Department of Magical Creatures Case #625369
1/2/3/ 4/ 5/ 6/ 7/ 8/ 9/ 10/ 11/ 12/ 13
Chapter 14
Harry was minding his own business, working steadily through the pile of reports left for him during his month suspension, when a thick, pink binder was unceremoniously thrust onto his desk. He stared at it for a moment before looking up at its owner, Hermione. “What’s that?”
“Potential partners. I’ve signed you up with a post-owl matchmaking service.” She plopped down in one of his guest chairs without waiting for an invitation. “I know you’ve been having a hard time getting over that woman, and I thought this might be a nice way to get back out there. The service is completely anonymous, so you’ll be able to meet women who are interested in your personality, and not just your fame. What do you think?”
“A matchmaking service?” Harry looked warily down at the file. It was covered in little hearts and looked like something Lavender Brown would have created. Hermione sat and watched him patiently, allowing him time to process the concept before she began to push. He appreciated the gesture and took a moment to lift the cover and take a peek at the first few pages. The book was full of profiles of women. They did not include pictures, a fact of which Harry both approved and felt wary. What if these women chose a service that didn’t require photos because they were hideous? He tried to accept people for who they were generally, and not what they looked like, but when it came to relationships, physical attraction was very important.
When he reached the tenth page, the vein of his thoughts finally hit him and he paused. Was he seriously considering this as an option? He trusted Hermione with his life, but was this really a good idea? “Hermione, I don’t know if I’m comfortable using a service to find someone to go out with.”
Hermione frowned, but looked determined. Harry’s lecture-senses kicked in and he prepared himself for a diatribe. “I know your first instinct as someone who was raised by Muggles is to automatically reject the idea. Believe me, when Nigel suggested it, I wouldn’t even consider the idea. But then I did a little research, and it turns out that matchmaking services are incredibly common in our world. Originally, matchmakers were used by pure-blood families looking for eligible pure-bloods for their children. Since our community is so small and there isn’t a great deal of mixing between British wizards and those from the Continent, it was nearly the only way the two communities could intermingle. Even though movement between our communities is a great deal more common now, matchmaking is still considered one of the best ways to find a spouse.”
Harry gave her a look and she sighed in exasperation. “Don’t give me that look. I know you’d like to deny it, but I also know you better than you know yourself, and I know that all you want is to settle down, get married, and start a family. Unless you would like to leave things up to fate, this is your best shot at doing so without having to marry some rabid fan.” Harry was still skeptical. “Just give it a chance, please, for me?”
Harry made the mistake of meeting her eyes and the look of sincerity in them convinced him that he couldn’t say no. Not that he was ever very good at resisting Hermione’s suggestions even without eye contact. “All right, I’ll take a look through it.”
Hermione grinned. “Excellent, that’s a good deal more than I would have expected from you. I know you don’t like me meddling, but I don’t like to see you unhappy.”
“I know you don’t. What do I do if I find someone who I think is interesting?”
“It’s simple. You write her an owl letting her know you’re interested and post it to the box number there.” She pointed to a ten-digit number at the top-right corner of the entry he had stopped on. “Make sure to sign it with the post number on the card attached to the front cover. If she is interested in you as well, she will send you an owl back. The owls are sent to a sorting house, and then automatically forwarded to you. That way you don’t have to do any extra work, but the people you correspond with never find out who you are or where you live if you don’t explicitly tell them. It’s really very fascinating…”
Harry could sense a lecture coming on the functions of the sorting house and held a hand up. “I’m sure it’s all very interesting, but I do have a lot of work to finish. I’ll look through the binder and see if anyone strikes my fancy.”
She looked only a smidgen miffed that he had prevented her lecture, but her disappointment was quickly swallowed up in excitement. “I’m so happy you’re really going to give this a try. I have to tell you, I’ve been very worried about you lately. Why don’t you come over for dinner on Saturday night and you can tell me how things are going?”
“That sounds great. I’ll be ‘round about half-six. How’s that?”
“Wonderful. I’ll see you later, then.” She stood and rounded his desk to give him a kiss on the cheek and a half hug, but before she could pull away, he stood and hugged her fully. He buried his nose in her hair and held her close. “Oh, Harry, I’ve missed you. You know I love you, right?” she whispered into his ear, resting her head on his shoulder. She always knew when he needed an extra bit of comfort without him having to say anything.
He smiled to himself and kissed her hair. “I know, ‘Mione. I love you, too.” They pulled away slowly. It was times like this when he remembered how much her friendship really meant to him. She kissed his cheek again and secured one more promise from him to look through the binder before slipping out the door to return to whatever mysterious part of the Department of Mysteries she worked in all day.
Harry plopped back down and took another cursory look at the binder before going back to work. He promised himself that he would make a closer examination that night.
/
It had been several weeks since the television incident, and Draco was slowly warming to the entertainment value it held. Justin had introduced him to films and he found the novelty of watching Muggles interacting in their world quite amusing, now that he understood the concept of television better. It was a Saturday night, and Justin had suggested they stay in and watch a film. Draco had agreed, mostly because he knew a sofa shag was on offer, and he enjoyed watching his own glorious, naked form bouncing on Justin’s lap through the mirror above the fireplace. Justin knew he liked it and indulged him whenever possible.
At the moment, Justin was in the kitchen fixing their dinner, while Draco chose the film from the holding case Justin had installed next to the television. Personally, Draco wasn’t in love with the look of the case, but he found there was a great deal he could tolerate when it meant pleasing his mate. He had looked through half the shelves when he came across a curious image of a little man in a black bowler hat and what looked unmistakably like Wizarding robes. Excited at the possibility that the actor might actually be a Wizard, he immediately pulled the little plastic case off the shelf and popped it open. He was momentarily distracted by the shiny reflection of the little disc inside, but managed to push the button on the film player that caused the disc shelf to appear. He placed the disc on the shelf exactly how Justin had showed him, careful not to touch the reflection. Justin had been very clear that he oughtn’t touch the reflecting side of the disc, something about finger smudges making the discs not work. The very idea that his fingers would be dirty enough to smudge anything was an insult, but again, he tolerated much in the name of pleasing his mate. He pushed the little button and the shelf disappeared again. He pushed the little arrow button like Justin had showed him, and a moment later, the television flashed and a scene flashed. Draco nearly dropped the film case in shock at what he saw. Though the scenes flashed quickly, they were all of very naked, very well-endowed men in various positions of fornication. The music was loud and the noises over the music were lewd, and Draco’s breath caught at the sight.
So entranced was he at the sight on the screen that he missed the loud crash as Justin dropped their dinner plates on the counter and sped into the room. “What the…?” Justin exclaimed before turning a violent red.
“Is this a… common film for Muggles to watch?” Draco asked, too fascinated to take his eyes from the screen long enough to look at his lover.
“No. It’s… um… Bloody hell, this is embarrassing. That’s a porno film. Never meant for you to see it. How did you…?” His eyes fell on the DVD case and his stomach dropped. The history DVD, the false case he had to hide his porno films. What would have possessed Draco to want to watch such a boring documentary?
“What is a… ‘porno’ film?”
“It’s people having sex, graphic sex. It’s for masturbating.”
Draco’s eyes finally left the screen and focused on Justin’s still blushing face. “You’ve masturbated while watching this? It turns you on?”
“Yeah, before I was with you it did. Gets sort of lonely on your own, yeah?”
“I suppose.” A look of mischief lit his eyes. “Would you want to show me how you did this?”
“Did what?” Justin asked, voice cracking. He suddenly felt very nervous.
“Masturbated. Before me.”
“I…” He was about to protest, but the look Draco pinned him with combined with a wave of pheromones and he completely forgot how to argue.
They never touched dinner.
/
Harry was nervous. This was a first for him, a few firsts really. A first proper date, a first time agreeing to meet a complete stranger on a social occasion, a first time using a matchmaking service, the list continued from there. When he’d spoken to Hermione and Nigel about it over dinner, the idea had seemed so sensible. Communicating through post without using names meant that the women he corresponded with weren’t judging him by his notoriety, but by who he was as a person. Lenora, the woman he was currently waiting to meet, had seemed incredibly pleasant through post. She was smart and witty, demonstrated that her morals and ethics aligned with his, and they even shared a mutual interest in travel. From the post they’d exchanged, he was excited to meet her and hoped that she would be everything he was looking for.
But now that the time for meeting had actually come and he was waiting on a bench in a crowded restaurant with the hostess staring at him like she was a hungry vampire and he’d just opened a vein in front of her, he was starting to have second thoughts. What if she wasn’t attractive? What if she thought he dressed like a hapless idiot and told him so to his face? What were they going to talk about? Suddenly the idea of an awkward hour-long meal filled with nothing but stilted sentences and uncomfortable silences flashed in his mind, and the jolt of insane nerves nearly had him up and walking out of the restaurant before he ever met her.
He was just to the point of actually standing when fate stepped in in the form of a tall, blond, very pretty woman who walked through the front doors, did one sweep of the lobby with her eyes, and narrowed in on him. There was a pause while the look of recognition registered on her face, in which time he managed to get a very good look at her. She was taller than him (a fact he tried not to feel self-conscious about), wore a sleek blue dress that perfectly matched her eyes, had curled her hair into big ringlets that Harry found himself fantasizing about twirling his fingers through, and had a close reign on her facial expressions that reminded him oddly of Malfoy. He shook the thought from his brain and smiled at her, hoping that he didn’t look crazy or ridiculous. A small voice in the back of his head told him that he failed. He took the first step towards her, suddenly feeling a little braver than he had been the minute before, and held a hand out to shake hers. “You’re Lenora, aren’t you?”
She returned his smile and shook his hand, her handshake light and her skin soft as a peach. “I am. And of course, you’re Harry. I have to confess, when I saw in your last owl that your name was Harry, I didn’t expect you’d be the Harry.”
Harry tried not to blush, but again a voice in the back of his head told him that he failed. “I don’t know about being the anything. I’m just a Harry, really. Do you want to sit down?” That same voice whispered that she might have misgivings about starting anything with someone as well-known as he was, but he tried to squelch them with a not-as-confident-as-he-would-have-liked smile.
“Yes, that’d be nice.” She again returned his smile, this time with a little more warmth, and he took her elbow to direct her to the podium where the not-vampire hostess was still staring at him with hunger.
“Hi, we have a reservation for two under-”
“Potter, of course, Mr. Potter. Right this way. We’ve prepared the best table for you.” Her smile nearly split her face, and Harry wondered if it was painful, but before he could really contemplate the thought, the smile diminished to barely a sneer as the pretty young hostess turned her eyes to his date. Thankfully, she quickly turned and directed them to a booth set in a nook in the back of the restaurant. It was at a distance from the other tables, so they would have privacy from the other patrons. This was a blessing, as whether the night went well or terribly, they would be shielded from prying ears happy to go to the Prophet. That was all Harry ever asked for, really.
They were seated, given menus as tall as toddlers, and left to themselves only long enough to exchange an awkward smile before the waiter was over and getting their drink requests in. Another minute later and they were finally left to themselves. Harry looked over at her and smiled, feeling suddenly shy. “Do you want to-”
“Have you ever-”
They had started speaking at the same time and laughed at the acknowledged uncomfortable air. “Sorry, what were you saying?” Harry asked, deferring to her.
“I was just going to ask if you wanted to have the calamari for appetizer. What were you going to say?”
“Uh, nothing important. Calamari sounds great. I don’t think I’ve ever had it before.”
“No? You’re in for a treat. It’s delicious here.”
“You’ve been here before, then?” he asked, surprised. He didn’t know why he should be, though. It was a popular restaurant. There was no reason she shouldn’t have come here before; she didn’t live the workaholic life that he did.
“Yes, I have lunch here with my mother and sister almost once a week. I take it you’ve never been?”
“Uh, no. Not much time for social dining in an Auror’s schedule.”
“No? I guess I never thought about the hours an Auror might work. You work a lot, then?” Something in her voice told him they might have already hit a snag, but Harry tried not to worry about it.
“Yeah, most of the time. Right now I’m on desk duty, so the hours are regular, but when I’m in the field, sometimes I have to be gone on a case for days or weeks. Is that going to be a problem?”
Lenora considered him from behind her menu for a moment before shaking her blond curls at him. He couldn’t help but watch them bounce and momentarily got distracted by them again. He focused on her face again when she began to speak. “If you’re on desk duty right now, then it won’t be a problem, right?”
“For now, no.”
“Then, let’s not worry about it.” She gave him a dazzling smile and turned back to her menu. He watched her hair bounce again before looking at his own.
After that they had a pleasant evening. The conversation flowed easily and they got along rather well. She even let him kiss her good night, a brief press of lips on lips in front of the restaurant that left his mouth tasting like cherry lip gloss. He went to bed a little bit happier than he had been when he’d woken up that morning.
/
Unfortunately for Harry, like much in his life, his relationship with Lenora went downhill fast. They spent a pleasant few weeks together, taking long walks in Hyde Park, eating out nearly every night together. Harry had even had her over for dinner one night at his flat, where, with the help of Molly’s copied recipe book, he made her the best Yorkshire Pudding he’d ever managed in his life.
It was the next morning, as he was making her breakfast and she was wandering the flat in one of his t-shirts and nothing else, when the trouble hit. “Who’s this, Harry?” she asked, bringing a framed photograph to him from the living room.
He glanced at it and smiled fondly. “That’s Remus. He’s sort of my honorary godfather.”
“Remus Lupin, the werewolf?” Something in her voice made him pause in turning the bacon to look at her.
“Yeah. He was one of my dad’s best mates.”
She frowned and gave the photo a disgusted look. “Why would you choose to associate yourself with such a dangerous creature?”
Harry’s hackles went up and he put down the cooking tongs to face her fully. “Remus isn’t dangerous. He takes his Wolfsbane every month. He’s never hurt anyone because of his lychanthropy.”
“But he has hurt people?”
“Of course he has; he’s even killed people. But so have I, and so has everyone who fought in the war. It’s kind of unavoidable when it’s kill or be killed. Do you have something against werewolves?”
“Of course I do! They’re dangerous creatures! I refuse to believe that any silly potion can change their nature. They still turn into giant wolves capable of ripping a person’s throat out, don’t they?”
“Yes, but the potion gives them their humanity back during the change. They aren’t any more dangerous under Wolfsbane than they would be as humans.”
She scoffed at him, actually scoffed. “You can’t be serious. They’re filthy animals.”
Defensive anger bubbled up inside him and exploded in an outburst that was louder than it necessarily should have been. “Right. That’s it. OUT. Now. I thought you were a kind person with the same morals as I have, but it’s very clear to me now that you’re just as racist and bigoted as any Voldemort supporter. I’m very sorry, but this isn’t going to work. You can get your things and leave now, thank you.”
Her mouth hung open for a full minute before she got just as angry as he was and shouted back. Personal insults weren’t far behind, and the situation was very ugly before she finally left in a huff. Still too worked up to calm down, he threw the sauce pan that held his burnt beans across the kitchen and decided to go for a run. He was halfway down the hall outside his flat before he realized he was barefoot and still dressed only in his boxers.
/
Ron was becoming a regular fixture on his brother’s sofa. This was his third night in a row eating dinner with them. Neither of them complained, though. Fleur was huffy, but Ron got the sense her mood had nothing to do with him. While he and Bill washed dishes, he asked his brother what the problem was. Normally, he wouldn’t meddle in other people’s affairs, but whenever Fleur was upset, she affected the moods of everyone around her. Ron thought it might be a veela thing, or maybe a pregnancy thing, but he didn’t overanalyze it.
“She’s just upset because I won’t move back to England,” Bill explained.
Alarm bells went off in Ron’s head. He didn’t fancy the idea of being alone in Egypt without any of his family near. “Why does she want you to move back to England? What’s wrong with Egypt?”
“She doesn’t want to raise the baby ‘on non-European soil’-her words. I don’t see what the big deal is; the little guy isn’t even going to understand where he lives until he’s old enough to talk anyway. I think it’ll be good for him to grow up hearing other languages. He’s already going to be bi-lingual. Why not tri-lingual?”
“So, you said no then?”
“Yeah, and she’s not happy about it, obviously. She’s even got Mum on her side. I’ve been getting howlers every morning for the last week. ‘You should think of your family before your job, Bill. You aren’t being very responsible, working in such a dangerous environment when you’re about to be a father. You should think about Fleur’s feelings,’” he imitated their mother’s voice perfectly. Ron had to laugh at the impression. “It’s all a bunch of rubbish. Mum’s never liked me working in Egypt. She doesn’t care about Fleur’s feelings any more than she ever has, but that’s not stopping both of them harping on me. It’s a bit exhausting, really.”
“It would be less exhausting if you were to just give in,” Fleur piped in, waltzing in with a serving tray and a displeased look. Ron marveled at her for a minute. Even six months pregnant, she showed little sign except a round, extended belly.
“We’re not moving back to England. Ron just got a new job, and I don’t want to abandon our search before I’ve seen it through. I can’t just walk away from all that work. You know I can’t.”
“No, but you can let your child be born in a dirty country full of smelly, dangerous men. Yes, I can see the logic there.”
“We’re in no more danger here than we would be in England, and you know that. We don’t see any of the fighting, do we? Have you ever seen a bomb go off? That’s a Muggle problem, not a wizarding one.”
Fleur turned her nose up at him and looked to Ron for support. He managed to stay on Bill’s side, but it was a near thing. Sometimes those looks still entranced him. “I’d like you to stay here, actually. If you move back to England, I’ll be here all by myself. And Bill’s right, we’ve worked really hard on the Ra thing. It wouldn’t be right if he had to abandon the project half-way through.”
Fleur huffed at him as well and flounced out of the room. “Sometimes, I want to kill that woman,” Bill muttered.
“When you don’t want to rip her clothes off?” Ron nudged him with a little smirk.
Bill sighed the sigh of the sorely taxed. “Sometimes even when I do.”
/
Harry was beginning to wonder if he should just give his love life up as a bad job and go the celibacy route because nothing was working out. He had gone out with three other women, and one man claiming to be a woman, and none of them had worked out. Thankfully, none of them had ended as disastrously as things had with Lenora, unless you counted the very unpleasant scene during which Harry found out that the woman he had been snogging for twenty minutes turned out to have all the same equipment he did. That had been embarrassing to say the least.
Now it was near Christmas and he was going to the annual Ministry holiday party without a date. Again. Resigned to his fate, he Apparated to Hermione and Nigel’s so that they could all go together. Hermione gave his attire an approving look, but her expression turned pitying when she reached his face. “I’m really sorry the matchmaking service didn’t work out, Harry.”
“Not a big deal, Hermione. This is how my life goes. Everything ends in disaster.”
“Oh, Harry, that isn’t true. You’ve just had a string of bad luck lately. Things will get better. You just have to keep trying.”
“Yeah, I know. Can we just go? Where’s Nigel?”
Nigel picked that moment to pop in from the bedroom, fiddling with his bowtie. Hermione shot a spell at him that did the tying for him. “Thank you, darling, but I had wanted to do it myself. Hello, Harry. Heard you’ve had a string of back luck lately. Sorry about that. Ready to go?” he said, walking over to join them. His tie was quite neat, but it looked near choking him. Harry saw him loosen it a little while Hermione wasn’t looking.
“Ready to get this over with, yes.”
“Oh, Harry, you used to love holiday parties. I don’t know why you’re so against them now,” Hermione scolded as they moved to the Floo and the powder was handed out.
“You try having three dozen very drunk, very unattractive people proposition you in a night and see how much fun you have.”
“You could always have a bit of fun with it, play around with them, eh?” Nigel nudged him with a wink that made Harry snort.
“Nigel!” Hermione snapped, scandalized. Thankfully, she went through the Floo before they could hear the rest of her diatribe, and it was over by the time Harry made it to the Ministry. The lobby was lined with more trees than the Hogwarts Great Hall and garland was draped over anything that wasn’t moving (and some things that were). It became immediately obvious that the Department of Magical Games and Sports had started drinking early. Everett Lancaster was doing a wobbly waltz with his secretary around the fountain while his underlings cheered them on. This wouldn’t have been strange, except that the Flying Dutchman, a Caribbean band from Jamaica, were playing over the loudspeakers. One look at the scene, and Harry went in search of the bar.
Two hours later, he had somehow found himself on the third floor, sitting with his back against someone’s cubicle, playing a game of truth or dare with a few of the Magical Creatures Department workers and, strangely enough, Percy Weasley. He downed another Fire Whiskey and tried not to think too hard about what was happening. It wasn’t as though anyone would be remembering this scene come morning anyway. He had only been half-paying attention-that was until a giggly young woman fell into his lap and started snogging him. Taken aback, he didn’t immediately turn her away, especially when she turned out to be a rather brilliant kisser. He pulled away after a minute to get a good look at her and was surprised to find himself holding little Emma Wilder. “Emma, what are you doing?”
She giggled and fluffed his hair. There were no signs of her moving off his lap any time soon. “I chose dare, silly. Michael dared me to snog you. Didn’t you like it?”
He was momentarily distracted by the flash of her long, thick eyelashes as she batted her eyes at him. There was no denying his enjoyment, so he didn’t. “I liked it a lot, just wasn’t expecting to be snogged out of the blue like that.”
“Well, get used to it because I liked it, too.” Harry blinked at her. She was a lot more assertive when she was sloshed. Interesting.
She was still at his side at midnight, and they were dancing in the mess hall amongst a mass of Ministry workers and their loved ones. He had her wrapped in his arms and they were gently swaying to Celestina Warbeck. He found that he really liked the way her little body fit so well with his as they danced, and he was just thinking of asking her to come home with him when he spotted Justin Finch-Fetchly and Draco swaying nearby. They were as close as was physically possible and making doe-eyes at each other. A lump formed in Harry’s stomach and he looked down at Emma. He wanted to be that in love with someone. Emma looked right back at him and smiled the prettiest smile he’d ever witnessed. He couldn’t help but lean down and kiss her. She made a little mewling noise and pulled him close. It was nice.
/
It had been a month and Smith was beginning to feel settled. It helped that Cordelia and Merton were so welcoming, and that Draco had made it his personal mission to help him acclimate. Over the past month they had gone to lunch nearly every other day, and when he wasn’t spending time with his mate, Draco was at Smith’s apartment. Smith got the sense that Draco’s mate was being kept in the dark about this, but as Smith himself wasn’t being forthcoming with his own lover, he didn’t think he had a right to say anything to Draco about it.
In the back of his mind, Smith knew that he and Jordan weren’t going to make it. Draco in all his stunning glory was the feature of his dreams and fantasies, not Jordan. It was Draco he longed to lie next to in the dark and wake up next to in the morning. But now Draco had a mate, a man he was supposedly destined to be with. Listening to Draco speak of him was an exercise in patience. Half of Smith wanted to scream at the unfairness of having the perfect man for him taken by another. Smith had had him first, after all. It wasn’t quite fair. But then, at other times, Smith found himself resisting the urge to laugh. The way Draco described this Justin convinced Smith that Justin could never truly be Draco’s soul mate. They were far too different.
And now Smith would be forced to meet this Justin. At the apartment Draco shared with the man. With Jordan at his side. He could already sense that the night was going to be a disaster. Jordan smiled at him and leant over to kiss him briefly. He’d been doing that ever since he arrived by portkey the day before, kissing and touching him at random. Smith supposed it was normal to want to be in constant physical contact with your lover after having been away from each other for months, but Smith’s heart wasn’t totally in it. He really should just end the relationship, but for what? Even if Draco wanted him as much as he wanted Draco, Draco was supposedly with his soul mate. How could Smith compete with that, even if he didn’t personally believe it to be true.
As though thoughts of him conjured the man himself, the door swung open and there was Draco, shimmering from head to toe in silver and practically glowing. Smith could sense the cloud of pheromones around the veela and reminded himself to resist the temptation. He had gotten very good at resisting Draco’s pheromones as of late. “Smith, darling! I’m so glad you could come. And this must be Jordan. How pleasant to finally meet you. Come in, come in.” He gestured them in with a sweeping hand, a smile plastered on his face, but Smith saw the darting look he gave to Jordan’s Muggle clothes.
“Thanks for having us, Draco. This is Jordan. Jordan, meet my friend Draco.”
Jordan smiled and shook Draco’s hand, nothing in his appearance indicating that he had noticed Draco’s slight hostility. “It’s nice to meet you, Draco.”
“Likewise. Let me take your coats.” Only Smith was able to detect the dismissive tone of his voice. They were ushered in and their coats taken and more introductions were made. There were quite a few people crammed into the flat, none of whom Smith recognized except for a guy Smith could have sworn was Harry Potter. He was distracted from the thought by the appearance of his rival-had he really just thought that?-at Draco’s side.
“Smith, Jordan, please meet my mate, Justin Finch-Fletchly. Justin, this is my good friend Smith Michael and his lover, Jordan… I’m sorry, Smith has never told me your surname.” The look on Draco’s face spoke volumes of how interested he was to find that particularly bit of information out.
“Harris. Jordan Harris. It’s nice to meet you, Justin.” He and Justin shook hands, and then it was Smith’s turn. He plastered on a fake smile and shook the other man’s hand, looking him over as he did so. Justin was tall, but that was all he had going for him. He was thin and weedy, his teeth were stained from too much tea, and the mustard-colored sweater he wore made him look sickly. Smith smiled to himself. He always tried not to be a vain man, but there was little doubt in his head that he was much more attractive than Justin.
The moment of introduction passed and drinks were acquired. Draco took them around and introduced them to a few of his friends, including a very attractive black man who turned out to be a vampire, a pug-nosed woman who looked as though she smelled something awful at every turn (Jordan hadn’t much liked her, and truth be told, neither had Smith), and two very large men who reminded Smith more of henchmen for an evil villain in a movie than someone’s close friends. Draco even introduced them to the man Smith had thought looked like Harry Potter, and to his astonishment, it actually was the man himself. Jordan had excitedly begun asking questions about the war, unsurprising as he was a history freak if ever there was one.
Smith quickly lost interest in the conversation and excused himself to go in search of Draco. He found him dictating directions to a stressed-looking house-elf wearing a festive Christmas dish towel. He lit up at the sight of Smith, house-elf forgotten. “Smith, darling, what are you doing in the kitchen?”
“Looking for you, actually. Jordan’s busy talking to Harry Potter.” He walked over to stand in front of Draco, who was leaning against the counter and smiling that silly smile again. It sort of took Smith’s breath away. “I thought you hated his guts. What’s he doing here?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “I still do sometimes, and I most certainly do not approve of the female he brought with him, but we get on better now. He’s been adopted into Justin’s family the same as Justin has been and we’ve been thrown together quite a lot. Also, I’m trying to get him to release a dear friend of mine from Azkaban to mine and my mother’s care.”
“Always something in it for you, isn’t there?” He didn’t mean it as an insult, and thankfully Draco didn’t take it as one. Instead, he beamed.
“Of course. I wouldn’t be a very good Slytherin if there wasn’t.”
Smith had gotten really close to Draco, a fact that Draco didn’t seem to mind. He dipped his head down, close enough to kiss. Still Draco didn’t seem to mind. “That’s why I like you so much,” Smith whispered just before pressing his lips to Draco’s. For a moment, neither of them moved, Smith from shock at what he had just done. He could only guess at what was happening inside Draco’s head. He quickly pulled away once his senses returned and began apologizing. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. We’re both in relationships. I shouldn’t be kissing you, but it’s all I’ve been thinking about for weeks now, and meeting Justin didn’t help.”
There would have been more apologies, but Draco stopped him with his lips. Long fingers dug into his hair and familiar, neat fingernails scratched at his scalp. He had forgotten just how much he enjoyed Draco’s habit of trying to practically crawl inside someone when he kissed them, how wanted it always made him feel. Their brief time together had been such a long time ago, but he felt like they were falling right back into their rhythm. Smith flicked his tongue against Draco’s lips, and was just about to make an entrance inside when a loud laugh from behind the kitchen door brought them both back to where they were. They jumped apart and looked guiltily around the kitchen, but there was no one there, not even the house-elf.
Draco looked frantic for a fraction of a second before composing himself and quickly straightening his clothes and then Smith’s hair. “I’m sorry for the outburst. I’ve been wanting to kiss you as much as you’ve been wanting to kiss me. Why don’t we, er… talk about this later? When there aren’t loads of people around to catch us at it, yes?”
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” He saw the sense in this, but it didn’t stop him from pecking Draco’s lips one more time.
Draco flashed him a smile that quickly morphed into a disapproving look. “I don’t like Jordan.”
“I don’t like Justin,” Smith said back. They looked at each other. A decision passed between them. They wouldn’t say anything more about each other’s significant other, but neither would they stop what they had started.
“When does he leave?”
Smith needed no explanation to know he meant Jordan. “The day after Christmas.”
“Blast,” Draco muttered turning away before turning back. “I’ll come by the day after. We’ll talk about this.”
“Sounds like a plan. For now, I’m going to kiss you one more time and then I’m going to figure out an excuse and take Jordan home, okay?”
“That sounds wonderful.” They kissed again, a long but chaste one, and then Smith slipped out of the kitchen to find his partner. Jordan was sandwiched between the buffet and the pug-nosed woman, who seemed to be trying to bully him into giving her stock tips. He tried to make excuses for them to leave, but Jordan cut him off before he could finish.
“I know you’re trying to save me from being manhandled by that woman, but we really don’t have to leave. I’m actually having fun here. Would you mind if we stayed for a little longer?”
Jordan batted his eyelashes and Smith was feeling so guilty about having just made out with his ex in the kitchen that he caved. They ended up staying for three more hours, and Jordan enjoyed himself immensely. For Smith, they were three very uncomfortable hours.
When they finally got home, Jordan was quiet while they showered and got ready for bed. It was odd given how much fun he had apparently had, how much alcohol he had imbibed, and how much he usually liked to talk after parties. They made love, but it wasn’t the most exciting sex they had ever shared and they both knew it. Jordan studied him for a long time afterwards. He tried to pretend to go to sleep, but Jordan saw right through him.
“I think I’m going to go home tomorrow,” he said.
Smith sat up, all pretense of sleep gone. “What? Why?”
Jordan rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid, you know. This isn’t going to work any more. I sort of knew it wouldn’t work from the minute you said you were coming here, but I always kind of hoped that maybe I was just being paranoid. But you want him. I can see it in your eyes every time you look at him. And he wants you, too. I don’t stay where I’m not wanted, Michael. You know that.” He gave Smith a direct look and Smith cowered back into the pillows. He knew it was bad when Jordan used his real first name.
“Would there be any point in denying that I want him?” < br>
“No.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want things to play out this way. I did love you, you know.”
“I know. Just not more than you love him.”
There was no use denying it, so he didn’t. “I’m sorry, Jordan.”
“I know you are. It’s all right. I’m glad I was able to see it for myself. That’s why I made you stay so much longer. I wanted to be sure. I am now.”
“You can stay until after the holidays, if you want.”
“I don’t. I love you, but there’s no reason for me to stay here when I can be with my family.”
“All right, I understand.”
Jordan lay down and pulled the blankets up to his chin. “Good night.”
“Night. I’m really sorry.”
“I know.”
/
It had been a long night; by rights, Justin should have been asleep, but he just couldn’t close his eyes. Draco was curled into his side, his head resting on Justin’s chest, leg resting atop Justin’s. Though it was late, all Justin could do was run his fingers through Draco’s baby-fine hair and think about how much he loved him and how much he did not want to lose him. Maybe they should do the bond. It would solidify what they felt for each other. There would be no way for Draco to leave him if they were bonded. So, Ernie said he would have him prosecuted. All he would need to do was prove that he was Draco’s true mate, and how could they disprove such a thing? It wasn’t as though there were tests. Were there?
/
Form:83352739
Name:DracoMalfoy
Registry Number: 625369
Date: December 18, 2003
Age:23
Mate: Justin Finch-Fletchly
Current Location: London, England
Number of Sexual Encounter(s): 10
Name(s) of Partner(s): Justin Finch-Fletchly 10(M)
Age(s) of Partner(s): 23
Species of Partner(s): wizard
Description of Sexual Encounter(s): Uneventful, not that I would tell you I if the situation had been otherwise.
Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s)?: Yes
If so, what spell or potion was used and what were its affects?: Nothing beyond the norm
Did any encounter result in pregnancy?:
Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate?: Yes
If so, how and why?: As you know, getting my own way is a priority.
Comments: I am having concerns about a few of my behaviors. Would it be possible to meet with you? Without letting Justin know?
>
Thank you to wwmrsweasleydo for her quick and wonderful beta! Also, I had some spacing issues when I was trying to transfer this chapter from the .doc file to LJ that I've never had before. If there are spaces still missing that I didn't catch, please let me know.
Chapter 14
Harry was minding his own business, working steadily through the pile of reports left for him during his month suspension, when a thick, pink binder was unceremoniously thrust onto his desk. He stared at it for a moment before looking up at its owner, Hermione. “What’s that?”
“Potential partners. I’ve signed you up with a post-owl matchmaking service.” She plopped down in one of his guest chairs without waiting for an invitation. “I know you’ve been having a hard time getting over that woman, and I thought this might be a nice way to get back out there. The service is completely anonymous, so you’ll be able to meet women who are interested in your personality, and not just your fame. What do you think?”
“A matchmaking service?” Harry looked warily down at the file. It was covered in little hearts and looked like something Lavender Brown would have created. Hermione sat and watched him patiently, allowing him time to process the concept before she began to push. He appreciated the gesture and took a moment to lift the cover and take a peek at the first few pages. The book was full of profiles of women. They did not include pictures, a fact of which Harry both approved and felt wary. What if these women chose a service that didn’t require photos because they were hideous? He tried to accept people for who they were generally, and not what they looked like, but when it came to relationships, physical attraction was very important.
When he reached the tenth page, the vein of his thoughts finally hit him and he paused. Was he seriously considering this as an option? He trusted Hermione with his life, but was this really a good idea? “Hermione, I don’t know if I’m comfortable using a service to find someone to go out with.”
Hermione frowned, but looked determined. Harry’s lecture-senses kicked in and he prepared himself for a diatribe. “I know your first instinct as someone who was raised by Muggles is to automatically reject the idea. Believe me, when Nigel suggested it, I wouldn’t even consider the idea. But then I did a little research, and it turns out that matchmaking services are incredibly common in our world. Originally, matchmakers were used by pure-blood families looking for eligible pure-bloods for their children. Since our community is so small and there isn’t a great deal of mixing between British wizards and those from the Continent, it was nearly the only way the two communities could intermingle. Even though movement between our communities is a great deal more common now, matchmaking is still considered one of the best ways to find a spouse.”
Harry gave her a look and she sighed in exasperation. “Don’t give me that look. I know you’d like to deny it, but I also know you better than you know yourself, and I know that all you want is to settle down, get married, and start a family. Unless you would like to leave things up to fate, this is your best shot at doing so without having to marry some rabid fan.” Harry was still skeptical. “Just give it a chance, please, for me?”
Harry made the mistake of meeting her eyes and the look of sincerity in them convinced him that he couldn’t say no. Not that he was ever very good at resisting Hermione’s suggestions even without eye contact. “All right, I’ll take a look through it.”
Hermione grinned. “Excellent, that’s a good deal more than I would have expected from you. I know you don’t like me meddling, but I don’t like to see you unhappy.”
“I know you don’t. What do I do if I find someone who I think is interesting?”
“It’s simple. You write her an owl letting her know you’re interested and post it to the box number there.” She pointed to a ten-digit number at the top-right corner of the entry he had stopped on. “Make sure to sign it with the post number on the card attached to the front cover. If she is interested in you as well, she will send you an owl back. The owls are sent to a sorting house, and then automatically forwarded to you. That way you don’t have to do any extra work, but the people you correspond with never find out who you are or where you live if you don’t explicitly tell them. It’s really very fascinating…”
Harry could sense a lecture coming on the functions of the sorting house and held a hand up. “I’m sure it’s all very interesting, but I do have a lot of work to finish. I’ll look through the binder and see if anyone strikes my fancy.”
She looked only a smidgen miffed that he had prevented her lecture, but her disappointment was quickly swallowed up in excitement. “I’m so happy you’re really going to give this a try. I have to tell you, I’ve been very worried about you lately. Why don’t you come over for dinner on Saturday night and you can tell me how things are going?”
“That sounds great. I’ll be ‘round about half-six. How’s that?”
“Wonderful. I’ll see you later, then.” She stood and rounded his desk to give him a kiss on the cheek and a half hug, but before she could pull away, he stood and hugged her fully. He buried his nose in her hair and held her close. “Oh, Harry, I’ve missed you. You know I love you, right?” she whispered into his ear, resting her head on his shoulder. She always knew when he needed an extra bit of comfort without him having to say anything.
He smiled to himself and kissed her hair. “I know, ‘Mione. I love you, too.” They pulled away slowly. It was times like this when he remembered how much her friendship really meant to him. She kissed his cheek again and secured one more promise from him to look through the binder before slipping out the door to return to whatever mysterious part of the Department of Mysteries she worked in all day.
Harry plopped back down and took another cursory look at the binder before going back to work. He promised himself that he would make a closer examination that night.
/
It had been several weeks since the television incident, and Draco was slowly warming to the entertainment value it held. Justin had introduced him to films and he found the novelty of watching Muggles interacting in their world quite amusing, now that he understood the concept of television better. It was a Saturday night, and Justin had suggested they stay in and watch a film. Draco had agreed, mostly because he knew a sofa shag was on offer, and he enjoyed watching his own glorious, naked form bouncing on Justin’s lap through the mirror above the fireplace. Justin knew he liked it and indulged him whenever possible.
At the moment, Justin was in the kitchen fixing their dinner, while Draco chose the film from the holding case Justin had installed next to the television. Personally, Draco wasn’t in love with the look of the case, but he found there was a great deal he could tolerate when it meant pleasing his mate. He had looked through half the shelves when he came across a curious image of a little man in a black bowler hat and what looked unmistakably like Wizarding robes. Excited at the possibility that the actor might actually be a Wizard, he immediately pulled the little plastic case off the shelf and popped it open. He was momentarily distracted by the shiny reflection of the little disc inside, but managed to push the button on the film player that caused the disc shelf to appear. He placed the disc on the shelf exactly how Justin had showed him, careful not to touch the reflection. Justin had been very clear that he oughtn’t touch the reflecting side of the disc, something about finger smudges making the discs not work. The very idea that his fingers would be dirty enough to smudge anything was an insult, but again, he tolerated much in the name of pleasing his mate. He pushed the little button and the shelf disappeared again. He pushed the little arrow button like Justin had showed him, and a moment later, the television flashed and a scene flashed. Draco nearly dropped the film case in shock at what he saw. Though the scenes flashed quickly, they were all of very naked, very well-endowed men in various positions of fornication. The music was loud and the noises over the music were lewd, and Draco’s breath caught at the sight.
So entranced was he at the sight on the screen that he missed the loud crash as Justin dropped their dinner plates on the counter and sped into the room. “What the…?” Justin exclaimed before turning a violent red.
“Is this a… common film for Muggles to watch?” Draco asked, too fascinated to take his eyes from the screen long enough to look at his lover.
“No. It’s… um… Bloody hell, this is embarrassing. That’s a porno film. Never meant for you to see it. How did you…?” His eyes fell on the DVD case and his stomach dropped. The history DVD, the false case he had to hide his porno films. What would have possessed Draco to want to watch such a boring documentary?
“What is a… ‘porno’ film?”
“It’s people having sex, graphic sex. It’s for masturbating.”
Draco’s eyes finally left the screen and focused on Justin’s still blushing face. “You’ve masturbated while watching this? It turns you on?”
“Yeah, before I was with you it did. Gets sort of lonely on your own, yeah?”
“I suppose.” A look of mischief lit his eyes. “Would you want to show me how you did this?”
“Did what?” Justin asked, voice cracking. He suddenly felt very nervous.
“Masturbated. Before me.”
“I…” He was about to protest, but the look Draco pinned him with combined with a wave of pheromones and he completely forgot how to argue.
They never touched dinner.
/
Harry was nervous. This was a first for him, a few firsts really. A first proper date, a first time agreeing to meet a complete stranger on a social occasion, a first time using a matchmaking service, the list continued from there. When he’d spoken to Hermione and Nigel about it over dinner, the idea had seemed so sensible. Communicating through post without using names meant that the women he corresponded with weren’t judging him by his notoriety, but by who he was as a person. Lenora, the woman he was currently waiting to meet, had seemed incredibly pleasant through post. She was smart and witty, demonstrated that her morals and ethics aligned with his, and they even shared a mutual interest in travel. From the post they’d exchanged, he was excited to meet her and hoped that she would be everything he was looking for.
But now that the time for meeting had actually come and he was waiting on a bench in a crowded restaurant with the hostess staring at him like she was a hungry vampire and he’d just opened a vein in front of her, he was starting to have second thoughts. What if she wasn’t attractive? What if she thought he dressed like a hapless idiot and told him so to his face? What were they going to talk about? Suddenly the idea of an awkward hour-long meal filled with nothing but stilted sentences and uncomfortable silences flashed in his mind, and the jolt of insane nerves nearly had him up and walking out of the restaurant before he ever met her.
He was just to the point of actually standing when fate stepped in in the form of a tall, blond, very pretty woman who walked through the front doors, did one sweep of the lobby with her eyes, and narrowed in on him. There was a pause while the look of recognition registered on her face, in which time he managed to get a very good look at her. She was taller than him (a fact he tried not to feel self-conscious about), wore a sleek blue dress that perfectly matched her eyes, had curled her hair into big ringlets that Harry found himself fantasizing about twirling his fingers through, and had a close reign on her facial expressions that reminded him oddly of Malfoy. He shook the thought from his brain and smiled at her, hoping that he didn’t look crazy or ridiculous. A small voice in the back of his head told him that he failed. He took the first step towards her, suddenly feeling a little braver than he had been the minute before, and held a hand out to shake hers. “You’re Lenora, aren’t you?”
She returned his smile and shook his hand, her handshake light and her skin soft as a peach. “I am. And of course, you’re Harry. I have to confess, when I saw in your last owl that your name was Harry, I didn’t expect you’d be the Harry.”
Harry tried not to blush, but again a voice in the back of his head told him that he failed. “I don’t know about being the anything. I’m just a Harry, really. Do you want to sit down?” That same voice whispered that she might have misgivings about starting anything with someone as well-known as he was, but he tried to squelch them with a not-as-confident-as-he-would-have-liked smile.
“Yes, that’d be nice.” She again returned his smile, this time with a little more warmth, and he took her elbow to direct her to the podium where the not-vampire hostess was still staring at him with hunger.
“Hi, we have a reservation for two under-”
“Potter, of course, Mr. Potter. Right this way. We’ve prepared the best table for you.” Her smile nearly split her face, and Harry wondered if it was painful, but before he could really contemplate the thought, the smile diminished to barely a sneer as the pretty young hostess turned her eyes to his date. Thankfully, she quickly turned and directed them to a booth set in a nook in the back of the restaurant. It was at a distance from the other tables, so they would have privacy from the other patrons. This was a blessing, as whether the night went well or terribly, they would be shielded from prying ears happy to go to the Prophet. That was all Harry ever asked for, really.
They were seated, given menus as tall as toddlers, and left to themselves only long enough to exchange an awkward smile before the waiter was over and getting their drink requests in. Another minute later and they were finally left to themselves. Harry looked over at her and smiled, feeling suddenly shy. “Do you want to-”
“Have you ever-”
They had started speaking at the same time and laughed at the acknowledged uncomfortable air. “Sorry, what were you saying?” Harry asked, deferring to her.
“I was just going to ask if you wanted to have the calamari for appetizer. What were you going to say?”
“Uh, nothing important. Calamari sounds great. I don’t think I’ve ever had it before.”
“No? You’re in for a treat. It’s delicious here.”
“You’ve been here before, then?” he asked, surprised. He didn’t know why he should be, though. It was a popular restaurant. There was no reason she shouldn’t have come here before; she didn’t live the workaholic life that he did.
“Yes, I have lunch here with my mother and sister almost once a week. I take it you’ve never been?”
“Uh, no. Not much time for social dining in an Auror’s schedule.”
“No? I guess I never thought about the hours an Auror might work. You work a lot, then?” Something in her voice told him they might have already hit a snag, but Harry tried not to worry about it.
“Yeah, most of the time. Right now I’m on desk duty, so the hours are regular, but when I’m in the field, sometimes I have to be gone on a case for days or weeks. Is that going to be a problem?”
Lenora considered him from behind her menu for a moment before shaking her blond curls at him. He couldn’t help but watch them bounce and momentarily got distracted by them again. He focused on her face again when she began to speak. “If you’re on desk duty right now, then it won’t be a problem, right?”
“For now, no.”
“Then, let’s not worry about it.” She gave him a dazzling smile and turned back to her menu. He watched her hair bounce again before looking at his own.
After that they had a pleasant evening. The conversation flowed easily and they got along rather well. She even let him kiss her good night, a brief press of lips on lips in front of the restaurant that left his mouth tasting like cherry lip gloss. He went to bed a little bit happier than he had been when he’d woken up that morning.
/
Unfortunately for Harry, like much in his life, his relationship with Lenora went downhill fast. They spent a pleasant few weeks together, taking long walks in Hyde Park, eating out nearly every night together. Harry had even had her over for dinner one night at his flat, where, with the help of Molly’s copied recipe book, he made her the best Yorkshire Pudding he’d ever managed in his life.
It was the next morning, as he was making her breakfast and she was wandering the flat in one of his t-shirts and nothing else, when the trouble hit. “Who’s this, Harry?” she asked, bringing a framed photograph to him from the living room.
He glanced at it and smiled fondly. “That’s Remus. He’s sort of my honorary godfather.”
“Remus Lupin, the werewolf?” Something in her voice made him pause in turning the bacon to look at her.
“Yeah. He was one of my dad’s best mates.”
She frowned and gave the photo a disgusted look. “Why would you choose to associate yourself with such a dangerous creature?”
Harry’s hackles went up and he put down the cooking tongs to face her fully. “Remus isn’t dangerous. He takes his Wolfsbane every month. He’s never hurt anyone because of his lychanthropy.”
“But he has hurt people?”
“Of course he has; he’s even killed people. But so have I, and so has everyone who fought in the war. It’s kind of unavoidable when it’s kill or be killed. Do you have something against werewolves?”
“Of course I do! They’re dangerous creatures! I refuse to believe that any silly potion can change their nature. They still turn into giant wolves capable of ripping a person’s throat out, don’t they?”
“Yes, but the potion gives them their humanity back during the change. They aren’t any more dangerous under Wolfsbane than they would be as humans.”
She scoffed at him, actually scoffed. “You can’t be serious. They’re filthy animals.”
Defensive anger bubbled up inside him and exploded in an outburst that was louder than it necessarily should have been. “Right. That’s it. OUT. Now. I thought you were a kind person with the same morals as I have, but it’s very clear to me now that you’re just as racist and bigoted as any Voldemort supporter. I’m very sorry, but this isn’t going to work. You can get your things and leave now, thank you.”
Her mouth hung open for a full minute before she got just as angry as he was and shouted back. Personal insults weren’t far behind, and the situation was very ugly before she finally left in a huff. Still too worked up to calm down, he threw the sauce pan that held his burnt beans across the kitchen and decided to go for a run. He was halfway down the hall outside his flat before he realized he was barefoot and still dressed only in his boxers.
/
Ron was becoming a regular fixture on his brother’s sofa. This was his third night in a row eating dinner with them. Neither of them complained, though. Fleur was huffy, but Ron got the sense her mood had nothing to do with him. While he and Bill washed dishes, he asked his brother what the problem was. Normally, he wouldn’t meddle in other people’s affairs, but whenever Fleur was upset, she affected the moods of everyone around her. Ron thought it might be a veela thing, or maybe a pregnancy thing, but he didn’t overanalyze it.
“She’s just upset because I won’t move back to England,” Bill explained.
Alarm bells went off in Ron’s head. He didn’t fancy the idea of being alone in Egypt without any of his family near. “Why does she want you to move back to England? What’s wrong with Egypt?”
“She doesn’t want to raise the baby ‘on non-European soil’-her words. I don’t see what the big deal is; the little guy isn’t even going to understand where he lives until he’s old enough to talk anyway. I think it’ll be good for him to grow up hearing other languages. He’s already going to be bi-lingual. Why not tri-lingual?”
“So, you said no then?”
“Yeah, and she’s not happy about it, obviously. She’s even got Mum on her side. I’ve been getting howlers every morning for the last week. ‘You should think of your family before your job, Bill. You aren’t being very responsible, working in such a dangerous environment when you’re about to be a father. You should think about Fleur’s feelings,’” he imitated their mother’s voice perfectly. Ron had to laugh at the impression. “It’s all a bunch of rubbish. Mum’s never liked me working in Egypt. She doesn’t care about Fleur’s feelings any more than she ever has, but that’s not stopping both of them harping on me. It’s a bit exhausting, really.”
“It would be less exhausting if you were to just give in,” Fleur piped in, waltzing in with a serving tray and a displeased look. Ron marveled at her for a minute. Even six months pregnant, she showed little sign except a round, extended belly.
“We’re not moving back to England. Ron just got a new job, and I don’t want to abandon our search before I’ve seen it through. I can’t just walk away from all that work. You know I can’t.”
“No, but you can let your child be born in a dirty country full of smelly, dangerous men. Yes, I can see the logic there.”
“We’re in no more danger here than we would be in England, and you know that. We don’t see any of the fighting, do we? Have you ever seen a bomb go off? That’s a Muggle problem, not a wizarding one.”
Fleur turned her nose up at him and looked to Ron for support. He managed to stay on Bill’s side, but it was a near thing. Sometimes those looks still entranced him. “I’d like you to stay here, actually. If you move back to England, I’ll be here all by myself. And Bill’s right, we’ve worked really hard on the Ra thing. It wouldn’t be right if he had to abandon the project half-way through.”
Fleur huffed at him as well and flounced out of the room. “Sometimes, I want to kill that woman,” Bill muttered.
“When you don’t want to rip her clothes off?” Ron nudged him with a little smirk.
Bill sighed the sigh of the sorely taxed. “Sometimes even when I do.”
/
Harry was beginning to wonder if he should just give his love life up as a bad job and go the celibacy route because nothing was working out. He had gone out with three other women, and one man claiming to be a woman, and none of them had worked out. Thankfully, none of them had ended as disastrously as things had with Lenora, unless you counted the very unpleasant scene during which Harry found out that the woman he had been snogging for twenty minutes turned out to have all the same equipment he did. That had been embarrassing to say the least.
Now it was near Christmas and he was going to the annual Ministry holiday party without a date. Again. Resigned to his fate, he Apparated to Hermione and Nigel’s so that they could all go together. Hermione gave his attire an approving look, but her expression turned pitying when she reached his face. “I’m really sorry the matchmaking service didn’t work out, Harry.”
“Not a big deal, Hermione. This is how my life goes. Everything ends in disaster.”
“Oh, Harry, that isn’t true. You’ve just had a string of bad luck lately. Things will get better. You just have to keep trying.”
“Yeah, I know. Can we just go? Where’s Nigel?”
Nigel picked that moment to pop in from the bedroom, fiddling with his bowtie. Hermione shot a spell at him that did the tying for him. “Thank you, darling, but I had wanted to do it myself. Hello, Harry. Heard you’ve had a string of back luck lately. Sorry about that. Ready to go?” he said, walking over to join them. His tie was quite neat, but it looked near choking him. Harry saw him loosen it a little while Hermione wasn’t looking.
“Ready to get this over with, yes.”
“Oh, Harry, you used to love holiday parties. I don’t know why you’re so against them now,” Hermione scolded as they moved to the Floo and the powder was handed out.
“You try having three dozen very drunk, very unattractive people proposition you in a night and see how much fun you have.”
“You could always have a bit of fun with it, play around with them, eh?” Nigel nudged him with a wink that made Harry snort.
“Nigel!” Hermione snapped, scandalized. Thankfully, she went through the Floo before they could hear the rest of her diatribe, and it was over by the time Harry made it to the Ministry. The lobby was lined with more trees than the Hogwarts Great Hall and garland was draped over anything that wasn’t moving (and some things that were). It became immediately obvious that the Department of Magical Games and Sports had started drinking early. Everett Lancaster was doing a wobbly waltz with his secretary around the fountain while his underlings cheered them on. This wouldn’t have been strange, except that the Flying Dutchman, a Caribbean band from Jamaica, were playing over the loudspeakers. One look at the scene, and Harry went in search of the bar.
Two hours later, he had somehow found himself on the third floor, sitting with his back against someone’s cubicle, playing a game of truth or dare with a few of the Magical Creatures Department workers and, strangely enough, Percy Weasley. He downed another Fire Whiskey and tried not to think too hard about what was happening. It wasn’t as though anyone would be remembering this scene come morning anyway. He had only been half-paying attention-that was until a giggly young woman fell into his lap and started snogging him. Taken aback, he didn’t immediately turn her away, especially when she turned out to be a rather brilliant kisser. He pulled away after a minute to get a good look at her and was surprised to find himself holding little Emma Wilder. “Emma, what are you doing?”
She giggled and fluffed his hair. There were no signs of her moving off his lap any time soon. “I chose dare, silly. Michael dared me to snog you. Didn’t you like it?”
He was momentarily distracted by the flash of her long, thick eyelashes as she batted her eyes at him. There was no denying his enjoyment, so he didn’t. “I liked it a lot, just wasn’t expecting to be snogged out of the blue like that.”
“Well, get used to it because I liked it, too.” Harry blinked at her. She was a lot more assertive when she was sloshed. Interesting.
She was still at his side at midnight, and they were dancing in the mess hall amongst a mass of Ministry workers and their loved ones. He had her wrapped in his arms and they were gently swaying to Celestina Warbeck. He found that he really liked the way her little body fit so well with his as they danced, and he was just thinking of asking her to come home with him when he spotted Justin Finch-Fetchly and Draco swaying nearby. They were as close as was physically possible and making doe-eyes at each other. A lump formed in Harry’s stomach and he looked down at Emma. He wanted to be that in love with someone. Emma looked right back at him and smiled the prettiest smile he’d ever witnessed. He couldn’t help but lean down and kiss her. She made a little mewling noise and pulled him close. It was nice.
/
It had been a month and Smith was beginning to feel settled. It helped that Cordelia and Merton were so welcoming, and that Draco had made it his personal mission to help him acclimate. Over the past month they had gone to lunch nearly every other day, and when he wasn’t spending time with his mate, Draco was at Smith’s apartment. Smith got the sense that Draco’s mate was being kept in the dark about this, but as Smith himself wasn’t being forthcoming with his own lover, he didn’t think he had a right to say anything to Draco about it.
In the back of his mind, Smith knew that he and Jordan weren’t going to make it. Draco in all his stunning glory was the feature of his dreams and fantasies, not Jordan. It was Draco he longed to lie next to in the dark and wake up next to in the morning. But now Draco had a mate, a man he was supposedly destined to be with. Listening to Draco speak of him was an exercise in patience. Half of Smith wanted to scream at the unfairness of having the perfect man for him taken by another. Smith had had him first, after all. It wasn’t quite fair. But then, at other times, Smith found himself resisting the urge to laugh. The way Draco described this Justin convinced Smith that Justin could never truly be Draco’s soul mate. They were far too different.
And now Smith would be forced to meet this Justin. At the apartment Draco shared with the man. With Jordan at his side. He could already sense that the night was going to be a disaster. Jordan smiled at him and leant over to kiss him briefly. He’d been doing that ever since he arrived by portkey the day before, kissing and touching him at random. Smith supposed it was normal to want to be in constant physical contact with your lover after having been away from each other for months, but Smith’s heart wasn’t totally in it. He really should just end the relationship, but for what? Even if Draco wanted him as much as he wanted Draco, Draco was supposedly with his soul mate. How could Smith compete with that, even if he didn’t personally believe it to be true.
As though thoughts of him conjured the man himself, the door swung open and there was Draco, shimmering from head to toe in silver and practically glowing. Smith could sense the cloud of pheromones around the veela and reminded himself to resist the temptation. He had gotten very good at resisting Draco’s pheromones as of late. “Smith, darling! I’m so glad you could come. And this must be Jordan. How pleasant to finally meet you. Come in, come in.” He gestured them in with a sweeping hand, a smile plastered on his face, but Smith saw the darting look he gave to Jordan’s Muggle clothes.
“Thanks for having us, Draco. This is Jordan. Jordan, meet my friend Draco.”
Jordan smiled and shook Draco’s hand, nothing in his appearance indicating that he had noticed Draco’s slight hostility. “It’s nice to meet you, Draco.”
“Likewise. Let me take your coats.” Only Smith was able to detect the dismissive tone of his voice. They were ushered in and their coats taken and more introductions were made. There were quite a few people crammed into the flat, none of whom Smith recognized except for a guy Smith could have sworn was Harry Potter. He was distracted from the thought by the appearance of his rival-had he really just thought that?-at Draco’s side.
“Smith, Jordan, please meet my mate, Justin Finch-Fletchly. Justin, this is my good friend Smith Michael and his lover, Jordan… I’m sorry, Smith has never told me your surname.” The look on Draco’s face spoke volumes of how interested he was to find that particularly bit of information out.
“Harris. Jordan Harris. It’s nice to meet you, Justin.” He and Justin shook hands, and then it was Smith’s turn. He plastered on a fake smile and shook the other man’s hand, looking him over as he did so. Justin was tall, but that was all he had going for him. He was thin and weedy, his teeth were stained from too much tea, and the mustard-colored sweater he wore made him look sickly. Smith smiled to himself. He always tried not to be a vain man, but there was little doubt in his head that he was much more attractive than Justin.
The moment of introduction passed and drinks were acquired. Draco took them around and introduced them to a few of his friends, including a very attractive black man who turned out to be a vampire, a pug-nosed woman who looked as though she smelled something awful at every turn (Jordan hadn’t much liked her, and truth be told, neither had Smith), and two very large men who reminded Smith more of henchmen for an evil villain in a movie than someone’s close friends. Draco even introduced them to the man Smith had thought looked like Harry Potter, and to his astonishment, it actually was the man himself. Jordan had excitedly begun asking questions about the war, unsurprising as he was a history freak if ever there was one.
Smith quickly lost interest in the conversation and excused himself to go in search of Draco. He found him dictating directions to a stressed-looking house-elf wearing a festive Christmas dish towel. He lit up at the sight of Smith, house-elf forgotten. “Smith, darling, what are you doing in the kitchen?”
“Looking for you, actually. Jordan’s busy talking to Harry Potter.” He walked over to stand in front of Draco, who was leaning against the counter and smiling that silly smile again. It sort of took Smith’s breath away. “I thought you hated his guts. What’s he doing here?”
Draco rolled his eyes. “I still do sometimes, and I most certainly do not approve of the female he brought with him, but we get on better now. He’s been adopted into Justin’s family the same as Justin has been and we’ve been thrown together quite a lot. Also, I’m trying to get him to release a dear friend of mine from Azkaban to mine and my mother’s care.”
“Always something in it for you, isn’t there?” He didn’t mean it as an insult, and thankfully Draco didn’t take it as one. Instead, he beamed.
“Of course. I wouldn’t be a very good Slytherin if there wasn’t.”
Smith had gotten really close to Draco, a fact that Draco didn’t seem to mind. He dipped his head down, close enough to kiss. Still Draco didn’t seem to mind. “That’s why I like you so much,” Smith whispered just before pressing his lips to Draco’s. For a moment, neither of them moved, Smith from shock at what he had just done. He could only guess at what was happening inside Draco’s head. He quickly pulled away once his senses returned and began apologizing. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. We’re both in relationships. I shouldn’t be kissing you, but it’s all I’ve been thinking about for weeks now, and meeting Justin didn’t help.”
There would have been more apologies, but Draco stopped him with his lips. Long fingers dug into his hair and familiar, neat fingernails scratched at his scalp. He had forgotten just how much he enjoyed Draco’s habit of trying to practically crawl inside someone when he kissed them, how wanted it always made him feel. Their brief time together had been such a long time ago, but he felt like they were falling right back into their rhythm. Smith flicked his tongue against Draco’s lips, and was just about to make an entrance inside when a loud laugh from behind the kitchen door brought them both back to where they were. They jumped apart and looked guiltily around the kitchen, but there was no one there, not even the house-elf.
Draco looked frantic for a fraction of a second before composing himself and quickly straightening his clothes and then Smith’s hair. “I’m sorry for the outburst. I’ve been wanting to kiss you as much as you’ve been wanting to kiss me. Why don’t we, er… talk about this later? When there aren’t loads of people around to catch us at it, yes?”
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” He saw the sense in this, but it didn’t stop him from pecking Draco’s lips one more time.
Draco flashed him a smile that quickly morphed into a disapproving look. “I don’t like Jordan.”
“I don’t like Justin,” Smith said back. They looked at each other. A decision passed between them. They wouldn’t say anything more about each other’s significant other, but neither would they stop what they had started.
“When does he leave?”
Smith needed no explanation to know he meant Jordan. “The day after Christmas.”
“Blast,” Draco muttered turning away before turning back. “I’ll come by the day after. We’ll talk about this.”
“Sounds like a plan. For now, I’m going to kiss you one more time and then I’m going to figure out an excuse and take Jordan home, okay?”
“That sounds wonderful.” They kissed again, a long but chaste one, and then Smith slipped out of the kitchen to find his partner. Jordan was sandwiched between the buffet and the pug-nosed woman, who seemed to be trying to bully him into giving her stock tips. He tried to make excuses for them to leave, but Jordan cut him off before he could finish.
“I know you’re trying to save me from being manhandled by that woman, but we really don’t have to leave. I’m actually having fun here. Would you mind if we stayed for a little longer?”
Jordan batted his eyelashes and Smith was feeling so guilty about having just made out with his ex in the kitchen that he caved. They ended up staying for three more hours, and Jordan enjoyed himself immensely. For Smith, they were three very uncomfortable hours.
When they finally got home, Jordan was quiet while they showered and got ready for bed. It was odd given how much fun he had apparently had, how much alcohol he had imbibed, and how much he usually liked to talk after parties. They made love, but it wasn’t the most exciting sex they had ever shared and they both knew it. Jordan studied him for a long time afterwards. He tried to pretend to go to sleep, but Jordan saw right through him.
“I think I’m going to go home tomorrow,” he said.
Smith sat up, all pretense of sleep gone. “What? Why?”
Jordan rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid, you know. This isn’t going to work any more. I sort of knew it wouldn’t work from the minute you said you were coming here, but I always kind of hoped that maybe I was just being paranoid. But you want him. I can see it in your eyes every time you look at him. And he wants you, too. I don’t stay where I’m not wanted, Michael. You know that.” He gave Smith a direct look and Smith cowered back into the pillows. He knew it was bad when Jordan used his real first name.
“Would there be any point in denying that I want him?” < br>
“No.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want things to play out this way. I did love you, you know.”
“I know. Just not more than you love him.”
There was no use denying it, so he didn’t. “I’m sorry, Jordan.”
“I know you are. It’s all right. I’m glad I was able to see it for myself. That’s why I made you stay so much longer. I wanted to be sure. I am now.”
“You can stay until after the holidays, if you want.”
“I don’t. I love you, but there’s no reason for me to stay here when I can be with my family.”
“All right, I understand.”
Jordan lay down and pulled the blankets up to his chin. “Good night.”
“Night. I’m really sorry.”
“I know.”
/
It had been a long night; by rights, Justin should have been asleep, but he just couldn’t close his eyes. Draco was curled into his side, his head resting on Justin’s chest, leg resting atop Justin’s. Though it was late, all Justin could do was run his fingers through Draco’s baby-fine hair and think about how much he loved him and how much he did not want to lose him. Maybe they should do the bond. It would solidify what they felt for each other. There would be no way for Draco to leave him if they were bonded. So, Ernie said he would have him prosecuted. All he would need to do was prove that he was Draco’s true mate, and how could they disprove such a thing? It wasn’t as though there were tests. Were there?
/
Form:83352739
Name:DracoMalfoy
Registry Number: 625369
Date: December 18, 2003
Age:23
Mate: Justin Finch-Fletchly
Current Location: London, England
Number of Sexual Encounter(s): 10
Name(s) of Partner(s): Justin Finch-Fletchly 10(M)
Age(s) of Partner(s): 23
Species of Partner(s): wizard
Description of Sexual Encounter(s): Uneventful, not that I would tell you I if the situation had been otherwise.
Was non-Veela magic used during the encounter(s)?: Yes
If so, what spell or potion was used and what were its affects?: Nothing beyond the norm
Did any encounter result in pregnancy?:
Was Veela Power used in any manner not involved in finding a mate?: Yes
If so, how and why?: As you know, getting my own way is a priority.
Comments: I am having concerns about a few of my behaviors. Would it be possible to meet with you? Without letting Justin know?
>
Thank you to wwmrsweasleydo for her quick and wonderful beta! Also, I had some spacing issues when I was trying to transfer this chapter from the .doc file to LJ that I've never had before. If there are spaces still missing that I didn't catch, please let me know.