Fic: Traditions and Innuendo (Harry/Draco) - part 1/2
I wrote a fic for hp_yule_balls this year. It's a soppy fluffy sexy little thing that was loads of fun to write.
Author: mayfly_78
Title: Traditions and Innuendo
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. All characters engaging in sexual activity are 16 years or older.
Summary:The last thing Harry wants is for Malfoy to jam another pure-blood tradition down his throat, especially if he's going to be so flirtatious while doing it.
Warnings:explicit sex, overabundance of UST, cringeworthy innuendoes, possible mangling of Yule traditions
Word Count: ~18.800
Author's Notes:This was written for cassie_black12 for the 2009 hp_yule_balls .
Many, many thanks to my gorgeous beta raisinous_fiend for putting up with my bad grammar, impossible tardiness and panic attacks. And also for being brutally honest and not letting me get away with anything. All remaining inconsistencies are mine.
Traditions and Innuendo
Part 1/2
If he were to think back, he could pinpoint exactly where it all started. At the time it had seemed a perfectly ordinary night, which had been preceded by a perfectly ordinary day. He had had no premonitions, no strange feelings, there had been nothing portentous at all in the air.
That was how, unaware of what was to come, Harry was sitting in the Auror Headquarters on the night of the 3rd of July 2007. It had been a perfectly dull Tuesday, and the night promised to be just as dull. Normally Harry liked taking the night shift; there was more promise of action and adrenaline-fuelled chases through night-time London. Even though, if he were being completely honest, the chases hadn’t actually happened yet. But he was hoping they would, eventually.
Harry sat in his cubicle, doodling on the back of an old report. It was a hot muggy night, the sort that sapped all energy and willpower to move. Harry was pretty sure he wouldn’t have to move from his chair until his shift was over - barring the occasional toilet break of course - so he made himself more comfortable in his Ministry-issue chair and chewed the end of his quill as he wondered whether his doodle looked more like a cat or a cow. He decided to add whiskers and a longer tail to settle the matter.
"Potter, Cummings, Fairweather, we have a call." Bernice, the night shift’s secretary, had the bad habit of sneaking up on them when they least expected her. Harry nearly put his quill through his parchment in surprise, Cummings slid off the side of the desk he had been dozing on and fell on the floor, and Fairweather hit her head against the underside of her desk - what she had been doing under there was anyone’s guess.
Bernice snickered. "A report of Disturbance Of The Peace in Trafalgar Square. Hop to, gentlemen and lady."
They got to their feet with a minimum of enthusiasm. It was probably just a group of drunken wizards and witches who decided to take their merrymaking a bit too far. Harry sighed as he followed the others out the door. Being an Auror certainly wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be.
"Oh, Potter," the secretary called out just as he was about to leave.
"Yes, Bernice?"
"Let’s avoid calling in the Obliviators this time, shall we?" She gave him a wide smile as the others tittered behind him.
Harry ducked his head to hide his blush and quickly ushered the others out. You make one, one, stupid call and they never let you live it down.
They Apparated into a secluded side street and walked to Trafalgar Square, expecting to find a large group of loud and rowdy youths, only to find the place practically deserted. A Muggle drunk lifted his bottle in greeting and continued trying to put on the robe he had found. Harry looked closer: it was definitely a wizard’s robe, quite a fine one too, with an embroidered trim of gold thread. Actually, now that he was looking, there was a whole trail of clothes leading towards...
"Look, over there!" Cummings called out.
...the fountain. A single, bright figure was cavorting in the fountain. As they jogged closer it became apparent that he was male and very, very naked and very, very drunk. He was mangling an old Celestina Warbeck song as he held a half empty champagne bottle aloft. From what Harry could see he was rather fit; he had angular wide shoulders that tapered down to a trim waist and a rather luscious arse. Harry found himself staring in appreciation and idly wondering how unprofessional it would be to proposition the man. Would it be better if he did it before or after he arrested him? Harry felt like hitting himself. There he went, doing it again! Ever since his successful, and final, defeat of Voldemort, Harry’s long dormant sex drive has reared its ugly, and irrepressible, head and gone into overdrive. Sometimes he wished he could just turn the bloody thing off!
Fairweather jabbed him sharply in the ribs with her elbow, cutting his musings off and bringing him abruptly back to the matter at hand, but unfortunately doing nothing to his annoying libido. Cummings took a couple of steps forward.
"Please turn around and come with us in an orderly manner!" Cummings called out in his best authoritative voice. Fairweather snickered and Harry stood up straighter.
The blond with the gorgeous backside stopped singing and clumsily turned round. Harry had just enough time to make out a well defined chest, an attractive cock and Malfoy’s face, in that order - Harry had priorities after all, - before the drunk blond lost his footing and fell down with a big splash.
Fairweather laughed out loud, Cummings tsked and Harry stared gobsmacked. Malfoy? It was a testament to how ridiculously oversexed he had become that the knowledge of the identity of his current object of lust made no difference to his libido. If the convulsive twitch his cock just made was anything to go by, it seemed to be rather turned on by the turn of events. Harry always had suspected that he was a bit of a pervert.
Malfoy was not deterred by his fall. "Oops!" he exclaimed brightly as he popped his sopping wet head out of the water. He slung an arm over one of the bronze mermen and took a swallow out of his bottle. Harry’s eyes immediately tracked the bobbing of his Adam's apple before dropping to hungrily check out his glistening pectoral muscles and peaked pink nipples. He swallowed hard, earning himself another sharp elbow in his ribs. He really needed to get laid soon. Maybe then he would be able to properly concentrate on his job.
Malfoy made a face and threw away his bottle, just as Harry was surreptitiously adjusting his trousers.
Cummings tapped his wand briskly against his thigh and gave an annoyed huff. "That’s enough of that!" he said brusquely. "Pull yourself together, man, and for heaven’s sake cover yourself, there’s a lady present."
"Don’t mind me," Fairweather retorted cheerily. "I’m quite enjoying the view. Not as much as Potter though."
Harry sputtered and muttered, ‘traitor’ under his breath. Malfoy, however, visibly perked up. "Potter?" he asked. "Did you say Potter?" He looked around blearily until he saw Harry.
"Ah, my dear Potter!" he exclaimed. Harry hadn’t thought he’d ever see Malfoy happy to see him; he wondered how many bottles of champagne it had taken. "Fancy seeing you here," Malfoy went on in an overly loud and bright voice, slurring his words only the slightest bit. "What’s a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?"
Harry swore he felt his eyes bulge. Fairweather slapped him on the back and laughed out loud. Malfoy gave her a bright grin and a flourishing bow and promptly fell on his arse once more.
Cummings ground his teeth. "Oh for the love of..." he muttered. "Potter!" he barked. "He obviously knows you. Go and fish the pathetic sod out. The sooner we get him out of there and back to Headquarters and booked, the sooner I can forget this whole sorry episode ever happened."
Fairweather gave him a helpful push forward and Harry stumbled as he made his way towards his old rival. He was so confused that he hardly knew if getting closer to the wetnakeddrunkeninsufferablewankerbloodygorgeous blond was a good or bad thing. Even though he had to admit that there was a big part of him that was just itching to get its hands on the enticing man.
By the time he got to the edge of the fountain, Malfoy had helpfully paddled over - if only he were this accommodating sober! - so all Harry had to do was lean over, grab him under the arms and lift him up and over and out of the water. Malfoy let out a surprised squeak as Harry lifted him, but quickly took to the idea, wrapping his arms around Harry and laying his head on Harry’s shoulder. Water started to seep through Harry’s robes as he awkwardly held on to the blond, at loss as to what to do next. He consciously gritted his teeth in an effort to keep himself from groping the delightfully slender man in his arms.
With a muttered spell Cummings dried them, making Draco jump and squeak once more before humming in contentment and snuggling into Harry. Harry’s brain short-circuited as he felt a firm chest and a warm, slowly hardening cock plaster themselves against him. Perks of the job, he thought to himself before yelping. Malfoy had grabbed his arse. "Nice," he whispered into Harry’s shell-shocked ear. A second later, Cummings had pulled him off and unceremoniously wrapped him in the robe with the gold trimming. In the background the drunk could be heard grumbling.
"Let’s get him back to Headquarters." Cummings held Malfoy up as if he were something distasteful; he had clearly had enough of him.
Malfoy squirmed in the unfriendly grip. "No, I want Potter," he whined. Cummings growled and thrust Malfoy forward. "Take him," he said, and Harry did. The Slytherin’s weight felt oddly comfortable and familiar in his arms. Giving in to his baser urges, he held Malfoy much closer than he strictly had to.
Malfoy didn’t seem to mind in the least. "Hey, handsome," he whispered drunkenly in Harry’s ear. "Wanna take this somewhere more private?" In response Harry gripped him even tighter and Apparated them both to the Auror Headquarters’ Apparition Chamber. Fairweather and Cummings were already waiting for them.
Malfoy opened his eyes and slurred, "Where’s the bed? I have a whole list of naughty things you can do to me." For a split second Harry wondered how much trouble he would get into if he Apparated Malfoy back to his flat and took up his offer.
He was abruptly jolted out of his brief, but very pleasant daydream, as Fairweather’s laughter filled the room and Cummings opened the door. "Come on, let’s get this over with," Cummings ground out.
After that, things went rather speedily. Malfoy seemed to fall from his drunken high and barely kept from nodding off after they deposited him in a chair. The booking was quickly done and it was only a matter of minutes to fire-call Malfoy Manor.
Harry experienced another first: he had never thought he would ever see Mrs Malfoy in a dressing gown, and he was sure he never would again. Cummings’ drooling was practically audible in the background. It was easy to see where Malfoy got his looks from.
Mrs Malfoy was polite and accommodating. In no time at all, she had bundled up her erring son and Flooed them both back to the Manor. Harry felt almost sorry to see them go.
Harry and the others quickly wrote up the necessary report and filed it. Afterwards Harry made a quick trip to the toilets to deal with the little problem Malfoy had left him with. On his way back to his cubicle he was feeling much more clear-headed already. He shook his head in disbelief toward the way he had let Malfoy of all people get to him. It had been nothing more than an aberration, he assured himself. A testament to how desperately he needed to get laid.
Soon after, Harry was back to whiling away the rest of his shift doodling farm animals, with varied rates of success. Picking Malfoy up had been rather diverting, and was certain to make an interesting anecdote the next time he was out with his friends. Of course he would not be telling them about his temporary lapse of judgement, there was no need for him to embarrass himself. There was no way he could have known what was to follow - and even if he had, he doubted he could have prevented the way events unfolded.
Five months later
"He’s here again!"
Ron’s head popped into Harry’s cubicle just as he had finished his second morning tea and was wondering whether he should finish off his late reports or get himself another one of those delicious biscuits from the tea room.
"Almost every bloody Friday!" Harry exclaimed, exasperated, to his grinning friend. He dragged himself out of his chair. "All right, let’s see what he’s dreamed up this time."
Ron continued grinning and led the way. There was a time, Harry thought with fond nostalgia, that just the thought of Draco Malfoy poncing around the Auror Headquarters and telling them what to do would have had Ron in a lather. Harry heaved a heavy sigh. Gone were those days. Lately Ron had even begun looking forward to Malfoy’s practically weekly visits.
A group of Aurors was slowly congregating near the notice board. The notice board Malfoy had put up so he could erect his various edicts and propositions and regulations. All with the official seal of the Department for the Advocation of Integration and the Development of Equality (or AIDE for short).
Harry easily pushed through the small group to take a look at Malfoy’s latest work and assess the amount of bother it would give him. He resolutely didn’t look at Malfoy standing to one side, preening. He didn’t notice the gleaming blond hair, styled to perfection, or the fashionable muted purple robes that highlighted his shoulders while lightly skimming over his hips and opening to showcase his long lean legs. Using the great force of will he was famous for, Harry concentrated all his attention on the notice taking pride of place amongst all the older ones.
It only took him three attempts to finally manage to read the short notice. Harry was quite proud of himself. Malfoy might douse himself in that delicious aftershave and answer questions using that deceptively soft and melodious voice, but he could not distract Harry. Harry read the notice a fourth time, just to be sure, and because he had just forgotten what it said.
"Yule?" he asked perplexedly. "You want the Ministry to officially recognise and celebrate Yule?"
Malfoy looked at Harry with his preternaturally large and luminous eyes. "Yes," he said seriously. "Yule time and Yule traditions are an important and integral part of Wizarding Tradition and Pure-blood Culture." Harry could actually hear the other man capitalising. "We at the Office for the Preservation and Promotion of Wizarding Tradition and Pure-blood Culture think that it’s about time the Ministry officially recognised it as such. And to that means we have already made our petition - and are currently gathering signatures. We have also arranged that this year the Ministry will be celebrating Yule, so you less fortunate can see what you’re missing."
Malfoy gave Harry a winning, and infuriatingly superior, smile. Harry clenched his fists in annoyance.
"Brilliant, isn’t it?" Ron butted in, obviously quite taken with the idea. "Yule’s a bit like Christmas, only longer and with more drinking and stuff. Also, Malfoy wants to make Yule Day a holiday!"
Harry turned to look at his friend. "You knew about this," he accused him.
Ron rolled his eyes. "Of course I did. Malfoy works for Hermione’s department, doesn’t he? We had him over for dinner on Wednesday and he told us all about his proposal. Hermione’s very excited by it. She loves anything new, she does."
"Yes," Malfoy put in, his clipped accent coming in sharp contrast with Ron’s. "Hermione is very open-minded and accepting, unlike some others." He shot Harry a sharp accusing look and Harry scowled in response. Bloody Slytherin git, underhandedly winning over his friends behind his back.
Following his usual confusing and suspect tactics, Malfoy quickly changed tack and winked at Harry. He leaned close to Harry. "Don’t worry," he said in a low, intimate voice that could almost be called throaty, "I’ll make sure you enjoy it. I can make it very good for you."
While Harry opened and closed his mouth, rendered speechless once more by the blond, Malfoy stood up straight again.
"Well," he said in a bright, loud voice. "My work here is done. I can hear the siren call of the empty notice boards all over the Ministry, asking to display our new, brilliant announcement. I will be visiting again anon, but for now I must spread the good word!"
With his usual ostentatious flourish and a toss of his gleaming silver hair, Malfoy spun on his expensive heel and strutted out of Auror Headquarters, purple robes flapping.
As usual Harry felt like he had just been hit with a combination of a Stunning Spell and a Confundus: disoriented, vaguely irritated and unaccountably sexually frustrated. He turned to talk to Ron.
"Did you hear what he said to me?" he asked. When Ron just looked at him, perplexed, Harry felt the need to elaborate. "How he would make sure I enjoy it?"
Ron shrugged unconcernedly. "Yule will be fun, you’ll see. That’s all Malfoy was saying. He’s not too bad a bloke once you get to know him."
Harry looked at Ron incredulously. There was a time when Harry had thought his friends to be immune to Malfoy’s insidious charm. "And you really should stop imagining he’s coming on to you," Ron added offhandedly, making Harry gape. "I asked him about it."
"You asked him about it!" Harry’s voice broke into an unmanly high pitched screech on the last word.
"Yup," Ron confirmed, unperturbed. "I told him that you think he’s flirting with you."
"You told him..." Harry spluttered. Merlin save him from his friends!
"He thought it was rather funny. He asked if you often accuse people of flirting with you. So really you’re just imagining things." Ron gave Harry a sympathetic pat on the back and went to get himself some more biscuits from the tea room.
"I’m just imagining things?" Harry couldn’t help but feel disappointed and betrayed by his friends. First Hermione and now Ron? As he trudged back to the safety of his Malfoy-free cubicle, he couldn’t help but ruminate on how it had all begun.
He supposed that it all must have started with that fateful night they booked Malfoy. The Ministry protected their own and the next day not a whisper of ‘Malfoy’s little impropriety’, as Harry had heard some call it, had got out. However, despite the Ministry’s best efforts on his behalf, Malfoy’s name still managed to find its way into the headlines.
Greengrass Daughter Gives Gay Malfoy Heir the Boot! the Daily Prophet’s front page had exclaimed the next day. Well, that certainly explains a lot, Harry had thought as he skimmed through the article. The divorce had been finalised the day before. The ink had barely dried on the parchments before Asteria Greengrass had walked into the Daily Prophet’s offices with her sob story. Soon Malfoy’s dirty linen had become a matter of public knowledge and public gossip. Everybody had seemed to particularly enjoy finding out Malfoy’s affinity for being ‘buggered by stable boys’. It was enough to drive anyone to drink!
It hadn’t taken long for the letters demanding Malfoy’s dismissal from the Ministry to come. It seemed like it was too much to ask the public to employ the homosexual son of a Death Eater. Predictably Hermione had been up in arms. "This is preposterous!" she had exclaimed for all to hear. "This is blatant discrimination!" she had assured them. "And my department will not stand for it!"
After a short stint in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Hermione had managed to persuade Minister Shacklebolt that the Ministry was in desperate need of a new department. And thus the Department for the Advocation of Integration and the Development of Equality (AIDE) was created with Hermione as its head. She was heralded as the youngest department head the Ministry had seen in three hundred years. Hermione took it all in stride and began her campaign to combat discrimination and infringement of rights and freedoms immediately.
But even though Malfoy had started out as another one of Hermione’s causes, before long, to Harry’s and Ron’s consternation, they had ended up becoming friends. Malfoy had managed to keep his job at the Ministry, but after less than two weeks he had asked to be transferred out of the International Magical Trading Standards Body, where he had been working, and into the Department of AIDE. And that had been the beginning of the end as far as Harry had been concerned.
Whereas by herself Hermione had run a well-meaning and necessary, but ultimately rather annoying, department, with Malfoy by her side the department had turned into an in-suppressible thorn in the Ministry’s side, prepared to go to any lengths to ram its vision of political correctness down everyone’s throats. What was even worse was that Harry had had to listen to Hermione rhapsodise about what an irreplaceable addition to her department Malfoy had become.
It had begun rather well with the Freedom of Sexual Expression Bill becoming the second bill Hermione’s department managed to get the Wizengamot to approve after the Werewolf Rights Bill of the previous year. But soon enough they had begun championing the Ghost and Spirits Marriage Bill, which had put the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures’ nose out of joint; and demanding that each Ministry department employ a minimum quota of hags, vampires and Squibs, which had put every department’s nose out of joint.
Not too long after that Hermione had let Malfoy create his own office in the department, the Office for the Preservation and Promotion of Wizarding Tradition and Pure-blood Culture. "He will still be helping with the department’s important actions," Hermione had told Harry. "But he wanted his own pet project, and I think it’s brilliant!" "Not a bad idea for an office, that," Ron had said. "It might come in handy." Horror of horrors, Ron had become friends with Malfoy!
That had been almost two months ago. Since then Harry had had to put up with Malfoy’s ever growing list of edicts, propositions, announcements and regulations. The old fogeys in the Wizengamot had loved Malfoy’s new office and approved every single thing he brought before them. The notice board in the Auror Headquarters, which Malfoy had so thoughtfully put up, fairly groaned under the weight of the parchment he had put up on it.
Even worse than that, Harry had had to put up with Malfoy’s near constant presence. Every now and then, with some excuse or another, Malfoy would swan into the Auror Headquarters with his distinctive cologne, gleaming hair and expensive robes, looking for all the world as if he had come out of the pages of a fashion magazine, to make Harry’s life miserable. Malfoy would alternately call Harry out for infractions real and imagined, inform him of the new regulations he would be called on to enforce, and flirt outrageously with him. After every meeting with the impossible pure-blood, Harry was forced to flee to the toilets to release the tension Malfoy created. This time was hardly any different, so Harry carefully closed his door and sat behind his desk to unbutton his trousers and surreptitiously slip a hand inside.
It was more than Harry could stand. Whenever he tried calling Malfoy out on his inappropriate comments, or telling anyone else, the response was the same. He got laughed at. It was time Harry finally did something about it. Malfoy obviously thought it was some kind of game, so maybe Harry should just see if he could beat him at it.
Harry saw Malfoy again on Tuesday. He was still mulling over how he should go about putting Malfoy in his place, and as such he was caught quite unaware.
Harry had just arrived at the Auror Headquarters on Tuesday morning and was unobtrusively making himself a cup of tea in the tea-room when he heard raised voices from the main room. He waited until his tea had properly stewed - it was an exact procedure that one shouldn’t take lightly - and then, mug firmly clasped in one hand, he went out to explore. He should have known it would be Malfoy.
Malfoy - in an eye-catching shiny emerald green two-piece robe - was directing a troupe of Ministry elves while the Aurors looked on in varying degrees of amusement and interest. The elves seemed to be handling a huge piece of wood and trying to arrange it to Malfoy’s satisfaction. Finally they seemed to get it just right and Malfoy sent them on their way and looked around in evident self-satisfaction.
"What did you bring us a hunking piece of wood for, Malfoy? Is this some obscure pure-blood tradition?" Harry asked mockingly. The huge log was rough and gnarled and was anything but straight or decorative.
Malfoy let out a loud theatrical sigh. "Potter, whoever told you your boorish ignorance was endearing and loveable was lying. Please refrain from making more of a fool of yourself than is strictly necessary." Titters were heard from the audience of assembled Aurors and Harry flushed.
Malfoy spotted Fairweather in the crowd and doffed an imaginary hat in her direction. "Would the lovely Auror Fairweather be kind enough to inform poor naive Potter what this is?"
Fairweather smiled indulgently at Malfoy; ever since seeing him in the all-together in July she had developed quite a soft spot for the annoying prat, and he for her. She turned to Harry. She arched an eyebrow at him and said in an instructing manner reminiscent of Hermione, "It’s a Yule Log, Potter. A traditional Yule decoration."
"I couldn’t have said it better, milady." Malfoy blew Fairweather a gallant kiss she pretended to catch and gave her a cheeky grin.
Most of the Aurors started to disperse, Fairweather amongst them, evidently having seen a Yule Log before. Malfoy stalked closer to Harry, his strides oddly cat-like. "I would beg you to please not insult my ancestors’ customs," he said sharply. "If you just open your mind, you might find that you’ll enjoy it," he added, his voice going softer. "There are a lot of things I’m sure you’d enjoy if you opened your mind enough to try them." The last was said in a soft suggestive whisper practically in Harry’s ear, and Harry was left once more without a thing to say as his ear burned hot from Malfoy’s breath.
Malfoy took a small step away from Harry and gestured towards the Yule Log. "Traditionally a Yule Log is never bought, but always gifted, so my department has taken it upon itself to gift all the other Ministry departments with their own log." He paused for a second as if expecting praise. "I took particular care in choosing the logs. For the Aurors I chose the longest and thickest I could find. I’m told that you appreciate long thick pieces of wood." Malfoy’s voice was heavy with insinuation and as Harry turned to goggle at him, he saw that he had once more sidled closer to him and was giving him one of his inscrutable looks.
How Harry hated himself at that moment! Once more he let Malfoy make him feel like an inexperienced teenager, wide-eyed and tongue-tied. Malfoy’s words, said in that delicious posh voice and coming out of those delectable dainty pink lips, sent a jolt of electricity straight down to Harry’s groin. And then Harry got a whiff of Malfoy’s distinctive cologne and all was lost. He looked up into Malfoy's knowing clear grey eyes and gripped his tea mug harder for support.
"Yeah, well I’m sorry for before. It’s a lovely wood...I mean log! Thank you." To his relief Harry managed to sound relatively normal, and not in the least like a man who was now sporting a semi-hard on.
Malfoy gave Harry one of his sharp smiles. "Think nothing of it. We aim to please! I must leave you now, for I have many more logs to gift." With his usual theatrical swirl, Malfoy turned on his heel and strode out the Auror Headquarters. Harry sighed in relief and looked down at his forgotten tea. It was stone cold and undrinkable now; he would have to make a new cup. But first things first - a trip to the loo was now imperative.
As Harry took care of his Malfoy-induced problem in the relative privacy of a toilet stall, he couldn’t help but feel very disappointed with himself. Next time Malfoy visited he had to be prepared. He refused to let the little snot leave him tongue-tied one more time!
Harry trudged back to Auror Headquarters, annoyed and cold. He had been sent out to check out a possible sighting of a wanted wizard on the run. He should have known it would have been nothing more than a waste of time. As it was he had just spent almost two hours wading through mud for nothing. He couldn’t wait to get back to his office and have a nice warm cup of tea. Preferably accompanied by the nice cinnamon biscuits someone considerate left in the tea room this morning.
As he reached Auror Headquarters he heard the sounds of mild commotion. Knowing his luck, it would be Malfoy again. Taking a deep breath, he Disillusioned himself and slowly crept into the main room. He was right, it was Malfoy and his posse of elves. Holding his breath, he slowly and carefully crept through the room towards the tea-room. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the elves and a couple of fellow Aurors - damn their training - spot him, but thankfully no one said anything and Malfoy remained blissfully unaware.
Once in the relative safety of the tea-room, Harry breathed a sigh of relief and quickly busied himself with making a cup of tea. Once the tea was ready, he let himself collapse into a chair and sip his beverage. Slowly, slowly he could feel the aggravation and tiredness slipping away, only to be replaced by acute awareness of Malfoy’s presence in the next room and curiosity as to what he was up to.
When he felt up to it, he made his way towards the door, keeping his Disillusionment Charm up. Leaning against the doorjamb he was able to observe Malfoy, and perhaps admire him a little bit - mind you, just a very little bit.
Malfoy stood in the middle of the room, straight-backed, sharp chin proudly pointing upwards, dressed in mind-boggling robes, unbelievably tight and orange with a trim of what looked like green holly leaves. He looked ridiculous, and yet Harry’s unmanageable libido was urging him to go over and grab him, and then do unmentionable things to him.
Harry squelched his ridiculous urges, reminding himself what an utter and impossible prat Malfoy was. After the short inner scolding, Harry managed to tear his eyes away from the orange figure in the centre of the room and see what the elves were up to. Harry almost choked on his own spit when he saw.
Malfoy was expertly directing the elves to turn the Auror Headquarters into a giant over-decorated showroom. There were red, green, gold, white and silver spangles and ribbons absolutely everywhere. Huge wreaths of some sort of greenery hung on all the walls and every door-frame was literally covered in ivy and holly and was that mistletoe? It looked absolutely atrocious, and to make matters worse Malfoy was currently instructing the elves to position giant garish gold candles in strategically annoying spots.
After surveying the damage, Harry decided he would have to talk to Malfoy. Be polite, he instructed himself. Don’t be confrontational. Keep cool, and for Merlin’s sake don’t jump the bloody wanker! He dropped the Disillusionment Charm and carefully walked over, unconsciously mimicking the way he had seen Charlie Weasley approach the more irritable dragons in the reserve.
He timed his steps to coincide with the final positioning of the last candle. Malfoy motioned the elves to stand by and proudly looked over his creation, just as Harry took the last step to reach his side. Keep cool, Harry reminded himself. And don’t say anything stupid.
"Well this certainly looks... like a lot of work," Harry finally managed to force out in a pleasant, he hoped, tone.
The corners of Malfoy’s mouth curled up, making Harry irrationally proud of himself, but he didn’t turn round. His eyes were still roaming over the large room. Admiring his work or looking for faults? Harry wondered.
"I have made it my mission this year to make sure that all Ministry employees receive the full Yule experience," Malfoy answered haughtily.
Be polite, Harry told himself. And try to beat him at his own game. He racked his brain unsuccessfully for something suggestive to say.
"And you plan on doing it all by yourself?" Harry finally said. "Don’t you have any assistants?"
Malfoy gestured towards the elves. "All the assistants a determined pure-blood needs."
Harry wondered just what Hermione thought of that. Don’t be confrontational, he reminded himself just in time.
"So...you personally see to all the departments?" Harry asked, feeling just the slightest bit impressed.
Malfoy finally waved the elves away and turned round to look at Harry. "Why yes, I do," he said. "If you want anything done properly, you should do it yourself," he added before leaning conspiratorially closer to Harry. "My department is very hands on. Call it the personal touch, if you will." Malfoy had dropped his voice to a throaty whisper, and as if conditioned Harry’s body reacted as it always did.
Even though he could feel his temperature rising and his cock slowly hardening - why did it have to have such a hair-trigger? - Harry managed to force himself to breathe evenly. Keep cool. Don’t let him get to you.
Harry cocked his head to the side and pouted just a little. "I thought that you personally took care of only the Aurors." He tried his best to sound slightly disappointed and very flirty. He looked at Malfoy from under his lashes and cringed inwardly, afraid that he was getting it all wrong and making a fool of himself.
Harry was pleased to see Malfoy start and look surprised. Malfoy quickly wiped the surprise from his face and smiled, pleased. Harry’s temperature rose even higher, and he noticed that his heart-beat had gone up too.
"Alas," Malfoy answered. "I give all the departments the same treatment. But if you need any personal assistance in anything, my door is always open for you." Malfoy’s eyes were twinkling almost as distractingly as his pink lips were carefully enunciating every suggestive word. "You can have a private session any time you want, Auror." Malfoy’s mouth was practically at Harry’s ear and his hot whisper made shivers run down Harry’s spine.
Harry’s cock was now throbbing uncomfortably. I wonder if Malfoy likes to talk dirty in the bedroom, Harry’s irrepressible libido thought. The last remaining logical part of his brain squashed the thought. Keep cool. Don’t let him win again.
Using all his impressive will-power to keep his voice from wavering, Harry managed to answer sounding relatively nonchalant. "I might take you up on it."
Malfoy’s eyes twinkled even more and he smiled. "You should," he said before nodding and striding out of Auror Headquarters.
Once Malfoy had left, Harry let himself relax and blow out a deep breath. That hadn’t gone too bad. Even though he still had a long way to go to make Malfoy lose his cool, he had managed to keep his own, even if he did forget to say something about the horrid decorations. Smiling in satisfaction, Harry took the shortest route to the loo.
The next day Malfoy visited again.
Harry was in his cubicle, writing reports when someone knocked on his open door. He lifted his head to find Malfoy standing there. He was wearing the same ridiculous robes as the day before ("They’re not that bad," Ron had said when Harry had told him about them. Harry begged to disagree), and his hands were full.
Harry remembered his manners just in time. "Please come in," he said.
Malfoy strode into the small room, holding a basket in one hand and a potted plant in the other. "Good day to you too, Potter," he said.
He deposited his burden on Harry’s desk and looked around the cubicle, his lip curling in distaste. Harry supposed that he could be a bit neater.
"I have sent the elves round the Ministry with baskets and plants," Malfoy said. "But after what you said yesterday, I thought that my favourite Auror deserved a more personal service." Malfoy lifted a suggestive blond eyebrow and leaned one hip against Harry’s desk.
Harry had a very brief fantasy of pushing Malfoy down onto the desk and having his wicked way with him, before pulling himself together.
"I’m your favourite Auror?" he said with genuine astonishment. "Not Ron? Not Fairweather?"
Malfoy laughed, a short sharp sound that Harry wouldn’t mind hearing more often. "I like Weasley well enough, and Fairweather is a lovely lady, despite being an Auror. But no, you are my favourite Auror. Haven’t I made it obvious?" Malfoy smiled and looked at Harry, his bright grey eyes intense and so very, very suggestive.
Harry squirmed in his chair and swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry. "I’m flattered," he managed to mumble.
Malfoy leaned closer, his eyes intent and unreadable, before he suddenly moved back and stood up straight. "I have brought you a poinsettia," he said, pointing to the plant with the strange big red flowers. "It’s a traditional Yule flower. I also brought you a basket of clove-spiked apples and oranges. Don’t try to eat them, they’re only for decoration."
Harry picked up an orange and smelled it. "It smells nice," he said.
Malfoy smiled as he arranged the poinsettia to his satisfaction on Harry’s desk. "I’m glad you like them." He then looked around Harry’s cubicle. "You don’t want that, do you?" he asked, pointing to an old empty plant pot in the corner. Without waiting for an answer, he whipped his wand out and intoned a spell under his breath. Harry watched with interest as Malfoy screwed his face up with concentration and the old pot twisted and split and lengthened until it had turned into a small squat table.
"That was a nice piece of Transfiguration," Harry said, not bothering to keep how impressed he was out of his voice.
Malfoy grinned at him and preened. "Thank you," he said. "Outstanding on my Transfiguration N.E.W.T." Harry smiled back, oddly charmed.
Malfoy stepped closer to Harry’s desk and leaned over to take the orange that Harry was still holding out of his hands. Malfoy’s long smooth fingers lingered over Harry’s hand, leaving burning trails of sensation behind. He stared into Harry’s eyes, unblinking. "Don’t mangle the fruit," he said, his voice slightly breathless as he dropped the orange into the basket without breaking eye contact.
The minutes stretched out as Harry felt himself fall into Malfoy’s hot gaze. "Sorry," he said finally, clearing his throat. "I’ll be more careful in the future." Harry’s voice broke the spell and Malfoy blinked before jerkily nodding his head.
"Good," he said in a low voice.
Malfoy picked up the basket and turned to the newly Transfigured table. He bent down to place it on the table, made a small annoyed noise and then spent long minutes twisting the basket in various angles and arranging the fruit inside.
Harry barely saw what he was doing. As Malfoy bent over, his ridiculously orange, ridiculously tight robes stretched taunt, revealing a perfectly round, perfectly proportioned arse. Harry’s eyes glazed over as he remembered how that arse had looked naked and wet under the street-lights. Get up and touch it, his over-eager and disgustingly pushy libido urged. Go and find out if it feels as delicious as it looks. Harry gripped the edge of his desk tightly, his knuckles going white, to stop himself from doing anything crazy, like listen to the insidious urgings of his over-sexed subconscious.
Not a moment too soon, Malfoy finished his fiddling around and stood up. "There," he said. "Now you’re all sorted."
Am I? Harry thought slightly hysterically, wishing Malfoy would hurry up and leave so he could get down to the serious and urgent business of wanking.
Malfoy looked around Harry’s cubicle once more and moved to stand next to the door. For a moment he struck Harry as looking strangely awkward and searching for words. Harry quickly dismissed the ridiculous thought.
"Well," Malfoy finally said. "My work here is done. Come and visit me some time, don’t be a stranger." And with one last glance at Harry, Malfoy left.
Harry slowly counted to twenty before spelling his door shut and unbuttoning his trousers.
Monday morning dawned bright and chilly. After a relaxing and pleasant week-end, Harry Flooed into the Ministry feeling strangely optimistic. He whistled a little off-tune ditty as he strolled through the Atrium, then lost his stride for a minute as his senses were assaulted by the full horror of Malfoy’s Yule decorations in such a large space. After the holidays it’ll all come down, he reassured himself. There was no need to tell Malfoy his honest opinion of his decorating skills. It would only put a damper on the new turn things had taken between them. Harry felt fairly optimistic after the way he had managed to stand his own the last two times he had talked to Malfoy. It was certainly an improvement over the previous months he had spent responding with tongue-tied incredulity to Malfoy’s outrageous flirting.
Harry looked around the Auror Headquarters with dismay, eyeing the large golden candelabras with particular distaste. Just a little over a week, he reminded himself. Then it would all come down. A nice cup of tea and a cinnamon bun - if there were any - would make it all better.
As he sat in his cubicle sipping his tea, he wondered if Malfoy would be around today with another Yule tradition to promote.
He didn’t have to wait long to find out. A couple of hours later Malfoy swanned in, wearing the shiny emerald green two-piece robe Harry remembered from the week before. When had he started cataloguing Malfoy’s clothes? Harry couldn’t help but feel slightly disgusted with himself. This robe was a far more tasteful colour than the orange one, but unfortunately wasn’t quite as form-fitting. You can’t have everything, Harry sighed and then chastised himself for thinking such ridiculous things about Malfoy.
Malfoy was busy pinning a brand new announcement to his notice-board. "We’ve been seeing a lot of you lately," Harry said once he had reached the other man.
Malfoy turned round to look at Harry. "And you will be seeing a lot more of me over the next few days," he answered with a smirk. He winked at Harry and lowered his voice to the throaty tones Harry - and his cock - were slowly getting addicted to. "If you want, we could easily arrange for you to see even more of me." Malfoy licked his lips suggestively and Harry’s breath caught as his eyes fell to avidly follow the movement of the slick tongue. "All you have to do is say the word," Malfoy finished, his sinfully suggestive voice unerringly pulling reactions out of certain parts of Harry’s anatomy.
For a moment Harry looked at the shiny pink mouth, slightly open with a hint of sharp white teeth and silky tongue showing and then at the feverishly intent stormy grey eyes. It would be so easy to say the word, wouldn’t it? To drag Malfoy off somewhere private, and soundproof, to reveal the gorgeous body he knew was hiding under the green robes, to finally touch his smooth firm skin and taste his pretty, cruel mouth, and to see how loud he could make him scream.
Lost in a red haze of lust and the oh so tempting fantasy, Harry almost did say that yes, he wanted it, wanted it very much. Fortunately a loud laugh broke through the haze and let Harry’s rational mind assert itself once more. Stupid, stupid, he chastised himself. He had almost let Malfoy lure him into his trap. Of course Malfoy was only pretending; but Merlin was he a persuasive actor! He didn’t really want Harry, he couldn’t really want him. All he wanted to do was make a fool of Harry, most probably to get his own back for the way he had embarrassed himself in front of Harry in July.
Harry was determined not to fall for it. He shrugged in response to Malfoy’s come-on. A fleeting look of disappointment washed over the pointy features and Harry wondered for a moment if he was wrong. "So what’s the new notice about?" he asked it an overly cheerful voice.
Malfoy schooled his features into his usual haughty mask and glanced at the announcement. "The new notice, yes," he said in a brisk professional voice. Malfoy turned towards the room and the curious milling Aurors, cleared his throat loudly and theatrically, and began talking in what Harry called his ‘public announcement’ voice.
"Esteemed Aurors and fellow Ministry employees, the Office for the Preservation and Promotion of Wizarding Tradition and Pure-blood Culture has finally managed to get the go-ahead to organise a traditional Yule celebration." Murmurs of interest broke out amongst the gathered. "It will be held on the evening and night of Thursday the twentieh, since Yule Day - Friday the twenty-first - has been officially recognised as a holiday." Cheers filled the room and Malfoy smiled at the crowd graciously. "There will be wassailing and dancing," Malfoy started to explain.
"Will there be food and drink?" Ron’s loud voice interrupted and Harry couldn’t help but smile at his friend.
Malfoy looked towards Ron and smiled too. "Yes," he said. "There will be plenty to eat and drink. Enough even to satisfy even you, Weasley." The gathered Aurors laughed and Ron grinned, unperturbed.
"I’ll keep you to it," he said.
"Beside the requisite food and drink, singing and dancing, we are also having a pageant. A small pageant to showcase some of the older and more theatrical Yule traditions." Malfoy looked around his audience with an encouraging smile. "We are looking for volunteers for the pageant. Don’t be shy. It will be fun." He motioned towards the notice. "All the details are in my announcement." Malfoy gave another of his sleek winning smiles. "I hope to be seeing some of you soon," he told the crowd. Malfoy then turned to Harry. "I certainly hope to be seeing you soon. Good day, Auror Potter."
Once more Harry found himself watching Malfoy go. "I don’t blame you for watching," a voice next to Harry said. "It’s certainly a nice view."
Harry turned to look at Fairweather and shrugged. "So when are you going to do something about it?" she asked him with a leer. "Entertaining as it is watching you two flirt with each other, don’t you think it’s time to get past the foreplay and shag the poor bloke?"
Harry goggled at Fairweather. What was she talking about?
Fairweather gave an aggravated sigh. "Come on now. Blondie is obviously gagging for it, and don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you make a bee-line for the loos after every one of his visits. So do us all a favour, will you, and get on with it."
"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Harry told her stiffly and walked away even more stiffly to the toilets. "Men!" he heard her grumble behind him.
Harry spent the whole rest of the day, and the whole evening at home, and half the night in bed, mulling over what Fairweather had said. Was she just having him on, or could Malfoy possibly be really interested in him? The latter thought led to a number of diverting dreams once he finally fell asleep.
Harry waited until it was almost lunch time next day, in the hope that Malfoy would pay another visit to the Auror Headquarters. Unfortunately Malfoy didn’t show, so for once Harry decided to seek him out.
Harry hadn’t visited the Department for the Advocation of Integration and the Development of Equality (AIDE) since Malfoy had begun working there. Hermione was predictably surprised and pleased to see him. She grasped his hand in a firm grip and chattered ninety-to-the-dozen as she eagerly showed him all the changes and newcomers. Harry was suitably impressed; hers was one of the most up-and-coming departments of the new Ministry. And it also contained the most Yule decorations per square foot.
In the end he had to break free. "Hermione," he said, interrupting her monologue. "This is brilliant, it really is. You’re all doing a great job here. But I had a question for Malfoy. Is he here?"
Hermione looked at him too shrewdly for his liking. "Do you have a question about Yule?" she asked. "It’s very interesting, isn’t it? I have some books at home if you’d like." She caught Harry’s look and laughed. "Or you could just talk to Draco. He knows all about it."
Hermione ushered him down a narrow corridor to the last door. It was small door, but newly painted. Ivy, holly and mistletoe predictably covered the frame and a large green wreath hung under a neat brass plaque. Office for the Preservation and Promotion of Wizarding Tradition and Pure-blood Culture was written on it with an old-fashioned curling script. Trust Malfoy to get his own customised plaque for his door!
Harry knocked on the door and waited until he heard Malfoy tell him to ‘Enter’. He opened the door and peeked in, expecting to see a small cramped room. The room was smallish but had obviously been enlarged magically. Most striking, however, excepting the lavish Yule decorations and the absolutely huge poinsettia that sat in the corner next to the window, was the furniture.
The walls were freshly papered with a tasteful cream floral design and the floor was covered by such a beautiful Persian rug that Harry was almost afraid to step on it. In the centre of the room sat a big, heavy, antique oak desk, behind which Malfoy was sitting, engrossed in his work. On the wall behind the desk there was a large bookcase that looked to be a set with the desk, filled to the brim with books and folders. On the wall opposite the window sat another old piece of furniture that looked to be a cross between a side table and a bar. A cut-glass decanter of amber liquid, possibly brandy or Firewhisky, was sitting on top of it, surrounded by similar cut-glass glasses.
Malfoy was still riveted by what he was reading and had obviously forgotten his guest. Harry slammed the door shut behind him and watched with amusement as Malfoy jumped, startled, and dropped the parchment he was holding. As soon as he spotted Harry, a wide warm smile lit his face.
"Auror Potter, what a pleasure to see you. Please take a seat." He motioned towards one of a set of chairs that looked like more antiques.
"Don’t mind if I do." Harry looked around the room once more, and noticed for the first time the three framed wizarding photographs on Malfoy’s desk. He could make out his parents in one, a blond baby that must be his son in the second, and the third looked very much like young Teddy Lupin. "If this is standard issue Ministry furniture, I think the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has been seriously had."
Malfoy laughed warmly. Harry was surprised to see him so evidently pleased to see him, and thought once again that maybe there was a grain of truth to what Fairweather had said. "Standard issue Ministry furniture is sub-standard, uncomfortable and unbelievably tacky," Malfoy explained, a look of distaste evident on his face. "No person of taste and breeding should be obliged to endure it. This all..." Malfoy swept his hand in large gesture to encompass the room and its furniture, "...is mine. I ‘borrowed’ it from the Manor. Mother won’t even notice it’s gone. It’s not as if the study in the west wing has been used in the last fifty years."
"It’s beautiful," Harry told him, and meant it. He spent a moment feeling jealous of Malfoy’s comfortable and elegant office.
Malfoy grinned once more and his eyes twinkled. "Thank you," he said, trying to sound humble and failing miserably. Harry made a note of how obviously fond the other man was of compliments. "So what brings you here?" Malfoy asked.
Harry panicked momentarily, feeling caught out. He hadn’t actually thought that far. All he had wanted was to see Malfoy to try and ascertain if the other man might possibly be sincerely interested in Harry. Bluff, he told himself. If you play it cool, he won’t realise a thing.
Harry shrugged. "I came by to see Hermione and I thought I might as well pay you a visit too, and see what the infamous Office for the Preservation and Promotion of Wizarding Tradition and Pure-blood Culture looks like from the inside."
Malfoy looked slightly disappointed, but unsurprisingly he didn’t look fazed for long. He steepled his hands in front of him and leaned slightly forward. A lock of light blond hair escaped from his perfectly combed and styled coiffure to swing forward. The tip almost touched his pointy chin and Harry found his attention irresistibly drawn. His fingers itched to touch the errant hair, smooth it back and test its feel.
"I thought you had reconsidered my offer," Malfoy said in his smooth intimate voice, and Harry discreetly adjusted himself in his chair.
"Which offer?" he asked, his mind filling with delicious images of the things he could be doing with Malfoy instead of talking.
"Any offer. All offers," Malfoy answered, his voice going deeper and throatier and his eyes practically blazing. "Anything you want. I can help you with anything you want. I told you that I prefer a hands-on approach and I am very flexible."
Harry gripped the hands of his chair painfully tight in an effort to stop himself from leaping over the impressive desk and launching himself on the other man. He’s obviously gagging for it, Fairweather’s assertion echoed in his brain. And Merlin did he wish it were true! It was starting to look as if it might be, but he wasn’t sure yet. A small, but strong, cowardly part of himself wanted to be certain that it was true before he made a move and debauched the blond as thoroughly as he deserved.
Harry managed to give a sardonic smirk. "Are you now?" he asked, his voice slightly hoarse.
"Oh, yes," Malfoy breathed. Harry could make out the slight tremble of his thin pale hands. "Please feel free to see for yourself anytime you want."
Harry felt his heart-rate speed up. Not yet, he reminded himself. Wait until you’re sure first. "I just might at that," he managed to force out.
Malfoy let out a deep breath and lifted a faintly shaking hand to smooth back his hair. He then got up and walked briskly towards the side table. "Do you want a drink?" he asked Harry as he sloshed a big measure of the amber liquid into a glass.
"No, thanks," Harry said. "I’m still on duty. Actually I should get going." He got up and made his way to the door as Malfoy took a large sip from his drink. "I’ll be seeing you soon."
"You can count on that," Malfoy answered, and Harry couldn’t help but grin as he let himself out. He waved at a distracted Hermione as he swiftly strode out the department. He wondered where the nearest toilets might be.
part 2
Author: mayfly_78
Title: Traditions and Innuendo
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Harry/Draco
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. All characters engaging in sexual activity are 16 years or older.
Summary:The last thing Harry wants is for Malfoy to jam another pure-blood tradition down his throat, especially if he's going to be so flirtatious while doing it.
Warnings:explicit sex, overabundance of UST, cringeworthy innuendoes, possible mangling of Yule traditions
Word Count: ~18.800
Author's Notes:This was written for cassie_black12 for the 2009 hp_yule_balls .
Many, many thanks to my gorgeous beta raisinous_fiend for putting up with my bad grammar, impossible tardiness and panic attacks. And also for being brutally honest and not letting me get away with anything. All remaining inconsistencies are mine.
Traditions and Innuendo
Part 1/2
If he were to think back, he could pinpoint exactly where it all started. At the time it had seemed a perfectly ordinary night, which had been preceded by a perfectly ordinary day. He had had no premonitions, no strange feelings, there had been nothing portentous at all in the air.
That was how, unaware of what was to come, Harry was sitting in the Auror Headquarters on the night of the 3rd of July 2007. It had been a perfectly dull Tuesday, and the night promised to be just as dull. Normally Harry liked taking the night shift; there was more promise of action and adrenaline-fuelled chases through night-time London. Even though, if he were being completely honest, the chases hadn’t actually happened yet. But he was hoping they would, eventually.
Harry sat in his cubicle, doodling on the back of an old report. It was a hot muggy night, the sort that sapped all energy and willpower to move. Harry was pretty sure he wouldn’t have to move from his chair until his shift was over - barring the occasional toilet break of course - so he made himself more comfortable in his Ministry-issue chair and chewed the end of his quill as he wondered whether his doodle looked more like a cat or a cow. He decided to add whiskers and a longer tail to settle the matter.
"Potter, Cummings, Fairweather, we have a call." Bernice, the night shift’s secretary, had the bad habit of sneaking up on them when they least expected her. Harry nearly put his quill through his parchment in surprise, Cummings slid off the side of the desk he had been dozing on and fell on the floor, and Fairweather hit her head against the underside of her desk - what she had been doing under there was anyone’s guess.
Bernice snickered. "A report of Disturbance Of The Peace in Trafalgar Square. Hop to, gentlemen and lady."
They got to their feet with a minimum of enthusiasm. It was probably just a group of drunken wizards and witches who decided to take their merrymaking a bit too far. Harry sighed as he followed the others out the door. Being an Auror certainly wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be.
"Oh, Potter," the secretary called out just as he was about to leave.
"Yes, Bernice?"
"Let’s avoid calling in the Obliviators this time, shall we?" She gave him a wide smile as the others tittered behind him.
Harry ducked his head to hide his blush and quickly ushered the others out. You make one, one, stupid call and they never let you live it down.
They Apparated into a secluded side street and walked to Trafalgar Square, expecting to find a large group of loud and rowdy youths, only to find the place practically deserted. A Muggle drunk lifted his bottle in greeting and continued trying to put on the robe he had found. Harry looked closer: it was definitely a wizard’s robe, quite a fine one too, with an embroidered trim of gold thread. Actually, now that he was looking, there was a whole trail of clothes leading towards...
"Look, over there!" Cummings called out.
...the fountain. A single, bright figure was cavorting in the fountain. As they jogged closer it became apparent that he was male and very, very naked and very, very drunk. He was mangling an old Celestina Warbeck song as he held a half empty champagne bottle aloft. From what Harry could see he was rather fit; he had angular wide shoulders that tapered down to a trim waist and a rather luscious arse. Harry found himself staring in appreciation and idly wondering how unprofessional it would be to proposition the man. Would it be better if he did it before or after he arrested him? Harry felt like hitting himself. There he went, doing it again! Ever since his successful, and final, defeat of Voldemort, Harry’s long dormant sex drive has reared its ugly, and irrepressible, head and gone into overdrive. Sometimes he wished he could just turn the bloody thing off!
Fairweather jabbed him sharply in the ribs with her elbow, cutting his musings off and bringing him abruptly back to the matter at hand, but unfortunately doing nothing to his annoying libido. Cummings took a couple of steps forward.
"Please turn around and come with us in an orderly manner!" Cummings called out in his best authoritative voice. Fairweather snickered and Harry stood up straighter.
The blond with the gorgeous backside stopped singing and clumsily turned round. Harry had just enough time to make out a well defined chest, an attractive cock and Malfoy’s face, in that order - Harry had priorities after all, - before the drunk blond lost his footing and fell down with a big splash.
Fairweather laughed out loud, Cummings tsked and Harry stared gobsmacked. Malfoy? It was a testament to how ridiculously oversexed he had become that the knowledge of the identity of his current object of lust made no difference to his libido. If the convulsive twitch his cock just made was anything to go by, it seemed to be rather turned on by the turn of events. Harry always had suspected that he was a bit of a pervert.
Malfoy was not deterred by his fall. "Oops!" he exclaimed brightly as he popped his sopping wet head out of the water. He slung an arm over one of the bronze mermen and took a swallow out of his bottle. Harry’s eyes immediately tracked the bobbing of his Adam's apple before dropping to hungrily check out his glistening pectoral muscles and peaked pink nipples. He swallowed hard, earning himself another sharp elbow in his ribs. He really needed to get laid soon. Maybe then he would be able to properly concentrate on his job.
Malfoy made a face and threw away his bottle, just as Harry was surreptitiously adjusting his trousers.
Cummings tapped his wand briskly against his thigh and gave an annoyed huff. "That’s enough of that!" he said brusquely. "Pull yourself together, man, and for heaven’s sake cover yourself, there’s a lady present."
"Don’t mind me," Fairweather retorted cheerily. "I’m quite enjoying the view. Not as much as Potter though."
Harry sputtered and muttered, ‘traitor’ under his breath. Malfoy, however, visibly perked up. "Potter?" he asked. "Did you say Potter?" He looked around blearily until he saw Harry.
"Ah, my dear Potter!" he exclaimed. Harry hadn’t thought he’d ever see Malfoy happy to see him; he wondered how many bottles of champagne it had taken. "Fancy seeing you here," Malfoy went on in an overly loud and bright voice, slurring his words only the slightest bit. "What’s a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?"
Harry swore he felt his eyes bulge. Fairweather slapped him on the back and laughed out loud. Malfoy gave her a bright grin and a flourishing bow and promptly fell on his arse once more.
Cummings ground his teeth. "Oh for the love of..." he muttered. "Potter!" he barked. "He obviously knows you. Go and fish the pathetic sod out. The sooner we get him out of there and back to Headquarters and booked, the sooner I can forget this whole sorry episode ever happened."
Fairweather gave him a helpful push forward and Harry stumbled as he made his way towards his old rival. He was so confused that he hardly knew if getting closer to the wetnakeddrunkeninsufferablewankerbloodygorgeous blond was a good or bad thing. Even though he had to admit that there was a big part of him that was just itching to get its hands on the enticing man.
By the time he got to the edge of the fountain, Malfoy had helpfully paddled over - if only he were this accommodating sober! - so all Harry had to do was lean over, grab him under the arms and lift him up and over and out of the water. Malfoy let out a surprised squeak as Harry lifted him, but quickly took to the idea, wrapping his arms around Harry and laying his head on Harry’s shoulder. Water started to seep through Harry’s robes as he awkwardly held on to the blond, at loss as to what to do next. He consciously gritted his teeth in an effort to keep himself from groping the delightfully slender man in his arms.
With a muttered spell Cummings dried them, making Draco jump and squeak once more before humming in contentment and snuggling into Harry. Harry’s brain short-circuited as he felt a firm chest and a warm, slowly hardening cock plaster themselves against him. Perks of the job, he thought to himself before yelping. Malfoy had grabbed his arse. "Nice," he whispered into Harry’s shell-shocked ear. A second later, Cummings had pulled him off and unceremoniously wrapped him in the robe with the gold trimming. In the background the drunk could be heard grumbling.
"Let’s get him back to Headquarters." Cummings held Malfoy up as if he were something distasteful; he had clearly had enough of him.
Malfoy squirmed in the unfriendly grip. "No, I want Potter," he whined. Cummings growled and thrust Malfoy forward. "Take him," he said, and Harry did. The Slytherin’s weight felt oddly comfortable and familiar in his arms. Giving in to his baser urges, he held Malfoy much closer than he strictly had to.
Malfoy didn’t seem to mind in the least. "Hey, handsome," he whispered drunkenly in Harry’s ear. "Wanna take this somewhere more private?" In response Harry gripped him even tighter and Apparated them both to the Auror Headquarters’ Apparition Chamber. Fairweather and Cummings were already waiting for them.
Malfoy opened his eyes and slurred, "Where’s the bed? I have a whole list of naughty things you can do to me." For a split second Harry wondered how much trouble he would get into if he Apparated Malfoy back to his flat and took up his offer.
He was abruptly jolted out of his brief, but very pleasant daydream, as Fairweather’s laughter filled the room and Cummings opened the door. "Come on, let’s get this over with," Cummings ground out.
After that, things went rather speedily. Malfoy seemed to fall from his drunken high and barely kept from nodding off after they deposited him in a chair. The booking was quickly done and it was only a matter of minutes to fire-call Malfoy Manor.
Harry experienced another first: he had never thought he would ever see Mrs Malfoy in a dressing gown, and he was sure he never would again. Cummings’ drooling was practically audible in the background. It was easy to see where Malfoy got his looks from.
Mrs Malfoy was polite and accommodating. In no time at all, she had bundled up her erring son and Flooed them both back to the Manor. Harry felt almost sorry to see them go.
Harry and the others quickly wrote up the necessary report and filed it. Afterwards Harry made a quick trip to the toilets to deal with the little problem Malfoy had left him with. On his way back to his cubicle he was feeling much more clear-headed already. He shook his head in disbelief toward the way he had let Malfoy of all people get to him. It had been nothing more than an aberration, he assured himself. A testament to how desperately he needed to get laid.
Soon after, Harry was back to whiling away the rest of his shift doodling farm animals, with varied rates of success. Picking Malfoy up had been rather diverting, and was certain to make an interesting anecdote the next time he was out with his friends. Of course he would not be telling them about his temporary lapse of judgement, there was no need for him to embarrass himself. There was no way he could have known what was to follow - and even if he had, he doubted he could have prevented the way events unfolded.
Five months later
"He’s here again!"
Ron’s head popped into Harry’s cubicle just as he had finished his second morning tea and was wondering whether he should finish off his late reports or get himself another one of those delicious biscuits from the tea room.
"Almost every bloody Friday!" Harry exclaimed, exasperated, to his grinning friend. He dragged himself out of his chair. "All right, let’s see what he’s dreamed up this time."
Ron continued grinning and led the way. There was a time, Harry thought with fond nostalgia, that just the thought of Draco Malfoy poncing around the Auror Headquarters and telling them what to do would have had Ron in a lather. Harry heaved a heavy sigh. Gone were those days. Lately Ron had even begun looking forward to Malfoy’s practically weekly visits.
A group of Aurors was slowly congregating near the notice board. The notice board Malfoy had put up so he could erect his various edicts and propositions and regulations. All with the official seal of the Department for the Advocation of Integration and the Development of Equality (or AIDE for short).
Harry easily pushed through the small group to take a look at Malfoy’s latest work and assess the amount of bother it would give him. He resolutely didn’t look at Malfoy standing to one side, preening. He didn’t notice the gleaming blond hair, styled to perfection, or the fashionable muted purple robes that highlighted his shoulders while lightly skimming over his hips and opening to showcase his long lean legs. Using the great force of will he was famous for, Harry concentrated all his attention on the notice taking pride of place amongst all the older ones.
It only took him three attempts to finally manage to read the short notice. Harry was quite proud of himself. Malfoy might douse himself in that delicious aftershave and answer questions using that deceptively soft and melodious voice, but he could not distract Harry. Harry read the notice a fourth time, just to be sure, and because he had just forgotten what it said.
"Yule?" he asked perplexedly. "You want the Ministry to officially recognise and celebrate Yule?"
Malfoy looked at Harry with his preternaturally large and luminous eyes. "Yes," he said seriously. "Yule time and Yule traditions are an important and integral part of Wizarding Tradition and Pure-blood Culture." Harry could actually hear the other man capitalising. "We at the Office for the Preservation and Promotion of Wizarding Tradition and Pure-blood Culture think that it’s about time the Ministry officially recognised it as such. And to that means we have already made our petition - and are currently gathering signatures. We have also arranged that this year the Ministry will be celebrating Yule, so you less fortunate can see what you’re missing."
Malfoy gave Harry a winning, and infuriatingly superior, smile. Harry clenched his fists in annoyance.
"Brilliant, isn’t it?" Ron butted in, obviously quite taken with the idea. "Yule’s a bit like Christmas, only longer and with more drinking and stuff. Also, Malfoy wants to make Yule Day a holiday!"
Harry turned to look at his friend. "You knew about this," he accused him.
Ron rolled his eyes. "Of course I did. Malfoy works for Hermione’s department, doesn’t he? We had him over for dinner on Wednesday and he told us all about his proposal. Hermione’s very excited by it. She loves anything new, she does."
"Yes," Malfoy put in, his clipped accent coming in sharp contrast with Ron’s. "Hermione is very open-minded and accepting, unlike some others." He shot Harry a sharp accusing look and Harry scowled in response. Bloody Slytherin git, underhandedly winning over his friends behind his back.
Following his usual confusing and suspect tactics, Malfoy quickly changed tack and winked at Harry. He leaned close to Harry. "Don’t worry," he said in a low, intimate voice that could almost be called throaty, "I’ll make sure you enjoy it. I can make it very good for you."
While Harry opened and closed his mouth, rendered speechless once more by the blond, Malfoy stood up straight again.
"Well," he said in a bright, loud voice. "My work here is done. I can hear the siren call of the empty notice boards all over the Ministry, asking to display our new, brilliant announcement. I will be visiting again anon, but for now I must spread the good word!"
With his usual ostentatious flourish and a toss of his gleaming silver hair, Malfoy spun on his expensive heel and strutted out of Auror Headquarters, purple robes flapping.
As usual Harry felt like he had just been hit with a combination of a Stunning Spell and a Confundus: disoriented, vaguely irritated and unaccountably sexually frustrated. He turned to talk to Ron.
"Did you hear what he said to me?" he asked. When Ron just looked at him, perplexed, Harry felt the need to elaborate. "How he would make sure I enjoy it?"
Ron shrugged unconcernedly. "Yule will be fun, you’ll see. That’s all Malfoy was saying. He’s not too bad a bloke once you get to know him."
Harry looked at Ron incredulously. There was a time when Harry had thought his friends to be immune to Malfoy’s insidious charm. "And you really should stop imagining he’s coming on to you," Ron added offhandedly, making Harry gape. "I asked him about it."
"You asked him about it!" Harry’s voice broke into an unmanly high pitched screech on the last word.
"Yup," Ron confirmed, unperturbed. "I told him that you think he’s flirting with you."
"You told him..." Harry spluttered. Merlin save him from his friends!
"He thought it was rather funny. He asked if you often accuse people of flirting with you. So really you’re just imagining things." Ron gave Harry a sympathetic pat on the back and went to get himself some more biscuits from the tea room.
"I’m just imagining things?" Harry couldn’t help but feel disappointed and betrayed by his friends. First Hermione and now Ron? As he trudged back to the safety of his Malfoy-free cubicle, he couldn’t help but ruminate on how it had all begun.
He supposed that it all must have started with that fateful night they booked Malfoy. The Ministry protected their own and the next day not a whisper of ‘Malfoy’s little impropriety’, as Harry had heard some call it, had got out. However, despite the Ministry’s best efforts on his behalf, Malfoy’s name still managed to find its way into the headlines.
Greengrass Daughter Gives Gay Malfoy Heir the Boot! the Daily Prophet’s front page had exclaimed the next day. Well, that certainly explains a lot, Harry had thought as he skimmed through the article. The divorce had been finalised the day before. The ink had barely dried on the parchments before Asteria Greengrass had walked into the Daily Prophet’s offices with her sob story. Soon Malfoy’s dirty linen had become a matter of public knowledge and public gossip. Everybody had seemed to particularly enjoy finding out Malfoy’s affinity for being ‘buggered by stable boys’. It was enough to drive anyone to drink!
It hadn’t taken long for the letters demanding Malfoy’s dismissal from the Ministry to come. It seemed like it was too much to ask the public to employ the homosexual son of a Death Eater. Predictably Hermione had been up in arms. "This is preposterous!" she had exclaimed for all to hear. "This is blatant discrimination!" she had assured them. "And my department will not stand for it!"
After a short stint in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Hermione had managed to persuade Minister Shacklebolt that the Ministry was in desperate need of a new department. And thus the Department for the Advocation of Integration and the Development of Equality (AIDE) was created with Hermione as its head. She was heralded as the youngest department head the Ministry had seen in three hundred years. Hermione took it all in stride and began her campaign to combat discrimination and infringement of rights and freedoms immediately.
But even though Malfoy had started out as another one of Hermione’s causes, before long, to Harry’s and Ron’s consternation, they had ended up becoming friends. Malfoy had managed to keep his job at the Ministry, but after less than two weeks he had asked to be transferred out of the International Magical Trading Standards Body, where he had been working, and into the Department of AIDE. And that had been the beginning of the end as far as Harry had been concerned.
Whereas by herself Hermione had run a well-meaning and necessary, but ultimately rather annoying, department, with Malfoy by her side the department had turned into an in-suppressible thorn in the Ministry’s side, prepared to go to any lengths to ram its vision of political correctness down everyone’s throats. What was even worse was that Harry had had to listen to Hermione rhapsodise about what an irreplaceable addition to her department Malfoy had become.
It had begun rather well with the Freedom of Sexual Expression Bill becoming the second bill Hermione’s department managed to get the Wizengamot to approve after the Werewolf Rights Bill of the previous year. But soon enough they had begun championing the Ghost and Spirits Marriage Bill, which had put the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures’ nose out of joint; and demanding that each Ministry department employ a minimum quota of hags, vampires and Squibs, which had put every department’s nose out of joint.
Not too long after that Hermione had let Malfoy create his own office in the department, the Office for the Preservation and Promotion of Wizarding Tradition and Pure-blood Culture. "He will still be helping with the department’s important actions," Hermione had told Harry. "But he wanted his own pet project, and I think it’s brilliant!" "Not a bad idea for an office, that," Ron had said. "It might come in handy." Horror of horrors, Ron had become friends with Malfoy!
That had been almost two months ago. Since then Harry had had to put up with Malfoy’s ever growing list of edicts, propositions, announcements and regulations. The old fogeys in the Wizengamot had loved Malfoy’s new office and approved every single thing he brought before them. The notice board in the Auror Headquarters, which Malfoy had so thoughtfully put up, fairly groaned under the weight of the parchment he had put up on it.
Even worse than that, Harry had had to put up with Malfoy’s near constant presence. Every now and then, with some excuse or another, Malfoy would swan into the Auror Headquarters with his distinctive cologne, gleaming hair and expensive robes, looking for all the world as if he had come out of the pages of a fashion magazine, to make Harry’s life miserable. Malfoy would alternately call Harry out for infractions real and imagined, inform him of the new regulations he would be called on to enforce, and flirt outrageously with him. After every meeting with the impossible pure-blood, Harry was forced to flee to the toilets to release the tension Malfoy created. This time was hardly any different, so Harry carefully closed his door and sat behind his desk to unbutton his trousers and surreptitiously slip a hand inside.
It was more than Harry could stand. Whenever he tried calling Malfoy out on his inappropriate comments, or telling anyone else, the response was the same. He got laughed at. It was time Harry finally did something about it. Malfoy obviously thought it was some kind of game, so maybe Harry should just see if he could beat him at it.
Harry saw Malfoy again on Tuesday. He was still mulling over how he should go about putting Malfoy in his place, and as such he was caught quite unaware.
Harry had just arrived at the Auror Headquarters on Tuesday morning and was unobtrusively making himself a cup of tea in the tea-room when he heard raised voices from the main room. He waited until his tea had properly stewed - it was an exact procedure that one shouldn’t take lightly - and then, mug firmly clasped in one hand, he went out to explore. He should have known it would be Malfoy.
Malfoy - in an eye-catching shiny emerald green two-piece robe - was directing a troupe of Ministry elves while the Aurors looked on in varying degrees of amusement and interest. The elves seemed to be handling a huge piece of wood and trying to arrange it to Malfoy’s satisfaction. Finally they seemed to get it just right and Malfoy sent them on their way and looked around in evident self-satisfaction.
"What did you bring us a hunking piece of wood for, Malfoy? Is this some obscure pure-blood tradition?" Harry asked mockingly. The huge log was rough and gnarled and was anything but straight or decorative.
Malfoy let out a loud theatrical sigh. "Potter, whoever told you your boorish ignorance was endearing and loveable was lying. Please refrain from making more of a fool of yourself than is strictly necessary." Titters were heard from the audience of assembled Aurors and Harry flushed.
Malfoy spotted Fairweather in the crowd and doffed an imaginary hat in her direction. "Would the lovely Auror Fairweather be kind enough to inform poor naive Potter what this is?"
Fairweather smiled indulgently at Malfoy; ever since seeing him in the all-together in July she had developed quite a soft spot for the annoying prat, and he for her. She turned to Harry. She arched an eyebrow at him and said in an instructing manner reminiscent of Hermione, "It’s a Yule Log, Potter. A traditional Yule decoration."
"I couldn’t have said it better, milady." Malfoy blew Fairweather a gallant kiss she pretended to catch and gave her a cheeky grin.
Most of the Aurors started to disperse, Fairweather amongst them, evidently having seen a Yule Log before. Malfoy stalked closer to Harry, his strides oddly cat-like. "I would beg you to please not insult my ancestors’ customs," he said sharply. "If you just open your mind, you might find that you’ll enjoy it," he added, his voice going softer. "There are a lot of things I’m sure you’d enjoy if you opened your mind enough to try them." The last was said in a soft suggestive whisper practically in Harry’s ear, and Harry was left once more without a thing to say as his ear burned hot from Malfoy’s breath.
Malfoy took a small step away from Harry and gestured towards the Yule Log. "Traditionally a Yule Log is never bought, but always gifted, so my department has taken it upon itself to gift all the other Ministry departments with their own log." He paused for a second as if expecting praise. "I took particular care in choosing the logs. For the Aurors I chose the longest and thickest I could find. I’m told that you appreciate long thick pieces of wood." Malfoy’s voice was heavy with insinuation and as Harry turned to goggle at him, he saw that he had once more sidled closer to him and was giving him one of his inscrutable looks.
How Harry hated himself at that moment! Once more he let Malfoy make him feel like an inexperienced teenager, wide-eyed and tongue-tied. Malfoy’s words, said in that delicious posh voice and coming out of those delectable dainty pink lips, sent a jolt of electricity straight down to Harry’s groin. And then Harry got a whiff of Malfoy’s distinctive cologne and all was lost. He looked up into Malfoy's knowing clear grey eyes and gripped his tea mug harder for support.
"Yeah, well I’m sorry for before. It’s a lovely wood...I mean log! Thank you." To his relief Harry managed to sound relatively normal, and not in the least like a man who was now sporting a semi-hard on.
Malfoy gave Harry one of his sharp smiles. "Think nothing of it. We aim to please! I must leave you now, for I have many more logs to gift." With his usual theatrical swirl, Malfoy turned on his heel and strode out the Auror Headquarters. Harry sighed in relief and looked down at his forgotten tea. It was stone cold and undrinkable now; he would have to make a new cup. But first things first - a trip to the loo was now imperative.
As Harry took care of his Malfoy-induced problem in the relative privacy of a toilet stall, he couldn’t help but feel very disappointed with himself. Next time Malfoy visited he had to be prepared. He refused to let the little snot leave him tongue-tied one more time!
Harry trudged back to Auror Headquarters, annoyed and cold. He had been sent out to check out a possible sighting of a wanted wizard on the run. He should have known it would have been nothing more than a waste of time. As it was he had just spent almost two hours wading through mud for nothing. He couldn’t wait to get back to his office and have a nice warm cup of tea. Preferably accompanied by the nice cinnamon biscuits someone considerate left in the tea room this morning.
As he reached Auror Headquarters he heard the sounds of mild commotion. Knowing his luck, it would be Malfoy again. Taking a deep breath, he Disillusioned himself and slowly crept into the main room. He was right, it was Malfoy and his posse of elves. Holding his breath, he slowly and carefully crept through the room towards the tea-room. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the elves and a couple of fellow Aurors - damn their training - spot him, but thankfully no one said anything and Malfoy remained blissfully unaware.
Once in the relative safety of the tea-room, Harry breathed a sigh of relief and quickly busied himself with making a cup of tea. Once the tea was ready, he let himself collapse into a chair and sip his beverage. Slowly, slowly he could feel the aggravation and tiredness slipping away, only to be replaced by acute awareness of Malfoy’s presence in the next room and curiosity as to what he was up to.
When he felt up to it, he made his way towards the door, keeping his Disillusionment Charm up. Leaning against the doorjamb he was able to observe Malfoy, and perhaps admire him a little bit - mind you, just a very little bit.
Malfoy stood in the middle of the room, straight-backed, sharp chin proudly pointing upwards, dressed in mind-boggling robes, unbelievably tight and orange with a trim of what looked like green holly leaves. He looked ridiculous, and yet Harry’s unmanageable libido was urging him to go over and grab him, and then do unmentionable things to him.
Harry squelched his ridiculous urges, reminding himself what an utter and impossible prat Malfoy was. After the short inner scolding, Harry managed to tear his eyes away from the orange figure in the centre of the room and see what the elves were up to. Harry almost choked on his own spit when he saw.
Malfoy was expertly directing the elves to turn the Auror Headquarters into a giant over-decorated showroom. There were red, green, gold, white and silver spangles and ribbons absolutely everywhere. Huge wreaths of some sort of greenery hung on all the walls and every door-frame was literally covered in ivy and holly and was that mistletoe? It looked absolutely atrocious, and to make matters worse Malfoy was currently instructing the elves to position giant garish gold candles in strategically annoying spots.
After surveying the damage, Harry decided he would have to talk to Malfoy. Be polite, he instructed himself. Don’t be confrontational. Keep cool, and for Merlin’s sake don’t jump the bloody wanker! He dropped the Disillusionment Charm and carefully walked over, unconsciously mimicking the way he had seen Charlie Weasley approach the more irritable dragons in the reserve.
He timed his steps to coincide with the final positioning of the last candle. Malfoy motioned the elves to stand by and proudly looked over his creation, just as Harry took the last step to reach his side. Keep cool, Harry reminded himself. And don’t say anything stupid.
"Well this certainly looks... like a lot of work," Harry finally managed to force out in a pleasant, he hoped, tone.
The corners of Malfoy’s mouth curled up, making Harry irrationally proud of himself, but he didn’t turn round. His eyes were still roaming over the large room. Admiring his work or looking for faults? Harry wondered.
"I have made it my mission this year to make sure that all Ministry employees receive the full Yule experience," Malfoy answered haughtily.
Be polite, Harry told himself. And try to beat him at his own game. He racked his brain unsuccessfully for something suggestive to say.
"And you plan on doing it all by yourself?" Harry finally said. "Don’t you have any assistants?"
Malfoy gestured towards the elves. "All the assistants a determined pure-blood needs."
Harry wondered just what Hermione thought of that. Don’t be confrontational, he reminded himself just in time.
"So...you personally see to all the departments?" Harry asked, feeling just the slightest bit impressed.
Malfoy finally waved the elves away and turned round to look at Harry. "Why yes, I do," he said. "If you want anything done properly, you should do it yourself," he added before leaning conspiratorially closer to Harry. "My department is very hands on. Call it the personal touch, if you will." Malfoy had dropped his voice to a throaty whisper, and as if conditioned Harry’s body reacted as it always did.
Even though he could feel his temperature rising and his cock slowly hardening - why did it have to have such a hair-trigger? - Harry managed to force himself to breathe evenly. Keep cool. Don’t let him get to you.
Harry cocked his head to the side and pouted just a little. "I thought that you personally took care of only the Aurors." He tried his best to sound slightly disappointed and very flirty. He looked at Malfoy from under his lashes and cringed inwardly, afraid that he was getting it all wrong and making a fool of himself.
Harry was pleased to see Malfoy start and look surprised. Malfoy quickly wiped the surprise from his face and smiled, pleased. Harry’s temperature rose even higher, and he noticed that his heart-beat had gone up too.
"Alas," Malfoy answered. "I give all the departments the same treatment. But if you need any personal assistance in anything, my door is always open for you." Malfoy’s eyes were twinkling almost as distractingly as his pink lips were carefully enunciating every suggestive word. "You can have a private session any time you want, Auror." Malfoy’s mouth was practically at Harry’s ear and his hot whisper made shivers run down Harry’s spine.
Harry’s cock was now throbbing uncomfortably. I wonder if Malfoy likes to talk dirty in the bedroom, Harry’s irrepressible libido thought. The last remaining logical part of his brain squashed the thought. Keep cool. Don’t let him win again.
Using all his impressive will-power to keep his voice from wavering, Harry managed to answer sounding relatively nonchalant. "I might take you up on it."
Malfoy’s eyes twinkled even more and he smiled. "You should," he said before nodding and striding out of Auror Headquarters.
Once Malfoy had left, Harry let himself relax and blow out a deep breath. That hadn’t gone too bad. Even though he still had a long way to go to make Malfoy lose his cool, he had managed to keep his own, even if he did forget to say something about the horrid decorations. Smiling in satisfaction, Harry took the shortest route to the loo.
The next day Malfoy visited again.
Harry was in his cubicle, writing reports when someone knocked on his open door. He lifted his head to find Malfoy standing there. He was wearing the same ridiculous robes as the day before ("They’re not that bad," Ron had said when Harry had told him about them. Harry begged to disagree), and his hands were full.
Harry remembered his manners just in time. "Please come in," he said.
Malfoy strode into the small room, holding a basket in one hand and a potted plant in the other. "Good day to you too, Potter," he said.
He deposited his burden on Harry’s desk and looked around the cubicle, his lip curling in distaste. Harry supposed that he could be a bit neater.
"I have sent the elves round the Ministry with baskets and plants," Malfoy said. "But after what you said yesterday, I thought that my favourite Auror deserved a more personal service." Malfoy lifted a suggestive blond eyebrow and leaned one hip against Harry’s desk.
Harry had a very brief fantasy of pushing Malfoy down onto the desk and having his wicked way with him, before pulling himself together.
"I’m your favourite Auror?" he said with genuine astonishment. "Not Ron? Not Fairweather?"
Malfoy laughed, a short sharp sound that Harry wouldn’t mind hearing more often. "I like Weasley well enough, and Fairweather is a lovely lady, despite being an Auror. But no, you are my favourite Auror. Haven’t I made it obvious?" Malfoy smiled and looked at Harry, his bright grey eyes intense and so very, very suggestive.
Harry squirmed in his chair and swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry. "I’m flattered," he managed to mumble.
Malfoy leaned closer, his eyes intent and unreadable, before he suddenly moved back and stood up straight. "I have brought you a poinsettia," he said, pointing to the plant with the strange big red flowers. "It’s a traditional Yule flower. I also brought you a basket of clove-spiked apples and oranges. Don’t try to eat them, they’re only for decoration."
Harry picked up an orange and smelled it. "It smells nice," he said.
Malfoy smiled as he arranged the poinsettia to his satisfaction on Harry’s desk. "I’m glad you like them." He then looked around Harry’s cubicle. "You don’t want that, do you?" he asked, pointing to an old empty plant pot in the corner. Without waiting for an answer, he whipped his wand out and intoned a spell under his breath. Harry watched with interest as Malfoy screwed his face up with concentration and the old pot twisted and split and lengthened until it had turned into a small squat table.
"That was a nice piece of Transfiguration," Harry said, not bothering to keep how impressed he was out of his voice.
Malfoy grinned at him and preened. "Thank you," he said. "Outstanding on my Transfiguration N.E.W.T." Harry smiled back, oddly charmed.
Malfoy stepped closer to Harry’s desk and leaned over to take the orange that Harry was still holding out of his hands. Malfoy’s long smooth fingers lingered over Harry’s hand, leaving burning trails of sensation behind. He stared into Harry’s eyes, unblinking. "Don’t mangle the fruit," he said, his voice slightly breathless as he dropped the orange into the basket without breaking eye contact.
The minutes stretched out as Harry felt himself fall into Malfoy’s hot gaze. "Sorry," he said finally, clearing his throat. "I’ll be more careful in the future." Harry’s voice broke the spell and Malfoy blinked before jerkily nodding his head.
"Good," he said in a low voice.
Malfoy picked up the basket and turned to the newly Transfigured table. He bent down to place it on the table, made a small annoyed noise and then spent long minutes twisting the basket in various angles and arranging the fruit inside.
Harry barely saw what he was doing. As Malfoy bent over, his ridiculously orange, ridiculously tight robes stretched taunt, revealing a perfectly round, perfectly proportioned arse. Harry’s eyes glazed over as he remembered how that arse had looked naked and wet under the street-lights. Get up and touch it, his over-eager and disgustingly pushy libido urged. Go and find out if it feels as delicious as it looks. Harry gripped the edge of his desk tightly, his knuckles going white, to stop himself from doing anything crazy, like listen to the insidious urgings of his over-sexed subconscious.
Not a moment too soon, Malfoy finished his fiddling around and stood up. "There," he said. "Now you’re all sorted."
Am I? Harry thought slightly hysterically, wishing Malfoy would hurry up and leave so he could get down to the serious and urgent business of wanking.
Malfoy looked around Harry’s cubicle once more and moved to stand next to the door. For a moment he struck Harry as looking strangely awkward and searching for words. Harry quickly dismissed the ridiculous thought.
"Well," Malfoy finally said. "My work here is done. Come and visit me some time, don’t be a stranger." And with one last glance at Harry, Malfoy left.
Harry slowly counted to twenty before spelling his door shut and unbuttoning his trousers.
Monday morning dawned bright and chilly. After a relaxing and pleasant week-end, Harry Flooed into the Ministry feeling strangely optimistic. He whistled a little off-tune ditty as he strolled through the Atrium, then lost his stride for a minute as his senses were assaulted by the full horror of Malfoy’s Yule decorations in such a large space. After the holidays it’ll all come down, he reassured himself. There was no need to tell Malfoy his honest opinion of his decorating skills. It would only put a damper on the new turn things had taken between them. Harry felt fairly optimistic after the way he had managed to stand his own the last two times he had talked to Malfoy. It was certainly an improvement over the previous months he had spent responding with tongue-tied incredulity to Malfoy’s outrageous flirting.
Harry looked around the Auror Headquarters with dismay, eyeing the large golden candelabras with particular distaste. Just a little over a week, he reminded himself. Then it would all come down. A nice cup of tea and a cinnamon bun - if there were any - would make it all better.
As he sat in his cubicle sipping his tea, he wondered if Malfoy would be around today with another Yule tradition to promote.
He didn’t have to wait long to find out. A couple of hours later Malfoy swanned in, wearing the shiny emerald green two-piece robe Harry remembered from the week before. When had he started cataloguing Malfoy’s clothes? Harry couldn’t help but feel slightly disgusted with himself. This robe was a far more tasteful colour than the orange one, but unfortunately wasn’t quite as form-fitting. You can’t have everything, Harry sighed and then chastised himself for thinking such ridiculous things about Malfoy.
Malfoy was busy pinning a brand new announcement to his notice-board. "We’ve been seeing a lot of you lately," Harry said once he had reached the other man.
Malfoy turned round to look at Harry. "And you will be seeing a lot more of me over the next few days," he answered with a smirk. He winked at Harry and lowered his voice to the throaty tones Harry - and his cock - were slowly getting addicted to. "If you want, we could easily arrange for you to see even more of me." Malfoy licked his lips suggestively and Harry’s breath caught as his eyes fell to avidly follow the movement of the slick tongue. "All you have to do is say the word," Malfoy finished, his sinfully suggestive voice unerringly pulling reactions out of certain parts of Harry’s anatomy.
For a moment Harry looked at the shiny pink mouth, slightly open with a hint of sharp white teeth and silky tongue showing and then at the feverishly intent stormy grey eyes. It would be so easy to say the word, wouldn’t it? To drag Malfoy off somewhere private, and soundproof, to reveal the gorgeous body he knew was hiding under the green robes, to finally touch his smooth firm skin and taste his pretty, cruel mouth, and to see how loud he could make him scream.
Lost in a red haze of lust and the oh so tempting fantasy, Harry almost did say that yes, he wanted it, wanted it very much. Fortunately a loud laugh broke through the haze and let Harry’s rational mind assert itself once more. Stupid, stupid, he chastised himself. He had almost let Malfoy lure him into his trap. Of course Malfoy was only pretending; but Merlin was he a persuasive actor! He didn’t really want Harry, he couldn’t really want him. All he wanted to do was make a fool of Harry, most probably to get his own back for the way he had embarrassed himself in front of Harry in July.
Harry was determined not to fall for it. He shrugged in response to Malfoy’s come-on. A fleeting look of disappointment washed over the pointy features and Harry wondered for a moment if he was wrong. "So what’s the new notice about?" he asked it an overly cheerful voice.
Malfoy schooled his features into his usual haughty mask and glanced at the announcement. "The new notice, yes," he said in a brisk professional voice. Malfoy turned towards the room and the curious milling Aurors, cleared his throat loudly and theatrically, and began talking in what Harry called his ‘public announcement’ voice.
"Esteemed Aurors and fellow Ministry employees, the Office for the Preservation and Promotion of Wizarding Tradition and Pure-blood Culture has finally managed to get the go-ahead to organise a traditional Yule celebration." Murmurs of interest broke out amongst the gathered. "It will be held on the evening and night of Thursday the twentieh, since Yule Day - Friday the twenty-first - has been officially recognised as a holiday." Cheers filled the room and Malfoy smiled at the crowd graciously. "There will be wassailing and dancing," Malfoy started to explain.
"Will there be food and drink?" Ron’s loud voice interrupted and Harry couldn’t help but smile at his friend.
Malfoy looked towards Ron and smiled too. "Yes," he said. "There will be plenty to eat and drink. Enough even to satisfy even you, Weasley." The gathered Aurors laughed and Ron grinned, unperturbed.
"I’ll keep you to it," he said.
"Beside the requisite food and drink, singing and dancing, we are also having a pageant. A small pageant to showcase some of the older and more theatrical Yule traditions." Malfoy looked around his audience with an encouraging smile. "We are looking for volunteers for the pageant. Don’t be shy. It will be fun." He motioned towards the notice. "All the details are in my announcement." Malfoy gave another of his sleek winning smiles. "I hope to be seeing some of you soon," he told the crowd. Malfoy then turned to Harry. "I certainly hope to be seeing you soon. Good day, Auror Potter."
Once more Harry found himself watching Malfoy go. "I don’t blame you for watching," a voice next to Harry said. "It’s certainly a nice view."
Harry turned to look at Fairweather and shrugged. "So when are you going to do something about it?" she asked him with a leer. "Entertaining as it is watching you two flirt with each other, don’t you think it’s time to get past the foreplay and shag the poor bloke?"
Harry goggled at Fairweather. What was she talking about?
Fairweather gave an aggravated sigh. "Come on now. Blondie is obviously gagging for it, and don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you make a bee-line for the loos after every one of his visits. So do us all a favour, will you, and get on with it."
"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Harry told her stiffly and walked away even more stiffly to the toilets. "Men!" he heard her grumble behind him.
Harry spent the whole rest of the day, and the whole evening at home, and half the night in bed, mulling over what Fairweather had said. Was she just having him on, or could Malfoy possibly be really interested in him? The latter thought led to a number of diverting dreams once he finally fell asleep.
Harry waited until it was almost lunch time next day, in the hope that Malfoy would pay another visit to the Auror Headquarters. Unfortunately Malfoy didn’t show, so for once Harry decided to seek him out.
Harry hadn’t visited the Department for the Advocation of Integration and the Development of Equality (AIDE) since Malfoy had begun working there. Hermione was predictably surprised and pleased to see him. She grasped his hand in a firm grip and chattered ninety-to-the-dozen as she eagerly showed him all the changes and newcomers. Harry was suitably impressed; hers was one of the most up-and-coming departments of the new Ministry. And it also contained the most Yule decorations per square foot.
In the end he had to break free. "Hermione," he said, interrupting her monologue. "This is brilliant, it really is. You’re all doing a great job here. But I had a question for Malfoy. Is he here?"
Hermione looked at him too shrewdly for his liking. "Do you have a question about Yule?" she asked. "It’s very interesting, isn’t it? I have some books at home if you’d like." She caught Harry’s look and laughed. "Or you could just talk to Draco. He knows all about it."
Hermione ushered him down a narrow corridor to the last door. It was small door, but newly painted. Ivy, holly and mistletoe predictably covered the frame and a large green wreath hung under a neat brass plaque. Office for the Preservation and Promotion of Wizarding Tradition and Pure-blood Culture was written on it with an old-fashioned curling script. Trust Malfoy to get his own customised plaque for his door!
Harry knocked on the door and waited until he heard Malfoy tell him to ‘Enter’. He opened the door and peeked in, expecting to see a small cramped room. The room was smallish but had obviously been enlarged magically. Most striking, however, excepting the lavish Yule decorations and the absolutely huge poinsettia that sat in the corner next to the window, was the furniture.
The walls were freshly papered with a tasteful cream floral design and the floor was covered by such a beautiful Persian rug that Harry was almost afraid to step on it. In the centre of the room sat a big, heavy, antique oak desk, behind which Malfoy was sitting, engrossed in his work. On the wall behind the desk there was a large bookcase that looked to be a set with the desk, filled to the brim with books and folders. On the wall opposite the window sat another old piece of furniture that looked to be a cross between a side table and a bar. A cut-glass decanter of amber liquid, possibly brandy or Firewhisky, was sitting on top of it, surrounded by similar cut-glass glasses.
Malfoy was still riveted by what he was reading and had obviously forgotten his guest. Harry slammed the door shut behind him and watched with amusement as Malfoy jumped, startled, and dropped the parchment he was holding. As soon as he spotted Harry, a wide warm smile lit his face.
"Auror Potter, what a pleasure to see you. Please take a seat." He motioned towards one of a set of chairs that looked like more antiques.
"Don’t mind if I do." Harry looked around the room once more, and noticed for the first time the three framed wizarding photographs on Malfoy’s desk. He could make out his parents in one, a blond baby that must be his son in the second, and the third looked very much like young Teddy Lupin. "If this is standard issue Ministry furniture, I think the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has been seriously had."
Malfoy laughed warmly. Harry was surprised to see him so evidently pleased to see him, and thought once again that maybe there was a grain of truth to what Fairweather had said. "Standard issue Ministry furniture is sub-standard, uncomfortable and unbelievably tacky," Malfoy explained, a look of distaste evident on his face. "No person of taste and breeding should be obliged to endure it. This all..." Malfoy swept his hand in large gesture to encompass the room and its furniture, "...is mine. I ‘borrowed’ it from the Manor. Mother won’t even notice it’s gone. It’s not as if the study in the west wing has been used in the last fifty years."
"It’s beautiful," Harry told him, and meant it. He spent a moment feeling jealous of Malfoy’s comfortable and elegant office.
Malfoy grinned once more and his eyes twinkled. "Thank you," he said, trying to sound humble and failing miserably. Harry made a note of how obviously fond the other man was of compliments. "So what brings you here?" Malfoy asked.
Harry panicked momentarily, feeling caught out. He hadn’t actually thought that far. All he had wanted was to see Malfoy to try and ascertain if the other man might possibly be sincerely interested in Harry. Bluff, he told himself. If you play it cool, he won’t realise a thing.
Harry shrugged. "I came by to see Hermione and I thought I might as well pay you a visit too, and see what the infamous Office for the Preservation and Promotion of Wizarding Tradition and Pure-blood Culture looks like from the inside."
Malfoy looked slightly disappointed, but unsurprisingly he didn’t look fazed for long. He steepled his hands in front of him and leaned slightly forward. A lock of light blond hair escaped from his perfectly combed and styled coiffure to swing forward. The tip almost touched his pointy chin and Harry found his attention irresistibly drawn. His fingers itched to touch the errant hair, smooth it back and test its feel.
"I thought you had reconsidered my offer," Malfoy said in his smooth intimate voice, and Harry discreetly adjusted himself in his chair.
"Which offer?" he asked, his mind filling with delicious images of the things he could be doing with Malfoy instead of talking.
"Any offer. All offers," Malfoy answered, his voice going deeper and throatier and his eyes practically blazing. "Anything you want. I can help you with anything you want. I told you that I prefer a hands-on approach and I am very flexible."
Harry gripped the hands of his chair painfully tight in an effort to stop himself from leaping over the impressive desk and launching himself on the other man. He’s obviously gagging for it, Fairweather’s assertion echoed in his brain. And Merlin did he wish it were true! It was starting to look as if it might be, but he wasn’t sure yet. A small, but strong, cowardly part of himself wanted to be certain that it was true before he made a move and debauched the blond as thoroughly as he deserved.
Harry managed to give a sardonic smirk. "Are you now?" he asked, his voice slightly hoarse.
"Oh, yes," Malfoy breathed. Harry could make out the slight tremble of his thin pale hands. "Please feel free to see for yourself anytime you want."
Harry felt his heart-rate speed up. Not yet, he reminded himself. Wait until you’re sure first. "I just might at that," he managed to force out.
Malfoy let out a deep breath and lifted a faintly shaking hand to smooth back his hair. He then got up and walked briskly towards the side table. "Do you want a drink?" he asked Harry as he sloshed a big measure of the amber liquid into a glass.
"No, thanks," Harry said. "I’m still on duty. Actually I should get going." He got up and made his way to the door as Malfoy took a large sip from his drink. "I’ll be seeing you soon."
"You can count on that," Malfoy answered, and Harry couldn’t help but grin as he let himself out. He waved at a distracted Hermione as he swiftly strode out the department. He wondered where the nearest toilets might be.
part 2