But Malfoy probably knew where Lucius was, and that was something Harry couldn’t ignore. Draco had merely been a scared kid during the war; Lucius had been a self-aware adult acting of his own free will.
There was also the question of whether the other disappeared corpses were actually alive, as Snape was. That could have huge consequences. If Fenrir Greyback was still alive, for example…
Harry sighed. There was nothing for it. The best he could do was contact Snape and Malfoy and offer them immunity and anonymity in return for information, but if they didn’t agree to that, he’d have no choice.
He decided to go back the following night.
***
Under the cover of his Invisibility Cloak once more, Harry stood outside the van der Prins residence and thought about the best way to approach this. He had no doubt that Snape and Malfoy had multiple escape plans in place, and they wouldn’t hesitate to use them if Harry revealed himself before he breached the wards. It rankled his inner Gryffindor, but the best approach here was to sneak up on Snape and Malfoy and subdue them before they had a chance to act.
Accordingly, Harry worked his way back through the wards and into the yard. It was even easier this time, and he frowned. That was sloppy spellwork - not like Snape at all.
Harry went to the back of the house again. On his previous visit, he’d noticed a door in the kitchen that should provide easy access to the house, assuming that Snape and Malfoy weren’t in the kitchen themselves.
They were actually in the living room, which was right next to the kitchen and just as easily observed from the garden. Harry stopped short.
Snape was sitting on the end of a couch that was facing the window at a slight angle, and Malfoy was stretched out along the length of it with his head in Snape’s lap. Snape had some kind of journal propped up on the arm of the couch. He was using one hand to turn the pages while his other hand absentmindedly stroked Malfoy’s hair. Malfoy himself looked asleep, a paperback novel splayed open on his chest.
The domesticity of the scene made Harry’s chest ache, reminding him of what he could never have with Ginny. He forced himself to take a few more steps toward the back door.
Malfoy suddenly tensed and opened his eyes, frowning. Harry paused, although he knew there was no way Malfoy could have heard him. Sure enough, Malfoy’s expression quickly morphed into one of satisfaction as he arched his back in a slow, catlike stretch and dropped his book on the floor. He got up on his knees and pressed against Snape’s side, whispering in his ear.
Snape’s brow furrowed as he listened, not looking up from his journal. Even when Malfoy started kissing his neck, he didn’t respond immediately. He looked…not upset, exactly - more like reluctant. Must be an interesting article. Finally, he rolled his eyes and set the journal aside, pulling Malfoy into his lap and kissing him properly.
Christ, not again. Did these two ever give it a rest?
Harry didn’t know what to do. One the one hand, bursting in on Snape and Malfoy while they were so engaged was practically guaranteed to take them by surprise. On the other hand, Harry was pretty sure that it wouldn’t be ethical, and it would most certainly be awkward.
Maybe he should wait until after they’d finished. He could move to that comfortable-looking bench with his back to them, give them a little privacy…
That train of thought abruptly derailed as Snape pushed Malfoy’s shirt off his shoulders. The last time Harry had seen him, Malfoy had been much too thin and unhealthily pale, but the years since then had been good to him. Now he was just slender enough, and his skin, although still pale, glowed with health. Harry had never thought to describe a man as beautiful before, but there was no other word for Malfoy.
Like a moth drawn to a flame, Harry stepped away from the kitchen door, closer to the living room window. Malfoy had his hands tangled in Snape’s long black hair, rubbing himself against Snape’s body as they kissed. Snape moved his hands to Malfoy’s trousers, yanking them open almost viciously.
Malfoy stood up just long enough to strip off his trousers and pants and then settled back onto Snape’s lap, completely naked. He had a great arse; Harry had always favoured that particular body part. Ginny -
No. God, he was not going to think of Ginny here, like this, not when he was getting hard watching Snape’s agile hands on Malfoy’s arse.
And this time he couldn’t attribute it to simple shock and curiosity. He hadn’t stumbled across Snape and Malfoy mid-coitus; he’d known what they were going to do and he had kept watching anyway, when any normal person would have just left. In fact, he was still watching.
“Accio lubricant,” he heard Snape say, much more clearly than should have been possible.
Harry’s gaze fell on the window. It was open, and he frowned. He could have sworn that window was shut when he’d first arrived. Snape and Malfoy must be getting to him more than he’d thought.
He’d just have to make sure he kept quiet, then.
Snape unscrewed the jar that had landed in his outstretched hand and dipped two fingers in it. He squeezed Malfoy’s thigh, prompting him to rise up on his knees a little. Apparently Snape wasn’t interested in undressing himself; only the first couple of buttons on his shirt collar were undone, exposing a sliver of skin that Harry found more intriguing than he would have liked.
Fascinated, Harry watched as Snape moved his hand under Malfoy’s body, rolling his balls before tracing along the skin behind and pushing one long finger inside. Malfoy whined and spread his legs even further, and Harry’s breath caught. The position of the couch and the way Malfoy had his legs spread created the perfect angle for Harry to see everything.
He was right up against the window now, and so hard it was actually painful. He and Ginny had never had anal sex. They’d talked about it, but they’d mutually agreed that it seemed messy and painful and too much work for too little reward.
That opinion was being drastically reworked as Harry took in the way Snape added a second finger and slid them in and out of Malfoy’s hole, setting a slow, regular pace. Malfoy ground down on Snape’s fingers, moaning in unmistakable pleasure. Harry’s hands fisted in his jeans as he tried to keep from touching his cock.
It wasn’t long before Malfoy pushed Snape’s hand away. “Enough,” he panted. “Now. I need it now.”
“Eager, are we?” Snape said, amused.
Malfoy’s reply was unintelligible as he worked Snape’s trousers open, freeing his thick cock. Snape leaned back against the couch, stroking lazy patterns on Malfoy’s thighs as Malfoy slicked his cock with lube. The expression in Snape’s eyes was intense - like he was only just restraining himself from throwing Malfoy on the floor and fucking his brains out.
They kissed once more, open-mouthed and sloppy, before Malfoy got back up on his knees and used one hand to steady Snape’s cock while he lowered himself onto it. Harry bit his lip to keep from making any noise as he watched Malfoy sink down slowly, taking Snape’s cock inch by inch. It seemed like it should be impossible for something that big to fit inside Malfoy’s body, but Harry couldn’t see even a hint of pain on Malfoy’s face.
Harry pressed his hand against his cock, trying to ease the ache, but it only got worse as Malfoy rose up, almost all the way off Snape’s cock, and then sank back down again. And again. And again.
God, how could Snape stand it? Harry would have been begging for Malfoy to move faster by now, but Snape seemed almost relaxed, only his heavy breaths and the white-knuckled grip he had on Malfoy’s thighs any sign that he was barely keeping himself under control.
Malfoy braced his hands on Snape’s shoulders and started to pick up the pace, not rising up as far on his thrusts. He dropped his head back, eyes closed, and Snape leaned forward to kiss his throat.
Harry’s lust-fogged brain barely registered the fact that he had gone from pressing against his cock to rubbing it through his jeans. He was too far gone now, too entranced by the scene playing out in front of him to care.
One of Malfoy’s thrusts downwards made him cry out, his back arching and the muscles in his legs tensing up. Snape groaned and reached a hand between them, pulling on Malfoy’s cock. Malfoy squirmed against him.
“Severus, please, please, I can’t -”
Snape growled, grabbing Malfoy’s hips and flipping them over, pressing Malfoy flat against the couch and pushing his legs up so he was practically bent in half. He kept his iron grip on Malfoy’s thighs as he thrust fast and rough, the sound of his hips against Malfoy’s arse clearly audible.
Malfoy clutched the couch with one hand and wanked himself with the other, toes curling in pleasure. His cries rose in pitch and volume until his entire body shuddered and he came, writhing underneath Snape.
“Draco,” Snape gasped. “You…fuck…”
Harry came when Snape did, barely muffling his moan as his cock jerked in his jeans. Feeling dazed, he looked down at himself and the rapidly-forming wet spot. He couldn’t believe he’d just…What the hell was wrong with him?
He looked back up. Snape had slumped over Malfoy’s body, both of them looking incredibly sated. The more Harry’s brain cleared, the more disgusted he was with himself.
Malfoy ran his fingers through Snape’s hair. “I’m going to have bruises on my thighs,” he said. Then, affectionately, “Beast.”
Snape snorted and kissed him.
Harry fled.
***
It took two days for Harry to suppress his self-disgust and work up the nerve to visit again, only to find Malfoy riding Snape on the living room floor.
Two days after that, Snape had Malfoy up on the kitchen counter.
Then there was the incident with champagne and chocolate sauce that still got Harry hard when he thought about it, and the time Snape bent Malfoy over the ottoman, and the time Malfoy was tied spread-eagle to the kitchen table…
Two weeks after he’d first found Snape and Malfoy, Harry’s temper was frayed, his nerves were shot, and he’d never wanked more in his entire life. He was starting to think that Snape and Malfoy had been hit with some kind of curse that turned them into lust-crazed sex fiends, although it was beyond him why they couldn’t have sex in their fucking bedroom, where that kind of behaviour belonged.
Harry had considered going to the house during the day, while Malfoy was at work, but it was too likely that Snape would have some kind of sneaky way to send him a warning. So he’d tried going at different times in the evening - six o’clock, eight o’clock, right before midnight - but it didn’t matter when he went. Snape and Malfoy were always fucking. It would have been impressive if it hadn’t been so annoying.
At this point, the situation had gone from being slightly awkward to downright ridiculous, and Harry refused to put up with it anymore. He was taking them into custody tonight, and he didn’t care if they were in the middle of a goddamn orgy when he did it.
It took him less than a minute to get through the wards now, and Harry marched around the house and into the garden, eyeing the windows apprehensively to see what kind of crazy sex game Malfoy and Snape were playing tonight.
Snape was alone in the kitchen, drinking tea and reading a book.
Harry frowned, stopping a few paces from the kitchen door. Maybe Malfoy was working late tonight. That would be excellent; Harry could wait for him to come home and then apprehend them both before they had a chance to start on each other. He let out a breath, relieved that he wasn’t going to have to “catch” them in a compromising position, after all.
“Petrificus Totalus.”
It was so unexpected that Harry didn’t have time to do more than open his mouth in surprise before he toppled forward, stiff as a board. God, he hated this hex.
The Cloak was tugged away and Harry was rolled over, finding himself face-to-face with a much too amused Draco Malfoy.
“Now, isn’t this familiar?” Malfoy said. “You should really see someone about this stalking habit of yours, Potter. I’m flattered, honestly, but it’s getting a little sad.”
Harry glared as fiercely as he could without the use of his facial muscles. Malfoy just smirked and took Harry’s wand before standing up. He looked over towards the house.
“You’ll never guess what I found, Severus.”
“Just bring him inside, Draco,” Snape said from the doorway.
Malfoy cast a quick Mobilicorpus and floated Harry’s body inside, into the kitchen, bringing along the Cloak and Harry’s wand. He set Harry down on his feet and handed the items to Snape, who Disapparated. Harry’s body thrummed with impotent rage. No matter how much he had come to terms and found peace with Snape’s true loyalties, watching the man handle his father’s Cloak was infuriating.
A few moments later, Snape popped back into the kitchen. He nodded at Malfoy, and Malfoy lifted the Petrificus half a second before Snape hit Harry with an Incarcerous, forcing Harry down into the chair behind him, bound to it at the wrists and ankles.
Snape and Malfoy stood side by side in front of him. Harry glowered at them, focusing on his anger and using it to fuel his magic. If he could build up enough power, he could dissolve the bindings and knock his captors out in one burst of energy. He’d done it before.
Malfoy was the first one to break the silence. “Exactly how stupid do you think we are?”
Harry blinked, losing a bit of his grip on his magic as he tried to process that. “Er…what?”
“Did you really think we wouldn’t notice that our wards had been tampered with?”
Harry’s stomach plummeted and his blood turned to ice as several things occurred to him at once: the way the wards had been easier to get through each time, even though any competent ward-caster would have made it harder for a person to breach a specific ward a second time. The way the window had always been open. The fact that Snape had never, not once, undressed completely.
They’d known he was there.
“Oh, look, Severus,” Malfoy said. “I think he’s figured it out.”
Snape made a soft sound of amusement. “And it took him a mere two weeks. God help the MLE if this is the quality of the Aurors it’s turning out these days.”
Harry’s shock was quickly being replaced by suffocating humiliation. “The whole time?”
Malfoy shrugged. “We didn’t realize you’d been here the first time until after you’d gone. I wanted to leave, but Severus said that if you hadn’t arrested us then, there was a good reason for it. He thought you were too embarrassed to interrupt us.”
“But embarrassed was not all you were. Was it, Potter?” Snape said.
Harry ignored the taunt. “If you knew I was there, why didn’t you confront me? Why did you…” He couldn’t think of any way to describe what he’d seen without humiliating himself further.
“Insurance,” said Malfoy. “You don’t turn us in, we don’t out you as a Peeping Tom. I imagine you’d lose your job, at the very least.”
How had he fucked up this badly? Harry shook his head. “I didn’t want to turn you in. I don’t want to. I was going to offer you immunity in return for information.”
“What kind of information?” Snape said.
“About the other escaped Death Eaters.”
Malfoy’s expression shuttered. “We don’t know where they are.”
“Come on. You really expect me to believe that you have no idea where your father is?”
“Oh, I have no problem telling you where my father is.” Malfoy gave him a nasty smile. “He’s in Switzerland. Good luck.”
Harry groaned internally. He’d been afraid of that, and in fact, it was the reason that the MLE had never instituted a real manhunt for the Malfoys. The Swiss wizarding community was notorious for making it almost impossible to extradite fugitives. The chances that Lucius hadn’t had a bolthole in Switzerland had been slim, but Harry had hoped…
There was another thing he needed to know, though. Harry looked at Snape. “What about the bodies that disappeared? Are they alive, too?”
Snape raised his eyebrows, surprised. “Not that I know of.”
“Then why did you take them?”
“To give them a proper burial,” Malfoy said. “You lot would have just tossed them into a mass grave with no thought for the rituals.” He sighed. “Look, Potter. We have no idea where any of the escaped Death Eaters are. The Ministry isn’t the only thing we’re hiding from.”
Harry looked away, defeated. He felt like a world-class git. “Fine. Just give me my stuff back and I’ll leave. I won’t bother you again.”
“You were never bothering us, Potter,” Snape said. He moved to stand behind Malfoy, putting his hands on Malfoy’s hips. “I admit, I was…hesitant…at first, but Draco so enjoyed your visits.” Snape stroked Malfoy’s hair, and Malfoy arched into the touch. “He’s always had a bit of an exhibitionistic streak.”
Harry’s eyes widened as he watched Snape undo the first button of Malfoy’s shirt and run his fingers over the exposed skin. “What…what are you doing?”
Snape untucked Malfoy’s shirt, the slow slide of fabric mesmerizing and giving Harry a brief glimpse of Malfoy’s flat stomach. “All those times you watched us - don’t tell me you never thought about joining in.”
Harry’s eyes snapped up to meet Snape’s. Of course he’d thought about it - about what it would be like to have Malfoy’s arse wrapped around his cock, to have Snape inside him - but there was absolutely no way he was going to admit it. So he clenched his jaw and returned Snape’s gaze impassively, even as his cock swelled in his jeans.
Snape arched an eyebrow and turned his attention back to Malfoy, working his way down the row of buttons on Malfoy’s shirt. “Shall I tell him what you told me, that first night?”
Malfoy dropped his head back on Snape’s shoulder, watching Harry through heavy-lidded eyes.
“How you used to fantasize about him staying in the changing rooms after Quidditch to watch you shower?” Snape continued. “You would pretend not to know he was there, and you would wank for him, put on a little show until he lost control and fucked you against the shower wall.”
Stunned, Harry clutched at the arms of the chair. Malfoy used to fantasize about him?
The shirt hit the floor, and Malfoy’s eyes fluttered shut as Snape ran his hands over Malfoy’s chest, down to his stomach. “You like to be watched, don’t you, Draco?”
“Yes.”
“Vain,” Snape said, softly. He kissed Malfoy’s shoulder and knelt, removing Malfoy’s shoes and socks. Malfoy let himself be undressed, brushing a hand over Snape’s head. His breath was shallow, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
Harry tried to look away when Snape started to lower Malfoy’s trousers, but his eyes wouldn’t cooperate. Malfoy wasn’t wearing any pants, and when he stepped out of his trousers he was completely naked in all his smooth, pale-skinned glory, without a hint of embarrassment or discomfort.
Snape kissed Malfoy’s thigh and rose, taking Malfoy’s face in his hands and claiming his mouth. Malfoy pressed against him eagerly, his full cock rubbing against Snape’s hip. Harry closed his eyes, trying to get ahold of himself.
His eyes flew open again when he felt a hand on his knee. Malfoy was standing in front of him, looking at him intently. Harry groaned when Malfoy climbed onto the chair, straddling Harry’s lap and grinding his arse quite purposely against Harry’s trapped erection.
“All right, you’ve made your point,” Harry said hoarsely. “Stop playing with me and just let me go.”
Malfoy’s lips twitched. “We’re not done with you yet.”
Then Malfoy’s mouth was on his, soft yet demanding, and Harry was frozen in shock for only a second before he kissed back. It was sloppy and a little desperate on his part, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when Malfoy tasted and felt exactly like Harry had imagined he would.
Behind him, Snape put his hands on Harry’s shoulders, running them down Harry’s arms as he leaned over. Malfoy broke the kiss.
“I am willing to let you fuck my husband,” Snape said into Harry’s ear. “After I’ve had him first, of course.” He pressed his lips against the side of Harry’s neck.
“Fuck,” Harry gasped. “Oh, fuck.”
“You don’t want him?” Malfoy said to Snape, as if Harry wasn’t sitting right there.
“I do not believe he is ready for that. Another time, perhaps.”
Malfoy leaned forward to kiss Snape over Harry’s shoulder, and Harry took a moment to be relieved. Before he’d gotten a front-row seat to Snape and Malfoy’s live sex show, he’d never even considered letting another man fuck him. After seeing how much Malfoy enjoyed it, though, he knew it was something he wanted to try someday, and he’d fantasized about doing it with Snape. But fantasy and reality were two very different things, and the thought of actually doing it now filled him with apprehension. Snape was right. He wasn’t ready.
Wait. Another time? What the hell -
Malfoy kissed him again, effectively shutting off his brain. Malfoy was a good kisser, and his arse was rubbing against Harry’s cock just so, and Snape’s mouth was on his neck, kissing and sucking and biting a little…
“Would you like me to free your hands?” Snape asked.
“Yes. Please,” Harry said. A second later, the bindings on his wrists disappeared, and Harry’s hands immediately flew to Malfoy’s back, stroking the soft, warm skin he found there. He ran his hands down Malfoy’s sides, over his hips and thighs, delighting in the excited noise Malfoy made against his mouth.
Malfoy tugged at the hem of Harry’s T-shirt. Harry reluctantly removed his hands from Malfoy’s body and lifted his arms above his head so that Malfoy could get the shirt off. As soon as it had been removed, his hands were back, sliding through Malfoy’s irresistibly soft hair.
When Malfoy stood, pulling Harry up with him, Harry didn’t hesitate to follow. Snape must have removed the bindings from his ankles as well, though Harry couldn’t remember him doing so. He pulled Malfoy’s naked body against his own, their bare chests sliding together.
Snape pressed against Harry’s back, the solid warmth of his body somehow comforting and arousing at the same time. Malfoy pulled his mouth away from Harry’s to catch his breath, and Snape turned Harry around, leaning down to replace Malfoy’s mouth with his own before Harry had a chance to recover.
Harry clutched at Snape’s shoulders, feeling dizzy. Snape was a much more forceful kisser than Malfoy was, and Harry could barely breathe - especially when Malfoy started in on his shoulders and back, nipping at the top of his spine.
Just when Harry thought he really might pass out, Snape pulled back a little. “I’m going to Apparate you to the bedroom,” he said. Harry recognized the roughness in Snape’s tone from the times he had heard him speak to Malfoy during sex, and he shivered as he nodded.
A brief squeeze of Apparition and they were in the master bedroom, which was dominated by a large four-poster bed. Malfoy Apparated in right behind them.
“How do you want us?” he said to Snape.
Snape ran his eyes down Harry’s body - the first time he had ever looked at Harry with anything resembling approval. “Get him out of his clothes.”
Harry wanted to protest the way Snape and Malfoy kept talking about him instead of to him, but then Malfoy’s hands were on his belt and it seemed silly to complain at all.
Once Harry was naked, Malfoy pushed him down onto the bed and climbed on top, rubbing against him and stroking Harry’s cock leisurely. “Nice, Potter,” he purred. “I’d always thought you might be compensating for something with all your heroics, but in this case I’m glad to be proved wrong.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. “I’ll show you compensate,” he growled, flipping them over and pinning Malfoy to the bed, biting his shoulder. He would never have been so rough with Ginny, but he’d watched Snape treat Malfoy like this enough times to know that Malfoy liked it. It felt good not to have to hold himself back for once.
Sure enough, Malfoy arched up underneath him with a pleased moan. Harry moved his hand down to Malfoy’s arse, squeezing hard before travelling down to a place he’d never touched on anyone else’s body before. Malfoy was already slick with lubricant, ready to be fucked. Harry stifled his groan against Malfoy’s shoulder.
Malfoy smirked up at him. “Did I forget to mention that we started without you?”
Before Harry could formulate a response, Snape pulled him onto his back again. Harry had never seen him fully naked before, and he was so preoccupied by taking in the lean lines of Snape’s body that he didn’t register his wrists being bound to the headboard until it was done.
“Since I know how much you enjoy watching, Mr. Potter, that is exactly what you’re going to do.” Snape ran his hands down Harry’s outstretched arms.
Harry craned his head up to look at the bindings. They were silky and soft and not at all uncomfortable, but he didn’t know if he was okay with being tied up like this around Snape and Malfoy.
Sensing his unease, Malfoy kissed him. “They’re not tight,” he said. “You can get out of them if you really want.”
Harry tested the give of the bindings. Malfoy was right; he could break them with a little effort if he needed to. The thought reassured him, and he shook his head. “It’s fine.”
“Good,” Snape said. He kissed Malfoy across Harry’s body, and the frustrating thrill of being able to watch but not touch sent a thrum of excitement through Harry.
Malfoy moved so that he was kneeling over Harry on all fours, his knees on either side of Harry’s hips and his hands next to Harry’s shoulders. Harry’s cock strained upwards, almost brushing Malfoy’s.
Snape knelt behind Malfoy and kissed the small of his back. “You won’t come until he fucks you,” he said.
Malfoy let out a shaky breath. “All right.”
Snape grasped Malfoy’s hips and drove home in one quick thrust. Malfoy dropped his head, closing his eyes and biting his lip, his face only a foot from Harry’s. His hands fisted in the coverlet next to Harry’s shoulders.
If Harry had thought watching Snape and Malfoy fuck from the back garden was hot, it was nothing compared to seeing it close-up. Snape was fucking Malfoy practically in Harry’s lap, and Harry could see their muscles working, hear even the quietest noises they made. Harry grabbed at his bindings, needing something to hold on to. He badly wanted to lift his hips, try to grind his cock against Malfoy’s, but he couldn’t brace his legs with Snape kneeling over them.
Malfoy made a desperate noise and dropped down onto his elbows, his cock grazing against Harry’s. It wasn’t nearly enough friction to bring Harry off, but if felt good in a maddening sort of way. Harry lifted his head to kiss Malfoy, which was a little complicated when Malfoy’s body was rocking back and forth with such force but still well worth the effort.
Malfoy rested his head in the crook of Harry’s neck, his moans soft and continuous. Harry looked up at Snape, and his breath stilled at the way Snape’s eyes held his, dark and intense and powerful. Harry understood that Snape was sharing something precious with him - the most precious thing he had - and he felt an overwhelming surge of emotion. There was lust, of course, and gratitude, but there was also confusion and doubt and a horrible fear that he would prove unworthy and bollocks everything up.
Harry looked away when it became too much, pressing his face against Malfoy’s hair and breathing in deeply. Malfoy was already getting close; his body was trembling and the noises he was making were getting sharper and higher-pitched. Harry knew that Malfoy could come untouched if he was turned on enough - he’d seen it just last week.
Thinking along the same lines, Snape slowed his thrusts. “Do I need to stop?”
“No,” Malfoy said. “No, I can do it.”
Snape stroked Malfoy’s sides soothingly before resuming his previous pace, hips snapping hard and fast. Malfoy made a strangled noise and bit down on Harry’s shoulder none too gently. Harry yelped in an odd mix of pain and pleasure, then groaned when Malfoy sucked hard at the same spot. His restrained body twisted ineffectually.
Malfoy moved his mouth to Harry’s collarbone, obviously trying to distract himself from his threatening orgasm by bruising as much of Harry’s skin as possible. Harry struggled to control himself. If this went on much longer, he was going to come untouched, and he wanted to come inside Malfoy.
Harry chanced a glance back at Snape’s face, relieved to see that Snape’s eyes were closed - a sure sign he was close to climax. Snape’s rhythm faltered, and he lasted a few more erratic thrusts before letting out a low shout, his hips jerking against Malfoy’s arse.
As always, Harry found himself fascinated by Snape’s orgasm. During sex, the man held himself under near-superhuman control, only allowing himself to let go at the last possible moment. That moment of release was incredible to watch, as Snape’s sallow skin flushed with pleasure and his hard features softened, making him…not handsome, exactly - Snape would never be that - but undeniably attractive.
When Snape finally withdrew, Malfoy’s entire body was shaking with the effort of holding himself back. Snape stroked his hair as he moved to lie next to Harry. Malfoy let out a soft sigh.
Snape pressed against Harry’s side, tracing Harry’s lips with his thumb. “You’ll fuck him now, with my come still inside him.”
“Oh, God,” Harry breathed, his cock twitching at the mere thought.
Malfoy’s eyes were glazed and his cheeks were pink. “I need a minute,” he said, rising up from his elbows to his hands again.
Snape grasped Harry’s chin and kissed him. Harry kissed back eagerly, a little embarrassed by the sounds he was making but unable to suppress them. He’d never been kept in such a heightened state of arousal for so long, and he’d long since lost all ability to think rationally.
“That’s not really helping,” Malfoy said.
Snape gave a final bite to Harry’s lower lip before breaking the kiss. “Now,” he said to Malfoy.
Harry tugged on the restraints. “Are you going to untie me?”
Snape raised an eyebrow. “No.”
“Then how - ?”
Malfoy settled himself on Harry’s hips, scooting back so that Harry’s erection pressed against his arse.
“Oh,” Harry said. Then, as it really hit him that he was about to see Malfoy ride his cock, “Oh, fuck.”
Malfoy seemed to be regaining his equilibrium as quickly as Harry was losing his. Rising back up on his knees, he took the lube that Snape handed to him and slicked Harry’s cock rather carelessly before tossing the jar aside. He shot Harry a smirk - the same smirk that, not an hour ago, had made Harry itch to smack him in the face. Now it was just unbearably hot.
“Think you’re ready for this, Potter?”
Harry fought the urge to break the restraints and throw Malfoy down on the bed. “Just do it.”
Snape reached over to hold Harry’s cock steady while Malfoy lowered himself onto it, and Harry’s eyes rolled back in his head. Even after being fucked by Snape, Malfoy’s arse was still the tightest, most incredible thing Harry had ever felt. He forced his eyes back open so he could watch Malfoy take him all the way inside, noting with pleasure that Malfoy was certainly no longer smirking.
When Malfoy was steady, Snape ran his hand up Harry’s stomach to his chest, catching a nipple and pinching it. Malfoy lifted himself up, still moving far too slowly for Harry’s liking, and Harry could see Snape’s come sliding out of Malfoy’s arse and down his own cock.
He almost died for a second.
It took everything Harry had not to come right then, as every muscle in his body tensed and shuddered. He was not going to embarrass himself, not in front of these two.
Snape hummed in approval against Harry’s neck, but Malfoy didn’t seem to have noticed. He was working Harry’s cock languidly, his eyes closed and his head thrown back, wanking himself with slow, lazy strokes.
While Harry’s brain appreciated the picture Malfoy made, his cock did not. “Malfoy,” he said, and waited for Malfoy’s eyes to flutter open. “Move.”
Malfoy’s hips slowed even more, which Harry would have previously thought impossible. “I am moving.”
Harry glared at him before he realized that since Snape was no longer kneeling over his legs, there was no reason he couldn’t move them. He bent his knees, braced his feet against the bed, and slammed his hips up, burying his aching cock to the hilt.
Malfoy gasped and fell forward, catching himself with his hands on Harry’s chest. “Potter,” he said, shocked and aroused.
Harry didn’t respond, just kept thrusting his hips up into Malfoy’s tight body until Malfoy made a sobbing noise of pleasure and started riding him in earnest.
“Good,” Snape said, nipping at Harry’s earlobe. “He needs to know who’s in charge.”
Harry moaned as Snape’s mouth traveled over his neck and shoulder, adding marks to match the ones Malfoy had left on the other side. Malfoy looked like sin incarnate, fucking himself on Harry’s cock with wild abandon, bracing himself with one hand while he pulled at his cock with the other. His lips were swollen from biting them and his hair was falling in his face; his skin gleamed with sweat.
Harry spoke before he realized he was going to. “God, Malfoy, you look so fucking sexy-”
Malfoy cried out and came all over Harry’s chest, his arse tightening convulsively and making Harry cry out a little himself. Malfoy stopped moving when his orgasm passed, breathing heavily and still seated fully on Harry’s cock. Harry was so close he could already feel it, and he twisted his hips in frustration.
“Draco,” Snape said sharply. “Don’t be selfish.”
Malfoy scowled at him before putting his hips back in motion, supporting himself with both hands on Harry’s chest now so he could get better leverage. A few more thrusts and Harry was almost there, almost there, and then Snape slid a finger through the come on Harry’s chest and brought it to Harry’s lips. Harry came even as he opened his mouth for Snape’s finger, catching it roughly with his teeth. His arms jerked painfully against the restraints as his back arched off the bed, his legs locking up, and it was so intense that his vision blacked out for a second.
He fell back against the bed, limp and dazed. He felt…lighter.
His mind floated, and he barely noticed Malfoy moving off of him. Snape released the restraints and pulled his arms back down; it hurt in a kind of far-off way. Then he was being turned on his side, Snape pressing up against his back and Malfoy against his front, wrapping themselves around him like snakes seeking heat.
Harry closed his eyes, letting himself bask in the afterglow for a bit. It would be over soon enough, and he would have to go back to his empty house and his empty bed. He might as well enjoy this while it lasted.
“Next time, you can be the one who’s not allowed to come when he fucks you,” Malfoy mumbled sleepily into his chest.
Harry’s eyes popped open. He was sure that Malfoy was mocking him, but Malfoy was curled up against him, half-asleep. Behind him, Snape’s breath was slow and even as he absentmindedly rubbed Harry’s sore shoulder.
Harry didn’t know what to think. He’d been sure this was just a one-off - Snape and Malfoy getting back at him for the times he had watched them together. How could it be anything else? Even leaving aside their less-than-rosy personal history, Snape and Malfoy were married. Married couples did not have lovers.
Did they?
He lifted his hand cautiously and stroked Malfoy’s hair. Malfoy just sighed softly. Harry looked at the platinum strands running over his fingers, remembering what had started all this - a brief glimpse of that hair out of the corner of his eye. Then he frowned.
“Malfoy, can I ask you something?
“Now?”
“It’s important.”
“What?” Malfoy said, opening his eyes.
“Why don’t you wear a glamour when you go to London?” Harry asked. “Wizards go there all the time, you know. Anyone could see you and recognize you.”
Malfoy blinked. “Is that how you found us? You saw me in London and followed me home?”
“Yeah.”
Malfoy exchanged an indecipherable look with Snape over Harry’s shoulder. “Potter, I do wear a glamour when I go out. A strong one. The only way you’d have been able to see past it would be if you were expecting to see me.”
“That’s still not very safe,” Harry said. “If anyone started looking for you -”
“Not looking for me, Potter,” Malfoy interrupted. “Expecting to see me. As in certain that you were about to bump into me at any moment.”
Harry remembered all the times he had thought exactly that, if only in the back of his mind. “…Oh.”
Malfoy laughed. “Merlin, you’re obsessed. Stalker.” He kissed Harry briefly on the lips. “You’re just lucky Severus doesn’t mind.”
Snape snorted and kissed Harry’s shoulder. “Are you two intending to chatter all night?”
“Apparently the old man needs his rest,” Malfoy said to Harry.
Snape reached over and pinched Malfoy’s hip. Malfoy squeaked and batted his hand away.
Harry smiled.
Author: Xandra (gypsyflame)
Pairing: Snape/Draco/Harry
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 9700
Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling et al. This was created for fun, not for profit.
Warnings: Voyeurism/exhibitionism; light bondage; established relationship (S/D)
Summary: Some habits are impossible to break.
A/N 1: Written for drapery_snarco, prompt 74: After the war Draco and Snape disappear from wizarding society. One day Harry catches a glimpse of Draco entering a store or building… Many thanks to the mods for such a great fest!
A/N 2: Betaed by the incomparable fbowden. Title comes from an episode of Veronica Mars. Also, this fic takes place in 2003, before civil partnership became legal in the UK.
He almost ignored it.
For the past five years, Harry had been doing double-takes every time he caught a glimpse of white-blond hair, but he’d recently decided that enough was enough. The Malfoys had disappeared in the chaos following the Battle of Hogwarts, along with several other Death Eaters - and, disturbingly, a few corpses - and if they had any sense at all, they’d fled the country and never looked back.
Still, Harry had never been able to shake the feeling that he hadn’t seen the last of Draco Malfoy. Every time somebody in his vicinity had hair that distinctive platinum shade, Harry found himself turning towards them automatically, pulse pounding, heart in his throat. It wasn’t that he thought Malfoy was a danger to him, really, it was just…the lack of closure, perhaps.
The upshot of this stupid little tic was that Harry came off as nervous and jumpy to those who didn’t know him well, in addition to making innocent blond strangers very uncomfortable. Therefore, he had firmly resolved to not let it get the better of him anymore.
So, when he saw a flash of white out of the corner of his eye while walking down a street in Muggle London, he almost ignored it. But a habit of five years - or twelve, if he was really being honest - is hard to break, and Harry couldn’t quite keep his head from turning.
He hadn’t expected it to actually be Malfoy.
Looking older and considerably healthier than the last time Harry had seen him, Malfoy was striding down the street in the opposite direction, dressed in a finely-tailored Muggle suit and carrying, of all things, a Muggle briefcase. The unreality of seeing Malfoy here, like this, with no warning, left Harry gaping after him for much longer than was strictly becoming of an Auror.
In fact, if Malfoy hadn’t been distracted by a window display, Harry probably would have lost him. As it was, though, Malfoy ducked into the high-end shoe store that had caught his attention, giving Harry the opportunity to compose himself.
Malfoy was still wanted by the Ministry - for questioning, if nothing else. Harry had to bring him in. But there was a chance that if Harry followed him back home, Malfoy would lead him to his parents or even some of the other missing Death Eaters. Lucius Malfoy had never even gone to trial for his crimes, and that didn’t sit well with Harry.
He was positive that Malfoy hadn’t seen him, so he still had the advantage. Harry didn’t have his Invisibility Cloak with him - not that he would have been able to pull it out on a street full of Muggles, anyway - so he stood against the wall of the store and cast a subtle, heavy-duty Disillusionment Charm that had been created for just this circumstance. It incorporated elements of a Notice-Me-Not Charm to make eyes slide away from him as he faded out of view - very handy when one needed to conceal oneself and there was no time to duck into an alleyway.
After twenty minutes of waiting, Harry was beginning to think that Malfoy had seen him after all, and had only gone into the store to Disapparate. Feeling very foolish, he was about to enter the store himself to see if he could pick up the trail when Malfoy suddenly walked out the door, carrying a large shopping bag.
Harry didn’t dare cast a tracking spell; there was too great a chance that Malfoy would sense it. Instead, he kept close on Malfoy’s heels as he followed him down the street, being careful to avoid colliding with unwary Muggles.
They’d only gone a block when a shrill ringing made Malfoy fish in his jacket pocket with his free hand and draw out a mobile phone, which in turn made Harry almost trip over his own feet. Malfoy using a mobile was just too surreal. Harry briefly wondered if this was all a very vivid hallucination.
Malfoy glanced at the Caller ID and sighed before flipping the phone open. “I know I’m late. I got held up at work.”
He didn’t slow his pace at all, and Harry was finding it increasingly difficult to keep up, steer clear of the other pedestrians, and listen to Malfoy’s conversation all at once.
Malfoy frowned as he listened to whatever the person on the other end was saying. Then, sullenly, he said, “Shoes.”
Whoever Malfoy was talking to obviously knew him well. Maybe it was one of his parents.
Now a wicked smirk was spreading over Malfoy’s face. “Is that so?” he said. “Well, I’d better hurry home, then.”
Okay, probably not his parents.
Malfoy shut the mobile, returned it to his pocket, and lengthened his stride. Goddamn, he had long legs. Had he always been such a fast walker? Harry practically had to jog to keep up with him.
After a couple more blocks, Malfoy headed into a parking garage. Garages were popular Apparition points for wizards in Muggle areas; they provided plenty of darkness and privacy, and nobody questioned a person walking in and not walking back out. So Harry readied his wand. If Malfoy was going to Apparate, Harry would have to chance casting a tracking spell before he did so.
Malfoy didn’t Apparate. Instead, he pulled a set of car keys out of his pocket and unlocked a nearby silver Maserati.
What the hell was going on? Malfoy was the last person Harry would ever expect to ‘go native’, as upper-crust purebloods tended to disparagingly term the use of Muggle technology by one of their own. Yet here he was, dressed like a Muggle and using a mobile and driving a bloody sports car. At least, Harry hoped Malfoy knew how to drive it.
There was no way Harry was going to be able to follow further; he’d just have to cast the tracking spell on the car and hope for the best. At least Malfoy was less likely to notice it there.
He worked quickly, casting the subtlest tracker he knew and adding a timer that would alert him when the car was shut off. The final bits of the spell fell in place just as Malfoy started to reverse the car.
Harry watched Malfoy drive away, comforted by the slight tugging sensation of the tracking spell in the back of his mind. Whatever Malfoy was up to - and he was always up to something - Harry would get to the bottom of it.
Malfoy may have gotten away five years ago, but he wasn’t getting away this time.
***
While he waited, Harry Apparated back to Grimmauld Place. It was standard procedure for Aurors following an unplanned lead to leave behind a coded message for the MLE just in case the mission went south. If Harry didn’t touch the paper and speak the keyword within the next six hours, it would be sent straight to Gawain Robards so that he would know exactly where Harry had gone and why.
Harry decided that he might as well grab his Cloak, too; it would be more reliable than his Disillusionment. He kept it locked in a trunk underneath his bed when he wasn’t using it, so he bounded up the stairs to his room. He had to move quickly - he had no idea how long it would take Malfoy to get wherever he was going, and Harry wanted to be ready.
He knelt by the bed and tugged the trunk out just far enough to unlock it and pull out the Cloak. He tossed it on the bed and relocked the trunk, trying to push it back into place, but something caught on the bottom of the trunk and resisted. It felt soft, like cloth. Probably Harry had accidentally kicked a pair of joggers under the bed and forgotten about them. Impatiently, Harry shoved the trunk aside and grabbed the obstructing object.
It wasn’t sweatpants. It was one of Ginny’s nightgowns. She must have left it behind when she moved out.
All thoughts of Malfoy forgotten for the moment, Harry sat back and stared at the gown. It was silky and sheer and light blue - it had been one of Harry’s favorites. Maybe it hadn’t been an accident that Ginny had left it here.
They had broken up almost a month ago, but the pain was still fresh. Harry had chosen that night to propose, and Ginny had chosen that night to tell him that she was moving to Egypt to take up Bill’s old cursebreaking position. She wasn’t ready to settle down, she’d said. She didn’t want kids yet. She didn’t know if she’d ever want kids.
For Harry, it had come as a complete shock. He’d thought they were happy together, and he’d seen their future so clearly - marriage, three kids, maybe a Kneazle. But Ginny hadn’t seen that, hadn’t wanted it. Hadn’t wanted Harry.
Harry lost track of how long he had sat on the floor staring at the stupid nightgown before an insistent buzzing noise in his ear brought him back to himself. For a second, he wasn’t sure where it was coming from, and then he remembered Malfoy, and the tracking spell on Malfoy’s car.
Malfoy must have gotten home - wherever home was for him these days - and Harry couldn’t afford to be distracted like this. He had to put Ginny out of his mind. He was positive she’d already put him out of hers.
After a brief hesitation, Harry tossed the gown back under the bed. He’d deal with it later. Then he donned his Cloak, grabbed his wand, and Apparated along the tugging thread of the tracking spell.
***
He ended up on a tree-lined, residential street in what looked to be an upper-middle-class Muggle suburb. The houses were large but not ostentatious, the lawns lush and well-kept. All in all, it rather reminded Harry of a wealthier, more tasteful Privet Drive.
The spell was indicating a handsome red-brick Tudor shaded by large oaks. The driveway was empty, but the subtle yet unmistakably strong layers of wards surrounding the property were all Harry needed to know he was in the right place. Malfoy’s car was probably in the garage.
Caught in his contemplation of the wards, Harry barely reacted in time to step out of the path of a Muggle woman pushing a pram and leading a golden retriever. The dog sniffed curiously in Harry’s direction, but fortunately didn’t pause. Mum, baby, and dog continued happily down the sidewalk in the late summer sunshine, and Harry was struck by the storybook normality of it all. This was the kind of life he’d fantasized for himself and Ginny. He couldn’t imagine Malfoy living here at all.
Once the woman was safely out of sight, Harry turned his attention back to the wards. They were intimidating, but Harry didn’t want to dismantle them - just create a gap large enough to slip through.
Still, it took him nearly ten minutes just to untangle a small portion of the weakest section, in the far corner of the front yard. The wards were incredibly intricate; no way was Malfoy capable of this kind of spellwork. Harry’s curiosity about who Malfoy was living with intensified.
He finally managed to break through to the other side without setting off any of the myriad alarms and counter-curses. The second he stepped onto the lawn, the wards closed back up behind him, completely whole again. Hopefully he wouldn’t need to make a fast getaway.
Harry worked his way around the side of the house to the beautifully landscaped garden. The back wall of the house took advantage of the view; the first floor was almost entirely windows, giving Harry an unobstructed view of the living room and the kitchen.
The kitchen, in which Snape was not only alive but quite well, if the enthusiasm with which he was pounding Malfoy’s arse was any indication.
Harry stumbled back in shock. Nobody had ever bothered to find out why or how some of the Death Eaters’ corpses had disappeared after the battle; to be honest, nobody had really cared. Snape had been exonerated posthumously, but if the rest of the missing bodies were alive as well, then the Ministry had a big problem on its hands.
Embarrassment began to outweigh Harry’s shock when he realized he hadn’t looked away from Snape and Malfoy’s very private moment. But he’d never seen two men having sex before - although he may have thought about it once or twice - and he was curious.
Just curious.
They must have started going at it as soon as Malfoy got home, and they hadn’t even bothered undressing. Malfoy’s jacket was lying on the floor, but his shirt was only half-unbuttoned and he was bent over the kitchen table with his trousers pulled down to mid-thigh. Snape himself was fully dressed in an odd, overly formal Muggle style. Harry wondered if there was anyone else on Earth who would have raunchy kitchen sex with their starched white shirt still buttoned up to the throat.
Then he wondered what it was like to want someone so badly, to need them so desperately, that you couldn’t even wait to take off your clothes before having them. He and Ginny had had an active sex life, but Harry couldn’t remember ever having sex with her anywhere but a bedroom or a bathroom, and certainly never with their clothes on.
Almost unconsciously, Harry drew closer to the window, his eyes drinking in every detail - the tight grip Snape had on Malfoy’s hips, the way Malfoy’s fingernails were digging into the table, the burning intensity in Snape’s eyes and the absolute ecstasy in Malfoy’s expression. Harry’s eyes traveled down Malfoy’s body to where his cock peeked out from under his shirt, slick and straining.
He was close enough now to hear Malfoy’s soft cries, and fuck if it wasn’t one of the sexiest things he’d ever heard. Harry took a shaky breath. He needed to turn around and walk away, right now.
Right now.
Malfoy was about to lose it, Harry could tell. Snape apparently thought the same; he moved one hand from Malfoy’s hip to his cock and gave it a few brisk tugs, leaning forward to whisper something in Malfoy’s ear that was too quiet for Harry to catch.
Malfoy let out a low scream and clawed at the table as he came all over it. Snape pressed his chest against Malfoy’s back and put his hands over Malfoy’s, lacing their fingers together. His eyes fell shut and he thrust erratically for a few more seconds before slamming their hips together one last time, muffling his groan in Malfoy’s hair.
Harry stood still, breathing heavily and feeling shell-shocked. God, he was hard. When had that happened? He couldn’t remember.
Snape and Malfoy hadn’t separated yet. Snape was kissing Malfoy’s neck and murmuring softly, while Malfoy wore a contented smile, looking like he was half a second away from literally purring. It was painfully tender, and finally, Harry was able to tear his eyes away. Desperate to look at something else - anything else - his eyes fell upon their interlaced hands…and the simple platinum bands on their left ring fingers.
It was too much. He had barely been processing everything that had happened today - finally finding Malfoy, seeing Malfoy living as a Muggle, learning Snape was alive, seeing Snape and Malfoy shagging, for God’s sake - and the rings were just the final straw. He couldn’t deal with all of this at once.
Harry turned his back on the couple the way he should have done ten fucking minutes ago and hurried back to the weak corner of the yard. The wards were easier to get through now that he was familiar with them, and in less than five minutes he was standing safely on the pavement again.
Just as he was preparing to Disapparate, Harry noticed the ornate address plaque that stood next to the driveway, proudly declaring that this was 688 BAILEY LANE. Underneath that, in smaller print, was a name: VAN DER PRINS.
Cute.
Harry committed the name and address to memory and Disapparated, determined not to return until he knew what the hell was going on. He wouldn’t let Snape and Malfoy catch him off-guard again.
And if his mind kept straying to Snape and Malfoy while he was wanking that night… well, that was only natural, wasn’t it?
***
The next day found Harry trying to sweet-talk the clerk in the Muggle Liaison office into getting him Muggle dossiers on the residents of 688 Bailey Lane without proper MLE authorization.
He hadn’t told Robards or anyone else about his discoveries, but he wasn’t exactly sure why. As an Auror, he had a legal obligation to report both Malfoy’s whereabouts and Snape’s continued existence, but something was holding him back. He needed more information before he decided on the next step.
Harry felt a little guilty playing the “Chosen One” card with the clerk, but it wouldn’t do her any harm and it was for a good cause. Or an important one, anyway. She couldn’t resist, and a couple of hours later Harry was sitting at his desk in the Ministry with what seemed like a million sheets of paper spread out in front of him.
Snape and Malfoy had been incredibly thorough in falsifying their Muggle backgrounds, and Harry couldn’t help but be impressed. Schuyler and Lucas van der Prins were ostensibly Dutch nationals who had taken up residency in the UK two years ago. Birth certificates, passports, visas, even driver’s licenses - everything was accounted for, including a marriage certificate issued by the Kingdom of the Netherlands in May of 2001.
That must be why they were pretending to be Dutch. Although same-sex marriage was and always had been legal in wizarding society, it wasn’t legal in Muggle society in the UK. If Snape and Malfoy wanted their marriage to be considered legitimate by the Muggles they were hiding among, it made sense for them to claim Dutch citizenship.
May of 2001, though - Malfoy would only have been twenty years old. That wasn’t exactly unheard of in the wizarding world, either, but still…how long had Snape and Malfoy been involved before that? Had they been sleeping together at Hogwarts?
Harry shook his head and put the marriage certificate aside, turning his attention to their employment records. Malfoy, who claimed to have been educated at Oxford, was working for a venture capital firm in London. By all accounts, he was doing quite well for himself, which didn’t surprise Harry at all. Snape was purporting to be a retired chemistry professor, which surprised Harry even less.
All in all, it seemed that Snape and Malfoy had done their best to keep their cover as close to the truth as possible, a standard espionage tactic. They lived a quiet, practically anonymous life.
Harry’s unease with exposing them deepened. They weren’t hurting or bothering anyone, just living peacefully in Muggle suburbia. What right did Harry have to disrupt that?
He was strongly tempted just to let it go and try to forget he had ever found them. But Malfoy probably knew where Lucius was, and that was something Harry couldn’t ignore. Draco had merely been a scared kid during the war; Lucius had been a self-aware adult acting of his own free will.
There was also the question of whether the other disappeared corpses were actually alive, as Snape was. That could have huge consequences. If Fenrir Greyback was still alive, for example…
Harry sighed. There was nothing for it. The best he could do was contact Snape and Malfoy and offer them immunity and anonymity in return for information, but if they didn’t agree to that, he’d have no choice.
He decided to go back the following night.
***
Under the cover of his Invisibility Cloak once more, Harry stood outside the van der Prins residence and thought about the best way to approach this. He had no doubt that Snape and Malfoy had multiple escape plans in place, and they wouldn’t hesitate to use them if Harry revealed himself before he breached the wards. It rankled his inner Gryffindor, but the best approach here was to sneak up on Snape and Malfoy and subdue them before they had a chance to act.
Accordingly, Harry worked his way back through the wards and into the yard. It was even easier this time, and he frowned. That was sloppy spellwork - not like Snape at all.
Harry went to the back of the house again. On his previous visit, he’d noticed a door in the kitchen that should provide easy access to the house, assuming that Snape and Malfoy weren’t in the kitchen themselves.
They were actually in the living room, which was right next to the kitchen and just as easily observed from the garden. Harry stopped short.
Snape was sitting on the end of a couch that was facing the window at a slight angle, and Malfoy was stretched out along the length of it with his head in Snape’s lap. Snape had some kind of journal propped up on the arm of the couch. He was using one hand to turn the pages while his other hand absentmindedly stroked Malfoy’s hair. Malfoy himself looked asleep, a paperback novel splayed open on his chest.
The domesticity of the scene made Harry’s chest ache, reminding him of what he could never have with Ginny. He forced himself to take a few more steps toward the back door.
Malfoy suddenly tensed and opened his eyes, frowning. Harry paused, although he knew there was no way Malfoy could have heard him. Sure enough, Malfoy’s expression quickly morphed into one of satisfaction as he arched his back in a slow, catlike stretch and dropped his book on the floor. He got up on his knees and pressed against Snape’s side, whispering in his ear.
Snape’s brow furrowed as he listened, not looking up from his journal. Even when Malfoy started kissing his neck, he didn’t respond immediately. He looked…not upset, exactly - more like reluctant. Must be an interesting article. Finally, he rolled his eyes and set the journal aside, pulling Malfoy into his lap and kissing him properly.
Christ, not again. Did these two ever give it a rest?
Harry didn’t know what to do. One the one hand, bursting in on Snape and Malfoy while they were so engaged was practically guaranteed to take them by surprise. On the other hand, Harry was pretty sure that it wouldn’t be ethical, and it would most certainly be awkward.
Maybe he should wait until after they’d finished. He could move to that comfortable-looking bench with his back to them, give them a little privacy…
That train of thought abruptly derailed as Snape pushed Malfoy’s shirt off his shoulders. The last time Harry had seen him, Malfoy had been much too thin and unhealthily pale, but the years since then had been good to him. Now he was just slender enough, and his skin, although still pale, glowed with health. Harry had never thought to describe a man as beautiful before, but there was no other word for Malfoy.
Like a moth drawn to a flame, Harry stepped away from the kitchen door, closer to the living room window. Malfoy had his hands tangled in Snape’s long black hair, rubbing himself against Snape’s body as they kissed. Snape moved his hands to Malfoy’s trousers, yanking them open almost viciously.
Malfoy stood up just long enough to strip off his trousers and pants and then settled back onto Snape’s lap, completely naked. He had a great arse; Harry had always favoured that particular body part. Ginny -
No. God, he was not going to think of Ginny here, like this, not when he was getting hard watching Snape’s agile hands on Malfoy’s arse.
And this time he couldn’t attribute it to simple shock and curiosity. He hadn’t stumbled across Snape and Malfoy mid-coitus; he’d known what they were going to do and he had kept watching anyway, when any normal person would have just left. In fact, he was still watching.
“Accio lubricant,” he heard Snape say, much more clearly than should have been possible.
Harry’s gaze fell on the window. It was open, and he frowned. He could have sworn that window was shut when he’d first arrived. Snape and Malfoy must be getting to him more than he’d thought.
He’d just have to make sure he kept quiet, then.
Snape unscrewed the jar that had landed in his outstretched hand and dipped two fingers in it. He squeezed Malfoy’s thigh, prompting him to rise up on his knees a little. Apparently Snape wasn’t interested in undressing himself; only the first couple of buttons on his shirt collar were undone, exposing a sliver of skin that Harry found more intriguing than he would have liked.
Fascinated, Harry watched as Snape moved his hand under Malfoy’s body, rolling his balls before tracing along the skin behind and pushing one long finger inside. Malfoy whined and spread his legs even further, and Harry’s breath caught. The position of the couch and the way Malfoy had his legs spread created the perfect angle for Harry to see everything.
He was right up against the window now, and so hard it was actually painful. He and Ginny had never had anal sex. They’d talked about it, but they’d mutually agreed that it seemed messy and painful and too much work for too little reward.
That opinion was being drastically reworked as Harry took in the way Snape added a second finger and slid them in and out of Malfoy’s hole, setting a slow, regular pace. Malfoy ground down on Snape’s fingers, moaning in unmistakable pleasure. Harry’s hands fisted in his jeans as he tried to keep from touching his cock.
It wasn’t long before Malfoy pushed Snape’s hand away. “Enough,” he panted. “Now. I need it now.”
“Eager, are we?” Snape said, amused.
Malfoy’s reply was unintelligible as he worked Snape’s trousers open, freeing his thick cock. Snape leaned back against the couch, stroking lazy patterns on Malfoy’s thighs as Malfoy slicked his cock with lube. The expression in Snape’s eyes was intense - like he was only just restraining himself from throwing Malfoy on the floor and fucking his brains out.
They kissed once more, open-mouthed and sloppy, before Malfoy got back up on his knees and used one hand to steady Snape’s cock while he lowered himself onto it. Harry bit his lip to keep from making any noise as he watched Malfoy sink down slowly, taking Snape’s cock inch by inch. It seemed like it should be impossible for something that big to fit inside Malfoy’s body, but Harry couldn’t see even a hint of pain on Malfoy’s face.
Harry pressed his hand against his cock, trying to ease the ache, but it only got worse as Malfoy rose up, almost all the way off Snape’s cock, and then sank back down again. And again. And again.
God, how could Snape stand it? Harry would have been begging for Malfoy to move faster by now, but Snape seemed almost relaxed, only his heavy breaths and the white-knuckled grip he had on Malfoy’s thighs any sign that he was barely keeping himself under control.
Malfoy braced his hands on Snape’s shoulders and started to pick up the pace, not rising up as far on his thrusts. He dropped his head back, eyes closed, and Snape leaned forward to kiss his throat.
Harry’s lust-fogged brain barely registered the fact that he had gone from pressing against his cock to rubbing it through his jeans. He was too far gone now, too entranced by the scene playing out in front of him to care.
One of Malfoy’s thrusts downwards made him cry out, his back arching and the muscles in his legs tensing up. Snape groaned and reached a hand between them, pulling on Malfoy’s cock. Malfoy squirmed against him.
“Severus, please, please, I can’t -”
Snape growled, grabbing Malfoy’s hips and flipping them over, pressing Malfoy flat against the couch and pushing his legs up so he was practically bent in half. He kept his iron grip on Malfoy’s thighs as he thrust fast and rough, the sound of his hips against Malfoy’s arse clearly audible.
Malfoy clutched the couch with one hand and wanked himself with the other, toes curling in pleasure. His cries rose in pitch and volume until his entire body shuddered and he came, writhing underneath Snape.
“Draco,” Snape gasped. “You…fuck…”
Harry came when Snape did, barely muffling his moan as his cock jerked in his jeans. Feeling dazed, he looked down at himself and the rapidly-forming wet spot. He couldn’t believe he’d just…What the hell was wrong with him?
He looked back up. Snape had slumped over Malfoy’s body, both of them looking incredibly sated. The more Harry’s brain cleared, the more disgusted he was with himself.
Malfoy ran his fingers through Snape’s hair. “I’m going to have bruises on my thighs,” he said. Then, affectionately, “Beast.”
Snape snorted and kissed him.
Harry fled.
***
It took two days for Harry to suppress his self-disgust and work up the nerve to visit again, only to find Malfoy riding Snape on the living room floor.
Two days after that, Snape had Malfoy up on the kitchen counter.
Then there was the incident with champagne and chocolate sauce that still got Harry hard when he thought about it, and the time Snape bent Malfoy over the ottoman, and the time Malfoy was tied spread-eagle to the kitchen table…
Two weeks after he’d first found Snape and Malfoy, Harry’s temper was frayed, his nerves were shot, and he’d never wanked more in his entire life. He was starting to think that Snape and Malfoy had been hit with some kind of curse that turned them into lust-crazed sex fiends, although it was beyond him why they couldn’t have sex in their fucking bedroom, where that kind of behaviour belonged.
Harry had considered going to the house during the day, while Malfoy was at work, but it was too likely that Snape would have some kind of sneaky way to send him a warning. So he’d tried going at different times in the evening - six o’clock, eight o’clock, right before midnight - but it didn’t matter when he went. Snape and Malfoy were always fucking. It would have been impressive if it hadn’t been so annoying.
At this point, the situation had gone from being slightly awkward to downright ridiculous, and Harry refused to put up with it anymore. He was taking them into custody tonight, and he didn’t care if they were in the middle of a goddamn orgy when he did it.
It took him less than a minute to get through the wards now, and Harry marched around the house and into the garden, eyeing the windows apprehensively to see what kind of crazy sex game Malfoy and Snape were playing tonight.
Snape was alone in the kitchen, drinking tea and reading a book.
Harry frowned, stopping a few paces from the kitchen door. Maybe Malfoy was working late tonight. That would be excellent; Harry could wait for him to come home and then apprehend them both before they had a chance to start on each other. He let out a breath, relieved that he wasn’t going to have to “catch” them in a compromising position, after all.
“Petrificus Totalus.”
It was so unexpected that Harry didn’t have time to do more than open his mouth in surprise before he toppled forward, stiff as a board. God, he hated this hex.
The Cloak was tugged away and Harry was rolled over, finding himself face-to-face with a much too amused Draco Malfoy.
“Now, isn’t this familiar?” Malfoy said. “You should really see someone about this stalking habit of yours, Potter. I’m flattered, honestly, but it’s getting a little sad.”
Harry glared as fiercely as he could without the use of his facial muscles. Malfoy just smirked and took Harry’s wand before standing up. He looked over towards the house.
“You’ll never guess what I found, Severus.”
“Just bring him inside, Draco,” Snape said from the doorway.
Malfoy cast a quick Mobilicorpus and floated Harry’s body inside, into the kitchen, bringing along the Cloak and Harry’s wand. He set Harry down on his feet and handed the items to Snape, who Disapparated. Harry’s body thrummed with impotent rage. No matter how much he had come to terms and found peace with Snape’s true loyalties, watching the man handle his father’s Cloak was infuriating.
A few moments later, Snape popped back into the kitchen. He nodded at Malfoy, and Malfoy lifted the Petrificus half a second before Snape hit Harry with an Incarcerous, forcing Harry down into the chair behind him, bound to it at the wrists and ankles.
Snape and Malfoy stood side by side in front of him. Harry glowered at them, focusing on his anger and using it to fuel his magic. If he could build up enough power, he could dissolve the bindings and knock his captors out in one burst of energy. He’d done it before.
Malfoy was the first one to break the silence. “Exactly how stupid do you think we are?”
Harry blinked, losing a bit of his grip on his magic as he tried to process that. “Er…what?”
“Did you really think we wouldn’t notice that our wards had been tampered with?”
Harry’s stomach plummeted and his blood turned to ice as several things occurred to him at once: the way the wards had been easier to get through each time, even though any competent ward-caster would have made it harder for a person to breach a specific ward a second time. The way the window had always been open. The fact that Snape had never, not once, undressed completely.
They’d known he was there.
“Oh, look, Severus,” Malfoy said. “I think he’s figured it out.”
Snape made a soft sound of amusement. “And it took him a mere two weeks. God help the MLE if this is the quality of the Aurors it’s turning out these days.”
Harry’s shock was quickly being replaced by suffocating humiliation. “The whole time?”
Malfoy shrugged. “We didn’t realize you’d been here the first time until after you’d gone. I wanted to leave, but Severus said that if you hadn’t arrested us then, there was a good reason for it. He thought you were too embarrassed to interrupt us.”
“But embarrassed was not all you were. Was it, Potter?” Snape said.
Harry ignored the taunt. “If you knew I was there, why didn’t you confront me? Why did you…” He couldn’t think of any way to describe what he’d seen without humiliating himself further.
“Insurance,” said Malfoy. “You don’t turn us in, we don’t out you as a Peeping Tom. I imagine you’d lose your job, at the very least.”
How had he fucked up this badly? Harry shook his head. “I didn’t want to turn you in. I don’t want to. I was going to offer you immunity in return for information.”
“What kind of information?” Snape said.
“About the other escaped Death Eaters.”
Malfoy’s expression shuttered. “We don’t know where they are.”
“Come on. You really expect me to believe that you have no idea where your father is?”
“Oh, I have no problem telling you where my father is.” Malfoy gave him a nasty smile. “He’s in Switzerland. Good luck.”
Harry groaned internally. He’d been afraid of that, and in fact, it was the reason that the MLE had never instituted a real manhunt for the Malfoys. The Swiss wizarding community was notorious for making it almost impossible to extradite fugitives. The chances that Lucius hadn’t had a bolthole in Switzerland had been slim, but Harry had hoped…
There was another thing he needed to know, though. Harry looked at Snape. “What about the bodies that disappeared? Are they alive, too?”
Snape raised his eyebrows, surprised. “Not that I know of.”
“Then why did you take them?”
“To give them a proper burial,” Malfoy said. “You lot would have just tossed them into a mass grave with no thought for the rituals.” He sighed. “Look, Potter. We have no idea where any of the escaped Death Eaters are. The Ministry isn’t the only thing we’re hiding from.”
Harry looked away, defeated. He felt like a world-class git. “Fine. Just give me my stuff back and I’ll leave. I won’t bother you again.”
“You were never bothering us, Potter,” Snape said. He moved to stand behind Malfoy, putting his hands on Malfoy’s hips. “I admit, I was…hesitant…at first, but Draco so enjoyed your visits.” Snape stroked Malfoy’s hair, and Malfoy arched into the touch. “He’s always had a bit of an exhibitionistic streak.”
Harry’s eyes widened as he watched Snape undo the first button of Malfoy’s shirt and run his fingers over the exposed skin. “What…what are you doing?”
Snape untucked Malfoy’s shirt, the slow slide of fabric mesmerizing and giving Harry a brief glimpse of Malfoy’s flat stomach. “All those times you watched us - don’t tell me you never thought about joining in.”
Harry’s eyes snapped up to meet Snape’s. Of course he’d thought about it - about what it would be like to have Malfoy’s arse wrapped around his cock, to have Snape inside him - but there was absolutely no way he was going to admit it. So he clenched his jaw and returned Snape’s gaze impassively, even as his cock swelled in his jeans.
Snape arched an eyebrow and turned his attention back to Malfoy, working his way down the row of buttons on Malfoy’s shirt. “Shall I tell him what you told me, that first night?”
Malfoy dropped his head back on Snape’s shoulder, watching Harry through heavy-lidded eyes.
“How you used to fantasize about him staying in the changing rooms after Quidditch to watch you shower?” Snape continued. “You would pretend not to know he was there, and you would wank for him, put on a little show until he lost control and fucked you against the shower wall.”
Stunned, Harry clutched at the arms of the chair. Malfoy used to fantasize about him?
The shirt hit the floor, and Malfoy’s eyes fluttered shut as Snape ran his hands over Malfoy’s chest, down to his stomach. “You like to be watched, don’t you, Draco?”
“Yes.”
“Vain,” Snape said, softly. He kissed Malfoy’s shoulder and knelt, removing Malfoy’s shoes and socks. Malfoy let himself be undressed, brushing a hand over Snape’s head. His breath was shallow, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
Harry tried to look away when Snape started to lower Malfoy’s trousers, but his eyes wouldn’t cooperate. Malfoy wasn’t wearing any pants, and when he stepped out of his trousers he was completely naked in all his smooth, pale-skinned glory, without a hint of embarrassment or discomfort.
Snape kissed Malfoy’s thigh and rose, taking Malfoy’s face in his hands and claiming his mouth. Malfoy pressed against him eagerly, his full cock rubbing against Snape’s hip. Harry closed his eyes, trying to get ahold of himself.
His eyes flew open again when he felt a hand on his knee. Malfoy was standing in front of him, looking at him intently. Harry groaned when Malfoy climbed onto the chair, straddling Harry’s lap and grinding his arse quite purposely against Harry’s trapped erection.
“All right, you’ve made your point,” Harry said hoarsely. “Stop playing with me and just let me go.”
Malfoy’s lips twitched. “We’re not done with you yet.”
Then Malfoy’s mouth was on his, soft yet demanding, and Harry was frozen in shock for only a second before he kissed back. It was sloppy and a little desperate on his part, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when Malfoy tasted and felt exactly like Harry had imagined he would.
Behind him, Snape put his hands on Harry’s shoulders, running them down Harry’s arms as he leaned over. Malfoy broke the kiss.
“I am willing to let you fuck my husband,” Snape said into Harry’s ear. “After I’ve had him first, of course.” He pressed his lips against the side of Harry’s neck.
“Fuck,” Harry gasped. “Oh, fuck.”
“You don’t want him?” Malfoy said to Snape, as if Harry wasn’t sitting right there.
“I do not believe he is ready for that. Another time, perhaps.”
Malfoy leaned forward to kiss Snape over Harry’s shoulder, and Harry took a moment to be relieved. Before he’d gotten a front-row seat to Snape and Malfoy’s live sex show, he’d never even considered letting another man fuck him. After seeing how much Malfoy enjoyed it, though, he knew it was something he wanted to try someday, and he’d fantasized about doing it with Snape. But fantasy and reality were two very different things, and the thought of actually doing it now filled him with apprehension. Snape was right. He wasn’t ready.
Wait. Another time? What the hell -
Malfoy kissed him again, effectively shutting off his brain. Malfoy was a good kisser, and his arse was rubbing against Harry’s cock just so, and Snape’s mouth was on his neck, kissing and sucking and biting a little…
“Would you like me to free your hands?” Snape asked.
“Yes. Please,” Harry said. A second later, the bindings on his wrists disappeared, and Harry’s hands immediately flew to Malfoy’s back, stroking the soft, warm skin he found there. He ran his hands down Malfoy’s sides, over his hips and thighs, delighting in the excited noise Malfoy made against his mouth.
Malfoy tugged at the hem of Harry’s T-shirt. Harry reluctantly removed his hands from Malfoy’s body and lifted his arms above his head so that Malfoy could get the shirt off. As soon as it had been removed, his hands were back, sliding through Malfoy’s irresistibly soft hair.
When Malfoy stood, pulling Harry up with him, Harry didn’t hesitate to follow. Snape must have removed the bindings from his ankles as well, though Harry couldn’t remember him doing so. He pulled Malfoy’s naked body against his own, their bare chests sliding together.
Snape pressed against Harry’s back, the solid warmth of his body somehow comforting and arousing at the same time. Malfoy pulled his mouth away from Harry’s to catch his breath, and Snape turned Harry around, leaning down to replace Malfoy’s mouth with his own before Harry had a chance to recover.
Harry clutched at Snape’s shoulders, feeling dizzy. Snape was a much more forceful kisser than Malfoy was, and Harry could barely breathe - especially when Malfoy started in on his shoulders and back, nipping at the top of his spine.
Just when Harry thought he really might pass out, Snape pulled back a little. “I’m going to Apparate you to the bedroom,” he said. Harry recognized the roughness in Snape’s tone from the times he had heard him speak to Malfoy during sex, and he shivered as he nodded.
A brief squeeze of Apparition and they were in the master bedroom, which was dominated by a large four-poster bed. Malfoy Apparated in right behind them.
“How do you want us?” he said to Snape.
Snape ran his eyes down Harry’s body - the first time he had ever looked at Harry with anything resembling approval. “Get him out of his clothes.”
Harry wanted to protest the way Snape and Malfoy kept talking about him instead of to him, but then Malfoy’s hands were on his belt and it seemed silly to complain at all.
Once Harry was naked, Malfoy pushed him down onto the bed and climbed on top, rubbing against him and stroking Harry’s cock leisurely. “Nice, Potter,” he purred. “I’d always thought you might be compensating for something with all your heroics, but in this case I’m glad to be proved wrong.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. “I’ll show you compensate,” he growled, flipping them over and pinning Malfoy to the bed, biting his shoulder. He would never have been so rough with Ginny, but he’d watched Snape treat Malfoy like this enough times to know that Malfoy liked it. It felt good not to have to hold himself back for once.
Sure enough, Malfoy arched up underneath him with a pleased moan. Harry moved his hand down to Malfoy’s arse, squeezing hard before travelling down to a place he’d never touched on anyone else’s body before. Malfoy was already slick with lubricant, ready to be fucked. Harry stifled his groan against Malfoy’s shoulder.
Malfoy smirked up at him. “Did I forget to mention that we started without you?”
Before Harry could formulate a response, Snape pulled him onto his back again. Harry had never seen him fully naked before, and he was so preoccupied by taking in the lean lines of Snape’s body that he didn’t register his wrists being bound to the headboard until it was done.
“Since I know how much you enjoy watching, Mr. Potter, that is exactly what you’re going to do.” Snape ran his hands down Harry’s outstretched arms.
Harry craned his head up to look at the bindings. They were silky and soft and not at all uncomfortable, but he didn’t know if he was okay with being tied up like this around Snape and Malfoy.
Sensing his unease, Malfoy kissed him. “They’re not tight,” he said. “You can get out of them if you really want.”
Harry tested the give of the bindings. Malfoy was right; he could break them with a little effort if he needed to. The thought reassured him, and he shook his head. “It’s fine.”
“Good,” Snape said. He kissed Malfoy across Harry’s body, and the frustrating thrill of being able to watch but not touch sent a thrum of excitement through Harry.
Malfoy moved so that he was kneeling over Harry on all fours, his knees on either side of Harry’s hips and his hands next to Harry’s shoulders. Harry’s cock strained upwards, almost brushing Malfoy’s.
Snape knelt behind Malfoy and kissed the small of his back. “You won’t come until he fucks you,” he said.
Malfoy let out a shaky breath. “All right.”
Snape grasped Malfoy’s hips and drove home in one quick thrust. Malfoy dropped his head, closing his eyes and biting his lip, his face only a foot from Harry’s. His hands fisted in the coverlet next to Harry’s shoulders.
If Harry had thought watching Snape and Malfoy fuck from the back garden was hot, it was nothing compared to seeing it close-up. Snape was fucking Malfoy practically in Harry’s lap, and Harry could see their muscles working, hear even the quietest noises they made. Harry grabbed at his bindings, needing something to hold on to. He badly wanted to lift his hips, try to grind his cock against Malfoy’s, but he couldn’t brace his legs with Snape kneeling over them.
Malfoy made a desperate noise and dropped down onto his elbows, his cock grazing against Harry’s. It wasn’t nearly enough friction to bring Harry off, but if felt good in a maddening sort of way. Harry lifted his head to kiss Malfoy, which was a little complicated when Malfoy’s body was rocking back and forth with such force but still well worth the effort.
Malfoy rested his head in the crook of Harry’s neck, his moans soft and continuous. Harry looked up at Snape, and his breath stilled at the way Snape’s eyes held his, dark and intense and powerful. Harry understood that Snape was sharing something precious with him - the most precious thing he had - and he felt an overwhelming surge of emotion. There was lust, of course, and gratitude, but there was also confusion and doubt and a horrible fear that he would prove unworthy and bollocks everything up.
Harry looked away when it became too much, pressing his face against Malfoy’s hair and breathing in deeply. Malfoy was already getting close; his body was trembling and the noises he was making were getting sharper and higher-pitched. Harry knew that Malfoy could come untouched if he was turned on enough - he’d seen it just last week.
Thinking along the same lines, Snape slowed his thrusts. “Do I need to stop?”
“No,” Malfoy said. “No, I can do it.”
Snape stroked Malfoy’s sides soothingly before resuming his previous pace, hips snapping hard and fast. Malfoy made a strangled noise and bit down on Harry’s shoulder none too gently. Harry yelped in an odd mix of pain and pleasure, then groaned when Malfoy sucked hard at the same spot. His restrained body twisted ineffectually.
Malfoy moved his mouth to Harry’s collarbone, obviously trying to distract himself from his threatening orgasm by bruising as much of Harry’s skin as possible. Harry struggled to control himself. If this went on much longer, he was going to come untouched, and he wanted to come inside Malfoy.
Harry chanced a glance back at Snape’s face, relieved to see that Snape’s eyes were closed - a sure sign he was close to climax. Snape’s rhythm faltered, and he lasted a few more erratic thrusts before letting out a low shout, his hips jerking against Malfoy’s arse.
As always, Harry found himself fascinated by Snape’s orgasm. During sex, the man held himself under near-superhuman control, only allowing himself to let go at the last possible moment. That moment of release was incredible to watch, as Snape’s sallow skin flushed with pleasure and his hard features softened, making him…not handsome, exactly - Snape would never be that - but undeniably attractive.
When Snape finally withdrew, Malfoy’s entire body was shaking with the effort of holding himself back. Snape stroked his hair as he moved to lie next to Harry. Malfoy let out a soft sigh.
Snape pressed against Harry’s side, tracing Harry’s lips with his thumb. “You’ll fuck him now, with my come still inside him.”
“Oh, God,” Harry breathed, his cock twitching at the mere thought.
Malfoy’s eyes were glazed and his cheeks were pink. “I need a minute,” he said, rising up from his elbows to his hands again.
Snape grasped Harry’s chin and kissed him. Harry kissed back eagerly, a little embarrassed by the sounds he was making but unable to suppress them. He’d never been kept in such a heightened state of arousal for so long, and he’d long since lost all ability to think rationally.
“That’s not really helping,” Malfoy said.
Snape gave a final bite to Harry’s lower lip before breaking the kiss. “Now,” he said to Malfoy.
Harry tugged on the restraints. “Are you going to untie me?”
Snape raised an eyebrow. “No.”
“Then how - ?”
Malfoy settled himself on Harry’s hips, scooting back so that Harry’s erection pressed against his arse.
“Oh,” Harry said. Then, as it really hit him that he was about to see Malfoy ride his cock, “Oh, fuck.”
Malfoy seemed to be regaining his equilibrium as quickly as Harry was losing his. Rising back up on his knees, he took the lube that Snape handed to him and slicked Harry’s cock rather carelessly before tossing the jar aside. He shot Harry a smirk - the same smirk that, not an hour ago, had made Harry itch to smack him in the face. Now it was just unbearably hot.
“Think you’re ready for this, Potter?”
Harry fought the urge to break the restraints and throw Malfoy down on the bed. “Just do it.”
Snape reached over to hold Harry’s cock steady while Malfoy lowered himself onto it, and Harry’s eyes rolled back in his head. Even after being fucked by Snape, Malfoy’s arse was still the tightest, most incredible thing Harry had ever felt. He forced his eyes back open so he could watch Malfoy take him all the way inside, noting with pleasure that Malfoy was certainly no longer smirking.
When Malfoy was steady, Snape ran his hand up Harry’s stomach to his chest, catching a nipple and pinching it. Malfoy lifted himself up, still moving far too slowly for Harry’s liking, and Harry could see Snape’s come sliding out of Malfoy’s arse and down his own cock.
He almost died for a second.
It took everything Harry had not to come right then, as every muscle in his body tensed and shuddered. He was not going to embarrass himself, not in front of these two.
Snape hummed in approval against Harry’s neck, but Malfoy didn’t seem to have noticed. He was working Harry’s cock languidly, his eyes closed and his head thrown back, wanking himself with slow, lazy strokes.
While Harry’s brain appreciated the picture Malfoy made, his cock did not. “Malfoy,” he said, and waited for Malfoy’s eyes to flutter open. “Move.”
Malfoy’s hips slowed even more, which Harry would have previously thought impossible. “I am moving.”
Harry glared at him before he realized that since Snape was no longer kneeling over his legs, there was no reason he couldn’t move them. He bent his knees, braced his feet against the bed, and slammed his hips up, burying his aching cock to the hilt.
Malfoy gasped and fell forward, catching himself with his hands on Harry’s chest. “Potter,” he said, shocked and aroused.
Harry didn’t respond, just kept thrusting his hips up into Malfoy’s tight body until Malfoy made a sobbing noise of pleasure and started riding him in earnest.
“Good,” Snape said, nipping at Harry’s earlobe. “He needs to know who’s in charge.”
Harry moaned as Snape’s mouth traveled over his neck and shoulder, adding marks to match the ones Malfoy had left on the other side. Malfoy looked like sin incarnate, fucking himself on Harry’s cock with wild abandon, bracing himself with one hand while he pulled at his cock with the other. His lips were swollen from biting them and his hair was falling in his face; his skin gleamed with sweat.
Harry spoke before he realized he was going to. “God, Malfoy, you look so fucking sexy-”
Malfoy cried out and came all over Harry’s chest, his arse tightening convulsively and making Harry cry out a little himself. Malfoy stopped moving when his orgasm passed, breathing heavily and still seated fully on Harry’s cock. Harry was so close he could already feel it, and he twisted his hips in frustration.
“Draco,” Snape said sharply. “Don’t be selfish.”
Malfoy scowled at him before putting his hips back in motion, supporting himself with both hands on Harry’s chest now so he could get better leverage. A few more thrusts and Harry was almost there, almost there, and then Snape slid a finger through the come on Harry’s chest and brought it to Harry’s lips. Harry came even as he opened his mouth for Snape’s finger, catching it roughly with his teeth. His arms jerked painfully against the restraints as his back arched off the bed, his legs locking up, and it was so intense that his vision blacked out for a second.
He fell back against the bed, limp and dazed. He felt…lighter.
His mind floated, and he barely noticed Malfoy moving off of him. Snape released the restraints and pulled his arms back down; it hurt in a kind of far-off way. Then he was being turned on his side, Snape pressing up against his back and Malfoy against his front, wrapping themselves around him like snakes seeking heat.
Harry closed his eyes, letting himself bask in the afterglow for a bit. It would be over soon enough, and he would have to go back to his empty house and his empty bed. He might as well enjoy this while it lasted.
“Next time, you can be the one who’s not allowed to come when he fucks you,” Malfoy mumbled sleepily into his chest.
Harry’s eyes popped open. He was sure that Malfoy was mocking him, but Malfoy was curled up against him, half-asleep. Behind him, Snape’s breath was slow and even as he absentmindedly rubbed Harry’s sore shoulder.
Harry didn’t know what to think. He’d been sure this was just a one-off - Snape and Malfoy getting back at him for the times he had watched them together. How could it be anything else? Even leaving aside their less-than-rosy personal history, Snape and Malfoy were married. Married couples did not have lovers.
Did they?
He lifted his hand cautiously and stroked Malfoy’s hair. Malfoy just sighed softly. Harry looked at the platinum strands running over his fingers, remembering what had started all this - a brief glimpse of that hair out of the corner of his eye. Then he frowned.
“Malfoy, can I ask you something?
“Now?”
“It’s important.”
“What?” Malfoy said, opening his eyes.
“Why don’t you wear a glamour when you go to London?” Harry asked. “Wizards go there all the time, you know. Anyone could see you and recognize you.”
Malfoy blinked. “Is that how you found us? You saw me in London and followed me home?”
“Yeah.”
Malfoy exchanged an indecipherable look with Snape over Harry’s shoulder. “Potter, I do wear a glamour when I go out. A strong one. The only way you’d have been able to see past it would be if you were expecting to see me.”
“That’s still not very safe,” Harry said. “If anyone started looking for you -”
“Not looking for me, Potter,” Malfoy interrupted. “Expecting to see me. As in certain that you were about to bump into me at any moment.”
Harry remembered all the times he had thought exactly that, if only in the back of his mind. “…Oh.”
Malfoy laughed. “Merlin, you’re obsessed. Stalker.” He kissed Harry briefly on the lips. “You’re just lucky Severus doesn’t mind.”
Snape snorted and kissed Harry’s shoulder. “Are you two intending to chatter all night?”
“Apparently the old man needs his rest,” Malfoy said to Harry.
Snape reached over and pinched Malfoy’s hip. Malfoy squeaked and batted his hand away.
Harry smiled.